#i have So Many more deep thoughts! I Just usually cant Express them

[lovejewel]

its like ive forgotten how to have Actual conversations like. i have so many thoughts but the way it comes out when i try to talk to people about them is. well if im being honest sometimes its like im a baby trying to sort shapes. i worry that people will stop talking to me because of this

[anonymous-eggy]

Quest with an artist Mc

bc i cant stop thinking ab himb....

i wrote this very impulsively so. yeah. theres a bit of horny towards the end, but theres also fluffy sweet things

• he learns of you being an artist when you find the time to create bloomic fanart.

• and you got endless showers of praise from him on how good it was (especially if the fanart included Xander)

• he just thinks its so neat. his artistic expression of choice is poetry, so he's not much of an artist when it comes to drawing.

• he can draw some basic flowers, but thats where his talents end.

• no matter your usual art media, buy gold (body safe) paint and paint his scars. kind of like how you paint the cracks of repaired pottery and such? except make it a vulnerable bonding experience.

• he has many scars all around his body from past accidents and gang related violence.

• i feel like he gets really insecure about them sometimes and worries theyll make you think too much about his past

• but seeing you turn them into something golden and beautiful with such ease and affection... gives him a new appreciation for those parts of him.

• he loves it even more when you connect nearby scars like intricate rivers of gold flowing across his body.

• make sure you fill the comfortable silence with lovely soft words of affirmation and kisses every now and then for the best results.

• absolutely call him your golden boy.

• the only issue is that he feels really bad for having to eventually wash them off.

• so take pictures and send them to him for just you two to hold onto ;)

• despite feeling bad about washing them off, he always feels so much better about his scars and body.

• and let him know this is exactly how you see his scars <3

• i feel like during times when you're not able to paint on him because of a late shift or something, he just looks back at the pictures and replays the soft memories for comfort.

• this is more towards the beginning of your relationship with him, when his insecurities about his past bothering you were the worst

• moving on from that, he is the perfect man to reference.

• he would find it so very funny if you ever complained about parts of him that are hard to draw.

• i could imagine just sitting there watching him work out and just... drawing the way his muscles flex and the way his body bends... dear lord those thighs...

• when you first did this, he immediately noticed. he didnt quite have the courage to ask if you were drawing him (after all, forms of art are very personal things)

• but when he sees you're staring at the sketchbook page more than him, he decides to take a break and ask you.

• not because he's getting jealous of the notebook. hes not a jealous person. the curiosity just takes over because the stares mean you're stuck on smthn or you're finished.

• and boy is he beyond flattered. flustered even.

• he's never really... thought much about himself. physically and mentally. so the fact that he's worth being sketched touches his very soul.

• if you're the type of artist who loves gushing over defined shapes and begin to ramble about the shapes that you love about him, his cheeks will be red and he will patiently listen to every word you have to say.

• as weird as it is to listen to someone describe his physical features with such passion, there's something special about the way you talk about it.

• especially if you suddenly realize what you're saying and get flustered.

• he likes feeling like art when its you. he loves the way you map out his body and turn the shapes of him into strokes of graphite poetry.

• .... he wouldnt mind if you drew him suggestively as well... so long as its for your eyes and his eyes only...

• of course there would be teasing about just how much you seem to adore his body, but never in a way that deters you from sketching him more.

• which, knowing Quest, his teasing quickly veers into horny territory. at the very least deep kisses.

• he says he just want to "give you more inspiration" and that "its his job as your muse"

• he definitely develops a fixation on your hands specifically. the way your hands trace his body delicately as if trying to memorize every line of him while making out with him on his lap.

• it absolutely drives him insane.

• the way his large hands encircle your wrist while his fingers press on your palms in bed. or when his fingers tangle with yours. and he can see you looking at it. memorizing every moment of it. of him. of the emotions tied to the image.

• that part he loves the most about your art. the pure emotion of it captured so perfectly

• oh yeah it definitely awakens something in him. especially if he finds you sketching those the next day peacfully at your desk.

• honestly i think you being an artist just changes the way he sees things. in the best of ways.

• he also finds himself massaging your hands absent mindedly while cuddling. and softly kissing them... they work so hard and he wants to take care of them for you.

• he is just so very happy to be your favorite muse.

~sigh. time to make a Blooming Panic section on my masterlist...

[lindalofbroome]

original sketches

DELTORA FASHION CONCEPT ART V2

hello i have finally coloured some rough sketches of some deltoran fashions, a redraw of some really old sketches from ages ago.

im a pretty amateur concept artists and i hate designing clothes so truly was a challenge for me hahah BUT it has given me plenty of time to think of headcanons. im not sure what i've already posted about or not so im just gonna go ahead and rant

these characters were originally just models for me to draw the clothes on, so i didn't need to draw a new person every time; although in some of my earliest sketches of different people groups i did a bunch of people. but naturally these characters have developed a little and some of them are my beloved adin-era OCs <3

[about 4,500 words]

⬜ JALIS

since the jalis are reknowned for their warrior prowess and their signature gold armour, i thought it'd be neat that even if when they're not wearing the full set, they are always wearing their arm guards. it's a sense of pride and identity, they probably receive them as a rite of passage into adulthood. not every jalis is a knight, but they value a heart of courage and great feats and they all have them, and would wear them always (or at least special occasions if one prefers not).

i headcanon that jasmine was gifted her own set of arm guards as an expression of their respect and admiration of her. her relationship with glock grew so much and was cut off, but she earned her "heart of a jalis" and we didnt get to see much of jasmine and gers together, but theres plenty of time post-DQ3. i think my jasmine and the jalis thoughts should be a separate post though, otherwise this post will never end 😂

i dont imagine that the jalis had special party clothes, i think they just turn up in their usual clothes and get drunk and dance their hearts out maybe start a brawl thats none of my business

i cant remember why i've been giving them this geometric sort of pattern tbh. i think i drew someone at some point and wanted it to look different to mcbride's design but im not sure if i like it or not. the plus is that i can make diamond motifs though!!

i also cant really remember how my brown skin gold hair came to be 🤔🤔 wait backtracking i think what happened is that i decided to draw del people as black latinx inspired, so it wasn't that big a step to make jalis also dark skinned since they're both in the south (deltora geography is weird tho so like it's not that deep) and then i think i made them blonde as i "why not??" situation but tHEN i thought maybe it's connected to their jalis gold?

my headcanon is that their armour is made of a unique metal that can only be found in diamond territory, it's super hard, tough, and light etc. so maybe whatever is In The Ground is also in them and their blood and shows in their hair????

🥳 fun fact 🥳 wasn't until i had to draw steven and glock side by side that i had realised what i'd done?? i.e. steven canonically has brown skin gold hair too¹. which now forces me to think about whether it should be a coincidence (like it is) or shall i headcanon that steven and nevets' father was jalis² 🤔 ¹ pretty sure it's about the dichotomy, to show contrast but connection between the brothers. i have many steven and nevets thoughts but that should also be another post ² i am.

🟩 DREAD GNOMES

these characters are adin-era, so unfortunately this would be when the gnomes still hunt the kin. whats weird is that i realised that i was picturing the caramelly brown fabric that this gnome is wearing was the kin pelt and not the big furry parts?? i usually picture the kin as more like velvetty. idk what the thicker fur parts would be though?? literally any other animal i guess 😅 i dont know it doesn't make sense and it's only occurring to me right now i shall have to think about it lmao

anyway made them green because why not. maybe they come in different colours idk. this gnome is pre-gellick so does go out in the sun, gellick-era gnomes would be waaaaay more paler they probably looked white. this could be similar to the jalis and like theres something in the grounddd

gla-thon claims that the dread gnomes knew that lesser gems had weaker but the same powers of the great talisman gems (sots), but im not sure if they knew it before adin. would be interesting if they did 🤔 and how they figured it out?? (side note but now im wondering about how withick knew what to write about the gems??) would imply that if they got the great emerald than they could deduce there are others surely. unless they thought it was a freak accident/miracle. anyway we know they love gems and gold etc etc so they obviously decorate themselves with heaps of jewellery

triangle motifs in homage to their mountain 💚

i gave them a sort of war paint ritual. i'm not sure if they all do the same markings, but this one was specifically to symbolise a bow and arrow (arrow going up the nose). you can see it a bit better here lol. i also decided that sometimes they wear it for purely cosmetic purposes. im not sure what the substance is exactly though. i think in my head i was imagining something similar to kohl, but maybe not.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 bre-tak and az-zure are lesbians (i make the rules)

🟦 MERE

oooooh baby this is my guy my babygirl my everything

okay so i think this headcanon developed recently when i last drew sky of rithmere and i thought that mere superstition encouraged them to wear their charms in random spots to avoid them cancelling each other out. it could be construed to be they were inspired by the night sky and the pattern of the stars perhaps. this led them to prefer asymmetrical fashions, mostly prominent in the armour i put badr in

🥳 fun fact 🥳 badr means "full moon" 👀

i think i originally decided the mere had leather armour just to give them something different iirc but the mere characters we see are usually the lithe, speedy, crafty type, so maybe light, mobile armour does work for them lol. anyway the main reason is that i had the image of studded leather, and i was like ohohoho STARS

i generally think of them with muted colours but sometimes they have a bold blue for their prized garmants. like zillah and co, the leaders of rithmere in adin's time were described with bright blue and starry cloaks. (i checked the wiki just to check zillah's name lol and apparently it's actually canon they have leather armour?? so not sure why i thought otherwise) anyway i do currently have minecraft brain but i did vaguely remember that people made ultramarine pigment from grinding lapis lazuli into a powder and im not sure if thats something the mere would do or if there's some strong blue dyes they can get from plants or something native to their territory 🤔

actually im liking that idea now? it would be incredibly time-consuming and labour-intensive but that would add to its value?? real world lapis lazuli has a horrible yield rate of 1kg lapis to 30g of pigment apparently, but it's a strong pigment (unless i misunderstand). alternative name for ultramarine is "permanent blue" apparently so. anyway ultramarine irl is more of a paint pigment, but in roddaverse maybe the mere make a lucky blue dye to use on cloaks and scarfs and shawls etc for good fortune?? me frantically checking that i put badr and luisa's wedding garb in bold blue lmAO oh i did but it's a little muted. they mix in oils and stuff to make the paint, so it doesnt seem like a stretch that they can mix different ingredients or ratio to make a cloth dye (to my very amateur understanding).

so im imagining now that they have a special (probably secret within the mere) process to create bright blue thread speckled with white (also gold to me. im pro deltora lapis with gold) and weave it into their beautiful starry night fabric. the amount of labour and the use of their prized lapis lazuli makes it very special, and maybe some people think it's the lapis that makes the fabric lucky or maybe some people think it's the work of love and time that makes it lucky, maybe both.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 i forgot that "bless your lucky stars" is like a real saying until recently lol

a starry cloak is probably something only the really rich could afford, but i think that they are more like heirlooms and states of office? im not sure if these pieces are things that one would purchase or something they would receive. bit hard to imagine people doing it for free but maybe it's one of those staple things that they revere and everyone else works to support them as well etc like the cooks in noradz are prized. idk. but yeah like a poorer family couldn't get a new one, but they would have one that has been in their family for generations you know? and i think that there would be something about like. idk youre meeting up with your doctor or something and youre nervous and you put on your family's best clothes (the most lucky ones) and maybe youre cynical about the whole good fortune stuff but there's something comforting about wearing the cloak your mother wore and your grandmother and your great grandmother wore, who also had to do such things. something something gives you the confidence to make your own luck because youre no longer pessimistic and allowing avoidable mistakes to happen

this means that the mere giving adin a cloak was a REALLY big deal because they definitely dont just go throwing those around and they would probably only give it to an outsider in trade for a steeeeeeeeeeeep price. which of course means that there would be knock offs with bad quality dye. lmao thats perfect actually. like 10000% there would be merchants in rithmere trying to sell cheaper versions to people that are expensive but still affordable to the average person. some would be different shades of blue, but the more crafty might have dyes that are strong but not lasting.

oh also i headcanon that palace fashion was a conglomerate of aspects from all the tribes but this should be it's own post i think. but i just remembered that i put gold thread in badr's braids in the formal wear sketch. i did that to tie in with the veins/flecks of gold (technically pyrite) in irl lapis lazuli. as such, people at del palace were inspired to weave gold into their hair too.

also gives me another thing to ship badr and luisa lmao. badr can wear some gold and luisa can wear some blue as a treat for me <3 moon and stars ocs beloved

🟨 DEL

alright. okay so del is definitely very white western patriarchal coded (most just a bias of living in that type of society i reckon) but it sucks and i'm passionate about making del NOT that. i think i've said this a million times now but this should be it's own post too, but most succinctly del is a very vibrant, curious, and daring sort of culture (e.g. their recklessness, exploration, trading). they were already marrying non-deltorans before adin (i imagine that some might have dared to marry outside of del, but it would have been way more politically complex so it was rarer and often kept quiet and rural). people of del were moving to other countries (like dorne) and people were probably moving to del, so del is definitely a big mix of different people and languages and superstitions and stuff.

but anyway i wanted to set a sort of base for before that. i've had art on the wip pile for YEARS about this and i'd flesh this out properly when it's done lol (hopefully we see that day) but since the topaz has the power to summon spirits, i really wanted to develop an aspect of del culture around that? i was inspired by Día De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead) and i still want to do some more in depth research and explore it more properly, but i like the idea that del will celebrate their lost loved ones life, coming together to remember, if they were lucky the got to see and even talk to their spirits. maybe pre-talisman they did know about topaz properties and they had a big deposit of gems that they would wheel out for the festival and the huge pile under the full moon would be enough to allow the spirits and people to interact? anyway this is a longwinded explanation of why my sketches of del fashion could be latinx inspired.

circle motifs in homage to the moon. the trim decoration on luisa's scabbards are based on moon phases :D

i also arbitrarily decided that del people love swishy clothes. they're all about the drama of cloaks and twirling in sundresses etc it's fun. not sure if i will actually follow through with that lol or maybe that can just be luisa.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 i think hearing luisa laugh would heal me

there's no particular reason for why i've been drawing a lot of del people as black, other than maybe spite lol. i think i drew jasmine and that got the ball rolling. del is a blank enough slate that they can be anything. im tired of white people being the front runners asldkjfhalsdf. bUT again del is multicultural, so there isn't a particular look for anyone in del. being del is more a state of mind and being part of community i think. you move to del and you participate in their society in one way or another and boom youre del now they adopted you.

🌈 PLAINS

hiran attire inspired by french aristocratic fashion. i cant remember who posted about it but pretty sure this was something that circulated around the fandom at least a little bit at some point.

added some subtle rainbow to harlow's outfits because he's the strong silent type. but i suppose there are so much more gaudier and extravagant outfits.

i was going to say this was just hira fashion and not like, rural plains fashion but i guess this is the same for all of them. it's just like a general direction for what someone might wear.

the swirly patterns?? i dont know. i drew them when i did adin's pre-battle speech as the last supper but i dont think there's a particular reason. i remember that i was trying to do something unique because lief recognises the cup in the city of rats as the same/similar to the one in noradz, so there had to be something to be recognisable lol but i probably just did it this way because it's relatively easy to doodle, just takes a bit of time.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 harlow was a cook before the shadow invasion. out of desperation, he and many others had to train to defend hira. he's big with natural balance and reflexes so he excelled and is a pretty adept warrior, but he will always think of himself as a cook first, warrior second.

now the armour!! freshest headcanon piping hot. yesterday when i was colouring i was sitting there like wow you look like a tin can man and you are so boring. we went from pretty colours to blank. im almost certain the hiran soldiers were described as silver with white plumes, so i was planning on doing that but they had intricate details on their armour because they are Extra, so it has the swirly patterns you can see on harlow's coat.

but then suddenly i was like. what if. pearlescent.

and honestly i loved it so much i didnt care i was setting myself up for some difficult work ahead lmao. but my general idea was that they're armour looked like it was silver, but if the light catches it at the right angle it exposes the rainbow in it. most of these headcanons i've had baking for at least a year, but this is very new so i dont any hard details yet. kira mentioned enamel or ceramic and lowkey interested in having a look into that so that theres another armour material. maybe it's gonna be like special jalis gold and special plains silver. maybe something else. i also just remembered bismuth exists (same boat as gold as very heavy and soft) but i think maybe it's too loud, i think im liking the more subtle pearlescent thing aLTHOUGH it's a good metallic rainbow reference 👀 maybe there is an esteemed plains warrior with a rainbow sword

ANYWAY pearlescent armour really hit my heart because oh my god once upon a time the plains had a shore and they could visit the sea,,,, lowkey ocean vibes without an ocean [screaming crying cat spinning in a void.gif]

🥳 fun fact 🥳 i have NO idea what food harlow has made. i think i had ratatouille on the brain at the time????

🟥 RALADS

⚠ PROPAGANDA ALERT ⚠

ruby territory best territory. ruby symbol of happiness. warns of danger AND antidote to poison. double helpful. ralads are so sweet and so smart. architectural and engineering marvels. living in harmony with the land and beasts. D'OR!!! manus and nanion friendship underrated and so special to me. horse girls. AND. broome. god theres so much i could say about broome that i cant say anything. anyway you guys know im normal about broome yes of course. separate post etc etc

i think technically this is a headcanon but it's not that big a stretch surely but as above i always picture ralads as in harmony with nature. never take more than they need, know how to work with not against, theyre not the main attraction but an equal part of the bigger picture.. this isn't even about how smart they are with engineering and their perfectly round houses with bricks that are cut perfectly. im thinking about their knowledge of their world is so strong and wide and diverse. they have the most vibrant and potent dyes and pigments around, they have the most colourful fabrics and clothes around. the plains has many colours but it can't compete, and they have different styles. i think that the hirans would trade for the dyes though (maybe undercutting pre-adin, maybe more equal post-unification). i think that they would also have a pretty decent blue dye but it is still inferior to mere lapis lazuli blue. it is probably a dye that could be used for a mid range mere garment?

maybe it's the anime fault but i do usually imagine ralads as barefoot but i also drew iris with construction tools and just the idea of ralads walking around a construction site barefoot was not fun to me. but it could be a hobbit tough soles situation. anyway i drew some shoes so i had a vague reference if i wanted to draw ralad shoes.

obviously had a problem drawing warrior attire for a non-war race. but i thought what if i leaned into the stories the hirans tell about how the scouts and soldiers they send into the ralad wilds never returned and were often found dead with broken bones or whatnot. definitely big watching but never seen vibes imo. so i decked iris out in some camouflage lol

🥳 fun fact 🥳 im sure the ralads can whistle and whatnot to make birdcall signals, but i thought it was fun for iris to be able to make birdcalls with her flute

HEY ALSO headcanon about ralad hair. i was making some dragon art from a doran pov that i was going to save for that but i cant wait now. but we know from Tales that the ralads had a good relationship with the ruby dragons, could even summon them (unless im misremembering and it was more like a premeditated calling) but i was thinking about how they nest with .. human? hair. and i was thinking what if they grow out their hair? and then they offer it to a dragon when they are ready? i dont know if there's a nesting season for dragons but it could be something like that? ralad-dragon ceremony and party time. this isn't a rite of passage type of thing, just something that they like to do. not everyone does it probably, but most do it once, some people do it several or many times in their lifetime. it's an honour, but not really a sacrifice to them. it's part of the world balance and theyre willing to serve the dragons as the dragons serve them as they water the plants and the plants feed them and they feed beasts and beasts feed them.

also dont remember why i did the hair so bright and orangey??? genuinely perplexed lmao. probably was leaning into irl ginger but like THEYRE BLUE so i could probably make them actual red. not sure if this is also like a "theres something in the ground" situation also that makes their hair red but maybe 😂😂

side note but it's lowkey so wild to me that rodda was like yeah these guys are blue-grey with red hair, and then everyone else is like an average person, BUT the mountain people are short. like they're all just some guy basically???

it does make return to del so so funny because fallow is like AYO look at these MONSTERS they are UGLY and WEIRD

but i guess thats part of the motivation to give the deltora tribes some basic unique traits.

🟪 TORANS

okay so toran robes as inspired by japanese fashion is definitely something that's floated around the fandom for ages. i can't remember if it was before or after seeing posts about it that i started my first concept sketches but i think it probably had a hand in helping me visualise what rodda was talking about when she described their robes as butterfly wings when they speed-travelled. like yeah big deep sleeves and floor trailing hems WOULD probably look like colourful butterfly wings in the wind,,

🥳 fun fact 🥳 azami be always hungry. if only she knew someone who liked to cook 🤔

i don't have much to say design-wise, kinda just did various doodling. they would probably be second in extravagance to the plains, but it's a different sort of detail? they are probably a bit more refined and elegant than the hirans who are probably more bold in their designs. torans grow to be vain and selfish (it's already started by adin's time) so they probably have a high value on the beauty of their belongings, and it probably began with imagery of beasts and plants and dragons in amethyst territory, "true" pictures. but as time went on it probably distorted a bit and became idealised and/or fantastical etc.

OKAY SO my brain bluescreened just now for a moment trying to figure out how a people who use magic to make life easier, were also the ones known for their weaving, a manual hands-on task (lief's cloak is praised as being worthy of toran looms, implying high grade; pretty sure this was supposed to be a hint that his mother is not who he thinks she is also). some conclusions are 1) they weave with magic (sad, horrible), 2) they weave as a past-time, for fun etc (okay) but i took it to a third option

for a long time ive been thinking about toran magic as like, a balance and an energy thing (because i like that stuff lol) they cannot create something from nothing, only change things. they couldnt summon a fire, but they could change a piece of wood to fire and start a campfire, or those more advanced could even change the air into fire. but honestly it's left me a bit unsatisfied. like how does that explain the tora-del highway? hELL tora itself? what happened to the marble that got carved away? also how can that mountain have been so perfect there was no cracks or seams?? or did they carve those bits out lol. questions for another day.

anyway i was thinking about how hobbies are good for you, you dont have to be good at something but it's good to do stuff for fun and when you do crafts you get a cool thing at the end of it that you made. but it's also like skills you can develop? and i wondered what if weaving is a starter skill that they learn, some of them at least. maybe there are different activities, and they do the one that speaks to them the most. there were other types of artisans in tora, just not as talked about (i guess they're robes are pretty iconic so it's easy for people to go wow robes wow weavers who made fabric for the robes so soft) like i distinctly remember barda remarking about how tora was untouched and why bandits wouldn't have stolen the carved box that ended up holding the auto-reply letters from the palace.

so what im thinking is that maybe this builds a foundation to help torans visualise and perform their magic?

it actually solves a problem ive had in my headcanons i feel like ive got seven eyes open rn 😂😂 but in relation to del culture and traditions, i've been thinking about there being a physical and spiritual realm of course, and maybe it's the comfort of threes but it felt like something was missing.

i dont know what to call it yet, but im thinking the third thing is like the glue, it connects all things, it's in everything. it's like a third realm but also more of like a medium maybe? kind of sappy but we can just call this the magical realm for now. i actually used to think of toran magic as being like a subset of the greater deltora magic, but now im thinking it's more like torans are more receptive to the magic realm, as del are to the spiritual, and the ralads to the physical; theyre the experts in these things, which is why unified deltora is important 😂; likewise dread gnomes specialise in gems, jalis in combat, mere in cunning, plains in hope perhaps? literally never thought about it quite like this so maybe i will process it different later and designate different specialties.

so when the torans are young, they learn a craft and these skills help them sort of "tap into" the magical realm. so in the case i first thought of, when a toran weaver starts to see and interact with the magical realm, the easiest way for them to engage with it would be to think of it as weaving. they might see the magical realm as threads that connect everything, and weave things together to get what they want. a potter might see it as a malleable mass and sculpt what they want. a carpenter might see it as something to carve, something to break and put together.

the magical realm is not a concrete thing at all, up to interpretation, perhaps a unique experience to anyone who could glimpse in; don't strictly have to be toran, but they are perhaps naturally receptive to it or it could even be entirely a knowledge thing and that they are taught about it more; someone like verity who had her eyes opened to this realm, and learned to interact with it on instinct. does open questions to what the hell is up with the plains lmao but i think thats another post.

__

sorry about all the "i'll tell you in another post" i was attempting to stay on track 😂😂 also there's a 90% chance im gonna forget to come back and write about them so if anyone is dying to know feel free to send me an ask or something???

also if you want to know more about these OCs let me know 👀 i can find an ask game or something maybe. it's a case of i know a lot but will forget it all if asked to speak freely, i need specific questions. i have also developed the first four a bit more, but the last three are not without character so they can still be included. maybe it will be a group effort and they will have Background.

[valentine-writes]

ur writing is super good!! sorry if i’m piling on with this, but any angst with miguel? i need this man put in a blender

if you need to be mean

「 tws + notes: vv possibly ooc, unedited, spider-person reader, unhealthy dynamic, assorted angst, hurt/comfort ending, reader is cold, miguel doesn't know how to deal with emotions, everyone is a wreck but they're all trying so hard :( </3 」

「 gn!reader, man idek if this is platonic or romantic tbh y'all r just messy here 」

↳ ft. miguel o'hara/spider-man 2099

author's note: THANK U SM!! and i got u!!! i am. so excited 2 practice more for him– anon please don't be upset w/ me,, but,,, (´∩｀。),,, i physically don't think i can write Pure Angst. i wud b no good at it!! :p so! hurt/comfort in the end ๐·°(৹˃̵﹏˂̵৹)°·๐ i CANT JUS,, END IT SAD,, </3 i am so so sorry!! also so so real putting him in tha blender at the Highest Speed ever,,, he iz my milk webkin fr (lovingly) (kinda) some real quick stuff: this was gonna b short but i Overdid It and im still unsure whether i like it or not. and also. i was supposed to have the reader being mildly Messed Up™️ too cuz "hehehehe letz make this more difficult >:))" (also becuz miguel is NOT the only one allowed to have issues + too many angsts i have read where reader jus takes what miguel dishes out passively and i didn't want that) BUT I ENDED UP MAKING IT WORSE AJDHDQWHJE,,, hopefully this is. angst galore. again i am not great w this <( _ _ )> <//3

▸ maintaining a healthy relationship with miguel– in any form– proves to be difficult.

this is especially prevalent in the beginning stages of your developing relationship. you begin to learn that he is terrible with verbally expressing any affection he feels towards you. some days he seems almost so completely distant that there’s valid reason to worry that he just doesn't care about you anymore.

these worries are the furthest thing from the truth– miguel hasn't cared about someone to this extent in a while. still, he finds himself lacking, completely unable to tell you how much you mean to him.

▸ sometimes he grows fearful that he's become too attached to you. he aware he's in too deep at this point, yet conflict rages on in his mind: whether it's better to hold on as tight as he can to keep you in his life, or let you go before something rips you away from him.

part of him is worried it's only a matter of time before something happens.

these thoughts are usually quelled by drowning himself in tasks and missions, using his focus on work as a means of distraction.

when there's nothing left to shut them out, he chooses to avoid you instead of seeking reassurance.

there are times when you don't see him for days straight. he doesn't send you on any missions, doesn't contact you, actively avoids you when you're inside of the HQ– and when you eventually see him again, he avoids speaking of it. you both understand you're meant to pretend like nothing happened.

you're not beyond doing the same to him. miguel is distraught with how similar you two can be, how you reflect him and he reflects you in unique and awful ways– ways that only the two of you can understand.

▸ whenever you choose to be the one to spontaneously ditch, however,,, there are moments where he gets desperate and ends with him seeking you out,, usually by assigning you a mission just so you have a reason to come back

no matter who leaves– whether it's you or miguel– you both end up taking each other back in the end, half-heartedly reaching the unspoken agreement that this is the way you two “reconcile.” you grow accustomed to this back and forth.

you're both wonder who this is hurting more.

▸ never wants to be seen as clingy or needy. wants to convince himself he can make it on his own, that things are somehow better that way. miguel feels a deep frustration in the fact that he can't seem to process his emotions in a proper manner.

he seeks solace in solitude, even if it never fully works. he's willing to settle with feeling "okay" instead of "better." (self isolation moment.)

asking for help on missions is one thing. asking for personal help is another, which means that offering him support on his bad days is always a hit or miss.

most of the time, if someone chooses to extend their hand to him, it's typical that he swats it away and insists he doesn't need anything. he doesn't accept help easily– even when it's from you.

▸ there's always the off chance he lets you stick around. he's silent as you find a place for the two of you to sit down. once he’s comfortable, he leans against your side.

the quiet in the room isn't tense. it isn't scary. you know he just doesn't want to talk about what’s bothering him often. he can't even verbalize how much you mean to him– how is he meant to explain any of his other emotions to you?

"it's okay." you whisper, breaking the silence in the room. "just... take your time."

even though your words are as soft you can manage, it feels like you're yelling in contrast to his complete wordless state. you glance over at him. miguel doesn't meet your gaze.

"i'll be here for you," his expression softens ever so slightly at your words as you reassure him, "i promise."

he only mutters one word in response: "don't."

▸ (next headcanon based off of this art from instagram. slide two specifically.)

you can still remember the first time he ever cried in front of you. it's been a vivid memory in your head ever since it happened– not because of why it happened– but because of how it happened.

"you haven't been around for days, miguel." it's been almost more than a week since you've last seen him. this time, you sought him out– not to bring him back into your life, but to confront him one last time. after deliberating for longer than you cared to mention, you finally decided you were going to make things right or get out of his life for good.

and there he is, standing on his platform. it's lowered to the ground, the orange holographic screens surrounding him empty, displaying nothing. they emit a soft glow in the dark of the room.

"tell me what's wrong." you demand. the tone in your voice is unfamiliar to him. you're not making any effort to conceal how thin your patience has been wearing.

his back is turned to you. he doesn't say a word until you approach the lowered platform he stands on.

"go away."

"what? like you've been doing this entire time?" you retort.

"go away." he repeats more forcefully. his anger doesn't scare you away. nothing ever does.

you stare at him unflinchingly. "not until you tell me what's wrong."

miguel knows you're going to stand firm. you're going to stay until he tells you. as he lifts his head, glancing over his shoulder to speak to you, you brace yourself– you wait for him to yell. to lash out. anything.

he just looked at you. his eyes, stinging with tears, meeting your stare.

you don't remember what was hurting him that day. you can't recall what made him breakdown in front of you. no, this is the part you remember.

miguel's large frame looks so much smaller as he attempts to shrink himself, as if trying to hide from you. he averts his gaze, trying to blink back the tears and fails horribly.

he has nothing left to do. miguel hides his face in his hand, even if it’s only the two of you in the room. he’s humiliated– completely ashamed– that he can’t seem to stop his crying. for a moment, you’re frozen, unsure of what to do.

it's a drastic change from how you know him. standing in front of you, miguel seems more like an inconsolable child, rather than the detached and icy person most knew him as.

"don't look at me." those are the only audible words miguel manages to choke out between stifled sobs. he cries like a little boy.

and you hate it. you hate how hard he makes it hard to stay angry at him. you hate that no matter what you do, you can't stay away.

the tension in your body dissolves slowly, jaw unclenching as you sigh to yourself. you’re caving already.

it takes you a moment, but you know you can't leave him like this.

slowly approaching him, you quietly wrap your arms around him from behind, gentle enough for him to pull away from your touch if he didn't want it. he doesn't protest. you swear you can feel him subconsciously lean in.

"it's okay," you mutter, "i got you."

▸ miguel makes sure to talk to you the next day after you comforted him. to your surprise, it wasn't to tell you to keep that moment between the two of you– he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't say a word.

he was there to say thank you. simple and plain as that. he thanked you for sticking around. thanked you for being there even though he constantly pushed you away.

and you couldn't find the energy to respond. horribly disheartening to miguel, considering this is the most effort he had put in to communicate with you– but understandable. he didn't push you any further.

as awful as it felt to know, you didn't want a thank you. you didn't need his gratitude for your stubbornness.

it was much too late for a thank you to resolve the days he left you without a word, only to return expecting everything to be the same. it was much too late for a thank you to make you feel better about the fact you ended up comforting him even after everything. those words couldn't fix anything.

you wanted a goddamn apology.

▸ it's been almost three weeks since you'd last been seen around the spider society hq.

nobody seemed to be aware of the reason for your sudden disappearance. miguel was worried sick.

his temper is shorter, his patience is waning, and he’s willing to snap if anyone even mildly irritates him. it’s an unpleasant experience for everyone.

he'd tried to find you by tracking your watch, which proved to be useless. you were too clever for that– you'd made yourself undetectable, somehow disabling or destroying it before you left. miguel could’ve hunted you down, searching every place in the multiverse to find you again, once more to see you. but he didn't have to. the moment he had decided to start the search, your watch went active again, allowing him to locate where you were. like you were beckoning him over.

he didn’t hesitate to meet you there, stepping through a portal to get to you. notably, you weren’t in your own universe– but he wasn’t going to scold you for that. not now.

there you were. it was almost dream-like to him, seeing you sitting in the grassy fields in the middle of nowhere, the outline of your frame illuminated by the moonlight. the night air was filled with tension, as you sensed him approach from behind and quietly sit beside you.

he’s the one to break the silence. your name slips from his lips, as he’s about to speak up–

"hey." you greeted flatly, cutting him off. you glance at him with a weak smile, chuckling dryly. "so... you need something?"

"...no." miguel glanced around at the unfamiliar setting. just before he can get anything out, you part your lips to speak again, looking up at the dark sky, glittering above the two of you.

“i forget that new york doesn’t have the best view of the stars.” you murmur. “light pollution and all that shit… so y’know,, this is nice. i missed this type of view.”

he nods in agreement, though the small talk about the stars isn’t what he wanted from you.

you continue with your little ramble, seemingly just saying whatever came to mind. “speaking of cities– how’s your corner of the multiverse been? has nueva york been fine? feels like forever since i’ve been there.”

miguel tries not to be distracted by your casual conversation or your obvious allusions to your absence. he sees the way your shoulders are held tense, the way your gaze flits over at him expectantly– miguel knows you’re just waiting for him to talk about it, anticipating what he’s oing to say next.

"i– look–” he takes in a breath, finding the words he had been planning to say all this time. “i know. i know i messed up, and i messed up a lot. …i just came here to tell you i'm sorry. for everything."

there’s a momentary lapse of silence between the two of you. the tension is immeasurable as he watches you shift your sitting position, facing him entirely.

"you should be. asshole."

miguel sighs. “i… really should’ve expected that.”

“you know, migs? i tried so hard to just leave you alone.” the previous confidence in your voice wavers. there’s no bitterness in your words, no malice. he hears it in your tone: you’re just worn down, utterly emotionally exhausted.

he hears a sniffle, causing him to turn his full attention to you. the tears glisten as they fall from your eyes and drip down your cheeks. you make no attempt to shy away.

“what are we gonna do now?” you ask, looking over at him. your voice is faint. small. “i can’t let you go– and for fuck’s sake, you won’t even let me– so… what now?”

“i… don’t know.” he confesses. his hand makes his way to yours, placed atop it. his other wipes your tears away, trembling as he touches your cheek with all the tenderness there is, like he’s afraid he might hurt you. he whispers your name again, and it is the sweetest sound you’ve heard in a while.

miguel usually thinks he’s no good at comforting others. but in this moment, you would’ve never known that. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into an embrace, holding you in his arms like you’re the most precious thing in the world. he’s not leaving you to suffer alone. he’s not leaving you like that ever again.

“you don’t have to forgive me.” he whispers to you. miguel knows he can’t repair all the damage he’s done. he knows you might never be able to look at him the same. And for once, he’s fine with that. he just needs to know you’ll be okay. “...just, please. let me do this for you.”

[funnier-as-a-system]

ok wait question kinda abt plurality can an alter cause like. gender envy in a way? like the really bad kind where u think ur gonna cry if u cant be that guy immediately. maybe thats closer 2 straight up dysphoria idk. and like if so can i also ask like. how i guess?? like would it be them just wanting their actual body?? asking specifically in a case where theyre either not fronting at all or are maybe cofronting but being like really super subtle about that fast

This seems like complicated situation for you. To summarize what I believe is going on, you are envious of another alter in your system to the point it is causing you emotional distress, correct? And this distress is either similar or identical enough to gender dysphoria that you feel making the comparison is at least somewhat accurate, but you're not sure why it's happening, or if it's even possible in the first place. (If I have misjudged the situation, please do let me know.)

Firstly, I'd say this is possible. You're experiencing it, aren't you? That alone makes it possible; dysphoria, gender envy, and systemhood are all personal and subjective experiences, so the only way to judge how "possible" a situation like this is is to ask if there's a personal account of such experiences, which you have. Perhaps you've gotten some wording or details incorrect, but I'm not worried about that. The gist of the problem is communicated well enough, and I believe you when you say you have this problem, so I'd say yes, this is possible.

Besides – similar things happen with singlets. There are plenty of trans and genderqueer people who want to look/sound/etc a certain way, and who get dysphoria from seeing or being around those that are, in their eyes, living as they wish they could. It's not too terribly hard to believe that the same thing could happen in a system.

Secondly, I can't say for certain "how" this has happened, but I can make some guesses.

If it's something that only pops up when this alter is fronting, it may be a matter of behavior; many actions, both subtle (like the way one stands or takes off a shirt) and not (like the hobbies or career a person has), are seen as traditionally either masculine or feminine, and it's possible that this alter behaves in a way that is usually considered more masculine or feminine.* For example, if you have dysphoria over appearing masculine, and this alter happens to stand in a way that is traditionally considered feminine, you may find yourself experiencing dysphoria over not standing in a way that is "feminine enough" by comparison. In short, the (subconscious) line of thought here is, "They're acting in a way that clearly communicates the gender I feel I am, but I'm not as good at acting that way, which makes me dysphoric."

There's also the matter of... well, for lack of a better term, vibes. Some systems are able to "sense" their headmates/alters to some degree, and sometimes alters can "feel" masculine or feminine. Or, if it's a matter of internal communication, an alter may "sound" masculine or feminine – or, if it's a matter of appearance in the innerworld, an alter may appear more masculine or feminine. There's a lot that can go into expressing gender, even in your own head! If you feel your gender presentation/expression doesn't match your desires as well as your alter matches it, that may be a source of dysphoria. To restate a point made earlier, this is something common for trans and genderqueer singlets – no reason why it couldn't happen to you, too.

Gender dysphoria is tricky as a system, as not everyone may be able to properly present as themselves. Alters who are dysphoric over having breasts may find themselves in opposition with alters who would feel dysphoric without breasts. Alters who find their body's deep voice to be euphoric may be in opposition with alters who find such a deep voice to be dysphoric. So, yes, it may be a case of wanting your own body – one where you can make decisions about presentation and transition without worrying about causing stress or tension in their system. But that's not really what you're getting at, is it?

You were asking about how one may have distressing gender envy – or dysphoria – as an alter. I believe I've answered this to the best of my ability, although it should be noted that I am not an expert on your mind or gender. These are merely theories based on what I know about your situation and the accounts I've heard in both system and genderqueer spaces.

Now, then – why don't we discuss some methods that might decrease your dysphoria?

There are, of course, the classics – voice training, gender affirming clothing, gender affirming hairstyles, packing or binding. There's also using makeup to make your face appear more masculine or feminine, or engaging in specific hobbies that are more closely associated with your true gender, or at least less closely associated with your assigned gender. For system specific tips, I would suggest trying to give yourself a more affirming appearance in headspace – it may take a while, and isn't achievable by all systems, but we've known many alters and headmates that could partly or fully change how they look in-sys, given enough practice of visualizing themselves differently.

You're far from alone when it comes to dealing with gender dysphoria, anon, even if it's from such a specific cause. Why not look up some other suggestions on how to reduce gender dysphoria? Remember, though, you know yourself best, and that means that whatever gender you feel you are, you are that gender, no matter what your dysphoria says.

Hope this helps and you have a good day, anon!

*(Note: I focused on masculinity and femininity because it helped keep my response and explanation as clear as possible, but similar cases could be made for androgyny or other gender related expressions/identities.)

[mouthsfullofsharpteeth]

obviously their relationship is super unhealthy considering the whole everything of it. but i imagine them having yet another argument but instead of it turning into sex like it usually does alex actually starts throwing punches. hes furious because ever since he killed that guy tim has refused to talk about why he just STOOD there like that and when alex asks tim mentions that he'd probably be better off dead than whatever the hell hes been doing with alex. and it just sets him off because he KILLED for tim. and he HATED it but he was so scared of seeing tim die he did it anyways. and here tim is treating him like he did it because he wanted to, because he wants tim to hurt and be 'trapped' here with tim. and so they fight and its bad. tim gets the upperhand and drags alex up by the shirt and asks him what the hell he thinks hes doing, and alex pulls his gun and presses it to the side of tims head.

and he tim lets go of alex. and alex looks him in the eyes and hates the way they seem so empty. like he has nothing left. like alex hasnt been there trying to keep him alive, even if it was so HE didnt have to be alone.

and then alex grabs tims hand and forces the gun into it, and points it directly at his own head.

he could just kill him then. since hed rather die than be around him. since a good fuck is all hes useful for. since tim thinks hes a monster. go ahead. put him down like the rabid dog he is. (ignore the tears. alex is heartless. alex doesnt feel guilt about what he did to that man or his friends or the way he argues with tim but keeps him close anyways.)

kill him now, and next time alex wont be there to save him. but dont ask him to kill tim because he cant stand the thought of losing the last person he has left. even if that person despises him.

and of course tim cant do it. and neither can alex. they are all they have left. and alex will fight to keep tim alive as long as possible, even if tim lets himself be put in danger. but tim wont make the mistake of assuming alex feels nothing again. because hes always going to think about the moment after he pulled the gun away and set it on the table. the moment alex falls forward into his arms, the way alex wheezes in pain as his bruised rib collides with tims chest. the way he shakes and shivers as he weeps silently, refusing to make a sound.

hey these boys are fucked up i think

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. anon i am reading this so hard. your writing just explodes my brain. tysm.

I think after that, Tim is having a hard time talking to him for a different reason now. He keeps looking at Alex, thinking about that fight, thinking about the moments where he was holding that gun to Alex's temple. Seconds that felt like centuries. Tim has hurt people, has hurt Alex. Had hurt Alex mere minutes before that moment. It all feels off kilter now, though. He had held onto that fixed image of Alex, heartless and aggressive and remorseless over everything he had done. Stuck to Tim out of obligation, but just as quick to cross him too. It's weird now. Tim looks at him and sees tears streaming down his face, sees him trembling as Tim rails him into the mattress, sees him furious on Tim's own behalf. And now that he's seen it once, he sees it more. Nearly every day, that mask of stoic indifference cracks away more and more, until Tim isn't sure how he ever believed the Alex's 'heartless' act. Alex wears his heart on his fucking sleeve, is almost uncomfortably expressive with how many emotions are just out there on his face.

And so Tim isn't sure what to do then, when they're about a mile deep in the woods because of some stupid delusion Alex had about needing to find something in here, and that something ending up being another trap set up by the operator. A trap that has Alex beaten bloody with a gun to his head, a gun that Tim isn't holding. A gun being held and aimed by someone who really really does want Alex dead. And Tim has the weapon this time. He tells himself afterward that he did hesitate. That it wasn't instinct. That he wasn't seeing red, fueled by blind rage as he brought this guy down, taking him out with his fists alone. He tells himself he hadn't felt his heart in his throat as he got Alex to his feet, calling him stupid an idiot reckless and what the hell was he thinking and Jesus Christ you could have died, what the fuck is wrong with you?? Tim drives them back to the hotel with white knuckles. Feels sick later as he disinfects the cuts on Alex's face, bitterly thinks this guy should have stuck to one or the other, fists or the pistol, because both was certainly overkill.

did not mean to write so much whoops fdghdkgf you unleashed a monster LMFAO

[judjira]

Hi! Sun, Taurus & 3H

sun - 5 things you like about yourself

oof this is hard HAHA but ill try my best

1. i rly like my hair? idk sounds shallow but i've had it super long and i've had it short, i've had it bleached, dyed, i've had undercuts, fades, wolfcuts, braids,,,i've been thru a lot of self esteem and appearance issues, but my hair is always one thing i rly like abt my physical appearance so yeah !

2. i love the way i hyperfixate ! if my neurodivergence wasn't obvious enough, i tend to deep dive into rly niche and obscure things solely based on a whim, and i rly like that ! i love drawing from so many sources and inspirations and it makes me happy having all this useless knowledge in my head

3. i rly like the way i try to communicate. i'm not perfect of course, but i've always tried to outline my feelings and my thoughts in the most calm, reasonable, and mediating way, especially when an issue arises. i'm a little bit of a mediator when it comes to my groups of friends? and a lot of people appreciate it so i like that !

4. i rly like my writing ! sounds weird to say, but i only ever write for myself and to have fun, and it's just a bonus (a lovely bonus btw) that you all enjoy it too. i love seeing my writing come to life especially when it's abt love, bc fact abt me: i love LOVE.

5. this sounds weird but i rly like my talents n skills ! i love the things i do and i wouldnt trade them at all for anything else. theater, writing, reading, games, sports, and everything else i do,,,i love that i have SOME amount of skill to it

taurus - favorite food

1. my favorite food is a filipino classic ! it's called sisig, and its usually made from like,,,leftover pig parts? its amazing its served on a sizzling plate n its crunchy n soft n salty n spicy n sweet (when it has mayo) it has so many different kinds (both meat and fish)

3H - what are some of the topics you like to talk about most

TAKE NOTE THIS IS A PUBLIC INVITATION TO HIT ME UP AND TALK ABOUT ALL OF THESE THINGS

1. i love talking abt love!!! seriously guys,,,i cant express properly how much i love hearing about love, talking about love, understanding love. it's just so,,,mesmerising and beautiful how, despite all of life's heartaches, love consistently shows itself to be one of humanity's most valuable resources,,,i love love so much.

2. i love talking abt writing ! techniques, methods, reasons, concepts, ideas, and all of that! i've been writing as a hobby since i was 8, and i've only fallen more and more in love with it.

3. FANTASY I LOVE FANTASY,,,specifically magical realism ! i play a lot of dnd so i really love fantasy and all its types.

[chisatowo]

I wish I was better at writing down my thoughts

[vaguely-yandere]

uhm...! hello...! it can be sfw, nsfw... or both! but what do you think senstive yandere's reaction would be if their darling praises and degrades them at the same time? im talking about them saying something like "what a cute, filthy pervert" or perhaps something on the more nsfw side? "a pretty little slut, just for me." have you written something like this before...!? either way, i would like to hear your thoughts about this~

i have so many Normal thoughts about this /lie

sensitive yan whimpering as they slowly play with themselves, taking their time to really work themselves up and make themselves a mess just for you while you watch, grinning smugly. its hot. its too much. its perfect. its all for you, for you alone.

you had finally caught them stealing your dirty underwear, both of you frozen and staring at each other for just a minute before you closed your door and locked it behind you, grinning as sensitive yan's expression went from shock and fear to excitement. you take a seat in one of the chairs you keep in your room and gesture for them to kneel in front of you, which leads to y'alls current position.

"you're doing so well, my little pervert. tell me, what do you usually think about when you do this?"

"i.." they take a deep breath, barely able to look at you as they feel their sex pulse under their fingertips. "touching you. kissing you. i... fuck, i think about fucking myself on your bed while you watch, stuffing myself with my fingers and wishing they were yours. stuffing my face into your pillow to- ah!" they take their hand off their sex, shaking. "i-i- oh fuck, im so close..."

"c'mon, you know better than to cum without permission, baby. youve been doing so well so far, i know you can keep going." you coo, reaching out to touch their face, frowning when they flinch away.

"n-no! if you touch me, i'll..." they trail off, looking up at you with embarrassment painting their face.

"be a good whore and use your words. i know its so hard for you to think, baby, but i need you to do it for me."

their eyes roll back for a second, a shudder wracking through their body. "i'll cum, if you touch me i'll cum!"

"good slut. spread your legs and keep touching yourself and tell me why you'll cum if i touch you."

they lean back to give you a better view, doing as they were told but instead of touching their sex, they just tease the area about it, too sensitive to actually touch themselves. "c-cause im a slut! 'm your slut, i love you, i love how you feel, i-i wont be able to handle it if you touch me! i'm your little slut!"

"and?"

"im a fuckin' pervert! im a giant perv! im a disgusting perv, i dont even deserve to touch myself, i dont deserve to be in your holy presence, im such a big pervert that ill cum just from you touching my face! im your pervert! i steal your underwear, i lick your toothbrush, your drinks, anywhere i can get your saliva! i nearly came untouched when i stepped into your room for the first time! i take pictures of you, i-i touch myself all the time to the thought of you, i cant handle it! im such a perv!"

you grin, leaning forward to caress their cheek. "good job, ill let you cum now."

the second you give them your approval, their chest caves and their entire body erupts in shivers and goosebumps as their eyes cross and they finally cum. their mouth hangs open, drool dripping out of their mouth, shudders wracking their body as they slowly come down from their high and let their eyes settle back on you, a cum drunk grin on their face, mouth spreading into an open mouthed smile.

"such a good little bitch for me.. i bet you can cum again, cant you? for me?"

they nod, leaning into your hand. "yeesshh.. wan.. wanna be good for you..." they slur

"i knew you could, you fucking slut."

[wri0thesley]

Could I get a request for Nanami somnophilia? Maybe he’s had a hard day at work and wants to destress a little by making you feel good? ~ 💖 u///u

Sweet Dreams, Darling - Nanami x Reader (2.1k)

You’re so pretty, and Nanami’s so stressed, and he just can’t resist you.

warnings: afab reader, no pronouns (reader wears a nightgown). not sfw, somnophilia* (not discussed in the fic but implied to have been agreed upon), coming inside.

Today had gone far beyond overtime.

Nanami is buzzing with unrestrained feelings when he opens his own front door, crackling with cursed energy that hasn’t yet worn off him even after defeating the curse. He can feel it tensing his muscles and shoulders, making everything seem all the more intense, like shivers and electricity running through his fingers.

He can’t remember the last time that a mission had left him feeling like this; so on-edge and stressed. Usually by the time he gets home after work, he’s bone-tired. Even when he hasn’t put in any overtime, it’s all he can do to keep his eyes open and strip off his work clothes and accept the kisses you lavish on his cheeks as you admonish him for working too hard, telling him he needs to take a break every so often.

He wearily strips off his jacket, his harness, his weapon and hangs them on the coat rack in the hallway. It’s dark, and he doesn’t want to turn on the lights and perhaps alert you to his presence when he knows you probably stayed up too long waiting for him anyway, so he tries to ensure his feet slide almost-silently across the wooden floor, until he can open the door to the shared bedroom and--

His breath catches in his throat. He’d been right, that you’d stayed up to greet him and welcome him home – but you’d evidently grown too tired to keep your eyelids propped open, and you’d fallen asleep in the warm golden glow of the bedside lamp, your book fallen onto the floor beside you. He kneels to pick it up, to place it on the night stand; and he can’t help but notice how pretty you look in the light.

Your mouth looks so soft and plush. He knows what you taste and feel like against his own lips, intimately, but every time he catches a glimpse of your mouth again he wants to suck it into his mouth and bite until you groan. The curves and lines of your peaceful face are positively angelic, the fan of your eyelashes against your cheeks making him want to brush his thumb over your skin and see how warm you would feel beneath the places he’s calloused from gripping his weapon too hard.

You haven’t pulled yourself down under the blankets, because it is a summer’s evening and the air is cloying. You're wearing a thin white nightgown, a confection of satin and lace – the straps dig into your shoulders, cling to your breasts and hips, emphasising the curves of you that Nanami knows will fit so well into his big hands. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand; he’s spent countless nights entangled in you, studying you with his lips and mouth and fingers. Knows the places that make you sigh, make you bare your throat, make you twist your fingers into his hair and murmur; “Kento, please,” like it’s an invocation for him to grant you release. The lace-trimmed hem barely skims your thighs, and Nanami can already tell that you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

His cock gives an answering throb to that assumption in his slacks.

You’re always so unfairly pretty. He doesn’t know how to deal with it – this rush of affection whenever he sees you, the fact that his body responds to your curves and your smiles and the glitter of your eyes like it’s betraying him. He knows he’s handsome, but he’s never considered himself desirable – but you look at him like he hung the stars, cling to him at night, brush kisses over his neck until he believes you when you tell him how perfect he is.

“You can do anything to me,” you’ve breathed against him, too many times to count. “Any time you want, any place – I’m yours.”

You wouldn’t mind. He hesitates for a moment, before he brings up a hand to his tie. Loosens the knot. Unbuttons his shirt. Unzips his slacks. Through it all, it’s like he’s on autopilot – his eyes do not for one moment leave your prone form, so peaceful and unbothered in sleep. You look like an angel. How’s he supposed to resist?

The thought of parting your soft thighs has his cock stirring again, and he palms it through his underwear, his eyes flickering closed for a moment as he remembers that this morning, you’d ground your ass against him in bed when he’d had to get up. You’d batted your eyelashes, pouted; “Just stay for ten minutes?” You’d asked him, and he’d had to sigh and kiss your forehead.

He hates denying himself, but he hates denying you even more.

He’s undressed now, and he climbs onto the bed to look at you. Your face shifts as the bed dips under his weight, eyebrows furrowing for just a moment before they smooth back out and your face is perfectly peaceful once more. A hand comes up to caress the cheek, to rub his thumb along your lower lip – your mouth opens slightly, allowing him to slide his thumb into your mouth. Still sleeping, your tongue brushes the digit, sucks on it gently before he withdraws it.

The submissive little action has his belly all full of flames.

Hands caress your collarbones. Fingertips stroking along your bare shoulders, the place an old love bite from him has faded to be barely noticeable. He slides his palms over your breasts, relishing the warm, heavy weight of them. You curve out so beautifully, fit in his hands like you were made to be held there. You shift again in your sleep, unconsciously leaning in to the hungry heat of his touch. He can’t help but lean in as his thumbs caress your nipples, coaxing the buds to hardness beneath his touch. He breathes in the scent of your hair, so familiar – smooths his lips across your forehead, the bridge of your nose, your cheeks. Brushes his lips against your mouth, winning a soft exhale of breath from you, one that has a little bit of a whine hidden behind it as he continues to play with your chest, squeeze the weight of your breasts in his hands.

You unconsciously press your thighs together, sighing, and Nanami cannot wait any longer. Those two big hands slide past your waist, over your hips, over your outer thighs so he can dig his fingers into the softest parts of your legs and gently part them. The nightgown’s hem is pushed out of the way with the movement, folding and bunching over your hips to reveal that his attentions have certainly had an effect on the slit nestled between your legs.

Even in lamplight, you’re wet enough that Nanami’s mouth practically waters. Beads of your slick glisten, clinging to the softly furled petals of your sex – the pearl of your clit peeking out from beneath the hood. The feel of the cool air hitting your heated cunt makes your face scrunch for a moment, the expression so lovely and raw that Nanami wants to kiss it off your face.

His cock is pulled out of his underwear, encircled in his fist – the shaft is thick and hot and hard, pulsing with need for you. The glans is slick with his own pre-come – not that it needs to be, as he shifts his hips and rubs the head through the lips of your labia, smearing your arousal all over him.

A full-body shiver goes through him at the feel of your cunt’s folds clinging to his cock – he’s not even inside you, and he feels like he could come. He hadn’t realised just how pent-up he was from today’s nightmare of a job until he had come home to the refuge of your body – even asleep, you manage to calm him. He feels like a ship that’s come into port, as he rubs the head of his cock up and down your cunt. You shiver every time it makes contact with your clit, and he feels your own body pulse beneath his. In your sleep, you still want to be fucked by him. As he repeats the motion, making sure the head drags faster over the swollen bundle of nerves, you sigh so prettily and cant your hips so adoringly that he thinks he’s woken you up--

No. Your mouth has dropped into a soft, small ��o’ shape, but your eyelids do not even flicker. There’s the lightest sheen of sweat on your forehead, and muscles in your thighs are twitching, but you are still deep in your dreams.

He wonders what you’re dreaming about; selfishly, he hopes it is him. He hopes some part of what he’s doing has permeated your consciousness. Judging by how wet you are, the way he can feel your cunt clenching when his cockhead drags too close to your tight hole, he knows you’re at least having a very good time in your own imagination.

Rubbing his cock through your slick is all very well and good, but it’s not sating the urge inside of him. It’s not enough. He wants to feel your body around him – your heart beating, your breath catching.

He adjusts himself with his thumb and forefinger, letting his cock head catch on the rim of your entrance.

This one makes you let out a soft;

“Aaah—,” in your sleep, so quiet that it may as well be a puff of air as Nanami takes his time sheathing himself within you, enjoying the tight cling of your walls, plush and wet and welcoming. He’s buried his cock in you so many times, and you’re always tight enough that it feels like the first one all over again – your breath shaking your chest, your mouth open, the pulse of both of your hearts pressed against one another.

As he bottoms out inside you, your head moves restlessly; your pretty mouth shapes a wordless moan, a whimper, that soon turns into;

“K-Kento, mm, please--”

You are dreaming about him. The thought makes his gut twist hot, almost pushes him over the edge. He pulls out gently before driving himself back in, not wanting to wake you up by being too enthusiastic in his pumping. It’s nice, having you like this – feeling the way you’re sucking him in, being able to sense every little pulse and clench of your walls. His front presses against yours as he gathers your thighs up, holding them further apart. You seem to get what he wants even in your half-asleep state, soft thighs locking about his hips. Oh, fuck. He tries to keep his pace steady, but you just feel so good around him – like you were made to take his cock.

One of his thrusts is particularly hard, the wet sound of his cock inside of your cunt echoing about the walls, his pelvis grinding perhaps a bit too forcefully into yours – and your eyes flicker open, dark and hazy with sleep. They half-focus on him above you, all misty and pretty. Your mouth curves into a sleepy smile as you look at him, one of your hands gently reaching above you to cup Nanami’s face and trace the sharp line of his cheekbone and jaw.

“Kento?” You murmur. “Mm, feels . . . feels good--”

“Shh,” Nanami murmurs, smoothing a kiss onto your palm. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

You sigh.

“Love you,” you say to him, sleep-laced – and then you do fall back to sleep, your eyes drifting closed again even as Nanami’s hips are still driving into you. Your hand drops from his face – but your lips don’t lose the smile, tired but wicked, and Nanami is staring at that perfect curve of your mouth as his orgasm tears through him.

His cock twitches inside of you as pleasure blinds him for a moment, all whited out heat and his cock pulsing spurt after spurt of his release inside of you. Your body clings to him, greedily drinking in everything he gives you, and he waits, slowly rocking his hips against your inner walls until he’s sure that he’s utterly drained and that every drop of his come has been pushed as deep inside of you as it can go.

Only then does he let himself pull out.

Your eyebrows furrow as he does it, as your cunt is suddenly found empty – but then, Nanami crawls to lay beside you, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you spoon-fashion so you mould to his body. The soft, pleased smile on your face hasn’t faded at all.

He feels bad that you haven’t gotten to come - ordinarily, Nanami considers himself a gentleman. He likes having you come two, three times before he’s so much as gotten his cock inside of you - but tonight had been different. Tonight he had needed this. Needed you.

You snuggle into his embrace though, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world – and he consoles himself. It’s not like he doesn’t have a hundred nights in the future to make it up to you - he wants to spend the rest of his life kissing you, making love to you, holding you, fucking you. Loving you. 

He drops another kiss on your shoulder, murmuring softly into the crook of your neck;

“Love you more.”

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ Stray kids reaction to finding a vibrator in your bag ~

Warnings; fem!reader, istg this is all over the place?!, established relationships, college!au, friendships, nicknames (ok only baby but still), masturbation, use of sex toys, uhm...exhibitionism?, just read it and find out~

Requested: Yeeet thank u anon~~ ;) 

Note: everything about this gif is adorable like look at minho 🥺 and how easy hyunjin falls from changbin pushing him? like changbin got them guns 😩

Bangchan

Your boyfriend chan didn’t need to know about everything...right? With that thought in mind you bought a pink bullet vibrator because why not pleasure yourself in a different way when he’s gone? A couple of days passed and you accidently forgot that you had bought it in the first place let alone taken it out of your bag. It was a usual day in your shared apartment. You were cooking some lunch for the both of you and he always liked seeing you cook for him so he admired the sight before giving you a backhug. You turned your head around to give him a quick peck on the lips but laughed a bit when his dry lips hit yours. 

“Chan baby, go apply some chapstick” you said while laughing. A bit embarrassed he asked you where you held the chapstick to which you responded “in my bag”.

After rummaging through your purse he found it but he saw something in a bright pink colored box. You didn’t notice how he looked at you, box in hand, before he cleared his throat loudly which made you snap your head towards him. 

“And apparently where you keep sex toys as well” looking at the box for one second and at your blushing face the other. 

Minho 

Minho was anti-sex toys because he always wanted to prove how hard he could make you cum without the help of any lousy vibrator but you being the brat you didn’t listen and bought a vibrator hoping to use it when he’s away. The best thing was that he was quite often out of the house, attending meetings and other work related tasks so when he announced that he had a meeting Thursday morning you immedietly put your plan to the test. You gave him a quick peck on the lips and the door shut, leaving you alone. 

The toy was intense. You were on cloud nine as you close to your release, holding on to the pastel colored vibrator for dear life but just as you were about to finish you heard a rastle coming from the door. Before you knew it Minho busted into the room. Not given enough time to cover up he walked into the room, seeing you spread out on the bed with a vibrator stuffed deep inside of you. 

“y/n! I forgot-...” his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek while his lips contorted into a smirk. 

“CAN’T YOU KNOCK?” you raised your voice whilst trying to cover up with the nearest bit of fabric in sight. 

“Seems like you’ve chosen a toy over me, have fun since you won’t be fucking me anytime soon” he laughed as he walked out the room. 

Changbin

“Y/N! HAVE YOU SEEN MY NECKLACE?” he yelled across the house searching frantically in every corner. 

“NO STOP ASKING ME” you yelled back getting annoyed at him huffing and stomping around you, flipping every drawer over. 

He stomped back to the hallway and once again started to look everywhere, creating a boisterous mess. 

“I CANT FIND IT!” he yelled before a loud crash was heard and then silence. You were busy getting ready and when the noise finally stopped you could continue getting ready in peace. But the silence was oddly long which made you think that Changbin had broken something and was trying to hide it because that had happened too many times. 

“BABY DID YOU FIND IT?” you yelled while putting on your eyeshadow. 

You heard his footsteps get closer to you and as he entered the bathroom you were standing in he looked at the vibrator. 

“No, but I found something better in your bag” he said with one eyebrow raised. 

Hyunjin

Hyunjin and you had just arrived to the hotelroom at your vacation spot. After eating dinner at a romantic restaurant you decided that the two of you had to unpack those carriers that were standing by the small TV in the room. 

“Jinnie~ let’s unpack because if we don’t do it now it will never get done!” you nagged at Hyunjin that was lying down on the white double bed scrolling through instagram. 

“but i’m full~” he whined back before you tickled him and he bolted up like a puppy. 

You opened your suitcase and started sorting clothes into pants, shirts and other such categories. Hyunjin was doing the same, sitting on the carpeted floor and pulling out clothing piece after clothing piece out of his black suitcase.

Upon pulling out your favorite sweater something fell and rolled across the floor. Panicked, you tried to catch it before it rolled over to Hyunjin but it was already to late. The small bullet vibrator stopped as it hit Hyunjins foot and he picked it up. His brown orbs widened as he held the tiny object in his hand. 

“Planned to use it?” he laughed before throwing it at you softly.   

Jisung

Your boyfriend Jisung always had twisted ideas and this time wasn’t an exception. He sat across you at the dark oak table in the local cafe sipping away on his Americano (cue hyunjins ‘americano’). Your coffee was ready and you thanked the lady at the counter. What you didn’t notice is that during that small time period of getting your coffee and sitting down with Jisung you had left your bag wide open. Jisung glanced and saw a silk pouch which he hadn’t seen before and so he grabbed it and opened it. He smirked and put it in his lap, waiting eagerly for you to return. As you placed down your latte and sat down he said:

“Y/n?” 

“Yeah baby?” you answered.

He slid the pouch across the table, holding it down with 3 fingers. In shock you almost spilled your coffee as you tried to slam your hand on his, wanting to hide the small vibrator that had a remote controll connected to it. His reflexes were no joke because in the speed of light he retracted his hand and held the pouch up in the air for everyone to see. Jisung inched closer to you across the table.

“You’ll get it back only if you go put it on right now and I get to keep the controller.”

Felix 

Movie date night at home was Felix’s and your favorite since it meant that you could cuddle to your hearts content. You messaged him a picture of the different dvds you had at home and Felix replied that you should bring all of them, being excited to watch dvd instead of netflix. 10 minutes later you got a photo of the snacks the soft boy had bought and as usual he knew your favorites, so you sent a bunch of hearts in reply.

Another reason to why these date nights were so great was because they most of the time led to sex and so you threw in a vibrator into the bag even though you rarely used toys in bed with him. 

When you arrived at his place you placed the bag down as Felix gave you a peck on the cheek. Before you could turn around after hanging your jacket on the coat rack he stood with the vibrator in hand looking at it in fascination. 

“This is way more fun than movies” he said under his breath as he got closer to you. 

Seungmin

The two of you had been out on a date night and after a late night walk in the blossoming park your feet were starting to hurt. The black heels were cute with your outfit but not on your comfort. Seungmin noticed you limping a bit and a worrying expression was painted on his face. He pointed towards a rusty dark blue park bench.

“Take off your shoes, I’ll carry you back home” he said smiling. 

You hesitated, not wanting him to struggle with you on his back but the pain was excruciating and so you sat down on the bench and lazily put the heels in your bag. He kneeled down infront of you.

“Hop on y/n” he giggled slightly.

You giggled with him and hugged his sturdy back, wrapping your arms around his neck. The late summer breeze hit your exposed feet making them slightly cold but you didn’t care since Seungmins body heat was enough to warm you back up. 

Upon arriving home you hurried to put on a pair of socks to warm yout freezing feet. Seungmin being the cute boyfriend he was took out the heels from your bag but stumbled upon a box. He took it out to look closer at it and noticed that it was a small bullet vibrator that you had bought a week ago. You simply forgot to show it to Seungmin. When you looked for him he turned the box in his hand and looked at you with his puppy eyes. 

“Looks like date night is not over” he said as his eyes glimmered. 

Jeongin

Entering college you knew nobody. Everybody had their acquaintances making you look like the outcast but that was until you met your best friend Jeongin. Just like you he was a diligent student, spending most of his time in the library where you first met him. You often had study sessions with the boy since the two of you could learn from each other and one day he suggested that the two of you studied at his house. You agreed thinking that it would be more quiet in his house than in some cafe or library. 

He smiled as he opened the door and greeted you. His room was small but had a comfortable vibe which was enhanced by the fairy lights over his bed. Before the studying started you asked him where the bathroom was and he politely pointed to the a door that could be seen from his bedroom. You told him that he could unpack your things if he wanted to get started and he nodded while smiling. Upon unzipping the backpack there were a bunch of papers and folders that were necessary for the project you were working on but at the bottom there was a white box. He turned it around and through the plastic window he saw the light purple bullet vibrator. Jeongin was flustered and intrigued at the same time never seeing such a thing in real life. You tiptoed back into the room thinking that Jeongin had already started studying but were caught off guard when you saw him holding the vibrator you had forgotten to unpack from yesterday.

“Didn’t know this was needed for a study session” he laughed hysterically while you froze in the door frame, blushing profusely.

[anon-e-miss]

AU where Jazz runs a TON of charge. It takes ten spike overloads to satisfy him, and he doesn’t have a refractory period. After ten overloads in a row, he tends to go utterly feral—as if he’s in rut. Just mounting and clawing and biting and rutting away until he finally knots his partner and blacks out. This is only occasionally a problem, because basically no one can handle getting him off ten times in a row anyway.

Prowl, SiC, sees how this endless charge is impacting Jazz’s work (and quality of life). He has a crush, but he tells himself that’s not his motivating factor. Jazz needs someone he can trust to see him to blackout. Someone who won’t tap out three overloads in. Someone who won’t judge him for getting increasingly desperate and feral and possessive as he frags them.

Jazz maybe thinks no one could tolerate that kind of behavior. He might feel ashamed of the fantasy he has of ruthlessly fucking someone completely helpless. Someone who trusts him. (Possibly someone who would trust him enough to knowingly drink drugged energon hand fed to them)

Fortunately for him, Prowl thinks that fantasy is HOT AS A SMELTER.

Time for Jazz to finally get some satisfaction.

Despite the war ravaging the planet, Cybertron was seeing a mixing of frametypes like never before. It was by in large a positive as cultures that once stood well apart rubbed one side by side. It was not entirely positive. The differing needs if frame types could class, as Praxian Prowl had experienced this firsthand but at the moment he was not worried about himself or his framekin. He was worried about Jazz.

As Praxus had segregated itself from its neighbours with the great dome, Polihex had itself been segregated, the nomadic and semi nomadic groups had roamed the Wastes and the Rust Sea without fear of heat or storms where no other frametype had. Their frames had developed their own quirks and one of Jazz’s was coming into play.

He needed to frag. But Jazz did not trust so much and so easily as mechanisms thought. Why anyone believed a spy would be trusting, Prowl could not begin to understand. There were Bots Jazz trusted, his team, of course but his team did not comprise mecha capable of taking what Jazz had to give them. He was starting go get snappy, standoffish. It was effecting moral, that seemed like a good excuse.

"You need to frag," Prowl declared as Jazz smacked the datapad he was fiddling with. The Polihexian's visor flashed white.

"Not really yer business, Prowl," he replied. Prowl flicked a single doorwing.

"It is affecting your productivity," Prowl said. "There is no way in Pit I will authorize your deployment when you are in such a state."

"Ya can't order me to frag," Jazz said. "OP would have yer helm."

"Why would I order you?" Prowl asked. "We both know how well you listen to my orders. I am offering my assistance."

"I would ruin ya in two overloads," Jazz said. "Not worth the effort."

"You will find I was forged for endurance," Prowl replied. "I could take anything you give and more."

Jazz stared at him and cocked his helm as he looked Prowl up and down. Prowl did not flinch from the hungry in the mech's expression. He had won, and he knew it. At the best of times Jazz was hard pressed to resist a challenge. This was far from the best of times.

"We'll see."

There was something to be said for Jazz’s self-restraint, he had more of it than anyone, including Prowl would have guessed. He did not push Prowl down on his desk and frag him, but made an honest to Primus appointment for the coming dark-cycle and suggested Prowl take them both off the schedule for the next mega-cycle. Prowl had never gotten so thoroughly fragged that he could not work the next mega-cycle but he acquiesced. It was not as if he could not put himself back on duty as it suited him.

They met in Jazz’s quarters rather than Prowl’s, though Prowl’s rank afforded him best quarters; he had never changed from the original suite he had been afforded as a tactical officer. All he used his quarters for was recharge and the narrow berth was adequate for that. That berth would not serve a marathon interface. Jazz’s would serve that purpose far better. Prowl was not clear of what expectations he had possessed prior to his arrival but every preconception fled as soon as he stepped through the door. That unexpected self-restraint he had observed in Jazz in the light-cycle was gone and as soon as Prowl entered, Jazz was there. Prowl gasped with start as Jazz effortlessly disrobed him.

“Nice tits.”

Servos cupping Prowl’s wells, Jazz pushed Prowl up against the wall and covered his mouth in a crushing grip. He hiked up Prowl’s leg, hooked it over his hip and shoved Prowl’s modesty panel aside as it was still retracting. Prowl moaned into the brutal kiss as Jazz’s ground his palm into his node as his digits spread his folds. The preparations were quick, rough and Prowl was at a loss to do anything but cling to Jazz’s shoulders. He was embarrassingly wet, just dripping with slick before Jazz’s digits ever entered him. His valve made an obscene squelch as Jazz digit-fragged him, spreading his too long empty lining. Apart from the squelch all sounds of Prowl’s overload were muted, swallowed by Jazz’s hungry mouth.

With the nip of his swollen lower lipplate, Jazz broke the kiss and stared into his glassy optics. Prowl dug his digits into Jazz’s shoulders as the other mech suddenly pulled his leg over his shoulder and drove his spike deep into Prowl’s frame. The speed and the force knocked the intakes from Prowl and the sudden stretch burned but along with the burn was a sudden scalding pleasure as his internal sensors and nodes were quickly triggered. It was embarrassing how quickly he overloaded, screaming Jazz’s designation, before Jazz had even sheathed himself in his quickly spasming valve. His leg, the one still on the floor felt like gel and he trembled. Before he could fall, before he could even secure his grip on Jazz’s shoulders, Jazz yanked that leg out from under him and held him up as he thrust up into Prowl’s valve, carving through his internal seal, carving him open. Prowl’s mouth fell open in a shocked O. His doorwings smacked back against the wall. Jazz groaned, denta clenched as he took his pleasure. Blistering hot transfluids flooded Prowl’s tank. He panted. That was one for Jazz. How many did a Polihexian usually have in a session? Oh yes, ten or twelve.

Jazz’s spike was already pressurized again before he pulled out of Prowl. He tossed the Praxian over his shoulder and carried he over to his berthroom. Prowl squeaked when he was tossed onto the berth. Flushing madly, he shuffled back so his helm rested on Jazz’s pillow, then through his legs open and canted his hips as he reached between his thighs and he moaned as he held the rim of his oozing valve open. When Jazz fell over him, Prowl cried out with ecstasy. Jazz held Prowl’s legs up and open as he filled him in one great plunge. He caught Prowl’s nozzle between his denta and nipped and sucked.

With his helm pulled back by the firm grip Jazz had on his chevron, Prowl grunted and panted as Jazz reamed out his aft pipe. He had always enjoyed aftplay and nothing at all had changed here. Prowl dug his digits into the blankets below him and he pushed back into Jazz’s churning thrusts. His wells, too large for his frame, swayed under him. Jazz covered Prowl’s long neck with denting bites. When Jazz pulled out, transfluids drooled Prowl’s slack rim. That was three.

“New ya’d have a tight aft,” Jazz groaned as he watched his spend leak out of Prowl’s afthole.

A mech possessed, Jazz gave Prowl quarter, there was no respite. Prowl braced himself on Jazz’s taunt belly as he rode the Polihexian’s spike. Jazz tugged and pinched Prowl’s nozzles. He was rough as he played with Prowl’s heavy wells and fragged up into Prowl’s well fragged core. As his node ground into Jazz’s array, Prowl round Jazz harder, faster. His glossa lulled from his mouth as he moaned deliriously. Jazz reared up, taking Prowl’s nozzle into his mouth again as his digits drove into his drooling afthole.Prowl’s optics crossed and he overloaded with a wail as Jazz’s splattered his gestation tank with more transfluids. That was... four? Five? Prowl had lost track already.

He was not sure if he was overloading anymore, or if he just never stopped. Prowl panted as he twisted the pillow under his helm in his servos. Another pillow was beneath his hips as Jazz pinned him down, servos folded over his shoulders and drilled him deep. Prowl moaned softly as Jazz ran his servos over his back and doorwings and squeezed his round aft segments. He sucked a denta into the edge of Prowl’s doorwings. Somehow, Prowl found the energy to wail as he overloaded. His protoform rounded slightly as Jazz released into his tank again. Prowl panted. He spent. Jazz rolled him  and pushed his legs open. Jazz was not.

Jazz stood up on his knees and rutted into Prowl’s sloppy valve.The angle he was using dragged Jazz’s spike against Prowl’s gamma cluster and his internals clenched  as sparks flew across his vision. HIs peds curled, Prowl reached between his own legs to furiously, rub his anterior node. With a shrilled shriek, Prowl overloaded but Jazz never stopped stimulating Prowl’s gamma cluster and soon Prowl was overloading again, his valve sprayed lubricants out around Jazz’s spike.

Prowl drooled against the pillow as Jazz crouched over his upturned aft and growled as he plunged his spike into Prowl’s quivering channel. His protoform was bloated, inflated with Jazz’s transfluids. It was going to take orns for the swelling to go down, Everyone was going to think he was carrying. Something heavy and solid ground against Prowl’s slack folds. The knot. He still needed to take Jazz’s knot. Prowl sobbed as the thick swelling at the base of Jazz’s spike butted against his rim. As it was, he was already so full. Overwhelmed, Prowl tried to wriggle away but Jazz bit his doorwing and hiked his hips up, and forced the knot passed the last of his internals’ resistance.

Jazz’s overloaded with a grunt, the force of his spill so much strong and the amount so much greater. Prowl dragged his servo under him and felt his swollen belly where he was inflated with Jazz’s spend. Groaning softly, Jazz collapsed against his back and his spike twitch with another spurt of transfluids as he fell into stasis lock. Prowl tried to push himself up, to get himself out from under Jazz but he was too tired to dislodge the mech. His optics grew dim and he resigned himself to recharging with Jazz pinning him to his filthy berth and his spike knot deep in his tank.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

How Bad is Sia’s “Music” really?

I watched it illegally (because there was no way I was paying for that bullshit) and found out. It’s not as bad as we thought... It’s worse.

TW for ableism, Sia, drugs, alcohol, just in general a terrible movie, meltdowns, blackface

Literally the first thing you hear while they’re showing the production companies is THOSE stereotypical noises. If you’ve seen the trailer, you’ll know what I mean.

And yes, she does this for the WHOLE fucking movie

What was the need to show her in her underwear? Maddie Ziegler was 14 when this was made, so what was the need??? And why did Sia prolong the scene by having her hitting herself?

Less than a minute in and my reaction was already “what the fuck is this shit?”

So the opening number not only had stereotypical exaggerated facial expression, it has Maddie in BLACKFACE?!? And with culturally appropriated hair?!?

The exaggerated facial expressions are literally constant and I took photos during the film to show it, more later, but I’ll keep mentioning it

ITS LITERALLY THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME SHE IS ON SCREEN

Even her way of walking is fucking offensive, Jesus Christ

The vocalisations just had me cringing so hard, I cannot describe how awful it made me feel

Why do all the neighbours need to be paid off and help her when she goes for a walk? I don’t-

Yes, by about the five minute mark I was already seriously debating all my life decisions. It was that bad.

Kate Hudson really didn’t give a fuck that her grandma died

I will keep saying it but WHY are the facial expressions/vocalisations CONSTANT?!! Literally they do not stop at all. I work with a child who is actually similar to this in that he’s nonverbal and he makes similar noises/faces, but the way they’re in this movie is so over-exaggerated?!? And even the kid I work with doesn’t do it 24/7?!?

Sia, calling your characters Zu and Music doesn’t make them interesting in the slightest. They’re still painfully terrible and one dimensional

Literally ONE minute after being left alone with her autistic sister, Zu calls the mental health service asking if they could “theoretically” “pick up” her sister?!? Like she wants to get rid of her already?!?

“A magical little girl” - autism isn’t a magical power?!? And Music is a young woman, not a little girl?!? Why are you infantilising her?!?

Okay I’m not being funny but this choreography is NOT hard. ANYONE can do it, so claiming that you needed to hire a dancer to be Music because of the numbers is literally bullshit (and even so, there are so many amazing autistic actors and dancers?!?)

20 minutes in and I wanted to give up

So she had her first meltdown because her hair didn’t get braided immediately and that’s... certainly interesting??

The fact that Leslie Odom’s character says “I’m going to crush you now”?!?

AND THEN HE FUCKING PICKS HER UP AND FULL-BODILY PINS HER DOWN ONTO THE FLOOR

“I’m crushing her with my love” - oh fuck you, just fuck you

So Sia lied, the restraint scenes were NOT removed and there was no warning. She’s a fucking POS liar

I have no idea why he’s called Ebo or why he has such a cliche African accent?!? I might have missed out on why because I was busy trying not to bang my head into the table while I watched this film but just... yikes

“He (his brother) liked to be held” - YEAH, HELD. NOT FUCKING CRUSHED

“He is dead now” - IM NOT FUCKING SURPRISED IF YOU CRUSHED HIM LIKE THAT

The constant babying and patronizing of the autistic character is so exhausting to watch. I’m so tired

“Planning on sending her to the people pound but I guess I’ll keep her a little longer” - SHE WAS JOKING BUT THAT WAS NOT EVEN REMOTELY A FUNNY JOKE. NOT EVEN IN AN AWKWARD WAY

STOP THE FACES IM-

^ YEAH, Sia, totally a fucking love letter to the autistic community here ^

So Zu finds this necklace she made as a kid that had a little dog on it, and she says to Music, “He had seizures too, just like you”... MELTDOWNS AND SEIZURES ARE NOT EVEN REMOTELY THE SAME FUCK THIS MOVIE-

It’s like Sia is trying to make the movie funny but it’s really not at all

Is Zu implying that Music is autistic because the mum was a junkie?!?

For real though, the dialogue in general is so fucking awful and cringey. Whoever wrote this should never be allowed to write again

Did she seriously leave her autistic sister alone to talk to who I’m presuming was her dealer or loan shark?!?

Also why is he - a white dude - wearing cornrows?!?

So who is the film really about? The autistic girl or the older sister saviour? I think we all know the answer to that one

WHY IS SHE WALKING AROUND WITH HER TEETH JUTTING OUT LIKE THAT ALL THE TIME

The musical numbers are literally so painful to watch. The overly bright colours, the flashing... my eyes were hurting and so was my brain

Autism representation aside for a second, the musical numbers/choreography are all fucking atrocious. Ditto for the costumes

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK WERE THE PINK OOMPA LOOMPA FRUIT THINGS?!? THEY LOOK LIKE THE PINK VERSIONS OF VIOLET BEAUREGARDE THE BLUEBERRY

I wanted to cry by this point, this movie is far more awful than I thought

“I’m not saying she doesn’t want to change, I’m saying she can’t” - FUCK YOU. Why is it okay for him to assume what she can or can’t do

Can I just say that autistic people aren’t constantly in a coked up wonderland state?!! We don’t see the world as a wonderland fantasy world 24/7?!!

“She can hear you from two rooms away” / *shows her listening through two brick walls to a conversation* — Also, we don’t have super fucking sonic hearing?? WE CANT HEAR THROUGH FUCKING BRICK WALLS?!?

“She can understand everything you’re saying to her” - she’s autistic not fucking deaf

Less than 45 minutes in, there’s another meltdown in the park

“I’m not climbing on top of a small screaming white girl in public” - yeah please fucking don’t

So Zu fucking pins her down with her weight 🤦‍♀️

“She doesn’t know who she’s hitting” - IM SORRY WHAT

EBO LITERALLY SAID “TREAT HER LIKE A BEAR” when talking her through the prone restraint, I fucking CANNOT

“Tell her she’s safe” - NOT IF YOU FUCKING RESTRAIN HER LIKE THAT SHE IS NOT

The fact that she gets up, smiling and happy after a meltdown and immediately is excited to get a snow cone... I can honestly say that after a meltdown, I am in no way happy or smiling. I am often not very verbal and I’m withdrawn/not myself for at least several hours, usually the rest of the day. Fuck this film

This film is literally just about Zu, and Music is there for a plot device to give her character development. That’s all she’s there for.

Love how Sia shoehorned Zu being suicidal in there. You know, just to try and make her more easy to sympathize with (it doesn’t work)

This film is literally just a 1 hour 47 minute Sia music video with ZERO plot

WHY WERE THEY WEARING PILLOW DIAPERS IN ONE NUMBER-

I really did not feel into the side plot with that guy who was fighting but it was still better than the actual movie so...

I am SO DONE with the NON STOP CONSTANT vocal shit. So tired.

LOJ’s only role in this film is to be the stereotypical wise black guy who assists a white woman’s story. There’s like hardly any other depth there

The Ebo/Zu romance is so fucking stupid and pointless and out of NOWHERE. I couldn’t even tell if they were into each other or not

I was already so bored of the musical numbers by this point. They added NOTHING to the plot but they pretended they did, and I was so over it. And it’s not because I’m not “creative enough” or anything to understand, I love musicals and I think it could have been cool if done right... but it wasn’t. They were a mess. It’s just bad.

Sia really tried to pretend her movie was deep but really it’s a shallow mess

So Zu is meeting rich drug clients and says to Music “try not to have one of your freak outs up there” and “if you could try to get it out now”... FUCKING YIKES. It’s not an on/off button, shut the fuck up

YEP THIS WAS THE SIA CAMEO FUCK THAT BITCH

The fact that she just calls “DRUG DEALER?!? DRUG DEALER IS THAT YOU”, fucking end this please-

I fucking hate this bitch I’m dead serious

“We’re gonna send them to Haiti cause there’s been an earthquake. All these buildings fell down, children’s bones were dislocated” - WHY WAS SHE SO CHEERFUL ABOUT IT

“Gonna buy a shit load of pain meds, gonna but them on my private plane” - FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOU

“Pop stars without borders” - Sia thinks she’s so clever but I would give anything to punch her I swear-

ANOTHER MUSICAL NUMBER JUST STOP IM BEGGING YOU

There’s this awkward conversation/bit with Zu and her drug dealer/loanshark about his outfit that was clearly meant to be funny but was just flat and painful

Yep, Sia really showed Music eating chewing gum off the underside of a park bench. Of course.

Look, the kid I work with does similar stuff by putting literally anything and everything in his mouth but like... why would you put that in your movie?

And there’s no indication before this that Music puts everything and anything in her mouth, she just randomly decides to get on her knees, under the bench and eat chewing gum, like she calculates that it’s there and gets it???

She has a THIRD meltdown after an allergic reaction to a bee sting and her sister just yells at her before realizing... I’m not here for this movie, I feel like I drifted off and was not really there

So Zu got angry because she left the drugs at the park but she’s not that upset that her sister had an allergic reaction???

Zu gets absolutely drunk because a) she lost Sia’s drugs and b) she’s stressed out by her autistic sister... wow, great message, Sia!

She really fucked off and left her sister alone to go clubbing/on a bender

The less said about the musical number here the better

Sia’s movie also checks the box of having stereotypical Asian parents, specifically stereotypical Asian dad being harsh/angry and hitting his wife!

ALSO HE PUSHED AND KILLED HIS SON WTF IS HAPPENING

Less than 3 minutes after the last, there’s a musical number that I think was about this side character going to heaven... another shitty Sia-esque number

The patterns during the number made my brain hurt.

Also there are so many autistic actors who can also dance, and yet Sia chose the neurotypical one because ✨ N E P O T I S M ✨

I just want to know how it was deemed necessary to show the fact the autistic character peed/wet herself? I mean... ??? It’s just so undignified and not at all necessary to the plot. Nothing happens after that, it just moves onto the next scene and it didn’t do anything

“I have no one” - 1) YOUR FUCKING SISTER. 2) GEE I FUCKING WONDER WHY, couldn’t be that you’re a shitty human being?!?

There’s a scene where Music is walking and she does ALL the stereotypical behaviours at once... just YIKES

Zu somehow stopped another meltdown just by grabbing Music by the shoulders and sitting her down???

Aaand yep. Another shitty musical number

Zu really goes to put her sister in a fucking facility and claims it’ll be “better for her” - BULLSHIT. Better for Zu, maybe, not Music.

Ah yes - the girl who the characters have said has problems with routines being changed/change in general... you’re now going to fuck up her routine by dumping her in a facility. Perfect Plan.

The nonverbal autistic girl suddenly speaking to say “don’t go” - you can just predict it from the off, can’t you?

Love that as soon as Music starts talking, Zu is like “fuck it, I’ll keep her!”

Zu really went and crashed Ebo’s brothers wedding... in a fucking bralette... YIKES

“I almost gave Music away” - SHE IS NOT A DOG YOU DONT GIVE PEOPLE AWAY

“We should sing a song” - PLEASE DO FUCKING NOT

Also that kiss/romance montage between Zu and Ebo was the CRINGIEST fucking shit ever

This movie seems to be implying that Music has locked in syndrome or something, like she’s locked in her own head or whatever it’s called, and I just... *sigh*

Oh and now Music magically fucking sings in a room FULL of strangers... this is literally embarrassing, please let this end

I mean it, this movie was fucking painful to watch on ever level

She got a service dog puppy which... okay?

Oh look, it’s the only decent song on the soundtrack but with an absolutely shitty over-stimulatory music video with the credits!

I can only name 5 characters in this film. Maybe 7 at a push, but even then I would be guessing

AND YEP SHE THANKED AUTISM SPEAKS OVER THE CREDITS. FUCK YOU SIA 🖕🏻

Let me reiterate: this is a movie about a neurotypical former drug addict whose character development comes from the autistic character, from having an autistic sister she has to take care of. I’m so tired.

We are NOT plot devices or tools for character development. Not once does anyone in this film treat Music like a human being - she’s treated as a burden, a problem, and then like a pet that they decide to keep. Not once is the film focused on how she is feeling - it’s always about Zu or Ebo. The performance itself was so over exaggerated and it made me want to cry when I watched it because this is how the world sees us, and this movie will make it ten times worse. It’s stuff like this that made me think “I don’t want to be labelled as autistic because people will think I’m a certain way”, that made me wait so long before going to the GP to get a referral.

As I said, poor autistic representation aside, the movie is just so appallingly bad. It truly is one of the worst films I’ve watched. If you’re going to watch it, please don’t - or, if you want to because you want to see how bad it is/to raise awareness/critical posts, at least do it illegally. Do not give Sia your money.

[ringmyheart]

Could you do a lookism gun x reader where he’s sweet to them kinda like Mira and Zack 🥺

“You really don’t have to do that…” 

The way your voice wavered betrayed your discomfited, guilt-ridden heart. You weren’t normally sheepish. Despite your weak-mannered protest, he continued to tie and knot the laces of your shoe below you. A low hum reverberated in his throat, and there was a gap in the conversation before he finished tying the laces into a bow, straightening his back but not necessarily standing yet. 

“It’s fine. If I didn’t notice, you might’ve tripped.” The corners of his lips didn’t lift or falter, yet his countenance was still sunny and bright. Internally, you swooned, your mouth falling into an uncertain line. It’s not that you didn’t like him, no. You just felt unnecessarily rueful for being the receiver of his kindness. It’s not that tying someone’s shoes was such a grandiose act, but when done by him, it was like a leap upwards from his usual nature. 

With him not having that many acquaintances or friends outside of work, you were somewhat his exposure to everything else, including anything non-business related. It felt odd for you to be this connection to the world outside of his, because you felt ill-suited for the job. 

It felt like you were anchoring him down, and that his likeliness was only infatuation formed from you making yourself unattainable. You wondered if that was the case, and if you ever reciprocated the action in full, if he’d end up leaving… 

The only way you could receive an answer was through actual application of this wonder in real life. Maybe, some distance would actually do the two of you good… 

He stood to full height by the time you’d finished the thought process of your internal plan, and stood idly, as if awaiting your instruction. You were always deciding what you two would do, or where you’d go, and you felt even more like an anchor; a deep, heavy one, weighing him done. 

With a nervous glance around the park, you gulped. “Uhm…” fiddling with your fingers, you mustered it out. “I think we should have some space in between us for a while…” 

Your gaze was downcast, and with the silence engulfing the both of you, you wondered what he was emoting. Anger? Frustration? Wonder? Sadness? 

“Space?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Space, like space? Or space, like distance?” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Space is when we don’t really see each other. If you ask for space, I’d take it you want to cut contact and refrain from seeing each other for a while. Distance is when I simply distance myself from you.”

The words he’d used had a hard time processing, and you chose the option with the plainer explanation. “O-oh, Uh, distance, then.” 

He gazed upwards in thought, with a ‘hm’, before looking at you quizzically, like you were asking for some alien request. “...Why?” 

“I just - I need some distance to breathe for a while...” That was a lie. You saw him nod as it registered in his head. 

“Okay.” 

“I’m so- oh, okay?” Your visage snapped up to him in awe. That wasn’t the reaction you’d anticipated. 

He nodded, grabbing your fingers with his and lifting them up and down with his. “Okay. I’ll give you some distance. That’s no problem.” His tone was chivalrous, but his face was still idle. 

“Yeah, uhm-“ you weren’t sure where you were going to go with that sentence, which is why you were glad he’d began to walk away before he’d heard you utter it out. While he walked, his retreating form wasn’t slumped over, and there were no hints to him being upset over this. 

“...” Well, looked like the date was over now. It rubbed you the wrong way somewhat when he didn’t express any sorrow, or even annoyance, to the two of you separating. You guessed it was for the better.

You lifted your foot to turn heel and begin to leave, when you saw Gun suddenly stop and turn to face you from a distance. Lips parting curiously, you waited for him to maybe shout something, or maybe send you one last glare or smile before walking away, but… no. He just stood there. You two engaged in eye contact from meters away, him indifferent, you bewildered. 

With a twinkle, he winked and sent you a thumbs up, conveying nonchalance and a prideful, elated look at the same time. 

It dawned on you. ‘By space he thinks I mean literal distance! Like, a few feet away distance!’ Your arms flailed around you in confusion. ‘What? Why would I even request that?!’ 

Meanwhile, across the park, Gun stared at you. He had a hard time catching on to why you needed distance, but if you needed some air - and him being so near you was disrupting that, he has no objections. Plus, he was glad this was what you’d wanted; if it was space, he didn’t know what he would’ve done. 

Your arms dropped to your sides in fists, and you wondered what to do. Should you just continue the hang out…? You wondered how he’d misinterpreted it considering he was usually scarily able to catch on to everything. ‘Crap, I shouldn’t have used the word in between! This is my fault!’ 

At one point, he’d waved across to you from afar, but you were too engrossed in your thoughts to catch on. He sulked. 

You were going to go and clear this up, when you felt a hand on your shoulder from behind you, and turned to face three strangers - all dudes, one scrawny, the other two burly.

“Hey,” the middle one said, nodding over in the direction of Gun. “Is that guy your boyfriend?” They inspected him from over here. 

You felt a wave of heat rush to your face. Your hands came up to cup your cheeks, flustered. “Oh, no… it’s not like that!” You exclaimed. 

The three seemed to nod amongst themselves, and you realized why they were probably here. 

‘Oh, do they want to be friends with him-?!’ You beamed. ‘This is great! I was just thinking about how he’d probably like more friends outside of work!’ 

You grinned mischievously, happily ready to introduce them. ‘Cant let them know he’s kind of scary, I was off out by that when I first met him… I’ll make him seem super sweet!’ You glanced over at Gun over your shoulder with a glitter in your eyes. ‘I won’t ruin this for you!’ 

“Well then, is he your friend?” 

You nodded vigorously. “Yep! Friend! He’s a great friend. If anyone else happened to want to be friends with him, they’d be in for a great time!” You said, conspicuous. 

The three guys seemed pleased by your answers so far, and you felt like you were rocking it. “Hmm,” a sudden dark air surrounded you and the three guys, and finally a crooked smile curved his lips. “And this friend of yours - you guys close?”

“Hm, I’d say so.” This time, they didn’t seem too happy at your answer. You found it odd how the three men kept glancing from you to your pocket, avoiding remaining eye contact for prolonged periods of time and seemingly more invested in your pocket than you… but you brushed it off. 

“Does this guy brawl? Does he have a good fighting ability?” 

‘Don’t scare them off, (y/n)! If they know he fights, they might run away! Tell them he isn’t, and throw in a lie in there that paints him in a good light! Maybe say he has a book collection? That kind of stuff doesn’t make anyone seem off putting.’

Your fists came to your chest as you excitedly ranted about him in a positive light, the three guys waiting on the balls of their feet for your answer. His eyes briefly darted to your pocket again, and you asked yourself why - it was just your wallet in there. 

“No, he doesn’t have a good fighting capability at all! In fact, he’s really bad at it! He’d never get into a fight! But he does have-“ 

Rob. They were going to rob you. Why you finally realized it mid-sentence was beyond you, but the entire conversation recited itself in your head as well as their weird mannerisms, and you realized you were about to get mugged. 

You leaned down and tried to emit an aura as threatening as you possibly could, changing the course of your sentence suddenly. “-skills. A very particular set of skills. Skills that make him a-“ 

“Hahaha! So you figured it out, huh? Don’t think we’re so easily fooled, you already answered us!” The ringleader of the group, you assumed, chuckled, the pick in his mouth sticking up. “Too late to change your answer now. Doesn’t matter how much that guy likes you,” he pressed his hand against your shoulder and pushed you back, “there’s not a thing he can do now. Cough it up.” He made a come hither motion with his hand, meaning your wallet, and you pointed over your shoulder to Gun as a last resort. 

“You don’t wanna mess with that guy.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I’m serious - he kills people.” 

You whipped your head over your shoulder, turning to Gun with eyes screaming for help. He must’ve seen this all go down, right?! And he knew what the gait of someone looking to mug you was like, right?!

‘Cmon, show them the expression of someone ruthless, Gun!’ 

You waved at him, expression full of panic and terror. When his expression became dark thanks to the natural resting bitch face he had, and he waved back, surely they’d see it was true. Right? 

Meanwhile, across the park, Gun saw you pause your chatting with the three faceless people around you (albeit he was only fixated on you), just to wave at him. He raised his arm, and with an expression which screamed he was content and happy, he waved back. Earlier when he’d done it, you hadn’t reciprocated, so this made him giddy. He wondered what you were talking about... didn’t you need distance? 

And you watched, horrified, when the curve of his lips titled skyward slightly. 

‘He smiles?! Now he smiles?! If only I hadn’t asked for distance, this would’ve be happening…!’  A dark shadow swept across your expression. You were screwed. 

You cupped your mouth with your hands. “Gun! Heeeeellppp!”

Gun merely blinked. 

It seemed the distance you created between the two of you was far too great, for he couldn’t hear you. The robber behind you curled his fingers over your shoulder blade darkly, with a low chortle. 

You began to wonder if you could make it if you bolted to him, but didn’t think you had the speed in you. 

Eyes closed in a deep brooding, you weighed your options. You could break into a sprint, but if you didn’t make it in time you didn’t wanna take the chance. Even if you weren’t badly injured - being tackled mid-run because you were too slow... that’d just be way too embarrassing. 

Well, if you started running, surely he’d see and come help you out, right?

But was he fast enough? 

Your thoughts were interfered with a swift kick to your ankle, not enough to knock you over, but it certainly snapped your eyes back to the trio towering over you. 

“Well? You gonna give or what?”

“We aren’t gonna wait all day.” 

“Cmon, just give us your wallet and we can go! Hurry!” The last of the three seemed hasty, like he was wary for police officers or bystanders. 

You wished you’d had more time to think, but the pressure put on you felt dire. Like you had to come to a conclusion fast... 

Acting out on impulse, your hands defensively went to your pocket and clutched your wallet through the fabric. You narrowed your gaze. “No!” 

‘He gave my like half that money! Like hell I’m giving it.’ 

The one in the middle chortled dryly, and nodded his head. “Alright, alright - what’s your name, kiddo?” 

“Why?”

“Just spit it out, yeesh.” He scratched the back of his head in indignation. 

“... (Y/n).” 

“Okay, (y/n),” the lousy, crooked grin he’d placed on his lips fell suddenly, and he leaned towards you threateningly. “You think being stingy is cute? I’m gonna pluck your fucking eyes out.” His eyes were wide, and instilled terror. Your stance grew weaker, and you’d thought it was an exaggeration when people described someone being scared as “their legs shook,” but you were proven false when yours began to tremble beneath you. 

He grabbed the pick between his teeth and pulled it out, holding it with his index and middle finger and pointing it at you warningly. He spared his surroundings a glance, seeing if there was anyone around to witness besides your weak-willed (from your description), book-loving friend.

Not a single soul was present otherwise. 

You could hear the wind whistle in your head from the absolute silence and lack of people in the park, and at your lack of response (mostly due to fear,) he reiterated, placing one hand on your wavering shoulder, the other gliding his hand through the air towards you, the pick so close to you it confused your vision. You recoiled. 

“Can you hear me?! I said I’d pluck your fucking eyes out-!” 

A black blur obstructed your vision of the pick, originating from the side, and the situation progressed too quickly for you it to resonate with you. 

The pick held by your eye went flying, and with the absolute silence erupting in the atmosphere, you could hear it land on the ground beneath you. The leg Gun had used to kick it out of his hand was still lingering in the air, and the mugger grunted. 

“Yeah, I hear you all right. Loud and clear. Pluck their eyes out? (Y/n)?” He pointed to you with his thumb, “you wanna pluck their eyes out?” 

Gun grabbed the hand he had on your shoulder, and plucked it off with unnecessary strength, a fear tactic. 

The three were silent for a second, before the middle guy straightened up. “I’ve heard all about you, book-reader boyfriend. I’m not scared.” 

Gun’s brow crinkled with his grin - this time, lifted by a sadistic pleasure. “What a coincidence,” he bumped foreheads with him, “neither am I. I’ll fucking kill you.” 

The guy laughed in his face, and you saw him cringe at his breath in his face. “What are youuuuu gonna d-“ 

THUD

It was a rough collision when the robber fell into the ground, arms splashed out on either side of him, and by now your hands had thrown over your mouth in shock at the turn of events at least thrice. 

The bottom of Gun’s heel dug into the gaps between his ribs, and the guy wrapped his hand around his ankle fruitlessly. “You’re gonna get dirt on my shirt.” 

“You’re pretty unfazed.” He chimed. “You think I was kidding? Were you kidding when you said you were gonna pluck (y/n)’s eyes out? Huh? Huh?” 

Now face to face with Gun, who was previously GREATLY distanced, he noticed his black sclera, and scrutinizing gaze, and the scar which tore apart the skin around his brow. And upon seeing eyes which wanted to kill him, the guy below him shuddered. 

Gun’s foot lifted up, and then, a series of kicks were sent to his ribcage; and you saw him wheeze. He leaned down tauntingly, not pausing the flurry of attacks, with a large smile baring his teeth. “You wanna pluck their eyes out, huh?! I’d kill everyone in fucking Gangnam if you’d even tried!” He kept going, this time with more fervor in his kicks, and he began to press into the guys’ abdomen; and you winced behind him. 

“H-hey, it’s fine now...” you said, reaching a hand out to Gun from behind, but your words fell upon deaf ears. Eventually you decided it was your responsibility to intervene, seeing the other two robbers cower and the middle guy begin to lose consciousness with lack of oxygen. 

You threw your hands into Gun’s shoulders, and pulled him back. “Hey, it’s okay! If you keep going, you’re gonna kill them! You can’t have a criminal record, can you?” 

Gun turned to you, expression not shifting in the slightest upon seeing your face. “... I can cover it up. I have the money and resources.” He said with disdain directed to the three. 

“Well-“

“They were going to hurt you, weren’t they? Why are you interfering?” 

You huffed. “I just don’t want that for you.”

The other two watched fearfully when Gun turned to face you, the air around him still dark. And if their own leader couldn’t handle that guy, what would happen to you? Interrupting him in the middle of fighting? Pulling back that monster? 

It doesn’t matter how much a guy like that likes you, when they’re doing what they take joy in - shedding blood, it never ended well. 

They winced in preparation for whatever would happen next, expecting to see you go flying like their leader had. They shuddered, after that they’d be next... right?

“... Okay. Let’s go.” 

“WH-WHAAA?!” Their jaws dropped in unison when Gun pivoted on his heel, and began to walk, expecting you to follow behind him. However as soon as his foot stepped out, he faltered. 

“Ah. Ow.” He said with a dead voice. 

Your brow furrowed concernedly. “Are you okay?” 

Now by his side, you saw him glance at his ankle. “Yeah.” He cursed under his breath. “I think I twisted my ankle doing that... ah, shit.” He plainly groaned, no real hint to him being in any pain in his voice. 

“Are you gonna be alright? Oh, no.” You said, and he looked at you with a blank expression. 

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to help me, now...” 

You nodded. “Of course!” Frantically trying to hurry, you threw his arm under your shoulder and held onto it once successful, supporting his weight with your own and unaware of the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

The two watched shocked as him and you retreated so... casually, straitening their eyes at Gun. That bastard, the two thought in sync, his leg wasn’t injured at all. 

Whilst the two of you walked away - him limping, he apologized. “Sorry for coming so late.” 

Your eyes darted the opposite way of him, sheepish. “It’s fine... how did you not notice? I was clearly being mugged...”

“I was only focused on you. Of course I’m gonna smile if you wave at me... who do you think I am?” 

You felt hot in the face, and internally swooned, but externally huffed. “Oh... okay. W-well, that explains it, then. It’s fine. How did you end up finding out, then?” 

“Ah,” he said. “The keywords.” 

“Keywords?” 

He nodded. “Yeah. If I hear your name and a threat in the same sentence, of course I’m gonna notice. ‘I’m gonna pluck your eyes out, (y/n).’ (Y/n). Pluck your eyes out.” He looked up casually. “Of course I’m gonna come if I hear something like that.” 

You guffawed. “Wha- I screamed your name and you didn’t hear shit!” 

“It’s different when it’s your name.” When you sent him a glare, he shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

You signed. “... Thanks.” 

He blinked at you, before chuckling with a half smile. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t ask for space to breathe anymore. When you’re away from me, bad things could happen.” 

“U-Uh, yeah...” you scratched your cheek with your free hand. “I won’t anymore. Especially after today.” 

There was a natural lull in the conversation as you helped him home, until he simpered evilly. “Sooo... ‘book-reading boyfriend?’ Boyfriend?” 

From behind, like a happy dog with his tail wagging, even from the distance the two robbers could sense the elated feeling emanating from Gun. 

This was very fun to write nd I tried rlly hard to make their dynamic like zach’s and mira’s but can’t tell if I could. I rlly hope u liked it!! Thanks for the request 💘

[katsukithme]

First Aid

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

Summary: Your pro hero boyfriend is annoyingly opposed to first aid, and you have to get a little persuasive.

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes, lil bit spicy!! Not smut but like I’m easing into it. Mentions of injury.

Word count: about 1.9k :)

A/N: idek what this is man I am just h word on main for angry blonde firecracker man

**Character is aged up to at least 20**

You've about had it with this man. This absolute stubborn child of a man. If his bottom lip weren't already split, right now you'd be very highly considering doing it yourself.

You both were crowded into your small bathroom in your apartment, first aid supplies strewn across what little counter space you had, a few knocked onto the tile floor. You'd learned very early on in your relationship that keeping a first aid kit on deck was essential to dating Katsuki Bakugou. If only the bastard would sit still so you could actually use it.

It was a feat in and of itself that you managed to get him in here for the first aid in the first place. It was like luring a cat into the bathroom right before a bath. He knew what was coming... and it took bribery of course. But he was here, hips leaning against the edge of the sink, arms crossed over his bare chest as he faces you. You were standing in front of him (conveniently between him and the door), antiseptic in one hand and a bandage in the other, desperately trying to clean the cuts that littered his skin.

"Katsuki, come on! Quit moving around!" You say sternly, trying once again to dab the cloth over the wide gash that reached from his collarbone to his shoulder. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but it looked pretty gnarly. And you'd be damned if you didn't at least disinfect it.

"I told you, I don't need first aid! I'm not even hurt." He retorts, indignantly avoiding every move you make towards him. Finally you throw down the bandage with a loud groan.

"We do this every time! How many times do I have to tell you? If you don't clean them they could get infected!" You demand, hands on your hips.

"Tch. As if I'd ever let something like that happen to me." He was operating with one singular braincell, you were sure of it. And the braincell was sitting in the 'stubborn asshole' part of Katsuki's brain.

"You- it's not... Jesus christ. It's not something you let happen! It'll only take a minute to clean them up, I promise."

He doesn't seem the least bit convinced, brows drawn together in such a deep scowl. It was exactly the sort of face a mother would scold you for, saying it'd get stuck that way.

Sometimes for him, you really thought it did.

"You said it'd take just a minute last time. And it absolutely fuckin' did not." He gripes and you throw your hands up in exasperation. It was like talking to a brick wall.

"Because you kept moving!" He rolls his eyes and stands up from the counter, pushing past you gently to go towards the door.

"Whatever. I don't need first aid." He growls out. Your hands ball into fists and your face sets into a hard expression. You'd had enough... no more good cop.

Before he turns the door handle you say just one more thing- and it stops him dead in his tracks.

"Bakugou Katsuki, if you don't come over here and sit your ass down so I can treat your wounds, so help me god I won't fuck you for a month."

He freezes, hand still holding the doorknob. He turns slowly to look at you over his shoulder, expecting to find any sort of lie, a trace of a fracturing exterior so he knew you didn't mean it. Instead, all he was met with was a stone cold glare.

He scoffs. "You're bluffing." He tries, and your arms cross over your chest.

"Try me. Go ahead, leave the bathroom. Get used to fucking your hand, it'll be the only action you see."

He was tempted of course to just leave. The odds of you bluffing were pretty high... he wasn't stupid, he knew it was just as much of a punishment for you as it would be for him. But the look in your eyes– it was threatening. Kind of hot, but he'd keep that to himself. The threat of an agonizing dry spell was too risky for him to point that out.

"Fuck. Fine..." he relents. And he takes his hand slowly off the doorknob.

You smirk triumphantly as he trudged slowly back into the bathroom, scowl still set into his face with no signs of leaving any time soon. You take a few steps back, however many the right space would allow so you could direct him. As much as he despised it, your threat had him wrapped around your little finger. More than usual.

You jut out your chin once towards the toilet, which had the lid closed. "Sit, asshole. Lemme fix you up." You say, tone firm but just a little soft around the edges as he finally starts to do as you say.

He plops himself down on the seat with a grumble under his breath, something along the lines of 'this is cruel and unusual punishment, but he sits nonetheless. And he was almost pouting with that expression on his face. It was cute... even if he was acting like an child. You decide to make the ordeal a little sweeter for the man, even if he was being unruly. With antiseptic in one hand and a bandage in the other, you give a soft push to his chest so he'd sit back and make space for you.

It was a cramped sort of space, not super ideal for his comfort or yours. But he always had space for you. He cocks a brow curiously as you move him, but says nothing when he realizes you're going to take a seat. How could he say no? Even he'd admit, he liked having you so close. Even if you're tending to injuries that really weren't that bad.

You straddle his thighs as settle in on his lap, shifting just a little to get comfortable. His hands immediately find your hips, keeping you nice and close. Once he seemed contented enough, you get to work cleaning him up.

It's quiet in the bathroom as you tend to the wounds, the only sounds being that of your first aid ministrations and your mingled breathing. He watches you intently, taking in every little mannerism and facial expression, hands tracing absentminded circles into your hips. His fingertips were barely beneath the hem of your shirt, seeking out the warmth of your bare skin to keep him entertained while you treat his minor injuries.

Finally once most of the scratches and such were taken care of, you turn to the cut on his lip, eyes meeting that intense vermillion gaze. He was uncharacteristically quiet, but you knew it was much more than that.

Katsuki wasn't really a man of words. He didn't express his undying love every five minutes, and you didn't expect him to. Instead he showed it in actions, in unspoken words found shining in his eyes. In a small quirk of his lips when you laugh, or an affectionate eye roll when you do something dumb. Showed it in the way he kissed you. In the way he'd lay you down and give it to you nice and good, just the way you liked.

You lightly dab at the wound on his lip, being careful not to hurt him since it was still pretty fresh. He doesn't seem even slightly fazed.

"Gotta be more careful, and lemme do this for you. Can't have you getting more hurt because you're bein' stubborn." You mumble, averting your eyes from that deep stare to eye the plush of his split bottom lip while you cleaned him up. If you made eye contact any longer, he'd have the satisfaction of making you blush.

He grunts softly, pulling you a little closer on his lap. "I was gonna let you." He mumbles, and it makes you roll your eyes. And his lips quirk up just a bit.

"You were not. You were gonna walk right out that door if I didn't threaten to take away sex." You mumble, and one of his hands starts to trace up your spine, effectively arching you against his chest.

"Maybe. But if I hadn't, you wouldn't be on my lap, would you?" He snarks, but his voice is all soft. You put your first aid supplies down on the counter and turn your eyes back to his once again, and he was grinning. He almost looked smug.

"Ah, shut up. Didn't have to sit here. Did it for you." He snorts in response, strong arms wrapping firmly around your waist.

"Sure you were." He was sarcastic, but his tone was still fond. "You like bein' this close just as much as I do, ass." You wrinkle your nose at him and push at his chest in retaliation, but it only makes him draw you in closer.

"You're the ass. Wouldn't sit still, wouldn't shut up till I said I wouldn't fuck you. Think with your dick, huh?" You tease, and his lips raise in a half playful snarl. Large palms slide over your hips to grab handfuls of your ass, keeping you right up against him.

"Shut the fuck up. You like when I think with my dick. Gets you all hot for me." He mumbles, lips barely brushing yours when he leans in close. You could feel the heat in your cheeks at the comment, spreading to the tips of your ears. He always did know just what to say to get you wrapped around his finger.

"What," he continues, dragging your hips forward against his own and you choke back a gasp. "Suddenly you're all quiet? Bet t's'cause I'm right. But I dunno, maybe I'm just thinking with my dick." You have to struggle not to whine as his hands guide you back and forth across his lap, and by god the friction was going to kill you. Your hands clutch to hard muscled shoulders, aching to gain back some semblance of self control.

But it was hard to keep sane around Katsuki. Damn near impossible.

"Fuck... you..." you breathe, trying to give him a glare but it comes off a little more wanton than you intended. His teeth graze your bottom lip, biting it gently and tugging outward before letting it back into place. His hips cant upwards, rolling into yours as he keeps you rooted firmly in place, and it tears a moan from your lips.

"Yeah? You wanna?" His voice has dipped down dangerously low in his throat, rumbling through his chest and sleeping into your bones. Between the movement of his hips and his mouthing along your jaw you felt as if you were going to combust.

"You're gonna be the death of me..." You can feel that damn shit eating grin against your jaw, and when your eyes meet deep vermillion you know you're a goner. He had you, hook line and sinker.

"Complain all you want, but you're whipped for me," he mumbles, one hand leaving the plush of your ass to cup the back of your neck, dragging you into a kind of kiss that made your toes curl, your knees shake. Hot and heavy, tongue and teeth.

Yeah, you were pretty whipped for Katsuki Bakugou... but he was just as whipped for you.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twelve

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: this took so long bc ive been reading chain of iron and in general agonizing over things i cant control instead of being productive 🥴 that being said, absolutely none of the events in this chapter were planned in my outline, but here we are with something new!

***

December brings more snow and bone chilling weather, to the point where Cassian has to drag Nesta out of bed, either physically or by phone call, to get her to therapy appointments on time. 

She’s in the waiting room one freezing morning when, in her utter boredom, she musters up the nerve to turn to the girl sitting next to her. “What are you in here for?”

The girl blinks her large blue eyes, taking notice of Nesta for the first time. Nesta uses the opportunity to take in her freckle-painted face, a little wan but beautiful. Reddish brown hair hangs around her face and shoulders, creating a thick curtain from the rest of the world, and Nesta’s curiosity piques like she’s just found a shiny new toy.

It probably isn’t right to compare people to toys, but then the girl says, “This isn’t prison, you know.” Her voice is deep, almost sultry— completely at odds from her huddled-in posture and sickened expression. “I didn’t commit a crime to have to be here.”

Is she insulted by Nesta’s question, or is she poking a joke? Nesta decides to play it safe by murmuring, “Sorry, never mind.”

She starts to turn away when the girl says, “We’re trying a new type of trauma therapy today. I had to get here half an hour early because I couldn’t swallow my nerves.”

Nesta might lack many social skills, but she isn’t stupid enough to ask what kind of trauma the girl is being treated for. Instead, she nods casually as if she understands the struggle. “I’ve been coming here for weeks now and I’ve barely discussed shit. That’s mostly on me, but you know…” She actually doesn’t know where she’s going with her train of thought. “It sounds brave to do whatever you're doing,” she states finally. “I don’t think I’ll be able to open up that much about myself, ever.” 

The girl gives Nesta a weird look that she immediately recognizes. Nesta uses it every time she doesn’t know how to respond to someone who takes her by surprise.

The door to Lana’s office clicks open, and the woman herself pokes her head out with a plain smile. “Ready, Nesta?”

Nesta bites down on her frown. She has a feeling today won’t be as easy as her past sessions.

She’s about to leave without another glance at the girl beside her when that low voice speaks up. “I’m Gwyn.”

Nesta looks back at her as she gets up from her chair, and says the first reply that comes to mind: “Good to know.”

***

Nesta is contemplative hours after she gets back from her therapy session, bundled up in her bed with a coloring book. The repetitive motion of filling in the mandala drawing lets her mind wander, picking up and dropping different thoughts like she’s inspecting stones. 

She keeps her wrist light as she colors in with red. She finally said Tomas’s name in therapy today, though the action left a slimy feeling in Nesta’s stomach that lingers even now. She also spoke about her sisters, which somehow ended up leading to a discussion of her uterus. 

“How have you been dealing with the endometriosis news?”

Nesta shrugged. “I’m getting treated, and my last period was more bearable than usual—”

“I mean mentally, how are you doing? With how your condition could affect your future?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Affect me how?”

“Have you never considered the impact it could have on your ability to bear children?”

“Not everything in life is about bearing children, you know.”

“We’re humans. It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Not for me. I’ve never wanted kids.” A mistruth at best. “I don’t care what endo does or doesn’t do to me on those grounds.”

In a way, Nesta told herself, the health risks were actually for the best. If she ever did, by some stupid loss of sanity, try to have children, then her body would act as a safety net from her decisions.

Lana only said, “You’ll never know how much you care or don’t care until you talk out your feelings.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

Nesta lets the memory of that conversation drop like a stone on a shore. That’s not something she has to face for a good long while. No, right now she has to face her past. 

Her sisters, and her ex, and even her father— 

I wonder if I came off too strong with Gwyn today. 

Her hand stops drawing, and she switches out her red marker for an orange one. This thought she doesn’t mind inspecting for a little longer: she and Gwyn ended up leaving their sessions at the same time, which meant they were forced into stilted conversation on the way down to the parking lot. 

Not forced, Nesta self-corrects. She willingly initiated a conversation, and it didn’t go terribly. She wonders if making friends in therapy waiting rooms is a real thing.

Her phone vibrates beside her, breaking her hours-long mental bubble. Blinking dazedly, she answers the phone call.

“How are you?” is the first thing Cassian says to her. He makes sure to ask her that at least twice a day, like a gauging of her temperature. It makes Nesta wonder what she’s ever done in her life to call for such… attention to her well-being. 

“I’m good,” she answers honestly. “My head’s a little loud right now, but I don’t mind it.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I’d rather hear you talk.” She slumps back against her pillows, coloring book forgotten. “What’s up?”

“Ah...” Cassian sounds hesitant for the first time since their relationship started. “It’s just that I haven’t gotten my Christmas decorations up yet, and I was going to ask if you wanted to help.”

Nesta takes a moment to absorb his words. “It’s December fifth,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“You just seem like somebody who does their decorations the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Well, this year is a little different, with you moving out and being busy with school…” He pauses. “I was waiting to do it with you.”

When she doesn’t reply, Cassian adds, “I don’t even know if you care about Christmas. I know you and your family sort of ignored holidays. It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“I’ll be over right now,” Nesta blurts. 

Half an hour later, Cassian swings open his door with a smug grin on his face; a vast difference from the stammering hesitance he displayed over the phone earlier. Nesta’s own lips want to pull up into a smile just at the sight of him, but she holds back and narrows her eyes instead. “What’s got you so worked up?” she questions as she steps into the warmth of the cabin and out of the freezing cold.

“The way you ran over here as soon as I asked.” He looks her up and down, still amused. “You didn’t even bother to change, did you?”

It’s true: she’s in the same sweatpants and long sleeved tee she wore around home, and her socked feet are shoved into slippers. 

“Get that smirk off your face.” Nesta flicks his nose before tossing her coat off. “If this is a competition about who’s got a bigger puppy-crush for whom, you already won when you delayed putting up your Christmas decorations for me.”

“Fair enough,” he grins. The words send an unexpected pang through Nesta, because it’s partly true, isn’t it? He cares more openly for her than she does for him. 

She looks away in guilt, not knowing how to fix the imbalance. Her eyes land on the living room coffee table, where their half-finished jigsaw puzzle sits. It’s been stored under the couch for the past few weeks, forgotten by Nesta and Cassian alike as they moved on with their lives, but now it’s sitting out again.

“Have you been working on the puzzle without me?” She raises an inquisitive brow, about to feel— hurt.

“Never,” Cassian promises, saving her from that irrational hurt. “I just brought it out because I figured we should get to finishing it one day.”

She pads over to the table, picking up a puzzle piece and turning it over in her hand. “I don’t know if you remember, but we had a terrible time working on this,” she scoffs lightly.

“Oh, I remember,” he says, coming up behind her and stealing the piece from her grasp. “I think it’s safe to say those evenings were the worst fights we’ll ever have together.”

Nesta leans back against Cassian’s chest and hums. “It made us a stronger couple, don’t you think?” She turns her head up and back to meet Cassian’s eyes, finding that he’s already looking down at her.

Hypnotized, she leans into his warmth. She only manages to land the smallest kiss against his lips when his hand squeezes her ass cheek. “You’re here for a job, remember?” He taps her butt before pulling away, gesturing to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living area with his chin. It stands bare. “You do tinsel, I’ll do lights.”

Tinsel is harder to work with than Nesta remembers. She only manages to get half the tree done before plopping onto the Persian rug, exhausted and covered in silvery material. She doesn’t mind laying there while Cassian continues working; it’s her revenge for when he napped on her bed while she moved in.

“You know the stair railings still need to be wreathed, Archeron.”

Nesta declines to respond, tilting her head on the carpet for a better view of her boyfriend’s ass instead. “All this decorating,” she starts. “Is it just for you?”

Cassian turns to her, surprised. “Well…”

She pushes up onto her elbows, catching her mistake. “Are we doing Christmas together? Or are your friends coming over?” She hasn’t bothered to celebrate Christmas in years now, and she doesn’t care much what Cassian’s plans are either way.

“I was hoping for both?” He sounds hesitant. “Christmas Eve is all the way over in Velaris, but I was thinking we could go together, open some presents, and come back and spend Christmas here.”

Nesta purses her lips. She doesn’t actually hate that plan. Both Feyre and Elain have been pestering her with the annual texts asking her to visit for Christmas, and for once, she feels like responding to them. The invitation is more of a formality than an actual request at this point; she doubts her sisters want her there after years of rejections, but… what’s the harm?

“Is that a yes?” Cassian asks at her unreadable face.

“Yes,” she states unflinchingly. She refuses to overthink the possible consequences of this choice and chooses to focus on the broad grin overtaking Cassian’s face. “Really?” he says.

“But there has to be rules.” Nesta sits up fully now. “No one can know we’re together, no matter how much you trust or love them.”

“We already agreed to that, baby.”

Yes, but Nesta knows the secret weighs on him heavier than he shows— even if he agrees with her that it's for the best. “It’ll be different when we’re together in the same room as everyone else,” she says. Cassian wears his beating heart on his sleeve, and she doesn’t think he’s ever had to hide it before.

“You’ll also be different,” she adds. “It’s a huge change of pace.”

Cassian drops the remaining strand of lights and smiles confusedly down at her. “What do you mean, I’ll be different?” He sits across from her, before the blazing fire. 

“You know how you get around your friends.” Nesta shrugs without a thought. “Like your personality readjusts to mirror the people around you. I used to find it a mix of sad and adorable, like a neglected puppy desperate for love, but now I— okay, I still feel the same way.” She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture.

By the look on Cassian’s face, he does not find her words so easily dismissed. 

Coldness curdles in the pit of Nesta’s stomach, the realization that she’s said something wrong. She can’t fix it until she knows where she fucked up, though.

“Is that what you think of me?” Cassian finally says lowly. His usually expressive mouth is drawn tight and narrow. 

“Um… What would you rather I think of you?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously, Nesta?”

Nesta’s back stiffens, refusing to cower. “I only described what I’ve observed in the past.”

“And what you observed was a desperate puppy?” His voice is cold in a way she’s never heard before.

Okay, she’s starting to see how that might be offensive. She forges onward, “Tell me what you think about yourself in the presence of your family, then.” It’s a private victory that she says family instead of clown circus. But she’s not trying to turn this into a fight.

Cassian is silent, but his stare continues to rage at her.

“Tell me,” Nesta repeats.

His hands curl into fists on the rug. “I think I’m empathetic, easy to talk to, and easier to be around. Is it a problem if I’m likable?” Unlike you are the unsaid words.

Nesta inspects the space between them like it’s a chessboard. “And what part of yourself are you giving up to be so likable, Cassian?” she says quietly.

“Nothing.”

Nesta disagrees, if only because she’s been watching him out of the corner of her eye for years. “I think you base your personality off of those you love, and you lose a little bit of your true self every time you put others’ needs before your own.” 

She shuts her mouth, not having expected such honesty to come out of it. Cassian is taken aback, too, she can tell.

“And I guess it’s natural that you’d see all of that as a bad thing, considering your history of being closed off and self-serving to a fault,” he fires back with the flatness Nesta utilizes so often.

One for one. Fair enough. “We’re both right then,” Nesta says. “You work for your best friend because you have no ambition beyond serving your family, and I have no such family because I can’t bring myself to care about those things. Are we even now?”

Cassian furrows his brows, those defensive walls melting away as he realizes she’s completely serious. “What? No, Nes—” He shakes his head. “Okay, so maybe you’re right about me. Maybe I agree with you a little bit, but… If we see flaws in each other, then we should be working to overcome them instead of weaponizing them.”

Now Nesta’s the one shaking her head, quickly lifting a hand to stop him. “Relax there, sweetheart. I have no expectations from you or myself to go on some self-improvement journey now that we’re together. Talking about my feelings with a professional every week is hard enough.” Yes, agreeing to go to Feyre’s Christmas party is improvement. Slow, barely there improvement, but enough to wear her out for the rest of the month. For Nesta to fully let people into her life, to treat them as lovingly as she treats Cassian— that’s a long way away. She can’t envision it, doesn’t even know if she wants it.

Cassian must understand some of what she’s thinking, because he nods and backs off. He gets back up and returns to stringing lights, tossing a handful of tinsel at Nesta as if to say Get back to work. 

She stands and obeys, thinking their not-argument is officially over when Cassian says, “You’re wrong about one thing.”

She looks up from where she threads tinsel through fir leaves. He doesn’t take his eyes off his work as he says, “You do have a family. And deep, deep down, you care about them as much as I care about mine.”

***

Nesta catches Emerie’s eye as the dark-haired beauty walks into the pub. Raising a hand and waving, she gestures Emerie over to the booth she’s sitting in. 

“Look what I found,” Nesta says with a hint of pride, pointing to the redhead sitting beside her. “A third girl for girl’s night!”

“I was kidnapped,” Gwyn speaks up. “Jumped on the way to my car.” She’s out of her usual hoodie and in a tight-fitting blouse, looking stunning even while seeming out of place in the dim bar.

“She came here consensually,” Nesta retorts. “Emerie, this is Gwyn. We met at therapy.”

Gwyn offers Emerie an awkward smile.

Emerie slides into the booth across from them with raised brows. She looks between Nesta and the new girl and back again. “You invited her here? All by yourself?” she asks.

Nesta nods firmly.

Emerie breaks into a wide grin and reaches over the table to grab Nesta’s hand. “I’m so proud of you!” If Emerie were anyone else, she’d be squealing in excitement, but Emerie does not squeal.

Nesta waves off her friend’s praise, though a part of her wants to beam at it, too.

Gwyn glances between the two of them with slight amusement. “I mean, it’s not that impressive,” she says. “She came on a bit too strong, probably a five out of ten on the asking-someone-out scale.”

“‘A bit too strong’ is all you’re gonna get with Nesta,” Emerie says, lifting her hand to order drinks. “She’s all-or-nothing, and most people would pray she doesn’t give them her nothing.”

Nesta doesn’t know if that’s a compliment, but she supposes there are worse things that could be said about her.

“So, Gwyn, what do you do?” Emerie leans forward. “All our friends are law students and it’s starting to get boring.”

Gwyn goes off about her librarian job as Nesta orders their drinks, and Emerie rests her chin in her hand and listens eagerly. Christmas music plays softly in the background and snow flurries gently outside. Nesta thinks she can’t be doing that bad in life, if she’s managed to carve out this little slice of happiness for herself.

***

a/n: i promise shit actually happens next chapter! we're getting christmas with nessian and the ic in the same room for the first time

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