#trope: anger born of worry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flowersforbucky · 20 days ago

Text

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

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett one shot #sex pollen #sex pollen trope #days of future past #xmen #xmen days of future past #xmen dofp

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quarterlifekitty · 1 month ago

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am so late but medieval fantasy with arranged marriage/wrong bride trope and a "supposedly" cold duke who found out that their wife/partner's family is toxic and how DARE they make their beloved life's hell aaaaa

I LOVE the trope of like arranged marriage to super fucking scary guy but then it’s actually soooo easy to get him pussywhipped. At first I thought of this for ghost but PSYCH you ghost hoes because it’s Nikolai time tbh

cw: arranged marriage, allusions to abuse

Duke Nikolai is getting married, so it is whispered, purely for two reasons: legitimacy and heirs. He’s known far and wide for some less than savory reasons, and he was not born into nobility— his service to the kingdom has seen him be granted wealth and land quickly. While a marriage to him would grant greater wealth and stability, it would be considered something akin to social suicide.

Enter you, a lady of noble birth and some small renown. Only child of a rapidly declining house, finding you a match is the only way to save your family from complete destitution.

You have had a weak constitution for most of your life, and as such have lived in isolation. You’ve received almost no socialization, a cowering thing with no poise or dignity to speak of. You are, in a word, unmarriageable by noble standards.

It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement born from desperation on both sides. You’re engaged without even having met, your first meeting at the altar. Your handmaiden tries not to cry as she prepares you to wed the dark head of such an unsavory house— she’s heard every rumor, and fears for what will happen when she can no longer accompany you.

Nikolai cannot help but be amused by how you tremble against his hold. He sees you as a frightened doe. At the reception, he pulls you into his lap and rubs a thumb into your hip as he holds you, settling your frayed nerves.

The trend continues in your wedding bed when he keeps your back to his chest and has you come apart on his fingers before giving you his tongue, despite your protests about properness. But that’s what happens when you marry an uncouth commoner who’s made a name for himself in brothels across the continent instead of some high-born pup who’d be content to have you bleed on his sheets for the three minutes it would take him to cum and fall asleep.

Before, Nikolai saw this marriage as a union in name only. You’d have your dalliances with whatever stableboy or neighboring lord you pleased, while he chased the skirts of maids and tavern women. But when he has you tucked against him that first night, he gets the strange feeling that the bond you’re forging is one that can’t be traded or ignored. That there’s something to this… matrimony thing.

You’re still a bit fearful of him. He understands. You’ve been raised to think of your husband as the master, the one who decides your fate and keeps your bones unbroken as an act of generosity. But what he cannot stand is the flinching.

Your parents and teachers tried no small number of ways to try to make you an attractive, upstanding lady, you admitted— not angry at their methods, but ashamed at how they hadn’t worked. And he burned inside— a feeling not felt when a woman is your wife in name only.

Don’t worry, lanyashka. He has enough anger for the both of you.

#pricegouge this is for youuuuuu #writing #cod fanfic #cod #fantasy au #medieval au #arranged marriage #cw abuse #Nikolai #nikolai x reader #nikolai cod #cod nikolai

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ghost-bxrd · 1 year ago

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okay so this is an idea I’ve seen brought up maybe once before, but maybe Jason (before the Bats find out who he is) accidentally lets something slip that makes them realize that he’s literally, like, a child (seventeen, sixteen, I’m not sure how old he is at that point exactly, but either works)

and Bruce “adoption addiction” Wayne promptly looks at this obviously traumatized teenager and decides that he should adopt Red Hood.

I just think Jason would be so confused (maybe a little pissed too)

I’ve touched on that a little bit in What you’re longing for (you claim to abhor)!

I think this trope is wayyy underrated. Like, Jason is still so, so young. Basically a child. Even if he died at sixteen and then spent two years with the league (even if we’re counting the time he spent dead as aging). He’s barely even legal when he returns to Gotham. Or if we’re being generous let’s say he’s nineteen.

Doesn’t matter, he’s barely out of his teens (maybe he’s still IN his teens if you bend the timeline of your fic a little) and he’s experienced horrors that would have most people become utterly unable to function. But Jason? That boy takes his trauma and channels it into anger. Which, not exactly healthy, but well.

Anyway, getting off topic:

YES. Jason is still basically a kid when he debuts as the Red Hood, and you know what else he is? A good boy who’s not gonna touch any alcohol until he’s officially 21.

“But why would he do that? He grew up in Crime Alley! Ain’t nobody got time for age limitations!”

Hear me out! Let’s assume he grew up in a household where his father, Willis Todd, drank quite a lot on the regular in addition to his mom’s addiction. Jason experienced the aftermath of this (perhaps domestic violence?) every time his dad returned from a job/jail and he grew to loathe any and all substances, including alcohol. Knowing Jason and his convictions it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume he’d never touch a single drop of alcohol at all.

So that’s one way he could slip up while taking to his goons (and having the bats overhear) or even straight up talking to one of them where maybe Dick banters a bit and goes “Hey, perhaps you should chill out a bit. Have a drink maybe” and Jason just instinctively goes “Fuck you Dickwing, I’m seventeen/eighteen/nineteen! I’m not allowed to drink!”

And Dick just— bluescreens. And immediately goes to tell Bruce, obviously.

The Bats assume Jason is this old guy (Bruce’s or Drathstroke’s age maybe) and consequently they keep alluding to things that happened way before Jason was ever even born and at first he’s so? Confused??? But eventually it just gets really annoying and eventually he just— snaps.

“How the fuck would I know which Nokia gen hit the market that year? I was born in fuckin’ XXXX, I’m an iPhone kid!”

“Stop referencing the Cold War dipshit, I’m fucking seventeen! I’m glad I remember my own damn birthday!”

“I don’t know, I was like— two back then.”

Bruce, obviously, would take .1 seconds to realize:

“Omg. That’s- that’s a whole child. That’s a whole damn TRAUMATIZED child, killing people and sawing off heads. Omg someone must have hurt him so bad. Don’t worry tho, son, Batman’s got you. You won’t have to hurt anybody ever again. We’re here for you. Would you like the room next to Tim’s or Dick’s?”

Meanwhile Jason: “what the fuck”

#ghost talks #lmao Jason would be so done at this point #like pls spare him all the horrible references he doesn’t understand #he’s gen z #and everyone is suddenly using boomer memes #and he’s so lost #dick isn’t helping #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #tim drake #red hood #fic #batdad #good dad bruce wayne #brainstorming

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kagetxiga · 3 months ago

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Ok I know that I requested earlier but it was so good 🥲🥲🥲😭😭😭😭!!!!! Ok sbg x phantom reader?

Reader Is a phantom but she has a human like figure for herself but I doesn't make it any better since she is still VERY creepy I mean like more scary then the phantoms like reader is so quiet that ASHLYN CAN'T EVEN HEAR HER an she a whopping 8 feet tall 😁 with A LOT of hunting skills 🥲😭 like the first encounter with reader was her chasing them spider style 🥲 her smile is so long it reaches her FOREHEAD 😨

that's all 😆🦅🦅🦅🦅❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

If to tired to do do it later I don't mind waiting!

-by ohmydearesthowiluvu72

Hey darling! I was WAITING for a trope like this omg, i’ve always wondered how a Phantom!Reader would be like!! You also had requested for it to be poly so don’t worry girl, i gotchu 😉 anyways, enjoy! 🌷🧸💕

MASTERLIST

HAUNTING NIGHT

A SBG X PHANTOM!READER TROPE

Let’s just say

They had a hard time sleeping

It’s not every night you wake up in a new realm where phantom monsters chase you and your friends

But after that field trip? It’s every night.

BUT A HUMAN PHANTOM???

HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF A SLENDERMAN LOOKING CREATURE CHASED YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WOODS?

Logan passed out in fear and they had Ben carry him the rest of the chase

“Hey…guys? What’s that?” Taylor mumbled while pointing behind them

And all they see is a person

At least that’s what they thought

The reader has long and lanky arms and legs, making them a whole 7’10 tall

Did i mention how their eye pupils are fully white?

So just imagine a tall figure in the woods, blending in with the shadows and all you see is their huge ass smile reaching their ears, showing off their beautiful pearly whites and their eyes wide open.

Yeah they weren’t gonna deal with that

So they ran!

BUT YOU CHASED. 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥

Bending backwards and doing twists and acrobatics, you chased them on all fours, making weird hissing sounds while they yelled in fear and for the sake of their lives back at the base

It doesn’t help how you can climb over the walls to their base

You’re already taller than the original phantoms, you’re too short for your head to reach the top of the walls, but when you stretch your hand up?? Yeah you can totally climb it.

Soooo it wasn’t fun when they found that out

When you climbed up the wall, they were fucking terrified, and i mean terrified

They didn’t know what to do!! This has never happened before!!

Sadly taylor was the first one you lunged after, pinning her down to the ground and was about to chop her face off (you were hungry), but Tyler immediately swung an axe at you, making a deep cut on your arm

To which it grows back!!

Ta-da!! You can regenerate!

So obviously that wasn’t much help, it just angered you even more so you went after Tyler, sparring Taylor for later

Sadly Ashlyn grabbed a flashlight and shunned it at you, unlike other phantoms, you don’t melt or bubble up like them, it just makes you weak

Super weak to the point you can barely move

So when that happened, you had practically fainted due to hunger and the light

They couldn’t kill you, because after further inspection, they realized you were human(-ish) so they took you in for interrogation, having you tied up on a chair with ropes all around your arms, wrists, ankles, thighs, basically everywhere

When they realized you were a hybrid, they were quite scared for their safety, but also concerned for you, maybe you had been forced to transform like that, maybe you were in the same shoes as them, having been in a field trip and been stuck here, or maybe you were just born like that

You finally woke up from fainting and immediately had a headache and all sorts of aches everywhere from the massive lights shunned at you when they were asking questions

Turns out, you were just part human, having been born like that in the phantom world

You were starving tho, so they somewhat fed you (they gave you a granola bar and an apple)

After that, they kept you in the chair until further notice, having you in a separate bus, and each night, they send someone to stay with you the entire time, questioning you and making sure you’re not doing something /going anywhere

Tyler, Ben and Logan didn’t like the idea of having you around, you were weird, you were different, you were apart of them

But at the same time, they couldn’t kill you, you were too humanized to the point if they even did end up killing you, they would be haunted by the thought of murdering someone

Ashlyn and Taylor were on edge, they hated being put at risk of danger, they hated the thought of you releasing from the chair and doing god knows what

They couldn’t trust you one bit, but they still took care of you, having to slowly build yours and their trust together

While you’re taken hostage, they’re the ones who usually feed you, they eventually found out that you’re a carnivore, having to be eating meat. But you still ate the granola bars and other food they gave you, but it wasn’t a good option of food.

AIDEN. OH MY GOD.

Dude this guy was driving YOU on edge

He can pop up out of no where with like idk a MACHINE GUN and it scares you.

Aiden loves to taunt you

He just loves torturing you

I think it’s cause you attacked his friends

Just be glad that you didnt attack ash…

He would always act like a bodyguard too, along with ben and tyler

Like when ash or taylor goes to feed you, theyre always looming behind

Now lets say you were acting nice, honestly you could care less that you’ve been taken hostage, you’re not fighting for your life in the wild, you’re being hand fed by pretty girls, and you’re just sitting there chilling

They eventually let you out

And but not without weapons being on them

“Okay…im gonna untie you, you better behave” Taylor said with unease in her voice

“Okay!” You cheered with a gleeful smile

But to them it was horrifying to see your smile

You slowly stood up as you stretched your limbs, but then you hit your head on the bus roof.

After a few hours, with you just wandering around exploring the place, you eventually just…

Fell asleep on the bus rooftop

They found you weird, but this is where they’re learning to fully trust you

Sure i will admit, you were used as a guard dog or a guard in general

But this is how they realize that you’re still a human and guilt was being spread like the plague

You had harmed yourself when you jumped in to protect logan from a phantom, earning a large scratch all across your chest down to your pelvis

And after getting to a safe place, they immediately treated you up (thanks ben)

But it didnt take long for it to heal (regeneration) but they still felt bad

After that, you gained logan’s respect and trust, the others…you just gained respect

HEY YOURE STILL PART PHANTOM DONT BLAME THEM

but eventually with a lot of bonding and sharing adventures together, they trusted you

It took a while, along with a rocky path, but they trusted you and thats all you needed

Thank you! ^^

-K.T

#fandom #school bus graveyard x reader #sbgxreader #sbg fandom #sbg taylor #sbg tyler #sbg ben #sbg x reader #ashlyn sbg #aiden sbg #sbg #sbg (webtoon)#logan sbg #sbg fanfic #aiden x reader #tyler x reader #x reader

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batpupboy · 10 days ago

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Buddie love tropes I see often in fic

~aborted declaration of love

~all-loving hero

~almost kiss

~anger born of worry

~anguished declaration of love

~beautiful dreamer

~belated love epiphany

~belligerent sexual tension

~the bet (we all know the 118 and the dispatch Center have a bet going on these two)

~the big damn kiss

~birds of a feather

~bite of affection

~bi-wildered

~casual kink

~caught the heart on his sleeve

~closet key

~comforting comforter

~confession triggers consummation

~converse with the unconscious

~crush blush

~crush filter

~cry into chest

~declaration of protection ("You can have my back any day" "Or you know you can, you could have mine" this was in the first episode with Eddie)

~destructo-nookie

~dismissing a compliment

~don't you dare pity me

~everyone can see it (Maddie literally clocks Buck's crush on Eddie within two episodes)

~fake relationship

~flirting under fire

~fool for love

~friend versus lover

~friends with benefits (but it always goes wrong)

~grand romantic gesture

~green-eyed epiphany

~headbutt of love

~held gaze

~her(his) boyfriend's jacket

~holding hands

~home sweet home

~I can't believe a guy like you would notice me

~I didn't mean to turn you on

~I don't want to ruin our friendship

~I "uh" you, too

~I want my beloved to be happy

~inconvenient attraction

~insecure love interest

~interrupted declaration of love

~intertwined finger

~it doesn't mean anything

~just friends

~lap pillow

~laugh of love

~leave the two lovebirds alone

~like an old married couple

~longing look

~love confession/confessor/epiphany/informant (technically all different tropes but related enough to only be one point)

~love revelation epiphany

~loving detail

~meet the in-laws

~moment killer

~motivational kiss

~mutual pining

~now or never kiss

~oblivious to love

~pitbull dates puppy

~please, don't leave me

~post-kiss catatonia

~psuedo-romantic friendship (see Christmas elf "mistaking" Chris for both of their son)

~relationship labeling problems

~relationship reveal

~relationship upgrade

~the reveal prompts romance

~romance-inducing smudge

~romance fake-real turn

~romantic hyperbole

~romantic ribbing

~romantic ride sharing

~secret relationship

~sex equals love

~she/he is not my girl/boyfriend

~shower of love

~sick bed smuggling (not in the traditional sense but this has happened in canon with Eddie and Carla distracting a nurse so that Chris could visit Buck in his coma during 6x10/11)

~slap-slap-kiss

~sleep cute

~smithical marriage

~stupid sexy friend

~10 minutes in the closet

~there's only one bed

~true love is a kink

~twice shy

~unbroken vigil

~unknowingly in love

~unresolved sexual tension

~uptight loves wild

~wall pin of love

There are so many of these but these are like the ones that I have seen commonly

#eddie diaz #911 abc #buck x eddie #buddie #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #buck buckley

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jack-kellys · 8 months ago

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hiya fizz!! can I request davey + forgetting to eat for the bad things happen bingo? idk it just feels so Him yk

bonus points if there's javey involved asw (maybe with the anger born of worry trope idk)

tyy :))

hey theeere kit of course! one box per fic, though, making it harder for myself >:)

ao3 series here, and request a trope from these here!

The chillier breezes and shifting leaves of autumn came quicker than David could have planned. Not like he can plan seasons, of course, but he hadn’t had time to factor in what autumn meant to his, shall he say.. outside responsibilities.

School, for one, had picked up once September finished- assignments were piling enough and David left home that morning with Les with arithmetic still to complete. It occupied his lunch period, pencil messily scratching across the page to finish it before his next class.

And after school he’s at the circulation gate, waiting for the evening edition with a couple of the boys. Sometimes Sarah accompanies him when she can get out of the house, and especially since their folks don’t permit Les to sell anymore (much to the now ten-year-old’s chagrin), but today isn’t one of those days. It’s solely David, tapping his foot.

“He’s late,” he mutters out, not to anyone in particular.

“Who, Jack?” Racer asks, perking up. That’s true, but not what David meant.

“Wiesel,” David sighs. “Folks are expecting us on the streets in only a few minutes, right?”

“Cool it,” Racer chuckles. “Ain’t a thing. We got better things to be pissed at him about.”

“I’m not- pissed,” David frowns, shoulders bunching a little. He stops tapping his foot. Race gives him an exaggerated nod, eyes widened, and David rolls his own. Finally the gate opens and when David turns away from the window with his fifty papers in hand, Jack appears in front of him with some kind of smile on his face.

“You’re also late,” David says, and Jack only smiles wider. “You selling?”

“Ain’t I always,” Jack smirks, patting his bag- less than his usual, David thinks. “I got a request.”

David’s lips quirk, following Jack when he begins to walk them away from the circulation center. “What kind, exactly?”

“A good one, promise,” Jack replies, setting his hand on Davey’s shoulder, likely to steer him toward whatever odd adventure Jack’s planned. “It’s startin’ to get colder, you know, and Klopp can only buy so much for us. It’s up to us older fellas to pick up the slack. New socks, new gloves, extra fabric to stuff clothes with.”

That’s reasonable in terms of necessity, but not in the way that matters most. David turns his head toward Jack. “How did you get the money for that?”

Jack smiles again, wide, eyes narrowed in amusement or pride.

“Easy,” he states. “I didn’t. Now c’mon.”

For all of the legends and stories David has heard, he’s never seen Jack’s thieving skills in action. There are lots of things he’s swiped over the years, apparently, that simply hadn’t made it to his rap sheet- and most were far more impressive than food and clothing. So while David doesn’t exactly like it, he makes conversation with a shop clerk while Jack slithers into the store behind him. The bottom line is that they can’t afford it, and the kids at the lodge need it, and that has to outweigh the moral consequences of it all.

David’s normally a talkative person. Not a good talker, maybe–definitely a better one now–but he can keep going, and going. He’s leaning on the counter, having linked his english class to the price of wool going up somehow, and he feels his brain start to…slide, almost. It feels distracted, but not by anything he can tell, and his gaze falls to the counter as it does. Maybe he’s just tired, but he has to keep talking so Jack can get–

“Hey. Hey. Kid, you alright?”

David’s head snaps up with a quick inhale at the clerk’s voice, blinking a few times to sort out his vision. He’d been really intent on that counter.

“Uh, yes, yeah,” he nods quickly. “Just fine, ah- sorry, what was I talking about..?”

“You ain’t been talking for nearly a minute,” the clerk replies, “what- HEY!”

That can only mean one thing. David can hear the door open, and before it can close, he’s running outside.

“Thought you said you were good at this!” David yells, catching up to Jack. His paper bag is filled, and his shirt must be stuffed- he’s gripping his sleeves like random objects might start pooling out from them.

“I am when my partner ain’t suddenly go dead silent!” Jack retorts, glancing behind them. He picks up his pace, and painstakingly, David does the same, a pit forming in his stomach.

His expression slackens. More than a pit- something like a hurricane, swirling his insides in circles, over and over.

“Jack,” he tries, but his voice doesn’t carry this time. He’s way more out of breath than he should be. “Jack. We need to- I need to stop.”

His partner’s head swivels at that, expression incredulous. “Dave, we-”

Jack blinks, eyes widening suddenly, and he nods vigorously. Ask and David shall receive, apparently…

In a moment, Jack’s hands are on him, as if he knew David was inches from stumbling. He practically shoves David into an alley, the change in direction jostling his brain. His legs are keeping up, but his brain can’t seem to, and every time he blinks they’re an extra five feet ahead of where they only just were.

Finally, Jack stops, and so does David, breathing hard. Spots are entering his vision, and he tries to blink them away, grabbing onto a railing at the bottom of a fire escape to steady himself.

“Shit, Dee,” he hears Jack hiss, and his fingers fall away from the railing as he’s guided and then sat against the wall. In front of him are Jack’s big, blurred, midnight-dark eyes, his eyebrows creased with concern. Light dapples parts of his face from above, landing on his pink-brown cheeks. He must’ve set David under the stairs. “Davey- Davey, hey, what’s goin’ on? What happened?”

Jack pats his cheek suddenly as he speaks, jerking David back to an attention he hadn’t realized he’d left.

“I just… can’t. Run. Ri’now,” David supplies, blinking at the other.

“Yeah I got that,” Jack almost chuckles, gaze still filled with worry His hand finds David’s forehead. “Are you sick?”

David shakes his head slowly, leaning into Jack’s palm. “Had to do math, during lunch.”

This somehow confounds Jack more, eyebrows scrunching, before he nods.

“Davey,” Jack sighs. “You gotta eat during lunch, okay? Gotta do that, or you’re gonna black out mid-sprint.”

“I blacked out after,” David corrects. The corrects again- “I didn’t black out.”

Jack nods in what David assumes is mock-understanding, before the boy shifts closer, pressing a quick kiss to David’s temple. Then he leans back, sitting on his knees and watching David for a moment. He can feel himself smile slightly, and Jack mirrors it meltily, before David snorts as the other tries to quickly wipe it off his face.

“Stay there,” Jack orders, standing himself up. “I’m gonna go grab you somethin’, alright? Then we’ll head back.”

David nods, leaning his head back against the brick behind him and resting his eyes. There’s no movement in front of him.

“Stop staring and get me some food, Kelly,” he hums.

“I–” Jack huffs. There’s a pause. “On it.”

#anyway!! hope u enjoy !!#newsies #davey jacobs #david jacobs #newsies fanfic #jack kelly #fizz writes #fizz answers #javey #javid #newsies fic #newsies the musical #rizz does bthb!#i like that it kept my indentations…. tab key my beloved #jk i hopped on desktop and theyre gone

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bloodraynebeast · 9 months ago

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Now that there’s some context to work with, let’s have some fun. I decided to switch it up and compile a list of what Romantic Tropes I could find that are the most fitting and evident for Yashiki / Mashita. You may recognise all of these from TV Tropes. Not safe from MAJOR SPOILERS of the main games and more below.

All Links: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 <-

Updated AO3 Version <-

Romantic Tropes -

1] Age-Gap Romance: Both are adults with Mashita ageing in his late twenties, meanwhile Yashiki is estimated to be within the mid thirties to mid forties range. This instantly becomes comical in the dynamic of their relationship as Mashita often takes the lead and berates the older man.

2] Anger Born Of Worry: This is practically Mashita on a regular basis with Yashiki whenever he feels he gets too emotionally involved in their spirit cases - alleviating the source of their pain, helping innocent people affected while dismissing the threat to his own life. Mashita’s first instinct when saving Yashiki as he falls from the building in Red Riding Hood, is to bark at him for being an idiot and press why he ignored his warnings, his orders to stay outside where it was safe. It becomes a pattern that Mashita makes irritated comments about Yashiki always getting into trouble and his lack of concern for his safety, especially for the sake of others. Whereas Yashiki can sometimes be mildly indignant, but he's normally unambiguous when he's worried. Plus he’s too thankful for any help Mashita gives.

3] Aw, Look! They Really Do Love Each Other: For all the times the two can bicker and disagree on their views and ideals - Mashita frequently pointing out his naivety and stating the living and the dead should stay separate, while Yashiki can’t turn a blind eye to the suffering of the dead and wants to help everyone involved - it doesn’t change how compatible they are in their relationship and how well they work as a team. Despite not entirely approving of the other’s methods, they understand. They both also care deeply about the other’s wellbeing, more than enough over their own.

4] Battle Couple: There is often build up to Mashita joining Yashiki in the investigations during the games and other media. In two separate instances with Red Riding Hood and Death Mark 2, and more which can be determinant, Yashiki and Mashita are made to partner up at the climax of a story. They are framed as a force to be reckoned with when they work together, giving the other support and are the type of pair to use guns on a spirit in a confrontation and have it be a success. Word about the two men have spread over the years in the field, as characters from NG mention them in previous cases they’ve closed. Yashiki and Mashita are implied to be inseparable in and out of work and not what the spirits can win against, according to Shou Nagashima.

5] Belligerent Sexual Tension: Noticeable during their more tender and teasing moments, when Mashita offers kind, supportive words and Yashiki reacts softly, or the two are quipping with each other. In other instances it's when the men are frustrated with one another, but Yashiki is shown to have a somewhat calming effect on Mashita’s stormy demeanour on several occasions. There’s also an exchange in the ending of Red Riding Hood where Mashita describes the teacher that was involved as thin, tall and the type popular with students, implying that he was attractive or had an attractive personality, glances at Yashiki before continuing that he wasn’t too unlike him. Given how the student Sayako felt towards the teacher and how Death Mark 2 proceeded with its narrative, could this have been a sly, cautious way of complimenting Yashiki?

6] Birds of a Feather: Yashiki and Mashita both lost someone very important to them that still weighs on them heavily, something they may have confided in each other about off-screen. Neither are particularly equipped for social situations, although in different ways and much prefer their own company. Both can be blunt in their honesty, their remarks and cannot take praise. They also share in appalling sleep schedules as their character art sprites show extreme dark circles under their eyes and more than likely neglect any sort of self care. They enjoy the simple pleasures of sitting in the quiet with a cup of coffee or enjoying a drink, and smoke in Mashita’s case, which is likely one of the reasons why Mashita would visit the Kujou Mansion so frequently. Yashiki and Mashita are not the best at dealing with children and also find themselves drawing blanks or not understanding the appeal when younger characters talk about something new or popular, although much more so on Yashiki’s end.

7] Defrosting Ice King: After meeting Yashiki, Mashita has certainly made some progress. It’s apparent the impact Yashiki has made on him and still retains those effects in the current timeline. Breaking down his character, Mashita does have a secretly good heart but Yashiki makes Mashita stop and consider a gentler, more empathetic approach to situations. In Kokkuri’s case in Death Mark 2, he even talks to the deceased himself much like Yashiki would. He’s also just more at ease and takes part in antics with him in and out of canon.

8] Fan-Preferred Couple: Evidently this. Considering the amount of created content and attention, a majority of the fandom supports Yashiki and Mashita as the main pairing. From the pairing’s popularity alone it is entirely possible if there were an official couple introduced, particularly with either character, they would still be the preference.

9] Fate Drives Us Together: If the Mark incident with Mary hadn’t occurred, or happened later down the line with even worse consequences, the two would likely have never met. Yashiki would have remained as Masamune Kujou and continued his isolation while devoting himself to his family’s obligations, or simply died. It is only through meeting Yashiki that Mashita survives. Otherwise he would’ve been another victim, someone else seen as collateral damage in Masamune’s eyes. In the epilogue of Death Mark after sealing away Mary, Yashiki and Mashita would reunite and continue to investigate spirit related cases together after Mashita returned to normalcy, starting a new career as a private investigator. What started as possibly one-offs soon became partnered work and how their relationship deepened. Years later following the events of Death Mark 2, Yashiki and Mashita would still continue to work together closely, as evident in NG. Mary’s albeit mocking words given her deception of Mashita’s fate being entwined with Yashiki’s comes to mind, and yet rings true.

10] Finishing Each Other's Sentences: Frequently in and out of their work. Yashiki and Mashita are often of one mind and can tell where each other’s thoughts are leading, finishing where the other tends to trail off.

11] I Got You a Drawer: The latest DLC for Death Mark 2, opened up a new aspect of their relationship. Mashita leaves his signature coat behind at Kujou Mansion, which Yashiki doesn’t appear to mind as it’s still hanging out in the open. It’s just accepted with the reason that Mashita must have forgotten about it and yet doesn’t jump to resolve that. It’s also worthy of note that he points out how an item left by Moe was without his permission, whereas he doesn’t linger at all on the fact Mashita left the trench coat behind without permission after however long it’s been there. It poses a question of what else Mashita may leave behind if he’s become so accustomed and comfortable at the mansion, and whether or not this was intentional. The likely answer is yes. But the reasons for why are more curious.

12] Inconvenient Attraction: Feels like Mashita for Yashiki whether it be sexual, romantic or platonic as the ex-detective was evidently drawn to Yashiki in some regard. Presumably Mashita has very few in his circle of people to care about and probably intended to keep it that way given what happened to his mentor, so things are suddenly more complicated when he’s needing to worry about a good natured man always managing to throw himself recklessly into danger. Some curse or spirit always trying to take his life. Enough so that Mashita is called in to help Yashiki as backup by characters like Yasuoka and Rose or goes in to help of his own will. It’s also ironic as someone formerly on the force still holding onto strict laws, having a close relationship with someone constantly breaking said laws - worse still, does so himself for Yashiki’s benefit. I wonder if Mashita places blame on Yashiki for that.

13] Implied Love Interest: This is more subjective, but the vague romantic tones as evidenced in this analysis are all very much implied. They have more attention and development, throughout canon material and alternate universes which we will explore later. There are even accounts from fans saying they thought Death Mark was partly a dating simulator, wholly due to Yashiki and Mashita’s chemistry. As a result, the game gained some reputation online as the “Yaoi Ghost Game”.

14] Like an Old Married Couple: Although both are still relatively young, their conversations sound like old men that have been married to each other for decades. One case being Yashiki growing offended at Mashita always grabbing the coffee he meticulously makes for him before he has a chance to add sugar, which he deems a crucial final touch. Giving away that Mashita does not approve of the sugar intake Yashiki indulges in. Others have Mashita taking a moment to tell him to stop putting everything and anything he finds into his bag, rebuking him for always getting into life threatening situations. Yashiki needing to almost apologise on Mashita’s behalf for his rudeness to Hiroo and other characters, saying he acts like that with everyone or that he didn’t mean what he said that way. Small moments like these are why they are commonly referred to as husbands in the community, which only suited more after Death Mark 2’s release with its marital themes.

15] Lonely Together: Both strike me as the types to often find themselves alone and being generally lonely people, especially Yashiki who’s heavily implied to have spent the majority of his past life in isolation, shutting himself away from people while his sister Saya handled that side of matters. Mashita more because his personality may be too off-putting and rude for others. And yet they are frequently found around each other.

16] Love Overrides the Law: Mashita has brazenly given Yashiki, a civilian with no prior experience, a gun twice for protection despite very strict firearm laws. He also lets Yashiki get away with a long list of misdemeanours, but points out that he keeps track of them. Understandably the exception was when Yashiki to his knowledge at the time confessed to the murder of Kinukawa in Death Mark 2, which Mashita threatened to handcuff him on the spot for if he could, but then suddenly added that it only applied to living beings. Throwing out a theory that the version Yashiki killed wasn’t real, which was later proven right.

17] One Head Taller: Not massive, but height difference is a popular one and as it stands, Yashiki (5’11”) has several centimetres over Mashita (5'8”) - almost another head taller - which fuels a lot of content and discussion. Mashita being the shorter, smaller framed man of the two with all his grumbling attitude and confidence comes off as oddly endearing.

18] Rescue Romance: It goes both ways. After Yashiki saved Mashita’s life during The Mark incident and beyond that, Mashita likely felt indebted to him. Likewise, Mashita returns the favour saving Yashiki’s life during Red Riding Hood, the Bad End Voice Drama; “The Black Demon’s End” and arguably in Death Mark 2. The CG of Mashita saving Yashiki in the DLC is definitely popular for a reason. Mashita in particular is known to go rushing in to save Yashiki, half the time with a gun in hand. Given the nature of their work, the two will probably spend the rest of their time saving each other from close calls, further cementing their trust and loyalty.

19] Ship Tease: Was hesitant to put this one, but at this point the developers are at least aware of the pairing’s existence. The most teasing moments of potential romantic feelings we’ve had so far that I’m aware of are evident in the Voice Dramas and livestream advice column skits, particularly one that had been fan translated where Moe asks if Mashita is “interested” in Yashiki. One could argue the games themselves have teasing based on several analyses, but it largely depends on the player’s perception.

20] Tough Love: Mashita is straight to the point and can seem insensitive at times with Yashiki as he’s shown not to coddle him. He has a protective streak, but not as much in the way that protects Yashiki’s feelings. However, Yashiki seems to somewhat acknowledge that it's what is necessary sometimes when he begins to spiral with guilt. While it’s true Mashita can act a lot softer on him than with the rest of the cast and does console him, he still throws the occasional harsh words at him. Yashiki’s sympathy and naivety can be very dangerous for everyone involved after all, if not careful.

21] Tsundere: Now this is the major one. The huge factor for this pairing. It’s very unanimous within the fandom and can be strongly supported. Almost everything points to Mashita being a tsundere from his long list of actions regarding Yashiki in my previous sections, speaking louder than words, because he has difficulty expressing his feelings. Complaining about things being a hassle when helping Yashiki when in the background he’s already been digging for information, or that he’s helping because it's a job and pays when it’s obvious to the players that he’s heavily concerned. Mashita is notorious for calling Yashiki an idiot when he’s worried as well as in normal conversations, and disgusting in response to Yashiki showing gratitude or care towards him. More than naught with a tut, which is common behaviour. Mashita is more open with Yashiki about what’s on his mind and about more personal matters. The evidence doesn’t stop there as a post on social media from one of the devs had Mashita on Pocky Day - a day about sharing love, happiness and appreciation - additionally his official birthday, comment that he’s definitely not going to the mansion today. But actually had intentions to do so. He’d already prepared to visit. Other instances include outside of canon in livestream Voice Drama skits, where the characters read out fan questions for OOPArts. One in particular includes Yashiki, Moe and Mashita, translated by Keru and uploaded by Marvelously Cheerful. After the session, Mashita admits he only came to the mansion to kill time after seeing Yashiki there, to which Moe asks in a seemingly teasing manner if that means Mashita is interested in him. He responds with a baffled “Huh?!” and tells her to cut it out, not exactly giving an answer. There are other skits with some equally interesting things going on, but are yet to be translated. Nevertheless these livestreams can all be found on the official Experience エクスペリエンス Youtube channel to listen to. More examples can be found but for the sake of keeping these short, let’s move on.

22] Undying Loyalty: To reference the “deep bond” in Mashita’s character file, the relationship Yashiki and Mashita have formed has grown to a degree of deep loyalty, and feels especially obvious on Mashita’s side due to his decisions throughout the main games. To name a few, staying behind to help Yashiki’s situation when he could have focused only on finding the missing information about his mentor, charging in to save Yashiki and getting himself cursed a second time in the process during Shimi-O and running after Yashiki into the love hotel alone when he enters back inside to face the spirit, choosing to risk his life over and over again for his sake in the present time. Meanwhile Yashiki displays quiet appreciation. How much Mashita means to him is mostly conveyed through internal monologues and he knows he can always trust Mashita and trust his intentions even if he doesn’t always like it at first. When apart, Yashiki keeps in contact with Mashita and updates him about the case he’s working on. And when he presumes Mashita to be dead, he tells him that he’ll finish The Departed’s case to the best of his ability because he knows that’s what Mashita would want. They never give up on each other.

23] You Are Better Than You Think You Are: This and dismissing a compliment blend together well here. Yashiki is a conscience-stricken man with low self-esteem and shadowed by the past, so his opinion of himself is very poor. Even before the reveal of his actions as Masamune Kujou. Also despite inventing himself as an entirely new person and Mashita repeatedly reminding him of his capabilities that would do some good - preventing more victims that Yashiki feels responsible for - he often feels doubt over the decisions he makes and questions his own resilience, especially when it leads to consequences that cost an innocent life. This leads to where in both games Mashita takes a moment to assure him in his own words that he’s doing fine, doing everything humanly possible and that he does in fact save people. These scenes are significant because Mashita only goes out of his way to comfort Yashiki like this. Meanwhile Yashiki expresses his affections and admiration towards Mashita in small gestures, which he almost always returns with a sardonic comment or pointed rejection. It’s often seen as a mask to hide how secretly appreciative Mashita is of Yashiki’s kindness and how much he’s valued.

There are likely more tropes that could hypothetically be applied to the pairing as of currently, but I couldn’t include every possible example without repeating earlier points. We have a smaller amount of material to work with, with our smaller series. Writing out all these tropes however, definitely showcases the amount of layers their relationship has and why it’s appealing to fans. Back to the usual plan for the next part looking at the various hints in CD Voice Drama’s, which may take more time. Thank you so much for reading!

#死印 #死噛 #shiin #spirit hunter #death mark #spirit hunter: death mark #death mark 2 #death mark 2 spoilers #spoilers #death bite #shibito magire #kazuo yashiki #yashiki kazuo #satoru mashita #mashita satoru #yashita

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milkywayes · 3 months ago

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pwp

huddle for warmth (come on don't you want to freeze Garrus' plates off?)

flirting under fire

anger borne of worry (gone berserk for my babygirl)

PWP — no. like i’d be shocked if that ever happened

huddle for warmth — i love this and yes i kinda Do want to freeze garrus’ plates off but here’s the thing. i’ve seen this done so often that for now i don’t think i’d have anything to add to the trope. if it happens to fit into a fic i’m writing, i’d add it though. i really do love reading it

flirting under fire — HELLO shakarian is the flirting under fire ship. that’s a hell yes ma’am i’ll get right on that. in fact i have it in the drafts. for several fics. can’t have enough of this really.

anger borne of worry (gone berserk for my babygirl) — TOP TIER SHIT. i really want this for shepard. garrus is the babygirl. just let her go fucking crazy pulling off impossible and reckless stunts that’ll get her an ass reaming from chakwas And garrus later. i’ll also take it reversed but i’m not too big on the ‘turians surrendering to their instincts’ trope so i’d really want it to be shepard. actually i’m going kinda crazy just thinking about it rn. she’s so professional and stoic but she can’t excise that particular weakness…

#yay thanks for these #ask #ask game

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onehopefuldreamer · 1 year ago

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Why I can't help but always romance Persephone in Stray Gods

1 - Prickly on the outside, soft on the inside personality trope

This is probably the biggest reason because it's also probably my most favourite personality type of all when it comes to fictional characters. I am so very weak for ladies who kick ass and look scary but are secretly huge sweethearts. And Persephone is this trope to a T. Sure, she's big and scary, no one can deny that. But she can also be so sweet. She helped Calliope when she left Olympus, she saved Chastity from her abusive husband, she takes to mentoring/helping Grace so quickly, she is happy to help Medusa if Grace offers her help and even goes as far as admitting that this help was long overdue (something Apollo never does by the way). These are just some instances we become privy to during the game.

I'm absolutely sure there are more times when she was secretly kind, especially to people who needed help but had no one in their corner. Because while her personal philosophy is that no one else can help you keep your head afloat (born out of her own experiences no doubt) she's shown to actively be giving advice to and helping Grace as well as genuinely worrying about her safety and doing what she can to keep her safe. She's also obviously remorseful for not having been able to exact the change Calliope wanted so badly after becoming part of the Chorus and sympathetic about Freddie's fate. She cares and she cares deeply. She simply does her best not to show it because experience has taught her that others don't tolerate her being weak or deign to offer her sympathy no matter how dire the situation she is in. This naturally leads to:

2 - A character who is all alone and without a supportive system but refuses to give up

This is sort of a subsection of the prickly on the outside, soft on the inside trope, I know, but I cannot help but love characters who have had a traumatizing past and been forced to deal with it on their own. I always, ALWAYS want to be in their corner and if they happen to be ladies I never fail to fall in love with them. I find it absolutely amazing that anyone can preserve their integrity and remain kind after being hurt so badly both in fiction and in real life if I'm honest. To me these are the real heroes - people who have been hurt but refuse to let that hurt turn them into monsters. If there is a character like that in any media I partake in, no other characters stand a chance. Not really.

3 - Mary Elizabeth McGlynn's voice

In reality this is actually pretty much tied with numbers 1 and 2 but I had to keep some semblance of order so here we go.

I am very much someone who has always and forever been weak for beautiful voices. And out of the whole VA cast giving life to the LIs it's Mary Elizabeth McGlynn's voice that never fails to make me swoon or give me chills. She's so very good at what she does this woman. Her delivery is flawless both when it comes to her spoken and sung lines. I can physically feel Persephone's pain when she asks Grace "Please, don't do this." as well as her anger and bitterness when she sings "I gutted a god." or says "The only god I killed deserved it." for example. This adds so much to the character for me, you have no idea. I cannot honestly say if I'd have loved Persephone so much if she had been voiced by a different actress. But the combination between tropes I love and her sublime voice created a perfect storm so now no one can even compete with Persephone. Not even Freddie. And I love Freddie. She's just not Persephone. I'm sorry.

4 - Persephone's design

I love Persephone's design so damn much! I can't decide what I love most - her badass haircut, her cool tattoos, her slightly weird but somehow totally working for her outfit, her make-up that suits her perfectly, the colour of her hair and eyes or her androgynous look. Everything comes together flawlessly and creates one total and extremely gorgeous package. I don't know who worked on her design, but bless them, they really knew what they were doing.

The amount of screenshots of Persephone I have is obscene and I keep taking more because I simply cannot get enough of how stunning she is. Even when I was replaying to romance Freddie, Apollo and Pan I still kept taking screenshots of Persephone and being distracted whenever she was in the frame because her look is just so... I am running out of adjectives meaning "beautiful" here... Let's go with alluring.

The way she looks just does things to me I can't even begin to describe. I might be ace but even I can tell when someone is objectively hot and Persephone is scorching. Aesthetic attraction is huge for me and I guess her looks hit all the right buttons because I can't help staring at her and going "Wow!" pretty much all the time. Basically this screenshot of Grace is me every time I look at Persephone:

And speaking of that, one thing I have found I am particularly weak for when it comes to her design is the way she looks when she's drawn in profile. I don't know what exactly it is about her profile but I just melt every time I see it. It really did not help that this was part of her introduction to us in game:

How was I expected to pay attention to anyone else after that?!

I have a whole collection of screenshots of Persephone in profile that I should post alongside this to reinforce my point but again - the way she looks does something to me and I apologize to everyone else but I cannot possibly pay any attention to them when I have this in front of me. I'm only human...

#stray gods #stray gods: the roleplaying musical #stray gods persephone #persephone my love #i adore you #no one else has the same effect as you on me #nad talks about the things she loves #long post

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user-needs-new-hyperfixation · 5 months ago

Note

Trope mashup: 35 & 79

35. Bathtub Fic and 79. Anger Born of Worry

I'm gonna attach this to Matchablossom since they haven't been asked yet, but lemme know if you did have a ship in mind and I'll do it with them too!

After the skateboard to the face incident, Kauru gets frustrated by how slow healing is and ends up deep in a depressive phase. Joe is fretting over him as he withdraws more and more. He's in bed all the time but barely actually sleeping, he's barely nibbling on the food Joe brings him, and he's done no bathing but washing his face for three days when Joe finally has enough. And just tells him how it's gonna be. He's going to eat as much as he comfortably can, drink this much water, have a bath, and then take the sleeping pills the doctor prescribed that he's been ignoring and go the fuck to sleep. Kauru tries to argue and Joe is just Absolutely Not Having It. Him raising his voice doesn't scare Kauru -- they've been occasionally yelling at each other since kindergarten, it's fine -- but it does jolt him out of his fugue. He doesn't know how they get from not-quite-yelling in the kitchen to Joe sitting on a stool behind the bath washing his hair, but it's warm and comfortable and it makes him feel grounded in his body in a good way for the first time in weeks.

#matchablossom #ask game #don't try this at home

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thewritcrinme · 2 months ago

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The w o r d s m i t h knows that the pen is mightier than the sword, for it shapes minds and moves hearts. -- ChatGPT (bc I couldnt find a good quote so chatty helped me out here)

Lila Pitts blog (small hiatus) || Billy Hargrove blog ||

Some rules:

I'm 30+ working full time and being a full time single parent. I am constantly stressed and I just want to write to have fun and unload my stress. I was going to do a fancy google docs for my muses, but it just didn't work out. But short and sweet:

Be 21+ to interact. Just have fun. I love MxM ships, they're my comfort ships. I ship all my peeps with chemistry and the whole purpose for plots is to end up shipping romantically. If you're not cool with that, no worries I won't force you. I'm just a huge shipwhore.

My writing will involve dark themes - please be wary of that. I don't tag anything either so im sorry. Again, I just want to have fun. Writing is supposed to be for fun. I hope we get to write/plot/brainstorm.

Canon and OC muses under the cut. I need to work on them, but for now just have a short list to see who i'm planning on bringing in.

Merlin - Immortal- Pansexual - Verse dependent .

Powerful Warlock The last Dragonlord **Because he's immortal, I can fit him into any verse. In modern times, I have it that he's a professor teaching History. I am so prepared for reincarnation plots, or even normal professor x student plots if you're into that trope.

Killian Jones - 40 - Bisexual - Verse dependent.

Known as 'Captain Hook' in all the fairy tales. Wasn't born a villain. Abandoned by both his parents. Hell bent on revenge for 200 years and because of that magic, he has kept his youthful appearance.

He'd fit into any verse, be it modern or fantasy. He's a pirate from a fairy tale.

Leopold Fitz - 35 - Bisexual - Verse dependent

-Smartest man ever. Or at least on AoS. -Genius engineer, part of S.H.I.E.L.D. at the Sci-Tech department. -Sarcasm and wit makes up for the lack of muscles, but he's a fighter and will fight to protect his friends and family. Had an abusive dad and a mother who wasn't always there. Grew up to be one of the brightest minds.

Can fit into any fandom - supernatural or normal.

James Beaufort - 23 - Pansexual - Verse dependent

Trust fund baby with a bit of arrogance. However it only comes from the fact that he hides the abuse he endures from his father.

sports and partying, a way he tends to spend his time when he doesn't want to be home.

Nothing that money can't buy; He's a smartass, but once you get through that exterior of arrogance and narcissim, you'll see he's just a kid trying not to anger daddy who will hurt his mother as a way to hurt him.

college/small town plots as well as enemies to lovers trope for this babe? yes?

Wynonna Earp - 40 - Pansexual - Hunter- Verse dependent

Literally the female version of Dean Winchester. Except she protects the Ghost Triangle which she calls home from all Supernatural beings. Has a child, who she had to give away to protect her from the Earp curse. Stays behind to help the sheriff protect her home. loves and cares for her sister dearly, and truly just needs a happy ending for herself but she believes she doesn't deserve it.

Supernatural plots for sure !

Dean Winchester - 40- homosexual - Hunter - Verse dependent.

The ending we all saw didn't happen. Dean and Sam grow up to be old and continue hunting with Castiel as their guardian angel. However, in my verses, he's alive and doing well. Just like wynonna earp, his job is to protect people he cares about and write his own damn ending. Not the one that was written for him.

Supernatural plots for sure, crossover with everyone as long as he gets to be his pie-lovin' monster killin, sarcastic, witty self.

Judith Grimes - 18 - IMPORTANT - she is too young for anything NSFW however I chose to write her simply because I wanted the Grimes family legend to go on. Warrior, fighter, kick ass walker hunter out there to save the world. Verse dependent, will need heavy plotting if things were to get serious in a romantic type of way. Simply bc this teenage girl is out there trying to live as opposed to finding love. So plotting is a must!

Rhiannon Lewis - 28 - Pansexual - contemplating using her or Olivia Cooke-

Sweet serial killer. That's it. That's the plot. I love all the slasher writers coming around. We can do so much murder-esque writing. But I'd love to do something cannon. Someone be AJ to my Rhiannon?

Sam Carpenter (Loomis) - Melissa Barrera - 28 - Scream franchise.

You all, the plots and AUs we can do with Sam. Please let me know if you'd like to plot anything out. Basically the daughter of the notorious serial killer Billy Loomis. Haunted by her father's past.

Ace Hardy - 29 - Nancy Drew fandom- Alex Saxon FC- verse dependent, more on him soon

Veronica Mars - 40 - Kristen Bell FC -Private Eye- verse dependent

Can we pretend that thing didn't happen at all? We know what i'm talking about, right?

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

Avery Thomson - Saoirse Ronan FC- 30 - Pansexual

-Girl likes peace. She is shy, she is insecure, she is lonely, but at times she doesn't mind it. She's awkward, but she has great ideas she'd love to let out. Yet no finance to invest in any ideas, so she started a podcast. Works as a secretary for a big company on the weekdays and then works on her podcast during the weekends. She's just waiting for a bit of excitement in her life.

open to any plots really!

Michael Wilson - Andrew Garfield FC- Professor of History- 40

Quiet, shy, but very hard working. Teaches History, loves history, basically a history nerd. Which is why it can open up possibilities to supernatural plots or just rom-com plots.

Damian Miller- 52- CEO-Wentworth Miller FC- Homosexual

Hard working, grew up to provide, but he's always been empty. Very old school and traditional, but that's because he has never found a reason to break the rules.

I'm thinking a tragic trope for him, being a closeted gay who could never fight for the man he loved so he ended up marrying the woman his parents chose. Had 2 children with her, and yet he's never been at peace. He's also my oldest muse if you were interested.

age gap trope/ boss/employee trope honestly whatever you'd like.

Blake Hawthorne- Pansexual- 24-Tom Blythe FC

Troublemaker. Gotten arrested a few times. Loves chaos, probably lands in trouble a lot but that's because he never had a secure homelife. parents were always gone and out of the picture so he had free reign to everything. Probably the type to join protests because he knows he'd get away with it. Freedom fighter for the under privileged which is ironic since he comes from a big family.

He'd be a fun muse. Any trope would do.

David Miller -Archie Renaux FC- 29- pan -

Manipulative little shit that causes too much mischief. The typical bad boy, wants things his way or no way. Overly confident, and thinks he's the best.

Under all of that is just a lot of insecurity. Literally tho open for any trope!

#Indie Rp #mature rp #indie fantasy rp #indie mature rp #indie oc rp

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siriuslysatorusimping · 1 year ago

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guys, I wanna know 🥺🥺

what your favorite/least favorite tropes are and why?

I'M CURIOUS AND ALSO LOOKING FOR INSPIRATION JUICE

(i've stopped watching the anime but damn is this a nice gif)

I have included a list of tropes that I found below the cut for you to love/hate 🥺

Accidental Public Confession

Almost Kiss

Anger Born of Worry

Blind Date

Break His/Her Heart to Save Him/Her

Caught in the Rain

Childhood Friends Romance

“Dear John” Letter

Deconfirmed Bachelor

Dying Declaration of Love

Everyone Can See It

Exiled to the Couch

Fake Relationship

First Cut is the Deepest

First Love

Flirting Under Fire

Forgotten First Meeting

Friendly War

Friends with Benefits

Gibberish in Love

Girl of My Dreams

Green-Eyed Epiphany

Hands-on Approach

Happily Married

Her Boyfriend’s Jacket

Her Heart Will Go On

High School Sweethearts

Holding Hands

I Can’t Believe a Guy Like You Would Notice Me

I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On

I Don’t Want to Ruin Our Friendship

I Got You a Drawer

“I love you” Stigma

I Want My Beloved to Be Happy

Imagined Love Triangle

Imagined Innuendo

Inconvenient Attraction

Innocent Cohabitation

Interrupted Intimacy

Intertwined Fingers

It Doesn’t Mean Anything

It’s Not You, It’s Me

It’s Not You, It’s My Enemies

The Lady’s Favour

Lap Pillow

Leave the Two Lovebirds Alone

Let’s Wait Awhile

Like An Old Married Couple

Like Parent, Like Spouse

Long Distance Relationship

Love Across Battlelines

Love at First Punch

Love at First Sight

Love Before First Sight

Love Letter

Love Makes You Uncreative

Love Potion

Love Triangle

Love Will Lead You Back

Married to the Job

Matchmaker Crush

Meet the In-Laws

Mistaken for Cheating

Motivational Kiss

Mrs. Hypothetical

My Girl Back Home

My Own Private “I do”

My Sister is off-limits!

Necktie Leash

New Old Flame

Oblivious to Love

Office Romance

Operation: Jealousy

Relationship Reveal

Road Trip Romance

Romantic Fake-Real Turn

Romantic Wingman

Runaway Bride

Secret Relationship

Sex Equals Love

She Cleans Up Nicely

She’s Not My Girfriend

Sickening Sweethearts

Slap-Slap-Kiss

Smithical Marriage

Star-crossed Lovers

Surprise Pregnancy

Teacher-Parent Romance

Ten Minutes in the Closet

There’s Only One Bed

They Do

Undercover as Lovers

Understanding Boyfriend

Wartime Wedding

Was it All a Lie?

Weakness Turns Her On

When Harry Met Svetlana

Why Can’t I Hate You?

You Must Be Cold

Your Favorite

#kiko asks #fanfic writer ask #fanfic writing #writing #goinko #goinko ideas #gojo satoru x original female character

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 2 years ago

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BETA READING OF: Eros

Prompt:

Ancient Greece hoe dream is feeding my slutty mind plus I love time travel trope, so here goes my horny plot bunny: Reader has got married to Dream and becomes Queen of the Dreaming. One day she mysteriously gets transported back to, as you mentioned before, it's probably post Orpheus' death, divorced Morpheus era when said dilf was looking for some good fuck to drown his pain.

Unsurprisingly he was instantly taken by this human girl, and Reader figures out this is Morpheus grieving for his greatest loss. So after some seduction from both sides they had the most intense rough sex ever. Reader's like, "Take all your anger and pain on me, my lord." This might have lasted for a while and one night after they had rounds of lovemaking, Dream left because of some business in the dreaming and Reader just disappeared from this era without a trace. Dream's sad that this mysterious girl's gone, but over time their love affair fades into obscurity as if it'd never happened.

Cue the present time, Dream's worried about his Queen getting trapped by some idiot mortal, and then Reader suddenly appears in front of him, in her naked glory, and the memory hits him like a tidal wave. He notices that there's glaring evidence of passion on his wifey, as hoe Dream gifted many love bites on her and his cum is trailing down her legs. Needlessly to say, Dream gets both uncontrollably jealous of his younger self and turned on by reclaiming his love, and Reader, despite her soreness, gets incredibly wet at the idea of taking her Dream, this Dream inside of her while she's full of hoe Dream's seed.

This is in its rawest form (minus the spicy stuff cause I haven't gotten there yet), I don't really like it, but maybe you will? IDEK.

What I have so far:

You spent a lot of time staring at the throne adjacent to the intricately carved marble one depicting the helm of Dream of the Endless. It was more feminine, carved out of the same marble as the Morpheus’, but designed with a softer touch. It was a marble forest, twisting branches and flowers that were inspired by Fiddler’s Green, your fingers always ended up tracing little grooves and bumps absentmindedly.

“Hey boss lady,” You turned your head in time to see Matthew fluttering his way up to your shoulder. His feet clutched the fabric of your sweater and he shuffled his wings, looking at the two thrones. “You know you’ve been married for like, two months… right?”

“Distinctly,” You answered dryly, having very vivid memories of your wedding night. You hadn’t left the bed for three days, and then couldn’t walk right for three weeks. Morpheus had been very smug with the way you hobbled around, while you felt like crawling into a hole in embarrassed. You’d married a voracious Endless that aspired to paint every millimeter of your body with his love. “But it’s not like I was born knowing I was going to marry an Endless and become the queen of a realm.”

“True, true,” Matthew echoed with a bob of his head. “But ma’am, has anything actually changed in your life? Ignoring the fact that you live here now…”

You thought about Matthew’s words. Not much had changed in your life save your happiness. You had only ever really felt happy when visiting the Dreaming, so there wasn’t much you missed in the Waking. The people in the Dreaming themselves had always gone to you for advice now that you thought about it. They felt confident speaking to you about their problems… so you had been their queen long before you became their official one.

“No, nothings really changed… and it’s just a title,” You mused softly walking towards your throne and running your fingers along the warm marble. Warm and cool, just like you and Morpheus. You were an unusual pairing and not one that you’d think would work in the first place. “Alright, I’ve stared at the thrones for long enough, it’s time to go outside and touch some grass.”

“Ya know I think Lord Dream could touch some grass time to time,” Matthew muttered from your shoulder. “He’s been kinda uptight lately.”

“Probably cause of all the changes, you know he likes things certain ways,” You said dryly, thinking back to all the arguments you’d gotten into with him just because he was being a giant dunderhead who didn’t want to listen to you and pretended that your option and decision didn’t matter.

“Yeah you might be onto something,” Matthew chirped in agreement. Exiting the palace, you wandered through the gardens while letting your fingers brush along the flowers and bushes of the garden. “But at least he’s trying!” Matthew added, trying to be positive about his boss.

“He got pissy with me because I wanted to take a walk in London by myself after we had lunch with Hob,” You couldn’t help but point out. “It was London, in the middle of the day when families were having picnics!”

“And we both know humans can be assholes,” Matthew reminded you. “The boss doesn’t have a lot of good experience with mortals to go off of.”

“Pretty sure I have more experience in the human department than he does?”

“Point,” The raven agreed, taking off and swooping through the limp branches of the weeping willow in front of you. You passed beneath the little tunnel of gnarled branches carefully grown and kicked out your foot. You’d been feeling antsy lately, cooped up and in need of stretching your limbs. Maybe you’d go for a swim? Morpheus didn’t exactly like you swimming in the Ocean of Dreams, but you and the entity had a pretty good relationship and she didn’t try to drown you when you went swimming. “He’s still gonna throw a tantrum.”

“And I dare you to say that to his face,”

“I’ll pass I like having feathers… and living in general...” Matthew shuddered to think what Morpheus’ reaction would be of learning he’d said that.

“It would be funny though,” You giggled to yourself, imaging the initial confusion that would cross Morpheus’ face… then perhaps just a hint of an eye tick, then the whole: you dare… Your husband was entirely too predictable at times and you found it very amusing. You were deaf to Matthew’s disgruntled grumbles and continued walking, not realizing that your feet were carrying you towards the beaches of the Ocean of Dreams.

“Holy shit,” Matthew’s curse behind you jarred you from your thoughts. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had caused him to curse, the Ocean of Dreams was churning in unhappiness. High above violent waters were storm clouds, flickering with lightning and letting out echoed of thunder. “Uh, you ever seen this before ma’am?”

“No,” You informed the raven, trying to see if you could feel what was wrong to have the Ocean of Dreams so agitated. “Matthew return to Lucienne, speak with her about this matter. Surely she has a clue.”

“Right on it, boss lady,” Matthew called before surging into the air and flying back to the palace as fast s he could. While Matthew was doing as you asked, you quickly hurried up to the waters edge. Oh yes, something had agitated the Ocean of Dreams, she was not happy. Without hesitation, you strode into the cold water, determined to figure this out. Morpheus was away on business, you could handle this, you could handle this.

When you were waist deep, you dove deeper, fully submerging yourself. The water, while a usual chilly cold, seemed to be colder than normal. Even the currents were stronger, more aggressive. You tried to look around for the physical manifestation of the Ocean in the form of your shadow figure, but you couldn’t see her anywhere. A smattering of bubbles escaped your lips as you sighed in frustration and swam further towards the depths. In your efforts to hunt down the physical manifestation of the Ocean of Dreams, you failed to notice that the currents were getting far too strong for you to swim through.

Now, you didn’t need to breath oxygen thank to Morpheus making you immortal… but it wasn’t exactly comfortable holding your breath, or accidentally inhaling the salty water. So when your body began getting tossed and turned like you were in a hamster ball and it was being shaken, you started panicking. Floundering, the water around you began shifting from chilly cold to warm… and then back again. Your arms cartwheeled through the salt water until the temperature stayed warm and a bright light appeared. The storm must have finally disappeared!

You kicked your way towards the surface, hoping that Lucienne would know why the Ocean of Dreams had gotten so upset and the weather so irritable. The moment your face broke the surface you knew that something was very wrong.

First, it was way to hot for you to be in the dreaming. Second, it didn’t sound like you were in the dreaming. Third? When you opened your eyes you were most definitely not in the Dreaming!

“Oh shit,”

————————————————

You spent a solid five minutes panicking about the fact that you were most definitely not in the Dreaming anymore. Morpheus was going to go ballistic when he found out. Then your panic increased because you didn’t know where you were, and you were in the middle of an ocean! At least you could see land, but it was a distance away from you. Still coming to grips with what you were dealing with because hello, some magic fuckery had just occurred and you were not kosher with it, you paddled towards a weird looking boat in the distance.

As you grew closer, you could hear shouting in a language you didn’t quite understand, and the sounds of screaming. Focusing on the words, the power Morpheus imbued within you shifted the stage words until you could understand them. Greek. A child had fallen overboard. Your eyes dropped to the water and you spotted a dark haired child splashing around violently. You didn’t think twice about quickly swimming towards the child as they disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Dipping back below the oceans surface, you swam your way over to the squirming child, a girl. She was wrapped up in a beautiful white cloth that was currently hindering her ability to swim. You made to her and wrapped your arms around her thin body before looking up and kicking your way back to the surface. When your head broke the surface, you made sure you pulled the child up so her head too, was above the chops waters.

She was clutching your forearm in a death grip, nails digging into your flesh. You were glad that she wasn’t trying to claw her way on top of you. Spitting out ocean water you’d accidentally swallowed, you began carefully side stroking your way over to the odd boat. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, given that people didn’t just appear it the middle of the ocean. As it turned out, luck was on your side and the greeks who hauled you and the little girl up onto the ship were entirely convinced that you were some lost noble… all because of of the clothes you wore.

Apparently only the rich and noble people of Greece could afford to wear purple clothing.

The boat was taking the little girl, a daughter of one of the nobles in Athens (how the hell did you end up in Ancient Greece?), home after visiting her aunt in Crete. She’d accidentally tumbled over the side and now refused to let you go for fear of a repeated event. So you were awkwardly standing around in your ‘strange clothes’ while the little girl held onto you like a baby monkey. At least when the boat docked at the harbor to the ancient city of Athens, in all its blazing glory, you were offered a cloak to cover your strange clothing.

Clearly the little girl you’d rescued came from a very rich family, because the carriage that you’d been herded into was lavish. You sat inside it while there were warriors on horses surrounding, and spent a good twenty minutes trying to think of what the hell you were going to do because this was way out of your realm of expertise.

“What is your name?” Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Well, they already thought you were some lost noble or princess… might as well play it off as some greek god blessing or something… hopefully the gods wouldn’t be too upset with you. Not that they would be able to raise hand towards an Endless’ wife…

“You may call me Elpis,” You told the little girl. “What is yours?”

“Kynna, are you the great spirit Elpis mama told me about?” Soft brown eyes gazed at you with such reverence, you wanted to say yes and make her dreams come true. But you couldn’t exactly claim to be someone you were not. You stroked your hand over her still damp hair.

“I’m afraid it is only a name sake,” You replied, lifting your gaze to see several grand buildings pass by as the carriage rattled and shook. “I was lost at sea but the gods brought me to you.”

“Well if you’re lost… you can just live with us!” Kynna exclaimed with a wide beaming smile. “Panathenaia is starting tomorrow, they’ll be lots of parties and pretty dresses, and we get to give a new peplos to Athena!”

“I don’t think that will be up to me,” Your words didn’t hinder the excited babbles of Kynna, and while she continued to talk animatedly, you mulled over what you were going to say when you got to your destination.

———————————

You didn’t have to say much, the greek noble woman of Kinna’s family, along with the other aristocratic women from surrounding families living in the housing surrounding the communal living space and baths, were entirely convinced you were an aristocrat who had some how fallen overboard and lost her most of her memory. You were fine playing amnesiac as it meant less questions. You just had to get used to a different lifestyle while you tried to figure out what the hell had happened to you.

A circle of woman around your age, Merope, Agapia, and Helike, had taken you under their wing while servants scurried about in preparation for the Panathenaia. Your modern clothes had been ditched for a silk peplum that draped around your body and showed skin in several places, and you’d been adorned with a multitude of jewelry by Kynna’s father for saving his little girl. In essence, you looked exactly like the woman everyone thought you to be: Elpis, a greek aristocrat with amnesia.

You’d spent the first couple of days hiding out in Kynna’s household, not sure of yourself and not wanting to make trouble for the family, but your trio of new friends had convinced you to come out to the communal space on the promise of seeing several handsome men and enjoyable drink and food. Eye candy and snacks, you were down for that. So you were walking with your gaggle of friends and contributing to the objectification of several fine greek men who had arrived home for the Panathenaia, when Merope had wanted to visit the sun room to see what special guests had arrived.

“Oh I heard Theos returned from Sparta looking for a wife.” Agapia gushed as she combed her fingers through her hair.

“Forgive me for not immediately fawning over this Theos… who is he?” You asked as Merope and Helike giggled.

“He’s Athen’s most prized warrior, competed in the last Olympic Games and won several games.” Agapia explained to you as the four of you walked beneath a trellis tunnel of roses. She went on to explain, in detail, every millimeter of the specimen known as Theos and by the time Helike was telling Agapia to stop drooling, you were very interested in seeing this this Greek was as handsome and strong as he sounded.

“Oh don’t stop now, you’ve gotten me interested,” You mused with a soft laugh while passing a group of men who eyed each and everyone one of you. Helike rolled her eyes, Agapia was oblivious, and Merope fluttered her eyelashes but stayed silent.

“I am sure there shall be a man at the festival who willwin your hand, Elpis,” Agapia said while holding her hands to her chest. “Because while we all know that you’ve got heads turning, you appear to have very little interest in those we have crossed paths with. Mark my words, you shall find someone you desire by the end of Panathenaia.”

You rolled your eyes, you’d humor the woman, they’d been so kind and generous to you despite you being a total stranger… but it wasn’t like you could admit that you were already married, and didn’t even belong in this era.

“As you say, Pia,”

“Oh, I can’t believe it!” Merope gasped quietly the moment your group entered a large room with many lounging chairs and dozens of greeks lounging around. You hummed in question and looked at her. “Lord Oneiros has decided to be in attendance!”

Something perked up within you at the mention of Oneiros, and your head snapped to the dark haired beauty in confusion.

“Sorry, did you say Oneiros?” You asked, your voice coming out in an odd tone. You’d heard that name before, when Morpheus had assisted Calliope upon hearing her call. She referred to him as Oneiros. Morpheus was Oneiros. How could he be here. The girls gathered around you and gestured to a corner of the room. Your eyes followed and you felt your heart freeze your chest. This wasn’t possible, was it?

How could it be that your dark and broody husband, was sitting in the corner of the room dressed in robes of black, complete with a laurel crown perched upon his midnight curls. You trembled in place, fighting against the urge to charge forwards and throw yourself at him because you really missed your husband and wanted to go home. But as you gazed at the Dream Lord, you began picking up on his mood, his temperament. He was surrounded by a cloud of pain that you could feel in your heart, deep within his beautiful blue eyes was a raw hurt that nearly pulsated from his being. Oh. Oh fuck. Orpheus. As if feeling your stare, sharp blue eyes shifted and met yours. No recognition could be found within their depths. He didn’t know you. But he was intrigued.

“I wonder who the lucky women will be this year,” Agapia softly wondered, the other two agreeing with her sentiments. “They say he is a voracious lover.”

A dark eyebrow rose ever so slightly accompanied by the smallest of smirks, and something within you cracked. You felt like you couldn’t breathe and quickly tore your eyes away from those of the Dream Lord.

“We should fill our bellies before the rest of the men arrive, the gods know they’ll eat it all,” You rushed out, your heart pounding in your chest painfully. Herding your friends in the opposite direction of Morpheus, desperate to get away from the being that you, one day, would marry.

———————————

Your friends were gossiping while lounging at a table, they were gushing about all the men and woman that had arrived through out the day. Apparently in the celebrations, orgies were a common occurrence among the aristocrats and it was always a guessing game of who would be getting with who, or more importantly, who would get the golden invitations to the orgies with the most powerful people of Athens. You didn’t mind the open sexuality of Athens, it was actually a freeing thought… but you’d spent the afternoon and night in a state of hurt with a very agonized heart.

Why did it pain you so much to see Morpheus in pain? It was clear that he was hurting. Hurting and drowning himself in wine and debauchery to take his mind and being off the fact that his son had died and he’d gone through a divorce. You hated seeing him like that. You hated it so much.

“Elpis?” You blinked and glanced at Merope, she and the other girls were looking at you with concerned looks. “You’ve been rather demure since luncheon, is all well?” It wasn’t like you could just unload all your troubles on the three woman, no matter how much you wanted to.

“Just a headache,” You informed her before unfolding yourself from your curled position and rising to your feet. “I think I need some fresh air and to cool down.” Your fingers tugged at your clothes until the pins held up the silken fabric just enough to keep it on your body. “I’ll be out for a walk, don’t let me keep you up waiting.”

It was clear that they weren’t convinced by your words, you strode past them with your peplum fluttering behind you. It was a hot night in Athens, but the breeze from the Aegean Sea cooled you down as you took a garden path that led straight to the beautiful water. Standing at the waters edge, you crouched down and brushed your fingers through the slightly warm water. This wouldn’t last forever, surely, your Morpheus was probably ripping through realms and universes trying to find you… you just had to deal with his past self until you went home.

Which you didn’t know when that would happen.

And you didn’t like the idea of leaving this Morpheus in pain.

But could you actually do anything about that?

You didn’t exactly have a handbook on what to do when you time travel.

Destiny will be up your ass if you screw this up…

Then again maybe this was supposed to happen?

You growled and dropped your face into your hand with a more than exaggerated groan. You didn’t sign up for this time travel bull shit when you married Morpheus! Just as you sighed and dragged your fingers down your face, pulling your eyelids as you went, you felt a tingle in your being and a shiver run up your spine. You rose to your feet and turned around.

Ah.

High above on one of the balconies overseeing the Aegean Sea, lounged Morpheus in all his glory. His tunic was half on his body, revealing a great expanse of his physique and his hair was ruffled since you had last seen him. Right. Lucienne reluctantly mentioned that Morpheus had a few hoe eras. This was one of them. Even though he wasn’t your Morpheus, you could still feel his inherent desire and lust. That both scared and excited you.

“Elpis?” Kynna’s sweet voice broke your stare down with Morpheus. “What are you doing outside all alone? Did you have a bad dream?”

“Kynna!” You softly exclaimed, striding up to the girl and plucking her from the ground. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“You’re not in bed,” The little girl pointed out like it would make a difference, making your eyebrow pop up.

“That’s because I was out for a walk, come on little one, back to bed, you have great things to do tomorrow.” Continuing to carry Kynna, you entered the joined stone building and walked towards her families wing.

————————

There was another luncheon in which most aristocratic families were attending, yourself included. You had been hesitant to go because you weren’t familiar with the politics of the noble class, but the food was enjoyable and there were several men determined to entertain you. They did. At least until a certain someone arrived. Your attention was drawn to Morpheus like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t help it. Not when he was the love of your life and the very being you promised to spend the rest of eternity together. But he wasn’t yours. At least not yet. That didn’t stop the smoldering looks he sent your way. You ate your grapes, one by one, all the while staring directly at him.

—————————

You knew you were playing with fire. The Endless could see it. He also knew that you knew you were playing as such. You fascinated him, hypnotized him with your eyes, demanded his heart and love with but a glance. Yet you never drew close enough to indulge. It was maddening, for Oneiros wanted no other but you. You’d drown out the sharp sting of loss he felt. He was sure of it. He enjoyed the way heat bloomed beneath your skin when he picked the flower you’d been reaching for and held it out for you to take. You hadn’t uttered a word, but your silence spoke a million things.

—————————

It was getting harder and harder to avoid interacting with Morpheus. You didn’t know if it was because you naturally gravitated towards him, or if it was because he clearly wanted you. Nothing you did rid you of the pain you felt from his. So you had gone to the baths to try and soak out the stress you felt. It was nearing midnight, so most of the nobles were either indulging in bodily delights, drinking, or sleeping off the alcohol. That meant you could enjoy the public bath house in privacy.

So you slowly made your way into the steamy room and carefully unwound the belt around your waist. Then your fingers plucked the pins from your shoulders and you carefully folded the silk cloth that hung around your body. The steaming water looked inviting as you tipped down into one of the pools, and you sighed at the nostalgia that filled your mind. The bath house pools were much like the large bath you had in the Dreaming, and made memories of relaxing in it cradled within Morpheus’ arms as he told you stories of past dreams.

You wanted to go home so bad.

“Are tonights revelries not to your appetite?” You jerked in place at the sound of his voice, your head snapping around to see Morpheus lounging in a corner of the bath. Shit. Shit. Shit. It took everything you had not to stare at his naked body leisurely sprawled across the sitting ledge without care. His black messy curls made your fingers twitch for they ached to run through them. It took you a solid minute to find the courage to reply.

“I do not usually partake in such festivities, my lord,” You replied, a slight tremble in your words. A black eyebrow arched and you forced your gaze to the carved statues of spites mounted at the end of the room. “I am more reserved with my affections.”

“But not entirely opposed as your skin paints a different story,” Morpheus pointed out, his eyes lingering on the faded marks of someones apparent love. Oh yes, someone had the pleasure of indulging in your body. The Endless watched as you flushed beneath his scrutiny, and took great enjoyment in knowing that he did have an effect on you. “Who would leave a creature as lovely and delicate as you, by yourself during such festivities?”

“He’s away on business and I do not seek to control his travels,” You told him, carefully unfolding your self from your tight ball. Instantly the Endless was drinking in the view of your gorgeous curves and faintly loved skin. He wanted to devour you. You wanted him to stop hurting. So you rose to your feet in the water and slowly sloshed over to him. “Why are you here?”

Clearly he didn’t expect you to ask him such a question, but nonetheless he humored you after taking a sip of his wine.

“I am enjoying the festivities, the same as you,”

“No you’re not,” Now that was a bold statement to say directly to his face, and you could see his eyes darken.

“You dare think to know my intentions better than I?” He questioned back.

“I know enough to wonder why you are here, rather than with the men and women desperately throwing themselves at you.” You informed him before turning to the side and moving back towards your folded dress. You left the bathhouse and a very hungry Endless behind.

———————

You’d stayed behind as the girls headed off to enjoy some time with the men than had charmed them. Most of the festivities had moved to the Parthenon, so you were surrounded by quietness and the sounds of waves. Finding yourself among halls that were usually filled with chattering people, beautiful people, you found yourself missing the Dreaming and your friends there. You needed a drink.

Striding to a table with a jug of wine, you poured yourself a health cup before guzzling it it one go. The alcohol wouldn’t go to your head, you could drink all the wine in Greece and you wouldn’t get drunk. A sobering thought. There was nothing to take the edge off your emotions. Just as you poured your second cup, you felt his presence behind you.

“You are missing the festivities, my lord,” You softly spoke, putting the jug of wine to the side. Then you turned around, only to find Morpheus standing directly behind you, now in front of you. He stared down at you, amusement within his eyes.

“And still you dare to think you know myself better than I,”

“Have you considered the possibility that I might?” You challenged. His eyes flashed a silver glow.

“You dare—” Your hands rising to cradle his face cut the Endless off.

“You are hurting,” You said straight to his face, your fingers lightly stroking his jaw line. “You are hurting, you are angry, but you haven’t let those emotions out.”

“And what do you propose I do, since you are so bold to tell me what I feel,” Morpheus coldly questioned, already very much in love with your touch. Yet you were testing his tolerance in this moment. “If you are so bold, tell me what will remedy my troubles.”

“Take all your anger and pain out on me," You offered with a glimmer within your eyes. “It’d be a shame for me to miss out on the true delights of this festival, yes?” The glow within Morpheus’ eyes shifted from warning to lustful, and you caressed his cheek once more. “Or do you wish to resume your sulking—”

and that's it, I'm bashing my head against the wall cause I hate it but I need some sort of build up/tension

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