#to know for certain that someone else has things under control and i don't have to anymore.

[camellia-thea]

writing things down because it's the way i process.

i think the thing that's been getting to me lately is that i've hit the "utter despair" stage of depression, where motivation drops because long-term hope has just been dropping so rapidly since i got sick in april.

it's hard to verbalise how i feel and how it's different from before, but i'm worse, and it just makes me think about the future i'd planned, even with my disability in mind, feels so much less sustainable. and in turn, since i feel closer to graduation than before, i'm afraid of what life will look like when i'm not being loaned money to live on. i can't work, i can barely study, and i'm scared. i'm so fucking scared.

i've always hated uncertainty. i hate feeling out of control. and so the thought of not being able to follow plans or even having ideas of what i even can do outside of said plan is being terrifying. it's also infuriating, and frustrating, and deeply upsetting, to think about all the things that could've been. and it's almost ironic, how in an ideal world i would be working. i would be able to follow my passions. but i can't.

and this world is so far from ideal. aotearoa's disability policy is so broken, i've already had a specialist for my condition tell me point blank that, unless i am bedbound permanently, i most likely won't qualify for financial aid. i really didn't want to think about it when it happened, and she was so willing to try other options and try and find support and solutions for me. and at that point, i was pretty sure that i'd be able to work from home and try to freelance. but now it all feels so impossible and uncertain.

and with all of this hopeless fear, it brings the urge to self sabotage. i could just. drop out. i could just. give up on anything that i could try to do to pave my way. it's not necessarily suicidal; i don't want to die. i just. don't want to exist as myself for a bit.

i've always sought out escapism when things get rough. losing myself in books or imaginary worlds. it's so easy to slip into something where everything could be okay, but it always makes coming back worse. it's like seeing the polls about universal basic income, or magically receiving money. it makes me feel a little sick, the things i'd want to do, knowing how impossible it all is. it just makes the inadequacy of our society and our systems more stark in my eyes.

i'm scared about money, and i'm scared about the world moving on without me. i'm scared about never leaving the house again and i'm scared of leaving the house. i'm scared to be a burden but i want to be taken care of. most of all i want to stop worrying. i want security, i want stability, and none of that feels possible.

and i think the worst, most ironic, thing, is being in mental distress triggers my illness even more, which just solidifies my distress into something even more tangible.

[flowersforbucky]

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[muninnhuginn]

one thing I like to consider is how much lu guang's behaviour in yingdu mirrors his behaviour from what we've seen of him guiding cheng xiaoshi in dives in s1 and s2. the specific timekeeping and only acting when said time is reached, panicking when anything goes off track from what is expected. being passive whenever nothing is expected of him.

I remember someone saying that cheng xiaoshi vs lu guang is fight vs freeze when under pressure and that really holds up. cheng xiaoshi is more adaptable than lu guang. it's improvisation vs control at its very base, but when you stir in some danger, you get cheng xiaoshi able to act whilst lu guang remains too stuck to be able to act until he's thought it through. he can react, don't get me wrong, but unless the stakes are literal life and death (and, okay, even sometimes then), he tends to freeze until he can process.

anyway, lu guang's behaviour in a dive influencing how he guides cheng xiaoshi in a dive. he's treating cheng xiaoshi like he would treat himself. the key difference though is information. lu guang diving is constantly gathering information and comparing to previous instances. cheng xiaoshi meanwhile has the input from his host and how people around him act, but otherwise is completely reliant on what lu guang discloses and why. I'd always presumed this was because lu guang consciously wanted to keep cheng xiaoshi's actions under control (and tbf I do still think that's a factor), but starting to think that some of it is literally just... he genuinely would do it like this on the diving end so he defaults to it when guiding a diver.

he's not good at improv and freezes up himself, so he lays out what he knows in as much detail as he can remember and then follows along and gathers data. this applies to him as both a diver and a guider. when guiding, cheng xiaoshi obviously pushes back against this because *he* operates by reacting and is able to gather information more naturally when he's not beholden to a specific script.

makes me muse upon cheng xiaoshi guiding lu guang in a dive and if they'd have the reverse problem here. cheng xiaoshi only telling lu guang the gist and certain personality traits of those in the dive and trusting lu guang to play off everyone else, whilst lu guang just stalls because he has no idea where to start and needs something more concrete.

[dreadfutures]

regarding sept 19:

This needs to be clarified because misunderstanding has resulted in some usually very nice people getting incredibly nasty and bullying others.

This past week, many people - press, and content creators - were allowed a hands-on experience of the new Dragon Age game. They played for about 6 hours. The attendees of this event are under an NDA until Sept 19.

After September 19th, the people who played the game are allowed to speak about it in some amount of detail. The press embargo is lifted, so to speak.

No one who attended this event has come out, twirled their mustache, and said they're going to spoil major game stuff without warning.

If you think you're about to tell me that yes, someone did - no she didn't. I know it's too much to hope for but someday you must learn to not hear every tweet and text as if the other person was personally intending to harm you. Few people really are so malicious. If you approach text neutrally you can tell when people are, or not. Really.

They have instead warned that there will be info shared from this event, probably tagged and warned about (hopefully), but the reporting, sharing, reposting, etc., of that info will be - like all things in fandom - a mess dependent on individual fans. If you care about spoilers at all, get your filters and blocks ready for that. For sure!

But again, it only seems like they had 6 hours or so to play. I doubt the people who attended will be malicious or rubbing stuff in our faces. I doubt the people who attended will even be spilling every single deet. Most people who we know & are connected to the fandom that were in attendance have said they themselves avoided main game stuff, because they didn't want to be spoiled either.

So that is the real information, as best we know it, without fear mongering about a flood of spoilers - and do with that what you will!

A lot of people are starting to wholly block all of the new game's tags because they don't want to see anything else until it drops! This is definitely the time to start. Maybe you do need to go dark and hop off the internet to keep your boundaries, or maybe you feel confident in your dashboard, your friends, and your filtered content, that you won't be seeing untagged spoilers being shared. (I'm in the latter category; nothing has appeared on my dash without being filtered, for months.)

Control your space with the tools you have, but cruelty should not be one of them.

A lot of people (on twitter, love DA twitter, where the worst aspects of all your friends' personalities come out 😒) have been incredibly, viciously belligerent to those who attended this event. They have used really terrible language to bully them as individuals and make personal attacks against them. The dog-piling has been amplified by certain people who were not invited to that event, and by the wording of others who are giving "warnings" about spoilers running rampant, floodgates opening, mayday, everyone is going to be rubbing spoilers in your face after Sept 19.

Whatever you think about the marketing about this game - whatever you think about what EA thinks are spoilers - whatever your personal stance on what you want to know going into the game (or not):

Content creators and press, their job is to talk about the game. In detail. It's their job! Ideally they do it as (is typically done! as many of them have already been doing!) with warnings/tags/whatever when something spoilery might come up.

Harassing them and wishing them harm or calling them terrible things and slandering their character is just an expression of your own frustration, lack of control, whatever - and it's not a good look.

[keepswingin]

“You did so good. Don’t worry, you-you did so good.” —skz

The hospital is too quiet, you decide.

You don't know how long you've been sitting here, but the longer you sit and stare down at your bandaged hands, the more you grow to hate the silence that sits stagnant around you.

You start to wish for something to happen as time drags alongside the drip you've been hooked to. You don't want to close your eyes and doze off again, far too worried about what might meet you on the other side. Earlier, you had awoken with a scream choking you. Yesterday, you had cried until there were no more tears left.

It nearly makes you laugh. You lost control of your own memories far too long ago, and they've done nothing but haunt you since.

The door across the room slides open and you jump at the sudden sound, wincing as you accidentally tug on what you're pretty sure is your injured rib. Before you can assess the damage, you're pulled into a hug against a chest you know all too well.

Tears prick at your eyes, and it's not from the way your injuries protest, or the stretch of bandages being pulled against skin.

"C-Changbin?" you whisper, your voice breaking halfway through. The arms around you squeeze you tighter in response, a home you've never forgotten, and you nearly break down right then and there. You don't think you've ever missed somebody so much.

"Jagyia," he says softly, the quietest you've ever heard him speak. "I've missed you. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

You scoff, but it's watery, and your nose is running, and you can't stop crying and your chest hurts but it's in a good way because you know you're safe here with him, and you've never been more grateful for anything in your life. You slide closer and tuck your face against his neck, reaching one of your arms around his shoulders so that you can tangle your hand in his hair.

"Bin," you mumble, tugging him closer. "I'm so sorry."

The tears have already started, and you are helpless to stop them like this, so exhausted and hurt and aching for someone who cares. One of his hands is curled under the back of your shirt, rubbing back and forth across the curve of your back, and of course he remembers what you said all that time ago, of course he does. 

He's only ever cared, and you've only ever hid. 

"There is nothing you should be apologizing for," he says, soft and certain and steady. "None of this was your fault, Y/N. Not one damn thing." And for some reason, it's those words that break the damn you've struggled to keep at bay. 

Weeks, months, years, trapped, unable to see a clear path leading out. The worst of it all happening over a span of the last two weeks, worried texts pinging from a cell phone he didn't let you have. Staring at the door like looking at it would release you, would snap the locks and snap his ankles so that you could run and never look back.

The police came. Eventually.

A concerned neighbor or other - you don't really remember. Something you would've never guessed when they never cared enough to call any of the other times before.

When you had cried on the back porch. When he had thrown a glass. When you both had screamed at each other on the sidewalk. Worse, worse, worse. Until he had finally snapped, and you were the very thing he broke.

Changbin tugs you closer and holds you in a way no one else ever has. "You did so good," he murmurs, turning and pressing a kiss to your skin. "Don't worry. You did so good. I'm proud of you, Y/N. So damn proud." 

Your chest hurts, and so does your head.

Your heart aches, and your wrists burn. 

But the man you've done nothing but push away out of fear is here anyway, after everything, refusing to let you go, and you aren't scared. In fact, you would be okay if he held you like this forever, and you never thought forever would be possible again.

"I love you," you all but whisper, heart laid bare. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I love you when I know you probably don't want me. I'm sorry."

Changbin is silent for a long moment, but he doesn't dare move away. You squeeze him tighter, and he exhales softly, the sound trembling through his chest.

"About time you said it," he murmurs, and you think he might be crying, or maybe that's just you, blubbering and shaking and worried he'll push you away, "how could you think I would ever be able to love anyone else?"

And that, you think, is what sews your heart back together.

[teamatsumu]

haikyuu boys as types of boyfriends.

sfw and nsfw headcanons

warnings: smut, explicit content

part 1

KOZUME KENMA - Gamer bf

This one is pretty obvious, I think.

Kenma stays awake most nights so he's super cranky in the early morning.

He's blunt and straightforward with his words. He doesn't like sugar coating anything. As your relationship progresses though, he does realize that sometimes a little white lie is probably the best option (he would rather shoot himself than ever again say that a dress makes you look fat)

When Kenma gets tired, he gets very candid.

I'm talking love declarations.

"Have I ever told you how pretty you are?"

He mumbles a whole lot of nonsense in between such sweet sentiments though.

He is a very attentive bf. He picks up on little details very easily. And as laid back as he is, he has a special soft spot just for you.

This particular quality makes him great in bed.

Because Kenma is so good at reading cues, he knows exactly what buttons to push to bring you to the edge. And he makes it look effortless.

One major kink he has is having you blow him during a stream.

You will settle down under his desk between his legs before he starts, and he will have you down there for hours, licking and sucking until you've gone drowsy.

And when stream is over, he will finally pull you off, watching you breath deep, covered in sweat and cheeks flushed, precum and saliva dripping off your chin and down your neck.

You're a mess, and he loves it.

Best believe your reward will be mind blowing afterwards.

SAWAMURA DAICHI - Sweet Daddy Bf

"How was your day sweetheart?"

He's very gentle with you.

Has a killer smile.

He cooks for you when he can. He stops what he's doing if you want to talk to him about something.

Just being a perfect gentleman.

He is great at pushing you and encouraging you. He always wants you to try new things and make new experiences. He always has your best interests at heart.

He's very protective. And he does have a jealous streak.

He can tell when a guy is talking to you what his intentions are, and he doesn't like it when the guy's stare lingers too long. He knows how desirable you are, and he wants to keep that to himself.

And when it comes to the bedroom, hoo boy.

Massive, massive control kink. He's extremely dominant. He wants you to submit and he sure as hell will get it.

He loves titles. Sir, Daddy, whatever. He loves pushing you to the limit, encouraging you the whole way there.

"You can do it baby girl, I know you can give me one more."

Manhandles you like crazy. Definitely wants to leave marks.

The morning after? He is the sweetest, most attentive and gentle boyfriend again, as if he didn't wreck your shit the night before.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI - Tsundere bf

One thing we all know about Kiyoomi, he can get really mean.

And that doesn't exclude you.

As his gf though, you've gotten used to his jabs and know he doesn't really mean them. And if he does, he doesn't intend to hurt you with them.

And one thing is for certain, these little jabs are reserved for him only.

Because the second someone else teases you, he is not having it.

He knows he is intimidating, and he will use that to make anyone shut up.

He hates PDA. He doesn't want to do it and he doesn't like anyone else doing it.

Ask him to say 'I love you' and he will make the most constipated face known to mankind.

His love language is definitely acts of service. He will go above and beyond if it means it might make your day even slightly easier. Even if he will tell you how incompetent you are while he does it for you.

You think it's pretty cute actually.

In the bedroom though, all bets are off.

He loves degrading you, loves telling you how pathetic you look when you beg for his cock.

"You want it so bad, don't you? You little slut. You can't get enough."

He doesn't let up for one second. Sex with Sakusa is very intense.

The one time he doesn't hold back on the affection is during aftercare. He becomes gentle and giving, and will make sure that by the end you are so comfortable, that sleep comes natural.

SUGAWARA KOUSHI - Soft Dom bf

He's the perfect gentleman.

Always dressed immaculately, nicely done short fluffy hair, million dollar smile.

He plans great dates. He loves spoiling you every single time no matter how much you protest.

He loves music and making you cute playlists.

He gives great advice when you need it. He is more of a 'do it yourself' person, because he thinks it will help you grow. But he is there to encourage you every step of the way.

It's absolutely no surprise that he's a soft dom in bed.

He loves praising you. Loves telling you what a good job you're doing when you go down on him. Runs his hand through your hair and coos at you when you look up at him with teary eyes and his cock stuffed in your mouth.

He wants you to be good and listen to him, but secretly loves it when you're being a brat, because then he can put you in your place.

"Say please"

He's bigger on reward than the actual punishment, which includes so many orgasms and so much overstimulation that the reward starts to feel like the actual punishment.

(That's the whole point though, in his eyes)

SUNA RINTAROU - Skater Boy bf

I didn't know what else to name this lol

Very laid back. Looks like he doesn't give a shit.

He definitely gives a shit though.

He's very sarcastic and very witty. He will send you the most random, out of pocket text at 2 in the morning as if it's completely normal.

"Okay I'm going to sleep. Goodnight." Proceeds to send twenty Instagram reels bec he can't go to sleep without scrolling through his phone.

He def smokes weed.

He wants a lazy makeout session all the time. He loves making you sit on his lap, slowly going through every crevice of your mouth with his tongue while he gropes at your body.

Two things he loves in bed: eating you out and having you ride him.

He could stay between your legs for hours, just licking and sucking until your pussy is swollen and red, until you're shaking and crying and begging to cum.

This little shit loves edging. Loves to hear you begging. Loves it when you cry.

"Look at you. Big fat tears coming out your eyes. Oh you want this so bad, don't you?"

Loves the view when you ride him. Crosses his arms behind his head and watches with that steely narrow gaze as you unravel on top of him and use his dick to make yourself cum.

Let me know what you think!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not saying please/thank you?

So this is an ongoing argument with my roommate. I (22nb) am autistic, and T (55f) has ADHD.

Now to get this out of the way, i do say thank you. I was always taught to wait a moment after receiving something, take a bite or appreciate what you were given for a breath, before thanking someone so that you could add something more to it. My roommate and I both agree that i do say thank you the vast majority of the time, but the problem for her is that i do not say it fast enough.

T often gives me a "tHaNk yOu" while the item in question is still being passed. This seems ridiculous to me as i haven't even been fully given it yet.

In addition, i have the dishes as my household chore, and i do them daily, despite almost never making any dishes myself. I do this to both support T and her diet, as well as contribute to the household that i live in.

T thanks me near daily for doing the dishes. This always seems weird and unnecessary to me, as it is my responsibility. I have told her this. I dont expect to be thanked for doing my own laundry, after all. In return, T gets upset that i dont notice and thank her for taking out the garbage/recycling/compost, to which she is the main contributor to and is under her responsibilities.

As for please: i do say this much more rarely. I think it feels overly preformative and fake, and i typical choose more "would you mind closing my door for me" "if its not too much of a hassle, could you toss me my waterbottle" "id appreciate it if you could preheat the oven while you're in the kitchen"

I think that these work perfectly fine as a replacement. Please just has always felt wrong and fake. No one else in my entire life has ever commented on this before.

Thirdly; T has been upset that i don't respond to her apologies appropriately. After she is snappy at me (due to her emotional disregulation from ADHD) (last time it was because i asked if she was using the oven instead of asking if i could use the oven myself, for reference) there is a 50/50 shot that she will come and apologize.

I dont often accept apologies. Apologies are for the person saying them to get it off their chests, or to make you put it behind them. Usually, ill say something like "it was just one of those days, y'know?" Or "its alright, water under the bridge"

Because i was always taught that apologies came with a promise of change, and T can't (or won't) change how she re-directs her frustration at unrelated things to things ive done "wrong". When she told me the correct response was "i forgive you", i decided to not engage instead of telling her directly that i didnt forgive her (because i am certain she will do it again). (I usually dont engage with her when shes irritated: she never notices and just wants to say her piece so im not being rude here)

She said that i was being disrespectful, "like always", and when i suggested it may be more difficult for me due to my autism, she said that we made plenty of accommodations for me (which i think is false), and that i just needed to do this for her comfort. That please/thank yous were something she needed to feel appreciated and i should be making more accommodations for her.

To me, i feel like she is getting really caught up on semantics and is being a little controlling about it. But maybe its just a boundary? I dont know if i could commit to changing my language for her though, i feel like i will just start forgetting after awhile because it feels so fake. Shouldn't it be better for me to say things genuinely than just for her approval?

AITA for not saying please/thank you?

[wordstome]

I am having a goddamn nightmare of a time writing the university au (mostly because I have a shit ton of work to do…for my university…lol) so have some headcanons about the most toxic couple you’ve ever met. mdni under the cut

They’re like the definition of a situationship. They’re dating in every aspect except by name

At first she does try to sleep with other guys like she did before König but that doesn’t last long, because nobody else is as good as him. She will never admit this outside of the bedroom

Meanwhile he literally calls her his girlfriend behind her back

She’s emotionally unavailable toxic, he’s obsessive and possessive toxic

König enjoys the pursuit and just thinks it’s normal for women to be difficult like this. I would say “poor König” but he has a bad habit of picking her up and carrying her places against her will so he’s not that poor

She likes to tell herself she has no attachment to him, but she loves the ego boost he gives her by acting like a lovestruck puppy and following her everywhere. She’s also secretly into him being controlling

She does have her moments of genuinely caring about him, though. She brought him lunch once and he looked at her like she hung the moon the whole day. Her excuse was that she just happened to get/make an extra portion, but she did, in fact, get him a portion on purpose

She basically lives with him after a certain point. Her roommates barely see her anymore since she only comes and goes from her old place to get things. He constantly threatens to change the locks on her, but they both know it’s an empty threat. He much prefers to punish her in sexy ways

She'll just be minding her own business talking to a classmate or perhaps flirting with someone when König will come up behind her and put his arms around her. If she was just talking to someone she'll pat his face before attempting to shoo him off. If she was flirting with someone, she wrenches him off her and storms off in a huff (whoever she was talking to has definitely fled from König's evil eye by that point)

They don't really fight, they just have spats because König is endlessly amused by her anger and she is unable to stay mad at him for long. The one time they had a real fight was nasty, and they didn't talk for days afterwards

She's usually quite a chill, go with the flow person (because if she allowed herself too much stress or anxiety at once it would destroy her), but König brings out the spitfire in her

In equal measure, König is a bit of the shy and quiet giant type, but she brings out the brat tamer in him. They alternate balancing each other out

It's kind of easy to look at them and go "why are they still doing this to themselves" but when they get along (i.e. he's behaving himself and she's not pretending not to know him) they're as functional as any other couple

This definitely goes without saying: the nastiest most bed-breaking sex. They fuck like they’re trying to murder each other

I know it's a pet peeve of many people when they say the reader is ooooo so small and delicate next to the cod men, and I tend to agree. However, unless you are also nearly seven feet tall and built like an olympic swimmer, I'm just gonna say you're smaller than König

That being said, he LOVES using his size against her. Picking her up, bending her over things, bending her in half (mating press, his beloved)

If he wants her to stay, she'll stay. He'll have one hand on her throat pinning her down, the other keeping her open to slam into her

This brat will look him dead in the eye and ask "is that all you've got?", which obviously makes him lose his mind in the best way

She definitely has more experience than he does, which actually works out in his favor: him getting better at fucking really just means he's getting better at fucking her

They're so goddamn nasty they've definitely fucked in semi-public places because she teased him to the point of madness and he popped a boner so hard it was painful

Oh, the dirty talk. König is such a gentleman outside of the bedroom, but the degradation that comes out of him while he's fucking her is toe-curling. A lot of "nobody else can fuck you like this" and "all you're good for is taking me in your tight little hole"

He growls??? I don't know if y'all have heard his voicelines in German but he snarls at her when he's trying to teach her a lesson and it turns her into putty

This post is dedicated to @kneelingshadowsalome, who is waiting for this fic so patiently and is my shining beacon of motivation at this point lol

[daytaker]

NightBringer Satan is a Gift.

I understand everyone has their own opinions on how good/not good NB is as a game or a story or whatever, but in my opinion, Satan's characterization is soooo enhanced by it. I know that this isn't an opinion that everyone shares, but to me, Satan felt emotionally artificial sometimes in the original game (more on that below).* He felt kind of awkward and like he wanted to connect with MC but something was blocking the kind of connection they develop with some of the other brothers. (Disclaimer: I've only done season 1 of OG, so I can't speak to how he's characterized later on. I know, I know, shame. But I'm trying my best.) Getting to see what Satan is like when he doesn't have any control over his emotions makes the stiffness and artificiality make more sense to me, and they become admirable because we get to see just how hard it is for him to get everything under control.

I think they did a really good job with the pacing of his development in NB too. Satan in Lesson 1 and Satan in Lesson 19 are different, but there isn't a moment where he suddenly starts controlling his emotions better. I think there's a lot going on behind the scenes with him as far as his emotional growth and self control are concerned.

Also let's not forget some very important things about Satan that make him, IMO, one of the most interesting characters to work with as a writer:

Satan was never an angel; he had no fall from grace.

Satan was created from Lucifer's wrath---he is literally the product of trauma and self-mutilation.

Satan is significantly younger than his brothers.

He spent the first year of his life more or less trapped in a castle with his deeply emotionally wounded brothers.

He has a deep resentment towards Lucifer that sometimes defies reason---he wishes he didn't dedicate so much of his time and energy to him, but it's basically a compulsion.

He hates his deep association with Lucifer, and he hates that he has a lot in common with him.

And these lead me to some headcanons that live rent-free in my brain every day of my life.

Satan sees himself as a reminder of the Great Celestial War and everything his brothers lost in it, including Lilith.

He is divine retribution against Lucifer for his failure, for leading his brothers to failure, for letting his sister die.

He acts as a counterbalance to Lucifer's pride by bearing the weight of the shame that Lucifer can't fully accept now that he is the Avatar of Pride. Even if Lucifer pushes it out of his mind, Satan never forgets that he failed in the worst way possible.

His biggest aspiration is to become a full and complete person outside of any association he has with Lucifer. He feels like some sort of parasitic tumor that exists only in opposition to his brother, and he wants desperately to escape that role that he feels he was born into.

Anyway, Satan is great, hail Satan, all that good stuff. Did you know I have a lot of thoughts and opinions about Satan? I know, shocking. For more of my takes here's my fic about him (on AO3).

*I think Satan almost metaphorically represents certain elements of autism---emotions that don't come out the way you intend, masking and its limitations, hyperfixations that are barely under control. In Fandom Discourse(TM) there's sometimes a level of focus on more 'cutesy' autistic traits that we find endearing in characters, like social obliviousness and gleefully indulged hyperfixations. But emotional control, emotional masking, emotional seepage, emotional artificiality---these are also real and messy and often times they aren't cute and they're uncomfortable to see in yourself or in someone else. I really don't like diagnosing characters so I'm not about to claim Satan "is" autistic, but as someone who has been called essentially 'spectrum adjacent' by doctors, I relate to the awkwardness and the desire to appear normal despite knowing you're not and emotions spilling out in ugly ways---um. That got really long and personal.

[bonemarble]

leah's position within the family unit as a daughter-wife, rather than just a wife (whether this is acknowledged or not) makes her hate for mercy much more sensible than people give her credit for. the violent and excessive nature of her reactions towards mercy since she was a child could have other explanations (who knows, i'm all for alternative interpretations), but i think it works fine when taking into account that being jealous of mercy being cherished as a daughter is part and parcel with being jealous of her as a potential lover. which is not to say this was leah's conscious thought process. i don't think she sees herself as bran's daughter. i just think by nature of how she was brought into the fold, a young girl being raised under bran's tutelage reads as someone filling her exact role. and doing it better! mercy is loved! being bran's wife and bran's "daughter" are not discrete issues for leah, as someone that was raised to be his wife. in this sense, i think she would have projected sexual jealousy and expected that bran would develop a sexual attachment to mercy regardless of his actual feelings, simply because it fits the framework she was given for his behaviour. the fact no one apart from her and bran knew the truth of her turning and that they likely were the only ones having an inkling of the scope of bran's feelings for mercy when she was still a teenager does not seem incidental. leah knows for certain that bran has both the capacity and the inclination to blur the lines between charge and lover and take advantage of someone dependent on him to extract what he needs out of them. or at least the only one that knows this exploitation can entail a sexual component when directed at a female subject.

leah has no one else in the world and her role as bran's mate is her only claim to economic stability and a measure of acceptance and respect, if not love, in life. additionally, she was (re-)created by bran in such a way that her identity, abilities, and whole existence have a use only in relation to him. if she loses him, she does not have anything, not even herself. and since bran does not love her (or so he has made her believe), she cannot try to influence him in order to keep her position. i am not saying her treatment of mercy was right, especially as i am not particularly interested in analysing characters from a moralising standpoint. but i do think it was rational, insofar as in her view the removal of mercy from bran's life was actually the only thing she had the power to affect to ensure she was not abandoned. the only option over which she could exert some control.

what is extremely sad to me is that however much leah may be relieved that bran doesn't finally act on his attraction to mercy (and justly so! it would be the ultimate cruelty for bran to create her, use her, and then also leave her!), the fact he sees the harm he would inflict on mercy by pursuing her and decides to spare her, while he had no problem inflicting that same harm on leah, works as a further confirmation that mercy is in some way better loved. that she is allowed to be seen as a whole person, to grow as an independent being without being crushed under bran's weight. as we have very little of leah's pov, i am not sure whether this thought has ever crossed her mind, but it has certainly crossed mine very often.

[itsohh]

Flying Too Close to the Sun

AN: Female reader, I wrote this before the comic came out but made some adjustments for it to kinda fit.

Summary: After leaving Rainbow years prior, Sam brings you back to help with the Deimos situation. As as warden your there to make sure he stays contained but things end up far messier than you exspect when he takes an intrest in you.

Word count: 6746

Warnings: Dubcon, noncon bondage, smut

Masterlist AO3

Greece 2020 

“All I ask is that you give it a go-” 

“No!” You threw our hands up into the air. Sam's eyes remained on you as he watched from the corner of the room. His arms were folded and he leaned against the wall. Your relationship with the man was rather new and fresh. Sam had only known you for a short while whereas Harry had known you since you arrived at Rainbow years prior. 

Harry's face seemed rather controlled but there was a certain edge to his voice. He was aware that one wrong move could affect everything. Usually, you were so open-minded, he had expected this resilience from someone like Taina but not you. 

“This is too much Harry. Our job was never made for an audience, to be blasted over huge screens. It wasn't made for civilians to see. How many thousands would know us?” You pointed out the window to the rest of the stadium. “Our enemies get a perfect view into our skills, our weaknesses, our numbers, our faces- everything.”

“I assure you, all of that has been accounted for. Every person that comes through those gates will have been background checked but if it would make you more comfortable perhaps we could change your uniform and name.”

“No. I've made my mind up here. I think it's time that I head home. Rainbow’s been a great place for me and I've learnt a lot but I think it's better that I put this information to good use back home.” You pulled some paper from inside your jacket and placed it on the table. 

It was now clear that you had made your mind up before speaking to Harry. 

“I understand.” Harry nodded and took the paper from you. 

“If you ever need me in the future for something proper, don't hesitate to call.” You looked towards Sam for a moment. “But something tells me you shouldn't need to. You have quite the team here.”

-

 England 2024

The umbrella above you protected you from the sun's harsh rays. In front of you was a glass of juice and a bowl of hot chips. Your sunglasses helped with the sun and you didn't look up when someone sat down from across you. 

Sam Fisher. 

“Long time no see.” You pushed the chips towards him and he promptly took one. “Heard about Harry, my condolences.”

“Yeah, thanks. Saw you're doing well.”

“Well for this kind of work but I assume you didn't call me all this way just for small talk.”

Sam placed a folder on the table and slid it over to you. You wiped the salt from your fingers and picked it up. 

“Gerald Morris…” You muttered the name under your breath, only loud enough for Sam to barely hear. 

Your eyes absorbed all the information in front of you as you leaned back on your chair. All the meanwhile Sam dug into the food. 

“So you got him, sounds like it took a lot but you did. Why call me?” You slapped the folder shut and placed it back on the table. 

“Aside from our newer operators, you're more detached from the situation. I imagine he knows less about you than anyone else.” Sam leaned back and your brows narrowed.

“I'm your wildcard?”

“So to speak. Harry always knew you would have your part to play one day and I believe it's this.”

“And what is this Sam?” 

“...Rainbow is split about his presence. There's a very real possibility that someone may take justice into their own hands which is exactly what he wants.” He let out a sigh and rubbed his face. 

“I want to assign him to your care.”

“My care? I'm not going to be babysitting a terrorist.” Your eyes cast down for a second. “Besides, he could easily overpower me.”

“Not like that.” He placed another folder on the table that you took. 

“Azami. She joined after you left-”

“-Private sector? I didn’t realize you guys were hiring mercs…” You muttered, your disapproval obvious. 

“Rainbow's purpose has changed over the years. When did you join?” It was an answer Sam already knew but you answered him regardless. 

“2018. Amelia brought me along due to my marksmanship experience in urban settings.”

“Integral skills to have when the outbreak claimed more territory. Skills you shared with the rest of the team and in turn, they shared their skills with you. The same can go with cases like Azami in the private sector. She has her own unique experience.”

“Alright alright, I get it. Why do you bring her up then?”

“She's one of the people we are concerned about. She's been going to the holding facility more and more.”

“You're worried she will kill him in custody?”

“Her and several other operatives. I don't think they will but I can't discredit the possibility. I want you to make sure that never happens. Gustave feels the same.”

“What makes you think I won't just kill him? I mean I wasn't super close to Harry but he was still a friend.” 

He tossed a chip in his mouth and sat there for a moment. “You won't.”

-

Rainbow had changed a lot since you left which meant you received a completely different dorm room than you used to have. Not that it really mattered, you had taken everything personal with you. The new room you received was one of the ones in the holding facility. It wasn't a dorm room but its own special room. You had one job and that was clear. In a way, you were like a warden to Gerald and Gerald only. 

You had to admit, the room was rather secure. It was a safe room in a sense. Sure you didn't have the best views or anything but that hardly mattered when you were so close to a man that would most definitely kill you at any opportunity.

In all honesty, you didn't bring much with you. While you knew that Sam might need your help for a while you figured eventually you leave again and it was best not to get too attached. A knock at the door had you stand up from the bed. 

You opened it to find Sam standing there with clothes in his hands. They were neatly folded and had a couple of things balanced on top. 

“What's this?” You asked. 

He placed the pile on your desk. “New ID.” He waved it and snapped it on the table. 

“Uniform.” 

You looked towards the Ghosteyes uniform and cocked a brow. 

“Thought I was just going on guard duty.”

“Need an excuse to be here officially, wear it or don't at least have the ID with you. “

You took the ID and clipped it to your current shirt. It was a slightly faded black shirt with NZSAS printed across. The shirt didn't have any pockets so you clipped it to your slightly stretched collar. 

Sam carried a sort of understanding look with you. The pair of you hadn't known each other very long before you left Rainbow but there was a sort of mutual understanding that was shared. Trust. Why he trusted you was beyond your understanding, perhaps it was something that Harry said to him before he died. 

“This here is your pager.” 

“Pager?”

“No one's to go into Deimos’s holding without you there to supervise. That includes team leaders. Your job is to make sure that Deimos is there and alive.” 

“Alright.”

“All the team leaders know your back but not everyone else does.” 

Just as you were about to reply the pager started to beep and Sam tilted his head to the side for a second. 

“Better get moving then.”

-

Sam briefed you on how interrogations were still ongoing even if they admittedly didn't get very far. The room that Deimos was restricted to was rather large but rather empty. It was by no means a great place to stay but it wasn't inhumane. “Eliza, long time no see.” 

“Icarus.” She didn't quite smile but there was a level of familiarity that the pair of you shared. “I'm glad that out of everyone Sam brought you back.”

“Well, when he begged me how could I say no?” You walked up to the door and flashed your ID against the reader and the door opened with a click.

“Interrogation?”

“Yeah, doing it here.”

You opened the door for her and nodded. “Be my guest. The door closed behind you and you leaned against it. Eliza was the one to approach the man who was lying on his bed. Through the glass, you could see everything. His legs were leisurely up and he had a book in his hand. By the sight of it, it seemed he only had one book and had most definitely read it a few times already. 

He wasn't quick to talk to Eliza but there was a pause in his movement when his face turned towards you. 

“Well, now there's a face I didn't expect to see. Here I thought you were the one person who had managed to escape Rainbow.” He scoffed and sat up. “Just another one of Harry's puppets then.” 

“I get why Sam brought me on board.” You muttered to Eliza.

“Sam bring you on board? And why is that sweetheart?” 

“To make sure I don't kill you.” Eliza loomed over the man but he just let out a laugh. 

“Can't trust your own people? Can't say I blame him.” 

-

So became the rhythm of your babysitting job. It didn't end up being too bad, as Deimos was often let out of his cage for training. A weird thing but it seemed to get a few results even if it was at the cost of morale. 

Then it happened. The alarm. A blaring alarm that rang halfway through the night. You bolted awake and grabbed what you deemed necessary. Your ID and your guns. Your usual Barrett on your shoulder and a revolver on your side. The cold concrete floor did little to hinder your speed as you made your way towards Deimos’s room. 

To your relief when you arrived he was still there, the same way he always was. On that damn bed. You clicked the door open and grabbed a pair of cuffs from outside of his room. “On your knees Gerald.”

“First name basis are we?” He scoffed and turned to you. Not one for his games, you aimed the gun at his leg. 

“I was told to keep you alive- not in healthy shape. Now be a good boy and follow instructions.” 

“You’re playing with fire girl.” He finally swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Hands behind your back.” He followed your instructions and you were quick to cuff him. 

“Going somewhere?” He asked. 

“No.” You locked the door from the inside and found your spot behind him. You pulled the gun from your back and he made a small sound. 

“Nice pyjamas girly. We should swap sometime.”

“They say you never talk much in interrogations and yet ever since I've been here I can never get you to shut up.” You hissed. 

He let out a laugh. “You? Oh you I like. Such a fire, never afraid to say it how it is. A real shame you came back to Rainbow. Here I thought I wouldn't have to put you in the ground like the rest of your group.”

“For starters-” You locked your gun in place and steadied it over his shoulder. “I'm not part of Rainbow. I'm doing this as a favour. And secondly, you think you're ever leaving this hell hole your dead wrong.”

“Oh sweetheart, I don't have to leave here to watch you all die. It's already begun.”

“Yes yes, your going to kill us all. Cool story, now don't move.” 

The pair of you stayed like that for five minutes before you heard it. The massive explosion that burst the door into smithereens but done in a way that would protect anyone inside. 

Out from the dust, someone appeared- someone you didn't recognise. Without hesitation, you pulled the trigger and Deimos deliberately bumped his shoulder up. It was something you had predicted. 

“I told you not to move.”

“Your aim was off.” He spoke innocently with a nonchalant voice. 

“Yes because I figured you would pull some shit like that.” 

His chuckle vibrated next to you and he slightly leaned his head towards you. “I swear to god Deimos…”

“Have I been anything but the model prisoner?” His voice was mocking and came out as a purr. 

Even though it wasn't necessary, you removed the mag and reloaded. The movements were intentionally harsh to jolt around Deimos before you slammed the gun down on his shoulder again. 

The small grunt he made when you did so didn't go unnoticed and the corner of your lips curled up. The great thing about the design of the holding area was that in order for someone to reach you they would be forced to come down the very long hallway. 

You cursed when a bunch of smoke rolled into the hallway and filled the room. Unlike Timur, you were unable to see through it and your jaw clenched. 

Thankfully Deimos stayed quiet and allowed you to focus. Any movement you saw you were to shoot on, your ears listened for the movement in the smoke but just as they neared you a familiar suppressed gun went off. 

The smoke started to clear and you were quick to start your fire. Precise singular shots were all you needed. The bodies dropped to the ground and a moment passed. The smoke fully cleared and you started to stand up from your spot behind Deimos. “Do hurry back.” 

You rolled your eyes and met your savoir at the door. “Taina. Good to see you on your feet.” 

“Icarus.” She nodded your way and approached the open door. 

“Thanks for the backup, you did a good flank.” 

“Not that you needed it huh?” Deimos mouthed off behind you. Strangely, it was a little flattering he thought so highly of you but then again perhaps he was being sarcastic. It was hard to know with a man like him. 

“How's the rest of the base?”

“On high alert, they broke through the east side as a distraction but things are quickly coming under control. I can handle him if you need a moment.” Taina offered as her eyes scanned your rather under-dressed outfit. 

“I'm good, you stay up ahead.” You politely smiled. 

“Are you sure? Deimos is… be careful around him.” 

“I always am.” Despite your refusal, you noticed her foot still crept into the room. 

“He's a bastard and a liar. Don't trust a word he says.”

At her tone, your hand went to the side arm that you had strapped on your hip. Immediately Taina noticed how you went for the revolver and her brows narrowed. 

Still, your hand hovered there. “Taina just go.”

“Are you planning to do something?” She accused. 

“No- I'm not. But your hesitancy to leave is making me worried. I appreciate the help I do but please just go up ahead.”

“No.”

At her refusal, you pulled the revolver out and aimed it at her. “Don't make this harder.”

“Why are you so protective of him?”

“Because it's my job. Sam's orders, shoot anyone who may kill Deimos. He wants him alive and gods above help me. Don't back me into a corner here Cav.”

Then she took a step back and put her hands up. “I understand. I just wanted to see where your loyalty lay.” She nodded your way and disappeared away from the room. 

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you found your way back to behind Deimos and ran a hand through your hair. 

“All this fuss for little ol’ me…” 

“Shut the fuck up, Gerald.” 

-

After Taina left you didn't see anyone else for about half an hour. Not until Eliza showed up with Sam in tow. “Didn't secure him down?” She cocked a brow at you. 

“If he runs I shoot out his ankles.” You could feel Deimos’s gaze on you. “Jobs to keep him alive not keep him walking.”

“Heard that you had an altercation with Taina.”

“I don't take chances.”

Eliza gave you a single nod and looked towards Sam for a moment. 

A silent conversation took place between the pair of them before Sam spoke up. “Go get some rest. We can take care from here.” 

Your tense shoulders dropped slightly and you nodded in response. “Will do.”

-

A week later you lay in your bed, eyes trained on the ceiling. Each breath was long and drawn out. Despite your clock reading three in the morning you couldn't help but lie there completely awake. 

There wasn't any logical reason to back up that gut feeling that formed and festered in your chest. A tightness that had your entire body tense. Something wasn't right. After giving up and finally getting to your feet you snatched your phone off the side table. 

You pulled on an old hoodie and dumped your phone in the pocket. A torch and your revolver were the next two things on the agenda. Mentally you promised yourself, just one check-up on the man and then you would go back to sleep. 

There hadn't been any alarms and Deimos had seemed the same annoying self when you had last seen him. It was beyond any logic that something would be going on. 

Your slippers made little sound on the polished floor as you made your way by torchlight. The way to Deimos’s room had long since been ingrained in your mind even though he changed rooms. 

Yet when you neared you weren't met with the darkness of his asleep. The door that spanned the long hallway was open and a small crack of light escaped it. You turned off the light from your torch and slipped out of your slippers. Slowly you crept down it, your hand flexed and curled around the hammer of the revolver. 

Then you saw them. Jessica, you believed her name was. She was part of IT staff. There was something connected to the electronic card reader and his door was open. Their voices were hushed to the point where you couldn't hear them. Without hesitation, you pressed the silent alarm on the wall. 

The door behind you swung closed and locked. The sound drew their attention and the first thing you saw was Jessica's face, then it was the pistol in her hand. 

A large bang echoed through the rooms and she fell to the ground with a hiss. There wasn't a single hesitation in your movement. The shot had caught her directly between the eyes and her body crumbled to the ground instantly. 

Deimos ducked behind the thick doorframe out of view. “You never should have got out of bed sweetheart.” His voice was a mocking purr. 

“Stay in your room, Gerald.”

“Room? This cell? I don't think so.” 

Something flew from the inside of his room and you swore out and covered your eyes as the flashbang went off. Disorientated, you stumbled when you felt a sudden impact. His hand wrapped around your wrist and slammed it against the wall. Despite the pain that had you gasp out, your tightened and your finger pulled the trigger. 

You slammed your head forward against his and went to knee him. Yet when your knee made contact one of his hands grabbed your thigh while he used your off balance and the weight of his body to force you onto the ground. 

Again he slammed your wrist but this time against the ground. Two more times and your grip loosened enough to fall from your grasp. Deimos snatched your gun and you went deathly still when the barrel pressed against the bottom of your jaw. 

“Nice gun you got here. LFP586, one shot from this and there's no coming back from it. Can't help but wonder where you got this.”

Silence stayed between the pair of you when you didn't answer him. He let out a small chuckle and you could practically hear the rolls in his eyes as he spoke. 

“You can talk I won't bite. Where'd you get the gun girly?”

“A bunch of operators use it. I don't know why you're surprised.”

He let out a tut. “Now it's rather a standard issue in GIGN but you're not GIGN are you? I can't recall such a weapon being on NZSAS’s artillery.” 

You swallowed and pressed your lips together. It was actually rather good that he was talking, perhaps you could stall enough time for someone to show up. 

“Now, last time- because I hate repeating myself, why does a girl like you have a gun like this?” 

“It was a gift. I've always preferred accuracy over quantity.”

“A gift huh?” You felt him twist the gun against your skin as he looked at it. “It seen a lot of combat hasn't it? Who gifted it to you?”

“Gustave did.” The words were a whisper on your lips. 

“Why?”

“A thank you from when we worked together in New Mexico.” 

“Oh, I heard all about that. Viral outbreak wasn't it? So much fuss.”

Your eyes shot to his and your lips sealed. It was classified information. He could be bluffing about it but the thought that he had such classified information has your heartbeat quicken. 

“Well I'm not one to steal a gift so let's say thank you for letting me borrow it.”

“Mind the kick. I'm sure the recoil is something new for you.” You spat the words out with venom but that just seemed to make the man happier. 

“ Now there's that fire I love. ” He grabbed you by the middle of your hoodie and pulled you off the ground. With the gun pressed against your head, you didn't dare try to get out of his grasp. Anyone else you might had but not Deimos. He was far too unpredictable and you couldn't lie that he was far better at hand-to-hand combat than you were. 

The door cracked open and you looked towards the silhouette. “Looks like someone else came to play. Nap time birdy.” Deimos voice was barely a warning before the hammer of your gun slammed against your head. 

-

Would have it been better if you stayed in bed? 

A groan left your lips as you woke up. Despite your arms being restricted behind your back you were able to sit up from your lain form. “Perfect timing to wake up.”

Slowly you blinked a few times and turned toward the voice. Deimos placed a tray on the ground next to you. In a surprising amount of gentleness, he pressed his fingers against your head. It was directed where he had hit you. The flash of pain had a hiss escape from your lips as you pulled it away from his touch. 

“It's bruised but you can handle that.” 

You glared at the man as he crouched in front of you. “I'd like my gun back now thanks.” The words were gritted from your teeth and while you knew he wouldn't return the gun it was more of an expression of how you felt more than anything. 

“I'm afraid your colleagues dealt with that when I decided to stretch my legs. You're lucky you got out in one piece.” 

He sat down on the floor properly and leaned in. “Trust me, I thought you would be a good little hostage but they were rather determined to stop me even if it meant taking you down with me.”

He picked up a chip from the plate and brought it to your lips. “You should be thanking me really.”

“Fuck you. Bastard. They were right to try and kill you.”

“Even if it meant killing you in the process?” 

“Yes.” Your lips snapped shut as he held it there.

“Open up sweetheart.” 

You glared at the man in response. With a huff, he removed the mask from his face and placed it on the ground next to him. His lips parted and he slipped the chip between them. All the while he kept eye contact. He bit into it and slowly chewed before he swallowed. 

“See, I wouldn't try and poison you.”

“Who said I thought it was poisoned? Maybe I'm not hungry.”

“It's been two days. Eat.” 

“You knocked me out for two days?!”

“No. I sedated you for easier handling and now it's finally worn off.” His voice was rather nonchalant and it wasn't until you jerked your head away that his stance tensed. 

“I don't know why you bothered. I'm not going to tell you squat even if I did know anything.” You hissed. 

Deimos chuckled and his hand reached for your face. His thumb gently stroked your cheek while his eyes roamed over the rest of your face. 

“Oh, I know you won't. There's not a thing in this world that you could say about Rainbow that I don't already know.”

“Then why bother at all? Why not just leave me there or kill me?”

“I'll tell you a secret little birdy.” He leaned in closer and his voice grew quiet. Not that it changed much, it was only the pair of you in the room. “I've grown rather fond of you and I think I'll keep you.”

Blood drained from your face as your lips grew dry. The realization hit you that you had no type of leverage against the man. If he wanted information at least you could hold out on that. 

“The feelings not mutual. I'd rather die.” 

Again he laughed and tutted at you. “Now sweetheart I don't think that's entirely true. If there's one thing I can do it's read someone and you’re an open book. You can deny it all you like but I think the feeling is rather mutual even if you can't say it.” 

“Fuck you!” You slammed your head forward against him. He let out a grunt and fell back. In his dazed state, you were quick to move. You rocked your body and jumped to your feet. With your hands secured around your back there wasn't much you would be able to do. Lucky enough the cuffs were just long enough for you to jump over them like a backwards skipping rope. 

You pounced on the man and used the chain to strangle him. To stop him from flipping you over, you leaned back and let gravity control your body. Deimos clawed at the chain for a second before his head suddenly flicked back and he went prone on the ground. The movement was quick enough for him to slip from your chain and recover. 

You stumbled back and readied yourself for his retaliation as he got to his feet. Deimos clicked his neck side to side but he didn't seem overly upset, instead, he seemed rather amused. 

A knife flashed from him and you took a step back to create a gap between the pair of you. “That wasn't very nice.” He clicked his tongue.

The knife swiped down and you used the joint of the cuffs to parry it. It collided with a loud metallic sound that had your eyes go wide as he pushed down. A grunt left your lips, the man was far stronger than he looked. 

The bastard had the nerve to wink at you before he twisted the blade. It coiled the chain around it and he yanked you towards him. Anticipating your forced movement towards him, he tapped the back of your neck and forced you against the wall. He untangled the knife and slipped it up so it rested against your neck. 

He stood behind you and sandwiched you between the wall. The warmth of his chest pressed against your back and you could feel his breath against your ear. “They'll come for you Gerald.” You cursed his name. 

“Rainbow?” He laughed and pressed against you harder. “How long did it take them the first time? Your presence changes nothing. Well, for them anyway.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“To me, your presence changes everything. ”

His knife trailed down against your throat until it reached your chest. It was pressed just hard enough to cut into the fabric.

“You're sick.” Your teeth were glued together and you didn't dare to move. Deimos’s lips brushed against your ear and for a moment you swore he kissed just beneath it. 

“No, no, no. You see, I'm very good at picking up people's micro-expressions and I know you. In the last few weeks, I've learnt to know you very well. Like I said, I don't think you hate this as much as you say. I reckon if I were to dip my fingers into that cunt of yours it would be soaking-”

“Fuck you!”

The knife suddenly tore through the rest of your shirt and you managed to clutch your shirt together. 

“As I was saying. If I found you before they did you would have been singing my praise long ago birdy.”

This time when he kissed you, it was far more prevalent. His lips slowly pressed against the side of your neck and slightly sucked on it as he enjoyed the taste of you. 

He pulled the knife away and tucked it back into his sheath before you felt his large hand cover one of yours. It curled around your hand and forced you to grope your breast with him. 

“Don't worry sweetheart. I won't force you to admit it.”

Your breath hitched and he paused his movement. 

“But I'm nothing but a man of honour. You tell me to stop and I will.”

“I've read what you've done. You wouldn't know what honour is if you looked it up in a dictionary.”

“You're probably right but I'm still a man of my word. Stay stop and I will.”

“You're a bastard.” 

His hand pushed yours upward and he replaced them. The inside of his fingers punched your nipple while he continued to palm it. Gerald's hips ground against your ass.

“I'm not hearing a no.” 

You could practically hear his smirk against your skin and when you went to open your mouth all that escaped was a small moan that only egged on him more. 

“Yeah? Do you feel that? Mmm, this is where a girl like you belongs. Pressed against me not worry 'bout anything.” His hand travelled down and didn't hesitate when it reached your pyjama pants. Gerald's hand slipped beyond the waistband and found the prize that was your wet cunt. His fingers slipped against the entrance with ease and started to tease your entrance. 

“Fuckin’ soaked. Was it just me or does being manhandled get you that worked up?”

“I…”

“Shh shh shh. I've got you. you don't have to pretend. It's just us here. Just us.” 

Two fingers curled inside of you but didn't move anymore. For a moment the pair of you just stood there completely still. The gravity of the situation started to dawn on you but you couldn't help the way that your head started to feel dizzy from his scent alone. 

He was such a man who commanded control of every situation. That natural scent was almost overpowering. You hadn't ever really noticed it even when you were in his room but now he was slow close it was impossible to escape. 

Would it stay on you long after his touch was gone? Would it claim you as his? Gerald's fingers retreated from you and you wondered if he had changed his mind. Had he sensed some type of hesitation from you? He pulled back slightly and turned you to face him. 

From there his eyes made contact with yours and he cupped your cheek with his palm. This time it was you who moved. Slowly you moved your hands up and his head tilted ever so slightly. It was obvious that he was interested in what you were doing and didn't make any attempt to stop you. His hand slipped from your face and allowed you to continue raising your hands up. 

You hooked your wrists over his head and rested them on the back of his neck. Carefully, you pulled him into you and his lips Glady made contact with yours. The floodgates opened as Gerald early kissed you. 

His mouth consumed yours in opened mouth gasps and he bent down slightly before he grabbed your thighs and picked you up with ease. Automatically you wrapped your legs around his waist as you lost yourself in his lips. 

Gerald held you there with ease, his hands feeling up your ass as he did so. When your lips parted for air he bit down slightly on your bottom lip and dragged it for a second. That smirk was still on his face. 

Your eyes kept contact while you let out small pants. He shifted your weight so it was more against the wall and allowed himself to hold you up with only one hand. Gerald pulled out that knife again and before you could say a word he sliced through the seams of your crotch. 

“The fact you came to me with no underwear on. Naughty girl.” 

“I'm in my pyjamas- ”

He cut your voice off as he placed the flat blade against your cunt. The coolness had your brain rewire and you let out a small strained sound. His tongue flicked over his teeth and the blade was gone. Gerald paused for a moment and pulled open his belt with ease. 

Then you felt it. You looked down to see his thick cock press against your entrance. The head strained for a second but then it slid in with ease. A shiver spread across your body and you griped onto his shoulders for dear life. You couldn't separate your hands very much and so they brushed against his neck as your nails dug in. 

Your eyes squeezed shut and you threw your head back against the wall as he continued to push in.

“Uh uh ah.” His thumb pushed on your chin. “Look at it. Eyes open sweetheart.” His voice wasn't mocking but one full of authority. It was a command that you obeyed without question. Your eyes looked down to see your cunt swallow his cock up. It took everything he pushed in until he was completely sheathed inside. 

All thoughts had long since left your head as he slightly readjusted himself and grabbed you with both hands again. With his grip secured he pulled you slightly away from the wall so that when he started to move you, your back didn't scrape against the concrete wall. 

There wasn't any warning. One moment you were filled stretched to the brim and then the next moment he was gone only for him to slam back in as he bounced you on his dick. A cry left your mouth and you pulled on his neck with the link. Your face buried in his shoulder as he continued that brutal pace.

Sure you had been fucked before but this was something different. Every bone in your body had turned into putty that he could meld by his will alone. Each time he re-entered it felt as overwhelming and consuming as the first. You swore you could feel him to your very core, all the way up to your chest. 

“I've got you birdy. That's it.” He purred in your ear and continued to praise you but you couldn't hear much due to the pounds of blood that echoed in your ears. 

The pair of you stayed there for god knows how long. Just him fucking you on his cock like a toy. He didn't stop even when you clenched down around him. He didn't stop when tears fell from your eyes and he didn't stop as you gushed around him. 

Gerald successfully managed to drain all energy from you by the time your cunt drained his cock. The kisses he placed on your head afterwards felt distant like he was on another planet. You didn't have the time nor the energy to think about the situation. All you could do was collapse fully limp in his arms.

-

Slowly you opened your eyes. Instead of the cell you had been subjected to, you found yourself rather cozied up in a large bed. For a brief second, you thought it was only a dream but as you blinked and looked around the room you realized you weren't familiar with your surroundings. 

You looked to the side only to see your reflection in a mirror that decorated the wall. In the reflection, you were met with the image of yourself. No longer were you in your pyjamas, instead you had a black shirt on and a pair of sweatpants. The shirt didn't fit quite right and you wondered if it was one of Gerald's. It certainly smelt like it.

The gears turned in your head and your eyes went wide. You saw the figure at the bed next to you and you spun around to see him asleep. The gravity of the situation crushed down on you and you swallowed. Slowly you got up out of the bed and your eyes went to his gun that was placed on his bedside table. 

No way he would leave it out right? It was surely a trap. It would at least be empty right? Either way, it was a weapon. His knife would be better. Yet as you looked on the floor you couldn't find it. 

You tiptoed over to the other side of the bed and silently picked it up. He didn't stir. You flicked open the chamber and your heart raced as you found that there were in fact bullets in there. Just to make sure you pulled back one bullet to check they weren't blanks. 

They weren't. 

“What are you planning to do with that birdy?” 

Your eyes snapped to Gerald. He was propped against the headboard and leaned back against one hand. With the blanket no longer covering him, you could now see his shirtless form. 

You aimed the gun at him and he didn't seem surprised. 

“I should kill you.” You hissed but couldn't stop the slight shake of your hands. Most people wouldn't notice it but he wasn't most people. 

“And why’s that?”

“You killed people.”

“And you haven't?”

“You killed innocents, you killed your own people. You killed Harry.”

“Harry was a cancer to this world. Even you should understand. After all, you left him.”

“Yeah, I left! I didn't fucking kill him for it. You were already gone- hell you killed your own team. You of all people don't have any right to lecture.”

“I did what was right to stop-”

“-You became the very thing you were supposed to stop.” 

Gerald weighed his head and pulled back the blankets from the bed. You took a step back and watched as he got to his feet. 

“Don't move.”

He ignored your command and continued forward until his chest met with the barrel of the gun. He grabbed your hand and instead of pushing your hand away, he pulled it up. The barrel rested against his forehead and he stared intensely into your eyes. 

“If you're going to shoot, you better not miss.”

His hand didn't leave yours though. His thumb rubbed over your knuckles as if he were comforting you. The soft gentle touch was such a contradiction to the rough merciless man he was.

Seconds ticked by until you suddenly pulled back your hand as if his touch burnt you. The corner of his lips curled up and you took a couple of steps back. 

“Not going to shoot?”

“Rainbow wants you alive.”

He laughed and you fled towards the door. “Keep telling yourself that sweetheart.”

“Don't call me that. D-dont follow me.” You yanked the door open and ran out the door. Silently you went down the hallways, careful not to bump into any of his men. Eventually, you found a bathroom and jimmied open the window. You had no idea where you were but anywhere was better than being by his overwhelming presence. 

You only looked over your shoulder once as you fled into the woods. He hadn't followed. 

[mysteriousbp]

We saw alot about kanako as an amalgamate but we have not seen anything about half-amalgamate kanako (first post kanako in a panic attack) and im really curious about that.

Does she have amalgamate powers (shapeshifting and possibly ignoring the laws of physics) or does she just turn a bit goopy is this something kanako and possibly clover control or is it more subconscious (i like the idea that instead of a hurt sprite she she will start to melt like zenith martlet) im a huge fan of the concept of kanako being back to normal but under certain circumstances she goes back to being an amalgamate só i really want to know what your take is

Bonus questions

Does kanako have a fear of neddles

Does she consider the other amalgamates as family, visits them and possibly tries to find a cure for them using her father's research in her teen years

And finally I DEMAND WHOLESOME ART OF GOOPY KANAKO AND CEROBA, SHE HAS SUFFERED FROM WAY TO MUCH ANGST LET US COMPENSATE WITH HAVING WHOLESOME ART OF MOTHER AND DAUGHTER BONDING

(Hope this doesn't give you to much trouble i have been watching your contente since the first post of this au and i love it i hope to see more of your contente and i hope you make more of this au)

Kanako half-amalgamate form is something subconscious that happens when whoever is in control has a panic attack or is really stressed out. 

And no, she doesn't have amalgamate powers. She just becomes goopy. (Even then, Amalgamates being able to shapeshift is kind of dumb. If they can shapeshift, why don't they just shapeshift into a more normal-looking form???)

Anyway. You said that you guys haven't seen anything about half-amalgamate Kanako? THEN HAVE THIS :D

A thing that I mentioned before that I haven't gone deep into is that my AU version of Kanako has Cleithrophobia. And that's the fear of being trapped. Which she gained after being trapped for almost 2 years in the true lab. It just felt right to give her that fear. And she gets the worst cases of panic attacks when she gets trapped inside an elevator or in a place where the only way to leave is an elevator and it's not working. She's just a little kid who was in a place she couldn't leave after losing a family member and not being able to see or hear from her mother. That would affect a child's mind really badly.

(If someone is wondering why Clover is only on one panel, it's because Kanako's brain subconsciously blocks everything around her when in a panic attack. Even Clover. So Clover has a hard time snapping Kanako out of her panic attack. And also, we only see Kanako's pov to see what's going through her head when she's panicking. Everything else, it's Sadie and GK pov.)

Bonus questions

"Does kanako have a fear of neddles"

Yes. She also developed Trypanophobia after the accident. Clover, it's the one in control of the body when they go get a vaccination or something else... After Kanako burned a doctor's office after using a fireball out of panic.

"Does she consider the other amalgamates as family, visits them and possibly tries to find a cure for them using her father's research in her teen years"

Kanako does consider the other Amalgamates to have distant families, and she does visit them from time to time.

And no, she doesn't try to cure them. Her father died from a soul experiment; she almost died too, and the other fallen monsters needed to melt together to stay alive. She knows that soul experiments are dangerous. She doesn't want to change, making things worse. It's already a miracle that the fallen monsters are still alive. Why risk killing them with a research that has already caused so much pain?

"And finally I DEMAND WHOLESOME ART OF GOOPY KANAKO AND CEROBA, SHE HAS SUFFERED FROM WAY TO MUCH ANGST LET US COMPENSATE WITH HAVING WHOLESOME ART OF MOTHER AND DAUGHTER BONDING"

Okay.

Have Ceroba comforting Kanako after she had a panic attack from a nightmare she had.

(Creatures notes: I don't know why... But Kanako with half-amalgamated hair looks great to me...)

[ryker-writes]

Could I request the dorm leaders with an s/o who's a zoologist?

of course darling! I don't know much about zoology or the profession, but I tried to look up what they do online so I hope it's accurate and to your liking <3

Request rules and Masterlists

Riddle:

he finds it very interesting

Riddle has a basic understanding of many animals, but he's never seen most of them in real life due to his mother keeping him inside most of the time

so he does like to learn more about them, but he loves even more to see them

he's a big animal lover

please show him your animals

he wants to learn how to take care of them any any other animals

you have his complete trust when it comes to taking care of Heartslabyul's animals

in fact he trusts you more than most of the students at the school

Leona:

Leona really likes it

both the Afterglow Savanah and Savanaclaw are pretty much full of beastmen so there can be a lot of animal behavior around you two

he likes not having to explain every little thing about something specific type of beastman do

but this also means that if anyone else doesn't understand beastmen things, he's going going to tell them to ask you instead

he also just really likes hearing you talk about something you like

so he'll ask you about a specific animal thing just to get you talking about it, and he'll just lay there quietly listening

it's his favorite way to fall asleep

if you bring animals near him, he won't even be disturbed

he just kinda vibes with them

Azul:

he has mixed feelings about it

don't get me wrong he loves you and your passion for zoology and animals

and he fully supports you when it comes to that

his condition is that there can't be any animals in the lounge

and he gets real nervous if there's a big animal near him in general (especially if it's an animal that eats octopus)

he also just worries about animals ruining his paperwork or getting into his things

but outside of all that, he fully supports you and even encourages you to tell him about it

he might even find inspiration to have events in the lounge based of different types of animals and ecosystems you tell him about

he may ask you about certain animals like lions...you know just incase he needs to make a deal with someone

Kalim:

asks you questions all the time

Kalim loves animals a lot and would always love to learn more about them

he'll pay to have an animal in Scarabia for a day just to ask you everything he possibly can about it

as you tell him about the animal and the environment it lives in, he's trying so hard to retain all that information

he's totally going to try and get animals to live in Scarabia for you

and he wants to use the animals that go together in their ecosystems...but he may have trouble remembering

don't be upset he's really trying

will ask you again about the ecosystem with some specific animal and run of with that information

next thing you know, Scarabia is completely filled with animals of all kinds because he wanted to create one giant ecosystem

Vil:

he thinks it's wonderful

Vil is someone who can truly appreciate your passion and love for animals

and he fully supports it too

as long as any animals you bring are kept under control

he would still love to see the animals and listen to anything you have to say about them

he even appreciates the beauty of both the animals and their ecosystems

he would love to do something like a photoshoot with some animals in their natural habitats

and anytime he's doing a photoshoot/acting with animals, he always calls you to ask about the specifics of the animals he's going to be working with

if you trust the animals, he will too without hesitation

Idia:

Idia really likes animals, especially cats

animals are just so much better than people

but that doesn't mean he'll just accept any big animal being near him

if it's something small like a ferret or something it's fine

but please don't bring in anything bigger than a fox or he'll get real nervous

he will allow the animals in his room as long as they are behaved and you can promise they won't break his things

if he's spending time with an animal or just being near one, he wants to know about it first and will ask you about it

Idia is another one who likes to listen to you talk while he does his own thing

so he may ask you about an animal while he's playing games

even though he's playing video games, he's listening to you and taking in everything you tell him

Malleus:

he finds it fascinating

most of the animals Malleus has seen are the ones that hang around Silver

...every other animal is scared of him and usually runs away when he gets near

Malleus supports your interest in zoology, but he wishes he could be more involved without scaring the animals

even if he knows all about some of the animals and their lifestyle, he's still going to ask you just because he loves hearing you talk about it

and he would love to show you the rarer types of animals he knows about and some that have gone extinct

do you want to learn about dragons-

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Her avoidance

She can talk. She can fight. She can quit. But can she really open up?

Can she open up about her feelings? About her vulnerabilities? About her fears? Can she not be strong for a sec? Can she admit she dropped a ball? Can she cry in public? Can she break in front of someone important to her? Can she let go of her G woman mask for a sec and be just Sydney, the woman who does not get it all together at all times? The one who feels relegated and thus hurt by her business partner? Can she voice her needs and frustrations about it in an honest conversation that invariably will take an emotional turn?

Can she, not during an argument, but during a heart-to-heart conversation really voice out how she feels and why? Can she put her needs into words assertively and clearly, without having to resort to anger?

Because anger is not always an explosion during an argument or a result of a stressful situation. No. For avoidants, anger is also a fuse that blows after the avoidant mechanisms have done their job for a while covering up what has been really simmering underneath the surface for far too long. Then the burst of anger happens as a consequence of that not as a proactive behavior, and usually comes accompanied by other emotions, such as frustration, guilt, grief sometimes, etc.

Can Syd really open up to Carmy or to anyone else for that matter, like she once did under that table or in the back alley? -both situations initiated by Carmy btw, not by her-

Can Syd really stop avoiding talking about things that hurt her or that would put her vulnerability on full display?

Can Syd open up about any emotion or situation that DOES NOT solidify her G woman persona?

She operates from that G woman level at all times. Even around her father. She's self-sufficient, strong, hard-working, courageous, intelligent, talented, extroverted, talkative, can be a social butterfly, etc. BUT CAN SHE OPEN UP ABOUT ANYTHING THAT UNDERMINES THAT DEMEANOR SHE HIDES BEHIND AT ALL TIMES?

My guess is YES. She can. She chooses not to, though. Because she's avoidant in nature, which is probably rooted in her motherless upbringing. Not saying she lacked love and nurturing here, in fact I strongly believe she had all of that and I went over that here already. Syd is fine (IK it doesn't look like it rn) and she will be OK because of that. I'm sure. She's got this.

But she grew up without a mother nonetheless. And that took its toll on her. Of course it did, how could it not? Her getting along pretty much effortlessly with Nat and Tina (both mother figures) has a lot to do with that.

Growing up without a mother, no matter how great a job your father does to compensate for that absence, will, in one way or another, result in abandonment issues that don't necessarily have to be limitant although they can certainly be at some points of our lives, especially when exposed to highly stressful situations or life-changing events. Or when you know someone that turns your whole life upside down.

It's a delicate ecosystem.

In this delicate ecosystem, Syd's ecosystem, she developed a very sophisticated type of avoidance that does not cancel out her extroverted ways, they are actually fully compatible with it and highly valued in the professional realm:

Emotional avoidance

Emotional avoidance is a preemptive strike to avoid things that are perceived as threats and are associated with experiencing and/or expressing certain feelings that would jeopardize the G woman complex upon which her entire personality is built in her case. It's a defense mechanism, nothing else.

As long as it can be controlled, this mechanism, is not a big deal and can even work in our favor because it helps us to compartmentalize, when necessary. Now, when this avoidance causes conflicts to stay unresolved (I'm talking about a definitive resolution, not a quick patch) to the point of triggering panic attacks or insomnia, etc. then that avoidance has to be tackled differently because it becomes a problem.

It's important to clarify that this doesn't have to be permanent but rather consistent, meaning: it doesn't have to ALWAYS be the case.

But as long it's the PREDOMINANT TRAIT -which results in frequent issues that could be prevented or solved by not behaving this way, by not avoiding really opening up about feelings, by not postponing certain uncomfortable conversations, by not avoiding the conflict those conversations may bring to the surface, and again I am not talking about waiting for the anger to hit the fan and having a day of fury (great movie BTW), I'm talking about opening up about emotions, even the uncomfortable ones, the painful ones and putting all of that into words, clear words, assertive words. Even if that means tapping into a vulnerability that causes us unease - then it's a problem. A big one.

Effective communication

I'm talking about communicating effectively as I mentioned here and here.

For that communication to happen, her avoidant ways will have to be addressed and managed. I wish Syd, just like Carmy, would go about it in therapy, but mostly likely, taking into account that Sydney is Storer's creation, it will be forced upon her via the worst-case scenario or something along the lines of "traumatic". Like the inevitable convo Carm and her will have to have at some point and it won't be pretty. But it certainly is necessary. So, she will have to open up about what she feels for him and all the implications and base her decision on that, on all the things and feelings she's either in denial about, not ready to admit or avoiding.

That means that being Carmy's counterpoint in this case will allow her to work on her own unsolved issues, which include but are not limited to:

Avoidance

In return, her mere presence in Carmy's life allows and also forces him to improve whatever he needs to improve in himself to keep her by his side.

Like I said→ They complement each other. And they mirror each other.

Bonus track: Emmanuel Adamu is the only one she really opens up to (except Carmy when there's a table involved) and even THAT she finds hard to do as well. They love each other but their conversations, when tap into her vulnerabilities or fears turn into arguments that end up leaving her frustrated and obfuscated because he forces her to quit avoiding talking about certain topics Syd prefers to avoid.

That qualifies as class A avoidance when you have a problem letting your guard down even in front of your own father, the person you love the most in this world and who you know for a fact that will never hurt you and whose sole purpose is loving you and protecting you. So, anyone who comes after him, will not have it easy either. Obviously. Well, Carmy happens to be the one who comes after and he's as talented for avoidance and evasion as he is in the kitchen, so no wonder we are trapped in this limbo S3.

But we have a way out of here. I'm positive. In whatever way they want to do it, this effective communication will happen between them at some point. And if nothing works, they will always have a table to get under, I mean it's a restaurant, they have plenty of tables there, they just have to use them wisely ;)

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[keepmovinjunior]

i just wanted to talk about something (under a read more bc it is out of character)

everyone is here for their own reasons, and that's cool. i totally get that. i'm not about to tell anyone how to spend their time or operate on their own blog.

i, personally, am here for fun and that's it. i'm here to write. i'm here to ramble about fictional characters and have silly little interactions on the dash / expand on my character's relationship with your character's. my real life has its own stressors (i have a great life but obviously not everything is peachy keen and being someone who is politically informed and inclined, i want to have a safe space in which i am not interacting with that type of content that i can retreat to for my own relaxation). at the end of the day this is, as i said, playing tumblr barbies for me (and most likely for most people). it's a game and it's not that serious. in fact, it's like. not serious at all.

some people are here for community and friendships and that's totally fine. i'm not against making friends, either, and i do really like and appreciate a lot of the people i interact with often and on a daily basis, even if i don't know most of you well at all. we engage in the same hobby and we're all aliases behind a screen but i really do enjoy talking to many of you. however, at the end of the day, if i don't make friends here, that's fine, too. i'm just chilling!

having said that, i've been around for a long time and have, of course, made friendships, had relationships, gone in and out of certain blogs, etc. and this is not a hobby i think i will ever outgrow (probably will just have less time for during certain periods of my life - and most people probably will experience that). i've had falling outs, i've had moments of being uncomfortable with certain people, i have had headcanons and sometimes even some of my own graphics lifted from my blog by others of the same muse, i've even had whole ass relationships with other writers in which i was very hurt. but here's the damn thing, ok: i never, ever, not even once, had a public DNI that other people had to adhere to to write with me, tried to call someone out or incite community wide drama by dragging other unrelated people into what happened over my own personal experiences, or tried to control anyone else over it. i always understood that not everyone is going to feel the same way, or have the same experience, with another person. i understood that dealing with my feelings about the situation was on me, and it was in my own best interest to learn how to move past or live with what happened. if i felt uncomfortable with seeing that other person around, it was my own responsibility to handle my own feelings as i saw fit, and no one else needed to do that for me. this is just good philosophy toward life in general, but, as it applies to tumblr: if i couldn't handle seeing someone on this platform and co-existing in this space, i would leave, sign out, or just. literally do anything else. i knew that my own friends and my own fun is what i should focus on.

there is a feature on tumblr called filtering. you can blacklist tags and users. you can filter things that make you uncomfortable if you want to stay but don't want to see those things. you can unfollow. you can block. you can literally do anything else, and you don't owe explanations for that. or, if you can't handle it even with those things done, you can sign out and leave and invest your time in something healthier and more relaxing. this is a hobby.

by all means, have your DNIs, make your call outs (leave me out of those, though, because i guarantee you that unless this person is a sexual predator, groomer, or scam artist, i am not going to care, especially if i have no relationship with anyone else involved in said drama) and will think you're ridiculous for it. just know that the moment you start to try to control how other people operate, you will lose out on a lot of really good experiences and just make this a more miserable place for you to be.

the best healing is exposure and love and support. it's not focusing on what other people do or seeking out spaces in which you will be triggered because you enjoy being a victim.

take it from me, a 30 year old queer woman who has gone through my fair share of loss in life: it's not that serious. it's really not.

[hrizantemy]

If you don't mind, could you share some of your thought process on creating Taryn as a character and your favorite aspects of writing her so far? (Can you also give a physical description? I would like to draw her and nesta together and Ive been imagining her as cruel princes' Taryn; which is a little funny to think about)

This is so sweet—and so funny! I’ve read the first Cruel Prince book but didn’t even make the connection to Taryn from that series! That’s hilarious and kind of fitting in its own way, but yes, let me give you more details!

So, Taryn as a character actually came about unexpectedly. She wasn’t someone I initially planned to write; it was going to be just Nesta on her own, focusing on her healing journey. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Nesta has never really had someone wholly in her corner—a person who supports her without judgment or an agenda. That gap in her life is what inspired Taryn’s creation.

I wanted someone who could stand alongside Nesta, not to “fix” her, but to offer her unconditional support and the space to be herself. Taryn’s character grew from that idea, and I started with her name, which has so many layered meanings.

• In Irish and Gaelic, it’s tied to “the land of Eoghan” or “people’s ruler,” which felt fitting for someone who would hold her own and guide by example rather than force.

• The connection to rivers and flooding, as in “the trespasser,” reminded me of someone who defies expectations and carves out a path that may disrupt, but ultimately creates growth.

• Then there’s the Latin meaning tied to “earth” or an “elevated place,” which gave her a grounded, steady quality.

One of my favorite aspects of writing Taryn so far is how she knows when to step back and respect Nesta’s autonomy. A perfect example of this is during the Solstice and Nesta’s interactions with the IC—Taryn doesn’t try to insert herself or take over. Instead, she lets Nesta handle things in her own way, at her own pace, without any interference. That respect for boundaries is a cornerstone of who Taryn is, and it’s a deliberate contrast to how other characters have behaved.

For instance, take Rhysand. Even when Feyre explicitly tells him to leave her relationship with Nesta alone, he still tries to control it, inserting his own ideas of what should happen. Or Cassian, who has a pattern of badgering Nesta, pushing her even when it’s clear she’s uncomfortable or not ready to engage with him on his terms. These moments can feel suffocating for Nesta, and I wanted Taryn to be the opposite of that.

Taryn highlights what it truly means to give someone the space to heal and make their own choices. She supports Nesta without demanding anything in return. There’s no pressure to act a certain way, no need to meet someone else’s expectations or timelines. If Nesta decides to set boundaries or push back, Taryn respects that instead of trying to guilt or force her into compliance.

I think that dynamic is so important for Nesta because it offers her something she’s never really had: a connection where she feels safe to be herself without fear of judgment or consequence. And, more than that, it allows her to grow on her own terms. Taryn is there to back her up when needed, but she also knows when to step back and let Nesta lead.

It’s a refreshing contrast to the characters who think they’re helping but end up reinforcing unhealthy patterns instead. Writing Taryn as someone who embodies that quiet, unwavering support has been incredibly rewarding.

Now, onto Taryn’s physical description! She has dark hair—by dark, I mean black—and striking green eyes that stand out against her complexion. Her features are sharp, with high cheekbones.

Taryn’s complexion is on the darker side, with warm, rich undertones that speak to her heritage. Her skin carries a sun-kissed glow, as if she’s spent a significant amount of time under a different sun than Velaris or even the Night Court could provide. It’s a deeper shade, almost like burnished bronze, with a natural radiance that contrasts beautifully against her black hair and sharp features. I’ve hinted at it before, but Taryn isn’t from Velaris or the Night Court.

Taryn typically wears dresses that balance simplicity, emphasizing her. She prefers flowing silhouettes that allow her to move with ease, often crafted from rich fabrics like velvet, silk, or fine linen. Her dresses are usually in deep, earthy tones such as forest green, burnt orange, midnight blue, or warm gold, complementing her complexion and hair.

The designs of her dresses are practical yet stylish—long sleeves for cooler weather or sleeveless options for warmer climates, always tailored to fit her perfectly. High necklines and subtle embroidery along the hems or cuffs add an air of refinement, while the occasional slit in the skirt gives her freedom of movement without being overly revealing.

I think I’ve covered all your questions, but feel free to let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to know or dive deeper into! I’ve enjoyed answering these and exploring Taryn and Nesta’s dynamic—it’s always exciting to share more about their story and development. So if there’s anything you’re curious about, don’t hesitate to ask!