#i just have a lot of feelings about this apparently

[kitzenvoncatzen]

It was very obviously not meant to be a shrine. It just happened to be mostly symmetrical and with an offering of one Chicken Strip Combo Meal from the chicken place.

I should describe the actual requirements for the shrine that I made.

It needs 2 crystals, one on either side of the offering, and a collection of glass pillars behind the offering, and a bunch of other tiny less important things that I happened to have a bunch of. Like bottle caps and wrappers that just happened to fit the requirements.

I was sitting down at my computer with a good meal I just bought with my own money and I was about to watch the newest episode of the stupid game show.

The rest of my floor isn't actually better than the table that only had room for the "offering".

The "crystals" were literally just rocks that I thought looked cool and stole them because I like having rocks for some reason. They apparently have crystals inside of them. Both of them. The glass pillars are empty soda bottles. (I like glass bottled soda a lot more.)

There are other gods that might answer to their own offering rituals, but this one was the only one that would actually answer to a Chicken Strip Combo Meal. The rest want much more to actually be contacted.

I'm a full 5 minutes into the show before I actually reach for my food. Which is gone.

I look around and immediately find some guy in full bright face paint and cool jagged symbols in my room, standing behind me, watching the show with me.

My first instinct is to punch him in the face. (I definitely would have recognized any of the other gods.)

It feels like hitting a rock wall.

"So I assume this wasn't intentional. About what I expected, actually." He speaks, the voice doesn't really match the figure standing before me.

"WHAT??" I shout. I look at my hand. Punching was actually a horrible idea because of the small scrape on my finger that got slightly more scraped.

"I can explain more later but right now I need your help. There are some things only mortals can do." He grabs my arm, and light surrounds us. A similar thing happens when other gods return to wherever they come from, but I was experiencing it from inside, in person, and it was slightly different. I couldn't tell if that's just how it is when you're inside it, or if the shade of the light was actually slightly different to the videos I've seen, but it seemed a bit weird compared to them.

"WHAT? WHERE ARE WE?" I shout again. He immediately covers my mouth with his equally cold, stony hands. (Which isn't actually as good at muffling speech as flesh is. I think. I can't bite through it like flesh though.)

"Gods fight all the time, but only mortals can actually kill gods." He whispers. The trees around us are completely still, and even the strong wind does not move a single leaf on them. They all appear to be made of some kind of stone, like he was.

"What does this have to do with me?" I whisper, still muffled by the hand. I had already accepted my most likely fate, death, which is usually the fate of people who get this involved with the gods without any good preparation. "No, wait, you're not saying..."

"I need you to kill a god."

[ Yeah

I did another one.

It's been a while. ]

{Check out my other things at this site please I need feedback.}

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

[rosieofcorona]

Mythal, Solas, and Lavellan (An Analysis)

Please be aware that this post contains spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard, so now is the time to click away until you have finished the game. All opinions shared here are just opinions, and are not intended to be presented as fact. 💕

So, this is sort of an abridged version of what could be (and may someday be) a more in-depth analysis, but I just want to offer a different perspective on the Mythal vs. Lavellan discourse when it comes to Solas’ love and loyalty. I've included a lot of supporting evidence from the game, and wanted to share some of it for your consideration: I want to start in the Lighthouse, for the folks who are upset that we didn't see Lavellan amongst Solas' memories. I think this is for the best, all things considered. The regrets we see in the Lighthouse are all of Mythal– taking a form for her, letting her mold him, doing things he thought were “monstrous” at her request, however well (or ill) intentioned. To me, Solas regrets Mythal nearly as a whole. He loved her, certainly, but I think it’s very apparent that he wants more than anything to close that chapter of his life and move on, which he cannot do without confronting the mistakes of his past. From my view, it’s an excellent sign, actually, that Lavellan is not among the great regrets of his life. He says to Rook that he regrets being selfish with her– but he “cherishes” his closeness with, and his love for Lavellan “more than [his] victories.” The same cannot be said of anything on those walls in the Lighthouse.

That same closeness with Mythal– regardless of whether it was romantic, platonic, familial– hurt him, over and over. Everything he did in service of that love, he regrets. He does not cherish it, at least not in the same way. I think I would’ve been offended, frankly, if Lavellan had been on those walls beside her.

Moreover, he acknowledges Lavellan’s goodness, and doesn’t really do that for Mythal, at least not here. Yes, in Trespasser, he said that Mythal was the best of the Evanuris, but we know it’s a low bar to clear. Does that mean she was evil? Not necessarily. But he also says to Rook that all the Evanuris “were monsters, in their own ways,” and moments later tells them, by contrast, that Lavellan “is a good woman.”

I don’t think it’s his love for Mythal (or even his loyalty to her) that keeps him away from Lavellan, either. He cannot in good conscience give himself what he wants most without first fixing what he broke. He doesn’t want to bring down the Veil anymore, not really. He even acknowledges the Dalish as "our people," to an elven Rook (Lavellan's influence?), and says it was a "privilege" to help them again. He says in the final confrontation that he is compelled to bring down the Veil at this point because otherwise, he has failed and wronged and harmed people for nothing– Lavellan among them. He says, more or less, that he has to see it through, has to bring back “the world [Mythal] wanted,” or else all the suffering he’s imposed has been in vain. That reads to me as a sunk cost fallacy more than an act of great loyalty. 

If we’re talking about what Solas wanted, by comparison, we see it in his codex letter to Lavellan– he says, outright, “I could have…even put my plans aside, and simply stayed with you as Solas…which is what I wanted.” His desires do not match Mythal’s, and in fact are the opposite. But again, how can he allow himself to have his own way when he does not yet feel he has righted his wrongs? 

Here we wade into murkier waters (as this could be a more personal interpretation than what was actually intended), but I think it’s fascinating that in Solas’ memory of manifestation, he tells Mythal, “I will always follow where you go.” I think this may be his original regret. I think he wishes he would’ve followed his heart (both in the moral sense, and later, the vhenan sense), rather than pledging himself to another being that “broke him,” as Mythal herself admits to doing.

And speaking of vhenan, my final note: Mythal is never anything but Mythal, to Solas. Even when she calls him “love" in his memories, he does not reciprocate. He refers to her as nothing besides her name. Lavellan is always given the title of Vhenan. He has not called her Inquisitor since before Trespasser, and even then it was because he was trying to create distance, to avoid hurting her further. But ultimately she is his heart, and he wants to follow her, and Mythal is the only thing stopping him– not because he is holding onto her, but because she is in his way.

[wonderjanga]

Sharing Can in Fact Lead to Caring

Sometimes Billy doesn’t need Solomon. Sometimes, Billy just says whatever that comes off the top of his head, it can be surprisingly helpful at times. (Billy doesn’t realize most of them are just coming to their dad figure for advice)

Such as the time Wonder Woman came to him concerned about time dilation. When Solomon explained what that meant, he had a pretty good idea of what she was talking about. Basically, she was worried about the afterword of the Justice League and her friends and how she would outlive them all. He brought her ice cream and they talked it out. In a way, he supposed he understood her. Billy couldn’t remember his mom or dad’s faces or personalities. He only had Captain Marvel to go off of and he guesses Mary, but she looks more like a young version of their mom. In the end, after much talking and trying to show he understands her worries, she seemed to be doing better.

Then, there was a talk with J’onn. The Martian had confided in not feeling at home with the humans. Not that he blamed him. J’onn had lost his home. So, Billy talked with him. Again, sort of relating. The way the Martian described missing his planet, reminded Billy of how he’d missed his parents. By the end of the talk, the Martian seemed to feel a little lighter after it.

Then, there was this kid.

Little Girl: *sitting on a bench alone*

Marvel: “Hey there, miss. Where are your parents?”

Little Girl: *stares* “There not here.”

Marvel: “Why’s that?” *sits down next to her*

Little Girl: *shrugs*

Marvel: “Well, then do you have any guardians?”

Little Girl: “I think so, but I don’t really like her. She’s mean. I don’t think she likes me or my foster siblings.”

Marvel: “Oh? You’re from foster care?”

Little Girl: *hesitantly nods head*

Marvel: “And I’m guessing you ran away?”

Little Girl: *nods again* “Are you going to tell on me?”

Marvel: “No. I ran away from my foster homes all the time.” *shrugs, doesn’t know why he’s saying this but might as well go with it*

Little Girl: “You did?”

Marvel: “Yeah. They were all terrible. And the ones that weren’t terrible were just neglectful.”

Little Girl: “What does neglectful mean?”

Marvel: “It means not paying attention to something. Like for example, I had this foster parent who would go days without coming home, leaving me and the other kids to have to feed ourselves. She wasn’t paying attention to us or our needs.”

Little Girl: “That’s sad.”

Marvel: “Yeah, it is. So, why did you run away from your foster home?”

Little Girl: “The lady who adopted me throws stuff when she gets mad. She’s mad a lot.”

Marvel: “That sucks. I had a foster home like that too. He would throw a bottles, forks, books, whatever he could get his hands on.”

Little Girl: “You did? Did you think it was scary?”

Marvel: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “You know, a friend of mine got adopted recently.”

Little Girl: “Really?”

Marvel: “Yeah, he’s been with them for about half a year now. He says they’re great. They’ve been fostering kids for a while apparently too.”

Little Girl: “That sounds nice.”

Marvel: “It is. Do you want me to ask about it?”

Little Girl: “Huh?”

Marvel: “Do you want me to ask him if there’s any spots open?”

Little Girl: *stares for a bit* “Yeah.” *stomach growls*

Marvel: “Alright, then I will. Now, how long have you been on the streets?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm… a couple days.”

Marvel: “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” *stands up*

Little Girl: “Really?” *hops off the bench*

Marvel: “Yeah. You feeling chili dogs or tacos? Those are the only two vendors I know that’ll give me something free.”

Little Girl: “Tacos, please.”

Marvel: “Alright then- uh, my bad. I never asked your name?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm it’s Darla.”

Marvel: “Darla? Alright then Darla.” *fatherly ahh smile* “Let’s go get you some food, ‘kay?”

So ya. He met Darla. She’s a sweet kid. He would need to ask Freddy more about the Vazquez situation. Hopefully, just hopefully, they could squeeze the little girl into their family.

Also, uh… I guess in this AU, Freddy met the Vazquez and got adopted because he went back into foster care for a bit for whatever reason. There, he got adopted into the family. Darla joins after him for this post to work.

[karanseraph]

Allegedly, when my dad was young, my paternal grandmother told him "all men have a dark side." I think she meant well. She was born in the early 20th century, she came over frome Ireland on boat as a child. She had a stepfather who was from another immigrant community. Families were large. There was a lot of poverty and alcohol. They were Catholic, so they also took "original sin" as a concept seriously.

I think this did my dad harm. He actually is a person who struggles with empathy. Now, it's apparent he's neurodivergent from multiple traits he has and that this probably runs in the family, but no one we knew was diagnosed back then. He views criticism as personal attacks. It's difficult for him to see difference between people (like his difference) as positive of a challenge to accept and accommodate and instead thinks (in his darkest moments) that he's broken. Or that I also am someone who needs to be fixed.

But, somehow, I'm sure from conversations most of my siblings including my brothers voted blue and genuinely are able to care about others and will try to help.

And, to clarify, my dad has done volunteer work a d actually helped some people a lot. He is in no way evil. He's human. He is a product of his time. He was indoctrinated, arguably, by nuns, and Jesuits, and the Knights of Columbus, by bullies, and every bit of 1950's US government propaganda about scary different people and the importance of conforming and being "American". He says he didn't know that he was poor as a child because everyone was like that around him. He had a moment in the late 80s where he was arguably upper middle class. But he's also one of those older people now who don't really have wealth in the oldest sense but have pension/retirement tied up in stocks market scrap and keep mortgaging their house when they need cash.

Anyway, this is long.

But what I'm trying to say is people are flawed and human and make mistakes, but they aren't born or made evil or good. I think it's more harmful to say to kids that they have darkness or sin inside them from the start than to focus on choices going forward and the possibility that when one does make a mistake they can also make amends.

So, we should try to tell kids that.

Model good behavior and choices for kids as much as we can. Communicate that humans of all ages can make mistakes. Get rid of the concept of authoritarianism and infallibility in any individual or organization. Embrace differences. Talk about our feelings when we feel hurt by another's choices or actions so we can understand or compromise.

Just do our best and be excellent to each other.

And, specifically, for those boys some are worried about - I know lack of funds can impede this - but give them lots of room to play, give them books about all different people and experiences, take them on trips to see how real people do their work, let them engage with all the dramatic play props and costumes and clothes and dolls. Let them have building toys and action figures they choose. Let them use telescopes and microscopes to shift their perspective. Let them draw and paint and write. Let them compete and measure, without focusing on the win itself.

And let all kids do those things (but above posts were about boys).

And if there's a financial struggle to provide all this, try libraries or a device that can stream old episodes of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, or Reading Rainbow, or Sesame Street, etc.

Because, going back to my dad, he wasn't really able to model the most typical social-emotional behaviours or interactions for me, but I could see Optimus Prime or Fred Rogers interact with others.

And my brothers turned out pretty OK possibly because our dad was able to provide many books but also because he decided with my mom early on that girls could play with cars and boys could play with dolls.

And how/why he decided that when he was such a product of past generations and watches a certain news channel three or four times a day now I can't explain. But he did.

So, we know, I think, how to help kids. I worked in early childcare education for a time myself. People know how to help kids. But...there's also a struggle for any service to be profitable which means the teacher-student ratios can get stretched and that teachers can get stuck with so many assessments and standardized testing requirements that they aren't just spending time with the kids.

But we know.

And, unfortunately, there are some in the world who have differing goals. Right? Like do you want healthy men who can work together with diverse groups of people in cooperating to better the world? Or do you want obedient workers? Soldiers? Slaves?

Men themselves are not the problem. Boys aren't a problem.

It's young people growing up with divisivness and poverty and war and demand of conformity and obedience, etc.

So, probably the best we can do foe young men is to try to understand that they aren't evil by nature. Probably Patriarchy hurt them. But because of that, they don't want to admit it to themselves, because that would be weakness.

We need to keep showing them that there are places for men (again, all people need attention, but above posts were about boys and men) in the society we want.

We can say it to men we know. We can say that we really liked when they did math homework with us, or played Lego with us, or played us music we liked, or organized a tabletop game, or built us a bookcase, or cooked chicken the way we like, or taught us how to draw our eyeliner, or even expressed a desire to defend us against another man. (These are just some examples from my life, yours are likely different.)

It would be nice if we didn't also have those negative influences in the world, but we do and we can't stop them overnight or by ourselves.

So, we do our best to model and encourage the behaviours we want and to protect institutions that help like our public libraries, and to ask for policies that will (actually) improve schools.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[mikkomacko]

Mob Movember

Mob Boss Nico x reader

A/n: just a little something inspired by the diva pictured above x

~~~~~~~

“So that’s like gonna be a thing now?”

Nico’s eyebrows pinch together, eyes finding yours in the bathroom mirror and he pauses, razor half way to his face and warm water running from the faucet.

“What do you mean?”

You shrug and he blinks, looking back at his reflection and biting his bottom lip to pull it taut. Then he’s dragging his razor over a smear of shaving cream on his chin, dipping the razor back into the sink to rinse it.

“You shaved a lot this week,” you decide to say, “and yet you always skip the space above your lip.”

Nico bristles at that, a petulant pout glaring at you through the mirror and you try not to laugh at him after indirectly insulting his mustache. It’s not that you hate it per se, it just looks different on him. He’s still cute, you’ll give him that. It’s impossible for him to ever not be attractive, but the mustache doesn’t have the same sexy appeal his beard does.

“Didn’t know I had to explain the concept of a mustache to you.”

“Ouch,” you hold a hand over your heart. “Mean and mustache-y.”

A sigh of annoyance huffs out of his nose, and he shakes his head just once before going back to cleaning up his jawline. “Go away,” he says, but you linger a minute longer to watch him finish shaving, eyes following the bend of his waist when he leans over to rinse off any left over bits of shaving cream.

Giving yourself a moment to appreciate his ass in those light blue jeans he wears all the time, you wonder off before he can look back in the mirror and still see you there.

~~~~

“Not you too!”

Timo frowns, looking around curiously as he slides into the passenger seat. He’s wearing an overly thick puffy coat and those stupid 5 inch inseam shorts from Lululemon that all the boys except Nico wear (much to your dismay) and you were gonna tease him about whether he’s hot or cold but the sight of his face has changed your plans.

“What?” He closed the door, immediately warming his hands in front of the vents.

“Is there like a mustache epidemic going around? What is wrong with you and Nico?”

You saw Timo yesterday, and while he had more stubble than he usually does, you didn’t think he’d be shaving it off into a mustache too. It’s been three long days of trying to get Nico’s new look to grow on you and no matter how times you kiss him, feel the scratch of his freshly shaved cheeks, it’s still not the same. You don’t like the way it tickles your upper lip but not your chin, and you don’t really like the way that you can’t kiss his nose anymore without feeling it.

But you’re trying and it’s hard. Even harder now that your bestie has apparently jumped on the train too.

“You don’t like them?” He asks, not offended but curious. You side eye him, pulling away from the curb and making your way towards the yoga studio.

“Is that why Nico is pouting?” He laughs, clicking his seatbelt. He rubs at his lame excuse of a mustache and you mentally give Nico credit for that. At least he can actually grow a really nice one, not that you’re going to say that to Timo.

“He’s pouting?”

“Uh yeah,” he scoffs, “he’s moped every day this week, Sieges said they’ve been having to talk to clients and stuff because he gets moody right away.”

You cringe, feeling a little bad about the whole thing. You didn’t mean to make Nico feel bad or like you don’t like his mustache. Yeah you don’t love it, but he’s Nico -your Nico -and everything about him is always so beautiful.

“I may be struggling to enjoy it,” you explain hesitantly, “I just am not used to it and he’s never been a mustache guy. Maybe like a day or two but he always shaves.”

“Oof,” Timo laughs, “yeah you probably hurt his feelings. Literally his biggest flex is that you think he’s so pretty.”

Groaning painfully, you thump your head against the steering wheel before pouting up at the red light. You’ve always Nico to be a sensitive person, not in a bad way or anything. He’s just never hid or pushed down feelings when it came to you, and it physically makes you ache to think that your reaction to his new facial hair made him so insecure he didn’t want to tell you.

You’ve got some major Nico loving to make up for.

~~~~

Nico is sat in the Devils booth of The Rock, hunched over the scheduling iPad as the boys mill around the bar. Jesper and Jonas are actually working it looks like, Jonas holding a ladder that has the smaller of the two men perched at the top, Jesper screwing in a new security camera. He’s got Mercer and Alex stocking the bar, and you almost laugh at the overly straight and organized bottles on Mercer’s side compared to haphazardly placed ones on Alex’s.

The Hughes boys are doing something they’re probably not suppose to be doing on the upper level, no where to be seen but definitely heard.

Timo parts from you to go join Jesper and Jonas, who look like they could use it by the way Jesper is trembling on the top rung.

You approach the booth, setting the lunch you brought for Nico onto the table alongside your greens smoothie. He looks up at you when you drop your jacket into the seat, eyes following your movement when you slide in next to him.

“Hey,” he mumbles, and something melancholy settles in the air. A bittersweet smile tugs at your lips, your heart throbbing when you take in the dejected look in his big brown eyes and the way he’s pouting.

“Hi,” you greet, reaching up brush his hair away from his face. Then you hold his cheek, brushing your thumb over the scar on his cheekbone. “I brought you lunch.”

He doesn’t bother to look interested. “Thanks baby.”

“I like your mustache,” you say quietly, tenderly pressing your thumb into the hinge of his jaw where you know he gets headaches from clenching. Like its second nature he relaxes, melting into the feeling.

“No you don’t,” he insists, licking at his pouting lips. “S’fine-“

“I do, I do like it Nico. It’s just different and I was teasing because I’m not used to it.”

Nico blinks, fluttering those stupidly pretty eyelashes at you and then two dimples sink into his cheeks. “Yeah?”

Giggling, you cup the back of his head and draw him closer to you. “You know you’re always handsome, no matter what.” You kiss him before he can say anything else, smiling when his hair scratches at your cheeks and lip.

Nico hums, reaching around to grip your hip and pull you until you’re half sitting in his lap. Then he melts back into the booth, sighing contently.

“Would you two get a room, Jesus fuck.”

You peck Nico’s lips one more time for good measure before pulling back, curling into his side and he slips his arm around you.

Nico reaches for his food, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing. The Hughes brothers have made their way down the stairs, and Mercer and Alex have abandoned the bar in favor of crowding around you and Nico.

Which in itself is a little scary, but add the thin and scraggly mustaches they all have is even worse. Desperate for a distraction, you scramble to grab your juice and take a sip, casting a glance over at Nico who’s smirking proudly. He shares a knowing look with you.

“Why are you making that face?”

You look at Jack, forcing yourself to only look in his eyes as you clear your throat. “What face?”

He points an accusing finger at you. “That face, why are you laughing?”

“M’not.”

“You are, Holtz tell her she is.”

Alex looks around helplessly and you do giggle when you realize his poor mustache is nothing but peach fuzz. “Ok now she’s laughing.”

Steadying yourself, you force your smile down. “I love this new look you all have going on.”

Almost immediately they all groan, offended and outraged and you can’t even listen to them. Hunching over into Nico’s shoulder you cackle, tears springing up in your eyes and stomach aching.

You can feel him chuckle, one hand rubbing at your back to calm you down. Finally you peel yourself off of him, wiping at your wet eyes as the boys glare at you.

“Don’t be mean, it’s for a good cause.” Mercer defends.

“What cause?”

“Movember,” Jack states proudly, “it was Nico’s idea. Good cause and we all bond over our shared ‘staches.” He strokes over his lame excuse of a mustache and Luke cringes, cheeks tinting pink.

You look to Nico. “This was your doing?”

He looks utterly pleased with himself, shrugging nonchalantly but there’s a twinkle of mischief in his features. The sight makes you giddy. What has he been up to?

The other three boys wonder up behind the rest, and you cackle again at the blonde patch of hair on Jesper’s lip and the razor burn on Jonas’s chin. Offended, they frown at you.

“S’like our new tradition,” Jesper says but it sounds more like a question as he examines Nico.

Your boyfriend beams at you. “Like last year we did no nut November,” he explains, and you roll your eyes. You hated that stupid challenge between them, and if you recall correctly, they all did too.

“Yeah and you lost,” Timo mocks, glancing at you because you know all too well why Nico lost. And Nico knows too because you can’t for the life of you keep a secret from him.

“Hey you all cried to y/n to make me lose,” Nico argues, and Timo’s mouth drops open.

“Traitor!” Jesper gasps, pointing at you. “You weren’t supposed to tell him we came to you.”

“Hey the only loyalty I have is to him,” you jab your thumb in Nico’s direction. “And his dick.”

Nico’s smirk grows, shuffling in his seat as he accepts the compliment from you. “You all went crying to her about how dry November was making me mean. And that’s why I lost.”

“Should’ve known to never trust a temptress,” Jack mutters, glaring at you. Offended, you glare back.

“Well you can’t a grow a mustache,” you hiss, “in fact none of you can. That dirt smear on your lip looks like it took twenty years to grow Jack.”

He clutches his heart, offended and looks to Nico for help. Nico takes a sip of your smoothie, gesturing for them to leave. “M’on her side. Get back to work, all of you.”

They grumble, stalking away from the table and muttering to each other as they return to their assigned jobs for the day. Shuffling, you turn to Nico.

“You’re so mean for letting them walk around like that.” You giggle quietly, and Nico snickers.

“You should see the update selfies they’ve been taking,” he whispers, pleased with himself. “Think I’ll make a collage of them and hang them in the office before I tell them it was all a joke.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this was to get back at them for last year?”

He shrugs. “You were so fucking good to me after they whined last year that I wanted it to be a surprise. And was it a good one, or what?”

You laugh again, flashing back to seeing them all standing around you earlier, so proud of their matching mustaches.

“It’s kind of cute,” you mumble thoughtfully, laying your head on his shoulder. “They all wanted to be like you.”

Nico hums in agreement. Then he’s sliding the iPad to you. “Look this over, yeah? Make sure I’ve got the schedule and times right for Thanksgiving.”

He’s so sweet, you think, looking over the calendar he’s filled in. Even when he’s fucking around and embarassing the boys, he’s given them slack for almost the whole month. And he’s even written in the day off for Friday after Thanksgiving. Instead a big red heart is drawn on the day and in his perfectly slanted handwriting is written “Family Sleepover”.

“Looks good,” you agree, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But the mustaches have to go by Thanksgiving. I am not having those in any photos.”

“Yes ma’am.”

[yanmuffins]

the way I screamed when you said you were going to write a fanfic about Phineas and Ferb reader-

giggling, kicking my feet, twirling my hair, squealing like a highschooler who just got their first crush-

aniway, more about the reader and Damian! think about the crazy adventures that the reader would drag Damian into, they way he would keep insisting that it was just so he could collect enough evidence about the crazy things reader did so he could get them busted, but deep down, they both know he was having just as much fun as reader was while blowing shit up, going into the space to steal back the moon, going into the past to see real life dinosaurs and etc

and when Batfam finds out everything, he can't deny that he misses when it was just the two of them and a new gadget Reader created to entertain them all day long

sad, sad ending... AND THEN THE SECRET OF THE PLATYPUS IS REVEALED

even the reader is shocked, but they are supportive and understanding immediately

In the corner, Batman is about to faint because seriously, how many more secrets will this family discover in the space of a week? First the only child he thought was normal in this crazy ass vigilante family turns out to be an engineering genius bordering on Bob the Builder crime lord version, and then he discovers that he has given that same child permission to build insane shit in his backyard and now, the goddamn platypus is an goverment agent and is an active member of the JL, and also, CLARK KNEW!

dear lord, i have a lot of free time (also, same anon from the previous ask, hi!)

context &. context.

hi, anon! ヾ(>ω<○)

damian and phineas! reader's relationship has so much potential!

tbh as upset as he initially is no longer being the only blood child, i don't think he would straight up bully reader. rather, he brushes them off after deciding they are, indeed, just an unworthy illegitimate child with no remarkable skills (stellar perfomance at school doesn't count. neither do all those medals, trophies and awards they won in science fairs and international competitions that they proudly display in their bedroom). he limits himself to passive-aggressive quips that go over reader's head, scowling, unwillingness to engage and be friendly.

they're not a threat to him – his position in the family is unperturbed, he still gets undivided attention from father and his other siblings while they apparently couldn't care less about the newest addition to the waynes.

until reader's first summer vacation in gotham rolls in. one day they're back at their old neighborhood in metropolis helping their friend sell lemonade and the other they're creating something called s'winter in bruce wayne's backyard. it's preposterous, dangerou, reckless, and he needs to tell his father. but then it disappears, it keeps disappearing, the family keeps missing those insane gadgets that are so obvious and he can barely stand it!

that's when he becomes glued at the hip with their sibling: the goal is to expose them to the rest of the family, obviously. he's dedicated to busting reader's summer fun at first, he still very much dislikes his sibling, the deluxe treehouse they built him is totally not cool at all, but... well. maybe they're not so bad. he won't admit it out loud, but it's impressive that they can come up with so many creative schemes and bring them to life in a day. and he's got some cool memories out of it too.

so when reader is busted, it feels... weird. now he has to share their attention with everyone else (as if sharing it with jon and your stupid friends wasn't bad enough), and the family wants to keep them cooped up at home when there's plenty of mischief the two of them could be getting up to outside!

also, yup yup yup!! this is a visual representation of bruce finding out everything, from reader to platypus. i think clark knowing everything might make him want to just go bluescreen mode.

[suzukiblu]

Day seven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems in someone who was in that situation trying to flirt with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . ‘fast’,” Kon echoes awkwardly, glancing down at their hands. Tim tries not to wince. He definitely sounds like an idiot or a prude or–whatever. Just incredibly, incredibly uncool. 

He has actually never felt less like a prude since getting to know Kon well enough to notice things like how good the bastard looks soaked in Kool-Aid, but now is just . . . really not the time for thoughts like those, yeah. 

“I, uh–I’ve never actually, um . . . with anyone, actually. Guy or not,” Tim half-admits, though it feels stupid that being a virgin is something to admit instead of just a statement of fact. Normally it wouldn’t be, is the thing, but he just really doesn’t want Kon to think he sounds lame or antisocial or . . . whatever, exactly. “I actually would literally not even know how to, uh . . . give you ‘tips’ or anything. Unless I had like, the prep time to do some research, I mean. It’s just, uh–I don't date much, to be honest. Or, uh. Pretty much at all? Like, you're definitely more experienced than I am either, uh, either way, like that's just–I don't do much of this stuff. Any of it. I have in fact gone out with exactly two girls in my life and they both were definitely, um–also the ones who were making the moves and all.” 

It's not that he never want to make a move, just usually he's too busy being way too in his own head about it or something else entirely or–

God, he is rambling so much, Tim realizes, repressing a cringe when he realizes how blankly Kon’s currently staring at him. Because it is very, very blankly, that Kon is staring at him. 

Crap. 

“Uh,” Tim says with a grimace. “Sorry. Um. If you were expecting something . . . faster, I mean.” 

Kon should definitely not have anything that fast if he’s thinking of himself as a product, Tim’s basically positive, but also that’s actually not any of his damn business, but also he definitely needs to look into Kon’s dating history just to add a few names to his list for when he finally goes supervillain and just maybe look into–

. . . Kon is still just staring blankly at him. 

Tim fails to repress the cringe this time. 

“Uh,” he attempts again. “Kon? Are you . . .?” 

Kon turns literally crimson and ducks his head, but also doesn’t actually stop staring at him. 

. . . alright then, Tim thinks. 

“I do like you. I like you a lot. Like–I like-like you a lot, if I have somehow managed to not be embarrassingly obvious about that at this point,” he tries, borderline flailing in the conversation now since Kon is apparently no longer willing to use his words and he was already not doing that great with it when Kon was using his words, and he can’t even talk with his hands or anything because he’s holding Kon’s hands like an actual grade schooler, except probably no one ever has held Kon’s hands like–no, no, he is not far enough down the supervillain pipeline to be able to finish that thought process and deal with the psychological consequences of having to not burn down the system about it, he really cannot do that at any point in the next ten to fifteen years whatsoever. “This isn't–I'm just–it's not me not wanting to . . . take some pictures, eventually. Just . . . maybe we could wait a bit on it. Stick with the streets and buildings for a little while longer, maybe?” 

He tries for a smile and also tries not to cringe again over how weak an attempt it feels like, and then has the uneasy and uncomfortable thought that actually doing anything like that isn’t even really–is that ethical, even? Even the idea of doing something like that? Kon doesn’t really know Robin all that well, no, but they’re on the same team and the same side, and they’re teammates and at least arguably friends, and Kon also doesn’t know he is Robin, and– 

“Um,” Kon says, his hands tightening just a bit around Tim’s and his face still blazingly and borderline inhumanly red as his head ducks a little lower and his mouth curves into what is, in fact, the most unfairly soft smile that Tim has ever seen on the bastard’s face. “We could do that, yeah.” 

Tim was thinking about something, probably? Which hopefully wasn’t something important, considering just how ruthlessly Kon just fried his brain out of his head. Which is not even reasonable or logical, because all Kon did was . . . well, imply he was fine taking things at Tim’s pace and not actually going to get immediately bored if he didn’t put out and was actually interested in just being together, and also did it while smiling at him like that. 

Alright, fine, Tim knows exactly why his stupid brain got itself fried. He’s still apparently embarrassingly easy, though. 

Well, that’s not exactly new information in regards to Kon anyway. 

[simpforpeterp]

stanford pines x reader

Holidays

“I should’ve had kids with you.”

summary: in which ford reminisces and thinks about what could’ve been and what once was

warnings: gender neutral reader mostly but there’s a line about you having his kids so take that as you will

word count: 1.2k

notes: halloween is over which means some festive ish things like this are coming!!

The words fell from his lips as if they held less weight than his usual late night words he shared with you.

“I should’ve had kids with you.”

He breathed the sentence into your neck as he got comfortable in the bed you share. It was a warm sigh that made your eyes widen as his arms moved around your waist.

You snap out of the tired trance you were in as you look at him. He’s an older version of the man you fell in love with at nineteen. The wrinkles by his eyes and slight signs of aging almost make you happy because he just looks so cute growing old with you.

After everything with the portal, you never thought your husband would come back to you. When Stan took over his identity, you were fake married to Stan. You didn’t kiss or do anything married people do other than taxes so it obviously didn’t fill the Ford-shaped hole in your heart.

When Ford came back, you were a wreck. Things hadn’t exactly ended well. You snapped just days before the portal incident. He had pushed you away and you saw him less and less so seeing him again brought back all the feelings of neglect and abandonment. But he slowly crept his way back into your heart, how could he not?

He still has that same sweet smile and the same eyes. So you worked it out. And now he spends more time with you because being away from you proved to him even more than before that he loved you. God, he loved you. His heart beats for you. He married you, for fucks sake.

He never thought he’d ever even get married. When his father gave him his suit for his wedding, he assumed he’d wear it to accept a nobel prize. Then there he was in that suit, promising you forever in front of all of your friends and family.

He missed you so badly while he was gone and he swore he would find his way back to you. To your arms, your lips, that smile that could kill him. He loves you.

“I should’ve settled down with you instead of going along with Bill. I should’ve given you babies and built you a bigger house. I wish I gave my life to you in more apparent ways.” He says, pressing a soft and quick kiss to your neck to really feel your presence. Your skin is soft and he breathes in again, feeling like his heart is completely and utterly safe with you.

You don’t know what to say. Your fingers freeze in his hair as you think about his words. His soft and quiet confession about what he wishes happened. And then you both begin silently thinking about what did happen. And that leads to mourning what could have been.

“I know it might be dumb but I think about it a lot. You know, what it would’ve been like to settle down with you. I think about picket fences and kids and holidays. I like Mabel’s philosophy on holidays. I like to think that’s how things would be at our house. We celebrate all holidays. Winter would’ve been especially fun for our kids, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, every holiday.” He muses.

You’re silent for a moment, just listening to him talk, feeling his words wrap around you like a warm blanket. His voice is softer than you’re used to, almost reverent, as he talks about the life you could have had together. And with each word, you feel that old ache start to surface, the one that you thought you’d buried years ago.

Being completely honest, there was a point in your life where the baby-fever overtook you. You wanted a baby with your husband. You wanted the life he described. But then you came to your senses. Ford isn’t that kind of man and you didn’t want him to be. You loved the man he was. You still do. And your heart was never swayed completely one way or the other. So you let it go and you never came back to it because you were happy.

Even now, there’s no bitterness. Just that quiet sadness, a gentle ache that’s soothed by the feeling of his arms around you, his hand gently rubbing your back as he continues.

“I can picture it so clearly, a little girl with your eyes and my stubborn streak,” He says, his voice catching on the thought. “Or maybe a boy who’d want to be just like you. Who’d look at you the way I do—like you’re the whole world.”

You can’t help but wonder if he thinks about this often, if he lets these thoughts creep in late at night, the way you sometimes do. There’s something both comforting and heartbreaking about knowing you’re not alone in that.

After a moment, you brush a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence beside you, grounding you.

“Ford,” You whisper, gently tracing the lines on his face, “You don’t mean that. It’s a nice thought. It really is. I would’ve loved to have that life with you. Kids, Christmas, fences. I would’ve had your kids in an instant if you wanted that. But you didn’t because you love your job and that’s enough for you. And you being happy was enough for me.”

He leans into your touch, eyes closing as if he’s absorbing the truth of your words.

“I know,” He murmurs. “I just…I wanted to give you so much more. More than this little cottage, more than my late-night ramblings and scars and regrets. You deserved a quieter life, one without…all the running, the danger. You deserved a less flighty husband who finds god in a cave and causes the end of the world.”

“But this is the life we have,” You remind him, gently tilting his chin up so he has to look at you. “And you’re here. That’s all I ever wanted. All those things you’re talking about—the picket fences, the holidays—they’re nice. But this is what we have, and it’s enough for me.”

His hand finds yours, fingers threading through with a familiar warmth. He looks at you for a long moment, his expression softening, as if seeing you for the first time all over again. And he feels it again going through his heart that he’s so in love with you. His heart is always gonna belong to you.

“You’re enough for me too,” He says, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a while, you both lay there in a comfortable silence, each lost in your thoughts, holding onto each other as if to prove that you’re here, that you found your way back from everything that tried to tear you apart.

“You know, maybe it’s not too late to have some of that. Maybe we don’t need the picket fence, but we could still make our own traditions. We could…we could still have holidays like Mabel would. Just you and me, celebrating everything.” He speaks up.

“Well, then, Happy Holidays, my love.” You press a quick kiss to his nose and everything in him warms for you.

“Happy Holidays, my darling.”

[iwritethingssometimes]

I'm seeing some posting about a feeling of fishiness about the recently completed US Election.

In the attempt to do something more productive than my last post, I'm gonna do an adhoc examination of how feasible I think a "rigged election" actually is, looking at a few methods that could have been used. So, to start with, what is the actual evidence here?

Most of it is... honestly vibes based, which I get, but don't put a lot of stock in, There was a lot of energy around the Harris campaign, and she had some good polls, but Donald Trump has proved nothing else in the past fucking decade, its that the polls literally do not matter for him, and he can outperform them by a hundred miles.

But. There's also some numbers.

None of this has been verified yet, and I want to make that clear, but this year has largely reported record turnout in a ton of states, especially the swing states, and yet, so far.

The number of votes seems much lower this year.

Not republican votes, not democrat votes, all votes. Hell, third party voting collapsed this year--whatever else you take from this election, this was not a case of the left splitting the vote.

Now, it's true that the vote count hasn't been completed, and it's possible that the numbers will make more sense once that's done. It's also true that the states didn't have quite the same turn-out as last year... but it was only a percentage point or two lower.

Add that to the frequent postings about people having their ballots rejected for... questionable reasons, and.

Well. It starts going from a "the moon is fake!" conspiracy to "Epstein had sex slaves" conspiracy.

But, okay, is it even possible for Trump to have faked the vote like this? People talked about it, but it was mostly in terms of legal challenges trying to overturn a Harris victory, or pulling in the supreme court to decide narrow districts. This, by all accounts, seems to be a straight forward Trump sweep.

So if there is shenanigans afoot, how could he have done it?

There's three feasible(ish) pathways, in my opinion:

Voter suppression and manipulation pre-ballot: Yeah this happened. It's also irrelevant to any possibility that the vote counts were tampered with. Look, this election was flooded with misinformation, legal suits, court cases, and election officials doing everything in their power to fuck with people's right to vote. It was filled with ballot boxes being lit on fire. Elon Musk did a fucking paid vote scheme! Of course there was voter suppression! But there always is, and although it was worse this year than many others, it wouldn't cause any numerical mismatch between turn out and votes, and there's not much that can be done now for this election. Even if someone voted because Musk slipped them $100, no court will ever be able to prove they didn't just happen upon $100 bucks and then voted for Trump.

Voting machines were manipulated: A few hours ago I would have said this was practically impossible, but apparently a bunch of election officials and cyber-security experts were sounding the alarm about this a few months ago, so, uh. That being said, I've seen people claiming that Starlink or whatever hacked voting machines, and no. No, Starlink did not hack voting machines. No one "hacked" voting machines. They weren't connected to the internet, or any wireless communication systems, because anyone with any degree of cybersecurity knowledge will tell you that's how you create an insecure system. Now, it's not impossible, technically speaking, than Elon Musk or fucking Russia managed to hire engineers and somehow bribe enough officals to get access to the machines and install hardware that would allow external access, but in that case we live in a Bond movie and somehow have bigger problems. So, if the voting machines themselves were compromised in any technological way, it would have required direct, physical access, which should be basically impossible, unless...

Ballot officials fucked with the vote This is the one I think is plausible. Basically, in this case, what could have happened is that various election officials at different levels of the process more or less lied about the vote count. This could have happened in a lot of different ways--they could have found reasons to reject mail-in ballots, which several states attempted to make legal, they could have found reasons to reject in-person ballots, which several states attempted to make legal. They could have, if the corruption ran deep enough to make this feasible, just... not counted or reported votes that swung for Harris. They could have, if the election machines work similar to the ones up here in BC, seen the results from the machines, then called the central election office over the phone--because remember, the ballot boxes should not be connected to anything. I don't know. There's a lot of options, and it varies from state to state, because remember, each state runs their own elections, and has their own rules and procedures.

So yeah, three explanations, only one of which is really plausible.

Now, I want to be clear, I don't think this election was fraudulent. Not yet, at least, I need to see actual evidence, or this is nothing more than a theory, but I also want to be clear.

...3 makes sense.

3 would explain why urban areas seemed to be underrepresented in this election, while rural areas surged. 3 would explain a discrepancy between voter turn out and votes counted. 3 would fit the strategy Trump and MAGA loyalists have been describing for the last four years, of infiltrating the election machinery and manipulating it to their own ends.

So I'm not saying it's likely that Trump fucked with the vote, not without evidence. Not yet.

But I will say this looks a hell of a lot more plausible than any claims made in the aftermath of the 2020 election.

[we-were-beautiful]

Unraveled Ends Chapter 2

Pre chapter Shenanigans 

a/n: Sooooo long time no post but I'm here now and that's what matters. Writers block hit me like a brick wall after my last piece that I did for the riders quadrant fic exchange back in July, that piece was only supposed to be 3k in words but ended up around 7.8k. I had been working on this chapter at the same time and had roughly 2k words but after I got through the edits on the gift fic couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence much less moving the plot forward. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. Last bit of info is that we did pick up two beta readers for this story( but I am always open for more if people want to hop in). So big Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming and @curse-bearing-hips for reviewing this chapter. That said we are all still human so there is more than likely some mistakes. And a huge thanks to @whisplion for inspiring me to write this fic. Hope y’all enjoy  

Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart  

Poly!Feysand x Reader 

Warnings: None but there is angst

WC:3.1k

The next few weeks are nothing short of hell. I didn’t know pretending like nothing is wrong would be as exhausting as it has been. It was a never ending cycle of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and coming home. At work I was dancing a fine line of hiding everything from my seamstresses and sister and failing miserably. The only small mercy that I have had was that I haven’t had to see my mates. Thank the mother for that; I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing them so soon after the bond had snapped. Not seeing them however did nothing to dampen the feelings that the two of them would throw down the bond unknowingly. Deep down  I know that they didn’t mean to send those memories and feelings to me, but on a good day it makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why it has gotten worse. I was fine for a year of burying the feelings that I have for the two down.

They were so happy together, and I don’t have a place in their perfect lifestyle. I thought that I had seen them around town a lot when they were just my customers but now it felt like every time I turned around they were there. It has increased since they came in to get their outfits for Starfall designed. I swear I ran into Rhys yesterday when I went to get lunch for myself. I ran into Feyre the other night while I was getting the groceries for my sisters and me. The two of them had actually approached me a week ago while I was at the park with my baby sister. They had little Nyx with them then and it felt like someone had taken a hold of my heart and started squeezing. The babe was adorable at two years of age. He's starting to reign terror on his parents who had apparently decided he needed to run off his energy at the park. The two of them are far more friendly with people than I would have liked, but mostly that friendliness was targeted towards me. As they joined me on the bench sandwiching me between them. They ended up chatting my ear off for the better part of an hour. There brushes of hands against my body that were too well placed to be incidental. It felt like a vice clamping down around my heart as I left the park with my sister to head home. Feyre had wanted me to stay a bit longer so that she could continue talking to me about my sketches. 

The physical interactions with them weren't the worst thing though. It was the images and emotions that the two had unknowingly sent down the bond. It wasn’t unusual to get a flash of lust from one of them at any given time of the day. It was inconvenient to just get hit with the overwhelming need for someone when I’m with clients. Late at night though I get the images. Of my mates tangled up in pleasure. Sometimes it was flashes of Feyre's face screwed up in pleasure; other of Rhys’s eyes alight with lust and desire. Those nights sleep was hard to come by. A few of those nights I found myself back in the shop working on my clients orders, anything to keep my mind from lingering on the two people that didn’t know I was bound to them.  I was surprised to be receiving so much from them down the bond given that both of them are powerful Demati. I figured that they would be skilled at keeping to themselves. 

Last night was one of those sleepless nights. It was a damn near endless barrage of want and need coming from both of them. If I hadn’t known that their mating bond had been accepted between them I would have assumed that they had accepted it last night. I left a note for my middle sister in the kitchen before heading to the shop in the dead of night. Being the night court, plenty of people were milling about the streets and shops in the palace of thread and jewels. Thankfully it isn’t one of the nights we keep the shop open for those who live under the stars, I could work in peace and not be bothered by anyone. No customers, no seamstresses, no nosy sisters, and most importantly no over friendly mates or their friends. 

It was wonderful to sit in the shop and do what I love with my shadows dancing around me. The shadows had been my friends since I was a very small faeling. They were more shy when I was out in public but when it is just me they come to life and sing. I had only seen two other people like me. One was my maternal grandfather who was from a court that had long since been lost; and the other was Azriel. Grandfather was able to teach me how to control the shadows and use them to my advantage. But he also told me to keep the gift to myself. Shadowsingers had long been coveted by the courts to be used as spies; and he and my parents were worried that the former High Lord would have conscripted me into his spy network if it was ever found out. I had successfully kept it a secret for nearly 400 years. Though times like this, when the shop is closed and I have the room to myself, I let them loose. A soft smile grows on my face as I watch the playful shadows dance about the room. A few of them try to be helpful by handing me tools and instruments that I need as I work on Feyre’s Starfall gown. 

Feyre’s dress had been coming along beautifully. She had come in for a fitting last week where we were checking the fit on the mock up. The High Lady had all but begged to have a similar fabric to my own. We had more of the fabric left; thank gods for that; the last thing I wanted to do was take a trip to the Autumn court to source more. I lose track of time working on the dress; so much so that I didn’t realize the sun had risen until I heard the lock on the door turn. 

“Sis, are you still here?” Genevieve calls out. Of course she came here. “I saw your note on the counter this morning. I dropped Itty bitty off at school and brought breakfast.” 

I sigh and set my things down to make my way out of the work room. Genevieve stands in the room looking so much like our mother; hair tied up in a worn red scarf, a dark red linen shirt and comfortable leather trousers. Ready for a day at the blacksmith. In her hands she balances a bag of what I assume is the breakfast and two cups in the other. 

“Your shadows are so helpful I’m jealous.” She passes me one of the cups and I take a sniff and immediately am greeted by the comforting scent of coffee “ Were you here all night again?” 

It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice as she takes a once over of me. 

“Yes” I responded, taking a sip of the delicious coffee that she had brought. 

“Ok what is going on with you.” She cocks her head to the side “It seems like you have been stressed this past year. Well more so than normal. This is starting to get worrisome. The number of times you have left the house in the middle of the night and worked through to morning is ridiculous.”

“What’s going on? I know it's not money since I help with the books and we have two sources of income coming in.” She takes a breath. “You can talk to me Sis.” 

“Let's go into the office. The ladies should be coming in soon.” I led her into my office not wanting to state what was going on when one of my employees could walk in. Once we are in the office I gesture for her to take a seat in front of my desk. I take a seat and my chair, bones creaking as I sit on the soft leather. She fixes me with a look telling me to start talking. 

“So I met my mates.” I sigh running a hand through my hair 

“You met your mate. That's good news right.” She starts rifling through the bag of food 

“Mates. Two of them.” She stops looking up at me 

“Two. Is that possible?” Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline. 

“It is.” I lean back in my chair. “Incredibly rare but possible.” 

“So let me repeat my earlier question. That’s good news right?” 

“It’s complicated.” I bite my lower lip “The two of them are already mated. Sealed the bond and everything. But the bond only snapped for me.” 

“They don’t know.” Her voice drops in concern 

“No,they don’t.” 

“So what is stressing you out about it? You wouldn’t be leaving the house in the middle of the night over nothing?” 

“They are sending things down the bond. Images, emotions; it’s driving me crazy Gen.” 

“Shit, well can you block them out.” Mom had taught the two of us how to shield from Demati when we were younger. 

“I’ve tried; it only is able to dull it.” I fidget in my seat.  “It also doesn’t help that I keep seeing the two of them every time I go out into the city.” 

“Oh..” She hesitates “Do you mind if I ask who it is.?”  I quickly sent a few shadows out to make sure that the shop was still empty and that there were no busy bodies lurking around the shop. 

“It's the High Lord and Lady.” This was the first time I had ever said those words out loud. I guess I had thought that if I didn’t say it then I could pretend it wasn’t real and that it didn’t bother me. Gen lets out a low whistle.

“That does complicate things. I was going to tell you to grow a pair and tell them but fuck. The High Lord and Lady that… that makes things way more complex.” 

“You see why I am stressed now.” I can feel the ugly emotions filling my chest.

“Yeah, you are in the world's shittiest situation.” She lets out a sigh “It's not like you can go up to them and say hey I am your mate. Fuck I am sorry Sis.” 

I let out a wet laugh, a few tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks “ There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just got dealt a shitty hand by the mother.” 

“Are you going to…” She trails off. I know what she was going to say though. It wasn’t something that was talked about often and not in polite company. Rejecting the bond. 

“It’s an option, and I am considering it. I want to ask a few friends of mine in Day about it first though. Since it hasn’t snapped for them they shouldn’t notice but I would like some confirmation first.” It helped that I had friends in other courts that I could gather information from; and there was no better place for information than  the Day Court.

“I will support whatever decision you make. You deserve to be happy Sis, and if your happiness is achieved by breaking the bond then do it.” 

The conversation between us dies after that as she passes me a blueberry muffin from the bag. Seems she stopped by our favorite bakery before heading over here. Time seems to fly too quickly and all too soon Gen has to leave for work leaving me here by myself. Although I’m not on my own for too much longer as my employees start trickling in.

The day seems to stretch on and on as clients make their way into the shop for fittings or to pick up their orders. The dull chatter of my employees and the various customers buzzes in my ears as I methodically pull a small needle through water-like silk. It's hard to make out any distinguishable conversation from behind my office door. Today seems like one of those days when time is just suspended and I can work in peace. There is a quiet content hum from my mates bond; one of the few times that I haven't felt heightened emotions from either of them. 

A soft knock shatters the silence of the office, effectively breaking the spell of tranquility that had fallen over me 

“Come in.” My voice cracks just a bit from not using it. The door squeaks open as a familiar head of midnight hair pokes in. Violet eyes twinkle in amusement as a smile grows across his stupidly handsome face. 

“Sweetheart!” The door swings open the rest of the way as Rhysand swaggers his way into my office like he owns it. I am quick to stand from my desk. 

“High lord.” I give him a polite curtsy, slamming my mental shields up before meeting his gaze

“How many times do I have to tell you it's Rhys?” He laughs before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “ So are you ready for my fitting or should I come back later.”  

Shit… Shit shit shit. I had completely forgotten that he was on my books for his second fitting today. It wasn’t like I was completely unprepared. No his suit was ready for the fitting but I was nowhere near mentally prepared for a fitting and not having slept the night before was going to be the actual death of me. 

“No, you are fine.” I move from behind the desk “Let me go grab your suit and we will get you out of here in no time.” 

“No need to rush, I quite enjoy your company.” I cannot afford to focus on my racing heart right now. I need to get him out of this shop as quickly as possible. I move through the back of the shop with practiced ease quickly locating the High Lord’s suit hanging neatly next to the High Lady’s gown. The two pieces were works of art in themselves that compliment each other. The suit as dark as the night sky embossed fabric giving the illusion of swirling depths. The dress flowed off the hanger like liquid moonlight, the delicate silk the identical twin to my own gown. Small gems sewn into the bodice catch and reflect the light like the stars that will make their journey across the sky on Starfall. For as much as I don’t want to care about the two, these pieces tell a different story. If I wasn’t just a little bit attached to the two of them I would have passed the designs along to another dressmaker and been done with it; but now I painstakingly designed and sewn these garments for my mates. I let out a small sigh before reaching up to grab the suite. Once I get back to my office I am quick to pass the suit off to Rhys directing him to the small changing area at the back of the office. I quickly begin to route around my desk for my supplies.  

An hour, all I have to do is make it an hour and then I will be free of Rhysand for the time being. It feels like forever before he walks out from behind the curtain. It is only years of working with Rhysand that keeps me from gasping out. If the suit was beautiful on the hanger and dress form it is absolutely stunning on the male it was made for. Rhys makes his way over to the platform and mirror in the office stepping up before moving to fuss with the cuffs. 

“This is a beautiful suit Sweetheart.” He moves to pick off the smallest piece of lint on the  collar. I move to stand behind him to begin the process of adjusting the way the suit sits on Rhysand.

We continued the song and dance that we had done for many years to get the suit to fit him perfectly. I can't help the small ache in my chest as I circle around him placing pins and chalk lines where minute alterations need to be made. Rhys is beaming the whole time chatting away like we hadn’t seen each other just the other day. I can feel the long day in my bones, my hands ache from the countless hours of work. My fingertips are raw from the amount of times I have jammed pins and needles into them. While I try to appropriately match Rhys energy, it's easy to tell that he isn’t buying the act. 

“You seem tired.” He arches a brow at me as I move to pin the hem of his pants. 

“My mates kept me up last night.” A mischievous glint grows in his violet eyes.

“Oh. They kept you up .” He teased but hidden in the back of his teasing tone seemed to be a bit of jealousy… possessiveness. 

“Yeah the two of them kept sending all of their emotions down the bond last night.” I sigh looking up at him from my spot on the floor 

“Two mates…” He stumbles with his words. He hasn’t done that since he was a teen and I was helping my father with his fitting “The mother has blessed you.” 

“Blessed or cursed.” I put the pins down. 

“Cursed.” He questions

“The bond only snapped for me.” A small sad smile grows on my face.  My mental shields are intact and stronger than ever and it's not like I can tell Rhys that he and Feyre are my mates. 

“Have you told them?” He questions, holding a hand out to help me from the floor 

“No. The two of them have already sealed the bond and have started their own perfect little family.” It feels like an Illyrian has punched me in the gut as I make this confession to him “I don’t want to ruin that for them.” 

“So what are you planning to do?” He tilts his head looking at me in sympathy “ Because you seem to have wilted these past few months. 

“I have a few things I am thinking about doing. I want to seek out a few friends in Day first before committing to it.”

“Committing to what Sweetheart?” he gazes at me with concern 

“Breaking the bond.” And as those words leave my lips you can see the color drain from his face.

Tag list: @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapanigua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esposadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore

[dadbodbuck]

does the swallow dream of flying?

Rating: G | WC: 1.6k | Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Summary:

Tommy calls Eddie after he breaks up with Buck. Eddie has some choice words for him. Coda for 8x06.

{ Read it here on Ao3! }

OR read below!

“Eddie,” Tommy says, voice hoarse on the other end of the line. He sounds—if not drunk, then so heartbroken it sounds like inebriation. “I wanted to—I’m calling to say goodbye.”

Eddie’s not quite sure if he means it the way he thinks he does, but his stomach almost falls out through the soles of his feet anyway. He sits bolt upright in bed, carefully extricating himself away from Buck, who’s doing his best impression of a endoparasite (“A parasite that lives on the skin of its host, Eddie, it’s really fascinating stuff—”) and somehow latched onto Eddie’s waist with an iron grip while also being dead asleep.

What little vestiges of sleep had been clinging to him fall completely away as he steps into his own hallway, quietly hissing, “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I mean—at home?” Tommy says, confused, and okay, yeah, he’s definitely slurring his words a little, “Where else would I be?”

Eddie sighs and drags a hand over his face. “Are you going to be safe? Do I need to call someone?”

“No! No, it’s not like that,” Tommy assures him, “Sorry, I should have clarified. I’ll be okay. This is just… this is it. For us. Since Ev—since Buck and I broke up.”

“From what I heard, you’re the one who broke up with him,” Eddie huffs, “Or did I just spend the last three hours getting snot on my nice white shirt for a mutual thing?”

“This is what I mean!” Tommy insists, “He’s your best friend. I’m—I know I don’t rank that high. I just… fuck, I really enjoyed spending time with you these past six months. It’ll—it’ll always be,” a rough, shaky breath, “I’ll remember it fondly.”

Eddie feels a shocking flare of irritation, and it leads him out onto his back patio, so he knows he won’t wake Buck up. “What the fuck happened, man?”

“I had—I had to end it,” Tommy says, with a shake in his voice like a motorcycle’s death wobble, “It wasn’t going to last. If I didn’t pull the plug it would have broken me. I didn’t want to—I didn’t want it to get to the point where either one of us would get our hearts broken.”

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, neither one of you sound especially put together right now,” Eddie positively seethes, “He’s fucking gutted, Kinard. He told me—” (“I didn’t know if I loved him this morning, and then he called me Buck and I felt sick. What—what else could it be?”) “—well, he told me a lot that, frankly, I don’t think you should hear from anyone but him. And you don’t even know what you did to him because you ran! You didn’t even try—”

“Please stop,” Tommy says, sounding smaller than Eddie has ever heard him, “It’s… it’s better this way.”

“Better for who?” Eddie snaps.

“For him!” Tommy insists, “For both of us, but especially for him. I’m not the forever guy. I’m not his forever guy, and I’m not yours, either. I just want… I want a clean break. I—I want—”

There’s a sniffle, a choked-off sob, and Tommy says, “I just want to be left alone. It would hurt less if people would just leave me the fuck alone.”

“That’s a shitty excuse, and you know it,” Eddie accuses, “Tommy, listen. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, I’m saying this because—despite the fact that you’re apparently the biggest idiot I’ve ever met—I care about you. I care about you outside of your relationship to Buck. Or did you forget the fact that you were my friend before you were his boyfriend?”

“So, what,” Tommy says, irritation seeping into his voice, “You want to keep talking to me? I know how that goes. You’ll text me every once in a while, we won’t hang out if Buck’s going to be there, so you’ll lose interest and our fun trips and sparring sessions will be fewer and further between, and it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt worse than this. Why do you think I’m doing this, Eddie? I’m doing this because it’s the only way I can keep myself sane.

“You want to know why? You want to know why I broke up with him? Because I woke up the morning of our anniversary and realized I was falling in love with him. I haven’t been able to eat. I haven’t been able to sleep. I—I realized I would let him do anything to me, and that’s not something I ever want to feel again. So I couldn’t. There—there’s your fucking answer. I broke up with him because a little heartbreak is better than ever letting myself get hurt like that ever again.”

The words kind of prickle at some sense in the back of Eddie’s brain. The anger fades a little, and into something a lot more like concern. “Hurt like what, Tommy?”

“I don’t—I don’t know how to tell someone no once they’re in my life like that,” Tommy confesses through gritted teeth, “Maybe it’s my dad’s fault, maybe Don’t Ask Don’t Tell’s fault, maybe it’s just me. Every relationship I’ve ever been in has ended in me making the same mistake. I stayed too long, I let them—I let them believe I wanted to marry them, or I let them take out their anger on me, or I—I—other stuff. Evan—Buck doesn’t deserve that.”

“You’re right,” Eddie acquiesces, “He doesn’t. He deserves a partner who can communicate openly with him. Which you had been doing. You’re capable of being open, Tommy. You did it before.”

Tommy pauses on the other end of the line. “I—I don’t know what to do, Eddie.”

“Did you want to break up with him?” Eddie presses.

“No,” Tommy says, easy as breathing, “Of course not. I want him around for the rest of my life. But that’s… selfish.”

“And breaking up with him because you don’t want to talk through something difficult and scary is so altruistic,” Eddie counters, “You know, there’s this thing Buck says about love—you don’t find it, you make it. I think he heard it on a scene we were at years ago. From this old gay couple, been together for decades and decades.”

Tommy’s quiet on the other end, and then Eddie hears the hitch of his breath. Tommy is sobbing, silent and restrained, but so hard the exhalation of breath sounds nearly painful.

(“I’m starting to think the curse wasn’t just Billy Boils. Maybe it’s me—I mean, I move into Abby’s place, and she leaves me. I pick out an apartment with Ali, and she leaves me. Taylor moves in, and she leaves me. And now this? I can’t… Eddie, I can’t keep doing this. I’m—maybe I’m just the guy who’s good for a fun time, not a long time. I—what am I doing wrong?”

“Buck, you’re not doing anything wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you think—do you think you could ever fall in love with me?”

“I think if I wasn’t this way, I already would have.”)

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Tommy,” Eddie says, “But I really think you should talk to him. Tell him where your head’s at. Buck’s really good at—at understanding why you hurt him, and he’s even better at forgiving.”

“I—I—I can’t—”

“You can,” Eddie insists, “So pull yourself together, do some box breathing, get some sleep, and come over to my house tomorrow. I’ll make my hangover cure. I’ll lock the doors if I have to.”

Tommy’s quiet, which Eddie interprets as a fully-blown panic attack.

“If you don’t, I will call Athena Grant,” Eddie threatens, “You don’t want to know the things she’s willing to do for Buck. I’ve seen her break at least three laws with my own eyes.”

This, at least, gets a laugh out of Tommy. “Okay—Jesus, yeah. What time?”

“If you’re not over here by nine I’m sending the cavalry,” Eddie says primly, “And bring flowers. Nobody’s ever gotten Buck flowers before.”

Tommy takes a slow, shaky breath out. “Thanks, Eddie. You didn’t—you didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“Everyone always says Buck has a habit of worming his way into your heart, but nobody ever talks about me,” Eddie grins, “You’re stuck with me now, Kinard. Rain or shine. Even when you’re the stupidest motherfucker on the planet.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m on my way,” Tommy says, “I’ll—I should go eat some carbs and drink water now.”

“Take care of yourself, man,” Eddie says, “And don’t you ever call me to say goodbye again. Or break up with Buck like that. Also—call him Evan. It’s fucking weird to hear you call him Buck.”

“Okay,” Tommy acquiesces, quiet. “Damn. I was so worried about falling in love with Evan that I didn’t even realize I already loved you.”

“I’m sneaky like that,” Eddie says, “I’ll see you tomorrow—or else.”

(The next day, Tommy knocks on the door at nine sharp. He hasn’t changed out of his pajamas, his hair is a mess, he looks too gaunt and the bags under his eyes could fit a small country. But he’s holding a bouquet of wildflowers.

“I got this one because they’re the same color as your eyes,” Tommy says to Buck, who stands in the living room with his mouth ajar.

“What’s going on right now?” Buck says, eyes darting over to Eddie suspiciously.

“I’m going on a walk,” Eddie says, putting his sunglasses on his forehead and twisting at the hips to pop his back, “Don’t fuck on any of my furniture.”)

[shadowmaat]

BoTh SiDeS

I think part of the problem I'm having is that I can't understand the antivoter mindset. Why is Palestine the ONLY issue that matters? Yes, genocide is bad, and yes, Palestinians have a right to live in peace, but so does everyone else.

There are other genocides taking place, too. There are devastating natural disasters around the world. There are outbreaks of disease. People starving. People being oppressed and killed. People here in the US are dying, too. From poverty. From police brutality. From food-borne illnesses brought about by lax regulations. Life here is so expensive that it's near-impossible for "average" people to live in any kind of comfort, and forget health care. Or housing. Education is a shambles and budgets keep getting cut back. The farmlands need help. Everyone needs help.

But the only issue that matters is Palestine. And since both candidates "support" Israel, then it's impossible for a morally pure and just person to vote for either of them. Because genocide. There's no "lesser evil" because both sides are equally bad.

Even if you accept that blatant fallacy, why is that the only thing that matters? Why doesn't it matter who is going to do more to protect Black people? Or queers? Why don't immigrant lives matter? Or education? Cost of living? I could go on and on, but apparently all of that is irrelevant because of Palestine.

And it doesn't matter that a lot of Palestinians didn't want Trump in charge. It doesn't matter that a lot of them don't care either way. All that matters is that the self-righteous left-left-leftists can feel better about their choices. Because genocide. But only Palestinian genocide. Those other ones are bad, too, but they aren't as important as Palestine. Because Palestine. In a conflict that has been going on for decades, this is the sole thing that matters. Let the whole world burn as long as people out there know that a bunch of left-left-leftists didn't vote for genocide supporters.

They just keep parroting the same line. And the more I hear it, the less I believe it. Because it obviously isn't just about Palestine. Or genocide in general. And I think they got the outcome they desperately wanted. Without having to sully their purity by voting.

Except, y'know, none of them are morally pure. Or good. Or just. And the rest of us know it.

[drdemonprince]

Heck, I was just wondering about catastrophising. I've seen a lot of it these past days that makes me glad I don't really do social media anymore, because hot damn. But people I actually know, and have a rapport with, have gone absolutely mental and it hurts to see them take a running leap off the deep end into catastrophising. (Including spouting conspiracy bullshit about controlled opposition...) I guess it's the shock and this is them trying cope poorly with it, but damn, it hurts to see and is so fucking unproductive and draining.

it drives me fucking nuts and makes me so anxious. I think the nature of how social media works (and the advent of the 24 hour news cycle that came before it) means that people are especially unskillful in stopping rumination at this point in human history. people lock on to unproductive thought cycles really badly and if anything it's socially encouraged. I think all you can really do is step aside when people's explosiveness is getting to you -- it's been getting to me a lot these days. When loved ones spiral at me I try to let them get it out of their system and then find my space.

I've been keeping myself mentally busy by reviewing a recent journal article on global transmisogynistic attitudes that I'm going to write an essay about next week, and that's been helping me feel like I'm doing something useful to others while also keeping my mind engaged. It's a really impactful study I'm excited to share with a more lay audience, because it demonstrates so clearly that transmisogyny is its own unique bias that is independent from & more severe than prejudice against trans men, but it also has key flaws because its author is a cis woman with apparently no knowledge of the theories of transmisogyny that trans femme scholars have put out. Anyway, it's good to have things we feel capable of working on and important we find our niches for making a difference.

[sunnie-angel]

A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out

Part 1: Unexpected Faces in Familiar Places

fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: jay makes a new friend, now if only she could be something more... tags: sexual harrassment, threats of violence, idiots in love, flirting, swearing, sexual tension, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, fingering rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 4.7k a/n: enjoy! i've been having a really shitty week (even before the election) so i scrapped my original intention to only post once it was fully written and decided to just share this with you all

Jay Todd has the shittiest day to cap off the shittiest week in what feels like forever. Her ribs ache from a hit on Monday that’s still not fully right and she spent most of the day chasing down one of her accountants that had the sheer fucking nerve to try and steal from under her nose. Her knuckles are bloody, she’s on the verge of a stress headache, and all she wants is to drink her goddamn drink in peace. Apparently that’s too much to ask for because she gets a call from Cala down at one of her bars about out of towners harassing the guests and now that just won’t do at all.

Jay bursts into the bar, door hitting the wall with a crash, and oh fuck she forgot her helmet at home so she’s gonna have to do this as Jay, without the weight of the Hood’s legend behind her. Taking a deep breath she squares her shoulders and swaggers in. Zeroes in on the two chucklefucks have that cornered a poor girl sitting at the bar. Notes the way she’s hunched over and pulling down the hem of her skirt to hide her skin from lecherous eyes. Cala buzzes around the scene trying to divert their attention away from poor little miss unlucky but it doesn’t work.

“–m not alone,” Jay hears you say as she strides towards the bar. “I’m waiting on a friend.” 

“That so,” the taller of the two men leer. “Well she can just join us too. Plenty of room for more.” The shorter man makes a crude gesture at his crotch and Jay sees red.

“There you are!” She calls out, shoulders past the men without even acknowledging their presence. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was a real bitch. Did you already order our drinks yet?” You look up at Jay with gratitude and something suspiciously like tears shining in your eyes. Fuck. You’re pretty.

“No I– I didn’t know if you were planning on driving so I just waited,” you play along. 

Jay goes to take the seat next to you but shoulder slams into a body. She turns and raises a single disdainful eyebrow that she knows for a fact has made grown men cower before.

“You’re in my seat,” she says, low and bored. The man’s face starts to go a horrible shade of red that clashes terribly with his hair.

“So you think you can just butt into a private conversation, bitch?” He snarls, spittle flying.

Jay very conspicuously wipes the front of her leather jacket with a bar napkin. Looks him up and down and smirks.

“I think your conversation was over 30 seconds after you opened your mouth. I bet a lot of things are over in 30 seconds with you,” she tells him coolly.

He opens his mouth to respond, vein pulsing in his forehead but the cock of a shotgun stops him. Cala, blessed Cala, had finally had the distraction she needed to grab the shot gun from under the bar and she is using it to maximum effect.

“Out!” She thunders, waving the shotgun in the men’s faces. “Out and don’t you ever come back. This is one of the Hood’s bars, we’re under her protection and there’s gonna be hell to pay for this.”

Enraged the larger one goes to yell back but the shorter one grabs at his shoulder. Whispers at him to look around at all the hostile faces, the other regulars getting to their feet and cracking their knuckles. Tails between their legs the two nuisances scamper out.

Jay nods at Cala and she calls out “Next round’s on the house!” to the cheers of the room.

Job taken care of, Jay goes to leave when a hand around her wrist, just catching her under the hem of her jacket, freezes her in place.

“Wait!” you call. She turns to look at you properly, the wobble of your lip and the shortness of your skirt from where you’re no longer tugging it down. “Please? I just– I’m worried they’ll be waiting outside for me. I was supposed to meet a date here but they bailed on me and now I have to wait for the next bus to come. Would you stay with me for a bit? Please? I’ll– I’ll buy you a drink for the inconvenience.” And well, Jay always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.

“Sure,” she says, slinging herself lazily back into the bar chair. “It’s no inconvenience but I’ll take that drink. Whoever he is, he’s gotta be mad for standing a pretty girl like you up.”

“Oh um,” you fluster at her words. “Thanks?”

Cala sets down Jay’s usual order for when she’s driving in front of her and refills your drink. Waves off your fumbling with your wallet with a “It’s on the house, chérie. Our apology for the bad night. Besides,”  she nods at Jay “the Boss Lady would not let you pay if you tried.”

You grow more flustered at that and Jay rolls her eyes at Cala’s interfering. She lays a hand on your bare forearm to get you to stop tearing the napkin in your hands to shreds.

“You’re not in any trouble honey,” she says, voice low and soothing. “Just needed a little help, that’s all. Now my name’s Jay and I own this little establishment. Why don’t you tell me a little something about yourself too?”

You stutter and start through your own self-introduction, mascara long eyelashes fluttering at all the attention. Jay’s just so goddamned tempted to press her thumb into the hollow underneath your eyes, see if that’s enough to make the gathering tears of relief spill over. Wants to see your puffy bitten lips wrapped around her fingers rather than your straw. Getting you to talk about yourself seems to work though, familiar territory slowly evening you out. You’re surprisingly witty when you’re not flustered, someone fun to have a conversation over beer with. Time just gets away from under you two, Jay too enthralled with the way your hands move as you tell a story, you too drunk under her attention to bother looking at the time.

A stray notification catches your attention, interrupts your story about how this bar wasn’t even in your bottom five. You roll your eyes at the sender name.

“Jerry,” you answer Jay’s inquisitive look. “Apologizing for standing me up, for all the good that’ll do.” With a flourish you tap at your screen, smile and say “Blocked.”

Jay can feel the corners of her eyes crinkle up in return, simple joy and approval for you cutting the trash out of your life. Not that she’s really entitled to an opinion on it. Your smile lasts a half second longer before suddenly descending into panicking, fumbling out your phone and chanting no no no under your breath.

“I missed the last bus,” you breathe out, eyes wide. Jay’s brain stutters at that, there’s no way you’ve been talking together for four hours. Cala catches her eye and jerks her head up at the big clock hanging over the bar. Fuck. It really has been four hours.

Jay knocks back the last of her beer and stands, extends a hand out to you to help you hop off the bar stool that’s just the wrong side of too tall. Even in your heels Jay’s still got quite a few inches on you.

“C’mon,” she says. “It’s my fault you were out so late, I’ll give you a ride home.”

She leads you outside to where her bike is parked, your palm still in hers.

“I don’t have an extra helmet so you just take mine okay?” She says, putting it on you.

“We’re– we’re going on that?” you squeak out, surprise rendering you docile.

“Yep,” she answers, already straddling the bike, thighs flexing. “Hop on and hold on tight.”

Jay more feels than hears your scream as she revs the engine and takes off, corners maybe just a little too fast to be anything other than showing off. Too soon she pulls up at your front door and already she mourns the feeling of your arms wrapped around her middle. She gives you a hand to help you off the bike again and nearly buckles at the brief glimpse of the black unlined lace panties she sees under your skirt as you swing your leg over the bike. The two of you stand there facing each other, moment stretching out until a car backfires a few blocks over.

“Well, I guess I should get going, “ Jay tells you reluctantly.

“I’ve got work in the morning,” you respond, still not moving. “Wait! D’you want my number or something so we can do this again? Not the first bit obviously, but maybe drinks? Maybe coffee next time?”

And Jay, Jay doesn’t really have a phone besides a collection of burners but for you she’ll keep one on her. “Could always use another friend,” she says slowly, hands her phone over to you anyway. Grinning, you see her off into the night, taillights dissolving into darkness.

Jay calls first, asks about coffee with too much casualness in her voice. Your ensuing enthusiasm sets to right the last of her worries that you’d only offered out of obligation and she sets about monopolizing as much of your free time as she can get away with. Takes you to the movies, to museums, to lunch. Lends you her sweater, her umbrella, her helmet. Actually thinks about buying a second one with how much use you’re getting out of hers. Bitches with you about assholes at work – not that she gives you the full story – and bemoaning the state of customer affairs. Makes you dinner at her apartment and makes a spot for herself on your couch. Worms her way into every corner of your life without regret because you’d tell her if her presence was unwanted. Right?

Leave it to Jay to come back from the dead and still fall in love with a straight girl. Dick teases her about how far she’s willing to bend over backwards for ‘just a friend’ and Jay has to show her teeth and snap back that at least she has some. Has to cover up for the fact that her sanity is hanging by a goddamn thread thinner than that single string that had tied the open sides of your top together that one afternoon, revealing bare skin and the hint of a breast if you leaned just right. The way she almost walked into a wall when she realized you weren’t wearing a bra the first time she came over to your place. How she’s come with the image of your tear-stained face, fingers buried in her cunt. It’s fine! Jay’s fine. Eventually she’ll learn to stop lusting over her darling best friend who looks up at Jay with such sweet trusting eyes, unaware of what an awful lecher she is.

A gala invitation has Jay wishing she could shoot lasers with her eyes and incinerate it. Her eye twitches with annoyance and you snatch it up out of her hands before she can stop you.

“Oh what’s this, a party?” you ask, hair falling down the nape of your neck in a way that has Jay itching to brush it aside and kiss your spine.

“A stupid one,” she answers, not really paying attention.

“But you’ll have to get all dressed up for it! Please, please can I come over and watch you get ready? You never get dressed up,” you pout.

Even with your whining and pouting, Jay can’t help but think she’d still have a better time at the gala with you by her side to distract her from pointed glances and whispers. She sighs. Wait.

“There’s a plus one on that invite,” she tells you nonchalantly, studying your face in her peripheral vision. “You could come if you want, get all dressed up too.”

You stiffen at the question. “You really mean it?” you whisper, hardly daring to breathe.

“Course, but only if you want to,” she offers. You squeal, clutch the envelope to your chest and tackle her.

“It’s short so I’ll probably have to rent a dress and oooh I need to think about makeup, maybe a bold lip? Oh! And I can have another excuse to wear the Jimmy Choos...” you babble in her arms.

“You hate the Jimmy Choos,” Jay reminds you. “Always complain they pinch your feet.”

“Duh,” you tell her, pushing yourself up. “But they make my legs look like sex so I’m wearing them.” Jay has to swallow a couple of times at that, lost in the last time you’d worn them out clubbing and dragged her with you. Your legs had looked like sex, miles of long yummy skin only ending at your barely there mini dress. You prance around the room pulling down dishes for dinner and Jay sighs, melts back into the couch cushions as she listens to you chatter a mile a minute about how excited you are.

Jay’s really, really regretting her impulsivity by the time the gala rolls around a few days later. In all her excitement about not going alone for once, she’d forgotten that this meant she’d be going with you. With you, all dolled up and mouth-wateringly gorgeous.

You knock at her door earlier than she’d expected from you when a fancy event is involved and has to do her very best not to drop her jaw on the floor. Gorgeous green silk pools around your breasts in a daring cowl neck, the fabric clinging to your curves, draped to exaggerate them. Skims the plush sides of your hips before falling straight to the floor, a daring slit revealing the warm bare skin of your leg ending in those heaven sent Jimmy Choos. Jay stares, knows she stares for a beat too long but there is quite literally no force on earth that could tear her away. You start to squirm under her attention, still standing half in her doorway.

“That bad, is it?” You laugh self consciously, start to cover your cleavage with your hands. “I knew it was too much.”

“No, no it’s just enough,” she rasps, standing back to let you in. You brush past her so close she can smell your perfume, can tell you’d broken out your special occasions scent in the nice glass bottle. “I just need to fix my tie and do my hair and then we can go.”

“Do you need the tie?” You hum, stepping into her space. Grabbing a hold of one of the loose ends, you tug it out from where it’s tucked under her collar and drape it over the couch. Your fingers come to her throat and slowly undo the buttons there until only a single button or two above her waistcoat remains done up. Satisfied with your work, you spread the material flat under your palms, right over the swell of Jay’s breasts. “I think you look really nice just like this,” you confess to her.

Jay can barely breathe as she says “Fuck the tie, never liked ‘em anyway.” Your slow smile is worth it.

“Can I do your hair too?” You ask shyly.

“Don’t see why not, I was just going to do a ponytail,” Jay shrugs. Delighted you push her down onto the couch and start pulling bobby pins out of your purse. “Wait did you plan this?” She asks.

“A girl should always be prepared for the best outcome,” you tell her primly as you stand behind her and finger comb her riotous hair.

Quickly you separate out a deep side part and Jay memorizes the feeling of your hands in her hair. Hands twisting and pinning, you’re done in only a few minutes, handing her the little mirror out of your clutch to admire your work. Softly Jay touches your work, the way you’ve slicked back one side of her hair and made the waving curly mess look artistic and purposeful.

“Thank you,” she says, making eye contact with you in the mirror. She means it, means it for more than just fixing her hair but for everything else you’ve done since stumbling into her bar and her life all those months ago.

“It’s nothing,” you tell her, hands suddenly occupied with the mechanism of your purse. “We should probably get going, right?”

Jay drives the two of you to the venue in a really nice car you’ve never seen before. She waves away your questions with a tight, “My dad won’t even notice it’s missing.” She parks at the end of the red carpet and the doors haven’t even opened yet but you can already see the camera lights flashing. You look at her, suddenly nervous because you’d vastly underestimated how important this event was. She turns to you and smiles, grips your hand over the car console.

“Hey,” she says, all softness. “Just stick with me and you’ll be fine. I’ll head off the vultures, you just hold onto me and enjoy the canapes, okay?”

You nod, and then suddenly she’s opening up your door, hand extended to help you out. The lights are blinding, flashing so fast the afterburn never gets any time to dissipate. Pasting on a smile you cling to Jay’s strong arm, rock solid even under all her suit layers. Paps shout and scream at you to look their way and you can barely hear them over one another.

Eventually the two of you make it through the front doors of the hotel and you gasp like you’ve been drowning. Rubbing your shoulders Jay moves to cover you, cuts off the private moment from prying eyes that seek and skitter.

“Is it always like that?” You gasp. Fighting to regain your balance.

“Unfortunately,” she says with a rueful smile. “But that’s the worst of it over, now we can really enjoy the night.” Gallantly she offers you her arm and you accept it gratefully, her elbow brushing up against the swell of your breast as you walk.

She introduces you to the night’s hosts – her family – with a whispered apology in your ear. Jay is secretly, privately glad that you don’t notice Dick’s eyes lighting up with interest in you as you come in to view. She’s very careful to stamp that light out with a scowl and pantomiming slitting his throat. He’s all charm and smiles when he’s introduced to you though Jay still stomps on his toes for good measure. She doesn’t know what possesses her to, but she wraps a proprietary arm around the small of your back as she steers you around the room. Helps you to crystal flutes of champagne that make your nose twitch at the carbonation and warns you off the most disgusting canapes.

Jay has just chased down the waiter carrying the mushroom and cheese quiche bites you’d fast declared your favourite when the two of you get roped into a very stilted conversation with some of the fat cats the Waynes are currently trying to drain dry, for charitable reasons of course. She’s tuned out the conversation while she piles all the best looking bites onto a plate for you, horrifically uninterested in whatever Mr. Harold J. Carson, esquire had to say about the Texan economy. She cottons on to something being wrong as your hands tense up around her arm and your laugh gets ever more brittle.

“That’s a very kind offer Mr. Carson–”

“Harold, please,” the great mustached walrus harumphs.

“–Mr. Carson,” you bravely soldier on. “But I’m here on a date and I hope you’re not implying that I’m the type of woman to two-time someone.”

He turns an ugly shade of puce and sputters at the implication, society matrons chuckling behind their glasses at his terrible blunder. Sensing an opportunity, Jay grabs you by the arm and starts leading you away.

“I do think our presence is needed by my family elsewhere,” she says, vowels Diamond District clipped. Her grip around your fingers is strong, tighter than it’s ever been as she leads you down a hallway and into an unused meeting room. Her breaths are coming heavy as she drops your arm like she’s been burned, deposits the plate on the empty table. Jay knows if she speaks now, her voice will shake and she will not have that. FUCK. Fuck, she was supposed to have this under control by now. She’s not your keeper, she’s not gonna stand between you and happiness but fuck it hurts to be used like a ticket into someone else’s bed.

“Jay,” you ask cautiously. “Are you okay? I really wasn’t going to take him up on his offer, I’m telling the truth, promise.”

“Why’d you come with me as a friend when you were already invited as someone’s fucking date?” Jay spits out, unable to contain her jealous anger and pacing to try and burn it off.

“But you invited me,” you answer her, voice trailing off in confusion.

“You just told Mr. Texas Oil Man that you’re here on a date,” Jay says, voice tight and frustrated at having to spell this out for you. “And we–” she gestures sharply at the two of you “–are not on a date.”

Your face falls, voice thin and hurt. “We’re not?” you ask softly.

Jay has to stop pacing because wait what.

“You– you thought this was a date,” she says slowly. “You got all dressed up and wore the heels you hate because you wanted to look good. For me.” You hug yourself tightly and nod, gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. “But you don’t even like women?” And it’s less a painful fact she knows now and more of a question. 

“We met because my date stood me up!” you exclaim.

“Yeah, Jerry,” Jay says, not sure where this is going. “Fuck that guy.”

“Gerry short for Geraldine!” you practically howl. “I’ve been practically throwing myself at you ever since, I thought you were just being nice and not saying anything to hurt my feelings,” you yell at her. “I thought– I thought you were finally giving me a chance tonight.” You pant, chest heaving as you reveal this more vulnerable truth.

“Oh,” she says stupidly, suddenly forced to re-contextualize her entire life for the past few months. You dash an angry hand at your tear eyes and turn to go.

“It was my mistake,” you tell her voice thick with emotion.

And fuck. Jay’s not about to let the best thing that ever walked into her life just walk right back out. Not without a fight. Eating up the distance with her longer legs, she reaches out and gently clasps your wrist. Turns you around and pins you the door by it, forces you to look up at her with wide teary eyes.

“Oh sweetheart,” she croons and you shudder. “Bet you’ve been feeling like I’ve been treating your real raw lately.” She cups your face in her hand, smoothes her thumb over the high plain of your cheekbone. “Why don’t you tell me what you were hopin’ for with your one big chance, tell me how tonight was supposed to go.” Jay nuzzles the side of your cheek, inhales the sweat and desperation rolling off your skin.

“We were– we were supposed to dance,” you confess, head falling back against the door. 

“We can still do that,” she says, curling her fingers into your hair and pulling. She grins at your swift inhale.

“We were gonna dance an’ then, then you were gonna take me home.” You breathe out, pupils blown wide with hunger.

“Was that it baby girl?” She asks. “Playing it a little safe for your one night fantasy, weren’t you?” Jay lets go of your wrist to rest her hand on your shoulder, large hand pressing down on your collarbone.

“Was gonna kiss you goodnight,” you whimper, shivers running across your skin. Slowly, so slowly you can make out the ticking seconds hand of the big clock on the wall, Jay leans in and carefully slots her mouth down over yours. Sucks gently on your bottom lip before releasing it with a sigh.

“Like that?” Jay asks. “You were just hoping for a sweet little kiss on the mouth?” Her own breathing is ragged.

“No–o,” you gasp. “Was hoping– was hoping you’d kiss a little lower too.”

Swiftly Jay drops to her knees, so fast she barely recognizes the pain of it. Hooks your leg over her shoulder and starts rucking up your devastating dress to expose your panties. Moaning you scrabble at the door, her hair, anything to keep you upright and balanced. 

“These,” she snarls, then licks a fat stripe across the thin fabric of your black lace panties. “I’ve been dreaming of getting my hands on them since I first saw them.” You shiver, bury your hands into her thick hair for balance.

“They’re my– my lucky date underwear,” you gasp into the air. 

“And you were hoping to get lucky tonight, weren’t you baby girl?” She coos up at you.

Biting your lip, you nod. Jay sets about tearing your underwear to pieces with her teeth. Your thighs tremble around her ears and she slams your hips back down against the door. Spreads your lips open with calloused fingers, presses a light kiss to your clit in greeting before she starts making out with your pussy. You howl and sag, trusting her to take the full weight of you as your knees turn to jelly.

Jay eats you out with enthusiasm and she eats you out with experience. Does this thing with the slick thrusting muscle of her tongue that has you gasping and begging for more. Can feel the heel of your shoe digging into her back, urging her own, begging her to fuck you harder. Spells her own name against your clit, brands her claim on you into your flesh as you wobble and whimper. Slick runs down her face as she grinds her nose into you.

Sucks your clit, hard, just a hint of teeth as she spears you open on a thick finger. Twists and curls it against your slick wet walls, lets herself affectionately get acquainted with your cunt. Scissors you open with two fingers just to watch your head bang back against the door, eyes shut and tears streaming down your face. Sets an uneven rhythm with her fingers and tongue that has you moaning and trying to ride her face for more. Finger fucks you with wet, squelching vigour as you quiver and shake, walls tightening up as you careen towards climax. Starts putting pressure on your rim with a third finger just to tip you over the edge of it all, pleasure making you stupid. Jay bites down at the sensitive inner skin of your thigh and suddenly has to drink down the slick of your second orgasm. So her baby girl likes a little pain with her pleasure, she’ll have to remember that for next time.

Gently, she takes your trembling thigh off her shoulder and places it back onto the ground. Pulls your skirt back down to hide the utter wreckage she’s made of your panties. Jay scrubs at her chin with her hand, then licks down all the sweet remaining slick she finds there. Grins felinely as you moan at the sight.

“Hoping for a little something like that, honey?” She teases.

Vigorously you nod, head bouncing back and forth like a bobblehead, words still fucked out of your brain. She holds out a hand to you – not the one that’s just been buried knuckle deep inside you – and clasps your hand in her own.

“C’mon, let’s go home then,” she tells you airily, leading you back through the maze of the building.

“But what about the party?” you ask, mascara still smeared around your eyes.

“I don’t care,” Jay bites out. “I’m taking you home and I’m fucking you until either I pass out or the sun comes up.”

“Okay,” you say, voice just verging on a whine. “That sounds better, actually.”

“Good,” Jay smirks. “Because it wasn’t a question.”

series masterlist | part 2

[redrose10]

Could you do arranged marriage with yoongi, prompt 68, and a happy ending🥺

I hope this is okay!

Fire & Ice

Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Swearing, hints of cheating, slightly suggestive, mentions of being drunk

#68 “Seems like you have to sleep here tonight”

When you first entered into an arranged marriage with Min Yoongi you did your best to try and make it work. Sure it wasn’t ideal and you would’ve rather fallen in love on your own terms but it was done and over with and you were determined to try your best and make things work.

The first time he broke you down though was on your wedding night. His parents had rented a large suit at the most luxurious hotel in the city so that the two of you wouldn’t have to travel far after the reception. You were nervous but hopeful and maybe even a little excited. You changed out of your big ball gown of a dress and were waiting on the bed for Yoongi. When the door finally swung open you perked up a little only to be shot down when he grabbed his clothes and told you he had booked his own room to sleep in and then left without sparing you a glance. You spent your wedding night cold and alone in a king size bed while your new husband was doing who knows what. A crack formed in your heart that night.

The next time he chipped away at that crack was a few months later. It was his birthday and you had spent the entire day cooking all of his favorite foods. It was a lot of work but you really wanted to impress him. He told you he’d be home at his normal time so the table was set and you had changed into a nice dress and had lit some candles. You waited and waited and thirty minutes late turned into two hours late turned into six hours late. Finally around 2am he came walking through the door completely ignoring you and all of the food that was now cold and ruined. After questioning him he let you know that his friends threw him a surprise party that you apparently had never been made aware of and he forgot to tell you he was going to be home late. He tried to apologize but you fought back tears as you shoved his present into his chest and stormed off to your bedroom. The crack in your heart grew quite a bit that night.

There were other things that chipped away at it here and there. Hurtful words and spiteful glares. The few times you would go out of your comfort zone and wear something to try and get his attention but he’d never do more than look in your direction before turning his attention elsewhere. There was the way he always introduced you simply by your name, never Mrs. Min or even My Wife. It made you feel like he didn’t want people to know.

There were moments of positivity though. The two of you talked a little bit. You both had a love for music which started many conversations. He sent you roses on your birthday. And you swore he showed the tiniest bit of jealousy when you ran into your physical trainer, Jungkook. You couldn’t quite make it out but you know you heard him mumble something about how he could have muscles like that if he really wanted to before telling you the car was ready even though it wasn’t and you two had to stand outside in the rain for an extra ten minutes. You got the feeling he just wanted to get you away from Jungkook.

One evening though, he finally shattered your heart beyond repair. Another night where he came home way later than he should have. You heard a loud crash in the living room followed by lots of giggles. You rush out there and found him stumbling around drunk out of his mind after having knocked over a vase. His two friends, Namjoon and Jimin, were off to the side not completely sober themselves but seemingly more coherent than your husband was.

Yoongi coming home drunk wasn’t anything knew or shocking. You were used to it by now. So you didn’t think twice when you went to help him up and get him in bed only to be stopped when you saw the large purple and red bruise on this neck. You threw his arm down like it had electrocuted you.

It had always been in the back of your mind that he was possibly cheating. You two had been together for many many months at this point never having done anything like that and it was starting to affect even you. You always pushed those thoughts away though but here was the evidence right in front of you.

Yoongi was too drunk to defend himself. Jimin and Namjoon begged you to listen to them as they could explain what happened but you didn’t care to hear it.

You stormed off back to your room leaving Yoongi passed out on the living room floor and his friends to sneak out knowing there was going to be a fight. That was the moment you fully closed yourself off from him and decided that you two were nothing more than business partners for photo-ops and charity events.

You spent the next year barely speaking or even seeing each other. The first couple weeks

Yoongi tried to explain what happened but you were having no part of it so eventually he gave up. You had bought your own apartment on the other side of the city and only interacted with him at events and family get togethers.

And then one day yours and his parents dropped a huge bombshell that you were not expecting. They wanted to know why the two of you had not produced an heir yet. You couldn’t help but laugh because the two of you were barely even on speaking term so how were you supposed to start a family. That opened up a whole bunch of questions from your families leading to them suggesting the two of you needed to spend time together to try and work on your relationship. It was non-negotiable and before you knew it plans were made and plane tickets were booked against your will.

And that’s how you found yourself alone with Yoongi in a snow covered cabin up in the mountains several hours away from your home.

“I am not sleeping in the same bed as you.”, you spat after you found out it was a one bedroom home.

“Okay sleep outside in the snow then. I don’t really care Y/N.”, he mumbled walking out of the bedroom.

You rolled your eyes but had already accepted that you would be spending a sleepless few nights on the couch because you refused to give in.

After the long trip all you wanted was a hot shower and to get into your comfy pjs so that’s what you did. By the time you were finished the cabin was filled with a heavenly aroma and you found Yoongi in the kitchen. There were two plates of food sitting on the counter. He had made your favorite. When he noticed you he gently slid one over in your direction and for the first time since the beginning of your marriage you felt something other than disdain for him. But you weren’t going to let him know that.

“Are you trying to poison me?”, you questioned.

“Eat it or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.”

You felt a little bit of guilt watching him grab his plate and sulk over to the table. Quietly you took the second plate and joined him. You both sat in silence with him scrolling on his phone and you just staring at the snow falling outside the window. It seemed like a blizzard was forming as the snow fall had picked up quite a lot since you arrived.

“It’s snowing quite a bit. I hope we don’t loose power.”, you whispered while somewhat trying to gage his reaction to you speaking to him.

He nodded, “yeah I hope not.”

And as if the universe was playing a joke on you the lights flickered once…twice…and then the entire cabin went dark.

“You have to be kidding me.”, Yoongi grumbled before getting up to look for the fuse box.

While he was gone you got a notification from the rental company letting you know there was a power outage in the area due to the snow storm and the current time estimate for it to be fixed was at least 48 hours.

When Yoongi returned you showed him the text which only soured his mood more. He walked into the bedroom and returned a few minutes later bundled up in several layers.

“Where are you going?”, you asked concerned.

“Well without electricity we won’t have any heat. I saw an ax on porch. I’m gonna go chop some wood so that we can build a fire to keep warm.”

“Okay let me get dressed and I’ll come help you.”, you said already walking towards the bedroom. He stopped you furiously shaking his head, “No absolutely not.”

You felt a little hurt that he was so adamant against you going with him but you also knew you couldn’t really blame him either so you stopped your movements as he asked.

He must’ve noticed your reaction because he cleared his throat, “It’s cold and dangerous out there. Just stay in here and enjoy the warmth before it’s gone. I shouldn’t be long.”

You nodded and watched as he closed the door behind him.

You had gotten all the dishes cleaned up and were waiting around for Yoongi. He had been gone quite a while and you were starting to get worried. So you decided to get dressed and were about to head out when he came walking him struggling to get the door to close behind him thanks to the wind. His cheeks were flushed bright red from the cold as he dropped several logs of wood into the fireplace. Within a few minutes he had a fire going that slowly filled the room with much needed warmth.

The two of you sat on the couch in silence just watching the flames move and listing to the crackling of the fire.

After some time Yoongi left and returned with several pillows and blankets. He started laying them out in front of the fire place.

“Seems like you’ll have to sleep here.”, he said looking at you, “We’ll both have to sleep here.”

Your first instinct was to argue against it but then you felt a chill down your spine and you knew you would never make it through the night in the bedroom. So you nodded and joined him underneath your own blanket while he had his and you still made sure there was a considerable distance between the two of you.

The soft glow and the sounds provided by the fire were comforting and you could feel yourself slipping off to sleep fairly quickly until you heard Yoongi shift beside you for probably the hundredth time.

“Yoongi are you okay?”, you asked half concerned half annoyed.

“Yeah sorry. It’s just still so cold it’s hard to get comfy.”

You thought for a moment before taking a deep breath, “D-Do you want to get under the same blanket? We can use our combined body heat to keep warm.”

He became so quiet and still you almost felt embarrassed for even asking until he nodded and lifted up his blanket to give you space to get underneath it.

There was an immediate increase in warmth but you thought it was probably thanks to your body’s rising temperature from being so close to Yoongi.

The room returned to a noticeable silence until it was Yoongi who cleared his throat, “Y/N can I tell you something?”

“Mmhm.”, you nodded.

He took a deep breath, “I’ve never cheated on you.”

You were surprised he was bringing this up so nonchalantly and out of nowhere.

He continued, “That night…That night when I came home drunk and I had that bruise it wasn’t what you think. I was out having some drinks and there was this guy. He came up to me and was talking all this shit about me and my family and stuff. I tried to ignore him. But then…then he called you a gold digging whore and he said he’d take you off my hands for $5 because that’s all you were worth. I got pissed that he was talking about you like that and punched him and then there was a fight and I got hit with something. Maybe a glass or something. I don’t even know what it was but that’s where the bruise came from.”, he stayed silent for another moment, “I know I wasn’t the best husband from the start but I would never and have never been unfaithful to you.”

His words replayed over and over in your mind.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for how I treated you. I was angry and hurt that I wasn’t given a choice in this whole situation but you were the last person I should’ve taken it out on.”, he sighed before continuing, “I just wanted to put that out there. It’s bothered me for a long time and I figured since there’s nothing else to do right now I could take the time to finally say it.”

Your heart was racing as you fidgeted with your sweatshirt.

“I’m sorry too. I should have at least let you explain yourself before completely shutting you out.”, you whispered feeling a little bit guilty, “I just wanted you to give me…to give us a chance and I was hurt that you wouldn’t.”

The room fell into another silence other than the crackling of the fire but this time it was a little less tense.

“M-maybe we should start over. I promise I can be a good husband.”, Yoongi said after a while.

“You did build us a pretty nice fire so that’s pretty good husband stuff.”, you replied trying to lighten the mood a little. He chuckled, “Yeah that’s just the beginning of the things I can do for you.”

You smiled, “Okay let’s start from the beginning.“

He nodded before searching for your hand underneath the blanket. When he finally found it you intertwined your fingers with his.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”, he asked.

“I mean yes but I don’t think we need to start over that far back.”, you giggled as he squeezed your had.

“Yeah how far back should we go?”, he questioned.

You bit your lip debating your next move, “Well how about our wedding night?”

Yoongi chuckled before pulling you into a kiss, “Yeah I think that’s a good place to start.”

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 17. Jealousy

Summary: Xaden and Garrick get their squads together to train, leading to some jealousy with someone unexpected.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the long delay on Dahlia. Kinktober took priority, but we are back in full force. I wrote so many parts in the last 24 hours for this, and I can't wait for you guys to see what I'm building up to in a few parts! Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

“I don’t know why you won’t give him a chance.” Liz says in an airy tone.

I turn to see her staring at Garrick and Xaden who have gone shirtless for their sparring warm up. And she wasn’t the only one. There were more cadets here than normal for our night training session. Since bonding dragons it seemed a lot of the first years were wanting to make sure they kept their seat. And every single girl in the room was starting at them.

I can’t help but let my eyes wander as I look over at them. Garrick was by far the most muscular guy in the quadrant. As if every muscle had been carved from stone. I shake my head in attempt to get those thoughts out of my head before turning back to watch Imogen spar with another first year.

“I won’t give him a chance, because he won’t give me a chance.” I reply bitterly.

“I mean, can you blame the guy? You’ve seen how your brother and father treat the other marked ones.” Liz murmurs, still lost in a trance as she watches them spar.

“I am not my brother and my father.” I nearly snap at her, my typical anger rising to the surface at being compared to them.

“Trust me, we know. Even if you were an angsty bitch when we first met you.” Austin teases from my other side, dodging my attempt to shove her away.

“Thanks? Not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.” I say as I narrow my eyes at her slightly.

”Let’s go with both.” Bodhi says as he walks over and joins us, Garrick and Xaden close behind him.

I keep my eyes focused on Bodhi as I jokingly glare at him, but out of the corner of my eye I feel Garrick staring at me. Ever since our interaction in the hallway I’d felt his eyes on me more. Almost as if challenging me to take the bait he’d laid out the other day. Which I was not. Yes I could admit he was attractive, especially while he stood there shirtless with his freaking muscles on full display as they glisten with a slight sheen of sweat. But even if I did get along with him, I was not becoming another notch in his bed post.

”Alright everyone, pair up with someone and start going through some weapon practice.” Xaden advises as he looks over us.

Tonight both his and Garrick’s squads were training together. Apparently a good way to broaden our training by going up against people we didn’t really know. Naturally Imogen tagged along even though she wasn’t in either squad. She made a habit of turning up whenever we were here. She kept saying it was coincidence, but I was starting to think it really wasn’t. Our squads start pairing off, Liz and Austin pairing up as if on auto pilot. They worked well together as they were a similar skill level, often complaining Bodhi and I were too difficult to go up against.

I go to follow Bodhi, but a large figure steps into my path and I’m forced to look up at Garrick. ”How about you and I pair up little Aetos?” His voice laced with a mocking tone as he looks down at me.

I roll my eyes and scoff at him. “No thanks, wouldn’t want to catch something from being too close to you.” I snap back, causing Bodhi and Imogen to snicker at my comment, Xaden’s eyes going wide as he looks between us.

”You’re just scared I’ll finally show you up.” He mocks, arms crossing over his chest as he cocks his head to the side.

An idea forms in my head. A stupid idea. And I silently hope he doesn’t follow through with it as the words leave my mouth. “If you’re so confident about that maybe you should challenge me once challenges start back up. Unless you’re scared I’ll prove you wrong again?”

Another round of snickers pick up around us, Garrick’s brow furrowing as he glares down at me. Clearly me proving him wrong all those weeks ago was still a sore spot for him, and I couldn’t help but smirk at him before pushing past him and dragging Bodhi with me.

”You know he’s going to end up doing that and he’s going to kick your ass in front of everyone?” Bodhi whispers as I lead us over to a spot on the far side of the room.

”He’s not going to kick my ass in front of everyone.” I throw back at him as I grab a sword from the weapons rack.

I turn around to see Bodhi looking at me like I’m an idiot. “Clearly you don’t know him very well, or you’re delusional on the size difference between you two.”

”And he also doesn’t know me very well.” I point out, Bodhi eyeing the sword I’m waving around cautiously as if worried I’m going to hurt him or myself with it.

”Maybe if you-”

”Nope, not happening.” I say before settling into a fighting stance.

Bodhi clearly takes it as a sign this conversation wasn’t going any further, his shoulders sagging in defeat before walking over to grab his own sword. As soon as he settles into a fighting stance I launch myself at him, Bodhi flailing to keep up with me. Each of my strikes fuelled with the hint of anger that had risen to the surface from my interaction with Garrick and words with Bodhi.

Bodhi didn’t deserve how hard I was going at him, but I needed to let out my frustrations somehow. Everyone was so adamant I give the lumbering oaf a chance. But why should I when he wouldn’t give me one? Since the day I’d walked across the parapet, he’d made up his mind about me. Had lumped me in with my brother and father without even a second thought.

Poor Bodhi is quick to succumb to my attacks, my leg kicking his out from beneath him as he falls to the floor with a loud thud as his sword clangs loudly on the ground as I point the tip of mine at his neck.

Bodhi just shakes his head and laughs. “Remind me to never piss you off again.”

”You’ll be fine.” I tease as I move my sword from his neck as I hold out my free hand to him.

He grasps his around mine before pushing off the ground to help me pull him up. Clearly still wobbly from his fall he stumbles into me as he rights himself, causing him and I to laugh at his clumsiness.

“You sure? I nearly just made a fool of myself by nearly sending us plummeting to the floor.”

”Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve made a fool of yourself.”

Bodhi laughs as he playfully shoves me away before releasing my hand and heading over to get a drink of water from his pack. As he moves my eyes fall on Garrick who hasn’t moved an inch, except to turn and look over at us. But for once his glare and eyes aren’t trained on me. They’re focused on Bodhi. And it almost looks like he wants to murder him.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd