#I CAN SEE HER AND I JUST GOING BACK AND FORTH LIKE

[hencheri]

▸ 18+ mdni.

| pairing: jock!jeno x nerdy girl!reader

| warnings: noncon, unprotected sex, squirting, perv!jeno, reader wears glasses.

the cold breeze bites your skin, tears gracefully streaming down your face, reaching your neck and disappearing into the material of your polo shirt. your lashes are wet and stick together as you blink, quietly sniffling, jeno's low moans reaching your ears.

perched over the bleachers, the dents of the metal stairs imprinted on your stomach as your shirt has slightly ridden up, he rocks his hips against your ass, hard cock pulsing in you.

you just wanted to get your bag back as you forgot it earlier in the evening when you went to watch the baseball game with your friends. your university ended up winning, and in the midst of all the cheers and screams, you left without your belongings.

jeno is part of the university baseball's team, and when you came back to the field, he was still there.

you've always known he had an interest in you, but you never reciprocated. maybe you should have—just to avoid this.

your panties sitting on top of your sneakers prevent you from moving too much, giving jeno the liberty to handle you how he desires. his hands hold your hips in place, your skirt flipped up over your ass and his sweats pulled down just enough to free his cock.

"i’ve always wanted you, you know…" he pants loudly as your glasses fog up, being as out of breath as he is. "such a shame that you never let me have this pussy before," he groans, slightly frustrated.

jeno has been waiting for quite a long time now. he never pushed you or went too far, just some attempts here and there, but you always had a negative answer for him.

jaemin once said you were a prude dressed like a slut. a stuck-up; a girl too obsessed by her studies and her image to allow guys to fuck her.

but you weren't too difficult to convince tonight. a little whiny, but oh so docile.

his mouth agape, he fucks his engorged cock into your soppy pussy, his hairy pelvis meeting the curve of your ass each time he bottoms out, making the flesh bounce.

the night is harsh, cooler than usual, the tips of his fingers becoming cold as the time passes. it contrasts vastly with the high temperature of your body.

you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder, eyes inching up jeno's body, glancing at his hips moving back and forth and then his bare face, illuminated by the bright street lamps all around the field.

he licks his lips before locking eyes with you, but eye-contact is soon broken when a thrust rougher than the others makes you jerk forward, the end of the bench under you digging into the bare skin of your thighs. you gasp, scrunching your eyes shut and involuntary clenching around his girth.

your glasses slip down a little, sweat accumulating where the frame of the glasses sit on your nose. when you open your eyes, you see a foggy silhouette of jeno, your hot breath meeting the cold air of the night creating mist in your lenses.

"fuck," he chokes out, "i knew you'd be tight, but that much..." he chuckles, telling you his unholy thoughts about you. "you have the perfect pussy, i swear. so warm, and fucking wet... god," jeno comments—something you've never thought someone would tell you, even someone as perverted as him.

more endless minutes pass, stopping himself when he feels his orgasm building up in his stomach, going again when the feeling has disappeared—basically edging himself as long as he can.

but eventually his pace gets faster and faster, almost knocking the breath out of your lungs. you cry and whimper under him, the coil at the pit of your stomach ripping, cumming messily around jeno, droplets of clear liquid flooding out of your cunt.

"oh, shit-" he curses, moaning in sync with you as he keeps pounding you.

soon after, weeks worth of jeno's cum spurt in you, filling you up till it drips out of your pussy.

he pulls out and the quivers of your pussy make more of his creamy cum fall, running along your inner thigh.

"so fucking pretty," he exhales, admiring the mess he made of you.

[natalievoncatte]

Alex rolled onto her side, and was a little surprised to see Kelly Olsen laying next to her, turned away and curled up the Egyptian cotton of her bed

(their bed)

snoozing softly in the morning light. Alex took the time, as one does, to admire the vulpine curves of Kelly’s back and the elegant sweep of her shoulders. She wanted nothing more but to lean in and plant a soft kiss on the back of her neck and wake her, which would hopefully lead into a glorious Saturday morning of sun-kissed, gentle lovemaking that would result in an forgotten breakfast and breathy declarations seared into hot skin with caressing fingers and tasting lips.

Unfortunately her fucking phone was going off.

Alex rolled out of bed and snatched it, relieved that she hadn’t disturbed her girlfriend. She threw on a button-down as a makeshift robe and plodded out into the kitchen.

She wasn’t expecting a call from…

“Lena?”

“Alex?”

“Yeah, what’s up? You don’t call me often.”

“I need help. It’s an emergency. Sort of.”

Alex glanced back at Kelly’s languid form and one long leg slipping out from under the sheets.

“Where’s Kara?”

“I can’t talk to Kara about this. It has to be you, Alex.”

“Okay, sure,” Alex said, warily. “We can grab a coffee later at-“

“Alex, it has to be now and at my place. This is serious.”

Alex bit her lip. There was a compelling urgency to Lena’s voice. Alex didn’t have Kara’s super senses but she could pick up the nervous energy and hint of feed behind the words.

“Okay,” said Alex. “I’m on my way.”

Alex pulled on her cleanest pants and most readily available tank top and scribbled a note for Kelly (encouraging her to either stay in or be back in bed by the time Alex returned, as their business was unfinished) and grabbed her car keys.

Rising her bike would have been… a sore subject, as it were.

Morning traffic was surprisingly light and she made good time. Lena buzzed her up and she walked into Lena’s weirdly cold penthouse, and found her sister’s best friend pacing rapidly back and forth, dressed in a hoodie and hugging herself.

“Okay,” said Alex. “I’m here, Lena. What’s going on?”

“I’m pregnant,” Lena blurted out, before Alex had finished speaking.

Alex stared at her.

“Funny, I always thought you were a virgin.”

Lena glared at her. Alex knew why Kara was so fascinated by her- she had those big pretty eyes that radiated sadness and set off Kara’s protective instincts. Alex had figured out a long time ago that these two dipshits should just bang it out, but it wasn’t really her place to tell them, especially if it meant outing Lena, or dealing with Kara’s baggage from her weirdly fascist home planet and its bizarre ideas about sex.

(One example of said baggage being her sister’s heart breaking over the alien fuckboi from the asshole planet. If only Kara had realized that her gorgeous kind billionaire best friend was in love with her… you know, before the whole world domination Kryptonite laser thing)

(People who aim orbital fusion cannons at their friends should not cast stones, Alex had decided)

“Alex?”

Oh. Lena was talking. Alex pretty much blue screened there.

“Right, you’re pregnant. Are you sure?”

“I’ve taken two tests, and I’m late.”

Alex rubbed at her chin. Lena looked like a drowned rat, more than a little terrified.

Alex swallowed hard.

“Okay, first question. Did someone hurt you?”

Lena looked up sharply. “What? No.”

Standing to pace the room again, Lena rubbed at her arms as if she were cold.

“So um,” said Alex. “Do you need my help with…”

“I just need someone I can talk to that isn’t Kara. I can’t tell her yet.”

Alex swallowed. Hard. “Okay. Tell me what’s going on.”

Lena sighed and stared out her balcony window.

“Do you remember that game night where we all got sloshed, last month?”

“Yeah,” said Alex. “You hosted. As I recall, Kara was the last to leave.

“She didn’t leave. I… I did something stupid. I tried to seduce her, clumsily. I was drunk off my ass.”

Alex tensed, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.

“Oh,” said Alex. “She brushed you off and you went out for a hookup? I’ve done worse. Are things okay between you?”

Lena stared at Alex as if she’d just grown a second head.

“No, Alex. Kara spent the night. She insisted we not do anything intimate until we both sobered up, but I talked her into staying in bed with me.”

Alex sighed. “You got any of that expensive single malt? Your dad’s brand?”

“It’s eleven in the morning.”

“Well, it’s not like you can drink it. You can have juice.”

Lena glared at her. “Cabinet by the fridge.”

Alex ended up pouring two glasses of cranberry juice and sat down at the kitchen island, pushing one over to Lena.

Lena sighed. “I don’t want to get into the details but we were definitely sober when we woke up.”

“And?” said Alex.

“We, um, we had sex,” said Lena.

“And then she got weird and brushed you off and you went out for a hookup?”

“What? No! Just let me finish telling the story.”

Alex sipped her juice, enjoying the bite on her tongue. “Okay.”

“We’ve been sort of seeing each other ever since. Quietly, keeping it to ourselves. Kara is…” Lena sighed, “she’s very protective and she’s afraid that you’ll get upset if you find out we’re together.”

Alex’s fist closed tightly around her glass.

“Lena,” Alex explained, “I’ve forgiven and forgotten a lot from you, but I’m having a hard time understanding how this happened if you’re with my sister. Did you cheat on her?”

Lena looked up sharply from her glass. “What the fuck, Alex? How could you even ask me that? God, am I ever going to be good enough for your sister? I know I fucked up. I know what I did was wrong. Hurting her was the worst thing I have ever done and I would trade anything to take it back, but we are in…”

“Okay,” Alex cut her off. “Fine. Our lives are fucking weird, so I’ll give you the benefit of tbe doubt. But usually you being pregnant would imply that a man was involved somehow.”

Lena blinked. “What?”

“You’re pregnant. There has to be a father.”

Lena stared at her in abject confusion.

Then she said, “Alex, Kara is the father.”

Alex looked at her for too long a moment.

“I’m sorry but what the fuck, Lena? What did you do?”

“What did I do?” Lena demanded. “It’s not my fault! I mean it is as much my fault as it is hers, but we weren’t worrying about protection the first morning and after that neither of us brought it up. I know, I’ve been stupid, I just…”

Alex’s mouth fell open.

“Protection? You and her? What the fuck?”

Lena took a long pull of cranberry juice and winced at the tartness.

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Apparently, under a yellow sun, Kryptonians can, um, adapt to a sexual partner’s body.”

“Okay, okay, okay!” Alex snapped, “okay fine my little sister… with you… and you’re pregnant. Fine, we’re on the same page. What now?”

Lena stared at her, biting her lip as she sought answers.

“Are you going to keep it?”

“Keep it?” said Lena. “It’s Kara’s. Of course I will. That’s not even a question. I’m just… I’m scared, Alex. What does this mean? How is she going to react? What if… Jesus, I’m carrying a half-Kryptonian baby. Is that even safe?”

“It worked out fine for Lois and Clark. Twice. You’ll be okay, if having the baby is what you want.”

“It is,” said Lena. “Kara makes me deliriously happy, Alex. She was like a knight in shining armor that night and she was so kind and gentle the next morning and it’s like… like this was natural. We both fell into it so easily that it was like it had always been this way. I love her. I love her so much.”

Lena was red faced, looking embarrassed as she cast her eyes down. Alex reached across the table and took her hands.

“Well, I’m glad you dipshits figured it out. Watching you two blush and stammer at each other for another five years would’ve killed me.”

“ALEX!”

“If you want my blessing, you have it. I’m sorry I doubted you, but in my defense, I didn’t know she could… do… that.”

“Uh, right,” said Lena. “I want to call her and ask her to come over now so I can tell her. I know this should be a private moment but… can you stay? It just feels like you belong here for this.”

“Yeah, Lena. I’ll stay.”

Lena smiled.

[viiolyns]

cw / g!p vi. softdom!vi. no protection. praise. lwk inexperienced reader? that’s all me thinks

you straddled her lap, her hard dick covering the front of your cunt. you’d been like this for the past 15 minutes, rambling about random bullshit, trying to distract yourself from the fact that the two of you should be fucking right now.

the nervousness building up in you was evident, clear as day. while you’d never taken her before, it wasn’t for a lack of her asking. whenever she brought it up, you’d shift the conversation or deflect, not feeling ready. sometimes you’d even tell her you were ready, then back out. which she didn’t mind, never did. jerking off after sex never hurt anyone.

but tonight. fuck. you needed her.

she puts a finger over your lips, making you shut up for a second. with her free hand, she takes a hold to your chin, sensing your hesitation. “baby. you can say no, again, really—no need to…you don’t have to.”

you shook your head at her words, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you tried to compose yourself. you wanted it, really you did, but you were just scared. stupid nerves.

her hands found your hips, gripping the soft skin there. "c’mon, honey," she said softly, her voice soothing. "i’ll help you." she raised your hips up, gently aligning your entrance just above her. “if you want me to stop, you tell me, okay?" you nodded, before she gently prompted you, "words."

"i’ll—okay, i'll tell you," you respond, her nodding in understanding before she drags her swollen head in between your lips, gliding her length back and forth to get it wet enough before slowly pushing you down onto her. you wince at the burn, stings of whimpers and curses leaving your lips.

“it’s okay, pretty, i got you. go slow, don’t rush it,” she reassures, rubbing firm circles into your clit with her thumb; relaxing you until you take all of her.

and when she finally sheathes, you just sit there, on her dick; getting yourself used to the feeling, your forehead resting against hers. eventually you begin to grind, earning some words of praise from your girlfriend. "thereeee you go, good girl. just grind like that, mhm."

vi's getting an eyeful, an image she'll be committing to memory. she's grinning; hands still resting on either side of you, ever so often grinding along with you, making you impossibly wetter. you could do this all night, probably cum from this alone, but fuck. "i need to..to move."

without hesitation, her hands moved down to your ass, helping you glide up and forcing you back down; her tip brushing against your g-spot. “oh, that’s feels good. feels s’good,” you slurred. eventually, you picked up the pace; fully bouncing on her now, giving her a show, your breasts bouncing along with you.

mindlessly she pulls your upper half forward, mouth latching onto your left tit, sucking and moaning into it as a hand comes up to massage the other, rolling the sensitive bud in between her fingers.

"so goooooddd—shit." you whimpered at the extra stimulation.

"so fucking beautiful," she muttered into your chest, happy to finally see her girl in this light. she detached from you with pop, her gaze going back and forth from your face to your cunt, reveling in the way you swallowed her. "love this pussy—fuck—she’s taking me so well."

your moans got louder at her words, lurching forward and hiding your face in the crook of her neck, your breath warming the skin there. you're slowing down now, whatever stamina you had left diminishing at a quick pace. vi notices, grabbing your ass and fucking you from beneath; taking full control now.

“faster,” you damn near whine, “go—go faster, please.” she obliges, her movements getting impossibly quicker. the sound of her balls slapping against your ass filling the room. it was damn near pornographic. “vi, i’m close.”

"yeah?" you could tell she was close too, just by the change of tone, all whiney and needy. the undeniable hunger in her voice. you nod frantically, your hand coming down to rub your clit, trying to match the pace she was fucking you at.

“i’m gonna cum.”

“i know, baby,” she moaned, “where you want it?”

“inside. inside, please. want you to fill me up.” you exclaimed as the tension in your stomach clenched, reaching higher and higher until you finally came with a cry of her name. vi wasn’t far behind, just seconds later her dick twitched relentlessly; the warmth of her seed filling your cunt.

she pressed a kiss to your head before repositioning you to be right on top of her, skin to skin, her dick softening inside of you. “was it good?”

you scoffed as if she didn’t already know the answer, already drifting off into sleep, “fucking amazing.”

[pacofprunes]

WILDFLOWER — “she was crying on my shoulder, all i could do was hold her”

you had both been set to watch over to make sure nobody tried to attack you guys. the third game was terrible. it felt like kill or be killed and you felt like so much blood was on your hands. you saw so many people you considered yourself to be pretty close to die right in front of your eyes. daeho was sitting across from you, actually watching out while you just stared at your lap.

“you tired?”

you look up. his eyes were so pretty but you didn’t really remanence in them for too long before putting your head back down. tired of this game or tired and you wanna go to sleep? you didn’t ask, just shaking your head no before puckering your lips out to the side and messing with your lip with your fingers. the nerves just messing with you. you two just sat in silence again, but of course he’s the one to break it.

“all we can do is move forward. we have to put it all behind us, it’s all we can do.”

put it all behind us? how could you possibly do that? he just upset you more honestly and you let out a sigh before pressing your face into your hands. feeling them start to slip off your face as your tears start to dampen them. he couldn’t see you were crying, but he knew you weren’t okay. it was obvious, nobody was okay.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to be so blunt or harsh or—”

he cuts himself off before swallowing and getting up. you feel the bed dip beside you before he wraps his arm around you and he moves your hands off your face, they easily slide off and his eyes are stricken with even more concern. he didn’t want to speak though, not wanting to say the wrong thing to you before he flinches, you pushing your face into his shoulder, holding in your sobs as well as you could to not make them super loud, but they were still audible. your hands move up and start gripping on his bloody jacket for dear life. he moves to face you more instead of sideways and pulls you into an actual hug, rubbing your back while it heaved up and down. he couldn’t tell if he was helping or making things worse, but by the grip you had on him, he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to.

you mumble a load of sorrys into his shoulder before he just shushes you. he tried to push all his emotions and thoughts to the side about this all, but when in a position like this, he wanted to cry with you. he hadn’t even realized that he was until he started to notice your own jacket getting damper, turning a darker shade of green. he just keeps seeing your teary face in his mind now. sure he only saw it for a brief second, but it was etched in his mind. it would be until he died. he waits until you still a little and your grip loosens before he pulls away. your eyes completely drenched in tears. he takes his thumb and wipes the ones continuing to silently come down. he speaks up.

“i’m sorry.”

you shake your head no back and forth, the tears spraying everywhere. he had nothing to be sorry for. you take your sleeve and start wiping your face completely before shoving your face back into your hands. he moves his legs completely up onto the bed, criss crossed before grabbing your wrists and pulling them down, looking you in the eyes.

“we’ll get out of here.”

we’ll. we’ll. we’ll get out of here. it was on repeat in your head. he may have been lying, he didn’t know what would happen. he was freaking out himself. but he sure as hell would try his hardest to get you both out of here. and he’d protect you forever, even if it meant he’d lose his own life. you just stare into each others eyes before you pull your wrists out of his grip and wrap him in a tight hug, arms around his neck before he slowly reciprocates it. he wanted to treasure this moment as long as he could, not knowing how many more chances he’d get to do this with you, or if this would be the first and the last.

[tinyluvs]

thinking about minuteman!mountain who absolutely can not look down when swiss drops to his knees and starts pulling at his belt, knows if he looks down, he will cum, immediately. but, swiss already knows that, doesn’t even think about going easy on him. he drags his lips up mount’s cock and then sucks hard at his tip, smirking to himself when mount’s tip begins to pulse against his lips, just seconds after he starts. mountain groans, blushing furiously but swiss loves it, tells him, look at me when i make you cum, and poor mountain spills the second he looks

minuteman!mountain who can’t take his eyes off of where his and aurora’s bodies are joined, vaguely listening to her count upwards but she’s just so warm and wet, he really can’t help it when he yelps as she moans the number, thirty seven. aurora gasps when he floods her cunt, riding him through it and then slows right down, a little pout on her face as she huffs, oh, it’s okay mounty, start again, one..two..three., and the higher she counts, the faster she rides him. how she expects mountain to beat his high score of a minute, ten seconds, he does not know

minuteman!mountain who lets rain straddle his thigh, grinding back and forth slowly until his tentacle pops out with a splash that soaks him, the earth ghoul whimpering as his cock kicks in the space between their bodies. rain coos, partly at how far gone mount already is and partly at how excited his tentacle is to see him, she’s missed you, he hums, letting her curl around mountain’s cock, slick, gentle, suckers latching on. rain knows he wont last long, it’s written all over mount’s face as rain says, go on, show her how much you missed her, cum for her mount

𖤐 ghouls masterlist

𖤐 i wrote this while feeling like actual death so if there’s any mistakes, ignore them, i don’t wanna hear about em thank yew

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Rewritten)

I know everything. The things beyond weapons drops across the border. And yet I stay quiet. Until I can't. Being a marked one, being a friend of Xaden Riorson doesn't mean I am granted unfiltered access to information of what goes on beyond Navarre's walls. But it should when lives are lost and rules change. My compassion doesn't make me weak. My dragon chose me. I am meant for more.

A/N: This fic is updated on my AO3 as well. Here. Happy Reading! Gonna try to update once or twice a week but as you know, life happens so we'll see! xoxo K

The quadrant is in chaos. 

Finding out who is alive, who we all lost - it’s a mess. The only thing I can focus on, however, is the fact that they aren’t back. 

He isn’t back. 

I wish I could comfort you, flare. Rathnait whispers to me in the library of my mind. For a brief moment, guilt consumes me. Gripping my throat with the threat of tears and a scream. A failure of a rider -  not able to even give her a reprieve from the onslaught of my emotions. That she must feel it all with me down our bad. 

A low growl as she narrows those golden eyes of her’s at me. Talons tick nervously on the flight field, vigilant over my every move and breath. All I can do is stare at my dragon vacantly. Streaks of dark copper highlighted her grace, her beauty - running down the length of her neck and down each of her legs. Rathnait was a sight to behold, and I was only grateful to be considered worthy to be hers. Her scarlet colored scales glistened in the setting sun, as if mirroring the sun itself in all its bright glory. Her swordtail flicked in the air back and forth, as if it were involuntary. We must not get ahead of ourselves, you would feel it if something happened to him. Don’t you dare assume what I can and can’t handle. Shutting me out only hurts you in the end.

My shaky hands outstretch, desperation to run them against the warmth of her scales. Her nose to my chest, needing to feel the steadiness of her breath on my clammy self. She nudges me gently, trying all she can to ground my spiraling thoughts. 

How could this be happening? How did it come to this? All that will be left is bitter words and unspoken longing for a man who didn’t choose me.

~

“Xaden is already bending the rules with bringing Violet along, I can’t ask him to risk your well being as well,” Garrick murmurs in my ear as we watch the tense showdown between Dain and Xaden. Ignoring the sting in my chest is a feat itself, having to wrinkle my nose to rid myself of  the tears that threaten to fall.

“You're not even gonna try, after everything? You just expect me to watch you go? You’ve been keeping secrets, Garrick. This seems like part of one of them.” Stepping away from his hold, the warmth long gone from the two of us. My desire to punch him, to yell at him at the very least - gods why doesn’t he ever choose me? 

Rathnait glowers at both Garrick and Chradh, his brown scorpion tail - the irritation evident in her golden gaze. Unrelenting. Every tone, every unsaid word she analyzes and catalogues. Watching me get hurt right before her very eyes, and not in a physical way is something she doesn’t stand for. Teeth as sharp as steel snap towards Chradh, the brown dragon pulls away in shock towards the obvious display of aggression. Garrick’s jaw shuts and clenches at the show the dragons are putting on, his ever composed features faltering at the anguish I knew he could see in my eyes, could hear in my voice. 

Just say the word, flare. I’ll teach him to treat you with more care. Rathnait snarls at Chradh as he tries to nudge her affectionately. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, to push away her growing care for Chradh. You let me worry about that. Chradh knows you are the one I chose, the one I will always look out for.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish we had time to talk more, but right now I would rather know you’re safe with the rest of your squad. Your anger towards me is worth it if I am guaranteed your survival,” I watch as he makes sure his flight gloves are secure, flexing them before flickering those earth toned eyes towards me. My heart cracks a little bit more - all I want to do is scream. To shove him and get him to see that this is hurting me, is crushing me. How much more can I let slide? How much more can I take?

“And what about you? What if you don’t come back?” The very thought is enough to have my knees lock and heart stutter. 

Xaden and Violet make their way towards their dragons. Squads have begun to launch to their respective posts. Dain and I are being waited upon by Second Squad. 

“I’ve survived too much to lose now. I’ll be back and we can talk - I’ll tell you everything,” Garrick promises, stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on my temple. Clutching his flight jacket, I can’t help it as tears fall down my cheeks. 

“It seems like you might lose me though.”

 Turning around to follow my squad leader, ignoring the curses from Garrick, ignoring the way in which my squad watches me with grimaces and pity. All for fucking War Games, all for nothing. Being co-section leader means nothing to me, Dain can be in charge for all I care. Steps that feel like bricks on my feet, it’s all the energy I can muster towards the group, needing the familiar, needing their constant. Ridoc opens his arms, bringing me in for a brief tight embrace. Sawyer offers a wavering smile.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Rhiannon softly asks, wiping my wet cheeks with her hands. A shaky smile graces my lips, hands busy with making sure my own flight jacket and gloves are secure. It takes everything in me to not watch Garrick and Chradh take to the sky, having to believe that he’ll be ok, it’s all that I can allow myself to think of. 

Xaden didn’t even glance my way, Imogen or Bodhi - no one. As if the rest of the marked one’s had decided together who should and shouldn’t go. Guess I made the cut. My own relic curved over my fingers and wrist - briefly burning as if answering to my very thoughts. 

“Let’s go get this over with.” Quickly scaling up Rathnait, she chuffs at me, making sure I’m secure in my seat. Let’s go flying, Ray. Take me towards the sun. Sending my devotion to her down our bond. She launches quickly, wings flaring gloriously. The rest of the squad is quick to follow. 

I’ll always make sure you’re near it, flare. The light will never die in you, not even from this pain. 

At least she always chooses me. 

~

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony. 

I’m the only third year left. 

Expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace. 

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. My only anchor, my only comfort is from that of my dragon. Spending many hours against the curve of her back, staring up at the sky in hopes of seeing or hearing familiar dragons, of hearings wings. When I’m not near her, our bond is wide open. The familiar fire red tether in my mind ablaze with every thought and emotion that runs through us. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond. 

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go. 

Graduation day. 

Today would be the day we’ve been waiting for since entering this school, assignments to outposts were being given, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Basgaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my trek towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments. 

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” The grin directed at me is maniacal, a joke I’m not privy too, a dare. Rathnait snarls in my mind, unbridled rage igniting the very blood in my veins - but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement and walking away.

Where are you, Ray?  Hands tremble, the crinkling of paper beneath slender hands is all I can focus on as I sprint towards my room. Can’t be out in the open, can’t let them see, can’t let anyone see what will surely be my own falling apart. My own demise. 

You will not fall apart. An outpost is just a different place, as if you haven’t endured years of people hating the very ground you stand on. As if you haven’t been bonded to me. 

I make it to the middle of an empty hall that leads towards our sleeping quarters, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone behind me. My own body feeling as if it had everything sucked out of me, the very air I breath feels strained.  

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. I am Rathnait’s rider.

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think. 

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region. 

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation.”

I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader. 

Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Basgaith are under a different impression as to what it is. None of the other marked ones knew either. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and living with it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess. 

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” Dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” Glowering at him - I am still a section leader. 

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. My body has accepted what my mind cannot. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathnait’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror. 

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment.” My voice doesn’t feel like my own, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. 

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front. 

We don’t even have our leader. What hope is there for the revolution? Rathnait has no answer for me. 

To look at my squad is the last thing I am able to do, not being able to endure their unsaid questions. Answers? I had none. Being known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary was once a pride and pleasure I reveled in. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears. 

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant. 

“Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own. 

~

Angry steps make their way towards the leaders seated at the dias. Xaden Riorson commands the very space, as if he were part of leadership. Violet Sorrengail makes her stand next to me, and the presence of the person on the right of me is one I can’t pay attention to - no matter how badly I want to turn and look, no matter how badly I want to cry. Colonel Aetos is furious, cheeks flushed and furrowed brows do no favors as General Sorrengail questions everything that has been happening since the start of War Games. All directed towards the fumbling Colonel and Xaden.

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” Xaden states, fists at his side as he looks at both General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos. “It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” He pivots slightly, telling the wing the rest of what we don’t know. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” My Wingleader looks at my briefly for the first time in what seems like years, for a moment there is a crack in his ever perfect expression. 

I must have blinked, I must’ve staggered. My knees crash against the hard floor for a moment before arms reach themselves around my waist to hoist me up. We lost Liam? We lost Soleil? Unable to hear anything other than the rushing of my own blood through my very veins, the beat of my heart as if it were to come out of my chest. Violet flits her hands around my face, her mouth moving but for the life of me I don’t know what she’s saying. 

Liam was so good. Too good. And just like that he is gone? 

“And we almost lost Sorrengail.” 

Violet’s eyes widen as she takes in the horror in my eyes. My friends were in trouble and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. Tears blur my vision, and all I can do is breathe through the rattling in my chest. 

I will never forgive you. Pushing the thought towards Xaden. Watching as his spine stiffens, for a brief moment the hurt is detectable in those onyx depths, but in a blink it vanishes. 

“Breathe,” a warm voice whispers against my ear, “ Or you’ll pass out.” The emotions of everyone in the quadrant are too much. However, Garrick Tavis’ were always those of beacons to me - I was nothing more than a boat lost at sea in this very moment. And yet how do I differentiate between him and me and our emotions when all this time I thought he was dead? I thought he was never to come back? How do I ever look at him the same way after leaving me behind? “Let go of me,” shrugging myself out of his hold, I get back into proper formation. Violet watches warily, unsure of what to do. “Go help our Wingleader, Cadet Sorrengail.” Anguish flickers from her emotional tether, being dismissed was something she didn’t think I would ever do to her. To treat her as a lesser. However, in this very moment, the very reality I have endured through seems pointless. There is no belonging to the marked one’s or to a cause or to the protection of Violet and Xaden. There is nothing but the chasm in my chest at every word being revealed, at every tether holding loss and grief. And the worst part of it all is that in a matter of less than 12 hours none of this will matter, Basgiath won’t matter - I will be long gone, a new post, a new death sentence. Like always, being forced to move on. 

Making myself numb is a simple yet effective aspect of my second signet. The dying of emotions is a strange and vacant liminal space in my mind. Gone are the bright hues within the library. The dimming of my own tether to Rathnait. The rest of questioning -  I don’t bother with the insistent touching from Garrick as he tries to get my attention. I don’t bother with the few glances from Xaden, and unfortunately I can’t be open to the bond between Rathnait and I - my cruel humanity unable to withstand her words at this moment despite her numerous attempts of ramming against my shields. I know it isn’t her fault, this hurt and sense of loss that I feel - but I’d rather be alone. 

With dismissal from command, Xaden and Violet get back into formation. There are words exchanged between them and Dain, but again why does any of it matter anymore? As Captain Fitzgibbons calls out the additional names to the amended death roll, there are no tears shed, there is only silence, deathly still silence. Commandant Panchek takes the stand and addresses what is left of the riders remaining. “Beyond military commendations, there are no words of praise for rider. Our reward for a job well done is living to see the next duty station, the next rank. In keep with our traditions and standards, those of you who have completed your third year will now be commissioned as lieutenants in the army of Navarre. Step forward when your name is called to receive your orders. You have until morning to depart for your new duty stations.” 

The orders I received earlier feel like lead against my breast pocket. I had received mine earlier as a taunt, a warning since command had already believed that my Wingleader and his squad were dead. My duty station was punishment for whatever it was that Xaden and Garrick had been involved in, what they are still involved in. 

“Garrick Tavis!” My heart feels like it lodges itself in my throat, as if it were to splatter all over the floor as I look at him, fully look at him for the first time in days as he strides towards the commandant. A new scar lines from his jaw to his temple, deep and red - fresh. His wide strong frame grabs the paper and lets out a breath as he reads the duty station he is assigned to before looking at me as he makes his way back to formation. For the first time, I note an emotion that is rare from him, from someone I have come to know as unwavering. 

He’s scared. Garrick Tavis is afraid. 

~

A resounding cheer goes up in the courtyard as we are dismissed from formation. Everyone has their new orders and I watch as Ridoc, Sawyer, Nadine and Violet gather each other into a hug. Liam should be here with them too, I can’t help but think. Soleil should be graduating with us. Violet tries to catch my gaze but I am not one for appeasing our lightening wielder tonight. A tall figure blocks my vision of the squad, and I know who it is without having to truly look up and see.

“Wingleader,” I nod, staring blankly across his shoulder. “What can I help you with?” 

Xaden raises his hands as if to grip my shoulder, or Malek forbid, pull me into a hug. He must second guess himself though as he falters and his hand hangs limply at his side. “We need to talk, the three of us. And I’m no longer your Wingleader, we’re equals. We made it, flare.” 

Whipping my gaze at him, lips pulled in a snarl. “Don’t. I was never your equal, I was someone who helped you all get away with whatever bullshit it is you’re doing. I was the scapegoat. I was the distraction.” With each word, rage bellows in my belly. My shields must be faltering between Rathnait and I, because I feel like decking him, hurting him. I don’t bother lowering my volume, all sense of decorum out the window as cadets make their way across the quadrant. “I’m not even your friend.” 

Xaden flinches at that. 

“That’s not fair, sweetheart,” A raspy deep voice comes from behind me, calloused hands attempt to grab my own. Ripping them out of his grasp, I can’t help but ram my elbow into his side, the sound of wheezing only slightly satisfying. Xaden attempts to help him but the glare I pin at him leaves him immobilized . 

“What is not fair, sweetheart, is being left behind. Is not being there to help. Is not being trusted after everything I’ve told you out of faith!” Whirling around to face him, Garrick struggles to fully stand upright after my jab. “And now it doesn’t even matter. Excuse me, I have to go pack.” 

Hurt. Regret. All that I can feel from the two shocked idiots. 

****

Shutting me out isn’t the answer, flare. Rathnait snarls in my mind. There is nothing my dragon hates more than to be purposely shutout from me. If I can’t reach your during moments of distress, how can I help you?

Sometimes I don’t want help, Ray. Sometimes I just have to feel it. Folding the rest of my clothes and putting away what few belongings I do have, I’m able to rest for a moment on the bed. The wooden figurine of Rathnait sits on the window, all I can do is watch it. 

Liam was so sweet. Eager to please, eager to excel - and training him was something that I actually found fun. He was the little brother I never had. Someone who could bring me back down from the emotional highs, someone who made me laugh when all Xaden and Garrick wanted to do was be serious. When he made the figurine of my dragon, Rathnait herself chuffed in amusement at how endearing she found Liam. He was just so filled with light that this hellhole had to swallow it up and take it away. It wasn’t fair. 

A knock echoes throughout the empty room. Already knowing what is to come, I steel myself for the inevitable emotional onslaught. Adjusting my new officer flight leathers, I wave my finger to open the door, staying close to the window. 

Both Garrick and Xaden are dressed in their new flight leathers as well. A pack and sleeping pad hitched over their shoulders. Remorse written all over their faces I don’t even have to use my signet for that. 

“Is it ok if we talk in here?” Xaden asks. Yelling from the graduated cadets echo throughout the halls, celebration in all forms was everywhere tonight. Glancing away from their hesitant stares, the sound barrier shimmers slightly overhead as Xaden shuts the door. With a heavy, burdened sight, he slides against the door and sits on the floor, legs outstretched. It’s the least put together I’ve seen from him. Garrick sits on the bed, glancing at the wooden figurine with a wavering smile before glancing at me. I don’t make a move to sit by him, my arms cross as I lean against the window bay. No one says a word. The friendship the three of us had, seems like it teeters on the edge of the cliff. Well it seems like I’m the one starting this.

“I thought you were all dead. That all I had left was the memory of disagreeing with Garrick before War Games and watching my Wingleader not spare me a second glance as he makes his squad when I was meant to be a section leader as well.” Bland words escape me, trying to say something other than the yelling that I want to dish out to them. “And knowing I didn’t even get to see Liam before he -“ I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ve never asked, Xaden. I’ve never demanded Garrick tell me when I could easily hold it against him as someone he supposedly cared a lot about-“

“Care.” Garrick interrupts. Leaving no room for argument. “I care a lot about you, sweetheart. More than that. Don’t blame Xaden when I am just as much a part of this as he is. Be mad at me too.” His hazel eyes blaze with a fight I know he’s aching for. To yank the deadened words from my lips with something fiery, something that feels like more. Garrick doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“You don’t think I’m mad at you too? Tavis, I am furious. I am heartbroken. I was resigned to a life without you, and now?” Gasping for air, I pound my chest for some sort of relief from the tightness I feel. Garrick is quick to try and help me but I raise my hand, ordering him wordlessly to stay put. 

“There are a lot of things I regret,” Xaden rasps, “You helped me, confided in me - and I didn’t do the same thing to you.” 

“I was ready to fight alongside the two of you if you had told me to. I would meet Malek with honor. I may not be like you or Imogen or Bodhi - that everything I feel is so much and bleeds with every word I say or person I interact with - “

“No, flare that’s no-“

“You act like I’m not even a marked one. That I am not a part of what you all are planning. I’m kept in the shadows so that command never suspects you all. You asked me to help train Violet. You asked me to be a constant, to be unwavering. For what? To be forgotten?” With each question, my shouts echo throughout my bedroom. Neither of them are able to meet my eyes. “I would die for Aretia.” The whisper in to the space between us hits their mark. The full realization of what I know - the understanding, make it’s way across their expressions, their emotions. Xaden rakes his fingers through his hair, clutching it almost painfully. Garrick staggers slightly, holding himself up by clutching the bed post. “And now? It’s too late. I have my duty station. Basgaith is done. My journey here is done.” 

I brush my signet along their emotional tethers, unable to break the habit of comforting them ever so slightly. Understanding that the two of them lost their brother, lost people that were a part of them. Garrick lets out a shaky laugh as he feels the familiar sensation of soothingness. 

“H-How did you know about that?” Garrick questions, eyes finally roaming over me in disbelief. 

“Did you not think I would know every time you would lie to me? That the drops you were making were all that you were doing? I don’t know anything else but the restoration of home, of our home? How could you not think I would defend that with every ounce of my life for you?” 

“It was never because I didn’t trust you.” Xaden looks at me with a resolve I don’t understand. He gets up slowly, standing tall. “If anything it was because I didn’t want to chance losing someone else we all cared about to. We lost Liam and Soleil too easily. I lost them. I’m the one who is responsible for you all.” 

Truth. Feeling his honesty. Feeling his belief. 

“Flare, if were to lose someone like you, too? You’re glue, you’re binding. You’re a bridge. The same way that Violet is.  You bring Navarre and Tyrrendor together with your compassion. With your grace and spirit. When others look at you, they don’t see a marked one. They see more.” A knuckle taps against his flight leather pants in agitation. "I took a chance and made a mistake and I’ll never be able to earn that trust back. But look into my tether and now that I’m so fucking sorry. That I fucked up.” Xaden pleads, “And selfishly I was looking out for my brother, knowing that if he lost you? There was nothing in this world that would bring him back.” His voice cracks as he looks over at Garrick, a hand on his broad shoulders. “I’d rather you be alive and hate me, whereas dead and I lose the two of you in the process.” 

A shudder makes it’s way past my lips, tears trailing down my cheeks. I felt exhausted, I felt confused and scared and so many other things and all because we we’re so fucking human it seemed like despite my signet, despite my bond with a dragon - I was still so susceptible to human experiences and emotions. 

“I’m being assigned to Samara,” I tell them, not being able to dance around that any longer. Both of them look at me with wide bloodshot eyes. 

“Say that again?” Garrick demands, making his way towards me. 

“Samara is my new duty station?” Confused as to their reactions. “I was assigned my station before the official formation. It’s a death sentence, one they thought they could give me since they thought you were dead and I was a loose end towards command.” 

Garrick and Xaden smile, both blinding and perfect. Garrick for the first time in what seems like ages, swoops me into his arms, clutching me tightly as he cradles the nape of my neck. He shakes in my hold, as if whatever energy he feels is suddenly constrained in his body. 

“We’ve been assigned there as well, we didn’t get to chose our station. I guess they forgot that they had put you there too,” Xaden laughs, watching the disbelief as I realize what this means. 

“You’re gonna be with me?” I whimper towards Garrick, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck feeling the tidal wave of emotions of all three of us. 

“Never leaving you, sweetheart.” He laughs again, rubbing his hands along my back, clutching my hair, doing anything he can to just touch me. It’s been ages since we’ve been near each other like this. I can feel Rathnait chuff in the back of my mind, her also understanding that she gets Chradh with her as well. 

“We get a second chance,” Xaden grins, although I know he means it more towards himself. 

“If by second chance you mean I get to be in, full in. Than yes,” I demand, untangling myself from Garrick, to look at both of them. Garrick clutches his hand in mine tightly. 

“You’re in, flare. However much you want to be involved in. Garrick and I will tell you everything, and from there -“ He nervously wavers, “From there you can fully decide what it is you want to do. There is no one else I’d rather station and fight alongside with than with you two. The three of us entered Basgiath together, we leave together.” 

Opening my arms, he rolls his eyes playfully - ever the grump. Garrick and I pull Xaden into our embrace, clutching each other tightly with relief. We weren't gonna go through death alone, we weren’t gonna suffer alone. Samara was meant to be our death sentence but maybe, just maybe - it wouldn’t be so bad. 

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 12.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, infidelity, suggestive/implied smut, indications of a toxic relationship, very broken relationship at this point actually, lots of back and forth, also pls remember i didn't put any hard dates to things that have happened so i couldn't tell u exactly what day, time and season iseul decided to be like this 🫤, crying, yelling, a sprinkle of violence (like a push, slamming hand against the wall, throwing objects), hints of manipulation and gaslighting

—on rotation: oceans & engines - niki | blame - bryson tiller

⇢ POSTDOC | EARLY YR 3

Love does not prevail.

Love does not conquer all.

San used to think it did, but as he's been sitting in his old room at his parents' home, he's realizing that wasn't the case for him. He tries, and he tries. He tries to make himself believe that it still can conquer all, and that it still can prevail. He tries to tell himself that it wasn't him, that he did no wrong. That this was just a fucking dream he's waiting to wake up from.

He tries to believe what he has is still love.

He tries to believe he is still worthy of receiving love and being loved; of not sitting in this heartache for long.

—FLASHBACK

San is exhausted, but he's excited to be coming home a whole day earlier than planned to surprise Iseul. He caught the next flight out as soon as his commitments during the conference had wrapped up, ready to come to his wife and be in her arms. He couldn't wait to hold her, kiss her, and shower her with love especially because they had been arguing lately. It's like that was the only form of communication they knew.

All he wanted was to stop— to make up and to give her everything, to have her back and to just be.. happy.

Why were they even fighting so much?

Iseul felt distant and he wasn't sure how to bring her back. But, he'd try his damn hardest. She was his wife and he loved her so. He would never give up no matter how hard it got.

It never used to be this way.

San picks up Iseul's favorite perfume from the Duty Free and stops by a quick flower stand to grab a small bouquet of roses. He calls an Uber that comes in less than 5 minutes— San gently setting his carry-on bag in the trunk before plopping into the backseat with the roses and perfume sitting on his lap. He texts Iseul as if he hasn't returned, trying to keep the surprise under wraps as much as possible. He's trying to see what she's up to and if she ate for dinner, but she hasn't responded.

Which, again, wasn't entirely uncommon behavior from Iseul.

But, since they had been fighting and arguing so much recently, the pauses and breaks in between texts seemed to be getting longer and longer— a tiny detail he refused to look at because it would unravel the rest of the problems he had been brushing under the rug;

Problems he stuck at the back end of a book.

He texted her close to three hours ago. 

San didn't really know why Iseul was so angry with him sometimes. She argued and she would say things that made him feel like something deep within her resented him more than loved him. He's aware he's not the best with his time management, he's aware that, sometimes, he makes her feel like she comes after everything else.

He's aware.

He'll acknowledge his mistakes and short-comings, but he'll always make up for it. He isn't perfect, but he'll always try. Always.

When the cab pulls up to the house, nothing feels unusual. He feels like he sees Yunho's car parked on the side street a house down, but that wouldn't be too unusual since he's always around. But, it does feel a little weird that he would be here when San wasn't home. The two had been really close as of lately, and it felt like Yunho had gotten closer to Iseul than he had been with San.

Yet, another tiny detail he refused to look into because of all the possibilities.

They could never.

San felt so naive, but they could never.

He gets inside the house and the living room TV is still on. Kinda loud, actually. There's two wine glasses sitting on the counter, both empty with remnants of red wine pooling at the bottom. San sets his work bag down before carrying his carry-on duffle upstairs with him, along with the flowers and perfume.

Funny that they aren't down here.

He climbs up the steps, wondering if Iseul was in the room and Yunho was busy doing something else? He can't come up with anything because there isn't really anything to do up here.

They're still nowhere to be found.

He feels his heart beating out of his chest.

Because he nears their door and Iseul is making those sounds she makes when San makes love to her. Except, she's a little louder this time. Throws in some giggles. At first, San thinks he's dreaming; that there's no way she could be doing this to him right now. 

There's no way. She was his wife.

She would never.

They would never.

Then, the door creaks open from the harsh breeze that comes in through the cracked window of the room. San gets a glimpse of the bed and the sheets are different. Things feel different.

And that's because they are. 

Everything is different, and everything will be different from here on out.

If only San knew that, if only he caught on earlier.

Would've saved his ass from the heartbreak that was about to be catered to him on a silver platter.

The sounds are indeed leaving Iseul's lips, and as soon as San pushes the door open, he almost wished it could have been anybody else if this were literally the circumstances that were meant to find him. If this was going to happen either way, he really wished it was somebody else. Because why is he watching Yunho grip Iseul's hips the way he normally would when she's on top? 

Why is he looking at her the way he is— like she's everything to him, like she holds all the answers he's been looking for, like he.. loves her.

San doesn't even know what to say at first, he doesn't even process this. He just drops his things to the ground, along with Iseul's perfume and the flowers. The thud is enough to make them turn their attention towards the door, immediately pulling on the sheets when Iseul hops off of him.

They look at him in shock.

What was he doing here?

Ironic, San has the same question.

"You two actually can't be serious." He says close to a whisper, a pathetic chuckle leaving his lips because what in the actual hell is going on? "You can't be serious." He repeats, but this time, his tone is laced with disbelief, confusion. Anger. "You can't be serious!" His tone rises.

"W-why are you here? I-I thought you weren't coming home for another day."

"Oh, so that's how you'd be filling in your time while I'm away?" He scoffs angrily. "I should've known, I should've fucking known!" He's yelling now, and he hasn't yelled like this ever. "You couldn't even save me from all this fucking mess?!" He aggressively runs his hand down his face, hands placed on his hips as he paces around. Not even sure where the fuck to look while Yunho and Iseul are scrambling to get themselves together and out of the damn bed.

The damn bed he shares with his wife.

"San— I can—" 

"What the fuck can you explain?!" He grabs the closest thing to him, which happens to be the tiny vase full of fresh lavender that Iseul bought recently and throws it against the wall in pure rage, frustration. "Huh?! What the fuck can you possibly explain, Iseul! Do you think I'm stupid? Do you take me as a dumbass?" He pounds his hand against the wall near the doorway.

He scares himself. 

He has never been this angry.

He has never felt himself feel so different and worked up, almost borderline toxic, in a relationship. It feels so wrong, it feels so unhealthy. Unlike him.

"How long?" He mutters.

"It was just—"

"How long!" He yells again, and it startles Iseul and Yunho.

"A month or so." Maybe he shouldn't have asked. There's so much uncertainty in her tone, she can't even remember the exact time this all began.

It all blended.

It was a blur.

It could've been more. Feels like. Yunho gives her a look and it's obvious.

She's lying.

"I should've known. I should've known. I should've known." San keeps repeating to himself, tears are streaming down his cheeks even though he's more livid than anything.

"I'll just go—"

"No, you stay. I'll go." He almost growls lowly at Yunho.

"San—" Iseul calls for him. All of a sudden. 

"No, don't. Don't call for me because you weren't doing that before. This is it, Iseul. You don't get to call me, you don't get to ask me to do anything. You don't need me! Stick with him since that's what's been happening all along. Aren't I right? You two really deserve each other."

"San." Yunho sighs, slipping into his shirt as San is about to head out of the door. 

"We should really just talk about this—" 

"What the fuck is there to talk about?! What is wrong with the both of you, wasn't that enough of an explanation?" Yunho mistakenly places a hand on his shoulder to try and get him to turn back, but San pushes him with so much force that Yunho stumbles against the drawer and causes a frame to tumble and fall to the ground. "Don't touch me." He glares at Yunho, eyes glazed over as hot tears brim his lids. "Do not touch me ever again. I don't need any explanations, I don't need anything." He swallows the lump in his throat. "I'm done with the both of you." He slips the ring off of his finger and tosses it near the bed, letting it land on the floor as it slips down the sheets. "Have it, Iseul. Take it all. That's what you do best." He is barely able to get out. "I'll come back to grab things when you aren't around."

"San!" She cries for him, slipping on her robe to chase after him. Yunho grabs her by the wrist and tries to stop her, shaking his head as a way to tell her to let it go. She quickly eyes the roses and the perfume near the bed, causing her to snatch her wrist out of his grip. She heads down the stairs and continues to call for San even though he's already in his car and about to pull out of the garage.

She cries as she frustratingly runs her hands through her hair, unsure of how she could try to salvage her marriage.

How could she bring him back?

—END

He checks the time and realizes Iseul won't be around the house right now due to some lab dinner she's attending. He still sees her calendar linked to his and he's close to deleting it, but he needs to grab the rest of his things before he can do so. They haven't really talked about that night because she's good at playing her game. She's tried, and she's tried.

She keeps crying for him, calling for him.

She came back running right after the whole thing. Then, they fought. She ran back to Yunho. 

Came back. 

It makes him so confused and so, so tired to be dancing in circles. He might be dumb for falling for it every time, especially when things clearly haven't changed. Why does he have to fight for a spot with Yunho? 

He was her husband.

He shouldn't have to.

What else could she possibly want from him? 

He was done with this. He was tired, and he was done.

His parents aren't home either [thank god, he can't take another second of them nagging and prying], so he swipes his keys off the counter and leaves with haste. He's trying to avoid a run-in with Iseul because all he wants to do is grab his shit and leave in peace.

He doesn't even know what's gonna happen to the house, he's not even sure if he would want it should she give it up in the end. Every corner is gonna be painted with her face, even Yunho's, when it was meant to be a happy home for two people.

Them.

San sighs heavily as he makes the trek down to the house, which is kinda far but he doesn't mind the drive. It's peaceful, it's relaxing; it calms his nerves. He blasts his music through the speakers, zipping through the highway and the streets before pulling up to the garage. The house is dark and Iseul's car is nowhere to be found. He quickly slips out of the car and unlocks the door, stepping out of his shoes before climbing up the steps to the room. There are some unwashed dishes in the sink and the flowers sitting in the vase have wilted away.

The candle hasn't been replaced with a new one.

The throw blanket on the couch is falling off the edge.

When he gets upstairs, some of Iseul's drawers aren't completely shut. The closet door isn't closed. Her laundry is still unfolded and at the end of the bed they once shared. Sheets are different again, but this time, they're a dull pale baby blue. The extra sheets her mom gifted them when they had first moved in.

Since that night, Iseul hasn't placed flowers in the room. Their pictures are gone.

The shutters remain close. 

All signs of a broken and cold home.

He tries not to pay attention to the feeling settling in his stomach right now— after all, he's on a mission to grab some things and go. He throws a few things into his duffle bag, making sure to grab some extra socks and boxer briefs to last him until his next trip to the house. He's got enough clothes that he could mix and match with so he thinks he's good.

He thinks he's set, and he thinks he managed to slip by unnoticed again.

Except, he hears the front door shut when he heads down the steps. 

"San?" She asks for him softly. He slowly heads down the rest of the stairs and turns the corner to see her standing there. She doesn't look too happy, nor does she look like she's been able to sleep well recently. But, he doesn't think it's fair to put the blame on him for all of that. She did this to them. "Hey."

"I'm done grabbing clothes, I'll be out of your way—" She stops in front of him and he tries to take another step to the side, which was also unsuccessful.

"Wait, why don't you just stay? Aren't you tired of doing this?" He furrows his brows and subtly shakes his head.

"Aren't you, Iseul? I don't know what you want from me."

"San, I'm sorry." Iseul starts to cry to him, making him tear up in return. But, he can't. He's done. He doesn't wanna do this anymore. He deserves better. He's crying because he's exhausted, not because he wants her back or because he misses what he had with her. It's too much of painful memory to even reminisce about. He is just tired. "Please. I'm sorry, I just want you. I don't wanna do this anymore, I— we can fix this, can't we? We can go to counseling and fix this."

"Iseul, no." He pries her off of him, tears streaming down his cheeks. "No, we can't. There isn't anything to fix."

"Don't say that." She almost whines. "I'm sorry, San. Please just— please don't do this. I'm not gonna give this up."

"What makes you think you haven't already? No." He repeats. "You chose that night and you made your decision. You decided to start that whole thing with Yunho, and you decided to let him stay. You let me go, and I don't deserve all of this bullshit, Iseul." He places his hand out to keep his distance when she tries to grab for him once more. "Why can't you stop? Don't you see how fucked up this is?" He cries. "I don't wanna do this anymore. I'm so fucking tired. So please, no. I don't want this, please stop putting me through this." He begs. The tears continue to stain his cheeks even as he licks his lips and swallows dryly. He watches as Iseul sobs into her hands and falls to her knees on the floor, but he has nothing else to say.

Nothing left of him to give.

"San."

"I'm gonna go." He whispers, gaining the courage to step aside her and slip into his shoes, walking out as the pain burns him deep in his chest hearing Iseul continuously sob into her hands. When he plops into the driver's seat, he tosses his duffle bag off to the side and lets out a shaky sigh. He continues to cry to himself, digging his own head into his hands before he gathers himself and turns on the car. He doesn't think he should drive right now, but he just wants to go home and be in his own peace. So, he speeds off; though, the world feels like it's caving in on him.

For a second, San thought he deserved all of this. He felt so fucking sorry for himself because he thought he deserved every bit of the hurt, the betrayal, that came his way. Every time he thinks about it, it slices his wounds open all over again, and he feels sick to his stomach.

The pain burns.

His chest feels tight.

He almost feels like he can't breathe.

Because in the end, he learned the hard way.

Love does not prevail.

Love does not conquer all.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[biblical-chronicles]

Baby fever

_________________________________________

where Noel can't get enough of watching you take care of Lennon.

_________________________________________

You and Noel had just sat down on the couch, him sinking into the cushions with a sigh like he was already bored out of his mind. You’d barely had a second to settle in before the sound of tiny feet pattering across the floor made you perk up.

“Lennon’s in?” you asked, turning to Liam with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah, the big lad’s here,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. “But don’t get too excited, he’s a right little menace today.”

You didn’t listen. The second the little blond toddler rounded the corner, you were beaming. “Lennon!”

His head snapped up, bright eyes finding you instantly, and before Liam could warn you, the kid was launching himself at you. Small arms wrapped around your legs, and you scooped him up effortlessly, laughing as he clung to you like a little monkey.

“Well, hello to you too,” you chuckled, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “Didn’t know you were waitin' for me.”

“Course I was.” he said simply, in that blunt way only toddlers could manage.

Liam rolled his eyes. “Oi, don’t inflate her ego, kid. She’s insufferable enough as it is.”

Lennon ignored him, making a beeline for the couch just as you sat down next to Noel again. But rather than plopping himself down anywhere else, the toddler wedged his tiny frame right between you and Noel, determinedly claiming the space like it was a matter of life and death.

Liam snorted, shaking his head. “Bloody hell, Noel, watch out. Looks like the little one’s about to steal your missus.”

Noel barely spared a glance down at the sudden intruder in his space, just raised an eyebrow before Liam piped in again. “Reckon she’s got a type, then. Clingy, bossy, and about three feet tall.”

You burst into laughter as Lennon, oblivious to the teasing, just snuggled further into you, like he’d already won some great battle.

“Well, I can’t argue with that, can I?” You lifted him into your lap instead, letting him settle in comfortably, absentmindedly smoothing out his hair as he leaned against you.

Noel just shook his head, amused. “Right little charmer, he is.”

Liam scoffed, flopping into the armchair across from you. “Don’t encourage him, man. He’s got enough of that from his mum.”

The conversation drifted into the usual back and forth, jokes flying between you, Liam, and Noel, with Lennon happily nestled in your lap, soaking up the attention. But, of course, with toddlers having the attention span of a goldfish, Lennon soon started wiggling restlessly.

“I’m bored,” he announced dramatically. “Can we play footie? Please?”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Oi, this isn’t your guest, you know.”

Before he could go on further, you grinned. “Oh, I don’t mind at all, if you'll excuse me for ten minutes.” you said easily, shifting Lennon off your lap and standing up.

Lennon’s face lit up, practically glowing with pride. He turned to his dad with a smug grin. “Look, she wants to play with me.”

Noel snorted, and Liam shot him a glare before looking back at you. “Yeah, yeah, alright, but don’t let him run you ragged. He’s relentless today.”

You ruffled Lennon’s hair. “I think I can handle it.”

With that, you followed the little one outside, letting him dash ahead to grab the ball. The air was crisp but not too cold, the sky still holding onto the last bits of daylight. Lennon wasted no time, rolling the ball toward you with an eager grin.

“Alright,” you said, tapping the ball back toward him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The game was chaos from the start. Lennon had all the energy in the world and none of the technique, yet that didn’t stop him from running around like a madman. You tried showing him some basic kick-ups, but he was more interested in dribbling the ball in a messy zigzag and making dramatic goal celebrations every time he got past you.

Inside the house, Noel had half a mind to listen to whatever Liam was going on about, but his attention kept drifting toward the window. His fingers drummed against the armrest, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you outside. The way you crouched to Lennon’s level, patiently showing him how to control the ball. The way you laughed when he got it wrong but tried again anyway. The way Lennon absolutely adored you.

Liam caught where his gaze had wandered and smirked. “Jesus Christ, look at you.”

Noel turned back, frowning. “What?”

Liam gestured lazily toward the window. “You’re bloody mesmerised. Don’t think I’ve seen you look that in love with owt that isn’t a guitar.”

Noel scoffed, but his gaze flickered back outside, where Lennon had just tackled you in an overly enthusiastic hug after managing to kick the ball past you.

Liam smirked. “Baby fever, is it?”

“Shut up.” Noel muttered, sinking further into the couch.

Liam laughed. “Nah, mate, I get it. She’s good with him. Natural, even.” He leaned back, arms crossed. “Bet you’re thinkin’ about it now, aren’t ya?”

Noel rolled his eyes. “You're a bloody wind up merchant, you.”

Liam just grinned. “Say what you want, but I bet if I walked out there right now and told her you wanna put a ring on it, you wouldn’t even deny it.”

Noel glared at him. “You do that, and you’ll be the one buried in the garden.”

Liam just laughed harder, but Noel ignored him, letting his gaze drift back out the window, watching as you ran around with the toddler, both of you grinning like it was the best day ever.

After a while, you and Lennon made your way back inside, slightly breathless, your shirt damp from running around with him. As you stepped into the living room, you wiped your forehead dramatically.

“You were right,” you said to Liam, shaking your head. “He’s a bit relentless today. We’re gonna grab some water, yeah?”

But Lennon had other ideas. “No!” he piped up, bouncing on his feet. “I wanna show them the song!”

That got Noel and Liam’s attention. Noel leaned forward slightly, intrigued, while Liam raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, crouching down to his level. “You sure? No water first?”

Lennon ignored that completely, puffing his little chest out. Then, with all the confidence in the world, he started singing.

"Blue moon… you saw me standing alone…”

He got through the first few lines, not quite in tune, words a bit jumbled, but the effort was undeniable. When he finished, he stood there beaming, waiting for approval.

You clapped immediately, grinning. “That was brilliant, Lennon!” Then, you turned to Liam, shaking your head. “I’m actually disgusted, Liam. How could he not know the club anthem before?”

Lennon, catching onto your tone, gasped and looked up at his dad, eyes wide with betrayal, clearly not wanting to miss the opportunity to tell his dad off with you behind his back.

“Yeah, what she said.”

Liam groaned. “Oh, come on—why are you two ganging up on me in me own house?”

Noel let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Looks like you’ve lost this one, our kid.”

You smirked. “Might be time to admit you’ve failed as a parent, Liam.”

Liam pointed at you, shaking his head. “You’re a terrible influence.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” you teased, running a hand through Lennon’s hair. “You’re just bitter ‘cause I got there first.”

Liam scoffed. “He’s just three! I was gonna teach him.”

Noel just continued watching the whole thing unfold, arms crossed as he leaned back into the couch. But something about the scene—you, standing there, Lennon practically attached to your side, both of you smirking at Liam like you were conspiring against him—was doing something to him. And the fact that you’d been the one to teach him Blue Moon? That just sealed it.

Liam, of course, clocked it immediately. He turned to Noel with a knowing smirk. “Oi, you alright there, mate? You’re lookin’ a bit—what’s the word? Smitten?”

Noel scowled. “Oh give over.”

But Liam was already laughing. “Oh, this is great. You’re gone, mate. Completely gone.”

You turned back to Noel, raising an eyebrow. “What’s he on about?”

Noel just shook his head, but the smile was already creeping onto his lips. “Nothin’. He’s just windin' me up.”

Before you could press him, Lennon tugged at your sleeve. “Can I sing it again?”

You grinned, reaching for his hands. “Course you can, rockstar.”

As Lennon launched into another—somehow even less accurate—rendition of Blue Moon, Noel pulled you down beside him. He then leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple.

It was so natural, that for a second you almost didn’t react. But then you glanced at him, catching that little smirk of his, and felt warmth spread through your chest.

Noel’s voice was low, just for you. “I love you, y’know. To the moon and back.”

_________________________________________

I loved this, big thanks to @tashi-3 for the request, hope you liked it love !!

I know the picture doesn't match that well but he just looked too good not to put it in, biblical side profile x

[catcherwrites]

The first batch of my Arc 3 concept designs are finally done! It felt fitting to begin with the three who started it all: Rayla, Callum, and Ezran

Check out the more in-depth story and design choices below

Rayla

In the wake of S7’s Finale, Azymondias wasn’t just a 2-year-old King of the Dragons, but the only surviving Archdragon. That means he’s a very important figure across Xadia and the Human Kingdoms – and needs to be protected. Shortly after the events of S7, Rayla reclaims her title as ‘The Last Dragonguard’ and resurrects the order to act as Zym’s attendants, advisors, and protectors. She’s spent the last few years travelling between the Storm Spire, the Silvergrove, and Evrkynd, helping where she can and leading her fellow guards (who may be revealed in a later post). Rayla’s relationship with Callum has grown stronger than ever. Even though they’re holding off on marriage until Aaravos is dealt with for good, Callum gives her the Xadian equivalent of a promise ring he handcrafted (Ethari helped). With them both feeling secure with each other, they are more comfortable with being separated…but that won’t stop them from being attached at the hip whenever they’re near each other.

Going into these Arc 3 designs, I had a much clearer image in my head of Rayla compared to the other characters in my lineup. Using reference images of Tiadrin and Lain made creating Rayla’s Dragonguard uniform feel very bittersweet. Unfortunately, from a creative standpoint, uniforms run the chance of limiting the personality in a character’s design. I tried offsetting this by making Rayla’s undershirt and embedded gemstones in her armour more Silvergrove-y than Dragonguard-y. I also kept Rayla’s iconic belt, Arc 2 colour scheme, and added some of Ethari’s swirls where possible. Beyond the uniform, I kept going back and forth about her hairstyle. Keep the Arc 2 bun? Return to Arc 1’s style? Braided? A simple ponytail? Eventually, I settled on a half-up braid that let my sleep-deprived brain think I was getting the best of both worlds.

Callum

Ezran was disappointed when Callum turned down being his High Mage again, fearing that he’d lose his brother’s support in the council room. In reality, stepping down as High Mage meant that Callum could step up as Crown Prince. In the years following S7, Callum splits his time between assisting Ezran and studying magic on expeditions across Xadia. One of those expeditions leads him to Aaravos’ book in Elarion, which helps him delve deeper into the other primal sources. He’s fully mastered Sky and Ocean magic and has grown incredibly proficient at Earth magic. To Callum’s dismay, even with the help of Lujanne, Ethari, and Aaravos’ book, he still isn’t clicking with the Moon arcanum. He also hasn’t fully unlocked the Sun arcanum, but he’s getting very close and is a strong fire mage when wielding the Staff of Ziard. By Arc 3, Callum has gained the title of Archmage – and people far and wide seek him out for magical assistance, leaving him overworked and exhausted.

I was very excited to come up with Callum’s Arc 3 design for one reason: the parallels. His Arc 2 outfit is meant to resemble Viren, as Callum had taken his place as the High Mage of Katolis. But because he is no longer ‘High Mage,’ and instead ‘Archmage’, Callum’s Arc 3 outfit is intended to reflect Aaravos. I tried to do this with his uncovered arms, the open coat, and the vaguely celestial elements on his tunic. The geometric pattern on Callum’s coat is meant to look like a feather (symbolising his first primal source) while in the style of his Arc 2 coat. Rayla gifted Callum a matching belt buckle to hers (though with a moon opal for emergencies), which he wears alongside his uneven towers buckle from Ezran. His hair is mostly the same, except slightly longer, because I don’t see overworked-mage Callum caring about his hairstyle.

Ezran

S7 was a massive tipping point for Ezran: losing his brother, his true heart, and almost losing himself to the cycle of violence. While he stopped before he could go too far, Ezran was unequivocally changed by what happened. After Aaravos’ defeat, Ezran has been overseeing Evrkynd’s construction, ensuring it’s a safe home for humans and Sunfire elves who lost their home. However, it is also open to anyone, regardless of their origin. While he and Queens Janai and Amaya decided the people would rule the city of Evrkynd, Ezran continues to rule wider Katolis alongside his council. He does spend most of his time in Evrkynd for his royal duties, but Ezran is learning to take breaks – occasionally joining Callum, Rayla, and Zym on small getaways. As is tradition for anyone in the royal family, Ezran began combat training in his mid-teens with Soren as his teacher. He’s grown quite good and can hold his own in a battle (long enough for his Crownguard come to his aid, at least).

Ezran’s design in TDP has always been one of the simplest ones, probably symbolising his humble personality despite his status. I tried to maintain that effect in his Arc 3 outfit but with one major alteration. Going into this design, I wanted Ezran’s struggle in S7 to have had a visible impact on him by including armour in his design. His outer tunic is now gambeson, and his shoulder pads are scuffed-up leather. If he decides to wear it, the gold studs on Ezran’s shoulders are where his cloak will latch on. As should be expected from an age jump this severe, the biggest change to Ezran was his build. He’s finally overtaken his brother in height, much to the dismay of both Callum and Rayla, and is expected to be as tall as Harrow when he’s finished growing.

[leighsartworks216]

Birdcage

Sylus x gn!Reader

Sequel to My Pretty Bird

Fucking love Mephisto!Reader so much I love being a silly little bird in the arms of a big ol man

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, swearing, smoking, rescue

Word Count: 1,234

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists

AO3

Tag List Form

You squawk and screech and make all sorts of sounds. Your wings beat relentlessly against steel bars, padlocked firmly shut. A man hits the cage with the butt of his gun. It swings back and forth, knocking you off balance.

"And why can we just shoot this damn thing?" the man asks. He glares at you. You stare right back, cawing indignantly in his face. He hits the cage again. "It's so fucking annoying!"

Another man in the room laughs. Smoke sifts through his teeth, drifting lazily through the air. "Don't tell me you're gonna let a bird get under your skin."

The first man covers your cage with a heavy cloth. It doesn't do much to quiet you and you beat more defiantly against the bars, but at least he doesn't have to look at you.

"Crows are smart birds, you know. You give them an inch, they'll take a mile," the smoker says. "It probably likes annoying you cuz you're making such a fuss."

"It doesn't annoy you?"

"Hmph. I have three sisters - I'm used to it."

The dark doesn't mean much when you have night vision, but night vision doesn't mean much when there's nothing to look at. Everywhere you turn: bars and nothing beyond. And there's nothing you can do on your own to get out of it. Code-based locks are easy enough to break, but a key-lock? You're shit out of luck. Still, you peck at it restlessly, without thought of if it would work or not.

You sent out the beacon a while ago. Sylus still isn't here. Unsurprising, given he was all the way in Linkon and you're halfway across the N109 Zone in some other fool's territory (intel-hunting, as it were). From what you gather, they have no idea who you belong to. The idea that the leader of Onychinus could come here is an utter impossibility in their minds. You just hope he'll be here soon.

You hear the click of a door opening and heavy boots entering the room. "I didn't even need to ask for directions," a new voice jokes, "I could hear it all the way in my lab."

Lab?

"Thank fuck you're here, doc. It's giving me a headache. Can't you shut it up?"

"Without damaging it," the smoker reminds them. "The boss wants to know how it's built."

The new person laughs. You try clawing through the bars at the cloth, with no luck. That voice, that laugh - it unsettles you.

"If what you described is true, I'd hate to damage it." The heavy boots walk closer. "Can I...?"

The first man hmphs. "Go ahead, doc, I won't stop ya."

The cloth is removed without ceremony. A face stares at you through the bars. A gaunt woman with an unsettlingly wide smile, eyes obscured by thick goggles. She gasps in pleasant surprise as she sees you.

You scream in her face, flap futilely in your little cage to try getting away. It's the only thought you have - you have to get away.

She chuckles lowly. "You're still as spirited as ever, I see."

The jagged, jolting sound of electricity registers milliseconds before it touches the cage. It travels through the path of least resistance: from the taser she holds, through the steel bars of the cage, and into you. The best way to describe the sensation is like waking up from anesthesia, except the "waking up" comes from your synthetic heart and mind being temporarily stopped. Your wings feel numb and uncoordinated. You can't stand, falling weakly to the cage floor. Your eyes see, but nothing processes.

She hums, satisfied. "Where did you say you found it?" she asks the men.

The smoker is the one to answer. The first man is too busy staring with gleaming eyes at your new silence. "It was slinking around the market. Don't know what for yet."

"Probably just looking for something shiny to bring back home." She pokes your body through the bars. You jolt away, tripping over your own feet in the process, feathers on end. "Isn't that right? Where do you consider home now, I wonder."

"Doctor?" the smoker interrupts. "Have you met it before?"

She giggles, louder as you manage to make a pitiful sort of sound. "I was there when they created it. I even helped out here and there. It's a remarkable piece of technology, but it's incredibly difficult - if not impossible - to reproduce."

"It's a machine, right? Can't you just wipe its memory, like a computer?" the first man asks.

"I'd hate to erase so much valuable data." She pushes the cage, stepping away as you go round and round. Your head spins. You squawk indignantly. "Where's your boss? I need to discuss price-"

The door clicks open again. She gawks up at the man who enters. His red eyes glare intensely into her.

It's a mess, after that. You manage to face the action, trying to record it to rewatch later, but actually keeping up with it in the moment is tricky.

From what you do pick up on, the two men opened fire on the intruder. Sylus's Evol was able to stop some of the bullets, too worn and weary to have any chance of catching them all. One hits his shoulder, distracting him just long enough from the doctor. There one moment, she seems to disappear the next. She's not gone - not at first. But Sylus is shoved aside in his moment of weakness and the door swings loose on its hinges, her heavy boots receding into the distance beneath the crossfire.

Two quick shots from a pistol end the fight.

He grunts, holding his shoulder as he looks down the hall. You don't know if he would have chased after her. That's a question that won't be answered perhaps for a lifetime, because your soft cawing draws him back to you.

Tucking his gun into its holster, he crosses the room to you. You stumble and trip trying to stand on your feet to meet him. Despite the situation, his lips curve into a slight grin, glad to see you again and with your same persistence.

The padlock clicks open. You nearly fall through the door and to the ground in your excitement, but he catches you, holding you securely against his chest. The blood on his hand stains your feathers. You start emitting a strange sort of purr, picking at his hand in an odd form of preening.

"What did she do to you, hm?" He idly scratches under your chin as he steps over an outstretched arm and into the hallway. He looks down the way, seeking any traces of the woman left behind without any luck. It aches deep within, reignites a fire that never truly went out, as he turns and heads for the back exit he came in through. "Sleep. I'll wake you when we're back home."

You nibble at a callous on his finger. He truly thinks you'll be a stubborn little thing and refuse, staying awake until he gets you home where he can get you fixed up. Fortunately, you relent. You tuck your beak into his hand, hiding away from the world. It's not long after that your feathers fluff slightly and you fall asleep in his arms.

He'll find that bastard one day. And he'll make her pay for everything she did to you.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red

[tacitusk1llwhore]

Can you talk more about your opinion on Mary and Arthur’s relationship? I genuinely don’t think that they could have ever worked, with Arthur being an outlaw or not, it seems more like they loved the idea of each other and even if they had ran away, that they would end up resenting one another (something that is sadly quite common in high school sweethearts who end up married)

Absolutely!!!

So before I get started, I just want to say that I don’t necessarily like Mary. Okay, I said it. It’s off my chest. Guys, don’t come for me yet. I’m not saying I don’t like Mary because she’s a woman or anything like that. It is entirely a personal opinion on why I just don’t enjoy her, and it’s absolutely debatable on the reasons I’ll be giving as to why I don’t enjoy her or their relationship.

A few things that sort of rubbed me the wrong way are the way that Mary talks about the gang and the people in it. They’re bad people, they’re murderers and outlaws, and she doesn’t have to have a high opinion of them. However, she knows that these are people who are dear to Arthur that he loves and cares for, and speaking of them to him in such a demeaning manner has to sting. In her letter to him the first time, she says something along the lines of not knowing the polite term for the women that ran with them, as if those women are beneath her or not deserving of the title of just being women because of where they are in life or what she assumes they do (this assumption of them being SWs is fair, but being uppity about it is not). She makes a few other off-comments that rub me the wrong way about the people themselves, which leads into my first point of why I don’t like their relationship.

Mary doesn’t see herself and Arthur on the same level. Again, that’s fine; she doesn’t have to, but that to me brings their relationship down a peg. If you don’t see your partner as an equal, then it won’t ever work; you won’t ever have a healthy relationship, and we can see that by how quickly they argue with one another. I mean, Arthur yells at her in the middle of the street, and she just takes it because she has said some stuff too—they aren’t this perfect lovey-couple, and I don’t think they ever were. You don’t feel that comfortable being that nasty with one another if it isn’t a staple in your relationship. They both felt fine doing that and acting like it never happened after.

This one is overdone, and it can go either way, but their relationship on her end, in the game, is completely transactional. I know, I know, but before you come after me with the “it’s a video game! That’s the point,” hear me out first. Other members of the gang, even in stranger missions, will have missions or scenes where you’re not doing anything for them: Charlotte making Arthur dinner as a thank you, Albert inviting Arthur to the gallery and hanging a picture of him, same with Charles (painter), The Nun sits and talks to Arthur, comforts him as he confides in her, even Rains Fall takes Arthur to get some herbs for his cough. In camp, you can interact with people like normal; there are even times where you can sit down and talk with the women in camp about everything, have heart-to-hearts. The only time they see one another was when she needed something, and the only way they go out on a date is if Arthur agrees to it. This is after the mission where you help her get her brooch back. I feel like this is intentional. There are no fun letters sent back and forth, no additional interactions of them just being (other than the date, which again, only was out of convenience). The only time they see one another is for transaction. Which I feel was intentional.

Them running away together could’ve never worked. Mary even says so herself. She has this wonderful idea of Arthur in her head when they’re together, but as soon as they’re apart, all of the flaws and demons he has come rushing back in. I can’t imagine how maddening it would be for her to be with someone who she knows deep down is someone she loves the idea of, the prospect of what they CAN be, not what they are. For him, it would be maddening to know that the person you’re with looks down on you, that they don’t see you as an equal, that you’re beneath them. Pushing this notion in their head, you can be better than what you are while never truly accepting you as you are, flaws and all. Not to mention that irresistible pull for him to go back to that life eventually. Those demons he does face would always be right around the corner, and giving into them even in the slightest would strain the relationship more.

There was a reason their engagement didn’t work, and Mary has every right in the world to not want to be with Arthur or be involved in the life he leads, no woman who has had the experiences and life she has would. We can see how that works out with Molly. Their relationship is built on idealistic versions of the other and transactions. They miss the nostalgia, that first love. Not to say they don’t have love for one another because it’s very clear they do, but not the love that’s going to weather any storm. Mary and Arthur have such a complex relationship, and I love to talk about it, but I don’t like them together as much as I may get flamed for that. They would, as you said, absolutely end up resenting one another because of these issues. They would never have truly worked out as much as I wished for the both of them.

Loved this ask!

[zombaebitez]

can we get relationship hcs with abby but with a SOFT/SUB MASC??? the way that never existed is crazy

Abby Relationship Hcs Pt 2

abby anderson x sub masc reader

synopsis: modern relationships headcanons with a (sub) masculine reader in mind!

zom’s note: i wanted to write something like this so thank you for the ask.

word count: abt 750

warnings: nsfw content (own section after sfw! don’t like, don’t read), mentions of strapping, suggestive touching and/or eyeing, and suggestions of abby being mean.

SFW <3

ꕥ Abby loves, and I mean loves sharing clothes with you. Since both of you lean into a more masculine style, you'll often find some of your stuff missing, just to see Abby wearing it later in the day.

ꕥ Carabiners. Abby likes them mainly because they are so practical. She gets hers from some random hardware section in a store, but you are adamant about getting the cooler ones, because sure practical, but also a lesbian statement.

ꕥ Whenever you and Abby go to workout, you swear some guy or girl always tries to hit on y’all, but you use this as an excuse to show off your hot as fuck girlfriend, win win.

ꕥ Whenever you and Abby go out shopping, y’all always end up finding stuff for each other. Immediately looking for the other with a few hangers, saying, “Baby, you’d look hot in this… then I can borrow”, “Abby, oh em gee, try this on”, “Baby, look look!” It just goes back and forth, love bugs literally.

ꕥ Abby is a major pouter, and you just adore it. Sad? Pouting. Mad? Pouting. She wants something? Pouting. You totally tease her about it, even if you do the same thing too.

ꕥ You love getting your nails done in those simple short natural styles with fun designs. Abby definitely pays for you, and sometimes she gets a matching design or your initial with a simple top coat.

ꕥ Abby loves to be the big spoon because she likes caging you in. Arms wrapped around you, and a leg on top of your center. She claims that you are her personal body pillow.

ꕥ Abby loves when you run your hands over a part of her body idly. Just feeling the muscle twitch, or for comfort. Y’all are both all over each other.

ꕥ You two definitely, once dating for awhile, have promise rings. Definitely some sort of matching bands that are unique for the two of you. You both are always showing them off, saying you’re married.

ꕥ Abby loves to listen to you talk and talk, doesn’t care what it’s about, she just stares at you nodding and asking simple questions. Just thinking about how much she adores you.

ꕥ She loses her mind when she sees you in the sweats and a sports bra combo, won’t care if its for lounging or working out. She can’t look away, she swears you’re gonna make her crazy.

NSFW !!

ꕥ Abby has an obsession with using you, doesn’t matter in what ways. She’ll let you strap her, because you definitely know what to do, but she is obviously the one in control. Hands on your hips, controlling how hard or soft you go, and the pace. Either way, you end up more messed up than she does, begging for her to let you take care of her, or use you and stop teasing the both of you for so long.

ꕥ On that, Abby loves when you beg. It feels like an addiction at this point. Seeing you squirm, or a dazed out expression. Just babbling about how much you want her, how much you need her. She can listen forever, sometimes laughing at how pathetic you can get at times.

ꕥ She definitely eyes your waist whenever your shirt rides up, bottoms always sitting low and showing off whatever boxers or boyshorts you’re wearing. It gets her to thinking, and then that thinking leads to her spacing; even when your shirt rides back down. Doesn’t even feel the tiniest bit of shame when you catch her, and you end up getting a little shy under her gaze.

ꕥ Gets you to lay your back against her chest as y’all watch a show or just chilling and scrolling. She can’t control when her hand slips to rub random shapes onto your lower stomach or upper thigh. Those light touches, moving further down slowly but surely to where she wants to touch you most; gentle kisses being pressed to your skin. Abby loves the small reactions she gets when you notice what her intentions are.

ꕥ She always notices when you really try your best to impress her, or show her how good you are. Letting Abby touch you as she pleases, or using you for her own gain if that's what she desires. She’ll dumb you down with sweet talk, with a tinge of meanness just so you can pout about it. You both know that pouty attitude is gonna get fucked out of you later.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

╔══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╗

buff guy

╚══•.·.☆.·.♥︎.·.☆.·.•══╝

ʚ Part 7 ɞ

❥ CW: chubby fem reader x buff guy, fluff, kissing, very slight sexual stuff

❥ A/N: thank you for your patience! I hope you enjoy!

"You're glowing, Y/N!"

"Really?" you ask, patting your cheek. "What makes you say that?"

"Have you seen yourself lately?" your coworker asks, calling out a name before placing a finished drink at the end of the counter. "Like, have you looked in a mirror? You're just so happy and bubbly lately; I love it!"

"Awww, thank you!" you reply, smiling genuinely. "I mean, things have been nice lately. A lot of good things have been happening to me."

"Or maybe it's because of a certain someone?"

The bell above the door rings as Guy walks into the cafe, holding a gift bag.

"Oh, there he is! Right on cue!" your coworker cheers, walking to the register. "Here to visit your girlfriend?" He nods and your coworker smiles, gesturing towards you.

"You have ten minutes to chat, but then she's gotta get back to work." You touch her shoulder.

"Thank you, Liz."

"Any time, hun." She leans in close. "Ask him if he has a brother," she whispers. You laugh, patting her back before exiting the work station, meeting Guy by a free table. He holds up the gift bag and you smile shyly.

"For me?"

"Of course."

You hum, taking the bag and pulling out the tissue paper. You gasp, pulling out a small red stuffed bear.

"It's so cute!" you squeal. "It looks like a gummy bear!" You hug the bear to your chest, swinging it back and forth. You smile up at him. "Thank you, Guy."

"You're welcome." He leans forward then stops, clearing his throat. "May I—"

You pull him down by his shirt, lips crashing into his. He inhales sharply, surprised, but smiles into the kiss. You stay there for a moment before pulling away, still smiling.

"You're a tease," he says, laughing when you gently slap his chest.

"Don't act like you aren't thrilled to kiss me."

"I am. I really, really am." You sway to and fro for a moment before leaning into his chest, snuggling into him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tight, kissing the crown of your head.

"Get a room," your coworker somewhat shouts, making you laugh. You try to pull away, but he's still holding you close.

"I don't want to let you go," he admits, pressing his forehead to yours.

"You have to." You boop your nose against his. "I gotta work."

"You could quit. I can take care of you financially."

"Nope!" You free yourself from his grasp by ducking down and stepping back. "I refuse to be financially dependent on you. Gotta keep some kind of independence."

He sighs but nods, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out this weekend? We could go see a movie and get dinner after?"

"Hmm, I was thinking of doing something else this weekend." He looks a tad bit disappointed.

"Like what?"

"Well..." you trail off, glancing around the room, "what if you come over and I cook you dinner?" His eyes widen, lips curling, positively lighting up.

"Really? You want me to come over?"

"Yes!" You curl into yourself, giving him doe eyes. "If you want to, of course."

"Yes," he says quickly, unashamedly. "Yes, I would love to. Should I bring anything?"

"Just yourself. I'll get all the ingredients and whatnot and we can watch a movie on the couch or something."

"That sounds amazing." He sounds like he's in awe.

"Do you like curry? I have this really good chickpea curry recipe."

"I would love anything you make."

"But do you like curry?" He scoffs.

"Yes, I do. I'm sure it will be delicious."

"I think you'll like it." You put the bear down on the table, opening your arms up for him. He joins you for a hug, squeezing you tight. You're squished against his chest, reveling in his warmth before he pulls back to look at you.

"Can I have another kiss before I go?" he asks. You giggle.

"Sure." You get up on your tiptoes to kiss him, giving him a few pecks on the lips before finishing with one long kiss. He lets you go when you're done, a big smile on his face.

"I'll miss you," he says first.

"I'll miss you too." You grab his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"Okay," he says, squeezing your hand back. He releases you, lingering for a moment before he turns and walks out of the cafe.

"You two are so cute I could barf." You snicker.

"Oh, shut up, Liz."

You agree on Guy arriving around five thirty. You let him know that dinner will be ready when he arrives.

You start cooking around four thirty, just to be safe. You add some cut onions and spices to a pan, cooking them until they're soft. Then you add crushed tomatoes and two cans of chickpeas, along with a can of coconut milk. You let it all simmer while you cook some rice. The rice is completely cooked by the time Guy knocks on your door.

You skip to the door, opening it up and smiling at him.

"Hi!" you chirp.

"Hey." He lifts up his hand, showing a full paper bag. "I know you told me not to bring anything, but I got some cake for us to share."

"What kind is it?"

"I didn't know what kind you'd like so I got a sampler." You giggle, moving aside.

"Come in, goofball."

He enters your apartment, looking around curiously. You shut the door behind him, grabbing his free hand and guiding him in.

"So this is my humble abode," you say, gesturing to your apartment. "It's not much but at least I'm comfortable."

"I love it," he says, taking it all in before looking at you. "It's so you." You giggle, tugging his hoodie.

"C'mon. Dinner is ready."

He puts the bag down on your kitchen counter, standing to the side as you get out some bowls. You scoop up some rice, topping it off with some curry before grabbing a spoon from your drawer and handing it to him.

"Start with this. You can always have seconds."

"Thank you."

He waits for you to get your own bowl before following you to your tiny table and chairs tucked at the edge of your living room. You sit across from each other.

"Oh! Do you want anything to drink? I've got water and some diet soda."

"I'll take some water with ice, if you don't mind."

"Sure," you smile, getting up. "I'll get it for you."

You hurry to the kitchen and grab two glasses. You fill them with ice, then water, and return to Guy, who has not started eating yet.

"You waiting for me?" you ask playfully.

"Of course," he said seriously. You bite your lip as you sit with him again, placing the waters down.

"You're sweet," you say, grabbing your spoon. "You can eat now."

He takes his spoon, bringing his bowl to his mouth and scooping up a big bite. He chews, sighing and slumping in his seat.

"Oh my god," he mumbles, chewing faster. "That's so fucking good."

"Isn't it?" you reply as you take a bite, moaning happily. "I love this recipe."

"It's amazing," he says, taking another large bite. "I could eat a whole bucket of this."

"Well, there's plenty left for you."

You chew in silence for a bit, watching him shovel curry and rice into his mouth. He finishes his bowl when you've barely made it halfway through yours. He swallows his last bite, pointing his thumb at the kitchen.

"I can get seconds?" he asks. You nod and he nods in return, getting up with his bowl and heading to the kitchen. You hear him get more food before he returns to you, his bowl practically overflowing.

"Got enough?" you ask jokingly, and he nods.

"Yes." He mixes the curry and rice together before taking a bite. "I'm actually bulking right now."

"Ah, so you're building muscle."

"Mm-hm." He takes two more bites. "I'm basically eating whatever I want before I cut."

"What kind of food do you eat when you cut?"

"A lot of lean meat and eggs. And cauliflower rice."

"That sounds horrible." He shrugs.

"I'm used to it by now. I've been doing this for years."

"Do you like it?" He pauses, chewing slow, zoning out.

"Not always, but by now it's a habit and I don't mind it." You hum, finishing your food.

"Well, if you ever decide to quit, I'll still be with you." He scoffs.

"You sure?"

"Yes! Of course I'm sure. Your body doesn't define who you are as a person. So far, you seem like a really sweet guy and I like you as a person, not just your body."

He stops, looking up at you. You lick some sauce from your lip, shimmying in your seat.

"That's very kind of you, Y/N. I want you to know that I greatly appreciate that." You give him a smile.

"I just don't want you to think I like you just for your body." He grunts, taking his last bite.

"Would you still like me if I had the body of a worm?" You laugh, tossing your head back.

"Oh my god! You're ridiculous, haha, but yes, I would. I'd like you if you were a little baby worm and I let you live in the dirt outside my apartment."

"Aw, what? You wouldn't bring dirt inside for me to live in?"

"Hell no. You can keep your dirt outside and I'll bring you in when it rains."

The both of you are laughing now, chuckling and giggling. You calm down, gazing at each other.

"I really like you, Y/N."

"I like you too, Guy."

He sets his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at you.

"You're really special."

"Aww, you're special too!"

"I mean it, Y/N." You look at him, seeing how serious he is right now.

"I-I know."

He reaches a hand out, beckoning you to hold his. You oblige, holding his hand, letting him bring it to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks.

"Of course," you reply. He swallows, licking over his lips as he stares at you.

"I love you, Y/N."

Your eyes widen, head tucking downward as you stare up at him.

"You're serious?" you ask.

"Of course I'm serious. When am I ever not serious?"

Your hand fidgets in his and he glances at the action, looking back at you.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say it back yet," he reassures, letting your hand go. "I don't want you to say it unless you mean it, but I want you to know that I mean it."

"Well, I... I appreciate you telling me, and for being honest."

"Of course."

Silence overcomes you, and you finish eating in the quiet of your apartment.

"I'm sorry for making things awkward," he says as you get up and collect your bowls.

"Don't say sorry," you reply, making your way to the kitchen. "I just... I don't know if I'm ready to say that to you yet and I feel bad about it."

"You shouldn't." He stands up from his seat, looking over the counter at you as you turn on the sink faucet. "I just wanted to tell you how I feel right now, in this moment."

"And I appreciate that." You let the water heat up and fill the sink, adding some dish soap. "I still feel bad though."

"Please don't." He circles around the counter and meets you at the sink. "It's my feelings, not yours. Like I said, I don't want you to say it back unless you mean it. You just—I mean—"

"Guy." He stops, looking at you. You give him a sincere smile. "I understand. I get what you're trying to say. I promise I won't say it until I mean it, okay?"

"Okay..." You give him a look.

"You want a kiss?" He nods and you giggle, getting on your tiptoes and pursing your lips. He leans down to give you a peck on the lips, lingering to give you a few more before he pulls away. "Better?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

"You're welcome." You nod towards the living room. "Go find us a movie to watch."

"I'm surprised," you say as you sit down next to him on the couch. "I didn't think you'd pick a romantic comedy."

"'You've Got Mail' is a good movie," he defends, and you giggle.

"I know; I've seen it."

"Oh..." He twists his mouth. "Do you want to watch something else then?"

"No, I like this movie. It'll be fun to watch it with you," you say, giving him a smile. He smiles back at you.

"Okay."

The movie starts and you tuck your legs under you, shimmying closer to Guy. You both watch the movie quietly at first, staring intently at the screen across your living room. You watch the beginning scene, how Kathleen opens her email and corresponds with the mysterious "NY152". It's when the dual scene with Kathleen and Joe starts that you lean closer to Guy.

"What do you like about this movie?" you half-whisper to him.

"I like Kathleen, how bubbly and kind she is." He glances at you. "You remind me of her in a way."

"Oh yeah? Is that why you started bringing me gifts? You were trying to impress me because I reminded you of Kathleen?"

"No, not that. I just think you two are both really good at customer service. I started courting you because of who you are as a person."

"But you only knew me as a barista in the beginning, not who I was deep down."

"That's why I was trying to win your favor. I wanted to go out with you so I could learn more about you." You hum, wiggling closer still.

"And do you like what you learned?"

"I love it, actually." He brushes his knuckles against the side of your leg. "You're genuinely so cool."

"I'm 'cool'? What else am I? 'Radical'? 'Awesome'? 'Tubular'?" He pushes against your knee and you laugh.

"You tease me too much."

"Aw, don't act like you don't like it." He sighs, placing his hand on your thigh, rubbing his thumb along your leggings.

"I do. I really do like you, Y/N."

"Hmm, well, according to you just a little while ago, you love me."

"I do," he says seriously, looking at you full on now. You're face to face, eyes searching before he leans closer, waiting for you to close the distance between the two of you. You oblige, leaning in and pressing your lips against his. He sighs once your lips touch his, tilting his head to the side, his hand squeezing your thigh gently, reassuringly. You place your hand on top of his, but he suddenly pulls back.

"Your hand is so cold!" he says, eyes wide as he looks down at your hand on his.

"They're not that cold."

"Yes, they are." He grabs your hand and reaches for the other one, taking it when you give it to him. He puts pressure on your hands, trying to transfer his heat to you.

"Wait, let me." You take your hands away, stuffing them between your pressed thighs.

"What...?"

"It's warm in between my legs!" you say cheerfully, kicking your feet. He scoffs, running his hand over his face.

"You're teasing me again."

"What?" You tilt your head. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb." He looks at you seriously. "'It's warm between your thighs'? What do you think that makes me think of?"

You purse your lips in thought, wondering before realization hits you. You pull out your hand and slap his arm.

"Naughty! Why're you thinking about that?!"

"You're the one who said it!"

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"Well, it sounded like it!" You blow a raspberry, plopping against the back of the couch.

"You just have a dirty mind."

"It's hard to have a clean mind around you."

"Dirty!" you giggle, shoving him. He shoves you back playfully and you repeat the action, the two of you falling into a game of pushing each other. He pushes you once more and you dramatically fall back, feigning shock and giving a quiet scream as you slowly fall onto the couch.

"Blegh! I've been slain." That makes him laugh, and he reaches a hand out for you to grab. You pause but then take it, letting him pull you back up into a sitting position.

"You're really fun to hang out with, Y/N." You give a cheeky grin and pretend to flip your hair with your hand.

"I know!" He chuckles, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, leaving kisses there and making you giggle. You pull away just to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to yours.

You forget about the movie and start making out with Guy. You alternate between holding his face in your hands and wrapping your arms around his neck, always keeping him close so you could kiss him. He kisses back happily, hands resting on either side of your hips, fingers clawing into the couch. You slowly lean back as you kiss him, lowering yourself to the couch, and he follows you willingly. Soon enough, he's towering over you at this point, caging you in with his arms as he continues to mold his lips against yours. You feel yourself getting excited, so you spread your legs, one of them swinging and latching onto Guy's hips, trying to pull him in to you. He grunts and unexpectedly pulls away.

"What's wrong?" you ask. His eyes dart over your face, his breathing suddenly quick and heavy.

"I... I gotta go to the bathroom."

"Wha—"

He bolts up quickly, getting up off the couch and preparing to rush away, but he stops.

"Where's your bathroom?"

You stare at him before pointing to the hallway.

"On the left."

He nods, walking fast to the bathroom and closing the door. You sigh, sitting up on the couch. Did you do something wrong? Did he not like kissing you that much? Maybe he got uncomfortable and needed to take a break? You didn't know, but your anxiety was bubbling under the surface, ready to burst at any moment.

He takes his time in the bathroom. You're at the point in the movie where Kathleen loses her bookstore when the bathroom door opens and Guy sheepishly walks out. You pause the movie.

"I'm sorry," he says as you look at him. "I wasn't feeling well."

"It's okay," you say, but you knew it wasn't. He stands there awkwardly before pointing to the kitchen.

"Would you like to try a piece of cake?"

You think for a moment, then nod. You get up and follow him to the kitchen where he takes the cake out of its container. He presents four different types of cake for you to choose. You pick the flavor you want before getting some plates and forks. He helps you place the cake on your plate before getting his own piece, following you back to the couch. You plop down together and start the movie again.

"You missed a lot," you remark, taking a bite of cake.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you say.

"It's not," he replies, cutting into his cake with his fork. "I shouldn't have rushed off like that. I just..." He trails off, looking defeated.

"You just what?" you ask. He doesn't answer, not looking at you. You turn to face him, placing your hand on his arm. "Guy, if you had like a G.I. problem or something, you can tell me. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"I didn't—" He sighs, running a hand over his face. "It wasn't a stomach issue."

"Then what was it?" He sighs again, scratching at his scalp, not able to look at you. He mumbles something, but you can't hear it. "What?" you ask, leaning closer. He takes a big breath, looking up at the ceiling before down at his half-eaten cake.

"I got hard," he whispers harshly. Warmth rushes to your cheeks, and realization hits you.

"Oooooh."

"Yeah."

You stare ahead of you, watching the credits roll on the movie. You scoff, then start giggling, then laughing. He looks at you, offended.

"It's not funny."

"It's a little funny," you say between snickering.

"It's not!"

You put your cake down beside you, putting your hand on Guy's shoulder.

"You're telling me that you're so attracted to me that you got hard just from a little makeout session?" He gives a single nod, and you laugh again, covering your mouth.

"Quit laughing at me," he says, but a smile is starting to creep up on his face. You keep giggling, posing.

"Oh, look at me. My girlfriend is so hot that I got hard just from kissing her."

"Shut up!" he laughs, covering his eyes with his hand.

The two of you sit there and laugh a bit before going back to eating your cake, quietly snickering every now and then as you think about the situation you're in.

You finish your cake, setting the empty plates down beside yourselves. You place your hand on his leg, and he looks up at you, unsure.

"Guy, it's okay. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm actually quite flattered."

"You are?"

"Yes. I think it's very flattering that someone I like also likes me, especially in that way." His eyes dart to the ground and then back to you.

"You don't think it's weird?" he asks. You shake your head.

"No, I don't." You give him a look. "You wanna know a secret?" He hesitates but nods. You lean in closer to him. "I was getting into it too, if you know what I mean."

"Oh..." He furrows his brow before his eyes go wide. "Oh."

"Yeah." You pat his shoulder. "So it's not just you feeling these things."

"I..." He licks over his lips. "I really want that one day, if you're willing."

"I will be one day." You twist your lips. "But not today because you kind of ruined the mood by running to the bathroom once things started getting heated."

He laughs, nodding.

"I understand. To be honest, I don't know if I'd be able to control myself if we did anything like that now."

You raise your eyebrows.

"You trynna tell me something?" Realization hits his face and he shakes his head.

"No, no, nothing crazy. I just mean that I wouldn't last very long if we did stuff like that now."

"Awww, that's so cute!"

"Oh, shush!"

You laugh again with him before sighing. He glances at his watch.

"I really want to stay, but I should probably get home."

"That's okay," you say, standing up and stretching. "I'll walk you out."

He gets up with you and you walk to the door. You open it for him and he stops, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Guy."

He leaves and you close the door behind him.

[toasttt11]

stitches

July 3, 2023

Hayden laughed as Luke bumped into her playfully as they walked out of the locker room.

It was just Hayden and Luke at the rink enjoying some one on one time and just going to skate around for a little bit.

They just grabbed their skates, gloves and sticks not planning to be out there for to long.

Hayden and Luke started passing it back and forth for a while before they ended up across the rink from each other smacking the puck across the ice at each other.

Hayden laughed throwing her head back as Luke ducked avoiding the puck and his face was covered by his curls.

Luke hit the puck back hard and it hit the boards but it didn’t just hit the boards it bounced off the boards and right at Hayden. Luke froze as he watched the puck he hit extremely hard hit Hayden right in the forearm and she groaned her hand coming up to cover her arm.

Luke heart drooped seeing the blood starting to drop on the ice, Hayden never gets hurts and she rarely gets hurt where he can actually see it, he doesn’t remember the last time he saw her bleeding like this.

“Luke.” Hayden called out again through clenched teeth, her arm wasn’t horrible painfully but extremely uncomfortable and she was bleeding pretty bad so they needed to get this checked and stopped bleeding quickly.

Hayden’s pained voice made Luke snapped out of his shock and she skated over quickly, “I’m sorry i’m so sorry Hayden.” Luke quickly rushed out his eyes filled with tears seeing her bloody she looked and he hasn’t even seen her actually injury.

“It’s okay bud but i think we need to head to the hospital.” Hayden calmed spoke to Luke, they were at the rink the one day the whole staff wasn’t there so there was no one there to stitch her up.

Luke froze again but quickly nodded and guided her off the ice even if she could to do herself.

Hayden grabbed a towel when they got to the locker room and got her gloves off holding the towel to her wound, she frowned softly seeing it was a deep gash.

Luke quickly started taking off his own skates and shoving his shoes offs on before kneeling down and taking off Hayden’s skates for her and grabbed her slides for her.

Hayden and Luke walked out of to the car and Luke hovered looking extremely worried as he helped Hayden get into the car before he rushed into the drivers seat and started driving them to the hospital.

Luke’s hands were clenched around the wheel trying to breathe because he is so worried for Hayden.

Luke drove them so quickly to the hospital and he rushed them into the hospital and started talking for Hayden and kept a protective hand on Hayden’s back guiding his big sister to her room making her look at him fondly.

Luke paced as Hayden sat on the bed in the room and the nurse had given her gauze to absorb the bleeding and slow down the bleeding before they stitch up her gash. Luke finally saw her gash and felt even worse.

“Lukey come here.” Hayden gently spoke to her baby brother holding out her good and Luke paused and slowly walked over to her and gently took her hand, “Look at me.”

Luke looked at her with tearful eyes, “I’m okay it’s just a cut that needs a few stitches.” Hayden softly reassured him.

“But i’m the reasoned you got hurt and you never get hurt.” Luke rambled out looking so sorry.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t purposely try to hit me with the puck it was an accident.” Hayden firmly but calmly told Luke, “I do get hurt sometimes.”

Luke frowned, he never actually sees Hayden hurt and he doesn’t like the reminder that she gets hurt too.

“I forgive you.” Hayden firmly spoke to Luke cupping his face softly making him slowly nod.

Luke stayed right by Hayden’s side as the nurse came back in and started doing stitches on Hayden’s forearm and Hayden got eight stitches.

Hayden’s arm got wrapped up with bandages and she was told what she had to do and when she needed to clean her wound and change her bandages.

Hayden saw Luke look guilty when he heard she shouldn’t go in lake for at least a week and she squeezed his hands softly.

Luke and Hayden finally got to leave the hospital and Luke drove them back to the lake house.

“Hey you guys are back!” Jack looked up from the couch hearing Luke and Hayden walk inside they usually are into gone an hour but it’s been almost three hours.

“Yeah we had to make a stop.” Hayden called back as she took her shoes off and walked into the living room with Luke.

“What happened?” Quinn quickly spoke as he looked up seeing her bandages and quickly got up walking over to her.

“Just got hit with a puck needed a couple stitches.” Hayden calmly spoke reassuring all of the boys that were now looking at her worriedly.

“That means one of you is cooking instead tonight.” Hayden teased as she walked over to the couch and took the empty spot next to Matt and Luke quickly followed her sitting now right next to her and grabbing her hand.

Quinn and Jack shared a look at Hayden’s nonchalant answer but that is just Hayden and they knew they would ask more later especially with how guilty Luke looks they had a feeling he accidentally did something.

“Now what are we watching?” Hayden asked and smirked mischievously as her question made Trevor and Alex both immediately start talking and arguing with each other about what they should watch.

“You okay?” Matt asked quietly leaning closer to her.

“All good.” Hayden whispered back giving him a resisting smile as she began to play with Luke’s curls feeling Luke relax against her.

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

what pronouns do you headcanon for the Boyd characters?

So, I’ve actually been sitting on this ask for a while, because I’m of two minds of how to answer it. I tend to just default to “he/him” for the Boyd characters - afaik, no other pronouns have ever been used for his characters; while I don’t HC all of them as cis men, pronouns don’t necessarily correspond with gender anyway, so it’s an easy way to have our cake and eat it too, as it were.

But I also wanted to have fun with this ask! So! Here goes!

Steve Murphy: He’s so he so embedded in that conservative Government culture he never considers any other options for himself other than he/him. If he’s asked his pronouns, he’ll just adopt a faintly perplexed look and say, “um, the normal ones?”. You know? I also have this weird feeling Steve prefers other people use neopronouns to they/them, he finds it more specific! His brain is always running on investigative mode - he finds they/them far too ambiguous! (He’s heard “omg they’re getting away!” too many times not to have an instinctive “WHO EXACTLY IS THEY” response)

Donald Pierce: He/him, but there’s rare, kinky roleplays where he’ll use “she” (he sometimes likes being called a girl in the bedroom, but he usually still prefers he/him pronouns even then). Oddly, I think he’s often more comfortable having women refer to him with she/her pronouns in the bedroom than men. I could see him doing a roleplay where Gabby is some madam at a brothel getting her new girl ready for a client (Mendez or Val, etc).

Cap Hatfield: Neither historic nor modern Cap cares one bit about what pronouns he’s referred to by. I bet once or twice historic Cap was derogatorily referred to as a girl, and he barely noticed. He’s also been called “it” as an insult, which totally backfired when he liked it. Nancy’s used she/her pronouns for Cap too. Initially it was to be mean, but I think his lack of reaction kinda took her by surprise; she still does it sometimes, but it’s usually a lot fonder (she’s sweeter with him when he’s her girl), and he can really get into that. (He’s happy being a girl - she’s nicer to girls!)

Clement Mansell: He/him, but I don’t think he’d mind they/them. That being said, I sometimes bat around a trans masc Clement HC, and trans masc Clement is *only* okay with he/him pronouns.

The Corinthian: He/him primarily. I go back and forth about how he feels about it/its. I wonder if he’s okay being referred to as “it” by some people more than others?

Eli Klaber: He/she. I think he’s largely fine with either, but she/her is slightly more preferable during sex. I think being referred to by she/her pronouns unexpectedly would be a pleasant surprise for him.

Danny Maguire: He/him, and he’ll actually lose his shit if you refer to him as anything else. It’s definitely some overcompensation in action. I think Danny’s absolutely got some gender issues he’s trying real hard not to look at.

Ty Shaw: He/him, but in the bedroom, it’s anyone’s game! Whatever his partner thinks is fun, he’s down for!

Quinn McKenna: He’s the type that declares that pronouns are dumb and he doesn’t care, but then gets twitchy when he’s referred to by anything that’s not he/him… except it/its. He finds he’s actually very, very okay with it/its.

[suseagull5914]

Thanks @tailsbeth-writes and @emmalostinwonderland for the tags this morning and @tinyarmedtrex for the late tag! Also going to snag @three-drink-amy and @welcometololaland's open tags.

Guys, I'm going to be completely honest: I have no idea if this snippet makes sense- both in general and within an LOTR context. I do have an alternative in mind, but need to know if I need to use it, so if people could give me an opinion, that would be great!

This is a long snippet, and thanks to Mel's tutelage, I can finally say this: SNIPPET AND TAGS UNDER THE CUT!

Then the conversation turned to trade agreements, and as boring as Henry typically thought those were, this time, he perked up. Maybe he could soften his gran, make it possible for more of their goods to come from the Dwarves. If that was the case, Henry might see this handsome stranger more, and he couldn't see that as anything other than a good thing.

“Are you sure there isn't anything we can do to convince you to accept a trade treaty?” the older dwarf beside the one that had captured Henry's attention asked. Good. If the Dwarves were on the same page, it would hopefully make Henry's job much easier.

His gran, though, shook her head. “What, precisely, gave you the idea that I needed anything you possess? The Elves don't need anything from Dwarfkind.”

“Gran, are you sure-?” Henry began to protest.

His gran, though, cut him off before he could get another word in. “Of course I'm sure. Dwarves have done nothing but taken advantage of us. Or have you forgotten about when there were thirteen of them just traipsing through our lands, taking advantage of our hospitality until that Halfling helped them escape?”

Thanks to their long lifespans, that particular incident felt like it had occurred just yesterday, meaning that Henry could recall it with perfect clarity. “Of course I remember, Gran. That doesn't mean they want to ruin us at every turn, though.”

As they were going back and forth, their exchange like one of those crude ball games with a net he had seen Men play on occasion, he watched the handsome Dwarf and the rest of his delegation, wondering what their reactions would be. Though he was intrigued by the reactions of all of them (especially one that somewhat resembled an older version of the dwarf that had so captivated him from the moment he had set eyes on him), Henry still wasn't able to drag his eyes away from the young one with curly hair.

Lots of tags with absolutely no pressure for @adreama-writes @anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @caterpills @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @dizzymisslizzie @dumbpeachjuice @duchessdepolignaca03 @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heysweetheart-writes @henryofwales @iboatedhere @inexplicablymine @jackzimmermemes @judasofsuburbia @kiwiana-writes @lilythesilly @myheartalivewrites @msmarvelouswinchester @ninzied @noahreids @onthewaytosomewhere @porcelainmortal @theprinceandagcd @read-and-write- @sherryvalli @sophie1973 @thighzp @thesleepyskipper @thinkof-england @tintagel-or-cockleshells @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @wordsofhoneydew @zwiazdziarka and @14carrotghoul with, again, no pressure at all to play- plus an open tag for anyone else who wants to play! Please tag me if you take it so I can read your lovely words!