#I AM CAPABLE OF BEING NORMAL ABOUT THIS I SWEAR

[ave-immaculata]

our deacon gave the homily yesterday and held up a picture his granddaughter had given him when she was little and I haven't stopped crying about it since

[skibasyndrome]

I'm about to throw all my academic values overboard to get this fucking article done

[gothgoblinbabe]

The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony

Logan Howlett x afab!reader

Summary: You can’t stand each other, so it’s a mystery to you and Logan why you’re sent out together on an assignment. To make it worse, you’d have to act much closer than you really were.

Warnings:  mutant!reader (no specific power mentioned, though), afab!reader, enemies to lovers, swearing,  fake dating (technically fake marriage), mentions of violence, a little bit of suggestive stuff, a little bit of fluff i guess, and mild alcohol consumption. I think that's all but if i missed any, please let me know! also this is def loosely inspired by the movies 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' and '10 Things I Hate About You'

Word Count: 5K

part 2

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ .

You hate the way he dresses.

You hate his stupid hair.

You hate the pet names he calls you.

You hate his voice.

You hate his hazel eyes.

You hate his smile.

You hate Logan Howlett.

It was no secret and neither was the fact that he couldn’t stand you either. You bickered like a married couple, constantly fought till you bled when you were training and couldn’t go a day without one of you insulting the other. Truthfully, it was probably because you were too alike - fire versus fire - and knew exactly how to press each other's buttons.

That’s why you were both confused when you stood in Charles’ office - dumbfounded expression on your faces - as he told you that he assigned you to a mission together.

“Oh, no way,” you nearly laughed, thinking it was a joke.

“Yeah, not happening,” Logan agreed. It may have been the only thing you’ve ever agreed on.

“That’s unfortunate for both of you, as I am sending you anyway. You are the only capable people that aren’t already out on an assignment or teaching a class full time.”

“How do you expect us to do it without killing each other?” you raised your eyebrows.

“You are adults. I trust you will navigate that on your own.”

Logan scoffed beside you, his arms crossed over his chest.

You sighed, closing your eyes in frustration and biting the bullet, “what do we have to do?”

“There is a safe hidden in the home of a very wealthy socialite who’s been involved in orchestrating attacks on mutants - injecting them with a serum that replaces their mutation gene with that of a normal human,” Charles began to explain.

Your chest felt heavy. It always made you anxious and a little ill when you’d hear the stories of people who hated you so much that they’d go as far as to harm or violate you in some way, all in the name of trying to rid the earth of you completely or turn you into one of them.

“The only known sample of the serum is locked in that safe,” he continued, “and I will need you to retrieve it. You are to infiltrate a gathering being held in her home, obtain the contents of the safe and return promptly.”

“So, we’re…going to a party?” Logan asked with one eyebrow raised.

“A dinner party,” Charles replied, “and another thing - you must not attend as yourselves. You’ve been invited on the good word of another guest - someone we trust - but you’ve been invited as a married couple to avoid arousing suspicion.”

He must’ve been getting some sick enjoyment from this.

“Married couple,” you repeated, your eyes narrowed, “Us. You want us to pretend to be a couple.”

“What, do I have to like - touch her? I’m not doing that,” Logan piped up.

“Oh, i’m so disappointed,” you rolled your eyes, sarcasm clear in your voice, “Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

“No, you fuck off.”

“No, you.”

“I said it first!”

“Enough,” Charles interrupted, “you will be attending as Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Huh,” Logan hummed, “that’s creative.”

“Its inconspicuous,” he replied.

“What are our first names, then?”

“You have creative liberty. I trust you will come up with something just as unremarkable.”

“How about Sid and Nancy?” you scoffed, chuckling a little in disbelief. 

“Does that mean I get to stab you?”

“You’d miss.”

Charles had his head in his hands.

“How about Jack and Jill?”

You both turned your heads to him when he spoke, pausing the back and forth between you that you were sure to continue later. You glanced at Logan and shrugged, indifferent to the names.

“That’ll work,” Logan mirrored your actions.

“Lovely. Tomorrow evening at five. I will have the address ready. In the meantime, here,” he opened his palm and placed two rings on the table, “these are your wedding bands.”

You huffed and took the smaller of the two, Logan picking up the plain silver band. Yours was simple - a false diamond in the middle and two smaller ones on each side.

“What, you couldn’t get me anything bigger?” you joked to Logan, holding up the ring. 

“Oh, you want somethin’ big?”

Your eyes went wide and you elbowed him in the arm, groaning in disgust, “Gross.”

—----------------

Five o’clock came fast, your nerves seemingly increasing the speed of time. You’d made a mess of your wardrobe looking for something to wear that was comfortable, but not too ‘you’. What would a rich person wear to a dinner party? How the hell were you supposed to know?

Some nice pants, a blouse and complimenting shoes would have to do - it was the only thing you had that looked relatively formal. Adding some jewelry made it just a little more convincing. 

You went down the stairs to meet Logan at the front door, dreading the coming hours. You turned the corner and finally saw him, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He wore a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans, his boots, and he’d traded his usual leather jacket for a suit jacket. He actually cleaned up pretty nice, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

He heard your footsteps and turned towards the sound. He could feel the sweat starting to form at the back of his neck. 

He’d never seen you in anything nice like that - you never really had any occasions to dress up for - and he hated how much he liked it. Your pants hugged you perfectly, your blouse was buttoned low and you even had on a little bit of makeup. 

“You don’t look too bad,” he managed to comment, opening the door for you.

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you realized aloud, the both of you heading towards Logan’s truck, “You look alright.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Smith.”

He opened the car door for you, uncharacteristically gentlemen-like.

You shot him an odd look and got in anyway.

“I’m practicing,” He explained, shutting your door and walking around to slide into his seat, “can’t have anyone thinkin’ I’m a shit husband.”

“Good luck.”

“Uh-oh,” Logan had an amused expression, his eyes glued to the road as you began moving, “that’s not wife behavior, sunshine.”

“Bite Me.”

He clicked his tongue, “Feisty. Oh - I can use that when people ask about us! I’ll say it's one of your absolute worst qualities that any man would be repulsed by, but that our love is blind.”

You scoffed, “Great, and I’ll get to tell them you spend sixteen hours brushing your hair into cat ears and shed all over the bathroom like an animal.”

“See - now, that one seems a little personal.”

“It is.”

“Just pretend for a night that I’m the man of your dreams, okay?” he asked, “pretend I’m, uh - I don’t know, some celebrity guy you have a crush on.”

You were silent for a second, engrossed in thought, “you look nothing like Hugh Jackman.”

“Who? You know what - sure, pretend I'm him, alright? Just squint.”

Truthfully - and you’d rather be stabbed than admit it - Logan wasn’t far off from who you could picture yourself with. Strong, kind of handsome, good with kids. He was humble, most of the time. He was just terribly annoying and way too cocky.

It wasn’t long before he was shifting the truck into park and yanking the keys from the ignition. You let him open your door and walked beside him up the front steps.

“You ready, Jack?” you teased.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Jill.”

He rang the doorbell and you stood awkwardly, eyes scanning your surroundings. The house was huge - probably only a bit smaller than the mansion - and modern, something probably built in the last ten years. The front lawn was impeccable, as were the marble statues strategically placed between foliage and flora. 

The door opened and you inhaled sharply, trying to prepare yourself to lie your ass off.

“Hello! You must be Mr. and Mrs. Smith! So lovely to meet you, please - come in,” a woman ushered you in, her neck and ears decorated in pearls. You recognized her immediately, Charles having shown you both a picture of the hostess beforehand. You politely greeted her and introduced yourselves, already scanning the room for an emergency exit in case things went sour.

“So,” she continued talking, leading you to sit in the living room with the other mingling guests,”tell me a little about yourselves! John wasn’t very descriptive when he mentioned you. What do you do for work?”

Whoever John was, you silently thanked him.

“Uh, well,” you began, nervously glancing at Logan, “I’m a bank teller.”

Plain, boring, inconspicuous, 

She then looked to Logan expectantly, awaiting his answer. 

“Cage fighter.”

Jesus Christ. You were glaring daggers into the side of his smiling face and he pretended not to notice.

“Really?” the woman in front of you inquired, a hand on her chest. You watched her eyes scan him up and down, landing on the pecs prominent through his shirt. You scoffed out of instinct, faking a cough to cover it up.

‘Oh, yeah. Undefeated MMA champ.”

You looked away to hide the scowl on your face when your eyes locked on the vodka bottle sitting on the table a few feet away with a collection of other booze. Bingo.

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?” you smiled politely and walked away before Logan could protest, leaving him to his own devices.

You twisted the top off the bottle and picked up a glass, filling it with Vodka and some soda that was left on the table.You almost walked away with it, planning to keep it in your hands until you felt your nerves subside, until you remembered you were supposed to be a wife. Wives brought their husbands drinks, right? Not doing so would look rude and rude might blow your cover. So, you reluctantly picked up another glass and filled it partially with whiskey, knowing it was something he’d drink. You happened to glance across to the kitchen and notice a neat little rack of spices and condiments on the counter. A bottle of soy sauce was front and center, like a message from the universe, and you giggled to yourself as you snatched the bottle and hid it up your sleeve - this could be a good night if you made it entertaining.

You returned to Logan with both glasses, handing him the one filled with significantly darker liquid. He looked a little surprised but accepted it anyway.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said with narrowed eyes, a look that asked ‘what are you up to now?’

You simply nodded in acknowledgement, smiling at the hostess still standing in front of you.

“She’s a keeper,” he continued, holding the glass up to his mouth, “ always knows exactly what I like.”

You bit back a snicker as you watched him tilt the glass and finally take a sip.

His eyes went to yours immediately.  He pulled the glass from his lips, mouth still obviously full of whiskey and soy sauce. If looks could kill, you’d be long dead.

“Good, honey?” you smiled wide then, taking a sip of your own drink. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly fighting a grimace. He swallowed and nearly gagged, coughing into his fist, “mhm, just a little strong.”

“Oh,” the hostess began, “Jack was just about to tell us how you met!”

A couple of guests had gathered in the same spot, all lingering in a semicircle. Logan was quite the charmer and it wasn’t a surprise that he already had a couple of women gawking at him, hanging on his every word as if any of it was true. 

“Was he?” your tone was shrill but you attempted to appear playful, lightly smacking him on the arm, “Oh, honey, you should really let me tell it.”

Whatever he was about to come up with, you hoped it was not in the same outlandish category as cage fighting. Before you could begin, though, he dismissively waved his hand in your direction.

“No, no - you’re a little forgetful, sweetheart,” his grin was mischievous as he turned to speak to the surrounding guests, “so, it all started with a tshirt competition at a bar where the girls had to - “

“Nope! Nope,” you interjected, doing your best to keep your tone light and shaking your head, “haha - that must have been another girl, honey!”

That earned a few chuckles from the guests around you and you took the opportunity while everyone's attention was on you to try and spin a tale of your own.

“So, we actually met a couple years ago,” you started, mulling over what true details to sprinkle in or if you should make it up entirely, “uh - in a library.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. You’d been at the mansion for a couple days before you bumped into him in the library while gathering books to try and put together your first lesson plan. You had a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of books in the other - admittedly stupid - but you’d always been careful. Except for that once. 

You had a book open in your arms, resting atop the stack you already gathered. You were walking and reading - again, admittedly not very smart - when you bumped into someone, spilling coffee on both of you and sending the stack of books to the floor with an audible thump. 

“Fuck, sorry -” you began to apologize, finally looking up to the strangers face. It was Logan, of course, though you didn’t know that at the time. You remember thinking he was handsome with his scruffy mutton chops and well groomed hair - until he opened his mouth.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?”

You knew it was partially your fault but were irked by his attitude.

“Dude, you weren’t paying attention either, obviously!” you snapped back, looking down at the beige stain now adorning your white button up.

“I’m not the one who carries coffee and a shit ton of books at the same time.”

“Whatever.”

That was your grand introduction, neither of you even exchanging names.

Logan remembered it about the same way you did, though the version he tells is a little different. He loved to tell people that when you bumped into him, it was because you were so lovestruck that you just walked right into him. The part he always left out, though, was the first thing he thought when he saw you. He’d scolded you before even looking up to see who you were and when he had, he wished he’d reacted a little differently. 

You were beautiful, even with coffee spilt all over yourself. You looked like a girl he’d only ever dreamed of, all the way down to the color of your hair and eyes. Unfortunately, he’d already been an asshole. So, from then on, that was basically your shtick - bickering over little things, calling each other names - all to the amusement of everyone around you. It wasn’t meant to be funny, but it was obvious to everyone else that the kind of teasing you did was only because you had feelings for one another - like two elementary school kids - and neither one of you seemed to know how to approach it. The mask would slip sometimes for either one of you - when he’d place a hand on your lower back, the times he’d managed to pin you to the mat during training - and you’d always find yourself staring at the ceiling that night, overthinking every interaction you’d had until the sun came up. He was never any better off, pacing in his room to try and decipher what the hell it was he actually felt for you.

Anyway, you decided to stick to the real story, minus the part where you insulted each other.

“We bumped into each other, literally, and I had coffee and a bunch of books in my arms. So, I drop the books, coffee spills everywhere - of course. Then I looked up at him, and..” you paused, the truth caught in a lump in your throat.

“And it was love at first sight,” Logan added, grinning down at you, “for both of us.”

His eyes were trained on yours and he continued to contribute to the story.

“The second I saw her, I fell in love.”

He was still looking at you. Why was he still looking at you like that? You were supposed to be husband and wife, right, but he was leaning into it far heavier than you expected. It felt like you were the only ones in the room.

A couple ‘aw’s were shared between guests and you smiled politely at the reminder that you were in fact not the only people in the room. As the conversation switched to another topic and someone else began to speak, you felt Logan’s hand at the back of your head, gently playing with your hair. Your face was pink - he was being too nice.

A short while later, you were sitting on the couch beside him, listening to someone’s drawn out story that you stopped paying attention to after six minutes.

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Logan uttered unceremoniously and stood from the couch. He disappeared into the house and not even a minute later, another guy came to sit in his spot.

“Hey,” he put his arm around the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing your shoulder, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

You looked at the fingers grazing your shoulder and sat forward to shrug them off, “nope.”

He told you his name and you couldn’t have cared any less, deciding to actually tune back into the story being told rather than converse with him. He was alright looking, but his approach was far too off putting. 

“So, did you come alone?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, opening your mouth to answer before he cut you off.

“Cause It looks like it, and I can’t stand to see a pretty girl alone.”

You groaned in disgust, hoping if you were dry enough in your answers, he’d leave you be.

“mhm.”

It wasn’t really an answer to anything, just a noise of affirmation. You hoped he’d get the hint then, but of course, he didn’t. In what would probably be the stupidest thing he’d done that night, the guy moved his arm from the back of the couch so he could squeeze your thigh. Right as you were about to tell him to fuck off, you saw a hand grip his shoulder from behind. Logan was leaning over the sofa, bringing his face a little lower so he wouldn’t cause a scene, his dog tags hanging when he leaned forward. He had a death grip on the guy's shoulder while he used his other hand to steady himself against the sofa. 

“Hey, bub.”

The guy looked a little terrified, to say the least, but Logan didn’t let up there.

“Do you always go around hittin’ on people’s wives? Or is it just mine?”

His eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to run but that wasn’t going to happen as long as he was in his grip. 

“I-I didn’t, uh, I didn’t know she - “ the guy sputtered, trying to nervously laugh it off.

“Mhm. Hey, tell you what - why don’t you leave my girl alone and maybe I’ll give you a five minute head start to get the fuck out of here.”

He let go of his shoulder and that was enough to drive him away, the guy scurrying to his feet and finding somewhere else to mingle.

You didn’t know why you found yourself smiling the moment he’d said ‘my girl’. You rid yourself of it with a shake of your head, reminding yourself you were there to do a job.

“Hey,” Logan leaned himself down even further so he could whisper, “I gotta show you something, c’mere.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him but got up to follow. He stopped in the hallway in front of the bathroom, looked around to see if anyone would notice you, and promptly dragged you in with him before closing and locking the door. He hit the light switch and you looked around.

“Do you always take girls to the bathroom on first dates?” you teased, crossing your arms.

“You’d have to go out with me to find out,” he remarked, “besides, it’s not like that. Look.”

You watched him get low to the ground to open the cupboard under the sink and you crouched with him, following his pointing finger to the wood paneling in the back. It looked like a fake back - a board that appeared to be the back of the cabinet but definitely had something behind it. There was a sliver of metal visible behind it when you shined your phone’s flashlight.

“I figured we should look everywhere, so while I was in here I was checking it out - saw that. You think that’s it?”

“Could be,” you answered honestly, “that, or it’s some sort of electrical box we’re about to rip out of the wall. It’s an odd hiding spot for a safe.”

“Not really. Think about it - where's the first place you’d look for a safe?”

“Bedroom or office, maybe.”

“Right, and where's one of the last places you’d check?” he gestured to the open cabinet.

“Under…the sink,” you realized aloud, looking between him and the wooden board. 

“Exactly,” he nodded, swiping the contents of the cabinet onto the floor to gain access, “here’s the thing, though - I’m too big to get in there.”

He could maybe stick his head in, but in order to duck under the pipes from the sink, he’d need to have shoulders that were much less broad.

You sighed, knowing what that meant.

“Alright, alright - move. This better be it.”

You reluctantly crawled under the sink and into the cabinet on your hands and knees. You yanked the wooden board with all your strength and it came free, revealing a metal safe.

“Got it! You were right, it’s the safe.”

Logan simply hummed in response, clearing his throat. You figured he’d be a little more enthusiastic. 

Truthfully, he was too busy staring at your ass in the nice pants you were wearing to pay attention. When he heard your voice, he shook his head, as if to rid himself of the thoughts he was having about you so he could think of a response. He’d always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you all dressed up drove him a little crazy.

“Yeah? Is it locked?”

You inspected the metal box, holding the absurdly large padlock hooked around the latch that opened the door.

“Uh-huh. Padlock - we’re gonna need the numbers.”

“No, we don’t. Bring it out.”

You did as you were told, crawling back out with the safe under your arm and placing it on the bathroom rug. It was a pretty small one - probably a little bigger than a basketball.

Logan picked it up and set it on the counter beside the sink. He unsheathed a claw and sliced through the metal latch that held the door closed in one swift motion.

“Well, yeah - that's one way to do it,” you shrugged.

“Easiest way to do it.”

He reached in and took out the small glass vial. He put it inside the pocket of his suit jacket.

“What if it falls out?” you asked.

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Alright, kid,” he sighed, “what do you want me to do with it? ‘Cause i’m sure as hell not lettin’ you carry it.”

You rolled your eyes and looked him over.

“How about you wrap it in your jacket, like cushioning?”

“Fine.”

He reluctantly shrugged off his jacket, keeping the vial in the pocket but folding the jacket into a ball. You hastily replaced everything in the cabinet, safe included, and you followed Logan as he opened the door to step out - only to be met with another guest, her fist raised to knock.

“Oh! Dear,” she chuckled, clearly a little startled. She looked to the both of you, a grin appearing on her face, “Young love, what a gift. Don’t worry, I didn't see a thing!”

You shot her a confused look, chuckling nervously before you happened to catch a glance of your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Your hair was mussed and your blouse was untucked on one side from having to bend up and down. Logan had taken off his suit jacket and you realized what it was she was implying.

“Oh, oh - we weren’t -”

“It’s alright, honey,” she responded as you stepped out, “like I said - my lips are sealed.”

She shot you both a wink, went into the bathroom and shut the door.

“She thought we were fucking in there,” you mumbled, eyes wide in embarrassment.

“Is that so bad?”

You snapped your head towards him, a confused look on your face, “what?”

Logan shrugged, “we're supposed to be husband and wife, aren't we?”

You shook your head in disbelief and decided to ignore him, both of you joining the other guests back in the living room. Dinner was finally ready and everyone took their seats in the dining room. There were a couple of things on the table you couldn’t even pronounce.

“Is that…meat? A vegetable?” you leaned over to logan, whispering behind your hand and nodding towards one of the dishes.

“Hell if I know,” he muttered, “I don’t think I wanna find out.”

You both piled on the few things onto your plates, poking at it with your forks.

“Do you wanna get a pizza after this?” you whispered.

“Definitely,” he replied, pushing around an unrecognizable sludge with his utensil.

“So, how long did you two say you’ve been together?” You both looked up, only to be met with the hostess’ stare. You had never mentioned how long you’d been ‘together’. Her smile was polite but her stare was piercing, as if she knew something she was not supposed to.

“About three years,” you replied, looking to him for back up.

“We got married a couple months in,” he added, grinning at you. Again, he had that look - like he wasn’t just pretending to be in love with you. 

“We were in this restaurant - this little place we go to all the time,” he kept talking, “and I just told her I thought she was beautiful, that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life.”

“Really? I have to say,” she began, sipping from her glass,” for a young couple who got together so quickly, you two don’t seem very affectionate towards each other.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You shot Logan a panicked look, but he appeared unbothered.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue,” it’s this rule she’s got about PDA. I’d be all over her if I could.”

You hated the way your face became hot. You couldn’t tell if he was leaning into it to be convincing or flirting just to make you flustered. You heard a muffled snicker from somewhere across the table and your eyes shifted to the source - it was the woman from earlier, the one who’d thought you and Logan were getting busy in the bathroom. 

“Can I at least get a kiss, babe?” Logan cooed, a smug look on his face.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“Being a husband,” he replied in a hush voice. 

It all happened within seconds. His hands cupped your face, warm and soft, and he leaned in to plant a kiss right on your lips. It was gentle and you melted into his touch, kissing him back. When he pulled away, you were still stunned, your lips parted in surprise. 

Logan kissed you.

His lips tasted like the remnants of cigar smoke. His touch was nearly intoxicating, like you were drunk off just the way he held you. You inhaled sharply and finally turned your face out of his grip, eyes glued to the table cloth. You had almost forgotten where you were - feeling like the room was spinning - and you let out a nervous laugh.

The topic of discussion moved on quickly and it seemed like any suspicion the hostess had about either of you had dissipated. You and Logan decided to say your goodbyes immediately after dinner, making some excuse about having to wake up early the next morning. When you stepped out and he shut the door behind him, you couldn’t hold your tongue any longer.

“What the hell was that?” you spat, eyebrows knitted. 

“What was what?”

He was completely nonchalant as he continued to walk next to you towards his truck. 

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He stopped with you at the passenger side of the truck, standing in front of the door so you couldn’t get in.

“What if I wanted to?”

You swallowed hard. It was dead silent outside, save for the chirping of crickets.

“What?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, chewing his bottom lip, “I wanted to kiss you.”

You didn't know what to say. He hated you, didn’t he?

“Logan, I - “

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything in there, pretending to be together.”

His voice almost sounded strained, like he was pleading.

“You don’t even like me, you hate me,” you deflected, but he shook his head.

“That’s not true. I never hated you. I figured you’d hate me after I acted like an asshole when we met, so I went with it. I don’t hate you. I think you’re funny, I think you’re pretty - I just never really knew how to tell you that.”

When you only stared in response, he moved aside and opened your door with a defeated sigh. You were still speechless but you hesitantly slid into the seat anyway, letting him close the door. When he got into the driver's side and started the ignition, you couldn’t stop looking over at him.

“So, you like me,” you finally said aloud.

He kept his eyes glued to the road when he responded in a low voice, “why do you think I bother you so much?”

“You pick on me because you like me? Like a little kid?” you couldn’t help the amusement in your voice as your confused expression turned to a smile.

You saw him bite back a smile that mirrored yours, shaking his head.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well, you’re not too bad, you know, and I guess you’re kind of handsome.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Mhm, but don’t make me take it back.”

The rest of the short ride home was spent in comfortable silence, both of you seemingly trying to figure out where you’d go from there. When Logan parked his truck and got out, he came around your side to open your door. You hopped out and he shut the door for you, but grabbed your hand before you started to walk away.

“Hey, c’mere for a second.”

You let him pull you a little closer, intertwining both your hands. The evening air was chilly and you could see his breath in the air when he spoke.

“Can I kiss you, for real this time?”

You could feel your heart beating fast and you nodded eagerly. The second you did, his lips were already on yours. His hands let go of yours to settle in your hair, threading the strands between his fingers. His touch felt warm in comparison to the cold air and you leaned further into him with your hands gripping his jacket to pull him close. When he pulled away, he rested his hands on your waist and planted another kiss on your forehead. 

“Maybe we could, uh, try again,” he cleared his throat, running his hands up and down your sides, “be nice to each other this time.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t hate Logan, even though you tried. 

You couldn’t hate his perfect hair.

You couldn’t hate his sweet voice.

You couldn’t hate his kind smile.

You couldn’t hate the way he dressed.

You just couldn’t hate Logan Howlett. 

So, you kissed him again, smiling against his lips and letting him hold you as close as possible, almost lifting you off the ground with his arms around you.

“We should probably go inside, huh?” you mumbled when you leaned back, lightly scratching the mutton chops on the side of his face in an affectionate manner. Those were another thing you’d pretended to hate - probably because you were embarrassed to admit you thought he pulled them off well.

“As you wish, Mrs. Smith.”

He held his hand out for you to take and you did, eyeing the ring on your finger.

“You know,” you held up your hand to show him the jewelry, “I think i’ll keep this.”

He grinned, bringing your knuckles to his lips and leaving a chaste kiss, “I think i'll keep mine, too.”

You were both still holding hands when you went inside, blushing like two little kids. You were so engrossed in one another that you didn’t notice Jean and Ororo in the hallway ahead of you as he leaned down to kiss you again. Now that he knew he could actually do it, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll take it your night went well,” Ororo giggled, Jean doing the same. You jumped a little in surprise, covering your pink face in mild embarrassment. 

“What changed? I thought you hated each other,” the latter of the two asked.

“Eh, he’s not so bad,” you teased, shrugging your shoulders.

‘’Turns out, we make a pretty good fake husband and wife,” he explained, “I guess we got a little too carried away with it.”

As the two of you walked hand in hand further down the hall, Ororo elbowed Jean lightly, leaning over to whisper behind her hand.

“You owe me twenty bucks.”

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

A/N: If you've made it this far, thank you sm for reading!! I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep this as is or add smut so I'll leave it how it is and if enough people ask for it, I can make a part two <3 pls reblog and like if you enjoyed/want more and my inbox is always open :)

Edit: here is the link to part 2!

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which a impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[caprart1]

Hiii guys guess what? I made a Sephiroth x Reader reeeheeheehee don't we love that

Contents:

Sane Sephiroth (idc idc I need it)

Kissing hee hee!!

A LITTLE bit of angst?

Cuddling, because I just want to hold him tbh

This is also on ao3 but idk how to hyperlink so it's also here under the cut 👇 ok goodnight

Human (Sephiroth x GN Reader)

Sephiroth was strong, there was no question about that. The world revered him as the legendary warrior he was, a title he had rightfully earned as his name became synonymous with power. He was cold and merciless in nature, and swift and accurate in combat. Talk of him among SOLDIER often consisted of speculation that he was not even human, but rather an indestructible weapon specially created for war. At least, that was what the lower class SOLDIERs claimed; the ones who looked up to him and watched in awe as he trained day in and day out. As his close friend, however, you recognized him as a human, and humans are not indestructible.

It was normal for Sephiroth to spend most of his days training alone or with others, or hidden away when Shinra demanded his time. Still, he rarely appeared worn out. He always maintained his polished image and calculated persona. As a SOLDIER you found yourself impressed with him, admiring his consistent strength and elegance. Yet, with the privilege of your friendship, you were more aware than others of the slightest changes in his appearance and behaviors. Those keen observations had made you aware lately of how dark circles had begun to slowly appear under Sephiroth's piercing eyes.

Today you were with him to help him spar, per his request. He bested you each round, as you expected, but you had been at an even greater disadvantage since you were focused on those subtle dark circles. You knew how well Sephiroth cared for himself, so it was jarring to notice this imperfection. It was unlike him.

"You look... damn... a bit tired lately," you huffed out when you became winded after a while of sparring. Sephiroth sighed as he lowered his sword.

"I have been facing trouble sleeping at my usual hours, but I am fine nonetheless. Do you need a moment?"

"Yeah, just... just a minute."

The two of you put up your weapons and took a seat at one of the benches there. You spent a few moments catching your breath while Sephiroth sat beside you, arms crossed over his broad chest and leg crossed over the other as he waited. Your eyes squinted as you looked over him for a drop of sweat. It was slightly annoying how he never seemed even the tiniest bit exhausted after fighting, you always thought to yourself.

"So, has there been anything that is keeping you from sleeping?"

Sephiroth shook his head and clicked his tongue. "You're still focused on that? I am fine, truly. Worry about yourself. Perhaps if you spent more time on that, you would be a better SOLDIER."

"You're good enough for the both of us," you grumbled at his teasing. "Is there something coming up? It just seems like you've been training harder than usual recently."

"In three weeks, I will be leading a mission to Nibelheim to inspect a Mako reactor. It will be the first big mission for one of our newest First-Class SOLDIERs, so I must be prepared for anything that could go wrong."

"Nibelheim... that's a long journey. Aren't you worried you won't function well if you're not getting enough rest?"

Sephiroth paused before responding. "I'm more than capable of functioning under less-than-adequate circumstances. You shouldn't worry yourself over my being."

Sephiroth continued his vigorous training over the next few weeks, leaving little time for anything else aside when the Shinra scientists called for him. You could swear that his dark circles were growing more prominent by the day. At times, there were odd hours of the night that you strolled down the halls of Shinra, and for many of those you saw Sephiroth back in the training room. His energy seemed different during these nights; the way he moved was more ferocious, as if his body was overflowing with anger. Intimidated chills would run through your spine just watching as he sliced through simulated targets. It made you wonder what kinds of thoughts went through his mind, and why he was not sleeping as he normally would at that hour. You never lingered around long enough to express your concern to him however, finding it best to leave him alone.

The concern eventually grew into worry when one day Sephiroth had met with you for another sparring session. As collected as he always presented himself to be, today his mind seemed to be lost somewhere beyond consciousness. His words were short and he broke eye contact uncharistically early. Even his movements dragged a bit as he prepared himself to train with you, lacking his typical sophistication. You also did not fail to notice how his blinks had become slow and drawn out, like his eyelids had to fight to open.

There was something else upon further inspection. Was that puffiness around his eyes?

"Are you ready now?" You were broken out of your study of him when Sephiroth spoke to you, Masamune in hand.

"Hold on, I need to put on my armor."

He nodded as he set aside his weapon and turned away, finding a seat and crossing his arms over his chest. You shook your worry out of your head and attempted to shift your attention to equipping your gear. However, you kept looking back at Sephiroth and observing him quietly sitting, head looking down. Something about how quiet he was struck you as odd though. It was not until a minute had passed of him being still that you decided to walk over and check on him. Perhaps he was just being patient and enjoying the moment of relaxation, you thought.

You soon realized that was not the case, however, as Sephiroth made no sign of acknowledgement the closer you came towards him. He was always acutely aware of his surroundings, even off the battlefield. As you stepped in front of him, eyes on his slightly hung head, you noticed his shut eyes and lips that were parted just enough to release delicate breaths. His whole body, miraculously upright, swayed steadily in time with his breathing. You hesitated in place, unsure of what to do. Your gaze fixated on how sweetly his long eyelashes rested on his cheeks, begging you not to disturb him. Even relentless warriors were not impervious; Sephiroth, too, was a human who needed his rest. But the logic in you argued the consequences of leaving him, and so with bated breath you reached out and softly touched his shoulder.

"Sephiroth?" you said in a hushed voice, too quiet for untrained ears. You watched Sephiroth's body jolt in surprise, but as quick as he awoke he had composed himself as if to play off that he dozed at all.

"Have you prepared?" he asked as he rose from his seat, wasting no moment to address his dozing, and walked past you. You turned back and watched him, your eyebrows furrowed with concern.

As he reached out to retrieve his weapon, you stopped him with a hand over his arm.

"Seph."

Sephiroth stood in place, stilled by the rare shortening of his name, unmoving his arm from your grasp and eyes trailing away to an unknown plane. You studied his face for any signs of opposition to your interjection, and upon finding none you gently began to pull him.

To your amazement and relief, Sephiroth made no attempt to resist and allowed you to pull him out of the training room. The way was silent as you lead him through corridors and to his quarters, passing by the occasional SOLDIER. As soon as you entered and shut the door, you saw Sephiroth begin to remove his coat and shoulder armor like he had been waiting to. Your face flushed watching his upper body go bare and you averted your eyes out of decency. Although you both have seen each other on several particular nights, it was difficult to not feel sheepish looking at his nude figure when it looked as good as it did.

You heard the tumble of his boots against the floor and the rustling of bed sheets, and when you looked back to Sephiroth he had already crawled into his bedding. He sighed heavily as his head sank into his pillow, bringing one hand up to rub his weary eyes.

Feeling satisfied that he settled down, you readied to leave his room until your eyes landed on the lit lamp atop the nightstand beside his bed. Sparing him from turning it off himself, you walked over and reached to switch it off with a click. Glancing back at him one last time, you then again turned away to leave him to his deserved rest. At least, you attempted to leave.

You were stopped when Sephiroth murmured your name, and within an instant he had grabbed your wrist and pulled you down. The sudden action made you yelp as you lost balance and fell on top of him. With his other hand going to your lower back, you were pulled even lower until Sephiroth connected your lips together. It had transpired so quickly you could only stay shocked in place, but as your hand rested against his chest and his vibrant eyes fluttered shut you too melted into the moment. Soft lips moved languidly against yours and, pressing closer to deepen the kiss, you forgot why you had brought Sephiroth back to his room. You tilt your head and let his tongue greet yours enthusiastically, feeling his fingers dig into your back while you tangled one hand into his silky hair. Even while on edge of sleep, the arrogant bastard still found the energy to reel you in.

After a minute you broke away to catch your breath and gaze at Sephiroth. Despite your mouth now being free, you felt breathless looking down at him. His pale skin had become painted with the faintest shade of blush and his endless silver hair gathered around his head. If angels roamed the Planet, he would be living proof of it. At this close proximity, your skin ached to tenderly feel him and worship his being. You resisted, favoring to await for his next move.

Sephiroth's chest rose and fell slowly beneath you, unaffected by your weight over him. He moved his hand up to kindly touch your cheek, thumb gliding over the skin as you leaned into his palm.

"Stay," Sephiroth muttered. A soft command.

You eyes darted across his face in a daze as one half of your brain, now fogged with thoughts of Sephiroth, fought against the other half that brought him to his room in the first place. "Don't you need to sleep?"

He chuckled. "Don't get too excited. I will. I haven't been able to properly rest for some time now, but I believe having a comforting presence beside me might help change that."

Your heart raced at Sephiroth's request. This was the most vulnerable he was offering himself to be with you, and it made your soul grow warm in a way that paled any passionate moment you two had shared together. You nodded slowly and moved to slide under the blankets and join him. His arms opened, inviting you in, and you nestled yourself into his embrace comfortably. Your cheek pressed against his pectorals as his arms closed around you, securing you against his large frame. Sephiroth relaxed, releasing a sigh, and pressed his face into the top of your head, soft breathes tickling you. You wondered if you might overheat from the combined warmth of the blankets and Sephiroth's body against your clothed flesh. You did not dare move an inch, though.

Exhaustion dragged Sephiroth quickly into a deep slumber, but you remained awake in his arms. The steady beat of his heart in your ears, a reminder of the powerfully graceful man, was too loud for you to even think of drifting away. So you laid there, watching and letting him hold you close, as if you would ward off unseen evils. Funny that Sephiroth would need any protection. Sephiroth: the relentless First-Class who has never bled on the battlefield. He who could be mistaken as something other than human; a personal toy soldier for Shinra to use in their grand game. But he was human. After all...

Those silent tears that graced his sleeping face were the loudest expression of pain you had ever seen.

[mewtwo24]

I finally finished reading the fourth volume of svsss in full, and thing is--the first time through I only read the bingqiu content because I was ravenous for more of their happy ending.

Turns out that was a perilous mistake.

Because I started reading the airplane extras. And I swear to god. MXTX is trying to kill me

What do you MEAN demon lord Binghe was sitting on his big fucking throne. All stoic and forbidding. Surrounded by his demon generals who don't know shit about human courtship. Asking them what he should do, fully demoralized by constant rejections from sqq, only to have airplane tell him to act more pathetic and needy. Which is already hysterically funny and insane, UNTIL LBH'S RESPONSE IS THIS, KILLING ME INSTANTLY:

LUO BINGHE. WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE: "I already tried that, didn't work--nothing works :/ not mean, not maidenly, not housewife, not spicy, not capable disciple. Is doubling down on clingy really all it will take? What's a born hater with only one love in his life to do????"

The dichotomy of him sitting there like 'how can I reach the unfathomable depths of shizun's heart?' A HEART HE'S ALREADY WON OVER, MIND and then in the Holy Mausoleum solving the puzzle without blinking and being like 'oh yeah you just have to hit the acupoints, no sweat.' Literally the comedy writes itself I'm so--

How am I supposed to be normal about this. MXTX understands the juicy quintessential queer joy of a person with the world's power at their fingertips wishing only for love. Willing to do anything to earn that love, when unbeknownst to them it's already been freely given. Totally not screaming and yelling and clawing at the walls

And that's not even touching airplane's uproarious account of events. The way he's like 'lol what's next, lbh and sqq are best friends now? smfh' only to see lbh TACKLE SQQ LOVINGLY. FOR SQQ TO BE BASHFUL ABOUT IT BUT SO SO FOND OF THE LITTLE SCAMP. This when we've been experiencing sqq's constant inner monologue of 'I'm so cool and so dignified about my role, truly the epitome of propriety and poser-level fortitude.' Meanwhile, in their universe:

Airplane constantly flaming???? Sqq and lbh in his observations????? His absolute bewilderment and confusion????? Legendary. No notes every single second of this shit was hilarious.

Airplane's comment that sqq + older adolescent lbh traveling together was just watching a couple in their honeymoon phase. OR the fact that lbh is exceedingly petty and refuses to share their food in the wake of airplane's interruption of their time together, until sqq relents sheepishly and insists airplane eat what's left (ONLY AFTER PLACATING LBH WITH MORE FOOD FROM HIS PLATE, SOBBING)

Watching airplane salivate over Mobei-Jun and acting like that's totally normal behavior. Finding out mbj and airplane got together first. Finding out sqq encouraged airplane. LIKE THIS. WHILE HE IS STILL IN DENIAL ABOUT HIS OWN FEELINGS:

Mobei-jun clearly thinking their arrangement is a forever thing, heartbroken his human abandoned him with all the hapless fury of a scorned wife swept away by false promises of fidelity. Airplane writing demons to be the type to beat up their crush lovingly and still unable to connect the dots about mbj's feelings. Mbj letting him go and respecting his wishes, only relenting when there's indication airplane was poorly processing his own feelings and didn't actually want to leave. Mbj caring for him and listening to him as soon as airplane voices what he needs directly and with clarity. None of these gays are functional and it's everything to me

Unrelated, but I physically can't hold this information in anymore:

I'm still reeling from younger lbh having his sexual awakening from the image of sqq wrapped in the immortal binding cables. Condemn me as you like he was so, so real for that.

And no I will not be taking any comments about how luo bingge couldn't bear to see luo binghe cherished in ways he never got to have and all the haunting implications of that. I will also not be taking any comments about luo binghe's instinct to look for sqq in that alternate universe, only to be shaken to the very core to be unable to find his shizun anywhere. The unspeakable and latent horror of his relentless mind likely piecing together what happened, but unable to say it; to suspect what is true, and live with the harrowing confusion of his double's actions. To blame himself, to assume that he had let his anger get the better of him in that world and result in unspeakable folly...

I also refuse to talk about how heartrending it is to hear Tianlang-jun weakly say "In the end, I really can't bring myself to hate humans." The implication that the foolishness of that hope and bright-eyed fondness--the very thing that put him through such unspeakable agony--couldn't be beaten out of him entirely. To discover that his faith in Su Xiyan hadn't been misplaced, to the contrary: his beloved hadn't scorned him at all, but rather fought to the miserable end to protect the fruition of their genuine feelings of love when she couldn't protect tlj or herself.

How MXTX has sqq deliberately draw parallels between their situation and that of ygy+sj and tlj+sx; desperately wishing it might not be too late for them. The concept of breaking cycles of abuse and harm pervasive throughout the newly devised story, how it evolves for the better only when love takes the place of power, pride, and domination. How the moment sqq chooses vulnerability instead of saving face, the genre shifts to the so-called "cringe" girly genre where most if not every character is more fulfilled, more true to themselves. How the "male-oriented" former genre was aimlessly sensationalized and sexualized, how it was a sustained performance of aspirational toxic masculinity. How men objectify other men without end. All of the unspoken gendered implications that come with that.

Anyways. Going to go put my head in a sandbox and try to process everything I just witnessed because even a second reading is not enough to find a modicum of closure.

[idyllic-affections]

thoughts on lyney and lynette rn bc i would kill to see little sibling reader with them ,m so normal about them i swear i just dnfgohpjykul

the blood of the covenant.

summary. blood related or otherwise, lyney, lynette, and freminet are among the best siblings to have.

trigger & content warnings. non-descriptive mention of injuries, lyney does Not open up and it causes arguments (not depicted in detail; just briefly mentioned), some mentions of crying.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff, hurt/comfort. lyney & younger sibling!reader, lynette & younger sibling!reader, freminet & younger sibling!reader. 2k words. they/them pronouns used for reader. reader is a member of the house of the hearth. reader is only slightly younger than freminet; think a month or two younger.

author's thoughts. almost 6 months later....... your wish is my command 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 SORRY IT TOOK ME LIKE A MILLION YEARS TO DO THE AQ...... AND I STILL HAVE ACT 5 LEFT TO DO...... but i think i'm well-versed enough now to write about the twins! and freminet... as a little treat.

lyney is an undoubtedly protective older brother—he doesn't mean anything bad by it, but given his traumatic history and multiple forced partings from lynette... he's grown a bit worrisome. this effect is increased tenfold if his youngest sibling [name] also happened to be sold off to that noble with lynette.

being the eldest means that he is solely responsible for the safety of his siblings (or so he believes—arlecchino herself feels that it's more of a team effort to keep one another safe on missions and in daily life). so, he worries. he knows that all of his siblings are thoroughly capable... but he worries.

tight hugs. god. lyney gives tight and safe hugs. lynette leans more towards fond squeezes—briefly tight, before loosening up into a more gentle hug (she can and will squeeze even tighter than lyney some days, however). and freminet is more prone to hand-holding, little reassuring squeezes akin to lynette's but with [name]'s hand instead of their whole body, but he'll also offer very gentle and soothing hugs if needed.

^ speaking of freminet's inclination to hand-holding, he might clutch their hand if he gets nervous about something... and if they also happen to be a bit shy, as he is, he'll try his best to be as confidently reassuring as lyney is (it doesn't work, but it's the thought that counts, no?). his hand is always open to be held too, though, so if that calms his sibling down... he's more than happy to let them cling onto his hand for a while.

"Are you scared?"

"A little," they murmur quietly, fingers absentmindedly plucking at the threads of their sleeves. "Always a little on missions like these. It doesn't stop me from doing anything, don't get me wrong. I just get... nervous."

Freminet hummed, a soft acknowledgement of what they said.

Then, he held out his open palm, continuing, "Then... you can hold my hand. Until we have to do our jobs."

A bit of their confidence was restored—Freminet could tell, based on the way their downcast expression shifted into something more... neutral. Something more capable of disguising the threat of impending doom, in a way, but he knew that threat was not something for him to worry about. That threat was not for him.

(Some other threat, far more visible on their angry face accompanied by something along the lines of 'Freminet I am going to kill you where you stand Lyney said you ate my leftover food why would you betray me like this' was more likely to be for him.

For the record, Lyney was most certainly a liar. Freminet did not and would not do such a thing to them.

Magic is all about misdirection and trickery, after all. Of course Lyney managed to both misdirect and trick his baby sibling into accusing his other baby sibling of a crime he himself committed.)

They nodded, vastly more confident and assured in themselves, before clasping his hand securely in theirs. His fingers intertwined with theirs, and his thumb absentmindedly ran across their knuckles. "Until we have to do our jobs."

lynette will sneak them sweets when lyney isn't looking... or, tbh, even when he is looking. he scolds her for it every time, but she continues to do it. his chiding has never stopped her before. why would it stop her now?

lynette will also try all kinds of deserts and teas with them!! it's like a bonding activity, in a way. perhaps she and [name] create a little tier list to note down the best bakeries in fontaine and the worst.

"What do you think of this place?"

"Mmh... I don't know." They leaned over to Lynette's side, whispering their secrets ('secrets' meaning criticism that they were too polite to let the bakery owner overhear) into her ear. "Their sweets are kind of... bitter. Maybe the baker was having an off day? I don't know, but it's... not great."

"To the bottom of the list, then," she said simply with no attempt at discretion as she took a sip of her tea. She must have agreed with their criticism, given that she offered no words in defense of the little bakery.

"A— ah?! Lynette, shh! Don't say that so loud!"

kisses!!!! lyney just thinks his baby sibling is the cutest, so he'll fondly pepper their face in kisses if they're okay with it <3 lynette also does this, to a certain extent. it isn't to lyney's level, though. she is far more calm and restrained about it. she may, however, be very inclined to squish their cheeks like a fond grandma might.

it seems... calming for her? she seems to enjoy pinching their cheeks, even if her expression does not show it. maybe it could be compared to a cat kneading its owner. she's also quite fond of giving them headpats for any reason, really—for expressing approval, offering comfort, reassurance...

(it is likely that she picked up said habit from arlecchino.)

anyways.

neither of the twins smother in a belittling way. if [name] is seriously upset by something, or has something of great importance to share (intelligence collected on a mission, perhaps), they both take it very seriously... and if the twins somehow fail to do so, they own up to it.

freminet would be so happy if they wanted to go diving with him! and if [name] happened to dislike the ocean, he would understand, but would want to help them overcome such a fear. he's never going to leave them alone in the water if they're scared. there's nothing to be afraid of, he reassures quietly. why? how is there nothing to be afraid of? well, he will do his best to protect them. he will not let anything bad happen to them.

^ furthermore, freminet would also really love to sit in silence with [name] and toy around with machines and their inner workings. if his sibling isn't adept at it as he is, then he's more than content to quietly teach them and direct them on what to do and how to do it. perhaps there might come a day where they help him out with upgrading pers—whether that be by simply propsing an idea or executing that idea themselves on another machine (it would be so... wrong of them to do something to pers without his explicit permisssion) to visually display what they're trying to explain.

lyney and lynette use their two youngest siblings as something of a practice audience; it helps the twins work out any issues with their tricks, and as a bonus on lyney's behalf, he generally gets to see his little siblings [name] and freminet smile <3

on a more unfortunate note, lyney is notorious for not opening up and not relying on others. this may lead to intense arguments or spats... he may often neglect to apologize verbally (he cannot promise that he won't do it again; he doesn't want to lie to them like that), but he will apologize in other ways—a sudden increase in meaningful gifts for his little sibling, treating them to a meal or multiple meals of their choice, doing menial house chores for them so they do not have to... things of that nature. he feels bad, but he can't act like he won't do it again. he knows he will. lyney is just grateful that [name] is patient with him through it all.

Held out in front of them by their eldest brother was a takeout box from one of their favorite bakeries; he must have asked Lynette about it, they vacantly thought. Taped securely to the top was a Romaritime Flower. Loyalty... was that his way of reassuring them that these little things would not ever truly impact his relationship with and his care for them? They, again, mused that he must have gotten it from one of their other shared siblings—Freminet, if they had to guess.

They frowned. "Lyney..."

He looked a bit worried now. They felt a little bad for inducing that kind of anxiety, but they did not waver. "Do you not like it?"

"I do. It's not that," they reassured, shaking their head as they gingerly took the box from his hands. "I just wish you could rely on us more. You wouldn't need to go through all this trouble to apologize if you just... relied on us. All of us, Father included. That's all."

He doesn't say anything to that.

They gingerly set the gift down onto a nearby table. Then, they turn back to their brother and—to his surprise; he assumed they were still upset with him—wrapped their arms around his waist, head resting on his shoulder. His hands were frantic as they scrambled to secure their place around [Name]'s shoulders.

Lyney squeezed. It wasn't tight enough to hurt them at all, but it was tight enough to put a bit of soothing pressure on their body. Maybe it was another way of his to apologize wordlessly, without committing to the promise of never doing it again, or maybe he was just concerned that they might not forgive him this time and subsequently relieved when they did.

(He should know better after all these years, but... really, what kind of a brother might he be if he didn't worry about making amends with his younger sibling after doing wrong to them?)

It was silent for a moment. They simply basked in the warmth their brother provided, while he basked in the newfound freedom from the weight upon his shoulders that their forgiveness provided him with.

...

Then, they whispered, "You know I love you, right?"

He didn't have a chance to respond before they swiftly untangled themselves from his embrace, swiped his hat from atop his head, and darted out the front of the building that they were in.

Oh, so that's how it is.

He smiled fondly to himself as he waited, offering them a brief headstart.

He would catch them eventually; he always did. However, as Fatui agents... this little game of theirs, some variation of cat and mouse, could go on for hours—days, even, if [Name] happened to be taking it especially seriously.

Well, then. He may as well entertain their whims and antics (and really, they probably got it from him, so he has no right to complain about the monster he made; he often did things of this nature to all three of his siblings, and he had been doing this with them specifically since they were little).

It's the least he can do, he thinks.

lynette can often tell right away if something is wrong with [name]. she notices even the smallest things. at a moment's notice, she is ready to sit at their side and brew tea to share. if they want to talk, she is more than happy to listen, humming quietly every now and then to remind and reassure them that she is paying attention.

should one of [name]'s missions ever go wrong, ending with them injured... their three siblings are by their side as soon as possible, and lyney's probably first, followed shortly by both lynette and freminet.

they all want to know what happened, of course, but they don't push it if [name] isn't feeling up to the task of talking. their health and comfort always comes first.

freminet will offer pers as comfort, if they need something to hold that isn't a pillow. it tends to make him feel better, so maybe it will have the same effect on them. he does this whenever they're hurt—mentally, physically, or otherwise. if his sibling is in pain, he'll do what he can to help.

and if tears are shed... archons, they're all so worried :(

tears will never be shed in front of father, of course, but... it's different if it's in front of their siblings. none of them cry often—even very rarely in front of one another—so it is certainly worrisome when it does happen.

and though tears are rarely shed in front of one another, lyney, lynette, and freminet are all more than ready to help soothe the soul of their youngest sibling, regardless of whether that means letting them rant their heart out or simply sitting in silence by their side.

please consider reblogging and leaving kind tags or comments, it helps me out quite a lot!

[fishsticksloser]

Hiya!! 🌙⭐ Space anon here! I got inspired by lil 🐺 anon and I wanted to request theirs but the opposite! Basically someone who looks like a cinnamon roll but will destroy you and your ego in 5 minutes or less if you do anything to tick them off !

Ofc you don't have to, have a wonderful day you awesome human being!!!

(If you did this already oh em gee I am so sorry)

Looks Like a Cinnamon Roll...

RotTMNT & Casey x gn!reader

Warnings: aged up, slight mention violence (like the busting of kneecaps)

A/N: This was requested by 4 people at very different times... The other requests will be at the end. :) My first hc with Casey... Woo!

Donnie

Loves your sweet exterior

But he loves your violent, daring personality

You 2 protect each other

He knows very well that you pack quite the punch

As he's accidently scared you a few times (man can literally teleport I swear)

Never again

He is a little scared of you

The first time you showed him how violent you could be

♡_♡

Both of you were pretty similar in that sense

Absolutely will help you beat the crap out of someone

We all know he's not against hurting someone to get what he wants

Leo

You're so cute and sweet to him

Then he saw how quickly you'd fight to protect your loved ones

or when someone insulted you

That was not the plot twist he imagined

Still absolutely enamored by you

Training buddies

Honestly he's never been more terrified than the first time you showed that side of you

But let's be real

He can get like that sometimes too

Mikey

Every underestimates the 2 of you

Both of you so sweet and kind...

Remember S1 Ep 11B? "Pizza Pit"?

Mikey definitely has a violent side

So he doesn't mind that you can be violent

Of course, Mikey prefers a more relaxed style

And always sees the good in people, but when he's really upset

You 2 are a force to be reconned with

Raph

Everyone is always scared of him

He's huge and an alligator snapping turtle

Which means his jaw strength is even stronger than a normal turtle... Which is terrifying

But who they should really worry about is you

Sure you look sweet and cute on the outside

But Raph has seen what you're capable of and knows to stay clear

He will try to get people to take back what they said/did so they didn't have to face you

It rarely works

Casey Jr.

Literal definition of this boy

He may look sweet, but he will absolutely bust kneecaps

He grew up during the apocalypse, fighting is what he's done his whole life

But he's really sweet any time there's no danger

So when you're the same way?

He doesn't even seem to notice

If you ever ask for help beating someone up, he's there

He'll help train you too

He wants to make sure you'll be safe no matter what.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

lmao buck didnt ditch tommy last episode, he just made a pit stop before going to spend the night with tommy, like do you think he spent the whole night there? and yeah, this episode, if he does leave tommy to go help eddie, that's what friends do ?? like what do you expect him to do, just ignore his friends life completely falling apart? buck is an adult relationship and adults respect the fact that they arent always going to be no 1 first priority ALL of the time. tommy respects that, especially because eddie is actively in a spiral, and honestly it's really refreshing to see such a healthy depiction of the balance between romantic/platonic relationships. i mean how many times have other couples been interrupted by similar emergencies, this is literally the emergency show like. yeah obviously when there is an emergency, the characters are going to drop everything and go to it. I swear you people have never had adult relationships, romantic or platonic, because you see a normal healthy relationship and are incapable of enjoying it. "not anti bi buck, just anti tommy kinard" not anti bi buck, just anti any relationship buck has with a man that isn't eddie

wow what did i say?? that was quick!

if you think buck left eddie’s house after hearing eddie say the words “yeah me too” in reference to being worried about him, then you do not know buck at all.

also when have we seen tommy respecting anything with buck? you all live in these made up scenarios that lou blabs on cameo when in reality all we have seen is tommy constantly be dismissive towards buck unless buck is actively paying sole attention to him. that is not a perfect and healthy relationship.

tommy is constantly speaking down to buck, calling him “kid” and refusing to call buck by the name he chose for himself. that is not the sign of someone who cares about buck to me.

as for being against any relationship buck is in with s man…. give me a man who actually shows that he gives a flying fuck about buck. give me a man who isn’t constantly being condescending and rude. give me a man who’s whole backstory wasn’t as a tool to put hen and chimney through hell at the 118. if buck was dating literally any other guy i wouldn’t be anywhere near as fed up with this plotline; but the fact of the matter is we have BARELY seen anything between them that isn’t tommy being a dick to buck unless buck is kissing him. that doesn’t read as a positive and healthy relationship to me. you all claim to care about buck so much, but then actively defend everything tommy does that is rude and condescending to buck as if buck somehow deserves it.

i am capable of enjoying normal healthy adult relationships because i have watched this show for seven years. i have seen these characters drop things for emergencies. i have picked up on the patterns they have laid down in previous storylines. i have experience working in filmmaking and know how to read into things.

normally i look at these asks and laugh because i don’t like to give a platform to people like you who hide begind anon to try and make buddie shippers out to be monsters but the fact that that post hasn’t even been up for ten minutes and you already felt the need to type a whole anon ask about how wrong i am when none of what you’ve pointed out has any canonical evidence of living in the truth? i have to laugh.

the block button is free. filtering out the anti tags is free. if you’re one of my followers…. when have i ever posted anything that would make you think i was pro tommy in any way that got you to follow me in the first place?

since you sent the ask on anon and i have no way of doing it myself, i invite you to go to my page and press the block button… the anti tags exist for a reason and if you don’t wanna see anti tommy content, either filter out the tags or block my blog. simple as that.

[matthewsgreybubbles]

What is your opinion/belief about Matthew? You can share it here, this is a safe space, after all, right?

It's supposed to be all laugh and fun here so I swear to god that if anyone uses the inbox to be rude or insult me after that I'm blocking everybody-

I just believe that the whole ✨️MGG thing✨️ is too good to be true and I don't believe it for one bit.

I love Matthew (no joke? you fucking have a blog ABOUT HIM?), and he truly seems like a great and adorable guy, very kind if you ask. Dude is also an incredible actor, there is no denying it. I love his whole vibe and style and I'm not going to ramble about everything I use this blog for in that post because everybody knows about it.

But that doesn't change anything from what I have been saying. Matthew is human, he's a man, and idolizing him as some sort of best human ever and such a cutie patootie who will never hurt a fly (I'm exaggerating, of course, but you see what's my point) is not what I wish to do.

So yes maybe he cheated or maybe not. Maybe sometimes he is an asshole and sometimes he has bad days that makes him rude like all of us.

The problem with public figures is that they cannot have bad days because no fan wants their favorite celebrities to be rude when they meet them and that's normal. We all see them as perfect beings that we love. We crystallize on these people and we don't want them to break the expectations that we have. But in the end we don't know anything about them. Like how they truly are because once again, they show you what they want.

I love how Matthew interacts with his fans and I would DIE to meet him one day (never going to happen,*cries in european*). But that doesn't mean I don't think he can be rude or cheat or do whatever the fuck he wants to.

I don't know if what I am saying is clear?

I just don't want to play the blind and be like "Oh no- what? That normal human being is capable of hurting other people's feelings or being rude because he is in a bad mood? 😱" If it happens one day.

To conclude, MGG is one of the very few personal figures I've been following and interested in because I never heard shit about him and because he is so respectful towards everybody and the best man to his fans. But I also understand that he is like all of us and has the right to fuck things up without everybody coming at him and asking how can he not be perfect.

Omg my post is getting so long-

I'm sorry I'm rambling too much.

[visualtaehyun]

Devotion

How do I begin to express the amount of love I have for YiDiao's dynamic?? I swear I am unable to shut up about this show and watch it normally.

There's so much pressure on Yi to be strong and capable, as a man, as a son, as a partner, as a business man (harking back to what I said about his names and the tiger symbolism). Yet with Diao, he can be vulnerable and let go of those expectations. Diao is his rock!

Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏

ปกป้อง /bpohk bpawng/ = protect, guard, shelter, defend ให้เดียวเป็นที่พักพิงให้เฮียนะคับ /hai Diao bpen tee phak phing hai hia na khap/ = Let me be your shelter.

ขอบคุณนะคนเก่ง /khawp khun na khon geng/

1) คนเก่ง /khon geng/ is kinda difficult to translate cause it's praise for being a good, talented, smart etc. person. No English translation seems to have the same ring to it though, at least to me.

2) Yi earlier said Thanks too but in the way you'd expect from someone who's older to someone who's younger (ขอบใจนะ /khawp jai na/) but here he specifically says it more formally so it puts them on the same level/elevates Diao.

เดียวอยากให้เฮียใจดีกับตัวเองมากกว่านี้ /Diao yaak hai hia jai dee gap dtua eng maak gwa nee/ = I want you to be kinder to yourself.

The fact we start this scene with Diao on his knees looking up at Yi and end it with Yi falling to his knees, carrying Diao and looking up at him!

[timeshift-playground-sys]

uhm ultrakill hc talk (V1 and Gabriel edition)

guys did you know i like ultrak- *explodes*

\\also slight suicide mention

-🪷 (Adrian)

VERY LONG POST so the rest is after the cut

V1:

Runs digitigrade

The heels on its feet are actually the jet boosters that let it dash

maybe has small wheels built into its feet to help it slide. maybe. i swear i don't just want the murder robot to have heelies

weird fucking insect THING

Any idea of affection and human actions it has learned from observing its creators interact. Ex. blinking, twiddling its thumbs, etc

Also the concept of it being capable of mercy is very interesting to me. We see in the ferryman fight that once he stops attacking, V1 does too. The same with characters giving monologues and such. It doesn't attack until it knows the target is a threat, and seeing that everything in hell is like completely hostile we don't really get to see it sparing those who don't harm it.

as for killing i feel like it just doesn't feel anything. It doesn't have satisfaction it's just doing what it has to to survive, like a wild animal. I think it's going down through hell not only out of hunger but also curiosity. I mean it probably consumes a lot of blood to run its systems at the capacity it does so. Things like the cybergrind serve as practice when it gets bored (also it def replays its favorite fights)

As for dying i have two ideas

It leaves the pools of blood instead of collecting them for a reason. Once it is destroyed it can absorb blood from the ground to put itself back together. This of course takes time, which is why the enemies and bosses come back after you die. Meaning it's immortal

Hell itself brings V1 back each time because it wants entertainment, maybe resetting time too??? This doesn't really make sense to me tho

Gabriel:

gifted kid syndrome and BADDDDD

Shapeshifter. I don't know why. He has a human form (i refuse to believe he'd be white) and a more angelic form (his head is just a biblically accurate angel

immortal with his light, but can be exhausted with enough harm (ie. first fight)

his wounds heal extremely fast, but the more exhausted he gets the slower he heals (this is why he can taste his blood in the second fight)

this guy. oh my GAWD. Daddy issues times 10000000. Nice chill dude but indebted to his job because the council. I think he had a good friendship with minos before he had to kill him. Secretly played organ and read stories to filth children he didn't think belonged in hell (such as those who died to suicide). The only angel who really dared to step foot or even worry about Hell, so the council used his faith as a tool to manipulate him. This is a majority of what drives him to kill the council after the second fight

Now GabV1el, this shit is so canon.

I don't think they're really a romantic pairing, and it's very likely one sided on Gabriel's side. Gabriel is just enamored with V1 because it's the first thing to ever give him true struggle. Killing Minos? Easy. Killing Sisyphus? Easy. Killing the council? Easy. But V1 just keeps beating him. It's a passion to overcome, to finally beat this machine. And I am not normal about it AT ALL

As for V1, I feel like it doesn't understand the concept of romance. Things like kissing and embracing are just an action like any other to it. Although it may find the concept of affection interesting when all contact with others has always been harm

[nexysworld]

I loved music to my ears so much, and I had an request for the second one if you’re interested. Just the thought of her rocking up to save Freyr with Heimdall is hilarious, everyone is wide eyed like “what did I miss??” She’s just walking around like it’s normal with her visions guard dog trailing behind her.

So sorry for the delay on this! I love this idea! <3 Don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind but here we go! For those who are new this is a continuation to my Oneshot with Heimdall x Fem!Reader which can be found here. (PS sorry for any mistakes I cranked this out in one sitting directly in Tumblr instead of using docs. )

Read on AO3 🖤 Requests are Open 🖤 Fic/Request Master List

Gulltoppr trotted along at an even pace, shifting you from side to side as he moved forward through the humid environment of Vanaheim. You heard an audible sigh from Heimdall behind you. "Annoying pests." He sneered before hopping off the massive beast. You turned to look at him with a confused brow raised, there'd been no one for a while now despite the sound of fighting in the distance. Heimdall smacked Gulltoppr's back leg sending the beast running, nearly throwing you off, you had to hold on extra tight to the front of the saddle to keep your bearings. "Heimdall!" You dared to only look back once as a group of enemies surrounded him seemingly out of nowhere. Heimdall was strong, no one had ever been able to touch him in battle before, that still didn't stop the bubble of nervousness forming in your core as he began to disappear with the distance. All you could do now was focus on the direction ahead of you, after Gulltoppr's panic eased, you were able to grab the reins and slow him down a bit. While you'd never commanded such a beast before you assumed it at least had to be a bit similar to riding a horse, luckily for you, you were right. The sound of fighting became louder and louder almost rumbling in your ears, you knew you were going the right way. Quickly the scenery changed from the muddy footpaths to a large stone building, you tossed the reins speeding the beast up desperate to get closer to your allies,. Soon you saw the outline of Atreus, nearly running him down with the horned lion, you quickly yanked the reins causing the poor beast had to nearly skid to a stop. Freya and Kratos were close by tending to a wounded looking Freyr. All four of them turned to look over, hearing the noise. It was something straight out of a comedy really. Freya, Freyr, and Atreus were all slack jawed at your appearance. Kratos stood with his usual straight face, but even you thought you saw a twinge of something else there. "That's Gulltoppr." Atreus said it as though it was an unknown fact to you. He circled the beast confused. "But . . . I don't see Heimdall?" Freya and Kratos looked at each other then back to you. They weren't speaking but their thoughts were clear. They were in disbelief, Heimdall trusted his steed to no one, which could only mean that he was defeated in battle, though it was unthinkable that you of all people could have done so. Kratos may not have known Heimdall personally, but he knew the stories. Even Freyr managed to get a solid 'what the fuck' look out towards you. At this moment you were regretting not having told your friends about your relationship with the Golden God. Too little too late for that now. "Hey I know what you're all thinking. But that's not the case." You put your hands up defensively and let out a dry laugh. "Look I can explain, I swear, but there's not really any time for stories right now. Suffice it to say that Heimdall and I are . . . close."

The confused look on their faces didn't change. "Heimdall isn't capable of being close to anyone that isn't his Daddy, Lass." Mimir chimed in. 

You heard a familiar voice behind  you. "Tch, shows what you know you old goat. Sunshine, you never told them about me? I am truly wounded, are you ashamed of me? Ashamed of our lovemaking?"

You would have been relieved to know he was alive and okay, but all you felt was embarrassment as heat rushed to your face. Freyr let out a chortled laugh mixed with pain. "No fucking way!"

Heimdall leaned against Gulltoppr's side looking over at the crew.  "Let's see, useless little half breed. Check. Queen Mistletoe. Check. Sizzles. Check. Traitorous old goat? Check. Oh and the empty headed brute must be the half breed's father. Great."

Atreus couldn't help but let out a small laugh, sure Heimdall was an asshole, but he could be funny. Kratos shot the boy a look and Atreus did his best to straighten his face to a neutral look again. 

"This is seriously all you have to try and take down the All-Father? Pathetic, truly pathetic Frigg." He shook his head before looking up at you. "You owe me big time for this Sunshine, you know that."  

"I'll owe you for a lifetime." You said softly looking down at him. 

Kratos called what could only be considered a team huddle with Atreus, Freya, Freyr, and Mimir. 

"How do we know we can trust him? How do we know we can even trust her, she never told us of her affiliation with Heimdall." Freya asked. 

"I'm just shocked Heimdall can get laid. Do you think he pulls the stick out of his ass each time or leaves it in?" Freyr joked. Mimir and Atreus laughed, the remaining two not so amused.  

"In all seriousness, Heimdall is Odin's lapdog, he'd never betray the All-Father--" Mimir was cutoff by the sound of Heimdall's voice. 

"You know I can hear you right, I can even hear your thoughts before you say them. And by the GODS your lot is quite honestly the most predictable boring set of people I have ever had the displeasure of listening to." Heimdall added from afar before walking over to them. 

"For your information, I am not his 'lap dog.' I aim to protect Asgard, and as I see things right now if I allow the prophecy of Ragnarok to come true as is written, Asgard will fall with Odin. I will not allow that, it is my job to protect my realm and my people. In addition, no harm comes to my Sunshine, the next person who even thinks of launching an arrow at her or accuses her of being a traitor, ahem Frigg, I'll gut you like a fish and hang your body outside Himinbjorg as a trophy."

Heimdall turned and looked into the open night distracted by something before he side stepped a fire-arrow. "Slow down." He said grabbing Freyr up off the ground and walked back over, slinging him up over Gulltoppr and tied him to the saddle. Time turned back to normal. 

"I swear by the Norns if you hurt him." Freya threatened. Kratos put a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from moving. 

"No time to argue now Frigg, unless all of you want to die." Heimdall hopped into his usual spot on the saddle behind you taking the reins. "Hold on tight Sunshine." He kicked Gulltoppr into gear and took off into the night.  Freyr bounced on the back of Gulltoppr and groaned each time his injured leg pulsed with pain. Heimdall never allowed to beast to slow down as they weaved in and out of enemies, jumped over logs and rocks, and barreled through the woods. 

He finally stopped at the bank of the water, giving the rest of the group time to catch up. It was clear they were out of breath and enemies were in toe. Freyr wriggled a bit before grabbing the little paper boat he had attached to his hip, throwing it into the water. 

You were astounded at how it grew into size. "Neat little trick Sizzles." The second the crew managed to flop themselves into the boat, Heimdall took off again. Following the boat as it flew through the water, you had expected Heimdall to stop once you saw that the mountain tapered off into a waterfall. Your stomach dropped when Gulltoppr leapt off the ground, when there was no feeling of falling you opened one eye, and then the other. You were in the air, the boat flying next to you. “Gulltoppr can fly?” “Of course he can.” Heimdall said with a scoff, like it was something you should’ve expected already. 

Once the closest gate came into view, the group passed through it quickly, walking by the world tree and out the other end to the opening of Sindri’s home. Freyr was quickly brought inside so Freya could heal him. Heimdall helped you off of Gulltoppr and titled your chin up to look at him. “They ARE idiots.” He said firmly. You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. He leaned down to kiss you, and you wrapped your arms around him, happy to be on safe solid ground again. Meanwhile you had an audience of people staring out of the windows watching you. “It’s like watching a buildin’ on fire. Horrible to see but you just can’t look away.” Brok said.

 “Is that really Heimdall?” Tyr asked crouching to see through the window. “Fuckin’ weird, right?” Added Freyr.

“I. Can. Hear. You.” Heimdall said, whipping around to glare at them. You rubbed your temple feeling an oncoming headache. You hoped Ragnarok would come soon, you had sorely underestimated how…dysfunctional this alliance might be. But at least he was here with you now, and that’s all you needed.

[babybatss-blog]

PINKIE PROMISE

Johanna x reader, 900 words

Summary: you and Johanna are only 11, with your whole lives ahead of you. What if things don’t go as you both dream they will?

Cw: only hints of romance nothing clear, talk of murder, knives and slight swearing.

You may only be 11, but contrary to what your parents think, you are a pretty smart kid. In this world you have to be, living in a district far away from the capital, working for scraps and sheer survival. Plus, next year you have the chance to enter the hunger games, a fight to the death where the odds are never in your favour.

But sitting on the branch of a grand oak tree with your best friend Johanna all these troubles seem to float away, the world far under your swinging feet and innocent minds.

“Do you think that if I was sent into the games with Tobias, I would be able to kill him?” You ask, furrowing your brow in confusion at the prospect. You and Johanna are the complete antithesis of one another, complementing your counterparts at the best of times as the dreamer and steadfast pair, dulling out each other’s flaws and heightening each other’s strengths. Therefore, your question caused a scoff from her. “Of course. He’s as skinny as a twig, and even if you didn’t get him someone would after hearing his stupid nagging.”

You giggle. “I guess your right. I don’t like my chances winning against the careers though, they’re so strong and well trained. Like you!” Never being one to take complements well, she dips her head to conceal the growing blush. But she knows your right. Many of your days together have been spent with Johanna honing her skills while you sit idly by, watching the clouds float off into the distance. “I could always train you.” She shrugs. “I know you usually say no, but there’s no way I’m letting you just die out there and leave me all alone.”

Johanna pulls three tiny throwing knives from her boot, with leather handles and jagged ends. She plays with one in her right hand, mesmerizing you by how the light reflects and shimmers, just like how Johanna herself does with those deep brown eyes that you could look at all day. If that’s a normal way to feel about your best friend, you don’t know. Despite your reluctance you agree, grabbing two of the three knives as she presents a skilled demonstration.

Across from you two is another oak tree, bearing a thick branch to the elements and a prime candidate as a target. Her muscles flex as she sharply throws the weapon, piercing the bark just where she intended. “So, all you’ve gotta do is look where you aim to land, throw your arm over your shoulder and release when you’re at a ninety degree angle. It’s all in the bicep, okay?” Your lips curl into your mouth with concentration, squinting your eyes as you focus on the tree and bring your arm back. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Johanna staring at your figure, causing your focus to falter and the knife to weakly bounce off of the tree.

“Shit.” You huff, but Johanna just chuckles. “Oh well, guess your not cut out for the arena. Doesn’t matter though, neither of us are getting picked anyways.” “And we have a year! But still, I want to be able to do what you do Johanna! All the boys at school think your so cool, always beating them in games and scaring them.”

When you said this, you expected Johanna to display a hint of pride, as she loves showing the boys up and loves even more proving her worth to teachers who think she will amount to nothing. But instead, her face drops, into an unsettling scene of dissatisfaction. “I don’t care what they think. They can go to hell!”

You laugh, throwing your head back and releasing that sound Johanna loves so dearly. Climbing down the tree quickly and nimbly, Johanna traces back her words in embarrassment. “I mean, I more care what you think. Not that I don’t care what they think, I just… Want to show you how capable I am. I guess…” It’s rare when you get to see her fumble in such a way, and it warms your heart to see the usually closed off girl break down her barriers every so often. So you join her on the ground, and place a soft hand onto her shoulder. “I know Johanna. And I also know how capable you are. If you somehow get into the games, I have no doubt you would win.” “Same with you.” She sticks out her pinkie finger, looking at you with a sincerity she only gifts to you. “But I promise I won’t.”

With a soft smile you intertwine your pinkie with hers, smiling with adoration. “And I promise I wont either.” The moment lingers, the warmth of your hands tingling up your arm and to your chest. But you break it, unaccustomed to the strange feeling.

Instead, you whip your head to the tree and throw the second knife with a dedicated strength. It sticks, which wasn’t hard due to your proximity but regardless causes you to jump up and down in joy. “I did it! I did it! Ha, Johanna Mason, looks like you’ve got competition now.” Deep down Johanna knows this is untrue, but she would never break the joy of her one bestest friend.

[haleigh-sloth]

The one thing that most of the LOV are in common: An bunch of unreliable narrators who continually lie to themselves and delude themselves repeatedly.

Touya: I want to destroy everything my dad cares about including my family to prove that I existed

Also Touya: *cries about his family on two separate occasions when nobody else is around and also cries on the inside when Shouto stopped him without killing him*

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Tomura: I killed my family because I wanted to and was born to do that and am only capable of killing and I also want to destroy everything that led to me killing the family that I totally 100% wanted to kill haha

Also Tomura: *crying on the inside, upset at the unfairness of not being saved (despite thinking not being saved was punishment for killing his family???), questions Izuku's motives because he's suspicious that he wants to save him*

Tomura again: I totally wanted to kill my sister and mom and grandparents and dad hahaha it didn't bother me at all I was born to destroy

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Toga: I'm not miserable at all, the way I'm living IS my normal and I'm going to live MY NORMAL WAY

Also Toga: *chases UA kids every opportunity to ask if they'd kill her if given the chance, cries when they don't straight up say no, chases them AGAIN to ask them AGAIN, has a mental break down over not being able to turn into her friends because it means she doesn't want to be them which means she has to face that fact that even though she loves her friends she's still been miserable and unhappy the whole time*

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Spinner: I just want to follow this person into whatever miserable future he swears he'll provide

Also Spinner: *feels so elated by the idea of people looking up to him and following him because it made him feel like somebody*

Spinner: *the second he realizes he lost his following just immediately goes back to telling himself all he wants is to follow someone else's miserable shadow because that's all he thinks he's capable of doing as an individual*

Yeah they're all the worst lol

[yanderes-galore]

how about a valentines Rick (Rick and Morty) with prompts 4 and 1? Maybe it’s a date night! Could be hcs if you want!!

Prompts don't work with HCs, they're always short stories :)

Sure! I'll make this take place during a date night. I finally bought Season 6 to watch so I have a little bit of motivation. Written with C-137 Rick in mind. I haven't written for Rick in so long, lol. Altered one of the prompts for this :)

Triggering themes in this, read with caution.

Spoilers for Rick & Morty/Rick's past

Prompts Found Here (Link may be broken)

Yandere! Rick Sanchez V-Day Prompts 4 and 1

"...why won't you love me?"

"You think I am crazy?! The world is crazier- It does not let us love!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Forced relationship, Relationship trouble, Implied past intimacy/Intimacy in general, Obsession, Heavy themes with a relationship not working out/scared of commitment, Darling just wanted a normal relationship, Angst probably, Kidnapping mention, Murder mention, Possessive behavior implied, Delusional/Desensitized Rick, Swearing, Slight grief implied, Fear of losing a partner/Trauma, Manipulation, Hypocritical behavior.

Dates with Rick were rare. Whenever they did happen they usually involved interdimensional travel or something weird like that. With Rick... you had no true sense of normal.

Which was one of the reasons you hated him.

Rick used to be someone you thought was cool. Before you were involved from him. That was because you did not understand or look into his madness.

You had no idea you drove him crazy.

Not until it was too late, that is. The moment you accepted his first date and hooked up, you had forfeit your life to him. Rick never left you alone after that.

He probably couldn't, even if he wanted to... you managed to worm your way into his mind.

So he gave in and expressed the intensity of his obsession towards you.

Being officially together was a strange feeling for the both of you. You didn't like the amount of stress Rick's life caused you. Rick was probably still not used to sticking around you so often as he was used to having flings. Now he... strangely doesn't want any.

Rick felt content with you. He thought he'd never love anyone after Prime Rick ruined his life. But here you were... captivating him.

Your pair felt like it wasn't meant to happen. Probably because no other universe had you two together, from what you knew of. Your "relationship" was an anomaly.

Which was probably why it wasn't working out.

Rick finally tried some sort of normal date this time. You both knew this relationship between you was going down the drain. Rick... didn't actually want it to end.

No... he liked this and was determined to hold it together. Even if it requires some sort of tech to force you.

The date he planned was as normal as he could think of. A walk, some dinner, and some time alone together. He promised nothing too weird.

However, the date still made you wish for a way out... away from him for a sense of normalcy.

You knew what Rick was capable of. He's murdered people in front of you, he's shown possessive tendencies about you... and he's always on the run. You wished he just... gave up on this bond between you.

Yet despite your feelings, you're forced to walk and chat. You're forced to give into his loving embraces and hold his hand. You held out for as long as you could...

But near the end you're on the verge of a breakdown, standing with him in your bedroom while arguing.

"...why won't you love me like you used to?"

"We can't work, Rick!" You cry out, desperation in your tone. "Stop pretending we can!"

"Come on, (Y/N)... I'm sure we can. Just calm down, you know I just want to make us happy."

"You want to make yourself happy, Rick!" Rick's silent at what you say. You turn away, letting out a shakey sigh.

"Baby... you know I can't let you go. I don't know what I'd do without you!"

"Rick..." You plead. "Our relationship isn't right."

"How?"

"You're possessive..." You start, shuffling away from him. "You've killed my friends from my universe. You took me away from my home. All because I told you I couldn't handle what you go through every day!"

You watch Rick for any reaction. He gives you a weird look like what you brought up was normal. Which only encourages your argument....

"You're crazy, Rick! That's what I'm saying! How come you don't see any of that!?"

That sets him off.

"You think I am crazy?!" Rick argues, stepping closer. "The world... no, the UNIVERSE is crazier- It will not let us love!"

"Rick, please... don't shift the blame-"

"You don't get it! You don't understand the universe like I do. The universe could take you away easily! Especially with that other fucking Rick out there who killed Diane!"

Rick lets the past fall out of his mouth... stunning you into silence. The relationship only hurt the two of you now. But Rick would rather deal with that than be alone again....

"... is that what this is about?" You ask mostly to yourself. "That doesn't excuse shit. That just makes you a hypocrite!"

"Yeah, I'll accept that." Rick shrugs. "Doesn't change the fact you loved me at one point. I was protecting you! I was leaving no trace so HE couldn't find you! It was all for the best!"

You stop talking and look away. You don't react when he embraces you. He doesn't force anything... he just holds you in silence. There's no point in fighting.

You aren't sure if what Rick's saying is true... yet you'll never forgive him either way.

You just wish you never hooked up in the first place... you wish you were at home in your dimension... you just want to be normal again.

"... I'm sure you'll love me again someday...."