#which aLSO TOTALLY fucks up his decision to agree to be the one to be sent to the trisolarans

[stevethehairington]

so like as a stand alone thing with no prior knowledge of it, netflix's 3 body problem is pretty good! HOWEVER, having read the books it is based on i am INCREDIBLY disappointed. first of all, they anglicized the FUCK out of it. like. the books are written by a chinese author and they are ABOUT chinese characters in chinese society. so the fact that the netflix show took those book characters' stories and created a bunch of brand new non-chinese characters to give those stories to... don't like that. rancid vibes. (and sure, the new characters are somewhat diversified, as in there's a black guy and a pakistani guy, but there are also 4 new white characters too so like.) but yeah they did that which isn't great but they ALSO are like. taking bits and pieces from all three of the books and mushing them into one show? and iiiiiiii gotta say im not a big fan of that either? like. i feel like these books are split up SO distinctly in their time lines — like they literally span a 400 year period — so to smush them all together does it a great disservice? and like the technology and futuristic developments and the space travel and the details of the space societies in the book were SO cool and those are either erased in the show or just aren't able to be portrayed because of they're squishing it all together. ALSO they changed the name of the aliens and i hate it??? like WHY?? the name they have in the book is cool and the one they gave them in the show... sucks. like what.

anyways. it's good if i ignore the books, but if i don't then im super disappointed :/

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader

Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?

Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some injury detail.

“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”

Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.

Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.

Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.

“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”

“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”

“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”

“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.

He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.

Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.

He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.

Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?

He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.

“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”

Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”

“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”

“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”

“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”

“I’m not saying that, Az—”

“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”

“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”

“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”

“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”

Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.

He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.

And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”

“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”

“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”

Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.

“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”

As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”

That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.

Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”

Az says again, “Fuck you.”

Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”

“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.

“Where are you going?” Az asks.

“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”

He has no idea how right he is.

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It starts with the fire going out. Always.

The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.

You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.

Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.

Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.

Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.

But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.

“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.

“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”

It.

“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”

“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”

You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.

Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”

The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”

You do not move.

“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”

They laugh at that.

You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”

He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.

“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”

If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.

“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”

“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”

There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.

“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”

You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.

You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.

You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.

“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”

And then they begin hacking at your wings.

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Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.

You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.

The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.

“Will she live?” Your father asks.

“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”

“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”

“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”

“I will do with my child as I see fit.”

“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”

Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”

“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”

Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.

Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”

No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.

You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.

Bury the body.

Bury the body.

Bury the—

Your body lurches up.

Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.

The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.

They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.

You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.

“You were shouting in your sleep again.”

You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.

“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”

“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”

“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”

Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.

The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.

“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”

Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.

Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”

“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”

She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.

“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”

She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”

You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.

Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.

And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.

But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.

You need to be away from them. To be on your own.

“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”

The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”

“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”

“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”

“Of course I will.” No.

She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.

But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”

“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”

She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.

You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.

You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.

So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.

The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.

He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—

“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”

Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.

Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”

Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.

The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.

See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.

Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.

It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.

It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.

Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.

“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”

Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”

There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”

At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”

“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.

It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.

But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.

Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”

No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.

He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”

He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.

Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”

“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.

Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”

“Listen, Cassian—”

“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.

All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.

But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.

She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.

“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”

Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.

Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.

“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”

Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”

Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.

“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”

“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.

Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.

“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”

True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.

She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?

This is fucking ridiculous.

She can’t be left to live like this.

“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”

Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.

Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”

Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.

“We��ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”

Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”

“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”

The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.

But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.

“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.

She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.

“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”

Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”

“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”

Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.

But Az seems oblivious.

“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.

Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”

Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”

Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”

“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”

“Cassian, that is enough—”

“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”

Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.

“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.

He barks a laugh. “No chance.”

“Kaeda just said she’d help—”

“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”

Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—

“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”

Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”

“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.

Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”

Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.

Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.

And then there were two.

Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.

“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”

A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”

“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”

Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.

“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”

She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.

This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.

You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.

And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?

These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.

You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.

You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.

No.

You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—

But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.

“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”

If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”

“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”

But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.

“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.

But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.

Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.

“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”

You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”

“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”

You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”

“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”

“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”

He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”

“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”

“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”

You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”

“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”

It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.

Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”

Azriel stops short. Stares at you.

You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.

You’re not sure you can do that anymore.

Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”

“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”

Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.

You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.

And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”

You fold your arms. “Fine.”

“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”

“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”

“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”

You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.

So you say nothing. You just shrug again.

He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.

And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”

He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.

And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

[whimsicalpolitical]

Family bonfire // Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: send me more requests, I love nothing more :) also I know it’s getting warmer and summer feeling but this gave me an autumn vibe.

summary: Matty and you spend some days with your family in your childhood house. Not only the fire gets hot in the evening ;)

content warning: 18+ smut, fingering,idiots totally in love, unprotected sex

based on this request

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As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the kitchen, you stand alongside your mum and sister, watching through the window as Matty and your dad work tirelessly to prepare the bonfire.

Your two brothers are running around the pile of logs, doing anything else besides helping both.

Every time Matty comes back with wood, he searches for your gaze in the window and every time he can catch a glance, he does.

You’re doing the dishes with your mum, while your sister is just sipping her green tea. You try to suppress a little giggle when Matty tries to wipe away the sweat with the sleeves of his brown cute lumberjack jacket.

Your mum glances at you, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "He's a good one, isn't he?" she remarks, her voice soft with affection.

You nod, your heart swelling with pride as you watch Matty and your dad laughing over something. “He really is,” you agree, a smile spreading across your face.

Your sister chimes in, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And look at them bonding over chopping wood,” she teases, nudging you playfully.

“Dad wasn’t this open when I brought my boyfriend home,” she states. Your sister is only two years younger than you but she’s with her boyfriend for 5 years now. When she brought him home, your dad was skeptical if he would be the one.

With Matty it was different. It’s only the second time you’re together at your home and your dad seems to really like him. He hasn’t said any judgmental comments or asked him thousands of questions, which is always a good sign.

“That’s probably because he realized that the both of you have made great decisions.” You laughed because it’s definitely not the truth. Your dad just found it easier with Matty.

Together, you watch as Matty and your dad continue their work until the logs are stacked up perfectly. “Finally, come and help me get the chairs out,” your mum says to your sister. She takes the last sip of her tea and hands the cup to you.

Both leave the room and only seconds later Matty comes in, pulling the gloves off his hands, laying them on the table. “Hey lumberjack,” you giggle.

“Lumberjack? More like fucking legend,” he jokes, lifting his arms to show his biceps, walking towards you. “Had fun out there, especially with you watching me like a stalker.”

His hands find your waist, the coldness of his finders radiating to your body. You smack his chest at his comment, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Please, you were practically posing out there," you retort, a teasing glint in your eye.

Matty tries to act offended, placing a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know, I take my wood-chopping very seriously," he declares, his tone overly dramatic.

You just laugh and get yourself a small kiss from his lips, humming as you pull away again.

As Matty's hands rest gently on your waist, you feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine. His touch both comforting and electrifying, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your sides, sending tingles of pleasure dancing across your skin. “Should we join them?” He asks, nodding towards the laughing people outside.

“In one minute,” you argue, wrapping your hands around his back, hugging him.

Matty chuckles, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your lower back. "clingy much?" he teases, his voice playful.

You leaned back slightly, meeting his gaze with a playful grin. "Can you blame me?" You reply, your tone light but sincere.

His lips curl into a fond smile, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "Not at all," he admits, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You keep your head resting on his chest, meanwhile Matty watches as your dad tries to light the fire, the wind being a huge obstacle. “As much as I’m enjoying this, think we have to join your family.”

You groan as he removes his body from yours, kissing your cheek one more time to try to make this separation easier. He intertwines your fingers, walking outside the kitchen to join the others in the backyard.

“Matty,” your dad tells, “mind helping me light the fire?” He’s kneeling with a lighter and some tinder, to light the fire.

“Of course not,” you watch as Matty walks over to your dad, kneeling as well, holding his hands in front of the tinder, to keep the wind away.

Your other sister walks towards you with her boyfriends arms around her. In her hands, it’s Matty’s acoustic guitar. You look at her, lifting your eyebrows questioningly.

“Mum wants Matty to sing for us later,” she laughs, knowing it’s a bit awkward, “here.” She hands you the guitar, the material almost slipping through your hand. You lay it down gently against the wall, walking towards the chairs around the fire.

-

It’s 8pm when you’re all sitting around the fire, hands reaching out to the heat, trying to ignore the cold wind through your hair.

You pulled your chair right next to Matty’s so you can nuzzle into his comfortable jacket. “I can give you the jacket y’know?” He chuckles, his arm around your shoulder rubbing soothing circles into your arm.

You feel a warmth spreading through you, both from the jacket and the comforting presence of Matty beside you. "Nah, I like being close to you," you say, leaning into his touch.

Matty's smile widens, and he squeezes your shoulder gently. "Fair enough.”

Everyone’s busy talking, your mother discussing something with your sister, in their own world.

The fire lights up Matty’s face, his brown eyes glowing in the darkness.

You rest your head on Matty’s shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with the smoky aroma of the fire. "You know," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "my mum really likes you."

Matty pulls back slightly, a surprised smile spreading across his face. "She does?" he asks, his eyes bright with curiosity.

You nod, a fondness shining in your eyes. "Yeah, she said you're the right one," you admit, feeling a surge of warmth at the memory of her mum's words.

Matty's smile widens, a hint of emotion tugging at the corners of his lips. "Well, I'm glad to hear that," he replies, his voice soft with sincerity. "Because I think her daughter’s the one for me”

Your heart swells at his words, his head leaning down to give you a soft peck which follows by gagging sounds of your 13 year old brother. You just flip him off, making Matty giggle.

Some time passed, the crackling of the bonfire filling the night air, casting a warm glow over the gathered family. Blankets are draped over shoulders, laughter echoe in the darkness, and the scent of roasting marshmallows mingle with the crisp autumn breeze. It is a scene straight out of a storybook, where time seems to stand still and worries melted away in the flickering light.

After your mums request, Matty sits on a weathered log, his acoustic guitar resting comfortably in his hands. His fingers dance effortlessly over the strings, producing melodies that seemed to weave themselves into the fabric of the night. His voice, rich and soulful, filling the air as he sings ‘be my mistake’, each note carrying the weight of emotion.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you listen to the haunting beauty of Matty's voice. The vulnerability in his tone sending shivers down your spine, and you can’t help but be moved by the raw honesty of his performance.

Some times when you’re asleep Matty sits down next to you, to sing to you. Most of the times, it’s be my mistake and it’s definitely one of your favorites.

“He's incredible," your sister murmured in your ear.

“Truly talented," you agree, nodding in appreciation.

And when the song comes to an end, the silence that followed is filled with whispers of awe and admiration.

You lean in close to Matty, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. "You were amazing," you whisper, your voice filled with love and pride.

Matty smiles, his eyes shining with gratitude. "Thanks, love," he replies, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. "I'm just glad I could share it with all of you."

It’s already pretty late, your brother’s the first ones having to go to bed and you can’t wait to finally leave as well.

As the warmth of the bonfire envelope you, Matty can’t help but notice how close you are every second. He leans in, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "You're awfully cuddly today," he remarks, his voice low and teasing.

His hand finds your thigh, squeezing it slightly, his touch driving you insane. You shudder and give him a look. “Matty,“ you mutter, trying to free your thigh from his grip but he’s very persistent.

You let your eyes trace over his profile; the strong, curved line of his nose, dark stubble that’s flecked with a little grey. He thinks it makes him look distinguished. He catches you watching him out of the corner of his eye and squeezes your thigh again, kneading the flesh there.

You shift in the seat, open your legs wider, encouraging him to move higher. You think about pressing your lips against the juncture of his throat, inching your own hand over the front of his jeans, wondering if he’s already half hard. “In front of your family?” He tuts, “you know better.”

You look around, making sure no one is aware of the scene, when you lean in, whispering in his ear. “Take me inside,” you lean back, watching his eyes go dark before whispering a quiet ‘please.’

You bite your lip, almost letting out a whine when his hands leaves your thigh, to run it through is curls. “Fucks sake,” he mutters, “you were the one telling me I need to behave, and what now?”

It’s true. Before you left the car you told him he cannot hit on you in front of your family and he didn’t but it’s slowly driving you crazy, missing his touch.

He turns his head away from you when your sister’s boyfriend starts talking to him about tour. It is the subtle tension in his demeanor, the vein pulsating on his neck as he speaks, that draws your attention.

With a sudden impulse, you reach out and gently take Matty's hand, guiding it to rest on your thigh beneath the cover of darkness. His fingers tighten around yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you as his gaze briefly meet yours, a spark of understanding flickering in the depths of his eyes.

“Behave,” he whispers, when your brother isn’t looking, too busy searching for his phone. You just stick your tongue at him, making him roll his eyes.

You fake a yawn, followed by you standing up, grabbing Matty’s hand, forcing him to stand up. “I think we’ll head to bed.” Matty glares at you, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile never leaving his mouth though. You thank your parents for everything and say your goodnight when you finally make your way into the house.

“You’re unbelievable you know that?” He says, following you into your room. The second the door is closed, you press him against the door, crashing your lips onto his. You don’t let him say anything else while you get rid of his jacket and his shirt under, tracing your hands all over his chest.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling your hands squeeze his bulge, “what’s gotten into you?”

You lead him to the bed but as fast as you’re on top of him the faster he has you on your back. “Are you out of your mind?” You bite down on his shoulder, “baby-“ he groans, pushing your head away from him. “C’mon, you know these walls are thin.”

You groan, knowing he’s right and you definitely don’t want an essay from your parents about how you should act. “Then be quiet, it’s not my fault you decided to touch my thigh and give me ‘fuck me’ eyes.” You roll your eyes dramatically.

“Fu- darling, can’t even look at you anymore without you getting all hot and bothered?” He smirks, “besides, we both know you can’t be quiet.”

“But I can,” it doesn’t come out as convincing as you wanted it too and Matty just raises his eyebrows, “c’mon just try okay? And when I’m not quiet we can stop.”

You place a hand on Matty’s chest. It’s crazy, but you can feel his heart pounding; the heavy rise and fall of his breath. He looks at you for a second, his lips on yours again. His hands finding your zipper and button of your jeans, opening them. He removes himself from you, pulling your pants down in one swift movement, then your panties.

His lips scrape against yours, parting so you can slip your tongue inside. Your lungs have left your body, leaving a hollow space in your chest, making it impossible for you to breathe. You feel lightheaded. But oh, the way he’s biting at your lips; tangling a hand in your hair and pressing against you. His leg is between your thighs and you practically melt on it, trying to grind on it, but he holds you down.

“Where did your patience go huh?” Your legs open to wrap around his waist. Matty groans, wanting to feel friction as well, grinding into your core one time.

He brings a finger to his lips; fixes you with a gaze that shows he’s serious. Be quiet. “I love nothing more than hearing you moan for me, not tonight love, be quiet okay?” You nod and gives you a kiss for your understanding.

You throw your head back and close your eyes. If you look at him for another second, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself from moaning. Even with the simplest gestures, he drives you crazy. You feel Matty reach his hand down between your legs. “Fuck,” you whisper.

Two seconds in and he has you gasping for breath. If you were wet before, you’re positively dripping now. You dare to crack open your eyes. Matty’s face is stoic with concentration, fixating on you, trying to make you stay quiet, and you can’t believe how incredibly turned on it makes you. He bites his lip slightly, and you think you might pass out. Looking was a mistake, but you can’t tear your eyes off him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” His thumb is rubbing your clit, while his fingers pump in and out of you, leaving you gasping, suppressing your moans, “you’re dirty, can’t even stay a few days without me having to make you cum.”

You ride his fingers until you forget your own name, and you already feel the coil tightening inside you. You grab Matty’s shoulders, pulling him to lean down over you. He kisses you. Rough and sloppy and frantic. You let out the smallest whimper into his mouth as you cum, hard, clamping your legs around his fingers.  “Didn’t know you can fucking listen,” his words are mean, teasing but his kisses say otherwise, praising you for being good.

“You’d do anything to cum,” he gets up, undressing his pants and getting rid of his boxers, only to be on top of you after only seconds, “can stay quiet again right? Can show me how good you can be?”

He puts a hand on your waist to steady you, and you feel him line up with your entrance. It takes everything not to scream as he slides into you. “Shh, love, you were a fucking beg, now take it.”

The stretch is intoxicating. You haven’t even recovered from your orgasm, but just the sight of him pausing after he’s buried inside of you, needing to collect himself, breathing hard. It’s enough to make you ache. “Please Matty.”

Matty is fucking into you, careful at first to stay quiet, but getting sloppier every second. He can’t pull out all the way for fear of slapping too loudly against your thighs, but the result is an incredible friction that has you soaring. You grab at his shoulders, his neck, and Matty lets you. When the pleasure has you tear open your eyes, you catch him watching you again. Enjoying the way you fall apart on his cock. It makes you clench around him even harder, and you catch the faintest whisper of a curse fall out of his lips as he leans forward, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. “Fuck,” you half whisper, half moan.

His eyes shoot up, ready to punish you if you are loud again. “Fuck, fuck,” you whisper into his ear.

“You have a filthy mouth,” you moan at his statement, not being able to hold it in anymore and the second another moan threading to leave your mouth, a hand is slapped over your mouth, the side of it slotting just under your teeth. Your heart pounds as Matty leans in to whisper to you again. “Bite down if you need to, don’t make another fucking sound.”

He continues to thrust inside of you, his body somehow lowering to get even closer to yours. When he has gotten sufficiently near, he presses a kiss to the side of your mouth—now stuffed with his hand and leaking spit—and mutters something about how good you are for him, how nicely you fit around his cock.

Then he tilts his hips and proceeds to pound you into the bed like an animal in heat. Your ankles lock behind his back, and his nose settles next to yours, breathing hard.

He couldn’t be more in awe seeing you veer close to the edge, again. “C’mon, cum for me.”

Then, he doesn’t sink so much as simply collapse on top of you while you both kicked back and let the waves of ecstasy roll over you. You adore his warmth in spite of the heat practically suffocating you both in that car. Matty scrunches his nose up, ripping his hand out of your mouth, a bite mark very visible and some blood dripping down.

“Fuck, sorry,” you apologize, taking his hand, gazing at the wound you created. “Don’t be, did what I told you to.”

You reach for a tissue and try to clean his hand, Matty hissing every second the fabric touches his hand. “You’re a fucking bear with those teeth.”

You giggle, the sound is replaced by a whine when Matty pulls out of you. “Told you I can stay quiet,” you wink, pulling him in for a kiss.”

“We can be very lucky if no one gives us shit tomorrow,” it’s not regret in his voice but more like a thrilling sound. He loved the secret.

“Mhm, very lucky,” your sentence has a double meaning and Matty understands it immediately, laughing before grabbing his shirt, pulling it over your head.

“Your mind is in the fucking gutter love,” he walks to the drawer to but on a pair of boxers before picking you up. “Use the bathroom, I’ll be waiting.” You smile and waddle over to the bathroom, your legs still shaking and Matty watching you with a goofy grin on his face.

[rvp32]

can u write short stories of chaeyoung (fromis_9). She's cheat from her husband with someone better at sex and bigger size

Chaeyoung finally got married after a lot of pressure from her parents, one of the main reasons she agreed to marry him was that he looked handsome.

The wedding was done and the couple was finally alone with each other, Chaeyoung didn't waste another second and she pulled her husband in for a kiss. The kiss wasn't too bad, but it felt messy almost like he didn't know how to kiss properly just pushing her tongue in and not moving his lips properly made the kiss feel uncomfortable. however, sadly for her, it wasn't going to be the only disappointment she had tonight. Soon the kissing stopped and he helped Chaeyeoung take off her clothes, reveling in her ethereal beauty. It was probably his first time seeing a woman naked given how impatient he was.

With absolutely no foreplay he pushed Chaeyoung onto the bed and soon after got rid of all his clothes except for his underwear. "Are you ready my wife?" He questioned as he slowly pulled down his underwear. There appeared the second disappointment of the night, his penis was tiny most likely smaller than Chaeyoung's pinky.

Chaeyoung had hoped that he was a grower and not a shower, and she needed to know so she got down from the bed onto her knees to get him hard, but sadly it only managed to grow an inch probably totaling a size of around 3 inches in its full glory. She tried to keep an open mind by telling herself that it was all in motion but in the back of her mind she knew that this was not going to be enough. His impatience showed again when he pulled Chaeyoung and pushed her onto the bed not caring about her at all.

Without any warning, he immediately pushed Chaeyoung's legs apart and pushed his penis into her with a massive groan. The groan was probably the only reason Chaeyoung could tell that he had put his cock inside. starting to pound her to the best of his ability without giving any time for Chaeyoung to adjust, though it's not like she really needed time to adjust to something so small.

Then came the highlight of the night, the last straw for Chaeyoung, within 2 minutes of inserting his cock into Chaeyoung he pulled out and blew his load all over Chaeyoung's abs. Not caring about Chaeyoung at all he fell beside her and soon fell asleep.

Chaeyoung felt horrible, not just because she married a tiny premature cock but also because she was used like a sex doll and left lying in bed with cum drying up on her stomach while her husband fell into a deep slumber.

Chaeyoung was questioning her decision to marriage, sex was one thing but he didn't seem to be kind or caring which Chaeyoung desperately desired after how badly her parents had always treated her.

This was all a bit too much for her, after cleaning herself up she went out of the hotel room to get some air and organize her thoughts a little. 

I can’t believe that I actually married that excuse of a man, how am I going to get out of this one? He put on a completely different facade before we got married. Chaeyoung thought as she walked the beach. 

After walking and enjoying the beach for a little while, she saw a bar not too far from where she was. Chaeyoung really needed a drink after everything that happened and how fucked her life might end up being. “Hey, can I get some Whiskey please,” Chaeyoung asks the bartender as she sits down. She downs the first shot as soon as she gets it and asks for another one. At the same speed, she downs 2 more before she is interrupted. 

Change of perspective

“Oh lady slow down, you are going to get drunk if you keep drinking at that rate!” you say as you take a seat beside the said pretty lady. 

“And how does that concern you?” She is probably tipsy from her drinks. 

“Chill lady, I was just looking out for a pretty lady such as yourself,” you reply and order yourself something to drink. 

There was a moment of silence, where the both of you were just staring at the beautiful scenery outside, the sound of the waves crashing was therapeutic. 

The silence is broken when you say, “So what is a pretty woman such as yourself doing here at such a late hour all by herself.”   

“Trying to drown my sorrows after ruining my life,” She says.

You are shocked because that's a huge statement to make especially for someone who looks so young. “Aww, don’t say that, talk to me. Maybe I can help you,” 

She then explains everything and you are also concerned with what you just heard, keeping her company and you drank more till the point where the both of you were tipsy and enjoying each other's company. 

All of a sudden, she leans in and kisses you, the kiss is filled with lust, and you reciprocate it. She was gorgeous and you were going to enjoy every single second of this. 

After kissing each other for what felt like an hour, both of you pulled apart. Your foreheads still touching each other, catching up your breath. 

“I need you to fuck me, I just need to feel loved,” Chaeyoung says, her breathing still frantic. Pulling you in closer to her body, her boobs pressing against your chest. 

“My room is close, we can go there,” you suggest. 

Chaeyoung agrees and the both of you head toward your room. As soon as you are inside, she pulls you into a deep kiss and climbs onto you, her legs hooked together around your back. 

Not pulling out of the kiss you manage to navigate the both of you to the bed. Slowly kneeling to put Chaeyoung down. 

“Are you sure you want this? Because once we do this there is no going back,” You warned Chaeyoung. 

“Yes, I am sure. I need this so fucking badly,” Chaeyoung whines. 

You kneel at the edge of the bed and pull Chaeyoung toward you spreading her legs. Pushing her panties to the side you are met with her glistening wet pussy. Not wasting another second you begin eating her out and playing with her clit. 

The moans in the room grew louder and her hands were now gripping your hair pulling you closer to her core. You could tell that she was getting close to her orgasm. 

“Fuck I am going to cum, keep going! You are so fucking good at eating me out!” She screams as you continue to eat her out and rub her clit with your hand. She cums all over your face, and you lick up every single drop of her delicious cum. 

“Now it’s my turn,” you say as you discard your clothes and pull down your underwear. 

She looks shocked, “Oh my God, that's fucking huge,” she says before taking your dick into her mouth. She slowly sucks on it not being able to take it in completely. You help her out by pushing her head into your body. 

“Enough, I wanna feel that tight pussy on my cock,” you say after a few minutes of receiving a blow job. 

With her lying on the bed, legs spread apart, you tease her a little by slapping your cock on her pussy causing her to moan a little. Just as you were about to put it in you were stopped by her, “Wait, please, slowly. I don’t know if something so big can fit inside” She says. 

“Don’t worry princess, I will be slow,” you say and enter her pussy, it was extremely tight almost like she was a virgin. 

“Nghh Fuck!” she screamed out as you slowly pushed into her. Once you bottomed out, you stayed there giving her time to adjust to your length. 

“Y-you can move now but slowly okay?” With her permission you began moving slowly, you also played with her clit a little to help her relax. 

“Fuck your cock is so big, it's stretching me out so well,” she moaned as you continued to pump her tight pussy. 

“Harder, please, go harder please!” she screamed as gripped the bedsheet. You obliged, your thrusts became harsher and deeper. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, how can such a big cock even exist, Aghh it's stretching out my tight pussy like nothing ever,” she screamed out and that gave you a naughty idea. 

“Oh really? Does your husband’s dick not satisfy you?” you questioned. 

“NO! His tiny pathetic dick could never reach the places that your cock is touching. Oh my fucking God,” she moaned out, her pussy was tightening, signaling her impending orgasm. 

“Are you going to cum for me slut? Are you going to cum on an absolute stranger's cock on your honeymoon while your cuck husband sleeps peacefully in his room!” You groaned as you continued to pound her pussy. 

It was getting hard for you as well, with the way that her pussy was gripping onto your cock you wouldn’t last much longer either. 

“Oh fuck I am going to cum, keep going, keep pounding my pussy, ahh fuck,” she continued to moan, her fist turning white from how hard she was grabbing the bedsheet, She soon came all over your cock but you didn’t stop as you were also chasing your own orgasm. 

“Nghh, I am also going to cum, where do you want it,” You managed to say as you continued to pound her.

“O-outside!,” She screamed from the overstimulation and you soon pulled out and cum all over her perfect abs. 

You grab a tissue and clean up your cum from her abs and fall onto the bed next to her. “I know this isn’t exactly the correct order but what’s your name?” you ask her 

“I am Chaeyoung, and you?” 

[localcanadiancreature62]

More of these mfs. More Perfect Plan/Perfect World au stuff.

Plot - So basically,Ford willingly gave out the equation to Bill by word of mouth while the triangle abided by his word regarding him promising that Stan and the twins remain unharmed if he got what he wanted. Ford then added that he agreed on joining Bill and his Henchmaniacs in wreaking havoc on the world with Global Weirdmaggedon,which overjoyed the isosceles as his genius finally agrees with him for once throughout their aggressive push and pull dynamic despite him not knowing the real reason why Ford joined him (he plans on getting closer to Bill and gaining his favor as he used the triangle's favoritism of him to be spared from the various atrocities that his former muse is going to commit while he tries to come up with a way to kill Bill with a sneak attack without him knowing). Stan and the twins got to escape the town with their lives intact while bringing everyone else with them as Dipper and Stan don't trust Ford anymore ever since he decided to choose Bill over them,not knowing the truth about his decision,they left along with the rest of the zodiac wheel members as they knew that Bill would shatter the town without a single inch of concern. Ford then spends five months as Bill's plus one in the end of the world,watching the triangle escape the town with the lack of a barrier keeping him inside as he conquered every country in the world as every world leader began to worship him and change their nations to be in his image in order to appease the isosceles.

Bill razed said nations daily while putting them back together just to rinse and repeat the next day,he also erased all consequences via his newfound time abilities after destroying Time Baby. Six months later,Bill has totally taken control of the entire world as he not only got the world's leaders to agree with his demands but he also literally has eyes everywhere while having clones of himself manage every corner of the world so that he knows EXACTLY what's going on. The triangle has started a worldwide tyranny and Ford just has to sit back and watch lest his plan of destroying Bill in secret gets ruined.

Bill and the Henchmaniacs enjoy their newfound iron grip on Dimension 46'/ as they finally get to have a home that isn't actively rotting or empty meanwhile Bill is just glad to have a giant human playground all to himself. Although being on top and having everything you want can get a bit boring,so Bill decides to "liberate" Dimension 46'/ like he planned as he burnt it to the ground similarly to what he did with Euclydia. Ford didn't like that. He was fucking traumatized as he watched the isosceles destroy his entire dimension,thus making him lose his family his friends and his home,he watched from the Nightmare Realm using a crystal ball that Bill gave him so he could see the whole thing. Ford basically had a mental breakdown as he attempted to kill Bill for causing him such a devastating loss,fruitlessly blasting his laser gun at the near godly triangle whom he knew could destroy him in an instant with his ability to control space matter and time itself but he didn't care as he needed to get rid of the pest that ruined his life.

Bill instantly regretted his decision to raze the man's dimension,as he thought that Ford would be fine with it since he went along with everything else and this made him realize that his genius won't join him in ruling the universe anymore after he destroyed the guy's dimension (plus he doesn't want Ford to be unhappy) like he planned (as his plan was basically "Conquer the world,destroy the world,and then rule the multiverse with Fordsy by my side"). So Bill stopped time before Ford could kill him and then he ended up fixing his horrible mistake by creating a whole dream world for his genius with Fidds Stan the twins and everyone still alive but as non sentient copies that agree with the researcher's every word.

"You fucking MONSTER. HOW DARE YOU DESTROY EVERYTHING I EVER HAD?!. WHEN I STAYED BY YOUR SIDE AND AGREED TO ALL OF YOUR DEMANDS THROUGHOUT THESE FEW MONTHS?!. I WILL DESTROY YOU UNTIL THERE'S NOTHING LEFT OF YOUR DAMNED GEOMETRIC BODY!." Ford exclaims as he then tries to lunge at the triangle,with sheer anger and hatred in his eyes as Bill then telekinetically stops him from tackling him. "I thought that you chose me over your dumb family,Fordsy. Turns out i was wrong. I kept them alive for as long as i could,but they had to go along with EVERYTHING ELSE." Bill remarks as he laughs maniacally,appearing to not regret his horrible mistake as he watched the man growl at him with pure rage in his expression.

"Once you release me,i will tear you limb from limb. Molecule from molecule. I will build a machine that'll give you the most EXCRUCIATING PAIN POSSIBLE. And i will NEVER choose you,i never did. I only did because i was planning on destroying you from the start,i should've killed you earlier before playing along with your game though before you could do THIS to me." Ford replied as he glared at the triangle while explaining the truth about his plan regarding why he joined his so called muse despite being hesitant at first. Bill then realizes that Ford will never consciously choose him,unless he did something about that. He then came up with an idea,to fix everything both for him and his genius.

"*sigh*. No one will ever choose me. Unless i make them." Bill says as he then telekinetically pulls Ford closer to him and then he touches the man's forehead,making the man flinch and squirm but he then stops struggling once Bill gets ahold of his memories which he starts to nitpick until he replaced all of them with more positive less traumatizing ones while erasing his memory of their prior argument a few seconds ago. Ford becomes more peaceful and less pissy as he then asks his husband about what they're doing in an empty void (what Dimension 46'/ became after Bill destroyed everything),becoming a bit disoriented from the mind fuckery. Bill then tells him to wait in the Nightmare Realm as he nudges him toward a portal that leads to the decaying dimension while he creates a surprise for his genius.

This is the beginning of Bill's Perfect World for Ford. Then a week later,Bill and Ford enjoy their new lives in Ford's new condo/company building that consists of his new anomaly research facility called the Oregon Institute of Oddology as Bill continues on destroying and conquering worlds while he enjoys his spot as the multiverse's eternal ruler which he acquired in only a short time due to his current power level with him being able to control space matter and time. This brings us to now,to Ford's perfect life with his isosceles partner.

[honeesucker]

Three -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 4,670

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

*Not proofread.

Previous | Next

Bakugo watched as the Director turned to see where he was motioning toward, watching as your form disappears down the hallway until you and the staff member turned a final corner at the end, completely leaving view. She stood silent for a moment, worrying Bakugo as her eyes were trained on the now empty hallway. Her silence stretched on and made Bakugo’s skin itch, until she turned to him with such a thoughtful look it stunned him.  

“The puppy hybrid?” She questioned him, and he confirmed with a nod.

“Yes,” he stated simply, “she’s fond of Red Riot and his hybrid TetsuTetsu and I enjoyed her company during the event tonight – though I didn’t catch her name,” and as he trailed off the Director’s mouth quirked up in a slight smile.

“She doesn’t have one she has ever cared to share,” she mused. “Mostly she just accepts when people call her ‘Puppy’ or whatever else, honestly.” The sigh the Director let go at whatever thought was in her head left Bakugo curious, but he wanted to tread carefully. “I’m not opposed to this idea; she did just get sent back to us about six months ago which has been easy enough to navigate though she has gotten returned to us a total of seven times in the last five years since her initial rescue,” Bakugo waited for the Director to go on, watching with bated breath as she seemed to gather her thoughts. “She is well-mannered and easy to handle but she has been through some tremendously heinous things before her rescue five years ago, and it appears something happens in the homes she's adopted into where a precipice gets reached that cause the adopters to return her... we’ve been trying to uncover more of what may be causing this issue but haven’t been successful,” the Director’s voice trailed off into a whisper as she mouthed something to herself, Bakugo not able to pick up on the words. Her eyes seemed far away as she put her hand to her chin, massaging the skin thoughtfully before continuing. “I agree her being around TetsuTetsu would be a positive to have in a new home as they became quite close while he was here with her, she also did take a liking to Red Riot, and she seems to have gotten comfortable around you quickly. Yes, I wouldn’t be opposed to this at all but given her background you’re going to need to be more prepared – I would like for you to meet with her rehabilitation counselor, Hana, to go over her background and ensure you’re ready to take on this responsibility. I won’t tell you no, Mr. Bakugo, but I want you to have the full picture beyond this day so you can make an informed decision for yourself – and of course per our policy the hybrid will have the final say.”

Bakugo only nodded along to the Director’s speech, agreeing to meet with your counselor, he wanted to know more about you and be the best he could be for you. His thoughts were at war with himself wondering if what he would learn would somehow change his mind in taking you on, and the competitive drive to be your last home – to not fold like the weak extras before him who returned you.  

Fucking cowards.

Bakugo was led by the Director to a different wing of the facility where he was going to have an initial meeting with Hana - your rehabilitation counselor - to discuss your past, habits, temperament and his prospective adoption of you. He waited on a small, uncomfortable chair outside of Hana's office as she had an existing appointment already. Five minutes turned to ten, turned to twenty before Bakugo's leg ceased to bounce with the opening of the office door.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Bakugo,” Hana was a stout woman in her mid-thirties, Bakugo assessed, with shoulder-length mousy brown hair and equally kind brown eyes. Her smile crinkled her eyes, and puffed her cheeks in an endearing way that reminded him of how some grandmothers were drawn in his favorite manga's – always smiling, radiating kindness. He was instantly put at ease.

“No problem,” he responded, his tone of voice always coming off slightly confrontational no matter how he tried to soften it, “I appreciate you seeing me on short notice.”  

“Please come in,” Hana motioned for Bakugo to enter, and he did. Her office was brightly lit by the large windows taking up a full wall, with a view of one of the many expansive and breathtaking gardens that seemed to surround the facility itself, like the one he spent time with you in the center. Bakugo was motioned to a seat, and he gladly fell into the plush chair across from Hana, who had a thick file on her desk with your photo pinned to it. “So, I understand you’re interested in our little Puppy,” Hana began, staring Bakugo down but in the least confrontational way.

“Yes,” Bakugo cleared his throat, words almost getting stuck with his nerves. “I’ve been able to spend some time with her, and I have regular contact with Red Riot and TetsuTetsu who she’s friends with – I feel like the benefits outweigh anything else...” Bakugo’s voice trailed off as she noted Hana thumbing through your file, red eye straining to see whatever was in there he could before he realized it was being presented to him. He took it, admiring the adorable photo of you on the front of the folder, before he thumbed it open and was stopped in his tracks.

Bakugo could hear Hana speaking but his ears flooded with white noise, her voice sounded faraway as he eyed the photos that appeared to be dated from your initial rescue.

So many of the photos documented your face and body, sunken cheeks, deep, dark circles and matted hair, blood dried and flaking on your skin and in your hair and fur. Tail matted and bloodied, nothing like the plush little cloud that followed you now. He thumbed through more photos as the bruises and lacerations across your body worsened, evidence of your malnutrition and abuse painted on your body and in your eyes.

Your eyes.

They looked so empty, so far away, compared to the glistening little jewels he could get lost in now. The way the light shimmered from within you through them, compared to the photos he was looking at, astounded him. A small scribble in red ink, in the margin of your first physical check-up stopped his heart.

Bait hybrid.

He could see the wounds across your body transform to fit the picture now the closer he examined them. How so many of them showcased the outline of different sized jaws, deep-set wounds from teeth that tore into you. Bruises that bled out into the shape of hands. In a few of the photos you had bruises consistent with being bound by the wrists and ankles, even a close-up of a deep burn around your throat where a rope would have once been. He read over the extensive notes, one of which being a transcription from a recording:

2:03 A.M. Entered the suspect villa through the front and rear entrances, encountered hostile human guards as well as trained fighting hybrids – all wolves – taken down alive and handed over to the OPS Team.

2:07 A.M. Descended into the basement area and found a hybrid chained to a wall with a rope tightly pulled around the neck. Appears to be a puppy hybrid, unmoving, possibly deceased?

2:09 A.M. Confirmed puppy hybrid alive. Signs of serious abuse, suspect bait hybrid within a larger hybrid fighting ring, released the puppy hybrid from the bindings, examined and took photos for records.  

2:13 A.M. Puppy hybrid attacked one of the OPS Team, confirmed attempted head touch, possible sensitive area as demeanor has changed once the area is avoided.

2:34 A.M. Have confirmed residence cleared of all human and hybrid residents. All humans detained by OPS Team for arrest and conviction, all aggressive wolf hybrids detained by OPS Team for evaluation by hybrid specialists to assess for rehabilitation. Puppy hybrid sent with the Musutafu Rehabilitation Rep for assessment and consideration for foster program.

Bakugo had continued to read through your file, through the different times you were adopted and sent back – your interviews upon re-arrival regarding what happened in the homes was a topic you avoided speaking on. There were notes that you always ended up biting someone in the household but would never delve into the details of what triggered the event. Bakugo read in the interviews with the adopters that the incidents all happened when they would go to pet you, they had mentioned being able to have physical contact with you before, so they weren’t sure what had changed when it came to petting your head.

When Bakugo finally shut the file, he found Hana’s kind eyes regarding him carefully. He swallowed hard, the lump of anxiety lodged in his throat after seeing and reading the details of your past, it was all weighing heavily on him. You didn’t act like someone should after having gone through so much. He’s surprised even in your earlier interviews with Hana no notes were made mentioning any anger – why weren’t you raging at everything those bastards did to you? It almost appeared like you simply accepted it.  

Accepted that life was filled with things like that.

“As you can see, Mr. Bakugo, our little puppy has been run through quite the gamut,” Hana started, accepting the file back from Bakugo’s shaking hand. “Her temperament is quite agreeable given the circumstances, but she does have habits that have caused issues in her previous homes,” Hana paused to regard Bakugo some more and continued. “Given what I have read regarding your situation and the needs for your foster pair based off what the Director has observed I agree with her assessment that you would be a good fit for our puppy – even more so with your ties to two others who would greatly help her transition back into a home. I would only ask that you give me weekly updates on her progress as she encounters new things in your home, that she still meets with me on a monthly basis until it is decided it is no longer needed, and I would appreciate you setting up some visits with Red Riot for her to spend time with TetsuTetsu – those two were thick as thieves when they were both homed here.”

Bakugo only nodded along, agreeing to any and every caveat needed to move the process forward with you. For someone so independent, so brash and unforgiving of himself and others, who prided himself on only needing to rely on himself, his instincts when it came to you were screaming at him to protect you. To show you a life beyond the scope of what you’ve been subjected to. To be the last home you would ever have, ever need, ever want. Something about your looks initially caught his eye – how precious, and tiny, you looked curled up in Kirishima’s arms, how easily he could imagine holding you the very same way. Something in him was inexplicably pulling him to you, and he only hoped you enjoyed talking with him enough to consider coming home with him.

Bakugo left the facility with high hopes, but an equally heavy heart.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Three weeks had passed. Three long, insufferable weeks but Bakugo busied himself with all the required classes on hybrid rehabilitation and ownership; he even went to all his own therapies and treatments without so much as a grumble. Today was one of the days he was returning to the hybrid center to see you, under the guise of attending the center’s bi-annual adoption introduction event as a Pro Hero endorsement liaison – an event where the community members interested in adopting a hybrid can come and meet those up for adoption in a friendly and open environment, not unlike a picnic or  field day.

He was dressed up in his hero gear, gauntlets heavy against his chest as he stood with his arms crossed. He was already briefed by the center Director, who stated that while you weren’t officially up for adoption at this time you would be attending the event in the interest of giving him more time with you in an informal setting, and as a test of your social abilities with strangers. Presently, Bakugo had been here since the first hour of the event set-up. He has seen a variety of citizens and Pro Heros alike come through and spend time alongside the adoptable hybrids, eating, chatting, playing games and listening to different informative chats with the staff as they set up spread out around the park on the center grounds they currently set up on. He hadn’t yet caught a glimpse of you but there’s no certainty you were brought down with the rest of the adoptable hybrids first thing this morning. The day was about halfway through as he waited impatiently, Bakugo assessed by the Sun’s position, red eyes scanning the area around him cautiously – he didn’t anticipate any trouble but given that the Director asked him to be here on an official capacity first, he knew there had to be a reason.

Bakugo began to walk around, his arms now at his sides, though still buzzing with ready energy. His demeanor relaxed, although you couldn’t tell from his features with his mouth set in a hard line and his eyes narrowed and sharp. He took in the sight of happy hybrids interacting with people unafraid of what the interaction would bring, could see how their eyes sparkled and crinkled with laughter as they ran around. His heart was filling up with such a light feeling seeing how happy everyone was to interact, and his hopes only lifted at the thought of at least one of the hybrids here finding a good match, and forever home. He wondered how it felt for them, to still have such hope and trust in others after what they each had gone through. He was staring fondly at some hybrids and humans playing a game of hacky sack when the back of his neck prickled with an odd feeling. His eyes darted around swiftly, taking in everyone as he tried to identify the cause of this uneasy feeling, his damaged hearing causing everything that he was once zoned in on to become muffled white noise – the high-pitched ringing becoming worse as the panic rose in his chest. The edges of Bakugo’s vision blurred as he tried to take in steady gulps of air, spinning around to see more of the area around him. That’s when he caught it – caught sight of you.  

Or rather, you while stood in an uncomfortable lean away from a man who deemed it appropriate to hover so closely over you. Bakugo’s blood boiled as his palms popped and sizzled, his quirk threatening to activate, but he simply clenched his fists and stalked over to where you were, and for such a large and imposing man Bakugo certainly didn’t lack stealth as he quietly approached you both.

“You really are something special, a delectable little cutie,” this absolute piece of trash extra had the nerve to learn in and smell the hair on your head. “You know you're exactly what I’ve been looking for! The shelters and breeders in my area just don’t have any cute female hybrid companions,” the whiney tone of the off-putting man caused Bakugo’s anger to flare but he wanted to see where this was going and where you’d take it before he made a move he’d regret. “Society has moved into acceptance of human-hybrid relationships, but they just don’t offer any that are cute enough to fuc-! Aughgk!” Bakugo’s hand wrapped around the man and cut off his sentence with a gurgled choke the same moment you had turned on the man and sunk your canines into his forearm. The man’s hands came up to scramble and tried to pull Bakugo’s grip off his throat but to no avail, his arm where your teeth were still buried wiggled weakly to get you to let go.  

“Release, Puppy,” Bakugo’s voice wasn’t harsh as it was directed toward you, but his tone left no room for disobedience and you let go, flattening yourself against the nearest tree to where you were stood. “Y’know, it’s people like you that make things harder for hybrids, scum like you make things unsafe for those who’ve already been through enough,” Bakugo’s anger was boiling to the surface, but it wasn’t a moment after he tightened his grip on the guys throat that security for the event came and gently touched the Pro’s shoulder, stating they would handle it from there. Bakugo relented only when he saw you still standing frozen in place, hiding against the tree a few feet away from the scene. Bakugo gave the pathetic man one last toothy, evil grin which caused the man to cower before he turned to you, kneeling on one knee to not look so imposing in all his Pro gear.  

“Hey Puppy,” to anyone who knew Bakugo, they wouldn’t recognize the man who softened just as he did. Kneeled in front of you with a breeze-soft tone, cooing and holding his hand out for you to take; even when he rescued women and children he was as hard as ever, a regular criticism he was met with from the tabloids, and his own agency.  “You were ready to fight, huh pup?” Bakugo’s voice held a humorous lilt, and your ears perked toward him as your eyes finally met his. “You did a real good job there, Puppy, didn’t need my help at all huh?” Your ears twitched like they wanted to flatten against your head, given your crestfallen expression, but they didn’t budge – cute little fluffy triangles Bakugo desperately found himself wanting to reach for if he didn’t already know your past triggers.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled out, slowly taking the hand Bakugo still had extended and when his fingers closed around yours, he pulled you gently to him. “I didn’t mean to bite,” your voice was small, and you began to shake in his arms, and he only pulled you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and wrapping his arms tightly around you until the shaking subsided.  

“It’s okay Puppy,” Bakugo assured you, “it’s okay to bite someone when they’re trying to hurt you. Standing up for yourself is okay.” Bakugo could feel you relax completely in his arms as he finally looked around him, seeing the Director, Hana and a couple other staff standing back from the two of you by about ten feet.

“I was told not to bite though,” you mumbled again, sighing as you rested your head against Bakugo’s arms.

“Listen to me Puppy,” Bakugo argued, “biting someone is okay when you have a reason – like defending yourself or someone else.”

“Have a reason...” you murmured more to yourself, but Bakugo caught it, just giving you a reassuring pat on your shoulder before standing with you in his arms, your nose nuzzling against the column of Bakugo’s throat sending an involuntary shiver down his spine as the cold touch ignited something within him.

“Mr. Bakugo, can you and our little Puppy come with me? The police who arrested the man want statements,” The Director spoke softly as she watched you, remaining silent as she lead you both back into the building.

“You up for that, Puppy?” Bakugo watched as you gave a small nod, still nosing at his throat and taking in small, rapid breaths. “What’cha doing there, hm?” Bakugo raised his eyebrows as he heard you whisper, ‘smell different’, and just continued with whatever it was you were doing rubbing against him, and he had to admit a certain comfort came from your cold nose against his warm skin. No more than an hour had passed with you and Bakugo giving your individual statements, he was waiting on a lounge sofa situated in one of the common rooms while you were in a closed office with the officers. Bakugo’s anxiety was back in full force with his leg bouncing a mile a minute, his heart beating furiously against his chest wall and his palms were sweaty and ready to set off, the acrid smell of blackened sugar giving hint to the quirk activation. Bakugo hadn’t realized he was disassociating until he felt a light pressure on his lap. His eyes refocused and brought him back to reality when he noticed you were sitting on his lap, straddling his legs as you laid your body against his, your arms wrapped tightly around him as far as you could go. “What’cha doin’, Puppy?” Bakugo grumbled, heart still hammering in his chest.

“TetsuTetsu used to hug me tight tight tight when I would have a bad dream,” you stated simply, “and you smelled like you needed to be hugged tight tight tight, too.” You just laid your head against his chest over his heart and Bakugo soon found his heartrate slowing down, even though he was certain you were too light to apply what he knew to be deep pressure therapy, his cheeks burned with a cherry tinge and his heart swelled at the sight. Though you lacked enough weight to successfully do what you were trying to do, your proximity to him calmed him all the same.

“S’good, Puppy,” Bakugo mumbled out softly and you beamed up at him as you tilted your head against his chest to meet his gaze, your fluffy tail thumping away happily behind you. “Did such a good job f’me.” Without thinking Bakugo had reached up of his own accord, and rough palm went soft against the silky top of your head, ears splitting away where his hand patted the crown of your head.

Snap!

A soft, almost indiscernible sound was heard, but even Bakugo picked it up as he zeroed in on you in his lap. Your body had frozen in its place, you weren’t even breathing as he took in the sight of you.  

A small, broken rubber band was lying on the lounge sofa just beside you both, your breathing going from zero to a hundred as you began to take in panicked gulps of air. Bakugo looked up and saw one of your ears, normally cute little sharp triangles above your head, but now one was lying flopped against your head, folded over although he could see irritation and fur loss where the rubber band had been, presumably for a very long time. You went to scramble out of his lap, but Bakugo grabbed you and anchored you down against him, you were panicking and even tried to bite his forearms where you could reach but your little fangs couldn’t penetrate his Pro Hero costume, the gear made for battle and hits much stronger than your little bite force quotient*.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorryI’msorrym’sorrysorry,” your eyes were glazed over, far-away and deep in a memory as you shook in his arms, fighting to get out of his grip with an admirable strength even though it didn’t compare to the little force he was exerting to keep you in place. Bakugo could see the Director and Hana, who had still been standing nearby dealing with the police officers from earlier, frozen and watching the scene, Hana was stopped by the Director before she had a chance to intervene – the Director watched on with an intent gaze. Bakugo held you with one arm, holding you against him as he used his other hand to reach up and head toward the ear still standing up tall – you snapped and bit onto the guard that usually seated itself beneath his gauntlets, fangs trying hard to tear flesh enough to get him to release you, you shook your head gently but it didn’t do much to stop Bakugo as he touched your other ear and soon heard a similar snap with the small plastic ring, now broken, falling to the floor. You were growling now, not releasing his wrist guard as you glared at him, but he could see it in your eyes: fear.

“Puppy,” Bakugo warned, tone deep and steady. “Release.” You gave an indignant snort through your nose, the gentle puff of air hitting Bakugo’s face as he held you in front of him, a quirk to the corner of his lips giving away his amusement at your fight. His eyes soon narrowed, sharp and deadly, and soon you found yourself slowly unlocking your jaw as he pulled his arm away from you. With all the fight drained out of you at his command, Bakugo watched as your eyes began to well up with tears, which clumped your lashes and fell down your cheeks in fat streaks, your nose moistening as you sniffled and relaxed against the iron grip still holding you in place against him. Bakugo released his grip on you, and you just fell forward against him, sniffling and letting the tears fall unhindered. Bakugo’s arms wrapped around you loosely as he brought both his hands up around the back of your head, fingers normally clenched in fists or pointed at villains and firing off deadly explosions now gently rubbing the soft fur of your ears as he got a closer look at what irritation he caught sight of earlier and what he saw made his stomach turn. “Why did you have rubber bands on your ears, Pup?” His tone was so marshmallow-y soft it melted away what remained of your fight or flight and left you just feeling surrounded in the best of ways. Made you feel like you hadn’t felt quite enough before...  

Safe.

“They said floppy ears were for filthy, cheap mutts, and they had spent too much money on me,” your voice got small as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, tiny fang drawing a pinprick of blood. “They sent me to go get them cropped because Master would pull my ears too hard whenever he saw them, but I didn’t wanna go-” a choked sob cut off your sentence, but you drew in a breath as Bakugo carded his fingers through your hair, occasionally reaching back up to gently rub your ears between his fingers. “I didn’t wanna go again because the first time they put me to sleep I woke up hurting so bad, so instead I went to the market and took rubber bands from the flower bouquets and wrapped my ears with bandages to look like I went... the other hybrids who got their ears cropped were in so much pain I didn’t wanna be in any more pain, I’m sorry I bit you I didn’t mean to I-” your rambling cut off as Bakugo pulled you tightly against his chest, face smushed against hard muscle as he just applied all-over pressure and soon you found yourself relaxing in his lap.

“Nothing about you is filthy, or cheap, or wrong.” Bakugo stated simply.

You didn’t anticipate the reaction you had when you heard those words, but the second they left the blonde’s mouth you were sobbing against his chest, fisting his hero costume and shaking as he simply let you sit with all you were feeling. Bakugo had continued to look up and check in with the Director and Hana; Hana, who Bakugo noted, was recording the pair with her phone – probably for records and research purposes. Bakugo didn’t mind one bit if it helped you in the end to be understood more. The Director was watching the whole scene unfold, taken back by the days' events already and hardly expecting what came of it – but she knew it more certainly than she did the weeks before when Bakugo first mentioned his interest in you.

You two were meant for each other.

*Bite force quotient (BFQ) is a numerical value commonly used to represent the bite force of an animal, while also taking factors like the animal's size into account.

[softknightt]

I saw a post here where someone thought that Bobby's friends are nice, and that's totally okay because Company is a musical very open to interpretation. But I can't agree at all. Like, I wouldn't say that they are horrible friends, but at the same time, I think they care about Bobby because of the stuff Bobby does for them. Just bear with me.

In the song "What Would We Do Without You?", Bobby's friends list all the reasons they like to have Bobby around: Someone to talk to, someone who brings them flowers, helps them when they are sick, helps with the kids, etc. Basically, someone who is safe and is ALWAYS THERE for everything. But them you get the the end of the song, and nobody plays their instruments when Bobby's play his Kazzo.

Okay, they were playing in pairs, but at least all of them could have played their instruments. It would be a reminder that, despite Bobby not being in a relationship, they are there for him. BUT THEY DIDN'T. This, in my mind, indicates that while Bobby is there for them (which we see throughout the musical in different scenes), they aren't there for him, and he is alone.

Then, in general, throughout the entire play, the characters try to live through Bobby because Bobby represents the pleasure of the single life they don't have anymore. In "Have I Got a Girl For You" Bobby's male friends talk about what THEY would want in a girl, they try to introduce Bobby to girls THEY fantasize about, but can't have because they are in a relationship already. Also, in different parts, the male characters show some sort of envy bc Bobby is single.

The woman in the play projects a lot on Bobby. In "Poor Baby" they think of Bobby as someone completely alone without THEM to take care of him, they baby him, but not in a good way. They say he HAS to have a woman, but in the same song, they seem to think that the girls Bobby goes out with aren't good enough for him. It's almost like they are jealous of the woman he goes out with, bc they see Bobby as "their pet" or think of Bobby as "they guy they wanted their husbands to be like".

All of them opine a lot about Bobby's life. Sometimes they think Bobby should be alone, and not marry. Other times they say Bobby should marry. It's their opinion, but the opinion they give doesn't come from a place of "thinking about Bobby", they come from a place of "projecting their want/thoughts of the moment". Despite being the main character in the play, Bobby is just a side character in their narrative.

Then, we have being alive, and Bobby hiding from his friends/not showing up at his birthday. I think his fight with Joanne, and the fact that she wanted to cheat her husband with Bobby, but not really divorce opened his eyes to the fact that she (and all his friends) has been using him to compensate for something in their marriages (like the alcoholic friend wanting Bobby to drink, or his wife who is in a diet wanting Bobby to eat bc she can't, and so on).

I think that fight also got him to realize that he wanted someone to take care of/to take care of him, and understand the dichotomy of a relationship (which he has been observing throughout the play). Joanne made him stop creating unreal expectations about relationships, she kicked the door and got Bobby to look at the ugly parts of a relationship as much as the good ones. So, in being alive, he admits the truth to himself and opens himself up to the possibility of being hurt by a relationship and, becomes alive bc of it.

BUT he didn't show up at his surprise party when his friends were there, and he FUCKING SMILED when he was alone. So, what I gather, is that Bobby also realizes that whatever decision he makes regarding relationships (being alone or not), he has to stop trying to attend to his friend's expectations or wishes for him. And he has to make his own decision, without caring about what they think about it because it's his LIFE, and not THEIRS. And he can't live FOR THEM.

Anyway, so that' why I don't think they are very good friends. They aren't bad, either. They are just too caught up in their lives, and they end up projecting on Bobby and making things even more difficult for him simply because they do not understand Bobby, but they seem to believe they know what is best for him or what he wants (which changes throughout the play).

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #18] Cake

warnings: fluff!! supermarkets!! to the mins for dinner!! very cute <3 oh also cw: jiyeong lol

a/n: yay for a non-lost header! the next couple are lost tho lol rip

soundtrack: juice - brb

wc: 6.8k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

When you wake the following morning, bright and early thanks to the cramping in your lower abdomen (of which you're pretending Jeongguk isn't to blame for), you know it would be unwise to entertain the idea of not doing his birds.

Things are too comfortable. Too easy.

Selfishly, you sort of think that maybe it would be nice to just wait a little bit longer - but Jeongguk has always been so good with your birds. Not once has he ever tried to avoid them. If anything, he always wants to do them.

He's been a good friend to you. It's time for you to reciprocate that.

Coffee in hand (iced, because who cares about the fact it's freezing outside?), you push open the door of a venue you hadn't expected to revisit so soon. A warm blast of air from the aircon unit greets you. It's harsh and abrupt.

Kind of like the way you and Jeongguk had agreed to not do any more of your birds. Not while he's dating, at least. He did make sure to let you know he'd be up for it again if the date didn't go well.

The great unknown. Your choices could make or break the future of the birds. Splitting custody of them should be easy. The actual separation? Less so.

You push these thoughts to the back of your mind, and head towards the front desk. It's sterile, and perfectly clean. Lifeless.

And there she is.

Kim Jiyeong.

Her long dark hair is up in a neat ponytail, and the way it shines makes you wish you'd never taken a box of bleach to yours. Your roots are growing through, but you're trying to lean into the whole 'hot mess' thing. You know that Seokjin wouldn't be a fan, which is what keeps you from even considering going to a proper salon.

"Oh," she says as she turns to face you, having not expected to see you back at the gym so soon after cancelling your membership. "Looking to sign back up?"

"No," you say with an awkward laugh, a little embarrassed. You think the fact you quit makes it look like you're a failure of sorts, but your mum had always told you sometimes the bravest thing a person can do is quit. You don't think this is one of those moments, but it's what you'd told Jeongguk when he'd been teasing you about it a few days ago. "I'm actually here to ask you a favour."

Now this does intrigue her. She barely knows you. Doesn't remember speaking to you in the bar toilets, warning you off Jeongguk - but you do. You know he's an absolute angel, now, so know her assertation of him being a fuck boy was baseless.

You're no psychologist, but you are a girl. You know exactly why she'd done it. Immature? Maybe - but hey, Jeongguk needs someone who can keep up with how childish he can be at times.

Jiyeong wouldn't be your personal choice of date, but she's well suited to Jeongguk, you think. Could be the grumpy to his sunshine.

You tell yourself off for thinking such things about someone you barely know - she just rubs you up the wrong way. 

Thing is, you know she'd quite like to rub Jeongguk up the right way.

His fear of rejection? Yeah, you don't think he'd ever need to worry about that with her. You've seen the way she looks at him. Heard how she laughs just a little bit harder when he's within earshot. You've met him at the bottom of the stairs before and seen how he demeanour changes.

"A favour?" She asks, not wanting to shut you down before she's heard you out. She can be irrational, sure, but she's not unreasonable.

"So obviously you know Jeongguk," you say, and she nods. Is quiet as she waits for you to continue. You can't believe you're actually doing this. You take a second before you start talking again. "Well-" you cut yourself off again. Laugh. She raises a brow and shakes her head, as if to say, 'what?'. "-Well, it's actually a funny story."

This was much easier when you practised in front of your bathroom mirror that morning.

And it's also not a funny story at all. Very tragic, actually.

"Okay?" She laughs now, awkwardly. It's uncomfortable for everyone - but it's probably better this way. You think it's better if you aren't friends with whoever you set Jeongguk up with.

"Okay, so, I'll cut to the chase," you say, regaining your confidence, remembering that this isn't about you. This is for him. "I made a bet with Jeongguk -" a lie, but we move. It's far easier to explain than the birds. "- and I basically have to find a girl to go on a blind date with him. I was wondering if maybe you'd be interested?"

She furrows her brows. Looks at you as if you're mad. "Are you not..."

"Not?" you question, and then you realise exactly what she means. "Oh! Oh. No, not at all," you laugh as if it's the funniest thing in the world. "No, we're just friends."

"But you-"

"We're close," you say before she can point out the fact that the pair of you have more chemistry than a research lab. You feel the need to reassure her. If she thinks you're involved with Jeongguk, then she'll be less likely to agree to the date - so you overcompensate. "But just friends. I actually have this whole thing going on with my ex. It's a mess. Gguk's been really good with it." And with his fingers. "So that's probably why you've seen us hanging out so much. But no, just friends. I mean- hello? I'm finding him a date."

You end the needlessly protracted rebuttal of your friendship with yet another awkward smile - but thankfully, Jiyeong's shoulders relax a little bit. And she smiles.

"Why me?"

You shrug. "I figure you have similar interests. He's always here."

And that's exactly what makes Jiyeong hesitant. "But if he wanted to ask me out, then surely he would have done? I appreciate the offer, but I've too much pride to date someone who isn't interested in me."

Ooft.

"Gguk... he's not great with the whole... picking up on signals thing," you say - which is true. You think he's none the wiser to Jiyeong's crush on him. "And he's also just a bit shy."

There's a slight glow about her when you say this - as if she's thinking over their small interactions, and how she could have misread some of them.

"He's a really good guy, and I want what's best for him," you say. You also want a safe bet, and Jiyeong seems like that. "I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't think you guys could be good together - and hey. You'll be way more fun to work out with than I ever was."

She smiles now, properly. "I did always wonder why you spent so much time doing...well..."

She doesn't want to be rude, but you know exactly what she means.

"Nothing?" You smile back. "I'm not made for the gym - but Gguk is."

"You can stop with the hard sell," she says. "I'll go on the date - but! If this ends badly, you're banned from the gym for life."

She's got no authority to do that - but she's teasing you. Being nice. Rome wasn't built in a day, no, but it feels like you're at least making groundwork.

Truth be told, you wouldn't mind a lifelong ban. 

"Perfect! You have Gguk on insta, right? I'll find you on there," you tell her, because you don't really mind her knowing how much of a sleuth you are. You figure she's just the same. In all honestly, she'll have to very quickly unblock you after you leave. "Don't mention this to him, though. I want it to be like a proper blind date."

She nods. "Sure. When are you thinking?"

"Can you do Sunday afternoon?"

Again, she nods. It's the day you usually hang out together, so you'll just replace the time you know Jeongguk has reserved in his schedule for you, and put Jiyeong in there instead.

"Okay perfect," you beam. "Leave everything to me! I'll send you the plans and a dress code - unless you have any date ideas?"

"Seems like you have it sorted," she smiles. Easygoing, you think. She really could be a great match for him. You don't know why Jeongguk's never considered it before. "Just give me a time and a place."

"Thank you, Jiyeong!" You grin as you gather yourself together. "You won't regret it!"

That's the saddest part - she really won't. Jiyeong has been daydreaming about Jeongguk since he first started using the gym a few years back. Only ever silly things. Little scenarios. Never put much weight behind them, 'cause he didn't seem too interested - but she did always compare guys she dated to him.

When her ex had forgotten their anniversary last year, she'd thought to herself, 'I bet Jeongguk wouldn't forget.' She'd be right. He wouldn't.

In fact, on the day Jeongguk's membership had been renewed, he came into the gym with a box of doughnuts from the bakery cafe he loves so much - the one he recently showed you. Had left a note for the team - 'treat yourself. thanks for keeping me in check for the last two years. here's to the next!' - and, in turn, had left all of the female trainers swooning. Some of the guys, too.

In Jiyeong's eyes, Jeongguk could be the perfect guy.

If you were to give it any serious thought, maybe you'd realise that, too.

Life is too busy to get bogged down with such trivial ponderings, mind you. Tae's art show is all you can focus on, and Jeongguk's so busy with school these days that you barely get a chance to actually chat. Quality time between the pair of you dwindles.

Quality time is spent together separately, in the form of endless thoughts of one another. He often sits in his lectures and wonders what you'd think of his lecturer's novelty ties. Thinks you'd probably quite like them. Would start buying him them, 'cause you'd find it funny.

There's a girl who sits a few rows away from Jeongguk who wears glitter a bit like you do. Your styles are different, and he finds it annoys him. He's never been one to have opinions on women's fashion and would never try to dictate anyone's personal style - but he likes how you wear your glitter, and think she'd look better if she did it more like yours. Almost suggested your favourite brand to her - then realise his unsolicited opinion would not be cared for. 

So he sits, and he stews, and he simmers. Thinks of you, but doesn't text. Too caught up in his work. Heads straight from the library to Dionysus. Wore the same shirt three days in a row until he realised how long it had been and could feel his skin crawl from the idea of it being unclean.

Funny. Hasn't washed his sheets yet. Doesn't seem to mind them being unclean. 

Not when your perfume is caught on the delicate cotton threads that give him comfort as he sleeps. Not when his nose nestles into the scent of your shampoo on his pillows. Not when he hugs them in the night and accidentally dreams about you. Not when he wakes up with a hard cock, and not when he wanks himself off thinking about the way it feels to bury himself inside you, suffocated by your hair, his arms wrapped around your back. 

Sometimes, when he lets his fantasies get the better of him, he pretends he knows what it feels like to kiss you. Kind of embarrassing whenever he cums and realises he's kissing the fucking air. Really lame, actually. 

And so he doesn't tell you not to arrange the blind date.

He thinks he's just kiss-deprived. Get kissed, stop thinking about you. Foolproof.

Funny. When Jeongguk picks you up to head to the Min's for dinner, you wonder if it's too late to cancel. Not on Mins. On the date.

The thought is brief, but you shake it away regardless. You want Jeongguk to be happy. It's worth more to you than the release of an orgasm. It's a worthy sacrifice.

He's dressed down - a pair of jeans and a white shirt, boots laced up on his feet, tattoos out. A dark denim jacket is on the passenger seat, so you just tuck it on your lap and make no complaint when he asks to stop by the store en route. Had forgotten he said he'd bring dessert. Was only reminded when he saw you clutching two bottles of wine as your offering to the hosts.

Chewing down on his bottom lip as he tries to decide between cheesecake and some kind of tart, his lip ring catches under the store lights. Gets you glancing over at him from across the aisle. He's leant over slightly reading the labels, hands in his pockets. Feels your gaze on him. Turns his head, and smiles, dark doe eyes warm even in the pits of winter. 

"Should I just get both?" He calls over.

You don't answer immediately, instead walking over to look at them, too. He stands straighter, and draws you closer, a hand on your waist to dictate your movements. Hums as he moves you to stand in front of him, and rests his elbows on your shoulders, clasping his hands together beneath your chin. 

"Part of me thinks cheesecake will be enough," he considers out loud, sharing his thought with you. Hair up in a messy ponytail, loose hairs framing your face, Jeongguk lets his nose nestle against it. Just likes the way your shampoo smells.

"How many people are gonna be there?" You ask.

"Me, you," he begins to list. "Seoyeon, Yoongi. Tae, Jimin, Joon, usual suspects. I'm not sure if they've invited anyone else. Maybe Nabi."

"Nabi?" You question, unfamiliar with the inherently feminine name.

"Tae's friend," he clarifies. "She went to uni with him."

"I've never met her," you say, not really for any purpose other than to share your train of thought.

"You haven't?" He asks, almost certain you must have bumped into her at Dionysus before. She's there pretty often. Less so now that Hayun isn't there. Jeongguk avoids mentioning the part where they're best friends. "She's cool. A bit loud for my taste, but good fun. Great at beer pong. You'll like her."

"I'm good at beer pong," you say, almost as an automatic reflex. You shouldn't feel the need to compete and yet you are. Your nose scrunches, face cringing when you realise how pathetic it sounds. Jeongguk laughs. 

"You can 1v1 tonight."

"Or," you hum, trying to go back on your sudden declaration. You've already made a mental enemy of Hayun. You cannot do it again. "Me and Nabi can team up. Go against you and Joon."

"Oh, you're on," he grins. Doesn't realise it, but he shuffles a little closer. "Hope you're ready to lose."

"I never lose," you tease, turning your head slightly. The proximity of his face to yours is a little too close. Makes it hard to choose where to look. You aim for his eyes, but are distracted by the way he toys with his lip ring. 

"No?" he asks quietly. There's no need for volume. His lips are so close you can practically feel them on your skin. "There's a first time for everything."

Your heart is practically in your throat. You're scared to talk. Don't think you can. Think the only thing your lips can do is close - but you're scared they'll betray you. Stray from your rules.

Sure, maybe you shouldn't fuck your friends - but fucking is just fucking. Kissing is weighted. It's heavy. And in the bakery aisle of a supermarket? It's domestic. Romantic . 

He nudges his nose against yours like he so often does, and simply says, "the cheesecake is enough, right?"

He pulls away, and leans across to grab it from the shelf. It's so often you cutting those moments short. It should have been you. And yet you're a little transfixed as Jeongguk ruffles your ponytail and heads in the opposite direction. 

"C'mon, B. We're running late."

When he asks you about the date in the car on the way to Yoongi's, you know you're doing the right thing. 

He seems excited. Hopeful. You'd be a terrible friend if you took that away from him all because you like fucking him. You've fucked him once (on a technicality). It's not enough to justify it.

And so you don't. Instead, you enthuse with him. Give him advice on what to wear. Practise dumb topics of conversation, just so that he won't run out of any. Promise him a way out if he needs one, but assure him that he won't.

"Just drop me a text and change my name in your phone to 'mother' or something. I'll call and you can use it as a get-out-of-jail-free card. You won't need it, though," you repeat. "You're gonna do great. I promise."

The drive to the Min's takes the best part of an hour from Jeongguk's.

Yoongi lives towards the top of the city, in a slightly more rural area than the rest of the boys. It's so he can grow his own wood, but the saplings are still in their first few years. He'll be waiting a fair while until he can actually make his vision come to life, but he's patient. Understands that good things come to those who wait - after all, he'd had a crush on Seoyeon for years before he ever made a move.

Neighbours as kids, they'd moved away for university and somehow always found their way back together. Winter vacation was spent going to the pub, just so that they had an excuse to walk home together and tiptoe around awkward goodbyes. Summers, too.

Until, one winter, Yoongi didn't come home. He stayed at university to finish a project, and Seoyeon ended up at his door with two beers in one hand and her heart in the other.

Jeongguk looks up to Yoongi for many reasons, and is part of the reason he thinks he romanticised the idea of Hayun so much. He'd seen how good it could be to fall in love with your best friend. Never realised it could fuck him up so badly, too.

Yoongi wears a tiny little plait in his hair, hidden deep in his layers, but ever-present. It's there as he opens the door, and greets you both.

You've noticed it a few times. Always thought it was a little quirk of his - but as Seoyeon rushes to greet with you a smile that could warm even the coldest hearts, you notice the neat little plaits tying back the hairs that frame her face.

They're secured with the same teeny tiny baby pink bands that Yoongi's plait is fastened with. 

They're her plaits. Even the one in his hair.

She gives him one every evening after his shower when they're getting ready for bed - and he keeps it in because he adores the reminder of the woman he loves.

She calls your name, and instantly opens her arms to embrace you in a tight hug. 

"I've heard so much about you!" She squeezes. "Welcome, welcome. How was the journey? You make it all okay?"

"Yeah, all good," you smile. "Jeongguk drove, so it was no bother. Thank you for having me!"

"Oh, of course, of course," she beams, ushering you inside. Yoongi heads into the kitchen to check on the food that's been left on the hob. The rest of the boys and Nabi are already out the back, sipping on beers, talking nonsense.

The midnight black cat curled up on their couch stirs, and stares you out for a moment, before deciding he doesn't want to waste his energy on another human. Has already had to deal with Tae's cooing. Shuts his eyes again, and settles himself back to sleep. Seoyeon catches your line of vision and smiles at the kitty.

"Don't mind Oduun. He's not much of a people person - you don't mind cats, do you?"

"Not at all," you shake your head. Behind you, Jeongguk smiles as he hooks your coat up. "I love them."

"Good! Cat person or dog person?" she asks with a smile so soft it's impossible to imagine how Yoongi could ever frown. In her presence, he doesn't, really.

It's a surface-level question, one that really doesn't mean that much, but when Jeongguk grips your shoulders and speaks for you - "Dogs. She loves dogs." - you can't help but feel bizarrely pleased by the fact he remembers.

He squeezes his palms gently, the pressure on your shoulders a faint reminder of the way he'd stood with you in the supermarket. As you turn your head to catch his gaze over your shoulder, he smiles. Close-lipped, pushed deep into his cheeks, dimples prevailing. His lip ring does the thing.

You ignore the way your stomach does it, too.

From the kitchen, Yoongi watches with a bemused smile. Wonders how long it will take the both of you to realise. Says nothing - but secretly, Seoyeon's wondering the exact same thing. Questions why Yoongi never mentioned the fact you're dating.

"Yeah," you confirm, unaware of the conclusions being drawn. "Love both, but grew up with dogs."

"Me too," Yoongi joins the conversation. He casually strolls towards the sofa and leans over to scratch behind Oduun's ear. The cat knows instantly who it is, and tips his head into Yoongi's touch. "Always thought I'd be a dog person, but these little fuckers get ya. One minute you'll 'never get a cat', the next you're stuck in the same spot for hours on end because apparently your stomach is the perfect place for a nap."

He glances over to Seoyeon, who's already looking at Yoongi as if he's just personally announced he's found the solution for world peace - although, within their household, Sunday nights curled up with a glass of red, Oduun on Yoongi's lap with Seoyeon resting on his chest is world peace. Or at least, it's as close as Yoongi thinks he'll ever get. Cherishes the life he lives; and those he lives it with.

A look is exchanged between the pair of them, fast and fleeting so as to not get too wrapped up in one another; an acknowledgement that they've got it good. Got what people dream about. What people spend lifetimes wishing for. What Jeongguk once thought he had - and you, too, with Jin.

You don't think Seokjin ever looked at you like that. Not really.

Seoyeon takes the bottles of wine you're carrying from you, and offers you a glass. You gladly accept. Realistically, you're surrounded by friends, but feel a little nervous. Nothing a little liquid courage can't fix.

The Moscato is still cold despite the fact it was in your lap for the entire drive, crisp and sweet all at the same time. Your favourite wine, it's easy to drink. Goes down like grape juice. Has Seoyeon offering you a second glass not even twenty minutes later, but she's matching you.

It puts you at ease. Makes it easier for you both to open up - not that she was ever closed off. She really is the sunlight to Yoongi's gloom. The perfect couple, you think candidly. Eventually, you tell her so - which has her gushing over stories from their youth. You listen with keen ears.

"Not coming to say hello?" Tae grins at you when he enters the kitchen a little while later. You haven't been outside yet, too busy chatting with Seoyeon by the stove. 

"You've got a pair of legs, don't you?" You tease, which earns a small laugh from them both. 

"And here I am, using them to come and say hello," he says merrily. Truthfully, he came in to grab another beer. "You should come join."

Everyone else is outside by the small firepit. It's rare to have garden space in the city, even in the outskirts. Yoongi and Seoyeon are lucky. You know you shouldn't waste the opportunity. 

You glance over to Seoyeon who ushers you out. 

"Go, go! Nabi will keep you safe," she assures you.

Nabi. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Legs for days, dark hair that frames her sharp face and a laugh that could lure sailors to their deaths, she's devastating. Gorgeous. And as she cracks a joke that gets even Yoongi smirking, you know she's got a personality to match. 

When she sees you emerge with Tae she smiles. You don't know her to be able to tell if it's sincere, but you hope it is. Jeongguk pretends like he's not watching the interaction. He knows he should really be the one to introduce you, but Tae's right there with you. 

Truthfully, Jeongguk's been avoiding Nabi's messages lately. When she asks what he's been up to, he never mentions you. 

It's stupid because you're just friends, and he's allowed them, but he hates the idea of Hayun hearing about you. Hates how devasted he was when he heard she was dating someone new. Somehow thinks maybe it will hurt her too, when she comes to learn that there's someone else who gets to see the dumb memes he finds funny first. 

The loss of a lover is hard, but the loss of a best friend? Incomparable. When they're one and the same? Indescribable. 

Tae holds your shoulders. It doesn't feel the same as it does when Jeongguk grips them. He introduces you. Describes you as 'the person responsible for making his dreams come true', which earns a laugh from Jeongguk.

"S'what happens when you make a wish on a shooting star," he mumbles, taking a swig on his drink. No one else hears. 

"Nabi," she introduces herself. "How'd you know the boys? I'm surprised I've not seen you around before."

None of the boys realise the slight judgement in her tone. You pretend you don't. Smile. Sit across from her between Jimin and Yoongi. 

Jeongguk is next to Yoongi. He's pretending now that he's involved in Tae and Joon's conversation. He's not. He's eavesdropping. 

"Went to the same gym as Jeongguk," you say because it isn't a total lie. It's how the boys think you all met. You're putting on your best smile, and hope that Nabi warms up to you. "He sort of introduced me to the rest of them. I can't believe we haven't had the chance to meet before! I've heard so much about you."

Another lie. Jeongguk hides the awkward face he wants to pull. Knows Nabi was unknown to you. Appreciates you trying to make it seem like you weren't blindsided. 

"You must be pretty close then?" she smiles, ignoring the way you're buttering her up. "If he introduced you to everyone else?"

"Our paths crossed a lot," you reply, a little drier than before. God, you need another drink - so you crack a joke about it. "And hey - being friends with a bartender has perks, doesn't it?"

"Must have done," she simply nods, not acknowledging your joke, and then turns her attention to Taehyung. Is done with the conversation. It leaves you feeling awkward. Out of place. 

You chalk it up to her being territorial. It's always weird when someone new joins a preexisting group. It could alter the dynamic. Personally, you don't think it has. Nor does anyone else. 

All you know for sure is that beer pong is off the cards.

Jimin quickly distracts you with trivial questions about Tae's upcoming show. You're thankful for it. Regardless of whatever happened between the pair of you, he's a good guy. Could be a great one.

Drinks flow, and the evening eases into itself. Jeongguk does his best to not swamp you. Wants you interacting with everyone as much as possible. He gets you to himself often, so wants to give you the chance to branch out. Wants you integrated into his life as much as possible, 'cause he doesn't want to lose you when the time comes for the deal to be done. 

He watches on with casual curiosity after dinner as you natter with Seoyeon.

He doesn't actually know what the topic of conversation is - but he knows you. Knows Seoyeon, too. Knows that you'll be talking about things that will go straight over his head. Silly, inconsequential things - like star signs, or obscure actors from the early noughties - that mean nothing, but in the early development of friendships mean everything. Common ground. Bonds.

"Get along, don't they?" Jeongguk muses when Yoongi comes to stand beside him with a fresh beer. Jeongguk doesn't change his line of vision, even as he accepts the cold bottle, nor when he takes a swig back.

"Course they do," Yoongi says. Seoyeon gets along with everyone. He never doubted the pair of you would be fast friends. Isn't sure why Jeongguk seems too concerned over it. He isn't naive though. Is aware of Nabi's frosty introduction. Is glad Seoyeon would never be like that to a person she barely knows. "Relax, Gguk. Everything's fine."

And that's exactly the problem. Everything is fine.

What's to say that him dating won't change that?

But neither of you are willing, nor able, to fulfil the other's needs. Not really. He needs to learn how to date again, and you need to learn how to be okay alone.

"I've a date," Jeongguk eventually says after a moment of stewing, chewing on his cheek. "Tomorrow, actually."

Yoongi smiles. About bloody time.

"Where are you taking her?"

"Not sure," Jeongguk admits. "Byeol's sort of arranged it all."

"Proactive," Yoongi grins, sipping down on his beer. Thinks Jeongguk needs a girl who can take the driver's seat from time to time. "Who asked who?"

"Hmm?" Jeongguk hums. "I guess B. Neither of us really did the asking."

"So it just kind of, came about?" Yoongi clarifies. "Sometimes that's better. Things falling into place naturally... yeah. That's good."

Jeongguk hides a short laugh. Things certainly fell - just, unfortunately, it was a bird that he's not sure he's ready for.

"I'm nervous," he admits quietly. Crosses his arms, still holding his beer. His free hand rubs up his tattooed bicep. It's comforting. Soothing. Eases his woes.

"You've nothing to be nervous about," Yoongi encourages. "The pair of you are good together. It'll be no different to normal. Think about me and Seo-"

"Good together?" Jeongguk interrupts, confusion etched into the lines of his face. He didn't think you'd told anyone. If Yoongi knows who the date is with, then that must mean - "You know who it is? I know them?"

"What?" Yoongi pauses. Is just as confused as Jeongguk is. "...You... Byeol?"

"What?! Oh, God. No. No." Jeongguk shuts Yoongi down immediately, almost as if he's just suggested Jeongguk do a striptease for everyone at the dinner table. "God. Yoongi, no. No. It's a blind date. Byeol's setting it up-"

"Why the fuck would she do that?"

It's sort of funny how affronted they both seem. Jeongguk finds Yoongi's suggestion of him dating you unfathomable. Yoongi finds the idea of Jeongguk dating anyone but you unfathomable.

"Maybe because she doesn't want me to be single and alone forever?"

"No but..." Yoongi pauses. Losing battle, he decides. "Y'know what, nevermind. A blind date. That could be good."

Yoongi absolutely does not think that could be good. Not in the slightest.

Jeongguk nods. "Yeah. I think so. Plus, like, I trust her judgements. I don't think she's gonna set me up with anyone awful."

"What's your criteria?" Yoongi asks. "Take looks and attraction out of the running. What's important to you?"

Jeongguk considers this for a moment. He's not actually given it much thought at all. "Someone a bit low-key, I think."

"Low-key?"

"Mhm. I don't want it, like, all over instagram."

"You mean you just don't want Hayun to see," Yoongi suggests. He's correct, but Jeongguk's never gonna admit to that. "What else?"

"I don't know. Good sense of humour? Kind? The generic shit. It's hard to say. I don't wanna make a defined list and spend the entire date holding them to impossible standards. If they're good enough for Byeol, they're good enough for me."

Yoongi thinks it's funny how he's asking Jeongguk about an imaginary girl, and yet his mind leaps to you, in a roundabout way.

"What am I missing?" You ask when they both look at you a little strangely as walk into the kitchen. 

"Jeongguk's just been telling me Disco Ball is the wrong nickname?" Yoongi teases. He doesn't trust either of your judgements, but he's not gonna berate you for it. You're both old enough to make your own mistakes. Your own bad decisions. "Should be Cupid instead?"

You smile. "Not just yet. We'll have to see if I'm any good at matchmaking."

Yoongi already knows you'll have done a horrible job. Anyone that isn't you is wrong for Jeongguk. He's certain of it.

"We'll see," Yoongi nods. "Now on the subject of Cupid, let me go find my fiance."

You wait until it's just you and Jeongguk left in earshot to throw him a cautious smile. He thinks you look proud. It makes him happy.

"Didn't think you'd tell anyone," you say quietly, toying with a beer cap that's been left on the side, pleased with the progress Jeongguk is making.

"I'm too many beers deep," he tells you as you toss the cap to him. He catches it with ease. "Don't be too proud. I'm just a little loose-lipped."

"Gonna be revealing all your secrets?" You grin, as if you'll use it to your advantage.

He rolls his eyes. Doesn't move when you walk to stand infront of him and prize the cap from his hand. You're nosey. He knows this. "Depends what you wanna know."

You're sort of leaning on him. Toying with the bottle cap against his chest. His hand strokes your back. 

In a friendly way.

"What's on the other paper planes?" You ask without even needing a second to think.

"Oh, and would you look at that? My lips are sealed once more."

"Gguk," you pout, stealing his beer from him to take a sip. He just lets you. Would let you do anything you wanted. 

"Byeol."

"You're so annoying," you tell him, but pay it no mind.

Your hair is still tied up, little wispy strands curling around your neck. It's sweet. 

"You want another drink?"

"Please," you nod.

"Watcha want?" He asks as he turns to look at the bottles lined up on the counter. It's a free for all, drink-what-you-like, kind of situation - again, a testament to their friendship. No worries about keeping tabs on who owes who what. Everything pays itself off in natural cycles.

"Surprise me, Mr Bartender man," you flirt, and so he gets to work on making something out of nothing.

"Are you having fun?" He asks casually, checking a few bottle labels before adding them to the glass. He's free-pouring, and regretfully, you find it really hot.

You nod. "Seoyeon's lovely. Can see why Yoongi is smitten."

Jeongguk smiles. Ignores the fact you don't mention Nabi. "Oh, to have what they have."

"You will," you assure him. "One day, someone's gonna be obsessed with you in the loveliest of ways."

"Obsession isn't good, B."

"Maybe not," you agree. "But if you're not a little bit obsessed, are you really in love?"

It's a flawed argument. Love is many things. Obsession falls into the realm of infatuation.

Jeongguk just grins. Is reminded of the weekend before.

" God, Jeongguk," he begins to imitate you. You already know where this is going. Have expected it since you first said the 'o' word a moment ago. "I'm obsessed with the way you-"

"Oh my fucking Christ, be quiet," you shush him with a giggle, covering his mouth with your hand.

There's a symbiotic nature to the way his body moves with yours. One of his hands is on your hip, the other on the side of your neck, the pair of you swaying ever so gently, like stars dancing through the night sky. 

It's just the alcohol. That's all.

The way you're looking at him? Eyes all wide? Sultry when his grip tightens?

Oh, it's just the alcohol.

Might have happened without the alcohol, but you'll never know for sure, so you'll blame it on that.

"Don't give me those eyes," he whispers, his thumb stroking up from your throat, over your jaw, eventually finding its home on your posy pink cheek. You've a thin sheen of glitter in place of highlight. Jeongguk's careful not to rub it off.

"What eyes?"

"Those ones," he smirks, voice still quiet. "Your bedroom disco ball ones."

"You mean... my normal ones?" You tease, adamant that you're looking at him normally. You just don't realise you've never looked at him normally.

"No..." he mumbles, before loosening his grip and turning his attention back to the drink he's making.

"What?" you giggle, not really thinking as you let your hair down. You'd put it up terribly when you were getting ready. Was all wispy and shit. Needs sorting out.

"Stop," he whines. The smell of your shampoo? Yeah. He's got a semi. You don't notice, though, 'cause he's still diligently trying to make your drink. "I'm trying to focus."

"On?" You ask, a little confused. Again, he seems perfectly focused from where you're standing.

He shakes his head. Can't fight his smile.

"Anything but you."

"And you teased me for being obsessed?" You banter.

"This conversation never happened," Jeongguk insists as he turns to face you with a purple drink in hand. "Less of a starfucker, more of a... starlover? I tried making it into a long drink. Try it. Let me know if it's alright."

You narrow your eyes. The boy is good at distraction techniques.

Taking a sip, you decide you're never having a purple starfucker again. Not if these exist, at least. "Holy shit."

"Good?"

You nod enthusiastically. "So good. Try. You'll have to remember the recipe for your samgyeopsal place."

The way you talk about his dream with such certainty makes Jeongguk feel all kinds of fucked up. Your blind belief in him means more than he could ever articulate - so instead, he just ushers you back to the garden, where everyone else is still nattering away.

"Our friends will probably be wondering where we are," he says.

Funny. 

Him saying that gets you all kinds of fucked up, too, and he doesn't even realise it. That's probably why it gets to you so much. You feel accepted. A part of his life. The seal of approval from everyone important to him.

Well, nearly everyone.

You don't care for Nabi's approval. Hayun's, either.

Naively, you don't imagine you'll ever be in a situation where you need it.

---

Seoyeon is quiet as she comes to stand by Yoongi the next morning.

Her arms hooks around his waist, a cup of warm tea in her other hand, while Yoongi washes crumbs off the dinner plates from the night before. She sighs. Pouts.

"He's not been like that in a while, has he?" she asks.

A name isn't needed, for Yoongi understands exactly who she means.

"No. He hasn't."

The tone of Yoongi's voice is sombre. Heavy. A little cautious in speaking Jeongguk's current state of being into existence.

"Should we be worried?"

"Not sure," Yoongi says. "Looked happy, didn't he?"

Seoyeon nods against the side of Yoongi's chest, the early morning sun casting light where darkness once was. "Really happy. Haven't seen him smile like that since... well, since before Hayun left."

Secretly, Yoongi is pleased Seoyeon isn't calling her 'Yunnie' like she used to do. It's been a recent change; the distance between the girls who were once thick as thieves proving too much for the closeness of their friendship to endure. That, and Seoyeon's also noticed the slight frown on Yoongi's face whenever she refers to Hayun with affection.

Jimin might be the only one of the boys who knows for a fact how much the situation with Hayun had obliterated Jeongguk, but Yoongi was no stranger to his friend's emotions. Knows what Jeongguk looks like after a morning spent crying. Knows that there was a solid month where his gym membership just wasn't used.

It's the reason Yoongi worries. He doesn't want Jeongguk to make the same mistakes again.

Doesn't wanna have to watch the impact his bad decisions have on him.

As you text Jeongguk the location for his date, it seems like you're the one making the bad decisions this time.

Jeongguk:Sure I have to do this?

You:A bird's a bird.

And a bad decision is a bad decision.

You just don't realise it yet.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[apostacism]

Full respect to Trick Weekes but I don't entirely fuck with the "Solas mirrors" thing. Like that may be the intention behind the writing but from a game execution standpoint, it's just not possible to fully realize. You can be perfectly respectful to him and still have him come at you with "you're the stupidest bitch who ever lived thank you for proving to me how worthless your world is" just by 1) making decisions he hates and 2) not interacting with him very much.

Let's put aside the issue of whether he's right to hate the decisions he hates, because it doesn't matter. From a "ego and pride" standpoint, which is supposedly what Solas is reacting to vs humility, all of the Inquisitor's decisions should be weighted equally. At the end of the day they're making huge decisions on behalf of other people, and there's responsibility in that no matter what those decisions are. There's always some ego involved in saying "I know this is right and so that's what I'm choosing."

So not interacting with him very much. There is nothing inherently prideful or egotistic about not seeking out conversation with Solas or taking him around with you. He clearly has more knowledge about the Breach than anyone else, but there's no particular reason to ask him about elves (particularly if the Inquisitor is one), Corypheus, or himself, for an Inquisitor who doesn't want to get to know him. And not wanting to get to know him is not an unequivocal symptom of ego. Sometimes you don't like a coworker very much and so you nod when you pass them in the halls and are civil in conversation but don't seek them out socially. As far as asking about the Breach goes, you get a Slightly Approves for it, which can be easily outweighed by lots of Greatly Disapproves decisions.

It is easy and very possible to rack up 7 or so Slightly Approves by being polite and humble towards Solas and in general in early cutscenes/conversation, wipe them out by allying with the Templars, and then free-wheel joyfully down into Bitch He Hates by declaring the Inquisition for faith and allying with the Gray Wardens without ever approaching him in a spirit of pride or ego. Solas can easily be the aggressive and argumentative one in that relationship, prompted only by an Inquisitor politely and with great uncertainty making choices he thinks are wrong.

To be clear, I don't think that's wrong or that it makes Solas bad. I think it's perfectly fair to judge someone on the merits of their choices, and that when someone again and again makes choices you think are short-sighted and unworthy of respect to dislike them for that. I think Solas is a thoughtful and compassionate person and I by and large agree with his opinions on most situations. I think there's value in becoming upset with someone who repeatedly acts against your own values, regardless of how nicely they present themselves. But that simply isn't mirroring. That is Solas having a perspective and responding to his own perspective, not Solas responding to the Inquisitor's behavior.

And it goes the other way! I have also played a determined, confident Inquisitor hated by Cassandra for his unshakeable commitment to his path and total lack of regard for her and her opinions who was Solas' best friend because he and Solas always agreed about the right thing to do. It's not about pride and it's not about humility, it's about Greatly Disapproves and Greatly Approves.

And that's just... how approval mechanics work. It's a video game. It would certainly be possible to create convoluted approval mechanics which also interact with your characters' attitude in other conversations, but those are not the approval mechanics that DAI has. It's fanfiction to say that Solas' attitude towards the Inquisitor is a reflection of their attitude towards him. It may be more likely that an Inquisitor who is a self-important dick to Solas also makes choices he hates... it may not. I have no data on how other people play DAI and I could not possibly say. I certainly believe that's what Trick Weekes wanted. But Trick Weekes' intentions are not the reality of the game, and in the reality of the game that premise just doesn't hold up.

[russellshaws]

What do you make of Tim's behavior in the last few episodes? I feel like he's a totally different person and it's making me sad to see him disrespecting Lucy so much.

just up front: it feels v clear to me that we do not share an opinion on this storyline from the tone of this ask, and so i am going to discuss this but would just like to preface that this is only my opinion and i respect that you/anyone else engaging with this post may have a different one. i am allowed to feel the way i feel, as are you. i am not trying to change or discredit anyone's opinions just because they're different than mine.

that being said - i will be honest with you, i don't really see where he's disrespected lucy. before you (and whoever else is reading this) jump me, let me explain myself.

tim went through something very difficult and traumatic with the resurgence of his wartime trauma and he made the decision not to involve lucy as he navigated said trauma. while it may not have been the best choice for their relationship, tim made the choice he felt was right in the moment. though we may not agree with it as viewers and lucy may not agree with it as tim's partner, he had the right to do that, and he explained to the best of his ability in the moment that he was keeping her out of the situation to ensure she didn't get hurt/her career wasn't impacted.

to me, that didn't feel disrespectful - it felt like tim relying on his tried and true methods of keeping the people he loves safe from him/the potential danger surrounding him. he was working with the tools he had available, even if they may not be the "right" tools for the job.

like, was it fucked that he ignored her for 36 hours? absolutely! that was disrespectful in some ways - but i think if you zoom out a little, it's not right, but it's understandable.

in the end of 5x07, lucy stops tim in the hallway at the station and asks him to talk to her - and i have seen a bunch of people who are really angry about the way tim handled that convo, so i wonder if that's what you mean by disrespect. generally, a few thoughts about that scene:

lucy approached tim hot - which, let me be clear: she had every right to. she was in her feels all day, she had something she wanted to say to him, and she was already a bit revved up coming to him. but she came into that conversation already looking for something specific, where tim was just...guard down, a little goofily happy to see her, probably a little nervous to talk to her at all.

tim wasn't given the opportunity to say much of anything. lucy asked if they could have "an adult conversation" (patronizing, but i don't blame her for it - he deserved that) and when tim explained he "couldn't give her what she wanted", lucy snapped. i understand the snap - i would've done the same - but tim had no space to continue talking there. that wasn't a conversation. lucy got her opportunity to unload on him a bit, which i think she needed. think about the breakup - lucy didn't get the chance to argue a side there, and tim didn't get the chance to argue a side here. they're equal on that kind of convo now, which i find fascinating.

so, is tim being honest with her and saying he can't give her what she needs right now disrespectful? i don't really think so. i think lucy is looking for something that tim can't give her right now - himself. tim has to sort through all his shit before he can be the best version of himself for lucy - in his tim brain, he doesn't think he can support her fully without working on himself first...and honestly? i think that's noble. lucy is far too close to the picture to see that tim has some really big issues he needs to work on outside of the scope of their relationship. i don't blame her for that, but it's just...true.

she can't be the person to help tim find himself at this point in his life. that's not fair to her or their relationship - so i think he's made the right choice here, as much as it hurts both of them.

i would also be remiss if i didn't mention that i think there's a huge part of this situation that lucy still needs to realize is on her. she has problems of her own, too! girl knows she's not perfect - but she has yet to address her own problems, and i think that's such an issue. tim is taking initiative to resolve his problems, even if it's not in a way that she agrees with. lucy isn't. just like their relationship already had issues, lucy has her own set. this wasn't the defining problem - this was just the straw that broke the camel's back in a lot of ways.

i hope this answers your question tbh bc i feel like i just rambled a bunch - but i'm always up to chat about this kind of stuff, so feel free to come back to me with more if i haven't annoyed you too much 😂

[cuubism]

A heist for a crown for a king? 🤔👑

yes. dream deserves a crown. dream insists he doesn't need a crown, everybody knows he is king. also he has his helm. hob says how many times i gotta tell you it's not about NEEDING it. it's about how fucking sexy you'll look. that's the priority. also you deserve it. dream is still flummoxed.

may i propose a DREAM heist for a DREAM crown.

--

Hob was... definitely going to get in trouble for this.

"We're definitely going to get in trouble for this," said Matthew, perched on his shoulder. He tittered nervously. And Matthew was one of the most ride-or-die people-- birds?-- Hob had ever met, so this was not a good sign. "Like. Getting my wings cut off trouble."

"He's not going to cut your fucking wings off, Jesus Christ," said Hob. He crept through the dreamspace, keeping to the shadows so as to try to avoid alerting the dream itself to their presence. "Drawing and quartering is a lot more entertaining."

"HOB. What the fuck." Matthew's claws dug into his skin like he really did mean to separate Hob's arm from his shoulder.

Hob shrugged. "Didn't live through 'ye olde medieval times,' as you put it, for nothing."

"I didn't call it that."

"Yeah, you did. That's what I get for agreeing to watch A Knight's Tale, I suppose."

Matthew squawked. "It's a good movie!"

"It was a good movie right up until it managed to convince you that "We Will Rock You" was actually sung at jousts," said Hob.

"In my defense--" started Matthew, then clacked his beak shut. "Nah, actually, I don't have a defense for that. I must have been totally sloshed."

Hob snorted. "Oh, you were."

"Well, who decided it was a good idea to feed Bailey's to a raven?"

"There was no point at which I thought it was a good decision," said Hob. He couldn't help his grin. "I just don't mind making a bad one."

"And here I thought we were friends."

Hob slipped through a doorway, ducking around the next corner. The dream castle was significantly more winding than a real one. It was slow going.

He started humming to himself, an incongruously jaunty old execution ballad. "His quarters stand not all together, But ye mai hap to ring them thether..."

"I'm begging you to stop," said Matthew. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a serious problem?"

Hob laughed. "Many times."

A small group of people -- figments of the dreamscape -- strode around the corner. Hob ducked into a tiny alcove, one which hadn't been there before he'd thought of needing it. He was gradually getting better at manipulating the Dreaming.

And his heart was hammering. Dream theft or not, it was thrilling.

"Never thought I'd be part of fucking Inception," grumbled Matthew, peering to see if it was all clear.

Hob crept back out into the hall and up a spiral staircase. "This is way more fun than Inception."

"And way more dangerous."

"You loved the last outing!"

"Yeah, that one didn't involve sneaking around in my boss's subconscious."

Hob rolled his eyes. "It's not Dream's subconscious." Finally at the center of the absolute maze that was the castle, he spied his prize, and slipped right through the bulletproof glass to get at it. On a stand at the center of the room sat the most gorgeous tiara, a winding thing of diamond leaves and ruby berries. He grinned. "It's the Princess's."

He swiped the thing from its stand, leaving a weight in its place for the pressured alarm he was sure still existed even in a dream.

"Dream is the Dreaming, dude. We're gonna get caught."

"Well, that's why you're here, isn't it? It's normal for you to be in dreams, it's not for me. You're my cover. You'll make it way less likely for Dream to--"

And they were yanked from the dream.

"Drawn and quartered!" Matthew squeaked, and then they were standing in the throne room.

Dream was, of course, standing a few steps up on the grand staircase, glaring at them. Glaring at Hob, really. Matthew squawked again in fright, puffing up his feathers. Hob just grinned back at Dream.

"When I gave you free run of the Dreaming," Dream started, some of the menace Hob had heard him use with rogue nightmares on display, "this was not what I meant."

Hob wasn't afraid of Dream, though. Never had been. "Don't take it out on Matthew," he said. "Wasn't his idea."

Dream's stormy gaze flickered over to Matthew. "Matthew, you are dismissed. I will deal with you later."

Matthew didn't need to be told twice. He winged away out of the throne room, calling back, "Good luck with getting drawn and quartered, Hob!"

Dream raised an eyebrow. He still looked dreadfully unamused. "Drawn and quartered?"

"We've watched too many medieval movies," Hob explained.

"Ah." His gaze found the tiara clasped in Hob's hand. "What, exactly, is that?"

He obviously knew. It was made of dream stuff, after all. Still, Hob knelt and held it out to him. "For my liege."

Dream strode down the few steps separating them, fluid as water streaming over a fall, his long cloak trailing behind him. Majestic creature. Majestic king. Did he really expect Hob to be at all normal about it?

Dream plucked the tiara from Hob's hands. He tilted it back and forth. The light through the stained glass illuminated it in every color imaginable and cast refracted rainbows on his face. "You stole it from a dream."

Hob flashed him a crooked grin. "Guilty."

Dream tipped his head up with one fingertip under his chin, until Hob's neck was craned back and he was meeting his gaze. "That," he drawled, his eyes flashing dark, "is very disrespectful."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes." Dream didn't release Hob's chin; if anything, he leaned closer so Hob had to look up even further. "Did you think you would not be caught? Creeping around in my halls?"

"We'll, I'm very good," Hob said. This was hardly the first thing he'd stolen for Dream, though it was the first one he'd attempted in the Dreaming.

"Or perhaps," continued Dream, and the darkness in his eyes looked hungry, now, though no less dangerous. "Perhaps, you wanted to be caught."

Hob winked at him, cheeks heating. "Well. I may be good, but I could hardly expect you not to feel it when it's your skirts I was rustling under."

"Is that what you were doing?" Dream swept his thumb along Hob's lip, dipping into his mouth. "Fiending for punishment?"

"Just trying to please my lord. Are you pleased, my love?"

"That is not quite the word I would use, dearest one." A sharp smile was creeping its way onto his lips, eyes burning with a dark warmth, like smoldering coals.

He placed the tiara on Hob's head.

Shadows dripped from it, falling over Hob's shoulders and back. Dream's hands lingered at Hob's temples, stroking his hair back behind his ears.

"Devoted one." His voice rumbled pleasantly through Hob's body, and Hob shivered. "Mischievous one. What am I to do with you?"

"Only whatever you want," said Hob, leaning into his touch. "As usual."

"Hmm. I think..."

Shadows fell around the throne room, dropped from the ceiling like banners and speckled like blackened stars. Hob knew those shadows, knew the way they were meant to intimidate though they did nothing but make him want more, make him hungrier, make him want to hold Dream close in every meaning of the word.

And he knew that bright darkness in his lover's eyes, too. The sky during an eclipse.

Dream drew him back to his feet. Hob stumbled in so they were a breath apart.

"Whatever prize you were seeking when you embarked on this foolhardy task?" Dream hummed, just before pulling Hob in to meet his lips. "I think you should claim it."

[isa-loves-you]

Telling People, You're a couple. | The Group Chat Head canons | Pt.2

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Soft willy- you and nick have been dating for almost 2 months now. It's still crazy to you that you have this man, I mean come one look at him he is the definition of what everyone wants to be or be with. respectful, good height, nice built, the funniest person you have ever met, sweet and caring nick was all these things; which is why you were kinda scared of telling people you were a couple.

It's not like you were the most horrible person to look at but you in your mind you just thought you were okay nothing special just your average joe, but to nick you were the most beautiful person he'd ever met so of course he wanted to show everyone how special he is to have you in his life. Ever since you guys started dating he's been trying to get your approval to tell his fans but you still felt a little anxious on the idea so nicked eventually stopped asking to respect your decision. 

One day you and nick were at a burger place eating lunch talking about his new album. “I don't know what I really want for the cover but I was kinda thinking if you would be able to pose for it?” Nick said looking hopeful at you “Nick I don't know, what if people connect the dots? I'm already on most of the tracks. It would be weird if I am also on the cover.”. He had to admit it would be kinda obvious but that was the whole point, he was happy that you were there to help accomplish the album and it would just be even more awesome if he got to see your face on the front of it all

“Here your refill sir” the waitress interrupted yours and nick conversation with a smile “oh thanks” “if you need anything, and i mean anything else just let me know” the waitress was basically eye fucking nick while saying her little beg of attention from nick. This mad you fucking livid like who  does she think she is talking to a random man like this and in front of his girlfriend out of all people.

“Thanks but i'm good” Nick let out an uncomfortable laugh while trying not to look at her anymore. You had to admit this girl was pretty but you were definitely better looking than her and that's all you needed in the moment to make a decision that went against your words. “You know what?I will pose for the cover "what do i have to hide” for the rest of the day. Nick couldn't stop thanking you and asking if you were sure about this but you already agreed and can't go back on it now.

Two weeks later you and Nick were drinking and�� trying to think of all the different types of ways to take pictures. Since the songs on the album were based off of video games more specifically the games you could only play on the Nintendo DS you came up with  the idea of taking them on a DS. After three hours  later you and Nick finally captured the right picture to put on the album.

A couple of days passed, and Nick had posted the cover as a promotion which was the picture of you on a DS with a bold light blue font that read “Digital Dreams”. 

(This is sorta what I was going for. obvious if you don't like it you can totally imagine something else. Also credit to whoever these beautiful people are , I am jealous.)

In the caption of the post Nick had credited all the people who worked on the album including you but did it a completely different way. “I also want to thank my amazing partner for helping me throughout the process and even being on the album front and in the song @ ur username  i love you.”

You were surprised at the amount of people who were so supportive of you guys, of course there were some people who weren't, but you couldn't care. You were just happy that Nick was happy.

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Larry-  you were getting some food for you and Larry because he said he hasn't eaten all day. You and Larry have been dating for almost a month and it was the best thing that has happened to you in a while. Everyday with him was so much fun and the group was accepting of you for dating their friend.

You had gotten him and you something small because Nick and Tanner wanted you and Larry to go with them to dinner later but since Larry didn't eat you just grabbed something while you were out so he wouldn't be so hungry later. You had stepped into the house looking for Larry but he was in his room doing the podcast with the others.

You knocked on his door which he called out for you to open “dude you didn't have to do that thank you so much” “no problem it wasn't a bother to me”. You walked up to his desk to set the food down “hi everyone” you waved to all of the boys in the call which they waved back. 

You stood there for a couple more minutes talking to them before you left to go be on your phone and leave them back with their work. Almost 45 minutes later Nick, Larry, and Tanner came out so you guys could go to dinner and have a fun night out. 

You woke up the next morning in Larry's bed since you didn't want to drive home  last night. You see Larry at his desk looking at the podcast comments, you walk up to him and put a hand on his shoulder “so do they love me” you let out a small laugh. “They love you alright, it seems like they love you more than me” “well in that case switch me jobs, i would love to make dumb jokes all day “. you guys shared a laugh and a few more while looking at the comments. You were glad that the people who loved him were happy that he was with you.

[drewmorg4n]

Perhaps a soft and somewhat smutty transmasc insert x negan fic where he’s heavily focused on the readers surgery scars, just tracing them with his fingers and kissing them cause I just know that man has a scar kink

(Also this is just a fully self indulgent req)

Glass Scars

pairing: negan smith x trans male reader

wc: 4,621

tags: smut, fluff but it’s negan so you know, scar kink, oral (reader receiving), only masculine terms used

an: (this is such a basic fic title but my mind blanked out and i couldn’t come up with anything else) i know this literally took forever for me to finish but i think it’s worth it? maybe? idk but i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoy reading :)

dni: cis/fem people…it’s self explanatory

(i tried to add in a really sexy gif here but i’m stupid and it didn’t work so </3)

“Jesus christ, that was a fucking shit show.” Negan exhales heavily. He’s currently hunched over, hands on his knees, completely out of breath.

After running into a small horde of walkers, you and Negan had to basically fight your way through them. There was nowhere to simply stay put and wait it out as they came at you from all directions and quickly boxed you in. Honestly, you were sure you were about to kick the bucket right then and there, but luckily Negan kept an eye on you and stepped in to help you as needed. You truly don’t know what you would do without that man. Die, probably.

“Yeah.” You agree softly, panting. Your pants and tee are basically drenched in blood and some small bits of guts, sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You have to stop yourself from gagging a few times as the smell of it all finally hits you. “We’re going back, right? I really need a shower.” You mention tersely, grimacing at your current state.

Negan sighs. “Fuck, babe. C’mon, you look so hot covered in blood.” He exasperates, slowly striding over to you and enveloping you by your waist, gently pulling you close.

You roll your eyes, though the small smirk attempting to cross your lips eventually betrays you. “Negan, please. This shit smells awful and feels disgusting.” You whine softly, starting to pull out of Negan’s grip even though you really don’t want to.

Negan kisses your cheek before you get too far away from him, his lips tinted red after. “Well, I think we’ve gathered enough supplies.” He mentions, glancing at the few duffel bags that you’d both dropped when the horde approached. “Yeah, let’s go back. This shit does feel fuckin’ disgusting.” He agrees, his form suddenly stiff and uncomfortable.

You nod in response, feeling relieved about Negan’s decision. After tucking away your knife and checking yourself over - making sure you didn’t drop anything - you make your way over to the bags and haul one up, resting heavily on your shoulder. As you move to grab another, Negan moves in the corner of your eye, catching your attention. You glance over and watch him for a moment; he slowly peels off his leather jacket, seemingly in a bit of pain. His white tee underneath is damp with blood, the fabric clinging to his skin. He may be in pain but he also looks extremely attractive like this. You can’t help the way your eyes skim up and down his upper body, taking notice of his hard nipples protruding his tee.

Just as he turns his head to look at you, you also turn, attention back on the bags. You repeat your previous movement with another bag, though luckily this one is a bit lighter. Still, the strain of them on each of your shoulders is definitely gonna hit you later.

As you try to make the weight as bearable as you can, Negan comes over and gathers the rest of the bags; three in total. Negan then leads the way, walking a short distance back to the truck. It was honestly a stupid idea to leave it, but the spot you guys were trying to get to wasn’t accessible by the road as it had been blocked off, which really left no other choice but to walk. You definitely wouldn’t be coming this way again without a few more men.

Just a few minutes later you’re piling the bags into the bed of the truck and soon after making yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. The drive back to the sanctuary shouldn’t take too long, but things aren’t always set in stone out here. You guys could stumble upon another horde or maybe even some people. All you can do is just sit back and wait.

You drift in and out of sleep throughout the whole ride, Negan’s hand a comforting warmth on your thigh. He laughs at you every time your head bobs forward, on the brink of sleep. You only have enough energy to groan softly, exhausted from your previous exertion.

Eventually you’re home, parked in the small parking lot beside the sanctuary. Negan squeezes your thigh a few times, getting your attention. “C’mon.” He says, nodding his head in the direction of the building. “Let’s get cleaned up, hm?” He offers softly, though his voice is deep and husky.

“Mhm.” You hum slowly, still half asleep and feeling very groggy. You manage to get out and step onto the gravel, hearing it crunch beneath your boots. The sound brings a wave of comfort over you, knowing that just an hour ago you were on the verge of death. The slam of Negan’s door rattles you from your thoughts, bringing you back to reality. You take a moment to gather your bearings and close your door, then you slowly make your way to the back of the truck towards Negan.

“I told the guys to get the shit in the back. I’m dying for a shower.” He sighs dramatically, waiting until you’re close enough so he can take your hand in his. He then leads the way, entering through one of the side doors and ascending a few flights of stairs before stopping at the third floor.

He trails down the long hallway, stopping at the door to his room. He lets go of your hand and enters his room, immediately chucking his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. You stand in the doorway for a moment, just watching him. He’s absolutely ridiculous but you love it.

Following him inside, you close the door behind you and lock it as usual. When you turn back around the only piece of clothing left on Negan is his boxers, which happen to also have a few spots of blood on them, probably from the thick liquid seeping through his pants. Lastly, he removes his boxers, sighing in relief.

You’ve seen Negan naked hundreds of times now but each time always feels like the first, sending a shock up your spine and a shiver throughout your entire body. He’s just so alluring and gorgeous, no matter how many times you’ve seen his body; he’s perfect.

You eventually begin to follow Negan’s lead, undressing. You move extremely slow as you’re still very exhausted, but Negan seems to notice this and is quick to step in and help. He unbuckles your belt and unzips your pants, undoing the button and letting your jeans fall down your legs. You hold onto his shoulder as you step out of them and kick them aside. The same movement is done when removing your boxers.

Negan’s hands are on your waist in an instant, skimming them up and down your sides, lightly scratching his nails against your skin. You have to bite back a moan, though it’s not from arousal; Negan’s hands just feel incredibly good and cause you to become even more tired.

“C’mon. I’m gonna fall asleep if we don’t shower soon.” You warn slowly, smiling softly as your eyes begin to close unwillingly.

Negan chuckles deeply, the sound rumbling in his throat. “Alright, alright.” He concedes, his hands coming to a halt. “I just love touching you.” He whispers, lips gracing the shell of your ear. He then plants a few gentle kisses along your neck, ending with a quick nip.

“Yeah, well, you can do that in the shower, y’know.” You point out teasingly, earning another chuckle from Negan.

“You fuckin’ bet I will.” He growls lowly, leaning in for one last nip to your neck.

From there, he finally obeys and leads you to the bathroom, quickly turning on the shower. You both idle for a minute or two as the water begins to warm up, eventually shivering a bit from the cool air touching your skin.

Negan steps in the shower a moment later, pulling you along. The warm water rains down on your head, running down your body and effectively warming you. Before you know it Negan’s massaging shampoo into your hair, the sudden touch startling you a bit. You quickly relax into it, though, tilting your head back and closing your eyes.

A good minute of massaging and Negan’s maneuvering you around the shower, letting the spray of water hit you directly. He gently rinses out the shampoo, placing a kiss to your temple afterwards.

“Thank you.” You say softly, warming even more at Negan’s lips against you. “Let me do you, too.” You offer, moving to reach for the bottle of shampoo and pouring some out onto your hand. After lathering up your hands you reach up and run your fingers through Negan’s hair. He smiles at the feeling, dipping his head down a bit so it’s less of a reach for you.

Once his hair has been thoroughly washed, you help him rinse out the shampoo, wiping away any suds that get too close to his eyes. You give him a quick, chaste kiss after, amused when he furrows his brows and pleads with his eyes for more.

“Later.” You counter, though you’re not even sure if you’ll be awake later. With the way you feel currently, you assume you won’t be, but who knows.

“Why do you always play hard to get?” He chides lowly, swooping in close and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You roll your eyes, offering a soft smile. “Negan, we’re both covered in blood and I’m fucking exhausted. I just wanna shower in peace.” You explain a bit firmly, though the smile covering your lips has yet to drop.

“Well, I can surely be of service.” He assures with a wink, immediately moving to grab your washcloth. After rinsing it out he grabs the bar of soap and lathers up the cloth. He then starts cleaning you up, rubbing the cloth against your skin to get rid of the dry bits of blood. Continuing on, he does the rest of your upper body and then your lower, humming pleasantly once he’s done and sees that you’re clean.

After he rinses out the washcloth and hangs it back up, he again grabs the bar of soap and lathers his hands this time. While you watch him, you immediately know what he’s about to do.

Negan settles himself behind you and slips a hand around your waist, resting gently against your lower stomach. His other hand follows but rests on your groin, soon moving down and slipping your cock between his fingers. The motion makes you gasp, feeling arousal start to build in your gut. When his fingers move down just a bit then back up, you can’t help the moan that slips past your lips.

You honestly thought you were way too tired to get worked up, but clearly you were very wrong about that. You know Negan is still just cleaning you up, but of course his movements are painfully slow - most likely on purpose - which isn’t helping your increasing arousal.

Eventually his movement concludes, removing his hand. You sigh at the lack of touch, somewhat wishing Negan would put his hand back even though you’re still exhausted.

You take a moment to gather yourself before you copy Negan’s actions, offering to wash him off. He lets you do as you please, ridding his body of sticky blood. When your eyes manage to drift down, you’re sort of surprised he’s not hard. With the way he was touching you, you fully expected him to be.

As you finish up, Negan’s hands rest on your chest, trailing down and stopping right above your diaphragm. “Couldn’t see your scars when you were covered in blood.” He comments softly, eyeing your chest. His thumbs glide along them, from edge to edge.

You’re quiet for a long moment, unsure of what to even say to such a comment. His thumbs continue to trace your scars, side to side. “That feels good.” You say, lifting your head to look up at him. He looks totally entranced, eyes following the movement of one of his thumbs.

“Do you know how much I truly adore your scars?” He asks gently, eyes unmoving from your chest.

“Well, I could guess.” You chuckle softly. A smirk creeps onto Negan’s face in return, eyes finally looking up to meet your own. He dips his head down and places kiss after kiss along your neck, trailing them down to your collarbone; each kiss elicits a warm flush throughout your entire body.

Eventually, you completely lose track of time, though; the water runs colder and colder and soon you’re almost shivering.

“Negan, c’mon. We used all the hot water.” You note, slowly pulling yourself out of his grasp. He practically whines at the movement, hands moving quickly to pull you back into him, though you refuse and step back, turning off the water. “I’m freezing.” You grunt softly, looking up at him with annoyance.

“You know I’m a fuckin’ human furnace, babe.” He winks, his usual sly smirk covering his lips. He moves to push aside the shower curtain, stepping out after. He grabs one of the towels set on the counter and unfolds it, holding it up in front of him. “C’mere, let me warm you up.” He offers, softer than before.

You reluctantly step out, quickly wrapped up in the towel with firm, warm arms surrounding you. Negan first dries off your hair, ruffling it with the towel until it’s just damp, then moves onto your body. He’s quick but gentle, working up then down, making sure you’re all dry. Now, without cold droplets of water covering your skin, you’re much warmer but you still feel a deep need for actual heat.

Right as you’re about to head out of the bathroom, aiming to find something warm to wear, Negan stops you with a gentle grip on your forearm.

“Wait. Don’t get dressed.” He requests quickly, loosening his grip on your arm.

You furrow your brows. “Why?” You question curiously, confused.

Negan doesn’t respond for a moment which just manages to confuse you even more, but the light pink blush tinting his cheeks distracts you until he does. “I just like seeing you; your scars, the rest of your body. I love it.” He admits softly, his voice trailing off into a whisper. His cheeks are now red rather than pink, which tells you he was probably nervous to confess such a thing.

Negan’s statement has you at a loss for words, though. Of course he’s not necessarily the softest person, he’s always sarcastic and vulgar, causing him to usually say all the wrong things, but throughout the time you’ve been together, his soft side peeks out more and more each day.

“Oh.” You sigh, trying to muster up the right words to say. “Thank you. I-I-“ You stutter, quickly stopping yourself from continuing. You can’t believe the second you’re vulnerable you immediately start stuttering. Although it’s somewhat expected, it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.

Negan smiles, holding back a soft chuckle. “It’s alright, baby.” He assures, noticing the nervous expression etched onto your face and wanting to bring you some comfort. “I’m gonna dry off. Just go wait for me.” He nods, quickly kissing your cheek.

You give him a soft smile and then you’re turning around, heading out of the bathroom once again. You end up following through with Negan’s request, ditching your clothes completely. You’re not even that cold anymore, the embarrassment and slightest bit of adrenaline warming you. Once you slide onto the bed, making yourself comfortable on top of the silk sheets, you finally relax. After today, you definitely need a break from beyond the walls. Knowing Negan, he’ll probably be hesitant to let you out again unless he’s by your side, but you’ll worry about that when it happens. For now, you let your limbs go limp and sink into the soft mattress as you wait for Negan.

A few short minutes later the bathroom door squeaks open, revealing a naked Negan. He wastes no time getting into bed; he pushes apart your legs and settles himself between them, his chest against your stomach. He really is a human furnace.

Soon enough you feel his lips against you, kissing up and down your chest, your nipples, your scars. He hums contentedly as he kisses along each scar, from one edge to the other; he doesn’t miss a single spot.

You work your hands into his hair, combing it back as he continues his relentless kissing. After a few minutes, you realize you could definitely fall asleep like this; Negan’s lips grazing your chest. You’re already exhausted, so why not? You let yourself slowly drift off, eyes feeling heavier and heavier as each second passes.

“You’re so perfect, baby. So handsome.” Negan mumbles deeply, his throat and lips vibrating against you.

His soft words cause your eyes to pop open, feeling overwhelmed with affection and love. You somehow still haven’t gotten used to Negan’s praises; each time he says something even remotely good about you, your stomach flips and twists with the strongest feeling of appreciation. You’ve never felt so loved in your entire life.

“Kiss me.” You plead softly, almost whispering. He makes a noise similar to a hum but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. You pull on his hair gently but he resists, ignoring it and continuing his kisses along your chest. “Negan, please.” You groan, tugging on his hair again, though a bit harder this time.

He releases a throaty moan at the harsh pull of his hair, finally relenting and moving up your body, coming face to face with you. His usual sly grin is smeared across his lips, cockiness clearly flowing through him as he idles in front of your face, not making any attempts at moving closer and kissing you.

Feeling annoyed, you hurriedly grab the nape of his neck and pull him close, crashing your lips together. He chuckles at your gesture and struggles to kiss you back for a moment, but rather quickly he settles down and starts moving his lips against your own.

The movement of your lips started off fast but is beginning to slow and match Negan’s pace, which you really don’t mind. As long as you’re kissing him you have nothing to complain about.

Negan’s tongue dips into your mouth slowly, licking past your lips and grazing your teeth with his tongue. The moan that slips out of you is purely accidental but Negan certainly finds the noise pleasurable as his lips curl up into a small smirk.

His hands then skim up your body, stopping below your pecs. Once again he begins to smooth over your scars, each of his thumbs moving back and forth. You have no clue why he seems to be so obsessed with them, but it’s honestly a very relieving feeling knowing that your scars don’t bother him.

Suddenly Negan bites your lip, not hard but the gesture somewhat surprises you. As you relax into it, it feels good, almost intoxicating. Again you moan, wishing he would bite just a little bit harder. As if Negan is capable of reading your mind, he bites down harder a short moment later, eliciting yet another moan from you.

Fuck, his teeth feel so good latched onto your bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. The sensation of it is almost overwhelming. An immeasurable amount of pressure and heat builds within your groin, quickly becoming unbearable. You grind your hips up, coming into contact with Negan’s cock, his warmth pressed against you lightly.

“Please.” You ground out after pulling out of the kiss, panting. Honestly, you’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this point, you just want to be pleasured, touched. Anything.

Negan hums lowly, smirking as usual. “What do you want? Hm?” He inquires deep but soft. He begins placing kisses to your neck and slowly trails them down to your nipples, kissing each one wetly as his thumbs continue to caress your scars. “What does my pretty boy want?” He murmurs into your skin, his lips vibrating against you softly.

Unwillingly, your hips buck, connecting with Negan’s lower chest. He chuckles against you, lips around one of your nipples. You open your mouth to speak but find that you simply can’t. Instead of words coming out of your mouth, a loud moan slips past your lips. Without even thinking you grab Negan's hair, both hands twined into bundles of strands. You pull up, even though that’s not the direction you want him to go in, you just desperately need to tug on something.

Negan groans softly at the pull of his hair, humming lowly after. Before he kisses down the rest of your torso, his tongue darts out and ever so slowly licks across each of your scars, making you shiver.

“Jesus.” You gasp softly, a bit shocked. Negan must really have a thing for scars. Either way, his tongue feels good on you, tracing side to side.

Once he seems to have his fill of your scars, he kisses down your stomach all the way to your groin. You whine as you feel his lips getting closer and closer to such a sensitive area, resisting the urge to roll your hips. He places feather light kisses to the inside of your thigh, trailing them up and down. He’s kissing everywhere you don’t want him to; not that it doesn’t feel good but you’re so pent up with arousal that it’s starting to hurt.

Tightening your grip on his hair, you quickly tug, his head now hovering right above your cock. His eyes flick up to yours, dark and teasing, his usual sly smirk covering his lips.

“Are you gonna tell me what you want now?” Negan asks lowly, feigning curiosity. “Cause I’ve got no fuckin’ clue.” He chuckles soft and deep, resuming his kisses; he’s so full of shit it’s painful.

Negan’s lips are now incredibly close to your dick and you want nothing more than for him to finally put his mouth to work on you. When his kissing doesn’t stop, you finally obey and voice your needs.

“Suck me off.” You whine softly, voice barely reaching a whisper. Your hips roll involuntarily, crotch brushing against Negan’s scruffy chin. Even that slightest bit of friction has you moaning again, just hoping Negan will put a stop to his teasing and finally give you what you want.

Negan laughs darkly, eyes half lidded as he looks up at you. His tongue darts out and skims across his lips, biting it softly as he slowly puts it back in his mouth. “I can’t decide if I should make you beg for it or not.” He teases, smirk never faltering. His fingers rub along your hip, digging in just slightly.

You tighten your hand in Negan’s hair, pulling on it. “Please.” You whimper softly, desperation filling your voice.

Your begging causes Negan’s smirk to grow even wider, his teeth gleaming at you. He’s clearly enjoying this but you’re not sure how much more you can take. You’re so pent up with sexual desire it’s unfathomable.

Negan then begins to plant kiss after kiss to your groin, leading down to your sensitive cock. The second his lips come into contact with your dick you can’t help but buck your hips. Negan’s fingers are quick to dig into your hips and hold you down, though his kissing never stops.

The slight sting coming from Negan’s nails digging into you isn’t unpleasant, it’s actually extremely endearing and only turns you on even more. You’re quickly pulled from the sensation by Negan’s tongue gliding along your cock. You almost scream at how good it feels, though it’s more of a choked moan which is honestly a little embarrassing.

Your embarrassment is very quickly disregarded once Negan’s lips close around you, gently sucking what he can into his mouth. Your grip on Negan’s hair tightens immensely, fearing you may rip out chunks of it, though you know he really wouldn’t mind which would definitely be comical in another situation.

Negan continues his gentle sucking, slightly bobbing his head. You’re still rolling your hips though there’s not a lot of movement since Negan is keeping you in a steady hold.

After about a minute or so, Negan begins to suck harder along with digging his nails deeper into your hip. Both sensations mixed together have you going crazy, heading towards the edge. Whimpers begin to flood your mouth, dripping out like liquid. You simply can’t stop yourself, nor do you want to. Your own moans almost accentuate your pleasure, which is odd but you’ll gladly take it.

Negan then hums while he continues his incessant sucking - almost as if he’s also moaning - sending ripples of vibration through your groin, intensifying your pleasure even more.

“Jesus christ, Negan.” You pant, arching your back off the bed completely. You can feel the way your legs are trembling, indicating your climax is approaching. Practically your entire body is covered in a layer of sweat, droplets running down your face and chest. You’re about to burst at any moment.

You can’t even control the movement of your hips, it simply has a mind of its own, bucking hard and fast into Negan’s mouth, though he’s still holding you down as best as he can. Eventually, though, he relents and let’s go, giving you free range. Holding onto the back of his head, you fuck into his mouth repeatedly.

He’s happy to let you use him until you finally come, hips stuttering and shaking as you continue to roll them. It’s such an intense, overstimulating feeling, but at the same time it feels like pure heaven.

Your whimpering only gets louder and louder as you ride out your orgasm, body trembling with pleasure. “Fuck.” You whine, voice hoarse and wavering.

Negan chuckles, which sends another vibration through you. It’s too much, though. You’re officially overstimulated. You yank Negan’s head off of you by his hair, freeing yourself from his mouth.

“Shit.” You pant, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm roll through you. Negan looks up at you with half lidded eyes, smiling softly. There’s a single string of saliva leading from his lips to your dick, which elicits a small chuckle from your throat. Using your thumb, you gently wipe it away.

“Thanks.” Negan chuckles, resting his head on your lower stomach.

“Mhm.” You hum in response, smiling. “C’mere, let me return the favor.” You decide, smoothing your hands along his upper back.

Negan yawns. “I already came.” He states, looking back up at you. “You’re just so fuckin’ sexy when your cock is in my mouth, making all those pretty noises. Only had to grind against the bed for like, two fuckin’ seconds before I came.” He explains easily, feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about the noises you were making.

“Oh.” You mumble softly, extremely flustered from Negan’s admission. “So, you ruined the sheets?” You question, yanking his chain.

Negan huffs a laugh. “Probably.” He agrees, chuckling. He slowly crawls up your body and places a gentle kiss to your lips before laying down beside you. He’s quick to pull you into his side, arms wrapped around you.

You sigh and relax into his hold, resting your head atop his chest; the hair there manages to tickle your nose every now and then, but you really don’t mind - you wouldn’t change it.

As you listen to the sound of Negan’s heartbeat, you quickly find yourself drifting off into sleep, body and mind completely exhausted. You refuse to fight it and eventually you slip into a deep sleep, cradled by the only man you’ve ever wanted.

[amymbona]

I think that people who hate on the Challengers main three really forget that no human is perfect, that people are flawed and you can't expect everyone to always make the best decision.

As much as it may offend someone, you can't always be the good guy. People tend to overreact or act irrationally when something crashes with their plans or just causes some issues. I myself am very aware of this and know I am a bitch in certain situations, that I have hurt some people before or done something that may not have been the best decision at the moment. But things happen, have happened and as much as you regret something, you can't really change your decision.

Tashi, who's probably the most hated out of the three (which is really fucking odd, considering that she's literally the main character of the movie), has gone through something really fucking hard. She lost her whole goddamn career, the thing that was her fuel, the main purpose of her life, and she never even made the decision to end it. It simply ended mid way, before she could become the world champion and call herself the best. She was so young and healthy and successful and then lost it all because of one goddamn injury.

It's obvious that at first she blamed Patrick because of their argument before that match. She must have been so fucking stressed not to see her boyfriend at the match, knowing that he's gonna be gone for the next few months. At that moment, she needed to blame someone and Patrick was the right one. Though I agree it was unfair that she was that rude to him in 2019 too, but then again when I think about it, the interaction probably reminded her of the injury once again. But then, when she slept with him, in my eyes it was because he reminded her of the peak of tennis. Because he was better than Art. And the better the tennis is, the more Tashi is tempted to grasp it.

Patrick, poor guy, is seen as this sex obsessed bad boy who only find pleasure in fucking women. And while his movie personality is concerned about those things, he is much more. I believe he really genuinely loved both Tashi and Art and then when they left him found himself totally lost. They were his compass, his safe space, each of them offering something different but something he very much needed. He was hurt by them too, first Tashi after Atlanta 2011 when she just went on living with Art, and then when he hoped she'd fuck him in his car in 2019, but she only did it to save her marriage with Art. (That's also why I believed she truly loved Art. I think she wanted to sleep with Patrick at that time, but she could have done it without asking Patrick to lose.) And then by Art, in the sauna, telling him he doesn't matter. It's obvious that Patrick was seeking revenge against Art, hrnce performing the ball gesture during the final match.

In my opinion, Patrick is the most "innocent" one, having not sinned as much. But he's not flawless either. Using his tinder dates to find a place to sleep, flirting with women to earn what he needs. As I'm writing this, honestly, I can't think of many more bad things that he's done. And that only shows the dishonesty, how we were almost showed that he is the bad guy, only because two successful people have decided that they hate him. What happened wasn't really his fault, but the mutual hate he received from Art and Tashi convinced us as well that he deserved it.

Art is honestly a bit of bitch, too victimized and babied, but then again on the other side, he's the prime example of someone who stands up for himself and then gets hated for it. He got too fed up with his own best friend for constantly casting a shadow over him. Went so fucking far to spread rumors over Patrick, how he's a womanizer and all that stuff, just to eventually play the good guy with Tashi, take care of her and then marry his way into her life. (He went a bit overboard with that, but good fucking job, plotting such a thing.) Poor Art, people say, how Tashi responds that she knows to the fact that he loves her. But once I read somewhere that she responded this way because she was aware that Art can't really verbally display his feelings, and she just wanted to make sure that she knows he loves her. And that's what I believe.

It's obvious that Art fell into depression, the combination of his injury and non fulfilling tennis career. This probably caused him to be almdor indifferent, perhaps rude and bitchy too Tashi, getting fed up with the career he has built for her. Oh, he definitely loved tennis, I'm sure of it, but not as much as Tashi did. And because he loved her, he allowed her to mold him into her good tennis boy. But he was a human with free will too, and didn't really need to ask for Tashi's approval, despite her being his coach. Doing all that back arch, sad expression thing, he was just trying to manipulate her to feel bad for him, probably a form of self defense or response caused by his depression. Again, not a flawless human.

All three of them lost something. Tashi lost tennis, her biggest passion. Patrick lost Art and Tashi, the people be loved. Art lost all the enjoyment of life, becoming miserable. Many things have caused them to behave the way they behaved and showed us that nobody can be fucking perfect, that sometimes people just are bitchy and you really can't find them being all sunshine and rainbows. But we also know that all three of them are tender, capable of love and giggles, we know that they can be nice and kind and loving and that's okay too. People are colourful and full of emotions, each one of them different and made not to be perfect.

[princess-of-the-corner]

(Ask ran past the word count, plus tablet is having issues)

I think my favourite variety of “Marinette finally tells Adrien” fic, is. Like. I don’t remember the name, but after everything has gone down, Marinette has some time for introspection, the chance to reevaluate some things. Ya know, now that she isn’t dealing with *gestures to all of that*. After a bit of time (and a lot of guilt) she finally decides “Actually, no. Lying to Adrien about all this shit is wrong, it’s immoral, if I want to have ANY kind of relationship with him, I need to come clean.” So she tries to do that … and can’t, cause Gabe was not trusting, and also excels at fucking things up without even being present, so his Wish means when Marinette agreed to not tell Adrien any of this stuff, she basically signed a magic contract that PHYSICALLY PREVENTS HER from telling him. It also prevents her from telling him anything that could explicitly lead to Adrien figuring it out on his own, which means that, because the “terms” were so broad, & so much of Marinette’s shit has gotten tangled up in the whole … Thing, that she can’t even tell him a lot of adjacent stuff, like “Hey, I think I might have issues with feeling in control”, or, “so, this one time, before we started dating, I stole your phone cause I left an embarrassing voice mail about how hot I thought you were, and I decided stealing your phone and deleting the message was appropriate”.

And, like, she tries some other stuff! But this thing really has a strangle hold on her, so it’s basically no going until she has a total breakdown, and confesses most of this to Chat Noir - not the whole, cause she can’t, but the outline of what happened, cause as long as she isn’t trying to tell Adrien, she can sort of talk around it. Cause they STILL don’t know each other’s identities. And because Magic is finicky and trollish, the fact that “Ladybug” is talking about it with “Chat Noir” apparently doesn’t set it off. And she says just enough that Chat goes “wait, this sounds familiar”, and asks some questions. And the more questions he asks, the weirdly easier it is for Marinette to talk about, until finally Chat bursts out “MY DAD WAS FUCKING HAWK MOTH!?” and the magic contract thing breaks down entirely, cause once Adrien knows, the contract is null and void. 

There was a bit more after that, but that’s the only bit I remember.

-

See I really like that! Like

I’ve talked before on how I can initially see Marinette making that snap decision of ‘don’t tell him lie to protect him’.

But I don’t think she’d keep it going once she thinks about it too long and/or the guilt gets to her.

Having the Wish be an aspect to extend the drama is a fantastic way to do this in a way that doesn’t make Mari look like An Asshole™

[moodymisty]

I absolutely love Mortarion. Could I please get a few nsfw head cannons of the lovely man with a dominant female partner. In my rat brain he has a massive praise kink and is the biggest sub ever.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Now I know I said I’m not a Mortarion girl but you know what? I stan this. Speak your gospel anon I'm in a pew at service. I haven’t dived full in on death guard lore though, so forgive any minor character inaccuracies.

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW-ish, Mortarion's overall existence, General 40kness, uh oh stinky

First one we gotta establish that this, -vaguely gestures to all of Mortarion- is a wreck. This man has so much wrong with him that it's not even funny it's just sad.

'Praise' for him in my opinion can be just as simple as being at least somewhat kind. Agreeing with his ambitions, supporting them, saying he's right. That he deserves better than what life he's been dealt.

Mortarion is kind of the 'forgotten' Primarch, so having someone groom his pride even if it's just a baseline human is probably gonna make his day a little bit.

But in a more, intimate context? It’s gonna be a lot less of praising his decisions, and more so of praising him. You love him after all, and you’re going to make that known.

But it's gonna take a hell of a convincing to get him to not posture around.

He's a Primarch, they aren't in the market of submitting. It's what they were created for, which he knows well.

Having his beloved in his lap while they tell him that they love him though is, different.

He's not of the mind thinking that anyone would ever want him like that. Sure he's a Primarch, he could have whatever he wanted, but it still surprises him a bit. He knows well he's not as charming (or manipulative) as his fellow Primarchs.

So saying anything that tells him (or shows him) that you want him is a massive button pusher.

The first time you told him without holding back that the next time he had enough time to himself that you wanted him, he was so lost. He'd also never told so many people to fuck off as he did then. He chased your tail all the way back to his personal bedchambers and locked himself in with you.

Surprisingly easy to get him totally lost in it. He goes from being a well spoken warrior to being a mess within minutes. Especially if it’s been awhile, and you’re intent on pulling out all the stops.

Likes to grab. He makes sure to try and be gentle though (even if Mortarion isn't' the strongest primarch he can still do serious damage). Will still more than likely end up with marks on your thighs anyways though.

Just, maybe plan to not do anything too strenuous the next day. Cause even if you're the one with the reins, it's still a massive undertaking (eyes too big for your stomach much?) to sleep with a Primarch.