viktor-leagueoflegends

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

American Psycho Killer: The Sequel

Summary: After Leon perfectly got away with murder and finally got the chance to be with the girl who lived just down the hall, he hasn't noticed that she, too, was just like him.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, death, smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic, yan!reader, stalking, masturbating (female), dry humping, this might be my nastiest work yet

A/N: RAHHH GUESS WHO PASSED HER PSYCHOLOGY FINAL- ME!!!! im a certified psychologist now (this is joke btw)

[part one]

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

People always seem to forget that not all psychopaths are the same. Sure, most share the same goal. But not every psychopath is the same. According to Kurt Scheinder, there are different personality types within the psychopathic community.

Leon's an affectionless psychopath; he's cold, antisocial, manipulative, and very assertive. He's a perfect murderer who kills anyone who dares to touch or hurt you. But he won't show or tell you how concerned he is for you. He doesn't feel love. No, it's quite different.

Psychopaths can fall in love with other people, but it's not the same. Leon's emotions are shallow and empty. But he still wants you to be his. He's possessive over you, he wants you in a sense that he can't even explain it himself.

But what he doesn't know is that you were also in the same percentage of psychopaths. You aren't affectionless, you're an obsessive psychopath. Obsessive psychopaths are people who are extremely possessive and become obsessed with people. These types of people often act on their jealousy and sexual fantasies. What he didn’t know was that you were deep down the trenches for him.

After having sex with the man, he cleaned you up and left your apartment room. It was late and he had work tomorrow, like every day. You felt conflicted, in a way, you had sex with your neighbor on the day of your ex's funeral. If you believed in God, you were sure he would send you straight to hell. But you didn't care. Leon made you feel things you hadn't felt before.

You found yourself thinking about him and the way he filled you up. Luck was with you the next morning when you bought the last morning-after pill. The woman behind you glaring at you as you shamelessly grinned at her. You didn't care, why should you? You didn't want to get knocked up, as much as you'd love the idea of carrying Leon's child, you barely knew the man.

But that didn't stop you from taking his pictures every time he walked by. Your phone angled slightly as you took pictures of him when you two were in the elevator, or when you'd see him from your window as he walked away from his car. You'd watch him like a hawk watching the fish in the river, waiting for the perfect moment to claw deep into its fins and carry it to its nest.

Was this illegal? Probably but then again, most things were illegal in such a fucked up and greedy country. You cheated the system; too smart for them as you found loopholes around the terribly written constitution. You knew you could get away with anything if you played your cards right- a gamble.

Being a psychopath isn't praised in society, people hate such disconnected individuals but being a psychopath yourself, you actually blended in. No one would question your obsessive and stalking habits. No one would even guess that the sweet girl from the apartment building had a wall full of candid photos of the blonde agent.

You stood back as you marveled at the sights. Hundreds of photos plastered on the beige wall, all from different angles and days. Some you took when he had his morning jog, some were when you stayed up all night waiting for him to come home. Something about the way he looked when he was exhausted just turned you on. The wall was right in front of your bed. Every night, when you'd go to sleep, you would stare at the pictures and get all excited about your perverted fantasies.

As you stared at the wall with the photos, your hands slipped down your pajama shorts. Fingers rubbing against the lacey panties you wore. It was perverted but a part of you took pleasure in the way the countless pictures stared at you as you rubbed your clothed clit. Back arching as you bit your bottom lip, trying not to be too loud for the neighbors to hear.

It wasn't enough. You needed more.

Poor pillow, you thought as you took a long pillow from behind you. You sat up and straddled the pillow as you faced the Leon wall. The picures staring right back you as you rocked your hips against the comforting material. Wetness pooling in your panties, making them stick to your needy cunt as you humped the pillow, pretending it was him. The wetness seeped through your pajama shorts, feeling the cold slick collect as you rocked your hips. If anyone were to see you, you'd be embarrassed. Going off on the pictures of your neighbor as you rode the pillow pretending it was his cock. Your clit rubbed against the lace material of your panty, your folds gliding with ease as every hump. God, you felt like a teenage girl when she first discovers what Wattpad is.

Moans collected in your throat, daring to escape as you shut your eyes tightly closed. Bliss overtaking you as you grinded against your pillow harder and faster, like a dog in heat. Your hands squeezed tightly around the soft fabric of what you pretended would be Leon's shoulders- maybe neck if you wanted to feel more dominant. The pillow slowly began to get stained with your slick as you neared your orgasm, the way your panty roughly grinded against your cunt and clit set you aflame. It was all so wet and arousing; it got your back arching as you could just picture his cock thrusting up into your womb, sliding through your tight gummy walls as he would grip your hips and bounce you on his leaking cock. Even the thought of him made you cum faster. Feeling the way his muscles would feel and flex as you drove him to the edge from your riding, the way his sweat smelled as if it was an aphrodisiac. Addicting. He made you an addict.

Cumming hard on the pillow, your thighs trembled and your moans escaped your lips. As you rode through your high, you couldn't help but feel conflicted once again. This was psychotic behavior but who was here to judge you? Exactly, no one. Not even Leon's pictures who were staring directly at you. With a quiet sigh, you got off the pillow and began to clear the mess you left. All while you kept thinking about him.

-

The landlord of your apartment building was a strange man. Supportive, but strange. He had a basement in which he'd host events about anything. He believed he was some sort of Messiah that was sent by God to help cure the people of whatever was pestering them. Today was no different; you found yourself sitting in one of the chairs in the basement along with the other tenants. Leon was there too. Sitting on the other side of the basement with his arms crossed over his chest as he sat far away.

"Thank you all for coming, today I want to talk about a few things. Like grief. We know that the death of a recent tenant has been...difficult to overcome," the landlord began- referring to the guy that died from the fire. They never caught Leon, so no one suspected a thing, not even you.

"The fire department has told me that I should revise a fire drill in case something like this happens again," the landlord's voice was soft and you could swear he was high. Or maybe he wasn't and that was just the way he talked, either way, it made you want to fall asleep.

"Just so we're clear- there is a fire exit only on the right side of the building. The door to the stairs will only open once the smoke detectors have detected a fire. Do not, and i can't stress this enough, do not pry it open. Those things cost a fortune and I'd hate to have to increase everyone's rent." Everyone grumbled at the thought of paying more for some idiot's actions. Leon, however, just remained silent and observed. You couldn't help but steal glances at him, just admiring the way his brows were pinched together as his lips were a straight line.

For a white man, he looked very attractive. You'd let this white man colonize you.

And then his eyes landed on you. Those piercing blue eyes that were hard to read found your own, and he held eye contact. Daring you to look away, to which you couldn't. You were too enthralled, as if he threw a spell at you. Not like you'd mind, of course, but this man was intimidatingly attractive.

You had to pull your eyes away from the intense eye contact as the landlord kept talking. From your peripheral vision, you could see how a woman approached Leon and sat down next to him.

At first, you didn’t think too much of it. You thought but not too much. Until her laughter made its way to your ears. Her laugh was as if nails were scratching on the board of some classroom. You hated it. It drove you insane.

Her laughter could be heard- it was fake and forced, it had to be. No one laughed like that. She had to be flirting with Leon and it only made you feel rage and jealousy. God, you needed to calm down. Or maybe you needed to kill her. His expression wasn't different. He was simply just staring at her. How you wished that was you sitting on his cock as you memorized his face. As you counted the blackheads he had on his nose, as your eyes traced the wrinkles and acne scars. You wanted to memorize his entire being.

Kill her? The thought never appeared in your head but who were you to argue against your thoughts. You trusted yourself.

Once the landlord had stopped talking, you were the first one to dash out of the basement. Not without looking at how the woman basically threw herself him. Her breasts pressing against his chest. His face was unreadable, just coldly staring at her as she tried to seduce him. It made your blood boil. How dare she do that to your man? She needed to learn her lesson.

The next few days, you've been studying. Not because you had exams, no, you studied for other reasons. You studied the human anatomy as well as some chemistry.

One night, around 3AM, you came back from the library you were in. Just freshly studied, you had many ideas on how to kill her. A part of you, the good part, thought that this was immoral and terrible. But the other part told you that no one, absolutely no one, dares to flirt with your man. He's not even your man officially but he might as well be for all the times you masturbated in front of his pictures.

When you were on campus, you "borrowed" some tools. Of course, you were going to be nice and return them to the STEM building before they even charge you for overusing their supplies.

Being an obsessive and jealous psychopath, you're bound to be reckless and impulsive. But not this time. This time, you were going to be calculated. You had a plan orchestrated for her murder.

You made your way to the security room where the security cameras screened the halls of the apartment complex. As you lock picked the door, you entered quietly. Your footsteps softly thudding against the carpeted floor. The room had about 8 or 9 TV screens that showed different angles of the different floors. On one of them, you noticed Leon walking through the parking lot. He must've come back from work; he usually does at this time.

Hacking the security cameras weren't easy. You desperately wanted to just smash the entire setup, but you knew that would only make you more suspicious. You needed to control your temper. Plus, you wouldn't do that to your landlord. He's a cheap guy and would rather not pay from his pocket, he'd probably increase the rent to pay for the damages you could cause.

After some minutes, the screens all turned static, giving you the sign to proceed with your plan.

You stepped out of the room, closing the door on your way out. Leaving it exactly how you found it.

You climbed the stairs to where your floor was since she lived just a few doors away from you. She moved into the dead guy's apartment; you thought it was dumb. Why would you live in a place where someone just recently died? That's bad luck because now she was going to die because of you.

Once again, you lock picked the door to her apartment and looked around to make sure no one had seen you. You knew Leon just came back from work, so you needed to be quick as to not let him see you like this.

You entered her apartment swiftly and silently, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The apartment was dark and silent, except for the soft snores coming from just down the hall. Where her room was.

Your footsteps were soft and quiet as you made your way towards her. And there she was, sleeping peacefully on her stomach. All sprawled out on her bed as her hair covered her face.

Quietly making your way towards her bed, you kneeled down beside her and took out a small liquid bottle.

Potassium chloride (KCI), it read.

You didn't know a thing about chemicals and what they do, but to be honest, you didn't care. All you knew was that this stuff could be lethal. And that's exactly what you wanted.

Taking out a syringe from your pocket, you punctured the top of the bottle and pumped some of the liquid into the tube of the syringe, making sure it went past the middle line imprinted on the plastic container.

For once, you were glad to have access to the labs in the STEM building. The things you could do... but that was a thought for another time. Right now, you had a job to do.

Finding a vein on her neck was easier than you thought, based on the way she was sleeping, her neck tensed, and a vein was popping out of the side of her neck. The blue line traveling down her skin.

As you aligned the needle on her vein, you pushed without remorse. The needle penetrated her skin as you injected her with the dose of KCI. You watched in awe as the liquid entered her system. A dose enough it would cause cardiac arrest, instant death even.

You decided to leave her bed as she slowly succumbed to her death. You stuffed your materials back in your pockets as you stood up. What you failed to notice was the pair of footsteps nearing the bedroom. As you turned towards the door, you immediately noticed the figure lingering in the doorframe.

Leon.

Leon watched you kill that woman. He saw it all happen right before his eyes. But his expression was still cold and unreadable. He stepped towards you and stood in front of you, staring down at you.

'Hm," he spoke quietly, "well, this isn't something I was expecting," he muttered.

You didn't know what to say as you stared up at him. He knows what you just did but you don't feel regret.

After a short moment of silence, he spoke again, "I was going to kill her."

Your eyes widened at the confession; he was going to kill her?

"Why?" you asked quietly. The ends of his lips tugged into a faint smirk as he watched your expression, "Because she was annoying you."

You were stunned once again. He was going to kill her because he knew she had annoyed you? He really was the perfect man.

"Now," he stepped closer to you, leaning down until you could his breath on your face, "Why did you kill her?"

It would be embarrassing to tell him that the only reason why you killed the woman was because you were jealous.

As you nibbled on your bottom lip, you tried to come up with an excuse, "Like you said... she was annoying me."

Leon wasn't dumb, he knew you were lying. He brought his hands to brush away your hair away from your shoulders, "Don't lie to me," he muttered as he twirled a strand of hair in between his fingers.

"Fine," you muttered back, "I was... jealous." You felt embarrassment shot right up through your body as you told Leon the truth.

His smirk widened slightly as he let go of your hair, "You were jealous? Why? Because she was all up at me?"

You nodded, "Yeah... i didn't like how she tried to flirt with you."

He looked at you and then back at the woman laying on the bed, "I'm impressed."

That comment was sent straight to your core, wetting your panties. It was almost pathetic, how much power he had over you. If you weren't in this woman's room, you'd totally straddle him and ride his cock like how you rode the pillow.

As he turned to look back at you, he noticed your concentrated expression. His brow raised slightly at the sudden profound silence coming from you. But he didn't mind, you were still standing there in front of him and that was enough for Leon's shallow heart.

"Leave," he muttered as he looked at you. This caused you to pinch your brows together. Why would he want you to leave?

"Go back to your apartment, I'll clean the evidence for you."

Your mouth fell apart after he said that. He was willing on cleaning up your mess. But you were sure not to leave a trace behind... not really. You weren't wearing any gloves. You mentally slapped yourself for the small mistake.

"I'll meet you when I'm done," and with that he got to work. He walked around with disinfectant wipes and alcohol as he made sure to clean everything you had touched.

As he did that, you walked out of her apartment and went over to yours. A lot of thought scurried through your mind; thoughts like: why is he helping you?

A part of you felt guilty for killing someone but the other part of you didn’t. The id and the ego. A constant battle between what’s wrong and what’s right.

You did think she deserved it. But at the same time, you and Leon had sex. That must’ve mean something, right? Does he like you? Does he want to have sex again?

A part of being a psychopath that not many people know is that they are one of the most hypersexual people ever to exist. One single thought about him and it gets sent straight to your pussy. It’s not necessarily bad, you just have a lot of needs.

Part of you couldn’t wait for him to finish cleaning up and come to you. But a part of you also didn’t want him to see the amount of pictures you had of him on your wall.

As you walked to your apartment, you settled yourself in your bed, staring straight at the Leon wall.

What would he think of you if he saw this?

Would he be creeped out?

Insecurity ran through your body as you thought about it. Overthinking the possibilities of him reacting to just how obsessed you were with him.

You quickly got up and began to try and take off the photos of him on your wall.

However, just as you pulled a few of the hundred photos, you heard the noise of someone clearing their throat. Your head slowly turned towards the sound and your face fell pale.

It was Leon.

“Are those pictures of me?” He asked as he stepped towards your room. Standing closely next to you as he stared at the wall. His eyes scanned each and every one of the pictures. Almost as if he was impressed more than disrtubed.

But he didn't look disturbed. He had a small smirk on his lips that flipped your guts inside out. What exactly was he thinking?

"Yeah... they are," you murmured under your breath as you looked back at the pictures.

"You keep surprising me today," he muttered and turned his head to look at you with that stupid smirk. The smirk that made you feel so many things at once, "I never took you for... a stalker."

Your cheeks flushed red from embarrassment, and you quickly looked at him, "I-I well-" You didn't know what to say. What could you possibly say without looking even more demented.

"I like it," he whispered and stepped closer to you. His expression still remained distant but there was something in his eyes. A dangerous glint of possession.

You turned your body to look at him, staring up at his eyes. Something was starting to form in the air, and it was dangerous. As if gasoline was being poured into a barrel of fire.

Without notice, he harshly pulled you to him by putting a hand on the back of your head. His lips crashed into yours as his other hand snaked around your waist and he forcefully pulled you close to his body.

His kiss was dominating and harsh. As if he was hungry for you. Your hands gripped around his shirt. Your knees felt weak, and you started to grow dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

He was kissing you like no tomorrow. He bit your bottom lip hard, causing you to gasp. His tongue delved inside and wrapped around your tongue- dancing a battle of dominance that you lost long ago.

His hand went down from your waist to grip your ass cheek, giving it a tight and firm squeeze. He pulled back and pushed onto the bed.

"Strip," he demanded in a low voice. You quickly obliged and began to take off your clothes. His gaze was penetrating you, watching you like an eagle as you got naked under his command. It filled his veins with pure adrenaline, and he wanted nothing more than to claim you.

He saw that you were obsessed with him, and he was finally able to show you just how obsessed he was with you too.

He took off his clothes as well and climbed on top of you and began to kiss you again. His lips hungrily crashed into yours as his hands traveled around your body, squeezing the fat of your hips and squeezing the curve of your waist.

His lips trailed down to your neck, abusing the skin purple and red as you whimpered and moaned for him. His touch was electrifying, and you were going off on it. One of his hands trailed down to your wet cunt as he kept sucking your neck. He chuckled lowly as he felt how wet you'd become in just the matter of two minutes.

"Already so wet for me," he sucked the skin around your collarbone as his fingers faintly hovered over your cunt.

"I bet you imagined this moment, huh? Me fucking you in front of all these pictures you took of me," he grumbled as he inserted his index finger without warning, causing you to gasp and rolled your head back. Eye tightly shut as he curled his index finger in you.

He was going ruthless on you. He inserted another finger in you, scissoring you with speed as he watched your eyes roll back. Your walls pulsated around his fingers, and he could feel his cock getting hard against your thigh. He could feel you getting closer to your orgasm and that only drove him to reach deeper inside with his fingers until his knuckles were buried deep.

He smirked as he saw the way you arched your back and moaned for him. His obsession for you only grew as he heard the lewd noises come from your mouth. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to not be too loud for your neighbors to send a noise complaint.

But he abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, denying you of your release. You whined and looked at him through half-lidded eyes, "Why... why did you stop?" you breathed out. And all he did was chuckle lowly at your reaction.

He was cruel but he loved it. He loved driving you close to the edge and then pull you back into reality.

“Turn over,” was all that he said. You got on your stomach and he gripped his hands around your hips and lifted your ass a little higher.

His hands went around your ass and back before giving you a slap on your ass cheek, causing you yelp. It stung but it felt good.

One of his hands left your hips as he pumped his cock with his precum and aligned himself with your entrance.

He buried his cock deep into your cunt, gripping your waist as he pulled you closer to him, forcing you to take his size. You whimpered as you shut your eyes tightly. He slowly began to move his hips against you from behind, trying to find a rhythm that would be pleasurable for the two of you.

Your face was planted flat on a pillow as he fucked you. Your mouth was open, muffled moans echoing through the room. The sound of his balls smacking against your clit making this look and sound so pornographic.

He could feel your walls tighten every time his balls clashed your clit, “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted. You couldn’t reply, too preoccupied getting your brains fucked out by him.

His speed only increased as he became selfish and obsessive. He wanted to claim you, to make you his. It was psychotic but he needed it. He desperately needed you in his life, even if he’s fucked up in the head.

But you’re also a bit screwed up. What type of person stalks a man and kills for him? You, apparently.

You both have killed for each other. You both were obsessed with each other. One wouldn’t know if it was concerning or cute. Either way, you loved him and he loved you.

“I’m gonna breed you,” he grunted again as he pulled out and pushed back in brutally. His strength like no other, his muscles flexing and tensing.

His dirty words didn’t help either, they were driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your pussy clenched so tightly against his cock, wanting to milk him of his seed and force you to bear his children.

“Gonna fill you up- fuck- and make you mine,” he moaned softly in your ear as his hand left your waist and went down to your clit. Circling it and pinching it in between his fingers.

You mewled and moaned, drool dripping down from your mouth as you saw stars. He made you feel so good and you only wanted more.

His cock disappeared into your cunt with every thrust and he ogled at the sight. He loved the way you took him, he loved the way you looked so fucked out of your mind all because of him.

He made you feel this way. And he wanted more.

“You’re staying with me,” he groaned into your ear, “You’ll be mine whether you like it or not- fuck I’m gonna cum,” he grunted and kept thrusting into you. He kept pounding into you.

Every time he thrusted into you, he saw the way your ass jiggled and it only made his cock twitch and throb inside you. He shot his cum deep inside you but he didn’t stop.

He continued to toy with your clit as he kept pounding his half hard cock- which soon got hard again from seeing your face and hearing the way you moaned when he came inside you.

“Leon,” you moaned out lewdly as you neared your orgasm. It surprised you he came first but you didn’t complain, it only drove you closer to cumming.

“Cum for me,” he demanded in a growl. Your pussy spasmed around his cock and you came on his cock.

You arched your back as you came, feeling his deeper into your cunt as he continued to fuck you through your high.

And. He. Didn’t. Stop.

He wanted to cum in you again, he promised he’d fill you up and he never breaks his promises.

“Gonna cum again, sweetheart,” he moaned into your ear as his hand left your clit and went back to your waist.

“This pussy’s mine,” he grunted as he gripped your waist and pulled you on his cock, watching as your mouth hanged open, spilling moans and whimpers from overstimulation.

“You’re fucking mine, sweetheart,” he grunted one last time before ramming his hips into you and cumming inside you once more. His warm cum overfilling your cunt, cum oozing out as new cum entered your body.

He remained inside you as you both caught your breath. He couldn’t believe he’d cum twice but then again, you really did keep surprising him today.

And that’s what he liked about you. You were so unexpected and that only drove him crazy for you.

And you were crazy for him too.

[lycanlupins]

SFW ALPHABET - Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler

No Warnings

AN: super self indulgent, I’m obsessed with this blue furry guy in XMen Evolution and XMen 97! So its the best of both worlds

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?):

He loves getting you flowers and trinkets he sees that you would like. He’s also very physically affectionate, he always has his tail curled around you or your hand/arm for comfort.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?):

As a best friend he’s like the (adorably) annoying little brother. He loves to play pranks on you/on others with you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?):

He’s a BIG cuddler! He’s soft too, like a little fleece blanket, and he knows you love to snuggle because of it.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?):

He wants to settle down for sure but also it scares him. He’s always wanted to have a family and a big wedding that all his friends would go to.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?):

He would make sure they knew he still very much loved them but that they need time apart, whether that be permanently or temporarily.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?):

He would want commitment, he’s a traditional catholic man after all! He would have a very intimate proposal but he would want to get married fairly quick, maybe after a year or so.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?):

A very gentle man, both physically and emotionally. He loves to be physically affectionate and vulnerable with his partner.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?):

He gives such good hugs. They’re firm and loving and he always feels like a huge plushie come to life because of his fur.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?):

He says it first and fast, almost like he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. It comes out all at once and he stares at his partner in shock.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?):

He doesn’t get TOO jealous but when he does he makes sure to be EXTRA physically affectionate.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?):

Soft and gentle kisses, very much loving and silly sometimes.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?):

He loves children, he’s amazing with them and he wants some of his own someday.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?):

He’s an early bird, he likes to get up and make his partner breakfast.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?):

He curls in close and sometimes likes to watch a movie or two before bed. He also likes to snack during the night!

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?):

He really can’t hide the fact he’s blue BUT other than that he likes to take it pretty slow with his other stuff.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?):

He’s a very patient man, it takes a lot for him to get angry, unless you mess with his family/friends.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?):

He would remember EVERYTHING. He remembers your favorite flower, your usual meal at a restaurant and even all of your allergies!

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?):

Either when he proposes or your wedding for sure. He’s a big softie, he loves all your lovey moments.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?):

He’s very protective but in a lowkey way. He’ll protect your honor but he knows you can handle yourself most times.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?):

He tries so hard. He’s very detail oriented and he likes to make sure everything is perfect, even if its something as simple as getting you the right ice cream.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?):

He can be self depreciating sometimes. He doesn’t think he should be with his partner because of “his nature” but he knows his partner loves him no matter what.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?):

He used to be very shy and concerned about being blue but he likes it a lot more now that he has people around him to make him feel better.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?):

Very, his significant other is his other half through and through and he makes sure its known.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.):

He purrs like a cat when he’s happy/asleep/cozy.

His tail is extra sensitive to touch (not sure if thats actually canon, im awful at remembering)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He would hate if someone judged him or tried to convert him from his beliefs. He accepts all walks of life and he wouldn’t ever change someone else so if someone tried to make him forsake his religion it’d be a no-go.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?):

He sometimes curls up in a ball or sleeps hanging from the ceiling. He also, again, purrs in his sleep so sometimes his partner wakes up to motor sounds and its just Kurt being cute again.

[pixieimp]

Okey, so adding more information to one of my other posts! This one

Kurt backstory in my now headcanon and why he was not an X-Men in Deadpool and Wolverine:

• We know Kurt backstory as Szardos, he was raised by a Romani family back in Germany which was part of a traveling circus where he performed as the Amazing Nightcrawler, their trapeze artist. (That's canon, the rest is not and it's just my mind) I think for that universe, Kurt would have a similar childhood but this time he and his siblings all have a good relationship. Stephan didn’t hate Kurt and they actually were best friends so no jealousy fight and death of Stephan making Kurt run away and to be found by Charles.

• When there is a change in the circus direction and Kurt is taken from trapeze artist to main star as the freak from the show, he is also chained and caged and often mistreated without Margali or any or his siblings being able to do much more than to sneak some food at that moment.

• After a particularly nasty overdose of sedatives and a brutal beating from the new Ring Master which almost kills Kurt, Margali makes a pack with a demon to magnify her own magical abilities and to be able to free Kurt. The Szardos family took Kurt to holy ground in a near by abbey where they left him to "clean the mess" at the circus. (The Szardos family starts then with both Margali and Jimaine witchcraft some sort of mob business)

• Kurt keeps in touch with the abbey as he works the grounds to help repay the kindly help from the brothers. At the same time people starts to look at him and to point in his direction as the result of "diabolical Romani magic". Little by little people starts to fear him and to hate him as Stephan starts to use Kurt image to scare people off.

• After Margali ends up doing connections with the Hellfire Club she takes her 3 children to America where they can have a better life out of little minded folk. The mob business goes smoothly well in their new home and they have a comfortable life where Kurt goes back to feel caged and like the freak when it’s clear that his presence it’s only important to keep up the image of demonic magic her mother and sister have adopted. After quite a big argument Kurt leaves his family in order to do good honest work.

• Due to his looks it's not so easy so once more he goes back to seek god's help, he never had a problem in the abbey even when many brothers were wary from him. So he ends up finding a small church where they give him a place to stay and live in exchange for a bit of handy work and help with some of the groups for "special people" (aka mutants)

• As the people from the church gets to feel more comfortable with Kurt around, the priest starts to let Kurt help with other groups of people and that's how Kurt and Al end up meeting (Kurt at that time was in his mid 20s when they met for the first time)

Logan’s first impression:

Kurt was immediately attracted to Logan, there was something in there that sang to his own soul. Even if the man was short in his responses (he didn't know that Logan was actually shocked to see someone who in his own universe loved so much) and more than once completely rude to Kurt himself and to others. Kurt still laughed it off and actually invited Logan to join one of the veterans’ group therapy seasons.

[hondafuckingodyssey]

Wade and Logan and polyamory and jealousy

Every once in a while I see someone portraying Logan as the jealous type, and I've got to say, I don't get it. (No shade if that's your thing.) Maybe it's just me wanting everybody to be poly, but jealousy is a hard squick for me. (Does anybody say squick anymore? We should bring it back.) But Mr. Logan "gets passed around the x-mansion like a blunt" Howlett, the jealous type? Ridiculous.

Part of it is I see jealousy as a young man being hotheaded thing. Even if he started out being the jealous type, after 200 fucking years you'd think he'd get that sorted out and be able to talk about it with his partner rationally.

I can see some aspects of it. Like I can see him being super protective. Like usually he's dating other x-men, so they can take care of themselves physically. But I can totally see him giving someone the menacing glare if he thought someone was hurting Wade's feelings.

And I can see him being all autistic and not liking other people in his space. So like, Wade doesn't mind if Logan brings another partner around, but Logan prefers that Wade not bring his partners home.

And I see there being a whole thing with him and scents. Like, it's kind of uncomfortable when Wade comes back smelling like a new partner. But with partners he's had for a while, their scents sort of mix together and become familiar. And when Wade introduces him to someone new, it's kind of nice how they already feel familiar because they smell like Wade.

Someday I want to try to write something about early days, fresh back from the void and Wade can't really figure out how to have the "are we exclusive conversation" and he's feeling kind of guilty about going out to see Cable. But Logan can smell him when he comes home, and he knows Wade knows he can track people across the city, so Wade must know he knows. And he just figures Wade doesn't feel comfortable talking about it, and who is Logan to judge someone for not wanting to sit down and talk about relationships, so he just rolls with it. Gets a calendar for the fridge (which Wade doesn't notice) and starts tracking out date nights so they don't conflict. And then all of a sudden Wade's out on a double date with him and Cable and Logan and Kurt and he's in a loving poly relationship when did that happen?

[takenbypeter]

Hiii i love ur writing!!!

I was wondering if you could write a young Kurt Wagner x fem!reader hc or fic about kurt liking the reader who is really cool and funny and he thinks shes way out of his league, it doesnt help that some of the more extroverted students are always flirting, and he doesnt get how it comes so naturally to them. Anyways he's lowkey jealous and insecure (esspecially bc he looks so different compared to her and the other students) and oblivious to the fact that the reader only has eyes for him!! Angst and fluff are my faves ugh

(+bonus if peter tries to give him advice on how to hit on a girl and its a total trainwreck bc kurt is so obviously not acting like himself and shes lowkey freaked out and trying not to laugh in his face💀)

Stick to the Plan

Kurt Wagner x reader

Words: 1486

Authors note: I totally forgot about the jealousy aspect of this whole thing sorry but I hope you still like it and this is like my first Kurt fic so yayyyy!

Kurt was already easily known as the nervous type around people. Didn’t always know what to say, didn’t want to do the wrong thing.

But with you? He was terrified.

Now he knew you weren’t perfect, no one is. But he was pretty sure you were just about close to it.

You were quite beautiful yet weren’t afraid to wear silly expressions. Your laugh was very infectious that even when he wasn’t a part of the conversation, he could feel his cheeks uplifting at just the sound that he recognized from far away.

Kurt didn’t talk to you much but he did always find himself coincidentally in the same area as you. He found it quite admirable how it seemed like you got along with practically everyone and never let anything get you down.

You could say he had a crush.

He wanted to talk to you, to connect about anything, but like mentioned earlier…he was scared. It also didn’t help that he could tell that he wasn’t the only one who had a thing for you. He knew of at least two other guys who were very obvious in their likings of you. But unlike himself, they actually had the guts to talk to you, you’ve laughed with them, shared jokes.

It also didn’t help that Kurt couldn’t help but feel like he looked like a freak most of the time. The tail, the teeth, the blue, sometimes it was hard for him to believe that people could accept him this way—that you could accept him this way.

Despite what he felt, he believed he kept his feelings well hidden, but that wasn’t exactly the case because a certain speedster had caught on quickly.

Kurt had just watched you leave the small group that you had been chatting with, you just about stepped out of the room when a voice suddenly appeared right beside Kurt’s ear. “So when are you planning on puttin’ the moves on?”

Kurt jumped, shocked at the question, “excuse me?”

“Come on, you’ve been pining for weeks, just make your move already.”

Kurt freezes for a moment, but then grabs the man unexpectedly and disappears as a puff of smoke left behind practically dissolves into air. He teleports the two to Kurt’s own room before releasing the speedster.

“You will keep what you know, only between us,” Kurt insisted but Peter was already nodding. “Don’t worry your secret’s safe with me. I actually wanna help you.”

“You want to help me?” Peter nodded again and Kurt couldn’t stop a scoff from escaping past his lips, “because you’re so good at this type of stuff?” Kurt added, tone more sarcastic than positive.

“Hey at least I can talk to ‘em.”

He’s got a point there.

Despite everything in Kurt telling him not to take Peter’s advice he still hung his head in defeat. “Alright, I will accept your help…but what do you get out of this all?”

It was hard for Kurt to believe that Peter was doing this out of the good of his heart, but Peter shrugged. “Bored,” is all he said before clapping his hands together, “okay let’s get started.”

Kurt should’ve known better than to trust Peter. He taught him strange things that he guaranteed would “woo” anybody’s heart and although it all seemed unlikely, Kurt took each and every one of his advice to heart.

The strange way of talking, the attitude that he should carry, all of it he took in until Peter deemed the blue mutant ready.

It wasn’t until the next day while you were seated in a corner of a busy room that the plan went into action.

You were clearly occupied with your head buried in a graphic novel but your attention got deterred when a body sat directly across from you.

Eyes leaving the pages, you were met with a set of bright yellow eyes taking you by surprise, but you quickly collected yourself.

“Oh hey Kurt,” You were trying your best to conceal your surprise at the sight of the man in front of you, especially since typically it seemed like the boy did his best to avoid you, “what’s up?” You asked, setting your book down in your lap but with your thumb holding your place.

Kurt could already feel himself wanting to duck underneath his shoulders and disappear from your view but he fought every urge to do that.

Fighting his instincts he slumped his shoulders down and leaned back trying his best to look what could possibly be perceived as cool. And in that position he let out a line he’d practiced in the mirror the night before, “something must be wrong with my eyes because I can’t take them off of you.”

Your mouth forms a little oh shape as your eyes widen and your eyebrows lift. Kurt obviously can see how shocked you are by his words and he himself could feel his body getting ready to prepare for the cringe he was beginning to feel, but he pushed through and delivered another line, “hey, you’re pretty and I’m cute. Together we’d be pretty cute.”

Oh God, your expression told him all he needed to know about that one. He instantly regretted that one.

Your face contorted from confused to surprised then half amused before you started cracking up.

You were laughing.

You were laughing at him right to his face.

Kurt pushed his teeth together before muttering, “I’m sorry,” he was about to disappear as it seemed that was the only thing he was good at, but you rested a hand on his shoulder stopping him from doing so.

Once you controlled yourself you let out, “I’m sorry, you think I’m pretty?”

His whole demeanor flipped, his shoulders leaned up, his arms suddenly were in his lap as he brought his hands together in the middle.

He knew he said those words but it felt so strange hearing you repeat the line when he technically hadn’t even confessed his feelings yet.

At Kurt’s silence that’s when you spoke up, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean anything by…that,” you said, referencing to your more than little laugh session, “it was all just…unexpected. This,” you waved a hand in the air motioning towards whatever that display was, “just doesn’t seem like you at all, are you okay?”

He felt the air in his throat hitch as he began to panic about what to say next, should he just confess now? Peter didn’t cover this. Should he just relay back to the things Peter had taught him? But with all this thinking he couldn’t come up with something fast enough and instead finally let out a breath.

“It’s not me.”

“Yeah I know,” you chuckled.

He finally seems to relax for the first time since your interaction began and his eyes drift down to your book still in hand.

“What are you reading there?” he asks and your eyes follow where he was looking. “Oh this? It’s just a murder mystery.”

“How is it? Do you like it?”

“Yeah I love murder mysteries, I love when there’s a twist ending but I also love when it ends in a real cliche way. I’ve actually read this one before but the movie for it just came out so I’m rereading it before going to watch it later this week.”

“I’ve actually read that book before too, it’s pretty good.”

“Right?”

“I didn’t know there was a film for it,” Kurt truly meant nothing by that statement, if anything it was more just a way to continue the conversation with you.

“Yeah…did you want to watch it together?”

There was nothing on earth that could’ve predicted this moment for him. He truly had to take a moment, and when he finally came to he just nodded, shock still written on his face. You mirrored his nodding with a smile, “great, it can be a date.”

“A date?”

“Yeah, and you can continue telling me how pretty I am.”

Again he seemed to still be in a daze, “yeah…wait what?”

With that you packed your things and stood up from your spot, “okay I have to head somewhere now but we’ll make plans later, but um, I’ll see you later?”

He blinked a couple times coming out of the trance you seemed to put him under, “yeah.”

“I’ll see you,” you added, taking steps backwards as you exited the room.

“See you.”

“Okay—sorry,” you said to the chair you had accidentally bumped into while you were walking backwards and with that you gave a last wave before finally turning around.

As soon as you left the room in came Peter who surprisingly actually wasn’t listening.

“How’d that go? Did you make your move?”

“…yeah,” Kurt responded eyes stuck to where you last waved to him.

“Did you get a date?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that the only word you know right now?”

“Yeah.”

[little-bumblebeeee]

JD WITH A READER THAT GETS JEALOUS PLS !!!!!

JEALOUSY - JD x GN!reader

Short lil' blurb. No use of pronouns or Y/N, no explicit sexual orientations, mentions of food but no eating, not proofread. Sorry this took so long, not doing too well :)

Yeah, he's kind of a loner, but he's a pretty loner. People like Veronica Sawyer stare, and you have nothing against her but damn does she make you made sometimes. She doesn't know about you and JD, neither of you are popular enough for your relationship to get around. But that doesn't mean you don't get angry when you see JD at your usual corner table, sitting alone with a book as usual - except he's not alone. He's talking to some girl, and she appears to be flirting. Yet he's smiling slightly, not brushing her off. "So are you free tomorrow night?" The girl asks him.

And JD says yes. He said yes and now he has plans with some girl! So you sit down like nothing happened and place your tray down. It's not like you were planning to eat it anyways, school food is absolutely disgusting. What your focused on is your boyfriend, who looks up at you with a smile, acting like nothing happened. But did anything happen? You can help but wonder if you're just overthinking it. Either way, you still have to know.

JD seems to notice somethings up. "Is something wrong? Kurt and Ram give you trouble again?" He asks. You sigh almost dramatically before looking up. "Who was that girl?" You ask softly, trying to be subtle yet he still picks up on it. "She's my lab partner in science, she was asking if I'm free to meet her in the library so we can finish the project. If you wanna come, I can pick you up" He offers, gently taking your hand. It makes your heart beat a little less hard against your ribcage and you're finally able to take an actual breath in through your nose.

"No, I was just wondering" You say as he presses a kiss to your forehead. He smiles at you and wraps around your shoulder. "You know you're the only one for me. You're all I can trust" He says, the look in his eyes so sincere you can't possible overthink it. You open your mouth to apologize for being so possessive, but he seems to know it's coming. "Don't you even apologize. It's normal, it's good. It means you love me" He says gently.

"And I love you too, just so you know" He adds with a smile, nudging you slightly before going back to his book.

[mintmatcha]

the pursuit of silence (and all the noise along the way)

nanami kento x reader

part two: fissures (and where they shouldn't be)

CW: cisfem reader, Space AU (vaguely Star Wars. Vaguely), reader has a cybernetic limb. slow burn. Reader has an established nickname and is referred to using Miss and Mrs.

JJK AU MINORS DNI

masterlist

The ship you’re ushered to is much nicer than anything you’re used to flying. It’s sleek and polished like a dream-- there’s even that stiff, earthy, chemical smell of newly processed leather. Haibara and Itadori must be absolutely buzzing with jealousy; you've never touched anything this advanced, let alone either of them. 

 It takes a second for you to marvel over the system before you take your seat. Luckily, manual controls for all flying vehicles are pretty much standardized, so you easily flip yourself into gear, then the star ship. The engine hums, a tape of music crackles to life and you almost feel normal.

But this isn't like any of your normal loads. You’re used to cargo that doesn't move or talk, piles of who knows what that sit in the back. Special passengers are usually reserved for pilots that have that shine in their eyes, that desirable something you just don't have.

When you were new, they had you fly a Jedi to some forest planet. He was a man with hair darker than the sky and earlobes stretch wide enough your finger could have slipped through. He had ducked himself into the back of the ship without a word, not even sparing you a parting glance when he departed hours later. It was like you weren't even human-

or, based in the whispers around him, too human. 

Back then, the disdain that surrounded him cut deep, but those wounds have long since healed and the scars are thick enough to guard your feelings. 

Nanami boards, walks directly to you and says. "Thank you, I'm ready whenever you are."

Like it’s nothing.

He stands there, a bound booklet in hand, waiting for you to respond. A delicate pen is tucked into the binding, nib red with ink. That pen has touched papers more important than anything you’ll ever do with your life.

Nothing proper comes to mind, so you just nod to the Senator, kurt and quick.

The only other seat in the cockpit is to your right. You think that he can’t possibly want to sit there, so close to you, but then he does, buckling himself in like he could ever possibly belong here, with you. The trim of his coat brushes against your leg. It’s a simple, innocent touch, but  your brain immediately betrays you. It goes blank mid pretest, sputtering over the fact Nanami Fucking Kento is less than four feet away from you. A bundle of papers is tucked under his arm, a delicate pen trapped into the binding, and your heart soars at the sight of it. 

There’s a crackle over the transmission giving you clearance for take off. That’s just enough to snap you back into place. Work, you remind yourself, this is just work. You mumble a confirmation into the receiver and force a couple of even breaths.

A couple of switches and calmly flashing lights are all it takes to embark. Thrusters off, traction down, engines on and clear-- before you know it, you’ve slipped  out of the hanger and into the gravity free drift of space. Then, with a couple more steps, the slipstream of hyperspace pulls you in. 

Despite Haibara and Itadori’s protests, flying truly isn’t difficult. It’s a groove you slide into, a space that your brain clicks into, a version of yourself that just activates when you need it. Flying makes sense, more than anything on the ground ever did. 

Most importantly, space is quiet. It’s eerie, how it almost crackles with nothing, a fog of sounds that pass by too quickly for anyone to ever make out. It’s peace, it’s joy, it’s everything you wish you could hold in your fingers-

Senator Nanami sighs to himself and you are immediately, violently uncomfortable with the lack of words coming from your mouth.

“I’m sorry for the lack of official transport, sir,” you say, before you can stop yourself.

“Don’t be.” Nanami doesn’t look up from the paper he’s reading. His glasses sit above the ridge of his nose, angled low. It reminds you of an old man, but in a charming way. The angles of his face are classic and sharp, familiar in ways you’ve seen before and long to see again, but his nose is off kilter, bumped slightly at the top from a break that happened years ago.

“Haibara speaks highly of your abilities, Mrs. Nine,” he continues, tapping his pen against the paper. He pauses slightly, then circles something in bright red. The delicate curve of his wrist, the way his thick fingers so carefully hold together: how the mighty have fallen-- you’re finding this erotic somehow. You need to get laid the second you get back on base.

You’re staring. You snap your attention back to the front.

“Mei Mei also had good things to say about you,” he continues, “So far, I am not disappointed.”

Your ability to get off the base impressed him. The Senator must have low standards.

“Thank you, Mr. Senator.” You manage to keep your voice even and professional. Despite how strange your chest feels. 

“Nanami is fine, Mrs. Nine.”

“Miss.” You shift in your seat and the leather creaks under you with an embarrassing sound,  “It’s, uh- Miss. There's no Mr. Nine or anything.  Nine’s not even my name- it's just a call sign.”

Your hand slips off of the control. Your whites have gone pale from the pressure of squeezing. 

“‘Cause like, I’m Pilot 333, and three plus three plus three is nine. So, they call me Nine. Sometimes Niney.” You’re talking, but your brain has left the building.  “It’s stupid. Haibara came up with it when we were newbies and it stuck. I don’t even think people know my real name, to be honest.”

He hums a sound and it immediately silences you, jaw audible snapping shut. "It suits you, Miss Nine."

Your cheeks might be on fire. This is everything you ever wanted, and yet your brain is betraying you. The Senator -- no, Nanami, he’s letting you refer to him casually-- is so far about your station, so much better than you by employment alone, and yet he’s looking your way, expression neutral and yet, almost, perhaps, soft-

"I really like jizz,” you blurt out. 

Nanami slowly looks up over his glasses, eyebrows raised so high that his forehead creases a million times over. He parts his lips and then closes them with a befuddled sound, then opens them again.

"Excuse me?"

"Jizz?" you gesture around the cockpit, "The music-- it's called jizz."

"Oh," he clears his throat twice, then a third time, "On my planet, that is a colloquial term for- never mind. The music is fine. Please, don’t say jizz."

The next seven parsecs are almost completely silent, covered only by the upbeat swagger of jizz.

Lighting yourself on fire might be a less painful experience. 

The next four hours are marked by only a few distractions. Hyperspace is filled with the silence you used to crave, but you can’t focus on that. Instead, you’re lost in how the pit smells like some sort of sultry, woody tone, almost like Spice but with an herbier finish. It’s just a drop in the air, something that you almost have to search for, and that gives it that luxurious edge that most men miss. Restraint, you think, it’s applied with restraint.

You want to ask what scent he’s wearing, but you can’t find the nerve to speak again. 

You’re going to have to ask Haibara what jizz means.

Judging by the Senator’s pink cheeks, it’s nothing good.

Does jizz smell good?

Nanami hasn’t written anything for the better part of two hours when you blink into the outer orbits of his planet. The fall out of the pocket is a bit abrupt, bad enough you both get caught by your seatbelts. Mei Mei will scold you about that when you return. Usually you’re so smooth with it-- you blame the fact this is a new ship.

From a distance, the planet is just a dark, blanketed ball, hanging around a singular red sun. It’s massive, easily three times the size of your own planet-- twice the size of Coursant! A moonless planet, forever alone in the sky, it orbits all on its own.  

Somehow, you’re disappointed. This isn’t the jewel you were promised. There’s no strings of lights or flashing megas cities like the other vacation planets you’ve seen. It’s just quiet, simple, and storming.

“We are arriving.” You stress the ‘are’ a bit to be playful, but it doesn’t sound natural. He hums an agreement and you dive down.

The atmosphere is thicker than you imagined, but it’s no issue. Clouds have their tells- bumps where pockets of pressure are waiting to tilt your ship, smooth bits where the air is much colder than the rest. You’ve known how to speak their language since you first sat in this seat, so you listen and descend. The Nav systems buzz and crackle with an irritating amount of static, so you manually flip them off.  They weren’t going to get used anyway.

The clouds give way and you emerge into the planet proper. 

“Oh, Maker.”

“What's wrong?" Nanami’s head shoots up, grabbing his seatbelt in preparation,"I told you the Navs wouldn’t work-"

“No,” you cut him off, “It's just beautiful.”

Rolling hills go on as far as the eye can see, crescendoing into mountain ranges and wooded peaks, powdered by drifting white flakes. Snow. You've never seen snow in person before. Even through the quilted sky, fragments of sunlight illuminate golden soil, painting the world with a spectacular depth. A long time ago, on Naboo, you had seen someone bathe their entire canvas with ochre, brushstrokes so thick  the cotton canvas’ texture was lost. Then, with a mastery you didn’t think possible from droids, let alone organics, he built the scenery on top, forming art with only a backlight of sunshine. That art, purchased with too many credits and carried home wet, was nothing compared to this.

The craft hovers as you drink it in. Night is approaching, touching the edges of what you can see.

“I thought it was going to be like Canto Bight.” You swivel to get a better look. There’s dots of lights, simple towns scattered across the landscape like glow worms on their strings, “But it’s not at all.”

“The bigger cities are starting to look that way, but we’ve been passing legislation to protect the natural aspects.” Nanami’s voice is warm. He’s moved to the edge of his seat, straining and watching as if he’d never seen any of this before. “Our main revenue is tourism and it’s done our world so much good, but it means nothing if we lose the core of what this planet is.”

Snow vibrates in the air, carried upwards by the draft your vessel has created. It’s like hyperspace with its swirls and streaks, a simple beauty you forgot could exist. In the distance, beyond the curve of  the world, a blue glow tinges the horizon. A city, cloaked in the night that rolls in. It’s nothing compared to what’s in front of you, you’re sure.

"It's nothing special."

“Are you kidding?" you breathe,  “It's a gem.”

“Thank you.” You can see him turn to you in your peripheral, lingering for a long while before speaking. “Can you believe this is considered our worst season?”

“How could it possibly get better?”

Nanami doesn’t turn away, silently studying your profile. You can make out how his eyes, just as pale and sapphiric as the frozen landscape, bounce back and forth, searching for something in your features.

He doesn’t turn away.

Why doesn’t he turn away?

Panic that you���re being weird sets in again. Was that childish? Did you embarrass yourself without even knowing? Suddenly, your clothes feel coarse and cheap against your skin and the air feels unbearably hot. As much as you try to escape it, the scent of it must cling to you- that Outer Rim nobody stench.  

Of course it's strange that you're marveling. Thousands of tourists visit every year and you can bet that none of them care about the landscape. 

Oh, Maker. Nanami Kento is the one behind the spike in tourism. Insulting the city like that must have come off as an insult about him.

You long for the rainy surface of home, where the only thing you could smell was the iron rich mud. 

“Where should I land?” You try to regain your composure. The rims of your eyes burn a bit as an unknown cacophony of emotions begins to rise up. 

The man lingers a second more before sliding back into his chair, neck rolled back to watch the ceiling.

“Sixty clicks behind us.” 

His voice isn’t sweet anymore. 

The burn grows stronger. You never let your hopes rise, and yet they fall further still, dug into the ground under the boot heel of disappointment. 

. . . . . . . . .

The landing pad is carved out of a stretch of mountains. The dusted blanket of snow is pushed aside into uneven piles as your craft settles down, only slipping slightly against the iced over stone. The engine hums with an uneven thrum, pulsing then sputtering in a way you expect from a motorbike, not an advanced transport vessel. An unsettled feeling sits in your stomach as you flick through the power down procedures, sliding off the traction and turning off the friction reducers, cutting off fuel and limiting battery. 

Errors aren't common. There might not even be one, but something sticks in your gut like glue, refusing to be digested. 

Nanami seems unaffected. It's easy to chalk the uneasy nature of the landing to pilot error. He ghosts a finger over the papers once again, pretending to proofread once again. You doubt there's anything left for him to even discover in that text.

 Everything on the dash is green, happily blinking in placid paces. If something were wrong, you'd be seeing orange lights, stroking, or--

“Oh, shit."

Or that. You shoot up to examine the gauges more closely. One strip of lights right above you is completely dark, the lights burnt out. One of the fuel meters is powered all of the way down, arrow pointing past empty.

 Spaceships don't consume fuel the way a gasoline based engine does, they run partially on hypermatter: fragments of planetary core, augmented and altered in ways engineers couldn’t even begin to explain to you. The resulting thick slurry produces energy with such a high frequency that a ship can then enter lightspeed in hyperspace. Most ships can run on a sliver of it for lightyears, but the power supply isn’t endless. Cores do still need to be replaced quite frequently, especially nicer vehicles like this one. 

According to this little meter, yours should have been replaced a long time ago. “Oh, shit.”

The Senator sits up, gripping the arms of his chair. When he realizes you’re on the ground, he relaxes, but only barely. 

“Nothing major, just-” God, he’s going to think you’re incompetent. How did you not notice this before? The Out Station is one of the few places in the Inner Rim to easily refuel-- there’s no way you left with a battery so low.   “Uh-”

You’re trying to think and talk at the same time, but failing at both. You had to have checked this before you left. You had to. You had to.

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”

Apparently, you aren’t convincing. 

“I will be worrying about it, so please just tell me.”  Nanami closes his book with a clap.

“I think the hypermatter is almost depleted,” you admit, flicking the meter as if it’ll make the arrow move.  “Or there’s something wrong with the generator. I’m-- I’m not sure.”

“You aren’t sure?” Nanami parrots, voice pressed and deep.

“I’m a pilot, not a mechanic.” You try to walk away, stumbling over your seatbelt on the way. Above the doorway is a tiny toolbox, simple but effective for minor emergencies. Minor being the keyword. You can tighten a bolt, not fix a warp drive. “I’m just guessing."

The door slides open and the bite of cold air immediately eats into your cheeks and peels your lips, but you press forward, ignoring how your body immediately protests. Both your planet and the Out Station are tepid all year round; you knew snow was cold, but you didn’t realize cold could be painful. Those romantic snowflakes are crystalline weapons in the wind, cutting into your face. No wonder this isn’t considered ‘peak season.’ The cold snatches the breath from your lungs and the flimsy material of your fly suit does nothing to stop it as you jump to the ground. Snow is also slick and you just barely save yourself from falling on your ass. It takes everything in you to walk normally to the hull and begin unscrewing the flap.

Boot steps on the bridge surprise you. Wind tousled and perfectly bracing the weather, the Senator stands at the door, peeking down at you. He’s pulling on a thicker coat and gloves, things you didn’t even know he packed, as he tucks his chin into the fur trim. 

“It’s okay! I’ve got it covered!” you call. The weather might crumple him if he's not careful.

Nanami narrows his eyes as if he knows what you’re thinking and then jumps as well. He handles the ice with much more grace than you with no sign of shivering. Right- this is his home. You’re the one from a hot planet. 

“I just gotta look and make sure it’s not leaking, but I really can’t do anything beyond basic repairs,” you explain, teeth chattering between words, “Do you know any engineers that could possibly…?”

“The only place would be in the city," he says, coat pulled tight. He leans over to inspect, then shakes his head; the law is his wheelhouse, not this. “And I’m afraid that would cost you an arm and a leg.”

“Well, I can’t afford another leg," you blanch, "This one was 200 credits."

He stares at you blankly.

"Because my--"  Bad joke. Instead of explaining, you go back to work.

A couple more twists and the hull pops off suspiciously easy in your hands. Not a good sign. The wiring isn’t neatly draped as it should be, but tangled, the plastic casings cracked and faded. When you push them aside, bits of red and blue crumble into your palm and even more descend into the depths of the engine.  Your legs are bouncing with shivers, the muscles twitching desperately as you scramble for answers. When the way is clear, you shimmy your torso into the hole, moving more bits and pieces until the hyperdrive is fully exposed. 

“Be careful,” The Senator warns. 

The parts of a spaceship are complicated, filled with superconductors and alluvial dampers and inertia controls. You aren’t entirely sure which part is which, but you know the hypermatter core.

And you know it’s not supposed to look like that.

Fragmented glass still holds its shape, but the broken bits are opalescent with pearled beads of liquid. You dip a finger into it and your skin vibrates, physically shaking so hard that the edges of where you begin and the world ends are untraceable.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Your breath curls up as you speak, “Yeah, she’s leaking. Damn.” Cursing makes you feel better, “Damn, damn, damn, shit, it’s eaten into the stellar fuel container too."

There's no way this thing can run. It can't even hold fuel.  Hopefully it holds heat well enough that you don't freeze over before help can come. On second thought- maybe it would be nice to freeze to death. Sounds better than dealing with Mei Mei when you get back.

"It must have been on the fritz and the last slip out of hyper must have pushed it over the edge," you reason. 

“I’ll contact your Out Station and have them send over a new ship to get you home,” Nanami says, shuffling closer. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

A chill has already set into your knuckles, stiff and harsh. You peel back another panel, the metal almost crumbling in your weakened grip. Maker, you almost killed a fucking Senator. If this trip was any longer, you could have been absolutely space dust. 

“It’s okay, sir, I can handle this,” you lie as you blindly twist at spark plugs and knock against the chipped core. Yup-- that sound means this is way above your paygrade.

“You don’t have a jacket and it’s freezing.” Nanami steps towards you, bending over to see for himself,  “Besides the point, hypermatter is toxic. If there’s a leak, you shouldn’t be- well, don’t touch it.”

You pull back your hands from the glass. The Station’s probably been leeching this shit into your water for years; a little more can’t hurt you too much, but the blonde doesn’t seem to agree. He’s on you in three wide strides, taking you by the jumper’s pocket and firmly pulling you from the hull. When you’ve been freed, he clutches your elbow and half bends, just enough to grab a handful of snow and dump it into your bare hand. At first, you feel nothing but fine grit, but as he quickly brushes away the snow and melted bits to replace it with another, the buzzing in your skin pauses. The following chill drives into your senses like a knife. You curl on to your toes reflexively with a whine, but his grip holds you in place. Your other hand clamps down on something as your whole body clenches, curling in towards him reflexively. Maker, you might actually freeze to death; the panic that was keeping you warm was faded, draining through your now sopping wet hand.

Nanami isn’t fazed by your antics. He stays focused on cleaning your hand with handful after handful until he’s satisfied. With every huff and grumble, a smoke of his breath whisps away, brushing by your nose. It’s how you realize you’re so close to him, practically breast to breast. 

“You’re worse than Haibara, I swear,” he chides and his warm breath tickles your cheek again. His teeth close on the leather of his free hand and tug, popping it off of his hand. Rather awkwardly, he jams it on to your hand, none of the fingers finding their holes, “Touching literal poison-- do you have a death wish?”

You're frozen in place and you're not sure you can completely blame the weather.

 “A little,” you manage.

He shoots you a glare. Frost litters his eyelashes. 

“Come on,”  he tugs, “We're going."

"The ship-” The hull is open and collecting snow, the metal already cold enough for ice to stick. 

"-isn’t going to get fixed today." he finishes, “Standing out here isn’t going to fix that.”

“I--” Objections don’t come to mind. The weather must be eating your brain cells too.

“Fine,” you relent, “We’ll call inside.”

“Good.” Nanami nods, “Now Iet go.”

It takes you a second to process. What?”

Nanami gestures down. “Let go of my coat.” 

You realize your hand didn’t clutch the air, but him. Your joints protest as you force your fingers open, releasing the front of his coat, but Nanami doesn't immediately pull away. His gloved hand finds yours, smoothing the knuckles in an overly tender act.

"Your skin is already chapped," he notes under his breath. He frees his other glove and slips in onto you, then goes for the zipper of his coat. Before you can protest, he's gathering the hide and fur in his hands. 

“I couldn’t possibly-” 

“I am the Galactic Senator of this planet,” Nanami says firmly, but with no bite. He throws the jacket over your shoulders. It's oversized and long on him; on you, it trails the ground.  “And I insist that you acquiesce."

Without protection, the weather is getting to him, stripping his cheeks pink. The fog of his breath sticks to his glasses, crystalline patterns forming across their plane. The cold has reclaimed its beauty once again.

“I don't know what acquiesce means," you say, "But okay, Senator."

Fine lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “I told you to call me Nanami.”

“Yes, Nanami.”

 He slides the zipper of the coat up. "Let's go, Miss Nine."

part one | part three

[rainebelowzero]

Requests you say?👀 What about something with jealousy. Like someone's flirting with Kurt and he's too oblivious to know, let alone reject the person and maybe it ends with reader blowing Kurt's back out in the back of his spree👀👀

Hopefully this is good 😭

kurt kunkle x jealous male reader 😳😳

cws: jealousy, possessiveness, biting, car sex, mention of possibly being caught at the end

Okay, this sucks. You think, sitting in a booth at some club. Kurt had to drive his dad there and you got dragged into going since you were already in the car. He had offered to drop you off first, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn't want you to leave him so you begrudgingly agreed to come along.

You were supposed to leave 30 minutes ago, but Kurt got pulled into a conversation with one of the more popular people there, so you decided to get comfortable, sitting next to them quietly on your phone.

Eventually, someone's voice grabs your attention. You look up at Kurt and notice a woman sitting next to him, leaning into him. She laughs loudly at something Kurt said, brushing hair out of his eyes.

He looks confused and laughs it off, still continuing the conversation with the other person from earlier. You ignore it, assuming Kurt would probably say something if she went too far.

You go back to scrolling for a few minutes, until you look over and see that she had her arm wrapped around him, her face extremely close to his.

You clear your throat loudly, standing up.

"Kurt." You say. He turns to you as you grab his arm, pulling him away from the woman. "Let's go. Now."

He doesn't question it at first, nodding. He can barely get a goodbye out before you're dragging him outside, ignoring the confused looks on the faces of everyone that was sitting with you two.

"H-hey, what's—?" He questions, getting cut off by you unlocking his car and shoving him into the backseat.

You climb in after him, pulling him into a heated kiss as he clings to the front of your shirt. You bring your lips lower, kissing his neck while your hands roam around his body. You bite down, making sure to leave a mark that's easily visible. Kurt gasps, moaning softly.

"Were you doing that on purpose?" You ask, still nipping at his neck.

"Doing what?" Kurt responds.

"You let that woman flirt with you, Kurt."

"I–I didn't know she was–"

"Bullshit. I think that was intentional and you just wanted my attention." You say, moving your knee between Kurt's legs, pressing into his crotch. He gasps as you continue to leave marks along his neck. He tries to grind into your leg, but you pull it away the moment you notice, and he lets out a huff.

"Come on, I–" He's cut off again, this time by you biting down on his neck harder than before, making him moan louder.

"I'll make sure you don't forget who you belong to." You growl into his ear.

Kurt whimpers quietly as you pull his jeans and underwear off, tossing them somewhere on the floor of the car. You grab him by the chin, pulling him into a rough, heated kiss. He kisses back just as eagerly.

You wrap a hand around his cock, stroking gently. You feel it twitch, getting harder. Kurt squirms underneath you, his face becoming flushed as you spread his legs. You take your own pants off, resting your cock on his thigh next to his.

He looks up at you, his brown eyes wide and desperate. You spit into your hand, using it to lube up your cock. You press the tip against his hole, pushing in slowly. His hands fly up to your shoulders, squeezing tightly as a whimper falls from his lips.

You give a few slow, deep thrusts before speeding up, grabbing Kurt's hips roughly and pulling him into you to meet your thrusts. He moans loudly, and then slaps a hand over his mouth, remembering you were in a car, even if the area he was parked in was pretty empty.

You lean back down, lifting his shirt and leaving bites along his chest. He tries but mostly fails to quiet the desperate whines each time your cock pounds into him.

The way you bite down on him drives Kurt crazy. The fact that you care to make sure each and every bite leaves a mark that'll last for a while, marking him, claiming him as yours and yours only. He knows they'll be a pain in the ass to cover in the morning, but he doesn't care. A large part of him wants to leave them as they are, showing off to everyone who sees him that you own him.

On one particular thrust, your cock prods at his prostate. His hips buck forward as he groans. You push into him again, purposely hitting the same spot. A string of unintelligible whimpers and pleads fall from Kurt's lips, the hand that was covering his mouth moves to hold onto the seat, your arm, anything he can get a hold of to ground himself.

His mind starts to get foggy, he can barely think as you stretch him open on your thick cock, your nails digging into his hips. His body jerks, throwing his head back while he pants heavily. You notice that he's close to cumming, so you slow down. He whines in response.

"Tell me who you belong to." You demand, snapping your hips forward once.

"You! I b-belong to you, I'm yours, only– only yours!" He cries out.

You hold his hips down firmly, continuing your relentless pace, pounding into him and hitting his prostate with each thrust. Kurt wails, no longer caring if anyone hears him. He chants your name like a prayer between gasping moans.

"I'm– I'm gonna c-cum!" He chokes out. You wrap a hand around his cock, stroking quickly. He writhes under you, letting out a strangled, high pitched moan of your name before spurting his cum over his stomach and your hand.

You leave one last bite on his collarbone as you bury yourself deep inside of him and release yourself into him. He whimpers as you fill him up, clenching weakly around you.

The both of you breathe heavily, and you pull Kurt into a kiss, gently this time, still inside of him. He whimpers softly, returning his hands to gripping your arms.

For a moment, he panics, thinking about the fact that someone probably could've seen or heard you two, but then decides he's too exhausted to care as you clean the both of you up.

[wanderingaldecaldo]

Just missed Wednesday by a hair but whenever, right? Tagged by a bunch of people over the last few weeks: @morganlefaye79 @streetkid-named-desire (twice three times now lol) @merge-conflict @gloryride @ghostoffuturespast @elmknight @ouroboros-hideout @olath124 @chevvy-yates @themermaidriot

Modding has been my main focus lately. I spent a lot of time reworking the cutoff hoodies to learn the latest ArchiveXL features, and I'm glad I did! It automated quite a bit of the tedious part where I am prone to mistakes. It also meant the next two projects have moved much faster!

Nearing the testing phase are these gorgeous sock garters that were made entirely from scratch by the multitalented @blackrevell! I'm working with @dustymagpie to release them under our Richard Ripper Collection label. Can't wait to see all those slutty ankles, gentlemen.

Also in the works, an Archive XL conversion of my boot recolors! Someone asked about the possibility and while I was mucking about with the socks, I realized I could cannibalize parts of the Mexican boots to make a metal cap and harness. Next up: transferring normals and creating some mlsetups. Seems like a good opportunity to learn how to use dynamic AXL to mix and match harness, caps, and boots.

Not pictured: Mitch eyeing that booty; also, me crying while debugging.

As for writing, there has been some progress on the standalone presidential PWP, which I will spare you, gentle reader. The end is in sight and I have an exit strategy. If I Buckle Down ™️I might be able to knock out the rest of the first draft in one sitting. The Tower-inspired one is still bubbling along at a steady pace of a few half-legible chicken scratches a night. It's still mostly contained to paper, though I'll start transcribing it once the PWP is done.

A few (raw) paragraphs I can share are from the magazine article:

It's clear Myers feels affection for the merc who saved her life, but only time will tell if she mirrors the feelings of the younger woman. Myers, of course, has been linked to numerous high profile partners, though has never confirmed any relationships. Her rich laughter fills the room when I ask whether Kurt Hansen's motivations include jealousy over an ex, and she answers with a full politician smile. "Is that old rumor still floating around?"

Tagging with the usual no pressure... everyone who tagged me plus rev and kitty since you're here 😘 plus @luvwich @koda-shoulda-woulda-but-didnt @mynonsenseistingling @theviridianbunny @chessalein and YOU! If you wanna share something you're working on, share it and tag me!

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

hello its been a long time l havent seen any long fic l am on a holiday and l’d like to know longest M rated klaine fics preferably on fanfiction.net its really nice to read on the app but searching is very hard thank you so much! and happy holidays!

Ok, longest M rated Klaine stories on fanfic (in English!) ~ Jen

Kurt and Blaine, A love story by sweetgirlgml

This is how I picture canon Kurt and Blaine s relationship since the first day. There are few characters of my own creation thrown in the mix for fun purposes. Lots of romance, some laughter and a few tears. Basically a shameless ode to Klaine fluff. You ve been warned so I won t be held responsible for dentists bills, just saying. Chapters: 72 - Words: 465,199 -

~~~~~

Crowded House by kellyb321

All of your favorite Warblers and a few new faces, too. Follow our boys as they start their lives in NYC, each couple facing their own challenges, heartbreak, self-discovery and redemption. Stick around as they realize support, acceptance and most importantly, true love can all be found in one big Crowded House. Heavy on the Klaine and Niff. Chapters: 117 - Words: 924,400

~~~~~

Another Tomorrow by  xCaellachx

How many times will it take for Blaine to get it right, when he doesn't even know what to fix? Supernatural elements. Chapters: 47 - Words: 167,708

_____

Ambassadors Abroad by jcrissrid

Klaine, The Warblers and New Directions find themselves getting a trip to Europe to sing for 2 weeks this summer. Perfect summer romance for Klaine. Some smut, but M for possible later chapters Chapters: 75 - Words: 243,903

~~~~~

Westerville Abbey by@hkvoyage

Blaine, the spare heir of Westerville, sets out to fulfill his duty of finding a wife. He soon realizes he is more attracted to the new footman, Kurt, who has just arrived to work alongside his father, Westerville Abbey's butler. Will Blaine and Kurt overcome 1910s England's class differences? Will their forbidden love survive WW1? A Downton Abbey inspired historical Klaine Chapters: 64 - Words: 249,587

and sequel Life in the Big Apple By @hkvoyage

Sequel to Westerville Abbey. Kurt and Blaine are reunited, but their happily ever after comes with a whole new set of challenges: relationship hiccups, jealousy, sabotage, war memories, and family troubles. Yet with love and perseverance, they can make it through. A Klaine historical AU set in the 1920s. Chapters: 50 - Words: 201,545

~~~~~

Distance makes the heart grow fonder by Grace Ryan

Kurt is back at McKinley. Klaine are trying to make things work despite the distance. Rated M for fluffiness and future physical contact. ; Not really great at summaries. Chapters: 87 - Words: 223,369

[bludpudding]

Do you have any favorite and/or least favorite fanfic/fandom tropes or HCs for Donald Pierce or the Corinthian??

alright here’s my (+ @breedaboyd 's because we are a package deal) big long list of hcs

Donnie

• he/him, gay

• trans masc!! has a big cup size but his chest never really gave him dysphoria so he doesn’t see the need to get top surgery. or bottom surgery. really the only thing he’s done for his transition medically is take T shots. rarely wears binders and sticks to sports bras for support

• monster clit energy

• comfortable with some feminine terms as a way of reclaiming his past (ex: yes you can call him ‘queen’ and ‘miss’ he owns that shit now that he’s confident in who he is)

• ex military - mad scientist - engineer - mercenary combo. not really a headcanon but I feel the need to emphasize how much of a powerhouse he is

• reinforced metal spine and skull after an accident caused parts of his skin to be burned away (in addition to getting his arm amputated when he was in military service. different incidents). he made all of his cybernetic parts and manages them all himself, except in rare cases where he may need assistance. typical mad scientist things ykyk

• his type is huge, muscly, guard-dog men he can keep on a leash (Logan was the blueprint but we all saw how that worked out. he’s been a huge wolverine fan since he was in high school)

• gold fangs!!!!

• his hatred for mutants stems from jealousy. he knows he’ll never be one of them and in a rapidly advancing world that deeply scares him. he’s obsessive over keeping his cybernetic parts up to date and top of the line to combat his fear of being left behind. (-based on what boyd said in interviews about him)

• scariest power bottom you’ve ever seen in your life. miss pencil sharpener pussy

• size queen. will insult your dick size in broad daylight

• made a metal dick for himself once but honest to god it’s more of a weapon than a toy. do NOT let him use the strap

• all of the reavers want him so goddamn bad. why else do you think they’re so loyal to him they’re after that cyborg pussy

• he did NOT die and lives happily in his poly marriage with Kurt Ackerman (werewolf mutant oc) and Eddie Brock (yes, the venom guy) up in their cabin in Canada. he keeps them both leashed and wears the pants in the relationship at pretty much all times.

Corinthian

• pronouns up for debate honestly but I know he at least uses he/him. gay. faggot, even.

• not trans masc in the traditional ftm human sense but more so born genderless and consumes masculinity. it’s complicated but he’s somewhere close to male.

• his body is naturally androgynous (has a masculine frame but has feminine sex characteristics)

• has been dominant for most of his life but deep down wants to find someone he’s comfortable enough to be submissive with. being dominant allows him to avoid being too vulnerable and as a result he tends to default to that. the second Cori struggles very badly with this internal conflict and ends up avoiding sexual situations as much as he possibly can.

• paints his nails (this is basically canon fight me)

• his freckles have constellations hidden in them. a very good design choice on Dream’s behalf

• HE IS NOT RIPPED. HE IS PLAYED BY BOYD HOLBROOK HE IS SOFT AND SQUISHY. NO ABS.

• has always wanted to be a father and hence has a tendency to steal children and treat them as his own. this is all Dream’s fault because he programmed Cori to be Daniel’s caretaker a little too intensely. as far as I’m concerned this is the canon explanation for why he’s like that

• fairytale princess. has a tendency to be assigned talking animals as his babysitters. once again not even a headcanon he’s just like that

• this whole post I made about the dangerous cavern of his pussy

• lactose intolerant but still consumes dairy anyway he just like me fr

• gave Matthew gay slur rights because he thinks it’s funny

• Morpheus didn’t originally intend for Cori to be as horny as he is that’s all Desire’s fault for fucking around in the workshop

• his eyes are very sensitive PLEASE be gentle with his eyes

• wiggles his whole body like a long wet noodle when he’s happy because he was tragically born without a tail. regardless he can purr

if that ain’t enough to quench your thirst my entire blog is here 24/7 we have an array of hcs scattered throughout the isles

[shadowphoenixrider]

Sins of the Present

(A visit from an old friend puts things into perspective for Gambit and his relationship with Shadow. But time might be running out... Brace yourselves, we will be entering angst country; this is but the short taster. And also an excuse for me to steal that scene in X-Men 97 near wholesale and paste it here. Enjoy!)

"An' what brings de Nightcrawler 'round to our next of de woods?" Gambit grinned, raising an eyebrow as he settled an arm over the short furry mutant's shoulders.

Said mutant offered the Cajun a toothy smile, a playful spark to his golden eyes. His arrow-headed tail slowly wagged back and forth like a lazy metronome.

"Can a person not drop in to see their friends when they're in the area, Gambit?" Nightcrawler asked, arching his own brow. "Especially to see the sister he didn't know he had."

"Sure," Rogue smiled, "but I think the question Remy's askin' is why ya happen to be 'round here. It's a long way from the Alps."

"Ah! Well, after the monastery was damaged, I have been taking the opportunity to explore new horizons, and use my gifts to help where I can." He explained. "It just so happens my travels brought me here."

"How's that been goin'?" Rogue asked, trepidation echoing through her words.

"It has been a...mixed experience." Nightcrawler admitted. "It can be difficult for others to see past my appearance. I have had to resort to helping many from the shadows."

Movement at the corner of Gambit's eye drew his attention up to the landing above, and to the young woman lingering at the top of the stairs, peering down at the activity below. Speaking of shadows... A grin stretched across his lips, and he took the opportunity to stride away from the conversation.

"Shadow, it's good to see ya!" He called up to her. "C'mon down, we got a friend visitin'."

She hesitated a moment, before venturing down the stairs to join them, smiling shyly.

"Hi..."

Nightcrawler's eyes brightened with curiosity.

"Ah, a new face! And who might you be, Fraulein?" he asked, holding his hand out to her.

"My name's Shadow." She replied, taking his hand easily to shake it. "I'm kinda the newest member here. Sort of."

"Picked her up afta a scuffle with the Friends of Humanity." Rogue added, smiling. "An' like stray cat afta a meal, she's stuck around."

"I'm kinda the resident healer." Shadow said. "I can talk to and control cells to help regenerate wounds and suchlike."

"A very noble and selfless use of your powers. My name is Kurt Wagner, although others know me as Nightcrawler," he said, his German accent soft around his words. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Shadow." He raised her hand to kiss it, Shadow flushing bright red.

White hot jealousy suddenly flashed through Gambit, startling him. Where had that come from? Why should he be jealous of Kurt; this was just his way with women, nothing meant about it. And Shadow was always shy whenever people were forward to her like that - it didn't mean anything.

Not that Shadow was even his. Not really. They were just friends. Friends who fooled around with each other. A friend he was in love with.

He cursed internally - this had happened with Rogue too. Not that her old boyfriend Cody's reappearance hadn't been suspicious on its own (and he'd been right to suspect him), but Gambit wasn't stupid - he'd felt the same jealous flames lick under his skin at that time. The very same for Archangel too.

The jealous streak he possessed wasn't a new phenomenon, and it was one he could keep under control most times. Indeed, he'd felt nothing but warm pride in how close Shadow was with her other friends (and perhaps a little yearning too). Her hugging Ebak, Ber, Myst and Lemming barely sparked anything in him.

Yet the memories of the club kept flickering back into his mind's eye. Of Tom, furious at him for just showing concern for Shadow. Getting so angry he tried to glass them. Shadow's tears against his back as he drove them home.

For all Rogue's words that he was nothing like Tom, he sure was following the same beats.

"Sugah?" Her voice broke him from his thoughts. She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. "Ya alright? You look a thousand miles away."

Shadow was also watching him with concern, beautiful blue eyes wide and alert, ready to help as always.

I don't deserve her.

"I uh, Gambit jus' remembered he need to check somethin' in de kitchen," he said, taking a step back. "Might be a while. Don' wait up."

"Alright, mein freund." Kurt replied, smiling. "I hope I will see you shortly?"

"Sure will!" Gambit said, already taking his leave in quick strides. "See ya 'round!"

Merde.

---

Gambit didn't know what kind of climbing plant had been allowed to scale the south side of the X-Mansion in such thick abundance, but he thanked the fact it existed and kept its leaves during the autumn months. It made perfect cover for him to watch the comedy of errors unfolding down below.

For reasons only known to them, a family of ducks had decided to make the swimming pool their new home, which was less than ideal for all involved. So Shadow had taken it upon herself to herd the family out least away from the pool, and hopefully towards the lake, which would be a much better fit.

It turned out that in a contest between a five foot three mutant and collection of ducks, the ducks were winning. No matter how wide Shadow spread her arms, how much she tried to anticipate their dodges, the ducks refused to leave the water, often managing to just lead her in circles.

Yes, he really should have been a gentleman and helped her, but it was a lot more amusing to watch, and listen to Shadow try in vain to verbally convince them to follow her lead, as well as scold them when they avoided her.

It was a very charming trait of hers; she would talk to anything, including herself, and numerous times Gambit had walked in on Shadow scolding an appliance that wasn't working, or gently reassuring that one washer dryer that always violently shuddered to the point verging on death that it could do it, just keep going. She was like that with animals too, talking gently to the wasps she would shoo out the windows, the pigeons that bumbled near her feet; even the spiders she was frightened of would get her talking semi-kindly, warning them to stay away as she didn't want to hurt them in her terror.

That was who Shadow was, really. Kind. There was a softness to her that Gambit once believed could only exist in the naive, those who hadn't seen the ugly underbelly of people. Yet Shadow was no innocent; she might not have physical scars, but she carried mental, emotional ones - she knew the depths of cruelty. Instead of closing herself down and away from it, though, she had dared to stay open. Dared herself to keep caring.

She was a healer in power and soul.

Gambit sighed softly, the breath wisping out of his nose.

She was far too good and kind than he deserved. She deserved better.

A whiff of sulphur on the wind was the only warning Gambit got before a voice in his ear whispered:

"For a man named 'Gambit', your poker face is very poor."

"Merde!" He swore, only just managing to keep his purchase on the roof. He shot a murderous glare at the blue elf that had appeared over his shoulder, grinning unrepentantly. "How about ya mind ya beeswax, furball!" He turned his gaze back to Shadow below. It seemed like Rogue had taken pity on her, and had come to assist. "Didn't go ringin' for no priest."

"Perhaps not." Kurt replied softly. "But I have eyes, Gambit. I can see that Shadow means a lot to you." He tilted his head, tail waving back and forth. "Which begs the question: why are you up here, watching her from afar, rather than helping?"

"Looks like she and Rogue have it under control." He replied. Indeed, things were going much better with two instead of one, especially when that person could fly. "'Sides. Can appreciate de view from here."

Kurt said nothing for a moment, and Gambit hoped he'd dropped the subject. No such luck.

"She spoke highly of you, know."

Gambit's gaze immediately whipped back to him.

"She did?" He blinked, realizing his mistake when Kurt grinned. "I-I mean, of course she did. I did save her from that fils de puntain, after all."

"Ja, but it was more than that, Remy." Kurt said, moving closer. "She speaks of your prowess and your kindness in taking care of her as she got used to living here. But I can see and hear between the lines. Shadow lights up talking about you. Admiration paints her words. She blushes when you ask about you and her. She cares for you, mein freund."

His golden eyes bored into Gambit's black and red. "Indeed, it would not surprise me if she loves you."

Gambit's shoulders jerked as if he'd been shot, and he immediately crushed the emotion that threatened to leak out. He looked away, letting out a rueful laugh.

"Hah! I doubt dat." He puffed his chest out. "Scoundrels like me? We too busy for love. Too busy sinnin'." Even to his ears, his bravado couldn't hide the bitter taste on his tongue.

"There is no love without sin." Kurt spoke, calmly. "Love is best measured in what we forgive."

Gambit's gaze fell back down to pool below. The ducks had now been successfully herded away, Shadow thanking Rogue before giving her a careful hug, making sure their thick hair shielded their skin from touching.

Hope, small and feeble, bloomed in his heart.

"You really think she might love me?" He asked quietly.

"Only she could answer that." Kurt replied, equally quiet. "But, if it reassures you...Yes. I think she might."

Gambit swallowed hard, his heart starting to beat a fast tattoo under his breast. Could she, maybe...?

The two women parted from each other, saying something to one another, before Rogue began to walk away, back towards the mansion. Shadow lingered for a moment, her gaze out towards the grounds beyond.

"Go to her, Remy." Kurt urged. Gambit nodded, glancing back to his friend.

"Thank you," he said. The Nightcrawler gave him a smile, before 'bamf'ing away in a puff of dark purple smoke.

Gambit took a steeling breath, before he carefully scaled down the wall, jumping down as soon as he could. The sound of his landing drew Shadow's attention, and she turned towards him, eyes wide with surprise.

"Where did you come from?" She asked, a humourous lilt to her voice.

"Always from where ya least expect, mon amie." He replied, grinning. Nerves hummed through him like his powers, except they were also causing butterflies to swarm madly in his stomach. "Whatcha doin' out here?"

"Some ducks mistook the pool for the lake." Shadow explained. "I tried to get them to see reason, but apparently it was falling on deaf ears, least 'til Rogue arrived and helped me convince them otherwise."

"Good to hear." Gambit nodded, his heart pounding hard, only half-listening as he tried to piece his words together. He was going to say it this time, he really was. "Hey, Shadow, I been meaning to talk to ya 'bout somethin'. Somethin' important."

"Oh?" She blinked up at him, eyes wide with her full attention. "What about?"

Gambit took a breath, wetting his lips.

"Well, ya see, I-"

"Guys!" Scott's voice interrupted them, the urgency in his tone making them look towards where he was standing in the doorway. "I think you need to come and see this, ASAP."

Gambit almost wanted to scream bloody murder, but something about the look on Scott's face managed to contain his anger. He and Shadow glanced at each other, before following him into the main room, where the TV was on, centring on a news report from the government. All the other X-Men were there, including Professor Xavier, whose expression was grave.

"What's goin' on?" Gambit asked.

"Henry Gyrich is attempting to use his governmental contacts to push through anti-mutant legislation." Xavier explained, his eyes fixed on the screen. "It is known as the Mutant Containment Bill."

"Dat don't sound good." Gambit murmured.

"That's another word for internment camps, isn't it?" Shadow said quietly. "Like they did with Japanese citizens during the Second World War."

"The very same." Beast nodded. "I have noticed that the rhetoric used to justify those is similar if not exactly the same as what Gyrich is using now."

A chill crept over Gambit's skin, especially when he glanced to Shadow, who now hugging herself tightly. He'd had a taste of internment and the slavery linked to it, and didn't want to experience that again. And certainly not have any of his other friends experience it too - it had torn him up to see Jubilee, all but a child, in a suppression collar and forced to labour, and Storm to be imprisoned in her worst nightmare.

To watch it happen to Shadow?

Bile churned in his stomach.

"I will need to fight this legislation with everything I have." Xavier was saying. "I will require a team to go with me to these debates. They will be long and arduous, especially against an opponent as consumed by his hatred as Gyrich is." The Professor turned to the group. "But I must. The freedom of all mutants is resting on me. This bill must be defeated."

A chorus of nods from the assembled group. "Cyclops, I trust you can assemble a team?"

"Of course, Professor." He nodded. "I'll let you know shortly."

"Thank you. If you'll please excuse me, I need to prepare myself." And with that, Xavier left the room. The others split off as well, muttering anxiously among themselves.

"Shit." Shadow breathed, running a hand through her hair. "I...I think I need to call my parents. A-And my friends."

"Go do it, petite." Gambit rested a hand on her back. "Jus' in case this don't work out."

Shadow made to step away, before she hesitated.

"Wait. Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me, Remy?" She asked, looking up at him.

Gambit winced, smiling weakly. It not longer felt like the right time.

"No, chère," he said, gently pushing her back. "Go speak to ya folks. It nothing dat can't wait a little longer. 'Til all dis be over."

She looked up at him uncertainly, before nodding, walking off to find the mansion's phone.

Gambit would soon come to regret those words.

[daisyishedwig]

I know it's late, but it's still Wednesday so here's a little snippet from my Sebklaine fic. This fic will mostly be Kurtbastian centric, but this is a little Seblaine scene I've been working on that I'm really enjoying.

“So,” Sebastian says, sliding up to Blaine at the bar. He does not miss the way Blaine’s spine goes rigid, but he does elect to ignore it. “Kurt is having a grand old time dancing with your friend Trouty Mouth,” Blaine presses his tongue into his cheek and shakes his head, “which means I am down a dance partner, so…” Blaine simply glares at Sebastian from under his eyelashes which makes him look unfairly attractive, despite the annoyance. “Dance with me?” Sebastian finishes. Blaine looks him up and down with pursed lips, making Sebastian feel like he might actually have a chance, but then… “No,” Blaine says simply, turning back to his drink. Sebastian sighs and sits heavily on the stool next to Blaine.  “That wasn’t an invitation to join me, Sebastian,” Blaine says, downing the rest of his drink and raising his hand to request another from the bartender. “Why do you hate me so much?” Sebastian asks, ignoring the venom in Blaine’s voice. Blaine rolls his eyes. “I don’t hate you.” Sebastian scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Sweet little Blaine isn’t capable of such dark emotions, he’s much to kind for that.” Blaine’s hand tightens around his whiskey glass and he flexes his jaw, his whole face pinched in aggravation.  “It’s clearly not jealousy,” Sebastian continues, “because you have had no qualms about Kurt flirting with Elliot or Sam. So clearly, it’s just me. So what did I do? Why does my existence upset you so much?” Sebastian isn’t unused to being disliked. A lot of people dislike him. He’s an asshole and very self aware. But Blaine. Blaine likes everyone. Blaine has a smile for everyone in his vicinity. But when Sebastian is around? His whole face shutters like he’s slamming a ‘closed for business’ sign on the window anytime he approaches.  “The fact that you don’t even remember–” Blaine starts but Sebastian cuts him off with a wave of his hand.  “Oh don’t be such a child, Anderson. If I did something wrong, tell me about it, don’t play mind games.” Blaine grits his teeth and Sebastian sees genuine rage flicker across his face for a second before Blaine spins on the stool to face him. He always thought Blaine’s eyes were pools of molten gold, but now they’re solid and frozen and he understands how chilly the metal can be.  “You’ve been trying so hard to get in my pants, but you haven’t even realized you’ve already been in them.”

I'm going to tag @calsvoid, @sperrywink, @lusthurts, @cryscendo, @wowbright,

@annepi-blog, @backslashdelta, and @bitbybitwrites

Also @porcelainvino, @esilher, and @mynonah for art if you would like?

And @kurtsascot because even though you're on vacation it feels weird to not tag you in a WIP Wednesday, even if you'll probably not participate

[mutantblues]

It’s the 24th of June, when one of the wagon-wheels breaks. Somehow it feels like an outdated problem, but everything in this corner of Bavaria feels a little outdated, so maybe that’s just fitting.

The travelling Jahrmarkt comes to a full stop just short of a small village, and the people start filtering out of the wagons and carts to solve their little problem and stretch their legs. Kurt wishes he could join them; he spent all day cramped up in his mother’s fortune-telling wagon, and all he wants is to walk around.

But their arrival near the village doesn’t go unnoticed for long, and soon a handful of villagers, drawn out by the sudden commotion, come to check on what is going on. They seem like nice people, striking up conversation and offering help, even though it is not needed, but Kurt is still Kurt, and mother reminds him to stay in the wagon and not come outside. The nicest people can turn horrible, if they get scared.

It’s not like the wagon is extremely uncomfortable, but it’s hot and stuffy, and the summer sun burns down on the Jahrmarkt with a vengeance. If Kurt could at least open one of the windows. But mother insists, that that could be dangerous as well. What if one of the villagers gets curious and throws a glance inside? Stay inside, stay quiet, stay unseen.

He should be used to it by now. And maybe he is, but it’s not easy, and it doesn’t get easier.

Through a crack in the old wood, Kurt can see Stephen and Jimaine. A boy from the village has joined them in the overgrown grass next to the road. He seems to be around their age, maybe a little younger, but neither of his siblings seems to mind. They are playing catch.

Kurt bits his lip until it hurts and tries not to be jealous.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair! But somehow nobody seems to care, what a small blue boy considers to be fair.

By the time the wheel is fixed, evening has rolled in. The sun is setting and one of the farmers offers the Jahrmarkt to stay on one of his fields for the night. Free of charge. Truly nice folk… Kurt still wishes they would leave.

When Stephen and Jimaine come inside again, they are flushed and out of breath and smiling from ear to ear. Kurt tries to match their energy. He’s not quite sure that he succeeds. His siblings tell him what they learned from the village boy.

There’s a celebration tonight. In fact, there’s a celebration in the entire area Johannisfeuer, they call it.

Jamaine says that all through the night a giant fire will burn, but she can’t exactly tell him why. Truth be told, Kurt doesn’t really care why. He imagines dancing flames on the hillside behind the village and knows that mother would never allow it.

His suspicion gets proven right, when Jimaine asks their mother later that evening, if the three of them can go have a look. She insists that they would stay in the shadows, but mother still forbids it. The Jahrmarkt is only staying for one night, they need to get in a few extra miles the next day, if they want to make it to their next location in time, so they will have to head out early. And besides, with Kurt there, it’s far too dangerous.

And so, after dinner and completing their chores, the children get sent to bed. Kurt hears Jimaine complain about it, but Stephen tells her that at least they got to play outside, for a bit.

The uncomfortable feeling of jealousy rears its head again.

It’s stupid, Kurt is well aware of that, but he still makes a decision that night. Once he hears mother settle in for the night, he slips out of the wagon and vanishes in the shadows between his travelling home. He will get in trouble for this, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

The village is dark and eerie. Like a ghost town, with not one lit window, it lays in the darkness of the night. But when he strains his ears, Kurt can hear the faint sound of laughter carried on the wind. Using the shadows to his advantage, the boy finds his way to a road that leads up the hill. Houses line the road on both sides, but they get more and more sparing the further up he gets. The laughter, however, gets louder.

Kurt passes the last house, at the very top of the road, and finds himself in front of a meadow. The grass is dry, and even in the darkness, Kurt can make out that the long grass is more brown-grey than green.  The road continues to his left and right, but Kurt doesn’t pay attention to the paths that diverge. He is too captivated, by what he sees further up the hill. There, on a section of the meadow that has been shortened drastically and is lined with a few water-tanks, is the fire. It’s tall, maybe not quite as tall as he imagined in his youthful fantasy, but still taller than any fire he has ever seen before. Silhouettes of people linger around it, talking, laughing, having the time of their lives. Kurt wishes he could be one of them.

Ignoring the paths to both his sides, Kurt steps onto the dry grass. It scratches the skin beneath the fuzzy fur on his legs, and he can feel small seeds get stuck to him. He doesn’t care. Keeping the fire in a wide birth to his left, Kurt makes his way further up the hill. Always making sure that he stays far away from the firelight's glow.

He finds a tree, close enough to the light, that his eyes still allow him to see what is going on, but far enough that it’s not in danger of being ignited by the fire, that dances against the night sky. Without thinking too much about it, Kurt teleports onto one of the lower hanging branches. The action makes him dizzy. Teleporting upwards feels weird.

He perches on the branch, his tail wrapping around the rough wood as an extra measurement.

A bunch of foldable beer benches and tables have been put close to the giant fire. It seems like the entire village is gathered there. They laugh and talk and drink. They lean against each other, lean over to other tables. Kurt wonders what it would be like to be among them. The Jahrmarkt people can be a rowdy folk, but Kurt feels like he is witnessing something different here. An entire village of close-knit people, instead of just a small Caravan of misfits and those who strangely want to be them.

His attention is pulled away from the people around the tall fire. A few feet away, sits another fire, far smaller, much more manageable. Three beer benches stand around it, and on these benches the children. They’re holding sticks over the flames and when Kurt tries really hard, he is sure he can smell the scent of roasting dough on open flames on the wind. The children seem engrossed in their own conversations. Kurt can spot the boy that played catch with his siblings among them. His cheeks are red in the glow of the flames.

He is holding his own stick pretty low, and Kurt watches as it dips under its own weight and the dough lands in the ash at the bottom of the flames. A few of the kids snicker, but the boy insists, that it’s still edible. Kurt wonders what the dough must take like.

Next to the boy, a girl shakes her head and declares loudly that she is the best at making their food. She pulls her own stick from the flames and proudly presents it to the others. Kurt leans forward on his branch. He wants to see. But when the girl triumphantly goes to peel a piece of the bread off her stick, the dough turns out to still be mostly raw.

The children around her laugh – not mean, just amused by her bolstering attitude, only to fail – and Kurt can’t help but giggle with them. But he clasps one of his hands in front of his mouth, as he does so. He can’t be seen, can’t be heard after all.

The night continues, and with each passing moment, Kurt finds himself more and more enamoured by these people. He has only known them for a few hours, but he starts to feel like he belongs to these people, that do nothing but laugh, talk, have fun and drink beer.

When he closes his eyes, he can imagine that he is sitting among them, with a stick of his own in his hands. He can pretend that he feels the heat of the fire on his face and the laughter of the other children in his ears.

But it’s just make-believe, play pretend, and Kurt is reminded of that every time his eyes stray from the fire and find his three fingered blue hands tightly holding on to the branch underneath him.

Still, Kurt remains. He watches as one of the younger boys takes his stick and holds it up like he is leading a parade. Other young ones join him in his procession, and soon they are walking around the benches in single file.

A few of the slightly older kids, barely teens, confiscate one of the foldable beer tables. They turn it into a slide and the children take turns sliding down the wooden surface. It looks fun.

Kurt watches, as two teens steel away from the fire, they walk hand in hand into the darkness, just past the tree he is hiding on, and Kurt presses himself as far back as he can get in fear of being seen. He can hear them talk about running away together, and silently wonders who would ever want to leave a place like this.

His attention is pulled back to the smaller fire, when screeching laughter reaches his ears. The kids have made room, all of them standing back and in surprising unison chanting a name. One of the older boys stands at one end of the fire. There’s a confident smile on his face, as he seizes the flames in front of him.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize what he is planning to do. Kurt crawls to the edge of the branch. His finger’s tightly holding on, as he tries to get as close to what is about to happen as possible. Hopefully the boy will manage to jump over the fire.

The chanting gets louder and louder, and – an angry yell drowns the kids out. A guy is marching over to the boy who has the other kids so riled up. He is tall and brought, and he angrily grips the boy's forearm. Waving a finger in front of his face. No jumping over fires in this night, Kurt realized, and curiously finds that he is a little disappointed by the fact.

Hours pass and with each Kurt tries to remind himself that he has to go. He needs to return to his wagon, or he will be in big trouble. But he just can’t bring himself to leave. He can’t let go of the sight before him.

The villagers, however, can. The later the hour gets, the more of them decide to call it a night until there’s only a handful of them left. They finish the remaining beer bottles and start the process of distinguishing the flames. Dawn is still a little bit away, but the sky is already starting to brighten in the east and Kurt knows that he has to leave now, now, now! Or he runs the risk of getting spotted, but he just can’t bring himself to do so.

This may as well be the only opportunity he will ever get to experience something like this. A moment like this may as well never come again. He has to stay.

The final men leave, and Kurt can count his lucky stars that they didn’t look in the direction of the tree he is perched on. He watches as their backs retreat down the hill.

By the time he finally slips off the tree and dares to step closer, there is nothing left of the fire. Only a few pieces of charred wood and ash remain, silently waiting to be cleaned up, when the villagers have recovered from this night of drinking.

He passes the tall fire, or the scorched earth that lay beneath it, and heads right for the spot where the smaller fire had burned. The slide the children fashioned out of the table is still there, collecting moisture in the early morning mist, that clings to the grass beneath Kurt's feet and makes his fur stand on end. Kurt lets his hands glide over one of the benches that still stand exactly there where they had stood during the night. It, too, has taken on the moisture. It’s wet and cold, but Kurt sits down on it anyway. A lone stick lies next to it, forgotten sometime during the night. Its tip is charred.

Kurt bends down and picks it up. The stick is thin between his fingers, but he simply closes his eyes and holds it over the ash that remains of the small fire. When he concentrates, he can smell the roasting of the dough again, he can feel the heat of the fire flicker over his face, almost too hot to be comfortable, and he can feel the comforting presence of other children around him, sharing a bench with him, their shoulder’s pressed together. He can hear them laugh about something one of them said.

But then he opens his eyes again, and the spell is broken. There is no fire, not roasting dough, no kids that want to be his friends. There’s just a lonely blue boy and the charred remains of a beautiful fantasy.

Kurt sighs, he drops the stick in the dirt and stands up to leave. The moment of last night is over, it will not come again. And maybe that realization is why he stops after a few steps away from the fireplace and turns around. For one moment he simply stares at the scorched earth, then he begins to run. His feet leave the grassy ground and in one mighty leap he clears the spot.

Despite the loneliness that gnaws at his heart as he makes his way back to the field where he left his family, despite the fact that he has to stick to backyards and shadows and hide and dash, so nobody will see him, and despite the fact that a heap load of trouble is awaiting him, as he enters mothers’ wagon, Kurt smiles. It’s a painful memory, this night of fire and laughter, but he is glad was there to experience it.

[iiyarada]

Muu drabble incoming!!

Kurt Stachler and Borderline Personality Disorder

i'm specifically focusing on the Arles Fight. Perhaps I am going to sound insane, but as someone with BPD, I see some of myself in Kurt (and also Gilbert.)

I'm gonna be going into a bit of depth on what Borderline Personality Disorder is like, and what people with BPD experience. It's a heavily stigmatized disorder, but ultimately, like many Cluster B disorders, it stems from trauma. People with BPD deserve love and sympathy, and they CAN flourish with proper help and care, just as anyone with any disorder can.

In this scene, Kurt is an asshole, obviously. But if you read it through the leanse of "he has BPD" he becomes much less of an "asshole for no reason" character and more of an "asshole we can be sympathetic towards."

Kurt jumps to what would usually be an insane conclusion (a did end up being correct but I digress.) In any other normal circumstance, coming to the conclusion of "my friend doesn't want to hang out with ME because he's in love with someone else. Obviously." And in that conclusion jump, he goes as far to compare him to someone like Blough, calls Gilbert a faggot, and ends up getting his ass beat lmao.

THAT SAID, Kurt holds an infatuation with Serge. In one of Keiko's notes about him, she states he has a "reverential affection" towards him. However, he also gets mad at him a lot, especially during the Arles fight he goes as far as to say:

"He's not so great after all, I don't want anything to do with him!" and storming off.

Kurt, despite this "reverential affection," often shows frustration towards Serge (and frustration in general) but then on the next page, he's defending him with his life.

This is where, as someone with BPD, I relate to him a lot, and why I say he could be seen as someone with BPD or at least shows the symptoms.

With BPD, you suffer from extreme mood swings and tend to see things in a "black and white" sort of way. Either someone loves you, or someone hates you, there's no nuance or middle ground...it's one extreme or the other (which is referred to as splitting in BPD terms.)

ALSO with BPD, comes extreme attachment. An FP, or "Favorite Person" is someone a person with BPD heavily relies on, they seek validation and attention from that person, and/or they look up to them and idolize them.

With that attachment comes that black and white world view where, since those with BPD are highly sensitive, anytime someone (especially an FP) says or does something that makes someone with BPD feel hurt, the irrational BPD brain will want to frame it in a way where the other person was being deliberately harmful, even if the person with BPD logically understands otherwise.

It's a cycle that sometimes, those with BPD don't even realize they're going through that cycle until they are diagnosed. And especially at 14 in the 1800s...you're not going to know what the hell is wrong with you and why you feel angry all the time, or why you keep flip-flopping between loving and hating your best friend. Terms like "splitting" and "Favorite Person" didn't exist yet. Hell, the first BPD diagnosis didn't even happen until 1938!

Kurt is canonically described as jealous. He's jealous of Gilbert, and jealous of the closeness he's developed with Serge (whether he's jealous of their actual relationship, you can argue yes or no, but he's envious that Gilbert is closer to Serge than he is.) He's highly sensitive to when Serge chooses Gilbert over him and it causes him lash out.

Impulsivity, jealousy, intense emotions, irritability, all of these are incredibly common in BPD, and ALL of them are traits I'd argue Kurt has.

What we DON'T know for a fact of if all of this behavior comes with or comes from a fear of abandonment. BPD always comes with an intense fear of abandonment and/or being left alone. Almost all erratic behaviors that come from those with BPD stem FROM that fear.

Now. Kurt is a side character. He doesn't have a backstory, he doesn't have an actual explanation for how he acts outside of "he's moody." He doesn't have a plot line that explains if he has a fear of abandonment, or had some sort of traumatic childhood to cause this disorder in the first place, or if he's just like that for no reason. This is all a reach, obviously...all of my drabbles are, but my reaching is based off what I see in Kurt and how I relate to how he reacts when reading through Kazeki, my thoughts aren't based on nothing.

TL;DR, I have BPD and see a lot of my own traits displayed in Kurt therefore I'm giving my diagnosis to him. Kurt Stachler I will ALWAYS defend you. Amen.

[spaceorphan18]

Ok if you were going to write one of these Glee/Bridgerton AUs, which would you pick: (1) It takes place in the Bridgerton world, but Blaine replaces Colin and Kurt replaces Penelope (2) it takes place in the Glee world, but Colin replaces Blaine and Penelope replaces Kurt.

Elaborations and tangents most appreciated!

Sorry, Nonny, I couldn't help it. It's been kind of hilarious as of late to realize just how much all of my favorite ships/stories have similar dynamics in them. And I'm not even trying!!

This is a fascinating question though...

Option 1: I still feel like I can write Klaine in my sleep, so this would probably be the easier one to write. However - this historical romance thing with them has done a lot, and I feel like I've read it a lot. Most notably, a fic I really enjoyed back in the day was The Gilded Cage which takes place in the late 19th century opposed to the early 19th century, but it's a really good exploration of what their dynamics might be like in a much earlier period of time.

Option 2: I don't feel comfortable enough with Pen and Colin to write them, but a modern day interpretation of their story would be fascinating. I probably wouldn't put them in the Glee world, though. Those poor characters do not deserve the Ryan Murphy treatment. (Though having Rachel Berry interact with anyone outside her own universe is always hilarious.)

You could do a rom-com thing with them though set in modern day that'd be a lot of fun. Their story would translate pretty easily and be a lot of fun to reinterpret. Like, they could have been friends growing up, and she had a crush on him in high school, and they go off to college in different places, and then end up back in, like, New York City or LA or something. And she'd work for some kind of tabloid and he'd be a travel writer and they kind of rediscover each other and there's professional jealousy and longing and Eloise and Cressida Cowper blackmailing them and omg, I almost want to write this now....

****

I can sketch you out a short little hybrid, though, of Kurt and Blaine's reactions to the show (because it was in my head)...

Season 1 :

Kurt: Oh my god these costumes are amazing! *claps hands* But why the fuck do they keep putting Penelope in yellow? Those dresses are hideous on her - don't they know Nicola Coughlin is a queen?

Blaine: I don't really understand how Simon would rather die than admit he's in love Daphne. Like, what even is that??

Season 2:

Kurt: Do you think I could buy one of the Queen's wigs on ebay when the show finally wraps?

Blaine: Why is Anthony even bothering with the sister? He clearly loves Kate. Why doesn't he just declare it and marry her instead?

Season 3:

Kurt: Cressida Cowper you conniving bitch I do love you, but what the fuck is on your head?

Blaine: I may be having an existential crisis - I think that when they wrote Colin they looked into my soul.