#the other three is a bit meh

[tonhalszendvics]

As I was looking for a copy for myself in English, I came across this one. This is from Slovakia.

I wasn't able to find Brisingr, but here's the other three:

[rubys-domain]

i cannot even begin to express my disappointment at how chongyun's likeness is used as cover art for the combat event. i know it makes sense, but i don't like it.

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing—no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I’m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

[phas3d]

Crushing on You || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

summary :: cute little loser things they do because they’re so down bad for you. inspired by the fucking masterpiece that is ONE DAY ONE NIGHTTTT AHHHHHH by bts ofc. some of these might be creepy but I think they’re cute

DRACO MALFOY

It’s always an enemies to lovers for him, he literally cannot get crushes on someone unless he hates their guts

Probably cause he got daddy issue but meh, we’re not solving that today

He HATED your guts, he has literally thought of getting a hit-man on you before

You’re his rival in every single aspect, even more than Harry is

Academics, you’re better

Athletics, you’re better

Clubs and community, you’re WAY better

He hates you and makes fun of you every single day and time he gets the chance

Even worse, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all come to defend you which makes him even more mad

But overtime, his aggressive staring and cursing under his breath turned into admiration

It all started when one day during Quidditch practice, some annoying 3rd year thought it would funny to mess with Draco’s broom

He ended up malfunctioning during practice, almost speeding into the walls of the school at astounding speeds

But luckily, you came just in time and yanked him off his broom, letting his broon get destroyed into the castle. But he was unharmed and was wrapped securely in your arms

From then on, he’s had a huge crush on you and all of his hatred turned into admiration

His aggressive stares were a bit softer and his insults had a hidden compliment in it

Everyone thinks that maybe he just feels bad and is finally regretting how rude he’s been to you, which is kinda true

He’s always watching over you, kinda like a stalker (because he is one)

He learns your daily routine, your favorite foods, clothing brands, makeup products, skincare routine, everything

Goes as far to hire and pay different students to watch after you if he’s busy

Somehow, you never notice and just think that people are nosy

He takes his research really far though, like straight up creepy

Draco gets his hands on all of your medical history, every single thing about you

He learns what your allergic too, what your rising sign is, how much you weigh at every check up

When he finds out that you’re anemic, he crushes up pills and sneakily adds it to your food to make sure you’re healthy

Does this with other things too, like Vitamin C, iron pills, etc etc etc

But in the end, it helps you a lot and makes you feel much better

And it makes him happy to know that you’re better because of him

One day, you get asked out by none other than Harry Potter

Instantly, Draco is enraged and everything in his sight is going to die a painful death

He feels betrayed by you despite treating you like utter shit for so many years

Not the mention he’s also gotten with maybe two or three other girls

He plans to ruin your date and he succeed

He burns Harry’s outfit, posses someone to spill hot tea on you, and even goes as far to sneak food you’re allergic to into your food

The date ends with you crying back to your dorm and Harry beating himself up

From this, Draco is happy and prepares to come and play knight-in-shining armor for you

But once again, he sees Harry comforting you and giving you a tight hug

Draco is literally about to kill Harry for this, cause ain’t no way he just did ALL of that for Harry to swoop in again

“You can’t take her! I loved her first! I love her more than your stupid four-eyed could ever!” He shouts at Harry

So yeah…. He just confessed out of rage

TOM RIDDLE

Never ever EVER will he get caught lacking for someone

This man keeps all of his lovey dovey feelings to himself, bro literally got a diary 😭

But when he saw you, and just like all of those dumb movies he’s seen, he was instantly love struck by you

He never knew that this was possible, he’s instantly disgusted with himself and does his best to the diminish the crush

But it won’t go away… you’re just perfect in every way

He’s so frustrated that he genuinely thinks of just killing you

But, thank GOD, he decides to not kill you and just become a stalker 😊

He finds out your entire schedule and walking path just so he can get small glimpses of you

Whenever you see him or make eye contact with him, he looks at you like you killed his entire family and he’s coming for revenge

But he’s actually drooling and hearing the most beautiful classical piano in the background

He sees you as a god/goddess that blessed him with your presence

Tom has always seen himself as the chosen one, the one given enough power to destroy and fix the world

And he sees you as his future Queen to the brand new world he will make :) kinda romanticccc

Finds all of your social media and stalks it for hours

He makes one of those fake burner accounts that looks like a bot

So when he follows you, you think nothing of it

But in reality, he’s watching you in depth

Bro finds your SPOTIFY and YOUR AO3 ACCOUNT… That’s how crazy he is

He made an entire playlist of every song you’ve ever posted and mentioned

He listens to it daily :)

Honestly, he’s just like me fr

He’s just a lil crazy and wants to know EVERYTHING about you

If you ever come up to him or are assigned partners, oh my god he’s gonna act so cold

Acts like he hates your guts and despises your existence

But in reality, he’s gonna thank every single religious figure out there for blessing him with allowing him to be in your space

MATTHEO RIDDLE

When he first saw you, he thought you were fine as hell

He was just trying to get into your pants

But when he tried to make a move, you scoffed and shoved him away

Instantly, he was attracted to you

He’s only been rejected like twice, and both times it ended with them begging on their knees for him

He was about to do the exact same thing to you

Unlike the others, he’s the only one that shows it and actively makes a move

Constantly flirts with you, no matter the time or day

Kinda like Filipino courtingggg 🤭

Finds all of your classes and walks you to all of them

Even though you want to walk with your friends, he won’t let you and always pulls you away from them

He skips his classes constantly just so he can be with you and flirt with you more

Even if you keep rejecting him or even slap him, he won’t stop. He loves when girls play hard to get

Sends you flowers, they’re a little bit ugly, but it’s the thought that counts

Sends you chocolates and stuffed animals to the point where a whole section of your dorm is dedicated to the pile of 65 stuffed animals you’ve received

He can’t really write poems or love songs, but he sends you little drawings that are barely readable

He makes little stick figures to represent you guys, one that’s super tall with abs (him) and another one that has hair and a triangle body (you)

Although you can barely understand his chicken scratch drawings, it makes you giggle from how stupid they are

Sometimes it’s him fighting off dragons, or you drowning and he saves you, or him being a rich king and you’re his queen

Never ever gives up on you, no matter what

Will fight off every single competition he has, he doesn’t care if they end up paralyzed

One time, someone older than you guys by one year tried to ask you out

Because he was a grade above you guys, he thought Mattheo wouldn’t fight him

But nopppeeee he was dead wrong, Mattheo sent him to the hospital wing repeatedly for a whole month

Even though the poor guy learned his lesson, Mattheo was mad that not only did he have the balls to ask you out but to also doubt Mattheo’s strength

Surprisingly, he cares a lot towards your friends as well and never leaves him out of the picture which is sweet

If you get a 100 roses from him (an almost daily occurrence), then he’ll get your best friends a small bouquet of 10-12 roses in return

If you get a huge chocolate box of the most expensive chocolates, then your friends get a small little wrapped box of a few chocolates

It’s really sweet and it makes your friends see that he’s actually pretty cool and sweet

Definitely goes around and lies to people by saying you two are dating

Eventually, everyone is fucking tired of you guys and basically sees you as a couple

One day, your friends say they’re gonna have a girls day and ask you to meet them at this nice restaurant

But surprise! The girls lied, you got all dressed up for nothing :(

But surprise again! Mattheo pops up. Your friends set you up with him to help you two to finally start dating

THEODORE NOTT

He’s had plenty of one night stands, weird situation-ships, and more but with you, he’s never had that

You’ve been his friend for ages, before he got hot and ripped

And he appreciated you a lot for that, he felt like he could finally be himself with someone

Over the years, he’s slowly gotten more and more comfortable with you

When he was going to bed, he thought to himself “I wouldn’t mind marrying (y/n)”

He smiled as he said that, about to sleep until his eyes shot wide open as he repeated what he said

“I wouldn’t mind marrying (y/n)??!???!!?”

When he realized he likes you, he’s a complete idiot

Normally with girls, he’s super smooth and charismatic - but that’s only because he’s trying to get into their pants

With you, you knew all his tactics and how awful of a person he can and HAS been over the years

You’ve seen him cheat, yell, and sometimes be borderline abusive to his past girlfriends

He starts to worry about how you perceive him and wants to make sure he seems like a good option

He becomes so awkward around you, it’s painful

Starts to be way nicer to you than he ever has been and becomes a lot more chivalrous

He takes off his jacket and shields you from rain, if anyone teases you he’ll get really defensive, he spoon feeds you at times, always pays for your lunch and dinner

Even goes as far as to take you on shopping sprees with no limit - even if you say no he’ll just keep track of everything you look at and buy it for you

Gets you flowers every week and always excuses it as “this is what best friends always do”

You two are basically dating… just without an official title

He’s TERRIFIEDDDD to ask, he’s literally had break downs over his fear of you rejecting him

Please just confess to him yourself, I’m not sure when he’ll get the balls and confidence to do it

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

He’s the most sane out of all of them all 😭

Literally the one line from Taylor Swift, “in a world of boys he’s a gentleman” AHAAAAHHHHH

He gets a crush on you after you two are partnered for a long term project

Loves how smart and dedicated you are, it inspires him to be the same way

Sometimes he purposely acts dumb just so that you’ll help him

Always pays attention to the small details and everything you do

Spoils you ROTTEN omg

Will take you out to go shopping with him and he whips out his black card and casually drops 25k just on clothes and makeup for you

He loves the feeling of spoiling you, makes him feel like your future husband

Praises you for everything, even the bare minimum

“Woah! I like your outfit!” And you’re literally wearing the required school uniform

He wants to date you and call you his own, but he knows he’s a fuck boy deep down

Every time he’s dated a girl, he’s ended up breaking up with them because he can’t commit or just straight up cheating on them

He’s very confident that he could change and be better, but he wants to be perfect before he dares you

Because he sees you as perfect :”) and you only deserve the best

You help motivate him to become better, even though you didn’t know you did

Starts going to the gym, works harder in school, tries to be more nice to everyone

Eventually, he’ll get the guts to ask you out for the Yule ball but he’ll keep saying you’re going as “friends”

But one day you’ll overhear him and his group talking about how fat of a crush he has on you

They all tease him and call him a simp, loverboy, everything

But when he sees that you’ve been listening the entire time, he’s so reddddd

Tries to hide his face and runs away, he avoids you for a little bit

He’s so so so scared of not being good enough or even ruining his relationship with you

He’d genuinely be okay with just being your best friend for all his life whilst loving you, even though it would hurt him so badly

Please just accept this boy 🙏 tell this man he’s enough and that you love him

read more here! :D

[writersdrug]

Thinking about Simon with a goth! gf, and introducing his team to you.

Warnings: cursing, very slight nsfw, pda

Typed this up on my lunch break, not thoroughly proofread, ending is meh but it's been rotting in my brain so I had to push it out. Feel free to send me asks about this headcannon, I'd love to write more about it! <3

Simon insists on dragging his team to the nearest pub after a particularly rough day, offering to buy then a round of whiskey. They are all reluctant at first, complaining about aching backs and heads, and Price saying that the missus was expecting him.

Then Simon mumbles something about how his girl would've loved to meet them.

"Yer wha' now?"

"My girl."

Suddenly, Gaz's headache is gone. "Must've just been dehydrated, I suppose." Soap's back feels much better, after being able to sit in the car for just- five minutes, now. And Price? Apparently, the missus was at a dinner raffle for her charity- thing, and he'd just now remembered.

So, drinks and a quick bite at the pub you worked at. It was settled.

Simon leads them in shortly after parking the truck. The other three quickly scan the room for anyone who stands out. As Simon brings them to a booth in the back, they all take a seat, heads on a swivel for some pretty thing to come bouncing over and latch herself onto him.

"Gonna hit the head." Simon says. "I'll put our drinks in- she'll bring 'em over, she'll be done with 'er shift soon."

As he leaves, Soap, Gaz, and Price all sit there in a few moments of observatory silence. It's much harder to sample the crowd, they realize, since there's apparently no dress code for the servers. Johnny eyes each person like a hawk, until he sees a potential pick.

"Tha' one." He says, nodding towards a busty, long-legged blonde. Price and Gaz follow his line of sight to her as she leans against the bar, playing with her hair and laughing at something her friend says. Her bootcut jeans and frilly top accentuate her curves, and it's obvious that every man in her vicinity is ogling. "Twenty on 'er. Seems like he'd be into swimsuit models, eh?"

Gaz humms, scrunching his nose disapprovingly. "Nah, mate- too simple."

"Feck is simple 'bout 'er?"

"I mean for Simon." Gaz corrects Soap. "Don't think he'd want someone so... ditzy- no offense to her." He adds. "I think he wants a girl who can hold her own, in the physical and the figurative sense. Someone..." he narrows his eyes, searching through the crowd of people. "Like her."

He discretely points to a woman across the bar. She's playing darts with a few people, and hits the bullseye perfectly just as Soap and Price look her way. Her tank top and cargo pants show how defined, yet lean her muscles are. She looks like she could last a few decent minutes in a brawl. "I bet on her."

"Well I'll raise ye forty - I ken LT wants someone more... passive."

"Forty it is, then. I'd love to have you pay my bill tonight."

"If I may..." Price chimes in, leaning against the back of the booth with a smug look, arms folded over his chest, "I'd love to get in on this little game o' yours, and walk away with eighty pounds t'night - because you're both wrong."

Soap smirks. "And how's tha', Cap?"

Price smooths his fingers over his mutton chops. "Well, for starters, I'm a bit ashamed o' you boys. Neither of those girls actually work here, do they? Mm?"

Gaz groans, letting his head drop against the wall behind him. It takes Soap another moment, but then he remembers Simon saying this was where you worked. The whole point of them going to this specific pub was because you'd already be here, on the clock.

"Shite..." he mumbles.

"Alright, sir." Gaz says defeatedly. "Lay it on us."

Price leans his elbows on the table and points his finger straight ahead; Gaz and Soap both follow it to the bar, where a sweet-looking girl is punching orders into a server tablet. She has long, silky, red hair, and a petite frame. She smiles so kindly at every patron who speaks to her, and when she makes their drinks, she is quick with it, still engaging in conversation as she shakes the mixer with a powerful arm. Despite the crowd, she seems to be managing fine on her own.

"Her." Price says, tucking his hand back onto the table. "Y' see that face? The way she talks to 'em all? How she's soft and tough at the same time? Imagine that birdie tucked under his wing, eh?"

Soap and Gaz can imagine it. She's a cute little thing, a social butterfly, it seems - the perfect polar opposite to Simon that just might be the perfect fit.

"And I know he's got a thing for redheads." Price adds.

"Piss off, how d'ye ken tha'?" Soap grumbles.

Price shrugs. "Call it intuition."

Simon comes around the corner, carrying several glasses of neat whiskey. "Sorry-" he says, setting a glass in front of Price, and handing out the others as he sits down on the end of the booth. "She's on 'er way now."

"No worries." Price says, trying to hide his smirk. "Didn't know y' were into redheads, Simon."

Simon pauses, looking down at the table in confusion - then he chuckles. "Yeah, s'pose I am. How did y' know? Did she come by already?"

Price laughs. "No, son. We were just sayin'-"

"Hey baby!"

You turn the corner and lean down, squealing as you throw your arms around Simon's neck and kiss him. The other three look on with shock, and Soap is about ready to throw this random woman off of Simon, until he holds you just as tightly and kisses you back.

Price's smirk falls right onto the table when he realizes that he is just as wrong as the other two.

You're Simon's bird. Simon's raven. Black, styled hair, with black lipstick that is currently smudging Simon's chin. You have a choker - no, several chokers, wrapped around your neck, as well as a tiny corked bottle filled with red liquid that makes Soap and Gaz nervous, dangling from a chain. Long, black-painted fingernails, with small spiderwebs decorating the tips, caressing his face and the back of his neck. Your arms and legs are covered with torn fishnets and small tattoos, and you're wearing a black number with a corset, paired with studded Doc Martin's.

You finally pull away and look at the rest of them. "Sorry- nice to finally meet the lot of you." You say, shaking each one of their hands. Your eyes are striking, with full, dark lashes, eyeliner, and red contacts. Gages and a bull ring, too. Soap feels a shiver run up his spine when he looks at you head on, and Gaz hasn't picked his jaw up off the floor since you came around.

"Erm-" Price clears his throat, "pardon us- call me John. This is Kyle, and Johnny." He gestures to the other two, still watching you with a mix of curiosity and awe.

"I've heard so much about you. It's good to put names to the face." You say with a smile, shaking the other two's hands. Gaz manages to smile a bit, but Soap has the same shocked expression plastered onto his face.

Simon has a love-drunk, black-smudged smile on his lips as you sit down in his lap. "She's been wantin' t' meet you all for a while, now. Sorry I kept 'er a secret."

"To be fair, I'm usually hard to find." You say, grabbing a napkin and wiping the lipstick off Simon's face. "I'm either here, at class, or roaming around and people-watching... at night, of course. People are more interesting when it's dark out." You traced a fingernail along his jugular as he stared up at you.

"John 'ere knew you were a redhead."

"How?! Oh my god- are my roots showing?"

"Nah, luvie, he's just observant. 'S our job." Simon places a kiss to your forehead. You smiled, leaning into the kiss.

"Oh, kitchen's about to close. You wanna split a burger, Si?"

"Sure, get what you like."

"'S no onions ok?"

"Fine w' me - chips?"

"You know it." You giggle, making a show of squishing his cheek and biting it. You turn to the rest of his team with a smile. "You boys hungry?"

Price is the first one to speak, taking a heavy breath in, causing Soap and Gaz to finally snap out of their trance. "Erm- whatever you get, we'll do the same. On us tonight."

"Oooh, you sure?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. Simon looked at Price curiously.

"You positive, cap?"

Price nodded. "Lost a bet."

Simon looks even more concerned. You pat his shoulder and stand up. "I'll go punch it in, be right back." You give him a peck on the cheek, and begin to walk away - Simon's attention returns to you as he hooks a finger in the chain choker around your neck and tugs you back.

Soap, Gaz, and Price all watch, stupefied, as you land back in Simon's lap with a giggle. He grabs your chin between his thick fingers and kisses you on the lips, shamelessly letting his tongue slide past your teeth and squeezing your thigh. You laugh into the kiss, letting him devour you for a moment, before tapping his cheek and breaking away.

"I got fifteen minutes to put everyone's order in, Si."

"That's plenty of time, dove."

"Yeah, but then kitchen will get mad for doing it last minute, and I don't want-"

He chuckles, gently shoving out off of his lap and smacking your rump through your skirt. "You're fine, go on."

You smile, then disappear behind the booth, boots thudding against the hardwood floors.

Simon looks back at the three of them - Soap is staring between you and him, a blush covering his face. Gaz immediately turns to look at the wall, scratching his chin, and Price is gazing into his whiskey, though there's a lingering surprise in his eyes.

"So- what bet?" Simon asks, adjusting his hips; Soap notices his hand reaching down to palm at the fabric over his groin. "I don' remember bettin' nothin'."

"We weren't bettin' on ye pullin' her out ye pockets, LT." Soap comments, trying to avoid Simon's eyes. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out forty pounds, slapping it onto the table.

"It makes sense..." Gaz, chimes in. "With your whole skeleton look, she fits you."

Simon slowly smiles, understanding what they had bet on. "Oh... I see. Lemme guess - you thought I's with someone more... simple? Lile that blonde at the bar, is tha' right?"

"Tha's what I said!!" Soap exclaims, dropping his fist to the table. "You got te give me credit fer pointin' t' a swimsuit model first, aye?"

"Oh- because every bloke on earth is shallow enough to care about swimsuit models." Gaz scoffs. "I at least picked someone who didn't look so bloody helpless." He gestures to the girl playing darts with her friends. "You don't even know if the other girl's a model."

"Well, one can imagine..."

"Feel as though I's the closest..." Price mutters under his breath, making the other two glare at him.

"Ye were not."

"Get off your high horse, cap-"

"Well- try this." Simon leans on his forearms with a smug look on his face. "My bird? She's a model, and she's a black-belt in Judo, and-" he looks at Price- "she's a natural redhead."

They all look between Simon and you, as you stand behind the bar and punch their orders in, laughing with the other redhead. Their eyes would drop onto the table if they were any wider.

"You sly dog-" Gas comments with a chuckle.

"I don' believe ye." Soap says, crossing his arms. "Wha' kind o' model?"

"Lingerie."

Price chokes on his whiskey.

"Bullshit." Soap snaps. "Pictures or ye lyin'."

"Nah." Simon sighs, leaning back in his seat and daking a sip of his whiskey. "Not the ones I have, at least. But pick up the last "Bloodletting" magazine, and she's there."

They all sit there, a bit dumbfounded, watching you walk back to the booth. How on earth did someone like Simon land someone like you?

Simon's full of surprises, even in his personal life.

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: who knew stealing a hoodie would lead you to an existential crisis.

tw: none.

a/n: ik everyone loves the idea of Daisuke realizing his feelings second...but what if we switched that around? 👀

wc: 1.1k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

In your defense, he had left it out in the open unattended. You had been running small errands for Anya and you found yourself grumbling about it being particularly chilly that day. Luck seemed to be on your side, as on your way back to the med bay, you noticed a clothing item innocently having been tossed on the couch. It was clearly Daisuke’s, the vibrant block patterned hoodie couldn’t have been anyone else's. Deciding it was his fault for leaving it out in the open in the first place, you threw it on. 

Pausing her writing to acknowledge your presence, Anya’s eyes fell onto the new article of clothing you wore. Diverting her eyes, she tried her hardest to push down the smile that was threatening to take over her face. Daisuke always wore that hoodie in his free time, she recalled him wearing it multiple times during game night. She would always recall her enemies attire after being beaten at uno.

“...and I gave Captain the note,” You listed off, counting on your fingers as you went. 

“Thank you,” Anya replied, speaking your name softly. “And a pit stop to see Daisuke?” She couldn’t help herself, lightly teasing you.

Glancing down at the comfy hoodie you shook your head, “Nah, he just left this lying out and I took the opportunity. Finders keepers and all that.” 

Letting out a small chuckle, she smiled warmly at you, “Don’t let him catch you saying that.”

“Meh,” You shrugged. “He probably won’t even notice it’s missing. So, is there anything else you need me to do?”

“No,” Anya shook her head. “That’s all for now.”

…

You had forgotten you were wearing the hoodie until dinner happened. The night's meal was stew and you found yourself excited since you always loved a good soup. Not to mention with how cheap Pony Express was, it was hard to mess up soup. As everyone was dished out a portion, it was as calm as it could be until you heard someone splutter. Across from you sat Daisuke who was currently coughing loudly, a mix of broth and spit falling in front of you. You gave him a disgusted look, Swansea shaking his head and Anya handing you some napkins. Gosh, now you’re cleaning up other people's messes, you thought internally shaking your head. 

“Are you okay?” Anya asked, eyes looking a bit worried but also a tad amused.  “Y-yeah,” Daisuke stuttered slightly, eyes looking at anything but you. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

“Kid can’t even eat properly,” Swansea muttered, causing you to snicker. 

“Probably not sweet enough,” You teased, eyes glinting with a knowing look. Once again, Daisuke felt himself coughing, face warming in a mix of fluster and embarrassment. Gosh, he knew you meant the whole sweetener packet fiasco, but his eyes betrayed his true thoughts as they fell onto your lips that were quirked up in an amused grin. 

He wasn’t stupid, he knew what the fluttery feeling in his heart was. They way he looked forward to your every interaction, daydreaming about you before falling asleep. That wasn’t normal, he never daydreamed about kissing his friends before. It didn’t help that you both grew exponentially closer, inside jokes becoming the norm and being by the other’s side nearly 24/7. Your teasing grin and side bumps made his nerves go alight, wishing you would do more than just brief touches.

He was crushing, and hard. He felt like he was in highschool all over again. Damn, was that the last time he had a crush?

“W-where’d you find my hoodie?” Daisuke couldn’t help but ask, struggling to both look away and make eye contact at the same time.  “You’re hoodie?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “It was just laying on the couch, for all I knew it was Anya’s.” You shrugged your shoulders ‘innocently’, knowing damn well that was a lie. 

Pouting, he muttered, “I really like that hoodie…”

“Damn,” You sighed, pretending to be upset. “I was kinda hoping to keep it. It’s so comfy.”

He crumbled instantly, “Okay.”

You blinked, genuinely surprised. You were just teasing him, you were fully planning on giving it back after dinner.

“What?” You asked, stupefied. 

“You can have it if you like it so much,” Daisuke clarified, acting unusually bashful. “It looks better on you anyways.”

It felt like your breath got knocked out of your lungs, heart picking up in speed as you tried to comprehend what just happened. You looked down to your bowl, your cheeks feeling weirdly warm, pulling the sleeves over your hands. The annoyed/knowing looks your crewmates sent your way wasn’t helping. You finally started to eat, your food having cooled during your little banter. One by one, the crew started to leave, chatting to each other here and there, until it was only you and Daisuke left at the table. Glancing up, you felt uncomfortably warm when your eyes made contact with Daisuke’s. Was he watching you the entire time? Why did your stomach feel like it was tying itself into knots? Why did you kind of like this weird feeling that made you all wobbly and shy? 

“What?” You asked, oddly defensive. This weird, gross, nice feeling was freaking you out and it showed in the edge of your voice. 

“S-sorry,” He muttered sheepishly, scratching his cheek. “Didn’t mean to stare. Just spacing out.”

“Hmm,” You hummed, eyeing him for a second before standing up to wash your bowl. “Y’know I was joking about keeping your hoodie, right?” You nearly jumped out of your skin when he appeared in your peripheral, tilting his head at your question.

Shrugging, he replied, “It’s cool. I was serious about what I said before. You can have it.”

“Isn’t this your favorite one?” You asked in disbelief. Drying your hands and turning to fully face him. 

“I mean, if you don’t want it I can take it back,” Daisuke muttered, sounding a bit disappointed. Why would he be disappointed in getting his favorite hoodie back? You didn’t want to dissect that thought too thoroughly, feeling those weird feelings curl inside of you. 

“Well…if you're offering,” You mumbled back, eyes straying from him. “No take backsies.”

Daisuke lit up, making you want to squeeze the living daylight out of him. Why was he so cute?! Who gave him the right? 

You found it hard to sleep again that night. Though, instead of thinking about your work, being on a floating ship through space, or missing your home world, you found yourself thinking about Daisuke. His stupid boyish smile, how he always managed to find a way to make you laugh, how he never failed to bring you out of your darkness like the shining ray of light he was. There was no way…you couldn’t…did you actually…?

You had a crush on Daisuke.

[therealcocoshady]

Could you make a one shot where Marshall x Reader have been dating for almost 2 years, they start talking about kids and the thought of reader pregnant is a big turn on for him.

Author’s Note : Thank you for your request 💕. I hope you enjoy this ! ⭐️

If you like my writing and want to support it, here’s my Ko-Fi (I’m also open for commission. It’s like a request but that way you’re 100% sure I see it fast & indulge you 😉 - rn I have 200+ asks in my Inbox. Also, by commissioning my work, you’re literally helping a struggling neurodivergent student get by !).

Baby talk

You were the first one to be surprised when you felt it. The desire to have kids. You had never been a kid person. You had always found these tiny humans to be terribly underwhelming. To be fair, you didn’t hate them. But you never really understood what all the fuss surrounding babies was. Puppies ? Yes. Kittens ? Absolutely. Human babies ? Meh. When you were a kid yourself, you didn’t show an interest in babies and, as far as you could remember, you had never really enjoyed playing with dolls. And growing up, you hadn’t shown more of an interest in the topic of motherhood. Older people had told you you’d change your mind and eventually come to want kids of your own but you doubted it. When you became an adult and got into serious relationships, you had that talk with your partners and you told them you didn’t want to have children. You enjoyed your free time, being able to sleep until noon if you wanted to, the possibility of spending money on silly things like an impromptu girls trip to Vegas or a new handbag instead of diapers and an overpriced daycare. In your mind, it was clear that you weren’t meant to be a mother. You did have a lot of love and admiration for parents around you, but you didn’t envy them. So you built a child free life that was absolutely wonderful. Sure, it hurt a bit when your previous partner ended up breaking up with you because he changed his mind about kids and you didn’t. But you understood his decision and knew it was the right thing to do, rather than forcing yourself to have kids when you did not have any actual desire for it. You didn’t want to force yourself to live a life that did not resemble you, taking the risk of one day resenting the children you never wanted to raise in the first place. It all worked out in the end : your ex went on to marry a woman who, from what you heard, was wonderful and have a kid with her, and you ended up meeting the love of your life. 

Marshall was everything you hoped to find in a partner. He was kind, funny, thoughtful, knowledgeable on a lot of subjects and handsome. Yes, he was older than you, but he was definitely young at heart. If anything, you benefited from his experience in life. Also, him being older and having three grown-up children meant that he was « done with all of that », which was a relief. The feeling was mutual, his lack of desire for more kids having caused a couple of breakups for him as well. But just because the two of you decided not to have babies didn’t mean you didn’t have your hands full with them. Marshall was a loving uncle to his brother’s three kids and you were entering that stage of your life where all your friends were starting families. So whether it was a birthday party, a basketball game, a recital or a baby shower… you had your share of kid-related activities. You liked it though. More than you ever thought you would. Marshall being very family-oriented, he loved that you were involved with his family. Together, you built a perfect life. You had all the fun that came with being around kids, without the obligations. You were the fun aunt and uncle, who enjoyed spoiling other people’s kids rotten and playing with them, before happily handing them back to their parents and letting them handle the sugar crash and the noise caused by the toys you bought them. You thought you’d spend the rest of your life just like this, perfectly content, enjoying a peaceful existence with your boyfriend, with whom you would eventually grow old. 

But then, without seeing it coming, you found yourself thinking about it. Wondering how you would look like with a baby bump. Pregnant ladies had always looked like aliens to you, but you started thinking you’d actually be cute, carrying a little baby. Marshall’s baby. A baby with the cutest nose, pouty lips and the most beautiful blue eyes. The thought of a baby that would be part you part Marshall had your heart melt. And you knew he’d be such a good baby daddy, too. Obviously, he had raised three amazing daughters he was very proud of, but he was also amazing with other people’s children. He was his nephews’ favorite person in the world and he was so great with your friends’ babies. So you found yourself thinking that, if you got accidentally pregnant, it wouldn’t be the worst thing on earth. Sure, it would be inconvenient, but maybe you’d keep it. Not that it would ever happen anyway, since you were more than diligent with birth control. Then, it turned into thinking about what your life would actually look like with a little one. And you figured that, what you would have found dreadful years ago, maybe wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you’d crush it as a soccer mom. Maybe there was actually something beautiful in having kids with someone you love, teaching them stuff and watching them grow up. 

Then, one day, it hit you like a ton of bricks. You actually wanted to have kids. With Marshall. You were at the store, doing your weekly shopping. How you ended up in the baby aisle, you weren’t sure. But you found yourself mesmerized by the tiny items of clothing. Eventually, you came to your senses and mentally slapped yourself. You were with a man in his fifties, who already had his kids and did not want more. Now was not the time to change your mind. As if to imprint the thought in your brain, you went and stocked on condoms, buying a fuckton of them. The cashier even threw you a weird glance. You probably looked like you were doing  a comparative study, getting a bit of everything from ribbed ones to flavored ones. Marshall chuckled when he saw them in the bag. 

That’s a lot of condoms, he chortled. 

Yeah, there was some kind of sale, you lied. 

He shrugged it off and promised to put them to good use. You knew he would make good on his word and figured you just needed to have that silly idea banged out of your system. Except that it didn’t work. You went a few months without talking to him about it. But the more time went on, the more you realized you really wanted a baby with this man. You still liked the idea of having a flexible schedule and 9 hours of sleep a night. But you didn’t love it as much as you loved the idea of carrying this man’s offspring. And the more time went on, the harder it was not to talk to him about it. You dreaded this, though. Because you’d been on the receiving end of that conversation. Of not wanting kids and having someone you loved tell you that they wanted to start a family with you, and having to disappoint them and see the heartbreak in their eyes. So you put it off as long as you could. Until one evening, you weren’t able to hold yourself. 

I think I want a baby, you blurted out when you walked in the kitchen while Marshall was cooking dinner.

You think you want what, baby ? He asked as he turned to you. Sorry, I didn’t hear you over the noise of that kitchen fan. 

No, I said I-I think I want a baby, you repeated nervously. 

You think you want a baby ? He repeated carefully. 

I mean… yeah, you simply said. 

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. Clearly, you were taking him by surprise. He turned off the fan and the kitchen stove, before walking to you. 

That’s new, he said matter-of-factly. 

Kind of, you admitted. I mean… I’ve been thinking about it for some time now. 

So you don’t think you to have want a baby. You know you want to have one, he pointed out. 

Y-yeah. I’m sorry, you mumbled as you looked down. 

For how long have you thought about it ? He asked. 

I’m not sure, you admitted. Does it matter ? 

I thought you didn’t want to be a mom, he said. That you were perfectly happy with being an aunt. That it was the best of both worlds. That’s what you said. 

I know, you replied. And I meant it. I’m as surprised as you are, really. But then I thought about how I’d react if I got pregnant. And I realized I wouldn’t mind that. Having a baby that’s part you and part me. 

Oh wow, he said as he scratched the back of his head. 

Yeah, you hummed. And I thought it was just something random and that I’d forget about it. But I can’t. And it’s been months now, and I think you have great genes and that our baby would be really cute. And Target has the most adorable baby clothes and I know condoms are cheaper than a college education but there were little bunnies on the pajamas I saw the other day and I also found out that they make baby Jordan sneakers that look like the ones you love and-

You caught yourself rambling and stopped talking. Now, you weren’t making any sense and you were just dumping the whole thing on him. Probably not the best way to go about it. He was staring at you with an amused look on his face. 

I’m sorry, you said will a sad voice. I know you’re done with it. We’ve talked about it and I know it really sucks that I’m changing my mind but I needed to tell you because I’ve been thinking about it a lot and-

Do you plan on letting me speak ? He asked with a smile. 

Yes. Sorry. 

Ok, he chuckled. I have a few questions. Is there a reason why you changed your mind ? 

Well… you, I guess, you shrugged. I mean, I love you, and I see what an amazing father, what a great uncle you are. 

Ok, he said. And, another question : is that something you want ? Or is it something you need ? 

I don’t know, you admitted. I’m really happy with our life just the way it is. I don’t need a baby to be fulfilled and for my life to have meaning. But I can’t stop thinking of how much I’d like a baby with you. 

Ok, he hummed. So… it’s not something you’d break up over ? 

No, you said. I love you. I want to spend my life with you. And I don’t think I want a baby if I can’t have it with you. You’re the reason I want one. Because the baby I have in my mind… he has your eyes, your nose and your smile. 

Meh. Doesn’t sound too cute, he chuckled. If anything, it sounds like an ad for contraception. 

Oh, come on, you giggled. 

But… he ? He asked with a smile. 

Sometimes she, you corrected. I never really wanted kids so I don’t really care, I guess. Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just dump this whole thing on you… we both know this talk sucks. But I couldn’t really keep it to myself. I needed to tell you. I’m sorry. 

Quit apologizing, babe, he said reassuringly. I’m glad you told me. 

Really ? You asked nervously. 

Of course, he replied. I can tell it hasn’t been easy for you. 

You nodded and he pulled you into his arms before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You closed your eyes and inhaled his scent. You definitely felt lighter after telling him, even though it didn’t really change anything. 

So… can I get back to you on that ? He finally asked. 

Huh ?! You asked as you looked up from his chest.

I think I’m gonna need a bit of time to think about it, he continued. I can’t promise I’ll say yes. But I’ll consider it. 

Wait… seriously ? You asked in shock. 

Isn’t that why you brought it up in the first place ? He mused. 

I don’t know, you said. I guess I mostly expected you to convince me it was a terrible idea. I mean, you’ve broken up with people over that. 

So have you, he pointed out. But it’s you. It’s us. What we have is different. I feel like my family’s complete so I never really wanted to have another kid. But I’m in love with you. And if there’s anyone I’d give it a shot with… it’s you. 

Ok, you said with an emotional smile. 

I’m not saying yes to anything, though, he warned. Don’t get your hopes up. 

But you’re not saying no, you pointed out with a smile. 

I’m not, he agreed. Because even though having kids can be tough… it’s pretty great, too. And I know you’d be a great mom. 

You flashed him a smile and buried your face in his chest.  The simple fact that he was willing to consider it because he loved you filled your heart with joy. 

You didn’t really bring up the topic in the following weeks, but you could see a change in Marshall’s demeanor whenever someone around you talked about kids. You could absolutely tell he was thinking about it. You weren’t too sure what the best way to go about it was. Of course, you were curious to know how he felt about it, what was on his mind. But you didn’t want to be annoying and press him on the matter, so you figured that it was probably better to wait for him to get back to you on that, once his mind was made up. 

Waiting was trying, though. Because in the meantime, you had to watch him interact with countless babies and young children, feeling like your ovaries exploded. Patience is a virtue and that waiting period was definitely an opportunity for you to practice it. Thankfully, it finally came to an end when you came back from work to Marshall waiting for you in the living room, with a bouquet of roses on the table, as well as a paper bag. You greeted him and thanked him for the nice gesture.

What’s the occasion ? You asked. 

Since when do I need a special  occasion to treat my woman to some roses and a present ? He asked back. 

Touché, you giggled. Thank you my love. Can I open the bag ? 

Not yet, he said. I want you to have a look at this first. 

He handed you some papers and you skimmed through it. It was a printing of his schedule for the foreseeable future. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. 

That’s, erm, fine ? You said, unsure of what he was expecting you to say. 

It’s my schedule, he said. For the next two years. 

I see that, you chuckled. I’m just not sure why you’re showing it to me ? You usually don’t consult me when it comes to your work schedule. 

As you can see, I’ve moved a couple of trips that were already planned, he explained as he pointed to a few dates. Meaning that I’ll be going to LA a little bit more in the upcoming three months. But after that, no more work trips and I put a hold on the performance planning. I’ll stay in Detroit. 

Ok ? You said - still not grasping what he was getting at. That’s nice. But why did you change the schedule ? Is there a specific reason why you need to stay here ? 

Apparently, when you’re trying to have a baby with your woman, it’s better to be in the same city, he grinned. 

You stared at him in shock, your mouth slightly agape. Marshall was smiling from ear to ear. Next thing he knew, you were in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, peppering your face with kisses. 

Oh my God, you said emotionally. Really ? Oh I love you so much, Marshall ! 

I love you too, he hummed. 

I can’t believe it, you whispered. Wait- What’s in the bag ? 

Open it, he chuckled. 

You reached for it and saw it contained a bunch of ovulation prediction kits, pregnancy tests, some folic acid and some lube. 

Apparently, these are the basic essentials for trying to conceive, he commented. 

You’re amazing, you said with the biggest smile on your face. So… we’re doing this ? We’re making a baby ?

If you haven’t changed your mind, yeah, he nodded. 

As a response, you threw yourself in his arms and kissed him passionately. He chuckled into the kiss and cupped your face, staring at you lovingly. 

I’ll give you the cutest baby, you promised. 

I have no doubt, he grinned. 

Do you think I’ll be a pretty pregnant lady ? You mused. 

Are you kidding me ? He asked. God, you’re going to be so hot. The thought of you carrying my baby… You have no idea the things it does to me. 

Oh yeah ? Like what ? You asked defiantly. Show-

Before you had the chance to finish your sentence, Marshall had you pinned to the couch and was grinding against you. It didn’t matter that you were both fully clothed, you could feel his excitement through the fabric. 

I’m gonna fill your pretty pussy, he promised. And I’m gonna make a pretty mama out of you. 

Mmmyes, you whimpered. 

Gonna give you a pretty belly, he continued. I can’t wait to see you carry our child. Can’t wait to start trying. 

When ? You asked pleadingly.  

How about now ?  He whispered in your ear. 

[vivwritesfics]

poly fic idea with lando and max

max and reader have been dating for ages when lando joined f1 he befriended both of them. over time their friendship has many signs of a relationship. lando slowly starts falling for them but hides it cause he thinks he would destroy their relationship and that it isnt normal to be in love with two people. meanwhile max and reader have talked a lot about lando joining their relationship and actually planned a date to ask lando out

Y/N laid on the beach towel beside her boyfriend, the likes of Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris and Daniel Ricciardo with them.

Max was sat up while Y/N laid back with her sunglasses covering her shut eyes. He stared out at the ocean while Lando and Daniel chased each other through the water.

"How's it going?" Asked Charles as he came to sit beside them, his pose match Max's.

To most this would have been a normal greeting, but Max knew better. "So far, so meh," Max answered, digging his toes into the sand. "I don't think he really notices we're flirting with him."

Charles let out a scoff. "Sure he doesn't," he responded. "You two do realise he acts like he's dating the both of you?"

"Piss off, Charles," Y/N mumbled as she rolled over onto her back. But she didn't mean it, it was just a touchy subject.

Charles did piss off. With a laugh, he stood and ran into the water, splashing both Danny and Lando.

Lando left them to it. He walked over and sat in the sand beside Y/N. "Have you got suncream on your back?" He asked, already grabbing it from Y/Ns bag.

She let out a satisfied groan as Lando began rubbing the suncream into the skin of her back. "Can't have your burning," he said, his tongue between his teeth.

Y/N looked over at her boyfriend. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe he did act like their boyfriend.

Goddamn they needed to ask him out.

Their entire holiday was spent with the three of them acting like a couple. Lando didn't notice. It was completely unintential, but he just felt so comfortable around them. He couldn't help it! The others noticed, though. They noticed big time.

"Seriously, I don't know for how much longer I can hold out," Max said as Y/N scrolled through her social media.

She let out a sigh as she locked her phone. "I know, Maxie," she said as she ran her fingers through her hair. "Maybe we should ask him to dinner or something."

That was exactly what they did. Y/N and Max invited Lando out to dinner. And the clueless brit assumed it was nothing. Just a dinner with his friends.

He didn't think anything of it. Not when Max let him try some of his drink. Not when Y/N let him try a bit of pasta from her fork.

It took the couple until the end of the date to realise that Lando didn't realise it was a date. So, as they walked out of the restaurant, Y/N let out a sigh and pressed a kiss to Lando's cheek. "You didn't realise we were taking you on a date, did you?"

Lando's eyes went wide. "Date?" He squeaked. "This was a date?"

"Yes, Lan, this was a date," said Max as he placed his hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"Oh, I wish I had known that."

Lando really wished he had known that. If he knew this was a date he would have dressed a little nicer and would have tried to pay for their food.

"Let's try this again," he said, surprising the couple. "A proper date. We'll book out a restaurant or something, please!"

It was a good thing he was cute.

[violetasteracademic]

I saw someone say they don't like Elriel simply because Azriel and Elain don't do it for them as a couple. They just aren't into the emo boy/flower girl dynamic. And truth be told? That's the most respectable anti take I've ever heard. Because there is no right or wrong, there's no points to argue. It's just like, hey, I see it, and I don't like it. Which is kind of how I feel about G*wynriel and E*lucien as well. So it's genuinely just a really fair and uncomplicated take.

I simply *don't like* forced proximity with the person that has already been assigned to you and eventually falling in love with them, then realizing it's for the best anyways because it will solve a bunch of conflicts as much as I *like* fuck fate and fuck politics and fuck the Gods, you are the person I want and I will burn the whole world down to be with you. If it goes against every rule, if it puts us in the front line of every danger, and tears at the very fabric of society, it still will be you for me and I'll do whatever it takes.

And that's just vibes, there's really not much more to say!

I *don't like* I was completely obsessed with two different women, but after being rejected by both of them I finally realized, thank goodness! I've had a mate this whole time! And I saved her from being r*ped by a bunch more men than just one years ago and then trained with her every day and now that I'm finally free of being in love with other women, I finally have noticed what is right in front of me as much as I *like* your mate is sleeping upstairs and if he catches us he will have every right to demand I fight to the death over you but I literally can't stop wanting you and needing you and questioning fate because I don't understand how we aren't meant to be together.

I know for a fact I won't like a G*wynriel or E*lucien book *as much* as Elriel because I have read those sorts of similar vibes or comparable plot points before, and it's just like, meh. Not for me. My least favorite trope is the guy who suddenly realizes his best gal pal is the one he should have been into all along after only going for beautiful women he thought were way out of his league. That's not romantic to me at all. But I respect that it is to others. I think it's perfectly okay to simply vibe with different things.

Do I think the books are quite clearly headed towards Elriel? Absolutely. But I think even if they weren't, I'd be crack shipping them anyways because I absolutely love what they have to offer plot, story, tone, aesthetic, style, and romance wise. They are the full package for me. Feysand was a full package for me. Nessian isn't my usual style or favorite trope or vibe, but I still enjoyed the hell out of it.

I think Sarah has given the sisters really distinct personalities and completely individual storylines. I personally still love every book. I adored ACOSF. Buuuuut I don't really need it rewritten a second time in a different font, which is what I think G*wynriel would be. Minus all of the "it's been you since the moment I laid eyes on you" swoon worthiness that I loved for Nesta and Cassian and introducing the "I can't believe I didn't notice my own mate standing right next to me and being harmed and put in mortal danger repeatedly for three years because I was in love with other women" element.

But ACOSF is polarizing. I've seen people say it is either objectively the best book Sarah has ever written, or objectively the worst.

Elain is a unique sister, with a personality and powers that could not be more different from Feyre and Nesta. Everything about her book is not going to match what we have seen in the series so far. And I think that's a GOOD thing. ACOSF was a tone shift, and I think Elain's book will be a tone shift. But I think her book is probably going to be polarizing as well. And it will likely be my favorite.

Although the fandom has gotten a bit aggressive, I think it's really cool that people found their favorite in Nesta and ACOSF in a way that is really kind of deep and specific. I think Elain and Elriel will be that for me. That's what books are supposed to do. Humanity is not one size fits all. It makes perfect sense that people locked into Nessian (or just Nesta) in a way they didn't with Feyre/Feysand. And although there's a crop of anti ic people out there now, Feysand will always be a crowd pleaser. So I'm just hoping the girlies who get it will have their chance to connect that deeply with Elriel too!

I love each Archeron sister, and I for one love how different they are. I appreciate their stories for different reasons. But I am ACHING for Elain and Azriel to lean into their vibes and continue on their journey of questioning the system and deconstructing religion and battling the obstacles in their way. That will always be more interesting and way sexier and peak romance to me and will undoubtedly take spot number 1 in my heart.

[thegoldencontracts]

The Daintiest Man Alive

Summary: After a few unfruitful attempte at strategizing, you and Jack finally come up with a plan to try and force Azul to let the anemones go. Things quickly go topsy-turvy.

You and Jack had both been trying to make Azul free all the students he'd enslaved. And frankly, it wasn't going well.

You'd already signed a contract with him, and now you had three- no, two days left to steal some field trip photo from an undersea museum.

It was safe to say you were starting to get a bit desperate. After all, someone as talented as Azul had to be super hard to beat!

"Ugh," Jack said, shooting you a disgusted look. "You're fawning over that Cephalopunk again, aren't you?"

You just sighed dreamily.

"He's pretty, and smart, and he's so talented, and-*

"And he scammed you out of your home."

"He didn't scam me, Jack, I'm not stupid. I'll kick his ass if I need to and get my home back."

Truth be told, you already had a plan. You felt a bit bad for not telling Jack yet. Especially since he seemed like he was genuinely trying to help you - but hey, at least you could go through other plans before trying out your last resort.

But you were running out of options. That was becoming pretty clear from the plans you were trying out.

"Are you sure we wanna do this?" You asked.

"Why not?" Jack said. "It'll be easy. He seems pretty weak."

True, but- there were so many things to worry about here. Everything that could go wrong with your plan of physically overpowering Azul and, well, basically holding him hostage. It was crazy! How did you two even think of it?

"Are you really sure, though?" You asked. Jack just nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I'm sure. Aren't you? After all, this was mostly your idea."

And you beginning to worry it was a dumb idea. Were you two seriously going to get Azul pinned down? Hold him hostage? This was crazy, God, you were crazy-

"Listen," Jack said, as your thoughts began to spiral. "I know this is a bit of a crazy plan, but hey, we can make it work. And it's better than losing your home to some scumbag."

That was... weirdly comforting, especially coming from Jack.

"A hot scumbag," you said. "But hey, it's too late for second thoughts anyways, right?"

Jack nodded. It really was, considering that the two of you were right outside Mostro Lounge. Now, you just had to wait for Azul to-

The door slammed open as if the room itself had heard your thoughts, and the two of you sprung into action.

"What is the meaning of-"

And before Azul knew it, he was pinned. He gave you and indescribable gaze, before huffing.

"Release me at once," he said. You just shook your head.

"I bet you already know what you'd have to do for that to happen, sweetcheeks."

Jack's face puckered at your nickname. Whatever. It was a good nickname, right?

"You won't get away with this," Azul hissed.

"And you won't get away with anything you've done either." Jack said, before turning to you. "Keep his hands tied down; it'll make it easier for us if he tries to get out."

"On it."

Come to think of it, Azul wasn't struggling at all. He was just... Laying there. With a mildly indignant look on his face. What happened? Did he just realize how futile any attempt at escape would be?

"You seem awfully calm for someone in such a precarious position, pretty boy," Jack groaned at your continuous use of - perfectly average and rather clever if you really thought about it, in fact - nicknames. "Why? Got a trick or two up your sleeve?"

"Not at all," Azul said as you tied his arms together with some random rope Jack had summoned. It was pretty meh in quality, like the kind used as a prop in a kid's play. "I simply know brutes like you will be brought to justice."

He seemed a bit uneasy, though.

"The real brutes here are you and those twins of yours," Jack said. You nodded.

"Yep! The real devil's the way you use those gorgeous eyes of yours to lure unsuspecting students in, blinding them with your beauty."

Silence. Then, the sound of Jack smacking his palm again his forehead.

"Do you have any idea how stupid you sounded just now?" He asked.

You just laughed.

"You think I'm super witty deep down inside, admit it."

Azul just scowled.

"You two have some nerve, taking advantage of my weak and fragile nature!" He said with a huff.

That sounded a bit suspicious. Was Azul really the type to do openly admit how weak he was? Wasn't this a complete contrast from his usual demeanor?

Jack seemed to notice the same thing.

"You really didn't need to emphasize how weak you are," he said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"My stature doesn't allow for musculature," Azul said, but you couldn't help but notice the slight bit of sweat that seemed to form near his cheek.

Wait a minute.

Was he- strong enough to get out of this? Was he just pretending he was weak because it made him feel small and he liked that or something?

"You could get out of this easily," you said in realization. Azul looked around awkwardly.

"No. I couldn't."

"Yes you could."

Jack's eyes widened. He'd realized the same thing you had.

"You could've gotten out of this all along?" He said. Azul looked around in panic.

"N-No I couldn't, I'm much too weak, I assure you," he said. Like you believed that for one second.

"It seems like you can," Jack said, brow twitching in irritation. "Then go on. Do it."

"I'm too frail," Azul said.

Before you could continue this weird tangent, the door slammed open again, and there walked the Leech twins. Jack seemed even more irritated than before.

"Now those guys're here too," he said. You were more worried about what they were going to do.

"My, my," Jade said with a mocking laugh. "It seems we've encountered a damsel in distress."

"Yep!" Floyd said. "Don't you guys know that's our Azul?"

Hard to believe when Floyd looked like he was about to die of laughter.

But in an instant, Azul shoved the two of you off, snapping the rope like it was nothing before walking up to Floyd and shaking him by the uniform.

"I know you recorded that! Give up your phone or I swear to the Sea Witch you won't recognize your own body-"

You and Jack just stared in shock. What was going on with Azul? He was the biggest barbarian out of any of you! Just hearing the way he threatened Floyd made you shudder a little, even if Floyd himself just seemed amused.

There was one conclusion to draw here. This plan was definitely a failure.

[moonlightsolo]

and i see you.

summary: after finally admitting your feelings to each other, neteyam promised a surprise for the two of you. an unfortunate emergency cuts it short, sending you into your first (and not last) fight with the sully family against the rda. 

pairing: neteyam sully x fem!navi/human reader

warnings: kinda suggestive, lots of smooching, fluffy fluff, mentions of a main character getting hurt, violence/guns aka the rda being assholes

word count: 4.4k

note: i’m sorry for it taking so long to get this out my mental health is MEH rn but i promise it was worth the wait <333

part one | part three | part four | part five

“oh great mother! neteyam, slow down! please!”your voice yelps out as your arms wring tighter around his neck. 

one of his hands grips the underside of your thigh to hoist you even closer to him, a laugh bubbling from his chest. 

“just hold on- i got you.” his deep voice coddles you, but is still laced with humor. “i told you that i wouldn’t be careful.” 

you can’t help but groan at his words, letting out another squeal when he slightly loses his balance and almost slides off the side of a branch. 

another laugh barks from his chest because obviously your fear is humorous to him.

your legs are wrapped around his waist from behind, ankles locked on his abdomen with your chest flush against his back. 

neteyam leaps to branches from tree to tree, swinging on vines through the forest with you attached to his back. 

when he told you he is going to take you somewhere special, you didn’t expect him to act like a syaksyuk. 

his sprints slow down into a jog as he stops by a thick log resting over a deep cavern. he takes a deep breath before scurrying across it to safety, over to a ladder that is nailed into the trunk and disappears up into the trees.

“what’s this?” you question, angling your head up in attempt to spot where the ladder leads to. all you can see is leaves and darkness.

“the surprise, duh.” he chuckles, bending down slightly to let you slide off his back. 

“you climb up first, i’ll be right behind you.” he taps your hip with a little smile. 

of course, the first thing that runs through your mind is that he just wants to get a good look at your ass, but you continue on. 

you grumble softly, peering up into tree before reaching out to grip the steps of the ladder to start your ascend. you refuse to glance down, out of fear you might panic from how high up you are. 

you realize there’s a little wooden trap door once you reach the top that you can push open. your head pops up inside a small room with windows, noticing a few handmade blankets and cushions thrown around. 

you can’t help but notice an open doorway that leads outside to the small wrap around platform that overlooks the vast expanse of the forest. 

once you stand up fully inside, you realize the room sits nestled securely in the branches of the large tree. 

“a treehouse?!” you scramble over to the window, looking out over the landscape of trees and clouds. wow, you’re really high up right now. 

you look back to see neteyam climbing up, a happy smile on his face once he sees you’re surprised. “what is this place?” you take a step forward to go outside, but his hand reaches out to cup your face and pull you towards him.

now all your attention is suddenly on him, and you can’t pull your eyes away. you instantly get lost in his round golden eyes. he grins down at you with his pearly white teeth, thumb gently rubbing your skin in circles. 

“before i tell you, let me kiss you for a bit. i’ve missed you.” his voice fans over your body like a warm blanket, sucking you in even deeper. 

“haven’t we been together since… uhm i don’t know- sunrise?” your hands slide up to rest on his sides, eyes scanning his face before he leans forward to shut you up.

every time you kiss him it feels like the first time. as if he knows your body like the back of his hand, like he’s been kissing you for decades. 

one of his hands finds solace in the dip of your waist. he gently squeezes the soft flesh there as the other angles your face up by pressing on your jaw, “you’re just so…amazing.” you mumble into the kiss, which makes him chuckle. 

something deep in neteyam’s chest constricts, your simple words have such an effect on him. 

something rather primal overtakes his senses, making him press forward to deepen the kiss even more. your feet stumble backwards from the increased force until your back is pressed against the wooden wall. he pulls back slightly to take a deep breath before coming back to kiss you with even more fervor.  

a hand slides down from your side, over the swell of your ass and to the back of your thigh. he easily lifts you up to his height, bringing your entire body in the air so your legs could wrap around his narrow hips. 

you pull back from his lips slightly, making him lean forward to chase your lips with his own. “wait.. wait. you still haven’t told me what this place is.” you giggle out, making his eyes look over your face in disbelief. 

“it’s an old omaticaya overlook tower,” he leans down to kiss you a bit more before pulling back, “used it for hideouts, spying…” he trails off as an arrogant little smirk forms on his lips. 

his hand cups your jaw, thumb swiping over your lower lip. he uses his finger to press down and pull it down as he leans down to kiss you again, “and things like this…” 

your breath hitches in your chest from his delicate touches, making your abdomen tighten and flutter. 

“so you’re saying your ancestors.. mated up here and now you’ve brought me here too, for what? the same thing?” you trail off with a little sly smile. you decided to tease him a bit, to see how he’d react.

neteyam yanks his head back, eyes wide as he looks over your face, “no, no.. i mean- i didn’t bring you here just for that. i- shit,” he hisses out and shakes his head, “i didn’t mean to, but it seems like that way, huh?” 

you can’t help but stifle a giggle, bringing a fist up to your mouth to cover it. the humor bubbles in your chest when you see his confused face, “why are you laughing?” 

“because… i’m just messing with you.” you cackle, letting your head fall to rest your forehead on his chest. 

he can’t help but laugh along with you. arms squeezing tight around your frame to hug you. “ah, lekye’ung ‘eve.” he kisses the top of your head before taking a step backwards. he lets your legs go, unraveling them from around his waist. 

you can’t help but look up at him, admiring his little smile and how he called you his ‘crazy girl.’

you could do without the crazy part, but being his girl is all that matters.

his hands slips into yours as he leans down to peck your lips, “let’s go outside.” he pulls you towards the doorway, ducking slightly as he takes a step out into the fresh air.

your eyes go wide from seeing how high up you really are. your heart thumps against your chest and in your ears, each breath constricting with every inhale.

your eyes dart around, noticing other floating mountains above in the sky along with puffy white clouds. you can’t help but look down, making your chest constrict with even more anxiety. 

a fall from this height is deadly, and this rickety deck under your feet doesn’t seem too supportive.

“it’s beautiful, but… imkindofscared.” you blurt out. 

“you’re scared? why?” neteyams smile falters as he turns toward you, eyes and facial expression full of concern. he looks over your body, seeing how you’ve pressed yourself flat against the siding. 

neteyam’s grin returns and lets out a little chuckle, “you’ve been on an ikran with me, and you’re scared of.. this?” he gestures with his head towards the view. 

all you can do is nod quickly, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“awwww, you little baby.” he teases you as his hands travel to your hips to squeeze them. your eyebrows furrow together from the name he called you, “not a baby.” you grumble, trying your hardest to not smile by hiding your face in his chest. 

neteyam throws his head back as he cackles loudly; the sound is heavenly, “suuuuch a baby.” he wraps his arms around your shoulders to waddle with you backwards inside the hut. 

you finally suck in a full breath once you’re inside again, your arms squeezing his waist tight. “i’m not a baby.” you say again, digging your head farther into his chest.

neteyam sighs in defeat, “okay, whatever you say…” he trails off. you can’t see the smirk that rises on his face, “…baby.” 

you groan and pull back from him, looking up into his face. “i’m seriously going to punch you.” 

“oh, yeah?” he cockily grins down at you as one of his hands grips your chin. he begins to lean down, aiming to kiss you but you slither out of his grip to stand behind him.

he couldn’t help but laugh as he turns around, “really? you’re gonna play that game now?” 

you nod as you bite your lip, staring him down competitively. he goes to step forward, but your hands go up in attempt to be ready to dodge him. 

in millisecond, neteyam flashes forward to twirl your body around and wrap his arms around your waist from behind. you let out a little squeal as he spins you around as your legs flail in front of you. 

he finally rolls to a stop, still holding your body up to his height so your feet were off of the ground. he presses a warm kiss to the back of your exposed shoulder, “my parents want to see you today.”

everything muscle in your body freezes up in his embrace, “why do they want to see me?” you squeak out, feeling your heart pattering faster against your chest. 

“they want to talk to you… as the girl who stole me away from hunting today.”

“neteyam…” you groan out his name in annoyance, “why would you skip hunting today to be with me? your parents must think i’m a bad influence on you.”

neteyam laughs wholeheartedly as he puts you down, letting you turn around to face him. 

his big round eyes look over your worrisome face, “mostly because i would rather be with you and they’ve known you since the beginning of time. of course, they don’t think of you as a bad influence.” 

“i know how your mother feels about my kind. i know what she says about kiri’s human friend behind his back.” your eyes drop to your hands that are resting on the points of his hipbones. 

neteyams body stills from your words, his hands grabbing your cheeks to angle your face up to you look at him. “you’re not like spider. as much as my brother and sister like him, you are a part of us. a part of this tribe; this family.” 

your breath catches in your throat, happy tears welling in your eyes. “ma neteyam… i see you.” you breathe out shakily, leaning forward to capture him in a tight bear hug. 

“and i see you.” his hand drags down the backside of your head, cascading down your hair. he twirls one of your many thin braids that hide within your hair. 

he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “i don’t ever want you to feel like you don’t belong. especially because of my parents.” 

a muffled voice makes your head lift from his chest, your pointed ears twitching as you focus in on where the sound is coming from. 

neteyam sighs, his thumb rubbing against your skin as his other hand raises to his throat to press on his comm device. 

“yes, i’m here.”

your eyes look up at him through your eyelashes, nervously chewing on your lower lip. he makes eye contact with you before answering again. 

“we’ll be there soon.” his hand drops from his neck, a soft annoyed puff of air falling from his lips. 

“it’s my brother. he’s in trouble. we have to go.” neteyam’s body is rigid under your fingertips until he pulls away from you to head back out to the balcony. 

you watch him as his hands cup around his mouth, a loud animalistic sound squaks from his throat to call his ikran to him. 

your eyes go wide when you hear the loud flapping of its wings and another screech from the animal responding to it’s owner. 

you muster up the courage to scurry outside to neteyam, his hand reaches out to help you climb onto his back. “i need you to hold tight for me.” 

neteyam’s words are icy, with no sort of emotion  as he stands up on the wooden slats on the edge of the overlook and steps off with no warning. 

your stomach does a somersault in your abdomen from the sudden drop. it feels as if your lungs collapsed, all the air wheezing out. instinctively, your nails dig into neteyam’s skin as you free fall through the clouds. 

suddenly the cold air whipping through your hair stops, and your fall is halted by neteyam landing on the back of his banshee. he swiftly makes bond with the animal and takes off through the trees, weaving and bobbing past the trees. 

your eyes squeeze shut tightly whenever the animal takes a sharp turn,  

“i can’t believe him. why would he do something so stupid!!” 

“neteyam, what the hell is going on?!” you yell out over the sound of the wind soaring past your head.

“my brother! he has kiri, spider, and tuk- goddamn tuk! she’s just a child and they’re surrounded by avatars with military gear.” 

your heart drops to your feet, eyes widening from his words. 

oh no. the sky people are back. wait, is your mother back?

neteyam drops lower to land next to his parents ikran’s on a tree. the sun above is starting to lower, the forest darkening below. 

he climbs off and grabs his bow off the side of the animal as he does so. after situating himself, he helps you off before walking over to his parents. 

“no, no. you stay with the ikrans.” jake says as he loads his weapons, barely looking up at his son.

you can’t help but feel neytiri’s eyes on you, examining you now as neteyams possible mate instead of the little girl who was left behind by her mother. 

“dad, i’m a warrior like you. i’m supposed to fight!” he’s starting to grow angry with his father, his eyes dart over to his mother for some help, but she scolds him softly with his own name. 

jakes eyes shoot up from his gun, looking directly at neteyam and then to you for a brief second. his eyes go back to his son, “i’m not going to say it again.” 

neteyam stands up straighter, shoulders flexing back slightly, “yes, sir.” he gives him a curt nod before twirling around, storming past you back to his ikran. 

you can tell that he’s upset with his fathers orders, but alas, he must listen to him. he is olo’eyktan, and toruk makto. 

you watch in silence, obvious strain on your face as his parents swiftly walk past you to hop off of the tree and into the darkness of the forest. 

you turn around to look at neteyam, and the look he gives you makes a chill run down your back. 

you’ve never seen neteyam this frustrated. only once when lo’ak did something and neteyam was screaming at him while chasing him through the tribe. 

you shake the thought from your mind, taking a few hesitant steps towards him. “‘teyam.” you breathe out, looking at how his hand is stressfully stroking the neck of his ikran. 

“i just don’t get it. they tell me to come here for what? to watch their animals? babysit?” he scoffs with a smile and a shake of his head. 

not the kind of smile that makes your heart flutter, but the one that shows you how furious he is. 

you reach out, gently letting your fingertips ghost against his bicep. your touch makes his head sharply turn towards you, his features softening once he realizes who it is. 

“i’m sorry. you deserve to fight and to help find them.” 

before he could answer, shouting and gunshots echo in the jungle making you wince in fear. neteyam pushes you behind him, the force sending you stumbling into the side of his ikran. 

he pulls his bow from over his shoulder, aiming an arrow as he inspects the surroundings. when you lift your head up, you can’t help but take notice to the flashing of guns shooting and yellow smoke billowing out from the foliage. 

“we need to go.” neteyam’s hand strongly grips your arm to swing you onto his back as he jumps off of the tree. he lets you down once his feet hit the ground, unsheathing his blade from his waistband to hand it to you. 

“whatever happens. stay behind me.” both of you glance down to your hands wrapped around the knife between your bodies. he gives you a nod, which you return before you both take off in a sprint towards the commotion. 

“demon! i will kill you as many times as i have to!” neytiri’s strong voice yells from somewhere above, making you and neteyam slow down.

“you and the corporal have been pretty busy, haven’t you? got yourself a whole litter of half breeds.” another man’s voice sounds from in the jungle. definitely not jake sully’s. 

a very obvious avatar creeps forward with a gun, unaware of you and neteyam standing in the tall grass behind him. 

you look up to where he is aiming, noticing that neytiri is hiding inside the branches of a tree. “neteyam!” you’re cut off by the boy raising his bow and sending an arrow right through the mans back hitting his heart.

another avatar appears from behind a fallen log with a heavy machine gun, “na’vi!” the man screams. 

neteyam struggles with reloading another arrow and before you could register what to do next, you’re both tackled to the ground and bullets are flying past your head. 

your eyes shoot open as you gasp for air; not knowing if you’re alive or dead at this moment. the force from hitting the ground had emptied your lungs, making your ears ring.

“go! go! go!” jake shouts at you and neteyam. your fight or flight response kicks in, causing you to jump up from your spot. a large hand presses against the back of your head to keep you ducked down as you sprint forward.

jake is behind you and neteyam, ushering you forward behind a tree. the wood splinters with every bullet that pierces the bark, flashes of light from their guns lights up the dark forest.

jake looks absolutely terrified as he checks over neteyams body and then yours, “are both of you okay?” his voice is loud over the gunshots. 

all you can do is nod as you suck in quickened sharp breaths, holding neteyam’s knife close to your chest in case you need to use it. 

“you both need to follow me. ready?“ his eyes dart around, “ready?!” he ushers out with more urgency. 

you nod along with neteyam, watching how jake steps out to aim and shoot at the avatars before taking off in a sprint with both of you following. “let’s go!” jake yells out, hopping easily over a large log as the bullets fly past your head. 

the adrenaline courses through your veins, causing you to easily leap over it, but the height on the other side was a deeper drop for you than expected. your ankles buckle as you hit the ground, a loud snap echoing from your leg. 

neteyam was right on your tail, leaping over your head and clearing the jump. the boy shouts your name when he sees you on the ground, stopping in his tracks to grip your arm and pull you back up to your feet. 

“let’s go! we have to go!” jake shouts as he scampers over to you both on the ground.

instantaneous pain shoots up your leg making you cry out and fall into neteyams chest, “my leg!” jake instantly realizes you’re hurt as he looks over your leg.

the man scoops up your limp body and starts to sprint forward with neteyam following close behind him. his breath huffing with each long stride, one of his arm’s supports your back and the other is behind your knees. 

the sound of bombs going off makes your blood go cold, praying to eywa that nobody else is hurt.

the bullets slowly fade away, knowing that jake and neteyam were fast enough to out run them. he jumps into a small clearing, coming face to face with lo’ak comforting a very emotional tuk. 

“are you okay? are you hurt?” he instantly goes into dad mode, gently placing you down against a tree so he could pick up his younger daughter. 

neteyam plops down next you, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the exertion. you can’t help but lean your head into his shoulder, wincing with every movement, “how bad does it hurt?” 

“i think it’s broken.” your voice whines in pain, squeezing your eyes shut tightly and biting the inside of your cheek. 

as an RDA ship lowers into the trees, the lights illuminate the jungle floor. the strength of its engines cause havoc. thankfully, neytiri and kiri emerge from the vegetation. 

she instantly scrambles to tuk, taking her daughter into her arms as jake brings the family into a group hug to console his children. 

“thank you, great mother, thank you!” neytiri exclaims as she holds onto kiri and tuk. 

neteyam soothingly rubs soft patterns into your side as he watches his family reunite. his other hand reaches across his chest to cup your cheek, bringing your foreheads together. 

“we need to get you back home.” he whispers before pulling back to look at his family, who are all staring at you two awkwardly. 

“let’s go.” neytiri stands up, holding tuk on her hip while kiri sobs into her mothers shoulder. is she hurt too?

jake unravels his arm from lo’aks shoulders to bend down to neteyam and yours level, “i don’t know whatever you kids got going on but we have to go.” 

jake gently picks you up, a cry escaping your lips from the unfortunate movement of your broken leg. 

“she’s hurt?” lo’ak looks at his father with wide eyes. the boys hands are obviously shaking from the events that have unfolded, “we need to get her to norm.”

the sully family and you slowly make your way back to the ikrans, painfully placing you into neteyams lap. making you finally get a good look at your leg that is purple and snapped right above the ankle. 

“don’t look at it. look at the sky. look at me.” he urges you as one of his hands holds onto the rein while the other supports your head. 

once you’ve landed back at camp, you’re pulled away from neteyam and into norms lab. he’s quick to work on you, bandaging your leg up with a splint and administering you pain medication. 

of course, neteyam was outside pacing the entire time after being kicked out by norm and max for yelling at them for hurting you. 

you overhear muffled conversation as norm opens the door to the lab, allowing neteyam inside. you can’t help but smile dopeily at at the blue man as he storms over to your bedside. 

he takes a huff of air from his pack, before leaning down to give you a soft kiss. one of his hands envelopes the top of your head, caressing your hair with a relieved smile. 

both of you take a deep breath in sync, your smile growing even wider from his presence. “there’s my girl. there’s that smile i missed.” 

“i feel so good right now.” you hiccup out with a little giggle, “norm gave me some stuff to help with the pain aaaand it’s definitely helping.” 

he can’t help but shake his head and chuckle at your euphoric state, his thumb softly rubs across your forehead which makes you purr like a cat. 

neteyam grins at you, before his face falls as if he remembered something terrible. “i overheard my parents talking.” 

your eyebrows furrow at his seriousness, gulping as your mind races with what he could have heard. something about you? is he not allowed to be seen with you anymore?

“my father… he wants to leave. he feels as if our family puts the clan in danger, and wants to keep us safe.”

that is not what you expected. 

your heart lurches in your chest, an instant lump forming in your throat, “no, no..” you breathe out and begin to panic, “neteyam, you can’t leave! you just can’t!” you attempt to sit up, but he gently pushes your head back down against the pillow and shushes you. 

“my parents want you to come with us. we’re leaving in a few days.” he smiles, almost sadly as if he’s silently mourning his home life. 

your eyes blow wide and all you can hear is your pulse growing faster as it beeps on the monitor. 

they want you to go with them… 

“where are we going?” your breath shudders. there’s no doubt that you would follow them to the ends of pandora. 

“the eastern sea. to the metkayina clan.”

your breath hitches in your chest. the ocean, you’ve always wanted to see the ocean… 

there’s some part of you that is excited to leave, but your heart aches for the only life you’ve ever known. this is your home; the omaticaya clan raised you as their own. 

you didn’t realize you were crying until neteyam’s index finger swipes under your eye, “it’ll be okay. we’ll be together, yeah?”

all you could do is nod through your tears, your lip quivering as your heightened emotions flood your senses. 

“we’ll be together. always.” 

-

tags: @k----a27s @aspenreadsfanfic @aliseaaah @bellwhether @xoxobabe @koalalafications @embersfae @mae-is-crazy @softhetixx @minkyungseokie @iwanttohitmyself @neqeyam

[rpgchoices]

Very short non spoiler review of Veilguard act 1

I played only to chapter 8, which should be still in act 1, but I am not going to add any spoilers. This is a very generic bulletpoint list of opinions.

GAMEPLAY

Intro is great, art is pretty good too, even the characters

combat is very fun, but I still preferred Inquisition combat

the world is extremely empty. There is one or two talking npc for each faction and that is. Secondary characters do not exist. Quests are all generic (ex. Random nameless character "hey, this person disappeared, can you find them?" with no extra story or explanation)

barely any animals or surprises in the world. The only exploration factor is looking at landscapes and doing some puzzles

there are only three type of puzzles: move object into place to activate door, destroy blight to free door to open, destroy crystal to free door to open. That is it.

choices that matters are identified by the game with a sign, and you will also have a sign that will let you know which dialogue was affected by what

loved the jumping around and the sliding down

you can pet any cat or dog

the world feels empty, empty of lore, empty of characters, empty of animals, quests, people

CHARACTERS

companions are the only characters in the whole game, plus a few associated characters to them

barely any banter and the only banter present is very superficial or more on the funny side

good thing is that if banter is interrupted by a combat it will continue later

my favorite part was seeing characters talk and interact in the lighthouse

do not expect cameo, and if there are cameo they are very short and very generic

companions are very good, very kind, very nice, with little consistency between their characterization and how they behave (ex. Neve is a detective, but she never asks anything or acts differently from other characters or even seem interested in what is going on)

companions seem almost flanderized, with mainly one character trait each

dialogue is sometimes extremely clunky, with "textbook answers" that seem written with AI instead of a writer. It is all "tell, do not show", so it is more likely that a character says "I am shaken" over actually showing how they feel

characters seem to act often like exposition machines, and knows things they definitely should not know

ROOK / PLAYER

amazing character creation options

I played as elf and it has little reactivity, maybe a bit less than Inquisition

the faction has more reactivity, and there are multiple dialogues with your companions about it, mainly little comments that make it feels like Rook has a backstory (much better than inquisition)

Rook facial expressions and movements are a bit strange sometimes, making it seems like he is always smiling and happy even when he should not be

the "purple" dialogue options are a bit meh, definitely not as funny as DA2, and I think "red" might fit more (in my attempt to try and make a more serious Rook)

you cannot really shape Rook's personality

also you cannot disagree with your companions, there is no dialogue choice to disagree or fight with them like in previous games. Most of the dialogue seems to be divided in a few categories: Exposition requests; Flirting; Supportive comment; Joking comment but still supportive.

STORY AND QUESTS

It does not feel like Dragon Age.

The game take theories and secret information from previous games and make it the standard world knowledge

there is no urgency

side quests are forgettable

story is very weirdly paced

each companion has a post-recruitment quest to know them

factions and world seems sanitized. We do not hear about the darker side of the Crows, or about Tevinter's slavery if not in passing

the story is okay but would have benefitted A LOT from hiding the villains and introducing them later. When I say a lot I mean from a 6/10 game to a 8/10 game.

also never thought I would say this, but I miss the Chantry. There is barely any mention of any lore

also only three choices matter - but do they? it felt like everything was a blank state

ROMANCES

By the end of act 1 you can still flirt with everyone.

A lot of flirting options for all characters and if you skip some of them you still get the next ones

I had no romance specific scene yet so it looks like you can flirt with everyone for quite a while before deciding

the flirting is all very PG13 and it is more allusions than actual overt flirting (I mainly flirted with Davrin and Emmrich)

for now I have seen no characters flirting with each other's

I think around chapter 7 and onwards the pacing gets much better, and the writing of the quests a bit more interesting. It honestly felt like a different game in some parts, and I have no idea what happened there. It feels like the game is:

Amazing prologue, probably the best DA prologue yet

First recruitment character and first mission - completely downhill with writing

Pretty slow and weird paced then until chapter 7-8

[scentedpepper]

Cinderellas Slipper

BILLY HARGROVE X MALE READER

Summary: Billy tries to apologize but loses his slipper instead.

Content Warnings: "Queer" used in a derogatory manner. Brief mention of Billy and Reader having sexual relations. Established Relationships/Lore

Other Pairing(s): Steve Harrington x Male Reader, Jonathan Byers x Male Reader, Will Byers x Male Reader, Nancy Wheeler x Billy Hargrove (implied not said)

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Writing specific scenes that pop into my head is much easier than committing to an entire fanfic :p

Feeling kinda meh abt this one guys idddkkkk

Uhhhhh Billy is gay bc I say so

No but that headcanon really gets my writer loins spinnin

The depth

Anyway

Billy's a wee bit jealous

👍

_________________________________________

Billy's not sure what lead him to this point.

But the moment he steps out of his Camaro he has to pause, place his hands on his hips, and pace. Once. Twice. Three times for good measure before his attention is redirected to his destination.

Depot Central.

"Hawkins for the Family" Or so the sign outside had stated.

It's 4:30 in the afternoon, you've only been on shift for 30 minutes.

Three and a half hours to go.

Billy has memorized your schedule like the back of his hand.

The depot wasn't small by any means, but most of its stores closed at the latest of six due to its small town status. The depot itself mainly used the second story to hoard it's products, what couldn't fit through the windows displayed itself like an open antique shop on the 1st floor, the remaining area that couldn't be utilized by the display lay store merchandise.

This was the third time in a row he'd come back to the depot.

The first time he'd be stepping inside.

If the place had more customers he would've stalled a little longer, maybe considered another 3 rounds of pacing the parking lot but there was no one in front of him when he stood off to the side, peering through the windows.

His hands find his hips again, pressing agaisnt the brown leather belt adorning his dark blue jeans. It was new. He'd went out and bought it a few days ago. Even went as far as hiding between the aisles of the women's section trying to scope out style.

He didn't buy the pink or purple belt, regardless of how "nice" you said those colors were on him. Instead, by a random struck of luck that felt unwarranted, he'd found one even more perfect. One in which the gems were arranged in a way that made it look like the night sky.

Fucking space because you were into that shit or whatever.

Gemstones on top of silver. And Billy felt like a star on the belt, big and prominent.

Maybe that was wishful thinking. He couldn't really reject the feeling of suffocating when the gems shined in the sunlight through the window panes beside him.

Girly.

Feminine.

Queer.

Billy tries to ignore them and in the process, he considers ditching his clothing choices for today and giving in to his original idea. But even so, with all he's been through, Billy isn't really aware that the things he's learned from you have stuck this long.

He'd scrubbed himself raw in the bathroom just 30 minutes ago. And he made sure to perfectly place the top portion of his maroon button up that was peeled open. And he dabbed cologne on every inch of his body, just in case the amount he had initially put on wasn't enough. And while he was driving he made sure to keep the cigarettes in his dash because he knew the smell, reminiscent of your father, was the sole reason you had never picked them up throughout your teenager years. Not even to just try.

So once more, everything right down to his clean socks were an item of scrutiny. He even had spare deodorant in his car if he started to sweat.

And for what? He didn't fucking know.

The urge to repeat his pacing however came and he knew very well what that meant.

He was thinking about turning around.

But to make sure his body isn't going the opposite direction, he checks his front pockets where two cards were securely nestled in.

Dare Billy say he was almost scared.

He feels sweat starting to prick on the back of his neck, underneath his perfectly defined curls –he didn't even want to think about the measures he went to learn how to make them look so pretty– and he ducks back into his car, deciding he should just put the deodorant everywhere.

As he fumbles for the anti perspirant in his dash, feet sticking out of the car and body pressing against the middle console awkwardly, he realizes that he's almost forgotten the singular rose that he specifically taped to head of his passenger seat so he wouldn't forget it.

Quickly, Billy retrieves the rose and proceeds to rub himself down with the light spray of deodorant.

And despite his previous antsy nature, when he finally goes to walk to the entrance of the store, his face is the perfect mix between cool and ready. But his eyebrows are furrowed, a giveaway to the turmoil going on in his head.

Once the doors slide open, the chimes on top barely audible in the distance, Billy's face twitches ever so slightly when he realizes who is bent over the checkout counter, chatting you up, eliciting deep, rumbling laughter from your wide chest.

Steve.

Billy makes sure the displeasure is gone from his face with a blink of the eyes before he's approaching the two with nonchalant grace. He makes sure his gait is perfect and makes no noise against the flooring of the store, this way he can spy on your conversation from behind the taller shelves of canned food.

He listens close enough to pick up the murmurings of some new ice cream recipe you had apparently tried over the weekend with Will and Jonathan. Sounded absolutely disgusting to Billy. There was pecan and raspberry involved, as well as a hint of honey which would be fine if it wasn't inside frozen food.

But Billy found himself not really paying attention to the words being exchanged, moreso the tone.

Or, more importantly– how Steve said them. Emphasized certain vowels that he wouldn't unless he was in the presence of someone really close.

Just the thought tightens his grip on the small rose clasped tightly in between his fingers and he decides to finally make himself known by making a detour into the candy aisle beside the front desk, going over to get a pack of black liquorish and throwing the item down at the counter for you to ring up.

Your eyes fling up in startle, as though you hadn't noticed Billy at all until the very moment he slammed the unsavory candy on the counter, the plastic brushing a strand of Steve's hair on the way down.

Maybe it was a little bit of an overreaction, but he couldn't help it.

There were instances in which Billy acted purely upon instinct or impulse. Moments in which he let those feelings go to his head and not only let it manifest into words, sometimes that energy even moved his entire body without asking.

You had paused mid-sentence to take in the scene before you. How could you not?

Steve was dumbfounded. Not because the candy was an offense to his palate but because the intensity with which Billy pushed the packaged item towards you was a big one.

Steve moved away from the man looming over his shoulder, offended for his friend across the counter.

The first time Steve had walked in on you two, Billy wanted to kill him –almost killed him. Whatever he was about to retort would most likely have the same outcome.

Because it didn't matter how nicely Billy dressed or spoke to you, Steve could still see the shadow of Billy in his mind, a storm all his own lurking underneath flesh.

"We're still talking. " The brunette finally speaks up, motioning back and forth between himself and you.

Billy snorts and rolls his eyes, trying his hardest not to call the boy across from him something more obscene than asshole because he knows it would lose him any chance of speaking to you.

"You're a worker, right? " Billy plants his forearm on the counter, mocking Steve's pervious position.

"Work. " He spits.

You stare back at him pointedly, hands on your waist before you grab the item and run it across the scanner. A green light graces you skin and a beep fills the empty room.

"52 cents, sir. " You retort simply.

Sir.

Sir.

"Sir?" Billy reels, face controrting into disgust. The word burned all over, and surely the older boy in front of him knew how much that word would affect him. He must've known that it'd make Billy Hargrove piss his pants.

You did.

But nevertheless, Billy pulls his wallet out and drops a five on the counter, telling you to keep the rest.

The plastic covering of the candy crinkles under your fingers as you lift it from the counter, passing it back to the blonde.

Your fingers brush beneath the packaging and all air seems to whoosh out of Billy's lung in response.

You meets his eyes in the middle.

It's silent for a moment.

–Save for Steve who's munching on the same type of candy just off to the side.

The blonde blinks, once, twice. His brows raising again like they had in his car. Billy can feel it, and he fights the urge to pull his fingers away but he doesn't, both of your hands just dangling there for a minute longer.

"Mm!" Steve chokes suddenly, wincing right after as the liquorish becomes a glob in his mouth and his body jerks backwards in discomfort.

It breaks the moment but Billy has an easier time collecting himself than his competitor.

"Steve. " You exclaim and you make a move towards him, patting your friends back with exaggerated aggression.

"I'm okay. " He rasps. "I'm okay. " He raises his hands up in the air but his words deceive him as he starts another fit of coughing.

After a minute or so of more gagging and choking and violent beatings on the back, Steve finally manages to swallow, with a loud groan of course.

You manage a laugh at the boys struggle, masking the noise the bell atop the door makes when it flies open.

And when you turn back around, half a grin still on your face, you're met with emptiness.

That, and a singular rose haphazardly placed on the counter.

[writing-havoc]

HII! HOW ARE YOU? Okay so i have a kaz brekker x reader request but it's kinda meh but i just can't stop thinking about it. And it's kinda similar to your fic 'high' (my favorite piece of media EVER)

So fem!reader (or gn whichever is easier for you<3) drunk and makes fun of the way kaz talks and his hair and the way how he's really bossy. (I would so call him emo king) and he's just trying to get her to take a bath (be a fish) and rest.

Please please don't feel pressured you can just ignore this. Don't forget to drink water. Have a nice day or night love youu<3

Loverboy

♡ Summary: Kaz comes and fetches you after you have a bit too much to drink. Getting you to bathe and rest for the night is a little more difficult than he remembers.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Alcohol, Nudity (not smut)

♡ WC: 3.5k

Hello hello!!! Thank you for your request <3 I'm doing pretty alright thank you for asking. I hope you're doing okay!

I loved being prompted to expand on this and experiment with how it would go. To be honest that's also one of my fav pieces of work that I've done, and I'm glad someone else holds the same joy for it that I do!

Anyway, here it is!! Hope you enjoy it anon, ly <3

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

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"Oh for Ghezen's sake just put one foot in front of the other." Kaz nipped, pushing just a bit harder on your back.

Your head was lolling back and to the side, unwillingly looking at the stars. Yet your eyes remain half closed, barely a fraction of your pupil visible in the moonlight. A smile is painted on your face the whole time, lips chapped and cracked from dehydration. "'M tryin' Kaz. But my head is just, so heavy and the stars 're so pretty."

"I know I know- hold on to the cane- the cane!"

He shouldn't have let you have those last few drinks, but unfortunately you batted your little lashes and made the same little promises you do after enough time has passed for his memories to become just a little bit muddled and forget how far from the truth your promises are.

You'll say you'll be fine. You'll say you'll get home safe. You'll say you'll see him soon.

But you can't really fulfill any of those. So he at least has the foresight to stay with you, or to have someone else stay with you and come get him when you down more than your promised two or three.

And he makes a big deal out of it, saying all these things and talking like he's annoyed with you, but really?

He's not.

Not as much as he thinks he should be anyway. If he had heard anybody else complaining as much as he does in his own head he'd stuff his own glove in their mouth and tell them to deal with their inadequate relationship elsewhere.

But it's him, and it's you, and it's different.

You're not like them. You're not violent or a verbal tyrant or negligent.

"Did I ever tell you..." You start, then chuckle to yourself when you straighten up and sway around. "Did I ever tell you that kin'a remind me of a cat with your hair slicked back like that?"

You're,,, silly. And he feels silly saying that but you are. It's the perfect word to describe you when you get like this. Light jabs at the things you like about him, your feet walking to a rhythm in your head that makes you stop and go and speed and slow at random, laughing at the most mundane things.

"I don't believe you have, no." You definitely have. But he allows you to repeat it.

The Slat is wonderfully empty as he opens the door. Only a few people occupy the tables off to the side, but they're just as drunk as you are, and he doubts they can see this far from their drooling.

"Come on." He leads you over to the stairs. "Up we go."

You lean on the rail, shaking your head, smile gone. "Mh-mhn. I can't." You continue to shake your head, eyes closed. "Your leg is bad."

Silly.

"Good observation. Your legs, however, are fine, if a bit wobbly. Up you come." He tries again to coax you up, to no avail. You lean on the rail more, even pushing into it.

He forgot how much you resemble an ox when it comes to getting you to do something. It's like you contain this ability to just plant yourself anywhere and stick no matter the force that's pulling or pushing you.

"Your leg is bad. I can't go up."

"My bad leg does not effect your ability to walk up the stairs." He says as gentle as possible.

"But it does."

He sighs. "Could you explain to me why that is?"

Your bottom lip pushes out just barely, eyes opening and looking at him through your lashes. It's a look that would have any man in Kerch on their knees, he's sure of it. "Need your help."

His heart sunk. "Just grab the railing and my cane, dove. I'll take my good leg up first."

You analyzed the stairs, scrutinizing them. "Promise?"

"You know I don't make-"

"Promise?" A hint of anger bubbled in your tone, the same firmness in your eyes when you snapped your head to look at him.

He takes a deep breath. "I promise."

And just like that you were ready to ascend the stairs. You grabbed the railing, clumsily reaching out for his cane which he gave readily.

Even in your drunken state, you knew exactly which stairs creaked and which ones were just this side of broken. You skipped a stair, glaring at it as Kaz ascended with his good leg first, then continued with your usual lax expression.

He tried to step with his bad leg, but you immediately backtracked and held his cane firmly, holding him back as well. "You promised." You bit out.

"I did." He switched back, good leg going up, slowly edging you along. "It just slipped my mind."

"Nothin' slips your mind." You pouted, begrudgingly ascending when the cane went too far to hold close.

"Important things," he corrected. "Important things don't slip my mind."

You yanked on the cane, making him look at you. "You're important."

And he... doesn't know what to do with that.

Of course in whatever realm you were occupying he'd be important. He's important for a lot of things. His businesses, his club, whatever constitutes as leader of the crows.

It's not that he thinks he's not important. He just forgets to take into account that with you, he's important in the little things too.

Pointing him where to massage on his leg when it's giving him trouble, bringing him fresh tea when he tries to drink the day old stuff pushed to the corner of his desk, at least reminding him to sleep when the clock reaches two bells in the dark hours.

And right now, when you force him to take the pressure off his poorly healed shin.

"You're right." He confirms, helping you to the top of the stairs. "I am. Now come on."

When he began to lead you to his room, you groaned and stood in place. "Noo. I don' wanna fish."

His mouth struggled to stay in a line, corners quirking up. "You have to fish. You're sweaty and you smell like alcohol."

"I's a good smell."

"You gag in the morning when you smell it."

"Hogwash, you walking shadow."

He tugged you along, walking ahead of you and up the stairs to the attic. His help wasn't much needed here with how narrow and more secure the steps were, but you needed the extra hand to coax you up and towards your inevitable bath.

His office was dark, the only thing preventing the room from being cast in complete darkness was the street lights outside pushes a faint yellow glow through the window.

A lantern was stored in a bookcase next to the door for this reason. He clipped his cane onto his belt and hooked a finger under the handle, giving you little assurances that he wasn't going to let you fall while he navigated the room he knew by heart.

He parked you by his makeshift desk, guiding your hands to the desktop for some leverage while he rustled through a cabinet for the matches.

Immediately you were enthralled with the fire. Nina thinks you were an Inferni in your past life, and he finds the idea hard to not believe as he watches your once droopy eyes widen and follow the ball of fire in his hand as it lights the lantern.

He closes the shade, putting out the match and watching you smile as the whole room lights up.

"So bright." You whisper, as if it's your first time seeing fire.

He shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the back of his chair. "Very. Don't touch it."

You pout, taking your hand away. "I don't know what you're referring to."

He takes the lantern from where it rests on the desk, unhooking his cane and walking to the bathroom. "Come take your bath."

"'Come take your bath'." You mock him. "You're a bossy bossy man, you know that?"

He can't see you as he hangs the lantern on a hook, but he knows your hands are on your hips and your head cocked to the side. You always became so sassy when the initial fuzziness seems to wear off.

"It's what im paid for." He calls, swirling the basin of water he had filled up before he left. It was only expected that you should get a bath tonight, and he didn't want to wake anybody now of all times to come and fill it up.

"Youre not getting paid right now."

He didn't have any soap. He used up all of his last time and you usually keep yours tucked in your room, eager to hide its existence from greedy hands.

Just water will have to do, since he doesn't trust you to not fall asleep in the time it will take to go to your room and retrieve yours from your spare set of shoes.

He exits the bathroom, coming face to face with you. "I should be with how I'm ordering you around right now."

He waves you over, and it seems at this point you're becoming too tired to really fight back. You shrug off your outer layers, leaving them in a pile on the floor that you attempt to kick to the side. It's seems you think that you did away with them well enough, but really you just kind of spread them around.

That will have to come later, he thinks, and then puts a hand on your bare shoulder as you take off your shirt, throwing it over the side of the basin. Your pants come off and are thrown at its base, shoes somehow already off in the time span it took to check the tub and come retrieve you, socks following.

"You can keep your undergarments on if you'd like." He says, resting his cane against the wall.

"Oh don't get shy on me now, Kaz. You've seen me naked at least a dozen times." You look back at him, a shit eating smirk on your face.

He's thankful for the warm lantern light to obscure the warmth creeping up his neck and nipping at his ears. "Only because we end up in situations like these. It's more efficient to just get you clean now than have you complain in the morning and almost throw up in the tub."

You moan, the sound throaty and like gravel. "I don't wanna be a fish."

"You dont have to be one for long. Just a few minutes until you're clean."

"Can' be clean if there's no soap."

"We can at least get most of the grime off. Come on, one leg over the other."

Slowly, you climb into the tub, Kaz helping you get in with minimal sloshing.

And now comes the hard part.

His gloves are made of leather. He can't dunk and soak them in the water and expect them to be fine later.

They come off quicker than last time, but just as shakey. He puts on two pairs of cloth ones he's kept in here since the third time this happened, when it became apparent that this would happen again and several more times after.

Once they're on he flexes his hand, feeling the cold unforgiving waves slosh at his knees and lick up his thighs.

It's not the same. It's a bath. It's you.

"Can you get your body?" He asks, though. Because as much as he'd like to be of some help here he can't help but need to touch you the least amount as possible.

You think it over, stretching out as much as the tub allows before nodding. "M'yeah, I can do it."

He hands you a rag, watching it sink under the water and become several shades darker.

He turns around and allows you to do your thing, but knows your routine from when you, Nina, and Jesper had a heated debate about which order to wash your body in.

You'll wash your neck and chest first, digging into your collars bones and over your shoulders, then do you arms, followed by your torso and around your back. Then you'll scrub at your legs, moving to your face, then your waist, then your feet.

It'll take about ten minutes to go over every part, scrubbing in places you think have the most grime, and all the while having your shampoo already scrubbed into your hair so that you can rinse everything out all at once.

But you're tired and drunk, and he doesn't know how far you'll make it down your list until you eventually get frustrated or too exhausted or both.

He listens to the water in the tub move as your scrub yourself beneath its surface. A throaty hum emanates from your throat, a tune oddly familiar to the song that plays in the club filling the room.

Every once in a while you'll sigh, the water halting. He'll lean back and ask if you're alright, and you'll hum and get right back to scrubbing.

It's fifteen minutes before you say anything.

"You alright t' do my hair?"

His stomach churns, acid bubbling at its entrance.

"Ill be fine."

He turns, gesturing with his finger for you to lean your head into the water.

There's a pause before he reaches into the cold depths, wondering if he actually /will/ be fine.

When you look at him, eyes rimmed in red and glassy, he scrounges up whatever stability and modicum of the word "cope" he has and dunks them in.

Immediately he finds your hair, burying his fingers between the strands and finding your scalp.

It's hard to feel anything besides temperature with these gloves, and your head is practically burning against the cool water.

You're definitely cold. He can tell by your flushed cheeks and the way you curl your arms around your waist, goosebumps littering your arms. Yet you remain warm under his touch.

He watches the little hairs on your arm wave in the bath current as he scrubs, almost hypnotizing in their back and forth movement as you move to let them rest against your thighs.

But it's not enough.

He's scrubbing your hair, trying so hard to just focus on the grime under his fingers as his hands make the cold water slosh. The feeling is oddly familiar to the waves coating his hands as they dunk half under as he clings to blue flesh.

But you look at him, and your giggle is like little bells that keep him above water, just for the moment.

"You know what you look like?" You ask. "You look like- oh, what's that new style they got goin' on?"

He has no idea what you're talking about. Fashion trends are far beneath his radar unless necessary for a job.

You snap your fingers, pointing up at him. "Emo!"

That makes his eyebrows raise. Because he is familiar with Emo, because a bunch of kids called him that when they were out much past their bedtime. They found it necessary to shout it at him while he was passing by, laughing as they ran into an alleyway.

"I don't think that's accurate." He manages to get out, dunking your head a little further to cover your ears and get the wisps of hair in front of them.

"It's sooo accurate." You draw out your o's, blinking slowly and out of sync. "Emo king."

He sighs. "Whatever you say, little fish."

You pout, moving away from him and turning belly down, chin dipping into the water. "I thought I was your dove."

Again, thankful for that warm light. It makes his stomach feel all twisty the way you say "your". For just a moment, he let's himself smile, really smile, and puts his chin on his hands. "You are. But right now, you're a fish."

You huff, turning back and putting your head within reach. "Okay, mister emo cat."

He sighs, beginning to scrub at the parts of your scalp that he already got but feels he needs to do another once over for. "I am neither emo nor a cat."

"Tell that to your hair, loverboy."

Loverboy.

He scoffs, taking his hands from your hair. "Your hair's done. Get out so you can dry off."

You laugh at your accomplishment, sitting up and scrunching your hair as he discards his wet gloves on a towel rack and dries himself off.

Honestly, loverboy? He's not some lovesick puppy. Loverboy applies to those who are unfathomably whipped, wrapped around their partners finger and touching at all times. It has no place being in the same sentence that his likeness occupies except to say that he is not a 'loverboy'.

He hands you a towel as you get out of the tub, heading to his closet to fetch you some of his clothes.

"An old one, please?" You yell out to him.

"I know." He calls back.

If he can help it he replaces his button ups every few months. But you like the ones that are just around that area of wear and tear. In your words, they "ain't tight and smell like him. Win win."

He doesn't bother with pants, but grabs a pair of his underwear for you to change into instead that he knows you'll find more comfortable.

As he limps back to the bathroom, he halts as he analyzes his thoughts and actions.

Fuck. Maybe he /does/ deserve the name Loverboy.

The realization almost makes him groan and sit down on the floor right then and there.

Can't he just carve his heart out? Isn't that what the poets and song writers do?

Alas, he is neither a poet nor a musician. So he will instead take the long way out, and bring you his clothes and get you into into his bed before the third bell chimes.

He hands you the clothes, watching your face light up for a moment before he exits to his office to clean up the mess you made.

The beak of his cane hooks under your coat, dragging it up and into his hand which he then throws onto the chair. You hate getting it off the coat rack, half the time pulling it with you when you take your coat back. So he sets it here for now, and takes your shoulder bag and shoes and organizes them around the chair just as you usually do.

"I think I found my new look."

He turns around, seeing you trying to pose against the wall. It's supposed to be sultry and sexy, but it definitely does not read that way with your soaked hair, stiff back, and uncooperative limbs.

"If you think so." He nearly chuckles, taking his gloves from your hands and slipping them onto his own, and then retrieves the lantern from the bathroom. "Come to bed."

Thankfully, you seem to love the idea of the bed. It doesn't take much to lead you to the little nook he calls his bedroom. He hooks the lantern to the wall as your body slumps onto his partially eaten sheets.

"Mmm." You hum, smile hidden under your squashed cheek. "Warm."

"Doubtful." He jabs, unfolding a blanket at the foot of the bed and draping it over you.

"It really is. Should try it sometime." You poke at the space beneath your eye, tongue sticking out.

He assumes you're referencing the eye bags that have taken permanent residence on his face, to which he rolls his eyes and hikes up the blanket to cover your back. You hate the cold creeping in.

If you wake up cold in the morning, you will be cold for the rest of the day. And unfortunately for you, you have a job in about six hours.

The less you have to complain about, the better.

"Ill try it later." He promises. "For now, you need it more."

You mumble something, but with the way your eyes are drooping he figures you're not even aware you said anything at all.

As you doze off, he half sits on his nightstand, and watches your breathing begin to slow and even out. It's loud at first, but eventually you grow quieter and quieter, muscles relaxing as you sink into his hard mattress.

Your hair is thrown about everywhere, still wet from your bath, and you'll need Nina to remove a kink in your shoulder in the morning. But for now, you're calm, and safe, and that's enough.

He takes a deep breath, just the same as you do, and then sighs.

"Goodnight, little fish." He mumbles, and then stands, off to collect the ingredients for a hangover tonic and catch up on paperwork.

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Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

[vargamornight]

i don’t read or watch reviews of anything until after i've finished it so i may be repeating what others have said but here is my impression of dragon age: the veilguard

overall i like it. it's a fun game with a good story, likable characters who feel interwoven with the narrative in a pleasant way, really good character customization, and a nice style that rides the fence between realistic and cartoonish that i actually really enjoy.

i do feel like they made this game with the intent for it to be picked up and turned into a tv show, a la arcane, if arcane wasn't allowed to have nuance.

every edge has been sanded down. there is almost no mention of the anti-elf racism, anti-mage bigotry, slavery, etc that were HEAVILY important in the first three games. the mage stuff makes a bit more sense since it takes place in tevinter, where mages "rule," but still. (they also only mention slavery when your character has a background in freeing slaves, as though the fact that the nation you currently inhabit has slaves is irrelevant unless the player character decides to care.)

in the first three games, the bad guys were guys. just some dudes. every villain, with the exception of the archdemon, was a person. it was an elf selling elves into slavery, a human turning his back on the grey wardens, a man insisting the mages be slaughtered just in case one of them was an abomination. in da2, it's your friend's brother who tries to kill you, the fantasy sheriff who tries to kill everyone, your friend and/or lover who blows up a building. in inquisition, it's your friend's old mentor who tries to erase you from time, your friend and/or lover who was lying the entire time, and a DIFFERENT friend and/or lover who was ALSO lying the entire time. who the villains even were is occasionally debatable, but every villain was familiar. you knew them, you cared about them and their story, so it added weight to your decisions about how to deal with them. this is present in all three games.

in veilguard, the bad guys are grotesque, ancient mages akin to gods, so far removed from anything familiar that you cannot possibly mistake them for anything other than the villains. they are completely foreign to you. you don’t give a shit about them, because there's nothing more to them than "they're evil and need to be stopped." all nuance is gone. the biggest decision in the entire first third of the game just hardens one character. compared to any big decision you could make in origins or inquisition, where your choices literally shaped the future of multiple nations, it seems very... meh. and the decisions you made in the previous three games have no bearing whatsoever on the world in veilguard! i knew i wouldn't like that when they announced there would only be three decisions included, and i was fucking right.

basically veilguard feels like it was written for people who have never played a dragon age game, with the express purpose of netflix adapting it to a pg13 original series, so it has absolutely no teeth.

comparing veilguard to origins feels like going from the shawshank redemption to toy story. toy story is still an amazing movie, but how the hell did we end up here?

[crowleysgirl56]

Ok, so here are some of my rather long rambling thoughts. I’ll start off with some pros and cons and then provide some speculation:

My initial negative reaction:

- Compressing 5 hours worth of content into 90 minutes feels like things will be rushed and we won’t get a good story.

- HOW do you take a month to rewrite six 45 minute long scripts into a movie length feature and have it still be good?!

- the compression of the story means we will likely not get any more flashback sequences. Admittedly I actually thought we probably wouldn’t get more flashback scenes in season 3 anyway, but this definitely proves the case that we won’t. There won’t be time for it.

- who has re-written the script? Because here’s the thing about Pratchett adaptations. They’re fucking shit. No one (in my opinion) has been able to successfully transfer that man’s unique sense of humour and writing style onto screen. Every single Discworld adaptation has been on a scale of awful to kind of meh. EXCEPT for season 1 of Good Omens. As much as we hate him now. As vile as he has become in our hearts, the thing about NG is that he understood Terry’s unique style. He understood what worked and how to transfer that to the screen. And that breaks my heart on so many levels. Because he was all we had. And we certainly didn’t want him any more. But still, who THE FUCK has written the finale script now?

Now here are my positive thoughts on the situation:

- NEIL GAIMAN GOT HIS SORRY ASS FIRED! GOOD!

- Consequences. The industry has signalled consequences. Finally!

- We are getting a conclusion! It could very well have been cancelled and we would have been left with the final 15 forever. We get to see them again. That deserves a Wahoo!

- thinking back over season 2, which I enjoyed, I actually do have to say a lot of it was kind of unnecessary filler. The flashback sequences were great. But the actual core of the season’s arc involving Gabriel was just a bit boring. I’m forever grateful for it because we got to spend almost 6 hours watching Aziraphale give Crowley heart eyes and Crowley do beautiful acts of service proving his love back. But the meandering stuff with Nina and Maggie and trying to work out why Gabriel lost his memory wasn’t all that interesting. I was here for A&C.

- so I think MAYBE that means the compression of what had already been written for season 3 means it’ll cut out the plot bits that drag. Hopefully this means it’s faster paced and tighter and more focused on A&C.

Speculations:

Thinking back to the last time NG interacted with the fandom, he had confirmed the first three episodes were written and were with Amazon for approval, episode 4 was almost done, the last part of episode 6 had been written, and he had started plotting episode 5. We never got a confirmation if he ever finished them. So this maybe indicates that the finale is lifted exactly out of these scripts. My assumption is they’ve brought in a script doctor to edit what they’ve already got and wrap up plot points. In which case, on the one hand it gives us close to the story and idea of what Terry imagined. On the other, the far more negative connotation, it’s still NG’s work. The articles that have all come out so far merely states “Gaiman is not involved with the production and the finale is based on his work”. This could be Prime distancing themselves without actually confirming how he’s contributed. Which is still largely disappointing.

So, once again I feel very conflicted. A lot of the fandom have been very adamant about not wanting to support the show if Gaiman was involved, and in the end he wrote the show. Even if he had been removed as producer and showrunner and wasn’t allowed on set (thankfully it seems all three of things have happened), I know that wouldn’t have been enough for some fans because he would still have ultimately been responsible for the product that we eventually see. And I don’t know how to feel about that.

I’m happy he’s gone, I’m disappointed the show has been gutted, I’m glad we get a conclusion, I’m sad it won’t be exactly what we wanted.

I’m SO THANKFUL that the women get some semblance of justice, that there is a consequence for a perpetrator, that a big ass company is finally listening to fans and moving with the times and signally this kind of behaviour isn’t appropriate and that repercussions can and will be felt.

Finally, I’ll remind everyone that there are going to be a lot of different and conflicting feelings from the fandom. I would ask that everyone try to be nice to one another. If you have a differing opinion, maybe rather than debating it you just allow that person their feelings and move on. Do not go after someone if you feel like they’re not reacting the “right way” to the situation. Just be kind please. It’s what Terry would have wanted.