#but like why would you hate her over the possibility of her being in the way of your ships

[mischievousmoony]

Omg I love ur James fics. You think you could do one where reader finally feels comfortable getting drunk while going out with their group because she knows James is there to take care of her. Ur drunk reader x James interactions are too cute. I feel like I always have a hard time letting go cause I’m afraid I’ll need to take care of my other friends haha. Love your work!

thank u love! i have fun writing them, i just know james would be so caring! ps thank you for being patient ik this request came in a while ago

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (i think that’s it but lmk if i missed any pls)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"But what if Sirius tries to get a new tattoo again?" you ask, twisting back and forth with a steady squeak, squeak, squeak of your barstool.

James clasps his hand on your shoulder, turning you one last time to face him. "Remus is watching him."

"What if Marlene tries to go on another one of her adventures?"

Marlene has a knack for getting herself into precarious situations when she gets drunk, which she likes to call her “little adventures.” Usually, this means going home with a stranger, whether it’s for a hookup or to steal their lightbulbs because they looked at her wrong.

"Lily’s got her.”

"What if I do something stupid?" you ask, now swinging your legs. The nerves eating away at you just won’t let you sit still.

James puts his other hand on your knee, soothing you with a gentle squeeze. "I'm watching you," he says. After thinking it over for a moment, he adds, “And I don't think you'll do anything stupid. Even if you do, I'll do something more stupid so that nobody notices."

This earns him a giggle from you, and he’s happy to see you smiling. He picks up your glass, which is now covered in beads of water, plenty of time having passed for condensation to run its course. He dries what he can with a napkin because he knows you hate when the droplets land in your lap.

You once asked him why it happened, even though you knew the answer. He simply told you it was science.

“Science is stupid,” you had said, eyes fixating on several small spots of water soaking into your jeans.

Now, James wraps your glasses with napkins. He holds out your drink, a black napkin enveloped around it, as he asks, “You want to do this, right?”

You peek into the glass and watch the dwindling ice cubes swirl around in a vodka cran; a drink that James had called “beginner friendly.”

“Yeah,” you answer shyly.

James frowns. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over. A part of you wants to forget it, but another part of you knows you’d be disappointed in yourself for chickening out again.

You wrap your hand around the glass, cringing at the squish of the soggy napkin beneath your fingertips. You don’t know what’s worse: this feeling or the water dripping all over you. But James’ attempts to help make you feel warm inside, so you don’t complain.

“No, I still want to do this.”

“Then I’m here for you. Promise.” James gives your knee another squeeze.

You cast a look toward your friends. For years, you've nominated yourself as the designated driver. Or you've claimed to have early morning obligations. You've always felt better knowing someone sober was around to deliver plenty of water and carb-rich snacks to your incapacitated friends.

That was your excuse, anyway. Not that it isn't one of your concerns, but truthfully, something about drinking makes you feel uneasy. You always knew your friends were safe because you've been there, ready to hold back anyone's hair or stray them away from bad decisions. If you drank too, how could you be sure your friends would have someone to depend on? How could you be sure you would have someone to depend on?

Then, you started dating James, and you found a level of trust you never knew was possible. You know you can depend on him for anything.

When you admitted to him why you never drink when you go out, he swore up and down that he would be there for you.

Remembering his promise summons a wave of courage. You shoot James a nervous smile, and take your first sip, scrunching your nose as it burns your tongue.

"This is kind of gross."

James barks a laugh, "We can try to find something you'd like better next round. That is, if you decide to have another."

Feeling brave, you do have another. That's when you discovered something called the Cosmic Lemon Fizz; a drink that sparkles with edible glitter and manages to be blue, green, and yellow all at once. You laughed when you saw it, not knowing how in for it you were.

"Jamie!" you exclaim after taking a sip of your third Cosmic Lemon Fizz. "This tastes like happy feels!" you gasp as if the thought had just occurred to you, despite this being the fourth time you tell him.

"I bet it does!" James cheers. His eyes wrinkle in the corners as he beams at you.

"You should try one!" you declare, and immediately try to flag over the bartender.

James smoothly takes your hand, stopping you as he says, "No can do. Made a promise to a pretty girl that I wouldn't have a drop tonight."

You whip your head around. "Who!?" you ask, eyes wide.

"Who do you think, pretty girl," he says, poking you in the side.

Giggles escape you and you swat his hand away. He doesn't go far, lifting his arm to brush some stray hairs out of your face. His hand lingers on the side of your face, soothing the pad of his thumb against your cheek.

You lean into his touch, gazing up at him with an affectionate glaze in your eyes; a look that gives him butterflies.

"Wowww," you say dreamily. "You're handsome."

James feels his heart flip in his chest. "Thank you, love," he says, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Hey," Sirius says, appearing out of nowhere as he lazily throws an arm over your shoulders, "How's it going over here?"

While you're distracted with Sirius, James waves over the bartender and replaces your drink with water. The next time you reach for your glass, you hesitate.

"Where's my cosmo magic fizzy thingy?" you ask, an eyebrow raised as you glance at James.

"You must've finished it," he shrugs, acting clueless.

"That's like the oldest trick in the book. You replaced it with water and now you're trying to be sneaky!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," James feigns innocence.

You giggle, bringing the straw to your lips. "I knew you'd take care of me. I love you," you say, happily sipping your water.

James feels another eye-wrinkling smile break out on his face. "I love you too, pretty girl."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[topguncortez]

f you’re still doing prompts : jake and shy wifey !

please. make me feel good. no one else can like you.

❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜

Body Love || Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey

opposites attract masterlist || main masterlist

synopsis: Y/N has been having a hard time feeling confident since the births of her twins. Jake is determined to make her remember how beautiful she is.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smutty-ish, cursing, negative self talk, mentions of c-sections

note: lmao not me going back to my graduation challenge requests. but think of this as a soft launch before whumptober gets started

She was doing it again. Jake had caught her doing it several times in the past couple of days. That look in her eye told him that what she was looking at, she didn’t like what she was seeing in the mirror. She furrowed her eyebrows as she touched her cheeks gently, poking at the skin on her face. Jake tried his hardest to stay out of sight to watch her. 

Y/N was gorgeous. She was the most gorgeous girl that Jake had ever laid eyes on. Her body had changed a lot over the years from age, and carrying five of the most beautiful kids that Jake had ever seen in his life. Her thighs were a bit bigger, her stomach not as flat as it used to be, her breasts weren’t as perky, and her hair had some grays in it, all small changes of age and being a mother. But the scar that sat on her lower abdomen was the most noticeable to her. The scar wasn’t there a year ago, but it was now a permanent reminder of probably the worst day of her life. 

The pregnancy and birth of Jasper and Maxwell Seresin had been anything but easy. Throughout the whole thing, Y/N was having problems with her blood pressure. One moment it was too high, and the next it would be too low. She had tried her best to remain as stress-free as possible, but it was hard with a naval aviator for a husband and three other kids running around the house. A c-section was the last thing she wanted, but when it came down to a life-or-death situation, Y/N agreed to it. The scar reminded her of the moment when she almost lost her babies. She didn’t like it, but Jake loved it. 

He loved every single mark on her tummy. Whenever they were intimate, Jake would kiss every single stretch mark on her tummy, sending flutters through her body. But they hadn’t been that intimate since Jasper and Maxwell were born nearly a year ago. Y/N never liked to take her shirt off anymore when they would have sex. She would hardly show herself when they would get dressed in the morning, she’d either step into the closet or the bathroom. They didn’t shower or bathe together like they once did, in fact, she went as far as locking the door whenever she did to deter Jake from entering. 

Jake didn’t like being iced out like this. He had spent years trying to break down her walls, to get her to let him. She slowly opened up to him, and gradually built up that confidence to let him know everything about her, to let him truly see her. But now, it felt like he had moved ten steps backward. 

He sighed and pushed off the wall he was leaning on, as he watched Y/N lift her shirt gently and run her fingertips over the scar. She looked at the reflection of the scar in the mirror and frowned at it. Jake walked up behind her, and placed his hands on her hips, causing her to jump at the action. Y/N tried to push her shirt back down to cover the scar, but he stopped her. 

“Why do you hide this from me?” Jake asked, looking at the scar in the mirror. He gently ran his thumb over the skin and leaned his head into the crook of her neck. 

“I don’t like it,” She answered, “I hate seeing it. It’s ugly.” 

“Yeah, but it reminds you of how much of a champion you are,” Jake said, and placed his lips on her skin, “Shows the sacrifice that you made to bring your babies into the world.” 

“They were cut out of me,” She sniffled and looked away from the scar. “My last babies and I didn’t even actually give birth to them.” 

“Stop that, yes you did,” Jake turned her body, so she was facing him. He gently lifted her head up, “You gave birth to Jasper and Maxwell. It wasn’t how you wanted it to be, but you still did it. It still means something.” 

“Why have you stayed with me?” Y/N asked him honestly, looking up at his big green eyes. She could see the heartbreak in his eyes the moment the words left her mouth, “I-I’m not as pretty, or as confident or as smart as some of the girls you used to bring around the Hard Deck. So, why did you choose me? Why did you stay with me?” 

“I stayed with you because you didn’t throw yourself at me, or any of the other pilots that walked into there. I chose you because you are a kind, gentle, old soul, who would rather stay home and eat strawberry cupcakes and watch Bob Ross paint ‘happy little trees’ instead of going out and getting piss drunk,” Jake explained, “I chose you, because when I saw you. . . I saw my whole future. I saw our wedding, I saw our first house, our first deployment, our kids, that huge ass flower garden you made me plant and sat by sipping on lemonade looking as good as a Sin on Sunday,” Y/N chuckled at his words. Jake caressed her cheek, and kissed both of them, before grabbing both her hands, 

“If I could go back in time to the night that we first met, I would choose you, over and over,” Jake said and kissed her lips. 

“Even though I look like this now,” She gestured to her body. 

“Especially when you look like this,” Jake said. Y/N let out a gasp as Jake quickly turned them, and placed her on the bed. He climbed on top of her, and looked down at her body, “God damn, you look so fucking sexy. You looked sexy then, and you look sexy now. Your body has changed in the most delicious ways.” Jake pressed his hips into hers, and her eyes widened at the feeling of his semi-hard cock, “I get hard just thinking about you. Thinking about your ass, your thighs, your tits, your tummy.” 

He moaned as his hands grazed the sides of her stomach, “Your tummy. . . fuck, it has to be my favorite place. I love it. I love seeing it stretch and grow with my kids.” Jake pushed the shirt that she was wearing up underneath her boobs, and started placing kisses down her sternum, to her belly.

“Please Jake,” Y/N panted. 

“You don’t realize how crazy you drive me,” Jake shook his head, climbing back up her body, and placing kisses on her neck, “Fuck sometimes I feel like a fucking teenager, getting instantly hard when you walk into a room.” He pushed his hips against hers, his hard-on straining against his joggers. 

“Show me,” Y/N whispered, grabbing his face in her hands, “Show me what I do to you. Make me feel good.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, green eyes peering down at her, a hint of mischief in them, “You want me to make you feel good?” Jake’s hand slowly worked down her body, until he was cupping her covered pussy in his hand. Y/N nodded her head frantically, shamelessly grinding against his hand. He was hardly even touching her, and she was begging for him, “What do you want from me, Y/N? Tell me.” 

“Your fingers, in me.” 

“Like this?” Jake asked, feigning innocence as he slipped his hand down the front of the boxer shorts she was wearing. His fingers expertly parted her, sliding through her slick and gently into her. Y/N’s head tilted back with a loud moan. 

“Yes,” Y/N moaned as Jake’s fingers curled in and out of her, his lips sucking gently at her neck, “No one else can make me feel good like you do.” Jake nodded his head, pulling his fingers out of her and gently circling her clit, “Fuck, Jake.” 

“So naughty for me,” Jake chuckled against her skin, “I love it when you curse.” 

“I love it when you touch me,” Y/N said back, her hand reaching down to palm him through his pants. She pressed her lips against his, her free hand gripping the back of his neck and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. Jake’s hips bucked into her hand, as his tongue slipped into her mouth. 

“Jake,” Y/N cried out, as his fingers slipped back into her, curling them against that sweet spot, “Make me cum, please.” “Don’t worry baby,” Jake cooed, grabbing her hand and pinning it above her. She whined at the loss of pleasure from him, “You’re mine and I take care of what belongs to me.”

taglist: @damrlova @phoenix138 @mygyn @cherrycola27 @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @startrekfangirl2233 @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @angelbabyange @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @callsignartemis @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @malindacath @justenoughmadnesss @sagittarius-flowerchild @hardballoonlove @harrysgothicbitch @hookslove1592 @noonenuts @marvellouscroissant @senawashere @bradshawsprincess @alwayshave-faith

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[purplestanleypinkblanket]

First Kiss With Logan:

Pairings: (DP3 Vers.) Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: After a shitty date, you seek comfort from Wade who threw you a ‘Cherry Popped’ party. It ends up making you feel worse, which leads you into the arms of a man who’s grown fond of you. Logan.

Warnings: Kissing, talking about bad date, cursing, brief mentions of drinking, innuendos to "cherry popping", use of the word virgin. Self-deprecating talk in some areas, from both reader and Logan.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2,388

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You hated that you found yourself, seated across from a man who, frankly, hadn't asked you a single question about yourself all night. You also hated how much this man yapped. God, all he did was talk and talk without even the slightest breath. And you hated that you continued to stay seated. Perhaps you were too kind, or maybe you thought you had no right to leave. After all, the man was buying you dinner. It was hard to shake that kind of guilt. You knew you owed him nothing, that it's okay to leave a shitty date- but a part of you wondered if this was all you had going for you. A shitty date, with a shitty man on a shitty afternoon.

As you spaced out your thoughts drifted back to Logan, you wondered if dates with him were like this. What if they weren't? What if he was kind? Well, slightly kinder than normal. He didn't strike you as the pull-your-chair-out-for-you kinda guy, but you had a feeling he would ask you questions instead of yapping your ear off. Maybe he would ask about your day at work, or what you like to do in your free time. Possibly he'd like to hear funny stories about your family. No, that felt too intimate for a first date. Maybe on a third date you'd share those stories with him.

God, what are you even on about right now? You're on a date with a man buying you dinner and you're thinking about Logan! As your eyes looked over the man, you finally tuned back into what he was saying.

"My ex was fucking crazy! That bitch-"

Aaanndd, you lost interest immediately. The more this dude spoke, the more of a dick he sounded. You couldn't help but feel thankful when the date ended. However, the chime of your phone caught your attention during the walk back to your apartment.

'Hey, sugar tits.' Wade's text read. 'Come over, we're celebrating you getting your cherry popped!' That dick knew you weren't a virgin, he just wanted a damn reason to celebrate. What better way to celebrate then partying over your friend not getting laid? It was a cruel joke you really weren't in the mood for but the image of Logan blowing up balloons with Blind Al, a smile just barely tugging at his usually grumpy face...it was hard to say no too. And Wade knew that- its why he sent you the picture after all.

"Fucking dick." You murmured to yourself as you wrapped your cardigan around you tighter, pushing the front door to Wade's apartment open as you did so. The sight was ridiculous, balloons, streamers, wall decor, banners that read 'Pop That Cherry!' draped off the ceiling. You took a mental note to punch Wade in his smart-ass lip later. But, for now, it was nice being in the comfort of your friends. Yes, even the snarky teenager Negasonic and her girlfriend. You were a teenage girl once, but it still didn't stop you getting annoyed when she nitpicked your outfits. It isn't your fault baggy sweaters and legging were literally a godsent.

You trudged your way through the crowded apartment, hand adjusting your white sweater to cover the tank top under it a little better. As you approached Logan and Wade, you grew more aware of the length of your skirt. Was it too long? Too short? Would Logan think it looked good? God, why did you even care what Logan Howlett, labeled the worst wolverine, thought of you? You didn't think he was the worst wolverine. You'd never say it, of course not, because then he'd know you actually liked being around him! Perhaps it was selfish of you to keep yourself so guarded around him, but you couldn't shake the fear of letting down your walls and risking getting hurt. It was scary. Losing that much control. And over what, a feeling?

A hand extending towards you caught your attention, it was Logan, offering you a drink.

"Thank you." You spoke to him, voice quiet compared to the blaring pop music Wade was playing. He grunted in response, but you swear you heard a 'you're welcome.' You brought it to your lips, casually slow sipping the alcohol over the course of the night. It was fun to dance with Vanessa as Wade and Peter tried to convince Logan to join the group. You couldn't help the laugh on your lips when Wade made a snarky comment about Logan's panties being in a twist, earning a threatening unsheathing of claws from logan. You never fully understood the shame Logan felt, even though you tried incredibly hard to. To you, he was amazing, he was strong, he was...well, to say you only admired him would be a lie.

You wished you could show Logan the way you saw him, the way the world saw him. Sure, he was hot, unnecessarily hot, with large biceps and shoulders that went for days. But he was more than that. He was a grump who pushed people away out of fear of hurting them. And to prevent himself from getting hurt. It was ironic, really. Perhaps you and him were more alike than you thought. After a while in the overstimulating party, you slipped away, moving to stand on the balcony. You hadn't been there long, probably thirty minutes? It was nice, listening to your friend's party as you took a break to look at the city.

"Thought I'd find you here." Logan's rough voice spoke as he walked out onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him.

You hummed in response, flashing him a smile as you looked away. Logan could feel his heart skip a beat at your smile- it was always nice when you graced him with it. He'd give anything to see you smile. Hell, he wished he could make you smile and laugh the way Wade and Vanessa did. They matched your morbid sarcastic humor easily. Something he struggled to do. He approached you, leaning onto the railing beside you.

"Congrats on the...uh..."

"I'm not a virgin."

"Oh..."

The silence was awkward between you. You had to purse your lips to prevent you from bursting out in a laugh. You found it hilarious how just one statement suddenly made him go quiet.

"Wade had-" You spoke, trying to stifle your laugh with your hand. "Wade thought it would be funny to throw a 'cherry popped' party because it's been forever since my last date." You revealed, not able to contain your laugh any longer. "It's actually kinda sweet. In a weird way, ya know, Wades weird way." The corners of Logan's mouth lifted slightly at the sound of your laugh. It had always been his favorite sound after meeting you.

"Guess so." Logan contributed to the conversation, bringing the glass beer bottle to his lips. You looked at logan watching as he looked over the city, your eyes analyzing him. His jaw, his hair, the crow's feet by his eyes from his constant state of scowling. Maybe it was the liquid courage you had drank. Or you finally just decided to give Logan a sense of affection. You loved to shower your friends with affection, often times holding Wade as you two watched tv, or Vanessa sitting on your lap as you gossiped. Logan had seen it plenty of times. God, sometimes you even gave Peter affection. Each time he felt a twinge of jealousy, he wanted to be the object of your affectionate touches. Or the way you murmured praise directed at them after a task- he wanted that.

Your hand reached up, gently soothing out some strands of his beard that were in disarray. Logan tensed under your touch, and you immediately pulled away, guilt and embarrassment swarming you.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." You adamantly apologized, face heating up.

"Don't worry about it." Logan roughly said, silently regretting the way you withdrew so quickly. He watched as you tried to subtly put some distance between the two of you- the sting of rejection clear as day on your face. He hadn't meant to reject you; you were reading too much into it. His mind sidetracked as he looked away, maybe he was the one reading too much into it? "How was your date?" He settled on asking, bringing the beer to his lips.

"Shitty." You sighed, frowning.

Logan nodded, waiting for you to continue. Silence falls between you two and he flashed you an expectant glance. You hadn't realized he wanted you to keep talking until he looked at you.

"Oh, uh, there isn't really much to say." You shrugged, looking away. "He didn't ask any questions, just talked about himself the whole time. Was super annoying too." Logan couldn't help the satisfaction that welled in his chest upon hearing your defeated words. It sucked for you, of course it did. But Logan was so glad the date was bad- that way no one could come in, sweep you off your feet, and away from him. He hadn't made a move on you, and he couldn't decide if he ever would. He didn't want to risk hurting you like he had done the others he cared for.

However, the glance of tiredness in your expression when you had looked at him momentarily...he hated it. He hated himself for being so happy your date was bad, and he hated that he wasn't the one you wanted to sweep you off your feet.

"Like...it isn't hard to make a girl feel special. To make her feel like a princess." You laughed with a shake of your head. "I dunno, maybe I'm just expecting too much?" You looked at Logan as you asked, a need for reassurance present.

Logan stared at you; brows furrowed as he analyzed you. The scowl on his features prominent. Believing you had said too much, or you annoyed him with your ramblings, an apology escaped your lips.

"Fuck, sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Princess." Logan's comment snapped you from your rushed apology. "Relax." He had taken that brave step closer to you, facing you fully as his side and arm holding the beer leaned against the balcony railing. He was glad you were comfortable enough to unload that on him and he was determined to keep it that way. "I don't mind." You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed as your mind ran. That was another thing he liked about you. It was so easy to tell if you were thinking. Your eyebrows always furrowed, your lips pursed into a line, and your eyes always spoke a thousand words.

Despite his better judgement, his hand rose, gently flattening the skin between your eyebrows. The gesture was small, yet it held so much intimacy. You had always been picky about who could touch you. You loved to shower your friends with affection, but rarely ever let anyone reciprocate it back. Logan wondered why that was. What had affected you so much that you refused to let anyone even shake your hand. Here he was, though, thumb moving from the area between your eyebrows to his hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes were wide, your throat dry. You had never expected this from him. This gentleness, the way he had observed your furrowed brows...you leaned your face into his hand, unable to help the way you melted into it. It was a chilly night, and, God, was he warm.

Logan closed the distance between the two of you, now standing directly in front of you. His thumb caressing your cheek. As he stared into your eyes, his gaze couldn't help but flicker down to your lips, a red faded stain on them from the lipstick you had worn to your date. They looked so soft, so enticing. And he couldn't help but wonder if that peppermint chapstick you wore 24/7 worked. He had never been one for chapstick, but you seemed obsessed with it. Logan's thumb slipped from where it rubbed your cheek to your bottom lip, slowly tracing it. You subconsciously licked your lips as he traced them, your chest tight. Why was it suddenly so difficult to breathe? Your throat was beyond dry, your face paled under his gaze yet somehow it felt like your blush deepened. The way his eyes analyzed your lip, your eyes, your nose, that mark you had since you were a child...It was like he was memorizing you.

You wanted to say something, anything. Preferably something sarcastic and witty. No words came to your lips regardless of the fact that your mind was working overdrive. Time slowed as his thumb gently pulled your lip down, encouraging your mouth to part as his hand cupped your chin now, guiding you closer to him. He leaned down, face inches from yours. He paused there, however, waiting for your permission because he knew that you needed that variation of control to feel safe. He wanted to make you feel safe, he wanted you to know you were safe. That he had you. You brushed your lips against his, slightly closing that gap between you two. He took that as permission as he pressed his lips to yours fully. It was gentle at first, as if he was scared that at any moment you'd disappear. Or worse, break.

Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him close as you held onto him. His hands finally rested around your waist, the kiss growing stronger as he deepened it. People claim that you would feel fireworks during a kiss, but that wasn't the case at all. You felt electricity against your skin that was against him, but the most powerful feeling was how right it felt. Like you were meant to be there, in his arms, kissing him, holding him. He had broken the kiss, opening his eyes to stare at you.

Logan wondered if he'd ever be able to let another person get close to him. He was certain Wade would've been the only one- a victim of the circumstance's kind of thing. But he sure as hell was glad that today he was the one who held you attention as he pressed another kiss to your lips.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (8)

Summary: The aftermath of all her family secrets might be more chaotic than Reader bargained for when her powers suddenly start to flare. Good thing her Warlord has more than a few ideas how to help navigate it ;)

Content Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Reader mentions wanting to die; Suggestiveness, Slight SMUT; Canon Typical Violence

Author's Note: To make up for the last chapter being so short, please enjoy that flirty little bastard being a menace! ;)

Chapter 7/Masterlist

---------------

I don’t sleep at all that night. I lay there, Rhysand sleeping soundly beside me, exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. He’d barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat. I’d barely managed to choke down a few bites myself. The guilt has my stomach in a perpetual knot. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to hating this male, only to be wrong about all of it, and now I’m in too deep to even do anything about it.  I can’t go home. There is no home to go back to. My family slaughtered an innocent mother and daughter. Rhys received their heads in boxes like some sort of twisted gift. They were supposed to be allies and my father betrayed them in the worst possible way. He paid for it with his life, with my mother’s life; it should have been the end of it. Tamlin was given a mercy and he should have taken it. He should have abandoned my father’s teachings and become a better lord, a better man. Instead, he perpetuated the cycle of abuse and suffering. He encouraged me to hate these people, to covet everything they had as if they were undeserving of it. All these years I loathed our miserable existence thinking the Mother hated us and was being unjust in giving these people all these things that we were never allowed. But we deserved it! We were the bad guys all along.

I roll over onto my side to look at him. He still sleeps in his armor, knife still strapped to his thigh, sword resting against the tent pole only a foot away. He’s ready to be up and fighting in a moment's notice. Our father’s were so similar, and yet, he turned out to be merciful and kind and somehow, so startlingly gentle that I often forget he’s still capable of intense prowess. He is the only male I’ve ever truly felt comfortable with, because that gentleness came as a response to the violence he’d seen, not because that violence was never there. He’d felt the cold sting of it, and chose to be something gentle instead of returning it.

And here I am, with all that righteous anger that had kept me warm on my coldest days, choosing to return all the violence that had been inflicted on me onto others. Just as Tamlin did. Just as my father did. 

And looking at it I don’t want to be him. He ruined my mother! He took something good and kind and locked it away and used her for his own ends! I don’t even know if he ever really loved her. Why would you keep the things you love in a cage?

I sit up abruptly. Maybe he was as scared of being alone as I am. 

I can’t sit in this tent anymore! I can’t-

Rhysand jolts awake as soon as I move, hand twitching for his knife, shadows swirling off his body in response to what his sleep muddled mind thinks is a threat. “What’s wrong?”

I put a hand on his chest, spinning onto my knees so I can kiss his forehead. “Nothing, I just need to relieve myself.”

He lets me push him down onto the mat, body relaxing and pliant beneath my touch. “You sure?”

“Positive.” If he tried to follow me out now I think I really might explode. My stomach feels like it's ripping itself apart. My bones ache, my skin feels like it's stretched too tight over them. There is too much nervous energy bound inside my body. I just need to get out and stretch my legs; get some fresh air and clear my head. I will be fine if I can clear my head.

“Take your knife,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again. 

I strap it to my thigh as I slip from the tent, gulping down lungfuls of crisp, mountain air as I go. I just need to clear my head. Is finding a way to survive this fucked up world really me acting like my father? I’ve never killed innocent people. I’ve never withheld necessities or lorded my power over people. I’m just not being honest about my intentions. It’s shitty. I’m using a mating bond I’m still not wholly sure is real as a means to getting food and shelter and, hopefully, a decent helping of mind blowing sex.

Cauldron that sounds really, really fucked up.

But how am I supposed to tell him? Hey, I know that you really don’t like my family and they’ve done nothing but screw you over but I also accepted your offer to try and ruin your life and take all of your land and kinda only just changed my mind about it yesterday. And it would be really super cool if you just let that slide because I have nowhere else to go.

That would go over soooooo well. He’d be totally fine with it! 

I ground my palms into my eyes as I walk behind a couple trees to at least make it look like I really did need to go pee. There are men on guard duty, no doubt someone is going to see me wandering around camp.

My brain feels like it’s being squeezed by my skull. There has to be a way to go about this that doesn’t get me tossed out into the coming snow, while also not lying so deeply about it. I do care about him. It was a lie at first but now…

I put my back against the tree and slide down until I’m sitting on the rocky ground, head still in my hands. I don’t know if he’s my mate. There’s something there, I feel it pulling at me, even now, but I can’t give it a name. And I want to be here. Not just because of the story he’d told yesterday. When Lucien tried to get me to leave, I really didn’t want to go back with him. But how am I supposed to live with the truth? How am I supposed to look at him and see that he wants this so much more than I do, despite everything?

Actually, why does he want this, despite everything? He’d asked me why I stayed. I never asked him why he brought me here. There’s certainly enough bad blood between our families to make even a mate hesitate to bring me in.

I lean back against the tree, the rough scrape of the bark against my aching skin a relief. My body feels so strange, being around Rhysand’s magic has made it feel like there’s something beneath my skin.

Tomorrow, in the morning, I will ask him why he still brought me back. Then I will decide what to do. 

------

He certainly doesn’t make asking him easy. Rhys wakes me up with his lips on my throat, along the fading marks he’d left a couple days before,  trailing them down as his hands hike up my sweater. The heat of him against the early morning chill has my resolve slipping, all my plans slipping through my fingers as he runs his tongue over my peaked nipples.

I can’t think past the roaring in my ears; the ache in my body for more, more, more. There is nothing and no one but him as he trails lower, each kiss more forceful than the last as he heads for the waistband of my pants.

“Rhys,” I moan, voice still thick with sleep, even as my body arches under him. I want him everywhere. I need him everywhere. The stirring feeling beneath my skin is worse today, only quelled by the trail of his hands on my body. For once, my racing thoughts are quiet. If only we could stay like this. 

“Hmmm,” he hums into my stomach, just beneath my navel. There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw, the scrape of it against my oversensitive skin makes my eyes roll back into my head. “Did you want something, mate?”

“You,” I groan, hand reaching out to tangle in his hair to try and move him where I need him. 

He grins, I can feel the upturn of his lips against my stomach, but he refuses to budge. Just nips at the skin visible above my waistline. “You have me.”

Bastard! My whole body trembles beneath him. I can’t get a breath down fast enough. I need him everywhere all at once. “Need you inside me,” I bite out.

He simply hums again, hands tugging at my waistband with an inhumane slowness that makes me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I use the hand not in his hair to grip the mat, trying to ground myself, trying to find some semblance of control again. I’m gripping so tight my bones ache, fingers feeling like they’re breaking. There’s a tearing sound, a pricking sensation in my palm and then a gush of something wet across my hand. 

Even he looks up at that, and when I turn to look, I’m more than a little surprised to find that I’ve grown claws, and I’ve just tore them right through my hand!

“Shit!” He’s gone from between my legs in an instant, all the heat in my body leaving with him. 

I can’t unfurl my hand. Can’t retract the claws, they’re stuck through my palm with my fist closed around it. I’ve only ever grown them in anger, how the hell had I done it now?

Rhysand comes back with a towel as I manage to sit up. “I thought you smelled different this morning,” he muses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss.

“Our magic can be protective. It can hide itself if it doesn’t feel safe. I don’t think you were born with too little, I think you were born with too much.” His fingers massage my wrist, trying to find the right pressure points to help me unclench my fist. “I think that it buried itself inside you to keep you safe. And I think, now that you’re here, it’s manifesting, and like the wards, it has its own scent.”

Fan-fucking-tastic!

“Well I’d like it to un-manifest,” I hiss. “I was doing just fine without it!” There’s blood dripping through the towel, if anything it feels like my claws are burrowing deeper into my palm. I can practically feel them trying to tear right through the back of my hand.

He can’t seem to find the right spot and trying to pry my fingers out of my palm is a no go. He frowns, lifting the towel for a better look. “I’m gonna try something.”

I’m prepared for a blow from his own magic, some form of glittering starlight or shadowy darkness, I am not prepared for him to kiss me again. The sound I make in surprise is somewhere between a growl and a gasp because what the hell is he doing? But even though my head is struggling to catch up, my body is not. On instinct, I lean back to allow him better access, his tongue slipping behind my teeth. The rolling feeling beneath my skin lessens, the tightness in my palm slowly releasing. I thread my functioning hand through his hair as my body gives what I can only describe as a sigh of relief. A moment later, the claws retract and I can finally unfurl my fist.

“Flair ups can be heavily tied to your emotions,” he says, lips barely off mine. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to tease you in the middle of one.” 

It takes him all of thirty seconds to find some rags and tie up my hand, even though the blood flow is already lessening. All I can do is stare at it while he does it. This is certainly a new and unwelcome development to this whole mess.

“Is that going to keep happening?”

Azriel pops his head into our tent, unannounced as usual. “Are you two done in here or what? I, personally, cannot live with Cassian if he beats us around the mountain.”

“We’ll be right there,” Rhysand huffs.

“I’m seeing a trend with him,” I mutter. 

He smirks, “It’s one of Azriel’s many charms.” 

He helps me to my feet, holding onto me like he thinks something else might just burst out of my skin. Truth be told, I can still feel something shifting around, a prowling animal begging to be released from its cage. I’d thought it was my unease this whole time, but maybe it’s worse than that. 

“We don’t know how deep your power well is,” Rhysand says. “And if it’s never fully manifested…” He blows out a breath. “When mine first started manifesting, I shredded a whole section of camp with starlight. There was a whole twenty-four hour period where my shadows blocked out the sun. And you’re my equal so, yes I think that will keep happening.”

Cauldron boil me!

“As long as you remain calm, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I should think you would know better than to tell a female to be calm, Rhysand.”

He grins, “Well you can also spend the day making out with me, since that seems to be such a lovely little distraction with you.”

I go to hiss an insult at him but the only thing that comes out is an actual, animal-like growl. I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment while he bursts out laughing. 

“This is going to be fun!” He declares.

I am not at all inclined to agree.

----

I only manage to ride with him for an hour or two before the pull of his magic makes my skin start to itch. He was right about magic having a scent. Half way through the hour I suddenly become very aware of the jasmine scent of him. It’s everywhere. In every breath. Every brush of his chest against my back, every movement of his hands along the reins. My body is hyper aware of every place we do and don’t touch.

“Getting all worked up again, aren’t we?” He purrs in my ear.

My jaw feels like it’s snapping as a set of fangs tear through my gums, spurting blood into my mouth. Somehow his magic is the catalyst for my transformation and the balm all in one. I can’t be near him and I can’t be away from him, as I soon learn. When I jump off the horse and declare I’m going to walk beside him, my claws return, in both hands this time. At least they shoot out my nail beds and not my knuckles like Tamlin’s.

The thought of him makes another growl rumble through my chest and something that feels suspiciously like fur sprouts from the back of my neck.

“Wouldn’t recommend,” Rhysand warns.

The itchiness of my skin is even worse on the ground. I feel the wards tugging at me like I’ve been tied to the glittering magic that builds them with a string.  The jasmine and overripe fruit scent of them is enough to make my nose crinkle. Apparently the transformation heightens my senses as well.

“I’m gonna tear off my skin,” I snarl, fidgeting with my collar. Why is it so itchy? Is it supposed to be like this?

He slows his mount to keep pace with me and I do not miss the grumbled complaints of the males behind us. My ears twitch every time one of them speaks, the sound sometimes like a shout and others like a far off echo.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “The more worked up you get, the worse it will be until we can find a way to safely expel it.”

I draw a shaky breath, then another. 

“Good girl.”

A shiver works its way up my spine at that.

“Now come here,” he leans so far out of the saddle he’s only holding on with his thighs, and my first thought is how we can get this little caravan to pause so I can be the one beneath him. He gets an arm around my waist and hauls me back up onto the horse and damn if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a male do!

“Let’s get these wards up-” I’m hyper-aware how every word rumbles through his chest, the way his body shifts on the horse. “-And we’ll find a place to camp soon enough, then you and I can work on this.”

“Make it stop,” I gently beg. “I don’t want it!” The itch beneath my skin is becoming unbearable! My claws scratch up my arms, tearing up my sweater. 

His free hand covers mine, intertwining our fingers, even as the horse begins to move. “Focus on me.”

I focus my attention on the way his body molds against mine. The way the leather of his glove slides over the back of my hand. I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the brush of his chest against mine, the swaying motion of his hips as the horse moves over the rocky terrain. It’s not enough. Not like the feel of his lips on mine had been this morning. As if he knows it, he drops his head against my shoulder, nose brushing over the exposed skin of my throat. 

“I’m right here,” he continues. “Focus on me, just like you did this morning.”

This morning there had been a lot less clothes between us. 

“Breathe for me.”

It is a physical effort to draw a deep enough breath in; another to pull my claws away from my itching skin. He settles our joined hands against my stomach. 

“Again.”

I manage to do what I am told, just barely. 

“Good. Just like that.” His voice makes a shiver run down my spine as my mind spins with all the other things I want him to talk me through. I think I could do just about anything if he explained it to me in that rich, husky voice he was using in my ear. “Part of learning to control it is finding your center. Find a safe mental space to retreat to.”

“Like what?” There are few places in the world I have ever felt safe. Thinking about how I used to sit in the rocking chair with my mother and listen to her stories only fills me with pain now. Or perhaps a couple weeks ago I might have thought about all those summers I spent at the creek with Lucien, but now it only makes the thing beneath my skin rumble and shake like there’s some sort of animal that lives caged beneath my ribs and is trying desperately to break free. What makes me feel safe?

“A good memory, a happy time,” he lists. 

I have nothing. My eyes start to water and my throat starts to close, talons growing longer and sharper at my fingertips. I feel the give of my leather chest-piece beneath them. Everything good in my life has been a lie! Everyone that was supposed to protect me only ever hurt me in the end. None of it was ever real.

And this, this thing that could be something, that could be real, I had ruined it. I have to lie to keep it. I have to pretend that I had every right to hurt him, when it was really the other way around. The only person who had ever told me the truth, who could see me for what I was, and I had ruined any chance of it being real before it had even had the chance to start.

A sob slips out of me and with it, the tree we pass erupts in a flurry of leaves and twisting, screaming bark that makes the horse rear. The earth rumbles, random cracks splitting in the rock face, gnarled vines crawling out of them like tentacled monsters. The itching in my skin won’t stop! The more I try to trap it the more the world around us screams in protest. 

“Breathe, Y/N,” Rhysand orders in my ear. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t!” I choke out. 

He slides his hand out of mine and brings it up against the side of my temple. It feels like a shadow unfurling from his fingertips, but the brush of it is not against my face, but inside my skull. Darkness clouds my vision from the inside out. It feels as if my brain is being emptied, piece by piece with shadows until there is nothing inside my mind but him. 

“Breathe,” he commands, the voice of a Warlord. “Now.”

I choke on each breath. 

“You are safe, Y/N,” he says, gentler. There is nothing in the world but the two of us in this dark little bubble. Nothing but the press of night chilled jasmine and calming, all consuming night. From somewhere far off, I hear music on the wind, the swell of stringed instruments pulling my attention away from the itch running beneath my skin.

“Why is this happening?” My body feels so impossibly small, yet like it’s being stretched beyond its capacity, my bones trying to tear through the confines of my skin all the same.

“Our powers can very easily get tangled with our emotions,” he explains, the hand on my temple drawing shapes into my skin. Somehow, after looking at the stitches in the tent walls, I know he’s spelling something out in Illyrian, but I’ll never know what. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot for you, I’m sure.”

There is no room to think about it in this headspace, no twisted memories to plague me, only the music and the faint twinkle of stars for company. I let myself fall into it, let it swallow me and fill me until I feel disconnected from the pulling of my skin.

“I don’t want this power,” I whisper into the darkness.

The darkness caresses me, wraps itself around me as surely as his arm around my waist. “I know, but we don’t get a say in what we’re given, only what we do with it.”

When have I ever truly had a say in anything?

“What if I hurt somebody?” What if I am just as bad as my father in both intentions and power? If I am capable of plotting to ruin someone’s life based on a lie, how much more capable am I of turning these claws on someone else? Maybe power is passed from my mother, but that will never change the fact that I now carry the same weapons that were used to scar me, and Rhys, and probably his mother and sister. 

“You won’t,” he assures. “I’ll be right here to teach you. You can control it.”

He has far more faith in me than he should.

----

Once we’ve stopped for the night and camp is set up, Rhysand takes me by the hand and leads me out into the empty, grassy plains beneath the mountain. The knee-high yellow blades are brittle this time of year, cracking under our boots as we walk until only the smoke from the campfires pinpoints where we left the others. We’re far enough away that I won’t hurt anyone if I lose control again.

Shame flushes my cheeks. I’ve always prided myself on being the calm one of the family; always able to keep my emotions shoved deep down beneath the surface to keep them from getting the better of me. I thought I was good at it. I was wrong. It’s only been the constant brush of Rhysand’s shadows against my mind all afternoon that have kept me from tearing everything I touch to shreds. Even now, my hands ache from often my new claws have sprung and retracted from my fingertips.

I must feel about as awful as Rhysand looks. The circles under his eyes have not lessened in the slightest, and every once in a while I’ll see him start to sway, like it’s an effort to stay on his feet. The scent of his magic has lessened, the night blooming jasmine fading behind the citrus and salty scent of him. He shouldn’t be out here with me, he should be resting, recharging his own magic so he can be prepared for more warding tomorrow. According to Azriel and the scouts’ reports, we should meet up with Cassian and Mor’s group by this time tomorrow and Rhysand will need all his energy to ensure both ends of the wards are fully meshed together. 

We stop once we’re cushioned between two large hills, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the stars to keep us company. The Mountain looms dark and shadowy beneath the small sliver of the moon. 

“This looks like a good place,” he says as he finally releases my hand.

I keep my lower lip between my teeth, hands shaking at my sides. I don’t want to do this! Entertaining the idea that I have powers to train and use is foolish. I don’t need to learn to use them; I need to learn to shove them back down into the darkest parts of me where they can’t hurt anybody. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggests. “Tell me where you feel your power the most.”

My hand comes up to poke between my rib cage, where the stirring and itchy feeling is the most concentrated. “Feels like something is trying to break out of my skin,” I say softly.

“The claws and the fangs could be a beast form,” he muses. “Or it could just be some shape-shifting powers you inherited from your father?”

The mention of that bastard makes the stirring in my chest feel like a tidal wave, raw energy crackling so hard and fast through my veins that I feel it crest out my fingertips. The grass around me withers and dies, the ground beneath it crackling and rumbling with what feels like the early stages of an earthquake. I can’t have powers like my fathers!

There is no shortage of pity in those violet eyes and I press my palms into my eyes with a groan. I can’t do this! It needs to stop! I need to bury it now before it runs away with me; while I still have some control over it. Because if it goes any further than this…

Maybe Tamlin was right to send me away. Maybe he did know about my powers and that was why he got rid of me. I couldn’t hurt anybody if I was alone in the woods.

Rhysands shadows drift along the floor until they can slither up my calves, rubbing affectionately against me in a way that reminds me of a cat. “It’s ok,” he soothes.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Make it stop!” I beg. “Show me how to bury it again.”

His shadows trail higher, winding over my hips and waist, even as he steps closer, leaving barely a breath between us. “Y/N…” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words and I feel a strange pang beneath the movement in my chest.

“Please,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop.”

He cups my cheek and I give myself the briefest moment to fall into the warmth of his touch.  “I know it’s scary, and that it hurts, but this is good. It has to be released. You will die if you don’t.”

Then let me. The words freeze on my tongue when a tendril of his power flicks over his shoulder, down his wrist, to brush against my cheek, but that doesn’t stop the spiraling of my thoughts. Let me be free of this pain. Let me go out before I become a monster like my father. Let that awful bastard be right; let me be useless and worthless and incapable of doing anything he could be proud of. 

As if spurred on by my thoughts, the grass around me continues to wither, until there’s a whole circle of dead earth surrounding me. The harder I try to draw it in, the wider the circle becomes. Power sizzle through my nerve endings, a fire that digs itself into my veins and when I curl my hands into fists to try and stop it, I pull weeds through the cracks in the earth, the gnarled, leafy branches reaching up like skeletal hands that wrap around my, and Rhysand’s ankles.

“Focus on that spot,” his free hand taps gently against my ribs. “Focus until it feels like you’re holding it.”

I try to imagine the power like a bowl filled with sloshing, dark liquid. I imagine myself reaching for the lip of the bowl, the cracked edges and rough wood a mirror to the one that used to sit on our kitchen table, full of apples I’d sneak when no one was looking. If I make it familiar, it feels easier to focus on. I imagine every crack in the bowl, every worn edge, focusing until I get a mental hold around the edges. Now all I need to do is tip the bowl over. If I spill out its contents, there will be nothing left inside me to unleash… right?

“Once you can hold it, focus on containing it. Imagine it like a bottle, get all that energy into the bottle, and put a lid on the top,” Rhys says like he can hear my plans.

The liquid inside the bowl bubbles and hisses as my conflicted feelings run circles through my head. He hasn’t been wrong this far, I should do as he says, but I can’t help but feel like indulging this is a mistake. I can hear my father’s voice inside my head, telling me that this is not how females are supposed to behave. 

I can feel the weeds I’d summoned dying around me. Can feel every blade of grass as if it was somehow attached to my skin. The longer I hold that imaginary bowl, the more aware of this power I become, but it doesn’t feel like control. It just feels like more things pulling at me, trying to move me in directions I’ve never decided I want to go in. 

The ground rumbles beneath my boots again as my mental grip slips, and when I open my eyes the weeds, dead as they are now, have slithered all the way up my chest, reaching for my throat like some decrypt hand. 

The air leaves my lungs in a rush and with it, the dead vegetation crumbles and turns to dust on the wind.

Rhysand should be looking at me like I’m a monster. He should be stepping away, shadows swirling, that giant sword in hand. We are supposed to be enemies and he should be looking at me like I am one. But he’s not. He reaches out and brushes some of the ruined plant off my shoulder instead.

“It’s ok,” he assures. “No one gets it on their first try. Not even me.”

That compassion and understanding makes my chest ache worse than any restless power ever has. I don’t deserve it. I wish he would treat me like the horrible creature I am. He would be better off if he tossed me out into the woods like Tam.

He stiffens and I can’t help but wonder if I accidentally said that out loud because his eyes darken as he closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach.” His voice is clipped, husky. 

Good, maybe he can finally see me for what I really am.

I am wholly unprepared for him to crash his lips against mine. My brain short circuits, the agitation I feel morphing into that desperate, needy thing I had felt this morning. Just as I tilt my head back, lips parting to let him in, he pulls back. 

“Let’s play a game.”

The power in my chest feels like it’s going to rip out of my skin again. 

“Match what I do and you’ll get a reward,” he explains. “If you can’t…” He takes a step back and it is an effort not to chase after him, but the message is clear enough: Matching his efforts means his hands, his lips, his body is on me again, fail to do so, and he puts space between us. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t make me want to try, but I do. Gods I do! 

“Ok,” my voice shakes a little. In the back of my mind I still think it’s a bad idea. Maybe I will regret it in the end, but this thing between us is the only thing that makes sense. There is nothing between us when his lips are on mine. I need that distraction tonight.

He holds out a hand and a ball of shadows emerge, the tendrils of darkness crawling out from beneath his skin to form the swirling shape. “Find that spot in your chest and push it into your hand. It’s a part of you, it answers to you. Make it answer to you.”

I hold out my hand, matching his position and then close my eyes, reaching for that bowl of darkness again. Hesitantly, I tip it sideways, sloshing some of the dark liquid over the edge and imagine pulling it through my limbs. It makes my muscles spasm, my claws shooting out of my nail beds in defense.

“Breathe through it, you’ll pass out if you hold your breath.” 

Selfishly, I want to impress him. Want to show him I can. I want the reward of his lips on mine again. Want to not have to think about whether I should be doing this or that, the only thought in my head him and how good he feels. I do as he says, drawing in a breath as I keep pushing that bit of darkness in the direction I want it. It makes my head hurt, trying to focus so intently, but I’m nothing if not persistent. 

I feel the rumble of movement beneath my palm, and just when I’m starting to think that maybe I’m more capable than I thought, the tiniest, most wilted looking dandelion grows from my palm. And then immediately turns to ash. It’s the saddest excuse for power I’ve ever seen and I growl out a complaint like a literal beast as even the thing in my chest shows its disappointment.

Rhysand snorts out a laugh too, which makes it worse.

So much for powerful. 

He clears his throat as he steps back into my space. “It was a good attempt.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I hiss. “That was embarrassing.” 

He wraps his hand around my wrist and places his lips against my palm anyway, never mind that my claws are still out and drifting over his temple as he kisses right where my powers flared. “You still tried.”

I shiver at the contact of his plush lips against my skin, his breath warm against my palm. My senses are still incredibly heightened and even that bit of contact makes my skin buzz with excitement. 

He quirks a dark brow as he looks at me from where my hand is still pressed against his lips. “Try again for me?”

I nod, not trusting my voice when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. His pupils are blown wide, barely a ring of violet left to see. He keeps his lower lip between his perfect teeth as he watches me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench. 

Just like before, I imagine myself holding that bowl, this time, I draw a breath and tip it over, letting more of that strange darkness spill into the abyss that is my soul. It is strange to see it like this, to have some parts of it so clear and yet the rest of it is shrouded in fathomless depths. There might be anything living within the confines of my skin. I’d never bothered to look until now. 

I push it towards my fingertips, just as before. The same spasm in my muscles returns, a knot forming in my bicep that I do my best to ignore as I keep pushing my power towards my hand. I remind myself to breathe when it flares in my wrist, making my claws retract and pop back out. 

“Just like that,” Rhysand coaxes.

Cauldron his voice makes my insides feel like jelly. 

Crawling vines emerge one by one from beneath my palms, twining around my fingertips like tiny snakes. In the center sprouts another dandelion, a little taller than the last. I manage to hold it for all of five seconds before the knot in my bicep and wrist become too much and the vines and flower die together. My bones ache. How does he do this so easily?

“Better,” Rhysand praises as he places the next kiss on the inside of my wrist, his fingers massaging the knot forming there. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” I grumble.

“It’s a process,” he murmurs into my skin, lips trailing higher, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Think of it like building a muscle. The first couple days of using that muscle will hurt. You’ll be sore. But the more you build it, the stronger it becomes, and the less it hurts. Eventually, you’ll be able to perform bigger and bigger feats with less and less discomfort.” 

That sounds exhausting! 

I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life? The thought sours my mood, once again turning my thoughts away from this lovely little distraction he’s been offering and back into the darkness that’s been threatening to overtake me all afternoon. 

I swear he can hear the thoughts spinning through my head as he suddenly nips at the tender flesh of the inside of my wrist. “You think you can give me one more?”

I have a headache just thinking about doing it again, but he keeps looking at me through those long lashes, the intensity in his gaze making all rational thought fly out the window. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, lips trailing higher. He’s so warm and intoxicating, I think he might be capable of making me do anything, as long as his lips remain on my skin.

I focus on that spot, paying extra attention to breathe as I reach for that imaginary bowl a third time. Maybe if I let myself relax, lean a little heavier into the warmth of his touch, and stop trying so hard to hold on so tight, it won't hurt so bad. It has been like fighting a tide all this time; if I relax, go with the wave, will that make it easier?

I imagine that darkness spilling from the bowl like water instead, letting it flow like a river. The path from my chest to my fingertips is kind of like a stream, right? The water bubbling and rushing through me. There must be something to that thought process, because, when I open my eyes, there are more vines twining around my fingers and wrist, but this time, tiny yellow and pink flowers bloom from them. There is nothing dead or angry crawling out from beneath my skin, but something beautiful and alive. My claws retract as the vines spin around my fingers.

I can’t help but grin as I look to Rhys for his approval. “I did it!”

He grins right back, the sight so dazzling I think I might just stand here for hours summoning flower after flower to see it again. “That’s my girl!”

Instinctively, spurred by the excitement rushing through my veins, I stretch up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” and I mean it. Whatever this is between us, I am grateful for him, even if this is all we have. “Thank you.”

He slides a hand in my hair and kisses me back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I don’t know what it is I feel about it. It still feels wrong, or maybe it just feels different. Everything feels different these days, I’d rather not think too long about it. “Feels like I can breathe a little easier.” 

“Good.” He kisses me again. “We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”

I slide my hand into the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as he rests his forehead on mine. I won’t let myself think about tomorrow, or about these new powers. There can only be this moment.

“Just promise me,” he continues, “that you’ll keep trying?”

“I might need some convincing,” I return, clinging to this distraction with every last bit of willpower I possess.

He grins at the challenge. This is the best I can give him today; the closest to the truth I can admit without laying everything bare. 

“I can be very persuasive,” he purrs and the next thing I know I am on my back in what’s left of the grass, the solid weight of him on top of me. “Maybe we should work on some self-defense while we’re at it. That was alarmingly easy.”

“The words every girl wants to hear when she’s beneath a man,” I retort.

“I just want you to be safe, is all,” he says as he kisses the tip of my nose. 

I reach up a hand and brush some of the hair that’s falling over his forehead into his eyes out of the way. He is breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight. I wish I could paint or sketch, immortalize every glorious sharp edge of him in ink and paper. “I’m with you, how can I not be safe?”

Cauldron boil me, I mean that too.

It’s not until later that night, long after I’d fallen apart on his tongue in that field and then tumbled back into camp, nearly asleep on my feet to nestle down against his warm body that I remembered I’d meant to ask him this morning why he’d still let me in after everything between us. By now I’m too exhausted to care; maybe I’ll find the courage to ask in the morning.

-------------

Taglist:

@judig92 / @randomperson1234sblog /@nyxbranwenn /@lilah-asteria / @barb00235

-

@landofpetrichor / @hjgdhghoe / @buttermilktea11 / @yourforeveryoungblog / @sassyn

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@zoeisdreaming6 / @minnieoo / @girl-math-aint-mathing / @raisam / @inloveallthetime

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@blessthepizzaman / @bxtchopolis / @erencvlt / @mylittle-flower-loves

Thank you all for being so patient with this update! As always, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[waffledforbreakfast]

Too Many Beds - [Yandere!Reo x F!Reader]

Tw: Yandere, female reader, long hair, unestablished relationship, brief mentions of injury, suggestive (NO smut), swearing, cringe, etc.

[Bllk Oneshot Masterlist] [Bllk Headcannon Masterlist]

inspired by the reverse tropes

You sat on Reo’s bed, having been invited by the boy for a simple hangout to catch up since you missed class that day due to your leg injury.

“No wayyy seriously!?”

You looked at Reo with wide eyes and an excited smile as he told you about the fight that occurred early at school that morning

“Yea. There was blood everywheree, I think the girl got her nose broken… and she just got her nose job too!”

Reo laughed along with you, never losing focus on the happy glint in your eyes

It’s a shame you weren’t there to see it. Reo worked so hard to get the two to fight. So many hours he spent on call with the both of them, pressing lies and threats to get them both to snap at each other. He wished you could’ve seen it happen in front of your very eyes, his great masterpiece for the day. Would you be proud of him? Praise him? He wishes he could’ve found out. Oh well, there’s always next time.

“HA! Serves her right! She pushed me down the stairs yesterday!"

Reo nodded. He couldn’t agree more. The f[/]cking b[/]tch shouldn’t have even laid eyes on you. No one deserves that pleasure but him. And especially not someone like her. People who don’t acknowledge your grace don’t deserve to walk this earth.

But he also hated himself for not being there for you. He should’ve caught you in his arms, he should’ve never let you get injured. He'll kill the girl for doing something like that to you

Your phone rang; your mother was calling.

“Hm? Oh yea I’m doing good, having fun!”

Reo smiled. He was glad you were enjoying everything he so carefully set up. As you checked in with your mother, he also went through his own notifications, texting a few people.

“Ah, Reo, I think I should get going… It’s already 9pm after all”

WHAT. No- right now? Why? WHY? WHAT WAS HE DOING WRONG?

“Are you sure? It’s raining really badly outside…”

Reo glanced out the window. Rain droplets were flying at and crazy fast speed, loud ping-panging was heard both the roof (since you two were on the top floor) and the windows

“Was it always raining?”

Thank lord the assistants got the text in time. 

You tilted your head, covering your phone with your hand

“I uh- think so, we must’ve been to caught up in conversation lol…Actually- Why don’t you just stay the night? Tomorrows a weekend after all! Plus it wouldn’t be wise for you to go home this late. I just want you to be safe.”

You hesitated, before turning back to your phone, asking your mother if it’d be okay to stay over

“Honey, are you sure? Do you really trust this guy? Where are you going to sleep, do you have extra clothing, tooth brushes, towels, are you sure about this?”

Reo nodded frantically at you with a plastered smile

“We have multiple beds on this floor, a guest bathroom that comes with everything you’ll need, and extra clean clothes. I promise you’ll be safe with me.”

Reo spoke loudly, to make sure your mother picked up on what he said.

You relayed it to your mom, asking her again for permission. After a half minute, your face lit up and quickly threw out multiple thank-yous. You shot Reo a quick "👌" and he smiled as he put his hands together 

“Great! I’ll get everything setup then” 

He tried to keep his voice as stable as possible, but he felt like he was going to die from happiness.

Reo’s heart was beating out of his chest, he could feel his entire body pulse with excitement. You were staying the night, with him. Reo couldn’t stop smiling, he felt like rolling on the floor giggling with excitement, he was ready to die after this night for all he cared.

But he had to keep himself composed in front of you. He could freak out after you left.

“Do you need to shower? I can show you the way”

You nodded as you stood up, leaving your phone on his desk

“The guest bathroom is a bit far… My bathroom’s closer! Would you prefer that?” “Sure, I really don’t mind”

The guest bathroom was really only a room or two down from his.

Reo showed you the way, and grabbed a few of his T-shirts and shorts and handed them to you.

“Pick whatevers most comfortable with you! I hope you don’t mind wearing something that’s mine…” “It’s fine really. No need to be so uptight”

You smiled and waved it off

Reo nearly exploded. He burst into a smile as he tried to squash it down. You didn’t mind wearing something he wore. You didn’t mind. What if he gave you his hoodie? Would you wear that? Oh, he’d give you his skin if you so wanted.

As you showered, Reo headed back to his room. He sat down at the desk where your phone was. And with shaking hands, he picked up your phone and flipped it around in his hands.

You touch your phone everyday. We wished you’d touch him even once. Your fingertips tracing his jawline the same way they’d trace the edge of your phone. Poke his checks the same way you’d pressed the buttons. Decorate and dress him the same way you’d change your phone case and phone charm. Oh how he wished he could be around you as often as your phone was.

Hell, even throw him across the room the same way you do to it. Throw him on the bed like you do to your phone after a long day. Then check that it wasn’t cracked afterwards from the impact. Turn to him anytime you have a question like you would to your phone. Was it possible to be jealous of an inanimate object?

"Are you snooping through my phone?”

You playfully glared at Reo with an irritated smile

“No no no- See? I haven’t even bothered trying to unlock it!”

He showed you your phone, still on the black screen having not been turned on

“I just wanted to see your lock screen- I swear-”

Reo laughed, a tone of panic and desperation in his voice. Please believe him. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you didn’t trust him…

You looked at him skeptically, but let him off with a shrug.

“Do you have a hair dryer or anything?” “Oh yea! Let me help you”

Fuck, you looked amazing. the way you looked in his clothing, your hair dripping wet, leaving stains on his shirt. God he loved you

Reo reached under the bed and pulled it out, unwrapping the cord and plugging it in. He smiled and signaled for you to sit on the bed in front of you

He hummed contently, running his fingers through your hair as he held the hairdryer. 

"Your hair is beautiful. Would you ever consider doing a shampoo ad or something? You’d look amazing on the cover of a magazine” 

Ah, this caught you off guard- but you thanked him as you smiled to yourself at the complement 

“Think this is the best I can do… Is it okay?”

He turned the hair dryer off, and ruffled your hair lightly

You nodding, running your hands through your hair. Most of it was dry, but the tips were still a bit wet, though that wasn’t a problem.

“You said you have extra rooms?” “Oh… Yea, I guess so…”

Why don’t you stay in my room? What’s wrong with staying with me? I cleaned everything just for you, everything's hidden- THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY ROOM. STAY HERE. PLEASE.

“but they’re all supper small- I don’t think you’ll like them” “That’s alright, anything will work for the night” “Well- my bed’s bigger than all the other ones…" “Didn’t you say there were multiple guest rooms…?” “...But- I really don’t mind you staying in my bed…”

Shit. What was he going to say to get you to stay? He should’ve never said there were other rooms. What if he told you the other rooms had rat infestations- no, you’d be disgusted by him….

Bam!

The loudest strike of thunder sounded. It was so loud it was almost unnatural…

“You know what- nevermind. I think I’ll stay with you tonight…”

You laughed awkwardly, body shaking a bit from the sudden bang. You hated thunder.

Reo smiled he’d be sure to give the assistants a raise after tonight

He set everything up. Gave you a cute plushie and brought over extra blankets in case you got cold, a cup of water, and charged your phone. Whatever you wanted, really.

“You gonna come to bed yet? It’s almost 11….”

You yawned, rubbing your eyes half asleep 

Reo wished he could see this sight every night. He swore in that moment on his heart that he’d marry you

“Yup, just turning off the lights.”

He flicked a few switches and the room blacked out. A few moments after Reo joined you under the blankets

“Goodnight, Reo.” “Goodnigh, my love” “Mh?” “I said Goodnight, [Y/N].”

BONUS He may or may not have set a quiet alarm (to no wake you) so he could stare at your face for a few hours... and to preorder breakfast!

A/N: Played around with the formatting here... AND I STILL SUCK AT WRITING SO FORGIVE ME [SOBSOBSOB] anyway i love reo 💜

[underfaller]

in his house of mind, dead cipher waits dreaming

Chapter 1: On Your Mind Rating: T Synopsis:

You really think you won that day/You packed your bags and sailed away/You think you left your past behind/But trust me/I'm still on your mind

A year has passed since Weirdmaggedon and the Pines family, victorious in the end, are happier than ever. Stan and Ford are adventuring at sea, making up for lost time. Dipper and Mabel are now freshmen and are ready to take on high school-- geometry, bullies, (student eating?) clubs, and all! However, things take a turn for the worst when Dipper and Mabel receive of horrific message from Ford:

Bill is back.

You wrote a page about me in my own book so allow me to make this tiny addendum over your dull ramblings. 

Stanley Pines,

I've been on your mind. 

Are you surprised to see me? You must be confused so allow me to explain, slowly, in small words: 

If memories could return so easily, why couldn’t I? 

You really thought you won that day, huh? It’s painfully pathetic how naive you are. 

Aw, don’t look so distraught! You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Stanley. You may have lied and cheated to get your way for your whole life, but you can’t elude simple logic-- no matter how desperately you try! 

Still there? Of course you are! There’s not much else for me to say and I’ve got a very busy schedule ahead of me so I suppose I’ll end things here. However, before I leave you to the endless void and your growing insanity, I’ll let you in on a little secret-- Don’t ever say I’m not a generous guy!

Here it is: 

I see myself in you.  And that’s not because I’m literally possessing your worthless skin puppet. You and I are quite similar-- always scheming, constantly caught in our own web of lies, conning the world until we can’t tell what’s real and what’s fake anymore. A spectacular guy like myself should be thrilled at our similarities! I mean, the more “me” in the universe, the better, right? 

We should be getting along better than bleach and ammonia! 

…But I’m not thrilled. Far from it. Am I upset? Upset would be an understatement. No, your dimension’s vernacular can’t even begin to describe my resentment of you. 

I hate you, Stanley. I detest you. I despise you.

I can still see through the eyes of everyone I’ve ever possessed. I’ve seen your past, your present, and your very near end. You’ve spent your whole life screwing up and you will die no differently. You’re a loser. A blight on this already tedious world. A waste of space. You shouldn’t exist. 

So how? 

So how could you have beaten me? How could a lowlife, fat-headed, braindead, absolute failure of an existence possibly beat me? 

…And how do you have everything that I don’t have? 

Your dimension is safe, drifting peacefully in chaotic, infinite chaos while mine has been obliterated, erased from existence as we know it. Even the last atoms of my universe are gone-- decimated by your brother during our little Weirdmageddon spat. 

You’ve done nothing to contribute to your world and yet, when I only wanted them to see the stars, I was met with ultimate destruction. 

How is that fair? 

Your brother adores you. Your brother once adored me too. Has he ever looked upon you with pure, unadulterated hatred? We both ruined his life but only one of us is forgiven.  

And your mother. Your mother still thinks of you. She keeps your photo on her bedside table. She looks at them every night. She misses you. 

My mother is dead. 

How is that fair? 

Now I am you and you are me but why do only you are rewarded. Why is it that I get nothing? What makes you so special? 

I am the only one who sees you for what you are and I hate you. I hate every molecule of your being. I hate everything you have that I don’t. I hate, hate, HATE you, Stanley Pines. 

You don’t deserve what you were given. You aren’t worth even a sliver of it. 

So I’m going to take it all away-- Take what’s rightfully mine. There’s nothing you can do. No more cheap tricks, no more cons, no more last minute plans-- your luck has run out. Your time in the spotlight is over-- Time to show you how a real star performs. 

Better luck next time, bootleg Sixer.

When you awake, you will find yourself in utter, pitch black darkness. You will soon realize that your arms and legs paralyzed, unable to even struggle. You’ll be suspended in a limbo where you are neither awake nor asleep. 

Can you fathom my pain after you erased me? Can you imagine the torture? Your smooth brain would implode on itself if you even tried to grasp it-- And now you will experience it yourself. 

How do you like that, huh? 

HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT? 

You enjoyed your little victory but in the end, it’s me who won. 

Ha! Ha! Ha! 

Goodbye, Stanley Pines, and good riddance. Your pitiful existence will not be missed. 

Don’t worry too much, I’ll take good care of your family. 

It seems like an eternity since we've returned to sea but the Stan-o-War II is back. We left Portland at 21:00 and headed to Point Nemo. My research has led me to believe that the pole of inaccessibility is a magnet for weirdness, much like Gravity Falls-- There may even be ruins of a long lost civilization in its underwater bowels. I would like to test my hypothesis. Stan is fine with our expedition as long as there are “hot Atlantis chicks” to flirt with. I will keep his sentiment in mind. 

We’ve grown closer this year than we have in three decades. It’s… nice to be back with him. 

Despite my excitement for our adventures, I enjoyed our short break in Gravity Falls. It's always a delight when the children come to visit. Everytime I see Mabel, I swear she's grown at least an inch taller. At this rate, she'll be towering over me! Dipper is growing into a bright, young man-- it is impossible for me not to notice our similarities when I was his age. He recently mentioned that he plans to take honors geometry next year. I replied that if he ever needs tutoring then his ol’ Grunkle Ford is more than happy to help. 

It's been almost a full year since Weirdmageddon yet I still occasionally think of Bill. I am prone to anxiety and occasionally find myself irrationally fearing his return. That's impossible, though. I remind myself of that more times than I care to admit. Bill is gone and the moss covered statue in the forest proves it. We erased him. He can't hurt me anymore-- and he certainly cannot hurt my family. 

Stanford closes his journal, before blowing out a flickering candle and standing up, yawning. He looks at his watch. 3:33 AM. Old habits die hard and Ford still finds himself procrastinating on sleep, slightly fearing what will happen when he loses consciousness. He sighs, pushing past memories from his weary mind.. He'll need at least two cups of black coffee tomorrow morning if he has any hope of getting up on time. 

As Ford lays in his rickety cot, the Stan-o-War II shudders and creaks as it rocks against rolling waves. Usually, the familiar sounds of the boat lull Ford to sleep, but tonight, they keep him up, tossing and turning, each noise seeming to echo ten times over. 

It is one of those nights. 

Ford looks up at the ceiling, frowning. He used to have fantastic, imaginative dreams. After Weirdmageddon, however, his resting mind is always empty, dark like the ocean during a new moon. He misses dreaming. 

Though, Ford should be grateful-- there are much worse alternatives to a dreamless sleep. 

In the distance, Ford hears the rumblings of thunder. A summer storm isn't uncommon and it certainly isn't the ship's first experience with unsavory weather but for some reason, Ford feels uneasy. Perhaps he should sleep in the bridge tonight, just in case something goes awry. 

Ford’s thoughts are interrupted when his cabin door creaks open slightly. Ford grins, aware of his twin’s antics. 

“Very funny Stan. Aren’t you a little too old to be afraid of thunderstorms?” 

Familiar, cackling laughter rings across the room. 

“Oh Sixer, I’m not the one scared right now!” 

It can't be. 

Time stops. Stanford violently sits up, scanning the seemingly empty room. 

Click. 

Lightning cracks. Stan is sitting atop his brother, shotgun pressed against Ford's chin. Ford looks up in horror seeing Stan’s eyes bright yellow and glowing in the darkness. 

“Not so fast, unless you want your pretty brains all over the headboard,” Bill teases. He examines the shotgun in his hands. “Can you believe the old guy sleeps with this thing? Talk about a safety hazard!”

Ford freezes, his blood turning to ice. He can hear his heartbeat racing in his ears. His usually rapid firing mind has slowed to a complete standstill in his terror. His mouth is dry as he struggles to speak. 

He must have fallen asleep. He’s sleeping, he’s sleeping, he’s sleeping-

“This is a dream,” Ford stammers. “You’re not real; you’re dead-” 

Stanford Pines does not dream.

Bill howls with laughter. As he does, Stan's mouth contorts into an unnaturally large grin. 

“Oh Sixer! You can’t kill an idea or a god and certainly not both!” Bill replies. He giggles. “Did you miss me?”

Ford tries to answer but Bill cuts him off. 

“Oh, I already know your answer-- of course you missed me!” Bill chatters on. “And now that your inferior twin is outta the way we can head back to Gravity Falls and finish what we started!”

“Why did you come back?” Ford says through grit teeth. “Your henchmen are gone, the rift is sealed-- there’s nothing left for you here, Bill.” 

“Nothing left for me, hahaha!” Bill shakes his head, smirking. “Man, that idiot's stupidity is rubbing off on you! Have you forgotten?” 

Ford doesn’t answer. Bill leans closer, lowering his voice to a drawl. 

“We made a deal, you and I. You’re my partner from now till the end of time.”

Ford looks into his brother’s yellow eyes and is filled with fury. Seeing Bill using his twin like this while having the audacity to expect him to continue their partnership-- it’s laughably, outrageously, enraging. Ford can’t help but give a low chuckle before glaring at the demon. 

“Go fuck yourself, Bill.” 

Lightning flashes once more, illuminating the two adversaries. Bill sighs, clicking his tongue. 

“For some reason, I knew you’d say that.” 

Bill grips the shotgun and shoves the barrel down Ford's throat. Ford’s eyes widen, threatening to pop out of his skull, and he gags, tasting metal and sulfur. Bill grins, obviously amused by Ford’s discomfort. 

“Well, if you’re not going to be of use then you can join the rest of your family in the afterlife.” 

The kids. He’s going to come for the kids. 

Bill pulls the trigger. 

Click. 

Silence.

“Seriously? Who keeps an unloaded gun by their side!” Bill shouts. 

It seems his luck hasn’t completely run out. Now, it’s Ford’s turn to slightly grin. He looks up at Bill.

“Alright, my turn.” 

Sorry Bro. 

Stanford lifts his right leg up and kicks Bill in the balls. Hard. Bill cries out in pain and keels over, clutching between his legs. 

“Goddamnit! Curse human body weaknesses!” He yells.

Ford roughly pushes Bill off him and races out of the room, making a break for the bridge. The storm is much closer than he initially thought, violently rocking the tiny vessel against angry waters. 

I have to warn Dipper and Mabel before it’s too late. 

Ford whips around the corner, jumping into the bridge. He quickly locks the metal latch behind him and barricades the door with a piece of wood lying to the side. That’ll stall Bill just enough. He rips open drawer after drawer until he finds a small handgun. This one is certainly loaded-- Stanford always made sure his weapons were. He hesitates at the thought of potentially wounding his brother. 

Anything to stop Bill. 

Stanford checks the ship’s communication radio, flipping switches and dialing to station 618. 

“Transmitting from S-O-W- 0-2. S-O-W- 0-2. This is Stanford Pines.” 

Before they’d left, Stanford gifted the twins a radio and scanner to communicate with them while they were out at sea. With a few tweaks and some borrowed alien tech, Ford had made sure that its frequency range would reach wherever they were in the world. He imagined it would be used to regale the children of their fantastical adventures. Never would Ford have thought he’d use it for this. 

But even if they were near the radio, the kids are likely fast asleep at this hour. Still, he speaks into the mic. 

“Bill is-” 

There’s a thunderous boom and the ship suddenly lurches to the left. Stanford stumbles, gripping onto the edge of the table to keep himself from falling. The light bulb above him swings violently above him, threatening to fly right off its wire. Stanford steadies himself.

“Bill is back. Do not engage. Do not answer.” Ford hesitates before adding, “We love you two. Please keep safe-” 

Ford is knocked to the ground. His gun skitters across the slippery floor. For a moment, he can only see stars. He groans, his face radiating red hot pain and ears ringing from the blow to the side of his face. Bill holds the empty shotgun like a bat, grinning like a madman. 

“Who were you talking to?” 

Bill looks at the radio, slapping his forehead and cackling. 

“Aww… Don’t tell me you were talking to ol’ Pine Tree and Shooting Star! You’re so impatient-- I’ll get to them soon!” 

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare-” 

Bill strikes him again with the butt of the shotgun. Ford tries to crawl towards his gun but Bill steps on it, kicking it even further before kicking Ford in the stomach. The air is instantly extinguished from his lungs and Ford gasps in pain. Bill looks down at him in disgust. 

“Shut the fuck up, IQ. You’re in no position to tell me what to do. I’ve given you chances over and over but since you’ve obviously got a death wish, you’re gonna die like a dog just like your brother,” Bill narrows his eyes, pursing his lips. “I used to think you were different, Stanford. Special . But now I see. You’re trash just like every other member of your damned family. You’re pathetic. ” 

Suddenly, Bill starts laughing as he kicks him again. Over and over. 

“C’mon, Fordsy!” Bill spits. “Aren’t you gonna play the hero? Where’s all that fight in you gone? Or are you too scared to hurt me in this body?” 

Bile rises in Ford’s throat as he is repeatedly assaulted. Pain numbs his mind and his body curls up, mind desperately trying not to black out. Bill’s foot strikes his face and Ford hears his nose crack, blood filling his nostrils. 

Then Bill abruptly stops, bored that his attacks aren’t getting a rise from his former partner. He clicks his tongue, standing over Ford, watching him writhe, gasping for air. Bill shrugs. 

“Well, if you’ve already spoiled the surprise, allow me to say a few choice words.” 

The demon bounds for the radio, grabbing the microphone, twirling the cord in his fingers as he speaks. 

“Hey Shooting Star! Hey Pine Tree! This is your Grunkle Stan! I’m about to paint these walls red with my brother’s guts and turn this shitty tin can around back to the mainland! Don’t be too upset though guys! You’ll be joining him VERY soon! OVER!”

Bill rips the microphone from its wires, throwing it across the floor. 

“As I was saying-” 

Ford grabs Bill’s leg and violently pulls him down. Bill yelps in surprise and falls to the ground. The two wrestle, punching, kicking, scratching at each other like mad men, vying for dominance. Ford spies his handgun, dangerously close, and lunges at it, grabbing the weapon. 

The gun goes off. Bill jumps away like a rabid animal before straightening up. He gently touches his cheek, looking at the blood smeared against his fingers. He chuckles.  

“Wow Sixer, real gutsy pointing that thing at me but we all know you love this meat puppet way too much to actually kill me.”

Ford narrows his eyes, once again pointing the gun at Bill. His hands are trembling. 

Stanley wouldn’t want to be used like this. He wouldn’t want to hurt me. He wouldn’t want to hurt the kids. It’s because of that, that I- “You’re wrong Bill,” Ford says, quietly. “It’s because I love him that I will.” 

Bill’s body shudders. He convulses, gagging before he shakes and closes his eyes. When he reopens them, they aren’t yellow. Stanford lowers his gun slightly. 

“Stanley?” 

Stanley stands in front of him, wide-eyed and terrified. 

“Stanford?” 

His body spasms once more. The yellow eyes return and Bill lunches at Stanford. There is one last crack of lightning. 

The gun goes off.

[makedonsgriva]

SQQ muttering and writing notes about safe sleep curse configurations, while doing a terrible job of hiding her plans from LBH, and LBH is just “Oh! She’s trying to adapt her black magic/curses to act as a sleep aid! How clever. 🥰”

The more I think about it, the more hilarious SY both ‘accidentally’ and on-purpose making actually super helpful curses is.

Finds out a servant woman’s husband is a drunkard, makes a handy curse that makes him vomit up any alcohol he drinks.

LMY sighing over people only caring about her looks? SY curses her face to be veiled/obscured to anyone who doesn’t love her as herself.

SY’s step-nephew, ZZL, hates conversing with flirtatious girls and wishes he could hide from them? SY curses him to turn into a little snake (with very tough scales) when flustered. (Scares off most girls, and makes him damage resistant enough they don’t hurt him with their flailing).

SHL annoyed by the frippery and expectations of noble women, and rarely being invited to actual fun things like hunts? SY curses her to be a were-creature of some sort, so she can freely run around at night and viciously murder prey animals to her heart’s content.

Etc.

Some optional ‘evil’ step-siblings possibilities/thoughts:

Ning Yingying probably follows the common Cinderella adaptation trend where the younger step-sibling isn’t so much a bully as troublesome in other ways. In her case, she would be the type who constantly pesters her new sister when LBH is trying to do chores, accidentally breaks things LBH worked hard on, unknowingly tattles on LBH whenever she does something OG!SJ forbade, somehow gets hurt on LBH’s watch, etc. You know, pre-SY NYY things. :P

For Ming Fan, I’m thinking she may have been another step-daughter (unlike NYY, SJ’s one bio daughter), but her somewhat sickly father had SJ formally adopt her after marrying him. MF really looks up to SJ and dotes on NYY, so she has major insecurities about LBH possibly replacing her as the family’s responsible older sister. (That and she’s plain faced compared to LBH). Why she got so into the bullying and mistreatment.

These ideas are all so delicious and I don’t know if they are coming from the same anon or not but whoever is the mystery Cinderella lesbingqiu anon pls pls dm me!!! Let’s work on this fic together please <3333

[seafoamandstardustlatte]

as a kiribaku and tododeku stan

as well as an izuchaco and kacchaco appreciator

uraraka is not in the way of your ships and is a wonderful character who loves and is loved by her friends

and if you hate her for being in the way of your ships i can fckin promise you that all of the characters you stan hate you too

[chisatowo]

I am BORED someone give me enrichment NOW

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

[computercreature]

something i see a lot in the dungeon meshi fandom is attributing izutsumi's personality traits to her being a cat. and while ryoko kui definitely gave her cat-like traits intentionally, she's a talented enough writer to also give her a backstory with reasons for those traits. for example, her tendency to only do and eat what she wants.

izutsumi's character arc revolves around freedom. she grew up caged in a circus. and although she was fed enough to survive, this was only because a living catgirl attracted more customers than a dead one.

[id: first image is izutsumi as a child framed behind bars and standing on all fours, making it clear how skinny she is. a hand in the foreground holds out a bowl of what appears to be kibble. narration says “thrown in a cage and given food every once in a while… is that what you would call ‘being raised’?” in the second image she is now sitting on the floor of her cage and eating a rat. end id]

look how skinny she is! we see her eating what appears to be... kibble? oats? and then a rat that she possibly caught for herself. she had no choice but to eat anything she could.

[id: part of the dungeon meshi manga. a slightly older izutsumi is tied to a post and tade sits next to her to say "we've got a roof over our heads, beds, food, and clothes. they've got everything here. is there someplace nicer than this out there?" izutsumi thnks for a moment and says "i hate that someone's already decided what i'm going to eat tomorrow. my name, the clothes i wear, where i sleep, where i go next... here, all of that's been decided by another person... even though, come tomorrow, i might want to eat something else instead. that's why i'm leaving." at this, tade cries out in shock. end id]

when she's taken into the nakamoto household they begin to treat her much better. she's on about equal footing as tade, who also had a rough living situation before being taken in, and tade loves it there! they get healthy and tasty food and they're not sleeping in cages. but izutsumi still isn't free. she can pass off her chores and vegetables to tade and disobey in any way she can but she can't leave. maizuru even put a collar on her, further dehumanizing and trapping izutsumi.

when izutsumi joins laios's party, she's finally 'free', but it's not the kind of freedom she wants. she has to eat even more food she doesn't want or else she'll starve. but the difference now is that she's can leave at any time, and if she stays, she's treated as an equal. they're not feeding her monsters because they see her as inferior. they're all eating the same food so they can reach their goal(s). and this is part of izutsumi ultimately learning that in order to do what she wants, she has to be willing t do the things she doesn't want to

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [6]

Weapon design always came easy to Jack Fenton. He grew up with it, all the way back in Atlantis, when he was just a little guppy.

What he wasn’t aware of at the time was that his parents were from a long and prestigious line of scientists and weapon manufacturers in Atlantean society. But things had been getting dangerous. 

The King at the time cast them out when they refused his demands of greater, stronger, deadlier weapons. The kind of weapons they knew would not only destroy their enemies, but themselves as well.

They fled and went where they thought they would never be found, the surface.

Jack had the easiest time adapting, being as young as he was getting used to breathing air was a lot less of a struggle. 

He adopted one of the most generic male names he could, and adapted the family name of Fenestratus into Fenton. And then it was just living as a human, as humanly as possible, nothing to see here.

By now Jack basically doesn’t know any better. but this piece of heritage is coming back now all these years later, when his son is looking to him for help from the government.

But first he holds his boy close and apologizes, because he sees the fear, and he understands a little too well, and he doesn’t like the picture he’s seeing now that all the puzzle pieces are falling into place.

“I almost became the thing I hate the most. I’m so sorry Danny, I’m sorry I made you feel unsafe in your own home”

The hug is long and warm and tight and Danny isn’t ashamed to admit he might have clung a little bit.

Then Jack holds Danny tightly by his shoulders and gives him a big grin, “Good news though, you’re only half ghost, the other half is not only human but also Atlantean, and there are laws protecting us now” Jack mutters to himself, “I wonder if the whole ghost stuff would actually be put under the meta protection thing… hmm”

Danny blinks for a moment, Jazz gapes, Maddie is suddenly no longer spiraling about how her baby boy got in a terrible accident in their lab and she didn’t know.

“I’m also what?”

“Dad!?”

“oh did I forget to mention that? I thought I did, I know for certain that I had been meaning to”

“Jack sweetie, are you-”

“oh yes, and I remember now, I decided to tell you after our big breakthrough because I didn’t want to distract you, and-” Jack looks sheepish, “I hope you aren’t too mad at me Maddiecakes”

“mad? oh I would never be mad at you about this but we could have- I don’t know, accommodated- Atlanteans are aquatic, well I guess that explains how you could always put away so much water, and when you gave me your umbrella and I thought you were just making an excuse when you told me you didn’t mind and in fact loved getting pelted by the rain-”

Maddie goes on, and Jack thinks to himself that this is exactly the reason why he kept it to himself at the time, Maddie never half asses anything, he’s sure a lot of things are going to change in the house now, it honestly only makes him fall in love with her even more.

Meanwhile Jazz had filled up a bucket of water and then dunked her head in, then came back out not even slightly gasping for breath, just saying “oh my god” over and over.

Danny timed it, “yeah okay, I guess that proves it. now I’m starting to wonder if my weird relationship with air is ghost related at all”

[rubysparx]

Honestly I don't think I'm qualified to make this post, I just don't know if I can make coherent enough words man. But the thoughts are in there and I will try to articulate them. This is probably going to be mostly images though. anyway yeah KABRU POST.

A couple nights ago (at approximately 2:30am, lasting a little over half an hour) I had a bit of a moment about Kabru. That, too, was mostly images- most of what you see in this more concise post were presented then as well. I think my main points of the "moment" were about Kabru's trauma + self hatred, his autism and/or general otherness, and also a little labru if you'd like..

I think something easy to start with is I wanna point out Kabru's constant back and forth and conflicting opinions of demihumans and how, I believe, thats a reflection of how he goes back and forth on what he believes his purpose of living is- and the general worth of his own life. I've said it before and i've just kinda shown it in images; Kabru is "i think im a monster and it disgusts me" where Laios is "I know im a human and it disgusts me" (i could go more into the latter on another post)

the above are both from the world bible, with the left being from the section on kobolds and the right being from the section on Kuro specifically. Utaya was very near to the desert where most of the kobold population is, this is likely why Kabru is able to speak Kuro's language- he grew up around demihumans. (chapter 48 cover, kobold chapter in the world bible) I won't try to speak for how his mother or the rest of utaya felt about the kobolds but I can say that Kabru was very much othered as a child, as was his mother, purely for the way her son's (kabru) eyes looked.

I feel like its fair enough to say that both kabru and the kobolds were othered, and possibly for similar reasons (villager's seeing them as nonhuman, as monsters) and the fact that Kabru learned their language probably didn't help his case. I think his perception of kobolds (and all demihumans, subsequently himself, as he probably still views himself as nonhuman or not human enough.. deep down) was damaged by the Utaya incident. at 2:30am when I first started this ramble my main comment was that "had the utaya incident not happened kabru would have little reason to feel ashamed for his connection to monsters. and may have ended up similar to laios in that he couldve had otherkin swag" which is just a sort of silly way of saying Kabru could've learned to love the thought that he is possibly nonhuman or at least not hated himself so much for it.

in the original ramble I said, and quote, "he has been STALKING laios. laios is his hyperfixation to learn how he can ever be loved. he keeps going back and forth so harshly on wether or not he wants to kill Laios and he clearly sees his survival from utaya not as an unfortunate trauma [*] but as a necessary, deserved fate. a punishment for his mother's witchy sins, and for his sin of being non-human. to atone for it all, to apologize for being alive, he tries to better the lives of all humanity. He was set on his way to dethrone the governor of the island . do you understand? im going insane" *i also said somethings about the way he processes other people's traumas and not his own. He's able to understand and even help some people, but he struggles to process his own issues and see himself as worthy of love and life.

^some examples of Kabru being understanding of or helping others who have suffered greatly. I think its also worth mentioning that with Rin (called "Lynn" in that translation) he says "I wish there was a way to get her out of this" though he's insisted and pushed for himself to go into a dungeon;

In chapter 94, Mithrun says "The desire I had left wasn't revenge. All I wanted.. was for it to finish devouring me." and I don't feel like it's a stretch to say Kabru was in a similar situation. Mithrun sought out the demon with no plan on how to kill something like that because deep down he wanted it to end his (Mithrun's) own life, to finish the trauma it caused and kill him. I think Kabru went into the dungeon in part with the hopes that it'd kill him. That the same thing that destroyed Utaya and caused him so much trauma would just.. finish him.

I just think Kabru is a beautifully complex character, I have a lotta thoughts on him and I don't see nearly as many analysis posts for him than I do Laios (despite labru being such a popular ship)

there is no tldr for this post idk how to summarize it. do what you will with this collection of images. have fun. go crazy

fun fact the woman in the bottom left corner is his mother, she is labeled here as "witch"

[helaintoloki]

Family Dinner

pairing: Five x reader ft the Hargreeves siblings

warnings: the usual Hargreeves siblings chaos

notes: fulfilling a request asking for a shy!reader meeting Five’s siblings for the first time. it was actually very hard squeezing in so many characters into one piece

summary: despite trying his best to avoid it, Five is forced to introduce you to the family

The last thing Five wanted was for you to meet his family. If he could, he’d do everything in his power to keep you away from the chaos and stupidity that was his siblings forever. He didn’t need them overwhelming you with their quarreling or reminding you of how utterly tumultuous his home life was, and he felt an unwavering need to keep you separate from the Umbrella Academy. You were the one thing he didn’t have to share with his siblings, the one thing he had earned on his own without his powers, and the one thing that was normal in his life. He would do anything to keep his life from tainting your innocence by all means.

The discovery of your existence by his family had been completely accidental. When visiting his new apartment for the first time, Allison and Klaus had stumbled upon a framed photograph that Five had forgotten to stow away before their arrival. In the frame was a beautiful girl with kind features and a gentle smile, her arms lovingly draped around Five’s neck as he held her to his side and forced a lopsided grin for the camera. They knew Five had always hated photos, but it seemed here that he was willing to set aside his disdain for being photographed to please this mystery girl.

“What are you two looking at?” Five demanded after stumbling upon them staring down at the frame. Eyes widening when he realizes just exactly what the two are looking at, he quickly snatches the photo from Klaus’s grasp and holds it protectively against his chest. “I can’t believe this, I was gone for two minutes and neither of you could manage to stay out of my things.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you had a girlfriend?” Klaus asks, voice laced with mock offense as he clutches at his chest to mimic being wounded.

“The details of my personal life are none of your concern,” Five grits through clenched teeth, his tone dripping in annoyance at their snooping and frustration at being caught red handed. How could he have been so sloppy? Five had always been meticulous about every minute detail and keen at covering his tracks when needed, and yet he had failed to protect the most important secret he held.

“She’s gorgeous,” Allison tells him in hopes of assuaging her agitated brother, “and she looks really sweet. Why would you hide something like this?”

“This may come as a shock to you, Allison, but you guys aren’t exactly great at first impressions,” he explains condescendingly with a tight lipped smile, doing his best to hold back the urge to use more colorful language and insults. “The last thing I need is for you guys to start hashing out old childhood issues in front of her and scare her off.”

“Ouch, okay, noted,” she replies with a displeased frown. “But that’s still no excuse to keep your relationship a secret. I know we’re not always the most reliable bunch, but obviously this girl is important to you, Five, and if that’s the case then she’s important to us, too. Just give us a chance to prove ourselves- bring her to my place Friday for dinner so we can all get introduced.”

Five is silent as he mulls over Allison’s offer, doubt clear on his features as he considers all the possible ways a family dinner with you could go. While there are a million ways for it to go wrong, he’s able to acknowledge the plausibility of it being a success. As much as he hated to admit it, his sister did have a point. They weren’t always completely unreliable, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think spending time with his siblings could actually be pleasant at times. And it’s not like you haven’t been questioning him already about his family and the details of his childhood. Perhaps it was time to finally bite the bullet.

“You get one chance,” Five finally relents in a firm tone, pointing his finger at them both in warning. “Do not screw this up.”

“How exciting!” Klaus gasps with an enthusiastic clap of his hands. “Oh, I have the perfect dish for this occasion.”

As Allison and Klaus immediately begin to discuss the details of Friday’s dinner, Five can only force himself to quell his panic as best as possible and hope that you’re able to stand his family.

~~~

You fidget nervously with the pendant of your necklace as Five swiftly parks the car in front of Allison’s home. It’s beautiful, and by the looks of the warm lights that glow through the window it seems the festivities have begun. Despite your boyfriend having already turned off the car, you make no attempt to move, prompting Five to reach over and gently take hold of your hand in his.

“Don’t worry,” he assures you in the softest voice he can manage. “These idiots are more worried about impressing you than you are about impressing them.”

“They’re not idiots, they’re your siblings,” you reprimand him gently before finally mustering up the courage to step foot out of the car. “And despite how much you act like they annoy you I know you really care about them. I just want it to go well is all.”

Five can’t really argue with that- sometimes he hates how easily you’re able to read him. It’s a feat not many can accomplish, and yet you managed to do so in record time. It’s also just another thing he adores about you; you see him like no one has before, and your gentle nature and levelheadedness perfectly balance out his tense and combative personality. You’re good for him, and he hopes his siblings see the good in you too.

The door swings open before you can press the doorbell and immediately you find yourself being pulled into the tightest hug of your life. A gasp of surprise leaves you at the sudden intrusion, and it takes everything in Five to resist the urge to immediately pry his sister off of you. He stares daggers at her innocent smile behind your back, but she merely waves him off before pulling away to look at you.

“It is so good to finally meet you!” She exclaims cheerfully, excitement clear in her tone. “I’m Allison. Come in, come in.”

You aren’t able to get in a word edge-wise as the woman practically drags you into her home and begins to show you around. A pleasant smelling aroma fills the house from the food that cooks in the kitchen, and animated chatter drifts throughout the hallways as the siblings gather and catch up on each other’s lives.

“Please make yourself at home and let me know if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you, a-and thank you for having me,” you offer with a meek smile, your hands nervously wringing together in front of you. “I’ve heard so much about you all and it’s finally nice to put faces to the names. I’m y/n.”

“Well then, welcome to the family y/n,” Allison notes with a wink before disappearing into the kitchen. You almost jump in surprise when you feel Five’s hand rest against your lower back as he leads you into the living room to meet the rest of his siblings.

“Ready to enter the lion’s den?” He whispers under his breath, and for a moment you genuinely can’t decipher whether or not he’s joking.

Three men and a woman sit on the couch animatedly discussing the contents of the television show playing on the screen before turning silent at your arrival. The sudden attention makes you nervous, your throat drying up as you harshly swallow down your anxiety.

“Luther, Diego, Lila, I’d like to introduce you to my… girlfriend,” Five utters after clearing his throat, obviously not familiar with the process of introducing a partner to family. He was still fairly new at this relationship stuff and still struggled at times with opening up. If he didn’t care about you so much he probably wouldn’t even bother, so you appreciate his efforts. “Y/n, these are my brothers and my sister-in-law.”

“Girlfriend, huh? This is certainly an upgrade from the last one,” Diego teases with a wry chuckle.

“Wasn’t the last one a mannequin?” Lila prompts with a raised brow much to Five’s dismay.

“Shut it,” he warns through clenched teeth, heat crawling up his neck at the mention of Delores. Leave it to those two to bring up his past at the worst time.

“A mannequin?” You repeat unsurely, your features contorted in confusion. Five’s eyes widen in panic, but Luther is quick to change the subject on Five’s behalf.

“It’s nice to see Five with someone for a change,” he notes with a nervous chuckle in hopes his comment redirects your attention off of the previous topic. “How did you two meet?”

“I work at a coffee shop in town,” you explain with a sheepish smile, and Five visibly relaxes beside you as you start to recount the beginnings of your relationship. A crisis has been avoided thanks to Luther, and for once Five is grateful for his brother’s conversational skills. “I was the only one who could make his coffee exactly the way he liked it, so he became a regular and would stop by every time I was working. We got to talking, one thing led to another, and, well, here I am.”

“Well, I for one think you are much too good for him,” Lila points out to the boy’s annoyance, “but seeing him less uptight and ornery is a pleasant change.”

“Thank you for that lovely observation, Lila,” Five retorts sarcastically with a roll of his eyes before escorting you out of the living room before the woman can embarrass him any further.

“Did you really date a mannequin?” You whisper curiously only for Five to immediately redden at your question.

“Let’s not hash out my dating history just right this second,” he instructs you before entering the dining room where a man has just finished setting down a heavy centerpiece on the table while another watches.

“Hmm, a little more to the left,” the one with curly hair and heavy eyeliner instructs while scrutinizing its placement. His eyes glance over the table before landing on you and Five in the doorway, and he immediately gasps before rushing over to greet you. “You must be y/n! Oh, it is so lovely to meet you. I’m Klaus, Five’s favorite brother, of course.”

“I don’t ever recall saying that,” Five points out with a raised brow and amused smile. Klaus simply rolls his eyes and waves his brother off with a tsk.

“You don’t have to, I can see it in your face,” he dismisses before returning his attention to you. “And that handsome man over there is our sweet brother Viktor.”

“Hey,” Viktor offers with a timid smile and small wave. “Nice to see you, welcome to family dinner.”

“Thank you,” you reply gratefully, “it’s nice to finally meet you all.”

“Well, not all of us. A certain someone thinks he’s too good for family dinner,” Klaus huffs in annoyance before turning his attention back to the centerpiece. “Does that look centered to you?”

“It looks perfect. I love the arrangement you’ve made,” you compliment much to Klaus’s delight.

“Finally someone with taste!” He gasps before draping an arm around you much to Five’s dismay and guiding you back to the kitchen. “Come, come little one, you can help me pick which napkins to use.”

Watching your figures disappear into the hallway, Viktor glances at Five before stating, “I don’t think you’ll be getting her back for a while.”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” the boy sighs in displeasure before heading towards Allison’s liquor cabinet for a drink.

~~~

Much to Five’s surprise, dinner goes off without a hitch. The food is lovely, the conversation is pleasant, and despite your usually shy demeanor you were able to open up rather quickly to his siblings. It was obvious the family took a great liking to you, and his original worries about them scaring you off had been proven irrational and untrue.

From his seat on the couch Five watches as you animatedly converse with Luther and Klaus about a new bakery that just opened up in town, your smile never once leaving your face and their interest in your words never once dwindling. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you talk this much, and the sight brings a comfortable warmth to his chest at seeing you happy.

“See? This wasn’t so bad, was it?” Allison goads with a pleased smile. “Everyone had a nice time and y/n fits right in.”

“As much as I hate to say it, I’m sorry for doubting you,” Five relents with a soft smile. “This was nice.”

“And we like y/n, so don’t mess this up,” Lila warns him with a facetious shove to his shoulder. Annoyed by her words, Five rolls his eyes and shrugs away from her touch before refocusing his gaze on you. Your eyes meet for a brief second as you glance out into the living room, and you flash him a quick smile before looking back to Klaus who enthusiastically grabs hold of your hands and begins to demand a trip to the bakery with you while Luther attempts to insert himself into the plan. Despite how annoying his family can be at times, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bring a smile to see his face to see them all get along with the girl he loves.

“Trust me,” he utters carefully, his voice so uncharacteristically tender it takes the two women by surprise, “I’ll do anything to keep her around for as long as I live.”

[lovelyyys]

the reader is a mutant like logan but more cat like which everyone thinks that they would hate each other which is proven wrong by the marks logan leaves on her neck after a wild night

ok i went a little wild with this so uh, enjoy!

(female reader, enemies to lovers? 18+!!!)

For the most part you two were alike. Well. For the most part. You were like him, although your claws didn’t retract from your knuckles. Instead they came from your nails. Just like a cat: People had expected the two of you to get along well knowing the fact that you were similar. When you two first met he simply introduced himself as, “Hi I’m Logan.” As if that would suffice. You didn’t know why he was so lukewarm towards you, almost as if he felt threatened by you. Ego problem maybe?

The team along with you were in the lounge area, everybody talking and drinking after a mission. You stood off to the side minding your own business. Drinking a beer, you didn’t know why. You couldn’t even get drunk since your body filtered alcohol out as poison so maybe you could get tipsy for a millisecond but that was it. You had been looking at a painting in the room, not before feeling the presence of somebody behind you. “How come you don’t drink hard? Like whiskey.” A gruff voice said from behind you that you had immediately recognized as that egotistical jerk. “I don’t like the taste.” You had answered, turning to face him. You looked up at him, staring into his eyes. “That’s a shame.” You didn’t answer, looking at his facial features and such. He took his own cup pressing it to his lips. Downing his drink, before slamming it on the table next to you.

“You know I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong hand. It was just a little weird meeting somebody like me.” Ah. So it was because he has an ego problem. “Yeah I thought so.” You said, not before finishing off your beer and putting it next to his empty glass. “You can’t get drunk right?” He asked you suddenly. You shook your head, “No my healing factor doesn’t allow it.”

“So we’re more alike than I thought.” He laughed, you smiled. Maybe you two were more alike than you two thought. “Uh, you know we’re on the same mission tomorrow.” Why was he even talking to you? “Yeah I saw on the board earlier.” That was the whole conversation.

After the mission you got a nasty cut on your thigh, your suit being cut open. Your leg bleeding. You had gotten back to the mansion. Logan offering to help clean you up. Why not? What could be the worse that could happen? He was just trying to break the ice after all…

He brought you to the medbay, grabbing a bit of gauze and rubbing alcohol. You sat down on the bed, watching him prep the materials. You took off the pants of your suit so he could clean it better. “Come closer.” He said, curling his finger towards you. You shuffled over to him. His breath warm against your body. “This is going to hurt.” He warned, pressing the cold cotton pad onto your skin. The alcohol stinging. His jaw was locked, eyes hardening as he watched your expression as you hissed at the pain. He held his hand on your shoulder to reassure you — not before you muffled your cry’s of pain into his neck. Holding onto his back. Your nails digging in.

The pain was a 10. Possibly an 11. You started panting a bit, whimpering into his neck. In an instant he moved his hand down from your shoulder to your hip in order to steady you. He cleared his throat, his voice a bit hesitant. “Stop moving like that.”

“It hurts.” You cried out. “Just stop.” He whispered in your ear. How were you supposed to? Oh. Oh…

You looked up at him, his eyes meeting yours as he bit his cheek. As if he was trying to hold back from saying more. “Fuck it.” He growled. Tossing the cotton pad in the trash. Moving your legs up onto the table. Getting right in between your thighs, his hands snaking down towards your panties. Tugging them right off as he gripped your legs once more. Putting them to rest on his muscular shoulders. He pushed you down onto the table, going into kiss you roughly. His hands holding your face. “You know I always liked you in a way.” You smirked.

“Well now you know in what way.” He laughed, panting a bit before kissing you again. His tounge exploring your mouth. His hands went to his pants pulling them along with his boxers down. His hard dick jumping out, ready to be inside of you. Ready to fill you up with his cum. Over and over again. So much for introductions.

He grabbed his thick member, pushing it up against your dripping wet pussy. You looked up at him, his face had a smirk on it. You nodded, letting him push up into you, he didn’t take it slow. Wasting no time, rolling his hips before pulling out and thrusting into you as he held your jaw. Forcing you to look at him. You let out a moan. Staring into his eyes. “You like this?”

“Harder. Harder!” You moaned suddenly, his eyes darkening as he fucked up into your sopping wet cunt at a brutal pace. Groaning with every single fucking thrust. He pulled the zipper down from your suit. Your breasts there on display for him to see. He hummed in approval, squeezing on one of your breasts as he continued ramming into you. His cock kissing your cervix, the pleasure overwhelming. The familiar tightening in your stomach building up. “You close?” He asked you. You simply nodded, your breasts jiggling up and down with every thrust. “Me too. Want me to cum inside this pussy?” “Mhm.” He grinned. His pace somehow getting faster as if the pace before wasn’t enough for him. “Cum with me.” He whined. Kissing you once more.

You quickly clenched around him, milking him for all his worth. His hot cum filling inside you quickly. He continued fucking you, the cum leaking out. The overstimulation quickly spreading. “Logan!”

“Be good for me you can take it.” He moaned, sucking on your neck his hips never slowing as he drew out another orgasm from you. Again and again.

His hairy base tickled against your clit, stimulating it. He reached his thumb down rubbing on the bud. “Logan please.”

“Please what? What do you want?”

“It’s too much-.” You whined grabbing onto his dog tags with all the strength you had left. You read it. “Wolverine eh?” You laughed a bit. Moaning. “Shut up. You’re a fucking kitty cat.” He snarled. His thrusts never faltering.

It’s safe to say you didn’t sleep at all that night.

In the morning you were in the kitchen making yourself a coffee to wake up from the nights events. The team there as well making themselves breakfast. You hadn’t noticed the hickey Logan left on your neck until somebody had pointed it out. “Hey what’s that on your neck?” Scott peeped up. You raised your brows a bit looking in the reflection of the coffee machine. “Uh.”

“Something I left for her to remember me by.” A gruff voice said.

That egotistical jerk.

hope you enjoyed !! more to come, xoxo!