#but i cant keep putting it off because then shell be angry :/

[aroacesigma]

gonna have to go over my assignment with my mum and holyyyy fuck its stressing me out

[poppy-metal]

Nah but your bully reader x izuku holy fuck its so good just thinking about how one day the reader just gets so fucking out of line that izuku drags her to his room and just goes to town putting her in her place. just absolutely railing her as the headboard smacks against the wall and saying such dirty things like "I'll teach you to stop being so mean to me "I'll show you how much of a man I can be" or my favorite "cmon scream my name let everyone know this lowlife dork is making you cream on his cock" awooga anyways finally as shes about to reach her climax he just stops completely only to look her dead in the eyes and say "tell me you love me cmon say it and ill keep going" but shes so stubborn that she just pouts with a red face panting heavily as she looks away unable to meet his gaze. however this only fuels izuku causing him to lift her chin up to meet his green eyes that seem to boar into her very soul shaking her to the core. he chuckles at her doey eyed expression before speaking once again "funny you spend all that time looking down on me and now you cant even look me in the eye" he begins teasing her by rubbing his angry red tip between her slick folds causing her to gasp as he slams back into her over and over again until her brain turns to mush and its not long before he claims his reward. all that can be heard over the slapping of skins and moans are "i love you izuku" and "please cum inside i need it" and who is izuku to deny this request ?

No bc this punched me in the actual gut :(( 

Its after awhile in your little secret relationship and izuku is frankly tired of being treated like he doesn’t matter to you when it’s so glaringly obvious you’re in love with him. He’s not your dirty secret, and he’s a soft, romantic boy. He wants to fucking hold your hand in the hall and buy you flowers and be able to kiss you whenever he wants, he love language is quality time and acts of service okay, he’s dying on the inside slowly because the only time you’re soft for him is on his cock, but it’s not enough. 

So when a pretty, sweet girl smiles at him, and he know’s you’re watching he doesn’t try and bashfully reject her. He looks at you and makes sure you’re watching when he smiles and takes the slip of paper with her number on, slipping it in his back pocket. He expects the way your lip curls, the way your fists clench and the way you shove yourself out of your seat and stomp out of the common room. He’s already following you the second you’re out the door. 

He catches you around the waist from behind, presses your back against his chest when you struggle and leans forward, lips at your ear. “Tell me why i shouldn’t go” he’s pleading, squeezing you tight. “Give me a reason” 

You grit your teeth, actually feeling tears build because you’re so frustrated. With your feelings, with him, with all of it. “Fuck off. If you want some other bitch that’s on you. Hope she’s ready to be disappointed in bed”

He doesn’t even react to your jabs, his lips stay close to the back of your neck. “M’gonna have a big family one day, y’know?” he says softly. “I wanna be a dad,___. I want to be in love and have a woman who i can kiss and hold and share a life with. Who lets me make love to her” 

The last part is whispered right against the shell of your ear. You squirm. “I want that woman to be you” he finishes, and you close your eyes, feeling the way your heart caves in your chest.

You don’t know why you can’t just be easy to love. Its what izuku deserves, and the picture he’s painted….it’s what you want. You want to be the reason izuku smiles and gets dimples, you want to be the person he reaches out to and loves so hard. But you’re scared of the overwhelming way that giving yourself over to your love for him would make you powerless. You’d never recover if he left you, never. 

“I don’t wanna be your stupid housewife..” You mumble. Yes, you do. You feel his sigh against your hair, his breath moving it. 

“You do.” Izuku turns you around to face him. He traces a thumb over your cheek. “I know you wanna be my girl, yeah? You don’t need to shout it from the rooftops or wear it like a badge but...i need to know you- i need to hear you say it” 

You want to. You want to say it but - “im-” You look down, mumble, “im scared” 

Izuku smiles down at you, his eyes softening as his thumb brushes over your lip, slides down your neck and then drops down to grab your hand. “I know you are. Won’t make you say it how i wanna hear it yet. We’ll take it slow, okay? But im gonna hear you say it. By the end of tonight” He grins. “Even if i have to drag it out of you with orgasms” 

And later he does make you say it. Its not loud, or public, how he wants yet. But its a little give, to all your pushing. Even if he has to bully it out of you a little, has to drag the plush head of his dick through the soaked folds of your cunny and tease your little clit until you’re begging. 

Its a little cruel, honestly. The way he makes you so vulnerable, gasping and weeping as he fucks you so, so slow, dragging his cock along your walls in a painfully tender glide, making you feel every inch, knowing you’re dying, gasping, needing it harder, deeper, faster. “Say it, baby” he groans against your mouth, working his hips in tiny barely there increments, barely feeding you his cock how you want it. Licking your upper lip as you cry and whimper. “Tell the little nerd you like to tease so much how much you love him, go on” 

Your dig your nails into his freckled, flexing back as your eyes roll back, his pelvis grinding into your clit in sweet torture as you give in. “i-i love you, izuku. Please” 

“Mm, i know” he says, and you’re to far gone to catch the smugness behind it. He rewards you by gripping you under your thighs and pulling your legs up, sliding into you in a heavy and deep thrust that has his balls clapping against the underside of your pussy as he fills it deep. “Love you too. So much. Gonna make you wanna be my girlfriend one day, and then my pretty little wife, and then” He grunts, grinding. “The mother of my children”

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-Yoongi

You’re more than thrilled to be on set with your boyfriend as he films his newest music video prior to his second mixtape release. But you simply can’t imagine Yoongi-quiet, reserved, introverted-performing in front of the camera as a mad emperor. He’s a professional, but this is going to be difficult right? Fortunately, Yoongi surprises you once again and has a trick up his sleeve to help loosen him up-a trick which makes him a little bit more forward and daring in every aspect.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the scene, BTS Drabble, Daechwita, D-2, Agust D, Min Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi x you, Yoongi x reader, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Fluff

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive

Warnings: I mean, there’s mention of alcohol. 🤷

Title: The Mad King

“Holy shit, this place is freaking beautiful.” You can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth-eyes wide-as you look around the main courtyard and palace of Dae Jang Geum Park. 

The set for the music video, the park is already bustling and full of activity, even this early in the morning-extras being told where to stand and position, trailers with equipment pulling in, makeup and hair artists scurrying back and forth from one of the buildings. 

Yoongi’s new music video is a huge deal. Just like the man himself. 

“It’s gorgeous, heh?” Yoongi’s makeup noona appears beside you and slings her arm across your shoulders, her thick heavy black boots loud on the courtyard tiles as she joins you in staring in awe up at the large building before you. “He picked a perfect set.” 

“You’re telling me.” You say breathlessly, before you glance over at her once more, realizing now who’s talking to you. “Wait. Are you done?” 

She laughs, tossing the end of her high, dark ponytail over her shoulder, and you realize that she’s dressed in a different outfit than before. “Honey, I’ve been done with your boyfriend for hours. I had to get myself ready.” 

“You look amazing.” You pull back from her to hold her at arm’s length. “You get a scene right?” 

“Damn straight! I don’t look this good for nothing!” She exclaims, and you both laugh, before someone calls out her name, and she glances over her shoulder with a sigh. “Speaking of which, I gotta get back to work.” She winks at you. “Go find that boy of yours before we start filming and wish him luck.” 

It takes you awhile to find Yoongi, but when you do, he’s right where you would have expected him to be-on the uppermost floor of the palace, leaning against the railing, look out over the bustle of the courtyard. 

“Yoongs?” You ask softly as you step into the throne room, and when he turns to look at you, you almost lose your breath. 

He’s dressed head to toe in traditional royal Hanbok, a slender samurai sword strapped at his waist. His dark hair is hidden beneath a very realistic looking blonde wig, pulled up at the crown, and a long, angry red scar crosses one of his eyes. 

“Holy shit.” You find yourself saying beneath your breath for the second time that day, and the corner of his mouth starts to pull up into a smile at your surprised exclamation, flashing pink gums and white teeth. 

“Like it?” He steps toward you, holding his arms out at his side, and suddenly, you get the vision of the mad king much more now than you had before-the outfit and something about his aura has you suddenly viewing him in a different light. 

“I-” You can’t seem to find the words, because staring at Yoongi-confident and slightly smug-before you, playing the part of a deranged emperor, is suddenly making you feel some sort of way in the pit of your stomach. 

“You’re speechless?” This time, his lips pull back completely to give you a sort of self satisfied smirk, and the caramel irises of his eyes warm and darken, his pupils blowing wide, as he approaches you on sure, slow footsteps. 

“I’m speechless.” You confirm breathlessly, and he’s close to you now, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne-fresh and stark and familiar-in your nose. And suddenly, your heart is doing flips against your rib cage, at the look of pure intent that washes across his gaze as he stares down at you. 

“Are you nervous?” You manage to stutter out, swallowing hard, trying to distract yourself from the arousal that is pooling in your stomach as his eyes hold your own.  

“No.” Yoongi replies, surprising you, and once again, the corner of his lip lifts slightly, creasing the scar that crosses his eye. “I’m not nervous.” 

You open your mouth to ask him what has him so confident, but before the words can leave your tongue, Yoongi is leaning into you and slanting his mouth over your own, in a very sudden and very urgent kiss, that catches you off guard in the best way possible. 

His tongue slides along the part of your mouth-as if asking for entrance-and you allow him in, letting your own trace over the edge of his bottom teeth, as his hands tangle into your hair, and he lets out a low groan against your open lips in response. 

You’re too distracted-as your back hits the wall behind you, and Yoongi’s fingers drift lightly down the skin of your neck toward your collarbone-to notice for a moment, but then, the taste of something acidic and honeyed hits your taste buds. 

You pull back from him, breaking contact for a moment, and the air between you is filled with gasps for lost breath, as you glance up at him, surprise clear on your features, as you ask hoarsely, “Yoongi, did you drink?” 

He lets out a noise between swollen lips-a sound between a scoff and a dry chuckle-and his tongue darts out to wet the pink skin in a gesture that has your stomach clenching with pleasure, before he reaches up to thumb your bottom lip, half hooded eyes tracing across the features of your face. “Just a little whiskey in the bathroom during makeup and hair. I needed to loosen up to play the part.” 

“That’s-” You start to exclaim, before your words are once again cut off by his mouth finding yours. 

His teeth nip the full, plush skin of your bottom lip, and you gasp lightly, feeling him smirk against your mouth, as he palms your face, keeping you from pulling away, before he murmurs heatedly under his breath, “Irresponsible?” 

You can smell the whiskey on his breath, and it’s intoxicating, and you feel as if you’re the one who has been drinking, because your head is spinning and your whole body feels extra sensitive-to the air, to the clothes you’re wearing, to the way Yoongi’s fingers brush hotly beneath the edge of your shirt and across your bare skin. 

You shake your head, and this time, you crash your lips into his, because suddenly, you need him more than anything else in the world. 

“No.” You manage to say, frantically returning his feverish kisses in between words. “It’s-” He swipes his tongue back around the inside of your mouth-warm and persistent-and you feel yourself melt into him, his fingers digging into the skin that covers your hipbones. “Hot as hell.” 

“Yeah?” He twists his mouth into that same damn smirk that always makes you weak kneed, and presses your body further back against the wall with his own, and the way you can feel his desire for you-obvious and fervent-has your body trembling with sudden, insatiable need. 

And it doesn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi. 

His smirk disappears, and his pupils blow with desire, completely covering the warm caramel ring of his irises, as his long, slender fingers encircle your wrists and pin them up above your head in one easy movement. His tongue darts out to wet his lips once more, as his eyes rove down the length of your body, and his free hand traces down your curves to the closure of your pants. 

“Shit baby, you’re practically shaking.” He leans into you, lips brushing across the shell of your ear, breath hot and hinting at alcohol as it washes across your skin. “Do you want me that badly?” 

“Yoongi.” You turn your head into his, your lips brushing across his jawline as you speak. And when you say his name again, your fingers digging into his own, and your skin brushing his, it is in a whine, as you squirm beneath his weight. “Yoongi. Don’t tease me.” 

“I’m not teasing you, baby.” Yoongi frees his own pants, his fingers tantalizingly brushing across the skin revealed by the edge of your t-shirt, and when he speaks again, his lips once more close to yours, it is in a low growl from the back of his throat that sends pleasurable shivers down your spine. “I’m enjoying you.” 

Those are the last words either of you says for several minutes, as his mouth once again captures your own, and his fingers pin yours to the wall, and your body melds with his, and nothing but harsh breaths and moans leave your mouths, as you both give into your desires. 

“Loosening” is an understatement on the effect that whiskey has on Min Yoongi. 

When it’s all said and done, and you’re trying to straighten your jacket and fix the mess that is now your hair, Yoongi struggling to straighten his long blonde wig and reposition his traditional robes, you cant help but grin up at him, as you stay against the wall for a moment longer, trying to control the last of the trembling in your legs. 

“What?” He asks you, raising a slender dark brow in your direction, as he reaches up to thumb across the smile still curving your lips upward. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

You shrug slightly, unable to keep the happy grin from creeping back over your features, and though you are still slightly out of breath, you manage to say steadily, “I dunno.” You shrug again, unable to think of anything else to do with all of your emotions. You reach out to straighten the edge of his hanbok. “I just like the mad king. That’s all.” 

Yoongi chuckles, his face still slightly flushed from your previous activities, and probably from the effect of the loosening warm whiskey from earlier, and puts a long finger underneath your chin, to tilt your gaze to meet his own. “You like the mad king?” 

“I like the mad king.” You reiterate with a firm nod, and the thud of your heart in your chest and the way your breath is still lost, is a serious testament to the truthfulness of your words. 

[lustbile-archive]

Freak

MarkxReader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary/Warnings: Based off of Freak by Doja Cat

because Mark listens to doja cat and doja cat put freak on spotify and both of these things did a lot for me personally.

Smut, but also some angst and fluff.

Warning! Switch!Mark and Switch!Reader, jealousy, unhealthy relationship and reactions, reader is kind of dramatic ngl, and like a daddy kink for like 2 seconds. I really just wanted to write a smut based off the song but somewhere along the way it developed a plot. The song also uses ‘girl’ but as per usual this fic does not use gendered pronouns (also I would put a read more on this but I don’t have my laptop so I’m so sorry)

“Is it too tight?” you try not to laugh as you whisper in his ear, your lips brushing against his skin making a shiver wrack his body and his hips cant upwards.

You bite back a whimper when the bulge pressing against the fabric of his jeans bumps into the seat of your underwear, a devious and satisfied grin pulling on his lips before he responds, “just tight enough baby.”

He tugs roughly at the cuffs that lock him to the head of your bed to prove his claim, the dull metal denting his skin. You had only asked to be nice, the irritation that swirled in your belly fed the evil little monster in your mind that screamed, ‘I don’t care about you Mark. I hope it hurts.’

Truly, you never would want to hurt Mark, unless it turned him on obviously, but unintentionally? Never. But where you sat straddling his lap and he laid shirtless and restrained below you, you can’t help but itch in anger and jealousy. A need to make him hurt as much as you wouldn’t admit out loud that he hurt you.

You had met Mark through mutual friends, and it wasn’t too far into the night that you realized you were hooked onto the grinning boy, an evil need to see what he could offer clawing at your skin. You ignored the concerned lingering looks your friends passed you when they noticed your interest, and you definitely ignored your best friend when she tried to discreetly mention that Mark may be a little too soft hearted for your shenanigans, too puppy like to keep up with what you liked to do. You were absolutely giddy as you watched the wide eyed pretty boy laugh and grin at the conversation amount at the group, and you were even giddier when his face flushed a deep red when your eyes met in response to your foot brushing his leg under the table.

Every time your eyes met that night, you’d offer a less than sweet smile. One time even adding a gentle wave of your fingers when you caught him staring. Excitement finally flooded your veins when you motioned to the exit of the small bar your friends had gathered at, and he gulped and nodded in response.

So no, you didn’t listen to your friend, and to hit the nail in the coffin, you drug Mark into the backseat of her car. She had very politely agreed to be the designated driver of the night, and you very nicely returned the favor by stuffing your mouth full of the nice boy she warned you to leave alone while you sat snuggly on his face. The evidence of your terrible listening skills left across both of your chins, and even some drops left on her upholstery.

No one seemed to notice your absence when you crawled back into your seats, or the way Mark wouldn’t stop licking his lips throughout the night. Every time his tongue peaked from between his lips making warmth tingle between your thighs.

Your friend figured it out. Of course she did, when she found your panties stuffed under her passenger seat and a few suspicious dried spots on the seats, and of course she gave you an ear full. ‘Mark is too sweet for this,’ and ‘you can’t play with him like this, he’ll start to feel something.’ Her words only passed over your head. You're an adult, and so is Mark, so it’s not like what you were doing was bad. The disappointment shaking of her head was the only response you got when you told her this, and all she got was a roll of your eyes.

So no, you didn’t leave Mark alone. Far from it actually. You found yourself magnified to his side whenever your friends gathered, childish grins shared between you two at the knowing of what would happen later that night, and you even wormed your way into his life outside of your friend gatherings. His boyish charms, and the warmth he offered brought you back to him every time, and not to mention the way he could use his tongue. Sometimes you two even revisited the back seat setting of your first meeting when your friend shot you one too many warning glares and you wanted to prove a point.

And maybe you shouldn’t have told him that you don’t date. ‘I don’t really do relationships,’ you whispered into the thick air of his room as you lay naked next to him, your head laying on his shoulder as his fingers brush your skin. You ignore the way his chest deflated at your words, assuming it was just his breath relaxing, and instead focus on his acknowledging hum and the quiet, ‘yeah, um.. me neither,’ he mutters. Those words being the last of the night before you fell unconscious, warm and naked in his sheets.

No maybe, you definitely should have never said that. Not when you could already feel the boy clawing out a nest in your heart and building a home. Not when you could feel your body light up whenever you found him amongst the crowd of your friends. Not when you found yourself enjoying the time spent tucked into his side just as much as you enjoyed the time that you were stuffed full of him. But you only realize this when you see him standing with her.

“I don’t see the problem,” you friend brushes off your grumbling question of ‘why is he with her’ with her hand swatting at the air, “it’s not like you were going to date him anyways. All you do is play games.”

You feel your face heat up at her words, anger and a tinge of embarrassment stinging your nerves, “but still,” you dumbly respond, no other words forming from your irritation.

“But still what?” she finally turns to lock her eyes on you, “I told you not to mess with him. Mark Lee is a boyfriend guy. He wants to be in a relationship so bad he can’t stand it.”

“That’s not what he told me,” you bite back, a petulant attitude filling every space inside of you.

“Of course it’s not, what like he’s gonna scare off the best lay of his life by admitting he’s a hopeless romantic?” her eyes go wild as she tries to reason with you, a task she’s not very unfamiliar with, “you might be a great fuck, but you’re also incredibly dense.”

You feel your chest cave at her words. The reality check squeezing your heart in sharp claws. The only small comfort you get is the small smile of pity she offers when you begin to resemble a kicked puppy.

“Just talk to him about it some other time, or if you really want to know what I think, just leave him alone and forget about it,” she puts down her now empty glass to free her hand to pet at your arm, her warmed palms making you melt slightly, “just don’t do anything stupid please.”

But of course you have to do something stupid, if you didn’t it just wouldn’t make sense. So you pull yourself away, a quiet, ‘I’m gonna get a drink,’ falling from you pouting lips as you turn away. An uninvited grin momentarily breaking your moodiness when she swats at your butt in encouragement.

And you do head towards the table covered in drinks, but unfortunately Mark and the mystery girl had moved themselves right into the path you had to take to get there. The smile he offers when your eyes meet feels like a punch to a chest, the small wave and a bubbly ‘hi’ chilling your skin.

If you were a real adult you’d smile, nod, and keep walking. Maybe trying to talk to him in the morning, or taking the advice you’d been handed and just end what you had with him before it got any worse, but you weren’t a real adult. A jealous child that had their favorite toy taken by a sweet girl that didn’t know it had your name scratched into it was hiding in the shell that was your body, and that child started to break your shell when instead your face twisted up in a grimace. You make sure not to let your eyes fall on the girl next to him, she hadn’t done anything and you didn’t want to start something with a stranger, but after a dramatic eye roll, you locked a harsh glare on the boy.

He jerks back as if your stare was a sharp knife digging into his stomach, a flash of confusion and hurt landing on his face. His mouth gapes open to question your attitude, but there’s no time for words to escape him before your turning and heading towards the exit.

It’s as if the room is suddenly filled with dozens of more people than there were before you saw him. Elbows and shoulders hitting you as you move through the ocean of bodies, every contact on your skin sparking your irritation up by a few degrees as you start to get overwhelmed by the activity around you. Being touched felt like a demon was dancing around your shoulders to see how much he could get on your nerves, to see how much he could push you until you made a bad decision.

The cold air that hits you when you get outside turns your stomach, your nails clawing into the railing of the house’s porch in an attempt to calm your breathing and cool the fire burning in your belly.

You wanted to be angry when you heard you name coming from his lips, but the concern in his voice and the warmth of his hand running against your back makes you melt in both happiness that he followed you and shame at how that made you feel.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” he asks and you decide then that you don’t want sympathy. You wanted every other part of him all to yourself and if that wasn’t realistic, then you might as well take what you know you could get.

You turn faster than he expected as he jumps slightly as you move in his arms. Your fingers immediately grab the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, your nose pressing into his as he grabs at your hips to steady himself.

“I need you Mark,” your sudden whiny tone throwing him off from what he had witnessed in the house. You tug on his shirt and pout up at him in a way that, no matter what the situation, has made him give you exactly what you wanted, “please?”

“Um.. yea- yeah okay,” he shakes his head to clear his thoughts, a small smile pulling on his lips, “are you sure? You’re good right?”

“Yeah,” you lie, as you move to press your mouth along his jaw to avoid making any more eye contact, “just need to get fucked real bad.”

The laugh that shakes his chest feels like nails being pressed into your heart.

The drive to your house was used to plot your revenge, and maybe your last time having Mark to yourself. You had pulled him away from someone else tonight, but how many more times could you do that before he decided he didn’t want to be pulled anymore? Your friend had said he was a boyfriend type, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he sees you as someone to date.

And that's how you got where he laid now. You barely gave him time to park before you were jumping out of his car and stomping to your front door. Your quick strides made him have to pick up his pace behind you, only just getting his foot in the door before it slammed in his face.

You only glanced behind you as he locked the door behind him. You voice cold as you walk to your bedroom as you command, “take off your shirt.”

You heard him fumbling behind you as you strip to your underwear and climb onto your bed and once he had walked through the doorway everything was a blur.

Your nails dig harshly into the skin of his chest as you sit up, a small smile pulling on your lips when he whimpers out from the pain. You run your hands up and down the skin of his stomach as you take in his form, trying to memorize every inch below you. You feel your breath deepen as you move over the boy that’s ruled the space of your mind for so long.

“C‘mon sweetheart,” he encourages, your eyes falling shut when his voice wraps around your bones, “do something to me.”

The quickness of your response is almost embarrassing, as you sit back on his hips. Your fingers grip tightly onto his belt when his bulge digs into your core, the rough fabric of his jeans sending you reeling. Your shoulders shift forward and your thighs tense as you begin to slowly rock against him.

You whimper as pleasure runs up your spine, your arousal already beginning to seep into the fabric of your underwear and dampening his jeans as you move desperately on him.

It’s always been this way since the first time you had each other. Your mean attitude melts once you're on top of him, even when he’s locked up the way he is now. Even with the upper hand he’s still made his claim on your heart and you’d do anything to please him. But that doesn’t stop you from loving to watch him squirm.

“Fuck Mark,” your words are raspy as they leave you mixed with a groan. Your hips rapidly rutting against him as your body craves the type of orgasm that only the boy below you has been able to pull from you.

“Move down to my thigh,” he demands, his hips tilting upward to try to get you to move away, “wanna watch you come on my thigh before I'm inside you.”

You shake your head defiantly as your hips start moving in circles, your clit meeting the spot where his tip presses into the fabric and making you tremble and moan.

“Mm fuck,” his hips lift off the bed to match your pace, this and the way his teeth digs into his lip and the fact that he refuses to say the safe word you two agreed on is all you need to keep continuing, “fuck stop I don’t want to come in my pants.”

“Then don’t,” you sneer as you slow your hips to press harder into him. You both moan in the stuffy air that fills the room, the promise of an orgasm finally starting to bite at your skin.

“I can’t stop it when you’re acting like this,” he pleads and swears loudly as you continue your motions. His conflicting emotions of wanting to hold off but also wanting to come so badly showing blatantly on his pretty face, “fuck you’re always so mean when you’re in control.”

“Deal with it, you wouldn’t come back if you didn’t like it,” your words are punctuated with a throaty groan as you start to come. The muscles in your stomach flexes as you clench hard around nothing. Your body shakes as you fall forward, you palms lying flat on his stomach to hold you up as it feels like you’re being ripped at the seams. The static in your brain almost fully blocks out the irritated swearing you hear from below you and loud metallic sound that follows.

You can’t stop the scream you let out when you’re suddenly pressed face down into your sheets, your ass pressed back into his crotch as his harsh fingers curl around your hips. Your body still shakes in aftershocks and makes your head feel like it’s filled with water.

“I told you to move to my thigh,” he voice is rough, but not truly angry as he sits up behind you. He shoves his thigh between your legs to make a point, the friction from his jeans digging into the sensitive skin of your core makes you whimper as he uses his hands to pull you back and forth on the length of his thigh, “why don’t you ever fucking listen to me?”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” you bite back. Your nails claw into the sheets below you as you move with his hands. The pleasure and the pace of everything happening around you melts your brain as you speak before you can stop yourself, “if you didn’t you would have stayed with that girl from the party instead of coming back with me.”

He stops moving once your words reach his ears, his fingers massaging your skin the only part of him that moves as he lets the sentence move through his mind. You cringe at the realization of what you said and at the feeling of his nails scraping your skin as he pulls one hand away.

“Are you by any chance jealous sweetheart?” you hurry your face into the mattress in shame, your ears perking up only when you hear the clicking noise of his belt and the sharp sound of his zipper being pulled down.

You hum into the fabric pressed to your face as you sink further down towards the bed at being caught having feelings like this.

You hear the cracking sound of his hand meeting your skin before you feel it, the dull throbbing pain spreading as the seconds tick. You do feel your body jump in response and more arousal begin to drip from your body.

You loudly whine in protest when his fingers gently wrap around your neck and pull you up to press against his chest, and once your face is placed next to his, he places a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Answer me baby,” his thumb runs circles into the skin protecting your jugular making you melt back into him, “were you or were you not jealous tonight.”

“Yes,” you admit, placing your pride in a wood chipper.

“Yes what?” you impatiently grunt at the question, but can’t help but love the way he’s playing with you.

“Yes daddy,” you punctuate with a roll of your eyes.

“You shouldn’t be,” he continues to press soft kisses across your skin as his body warms every inch of you. His tone is full of patience making you calm and dazed in his hold, “I’m all yours.”

You yelp, as once he’s finished speaking, he simultaneously digs his teeth into the skin of your jaw and shoves himself fully inside of you. You scratch at his arm as you flutter around him in an attempt to adjust at the sudden intrusion.

You can feel your tongue moving as you plead into the air, but when he begins thrusting into you all the sounds are formed into one mass in your mind and your toes painfully curl. His hips smacking into your skin and the way he makes you stretch around your eyes roll back.

“That’s right,” the steady tone he holds as he knocks into you is almost unnerving as you begin to ragdoll in his hold, “and this little jealous streak you have going makes me think you belong to me just as much as I belong to you.”

He shifts on his knees in search of a better angle, and once he hears your breath pick up he knows he’s found it deep inside you. The way you crumble against him makes him wear a mean grin.

“All mine aren’t you?” he sounds far too proud of himself for your liking. There’s a beat of silence before his open palm lands harshly once again on the tingly skin of your ass, “aren’t you?”

“Yes Mark,” you spit out before you begin gnawing on your lip. Tears form across your water line as once the words finally leave you, he rewards you by moving to press his calloused fingers against your clit.

Incoherent words spill from you as you jerk against him, but he only laughs in response. He immediately starts moving tight circles against the buzzing skin, enjoying the way your chest moves from the way your body arches away from him, your nipples pressing against the thin fabric of your bralette making his brain go haywire.

“You need to come baby,” his voice is gruff and strained as he bosses you, finally showing the way your so tightly wrapped around him is affecting him, “after the little game you played earlier, I’m not gonna last long. You know that don’t you? That’s why you did it?”

“No Mark, I promise,” you shake your head as you grind against his fingers, a second orgasm looming over your head.

“Now don’t start lying to me now, you evil little thing,” you can feel yourself start to shake and your legs start to tingle as he whispers his taunts in your ear, “come for me.”

His fingers, his words, and the way he splits you apart pushes you flying over the edge. Your orgasm floods your veins as you clench harshly around him, the pleasure rocketing up your spine and making you cry out.

The way you wrap around him as you come, makes his hips stutter as he begins to come. He lets out a long groan into your ear and the sound and the feeling of him releasing warm and thick inside you makes your hands reach back to desperately grab at his hips. His fingers speed up as he comes, his orgasm making his brain too foggy to register that he’s elongating your orgasm until it’s bordering on painful.

His adrenaline subsides as he releases the last bit of come inside you, making his balance falter as he collapses both of you to the bed. He’s conscious enough to move his hand from your throat, and instead moves it to pet your face in an attempt to sooth you.

He’s still deep inside of you as he presses his chest against your back to curl around you. His heated breath hitting your face as he uses your face as a pillow as both of your breaths even out. You feel his knee push between your legs, and it feels like your muscles have been turned to jello.

It feels like decades before he finally whispers, almost like he’s afraid that speaking too loud would scare you away, “I didn’t know you’d be jealous.”

“Stop,” you cringe at how sinscere he sounds.

“No we need to talk about it,” his arm wraps around your ribcage and pulling you closer, wanting to make sure you feel safe before entering the conversation.

“I never thought about how you were feeling, so I really never expected you to get jealous over something like that, so I’m sorry.”

“Mark stop,” you don’t think when your hands falls to lace your fingers with his, “I’m the one who overreacted and got jealous over something that wasn’t my business. You shouldn’t be apologizing.”

“But I want to,” he shifts onto his elbow to peer down at you, the emotion behind his eyes scaring you, “if you got that jealous, that means you were clearly feeling something deeper that I wasn’t noticing, and considering how strongly I feel about you, it’s disappointing that I didn’t notice.”

“What do you mean how strongly you feel?” the insecurity in your tone makes your stomach turn, but you need to know.

“I like you a lot,” he sighs deeply once the words are out in the open, “and I have since we met, but when you said you didn’t do relationships I convinced myself that I couldn’t lose you so I just agreed. It was stupid, but I really change your mind if I just stuck around.”

“You did though,” you hand mindlessly moves to grab onto his ear, your fingers kneading the cartalidge and making him shiver, “I like you too, and I should have told you but I was being a brat about the idea of actually liking someone.”

“Oh so we‘re both dumb hm?” he teased leaning into your touch, the fondness behind his eyes making warmth spread across your chest.

“Yeah but I think we already knew that.”

“True,” he lays back down to wrap himself around you and press his mouth tightly against yours momentarily, “also that girl was only a classmate. You got jealous for nothing.”

“Nothing is an understatement,” you groan in embarrassment, “we never defined what we were, there was no reason for me to get wound up like that.”

“If I had just gotten the nerve to tell you that I wanted a relationship you never would have gotten wound up.”

“We really are both dumb,” your blank tone pulls a boyish laugh from him, making him smile and press kisses across you skin.

“You wear me out you know that?” you grin up at him, batting your eyelashes in a way that would read as innocent if you weren’t tangled together in the way you were.

You lean up slightly, crowding his space with your breath, before running your tongue over the seam of his slightly parted mouth, “like you’re not obsessed with it.”

He darts forward, catching you lips in his and making you squeal both from shock and the feeling of him slipping out of you from his movements. He circles your body with his arms and pulls you to lay on top of him.

“You know I’ve never met anyone like you,” you squirm against him, not actually trying to get anywhere just to annoy him a bit. Your legs fall to the sides to straddle him, reminding you of the way the series of events that happened in your bed tonight started. You squeak and pout when he digs his teeth into the skin of your jaw to still you as you keep shifting, “and I don’t think I ever will.”

“Same to you Mark. You’ve ruined me.”

[themaninflannel]

Never be the same (Snapshots pt 4)

Summary: the time leading up to dean being dragged to hell. Y/N and Dean are so in denial about ~certain things~

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: grief disguised as anger, yelling, angst

AN: hey yall its been a WHILE since I wrote anything but I do plan on continuing this series as well as maybe other things

part 1 part 2 part 3

masterlist

I had been traveling with the boys for almost two years when everything changed. Dean sold his soul to save Sam, and he got one year. One freaking year. Don’t get me wrong I understand why he did it and honestly I might have done the same thing, but I am not the kind of person the world will miss. Dean is. He is the kind of man whose death will be felt by more than just the people who knew him. And I was PISSED.

“Dean what the fuck! You sold your soul for ONE FUCKING YEAR?!”

“NO. I did it for Sam. I couldn’t live with him being dead!”

“Did you ever think about the fact that maybe JUST MAYBE we couldn’t live with you being dead?”

“Ha, thats not what i’m worried about,” he turned his back around on me, “im sure you guys will be fine,”

“There you go again! Of course we would be worried! We’re your family, Dean.”

This was the conversation that we kept having with Dean. Eventually we stopped yelling at him for it and started doing our best to make sure he could have the best year possible. He deserved that, whether or not he thought so. This meant a lot of shitty bars and games of pool. And Women.

We were in a roadhouse, the kind where the floor smells like beer and theres only like three people there-including the bartender. Dean saw a sign that said ‘burgers and beer’ and just had to pull over and try it. He had been doing that more and more the closer that we got to the big day.

“Ugh dean come on,” Sam groaned, “i get heart problems just by looking at this place,”

“Oh Sammy! Im sure we can find you some of that rabbit food you like so much,” Dean teased, slapping Sam in the chest as he got out of the car.

“Common, it makes him happy,'' I said shrugged. We got out of the car and followed dean into the bar. He didnt seem to be bothered by the lack of people, instead he just walked straight to the bar. Unfortunately for dean, there was a lack of women in this particular bar and he was stuck with us.

“Beers all around!” dean handed us each a bottle and followed sam over to the pool table.

After about three games and quite a few more drinks, we headed back to the car. I had stayed mostly sober so that dean could drink all he wanted, at some point i had snaked his keys out of his pocket. He never would have given them to me without a fight- even if he had been sober. Sam got him into the back seat and i set off in search of a half decent motel for us to spend the night in.

“A month left. And were no where closer to finding Lilith than we were three months ago,” Sam said when it was clear that Dean was asleep.

“Well get there. Lilith has to be looking for us, so its only a matter of time”

“We should head back to Bobby’s soon and go over all of the books again” sam suggested. We kept talking until i pulled off towards a rest stop with a motel.

I opened the door and Sam plopped dean down on the bed closest to the door.

“Im gonna grab a shower and wash this dive smell off,” i headed towards the bathroom.

I turned on the water as hot as it would go and just stood under it. It was the first time in a few days i had to truly relax, we had back to back hunts for the last week and that meant being constantly alert. Thus, it was no surprise that the first time I had to relax i got hit with a wave of grief and exhaustion. I collapsed on the shower floor and cried, i cried for dean and his deal, I cried for Sam who was about to lose his brother, and i cried for me because i was gonna loose my best friend, the most important person in the world to me. By the time I was able to breath again the water had gone cold.

When I walked out of the bathroom in my PJs Sam had crashed in the other bed, leaving me to crawl in next to Dean. This was how we ended up most nights, me and Dean and then sam either in the next bed or the next room. This was as close to a real partnership as i had ever had, and it wasnt even the real thing. We hadnt slept together after that second time, but i was gonna take everything i could before he was gone.

Deans POV

Everyday is closer to my own personal doomsday. But I already feel like im in hell, seeing Sammy’s face fall everytime he looks at me is hell. Seeing Y/N try to keep me at arms length in the day but crawl under shitty motel covers and hold me at night. I pretend that I let it happen for her, but thats not true. Not that she or Sammy needs to know that. They dont need to know im scared, that would put too much on their shoulders. They dont need that. I can see how much they are trying to put on a good face for me and I would hate if I was the one that ruined that for them.

I can tell its close. I can feel Hell laying its claim on my soul. WI just hope that the last thing I see before I get dragged to hell will be Y/N’s face. I cant burden her with how I feel when im about to die. I just cant see the disgust on her face and then die. So i keep it to myself. We know where Lilith is, its only a matter of time before we go looking for her. Or they go looking for her.

Y/Ns POV

Hes just laying there, the hellhounds tore apart his chest and now hes just laying there. But its not him. Not anymore. Now hes just a shell, his final words frozen on his face. What do we do now? What do I do now? I left behind my life to hunt with him, and Sam, and now hes gone.

Sam is angry. Like burn the world down kill anything that fucks with him angry. And Bobby, Bobby is broken. Like drink the days away broken. I cant help Sam, he wont let me and I dont have it in me to fight with him right now. And maybe I cant help Bobby, but I can at least be there with him and offer a shoulder for when he does let me help.

-----four months later-----

I haven't seen Sam since we burned Deans body, but i've been helping Bobby as best he’ll let me. Most days that meant spending the day following him around with some food trying to get him to consume something that isn't booze and the nights trying to get him to put down the books and go to sleep. And when that inevitably fails I cover him with a blanket and turn the lights off before I crash on the couch.

Its been almost four months since I held Deans lifeless body in my arms. Since I saw the hell hounds tear him apart. Since I realized I would never be the same without him.

[randombubblegum]

whats your ideal girlparx au💡

MMMMMM i have this whole au charted out in my head!!!!!! ive sort of drabbled it out here and in the prologue i wrote and also generally in the girlparx tag on this blog but the setting for the au is like.............

its sometime in 2013 or 2014 and awsten is trying to make this band work!!!!! shes sick of the way dudes in the scene have treated her and shes FINALLY getting somewhere with waterparks and she intends to catch this wave and ride their burgeoning popularity into a record deal or die trying.

meanwhile shes trying to convince herself all the flirting shes doing with otto is just a joke to make them both laugh even though it definitely puts butterflies in her tummy. she doesnt really want to think about the possibility that she likes girls though, since its gonna fuck up her perfect disney dream of the idealized romance where she marries some prince who sweeps her off her feet. PLUS if she likes otto girls shell have to go through the hassle of breaking up with her bf, who she honestly doesnt like that much but is better than being single in the music scene because she knows from experience dudes will be weird and pushy. ugh.

anyway she REALLY ramps up the “flirting with otto on stage” aspect because it makes the fans go wild!! and she tells herself thats why shes doing it. even though it isnt really. except... otto is upset that awsten would use being ambiguously into girls to cater to their fans instead of relying on their music, which is what awstens always done and otto knows she believes in. she also doesnt appreciate awsten using her as some... some prop to pretend to be gay with, because as far as otto knows awstens just KIDDING. otto isnt kidding. it hurts. otto gets angry with her when awsten keeps pushing the angle for the public but still has a boyfriend when she flirts with her, it makes her feel like a toy and it cheapens the music and she cant believe awsten would stoop so low.

except...! except awsten really does like otto!! and this isnt to rile the fans up, its because she doesnt know how else to be romantic with her but to pass it off as “stage gay”!!! so awsten realizes that from ottos perspective shes straight and playing with ottos feelings for attention and she feels sick with herself for being too cowardly to just accept what she needs to do..... so she breaks up with her bf and confesses that shes actually serious about her feelings to otto even though it scares the shit out of her to accept that she might be bi......... but otto forgives her :,) and they go out yayyyy girls kissing happy ending also geoff is so glad she doesnt have to watch them be idiots anymore and they can go back to playing music and conquer the WORLD !!!

......at least thats what the girlparx au looks like in my head ^^ like that was the basis for it when i sort of when nuts and dreamed it up........ tbh anything where everythings exactly the same except waterparks is genderbent is a valid girlparx scenario in my head!!!!!! i just like them being girls!!!!!!!!!!

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Ships and Shells (Pt.3)

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

Virgil woke up a short while later, cold, confused, and certainly not in any sort of holding cell.

No, instead, he was floating, underwater. But he was breathing, and it felt safe and natural for him to be there.

Virgil opened his mouth, he felt water rush through his lungs, and yet still, he could breathe.

"Ok- so this is definitely a dream-" Virgil said aloud, reaching his hand out to gather a group of jellyfish around him.

"I see the prince of the seas has already adjusted to his home environment," Virgil froze as he heard a voice from behind him. A woman swam out from a darkened part of the water. She had charcoal-like black hair, her skin was that of gold or copper, with a sort of spotted blue, navy, and dark grey quality around her hairline and her arms. But what Virgil recognized most quickly, were the striking light purple eyes, almost the exact same as his own.

"Who are you-" Virgil swam backwards a bit, trying to put some distance between the two of them.

"Oh of course you dont recognize me, I should have expected this, after all, you look so much more like your father," the woman gave a sad look at her tail, blue and silver scales shimmering, though no light was hitting them.

"How do you know my father." Virgil said, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"Why, how could I not? A striking young man visits me by sneaking out to sea every night, proposes, begs me to allow him passage into the kingdom of the sea, and, the very night that I wish to bring him, is stolen from me by a princess with nothing better to do than ruin the lives of the merfolk she so fears and despises," said the woman.

Virgil stared at her for a moment, processing the words.

"Of course, you dont get your passion for rebellion from nowhere my dear, a man who so loves a woman that he'd give up all he has for her cannot be stopped by such trivial things as arranged marriage, and thus, we hatched a plan," the woman continued, barely acknowledging Virgil's look of concentration as he tried to piece together the rest of the puzzle.

"We would produce a scandal, the child of a mermaid queen and a human king is hardly easy to hush up after all, or so I thought," she continued, Virgil seemed to come to several conclusions at that moment.

"But oh did she try, and she tried very hard, didnt she, banning him from seeing me, whisking you away as soon as you were born, and I've watched you ever since then, I've seen what vile things they've done, seen how they dare disrespect your homeland, parading you around as the prince of seas you'd never once touched, as far as they knew," Virgil was quiet for a long while after that.

"So you're my-"

"Mother, yes, Queen Valshara, of the seven seas," said the queen, bowing her head.

"But why are you only telling me this now? And why cant you get me off this stupid ship?" Virgil said, now feeling mildly skeptical.

"Oh Virgil do pay attention please, I know you're smarter than this," the queen said with a roll of her eyes.

"Let me guess, false-mother dearest?" Virgil replied.

"See, you're learning awfully quickly," Valshara smiled.

"And the ship? Did your plan involve getting kidnapped by pirates?" Virgil said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well how else are you supposed to inherit your birth right? You need transportation dont you?" Valshara said, checking her nails.

"Well note to the next monarch who tries this, hire pirates who arent obscenely annoying and dont lock you in cells for weeks at a time," Virgil responded.

And then he felt ill again, not in the painful way he had before he woke up here, but ill nonetheless.

"Wake up! Come on you beautiful idiot wake up," someone was shaking him, rather frantically it seemed, and they sounded terrified. Virgil let out a groan and blinked a few times, earning a sigh of relief from whoever it was.

"Wh-wha?-" Virgil blinked a few more times, sitting up slightly and groaning.

"Ahbapapapap- no you dont, you're staying right where you are until you feel better," and then he recognized the voice, Remus' voice.

"Why do you care?" Virgil muttered.

"Because, in case your muttering is anything to go off of, if I dont bring you back alive and unharmed I'll have a very angry merfolk queen on my hands, and frankly I dont want to deal with that," Remus responded, Virgil couldve sworn he detected a hint of guilt in his voice.

"I dont see the point in bringing me back anyway, I'm absolute garbage at royal stuff," Virgil muttered, Remus shot him an incredulous look.

"Oh dont give me that, what do you know about my ability to rule over things, youd never even met me before you kidnapped me," Virgil responded.

"Well I've certainly heard about you, and besides, I dont think ruling is a skill so much as an art form, you find the one that fits you and your subjects best, and then you practice it until its perfected," Remus said.

"I appreciate the sentiment but I dont think I can take government advice from a pirate," Virgil said, rolling over slightly to look Remus in the eyes properly.

"Well, why not an equal then?" Remus replied. Virgil looked at him a few seconds more, and then gave a shrug of indifference.

"So how far out are you going anyways?" Virgil asked, he figured now that he knew where they were going, Remus couldnt hide it from him anymore.

"Miles, but we have to stop at every town we come across just to stock up, it's not an easy journey, returning a merman to the sea," Remus said, flashing another grin, those silver fangs of his glinting in the lantern light.

"I'm not a merman," Virgil responded.

"You're part merfolk, and you're a man, ergo, merman," Remus said, Virgil felt a twinge of happiness in his chest.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Virgil rolled his eyes.

"You keep up with the sass and I'm gonna have to put you back in the cell," Remus said with a laugh.

"Oh really? But I thought I was supposed to stay here until I was healthy again?" Virgil said, propping his head on his fist and smirking.

"Alright, called my bluff, maybe you arent as stupid as you look," Remus responded, Virgil hit him over the head with a pillow.

A full month on a pirate ship, and, by some odd miracle, or maybe a curse, Virgil seemed to find himself enjoying Remus' company, almost like friendship, but not quite there, not yet at least.

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

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[secret-engima]

I'm trying to sleep but I cant bc if this this idea in my idea do here have it and fo eith it as you will; Nyx reborn into the KHR universe.

Pure. Unadulterated. Chaos.

Because if you think this boy is gonna be anything but the world’s most reckless and powerful Inverted Stormy Sun you’ve got another think coming.

Probably becomes like- a message runner/thief. Something high speed and dangerous that isn’t straight up murder-land. Despite this, he quickly gains something of his own famiglia from all the strays he keeps picking up along the way. Famiglia of info-brokers, thieves, and other sneaky mouthy folk. It’s great. He calls them the Kingsglaive out of nostalgia and everyone wears an Ulric braid.

Has 100% mouthed off to Xanxus and gotten away with it.

Misses his warping like crazy. It’s not fair. He gets sparkly fire powers and they AREN’T the ones that can teleport. Boo.

Still he gets to make stuff disintegrate and he has almost limitless energy so hah.

Finds Tsunayoshi when Tsuna is newly sealed and Smol and Sad and just Nopes his way into that situation because this is Wrong and he’s Reckless so here’s to kidnapping Tsuna and his mom and carting them off somewhere private to get those seals off (because in this universe Nana also has a seal on her that makes her so ditzy and air headed since she’s a Latent Sky who would otherwise know better than to touch Iemitsu with a thousand foot pole, but Iemitsu is all the levels of Jerk in this and wanted That Specific Pretty Lady as a mindless trophy wife so...)

Anyway Nyx yoinks the seals off with a combo of stubborn stupidity and stupidly strong Flames and Tsuna and Nana are more than a little confused and grateful. Nyx explains the Mafia thing and Nana goes Active from pure rage over being ... well ... married to the guy who robbed her of almost all intelligence and free will and then tried to do the same thing TO HER SON.

Nyx is more than happy to get them new identities and take them to Mafia Land where even Vongola can’t touch them without setting off a war and helping Nana set up the world’s best cafe on the island to support herself and her son without Iemitsu. He also gets divorce papers via his Network, all without Iemitsu’s knowing (dude really needs to pay more attention to what paperwork he’s signing).

Also Nana (now named Hestia) becomes Nyx’s Sky. And his much needed Momming Figure because he doesn’t have a Lib to Braincell him (yet). Tsuna (now named Regis because Nyx is a Sap) adores his reckless big brother.

Of course, two skies living on Mafia Land is gonna attract ALL the attention (minus Iemitsu who is an Idiot and doesn’t even register the possibility that these two are his wife and child because those are TOTALLY still back in Japan being a nice trophy family TOTALLY). It isn’t long before people are coming to the cafe for both the good food and a chance to Court either Sky in hopes of getting a harmony. Of course to Court either, they have to get past Nyx and Nyx’s info network first which is a grueling gauntlet of terror and mind-screwing because 90% of Nyx’s info network/friends are all Mists who keeping trying and failing to Braincell this reckless reborn Ulric.

One day an Inverted Cloud shows up at Hestia’s cafe, takes one (1) look at Nyx, who is on forced vacation with his arm in a sling, and starts reaming him out. People kinda side-eye the Cloud, expecting blood to fly, but instead Nyx bursts into tears of joy because IT’S LIB. LIB IS HERE. Wait that means you died DANG IT LIB YOU PROMISED.

Lib: I DIED AT AGE EIGHTY WITH GREAT-GRANDKIDS. TIMELINE IS JUST SCREWED UP HERE. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO DIED YOUNG AND DUMB AND HAVING LIED TO ME. YOU DON’T GET TO LECTURE ME ON ANYTHING.

Nyx: I HAD TO PROTECT YOU AND LUNA.

Lib: NOT BY GETTING USED AS A CANDLE BY THE GHOSTS OF SOME OLD DUDES IN A RING YOU DIDN’T.

Random Vongola agent who happens to be in earshot and knows the legend of the Vongola Rings: ????????????

Anyway eventually more formerly dead glaives show up and wind up being Nana/Hestia’s Elements and Tsuna/Regis grows up thoroughly Galahdian and self-confident and HUGELY POWERFUL as a Sky because HAH take that Vongola. Also somehow the entire mafia world, proving their SPARKLING non-intelligence, never realizes that Tsuna is like- a vongola.

Because he totally doesn’t look like a mini ghost of Primo or anything NO SIR (rolls eyes).

Also Tsuna/Regis somehow still picks up all his canon elements. 

Gokudera when they snap bond after running into each other on Mafia Land. 

Takeshi on a visit to japan with Nyx where Tsuna/Regis talks Takeshi out of jumping off a bridge and also maybe running away to be mafia with him rather than hang out with the bullies on his baseball team. 

Kyoka and Ryohei after Nyx accidentally rescues them from a child trafficking ring (blowing up the trafficking ring in the process VERY intentionally thank you).

Hibari because the little maniac FOLLOWED NYX HOME after picking a fight with him during one of his deliveries to someone in Namimori (Regis took great offense to this kid attacking HIS big brother and Threw Hands in true Galahdian fashion, Hibari was an Awe of this Smol deceptively fluffy and cute carnivore). Lambo just kinda ... shows up one day and never leaves (Nyx suspects his family intentionally “lost” him in Mafia Land while on vacation and makes a mental note to have his info network raise hell for the Bovino because HOW DARE).

However, his FIRST Elements are Mukuro and his gang. Because Nyx may or may not have busted into the lab by accident while looking to steal something else entirely and then gone on a Rampage through the facility, rescuing kids as he went. The moment Regis laid eyes on the shell-shocked, skinny, traumatized Mukuro and co, he ran over and pumped them full of Sky Flames to make them feel better and BOOM snap bond.

Libertus and the others work hard to keep Mukuro on an even keel. While also telling the Vindice to shove it when they come sniffing around because YOU CAN’T BUST US FOR BREAKING THE NO-FIGHTING LAW WHEN YOU WERE IGNORING THIS. The Vindice, surprisingly, accept this argument and buzz off.

Mukuro wandered off and came home with Chrome one day when he was twelve. No one knows how. No one knows why. But there is no way you are convincing Nyx or anyone else in Hestia’s Elements that Chrome isn’t Mukuro’s long lost twin and thus THEIRS.

Also Chrome does not have organ damage in this so yay.

Nyx takes one (1) look at Reborn when the cursed baby comes sniffing around Hestia’s cafe in curiosity of the Uber Powerful Skies, sees Reborn smack Regis with Leon Mallet, and promptly Throws Hands.

Reborn was Not Prepared for this Stormy Sun to be able to steamroll him with the vast and unorthodox experience of being a Glaive who tackles Flames with the understanding of Magic That Can Do Pretty Much What I Want Barring Some Things rather than the Mafia’s religiously conditioned rules of Flames Do This and Are Like This And Only This and then kick him off the nearest peer.

Colonello, who has already been taught to Fear The Reincarnated Feral Glaives, just sits there and laughs at Reborn’s confusion at finally meeting a Sun even more powerful and stubborn than him.

Also at some point Nyx straight up steals Xanxus because the Varia hired him to and then just .... never gives him back. Melts him free, sure, but the kid is CLEARLY unstable and in need of mental help and Vongola sure isn’t going to give it to him so Nyx just kinda ... sics Hestia on Xanxus and when the Varia come thundering in thinking Nyx had broken his contract they find Xanxus sitting there with a befuddled but surprisingly un-angry expression, holding a cup of tea rather than alcohol and with Hestia putting his favorite steak down for him.

Also Regis is sitting in Xanxus’s lap radiating so much Sky Flames that Xanxus can’t really ... think straight enough to be mad about much. Because seriously if Tsuna/Regis could defeat a trained assassin when he was a noob middle school kid while his Flames were SEALED then you better believe that when unsealed and raised in a loving, nurturing environment he can Therapy Jutsu anyone through the sheer power of his Flame aura.

Except Iemitsu.

Iemitsu gets shanked at some point.

Nobody will say by who.

But Libertus looks very, very Smug (he is a Cloud and Hestia and Regis are part of his Territory. What did you expect to happen. The only difference between Lib and Hibari is Lib is an Inverted and so is better at the Stealthy Route).

[irene-sadler]

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

(aka “The Tournament”)

`       Had Isbel made it rain? Meve thought maybe Gascon was onto something, but knew better than to ask. Regardless, the weather had changed by morning to a chill wind and cloudy sky which warmed to a damp, but rainless, afternoon. Possibly it was pleasant enough for those observing the proceedings and eating roasted nuts; she herself was drenched in sweat and could see only a small, square piece of the world beyond the two-inch thickness of leather, eighth-inch of steel, and heavy coat of dull black paint that separated her head from the outside world. Her view of the day was of pale gray skies, floating colorful banners, and the back of Bohault’s armor directly in front of her.

             (“The tourney armor is not quite what you’re used to wearing.” Reynard had advised her, the night before. “It’s heavier and thicker.”

           He’d considered the hastily-painted set he’d loaned her, frowning doubtfully.

           “I must admit, I’m concerned that a few of these knights might recognize my armor even with the black paint, but will of course know I’m not in it; luckily it will be hard for them to say much about it if you arrive with no time to spare. Of course, a real professional can generally tell who is wearing a set of armor by the way they fight, whatever disguise they may employ, but they’ve never seen you fight, and even if they know my armor, and they know me, they may not figure out the discrepancy before it’s too late; for them, I mean.”

           She’d grinned, gap-toothed and wolfish.)

           She wasn’t smiling then, because of her jangling nerves, but he was right. It was impossible to see much of anything through the helm, much less recognize an individual knight, or realize that someone wasn’t really a knight. The roped-off lists teemed with a shifting, crushing press of horses and people – knights, footmen, valets, and Gascon, visible in the front of the mass, talking to Reynard, although she had no idea what they were saying, between the din of the crowd in the distance and the rattle of armor directly around her.

             (“You won’t be able to hear much of anything, what with the crowd and the helm,” Reynard had continued, with a smile that almost matched hers, “It’s easiest to just listen for trumpets. The first you’ll hear are a warning to prepare yourself.”)

           She heard a distant blare of instruments through the metal and leather that protected her head; her destrier, a massive bay animal, twitched his ears at the sound and sidled gently away from her neighbors, carrying her footmen and valets along with him like lesser celestial bodies. She sat still as he completed his movement and then stood patiently, unaffected by the din or by the dramatics of any of the horses near him. A veteran, she noted with appreciation; she’d borrowed him, like the armor, from Reynard, and wasn’t sure which of the two she valued more at that moment.

             (“The second time you hear horns will be when the melee is over. Once all is in order, they’ll cut the ropes; you’ve seen this done, of course. After that you may fight whoever you come across who is on th’ opposing side. As you aren’t a famous, or infamous, knight, nobody will single you out in particular, and all you need to worry about to succeed is staying on your horse – but you’ve been in plenty of real battles, and you know that. I think you’ll do very well, under the circumstances.”)

             The mass of men and animals waited; a drift of wood smoke floated over them and found its way through the little gap in Meve’s visor. Her eyes watered; she battled the urge to sneeze, lost, and, at that moment of weakness, the pack suddenly surged forward, carrying herself and her horse along with it. She juggled her lance and the reins for a moment, then noted the frustrated cant of her horse’s ears as he broke into a slow, heavy trot with the rest of the mass of rattling, encumbered men. It occurred to her that the animal knew more about his business than she did, so she dropped the reins, couched her lance, and knocked down her first attacker by instinct as much as skill. The spear shattered on impact with his breastplate and she continued on her way, dropping the useless splinters and happily shifting to more familiar tactics.

             (Reynard’s face had turned unsure again, as he spoke. She suspected he was more nervous than she was, herself.

“- you’ll do very well unless, of course, you fall off, and then it’s anyone’s guess. You fight well on foot, better than I do, in fact, but it’s still best for you to stay mounted; mine will do his best to keep you aboard if he possibly can.”)

 With a lance, she was awkward at best, but with a mace, she was perfectly competent. Reynard’s horse needed no guidance, and she battered her way through one, then another, of the defendant knights, as they happened to pass into her narrow view. She smashed through the lance of the first as he tilted at her, turned back after him, shoved him to the ground with her shield, and kept going. The second knight she recognized with satisfaction - he was dressed in red armor and had, seeing her unstoppable approach, moved to block her way. Her horse turned himself obligingly to put her alongside. She swung, experimentally, was easily blocked on his shield, and deflected an answering sword-blow with her own. Her next swing was delivered with the full force of her personal dislike behind it. The hit dented the stranger’s shield and splintered her mace; the head flew off into the air. They paused, staring at the splintered handle of her weapon in mutual astonishment.

             (“But if you fall, Meve, you ought to yield; Bohault and th’ others will keep you in one piece. At least, I hope they will,” Reynard added, with a doubtful frown, which he shook off sharply. “Yes, they will, you’ll be fine. However, should you lose your helm-“

           “Oh,” she said, taking his hand and steering him away from the armor, “Not to worry; I’ll wear a knit hat to cover my hair, and nobody will notice. Although, I do wish Isbel hadn’t refused to charm the thing so it wouldn’t come off at all, but I suppose that’d be an unfair advantage.”)

           The moment was interrupted as someone hit the back of her helm from behind, a clanging blow that crashed her off her horse and into the clinging mud below. Isbel had most definitely caused the rainstorm, Meve reflected distractedly, as someone immediately dragged her up out of the muck and onto her feet. The stolid, middle-aged face of Bohault loomed overhead. He released her as she dragged her sword out of its sheath, and shouted an angry negative at whatever he was saying. She abandoned the horse and her shield, pushed Gaspar out of her way, and strode off in search of a new target, ignoring her ringing ears. Close by, one of her allies was scrambling backward, under desperate siege by a pair of opponents; she dealt one a hard punch to the helm with her armored fist, closed with the second and disarmed him with a clever twist of her weapon that sent his sword flying, turned back to her first victim, and scowled in disgust as the knight rapidly backed away from her and made his escape.

The man she’d rescued was floundering in the mud with his helm crooked; Meve made a momentary search, turning her entire torso to see through her visor, for his footmen, saw none, dropped her sword in the mud, and, gritting her teeth through her growing exhaustion, dragged him back onto his feet with both hands. She recognized his face with a flash of annoyance, noticed that his right arm was most probably broken, from the way his shield was awkwardly hanging, and sighed. Over his shoulder, Meve spotted the red knight coming for her, himself unhorsed; she hesitated, then raised her empty hand significantly, and, as he accordingly changed course and passed her by, reluctantly signaled to Bohault. The cavalryman and her own footmen circled around, blackjacks held against the thinning remains of the melee.

             (“You’ll get tired, sooner than you think, my dear, but recall that this isn’t a real battle, and you may quit the field at any time, even if the fight hasn’t ended yet.”

           She’d scoffed at the idea. Reynard smiled and shook his head at her.)

             “There’s no shame in retiring early, so long as you put in a valiant effort,” Reynard had said; she repeated his rhetoric to Ethan, just before Isbel snapped the squire’s right shoulder back into place. The youth had nothing to say in response, but managed to nod to convey that he accepted her comments as an absolute truth, given by his Queen, before he fainted dead away. She sighed, rubbed her aching neck, and prepared herself for another lecture from the sorceress, but to her mild surprise the older woman only nodded approvingly at her.

           “You’re wanted, ma’am,” Pug announced, sticking her head into the room, “And the Duke of Dogs warns that you’ve won some prize or something, and ought t’ prepare according.”

           “They’ve been saying that the black knight is in love with a princess who was turned by magic into a swan,” Isbel remarked. “And that he is searching for a way to turn her back; as part of his quest, he has taken a vow of silence, so that he neither speaks nor removes his helmet. I’ve no idea how these rumors began circulating, obviously.”

           “Fantastic,” Meve mumbled, reaching for her helm. “A swan, is it? Sound most inconvenient; for the knight, I mean. I’m sure the lady is quite content.”

             The prize was granted by the middle-aged wife of the defendant Baron, smugly standing in for the mysteriously absent Queen; Meve recognized the woman from the previous day’s jousting even through her narrow view. She was exhausted, but Reynard’s horse carried her to receive her due, again without any instruction on her part, and her mud-spattered armor disguised her slight shaking. Somewhere beyond her metal shell, a man haughtily announced, “Behold here this noble lady, accompanied by my lords the judges, who have come to give you the tourney prize, because you have been judged the knight who has fought best today in the melee of the tourney, and my lady prays that you will take it with good will.”

           She did, after a short pause before she realized she was being addressed, said nothing at all in response but only bowed, a motion made necessarily awkward by the weight of metal she wore, and then rode away.

             There was no avoiding either the feast or dance that night, and Meve’s dwindling morale was not improved on realizing she would be unable to avoid the Baroness, either; she didn’t dislike the woman, but her patience for small talk was limited, at the best of times, and almost nonexistent after her long day. Luckily, the older woman only eyed her speculatively for a moment as she sat down and then tactfully made uninteresting conversation on occasion. The evening therefore wore on tiresomely, but mostly in silence, until she nodded toward Gascon and his admirers and remarked to Meve, “I believe they grow them without brains, these days; you’d best keep that one in green away from your friend. Do you see her circling? A grasping creature; harpies don’t compare.”

           Meve, quite familiar with the behavior of harpies, considered the subject with an analytical eye and said, thoughtfully, “Hmm.”

           A few minutes later, they were deep in a detailed discussion of the merits and backgrounds of the women in the hall, and then, after another drink or two, the men as well; it carried them companionably until Gascon escaped the crowd and joined them. He flopped into the seat nearest Meve, uninvited, and consumed the rest of her drink with a dramatic sigh. The Baroness stared blandly at him; Meve rolled her eyes toward the other woman.

           “This is awful,” Gascon complained, “I don’t know how the two of you do this full-time. I think I was pretty rude, though; maybe most of those people won’t want to talk t’ me again.”

           “You get used to it, after a few decades – oh, what now?” Meve asked irritably, as the door to the hall banged open and an armed man strode confidently through. Conversation in the hall ceased instantly, as everyone else looked curiously at the newcomer: a soldier, Meve suspected from his patchwork armor of mail and leather and extensive mustache, or perhaps a mercenary. The stranger looked around himself, bowed toward the Queen and Baroness and said, politely enough, “Good evening; I’m looking for Sir Reynard Odo.”

           “Really? What for?” Gascon asked him, intrigued, but the knight stood up before the stranger could answer.

           “Yes? Can I help you?” he asked; Meve sighed as the stranger immediately declared, “My master, Sir Holt of the Fen, represents that you have offended his honor and demands that you apologize or else face the consequences.”

           “Who?” The Duke asked in a carrying whisper, blinking.

           “The red knight; you remember him,” Meve explained, much more quietly. “What did you do, Count Odo?” she asked, louder. The Count shrugged modestly.

           “He annoyed me yesterday evening, my lady,” he replied, “And so I threw him up some stairs. No, sir, I won’t apologize,” he continued, to the messenger. “Would do it again, in fact, given the chance.”

           Gascon grinned; the Baroness smirked; Meve had to duck her head slightly to hide her own slightly surprised smile. A whisper of comment and a few laughs went around the room; the stranger ignored them.

           “In that case, he challenges you to a duel, to restore his honor by force, says you are a recreant knight and no gentleman, and-“

           “Yes, yes,” Reynard interrupted, uncharacteristically impatient, “Gascon, would you mind arranging the details?”

           “Not at all,” he said, lightly. “Do you prefer swords, or something else?”

           “Doesn’t matter to me,” the knight replied, bowed to all present, and shot a quick glance at the Queen. She nodded, very slightly; he left the hall without another word.

           “Well,” she said to Gascon, as the stranger made his exit and the general din resumed, “I suppose we’ll be imposing on your hospitality for a few more days, then.”

           “Stay as long as you want,” Gascon replied cheerily.

             “I’m not surprised he wants to fight me,” Reynard was saying much later, sitting complacently with his legs stretched toward the inferno in Gascon’s fireplace and the knight who’d fought best that day resting her head in his lap, “But I did expect Sir Holt would choose a less melodramatic moment, if he called me out. These things would never fly in the royal court; you’d never get away with giving the melee prize to an unnamed knight who was dismounted and resigned early, no matter how gallantly he behaved toward his allies, or how well he fought beforehand. At least, not without any hurt feelings or complaints - not that I didn’t hear my share even here. Nor with trying to duel a judge of the tournament, for that matter, before it was yet officially over -”

           “She,” Meve interrupted, to redirect his lecture, “How well she fought. And I’ll give prizes in my court as I see fit, sir.”

           “Won’t be able to win all of ‘em yourself so easily, there,” he answered, “I thought you had fallen asleep; did I wake you?”

           “Resting my eyes only, my love,” she said, “I can hear well enough despite.”

           “It’s a fine trophy you’ve won,” Gascon said, examining the ruby-studded ring she’d been awarded with professional appreciation, “What will you do with it?”

           “Why, give it to the next swan I come across, naturally,” she said; Reynard almost laughed.

           “Say, Reynard,” the Duke continued, as if nothing unusual had happened, “Lord knows I’ve annoyed you hundreds of times, and yet you’ve never thrown me up some stairs. What gives?”

           “Did I say annoyed? I meant something else,” the knight replied, with an automatic glance at Meve. She raised an inquiring eyebrow up at him, smiled as he looked cagily away, and made no attempt to hide her gratification at his embarrassment.

           “Oh,” Gascon said, with an ironic smirk, tossed the ring to Reynard, and continued, inexplicably, “I get it. Well, I went against Sir Holt in the jousts th’ other day, and I don’t think he’s all that good of a fighter.”

           “He knocked you down in a single pass,” Meve noted.

           “Exactly;  nearly anyone else could have done it just as easily, so it proves no particular skill on his part.”

           “Yes, well, I fought him in the melee, and I think he’s more than passing good; you’ve your work cut out for you, Reynard. Although,” Meve added, “I should have beaten him in th’ end, without having to stop and rescue that squire of yours again, Gascon.”

           “No doubt,” Gascon agreed, with no obvious sarcasm. “Well, seems you’ve preparations to make, Reynard, so I’ll leave you to it. Don’t stay up too late.”

             Thick fog had settled in over the fort by the next morning; the Queen sent dozens of courtiers and retainers on their way before noon, moving very stiffly even to an unsuspecting eye, but otherwise appearing her usual self. The Duke, on the other hand, was visibly hungover and surly on top of it. The Baroness regarded her with a faint, amused smile, but said nothing of note to as she departed; Meve concluded that, probably, the older woman had gotten the wrong idea altogether about her relationship with Gascon, but it was too late to explain, even if she’d cared to bother. The only trouble with her and Reynard’s affair, she reflected, was that its private nature meant almost nobody else had any idea it existed, causing the occasional inconvenience.

           She managed the rest of the departures with casual patience. Those few of Gascon’s admirers who were truly dedicated braved his short answers and dull, stupid glare, to no profit - he had no obvious interest in any of the women, no matter what they tried. Reynard watched the proceedings on and off from a distance, saying nothing, but conveniently vanishing during the brief appearance and hasty departure of the red knight. By midafternoon, the last of the visitors were gone, leaving only the lesser mob of Meve’s own retinue. Gascon, who had suddenly recovered from his hangover and moodiness, departed for a conference with the enemy and returned late in the evening.

           “Sir Holt’s agreed to fight with th’ usual weapons, but not now. He says he wishes to postpone until some point in the near future; claims that his shield arm is injured from the melee due to a particularly hard hit, and he is, therefore, not prepared to restore his honor immediately,” he reported, helping himself to Reynard’s dinner. Meve smiled smugly.

           “So,” Reynard said, yielding over his mostly untouched plate and looking unusually irritated, “There was really no reason for him to interrupt your feast with this nonsense, yesterday.”

           “Well, he doesn’t wear that ridiculous red armor because he’s th’ uninteresting but considerate type, like yourself, my friend.”

           “I suppose I ought to go back to Rivia Castle tomorrow, then,” said Meve, without much enthusiasm, as Reynard rolled his eyes and Gascon grinned cheekily at him. “Two weeks away from court is, perhaps, a little long; I wouldn’t want them to start getting creative ideas in my absence.”

           “I’ll go too; no need to await Sir Holt’s recovery here instead of there,” Reynard said quickly.

           “Or you could stay here,” Gascon said hopefully, “Sure, it’ll take a few weeks, but by then it’ll be hunting season, which you shouldn’t miss - boars, should it snow early in the season, deer if it don’t, foxes either way - you’d be home in no less than two months, I figure, when all’s said and done.”

           The minor argument that immediately ensued brought Meve to a sudden conclusion; she considered that she wasn’t sure how, exactly, she could have missed the now very obvious reason for Gascon’s moodiness as she interrupted them:

           “Gascon, we aren’t parting forever or even departing on a long journey to distant Kovir, only going home, which is a few days’ ride from here at most; you may visit us at any time you choose.”

           Reynard glanced sharply at her and then adopted a distant frown. The Duke stared, apparently speechless for once; she looked back at him impassively until he said, “You spend far too much time with that sorceress; you’re acquiring a certain similarity of expression. Have you noticed it, Reynard?”

           “No,” the knight said stiffly.

           “Anyway,” Gascon continued, “I know all that, obviously, and, well, I’ll be honest: it does feel strangely isolated, out here by myself, after we all spent so much time together before; the two of you have each other, perhaps as a result you don’t feel the same - although don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy for you both; no two people that I know suit each other better - but you’re right, it’s not as if I couldn’t make it to the capitol more often; it’s less simple for you to both drop everything and come all the way here, unless it’s with a good excuse like the tournament. I knew it’d work a charm.”

           He ran out of breath on his final, slightly triumphant phrase and stopped; Reynard looked thoughtfully from Gascon to Meve, whose victorious smile had quickly faded to a stunned, slightly hurt stare.

           “Perhaps,” he said carefully, “You might have said something about this earlier, instead of delaying and inventing plots, or been less cagey about it all week - in short, you could, generally, have handled this better, but,” he continued, a little louder as Meve opened her mouth to interrupt him, “We’ve all benefited, I think, from this - diversion, one way or another, so no lasting harm done.”

           Meve mumbled something under her breath, frowning.

           “The next time that you want to get together, however, you might find it convenient to just ask us, without any schemes to bring it about.”

           “Yes, of course,” Gascon said, “You’re right. Should I apologize?”

           “Not to me.”

           Meve shook her head at him, but Gascon said, “I’m sorry, Meve. How do people usually apologize, at court? Flowers? A card? Or I could let Sir Reynard knock me off a horse, like he will Sir Holt?”

           “No,” she said, “I can knock you off horses myself perfectly well.”

           “I await your summons, then,” he said, venturing a hopeful grin, “Or I could send a fruit basket; we will soon be well-supplied with apples -”

           “Look,” she said, finally cracking an amused smile despite herself, “It’s fine; I forgive you. Just - just don’t be such an ass, next time.”

           “I will never be an ass again,” he announced, mouthed thank you to Reynard, bowed gallantly, and then prudently departed. Meve stared at the spot on the floor where he’d been standing for a long moment, then sighed, cracked her aching neck and sat in Reynard’s lap, frowning.

           “That man is a disaster,” she remarked.

           “Do you want me to fight him, too?” he asked; she ran her fingers through his hair and said, fondly, “No, thank you. I don’t think a knock on the head will be of much use, here; Gascon will have to sort himself out some other way, I’m afraid. If he can.”

           “And what about you?”

           “Me? Well, I’m all right, I suppose.”

           Reynard looked up at her, frowning doubtfully.

           “Really,” she claimed. “Gascon does have one thing right; having you around makes the more difficult days easier to get through.”

           He looked less dubious; she grinned, kissed him, and added, “Although th’ effect might be in part a result of that hit I took in the melee; a knock on the head can solve one’s problems every so often, though not quite so often as it causes them.”

           “A good thing your head is so hard, then,” he noted with a smile.

[rainecloud020604]

🍊🏀☀️💥🐟🌸 For Keith,Charles,Josiah [If it's too much,just answer what you wish! <3]

🍊 Does your OC have any triggers? Why do these things trigger them? What are they like when triggered and how do they calm down after?

Keith - Blood is a trigger, which makes him turn violent and not himself, its hard to calm him down without getting hurt yourself if you arent super close, he normally takes a bit to calm down if,,you cant calm him down yourself, as long as there is no blood in the area he’ll calm down at some point, why this triggers him he doesnt exactly know all the details,,but war does things to people

Charles - war, anything related to such makes him have a mental break down and he will go and hide himself somewhere, as little time as he actually spent in it the effects of leaving and trying to hide hit him hard and he’s extremely traumatized by it, he’s very skittish and shaken, he doesnt wanna be near anyone when he’s vulnerable which is why he hides, normally he doesnt calm down after on his own, takes Jason there to calm him down and get him to relax and snap out of it

Josiah - he surprisingly doesnt have one, nothing that gets him to such a point

🏀 Does your OC have any skills that people wouldn’t expect them to have? Do they have a hobby or pass time that others would consider strange or weird? How did they learn this particular skill or pick up this hobby?

Keith - hah he doesnt actually asjdlfkad so noting i can really answer for this for any of the questions

Charles - he can actually, and surprisingly sing very well! it is also a small hobby he has cause he practices in his free time when he’s alone, he is self taught cause he just wanted a hobby that wasnt drinking or smoking-

Josiah - it might come as a surprise that he can knit! he’s very shy about it and does it in secret when he isnt busy as a pastime, he used to make clothing to blend in as a hobby after learning how by reading into it but Christine wont let him wear anything he makes outside of the house

☀️ How well does your OC take care of themself? Do they tend to put others before their own wellbeing and if so how often? What is their favourite way to pamper themself?

Keith - haaaah whats self care- yeah he doesnt really take great care of himself, his wellbeing hasnt really been on his mind since he was like 12 so others always goes first before his, and,,,eh if you count it its making sure his clothes look decent

Charles - he keeps up with himself for not only his sake but Jason’s and Phizzy’s as well, of course as much as he’ll keep up with himself he puts others before it always, he likes to make sure his hair is brushes and looks nice always

Josiah - as good as he physically is kept up mentally he isnt but thats for another day- others wellbeing should and is always put before his, he is to serve and not be cared for as he is told, he of course cant really take his time with small things like he wishes but making sure that his gloves are in good condition is as much as he can do

💥 Are there any emotions your OC doesn’t know how to deal with, doesn’t understand or hates having to feel? Any reason behind this?

Keith - he doesnt like being sad, he feels like it makes him weak and thats not what he wants at all, he doesnt handle it well 

Charles - he,,he doesnt like feeling guilty, he gets frustrated with it a lot and it brings back so many heavy memories with it he doesnt want to think about

Josiah - anger, it confuses him and scares him a lot, seeing Christine get mad is one thing, but him yelling or getting mad is something he doesnt like, he feels wrong because he shouldnt get mad

🐟 What was your OC like as a baby? What were they like as a child? A teenager? An adult? How do you think they’ll develop ten years into their future? Twenty years? Will they live to old age?

Keith - ehh tbh I have thought about it, as a baby he was very fussy constantly, but needed to be kept an eye on, as a child he was very stubborn, his parents werent great so he would fight with them a lot so he could do whatever because they only cared when they could punish or yell at him for it, as a teenager he was rather the same until he was thrown into war, where he became really violent, angry and prickish all at once which carried out to his adult years to where he is now, he isnt easy to have warm up to you, if he likes you consider yourself lucky as hell- this will pretty much be the same all of his life unless something happens and makes him weak and emotionally vulnerable, as a demon he will pretty much live forever until killed, so yeah i guess he will

Charles - as a baby he was actually very needy, which when as a child he was neglected by his family it didnt help him, he was still a needy child who just wanted comfort constantly but his parents didnt give it to him, as a young teen he was thrown into war and tried to leave it, which got permanently scarred for life, as an adult he has a very tough outer shell and snaps easily at people, he can be soft with close ones of course and acts like himself actually- of course his cold outer shell will eventually loosen up as he gets older (his anger will not hah) he is a demon and i do see him living a very long time  

Josiah - as a baby he was a very quiet bab but always wanted to be near someone, as a child he was very soft and sweet, he still is throughout his teen and adult years! and will stay this way for his entire life, which will be for,,pretty much eternity unless something happens

🌸 What’s a sentence that would make your OC’s day better? One that would make them laugh? One that would make their day worse? Why? What words would you have to say to them to completely ruin their day?

Keith - honestly, if you point out one small thing you actually like or appreciate about him it would make his day a bit better, positively of course- it’s,,,ehhh hard to make him laugh actually- normally seeing someone scared of him joking or just being himself in general will make him laugh though, and to ruin his day is pretty much piss him off or make him feel horrible for existing which is rather hard to do the second part, get under his skin about how he’s a monster

Charles - comment his look and it’ll make his day, his scar especially, as angry and cold as he acts, he’s a bit easy to make laugh if you say the right things, mainly if you’re just being a goof and messing around, poking fun at small things, make it worse and ruin his day is insulting him, especially about how he can be a freak or monster

Josiah - any sweet words will do the job, compliments, hell a smile will do that job just fine! he’ll laugh at a lot too, silly nonsense and small jokes, putting him down will for sure ruin his day, get into his head, comments about not fitting in, how he’s unfit, shouldnt be there will get to him a lot

[spxllcxstxr]

⛵️hi!!!! Congrats on hitting 100!!!!!

I love your writing and i cant wait to hopefully read more in the future!!

I would like to get a ship with a boy. my pronouns are she/her.

I’m polish, I have shoulder length brown hair with bangs. My eyes are blue and I have fair skin. I’m also 5’4

I used to be be really shy, but since it bothered me so much I’ve decided to become more confident, that’s why I do a lot of things that are out of my comfort zone. I like to challenge myself. I’m a gryffindor.

I love acting, singing (I’m not really great at it though). I am also interested in skincare, makeup and fashion, I like to exercise (only on my own tho), I am interested in mythology and sociology. I dream of learning many other languages. I hate math and it’s the nightmare of my life. I am really talkative and I’m a determined person, very optimistic. I always try to make people around me feel comfortable, I think I’m an extrovert. I would do anything for my friends. I also tend to overthink, I get easily distracted, can be lazy and I have troubles controlling my emotions - it’s really easy to anger me and it’s hard to calm down. When it comes to romantic relationships - I like to flirt, but because of my past experience I get anxious every time someone takes interest in me, because I’m scared they just want to use me, they are not genuine etc. so it’s actually hard for me to allow anyone near me.

I don’t know if it makes sense and sorry for any mistakes, as i said English is not my first language haha

Hey! Thank you so much! And sorry for the wait. Your English was great by the way! Your ship awaits under the cut

I ship you with: Remus Lupin

First of all, the height difference!

Remus is at least like 6 foot, and he’s going to tower over you

But like, in a cute way

He’ll pick you up and put things higher up on shelves to watch you struggle.

He’ll love comparing hand sizes and resting his arm on top of your head. Of course, if you tell him you hate that, he won’t do it.

If you’re ever insecure about your height he’ll be very reassuring

“My love, you’re so perfect for me. I’m tall, you’re short, we go together perfectly.”

Remus will love brushing your hair out of your face.

He’ll twirl it around his finger

If you want it in like a bun or a braid, he’ll gladly do it (you might have to teach him how, at first)

I feel like Remus totally understands you about being shy and then coming out of your shell and radiating confidence

When he first came to Hogwarts he was extremely shy and insecure but gradually, with the help of you and the re at if the Marauders, he extremely confident

Sure, the two of you have those days where the shyness creeps back, but you’re always there for each other.

He’ll hold you close, he won’t pressure you to do anything

CUDDLING IN THE GRYFFINDOR COMMON ROOM

If the two of you are in the common room, you are for sure going to be sat in his lap, face buried in his neck

That’s just the natural position

Doing homework near the fire, sitting on the armchair just reading

He would love to hear you sing

If you sing in the shower, he’ll listen in, maybe hum along

If you just want to practice, Remus will take you to the room of requirement and just sit and applaud

He watches you intently, tongue poking from between his lips in concentration, infatuated with your voice

If you join frog choir, he’ll go to every performance and will always be the one clapping the loudest

Remus won’t know anything about skincare, but he’s willing to learn

Face mask in the gryffindor common room? Sure, make a spa day out of it!

Makeup? Sure! Give him some bomb eyeliner and bright red lipstick!

He’ll let his face be your canvas

The other boys might ask for make overs because “you always manage to make Moony beautiful” as they say

We all know that Remus is a nerd. A big one.

He loves reading and learning new things so when he finds out about your love for mythology, he’ll ask for book recommendations, or for you to read him myths and explain the gods

He loves to see you so passionate about something

Also new languages?? That’s so cool

He’ll want to learn with you, at least little phrases

“How do you say I love you in Polish?”

“Tell me how to say absolutely stunning in Italian?”

Will also want to know how to swear in other languages

He will definitely use that all the time

Don’t worry about hating math, he’s got you covered

Math Boy Moony knows the basics like taxes and expenses, and that really the only important stuff

Being talkative and optimistic is great

Like

Especially during full moons, Remus will shut down, but he needs a positive force with him to keep him going

He could listen to your beautiful voice talk for hours

Sing him to sleep!!

He thinks your smile lights up the room, and he tells everyone this

All the time

Calls you sunshine for this reason

He also calls you love

Remus also tends to overthink, so he knows what it’s like to just

Not function sometimes

He’ll lay down next to you on those days and pull you close to his chest

Whispering things in your ear

“It’s alright, love. It’s all ok.”

“I love you. I love you so much. No matter what.”

You two are great at comforting each other

Anger is definitely something Remus can’t control either, especially near full moons

And it hurts when you get into arguments

If you get angry when it’s not near the full moon, he’ll let you cool off, give you space if you need it, but he’ll always remind you that he’s here for you and that he loves you

Little gestures like smiling and waving across the room. Making sure you’re staying healthy

If this happens near the full moon though, it gets harder

Because he’ll feel so guilty after

You’re going to have to reassure him that it’s ok

He’ll also need James and Sirius to knock some sense into him

More cuddling and making up, of course

It always works out in the end, trust me

Remus feels the same about relationships

He’s insecure about being a werewolf, that he’ll hurt you, that you deserve to be with someone who isn’t a monster

But he’s always there when you get insecure

He’s not using you

When he says he loves you, he means it

And he’ll show you

He’ll spoil you with gifts, and dates, romantic gestures 24/7

He loves doing it, but hates that you get anxious

He’ll always listen to you intently. Always

Communication is key

Don’t be afraid to tell him if he’s doing something you don’t like, or not doing something right...he’ll change for you

Remus will wait for as long as you need him to

He’ll go slow

He’s in love with you

Remus practically worships the ground you walk and nothing will change that

Honestly, you’re cute together

Everyone thinks so

Everyone wants the relationship you have

Hope you like your ship! I’ve never done one before! Thank you again so much ❤️

Come join my celebration!

[harleyliloquin88]

Not Strong Enough [Part 2]

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: You loved dean. He was your everything. You follow him anywhere but what happends when the hunter tells you what you always wanted to hear.

Tagged list @holylulusworld @katymacsupernatural @hauntedartqueen @ltsaradharkness @deanwanddamons @donnaintx @sandle44

Warning: tear jerker/ fluffy/ some flirting/ some angst/

Fyi : i gotta carried away plus im not sure if it okay give me so reviews comment reblogg do what you do thanks

Hours had passed since dean left your hotel room sitting on the floor holding yourself. You knew in your heart he wasnt good for you but you didnt care he was the one man who held you when you were scared made you laugh when you needed it.

Tears flowing your heart beating so fast it was ready to pop out. Tears blurrying your vision you cloudnt help it. You were slowly falling asleep soon everything went dark.

Few hours later your eyes slowly started to open. As they opened you wonder what happened. You find your self in a warm bed.

"What the hell" you wonder to yourself. You look over to your left and your mouth opens wide. Its none other then dean laying next to you. You slowly start to move when you miss a step and a loud thud happends. Dean wakes up in a instant and points his gun at you. Seening you stare at him putting the gun and sighs laying back in bed rubbing his hand down his face.

"Hey sweetheart told you i would be back' he says flashing that smile that almost knocks the wind outta you.

"I saw you fell asleep on the floor when i came back so i though i be nice and put you in bed. He says smiling at you.

"I promise i was a good boy" he says winking at you.

You smile at him and returning to the bed. You look up at him as his green apple eyes sparkle.

You knew you wanted him right there and then. He was the man that made you feel dangerous and free. You couldnt resist his smile. Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear the veins in your body moving.

"Soooooo' he says clicking his tounge. You smile at him. Dean moves closer to you. You can feel the heat rise in your body. As he moves inches from you.

'Princess" he says. You close your eye tighly. You remember the name he gave you when you first met. It was a vampire hunt. You were the last survivor of your family. When dean found you all your clothes were soaked in blood. Tears in your eyes. You werent moving just a blank stare. It broke his heart to see you like this. He promised to help you slowly come out of your shell. He moved you into the bunker cleaned you up. Everynight he would talk to you and ask if you were okay all he got was blank stares and nothing. Slowly but surely you came out it.

Dean moves his left hand up to your cheek rubbing his thumb along your swollen lip. Feeling the sensation heat raiditing through your body. Closing your eyes trying your best not to fall for his charm like you did.

"Princess please talk to me" you look him straight in the eyes tears pouring your face. Staring at his lips. You move closer but push him away.

[Y/n) whats wrong" he says looking at you hurt.

'Dean i cant do this with you again i cant" you say tears streaming down your face.

'Do what" he says looking at you.

'We keep playing this game dean and i cant anymore' you say practical yelling at him.

"Princess you knew the deal when i needed someone you would do anything for me" he says getting up and putting his shirt on.

'Well excuse me i am not just someone you can dip and dash dean" you scream at him.

"Well you should have though about that before you came into my bed that one night. He says yelling at you.

"So me being scared that night was an invite to lets be sex partners.

"You know what im leaving you will never change dean" you say grabbing your keys and heading out the door.

Before you make it dean grabs your wrist and pins you to the motel wall. You look up at him to see angry pain sadness in his eye. You try to push him off only to have him push more weight.

'DEAN LET ME GO" you screaming smacking him and hitting him and he just stares and you and holds your grip and looks at you.

"NO' HE says. In a spilt second he went from pinning you to the wall to holding you tight. You werent sure what was going. You can feel the hug getting tighter. In a sense you could feel dean was scared to let go because if he did you disapear. You and dean held eachother close for about 10 mins. You were about to say something when.

Dean pulls you away from the hug looking up you see tears forming in his eyes. He smiles at you. Placing his fore head against yours his breath hitching.

"I cant let you go princess" he says smiling and crying. Moving his hand up your cheek.

"If i let you go baby i dont think i will be able to breath again" he says holding your face in his.

"Princess i know im not the best at these things and i am not even sure what this feels" dean says wiping away your tears.

'Dean" you say.

He walks over to the bed. He sits on the king size bed. Rubbing his nose. Clicking his tounge.

"Princess before i met you nothing made sense. Living this life is not something any one should have. He says shaking his head.

Walking over to him you sit beside him you can see the pain and heartache. It was so hard see ning the man you love so broken bruised and trying to keep it together.

"For the longest time it was sam and me kid. He says looking up at you.

"Then that night when i saw you scared and bloody i promised myself that i wouldnt let anything else happen to you. He says sniffling.

"Dean" you say placing your hand in his as he holds it and places a kiss.

"When you came into my bed that night was when i knew i fell in love with you. He says looking down at the floor.

"I knew i loved you [y/n] but knowing my life style and having you was my weakness" he says

"Baby i couldnt let anything hurt you because if i lost you i knew a part of me would never be whole"

"Princess you are my home and my world you are what drives away the evil. He says smiling at you.

you move closer to him. His face against yours moving his hand up against your face. He smiles at you.

''Is it okay if i kiss you' he says running his thumb along your lip. You nod at him.

Inches away from each other feeling the heat between you both. Soon you feel his lip against yours. You both break apart.

"You still got it baby" he says winking at you.

The end or is it i may turn this into a series not sure yet. But i have more tear jerker angst on its way so look out for that sam cas not sure yet

[fuckblizzardbearlover]

I felt strongly justified in my dissatisfaction and anger at peoples attacks on Legend of Korra. People who ignored the fact that both series were made by the same people, and thus both had the same love and quality put into it. Reasons to dislike it were in my opinion silly to stupid. Thinking a child was to selfish and impulsive, that the series had to much romance, despite there being almost none and ATLA having entire episodes dedicated to it. Disliking it expanding the lore saying it violated it.

I grew stronger in my opinion, starting to rewatch the series

and after the 3rd season finale I realized something. Those haters are even bigger idiots than i thought.

I’ve seen people talk about the wonder of ATLA, the hope, the intrigue, the culture, of crying as they watched the series. And not feeling the same thing. I cant imagine what sort of brainworm these people had when they watched Korra but its obviously a diseased one. Laughing at the silly Bumi and Meelo. Appreciating the childishness of the teens as they struggle to live in this world. Seeing the way magic and technology mix, and work at odds and harmony. Seeing more of the Air nation than we ever saw with Aang. oooh and the drama and powerful characters.

I’ve been sitting for the last hour and a half, seeing villains who loved each other and who had a point but went to far. Seeing heroes in fight because they care to much. Seeing rookies fight off masters, and masters show villains what a true hero is. I never felt more inspired than when Tenzen single handedly knocked out 3/4 of the Red Lotus, and kicked Zaheer’s ASS in defense of his family and the new students he was SO proud of. Cheering for both sides as team avatar fought the red lotus, cheering for the sisters when they took out P’li, but mourning her as well.  The Anguish when Jinorah saw her friend ‘die’. Korra kicking ass while her hands and feet are bound, and thinking her father dead.

And the finale of that season. With Aang his avatar moment with the firelord was powerful because He had ever right to be angry, he had every right to rage. his people were murdered, he was just a kid, he saw so much pain, and the fire lord REVELED in it. But Aang did not give into that anger as justified as it was because he sought harmony, he wanted peace. He wanted the fighting to be over and thats the only reason why he fought.

I think that in part is one of the reasons so many didnt like the Legend of Korra, because her story was something completely different. The creators basically screamed it at us but you people didint want to listen. As the poison seeped into her, as she tried with all her might to save the avatar cycle, thinking only of the world and not herself she sees visions of those men who tried to destroy her. Amon, Unaloq, and Vaatu taunting her, “the world doesnt need you anymore’ “your time is up” as the red lotus didnt just try to kill her, but do keep anyone like her from coming about again. All these powerful people decades older than her have been trying to control her, manipulate her, KILL her because of the power she holds.

So yes its SO Powerful that she Gets ANGRY. she is SO strong to begin with, a powerful muscled Inuit woman whos capable of kicking your ass without her bending. who never gives up, who confronts every wrong she sees. and these powerful men want to end her because of something completely out of her control? NO , FUCK THAT. You want the avatar! you have to deal with it!  She stops their attacks cold, BREAKS her chains, knockes them all out, And the confident Zaheer can barely stay alive as she throws elephant sized rocks at him. All this while Dying. Nothing could be more different than aangs moment. He had every reason to be angry and he chose a different path. She had every reason to give up and dispair and she refused.

But it gets even better. Because Zaheer’s plan DID work. But what he didnt account for...this terrorist who wanted to kill tyrants to free the people...HE was the tyrant hurting the world for his own ideals and it was the people that Korra saved and inspired who brought him down.

and the last scene. Korra with bags under her eyes. Asami trying to hard. her holding korra’s hand as she tells her she can always talk to her, and showing her she understands korra doesnt want to do any of this political shit. but “lets do it for Jinora”. That gets her to perk up a little. Korra, she’s so powerful , even without her powers, but is a shell of who she was. and As Tenzen gives his speech she cant help but think of what happened to her, how much she lost, how hopeless her life seems, its just so much. and them Bamf, credits.

I love The Legend of Korra

[macadamiamilkenema]

roommates bf accidentally shut the heater in my room off so i was without heat for like 2 hours before i woke up! anyway i woke up with really bad chest pain because it was like 0 degrees and my room has no insulation <33 i told him that his actions made me sick and then he got all upset and acting like I hurt Him. i literally wasnt even that upset at first but his reaction to my pain really fucking pissed me off and confirms my feelings about him lol. and now my roommate keeps trying to FIX things and keeps giving me food and tea when i asked specifically that she not fucking do that because i just want to be left alone and take care of myself. i eventually had to let her make me soup because apparantly me being sick because of her bfs actions isnt about me, its actually about them! what i mean to say is that her giving me food isnt about my needs its about her needing to make herself feel better and i hateeee that sm! ive been up since 7 am practically overheating myself and it still hurts to breathe. and i have a final and another test this week on top of having to deal with family bs. like im not even allowed to be angry that i was put in a life threatening situation in my sleep, and the more she tries to fix things the longer im gonna be pissed off! and shes gonna go on thinking everythings ok cuz she fed me. and it hurts to talk so i cant even tell her what shes doing is making things worse cuz shell just start an argument. AND on top of all this im the youngest person in this house by fully a decade so i feel like im a teenager having to manage the emotions of the adults again!

[elegantfilmphotographyfantasykid]

Just Lost is All

A/N: so like I have no life other than writing stories so here is part 3 people

ANGST AND SOME FLUFF

    When they had gotten back to the tower Y/N had meant to go straight to her room, she didn't want to be around everyone, especially knowing she was going to break down soon. She began to make her way down the hallway, but before she could fully escape someone cleared their throat, quite dramatically. She stopped in her tracks turning around slowly to be met with the icy eyes of the ex assassin. He kept a straight face but as she looked deeper she could see other emotions, one of them seemed to be anger. She could smell it radiating off of him and now that she was home her instincts were telling her to cower as far away from the pissed off alpha as possible, but she also wanted him to comfort her. That side of her seemed to be winning as she soon found herself inching closer to him, soon close enough that if she reached out she could touch him. At this point Y/N realized that everyone else had left the room, this seemed to be what her body was waiting for because as soon as she had made the observation she slumped over. As if the weight of what had happened was pulling her down beckoning for her to fall into the dark parts of her head. So absorbed within these thoughts Y/N didn't notice Bucky reach out to her, that was until she felt warm shivers run up her arms from his hands coming into contact with her skin. Then she really broke down, falling into him her hands grasping at his shirt and tears spilling from her (E/C) eyes.

    “He-he raped me. His filthy hands, he touched me.” Y/N’s voice shook as she spoke her body trembling as she remembered the feeling of him in the same room as her.

    Bucky’s arms held tightly to her plump figure, a growl ripping from his throat. All he could feel was hate at the man who did this to his omega, he knew he hadn't claimed the small chubby girl yet, let alone shown any interest but he loved her. He felt her jolt as a reaction to his growl and immediately began to purr. His alpha instincts taking over as he buried his head in the crook of her soft neck nuzzling the scent mark below her ear, overwhelmed with the smell of coconut and lavender. He held back another growl as he caught a whiff of the attackers scent knowing he had to focus his attention solely on Y/N.

    She gave a small squeak of surprise as each of his hands wrapped around one of her thighs and he picked her up with ease. She hurriedly wrapped her legs around his waist, on any other day she would have felt embarrassed and would have argued that she could walk, but right now she needed this. She needed him, the warmth, and comfort, because for the first time in a long time she wasn't able to say she was okay. Because she wasn't she was now a broken shell of what she used to be. She kept her face buried deep into his neck his scent calming her as he made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. 

    She lifted her head from the comfortable spot on his shoulder and noticed they were entering what seemed to be Bucky’s room, this was confirmed when they crossed the threshold and his scent filled her with safety. 

    Bucky crossed the room gently setting the short girl on the bed a grunt of frustration leaving his mouth, the scent of that sick bastard still radiating from her small form. Before he scared her by getting angry he took this chance to get her into something with his scent.

    “You smell like that hell hole, my bathrooms through that door, use what you need and ill find you something to wear.” Now keep in mind Bucky wasn't very good at this interacting thing so his voice was more of a grunt, and he was telling her instead of asking. But she didn't seem to mind, at first she looked a bit surprised but then almost as if she needed someone else to take control for a bit she listened.

    Y/N stood from the bed relishing in the tone the alpha had used, a commanding tone. She needed this, if she was alone she probably would have just went and curled up in bed, no showering or changing of clothes involved, just darkness and seclusion. Her feet carried her to the bathroom of their own accord, then she took a whiff of herself, was it really that bad? She was met with disgusting smells of fear, lust, and sadness, this made his opinion a fact, she reeked. Quickly, as if she couldn't rid herself of it fast enough, she stripped out of her clothes. She walked to the shower a shiver running up her spine as she began to realize just how cold the bathroom was. She turned the water on waiting at the edge of the shower until it was steaming hot, she almost stepped in before remembering a wash cloth. she quickly went to wall with the shelves that held towels and rags. With ease she grabbed a towel but when trying for the smaller fabric she realized she was to short. A grunt of annoyance fell from her lips as she decided there was one choice, because she was not putting those clothes back on, she opened the door peeking out into the bedroom.

“B-bucky, I cant reach the wa-wash rags. I don't want t-to bother you but could you help?” He turned on his heel, hearing the way her once confident and cocky voice shook and cracked as she spoke made him bristle with anger. He walked into the bathroom grabbing a washcloth from the top shelf and handing it to her before quickly exiting, he didn't want to be around her to long just incase he lost his temper and growled or yelled while she was there. He didn't want her to think it was directed at her, no it was Tony for coming up with the idea, and the assholes who did this to innocent omegas. He sat on the bed his head falling into his hands as he did his best to control how upset he was. Hearing the water turn on he calmed himself knowing he shouldn't be the one feeling this, it should be the omega in their, the one who was acting as brave as she could even with what she went through.

[moonexile]

the most important thing about luther’s apology to vanya isn’t him taking responsibility for his actions or accepting that he did something wrong  (  though that’s very important too,  given that he did not understand what he was doing was so wrong at the time and recognizing that now is vital.  )  the most important part is the way he validates her anger.  

his apology to her is not about him.  he’s spent the last year feeling both guilt over how he handled things / what he did to her / how he feels he failed her and the rest of his siblings when his job has always been to protect him  --- and feeling scared of what she’s capable of  (  which i think is fair because to not be scared after the limited knowledge and what he saw would be invalidating to her powers.  )  he’s scared of himself + he’s scared of what she’s capable of,  but once he sees her,  and once he realizes she’s been here too + she’s got a family she’s with + she seems genuinely happy,  he wonders if she’s doing better and if she’s better off out on her own than with her family  --- especially him.  

because after everything,  their entire childhood + what transpired during season 1,  he knows she has every right to be angry at all of them.  but he carries a lot of it on his own shoulders because of what he did to her right before the academy was destroyed.  in an effort to try to protect his family + her,  he only hurt her more.  that was not his intention.  that was a failed attempt at being the leader and a quick realization that that was not his place anymore.  but allison nearly bled to death + he saw a man brutally murdered by her  ----  he had every right to be scared of her.  he knows that.  but after a year of thinking about this over and over again,  he knows he should have taken a different approach in trying to help her and understand her  ---  because he didn’t take that time with her before locking her up.  he should have and he knows that.  he takes responsibility for that.   he has no reason to blame her for not wanting to be around her family,  if that’s the case  ---  because so much has become clear to him since then.

luther didn’t read vanya’s book with the same perspective as everyone else.  everyone else knew that their father hurt them all.  luther didn’t recognize that until after reginald died.  a lot of vanya’s book was very confusing to him because of it;  a lot of the abuse they faced was pointed out in the book,  and he didn’t feel like she had a place in saying any of it because he didn’t think she understood.  but vanya understood better than luther did  (  keeping luther so close to him that reginald was able to twist luther’s perception of him was the height of luther’s abuse. )  he was less resentful in the way his siblings were towards her and just a little more lost by her book.  i mentioned this before but the similarities in vanya and luther really come down to the fact that vanya was on the outside of everything and luther was too close to it all;  both of their perceptions are skewed because of that but it makes their perspectives both very interesting.  it’s why it takes him longer to understand that what he did to her in his attempt to help was wrong  ----  because he’s still trying to process,  for the first time in his life,  that their father was a bad man and that he treated his kids horribly  (  ‘ i was naive enough to believe dads don’t lie to their kids.‘  /  i cant believe how much time i just wasted believing dad.  ‘  )   

coming to terms with the fact that he hurt vanya and failed her + his family in the process is part of him recognizing the way he was abused,  too.  the more he realizes reginald has hurt him and the others,  the more he realizes just how bad it was for vanya and how valid her anger is  ---  not just at their father,  but to all of them.   so it takes him until his first year in the ‘60s to start understanding her book more and more and how that anger that came through the pages was so valid.  all these pieces came together for him and he saw vanya in a new light.  all the siblings  (  maybe just excluding five  )  played a part in excluding vanya while growing up;  it was engrained into their minds to do so.  but he didn’t want it to be that way anymore.  he believes he deserves her anger,  but he also hopes that he can still be a brother  ---  so there’s a line to balance on between her valid anger + how rightfully destructive her anger can be + how he wants to be there for her,  this time in a better way that he was before.  

but luther knows that her anger is far more valid than his desire to be a family again.  he puts that first.

he didn’t bring a gun there with intent to hurt her  (  he’s spent the last year feeling awful for hurting her before,  purposefully letting himself get beaten + exploited because he wanted to be punished for what he’s done.  he has no reason to want to hurt her again.  )   he brought a gun because he knew how powerful she is and how destructive she can be and how valid her anger is.  i’m not saying it was the right way to handle it but i do think it’s fair for him to be scared of her and it makes it clear that he recognizes why she should be mad at him anyway.  he always wanted the chance to apologize to her,  that was the most important thing  ---  but he was immediately blindsided when she didn’t know who he was. 

but he recognizes the way he (especially) + the others have hurt her.  he is recognizing that she is hurt and that she is allowed to be hurt and she i allowed to be mad at them,  whereas season 1 luther felt like the rest of their family  was her victim,  not fully aware of the other side of the story.  but now that he is aware,  and now that he is starting to understand,  he sees that she has every right to feel hurt and be angry,  and she’s allowed to deal with it in her own way.  no one ever let luther deal with his pain in his own way;  he’s constantly belittled for it  ---  he doesn’t want her to go through that too.  so she needs to hear that it’s okay for her to deal however she needs to.  that validation is something she needed in season 1 and luther could not give it to her then,  but he’s trying so desperately to give it to her now.  he wants to help her right now;  if the only way he can do that is to leave her alone,  that’s fair + it’s her choice that he’s going to respect.  assuming that she’s lying and purposefully trying to hide out rather than actually not remembering any of it is just his way of trying to respect her boundaries.  

he wants her back.  he wants her to be part of the family.  at this point,  she’s only the second family member he’s seen  ---  after a year of wondering if she’s dead or if she’s okay.  he desperately wants his family back and to atone for hi mistakes with all of them,  especially her,  but more important than atoning for himself is protecting + validating her.  that comes first.  but he understands that she may not be ready to see them or want to be part of that family anymore and that’s her choice,  he’s going to respect her for that.  because if hiding away + trying to move on with her life is the healthiest option for her,  rather than coming back to their family,  she’s allowed to do that.  he’s not going to force the family together like he tried to do before;  he didn’t always recognize that when his siblings left,  they were abandoning the academy / reginald,  not him.  he thought it was about himself.  but now he understands that it was about them and them having their own lives and being who they are  ---  just as this is for vanya  (  he assumes,  given that he doesn’t know if she’s lying about losing her memories at this point.  )  if this makes her happier than she feels she can be with the family,  then that’s the best thing for her.  he didn’t get that chance when reginald took away his options;  so luther won’t take away vanya’s.

if the best thing for vanya is to be away from them,  despite him wanting to make up for their lost time as siblings,  then he’ll respect it.  but when she does decide to come back to the family,  he makes a conscious effort to ensure she’s always included.  he becomes her advocate.  it’s such a little moment but before they meet their father,  she suggests they use the shell to talk,  and when diego doesn’t have the shell,  luther calls him out for it  ---  not to be funny,  but because it was vanya’s suggestion and he wants her to be heard.  in season 1,  there’s a lot of instances when there are family meetings that don’t include everyone or don’t pull everyone’s feelings into account,  but it’s different now,  and they’re all making sure of it.   he’s just really showing her that she is part of this family and that she is being heard and is important in their decisions and i think that’s extremely important  --  because he’s recognizing why she was in pain before and why her pain is valid,  so he’s trying to give this a fresh start and do better than he did before.  it doesn’t mean he’s always doing it perfectly,  but he’s actively working on himself and trying to do right by all of them  ---  especially vanya,  because she has every right to hate him,  and if she did,  he would understand.   

so luther’s apology was not about himself;  it was not about trying to ‘ make himself feel better. ‘   it was entirely about her.  it was about putting her before himself.  it was about validating her pain and her anger in a way that she needed last time he saw her,  in a way he didn’t give her then.  it was all about respecting her and trying to make sure she was okay.  

but beyond validating her anger and her pain,  he is actively taking responsibility for what happened.  he tells her that she was not alone in causing the apocalypse  ---  yes,  she was the bomb,  but there was a series of fuses and canon mentions multiple times that harold is the fuse,  but luther will always believe he was.  that’s why he mentions himself first before saying they were all a part of it;  that’s why he explicitly states “i destroyed the world by overestimating my own importance,”  because he’s recognizing just how valid she was in her response to what he did to her.  she destroyed the world,  but would she have if he didn’t lead her to it?  

that’s how he sees her now.  he is scared of what she’s capable of because he is impressed by her powers  (  he told her that  )  but more than that,  beyond her powers,  he is actively trying to validate her all season and understand her pain and that really emphasizes the way luther is starting to get a fuller picture of the way they were all abused.  he has always been a protector,  but he’s realizing now that the way he’s gone about it hasn’t always been the best for people,  and that’s why we see him take a step back + try to put himself as an equal to the others rather than their number one.  

of course we don’t get vanya’s genuine reaction to his apology,  since she doesn’t remember what happened between them and doesn’t have a way of truly understanding his apology / accepting it,  and that’s the worst part,  because she deserves to be fully conscious of what he’s saying to her and how she feels about it,  but the way he insists on validating her pain + the way she chooses to cope is the most important thing about this,  for me personally,  and the most important thing for luther to communicate to her.  he leaves there after his apology not certain if he believes that she doesn’t remember or not  ---  because he knows how valid it is for her to want to stay away from him / the rest of them,  and he knows how valid it is for her to want this life,  where she looks happy,  instead  ---  so he doesn’t insist on pushing because he wants her to have what’s best for her,  not what he wants  (  which is his sister back + a chance to treat her better.  )  he puts her before himself and that’s so important to the way his mindset has changed and how he’s come to terms with things since leaving 2019.