#polyamory fuckin rocks

[charcubed]

Challengers throuple: as told via memes

specific choices were made

they're all in love/lust/obsession with each other and they don't work without all of them being together btw.

[joshus-lobster]

i loved your last response about miles because it's true!! as a classic rock fan, i'm so used of knowing that rockstars never tend to go home alone. 😂

Thank you! Im glad you get it, people tend to forget that fact, as long as IF you have a full time partner you communicate and are honest about it then theres no problem, like yeah its party central and being transparent about hookups isnt cheating and polyamory isnt cheating. I’m saying this as a blanket statement and not just about him but if hes, quote, Single, and, non-exclusive, then whats the problem with fuckin around?

I hope hes getting spanked rn as we speak.

[thewarriorspecial]

Dress Up (CH6 - Bloody Knuckles, Bloody Kisses)

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Read on AO3

Rating: Explicit | Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner, Hal Jordan, John Stewart, Original Character

Additional Tags (All chapters listed): Established Relationship, hand wavy timeline, Lace Panties, Spanking, Lingerie, Oral Sex, Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Character dealing with/avoiding their PTSD, Rimming, Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Bloody Kisses, Polyamory

Guy faces off against the monster that almost killed him. Will his friends reach him in time?

John sat up and looked around, ears ringing. He brushed debris out of his close cropped hair. He had been blown back several feet, sandwich long lost. He sighed and got to his feet. 

“I presume you’ve received the emergency transmission and will be following Kyle,” Ganthet’s voice buzzed through the ring.

“Yup. Four legs on a table.”

“I don’t—did you strike your head? Lantern?”

John smiled and took to the sky.

__

“Hostile detected,” the ring warns.

Thanks for the fuckin' heads up.

Guy wills his uniform on, shield up and lights out. He creeps to the bedroom window, scanning the over the yard and into the tree line. When the sound rings out again it seems to be coming from the other side of the property, near the water. Guy skulks to the kitchen, checking around every corner and watching each window for movement. He slowly stands to peer over the sink and out of the back window. 

There’s that motherfucker, Guy thinks as his heart starts to pound. The creature stands on the creaking dock, its long front limbs rocking the boat as it scans the vessel’s interior for life. Its twin tails hover and twitch behind its massive body. It seems even bigger here than it did on the satellite. Using its opposable thumbs, it pulls on knobs and handles, opening cabinets and doors, squeezing itself inside. The windows fog as it breathes heavily on the glass. 

Guy slowly slides the tiny kitchen window open. He rests his right wrist on the sill and conjures up the weapon that feels the most natural. BFG9000, he thinks as a hulking sci-fi cannon construct appears around his right arm. He can feel the scar on his abdomen ache. He tries to slow his breathing down as he waits for the creature to show its ugly face again. 

The metallic call rings out again, but from behind. Guy’s eyes widen as the creature’s head snaps up from where it was rummaging in the boat. Its savage yellow eyes glow with reflected moonlight as it turns and looks directly at Guy. It stretches its neck and slides its jaw impossibly far forward and then drags it back, the grinding of its teeth producing the metallic call. 

Guy fires twice, blasting the thing right between the eyes. It shrieks and splashes into the water. Guy feels his body slam down into the kitchen counter. 

“Warning! Critical damage!” the ring drones. A singular fire erupts in Guy’s belly as his blood turns to acid. All he can do is scream. 

__

When Hal receives the warning he’s sitting in the backseat of Ollie’s Maybach; Oliver and Dinah sitting up front. They’re in a fast food parking lot, laughing as they eat fries and make up stories about everybody that comes out of the restaurant. 

“Warning!” Hal’s ring lights up and fills the car with its modulated voice. Ollie jumps several inches out of his seat and dumps fries all over the white leather interior. “Fallen Lantern. Rally on location. Uploading coordinates.”

“Guy,” Hal chokes out. “Guy!” He tries again, focusing through the ring. The only response is a loud crash and a gurgling sound. Hal tenses his body against the spike of fear driving through his spine. 

Ollie starts the car and throws it in drive, “Where to?” 

But Hal’s hand is already on the door, his uniform appearing in a flash of light, “No. You have to stay here,” and he opens the door and takes off.

“Nuh-uh,” Ollie says pressing a button that flips the touch screen in the center console over to reveal the Arrow Car’s controls. He set’s the autopilot for the nearest Zeta transport and climbs into the back seat to change. 

Dinah touches the controls, kicking on the Justice League communicator. She patches in to Hal’s frequency, “We’re coming with you. I’m contacting the league to send backup.” Her steady voice doesn’t betray the unease she feels. Whatever Hal’s chasing after is a big enough threat to take out a Green Lantern—no easy feat.

Hal resisted the urge to sigh. There was no arguing with Black Canary. “Head to Baltimore. I’ll tell you when I know more.” I should be there. I should be there with him. This is my fault.

__

Guy points his gun arm over his shoulder and starts blasting. When Thing Two jumps, it drags him along for the ride. He’s impaled on one of the stingers. Again. The burning sensation begins to subside. At least it stopped pumping him full of poison for the moment. A green axe appears in his left hand and he starts chopping at the tail that has him impaled. He’s immediately cracked in the face with the other one as it swings about. 

Thing Two saws its teeth together, calling out yet again. Guy bares his teeth and growls back as he hacks wildly at the tails. Blood from his broken nose gushes down his mouth and chin. The second tail just barely misses with another stab. Guy finally hacks the first tail off, leaving the stinger embedded in his belly. The creature roars, a second set of jaws opening in the back of its mouth as it lunges. Guy rolls, lifting the creature with his feet and launches it through the dining room window. As he gets to his feet, Thing One crashes into the kitchen, aiming to pounce on Guy but he rolls out of the way. He struggles again to stand as pain radiates through his entire left side. Guy points his gun arm and fires, willing everything he’s got into every shot. He can physically feel the ring’s power drain as he unloads. Still unable to stand he crawls backwards, moving towards the kitchen door. 

Thing Two leaps at Guy as he pulls himself out the back door and lets himself roll down the stairs towards the lake. Several tail strikes whip passed his body as he falls out of Thing Two’s reach. Thing Two goes for another pounce and Guy lifts straight up into the air, the motion stretching his wounded abdomen and he blinks away tears.

Thing One erupts onto the deck. Its dense upper back appears to widen, and then open. A set of glistening roach wings unfold and begin to beat. 

“Crissakes, is there anything you can’t do?” Guy shouts as he lets loose another volley of shots. 

Thing One follows him into the air as Thing Two charges down the dock. Thing Two wraps its claws around the gunwales of the boat and peels the canopy off like a tin can. 

“No, Maria!” Guy screams as his beloved boat is shredded, “Get away from her, you bitch!” Both fists forward and charging with green energy, he drops into a dive. He evades both the roach monster and the ball of shrapnel that was hurled at his head. He plunges both of his star-hot fists into Thing Two’s chest and feels the carapace crack. The creature wobbles on the dock, scrambling to keep from falling in the water. It swings all of its limbs at Guy and manages to grab a hold of his arms. Guy tries to twist out of its grip and fly off but he’s held solid. 

The thing rears back and slams its head into Guy’s. The world tilts and one of his feet slide out from under him. He sags in the creatures grip as it bashes their heads together over and over. He tries to fight, to make a joke, but all that comes out of his mouth is more blood. 

__

“Kyle!” John calls though the ring as he follows in Kyle’s wake. The energy trail was easy to pick up and follow—burning hot and half a mile wide. “Talk to me, man.”

Kyle’s thoughts are so disjointed, all he can send though the connection is emotional static. His sadness and anger are palpable in John’s mind. A brilliant flash of red crosses John’s three o’clock. A red ring is trailing Kyle, outpacing John. 

__

A sector away, Squid-Lantern cradled the only remains of their partner—a hand. A hand that had once welded the great power ring. They gently pressed the hand through the semi-permeable flesh of their body cavity. Lanterns kept remains and so this would be kept safe until Salaak could advise them what to do.

A deep sadness overcame the young Lantern. Hunters had overrun their home world. Their people fought and so many were lost just so they could attempt to survive on what was left of their battered planet. And now it was happening again.

__

“Shield falling. Power level falling,” Guy’s ring warned. He wasn’t sure at this point if his eyes were open. Everything was dark. He heard the overgrown roach touch down in the grass somewhere behind him.

Guy felt pressure and heat around his midsection as something behind him took hold. This is how it ends, he thinks as a giant green boxing glove slams into the alien in front of him. 

The creature goes sprawling into the lake and Hal sends three energy blasts after it. He turns the hand construct holding Guy into a bubble and sends it into the air. “Let’s make this fight even,” Hal says as he creates two fighter jet constructs. He sets each one after after a target like a hunter unleashing hounds. Hard light gunfire and missile strikes rain down on the aliens’ titanium-tough bodies.

“What hurts these things?” Hal call out but Guy doesn’t respond. “Guy?” Hal shouts as he flies over to the bubble. 

Guy lays still, save for the shivering. His eyes are closed. He takes a rattling breath and coughs.

“C’mon buddy, gimmie anything to work with here.”

Guy chokes something out but Hal can’t understand him. 

A black sedan is roaring down the road to the Lake house. The flying alien breaks away from Hal’s construct and slams into the bubble, shattering it. The other alien climbs onto the shore and its arm begins to change into the same arm-cannon Guy had been sporting earlier. 

“Hostile approaching,” Hal’s ring warns. 

The roof of the sedan opens and Green Arrow appears, loosing an arrow. It strikes the ground just before Guy does, immediately unfolding into a giant mattress and breaking Guy’s fall. As the drivers side window opens, Hal can hear Dinah take a breath. He conjures earplugs on himself and Guy. 

The Canary Cry damages everything in its path. Stepping stones crack, the dock splinters, rivets pop. Both aliens crumble to their knees. Dinah throws the car in park and jumps out. She rolls up the sleeves of her jacket as she stalks towards the roach creature. She lands a flurry of kicks before it recovers from the scream. Her shins are burning. It feels like kicking a steel wall. The yellow eyes roll back into place and Thing One makes a grab for Dinah’s legs but she’s too fast. She screams again, deeply satisfied with the way it makes the creature’s armor plates vibrate. 

Ollie starts firing trick arrows, trying to find a weakness or at least do some damage. Nothing seems to be breaking the creature’s armor. Dinah holds an empty hand up and when she feels something warm and heavy sink into her palm she wraps her fingers tight and swings. Her body lights up with green shielding and she hammers away with a construct bat. Hal puts a shield around Ollie and a new bubble around Guy.

Out of trick arrows, Ollie switches to the incendiaries. When the first one hits, it burns a hold clean through the creature’s armor. Both aliens turn their full attention to Green Arrow. 

“Fire in the hole!” Ollie cries as he loads two explosive arrows, sending one into each adversary. He empties his quiver as they both charge—Hal’s jets still firing away behind them. “Back in the car!” He shouts as he drops into the driver’s seat, pulling the door shut and speeding towards Dinah. 

Suddenly the entire property is awash in red light. Feet slam into the ground like a meteor. Red chain constructs shoot from the figures hands, wrapping the aliens up and dragging them backwards. Dinah disengages, running towards Ollie and jumping into the open sunroof. 

The figure bellows. An avalanche of corrosive vomit erupts. The aliens writhe in their chains as the Red Lantern blood tears through their armor. 

Hal brings the jets around, positioning them to strike the Red Lantern as soon as it was done melting the aliens. Enemy of my enemy and all that. 

“Hal, wait!” John calls out and Hal spins around to face him.

“Boy am I glad to see you,” Hal says, “We got two Hunters and a Red Lantern. Two non-metas on the ground. Guy’s down. Where’s Kyle?”

“That is Kyle.”

“Ah, shit.”

Guy ignores the hideous pinch in his neck so he can turn and watch the battle unfold. Never in all his life could he have imagined seeing Kyle angry. Really angry and not just irritated about the towels or something stupid Guy said. 

Guy knows all too well the kind of pain and rage that calls that ring. He remembers the burn, the taste of the soul deep hatred that fuels it. My love, Guy thinks, he doesn’t deserve this and I did this. I did this to us. He tries to sit up. He tries to reach towards Kyle. 

Kyle howls again, all of his fury and anguish physically pouring out of his body. He takes a hold of one of the creatures, ripping its armored exterior off piece by piece. It screams. The other alien screams and bites, trying to escape the burning chains. 

I have to stop this, Guy digs into the pit of his soul for the willpower to stand, I have to go to him.

After shredding the first alien apart Kyle turns to the second. He grabs its weird horse face and slams his head into it. The creature’s skull explodes. He tears it to pieces anyways. He sinks to his knees in the carnage he’s created. 

Guy gets to his knees and stops to catch his breath. Kyle screams and punches the ground. Guy taps into the nearly extinguished ring to raise himself onto his feet. Kyle’s fingers tear into the earth and burning tears scald the grass. He sobs and Guy can feel it slice into his heart. 

Ollie turns the car back, driving towards the Red Lantern. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Dinah demands.

“I have to see this. I’ve never seen this before in real life.”

“Okay? We’ve seen it. Lets get the hell away from it now!”

“Not that. I mean yeah him. Just hang on a sec,” Ollie says as Dinah glares. 

“Kyle,” Guy rasps out, barely a whisper. He wants to say so much. He wants to say it’ll be okay but his body is giving out. 

Kyle sits up, glowing red eyes wide and wild, “Guy,” he breathes, voice unnaturally deep.

The sound of Kyle’s voice makes Guy feel warm and light. He takes a shaky step forward. Kyle snaps to his feet. The glow in his eyes is fading.

“Look, look!” Ollie whispers excitedly, shoving Dinah’s arm. “They’re gonna run at each other! Look! I’ve never seen this in real life!”

“You just can’t mind your own business can you?”

“No, ma’am.”

Guy shuffles forward but sinks back down after a few steps. Kyle breaks into a run. He knee-slides into Guy’s lap, throwing his arms around the bigger man and holding tight. 

“I missed you, baby. I was wrong,” Guy starts but begins to cough. 

Kyle grabs Guy’s jaw in a painful grip, “I’m so pissed off at you right now,” he says as he seals his rage bloodied lips over Guy’s battle bloodied lips. The Red Lantern blood burns through what’s left of Guy’s shield and he powers down. Leaving him naked. Again. 

“Do you ever wear clothes?” Hal asks as he touches down nearby with John. Guy just shrugs.

“Guy. My dude. Boxers,” John suggests.

“Hm,” Guy says as he leans in to kiss Kyle again. 

“Slow down, Cassanova,” Hal says as he grabs a fistful each of Guy and Kyle’s hair to keep them apart, “Even I don’t hate your face enough to want to see it melted off.”

“All will be well,” Kyle said, eyes clear but uniform still rage red. 

“We better find a Blue quick before that thing turns on you,” said Hal.

“We need to get this stinger out and the wound dressed,” John said, pointing at Guy’s back. “Then we’ll worry about everything else.”

“Ah, that was great!” Ollie said, squeezing Dinah’s thigh affectionately. 

“It was cute.” 

“Alright we’re outta here! Call me!” Ollie tossed a peace sign at Hal and Dinah blew a kiss. Hal thanked them and waved them off. 

“Guess it’s just the four of us,” Kyle slung Guy’s arm over his shoulder and stood slowly, pulling them both to their feet.

“Four legs on a table,” John beamed.

“Four walls on a house,” Hal grinned.

“Four seats in a Mustang GT,” Kyle smiled tenderly; teeth full of blood, heart full of hope. 

“You three are the best thing that ever happened to me,” Guy croaks out, leaning heavily on Kyle. 

__

Light breaks over the lake house. John and Hal are asleep on the pull out couch. Hal has cocooned himself in all of the blankets so John spoons him to siphon off some warmth. Guy is in his bed, propped up on his side with pillows to keep him in place so he doesn’t disturb the new stab wound on his back. There’s a futon made up for Kyle, but he’s in Guy’s bed too, laying on top of the covers. He’s in Guy’s clothes—a Warrior’s t-shirt and leopard print sweats. His smile is bittersweet as he gently traces his fingers over Guy’s cut-up face. 

“Listen,” Guy begins, “I know you’re mad. I know—“ he holds one of his wrapped hands up, “Please, there’s so much I need to say.”

“I’m not gonna listen to you tell me all the reasons we don’t work. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not…ugh. It’s…I don’t want you to settle for me. You deserve better You deserve more. You have so much love to give and all I have to give you is what’s left of me.” Guy looks down at his bandaged hands, “I’m old. I’m scarred. I’m slowing down. I was never much to look at and it’ll only get worse from here. I have a decade on you. You’re still young and you have so much of your life ahead of you—“

“You’re not old. And what about what I want?”

“I don’t want you to spend your time here with me because you’ve put some time in already or because you feel bad leaving me alone. I’ve always been alone. I’ll be okay. I’ll adapt. Of course I won’t be happy that’s not what I want but I had it,” Guy takes Kyle’s hands in his, “I had this for a little while and not many people get to say that. I’ll take solace in that and I’ll continue to love you and watch over you and be your friend if you’d still have me. Don’t settle. Don’t. You’re too good.”

“I’m not settling. I love you,” Kyle feels the red ring pulse on his hand.

“I can’t promise that I will ever learn to love as freely and as openly as you do. I can’t find the words. I’m terrified that if I look you in the eyes, feeling how I feel, and I say your name then that light starts pouring through the cracks and you’re not going to want the very soft and frightened and ashamed person underneath of here. And I can’t…I can’t do that again. I’m too old. I’m too broken.” Guy feels the unshed tears closing up his throat. He rests his forehead on Kyle’s hands to hide his face—the shame. “But if I’m still hiding all that lies beneath am I really in this thing at all? Have I been doing you wrong all this time? If I can’t look at you and tell you what you mean to me, if alI I can squeeze out is how hot you look did I make a mistake? Hal said love and sex aren’t the same thing. But they are to me. Is something wrong with me? And now that we’ve stopped it’s become the minefield that keeps us apart. I can’t hold you in bed anymore because you feel like you have to give me something you don’t want to, like you can’t just get the part that you need. But I’ve always asked and I trusted that when you said yes you meant it.”

“It’s gonna take time. And I’m choosing to spend that time with you. I chose you. You’re my partner. And you’re my partner. I picked you,” Kyle leans forward and kisses Guy’s bruised knuckles.

"You’re my zero zero, you know? The center for me. The thing I can look at when I’m drunk and lost and say okay that’s home. Everything looks familiar now.”

“This is home,” Kyle sidled up to Guy, laying Guy’s head on his chest and stroking his hair. 

“Kyle, I—“ Guy pulls away, “I have to tell you something.”

“Go ahead,” Kyle’s alarmed at the gravity in Guy’s voice.

“I kissed Hal.”

“Okay?”

“I stirred up all that shit, Kyle. I said all that shit and then I freaked out and this is what I go and do.”

Kyle’s jealous and irritated, and it’s amplified by the red ring. Kissing Hal isn’t the problem it’s the insecurity, the accusations. But Guy knows what he did. He’s admitting it. He’s being honest. He just needs to apologize. 

“It’s okay, Ross, we were on a break,” Kyle says with a smile, trying to break the tension. 

Guy frowns, “Well Rachel, I don’t exactly wanna carry all these gross nasty feelings into our thing, okay?”

“You have feelings for Hal?”

Guy bristled, “Yeah. It’s…I need to be honest. I’m sorry.”

“Do you…still love me?”

“Of course!” Guy pushes himself up painfully, “Yes! You’re the love of my life, that’s no joke. You’re the one, Kyle. You’re the one I want.”

“What if…” Kyle began. No time like the present. “What if we didn’t have to choose?” He lets the question hang between them.

“You don’t want to get back together?” The pain in Guy’s eyes is gut wrenching.

“Yes! Yes I do. I was just…suggesting.”

“Suggesting what?” Guy was painfully obtuse sometimes. 

“What if we were like, a foursome? You know?”

“Man, I let you bang me from another dimension and you are on this threesome, foursome, orgy kick forever.”

“Uh. Well, yeah.”

“You’re talking about being with me and banging them on the side?”

Kyle nodded.

“That’s kinda fucked up,” Guy grimaced and Kyle frowned. “They’re our friends. They’re not just a side piece. That’s not for me.”

“I’m not looking for a side piece. I’m not looking for something I’m not getting. Maybe I am just greedy. I’m talking about all of us in a relationship together. The real thing, four ways.”

Guy lays back down. Still holding Kyle’s hands he raises them to his lips, kissing his knuckles, “What if it doesn’t work? Do I lose you? Do I have to give this up?”

“You’ll always have me. Forever.”

Guy rubs Kyle’s hands as he thinks. He reaches his hand like he’s reaching into his uniform vest. His ring glows for a moment as he pulls something out of the inter-dimensional pocket the ring keeps his lantern in. He holds a simple gold band in his hands. 

“Kyle Rayner. I want to look at the stars in your eyes forever. Whatever shape this thing takes, it’s ours. Wear my ring. Say you’re mine. That’s all I need.”

“Okay,” Kyle smiles.

“Yes?” Guy breathes, he can barely believe it. Fifth time’s the charm, I guess. 

“Yes!” Kyle offers his hand. As Guy slides his ring on, the red ring loosens and slides off. 

“How ‘bout that,” Guy wonders.

“All will be well.”

“Well sweetness,” Guy rumbles, “Looks like your fluids are safe now.”

“Wow. That quick, huh? You ever get vertigo?”

“My turn for something selfish,” Guy ignores the pain in his hands as he yanks the covers out from under Kyle and drags him underneath. Kyle’s already tearing his clothes off. He has no idea if his body will do what he wants it to yet, but he doesn’t care. Guy’s here. He’s safe. He’s alive. 

“How could you walk away from all of this?” Kyle asks in a sultry whisper as he writhes. He pulls Guy’s head down, driving the redhead’s face into his neck.

“I’m stupid,” Guy groans into Kyle’s throat, mouthing his way down to the smaller man’s collarbone. “God forgive me I’m so stupid.”

“Yes you are. How dare you walk away from me.” Kyle drags his fingers up and down Guy’s ribs, digging into his waist and pressing their bodies painfully close.

Guy presses a soft kiss onto Kyle’s lips, “I’m sorry,” Kiss. "I’m so sorry.” Another kiss.

“Yeah? Show me how sorry you are.” Kyle lets his legs fall open tantalizingly slow. He presses Guy’s head down gently, “Apologize to me.”

__

Another one of Kyle’s muffled moans carried into the living room and Hal chortled. 

“It’s been hours,” John said more intrigued than annoyed, “I didn’t know Kyle had the stamina.”

“He’s been riding that bull for years, John.”

“Lucky bastard.”

Hal rolled to face John, still hogging all four blankets, and grinned, “Is it getting to ya?” 

“Little bit,” John admitted as another moan traveled down the hall.

“You wanna—?“ Hal wiggled his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, can you feel anything under all that?” John asks, poking the blanket burrito.

“Not really.”

“You sure?” John stats grasping everywhere, searching for Hal in his wrap-a-nap. As soon as he felt Hal’s tight little body he started tickling. 

“Nonono!” Hal giggled and thrashed. John pulled the covers up to Hal’s chest, exposing his legs. He pulled the blankets tight, pinning Hal in place. He ran a teasing hand up and down the insides of Hal’s thighs. “Oh, that’s,” Hal gasped as John barely brushed his knuckles along Hal’s erection, “cheating.”

John slides down Hal’s body and gets comfortable between his legs. 

“Oh my—John…” Hal squirmed but John had him pinned down tight, “John…When did you get a tongue r-ring oh.”

__

On the far side of noon, Guy shuffles around the kitchen with Kyle. He was determined to make a decent breakfast for everyone but his bandaged hands weren’t cooperating. He patiently instructed Kyle, his beloved who burns water making cup noodles, on the finer points of making eggs.

“So, uh,” Guy says awkwardly.

“Oh we heard. Nicely done,” Hal offers his hand for a high-five. Guy manages to look miffed and mortified all at once. Kyle takes the high five.

“Nice,” says Hal.

“Nice,” Kyle echoes.

“Nice,” says John.

“Cut it out, assholes,” Guy gripes, “I’m out of commission. Kyle’s staying with me. You two toolbags wanna stay for a bit? Maybe we can, you know, work on some things?” Guy rubs the back of his head and looks away.

John stares open-mouthed at Kyle who is beaming with excitement. 

“Work on some stuff?” Hal says, pumping his hips and grinning lecherously.

“Yeah,” Kyle bites his lip.

“Nice.”

“Nice.”

“Nice.”

“Don’t make me regret this, chuckleheads.”

[lord-explosion-baku]

Only Wolves Can Find You || Yandere!Katsuki Bakugou x reader x Yandere!Shouto Todoroki

Warnings: yandere, unhealthy relationships, polyamory, m/m, m/m/f, dubcon, kidnapping, NSFW, dark content, non-consensual double penetration, mentions of drugging, violence, delusional behavior, fear, aged up characters (18+. Minors DNI)

WC: 10k

‼️Physical descriptors for the reader‼️: fem!reader, hair that’s long enough to be pulled

A/N: this was requested by a doll who wishes to remain anonymous. But we spent a bit of time messaging back and forth about everything they wanted to see in the fic. I don’t usually write character x character sex scenes, but I do love me some TodoBaku, so this was a pleasure to write. If you wish to skip the m x m scene, look for the red time-skip line!

Do NOT repost or use my work on any media cites without my permission!

This was one of Bakugou’s favorite positions: Todoroki with his back arched, both hands white-knuckling the columns of the wooden bedpost while he forcefully pressed down on his whiny partner’s lower back. He liked to watch his cock disappear and reappear into Todoroki’s lubricated hole as he continued to ram into him. Nothing but heady breathing, the sound of skin patting against skin, and the lewd, wet sounds from Bakugou’s rapid pace reverberated around the room. Really, he treasured it.

Bakugou could’ve prepared Todoroki a little better, but he liked hearing his other half curse every now-and-again. Whenever he got hurt, the half-n-half bastard turned his head to shoot an ice-cold glare back at him. It was maddening when he was just a little pissed—brows tented, lips curled, so easy to tease. Bakugou’s little snowflake. His feux-angel. His poisonous love.

“What’s with the face?” Bakugou grunted while reaching around the other’s body to grasp his still-flaccid dick. “Don’tcha like having me stretch you out? Like feeling my big fat cock fill your tight fuckin’ hole?”

Todoroki’s dick jumped at that, so Bakugou began stroking him. He really was too easy. Always incredibly responsive to anything obscene Bakugou said. “‘Course you like it,” he continued, groping tighter. “You’ll always be my little masochist, huh?”

Sado-masochist, really, thought Bakugou darkly. When he’s in a bad mood.

“Katsuki,” Todoroki groaned, grabbing onto Bakugou’s wrist to make sure he kept his pace.

“That’s my name,” said Bakugou, feeling his balls start to ache. There was almost nothin’ like hearing Shouto pathetically whimper his name. “Whaddya want?”

A hiss escaped through Todoroki’s teeth as Bakugou rocked his hips against his ass. He gave it a hard slap, urging, “thought I asked you a question.”

“I—ngh—shit! I saw her today.” Todoroki started to pant, and Bakugou could feel him growing firmer in the palm of his hand. “Wasn’t even looking for her. She appeared to me.”

Feeling tension knot in his shoulders, Bakugou asked “who?”—though he had a good inclination as to who she could be.

“You know who.” Todoroki’s hands slid from down the bedpost onto the mattress, making his ass push more firmly against Bakugou pelvis. He moaned loudly as Bakugou pushed himself to his hilt. Christ he was like a cat in heat—sleek and flexible, and oh-so ready to take all of him. “She was—hah—wearing a cute parka.”

“Tsk. Okay?” Whatever kind of winter coat she was wearing didn’t matter much to Bakugou. Whether or not Todoroki did anything weird to her was what concerned him.

“Mmmph. I was…so jealous…”

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou said, “I can buy you whatever parka you want tomorrow.”

“Idiot, no. I wasn’t jealous of her for wearing a parka.” His grip tightened around Bakugou’s wrist. “I wanted to be the parka. It gets to hug her—aha—keep her warm. Stay close.”

“You’re a fuckin’ creep, you know that?” Bakugou’s thumb rubbed circles around Todoroki’s sensitive head. He used his precum to rub him down his shaft. Todoroki’s back was sweltering when Bakugou leaned against it, pushing his lips against his ear to let his gravelly whisper send shivers down his spine. “What kinda panties was she wearing?”

“I don’t know. It was cold. She was wearing pants…”

“Use your imagination, moron. Like what do you think she had on?” He felt Todoroki begin to pulse at the thought, so Bakugou continued to list different fabrics: Cotton, nylon, lace…

“That one! Lace…”

“What color?” Bakugou started pumping faster, picturing the flimsy panties he’d seen before, remembering how easy they were to pull to the side, how harshly they’d snap against her beautiful skin. Memories swirled around his mind and the more he buried himself in Todoroki’s ass, the more vivid they became. Memories of her: sneaking winks, touching fingers, stealing kisses. Her, moaning…crying…begging. How she came into his life like an upheaval of fire and passion. How she’d left with only ash and desolation in her wake. The thought infuriated him, making him grind against Todoroki harder, faster, and more brutal.

“White…no, fuck shitshitfuck. Kat!” Todoroki started to keen, the sound sweet and sultry. He was close, so Bakugou tried to yank his hand back before he got burned, but Todoroki’s grip was vice, his fingers already warming up. “Light blue. Delicate lace fabric. Fuck, I could smell her. Hear her. God…”

There wasn’t much he could do when Bakugou felt his skin burning. Really, all he could do was curse, focus on the tension building up in his groin, and slam his hips into Todoroki’s ass, fucking him raw until he came fast and hard inside the fucker’s asshole. A little payback, but by the way half-n-half groaned, letting out his own release, he didn’t seem to mind much.

Bakugou pushed Todoroki over, letting the heaving jagoff fall to his side. He extended his arm out, showing off the brand-stinkin’-new injury wrapped around his wrist. “You burned me again, dummy.”

Unsurprisingly, Todoroki didn’t apologize. Instead, he lifted his right hand up and began exerting his ice quirk. Bakugou reluctantly pressed his wrist to the cold, exhaling with a bit of relief. He watched Todoroki lay back, sleek with sweat, residual cum pooling around his navel. He looked dazed and content, unlike Bakugou whose mind was whirling.

He tried to not think about her. He tried telling himself that he was happy with only Shouto by his side. He tried believing all of his lies, but even then, knowing that she was out there, knowing that she was living a life that didn’t involve either of them, knowing she’d gotten away with screwing them both over—it burned Bakugou down to his marrow.

“So…” Bakugou started. “Blue lace panties. Really? I’d prefer black or red.”

“You can wear whatever color panties you want, baby.” Todoroki snickered, far too proud of himself. “But she’d wear something light and innocent. Perfect for me.”

Bakugou pushed his palm against Todoroki’s face. It was mostly playful, but he could admit to himself that this icy-hot bastard was pissing him off. “Spoiled brat. What about me, huh? You know she liked me better. And I’d hardly say she’s innocent.”

One of Todoroki’s eyes opened, grey iris peering at Bakugou. He let out a lackadaisical, “har.” Then turned, pulling Bakugou’s injured arm around his body. He smelled like sweat and spearmint, and when Bakugou pressed his lips into the nape of his neck, inhaling deeper, he found a hint of Moroccan oil.

“Are you wearing my hair gel, lil shit?” Bakugou bit down on his neck, sucking roughly. Todoroki gasped, but didn’t try to get away. His fingers grasped the sheets, hips bucking, mouth parting. Bakugou lapped at his bite mark, then growled, “you planning on going somewhere tonight? Without telling me?”

“You’re such a brute.”

“Says the asshole who nearly singed my skin off. Now answer the question.”

“I want her,” Todoroki crooned, squeezing his eyes shut. He’d sworn dozens of times that he wasn’t the spoiled prince that Bakugou always said he was, but whenever he got like this, Bakugou had to insist otherwise. “I mean - fuck. You have no idea what seeing her did to me, Katsuki. I saw her, and I could’ve—I could’ve—“

“You’re gonna lose your job,” Bakugou warned. “Get us both in trouble.”

“She’s worth it.” Todoroki turned to face him. His expression was shining so bright it could burn a hole right through Bakugou’s eyes. “You want her too. Don’t lie.”

Of course Bakugou wanted her. He always did, and he thought he always would. She was the reason he and Todoroki got together to begin with. The three of them together would have been perfect, if it hadn’t been with all the dramatic bullshit that caused her to run and hide.

‘I’m your girl,’ she’d whispered to him on one of the last nights Bakugou had spent alone with her. They’d been dancing. She’d been drinking. And she tasted like coconut rum and cherry chapstick.

To this day, he wouldn’t let himself believe she was lying.

She was just too afraid of a good thing, Bakugou thought, because there’d be no other reason for her to leave. Or maybe too afraid of him.

Too afraid of Shouto.

Gently, Bakugou swept his boyfriend’s bangs to the side, allowing the sweat collected there to keep his hair parted. “If you’re gonna be her parka, I’ll be her panties. Red ones.”

Todoroki scoffed. “And you call me the creep.”

“I can’t hear you,” Bakugou chuckled. “I’m panties.”

After a kiss, silence fell over the two. It was the type of tense silence that happened when one person was doing some critical thinking, while the other, eager to hear what they’d say with bated anticipation. Growing impatient, Bakugou asked, “what would you do with her here? Love her? Spoil her?” He swallowed thickly, knowing exactly what Todoroki’s love entailed. “Hurt her?”

The answer to all of the above would be yes, though Bakugou knew Todoroki would never admit it. Guilt crawled up his spine and settled on his shoulders, but there was something else there too. A spark. A bit of excitement. Something Bakugou hadn’t felt in a very long time. It had to mean something. It had to be a sign that, together, they should take action.

“I think it’s about time we take a vacation.”

“No!! NOO!!!”

By the time the door closes, locking away the snow-sodden outdoors and the only chance at escape, you know fighting is hopeless. That doesn’t stop you from thrashing around in Katsuki Bakugou’s tight embrace. You’re both wearing snow jackets, so even when you scratch at his arms and torso, it’s completely futile. It probably would’ve been something he’d laugh at, if he hadn’t been tracking you down in the middle of the night at below freezing levels.

The cabin seems warmer than it had been when you’d left, which is almost a comforting change of pace. The fireplace is alive and crackling - a tempting amendment. Originally you’d assumed that they had been keeping the place cooler so you’d be in desperate need of warmth, with nowhere to turn but their bed. They’d been wrong about that. However, they had nothing to compensate for once you got out, and must’ve known how cold you’d be once they got you back. If they got you back. Overconfident bastards.

“Is she okay? Is she injured?” Shouto Todoroki asks from the kitchen doorway. He’s wearing a winter coat over nothing but pajama shorts. He must have been unsure if he needed to go out with Katsuki to find you, but since the jacket is open and he’s now holding a tea kettle in his hand, he probably had faith that his partner had no issue playing the warden.

“Dunno yet,” Katsuki says over your snarls. Hitting his chest does more damage to you than it does him - your fingers are icy and they pang whenever they make contact with his jacket. If anything, you’re just annoying him, because all he does to defend himself is toss you up and over his shoulders so half of your body dangles behind his back. “Found her in some trench, shakin’ like a chihuahua. If anything, she’s got frostbite. Wasn’t wearing gloves.”

“Didn't we make it clear that there isn’t another safe place to stay for miles? What was she thinking?”

“What matters is getting her warm,” Katsuki growls as you begin clawing at the bottom of his coat. He moves over to the couch, allows your head and back to touch the cushion, then drops the rest of your body down so that you land safely. “You make tea?”

“I was going to, but then I thought”—Shouto stammers, looking from you to the kettle and back into the kitchen—“I thought that when you brought her back, if she got her hands on the kettle, she might—“

There’s a clear path from the couch to the door. Katsuki’s eyes are on Shouto while the latter is distracted. You make your move, throwing your feet on the ground, then screech as soon as you put pressure on your left ankle. You tumble down onto the floor, caught between the door and Katsuki.

They both look at you like you’re pathetic. Hell, they might be right, considering all the teeth chattering and, more importantly, your second failed escape attempt.

“It’s her ankle,” Shouto says.

“Yeah, no shit.” Katsuki crouches down and reaches an arm out to your foot. “Lemme see.”

“No!” You scramble back, hitting your back against the door. It’s clear that you’re not going to be able to get away tonight, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to let either of these two touch you.

“At least take your damn pants off. You’re gonna catch a cold if you wear wet clothes all night.” When you scoff, Katsuki turns to Shouto and says, “I need to see if it’s a sprain or if she just rolled it. Get me the big scissors.”

Once Shouto retrieves the big scissors, he takes a knee besides Katsuki and hands them to him. When you swing an arm out, Shouto catches you by the wrist, and with some maneuvering, has you in his lap with your hands pinned behind your back. He holds you a little too tightly, as if he doesn’t realize that he doesn’t need to exert all that much energy to take you down in a fight.

“This brings back memories,” says Shouto, his warm breath fanning your ear. He pulls your arms tighter, making you hiss as your body slumps against him. You cringe when Katsuki grabs hold of your leg, but you don’t squirm anymore. They are trying to take care of you. For now.

“Don’t you remember?” Shouto asks, his voice dropping to a low purr. “We were all in Okinawa a year and a half ago. You spent the night dancing with half a dozen different guys because you knew we’d be watching. But you knew you’d end up in bed with one of us, isn’t that right? You just weren’t expecting it to be both of us.”

Oddly enough, Katsuki looks up to Shouto and cracks a smile. He begins stripping out of his coat.

“Wasn’t she so excited, Kat?” Shouto continues. “She didn’t think we’d work on an agreement so easily. I still remember the sound she made when we both kissed her neck - how she purred when both of her hands slipped down her waist and around her back…”

Warmth spreads across your body. You’re unsure if that has anything to do with Shouto’s quirk, if he’s even using it, or if he managed to get you flustered from the distant memory. Still, the chills you feel don’t yet subside.

Shouto presses his lips on your temple and murmurs, “I’m still so sad that I never got to taste your pussy. Kat did, though. Right in front of me. How unfair.”

Your skin crawls. It’s true that you’d lead them both on - that you’d toyed with them, and you’d drank every ounce of attention you’d gotten from them up with pleasure. However, that little bit of fun hadn’t been worth having Shouto Todoroki prowl after you, watching your every movie. Neither had it been worth it to have Katsuki’s scrutiny for that matter, though he made his stalking tendencies less conspicuous—less creepy. It’d been clear who of the two had been better socialized. It’d been clear who of the two had been more unhinged. And after you uncovered poor Shouto’s true nature - the man behind the mask - you’d wanted nothing to do with him. After Katsuki had been more than a little accepting of that side of Shouto - encouraging even - you’d wanted nothing to do with either of them.

Katsuki harrumphs and begins cutting up your snow pants. You don’t kick because you actually don’t want to get spliced, and waves of pain are already shooting from your ankle, but you do manage to bark, “y-your gonna c-cut my j-jeans!”

“That doesn’t seem to be an important matter right now, does it?” Asks Shouto. He nuzzles his cheek against yours, and a different kind of chill runs down your spine.

“Ssstop!” You yell at both of them, but the chattering of your teeth makes the command sound harmless. At this moment, you wish you were terrifying - you wish you were something to be trifled with. But you’re not. You’re just some silly girl who fucked around with the wrong men.

“I’m bein’ careful.” Katsuki cuts a fine line all the way up your thigh, then spreads your broken pants apart. Your jeans are intact, but they are dark from the melting snow and now plaster to your legs.

“Why stop there?” Asks Shouto, shifting in place a bit. “They’re going to come off eventually.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but stays compliant with his partner, absolutely destroying what’s left of your pants. You sit in stoic silence as he takes your shoes off, then rolls up your wet jeans.

“Not very swollen at all,” he says after taking a close look at your ankle. He presses a thumb against the small ball that’s appeared at the top of your foot. Though you wince a bit, the pain isn’t too bad. “No bruises. Looks like she just rolled it. Once we get her warmed up and give her some pain reliever, she’ll be fine.”

“That’s too bad.” Shouto releases your wrists, but moves his hands around your waist, hugging you to him. It would almost be a childish gesture, if he weren’t absolutely smothering you. “If she were any more injured, she wouldn’t be able to run again any time soon.”

Shouto’s fingers begin to play with the zipper of your jacket. Katsuki reaches up and unzips it for him, and they both work to get you to wriggle you out of it. In the next second, Katsuki throws the jacket away with a blast, sending down-feathers sprinkling around the firelit room.

“She’s not gonna run if she doesn’t have any warm clothes to go out in. She’s not that dumb.”

You make a face at Katsuki. He ignores you.

“I still think we should take extra precautions. Besides, let’s say she broke her leg. She’d need to fully depend on us for - well, anything really.” Shouto squeezes you more snugly up against him. You hiss in discomfort. “How does that sound to you, hmm? I think it’s a suitable punishment for what you just put us through.”

“Hey. Fuck off with that.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize that you think running away is acceptable behavior for her.”

Katsuki begins wrapping your ankle up in gauze. “I don’t, but I know that she’s cold and wet, and having you here threatenin’ her doesn’t do any of us any good.”

“Aww, she’s shaking.” Shouto kisses the junction between your neck and shoulders, while his hands travel up and down your torso. Soon his fingers creep up to your collarbone, then your jaw, until they’re gently rubbing at your bottom lip. “Do you think she’s that cold or do you think I’ve frightened her? You know, you wouldn’t have to be scared if only you’d—“

Without thinking, you bite down on the carpal side of Shouto’s hand. When he recoils, you shoot out of his lap, but Katsuki immediately pulls you up against him. It’s like the three of you are playing a game of monkey in the middle, where you’re both the monkey and the toy, and you’re losing all the same.

“Animal,” Shouto spits the word like it’s an insult, but you can’t help but feel a little smug at the scathing glare he gives you. At least, until his next command. “Give me the scissors.”

“What the fuck? No.” Katsuki moves the scissors behind him, away from Shouto, and by extension, away from you. You don’t realize your slump a bit until Katsuki squeezes you, as if he’s telling you to get it together. To Shouto, he says, “you’re not hurting her. Not tonight, at least.”

“She needs to learn!” Barks Shouto, rising to his feet. Fear pushes you closer to Katsuki, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the other. “Honestly, I thought we’d be in this together, but look at you two! How selfish can you be?!”

Without any ceremony, Shouto laces his fingers into your hair, and pulls your head back so your neck extends away from Katsuki, and you have no choice but to stare at him.

“Aaa! Stop! Stop please!” You yelp, dismayed that some hair pulling is all he needs to get you pleading. You sort of expect Katsuki to stop him, to do anything to lessen this pain, but all he does is curl his fingers protectively, or perhaps, possessively around your waist. There’s a stiffening beneath you, as if Katsuki’s getting hard from this display. No, it’s not as if—by the way his thumbs move circles around your hips and up your stomach, you can tell that he’s definitely turned on. As embarrassing as it is, there’s a croon in your voice as you sigh, “please…I’ll be…I’ll be…”

What was it you were about to say? Good? Compliant? Submissive? You let your words hang there, unfinished, but meaningful all the same.

Shouto crouches down, moving his hand to the hollow of your neck. He squeezes as his nose pushes against your ear, nestling your hair away when he softly asks, “you’ll be what?”

All you can do is choke. You’re locked, suffocating between your two captors. When Katsuki sees this, he finally quits rubbing your stomach, gently guides you to the floor, and puts a hand on Shouto’s arm.

“That’s enough,” Katsuki says to Shouto with some finality. “It’s time you get to bed. You’re grumpy.”

“If you could refrain from calling me grumpy when I’m in the middle of reprimanding our girlfriend, that would be appreciated.” Each word Shouto dishes out is clipped, especially when he enunciates the word ‘girlfriend.’ It makes you want to spit, but you don’t since he eases his hold off your throat.

“If you scare her too much too soon, she’s not ever gonna be”—Katsuki’s eyes flash from Shouto to you and back to Shouto—“cooperative…”

“If we don’t punish her when she does something wrong, she’s always going to continue to be a brat. You know that, right?” Shouto finally releases you and slump to the floor, tears from either stress or lack of air burning your lower lashes.

“I’ll talk to her,” Katsuki says, eyeing you, making sure you stay in your place.

Shouto scoffs. “Ever the voice of reason,” he drawls sardonically.

“Sure is saying something.” Katsuki reaches out to Shouto and yanks him forward, pulling him into a forceful kiss. You don’t realize you’re gawking until Shouto opens his eyes to watch you watching them, and he makes a point to groan into the kiss, drinking Katsuki in. Heat rushes towards your cheeks. It’s a terrible feeling - hating them, and liking what you see all the same. It’s enough to make you avert your gaze out of shame or embarrassment. It’s all the same.

By nothing short of a miracle, Katsuki gets Shouto to go to their room on his own. Not before Shouto makes a comment about how Katsuki owes him later, but he’s out of your sight, and that might be all that matters. Then again, it’s easy to forget that even though one of them is more deadly than the other, there are still two sharks in the water.

A snap takes your attention away from the inviting-looking fireplace, back to Katsuki’s perturbed scowl. He points down and says, “pants off.”

“Fuck you.” You say it like you’re calling someone out for telling some bullshit story. Luckily enough, he takes it similarly.

“Not without him. Then we’ll both be in the doghouse.” He snaps his fingers again, then says more firmly, “off.”

“Bite me!”

Katsuki’s lips twitch into a mockery of a smile. “Now, that I can do.”

In three seconds flat, he’s on you, fingers hooked through the belt loops on your jeans, mouth daringly close to your neck. You’re straining to scream, to kick him off of you, to wrestle out of his embrace, but it’s a fruitless endeavor. He’s ten times stronger than you even when you’re not injured or freezing. So you turn back to negotiating.

“Fine! Okay! I’ll do it!” Your chest rubs against his as he just barely scrapes his teeth against your neck. It’s obvious he’s debating on whether he should continue, whether he should ignore your resolve and take what he wants. You did tell him to bite you. What more could you expect? But when you say, “it’s to get me warm, right? Don’t want me to catch a cold?”—he eases off.

After Katsuki grants you a little bit of leeway, you wriggle out from underneath him, closer to the fire. His cheeks are dark, flushed from the hasty decision to tackle you, and his eyes curve down your body as you reach down to undo your front button. The asshole even licks his lips.

“I’m keeping my shirt on,” you say as you push your jeans down. They cling to your chilled skin, so it’s a little hard to get them all the way down. Katsuki probably enjoys the struggle.

“Fine. Stay wet.” And then, when your jeans are at your ankles he curses. “You chose the blue panties?! Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?!”

“Don’t look! Pervert!” You push back and kick what’s left of your jeans off, managing to swipe him across the face. You don’t even mind the slight throbbing in your left ankle. Seeing his agitated expression makes it all worth it.

“You really are an idiot, you know that?” Katsuki asks as you scoot onto the rug next to the fire. There’s a cage around the flame, so it’s not like you can reach in and throw any embers at his face. Even then, doing something like that would be futile, since you really can’t run with your coat blown to bits and your pants cut up. But the warmth feels good, so you allow yourself to enjoy it.

“Because I’m wearing blue underwear?” You ask with a roll of your eyes.

“Looks like you’ve gained back the ability to speak. No more of that screechin’.” Katsuki reaches behind himself and pulls his wet shirt off, and you find yourself averting your gaze for the second time tonight. It’s the heat from the fire that makes your cheeks burn now though. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I never screech,” you murmur, suddenly very invested in watching the way the orange-yellow flames lick the chimney walls.

“Sure you don’t.” He takes a seat next to you on the rug, smirking at you, then glaring at the flames. “Don’tcha know there are wolves out there? I was afraid I’d find your corpse with a pup gnawing at your ankle.”

“I’ll take the wolves over you any day,” you shoot back, shaking away the brutal image. Before Shouto and Katsuki got all lovey-dovey, it sort of felt like they were two dogs playing tug-of-war over your body. You thought it was entertaining back then. Enticing, even. Now you think you’re more partial to cats.

“Don’t think I won’t toss you right back out into the snow.”

“You won’t.”

“Oh no?” He tilts his chin, eyeing you much too playfully. Too comfortable. He should know that you are not on comfortable terms.

“Nope.” You fold your arms across your chest. Melted snow rolls down your stomach. You stifle a shudder. “Know why?”

“Why?” He leans in closer, like you’re going to tell him a secret. And maybe you are. Maybe he doesn’t know. All you know is that he won’t be so playful after he hears this.

“You’re afraid of him.”

The words hang there in the silence, only cut off by the hissing pressure of a log about to burst. There’s a pop! and you jump from the sudden disruption, while Katsuki hangs back on his elbows unperturbed. In this light, you can clearly see the scars—the burn marks littering his body. They’re all over his arms, and even some on his chest. All of them, though faint, form a shape similar to a left handprint.

“I ain’t afraid of him,” he says after a moment.

“Bull.”

“I’m not,” he enunciates. “He might be a jackass, but I can handle him. You, on the other hand—“

“You can’t handle me?” You snort.

“You should be afraid of him,” he says grimly. “Believe it or not, he’s not trying to scare anybody. But he’s not playing around, either. If you don’t stop acting like a stuck-up bitch, he’s going to hurt you. He wants to hurt you. And I’m afraid that I’d—“

“Let him?” You ask. He doesn’t answer you, so that’s how you know it’s true. “That’s sick.”

The front of your shirt begins to wrinkle. It’s uncomfortable, so you start wringing it out, letting the ice cold water fall to your warming thighs. Crimson eyes land on the droplets on your thighs. They blink once. Twice. And Katsuki says, “I want you here just as badly as he does, if not more.”

“So I’ll be punished because I’m not grateful for being kidnapped? Taken away from my entire life, all because I walked out on two guys who”—you bark out a cynical laugh—“who found love in each other, but were too selfish to let go of a stuck-up bitch who left them over a year ago?! You know, it’s funny. I always thought you’d be the asshole, but now I really can’t decide which of you is worse!”

“I am the asshole. Icy-Hot’s just—“

“Unhinged?” You offer. Then, because your shirt is tightening around your stomach, and you don’t want to chafe, you finally rid yourself of it, tossing it off to the side. “Yeah, I got that.”

Turning so your back is facing the fire, you lay down on the rug, keeping your arms against your stomach. Katsuki scopes you out, like you knew he would, and you don’t shy away from his gaze. In fact, you stretch your body out, knowing full-well that you’re giving something to look at. You want to know how far Katsuki is willing to go while staying out of the doghouse, as he puts it. You can admit that you’re attracted to him; to beat that, you can admit that you’re willing to disrupt his and Shouto’s relationship if it means leading up to a possible, better-structured escape plan for the future.

The lace material of your bra is light, so it’s easy to tell when your nipples pop from the cold, hardening more from the intensity of his stare. He places a hand on your stomach, slowly guiding it up to where your arm rests. He pets you for a few seconds, and you let him, allowing yourself to enjoy the luxury of his touch. It sends goosebumps rocketing through your body. You don’t mind it. But when his free hand slides into the crook of your neck, you lift a brow.

“Thought you didn’t want to get in trouble,” you say as a way to mock him; at the same time, you’re trying to control your breathing as he leans in closer. Idle fingers begin moving lower, lower, lower until they are at your waistline. You grab his wrist to stop, second-guessing whether you like your ‘disruption’ plan or not.

His skin is hot - hotter than the fire, hotter than you can bear. His lips, so close to yours, curve into that smirk - the one you hate - the one you used to love feeling against your skin. Cinnamon breath dances across your skin as he whispers, “thought you were smarter than this.”

“Why? Because I’m not being submissive? Because I think this is fucked? Or because I ran away from you?”

Despite tightening your hold around his wrist, Katsuki continues to roam your body. His fingers slip between your thighs, and you gasp, pelvis lifting to follow his touch. “You and I both know that was stupid.”

Finger pads slide up and down your quickly dampening slit. The air grows heady, turbulent with need and fear and…want. That’s the thing. You want his fingers, his heat, his stupid cinnamon breath. What’s worse is that he knows. He always knows. And you hate him more for it.

“Maybe I just wanted to piss you off,” you breathe unsteadily, reaching around to grab a fistful of his spiky hair.

“Mission accomplished.” He follows your breath and chases it with a kiss. It’s deep - a mess of teeth clashing, tongues stroking against tongues, a struggle for air. The fine edges of your nails dig little crescent moons into the flesh of Katsuki’s taught back, all before dragging them down, leaving behind angry red streaks. He groans low into your mouth before biting down on your lower lip, before dropping his head down to nibble on your neck.

You let out a verbal sigh as you weave your fingers in and out of his hair. He licks a wet strip from your neck, and chuckles into your ear.

“Fuck. I missed that. Hearing you moan.” He kisses your earlobe. “Greatest sound in the world.”

Something deep inside you melts, and it has nothing to do with the fire. It’s worse than that. You say, “that’s gross.”

He laughs. Again. Then moves his kisses over to your jaw before leveling his head over yours. The corners of his mouth are lifted, but not in the same smirky way that you’ve grown accustomed to. It looks wrong on him. Wrong for what he is: a monster.

“Stop smiling.”

“How can I stop smiling when you’re so pretty?” His lips travel down the valley of your chest, stopping only to graze against the soft flesh there. Too tentative, too adoring. “So pretty.”

You have to remind yourself where you are and why you’re there. And what it might mean if you continue to…cooperate. So that’s why you push your back up off the floor and cry, “stop!”

Katsuki closes his palms around your knees, the smile vanished, his eyes sharp. Which is good, you think. Better than before. But when he pulls your knees apart and sees the effect he’s had on you, it returns.

“Stop what?” He asks as he crawls over you, and as you shrink away from him, he arrogantly adds, “I can’t imagine what I’m doing that’s so wrong.”

“Stop acting so casually. Or like this is something that it isn’t. Stop being so happy.”

“‘Course I’m happy,” he purrs against your lips. “You’re my girl.”

“I am not.” Hands stay stock-still against his chest, the only fragile barrier keeping him off - keeping those memories away. “You’re just…! You’re just—“

“Just what?”

“Just a warm body,” you spit, knowing it’s what you should say - what you should think. “It’s what you always were.”

“Is that right?” Tearing your hands away from his chest, Katsuki pins you back against the rug, crushing his weight against your body. That’s not all that’s crushing against you. His cock, hard and throbbing, presses down on your heat. You try not to give him any reaction but he reads you clear as day. “All I’m good for, huh? A good fuck?”

Knowing better, you say nothing. Which is clearly not good enough for King Katsuki, who begins slowly grinding against you. It would be better if he just tore your panties off and got it out of his system - out of both of your systems, because - fuck, you know how he does it and he’s always done it right.

“I could fuck you so good and make sure you like it. And yeah”—Katsuki nods towards his bedroom door—“he’ll be pissed. At both of us. But like I said, baby, I can handle him. You, on the other hand, he’s not looking to burn. He’s looking to maim. Know why?”

When he tilts it’s his head to the side you shake your own.

“Because here, you’re not just my girl,” he continues, “here, you’re our girl. And right now, Icy-Hot’s stewing in his soup. Sooner or later he’s gonna come out and play, and whether you’re willing to participate or not, it won’t matter to him. You owe him a pound of flesh. You’ve overstayed your welcome as a guest and now you’ve gotta pull your weight as a housemate.”

He doesn’t say mate mate, but the insinuation hangs there. And it’s time you realize with absolute lucidity that Shouto’s not the only one that’s crazy. Here, Katsuki isn’t your crutch. He’s more like a step on a ladder.

“Didn’t get the memo?” You ask. “I don’t want to be here!”

“Leaving's not an option. We tried living without you and we can’t. So you’re either gonna be our girl or you’re going to be our pet.”

“What’s the difference?”

“If you’re our girl…I won’t let him hurt you. ‘Less you want it like that, princess.” Still smiling, he leans closer, voice lowering an octave. “Saw how you reacted to getting your hair pulled earlier. Y’know, we could work with that.”

You sigh, both from exhaustion and disbelief. And on top of that, your lip quivers. Because you don’t want to be maimed. You want to survive - fingers and toes intact. And Katsuki’s right. Right now, leaving isn’t an option. And if you don’t play this part, you won’t be going anywhere.

“Then,” you begin, closing your eyes and accepting your fate for tonight, “show me. If you know how to handle him, show me how to too.” You open your eyes to meet his victorious glare. “Show me how to play along.”

It’s not the hand at the small of your back that’s got your heart pounding. Nor is it from the adrenaline rush you’d gotten after your failed escape attempt. It’s the sound of a bedroom door closing, the footsteps approaching. It’s Shouto and his chilling stare. It’s him, drinking in your compromised appearance, standing in front of him in just your bra and underwear like you are. It’s what you’re about to do.

“Is there a problem?” Shouto asks Katsuki, though he’s still glowering at you. Katsuki guides you forward, providing support on your left side, since without him, you’d be hobbling, which would make this whole situation worse.

“Does it look like there’s a problem?” Katsuki asks a bit derisively. His hand slides down your back and gives your right cheek a little squeeze. Instead of reacting like you normally would - with rage - you jump a bit, then wince when you put too much pressure on your left foot. “She has something she wants to say.”

One white brow lifts. “I didn’t realize she was talking.”

You can practically hear the smirk in Katsuki’s voice when he says, “she doesn’t want to talk.”

Then, you’re sandwiched between them again - Katsuki behind you, keeping his hands steady on your hips, and Shouto, waiting patiently out in front of you, arms crossed, not looking any more pleased than he had when he left.

This is you cue to right your wrongs, if you can call them that. It’s more like your cue to keep yourself safe. To…alleviate the tension between the three of you. For now. And that’s what pushes you to raise your shaking hands to cup Shouto’s grim-looking face.

Innocent, you think as you trace your fingers along his jaw. That’s what Katsuki told you. Shouto sees you as this pure maidenlike girl, despite what he’s seen and what he knows. So that’s the role you’ll play. That’s what you keep in mind as you lift your head up and gently brush your lips across his, kissing him exactly how Katsuki showed you.

There’s a pensive pause after you pull away. You don’t move, because you’re waiting with baited breath to see his reaction, but that might help bite into the role you’re playing. Innocent girls are shy. They want to impress. And if you were an innocent girl, you certainly wouldn’t be wondering if he’ll slap you across the face and then bend you over, or he’ll do the slapping once he’s done with you.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t do either of these things. Instead he crooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re looking right at him, and asks, “is this your way of apologizing?”

Hesitantly, you nod, feeling a skip in your heartbeat. Katsuki brushes the back of his fingers up and down your sides, which eases some of your tension. You did fine, says his fingers to your skin, keep it up.

The tension snaps when Shouto lets out a long, suffering sigh, then laughs and pulls you against his body. He nestles his head into your hair, closing his arms around your back. You stifle a shudder when he clearly sniffs your hair.

“Was that really so hard?” Shouto asks as he begin rubbing your back.

Yes, you think, perturbed when Katsuki closes in behind you. It was excruciating.

“She’s been stressed,” Katsuki murmurs as he moves a strand of your hair away from your neck. He lightly kisses your skin before saying, “she was frightened, but she didn’t mean to act out.”

Heat rises in the back of your neck. It takes every ounce of your resolve not to lash out. But that would ruin everything.

“Well, she should know better.” Shouto pulls away to kiss your forehead. “She should…”

Disregarding the fact that they’re both still referring to you like you’re not there, or worse, like you really are a pet, you swallow your pride and whisper, “I’ve learned. It was a mistake and I’m sorry.”

"I never want her to be afraid, but I think my reaction to her leaving was necessary," Shouto says matter-of-factly, thumbs caressing your pert skin. "Even so, I don't want her to be scared, no. I want her to know that here she will be loved, cherished, and adored…"

"I think she knows that," Katsuki says with a smirk. "That's why she tried to leave."

But Shouto isn't finished.

"I want her to know that here, we can be happy." He drops to his knees and hugs you around your waist, rubbing his cheek against your belly like he's some sort of cat. "All of us."

"Then why don't you show her how happy you can make her," Katsuki prompts, rubbing your sore shoulders. "Just like you've always wanted to."

“I think…I will.” Shouto wraps his fingers around your waistband and pulls down. Though you squirm, Katsuki holds you still, kissing your neck with assurance. You close your eyes and pretend that these are different circumstances - like you're back in Okinawa, and you chose to be here, between them. It helps a little.

"Katsuki," you whine, the corner of your mouth quirking up in spite of yourself. He nibbles and sucks on the side of your neck, making you shudder.

"Hmm?"

"Did you touch her?" Shouto cuts in as he fingers your still-damp slit. "I wasn't expecting her to be so…" he trails off, eyes going dazed as his fingers come back glistening. "You did…"

"Oh, hardly," drawls Katsuki. "Everything I did was all through the panties. It was nothin'. She needed to calm down so I calmed her down."

He winks at that and you roll your eyes. You hadn’t realized that everyone here is regressing to the ‘if your woman is acting hysterical, stimulate her sexually’ days.

"That’s extremely sexist,” you say without thinking, and Katsuki only shakes his head, undaunted. Shouto, on the other hand, is looking up at you with sharper eyes than before. You’re unsure if it’s because you’ve said something wrong. It’s a troubling thought, because this man claims to want to be with you, and who would you be if you hadn’t stuck up for yourself.

So, for the sake of saving your skin, you pander to the Shouto’s in the audience. Hands still shaking, you run your fingers through his red and white locks, digging your nails in to massage his scalp.

“I want you to touch me, Sho,” you say as convincingly as possible. “Only you.”

Katsuki scoffs, but Shouto smiles, asking, “don’t you think Katsuki should have some fun too?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki agrees, pushing his cock against your ass. “Think I’ve earned a bit of fun.”

“If…if that’s what you want,” you sigh as Shouto begins running his hands up and down your thighs.

With little effort, Shouto raises your injured foot and eases your left leg over his shoulder, and Katsuki helps the other get around. Massaging your inner thighs, Shouto licks his lips. “I want.”

Pushing your ass back up against Katsuki’s erection, you groan as Shouto buries his face between your thighs. He doesn’t lick you like he’s been starving for it; rather, he licks you like he’s been craving it - like you’re a delicacy that he wants to savor. After all the teasing Katsuki did before, it’s at once, too much and too little. Shouto uses the width of his tongue to give you long, agonizing strokes, seemingly pleased when you tremble and keen.

Katsuki holds you in place, squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples, and chuckling whenever you make a less than ladylike noise.

“What a good girl,” Katsuki praises before moving his lips over to the neglected side of your neck. “Feels good, yeah? Why don’t you tell poor Shouto how good it feels to have him licking your pussy.”

“That’s really n-nice, Shouto,” you moan between heady breaths. You buck your hips up to chase the movement of his teasing tongue.

Pleased with your commending tone, Shouto groans, the sound reverberating up your body, causing you to shake. His fingers move up your thighs, first squeezing them to bury himself more into you, then one hand slips up, his index finger moving slowly, slowly, slowly up to your entrance. He toys with it, moving your slick up your pussy so he can lap it up, before he pushes it in.

"Aaaahhh," you pant, and his finger begins to curl.

You clutch his head, holding on as you ride his tongue, his groans rough and rasping, adding to the pleasure.

“Noisy little princess,” Katsuki taunts, hands sliding down your stomach, “keep that up, and you’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“You mean the wolves?” you fire back, knowing full well that there’s not a single soul around to hear you for miles. To keep you present, Shouto adds another finger, pushing up against your velvety walls. Your mouth falls open, the second retort lost to your moans.

Katsuki chuckles. “Yeah, the wolves. If they hear you, they might wanna join in.”

To that, Shouto growls possessively. He works your entrance with swift abandon, driving you wild with lust. You meet him with a frenzied sucking of breath, your hands grasping at his hair and Katsuki’s arm. As if to make his point, Shouto pulls out, slamming your entrance with the slickened finger and driving you over the edge with a high-pitched whine.

“Holy shit, babe,” Katsuki breathes as he holds you close, caging you against his sweat-soaked body as you tremble and shake.

Shouto kisses your throbbing clit before peering up at you with lust-blown eyes. “Good?” he asks nobody in particular, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm.

Katsuki squeezes your hips, telling you to speak first.

"It was... it was..." you start, but stutter to a stop, trying to think of the right words.

"Perfect," Katsuki finishes for you with a grin, smacking your ass.

Shouto smiles, then stands, keeping his hands steady on your legs to rise with him. Your body dips into a better angle for what’s about to happen. Shouto lets out a contented sigh at seeing you like this, then passes some sort of plastic bottle to Katsuki.

“What’s that?” you ask, wary and stupefied.

“Don’t worry about it,” Katsuki says while Shouto loses his pajama pants.

“Fuck,” you muse at seeing his length. He gives it a few pumps, showing off its pretty curve, its thick girth. Liquid heat rushes towards your center, making you throb all over again.

“Look how excited you got her,” Katsuki purrs impishly. “I think she might have a crush on you.”

"Is that so?" Shouto pulls your body closer and nudges his cock against your entrance. “Does that mean you want me, baby? You want my cock to stretch you out and fill you up?”

Your body tenses up at the contact, lust igniting the tightest points of your core. "Yes," you pant, pressing forward to meet his slick, wet, eager length. “Please, yes.”

“If you don’t fuck her now, I will.” Katsuki presses his length into your backside, and you can tell that he, too, has lost his pajama pants. “Show our girl how good we can be to her when she behaves.”

Shouto pulls you in to kiss him, his tongue reaching out to taste yours. It’s so much more different than the chaste kiss you offered him earlier as a form of apology. This kiss is wet and needy, desperate to claim. Katsuki hums in approval, kissing the back of your neck. Your body heats up as you feel Shouto’s cock slowly slip in. You mewl, lifting your hips up to take more of his length. This drives him deeper into you as you tilt your pelvis to meet him.

"God, that’s a good girl,” Shouto murmurs as he begins grooving in and out of you. “How does that feel, baby? You like being so close? Like having your cunt wrapped around my cock? So hot, deep, wet…”

Brows knitted, all you can offer is a wobbling, “uh-huh,” as Shouto buries himself deeper, deeper, deeper.

“So tight," he whispers, running his tongue along your jaw. "That's it, take it all in."

“Better than a parka, huh?” Teases Katsuki, and you’re not sure what he means, but you can’t think to ask when something wet slides between your asscheeks.

“What are you—?!”

“Shhhh…” Katsuki kisses your neck when his hand finds its destination.

“Y-you promised you wouldn’t hurt me!” You half-hiss, feeling a slick finger roll around your hole. You try to close your legs, but the two of them are stronger than you, and they both keep you open and ready with little care about your struggle.

“Relax, princess. It ain’t gonna hurt you if you calm down.”

“But you—!”

Katsuki reaches around to grasp your throat with his free hand, the fingertip at your ass teasing your hole. In and out, in and out.

“Said I’d stop him from hurting you,” Katsuki nearly growls, “but you still need to be punished. And by the way you were begging for this earlier, I’d say you’re getting off easy.”

He slips a second finger in, causing you to grit your teeth and wince. It’s intrusive, but not at all as bad as you’d thought. In fact, you’re trying not to moan, though instead, you’re letting out little wanton whimpers.

"Stop trying to hold back.” Shouto chuckles as his thrusting picks up. “It's cute when you’re loud."

"Cute?" you say through clenched teeth. You decide then and there to drop the innocent facade. "I'm going to kill you!”

Shouto laughs and crushes his mouth to yours, pulling away before you can bite his lips. He snaps his hips forward, causing you to yip. Your body is squeezed and contorted in an uncomfortable yet oddly pleasing way as you’re forced to ride his cock harder, faster. Katsuki adds another finger, and when he releases your throat, your head falls against Shouto’s chest. You moan as you grow more accustomed to being stretched out.

“So cute,” Shouto praises. “She’s a lot like you, Kat. I kinda like it when she’s bratty.”

“Yeah, when she’s not trying to bite your hand off,” Katsuki remarks.

“Which reminds me…” Shouto moves your hair away from your neck. His nose nuzzles your soft skin, sending shivers down your encumbered body before he bites down. You cry out, digging your fingernails into the meat of Shouto’s shoulders, which only encourages him to pound into you at a rougher pace.

It’s at this moment that all three of Katsuki’s fingers leave your body, and for a moment, you feel a little more empty. The moment passes when his cockhead presses up against you. Immediately you can tell that it’s thicker than all three of those fingers, and you’re not sure you can handle this.

“Katsuki…” you begin, the name shaking out of your throat. His head breaches your entrance, and your body seizes up. Even Shouto slows his pace, opting to grind into you with more control, his cock pressing against that spongey pad that makes your toes curl.

“I prepped you more than I’ve ever done to him,” Katsuki assures. “Think I’m spoiling you more than you deserve, princess.”

But now it's not just the thickness of Katsuki’s cock that's making you apprehensive. It's the look in Shouto’s eyes, the thirst there, the intent. It’s terrifying as much as it is…alluring. You'd be lying if you said you weren't scared out of your wits. However, fear is a distant companion as lust overwhelms you, and you're left wanting more. And Shouto can see that want in your eyes.

“Take her, Kat,” Shouto commands, hot breath fanning your face. He reaches down and begins running lackadaisical circles around your clit, smiling as he feels you squeeze around him. “I want to hear her scream.”

You cry out in surprise as Shouto's hands dig into your hips, propelling you backward to take Katsuki deep into you. It’s not even all that painful. It’s different, and strange, and too much to comprehend. You feel like you’re being split open, but it’s not as bad as you thought it’d be. It’s exhilarating as much as it is uncomfortable.

They’re both groaning, moving against you, rubbing their sweat-sheened skin off on you. You can't help but look down at Shouto as he thrusts into you, seeing the glint of his thick, pink cockhead bobbing atop your entrance before disappearing right back in.

Your head falls back, and with it, what’s left of that innocent facade.

“Fuck!” You scream, pleasure vibrating throughout your body. “Oh, god! Oh my fucking god! Yes!”

Both of your knees are at your chest as you take as much of both of them as you can. You're being stretched out like a rubber band, your muscles clenching around them. “Please! Please!!”

“Whiny baby,” Katsuki chides on a grunt. “Feels good having us both fuck you at once, huh? Fuck yeah it does.”

“She’s so fucking wet,” pants Shouto between labored breaths. “Think she might have a crush on both of us…”

“Look at you, getting all fucking hot for us, huh, baby? Yeah, that's it...yeah, just let go. Let us hear you, gorgeous."

You let out a petulant squeak as you twist your body to look Katsuki in the eyes to the best of your ability. He’s all teeth before he leans in and gives you a sloppy wet kiss. Shouto moans, heady from lust or jealousy, and pulls your head back to give an equally, if not hungrier kiss. His tongue enters your mouth, making your head reel.

“Mmm gonna come,” murmurs Shouto against you, and seconds later, he’s pulling out, letting his cock fall between your pelvis before webs of his hot, milky cum jets out onto your stomach. You gasp, looking down as the mess slowly rolls down your body. With two fingers, Shouto scoops some of himself up and begins rolling it around your clit, mixing it in with your cream. His touch is all electricity, shooting pleasure rocketing through your stomach. Soon, your body convulses for a second time, and you’ve lost complete control of the words coming out of your mouth. It’s whining and begging and praising, and it’s enough to get Katsuki’s cock throbbing inside your asshole.

“Fuck, yeah.” Katsuki wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back greedily, all his to use now. “That's it, baby. Scream all you want...mmfuck. How’d you like your back painted in my cum, huh?”

Tears singe your lower lashes as the pain finally catches up to you, but it’s welcomed pain. It doesn’t stop you from sniffling, even when you drone out an, “o-okay.”

Katsuki pulls out, and you wince once again, before feeling tendrils of his seed coating your ass. The noise he makes is animalistic when he finally finishes. Shouto allows your feet to fall to the ground, then smooshes you up against Katsuki.

They both hug you too tightly as Shouto kisses Katsuki over your shoulder. “How on earth did you convince her to do that?”

Lying by omission, you think, heaving a sigh. Your ass is going to hurt for days.

Katsuki looks down at you, the same smile from before lifting his lips. Not the smirk. The delusionally happy one. “I didn’t convince her,” he says, “she wanted to.”

You snort and shake your head. There’s a moment where you think you’ll be allowed to walk away, but both of their hands are on you again, petting and stroking, like they haven’t gotten enough already.

“How are you feeling?” Asks Shouto, and when you look up, you see he’s talking to you.

“Um, I’m…” you start, debating on whether you should say violated or satisfied. Both would be the truth, as dismal of a thought that is. Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything, because you sway your the side and catch yourself with your left foot, hissing out a curse when pain shoots up your leg.

“Poor baby,” Shouto croons, and easily whisks you up into his arms. “We should get you cleaned up. I'm sure you can use some painkillers, too.”

Shouto guides you to the bed - their bed, while Katsuki retrieves some pills, a glass of water, and an ice pack. While Shouto nurses you, Katsuki brings in a hot towel, and they both work at cleaning you off.

You wince as the warm water soaks through the towel, but their touch is both gentle and healing. The two of them working on you simultaneously, each doing their own part, feels…really nice.

You try not to react too much. You try not to show disdain or appreciation. They seem not to notice your inner struggle. Eventually, you’re wrapped up in their sheets, and in their arms, though you make a face whenever your backside begins to hurt.

Shouto gently strokes your hair. "There, there. It's alright, baby. We're here for you..."

Katsuki kisses your shoulder, and whispers into your ear. “But your punishment isn’t over, princess. You can rest for tonight, but in the morning, we're going to keep fucking you until you can't walk for at least a week.”

Eyes growing wide, you’re about to object, when Katsuki adds, “beats having your leg broken, right?” That shuts you right up.

Your mind whirls as you lay there, wondering when the others will fall asleep. You can put up with this for a while, but it’s not a forever thing. Sure, they can assure your fate for the next week, but winter won’t last. Sooner or later, the snow will melt, you will be healed, and the both of them can’t be on vacation forever.

As you begin to think of possible plans of escape for the future, you begin to feel oddly drowsy, and not just in the sleepy sense. You’ve never quite fallen asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow. With lethargic realization, you understand that you hadn’t quite examined the pills Katsuki brought you. As you reluctantly doze into a deathlike sleep, you note that you have another obstacle to overcome.

[garlic-but-gay]

Man, polyamory fuckin rocks. Do I see a meme related to anything from doctor who to crocheting to eminem to metroid to guilty gear to coffee? I fuckin know exactly who to send it to, and each time their reactions make me so fuckin happy. I get to make them happy too. It rocks.

[ofchaotics]

💕 ( avery & rue i BEG )

AVERY & MATEO . . .

How did they meet? at some industry party.... and mateo probably made a fool of himself

Who flirted with who first? mateo...... stumbling and drunk azheo

Was it love at first sight or a slowburn romance? can i say both???? CAN I SAY BOTH???? he didn’t admit it to himself for a while but... it was there..

Did they start dating right away or were they friends before things became romantic? they’ve always had a ...... questionable dynamic even as friends 

What was their first date? why do i wanna say it was the night she came over and mateo played her a song he wrote for her . .. . . . . . . bc . .. . . . sobs

What are their favourite things to do on date nights? wreck havoc. ruin people’s days.

Do they still go on dates after being together for a while? all the time... he be wining and dining this woman consistently .

What is their love language? chaos and bullying

Who kissed who first? i wanna say avery.... just bc... big top energy

Who started the relationship? mateo.... 

Monogamy or Polyamory? mateo too hostile to share avery SAWWWRRYYY

Are they/do they plan on getting married? yes <3

Who proposed? Was it a yes or no? mateo gonna propose n she betta SAY YES !

Do they want kids? Who brought it up first? mateo does, but he’s made peace with it potentially never happening................

Do they already have kids, together or from previous relationships? negative

Do they have any routines/rituals in their relationship? chaos and havoc.... but no fr i feel like they do their skincare routines side by side every night and every morning......... cute..

How do they take care of each other when they are sick/hurt? they really do baby the shit out of each other whenever the other feels bad.

How do they like to spend time together? concerts, art shows, museums, late night snack runs.

What are their favourite non-sexual forms of intimacy? hands in the hair, holding hands.

What are some of their favourite things about their partner? mateo is so violently obsessed with avery that everything about her has him giggling and swinging his feet, and i feel like the feeling is mutual LMFAO

How do they comfort the other when they are upset? they talk about it, or sit in silence in each other’s arms. group cry sessions yknow

Who buys the other spontaneous gifts? mateo.... so annoying about it....

What position do they sleep in? mateo always wants to be little spoon but his tall ass is usually the big spoon LMAO

Do they bathe/shower together? absolutely 

Do they do anything else in the bath/shower other than wash? they do be fucking...

In the bedroom - Vanilla, a little spice, or kinky af? HAHHAHAHAHAHAHA is this even a fucking question???????

For applicable ships - who tops/bottoms? avery and her big top energy.... sometimes they switch it up... SOMETIMES...

For applicable ships - who is more dominant/submissive? girl is this even a question bye

What is their favourite sex position? mateo biased as hell . . . . anytime he’s just getting his shit rocked amen 

Do either of them enjoy bringing sex toys into the bedroom? ...... yes......

Favourite place to have sex? anywhere and everywhere rip

Most adventurous place they’ve had sex? they be fuckin everywhere.... be fr..... 

How often do they fight? What about? not very often lmfao and it’s probably just over extremely trivial or mundane things .

Have they ever broken up? NEVA EVA!!!! 

Messy breakup, amicable split, remain friends, ride or die or til death do us part? they’re endgame srry friend...

RUE & MATEO . . .

How did they meet? through dakota... probably at some party

Who flirted with who first? mateo lmfao 

Was it love at first sight or a slowburn romance? mateo was whipped from the START 

Did they start dating right away or were they friends before things became romantic? laughs violently.......... mateo invited himself into dakota and rue’s relationship

What was their first date? mateo taking her to some super lowkey screening for some movie.. like their first one on one date.. sob sob

What are their favourite things to do on date nights? also wrecking havoc and ruining people’s days

Do they still go on dates after being together for a while? their dates mostly consist of them getting high tbh

What is their love language? words of affirmation and physical touch

Who kissed who first? mateo :>

Who started the relationship? mateo........ pushy ass...

Monogamy or Polyamory? squints.. is this a question...... 

Are they/do they plan on getting married? they’d definitely have to flee to utah or something 

Who proposed? //

Do they want kids? Who brought it up first? neither one of them is ready for that yet LMFAO

Do they already have kids, together or from previous relationships? negative

Do they have any routines/rituals in their relationship? getting high and watching shitty horror movies, and bullying dakota.

How do they take care of each other when they are sick/hurt? mateo hovering over her every move making sure she’s okay, bringing her food n washing her hair.........

How do they like to spend time together? parties and sleepovers, movie dates.

What are their favourite non-sexual forms of intimacy? mateo’s fav thing is when rue lays her head on his lap....... so cute....

What are some of their favourite things about their partner? mateo luvs rue’s sense of humor.... the way he just giggles at everything she says....

How do they comfort the other when they are upset? mateo’s always too willing to beat up anyone who upsets her, to which she has to calm him down and they just get high and forget about it.

Who buys the other spontaneous gifts? mateo bringing her weed and booze...... his token of affection...

What position do they sleep in? lanky ass mfers just limbs everywhere 

Do they bathe/shower together? yes <3

Do they do anything else in the bath/shower other than wash? they, too, do be fucking...

In the bedroom - Vanilla, a little spice, or kinky af? AGAINNNNN IS THIS A QUESTION

For applicable ships - who tops/bottoms? mateo the top here i fear

For applicable ships - who is more dominant/submissive? once again.... mateo in his dom era

What is their favourite sex position? missionary just bc mateo likes looking at her <3

Do either of them enjoy bringing sex toys into the bedroom? ...... yes......

Favourite place to have sex? in his car LMFAO

Most adventurous place they’ve had sex? they be fuckin everywhere.... be fr.....

How often do they fight? What about? mateo more than likely gets upset with her if she gets too carried away with the drugs n shit

Have they ever broken up? never ever ever

Messy breakup, amicable split, remain friends, ride or die or til death do us part? they too are endgame <3

[gointothevvater]

some kind of kiss

Guys, the SnB origin fic is finally here! 

Summary: They were known as Snakes N' Barrels, a tough group of rock thugs from the wrong side of the tracks, with a ravenous madman at the forefront, a man simply known as Pickles. This is their story.

Tags: 80s setting, origin story, polyamory, drinking, drugs, sex, you know the drill when it comes to these guys! A note, though: Everyone is over 18. Pickles was 18 when he joined the band and everyone just thought he was younger because he’s tiny. Hush. Just trust me on this.

Read below or read on AO3! 

Tagging @mtllica, @aggravatetheaxe and @the-loveliest-lotus

"Pickles?" Tony squinted, staring at the list of auditioners for a long moment. Behind him, the rest of the band was looking impatient. They were most of a band, anyway. They had no singer, though they had been looking for one for weeks all over California. "Pickles?" he said again. "Fuckin' really?"

From out in the hall, among the rapidly dwindling number of hopefuls, a voice called back, "Fuckin' really."

The hotel room was crowded already, what with Sammy's drum kit and the amps and spares and the pair of ratty beds, and though the redhead who strode in was tiny, he filled up the space and more with his presence. That, Tony noted, was very important. A singer needed to have a strong presence. This singer had a crooked grin on his face and a guitar case slung over his shoulder, and he couldn't have been more than sixteen. Pretty thing he was, though. The girls'd go crazy over him.

The way St. Cecilia was looking at him proved that, her golden eyes dark in a way that was usually reserved for Sammy.

Sammy, for his part, didn't seem to mind at all. In face, he laughed.

"Lose the guitar, love," St. Cecilia drawled in her lovely accent, and Pickles's ridiculously green eyes shifted to her, lingering a little longer than was polite. Tony couldn't blame him. "It's a singer we need."

The redhead-- Pickles? Tony still didn't quite believe that-- shrugged his leather-jacketed shoulders, propping his guitar case against the wall. "So," he said, "name's Pickles. Thinking I might be your new singer."

Sammy said, "Cheeky." It was St. Cecilia's word, but her little British-isms had rubbed off on all of them.

"Ain't cheeky if it's true," Pickles said. There was a rather cheap microphone on a stand in front of the rest of the instrumental setup, and he grabbed it, adjusting it to a much lower stance and asking, "What'cha gonna play?"

They'd been playing Another One Bites The Dust all day, and it was Snazz who decided to change the tune, playing out the first few notes of Don't Stand So Close To Me. It took a moment for Tony and Sammy and St. Cecilia to catch up, but once they had, and the beat evened out, Pickles began to sing. "Young teacher, the subject," he began, "Of schoolgirl fantasy." It was magic. He swayed as he sang, his acid green half-lidded as he purred into the microphone, looking nothing short of utterly blissed out. He ran a hand through his hair, and the movement was nothing short of hypnotic. "She wants him so badly," he sang, tossing a wink at St. Cecilia, "Knows what she wants to be."

Fuck, this guy was too much. St. Cecilia couldn't keep her eyes off him. Hell, Tony couldn't, either.

"Inside him, there's longing," Pickles was singing, and though the band had slowed and slowed and eventually stopped playing, he didn't seem to notice. "This girl's an open page."

When he finally did notice, he stopped, too. That little grin was back when he asked, "Well? Am I in or not?" It was clear he already knew the answer. They all did.

Just the same, Tony said, "Go wait in the hall."

Though Pickles still looked smug as anything, he did as he was told, not even bothering to collect his guitar case, closing the door behind him.

"Why send him out?" Snazz asked from where he sat on one of the two bedraggled beds, his guitar held close. "He's it."

From behind his drum kit, idly tapping the sticks against his thighs, Sammy agreed, "Yep."

"He's absolutely perfect," St. Cecilia said, her guitar strap hooked over her arm so it wasn't resting against her barely-healed collarbone. "Tony, we have to have him."

Though he knew she was right, and he absolutely agreed, Tony teased, "You thinking with your dick again? You just want him in the band 'cause you want him?"

With a roll of her eyes, she said, "That, too." She rose from where she sat beside Snazz, leaving her guitar on the bed, and stepped out into the hall. There were twenty or so hopefuls out here, and to them she said, "We've made our decision." She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Shoo."

Pickles, who sat cross-legged on the dingy carpet, stood with the others, and though they left cursing and fussing under their breath, he remained.

"Come along," St. Cecilia said, meeting his gaze with hers. "We have work to do."

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Three (Bad Ideas) - Part 3 of 3

Jared x Jensen ( x Reader, but mostly J2) 

Word Count: ~6720

Warnings: The most explicit guy-on-guy scene I’ve written so far in this series, I think. Rom-com-style miscommunication shenanigans, excessive fluff, bossy!Jensen and his dirty dirty mouth, Jared’s exhibitionist tendencies, polyamory negotiations, anxiety and the way it can fuck with relationships, no seriously so much fluff, boys being idiots, boys in a non-figurative closet, boys in love, boys in bed, and more fucking fluff. 

A/N: I cannot believe I finally finished this, holy shit. Credit to @fangirlxwritesx67​! Most of this series wouldn’t exist without her neverending J2 gif spams. 

Catch up here: Part 1 / Part 2

This is the prequel to the original Everything story, which you can only read on Amazon these days; it actually overlaps a bit, and retells a few scenes from Jared’s POV, but this fic stands on its own. The original is thoroughly plotless, tbh. It’s like 18k of pure smut. Read it over here if you’re interested. More standalones/headcanons/ficlets in this ‘verse can be found here. 

“Come on,” Jared pants, “Hurry up already.” 

“Somebody’s fuckin demanding,” Jensen growls.

“Please, just — fuck, so close, come on.” He tries to buck forward but Jensen’s got him pinned, shoving him against the wall of the dark, cramped little closet while his hand moves in a maddeningly even rhythm, working him with long rough perfect strokes. 

“Door’s not locked. If you don’t keep your voice down somebody’s gonna walk right in.” 

He twists his wrist just right, and Jared groans, slumping back against the wall, trying not to let his knees buckle. 

“Please,” he says again. 

“Is that what you want? You want someone to walk in?” 

“Shit, come on, stop teasing.” 

“What would you do if she walked in?” Jensen says, practically purring, his voice deep and suggestive in the dark, close air. “God, I bet you’d love that.”

Jared wants to protest, but the image of it, the thought of her opening that door, thrills him like a thousand fucking volts. He whimpers, and Jensen just laughs. The guilt hits a split-second later. 

“I wouldn’t stop, either,” Jensen continues. “I’d let her hear you begging, let her watch while I make you come...” 

Jared’s so close he can barely breathe. He can feel it, building everywhere, from his toes and his fingers, up through his spine, coiling tight and hot and —

“So fuckin’ dirty, admit it, you want her to see you come all over yourself. Think she’d lick it off my fingers when you’re done?” 

“Asshole,” Jared gasps, and his cheeks are burning but he can’t help it, he’s imagining her face and then his hips are jerking forward as he comes, so bright and sharp in his gut that he’s doubling over, clutching at the back of Jensen’s shirt and trying to stifle a shout. 

*

Jared’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop, if he’s being honest with himself. Everything has gone so smoothly with them. It’s been over a year, and he’s still convinced he’s going to fuck this up; it can’t possibly be this easy. 

Jared’s pretty sure the shoe hit the ground today, when Jensen mentioned someone else and Jared just — well. That. 

Jensen has a territorial streak a mile wide. He’s quick to move in when he feels like someone’s too close to Jared, asserting himself with a hand on the back of Jared’s neck, fingers in his hair, something quietly possessive. Dirty talk is one thing; the way Jared reacted to it must have been more than enough to set off a red alert in that jealous corner of Jensen’s brain. 

He’s already steeling himself as Jensen slides into the bed, turns the light off, and spoons up behind him to kiss the curve of his neck. 

“We gonna talk about that?” Jensen murmurs. Jensen doesn’t sound mad, but he’s a good fucking actor. 

“I don’t know what you’re—” 

“Don’t.” His huff of a laugh tickles Jared’s neck. 

Jared’s not sure what the fuck is wrong with him, because he finally has what he’s wanted for so many years, finally, and he’s so ridiculously, breathtakingly, head-over-heels in love with Jensen that he can barely see straight sometimes. It’s hard to take his eyes off Jensen, and it definitely gets in the way of things like eating or sleeping or remembering his lines, and so it’s kind of amazing to him that his brain even has space to notice another person, but… he notices her. He can’t help it.

Jensen slides a palm over his hip, tracing the shape of bone and muscle with the tips of his fingers and then dipping down to cup his cock. 

Fuck. 

Jared tries to ignore the feeling that he’s walking into a trap, somehow. 

“It was hot,” he admits softly. 

“Fuckin’ right it was,” Jensen says, low and suggestive against his ear. “Ever thought about that? Somebody watching?” 

He’s getting hard embarrassingly fast and he knows Jensen can feel it. Jared squirms back against him. For a second it’s easy to forget what they were talking about, and by the time he remembers, he doesn’t particularly care any more. 

“Can you—” he breathes, and Jensen nips the round of his shoulder before rolling away for a second. When he comes back, there’s the click of a bottle opening and closing, and then Jensen’s teasing with one slick finger, grazing sensitive skin in little circles until Jared’s gritting his teeth against the urge to beg. 

“You never answered my question,” Jensen whispers. One finger sinks in slow, and Jared shudders. 

Right. That. 

“It’s not a thing or whatever. I was close, and your voice — you could recite a grocery list in that fucking voice and I’d get hard.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

Jared can hear the smirk. 

“It was just… in the moment,” he insists. “I’d never — hearing you talk about it was hot, but... I’ve never — not seriously.” He’s glad Jensen can’t see the way he blushes.

The second finger feels like a stretch, a burn that streaks up his spine and dissolves quickly into sparks, discomfort easing into a wash of pleasure. 

“But you like talking about it,” Jensen rasps, and for a second Jared has no fucking idea what they were just saying. Jensen curls his fingers just right and white fireworks dance behind Jared’s eyelids. 

“Maybe,” he gasps. He tries to brace himself against the mattress, pushing back, arching shamelessly. Jensen kisses the nape of his neck, dragging an open-mouthed kiss down the knobs of Jared’s spine. 

“So let’s talk about it,” Jensen says, lips still touching, smearing the words across his skin. He kisses the curve of his neck, bites it, a bright grounding point of sensation as he pulls his hand away. 

“More?” Jared whispers, just as Jensen’s fingers slide in again, three this time, slow, overwhelming. 

There’s a prickle of heat all over his skin. Jared focuses on breathing. Jensen matches him so that they’re inhaling and exhaling in sync, and it’s deafening in the dark, silent, still room. 

Jensen’s fingers fuck him open slowly, twisting, brushing up against the spot that makes Jared whimper, again and again and —

“Was it because you imagined somebody walking it? Or because you imagined her walking in?” Jensen asks. 

Jared goes cold all over for a second, cold and then fever-hot again as pure panic zings up his spine. He can’t answer, but it doesn’t matter; if Jensen’s asking that question, it’s because he already knows the answer. 

He bites back a whimper, torn between shame and arousal. He’s frozen. 

“Whoa, no,” Jensen says, obviously alarmed. “That’s not — Jesus, I’m sorry, I would never — I don’t care.” He pulls his fingers away and curls himself around Jared, kissing the hollow behind Jared’s ear, making soft shushing sounds, crooning reassurances until Jared starts to relax. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay? Why would you even think that?” 

Jared knows him, knows how he sounds when he’s angry, knows that this isn’t that, and he’s not really sure why he panicked, now; Jensen wouldn’t set him up like that. He just wouldn’t. 

It’s Jared’s own fault, anxiety and guilt and relentless fucking insecurities. He should know better.

“Sorry,” is all he can manage, in a rough strangled voice. He doesn’t know what to do with the leftover adrenaline fizzing in his veins. 

“Hey, listen to me,” Jensen whispers, with just enough steel in his tone that Jared can’t help but pay attention. “I just —I don’t care who you’re attracted to, because… you love me, right?”

“Of course. Why would you even—” 

“So it doesn’t matter who you’re thinking about, because you’re still mine. Right?” 

“Right,” Jared mumbles. He’s still not entirely sure why Jensen brought her up in the first place, if not out of jealousy, but Jensen’s fingers are sliding in again, thick knuckles opening him up. It’s distracting. 

“If I was there too — if it was something we could do together — ” Jensen says, hesitant. “I wouldn’t mind sharing you.”

“Oh,” Jared breathes. 

This is so not how he expected this conversation to go. 

“If I was telling you what to do…” Jared groans, ragged and drawn-out, and Jensen lets out a shaky exhale before he continues: “You’re so good for me. So good at doing what you’re told.” 

“Holy shit.” 

Before Jensen, Jared would’ve considered himself thoroughly fucking vanilla, but Jensen has this way of pushing buttons that Jared never knew existed. Inventing new buttons, maybe. They’re, like, Jensen-specific buttons, and fuck, Jared’s not making sense even to himself, and he’s about to lose his goddamn mind here. 

“On your stomach,” Jensen orders. He urges Jared forward and moves with him, sliding on top of him, hot soft skin and sinewy strength blanketing him and grounding him and holding him in place. 

“Come on, just—.”

The words turn into a sigh as Jensen sinks into him. He grabs Jared’s wrists, squeezing almost too tight, pinning him down. He rocks his hips, pushing in deeper, inch by inch, until Jared’s shaking and full and so tense he feels like he’s vibrating.  

“So good,” Jensen croons again. “I should show you off, let everybody see how well trained you are… is that what you want?” 

Jared twitches under him, hips jerking, fingers flexing, uncoordinated and involuntary. 

“Yeah. Yes. Fuck.” 

He’s never imagined anything like that in his life, but the image sears itself into his brain, and he knows he’ll be thinking about that for a long goddamn time. His cock is uncomfortably hard, trapped between his stomach and the mattress, and every thrust has him rubbing against the sheets, too rough and nowhere near enough. 

Jensen grinds in with this long undulating snaky movement that drags like a match being struck, and the friction ignites inside him, sparkling hot. He tries to muffle the raw ugly cry in the back of his throat by pressing his face down into the mattress. A few more of those rolling sinuous thrusts and Jared’s burning up, not really sure if those are words coming out of his mouth or just nonsense, but he thinks he’s begging, stuttering out curses and pleas. 

“I’ve imagined the two of you together,” Jensen says, gravelly and shredded. “What you’d look like… what I’d tell you to do to her.”   

“Fuck,” Jared slurs, and tries to bite down on the sheet. He’s so close, too close, just needs something — 

Then Jensen slides a hand from Jared’s wrist to his hair, and he grabs, twists, forces Jared’s head to one side so that the next wild sound rings out loud. 

“Mine,” he growls, close and hot and everywhere. He fucks in deep, pulls Jared’s hair hard, and that sting is exactly the catalyst Jared needed; he lets go, goes under, with Jensen repeating it like an echo: “Mine.” 

*

“We can protect you,” Sam declares.

“It’s not your job to take care of me,” she says defiantly. 

“I want to help. I can—”

“Because you don’t have enough to deal with?” she scoffs, but she’s blinking back tears. “What about you?” 

Sam shrugs. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I can’t. I’d rather have you safe than—” 

She practically throws herself at him, hugging him so hard it knocks the air out of his lungs, and Sam closes his eyes, holding her tight. 

“Cut!” Rich yells. 

For a moment, Jared’s frozen, caught in the scene, and he has to forcefully wrench himself back out. Her arms are still wrapped around him, her face buried in his chest, and he can feel the way she inhales, shaky, before pulling away. 

“You okay?” he asks. His voice cracks. She gives him a watery smile. 

“That was… wow,” Rich says, grinning from ear to ear. “Nailed it. That’s a wrap for today. Get some rest, you deserve it.”

Jared’s stuck in Sam’s skin, and it sucks. He’s never been good at keeping his own emotions neat and tidy; add Sam’s weight-of-the-world mess on top of that, and he’s a wreck. 

Jared looks around automatically for Jensen, but Jensen’s been in production meetings all day, doing important director things. He texts instead: 

Done soon? Duckin weird heavy day

Meant fuckin obv, no ducks involved

Ugh miss you

He heads back to his chair and starts gathering up his stuff, and she comes up next to him without a word, slipping an arm around his waist and giving him a sideways squeeze. He sighs and turns into it, bundling her up in his arms, softer and sweeter than the hug their characters just shared. She doesn’t let go, and after a moment he can feel the tension starting to drain away. He still doesn’t feel like him, not quite re-settled in his own skin, but… it’s getting better. 

He kisses the top of her head, getting a whiff of the unmistakable scent of her shampoo, or whatever that fruity shit is that Jared has come to know as her smell. 

“Walk over to wardrobe with me?” he asks. 

“I need a minute,” she says, the words muffled in flannel. He hates the tremor in her voice. “Before I have to walk through all the chaos. Y’know?” 

“Yeah. Want to just… sit with me, for a sec?” 

She scoots her chair over to face his, close enough that their knees are touching. For a second she just looks at him, like she’s about to ask if he’s okay and does he want to talk about it, but the answer is a resounding no and she must read that on his face. 

Jared’s always had that problem; everything he feels shows on his face. The only reason he managed to hide his feelings for Jensen for so long is that he never even acknowledged them to himself. He fidgets uncomfortably, self-conscious, and makes himself stop messing with his hair. He doesn’t really want to know what she’s seeing as she looks at him. 

She grabs his hands and holds them, palm to palm, and it takes Jared a minute to catch on; she’s playing that stupid game where she’s trying to slap the tops of his hands before he can pull them away.  

“I haven’t done this since middle school,” he says, flustered, trying to focus. “Dork.” 

“Gotcha!” 

He tries and fails an embarrassing number of times to get her back. 

“No fair. My hands are like five times the size of yours, they make a bigger target,” he protests. 

She giggles. “It’s true, you’ve got the bigass moose hands.” 

She takes one of his hands in both of hers, laying it palm-up and leaning in closely to inspect it. Jared smells that fruity sweet scent again, and he has to fight the urge to run his fingers through her hair. 

“Can you read palms?” he asks. 

“Mmmhmm.” She frowns down at his hand. 

“What?” 

“See this super faint line right here?” She traces one with the very tip of her finger; it tickles. 

Jared shivers. He’s paying attention to the feel of her soft hands more than her words, but he nods and says, “Yeah.” 

“That’s your grace line. The way it’s all fragmented and faint means you’re clumsy as fuck.” 

“Huh.” 

“This one around your middle finger is the ring of the bird. Means you’re really bad at staying angry. This one is the line of the doofus, means—” 

“Wait a second,” Jared says, laughing as the words sink in. “You’re so full of shit. I’ll give you a ring of the bird.” 

He shoves his middle finger right up in her face and uses it to poke her forehead, and she giggles, swatting his hand away. It devolves rapidly into a sort of childish slap fight. 

“Wow,” comes a low, teasing drawl, and Jared starts in his seat, turning to Jensen weirdly fast. He’s not sure why he feels like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. They weren’t doing anything wrong. 

“Hey,” Jared says, breathless, and pushes his chair back awkwardly so that he’s not quite so close to her. 

He expects jealousy, but Jensen’s not doing his usual steely jaw-clench-y thing. He looks uncertain, like he’s not even sure how he feels, but his smile is genuine and warm and crinkle-eyed. 

“Feeling better?” he asks. 

“Oh! Right. I’m… yeah, actually. I’m fine.” He’s stunned by how true it is. 

“Thanks for that,” Jensen tells her quietly. 

Jared frowns. “I don’t need someone to—”

“It was mutual,” she interrupts. 

The sweet little half-smile on her face makes Jared forget his ruffled feathers. He looks between the two of them. 

“Um… to wardrobe?” he asks Jensen. 

Jensen nods and asks her, “You coming?” 

She shrugs and gives Jensen another tentative smile, and they all fall into step. Jared can’t really accept how easy it feels, but he doesn’t want to question it, at least not now.

*

Jared’s used to the way Jensen shuts down sometimes, the way he curls into his shell when he’s anxious or stressed, but it feels different now that they’re together. They’ve been together for a fucking year. He feels like he should know how to deal with this. 

For someone who’s remarkably direct in almost every part of his life, Jensen is a champion at stonewalling people when he really wants to; the more Jared pokes and prods, the higher the walls get. Jensen’s been edgy all day, and it’s bad enough that everyone has noticed. Jared’s pretty sure this is about him, so he’s determined to fix it; Jensen said he wasn’t threatened, but… yeah. It’s the only explanation, and it’s making Jared second-guess everything he says and does and fucking thinks, and he’s just pissing Jensen off more. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” Jared asks. 

“You can stop bouncing your knee like that, for starters,” Jensen grumbles. “And then you can stop asking me that fucking question.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jensen insists stubbornly. “Okay? I just need some space.” 

Jared sighs and knuckles at his eyes. This is fucking exhausting. 

“Fine.” 

Just as he’s about to stand up, there’s a loud knock on the trailer door. 

“It’s open,” Jensen shouts reluctantly, already trying to control his own scowl. The door slams open. 

“Hey,” she says cheerfully, juggling a large paper bag and a tray of coffee cups as she tries to shut the door behind herself. 

“I got it,” Jared says, jumping up to help. She gives him a grateful smile and shoves the coffee tray at him. One of them has his name scrawled on the side. “Wait, really? For me?” 

“Your favorite.” 

“You’re my favorite,” he says, and immediately wants to smack himself in the forehead. “I mean—”

“S’okay, she’s my favorite right now too,” Jensen admits dryly. 

“You mentioned wanting to try that new place, right?” She plops the bag down on the table and makes herself at home next to Jensen on the couch. Jared’s still standing awkwardly, hovering, not sure what to do with himself. 

“The bakery?” Jensen asks. She caught him off-guard before he could fully put on his polite mask with the camera-ready smile. He doesn’t seem to know how to feel about that. 

“Yeah! I got a little of everything, figured we should taste test.” 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jensen protests. She just waves a macaron at him until he caves, biting it right out of her hand and making a deliriously happy noise. 

“Don’t get me wrong, this was not a purely altruistic gesture,” she laughs, taking a bite of her own. “Plenty to go around.” 

She offers one to Jared, but he shakes his head ruefully. “I was just about to go.” 

Jensen glances up again, and something softens in his expression. His smile looks like an apology. 

“Stay,” he says quietly. He holds up a mini lemon tart as a peace offering. Jared takes a bite, letting out an obscene moan that’s only kinda exaggerated, before taking a seat on Jensen’s other side. 

“Okay, let’s get down to business,” she says, straight-faced as she gestures to the spread. “We have our work cut out for us.” 

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Jensen deadpans. They dig in. 

Jared’s still not entirely sure what just happened, but he doesn’t care as long as Jensen’s smiling. 

By the time they’re down to the last few cookies, Jared’s sugar-high and over-caffeinated and happier than he’s been all week. He’s also starting to suspect that maybe he’s not the cause of Jensen’s mood after all.

Jared sucks a smudge of icing off his own thumb, and there’s a flicker of heat in Jensen’s eyes as he tracks the movement. Then he shakes his head like he’s laughing at himself. 

“Be right back,” he tells them, and heads for the bathroom. 

As soon as the door closes behind him, Jared turns to look at her, wide-eyed. Her smile falters. 

“Is this okay? I know he’s been… off.” 

“That’s a nice way of saying it,” Jared laughs.

“I wanted to see if I could cheer him up.” She looks self-conscious now, which was really not the point. 

“You did. This is awesome, but — I’m just surprised he let you,” Jared admits. “I’ve known him for a long fucking time and there are still days… I don’t know.” 

“Figured if I asked, he’d just say no, so… didn’t bother asking.” She shrugs like it’s nothing. “Sometimes it’s easier to get out of your head when you’re with someone you don’t know as well, right?” 

There are about a million things Jared wants to say, but he hears the toilet flush, so he just whispers, “Thanks,” and hopes she knows how much he means it. 

“Jesus, I’m stuffed,” Jensen says, flopping back down between them. He reaches for the last raspberry puff-thing anyway and eats it in one bite, making a goofy face that’s 100% Dean, and they both laugh. He swallows and wipes his mouth, somehow managing to leave a streak of confectioner’s sugar from the corner of his lips down to his jaw. 

“You’ve got a—” Jared says, but he just leans in and licks it off. 

Jensen angles his head for a real kiss. He’s smiling, and he tastes like raspberries, and Jared really doesn’t want to stop kissing him. 

When they break apart, she looks away quickly enough to make it obvious that she was staring. Her cheeks go pink as she bites her lip. 

“I’m gonna go,” she says, fumbling for her bag. 

“Don’t,” Jared says. “Sorry, didn’t mean to go all PDA on you, just—”

She’s already heading for the door. 

“Stay?” Jensen asks softly. He clearly means it, and that makes her pause. 

“It’s almost time for me to be back on set anyway,” she says, still blushing. “I should—”

“If you’re sure, but… thank you,” Jensen says sincerely. 

“Any time!” 

She grins over her shoulder and then she’s gone before either of them can get up to hug her goodbye. Jared watches the door close behind her, disappointed, and he’s almost embarrassed to be caught staring until he realizes Jensen’s doing the same thing. 

“She’s… yeah,” Jensen muses. “Of all the people you could be crushing on? I like her.” 

Jared’s kinda mystified, because if that’s not what Jensen was upset about, he has no idea what the issue was, but he also feels a thousand pounds lighter. 

“Love you,” he blurts out. 

“Love you too,” Jensen says, pulling him in for another sugary kiss. 

*

There are a few moments in the next couple days when Jared can see that black cloud hovering over Jensen’s head again, but they’re shooting his episode, so Jared writes it off as director-stress. Instead of worrying, Jared just tries to distract him, and he’s amazed by how well it works. 

Of course, as soon as he’s stopped fixating on it, Jensen brings it up. All these years and it never occurred to Jared that avoiding the issue entirely would be the best way to get Jensen to talk about something he doesn’t want to fucking talk about.

“I’m sorry for being a dick this week,” he says bluntly, sitting down on the couch next to Jared and passing him a beer. 

Jared laughs, still channel-surfing. “It’s fine. Honestly. At first I thought — I don’t know. Whatever. It’s fine.” 

Jensen grabs the remote out of his hand and mutes the TV, and Jared shifts, curling a little closer so he can take in the abruptly serious expression on Jensen’s face. 

“I got a call… there’s this developer who wants to buy my property,” Jensen says. “And they’re offering a lot of money, but —” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Jared asks. “You were gonna sell it eventually anyway, right?” 

The tips of Jensen’s ears are pink. 

“I wanted to look at my options, and… you know. Talk to you about it.” 

Jared shrugs. “Okay. Will all your shit even fit in my house? Maybe we should get a storage unit.” 

Jensen stares at him blankly for a second. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he asks, “Seriously? That’s it?” 

“You’re talking about moving in, right?” Jared asks. “You’re always at my house anyway, it’s not — wait. Is that what you were stressing about?” 

Jensen actually glares as Jared starts to laugh. Jared gestures vaguely around at the Vancouver apartment they’ve shared for fucking years, and eventually Jensen starts laughing too, burying his face in his palms. The back of his neck is flushed, and Jared can’t fucking believe him, or this, or… the whole situation, really. 

Of all the absurd shit. 

“It just felt like a big deal,” Jensen says sheepishly. “I thought… I didn’t want to assume, and I didn’t know how long I had to decide, and I wanted to go through all my options and have it all laid out for you, because I didn’t want you to think — I don’t fucking know. Jesus. Asking someone to move in with you is generally a big deal! I was just freaking out a little.” 

“You pulled a me, in other words?” Jared asks, laughing again. Jensen jokingly tries to push him away and Jared scoots closer. 

Jensen always seems so sure about things. Jared forgets, sometimes, that he worries too. 

“It was a busy week, and I didn’t want to just jump into it, because if you said no and it turned into a whole big thing I worried it would get in the way when I was directing, and — fucking hell. You hate it when I say ‘we need to have a conversation about something but not right now.’” 

“Well, yeah,” Jared huffs. “That’s the worst. But you could’ve at least told me it wasn’t my fault!” 

Jensen makes a dismissive sound. “Why the fuck would it be your fault?” 

“Seriously?” 

“I mean… yeah, nothing happened, why would you —” 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Jared half-shouts, torn between exasperation and laughter. “I thought you were jealous! I told you I was attracted to somebody else, and — for fuck’s sake.” 

“Did something happen with her, since we talked about that?” Jensen asks. Jared has a momentary urge to smack him. 

“No. Obviously not. I just thought…” 

They both just stare at each other, and then Jensen starts shaking his head slowly as realization dawns. Jared laughs, giddy and almost hysterical, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“Did you think I was just going to sulk about it for a few days without telling you, and then… what, end it?” Jensen asks, as if it’s insane. 

Jared shrugs helplessly. “I mean… yeah, I guess.” 

Jensen sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he chooses his words. For a moment Jared thinks he’s angry, but when Jensen looks at him again, there’s nothing but this raw tenderness all over his face. 

“Look,” he says, slow and deliberate. “I know I go all caveman when other people try to flirt with you, but it’s not because I don’t trust you. Okay?” 

“That’s not —” 

“Hang on. Hear me out here. You can’t beat yourself up for looking at someone, Jared. Or for pheromones, or what-fucking-ever. You can’t. I don’t care who else you look at, as long as you still want me, at the end of the day. Relax, okay?” 

Jensen’s hands curl around his upper arms, holding him firmly, until Jared rests his forehead against Jensen’s and takes a deep breath. 

“You really don’t mind?” 

“I don’t. I’m fucking seriously in love with you, and I need you to know that you can tell me anything. It’s not going to change the way I feel about you. Just fucking tell me, and then we can deal with it together. As long as you’re honest.” 

Jared can’t help but ask, “Do I need to point out how hypocritical —” 

“Don’t even start,” Jensen laughs. “That’s different. Asking someone to make a huge fucking life change with you is different from… feeling guilty for thinking a girl is cute, or whatever. She’s fucking cute. You’re not blind.” 

“You don’t think I’m an asshole?” His voice cracks. 

“What? Why would I?”  

“I feel like… I feel like the luckiest person in the fucking world, Jay, you’ve gotta know that.” Jared’s tearing up, because of course he is, and the intensity in Jensen’s expression isn’t helping, but the words start to spill out faster: “I never thought I could have this. This — us — it’s better than anything I ever fucking imagined, and it’s not like you’re not enough for me. You’re… this is everything to me. So how the fuck do I still want more? I don’t deserve this, let alone —”

He bites his lip to cut himself off. He didn’t realize he was going to say that out loud. It’s a little too true. 

“Look at me,” Jensen growls, fierce and almost angry. 

“Sorry,” Jared half-laughs, wiping away tears. 

“First of all, you deserve the fucking universe,” Jensen says flatly, like it’s a very simple fact. “And even if you didn’t, I don’t give a shit, I’d still do anything to make you happy.” He brings his hands to Jared’s face, holding him so that he can’t look away. “But also? You feel more than anyone else I’ve ever met. If anybody’s got enough love for two people, it’d be you.” 

Jared snorts. “It’s not like it could actually happen, it’s just —” 

“Why not? As much as you like to think you’re a goddamn trailblazer, this isn’t revolutionary,” Jensen retorts, all snark. “Polyamory is a thing that people do. You can date her while you’re with me. Everybody can get what they want here.” 

“Even if it was that simple—” Jared knows it’s not that simple. “—she’s not interested in me, so—” 

Jensen cuts him off: “You’re an idiot. She’s fucking crazy about you.” 

He looks fond and exasperated and very sure of himself, and for a moment, Jared wonders if maybe he’s right. Then he shakes his head, trying to articulate how he feels. 

“I think… I’d feel weird if it wasn’t something I could share with you,” he says honestly. “I like sharing things with you. I want to share everything with you.” 

Jensen’s expression goes soft and painfully sweet. “Sap.” 

Jared shrugs. He can’t really deny that one. He leans in and kisses Jensen instead. 

Jensen grabs him and physically hauls him closer, until they’re all tangled together, and kisses him again, hard enough to bruise. 

“Is there anything else we need to get out in the open?” Jared asks wryly, when they finally break for air. “Now that we’ve established we’re both fucking morons who need to talk to each other?” 

“Fuck it, while we’re on the subject of sharing.” Jensen looks at him intently. His lips are all red and swollen. “The whole threesome thing? Just for the record, I was dead fuckin’ serious about being into that idea.” 

“Oh,” Jared says blankly. “But what if —” 

Jensen curls a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, smirking. “Stop thinking. Not right fucking now. Not when we’re filming with her for a week solid,” he says, because he can read Jared’s mind. “Someday.” 

“Someday,” Jared agrees. 

*

“You ate those cookies,” Jensen says. 

Oh. 

Fuck. 

Jared’s stomach swoops. He recognizes it now, the way she’s holding herself rigid, the panic that shows around her dark dilated pupils; he can feel it like it was yesterday, overwhelming and out of control and fucking humiliating. 

“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head. What the fuck else can he say? 

She stammers, squeezing her eyes shut like she’s refusing to think about it: “Drugs? Were the cookies drugged? Why do I feel…”

“Like if you don’t get some dick you’re gonna die?” he says bluntly. Her eyes go wide. “Been there.” 

“What did you — um.” 

It’s so fucking strange, thinking back to that night, just like it’s strange thinking about anything that happened before they were together. He remembers the electricity between them, the intensity of it, the way it felt to touch Jensen for the first time… he looks sideways at Jensen and knows he’s remembering it too. 

“I’ll go back to my room,” she says, her voice strained and scared. 

“Needs to be another person,” Jared says. His throat feels clogged, and the words come out thick and clumsy. “Believe me, I tried. But if you’re okay with it…”

His voice falters as he realizes what he’s actually offering. For a split-second, Jared feels guilty, like he brought this on somehow by sheer force of wishful thinking. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, though. Jared looks at Jensen helplessly, but Jensen’s watching her, brow furrowed with concern, and Jared is reminded (forcefully) that this isn’t about him. 

“We’ve got you,” Jensen finishes, warm and sure. 

She shakes her head. “I can’t ask —” 

“You’re not asking.”  

She looks so scared. Jared remembers that part, too: he didn’t want to look Jensen in the eyes, because he was so fucking certain he’d see disgust there, or pity, or something fucking awful like that. 

Jared empathizes so intensely that he feels sick for a second. He flounders, wondering what he can say to put her at ease, make her feel wanted, and then he chuckles to himself, realizing that the truth is probably his best option here.  

“It’s not like it’s a fucking hardship, y’know? Have you seen you?” 

It shocks a laugh out of her, at least. Jared counts it as a win. 

Then she squeezes her eyes closed again, face screwed-up and anguished, and all Jared can think about is getting rid of that pained expression. He settles on the bed next to her, takes the cool washcloth off her forehead and strokes her hair carefully, hating the way she’s frowning. She turns to look at him, and he feels like he’s about to burst with the urge to just bundle her up in a bear hug and protect her. 

“Yeah, okay,” she says abruptly, soft but sure. “Yes.” 

“C’mere then.” 

Jared slides closer, resting a hand ever-so-gently on the curve of her waist, and she rolls onto her side to face him, eyes huge and desperate. Jensen is settling at her back. She fits so neatly between the two of them. She’s trembling, but it’s okay; Jared’s pretty sure he is too. He glances over her shoulder at Jensen. 

Jensen just smiles, saying without words it’s okay and I’ve got you and together, and the last of Jared’s worries evaporate. 

“You’re gonna have to stop thinking so hard,” he tells her gently, because he knows that expression a little too well. Jensen lets out a quiet snort of laughter, which is fair, because Jared saying that to someone else is like the pot telling the kettle to stop being black. 

Then he’s cupping her cheek, tilting her chin, kissing her, and the noise in his head goes silent, for once; everything goes silent, just evaporates the fuck away, and all Jared can feel is the sweet soft shape of her lips as they part, the slick slide of her tongue, the way she sighs… he can feel her just melting into it, and there’s something about it that takes his breath away. She goes pliant in his arms, relaxing completely, like every muscle in her body is showing him: I trust you. The enormity of that trust is what has him spinning with need, rocketing from zero to sixty in five seconds flat. 

There’s a warmth blossoming in Jared’s chest that is so far beyond a crush it’s not even funny. He’s pretty sure he’s fucked, but he can’t think about that, not now, not with the way she’s responding, surging up to meet him and draw him in deeper. The only thing that matters right now is taking care of her. He just wants to make her feel good; the rest can wait. He’ll deal with his own cracked-open heart tomorrow. 

*

For a moment Jared’s convinced it was all a dream, but when he opens his eyes, she’s the first thing he sees. She’s curled up with her hands tucked under her chin, oddly childlike, and her face is totally serene. 

She’s beautiful in a way that still takes him by surprise every time he looks at her. 

Jesus pogo-jumping Christ. Jared is fucked. 

Before he can really spiral out about it, though, Jensen is stirring at his back. Jared rolls over, muscles complaining about last night’s exertion, and he sprawls out half on top of Jensen, trying to keep his breathing even. Jensen runs a hand through Jared’s tangled hair, finger-combing gently. 

“So that was… pretty amazing,” Jensen whispers, so quiet Jared barely catches the words. 

“Yeah.” 

There’s a question on the tip of his tongue and he’s burning to hear the answer, but he’s pretty sure it’s a bad idea to just spit it out like this. 

Because he’s apparently a mind reader now, Jensen answers the question anyway: “I would really love to do that again.” 

Jared exhales slowly. “Same.” 

“But… I think it’s going to be complicated. Emotionally.” 

Apparently they’re just diving the fuck into this. 

Jared closes his eyes, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. He shifts, sliding on top of Jensen, propped up on his elbows. He pauses like that for a moment, taking in the pillow creases on Jensen’s cheek and the concern in his eyes. 

Jensen hesitates, lips twitching down into a nervous frown before he continues: “I knew how you felt about her, but — well, I guess you’re not the only one.” 

Jared blinks down at him. “What are you saying?” 

Jensen reaches up and traces the line of Jared’s jaw, then his lower lip, and Jared brushes a clumsy kiss to the side of his knuckle. Jensen smiles, looking a little more sure of himself. 

“Watching the two of you — I think it could be more. The three of us could be… something. It felt right.” He frowns. “Tell me that wasn’t just me?” 

There’s this crazy swell of emotion happening in Jared’s chest, and he’s afraid he might choke on it for a moment. He kisses Jensen, smiling into it, and Jensen’s hands slide up his back, making his skin tingle in their wake. 

Jared hesitates. “What if she — I don’t think she feels —” 

“I think she’s been almost as deep in denial about this as you have,” Jensen says gently. “I don’t think she’s allowed herself to consider it, because of me, and if she knew…” 

“What if —” Jared sneaks a glance at her; she’s still sleeping peacefully. He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.

“If this is gonna work, we need to lay it all out for her,” Jensen says, so quiet that Jared feels the vibration of the words more than he hears them. “Even if it’s just sex for her, or… if this was a one-time deal. We gotta be honest with her.” 

“That sounds like a terrible fucking idea,” Jared says honestly. “How does that not scare the shit out of you?” 

Jensen just shrugs. “It does, a little bit. But… you’re the only thing that matters, when it comes down to it. As long as we’re in this together, the rest doesn’t seem too scary.” 

It sounds so fucking simple when he puts it like that. 

“Yeah, okay,” Jared whispers, leaning down to kiss him again. “Together.” 

.

.

.

If you enjoyed this, please reblog or leave a message over here! 

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

OKAY so last night i said something in tags about “ask me about my thoughts on atla post-canon polyamory” 99% because I had typed a bunch of shit in the tags and then accidentally CLOSED THE TAB thus losing said tags, so that was a bummer, BUT like 3 different people reached out wanting to hear about it so HERE GOES. (thanks to @taibhsearachd for rambling this out with me last night)

SO. this started bc we got somehow on the topic of how much we really disliked the whole Aang/Katara kiss at the end of the show.  Not because we’re against them kissing (Aang had to already have turned 13 by then, an innocent kiss is perfectly reasonable for a 13yo in my opinion), but because the placement of the kiss made it so... CENTRAL. We were talking about how we would’ve liked the kiss to have been earlier, preferably before the big finale, and then like... they still could’ve had a soft romantic moment on the balcony but it could’ve been like.  Hand holding or sitting together with Katara’s head on his shoulder.

And Birdie mentioned she’d always liked Zutara back in Ye Olde Tymes because the whole “Aang and Katara get together when they’re barely 13 and 15″ thing just seemed... really untenable if we’re going with endgame, AND it made a lot of sense to get Katara and Zuko together politically, especially since there’s nooooo princess up north anymore since she turned into the moon and all. But the resurgence of the fandom (thank you for once Netflix!) has opened our eyes to ZUKO AND SOKKA and that’s fuckin amazing but now we’re back to square one in re: Aang and Katara. But then I realized that we can fix all of this with a) allowing for healthy breakups of relationships that don’t work yet but might work when the people involved have grown/processed things, and b) extensive polyamory.

And so here’s my thought:

Aang and Katara break up for a while probably not long after the end of book 3.  They’re fucking kids, they’re traumatized kids no less, and they both have a lot of shit they need to deal with both personally and in the world that isn’t really conducive to “baby’s first serious relationship”.  They’re still friends, they view it as “well... let’s maybe try again in a few years if we’re both still interested”.  All their friends are aware of this and supportive and in the end it’s healthy for both of them bc their traumas and coping mechanisms didn’t always play nice with each other even BEFORE all the fallout from the finale and having to take on more responsibility in the world and such.

Zuko properly gets with Sokka and Suki during this time, though there’s no talk of like. Marriage or anything. Yes, Sokka’s politically got the same sort of appeal as Katara, but the thing about politically advantageous marriages at that level is there’s sort of the assumption that you’ll be, y’know, having heirs, so Sokka’s not really cut out for that and Suki flat out refused to be official Fire Lady or whatever.

So once Katara and Aang are older, like Aang’s 17 and Katara’s 19 and Zuko’s sitting over here at 21, and his advisors are all “ok but seriously Fire Lord Zuko, we really should look into at least a BETROTHAL of some sort” and he just sighs, and they’re bringing up all these Fire Nation ladies and he’s like “no it’s gotta be more diplomatic than that, she shouldn’t be Fire Nation” and so one of them’s like “well, uh, that water tribe lady you’re friends with, she’s set to be a pretty strong leader as she gets older, that would be a good way to do it.  Or that blind Earth Kingdom--” “NOT TOPH.” “ok but seriously, tho, think about it your majesty”

So Zuko’s torn because he really does like Katara, and she’d be an amazing Fire Lady in addition to being an amazing... whatever her title would be down in the Southern Water Tribe (I definitely picture her and Sokka basically being the leaders of the pan-tribal council - he handles military and adjacent stuff and she handles the rest).  But Katara’s with Aang again FINALLY not that they’ve made a big deal of it outside their friends.  BUT he knows that y’know... people can be with more than one person.  Hell, look at him and Sokka and Suki, right?

So he goes to talk to Aang like “I want to make sure I run this past you so she doesn’t have to try and do it, because I’m the one even bringing it up, and it’s obviously up to her, BUT here’s the sitch”.

And see, the thing about the Air Nomads is it really doesn’t make sense to me that they’d have the same kind of ideas about like.  Monogamy and parenthood and relationships as other nations, ‘cause like.... the kids are clearly raised communally.  Like, I vote ‘you probably know who your parents are but really all the adults are your parents, maybe you get an extra cake from them on your birthday but that’s about it’ for the most part. And y’know being with who you want to be with sort of thing. Sure you’ll have people you might be more committed to, but by and large the general consensus is “love who you love, whoever and however many people that is!”

So Zuko’s all prepared to angst for even ASKING if Aang would mind playing technical second fiddle in an heir-producing/marriage/inheritance/etc sense to HIM, ugh what if Aang hates him for even thinking it? and Aang’s just like “oh yeah that’s cool dude, if she’s down go for it! You wanna talk to her together? I don’t mind being there to reassure her it’s ok, and that you weren’t asking me permission to ask her so much as you were making sure it wouldn’t upset me if you did, and all that” and Zuko’s like “...what. I.  Ok sure?”

And Katara does like Zuko, she just y’know, also liked Aang and didn’t want to GIVE UP Aang, but Zuko’s like “it’ll be good for our people, and I’d never make you stay in the fire nation full time you have your own responsibilities and also you don’t have to stop being with Aang or even like hide it or anything, it’s not like people don’t know I’m with Sokka and stuff, it’s just, y’know, OFFICIAL HEIRS and stuff” and so she’s like “Oh!  Oh, yeah, that’s good, we can have a couple kids and stuff”

But ofc they end up a lot closer than “just a couple kids” but it’s sweet!  She has kids with Zuko and kids with Aang and really as long as one of them turns out a firebender (can the avatar have a kid of any bending type? NO ONE KNOWS but Zuko’s advisors are prepared to accept it at this point) so long as they end up with A VIABLE HEIR that Zuko will claim etc etc.

And of course Zuko and Sokka and Suki have a couple kids whose parentage is uncertain not that they really CARE, and Suki and Aang aren’t really into each other romantically but when they’re a bit older they discuss it and decide to have a kid just so they can have a shot at a potential airbender baby, because heck yeah rebuilding the airbenders, might as well get some extra genetics up in this ish.

And these kids are all largely raised together in this big pack of like 10 kids of varying ages who move between 2 or 3 different homes, and Zuko rules the Fire Nation and Sokka and Katara lead the southern water tribes, and Aang does his Avatar thing, and they all spend as much time together as possible with the kids and Suki and some of her girls from Kyoshi Island are the main people ALWAYS THERE for the kids.

And there’s at least one kind of each bender in the group (bc you can’t tell me it’s 100% you have to have a bending parent, considering neither Katara’s mother or father were benders, so one of Suki’s kids is DEFFO an earthbender) and they’re a chaotic bunch and sometimes the Gaang forgets which one of them provided the genetics for which kid but really it doesn’t matter bc they’re ALL the kids’s parents, and all the kids are ALL their kids, and it’s a big happy messy disaster of a polycule that the Fire Nation nobility and advisors despair over, but they can’t deny that it seems to be working out pretty well and that the Fire Lord is good at his job and pretty damn happy, so they don’t bitch too much about it.

...Also at some point Sokka and Toph discuss dating and end up sort of doing it for a while but then going back to being friends, but she does ABSOLUTELY get him to father one of her kids, which she then declares firmly she made out of a rock and bended to life, and most people are preeeeetty sure she’s full of shit but can’t fully discount the possibility and only the Gaang knows the truth.

so yeah that’s my avatar polyamory thoughts, it is not canon-compliant with legend of korra but who cares this is my imagination and headcanon and LoK doesn’t play into it at all. *nod*

[fanfuckingfic]

You Move Like Real People Do

(Choreographer!Jimin x Ecologist!Namjoon x Singer!Reader)

Summary: Sometimes loving someone is just too easy. It just sinks into you so deeply or floats you away so high either way it shouldn't be hard to hold on to.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: (Sappy fluff, polyamory, lots of talk about bog bodies, excessive amounts of admiration, the songs are literally Hozier’s and you should listen to them if you haven’t, oh my god this is so self indulgent)

A/N: I haven't written in like 3 years and I've never tried bullet fic style so please be nice :( also I love Hozier so much oh my god I literally just built a whole universe in my brain around his music + bangtan and I think Movement fits Jimin so well and LRPD is a sick song and Joon is a just weird nerd but anyway please enjoy and lemme know what you think! 

--------

Namjoon is an ecologist and Jimin is a choreographer and Y/n is a famous indie-rock blues singer/songwriter (literally just fucking Hozier because I love that man with every bit of my heart).

You and Joon are early risers and spend mornings sipping coffee and reading together on the couch while you wait for Jimin to get ready for the classes he teaches alongside being a choreographer so they can kiss him good morning and wish him a good day when he leaves.

You’re sure to put extra honey in his green tea to-go cup, and he kisses you both quickly on the cheek before scurrying out the door.

They both kind of fiddle around with their day cause Joon is a professor at the local university and only has classes twice a week and finished grading that last assignment yesterday.

So now he's watering his plants and terrariums in the greenhouse porch you all have and your sitting there fiddling with your guitar, messing around with some chords sometimes writing them down sometimes not.

Casually you ask Joon which student had the best paper.

“One student went out of their way to be a kiss ass if that counts.”

You ask how he means with a chuckle.

“Well you know how I've been writing a thesis about bog bodies and what-not?”

“Yes of course, love, you only remind me of the phenomenon every chance you have.” You look up at him with mock disdain. 

His eyebrows furrow, “I thought you liked talking about the bog bodies” He pouts and you honestly can't even try to deny it.

“I do, I think it's kind of beautiful- not like dead people that's shitty- but when you describe how the swamps and bogs preserve them and how they’re found.” You take in a deep breath mulling over your words for moment.

“You make things like that sound so beautiful, Joonie. Even if I don't get half the big sciencey words you say. It sorta sounds like people falling in love with something they shouldn't but doing it anyway.” You smile to yourself thinking of him talking to (mostly at) you.

Namjoon still gets flustered easily by your and Jimin's creative ways of declaring your love.

He hears Jimin's tinkling laugh in your music and his own words in your songs, sometimes he feels like he doesn't love you both back enough but you both are quick remind him that he doesn't show love through notes and twirls

He shows them through flowers he picks and the way he's always willing to interrupt himself to explain something when he sees confusion in either of your eyes, because he knows you want to but wont stop his train of thought, you both want to understand what he's babbling on about because you love him.

(And he looks so fuckin hot when he goes on his passionate rants about certain bacteria being the back bone for an entire ecosystem how could you not?)

He blushes and clears his throat.

You always find the beauty in everything, can turn just about anything into a love story, a poem.

He loves that about you and Jimin you're both so able to make the world more beautiful with your bodies and minds. You both love that he adds so much sustenance to that beauty. 

“You're right, bog bodies deserve love, just like any real person does. But a student wrote their paper on them and used me as a source in their reference page.” He huffs, still amused by the students' tenacity. 

“Any real person, huh? You gave them an A didn't you?” You absorb his words before deadpanning.

Namjoon doesn't answer and instead bends down to kiss your lips then your forehead before he goes back to being very interested in how his Venus fly trap is doing.

Some days when your writer's block is extra bad and you've been struggling to come up with lyrics that mean anything or chords to go with them, Jimin asks if you want to come with him to the studio.

He's just experimenting with some new choreography so it's just you two. 

He notices when you get into these slumps you can't quite reach your way out of and staying in the house all cooped up trying to get inspired by the same things you see everyday isn't going to help. 

It's a classical piece a dance company hired him to choreograph, wordless dancing was always his forte.

Feeling the music move through him and around him, throw him to and fro. He likes to feel like a tool of expression- like an instrument to be played. 

You watch him work and think and move, over and over again, something just slightly different each time just slightly closer to what he wants. 

He's breathless by the time he comes to sit next you against the back wall he saw you staring the whole time and loves how he can still make you and Joon speechless and swooning even after all the years together. 

“Sometimes I forget you're real, you know, when you dance.” You murmur head on your knees still in a daze after watching him.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow and smirks.

“The hell does that mean?” He simpers, knowing you're probably about to say something that will completely floor him and make him fall for you even harder. 

“You just stop looking real I guess, you look like if I reached out to touch you, you would still just be barley out of reach, like driving towards a rainbow or a mirage, ya know?” 

He quirks his head, not really understanding what you mean but trying to.

“You're just so good at using your body to show a concept you almost kind of become one. I don't know, mostly, I just feel like I'd chase you forever if you really were unreachable like that, I don't think I'd mind.” You shrug and reach for his hand to fiddle with. 

He exhales in surprise. He was absolutely right. Floored.

“Would you dance with me? Running after me doesn't sound as pretty as us dancing together forever.” He asks twisting you fingers with his.

“I don't think I'd have a choice not wanting to dance with you would be like not wanting to breathe.”

He sighs dramatically. “Babe! How am I supposed to be okay after you say shit like that? Huh?” He laughs and shoves your shoulder playfully.

You laugh and fall over pulling him with you. 

Namjoon comes by later with drinks from the cafe he knows Jimin loves and finds you both slow dancing in the middle of the empty studio.

You both pull him in between you and continue to sway back and forth. It's sweet and romantic and your drinks go cold before any of you are ready to let go of each other.

Your latest album was amazing and you're about to go on tour and you're nervous to be away from your guys for so long cause last time you went on tour you weren’t as famous and such didn't go to different countries to perform. 

You're gonna miss them terribly and they miss you twice as bad and they definitely bawl their eyes out when your tour bus is out of sight.

They tried really hard to keep up the smiles for you cause you deserve the success and the recognition without guilt or reservations but wow the house is so quiet without your absent-minded humming and strumming and no knew pieces of paper with potential lyrics scattered around the countertops. 

You all keep in touch of course- face-timing at least once a day with both or either of them and you ask them not to watch any recorded performances cause you don't want them to spoil it for when you come back and do your final home concert. 

Your reason being: you left two songs off the album you wanted to perform on tour.

So now it's your last concert before you get to sleep in the same bed as your loves again, they arrive early but you're still too busy with sound check and your drummer having boyfriend problems to get more than a hug and kiss to each of them. 

They don't mind though they know how concerts are for you. You love them- you get to give your fans a bit of your soul and they all give a bit right back. 

They meander through the crowd towards the front not too close though. Your manager tried to get them to stay backstage but they both wanted to get the full experience since they did as promised and had steered clear of any footage of the concert. 

When you walk out everyone lights up and the energy in the whole concert hall shifts.

You smile so bright and they're close enough they can see the surprise on your face when you look down into the crowd and see them. Your eyes soften and get a little misty but ever the professional you trudge on. 

Song after song you work the crowd into the comfort of your melodies and words have people screaming, crying and eating out of the palm of your hand so easily. 

You get to the end of your set, Namjoon and Jimin know- you'd asked them for help when planning the show. They knew which songs you were gonna sing and when but it didn't occur to them it seemed just a bit short until now when you're clearly your throat and asking for the house lights to be brought up just a bit. 

“The next two songs are love songs, I would sing about political injustice and grieving a metaphorical loss all day if I could-” the crowd hoots a few times with their chuckles and Namjoon and Jimin feel surprised grins growing on their faces.

“but I'm just too in love to not write a song or two.”

You strum a tune he’s only slightly familiar with, its something he’s heard you tweak for the past year or so.

“The lyrics of this one are a bit odd and terribly specific to a certain person so bare with me.” 

The auditorium murmurs a laugh again knowing your lyrics more often than not are. 

“I had a thought, dear, however scary

About that night, The bugs and the dirt

Why were you digging?

What did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do”

The piano sounds and the haunting harmony from your back up singers makes Namjoon’s heart race. 

He knows what you're singing about, Jimin knows too he might not get it as well as Namjoon does right now- some of the things Joon talks about are just slightly too icky for him- but he does know that if he could dance about Joon’s brain he would. 

He smiles when Namjoon's hand squeezes his, his eyes unable to look away from you and the little story being told between you two right now. 

“I knew that look dear, eyes always seeking 

Was there in someone, that dug long ago

So I will not ask you, why you were creeping

In some sad way I already know

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you and neither would you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do”

Noli timere Namjoon hears the words being dragged and stretched in your vocals and his heart clenches.

“I could not ask you where you came from

I could not ask you, neither could you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We could just kiss like real people do”

Your voice tapers off and the strums slow as you open your eyes and hold his gaze meaningfully. 

Namjoon is left feeling like he's floating.

You wrote a song about something he cares about, you wrote him a song about one of his favorite things even if it is a very creepy weird thing.

You took all the thoughts he poured into your ears and made it something people could love just a little bit easier. He almost thought he couldn't love you more than he already did.

“This next one might be a bit less niche but if you've ever seen your lover dance you would know exactly what its about.” 

The heavy dip of bass vibrates their feet and a resounding clap comes to fill the air as the surprise and tears come his eyes. 

“I still watch you when you're groovin'

As if through water from the bottom of a pool

You're movin' without movin'

And when you move, I'm moved”

Jimin’s hand comes to his mouth and you smile mischievously into your mic.

“You are a call to motion

There, all of you a verb in perfect view

Like Jonah on the ocean

When you move, I'm moved

When you move I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be

When you move I could never define all that you are to me”

You look directly at him making sure he knows this is his song. 

“So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally

Move me, baby

You are the rite of movement

Its reasonin' made lucid and cool

I know it's no improvement

When you move, I move”

Jimin laughs wetly at your joke. You’re wrong- he thinks- your body is absolutely and improvement of any situation. 

“You're less Polunin leapin'

Or Fred Astaire in sequence

Honey, you, you're Atlas in his sleepin'

And when you move, I'm moved

When you move I can recall somethin' that's gone from me

When you move, Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby

So move me, baby, Like you've nothin' left to prove

And nothin' to lose, move me, baby

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Oh baby, oh baby

Move like grey skies

Move like a bird of paradise

Move like an odd sight come out at night”

The sudden crash of the band coming together to put music to your declaration makes goosebumps rise on Jimin's skin, Namjoon looks between you both and his heart melts softly in his chest. Just the admiration between you both enough to make him fall all over again.

“Move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby

So move me, baby

Like you've nothin' left to lose

And nothin' to prove, move me, baby

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally, move me, baby”

The calls and hums of you and your back up singers echo quietly before applause assaults their ears, the cheering nothing short of deafening. 

You bow and wave backing away from the mic for a few moments- taking in the last show you'll be doing for a while- before walking off stage.

Namjoon knows he should be pulling Jimin with him towards backstage so they can smother you with love properly but hey can't move Jimin has tears streaming down his face and Namjoon is too awestruck about you remembering him going on about the last words of a poet who had written about the bog bodies and how you always just cared so much about him and Jimin.

Eventually they do move through the leaving crowd towards security, the guards already aware of their faces escort them.

They knock on the green room door with your name next to it. 

It swings open so quickly they flinch back and the woman barreling into their arms throws them back at least a foot. 

“I missed you so much” you all but sob into their chests. Clinging tightly to their shirts.

They share a look over your head all too endeared with your clinginess having missed it terribly for the past months.

“We missed you too angel.” Jimin sighs into your hair, much closer to your head than Namjoon. 

Namjoon hums in agreement then sniffles making you both turn your faces up to look at him, Namjoon crying was a really rare thing well maybe in comparison with you and Jimin who will cry at an emotionally manipulative commercial without hesitation. 

You're both slightly shocked to see tear tracks on his adorably reddened face and him struggling to control his breathing.

“Ooh Joonie.” You coo then pull them both into the green room and start wiping at his cheeks. He sniffles again and it's absolutely precious.

“Y-you sang about b-bog bodies!” He sobs hauling you off your feet pushing the air out of your lungs. 

Jimin laughs and sniffs wiping at his now wet face too. 

“You guys liked them? They weren’t corny?” You wheeze as he sets you back down between them.

“Are you kidding?! You referenced Sergei Polunin, that's so corny, babe.” Jimin pets your cheek and kisses it tenderly. “Of course we loved them.”

“I'm gonna put my song in my thesis, its gonna open a whole flood gate for the romanticism of them.'' Namjoon says, mostly to himself, still shaky with tears.

Jimin pulls you both in for another hug and in a similar state to Namjoon says, “I’m gonna choreograph both of our songs. I’m dropping all my projects for it- right now.”

You laugh and shake your head before pulling back to take them both in again still not over how long it’d been since you got hold them. 

“You wanna go somewhere? Get a welcome home drink or meal or candle or something?” Jimin asks, putting your hair back into place as best he can. 

“That diner with the shakes on 5th is probably still open-” Namjoon starts but you shake your head.

“Can we just go home? I missed you so much.” They both nod with the softest smiles and each grip a hand.

Your tour bus dropped off most of your stuff at home earlier that day so Namjoon just takes your backpack and Jimin pulls your guitar over his shoulder. But not before asking with a smirk-

“Did you say Fred Astaire in sequins?”

--------

Thank you for reading <3 Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! It’ll lets me know if I should write more or not

[bluejaybabbles-archive]

please. please may i hear more about throcky and/or midwest monsters wip 🥺🥺🥺🥺

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE (sometimes. My ADHD is wild and rules over what I remember to address ajfnznfjk)

So let's start with Throcky of When the Waves Kiss the Trees!

- Kalem "Throcky" Throckmorton started as a joke based on those posts that went around a while ago about the math problems that included "my cousin Throckmorton." My friend asked me to have a side character named Throckmorton in exchange for...something. I honestly can't remember it's been a couple years I think ajfnnzfn BUT!! I agreed, and thus Throcky was born.

- At the beginning of WTWKTT, Rute doesn't know he's a changeling. He's still stuck in the human form his fae mother put him in. However! The city he's currently living in has started to industrialize, and as factories pop up, he begins to get sick. A sudden rise in the iron around you will do that, I suppose!

- The doctors are like "get some fresh air!" and his mom, instead of taking him to the park or smth idk, is like "you're gonna go live with your reclusive cousin and his goats for a while" and Rute, deliriously ill, is just like "yeah ok makes sense"

- Everyone give a round of applause to Throcky for nursing Rute back to health!

- More info about Throcky! He basically has a backyard farm where he keeps mostly chickens and goats. Sometimes something else wanders into the yard and he's like "well I guess you live here now"

- He has a fat grey tabby named Celery! She's a menace and we love her.

- Along with his animals, he's got a baller garden. It extends to inside his house bc holy shit, that's a lot of plants, sir--

- He makes a KILLER rosemary bread (among other things. Honestly Throcky is husband material the more I think about it.)

- He has a milk delivery service! Once a week he'll deliver goat milk to folks in town and also! To the castle! He'd do it more often but he's just one guy. (Rute eventually helps out with deliveries and that's how he meets Oliver 👀 Goat Milk Said Gay Rights!)

- Throcky got this little house away from everyone to be ALONE okay people are TOO MUCH all he needs are his GOATS and his CHICKENS and CELERY

- Honestly tho he cares way too much. He loves his family and he loves the people he delivers to, he just also loves having a place alone to retreat to at the end of the day. Classic introvert. Anyway stan Throcky

Okay! Now on to Midwest Monster Hunting WIP!

- So first of all I'm currently hyperfixating on The Witcher so jot that down

- Second of all, this takes place in Ohio, and Ohio (as described by my partner) is a strange lovechild of the Midwest and the South so. Jot that down as well

- It's still in the planning stages, but! What I'm thinking is, at some point humans kinda decided "so we don't feel like giving our children to the fae anymore, this seems Fucked Up. We're hardy folk we can totally take whatever punishment you decide to dole out" (now that I'm thinking about it like. How very American of y'all)

- The fae, of course, Don't Like Not Getting What They Want, and so oops! They "accidentally" unleashed otherworldly monsters into our world! HOWEVER if u give us ur babies we'll train them to fight and kill these monsters to protect you 👀

- Humans are like. Shit. I guess you got us. Have our babies. Never mind that you're gonna keep releasing more monsters so that we keep giving you our children. This is Fine.

- The monster hunters will eventually get a Cool Title but I'm not that far yet

- There are a few main faerie courts in this story! We've got the seasonal courts (spring, summer, autumn, winter) and the celestial courts (sun, moon, stars). If you give your kid to one of the seasonal courts, you'll probably definitely see them again once they've been trained up! If your kid ends up in a celestial court.....well, they'll be damn good monster hunters and the pride of your town if they survive!

- OH ALSO your kid isn't gonna come back looking the same. In general, their hair is gonna look more like....like if they were fae that grew up in that court. They're gonna have cat eyes to better see in the dark. There's gonna be an otherworldliness to them. Also they'll probably be sporting a new name. Apologies.

- The story follows Avery (name pending, I'm not entirely attached to it), a monster hunter from the Court of the Moon; Antonia Figueroa, one of the more prominent local witches; and Javi Justiniano, this weird person who just has weird magical things happen around them more often for some fuckin reason idk I totally dk but that's Spoilers

- They will all kiss. Eventually. Listen I like slow burn in theory but it's so hard to write I'm so impatient I just want them to KISS--

- Avery doesn't exactly....kill the monsters. Unless he HAS to (ie it's fatally wounded when he gets there). What he does in most cases is sedate them, and then put them in a pocket dimension he creates for that kind of monster to thrive in. Is this a power he learned in the Court of the Moon? Possibly. That's a cool idea

- If someone wants like, Proof that he killed it, he'll just glamour a rock or smth to look like a tooth or an eye or w/e

- Of course, once you've created like. A TON of pocket dimensions. Something's gonna notice, and that Something probably won't be too keen on you playing with the fabric of reality so much. Also you're gonna get tired I feel like

- Antonia (aka Toni) is the local witch, and thus helps monster hunters by creating sedatives for the monsters, or making antidotes for various monster venoms, or breaking curses. Among other things!

- She knows how Avery works and like, she's worried about him, but she helps him anyway. She doesn't stop telling him that he's gonna get himself killed this way, tho!

- Javi seems to attract magical phenomena, but also, monsters seem to be drawn to them and become calmer around them. They don't know why, but like, if a monster flies in through their bedroom window and curls up to go to sleep in their bed, they're just gonna let it, y'know? Maybe give it a pat. Feed it some Oreos or smth. Can weird flying monsters safely eat Oreos?

- There will be adventures! There will be demons in the corn! There will be cool monsters! There will be Gay! There will be polyamory! What's not to love?

This ended up being wAY LONGER THAN I ANTICIPATED but it was a lot of fun so!! THANK YOU MAX FOR THE ASK AND FOR MY LIFE ILYSM!!!

[jellyrollin-yo]

anyway im gonna make another ramble post so it’s going under a readme, sorry to any mobile users

Welp. It certainly has been a past couple of weeks. Things are collapsing and like, I know I’m a fixer but i’m just out of fixing juice.

After my big dip into the void my mom’s been really on me, which is like, I appreciate it, but it doesn’t really help to get a text every day at 1130 asking me to call her bc she’s worried about me despite me confirming im fine and went to therapy earlier that day. Like I love my mom and i appreciate the effort but there’s too much bad juju there.

Speaking of attention i need more clingy friends bc like, i love my friends, and I know they’re busy and have things to do but It’d be nice to have someone to like, just talk to or that would just stick around whenever. Or at least like, when I aske them if they want to hang out on a particular day and they ask if I had any particular time in mind and my responce is whenever is good for them, that I don’t have any plans and then don’t make any plans waiting for them to get back to me and just. Nothing. It hurts. Like, I know I’m a lot and I share a lot of stuff with people I like but at the same time I have like, 2 friends that reciprocate that and neither of them actually have cars and one’s a closer at my store while i’m a morning/mid shift or a closer on their day off.

As for coworkers, that’s just... a fuckin mess. One of my old friends barely works anymore, but we had started growing apart anyway after she started dating again. Another friend from the same time is great but he’s a huge fuckin stress ball, which I can’t blame him for, there’s a lot of stress in his life but noone seems to realize the only way to keep him calm at work is to keep him continuously distracted, despite me doing my best to teach that to the new kids. The new kids aren’t getting trained properly anyway, the last opener that got proper training afaik is me, and I got that after my first open when I taught myself how to do it.

((also unrelated but this gorillaz song came on at work today and I almost lost it))

I almost lost it bc a) my hormones are finally kicking in, but that also means I’m 1) hitting second puberty, with all that entails and 2) have a self inflicted hormone imbalance, and b) I spent 2 months trying to break up a toxic relationship and it just... didn’t work.

I shouldn’t really be surprised but like, I really liked the girl and I think she can see it but there were very convenient excuses to be made, ignoring that the problems from before the convenience were still going to be there afterwards. Depite she herself saying her mood had improved, despite their roomate actively being and saying he was in a better place with him gone, despite one of our mutual friends who was friends with the boyfriend before the breakup found out why and said it wasn’t cool. I can’t be the rock for someone so they can stay in a toxic relationship. I may be a Krystal but I’m not attuned for that. No one should be. (Esp not since... she started thinking polyamory was for saving toxic relationships? that was a weird convo.) And now it’s killing me because I removed myself from the situation. 3rd time wasn’t the charm, and the 4th time’s an omen which I don’t care to experience, but she’s drowning herself in responsibilities and it’s not going to end well, but she refuses to let me try and talk her down from some of it. Like, I respect the hustle but at the same time, please don’t kill yourself. And I, always the masochist, was dumb, and checked her blog. She kicked it back on when me and a coworker told her we were both on it, and we were mutuals before i decided to space out and it’s just mostly my content? like shit I send her and my main and dirty side blog? like i know i’m pretty present on here and stuff but still. It’s... it’s hard. It’s hard to give up on a relationship. It’s hard to stiffle chemistry with a person. I know I can’t fix this. I can’t be the emotional crowbar i want to be, that I tried to be. It’s her choice, and I can only support her decision.

Spotify’s been fun recently bc my emotional state, despite my attempts to keep it mostly under wraps, bleeds heavily into my music tastes and it’s been. not great. I legitimately woke up one morning and a song I don’t remember listening to was on my most recent listen and it like. Hurted. when I listened back. I should really start making playlists but I can barely pay attention and I don’t need to concentrate my depression songs into one place. Music is good and can help but there’s only a certain number of times i can listen to certain songs before the void covers my ears.

I just want to be happy. I just want to feel safe, my friends to be safe and happy, and just... The world is burning. I just need some solace. Something. I’m drifting hard, my temporal dissonance is getting overwhelming, I’m clawing for anything to hold onto that my brain hasn’t decided is fake yet and it’s... there’s nothing there. And I won’t be an alcoholic. I won’t. I’ll stuff it down with dr pepper and twizzlers. Just... take the edge off. be gentle with me. Rage, guilt, sadness, restlessness, just all sorts of things I put away bc I’m the fixer, not other people. Opening up gets me hurt, hurts others. It’s fine though. It’ll work out. It always does, unfortunately.

please get some sleep, drink some water, and know that somewhere in the southeast there’s a sad trans girl who hopes you have a nice day tomorrow.

[vriskaserbet]

Far In Time.

Summary: Smack was once Victor and once, he was someone completely else, though the whole story is hard and long to track. Through three small parts, plus a bonus, one can get a glimpse into the life he (had) has lived through and begin to understand the bigger picture.

Rating: General audience.

Warnings: N/A.

Characters: Smack, Shelby, Pent, Gino, plus some OCs that are smacks family + shelbys parents!

Tags: Fluff, angst, humor, weddings, unrequited love (seemingly), polyamory, etc

Ao3 link: Right here! 

 From the very beginning of existence, his Desire had always existed.

He never pushed nor shoved, he simply gave a gentle, guiding hand upon the beings of Earth; regardless of their species or their makeup. Soon, he could see the effect of his presence upon Life’s creations. Curiosity began to make the foundation of each creature, as they explored the world They had all created.

When the humans began to flourish upon the Earth, that is when his Desire truly flourished. From the beginning, the humans were some of the most curious of all animals. Even at their earliest states, they had found unique ways to change their existence, to building, to invention, to experimentation, and shared it all with their peers.

He became quite famed among the intellectuals, those who debated in public, the scientists who tested abstract concepts, those who wrote books filled with all sorts of complex and detailed theories. They always looked upon him with great pleasure, even insisting he was the true measurement of a man, of an intelligent man; to have Knowledge.

                                                 October 25th, 1996.

After a final push, Victor Alifrazier is born into the world. Almost immediately, he let out a fierce wail, letting the entire cramped delivery room know of his arrival. The nurses and doctors laughed gently, placing him upon his mother’s bare chest. Margaret Alifrazier smiled, tears in her eyes, feeling his small hands move against her chest, still crying as the doctors began to quickly dry off his body with a towel.

She reached her hand out, giving just a small comforting rub to his head, mumbling absolute nonsense at her baby boy. It was only for a moment though, as they cut his umbilical cord, then took him off for quick tests. She rested, sighing with relief that it was finally over.

“I’m so proud of you honey, he’s beautiful,” her husband, Joseph “Joe” Alifrazier, gave her a kiss against her damp cheek. She lazily smiled back, simply waiting for when her son would finally be returned to her.

When he was brought back, he began breastfeeding, eagerly drinking his first meal. It was here she gasped, for when he opened his eyes for the first time, she saw a right eye of vibrant blue and a left eye of stunning green.

                                                  March 5th, 2014.

The Sonic he was going against was a tough one, playing an aggressive game. It was hard to fight back from how fast he was going, quickly attacking his character, then retreating back to go on the defense. Though, Smack wasn’t just any beginner Smash player. He spent hours training his game on Lucario, his current main. He stayed focus on the match, rapidly tapping the buttons of his 3DS as he continued the brawl.

“Y’know, Smack,” Gino began, adjusting his seat so he could recline back better. He had his window open, so he could blow out his cigar smoke easily. Their usual getaway driver handled the wheel, blending into traffic perfectly. “You did a good ass job today. But, I really wanna say, I like the way your brain works. I mean, who else can break into a building, sneak through that fuckin’ maze of air ducts, take out those guards, keep the ball rolling for an important heist… then immediately go to his video game without even breaking a sweat? A genius like you, no one else.”

Smack grinned. He had cracked the predictability of the Sonics’ movements and the flaws of his approach. Now, he had the upper hand in the fight, countering his attacks easily. It wasn’t long before he made Sonic lose one of his three stocks. “Thanks, Uncle Gino. But, it’s really all about experience and practice.”

“Though, you ARE a genius. Einstein is rolling in his dusty ass grave.” Pent said. As always, he had taken the right seat, Shelby taking the middle seat. They held hands, their engagement rings shining from the passing by street lights.

“I’m not a genius, guys.” He insisted.

Everyone objected to that, even the driver. Smack snorted, taking down another stock. He rolled his eyes, despite how his hair completely covered them from view.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop protesting. Thanks, means a lot.”

“No problem! You don’t need to be so humble, y’know! You really are smart.” Shelby said, reaching to his shoulder to pull him closer. It was an awkward position, his seat belt pressing into his chest and stomach, but he kept steady in Shelby’s hold as he finished up the match. Lucario posed dramatically, as the announcer declared Smack’s victory.

Winning another match, getting to practice more on his Lucario game, stealing an incredibly valuable set of jewels, practically cuddling with his best friends… now, that was Smack’s favorite kind of day.

                                                  December 5th, 1996.

In the weeks to come, Victor stayed surprisingly quiet. After his initial cry, he had barely cried again, especially at such a loud volume. Perhaps, Margaret was simply just experienced after raising twins. She just understood what he needed or wanted faster, this time. Her friends had theorized the second go at parenting always seemed to be easier and the parenting books seemed to agree with them. Of course, she wasn’t complaining, just curious of the way he never seemed to burst into tears like either of her twins had at the smallest of problems.

On the subject of the two, both had reacted well to Victor. Janya, the elder one, enjoyed talking and playing with her baby brother. Though, she was always more interested in his future, of finally getting to teach him all she knew or showing him her favorite movies. Johnny, the younger one, was the one who found joy in the quieter moments of Victor. He enjoyed rocking him to sleep, just getting to hold him, even reading stories to him. He was just like his father, who similarly loved every part of Victor’s development, every hard part of raising a little baby.

As the winter months came, the parents wrapped their baby boy in a blanket and held him close, as love filled the house.

                                                  February 14th, 2015.

The spotlight followed the newlyweds, as they made their way to the dance floor together, hand in hand. Everyone’s cheers and claps silenced, replaced by the speakers playing a soft, slow love song. Shelby and Pent danced like no one else were in the world, their gaze only on each other. Pent’s wedding dress seemed to sparkle in the light, with the long tails of Shelby’s tuxedo twirling around as she moved. It was only when Shelby dipped Pent downwards that they even looked at anyone else, managing to find Smack in the crowd.

They eagerly waved at Smack like the dorks they were. Smack waved back, hoping the lack of lights ensured they couldn’t see the thick tears on his face. Shelby brought Pent back up, continuing on their dance.

Gino, who sat to his left, offered him a tissue. Smack eagerly took it, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose as quiet as he could make it.

“…They look so perfect together…” Gino whispered out, a proud smile on his face. “I still remember when you were all little kids… playing your GameCube… drawing your little weird stories…”

“So, you mean we haven’t changed one bit?” They laughed quietly, silent again until the dance was finished. The venue erupted into loud cheers and cries, the spotlight shutting off as the lights all came back on.

Pent and Shelby walked, holding hands again, to the same row of seats where Smack was. It was where their immediate family members and close friends had been grouped together. As one would expect, Smack was placed right next to them.

“So! How’d we do?” Shelby asked, with a hopeful smile.

“Hmm… well, you finally didn’t step on Pent’s foot, so- “ Shelby gave an offended gasp, making all three of them burst into loud laughter. Nearby, he could hear Gino and Shelby’s parents laughing amongst themselves as well.

“I am SO kicking you out of our house, I swear to God,” she said it with a smile, well aware he was there to stay.

“You’re not going to move out?” Shelby’s mother asked, though her tone didn’t seem to be negative, only surprised. “Aww, I just knew it! Y’know, he,” she gestured at her husband, “was saying that you might move out after the marriage. And I said no, they’re too close! They’ve always been together! They wouldn’t let anything like this come in between their friendship. And look, I was right!”

Her father spoke next, with a sheepish look on his face. “Ah, I never said it to be rude, by the way. I was merely saying my concerns to her. Smack, you’re already aware of how close I view you. You’ve always been a wonderful part of my family, especially with how happy you make my little princess.”

Smack shrugged his shoulders. “It’s no big deal. Unless you have the strength of a hundred men, there’s no way you’re dragging me away from my best friends.”

His parents, who took the place Pent’s parents could’ve sat at, spoke up next. “And Smack can win any fight!”

“Hey, this is their day!” Smack replied, making the row burst into laughter. It was then for the couple to make a toast, so the conversation ended there, as they gathered everyone’s attention. Smack stared up at his best friends with a smile, his hidden eyes shining with love.

For as happy the day was, Smack felt a sense of guilt building up in his stomach. He kept everything hidden as always, under his usual smiles and attitude as he had been for countless years.

For he loved them so, so much.

  However, it was an incredibly foolish act to view his Desire as only a part of those groups of people. The snobbish perception that true Knowledge only existed within academia, with those of a certain “class” was a false one. He was in all humans, who uniquely used him as they saw fit.

The warriors drafted battle plans, engineered new weapons, hid in plain sight to gain secrets, they fought with everything they had learned until they were left dead on the ground.

The everyday workers, those who cleaned, who sold things, who greeted customers, who put away packages and everything in between; they found every little way to work faster.

Children explored their world, slowly learning their language and the motions to walking.

Mammals, reptiles, birds, all sorts of animals, while Life’s own creation, inevitably flocked towards him. Most with born with everything they needed to know, some even able to take care of themselves fully from the moment they emerged.

To every living being, he influenced.

                                                 October 25th, 1997.

“Happy Birthday, dear Victor!” his family sang to him, as Joseph presented a small cupcake towards him. He sat in his chair, his eyes focused solely on the single candle, the flame flickering.

“Happy birthday to youuu!” Everyone cheered, Janya blowing on her party horn loudly. Yet, Victor stared at the flame, uncaring of the cupcake.

“C’mon, blow it out! Like this,” Joseph blew softly, careful not to hit the flame. He still didn’t move.

Johnny snickered. “Dad, I don’t think he can do it. Maybe we should blow it out for him.”

Margaret nodded. “I think so too.”

“No way! He can do it! C’mon, like this Victor,” he blew again, frowning when Victor didn’t even move an inch. “Maybe he’s just stubborn.”

Victor started to move, raising his hand in the air. “Oh! See! I think he’s got it— “ Joseph went silent when, with all of his strength, he smacked the flame. It disappeared in an instant, causing him to look at his hand and the cupcake with a curious expression. Everyone blinked.

“My baby!” Margaret ran to him in fear, uncaring that the crowd around them began to laugh.

“Is he okay?” Joseph asked, while Janya and Johnny snickered to themselves.

“He’s a little smacker, isn’t he?” Janya said.

“Smacker sounds like a cute nickname.” Johnny said.

From that moment on, Victor began to be jokingly called ‘Smacker’ by his siblings. Within a week, it was shortened to Smack. His parents joined in on the joke, to the point where it ceased to be a joke, simply just Victor’s official nickname.

(Though, later on in life, especially in his early years of school, Smack had practically forgotten his legal name; confusing those around him as he introduced himself as Smack and wrote Smack on any drawing or piece of classwork or homework he did. His parents sighed, his siblings laughed, but in the end, Smack winded up becoming what he identified better with.)

                                                   October 31st, 2015.

“Have a Happy Halloween!” The trick-or-treaters thanked her as they returned to their parents and siblings, rejoining with the crowd of children across the street. Shelby rocked in her chair, smiling to herself. She rested a hand on her growing stomach, rubbing it gently. The three of them sat in chairs just outside their front door, so they could greet the incoming trick-or-treaters easily, especially for Shelby.

Like every Halloween between the trio of dorks and nerds, it was an excuse to cosplay. This year, they had chosen a theme, of Super Smash Brothers characters. Shelby went for Rosalina, Pent went for King Dedede, while Smack went for Ness. They kept their hair the same, keeping it somewhat casual for a simple Halloween night.

Though, their house didn’t exactly scream casual. The entire house was completely decked out with Halloween decorations, along with the front yard. One could only imagine the amount of pumpkins and ghosts inside, as well.

“Hey, Shelby,” Smack spoke up, twirling his baseball bat as he waited.

“Yeah, Smack?”

“So, I’m curious. When the kid is born, are ya gonna take them trick-or-treating or are ya gonna wait ‘till they can walk?” Currently, Shelby was five months pregnant, thus the trio had plenty of time to think of the future.

“Oh, I’m definitely taking them trick-or-treating! It’ll be so much fun! …Plus, I finally have an excuse to trick-or-treat again! Now no one can judge me!”

Pent snickered to himself. “I’m just imagining us fully decked in cosplay with this little baby in our arms, they might not even have teeth yet, and we’re just like, GIVE US CANDY NOW.”

Laughing, Smack added onto it, “And we’re just like, what? A small ass bag of M&Ms? THIS IS THEIR FIRST HALLOWEEN BRENDA, BE GENEROUS!”

“Don’t be rude, Brenda! They needs them king sized candy bars!” Shelby finished, causing all three of them to break into a fit of laughter.

Once it died down, Shelby spoke warmly. “Though… I really am looking forward to it. Having a Halloween with my little baby in my arms… showing them my favorite Halloween movies… making Jack-o’-Lantern’s for the first time with them…” she sighed happily. “It’ll be amazing. I can’t wait for it.”

Pent reached for Shelby’s hand, holding it gently. “Me to.”

Smack stretched out his arm, resting it on their hands. “I will personally make sure they watch Scooby Doo’s Night of Hundred Frights.”

“Hey! Stop using your powers in public, jackass!” Pent cursed, though Shelby just laughed in response. Smack pulled his arm back, with his usual grin.

“But, to be serious. I’m really happy I get to be a part of their life. I promise, I’ll always protect them.”

Shelby smiled sweetly. “You’re the best, Smack. Thank you for always being there for me. That’s why I’m always here for you to!”

“Of course! What are best friends for?”

Another group of kids started to head their way, so the conversation stopped there.

Through his smile, he wondered if his time to confess was slowly slipping away.

             He was running out of time. They all were.

His head was bleeding. His future vision wasn’t working. Everything hurt.

But he had to keep running.

They only had one shot at escaping.

 He could see it so clearly, especially when he used his future vision. The unlimited possibilities were quite overwhelming at times, but it always made him so joyful to see how far-reaching his Desire had become.

“You make me incredibly proud,” Life would coo to him.

“You’re so amazing,” Death would lovingly say.

Over and over, they would compliment him. He would wrap his first pair of arms around his lovers, using his second pair to hold their hands and typically, he would bring his third pair to his mouth to cover his embarrassed smile.

“It’s only because of your work, that mine can travel so hard.”

“You always say that.” One of them would complain, but enjoyed his close affection anyways, typically taking a break for quite some time from their jobs. 

[elshalarossa]

Polyamory and Self-care (when relationships feel less than balanced)

It would be absolutely wonderful if every non-monogamous couple always had perfectly complementary calendars, and everything always felt balanced and equal. It would be great if it never felt like one person was getting to have more fun than the other. Those of us who have been around and doing this for a while can definitely tell you that’s not always how things end up. 

Changing relationship dynamics, work schedules, travel schedules, a dry spell on OKC or Tindr, health issues, and a billion other factors can affect our dating lives. It’s just a fact of life. So what do you do when you feel like your partner is reaping a lot more of the benefits from your open arrangement than you are? How do you keep yourself in a good headspace, where you’re able to be supportive and feel compersion and still get what you need from your existing relationship(s)?

I don’t claim to have all (or even most) of the answers, but here are a few things that I try to keep in mind when I’m feeling the strain in my own polyamorous marriage.

- Schedule time with your partner. As a spouse (or fiancee, or live-in-partner of any sort) it’s very easy to fall into the habit of just seeing your partner when you’re both home. When you’re feeing emotionally vulnerable, it can be helpful to make sure you have some time carved out on the calendar as ‘date nights’ where you specifically set aside mundane day-to-day stuff in favor of a fun activity or romantic dinner. Having your own fun and romantic dates planned can sometimes soothe any uneasiness you may feel when you see dates with your partners’ lovers pop up on the calendar.  

- Make time for self-care. No matter what the reason you’ve been feeling imbalanced in your romantic life -- a recent breakup, busy work schedule, what have you -- it’s important to make sure that you have some quality time with yourself. Treat yourself to a mani pedi. Call up a friend and set up a brunch date. Take a night when your partner is busy to sit at home and take a bubble bath and watch that TV show that they hate, but is your absolute favorite guilty pleasure. Connect with friends who you have been missing. Call your mom or dad or sibling and have a chat with them, if it’s been a while.

Make sure that you’re taking responsibility for your own emotional welfare and not falling into the trap of expecting your primary partner to be your ONLY source of reassurance and validation. They love you and they want to support you, but at the end of the day your feelings are your own, and it’s important to remember that they’re not the only one who you can turn to… and that you’re actually strong and awesome enough to rely on yourself, to an extent, as well.

- Be honest with yourself and your partner about your limitations. You know… it’s 100% okay to check in with your partner and say, “Hey, I’ve been having a really hard time with this change on my side, and I would appreciate it you could avoid scheduling more than one date per week, for a little while. I just know it’s going to be harder for me to process things and be supportive while I’m feeling so raw, and if we could leave a little space and time between those instances, I think it would be really, really helpful to me right now.”

I’ve had GREAT success with requests like this. It makes me verbalize what I’m feeling, and gives my partner a concrete thing they can do to help me and show that they support me. I can tell you this has worked much, much better than the times when I insisted that everything was fine (when I knew it wasn’t) and then emotionally drained myself to the point where I couldn’t express any of my needs without yelling or crying. (We’ve all been there, too…)

- Let yourself have space for your feelings. Being polyamorous doesn’t mean you never get jealous or upset. If you’re having a negative feeling, don’t squish it. Don’t judge yourself. Be kind and gentle to yourself. Practice patience. And then after you’ve had time to breathe, reflect and ask yourself, “why am I feeling this way?” If you’re insecure, sad, lonely, jealous, or angry, there are probably people in your life (your partner included) who you can reach out to, who really want to help and make you feel better. (And they won’t judge you for being upset, either. I promise.) But it’s so, so helpful to be able to come to those conversations with a little self-reflection and a bit of understanding about what’s causing the stress.

- Be a fuckin’ rock star (because you ARE a fuckin’ rock star). You know how to be supportive. You know how much your partner values your support. You have known since you were a small child that you should treat others the way you want to be treated. And you are definitely going to get through whatever difficult period you’re experiencing right now. So do your best to put your best foot forward and treat your partner (and their partner(s)) with care, respect, and compassion. It might be hard right now, but later on in a different situation, you might find yourself on another side of this romantic triangle… and when that happens, you’re going to have a valuable perspective about what someone else will be going through. Not every life lesson is fun, and not everything feels 100% fair all the time. But that doesn’t mean it’s not valuable… and if you try your hardest and ask for help where you need to, then you should feel proud of yourself for doing the best you could do. And your partner will be proud of you too.

When things feel unbalanced on the outside, I try to strive for balance on the inside. And THAT puts me in a headspace to feel good about myself, and confident, and powerful. And that’s the attitude I like to bring to the table when I’m starting to think about flirting with sexy strangers, and scheduling some new first dates. 

[calciseptinefic]

solo and pair

Yuuri!!! On Ice || Victor Nikiforov/Yuuri Katsuki || Hasetsu, Part X notes: also available on ao3. warnings: allusions to polyamory

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part ix

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A month after Victor's injury when the cherry blossoms bloom, Nishigori and Yuuko quietly marry in a small ceremony at Yuuri's family inn.

"God," Nishigori swears as he and Yuuri wait. They are on the elevated porch on the backside of Yutopia, where the building opens up to a small rock garden and a proud sakura tree that twists pink over the neutral gray stones. "I'm so fuckin' nervous."

Nishigori fiddles with his plain cufflinks. He is dressed in a nice black suit that emphasizes his wide shoulders and powerful thighs. Unlike Yuuri's, Nishigori's suit is new; Yuuri has worn the same jacket and straight-legged slacks to formal events since he was fourteen.

"Dumb, right?" Nishigori mumbles, as though trying to justify his nervousness. "I've performed in front of an audience for years. In front of strangers. I never got stage-fright. But now? When all I'm gonna do is exchange rings and say I do?" He snorts. "I'm terrified."

Yuuri hums, unable to respond. He is oddly nervous as well, though he cannot tell if it is because of his empathy for Nishigori or because any sort of formal event gives him anxiety.

"I mean, it's just my family. Her family. You." Nishigori's broad hands tremble as his fingers twist and twist and twist his cufflinks around. The fidgeting is so contrary to Nishigori's normally confident character that the need to comfort him wells up inside Yuuri. It is not something that Yuuri does often or does well, so when he puts his hand on the curve of Nishigori's bicep, he does so stiffly.

"She's your soulmate," Yuuri says, as it is the deepest comfort he can imagine. "You're meant to be."

Yuuri does not know how he expects Nishigori to react, but it definitely is not for Nishigori to bark out a laugh. The sudden, sharp noise startles Yuuri and his hand jerks away from Nishigori's arm.

"Sorry," Nishigori laughs when he sees the shock on Yuuri's face. "That's just so you, you know. To bring that up."

Yuuri's shock becomes confusion. The transition must show plainly because Nishigori laughs again, though this time less harshly.

"I know how you feel about soulmates," Nishigori elaborates. He deliberately taps his stomach, just to the side of his belly button where his mark rests. "And I'm not saying that it's not… fate or destiny or whatever, but it's… I don't love Yuuko because she's my soulmate. I love Yuuko because she's Yuuko."

Unsure of Nishigori's distinction, Yuuri haltingly says, "But she is your soulmate."

Nishigori is quiet for a moment as he regards Yuuri. Then, abruptly and seemingly non-sequitur, he admits, "I was jealous of you."

"What?" Yuuri asks.

"Before Yuuko and I matched," Nishigori clarifies. "Well, I was jealous after for awhile after that too. You were—you are—a much better skater than I am and Yuuko was—is—so proud of you. It felt like… it felt like all she ever did was talk about you and how good you were. Are. And after we matched—well, not all marks are romantic, and not all matches are good matches. Our dynamic didn't really change and Yuuko—you know she doesn't put a lot of stock into the whole mythos, especially considering that her parents aren't matched."

Yuuri blinks. He knew about Yuuko's parents—everyone did— but he had not known how Yuuko felt about soul marks. Now that he thinks about it, Yuuri cannot recall a time outside her match with Nishigori and her manifestation that she spoke about them.

"I used to have nightmares that you would manifest with the same mark." Nishigori chuckles in the easy, self-deprecating way people joke about old fears. "I would dream that we would go to a mark inspector and find out that mine was actually the wrong color or was smaller on one side, and that you and Yuuko were the right match. That's why I was such a dick to you when you manifested. I knew you had this big-ass thing on your chest, but a part of me felt like I needed to see it to be sure."

Unconsciously, Yuuri presses his palm to his sternum, where the center of his mark is concentrated.

"It's—" Yuuri tries to say. "It's not—"

"I know," says Nishigori gently. "For awhile I thought you might reject your mark and—well, Yuuko and I talked about what we would do if you wanted to…"

Nishigori stops to gesture meaningfully between him and Yuuri, and it takes a moment for Yuuri to realize the implication. When he does, he turns bright red and gasps an involuntary, "Oh."

Then, after another moment, Yuuri says, "Oh."

"Yeah," Nishigori affirms. "Yuuko and I haven't changed our minds, but we both know it's… hypothetical. You just—you've always treated your mark with such reverence that we knew you would never accept anyone but Vi—but your, uhh, your match. So. We never…"

Nishigori shrugs. In the wake of his confession, Yuuri has never been more painfully aware of how much taller and bigger the other man is. Even at seventeen, Yuuri still hasn't hit his finally growth spurt; he is short, thin, and bony, with narrow hips and stick-like limbs. His hard-earned muscle is sparse next to Nishigori's power and his angles look awkward when compared to Yuuko's curves.

"Oh," Yuuri says for a third time.

"I didn't meant to make you uncomfortable," Nishigori assures. Yuuri's face, neck, and ears are on fire. "I just wanted to…" Nishigori heaves a sigh. "I don't know what I wanted."

Nishigori's fingers are back on his cufflinks and—when Yuuri dares to glance at his expression—there's a blush on the flat planes of his face that matches the cherry blossoms and the color of his soul mark. It makes Yuuri think of when they were children, when Yuuri still struggled not to cry every time he fell, when Nishigori dragged him up from the ice and said a little nastily, "It's not a big deal."

There had been pink on Nishigori's cheeks then, too.

"Thank you, Takeshi," Yuuri murmurs as he presses the tips of his fingers to Nishigori's heavy knuckles. The touch is light, more of an impression than a sensation, but the bareness of it still pacifies Nishigori's agitated hands. "I'm glad you told me."

Their gazes meet. Nishigori's eyes are darker than Yuuri's—so brown they are almost black—but in the spring sunlight Yuuri can see the normally invisible edge where Nishigori's iris meets his pupil. Perhaps this is why it is not hard for Yuuri to hold Nishigori's stare. Yuuri can feel the heat lingering beneath his skin, but it is inconsequential to the warmth in his heart.

"Yeah," Nishigori says. "So am I."

.

Yuuri and Nishigori fall into silence after the confession. It is oddly comfortable, given the nature of what has been said. Yuuri never thought he would be on the receiving end of such affection, as his short stature, his long hours at the ice skating rink, and his anti-social nature aren't conducive towards popularity.

It should unsettle him.

It does not.

The quiet is interrupted an indeterminable amount of time later, when Nishigori's second oldest brother, Takeru, taps on the wooden frame of the shoji screen behind them. "Hey," he says. His voice is as deep as Nishigori's. "We're ready. Are you?"

Next to Yuuri, Nishigori inhales. Shakes the nervousness from his shoulders. Exhales. Says, "As I'll ever be," and grins when Takeru smirks at him.

The ceremony is held in a banquet room on the first floor, where the sliding doors are opened to the new green of spring and the cumulus-dotted blue sky above. Most of the family members have already been seated on metal fold-up chairs that Yuuri and Mari arranged that morning. Their murmured conversations come to a halt as Nishigori and Yuuko approach from opposite sides of the hallway, and meet.

"Hi," Nishigori whispers, low enough that Yuuri—who trails closely behind Nishigori—has a difficult time hearing it. "You look beautiful."

Yuuko is dressed in a traditional shiromuku, a white silk kimono embroidered with white cranes in flight. Her hair is up in an elaborate series of curls and accented with a golden wisteria hairpin that hangs down the side of her face and neck. She is as beautiful as Yuuri has ever seen her, but it is the glowing radiance of her smile that outshines everything else.

"I'm happy," Yuuko whispers back.

The ceremony itself does not last long, as it is neither religious nor traditional. The eldest Nishigori brother, Takeda, a lawyer who lives in Saga, is the celebrant. His speech is original and unfamiliar, removed from the common ordinations recited in movies and on television shows. The word 'soulmate' is only used once and given no significance, but that hardly matters when Nishigori and Yuuko cannot look away from one another.

Yuuri's throat tightens constricts when they recite their personalized vows. Nishigori's is about his vague hopes for the future that he hopes they'll build together while Yuuko's is an anecdote about the first time she realized she loved him. It surprises Yuuri when Yuuko talks about something he remembers. They were children then, before any of them manifested, and Yuuri had always thought Yuuko had been annoyed with Nishigori during the train ride to one of their competitions.

Love, Yuuri supposes, is odd like that.

.

When their vows are finished and they exchange rings, Nishigori and Yuuko end the ceremony with an unprompted kiss. It is short, tender, and difficult to watch. Yuuri almost looks away—but then Nishigori pulls away, bundles Yuuko into his burly arms, and lifts her off the ground. She shrieks at the unexpected motion and grips his shoulders.

"Takeshi!" she squeals.

Nishigori laughs and spins Yuuko around as effortlessly as though they were on the ice. The weighted edge of her shiromuku nearly clips one of their relatives in the face.

"Alright, alright," Takeda says over the minor chaos. "Takeshi—bring your wife over here. I need you to sign this certificate so I can register your marriage with municipal office."

After the ceremony, the two family migrate into the main area of the inn. Yuuko's family is much smaller than Nishigori's. Yuuko is an only child, as is her mother, and her father's twin brother is unmarried. Nishigori, on the other hand, is the youngest of four, and in addition to his mother and father, he has three sets of aunts and uncles, several cousins, his maternal grandparents and his paternal grandmother, a sister-in-law and two nephews. Yuuri is the only person in the group who is not related to the newlyweds by neither blood nor marriage. For a moment, Yuuri stands at the threshold and stares at the sea of faces, unsure of where he should sit.

He is saved from his indecision when a petite hand curls into his own.

"Come on, Yuuri," Yuuko encourages. "Sit with me and Takeshi."

Yuuko does not wait for Yuuri to respond. She simply tugs him into motion and guides him to the square, center table. The navy cushion she sits down on has been at Yutopia for as long as Yuuri can remember.

"I didn't say it earlier," Yuuri murmurs once he also sits down, arranging his limbs into the smallest and least awkward configuration he can manage. Then he bows his head and says, quite formally, "Congratulations on your marriage."

Yuuri's words are meet with silence and—after several painful seconds—Yuuri lifts his head to meet Yuuko's eyes. He cannot decipher the emotion he sees nor understand why Yuuko sounds a little sad when she says, "Oh, Yuuri. Always so polite."

It baffles Yuuri, yet before he can begin to parse out the meaning of her words, Nishigori jostles him.

"Don't overthink it," Nishigori warns as he plops down on Yuuko's right, directly across the table. His smile is wide and captivating and warm. "We're here to have a good time, and that's it."

"A good time," Yuuri repeats somewhat cautiously. He looks between Nishigori and Yuuko, then further out at their families, and they beyond that, to Mari leaning against the doorjamb in her maroon work clothes. Her gaze is faraway, but Yuuri thinks that, if she caught his stare, she would give a small, encouraging nod. So Yuuri breathes deep. Steadies himself and his nerves. Says, "I can do that."

"Thatta boy," Nishigori cheers.

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part xi

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[bufuja-blog]

ssssome misc hcs 01

i touched on this on the dossier but yusuke really does enjoy applying make-up. you bet your ass that if someone said he shouldn’t wear it he’d feel like it was a personal attack and/or not understand the reason why. let him wear his make up he looks cute in it hello he’d 100% rock eyeliner and he has steady hands sooooooo 

if you’re a friend of his and you ask him to, he’d 100% apply ur makeup. get urself a freak like him he’ll make u look like a model or smth ( not really but he’s still pretty good at make-up? his eyeliner is fuckin amazing ) 

when nervous or antsy, he has a tendency to draw in the air, on the nearest flat surface, or his hand with his fingers, creating shapes and easing into a situation through a familiar action. 

yusuke is open to polyamory ( he’s polyamorous himself actually ) and is very accepting if his partner does express promiscuous behavior ( as long as they tell him ) because, if he is dating them, he already trusts them a great deal and understands a lot.

considering how he has the highest strength stat out of all the party members, he’s probably pretty strong? he carries a lot of art supplies out with hardly any problem ( i.e. easels/canvases ) and did a lot of bag carrying for madarame when they went shopping. he can maybe lift someone a little off the ground? i mean he managed to have a moment where he could hold ann in madarame’s palace so? just sayin that this kid might be a little stronger than u think ( imagine him arm-wrestlin ryuji and winnin like how tf.. )