#and for some evil fucking reason i think of him when i listen to waiting room especially the 'i know it's for the better'

[hella1975]

hella I keep getting edits with some sort of original version of waiting room?? on my fyp and I'm gonna be honest waiting room wasn't a song that did me in quite as badly as the rest of you but this version I keep hearing literally rips my heart straight open😭😭 like I've been planning on fixing the no waiting room on spotify issue by taking it into my own hands🏴‍☠️ but now I know it's gonna have to be this version I'm not even bothering with lost ark waiting room. it's just gonna be waiting room og bc what the fuck?? "I never grew up with you, and you're not my waiting room" what the fuck??? with the haunting background noises literally WHAT THE FUCK????????

OMG IVE SEEN THAT ONE everyone keeps going on about the vocals of 'and you're not my waiting room' but i really cant get over 'i never grew up with you' like what??? WHAT??????

[hippiepowrs]

patchwork

eddie munson x (implied) metalhead!reader

eddie wants to add a new patch to his vest but hates sewing.

a/n: thank you for the love on my first fic!!! this one is based on the fact that i think eddie would be bad at sewing. like he could be good at it but it's funnier to think that he's not. also you will probably see a lot of metalhead!reader from me bc it's self indulgent and there's just not enough of it.

warnings: fluff. gn!reader. sewing needles (obviously). one mention of blood/vague mentions of eddie stabbing himself with sewing needles. established relationship. no reader pronouns. no use of y/n. use of "babe," "baby," and "sweetheart" as nicknames from both. playful bickering. eddie is a biter and impatient as fuck. swearing. sort of eddie's pov i guess?

wc: 877

Eddie is good with his hands. It’s undeniable. Between chords, riffs, strumming, and picking, his calloused fingers know how to move, and they know it well.

But the one thing he always struggled with was sewing.

To him, sewing was like the devil. A necessary evil in his life, but evil nonetheless.

There’s a reason his vest has always stayed so empty. Well, a few, but the main one is the fact that his fingers can never get the needle to move quite how he wants it to. He’s always stabbing himself so hard it draws blood, somehow. One time the needle went clean through. He was able to crack it for long enough to get his back patch on, and one or two more, but then he decided he’d be able to live with it like that. At least for a while.

But now he has you. You, the beautiful thing laying on the floor of his bedroom. You, the one with a cooler vest than him. He can’t let that slide for much longer, can he? He finds himself trying to sew on a new patch he got up in Indy, but he’s already giving up.

“Babe,” He calls from atop his bed, “can you sew this for me?” He gives you that look. The one where he tilts his chin down and looks up at you with his big, wet eyes and bats his eyelashes when he wants something.

“You can’t finish it yourself?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice that he’s keen to pick up on. 

“It’s–ugh… it’s just not going well.” He sighs, frustration showing. 

You stand up from your place on the floor and snake into the spot next to him on the mattress, getting as close as you can without sitting on top of him. 

“Baby, you have like… five stitches done.” You say, looking up at him with a sarcastically annoyed glare.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, though.” He pouts, playing it up like he always does.

You hesitate for a moment, not sure whether to argue or just accept it.

“Ugh, fine. Give it to me.” You pretend to be annoyed, but in all honesty, you can’t help but adore that he relies on you for things like this. It’s weirdly sweet, just like him. You’re able to quickly get into the groove of stitching the patch on, up and down, out and in. It’s relaxingly repetitive, but Eddie is looming next to you. He’s leaning over, a little too close, mesmerized by the way your hands work.

“Ed, can you get out of my fucking face?” You say playfully. He leans back a little to watch from a distance for a minute before leaning in and sinking his teeth into your shoulder. “Ow, you dick.”

He’s as impatient as ever. You can feel the way he’s practically vibrating beside you as he waits for you to finish with the stitching. 

“Go do something,” You tell him, knowing you’re only halfway done, and he won’t last at this rate. 

“But I wanna watch.” He pouts again.

“Put some music on at least, please?” You ask, putting on a softer tone so you know he’ll get up and do it. 

When he reaches his tape deck, he starts shuffling through his collection, trying to find the one that calls out to him. The previous album you were listening to finished a while ago, and neither of you were bothered enough to get up and change it. Eddie finds the cassette he was looking for, and pops it in with a grin. 

It’s the mixtape he made for you for your third date. A little corny, he knows. But, he’d never really gone out with anyone before he went out with you, and he didn’t want to fuck it up. Especially not when he found the coolest person to ever grace this horrible town. 

Your third date was a night that he’ll never forget. He picked flowers out of the rich neighborhoods’ front gardens, made a glorious mixtape out of all the music you guys talked about loving, and showed up to your house on time. That’s big for him. 

He took you out to a real dinner. It might’ve just been the little Italian place on Main Street, but Eddie made sure to save extra cash for the week leading up so that he had enough to pay for you. 

And now here you are, sitting on his bed, sewing for him. It’s so domestic that he thinks he’s going to explode. The way you’re so comfortable in his space, and you’re so comfortable around him. 

“I’m done, babe.” You softly call to him, holding up his prized possession to show your handiwork. 

His eyes widen when he sees you, the giant smile on your face, so proud of yourself—and an even bigger grin breaks out on his own. He almost tackles you onto the bed, engulfing you in one of the most aggressive, warmest hugs he’s ever given you. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” His voice is muffled in the hug, but he makes his point clear by littering your cheek with kisses. With one big smack of his lips on your skin, he mumbles, “God, I love you.”

reblogs and notes always appreciated! | requests are open!

[watchmegetobsessed]

FASCINATION

A/N: so it was pretty random, but this idea came to me today and yall loves these two, i mean who wouldn't love plus size reader with ceorry?? so here is a little part 2 to infatuation!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

WARNING: very slight sexual content, struggle with body image

SUMMARY: Making your first official appearance as Harry's girlfriend brings some struggles, but you realize that nothing really matters as long as you have his love.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Waking up is usually your least favorite part of the day, your sweet dream is usually interrupted by your evil alarm, signaling that it’s time for you to leave the comfort of your bed and face the big bad world again. So it’s safe to say you’re not a sunshine of a person when you wake up.

But if instead of a blaring alarm it’s soft lips that bring you back to consciousness, peppering sweet kisses along your spine… well, then it’s not that bad.

“Mmm.”

You hum into the pillow, eyes still closed as those lips you know so well keep pressing against your naked back. It’s a little cold, because he has pulled the sheets down your body, but the kisses make up for the discomfort.

“Good morning,” he murmurs against your skin and his husky morning voice sends a shiver down your spine instantly.

“Mm, hope you had a good reason to wake me up on a Saturday.” You try to sound mad, but you can’t hide the smirk that stretches across your face when you feel his hand on your hip, sneaking underneath you until his palm is cupping your breast.

“I have several good reasons why I needed you awake,” he chuckles, maneuvering you until you’re finally on your side, pressed up against his front. He cranes his neck until his lips reach yours, greeting you with his usual morning kiss that usually makes you dizzy. “I needed your pretty lips,” he mumbles against your mouth. “And I needed… your…” His hand has slid down your body, over your tummy and between your legs. Your satisfied moan finishes his sentence.

Seven months. It’s been seven months of bliss with Harry and every moment you spend with him just keeps on giving. After that incredible night you spent together, the one that was filled with emotions and passion after you had to face Vincent, you didn’t think it would be something that would last. You weren’t sure if it was just physical, but when you finally managed to leave bed in the morning and sat down to eat breakfast, Harry made it perfectly clear that he was all in.

“Do I want to have you naked in my bed every possible? Yes, of course. Do I also want to listen to you talk about your day, take you out on dates and know you more than anyone ever did? Absolutely yes.”

He left you speechless and all you could do was kiss him until your lips went numb.

So you’ve been his girlfriend since then.

Now as you’re tangled in his sheets, you’re chanting his name while he fucks you from behind, making sure your day starts perfectly. He knows your body so well he can get you to come faster than anyone has ever. You’re fully satisfied way before the clock hits nine in the morning.

You shower together and then make breakfast, well, Harry makes breakfast because you’ve learned that he is practically a master chef, so you usually just stare at him dreamily while he makes eggs and toast, his mouthwatering cinnamon rolls baking in the oven.

“I have to leave in like… twenty,” he sighs as the two of you sit at the kitchen island, your plates are now empty and he is sipping on his coffee. “I’ll be here at six to pick you up, but Lambert will arrive soon.”

“You’ll be gone the whole day?”

“I know, I have some business to take care of,” he sighs as he leans closer and kisses your pouty lips.

“It’s Saturday!”

“I’ll make it up to you. We’ll have a blast tonight, okay? I can’t wait to see you in your pretty dress,” he grins, kissing you one last time before he slides off his stool and finishes the rest of his coffee before heading back to the bedroom to get ready.

As you clean up in the kitchen you try your best to push the bitter feeling to the back of your mind, but it lingers over you inevitably.

Tonight you’ll appear together at a charity event for the first time together. Well, officially. You’ve been out and about plenty of times, even got photographed which blew your mind, because in your head only celebrities got papped and you never saw Harry as one, but it turns out that big, influential people get followed around as well. But you’re yet to make your official debut as a couple.

You haven’t told Harry, but it’s been scaring you to death. Appearing by Harry’s side at an event means that your relationship would be out there in the public, allowing everyone to talk about it. And that would bring comments into your life you would rather not face.

Though Harry has been treating you like a queen, quite obviously obsessed with you inside and out, that doesn’t mean others’ opinion can’t bring you down. Part of you still thinks Harry is ridiculously out of your league and apparently people agree with you as well.

There’ve been a few articles about the handful of times you were photographed together and though what they wrote in those were nice, the comment sections did not pass the vibe check.

“Wait, what? That’s his girlfriend? Wow…”

“What is he seeing in her?!”

“That man could have anyone and decided to date her. Let that sink in.”

“Harry, blink twice is she is holding you hostage! Lol.”

You tried hard not let it show how much those comments hurt you, but Harry could see through your façade.

“Babe, they would find something to talk about no matter what. I think you look stunning just the way you are. Don’t listen to jealous, faceless commenters.”

Then he loved on you all night long, made you forget about the comments in the best possible way.

But it doesn’t mean you grew a thick skin overnight and you know you’ll have to face the wrath of the haters after tonight.

When Harry steps out of his bedroom he is dressed and he looks so good you just want to drag him back to bed and take your time with him.

“See you later, okay?” he smiles softly as he leans down to place a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Okay. Have a good day.”

“Thank you, I love you.”

“Love you too,” you sigh against your lips and then watch him approach the front door. When he opens it, a familiar figure is standing there.

“Babe, I think you have a guest!” Harry calls out with a smile, shaking hands with the man that just stepped inside. “She is the boss today,” you hear Harry say as he pats Lambert’s shoulder, switching places and he is on his way.

“Good morning, Princess,” Lambert grins at you, greeting you with two kisses on your cheeks.

“Morning, Harry,” you chuckle.

“Your man said you’re the boss today. But I have plans for us, so let’s get you dressed, we have a lot to do!”

Lambert did not joke, he did have plans for you, lots of plans, to be exact. You start off at a spa where you get the full treatment, a massage, a facemask, you get your nails done and then you are off to get your hair done. He doesn’t let you pay for anything, but when you see your boyfriend’s credit card in his hand you know it was all Harry’s doing. He probably knew you were nervous about tonight and wanted to pamper you.

When you’re glowing you have lunch break at your favorite sushi place and then it’s time to figure out what to wear, your least favorite part of any event.

“I have plenty of options for you, babe,” Lambert tells you when you’re back at Harry’s place and you see that a rack full of clothes has been delivered while you were away. “Now, let’s turn this place into a runway, let me see you try these on!”

Dress after dress, Lambert makes you walk back and forth, the two of you rating them all. Some of them are surely your taste, but some are definitely too daring for you. He is trying to get you out of your comfort zone and you’re fighting to stay in it, knowing how nerve wrecking tonight will be, you don’t need to add to the discomfort with the dress as well.

“Okay, this is the last one I have. If you say no to this, you’re going naked,” Lambert sighs dramatically, as he hands you the last dress off the rack.

When you put on you already know this will be the one even though you haven’t even looked in a mirror yet.

“Oh my God!” Lambert gasps when you walk out with a shy smile. “That’s it, you’re wearing this tonight!”

“I agree,” you chuckle, checking yourself out in the mirror.

The black dress hugs your curves at all the right places. The V-neckline is quite daring, but it’s still tasteful. The waist is synched, the skirt is just the right length, reaching down to the floor and the slit comes up high, flashing your left leg when you walk.

You feel powerful and beautiful, just what you need for tonight.

You’ve just gotten ready when your phone rings and Harry’s name is flashing on the screen.

“Hey,” you coo as you answer the call.

“Hey babe, I have kind of bad news,” you hear him sigh. “I’m running kind of late, so I can’t make it back home, I have to meet you there.”

“Oh,” is all you answer, anxiety weighing down in your stomach instantly.

“I’m really sorry, baby. But I’ve already sent a car for you and we’ll meet at the venue. And when we get home I promise to make it up.”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s got that cheeky smile on his face that you love so much.

“Okay.”

“You’re all dolled up already?” he asks.

“Yeah. I can’t wait for you to see my dress,” you smile, biting into your bottom lip.

“I can’t wait either. And you know what else I’m excited about?”

“What?”

“Taking that dress off you.”

“You haven’t even seen it!” you chuckle, warmth spreading through your body.

“I’m sure you look fantastic, but nothing compares to seeing you naked.”

“You’re like a horny teenager, just always wants to get into my pants!” you tease him.

“I can’t help it when I have the most beautiful woman all to myself. Alright, I gotta go, I’ll see you there, okay?”

“Okay. Drive safe, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The call ends and you’re standing in front of the mirror, watching yourself take a few breaths before you force yourself to put on your heels and head out. You were counting on having Harry with you when you walk in there, but now you’ll have to endure those curious stares on your own. You can only hope Harry won’t take long to get there. You really need him by your side.

Arriving to the venue you feel like you’re showing up uninvited to some major event, there are limos lining in front of and behind you, you see women in gowns, men in tuxedo and you feel oddly out of space, wishing you had Harry holding your hand, telling you it’s gonna be alright. He texted you not long ago that he is on his way, so you estimate him to arrive just a bit after you, so hopefully you don’t have to wander around on your own.

Walking up the stairs the kind man at the entrance asks for your name and for a moment you start sweating, because you fear you’re not even on the list, but then you see him tick your name and then gestures for you to walk in.

You’ve never been to an event like this, it’s luxurious and stunning, definitely an unusual sight for you. A waiter walks by and offers you a flute of champagne that you gladly take as you make your way further inside, trying to figure out what to do until Harry arrives. You spot the buffet table and you take a turn towards it, you haven’t had anything since your lunch with Lambert, so you definitely need something to fuel you for the night.

You’ve just reached the table when you feel like you’re being watched. Before you could get anything from the food you stop for a moment and look around, spotting a group of women definitely watching you, whispering among them, most likely about you. They don’t think you can hear them, but you actually catch some of their comments.

“Is she on her own? Did he dump her but she still came?”

“That’s a very bold dress for someone the size of her.”

“I know, right?”

They start laughing and suddenly you’ve lost your appetite. Takin a deep breath you turn around and walk away before you could hear anything else that could hurt you, you’ve heard enough.

Through teary eyes you search for the restrooms and when you finally spot it you rush inside, away from the curious stares. Suddenly, you feel like a teenager again, being made fun of for being bigger than the cool girls. All your life you’ve struggled because you didn’t fit into what was labelled pretty. Because of your size you never felt enough, never saw yourself worthy of love and here you are, still fighting your tears as an adult.

It takes you some time to calm down and be able to breathe regularly again. You take a moment to think and get your thoughts straight. You stand in front of the mirror and take yourself in.

When you left from Harry’s place you felt beautiful, why are you letting people you don’t even know change your mind about it? Why would you be less or different just because you’re a bigger size? Why would you let strangers decide your worth?

The longer you’re looking at yourself in the mirror the more confident you’re feeling. You’re a great person. You’re kind and funny and smart, you built up your business, you have people around you that love you for who you are, they are the people whose opinion you should care about.

By the time you step out of the restroom you’re facing the evening with a whole different attitude. Holding your head high you enter the scene again and you look around, checking if you see Harry anywhere and you spot him before he sees you.

He is wearing a black suit with a black, silky shirt underneath, the first few buttons undone, showing you a bit of his chest and it’s definitely a turn on. He is craning his neck, most likely looking for you, phone in hand and he is just about to text you when he finally spots you.

The look on his face… you’ll never forget it as long as you live.

It’s like the rest of the room stops existing when his eyes land on you. The smile that spreads across his face is full of love and adoration, you see everything you’ve ever wished for in him and realization washes over you.

It doesn’t matter what others think as long as you have him looking at you like you’re his whole universe.

You make your way over to him and he starts moving at the same time, you only see him in your tunnel vision and you have to stop yourself from running towards him. Every step you take that brings you closer to him strengthens the feeling that takes over you.

Why would you ever care about others when you have Harry?

Slaloming between the guests you finally reach him and he takes your face between his hands kissing you with all his love and desire for you.

“Hi,” you smile against his lips, holding onto his wrists as if he could disappear any moment.

“Hello gorgeous. Let me take a better look at you,” he grins, letting go of your face just to take one of your hands so he could twirl you around. “Oh my God,” he taps his chest with his free hand.

“What do you think?” you giggle, pushing yourself up against his chest, his arm curling around your waist out of instinct.

“I think that… It’s a shame we have to stay here any longer, because I would love to just take you home and have you all to myself.”

Everything that bothered you up until a minute ago is gone, it’s just Harry and his love for you that matters to you. You have everything you need as long as he loves you.

“Let’s make our rounds and wrap the evening up early,” you suggest, biting into your bottom lip.

“Great plan,” he nods, stealing another quick kiss before the two of you move along.

You don’t stay long, not even two hours later you’re on your way back to Harry’s place, taking a stop at your apartment to get you some clothes. Harry walks you up and waits in your living room while you gather what you need and when you reappear with a duffel bag you find him curiously eyeing your place.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Just thinking,” he hums. “Do you… Never mind.”

“What? Tell me!” you urge him as you put the bag down so you can curl your arms around his neck, his hands finding their way to your hips.

“I was just thinking about how you barely spend any time here anymore.”

“Well, I do stay over at yours a lot,” you chuckle, oblivious to what he is about to ask.

“Rationally, it’s not worth it for you to keep this place anymore. So I was thinking that… maybe you could… move in with me.”

You never thought you’d see Harry nervous, especially not about your reaction, but as he’s looking at you right now you can tell he’s afraid what you might say. Cupping his face in your hands you pull him in for a sweet kiss before you give him your answer.

“I would love to move in with you, Harry.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle.

“I was afraid you might find it too fast,” he breathes out in relief. “That my fascination might be a little too much for you just yet.”

“I assure you, the feeling is mutual.”

He kisses you, slow and sweet, taking his time to remind you just how much he loves you.

“Thank you for accepting me as I am,” you whisper against his lips before you rest your forehead against his.

“You’re perfect, Y/N. You will always be. For me.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[bumblebugwrites]

chapter 6: bite the hand

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: Over the next four years, you speak only five times with Treech, each conversation proving more confusing than the last.

Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Mention of Injuries, Character Death, Weapons, Violence.

Word Count: 6.6k

Taglist: @nekee-lilac02, @mr-panda357, @yourfavmiki, @blackoutdays13, @dialuvsbangtan, @emgunther

A/N: Well, this is admittedly late, sorry y'all. Also on that note, the update schedule is about to be completely fucked for this fic. As it turns out school is lowkey catching up to me so unfortunately I think I may need to move to posting every two weeks. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter, which according to my original outline puts us at about halfway through No Evil Angel But Love!

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I just think that it was a mistake. It should never have happened, and– And it won’t happen again.” And just like that, your heart was shattered, scattered across the floor in a million pieces. Well, maybe not just like that. In fact, for a moment, you’d thought the whole thing was a joke of some sort. But then his eyes had caught yours, cold in a way you’d never seen them before, and you had to stop yourself from staggering back, from hitting the wall, because this Treech, the one standing before you, he looked just like the man who’d put an axe through your heart in a dream you’d tried so hard to forget.

“I don’t understand. Does this have something to do with the fact that you disappeared this morning?” Sure, you had been out of it when he’d left, but it didn’t take long for the panic to set in, waking once more to a cold bed, mind reaching out to a memory formed only an hour ago. A mystery phone call to your room. Treech disappearing out the door.

“No, I– No. Just listen to me. This is it, it’s over.” Not the phone call. Him. He wanted this, and next to that, the phone call felt like something to be forgotten in its entirety.  But why?

“You came here last night. You showed up at my hotel room, saying you couldn’t take it anymore, and now, what? You’ve changed your mind?” Anger was quick to follow confusion in those fleeting moments, and as you surged forward, hands tangling desperately in his shirt, you weren’t sure if the intent was to pull him in or push him away.

“You’re just not–” And his hands were on yours, brushing a sweet, delicate pattern across your knuckles, bringing you that soft, quiet feeling he always had. And for a moment, you could feel him leaning in. To hold you? To kiss you? You weren’t sure. “I don’t want you.” 

It is like a punch in the gut.

“I was enough last night.” Tears cloud your vision as you hold steady willing him to look at you, to pull his gaze from the ground, to wrap his hands around yours once more. They are limp now, hanging uselessly at his sides.

“Maybe you weren’t. Maybe you never were.” You want to scream. To cry. To lash out and disappear and explode with the unmistakable rage inside you. You cannot. You can barely speak.

“Treech, I–”

“We’re done. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me.” And with that, he pushes you away, spinning to exit out the door just behind you. Leaving you to crumple to the ground. Alone. Unwanted. 

Over the next four years, you had five more conversations with Treech alone, each leaving you more confused than the last.

The first time you spoke was just over two years after he told you that night had been a mistake. That you had made a mistake.

It was harder to stay away in the beginning. Hardest at night when you could hear his screams, telltale signs of the nightmares you knew he fell prey to. The nightmares that formed mirror images of your own. Several nights, you found yourself frozen outside his door, compelled for some unearthly reason to stand guard, to make heavy, unyielding eye-contact with the painted number 7 as though waiting long enough might make it open without any necessary action. You knew then what you really wanted. To go inside. To assure him it would be okay. To offer him the same place in your room you always had. But then, he didn’t want that. He’d made that clear enough. And so after minutes, or sometimes, hours of waiting, you would escape back to your own room before your presence could be noted. Afraid of the harsh words, he might have stored up this time, lashings for your petty emotions.

It was one of those nights, the first time you spoke, although the nightmare was yours, not his. It had left you in a cold sweat as you jerked yourself from the duvet, still sobbing, and you found yourself wondering when the room had become so unbearably large. A glass of water, you’d thought. A coffee, maybe; chances are you’re done with sleep tonight anyway. You’d wondered how Treech was. You always did when your own nightmares exceeded their typical limits, and the thought had infiltrated your mind until the minute you’d pulled the door open, revealing his seated form just outside your door. Alert. Awake, as though certain his presence alone might ward off any oncoming evil. 

He appeared nearly as shocked as you at the reveal, quickly launching himself to his feet and plastering a grimace across his features, darkened by the little light in the hall. And just as you’d opened your mouth to speak, to question his attendance at the foot of your door, he’d bit with words of his own.

“Could you try not to be so loud? Some people here are sleeping.” You did not populate the hall outside his door so much after that. You did not populate his presence at all.

The second time was out of necessity. It was that same year of the 13th Games, and you had found yourself down a tribute, the girl, Rhea, having lost her life in what was beginning to be known as the bloodbath. Skinner was older, the boy. Eighteen and a walking tragedy, so close to escaping. That was the year before they stopped locking you all in the Academy. Before Lux convinced them that sponsor relations could only bear to improve if mentors were allowed the ability to mingle with the people of the Capitol, within reason, of course. Before the Games grew longer, sometimes lasting over a week. 

The night was young, but you were on your third cup of coffee, unable to tear your eyes from the screen. From Skinner’s restless movements as he sat back to a tree, with eyes that scanned his surroundings in wide, impatient arcs. He was alone, and no allies meant no sleep, so he clung to the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, begging it to carry him to safety. 

On your right, Teff fidgeted with his screen, clearly agitated by an increased sense of anxiety at the prospect of both of his tributes escaping the mess of fighting that began the Games. It was harder that way; you had come to learn. Longer survival meant hope. Hope that will infiltrate your thoughts. Your emotions. Higher risk of attachment. And with two tributes, a higher risk that the death of one would only serve to destroy the other. Or worse, a higher risk that they would be forced to take each other on. You’d seen it happen. In the 11th Games, both remaining tributes came from 2, and while Octavian remained firm and unmoving in his seat, Antonia could barely force herself to watch.

Still, you had liked Skinner, cursed with the gangly limbs of a teenager on the verge of adulthood, with a crooked smile and a biting sense of humor reserved only for Rhea in their short days together, so you pushed on. And if the lingering claws of hope had curled their way around your heart, so be it. Maybe this would be the year you could save one. Maybe this would be the year you saw a kid survive.

To your left, there was Treech. Always Treech, who endlessly invaded your thoughts in those weeks you were forced to travel back to the Capitol. In the years since your first visit, the trips had only increased, with Snow managing to find a reason to gather you all in the ‘Gem of Panem’ at least four times a year. Press, he called it, and Hilarius often assured you that networking of the sort was necessary, but it was hard to believe even from his mouth, and you often felt yourself feeling more inclined to believe Teff’s theories. They just want to remind us who’s in control.

Treech was down a tribute, too; though both had escaped the initial violence, the career pack had managed to track the pair, quickly ending the boy’s life and leaving only his girl to escape. Arbor. It had been some time since you had noted her presence on your screen, but you didn’t dare to even attempt casting a look in Treech’s direction, fearing a rash display of the temper you had come to know as reserved for you and you alone.

And you wouldn’t have had to, really, if it weren’t for what happened next, the crushing of underbrush underfoot, the cacophony of voices infused with a false confidence. Skinner’s head shot up in an instant, fear plain on his features. He stood slowly, pushing himself up from the ground with the bark of the tree cutting into his palm for support. The career pack was coming, and he was as good as dead.

Several low branches stuck out to you, and silently, you begged him to climb in spite of a display earlier that day which assured you he did so with the elegance of a toddler. Still, it was all that was left, and you were clinging to hope. Stupid, useless hope. He turned to size up his route upwards, and the voices grew nearer. It was now or never. The pace was the first problem you noticed as Skinner inched up the tree with the speed of a snail. You realized in passing he’d probably never climbed a tree before. Sure, they weren’t a rarity in 10. There were plenty out on the ranch, and as a child, you often sought solace among their branches when your father had allowed you to tag along with him to work. But for a kid like Skinner, confined to 10’s more industrial parts, spending days cooped up in the slaughterhouse, climbing a tree wasn’t exactly within the realm of knowledge he should possess. 

“Fuck. Come on.”

The second thing you noted was the noise. Certainly, there aren’t many silent ways to climb a tree, with the continual brushing of leaves against the fabric of your clothes, but the footfalls were doing little to help in the way of masking his presence, and though he’d made a bit of progress, you almost wished Skinner would stop moving completely. 

The third and most glaring problem, however, was that you’d finally managed to find Arbor, crouched and observant several branches above Skinner. No weapon. That was good. What wasn’t good was that it would be well within her rights to give him up. And beneficial, too. You suck in a large breath. 

The pack has reached the foot of the tree, though doesn’t seem to note the two tributes hidden within its branches. Still, they idle for a moment, and your whole body tenses with anticipation. Skinner’s foot slips. And you know you shouldn’t, but you shield your eyes, waiting for the impact, incapable of watching him fall into death’s open hands. It doesn’t come. Instead, as you remove several of the fingers obscuring your vision, you find Arbor, hand clinging to the back of his shirt, and her face screwed up into a scowl from the effort of keeping him upright. Skinner’s clumsy hands manage to catch a branch, and he pulls himself up, mouth already opening in a question, but she is faster, pressing a hand to his lips and shaking her head with a vehement look that encourages only silence.

And so he says nothing, and for a while, that’s how they remain, waiting for the pack to move on, her hand over his mouth, simply taking each other in. It’s only once the coast is clear that he dares to speak.

“Why did you save me?”

“Well, I didn’t need you making a bunch of noise and giving me away,” she says, releasing any hold she has on him, and for a moment, her face only serves to support the harsh words, cold in its regard, but the instant his eyes shift towards the ground, it softens, revealing the true intention, simple and unbridled care. She reminds you of Treech.

“Are you gonna kill me now?” Skinner sounds almost defeated, and he does not even bother to meet her gaze as he asks. Her expression, safe from his sight, twists into one of concern before she masks it once more.

“I couldn’t if I wanted to. I don’t have any weapons, and the chances of me strangling you are low at best.”

“I don’t have any weapons either,” Skinner admits before appearing embarrassed by the confession. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not a threat, so– please don’t try to kill me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you could kick my ass,” Arbor returns, her tone flat and a small smirk gracing her features. Skinner flushes at the expression before admitting defeat with laughter of his own when she lets out a chuckle.

“So where’s your partner?” He asks.

“Dead.” The response is factual, but the traces of pain on her face remain obvious. “Yours?”

“Dead.” It is quiet for a moment, and though neither of them speaks, you note Arbor eyeing Skinner's rope.

“Maybe we could make a deal?” She asks.

“Like what?” He is slow to respond but less guarded than before.

“Like allies?” And she extends a hand in a truce, only continuing after noting Skinner’s hesitation. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted, and if I’m gonna sleep in this tree, I’d prefer to do it tied down and with someone to watch my back. We could take shifts. Even if it's just for tonight?”

“Okay.”

It is not then that you speak with Treech. Nor is it over the following days, watching the pair grow closer. Watching them reach the final five with the boy from 11 and the girls from 1 and 2. No. The days register simple interactions. Nods indicating bread and water will be sent, and curt conversations regarding strengths and weaknesses. It is only on the sixth night that you share more than a handful of words, and even then, it isn’t much. And yet, it is more. Heavier than any of the terse exchanges you’d held since you stopped speaking altogether.

Because, on the sixth night, Arbor and Skinner share a kiss. He had fallen earlier in the day. No simple fall either. His leg would only carry him so far, but Arbor remained loyal, and the two traveled as a unit. Under the moonlight and the cover of darkness, she had stopped them to take a look at the injury, steady hands unraveling the makeshift bandage she had torn from her own shirt. Skinner only cringed in pain, regardless of her soft-spoken attempts to comfort him as she poured water from a nearby stream on the wound.

“It’s no use. I’m dead weight. You should go. Get out of here before I accidentally screw you over.” The defeat is evident in his tone, but so is something else, something more. A need for her to make it out. To survive.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Her jaw is tense as she focuses on the work before her, but you sense it is not out of a need to concentrate.

“Arbor, I’m not gonna let you die for me–” He is exhausted, eyes heavy with sleep and glistening with pain. Sweat collects at his brow, and he raises a lazy hand to wipe it away, but she gets there first, swiping her thumb across his forehead before speaking again.

“Well, I’m not gonna let you die, period. So, just drop it.”

“Arbor.” His hand moves to still her own, as though begging her to meet his gaze.

“Skinner?” She asks, annoyed by the disruption but looking up nonetheless.

“What happens if it’s just us?” And you could hear a pin drop in the Academy lecture hall; not even Lucky Flickerman bothers to present his input.

“Well, we aren’t– That’s not… I’m gonna get you out of here,” she states with finality. Beside you, Treech stiffens, the scene beginning to appear all too familiar. Two kids from 7 and 10, with nothing and everything on the line at the same time.

“I wouldn’t let you do that. I wouldn’t be able to let you do that.”

“Why? Why are you being so selfish? Just let me save you–” And she pounds at his chest, but there is no feeling in her attacks. It takes Skinner no effort at all to stop her fists, collecting her hands within his own.

“I don’t want to live if it means you have to die. Because I– Well, I know I haven’t known you that long, but I– Well, I–” And suddenly she is kissing him, telling him wordlessly she feels the same. And suddenly, the world is crashing down, fear pooling in your stomach at the consequences you are sure will come, and you can’t help it, looking at Treech, who is already looking at you. Your mouth is dry.

“I don’t– I–” Your chest is constricting, and the room feels hot, hotter than ever before, and your mind is spinning at a million miles an hour. You cross to the entrance in mere moments, not even noting Treech directly behind you until you have shoved your way out, back slamming into the wall just outside as you crumble to the ground.

“I– I–”

“You’ve got to breathe. You– We have to get back in there. It isn’t something until we make it something.” His tone is cold, but he’s crouched before you, and when his hands reach to pull you off the floor, you swear his thumb runs carefully over your arm once. Twice.

“But it is. You know it is. And if those kids die at the Capitol’s hand, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wondering if it's my fault. If it’s our fault.” And it's true. It may not have been love for him, but for you, the echoes are everywhere. And though you’re sure the Capitol never saw what happened that night, Dr. Gaul knew enough for the connection to be dangerous.

“You don’t know if that’s what they’ll see–”

“Is it what you saw? Because it’s the first thing I thought about. And I know you hate me now, but you can’t be stupid enough to think that Coriolanus Snow could miss it.” His face only grows more tense before it passes to stone once more.

“What other choice do we have?” He’s right. Of course, he is right. So you reenter and take your places, fix yourselves with masks of unbothered poise, and for nothing. They are dead by morning, carcasses wrapped around one another in a pile of bones and flesh once the Gamemakers’s mutts have finished. And as the camera pans away, you swear you feel a lingering gaze on you, but you do not look, only fake a cough as you brush the tears from your cheeks and fix your steady gaze ahead.

That was the year Teff’s boy won, Reed, and once more, before you are allowed to return home, you are forced to attend a party at the President’s mansion, this time with the inclusion of a Victor’s dance. 

“Teff, come on, I am begging you–” You begin, but the older boy is already shaking his head.

“I can’t, alright. Octavian already asked me if I’d dance with Teresa, and I gave my word that I would. He registered us a week ago,” he sighs, and you want to scream; how could you have been stupid enough to forget about this?

“What about Reed?” At this point, anyone will do. Anyone who isn’t Treech.

“He’s not doing the dance; his leg is broken, remember?” And you do; the boy had fallen off the top of the cornucopia while securing his win, landing on top of the girl from 1, whose neck broke on impact.

“Well, do you think Mags will switch with me?” You are grasping at straws, aware the answer will be no the moment the suggestion passes your lips.

“You know the deal, the only reason we are allowed to have partners from other Districts is because–” But you interrupt him, already knowledgable of your oncoming defeat.

“We don’t have any from our own. I know. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“It’s one dance, it can’t be that bad.” He reassures, but you know better.

“We haven’t spoken in years.”

“You spoke the other day–” Teff corrects.

“That was different; I was basically having a meltdown.” You recall that moment in the hall. His thumb on your arm. Part of you is convinced it never happened at all.

“I don’t know what to tell you; take it or leave it; this is your only option.” He shrugs, and the conversation is over; you both know it, but not before you vocalize your frustration one last time.

“Fuck.”

That is it, the third time you talk to Treech, at the President’s mansion, surrounded by Capitol citizens. Before you take the floor, you recall your last dance in this place with a certain Heavensbee. Your mind drifts to the events of that night. To what happened after you departed. You shake the thoughts away. Now is no time to linger on what used to be. 

When it is time to go, Treech appears at your side, extending his arm to lead you onto the floor, and you note that he seems to flinch away from your touch, which barely grazes the crook he creates for you. You are already seething. Was it really so painful for him to even touch you? Were you really that deplorable? It is a simple waltz, one your escorts were able to instruct you on with ease, and though the first few steps are taken in silence, as the music continues, you hear the other victors around you begin to chatter. You and Treech remain quiet, your eyes fixed on the floor below, watching the pattern of your steps. Thinking about anything except his hand on your waist and the other delicately gripping yours.

“You’re not supposed to look at your feet,” he mutters, and that gets your attention enough to force your gaze away from its previous target.

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t supposed to look at your feet. It makes it easier to screw up the steps.” You don’t answer, only fixing your sightline over his shoulder instead, fully expecting the silence to engulf you once more.

“I hate dancing.” He sighs bitterly, and you almost have to resist a smile because it makes sense that the stoic boy before you would loathe the exercise in trust and coordination, ripe with opportunities for embarrassment. For creating holes in his well-kept facade.

“I don’t.” And you aren’t really sure what prompts you to speak, but maybe it is his clear discomfort with the practice, evident in the way his shoulders bunch awkwardly with each turn and his eyes, in spite of his own advice, continue to flit down towards the floor.

“There’s lots of dancing back in 10. Line dances, mostly from a long time ago. But there’s other stuff, too. Once a month, there's a big dance at City Hall. There’s this big open barn connected to the back, and they decorate it, and everyone goes. My dad taught me how, so it reminds me of him.” You can’t help but smile at the memory of your father, pulling the hat from his head and dropping it onto your own before spinning you around the kitchen in preparation for your very first dance. When the day finally came, you’d already forgotten all the steps, but he didn’t mind setting your feet atop his own, the two sets of boots moving in a stilted pattern around the barn, all shrieking laughter and love.

You feel Treech’s shoulder relax beneath your touch, his gaze now fixed on you and nothing else. The movements become more fluid, and by the end of the dance, it feels like flying. That is until something else seems to catch his attention just outside of your sightline. And suddenly, his grip on your waist tightens, ushering you closer, but his eyes grow cold. For a moment, you could have sworn he was shielding you from something until he wasn’t. Until the music came to an end, and he was pushing away, but not before leaving you with a cutting remark.

“Thanks for the story; I’ll remember that the next time I’m pretending to give a shit about you.” You almost gape at him, unsure how to respond, but as rage, hot and untethered, licks its way up your spine, you give into the cruelest thing you can think to muster.

“I hate you.” And he flinched as though the words had hurt him. As though he hadn’t spent every moment of the last three years trying to probe that very reaction from your lips. And you knew he must not have meant it. That it was nothing more than the residual regret leaving his body, but a part of you relished it. Relished causing him pain after the torture he had put you through.

“Good.”

Victory Tours weren’t uncommon by then, so when it was announced the tribute from 11 and his mentor would be making their way to 10, people were well prepared. Lennox in particular seemed to be veritably jumping with joy, unable to sit still after having received the knowledge that you would be hosting the visitors in your new home in the Victor’s Village. Even Fawn who at the now ripe age of fourteen was determined to allow nothing to faze her seemed excited at the prospect of the celebration that typically occurred in tandem with the arrival of a victor. 

You on the other hand were simply happy to see Teff, pulling the taller man into a warm hug the moment he set foot off the train. He seemed not to mind, laughing as he pulled you tighter against him and after a long day of festivities including a night of dancing and the best food 10 could offer, you found yourselves sat around your kitchen table, enjoying one another’s company and a couple of drinks.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened at the mansion? That night, at the party? Quite a scene you two caused,” Teff asked, finally digging into what you knew he’d been itching to talk to you about. You allowed your head to slump forward, burying your face within the comfort of your arms with a groan.

“What am I supposed to say? I was being very civil. He’s the one that ruined it.” Teff only nodded in understanding, having come to know the events that made up your rocky relationship with Treech through snippets divulged over the years.

“You know I’m just worried about you is all. Just wish you would fly under the radar like the rest of us–”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Tell me about you. About home. How’s Harvest?” Teff was quick to relent, never displeased when talking about his favorite subject, his wife of two years. 

“She’s good. She’s– Well actually I’ve been meaning to tell you this– She’s pregnant.” And though the news reeks of joy, there is an uneasy smile on his face. Still, you are quick to rid him of it.

“That’s incredible! I’m so happy for you.” And you are, beaming from ear to ear, but a part of you aches, just as you know it does for him, for that unborn child. For the world they will surely face.

The fourth time you spoke, it was your fault. At least, that’s what Treech told himself. It was the year of the 14th Hunger Games, and in preparation, the Capitol was running a television program highlighting each of the Districts. It was for that reason Treech told himself it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the small screen in the corner of the hotel bar filled with Lamina’s face, especially given that she was his District partner and, as he was the only existing victor from 7, an obvious choice for closer study. Still, it didn’t stop the shock from cutting to his core like a knife. 

You had taken the seat beside his, though clearly not intentionally. It was the only place left in the whole bar, and upon your arrival, he had watched you hesitate to even stay, but with the Games set to start in two days, you needed a drink, exhausted by the prospect of another year.

It was as though you could sense his discomfort, gaze clearly flitting in his direction and dragging across his tense form. The television program blared out, filling any gaps in conversation left by the bar’s occupants, and you observed it keenly following Treech’s reaction.

“She seemed kind.” And there you were, attempting to comfort him after all he’d done to push you away.

“She cried a lot.” It is easier than telling the truth. Than admitting he had known Lamina long before the Games. That she was family, a cousin on his mother’s side.

He often saw Lamina in you. In your quiet moments of soft kindness and generosity. Even in moments of fear, watching you steel yourself and move forward in spite of the difficulties. Sometimes, he would imagine a world with no Districts or Games. A world where a gentler version of you who had not been left hardened by survival had met Lamina, and the two of you had become fast friends, spending your days whispering confessions among the branches of the tallest trees or stretched out in a field, you with a pencil and paper and Lamina fashioning a crown of flowers.

“You remind me of her.”

“Because I’m weak?” Your brow furrowed as you gazed down into the drink before you, preparing yourself for the harsh words you had come to expect of Treech.

“Because you’re brave.” He couldn’t help it really, the way it sprang forward from his lips, toppling out before he could fight to keep it in. He suspected somewhere in the wide universe, the spirit of Lamina was laughing at him. That she was somehow responsible for the admission. He hated her for it. Hated himself. Your own face revealed little more than an obvious state of shock, blank blinking eyes staring back at him when he finally summoned the courage to fix your gaze with his own. Your mouth moved, jaw seeming to hinge and unhinge, but nothing came out. Nothing until the soft syllables of his name slipped from your lips in a stilted sort of way, like a sharp breath. 

Treech was on his feet before you’d finished, the remainder of his drink easily downed in his haste to depart, but as he turned one last time to eye the television in the corner, he could have sworn your eyes were brimming with tears.

The final time you spoke to Treech, it felt as though he had something more to say. Like the words he wished to express had caught on his tongue like glue, unable to escape. It was the final day of the 14th Games, five years exactly since your own. On days like that, you forced yourself to remember the things that often felt too painful. The names that sunk like stones in your chest, fading each year into more distant memories. Rye, with his eyes like two wide saucers. Orion, who was so close to victory that he had nearly succeeded in having it. Baron, the boy from back home who’d lost his life within minutes, figure slumped and unmoving in the center of the arena for the remainder of the Games. And, of course, there were others. Brandy and Tanner. Bee and Colt. Rhea and Skinner. Kids from home. Kids just like you. Except here you were, not dead, while they lay, presumably rotting in some mass grave deep within the Capitol’s walls. The thought made you sick.

That year, your fourth as a mentor, your tributes hadn’t even managed to outlast the bloodbath. The second Rochelle’s body hit the ground, you knew it was over, but it didn’t keep you from hoping. Hoping against reason, she would find a way to fight it. To get back up. She hadn’t. And that year, as the buzzer rang out and the bile rose in your throat as it always did, you noted that the pain was less. Less intense. Less crippling. And then the disgust was back again, drowning you, with its aim pointed inwards, armed and ready to feast on your heart. How could you be so cruel? How could you allow yourself to become so hardened and unfeeling? 

Because it is easier. Because there has to be a better way. Because you will never survive this if you cannot learn to leave some things behind. Still, you’d never left a single thing behind your whole life, clinging to every passing thought, person, or feeling like it might be the last. So when Rochelle was gone, signaling your Games had finished, you pulled the small notebook from the inner pocket of your vest and scribbled her name just below Gavin’s with its own set of notes. 

Rochelle. Two sisters, no parents. Lived with her father’s brother and worked nightshifts at the slaughterhouse. 15. Kind. Enjoyed the color green. Was learning to knit with some of the excess wool from her uncle’s work at a nearby farm, sheering the sheep.

Your fingers traced over the list, gently passing each name with the pad of your thumb. So many names. It was easier now to write them down. It was easier now to emote, to feel openly without the watchful eye of the Capitol analyzing your every move just behind Lucky Flickerman. Well, at least without it trained directly on your soul.

A bit further down the bar, Lux sat by herself as well; Beau tucked into the seat beside Trawl, the two having become closer over the years. Maybe even too close, you thought regretfully, mind flitting to a time you had caught the former making a quiet escape from Trawl’s room in the dead of night. Still, you’d bit your tongue, refusing to lecture someone you were aware already knew of the potential consequences. Besides, words often fall on deaf ears when spoken from a position as precarious as yours.

There were three kids left then, each with no alliance in place to keep them safe. A boy from 2, a girl from 5, and Maple, Treech’s girl from 7. She was ruthless, doing little in the way of preserving any image of humanity with her kills, but you understood that there was more than what appeared to pool on the surface. That those who seemed the most heartless were often the most human of all, filled with an unparalleled desperation to return. For a loved one. For themselves, hoping to go back to some semblance of a childhood they would never see again. Your heart swelled for her. For all of them. Still, you’d been doing your best to avoid her mentor since your last encounter. Afraid that he might snap once more, leaving you frustrated and hollow. Or worse, that he might plant some ridiculous seeds of hope as he had with your fourth conversation, calling you brave before disappearing completely. He was infuriating. Aggravating. Annoying, vexing, and completely incensing. 

He was also sitting directly across the bar, arm draped over the seat of the woman beside him with the same lazy arrogance you had come to register as a part of his Capitol persona, a smirk painted light and unshakable across his face. It was as though you could not even recognize the man before you. Still, he looked good. That much, you could easily admit, curls on the lengthier side now compared to the more cropped cut you’d last seen him with. You wondered if they still felt the same, if running your hands through them would still have the intoxicating effect it had years ago. You want to punch yourself in the face for the indulgence of a thought like that, forcing your gaze away with the heat that rises to your cheeks, and just in time, it seems, as the screen switches to capture Maple, finishing off the girl from 5. It is over in a second, and all of the sudden, there are only two remaining. 

Your heart aches for her, the dead girl from 5, without a mentor or guidance, left in the dark. Still, you cannot stop your gaze from traveling across the bar again to fix on Treech, only to find he is already looking at you. The woman beside him has rid herself of all pretense and is curled into his side, back arched like a cat. And yet, he appears almost regretful, eyes trained on your face with the sort of steely focus that rarely graced his features these days. 

Hours later, when Maple does win, pushed over the finish line with the help of several grandiose sponsorships, you can’t say you are all that surprised, no. The real shock comes as you move to exit the bar when a hand catches your forearm within its grasp. You almost ignore it. Almost push to continue on your steady path toward freedom, but it pulls hard, whipping you around, nearly sending you barreling into the chest of your assailant. Treech. And he stands there, blubbering like a fish, features painted with the unsubtle earnesty of a boy. And that alone is enough to stop you in your tracks.

“I– I–”

But not for long. You’d learned your lesson long ago. Wrenching your arm from his grasp, you spin on your heel before he so much as forms a second word, making for the elevator. You would not fall prey to him again. Not now, not ever. In your eyes, Treech was as good as dead.

It was another month before you saw him again, although, on the morning of the Victory Tour’s arrival, you were nowhere to be found within the awaiting procession. Despite the Capitol’s wishes, you’d continued work on the ranch in your free time, and this morning was no exception. Especially considering you’d requested the shift, putting as much distance between yourself and the upcoming ceremonials as possible. 

Just last night, you’d sent notice to the mayor that you’d been feeling unwell, vomiting, and the like, pleading to be kept from the tour for the safety of those involved. He’d kindly agreed, considering your consistent attendance in previous years, and so you’d spent the last few hours with Bluebell, who had grown over time into as much your horse as one could be, walking the ranch’s perimeter and assessing the different pastures for any sign of intrusion the previous night. Finding none, you dismounted, ridding the creature of everything but her bridle and allowing her to graze within your sightline as you sat in the grass, pencil at the ready and sketchbook perched easily in your lap. 

And so the morning passed in easy silence between the pair of you, only returning to the barn just before lunch due to necessity, though you nearly turned on your tail as the building came into view. The form was clear enough from afar, leaned up against the side of the old building, and at first, you felt your chest fill with anxiety, concerned that perhaps the mayor had caught onto your lie from last night to come get you. But as you drew closer, you noted that familiar head of curls you would recognize anywhere, accompanying the lanky form of a young man. Treech.

[whxre-bxby]

I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but I really need some fluffy smut with Prager. This man is no where to be seen in fanfic. I swear! (Except for you and I dig it ;) So can I please get some fluffy smut with Prager. Lots a praise. Bonus points if they’re a chubby reader or a virgin…or both…hehe. If not, all good! Love your writing! Keep it up! 🩷💫

Thank you! Sorry about excluding the bonus points.

Recom Prager x Recom f. Y/N

Face-Sitting with Prager

Masterlist

(1K request from @blue-bluee )

Summary: Prager can't get Y/N off his mind and his little crush gets noticed by her. It escalates every time they see each other and after a heated workout between the two, Y/N decides to give in to his crush and let him show her what he can do.

WARNINGS: SMUT, fluff, violence, military combat, oral sex f. receiving, oral sex m. receiving, praise kink, sub Prager, begging

Word Count: 6727

Prager and I are finally alone in the gym. I’m waiting for him to explain himself and his weird behaviour, but he’s having a hard time talking. His behaviour started already a while back. 

If you would have asked me a week ago, how my daily life as a recombinant is going I would have honestly said I’m getting bored. Training sessions used to give me adrenaline rushes and they had just now started getting slightly boring. That was of course, until I noticed a pair of lingering eyes on me. 

Whenever I was around, they would rest on me for far too long. The small glances turned into stares and I often caught them. Normally, I would have grimaced or shrugged them off, but the reason for watching seemed different. It wasn’t just finding my body attractive, it seemed deeper and more emotional. I could tell by his reactions. 

Prager knew I would see him staring at me but it was something he would sometimes do without noticing and he couldn’t stop. 

The first time I noticed it was during training. It was always the same stuff over and over again. I was wrestling with Z-Dog, which we did nearly every day. Prager, like many others, stood around the boxing ring and watched as we attempted to pin the other down against the mat. 

I had her beneath me and I held one of her arms outstretched again my chest while my legs straddled her waist to reduce her space of action. 

Even with all the team watching, I could only sense one stare on me and it was to my left. For some reason, I gave it all my attention, leaning away from Z slightly and locking eyes with Prager. I sat still, just watching him the way he watched me. 

He had already been looking at me and I noticed how his eyes nervously flickered between mine. His tail stopped gently swaying behind him and I saw how he faintly gasped when our eyes met.

Before I could examine him any further I got a fist to the face which sent me backwards and off of Zdinarsk. Within seconds she was above me, pinning my wrists against the mat with a smirk which earned a few chuckles from around us. 

“The fuck were you doin’?” she asked me. Her smirk turned into an evil grin when I attempted to pull my arms from her. 

I glance up at Prager again and he looks nervous, but I don’t do the same mistake as last time. Z-Dog tried to follow my gaze and the second she turned her head I struck my knee into her stomach, making her lose her tight grip on my hands and the fight was back on. 

The second time I caught him staring wasn’t during training, where I was almost half naked, for once. It was at dinner. 

Prager was sitting a table away and I was sipping on a new kind of soda which was apparently invented while we were growing in a lab. The straws and the cups were upgraded to our size so we wouldn’t struggle. Anyway, I was listening to Walker lecture Lyle on how to properly dismember a body while drinking the fizzy drink. I had forgotten how we even got to this topic and the rest of my table seemed to have the same problem. But what really perked my attention again was Prager. Without thinking, my eyes shot to him because I felt his stare and we looked each other in the eye again. Except this time, Prager almost flinched when he noticed I caught him and immediately looked down. I watched him pretending to be doing something else for a few more long moments before diverting my attention back to the concerning conversation at my table. 

The first occasion could have been pure coincidence that he was looking at me. Maybe he saw something on me or I could have had something in my hair but the second time really got me thinking. I was starting to try and figure out what was happening and Prager would now occupy my thinking much more than he professionally should. 

From then on, I would find him looking at me countless more times. Usually, he stared at my face but I’ve seen him just stare and daydream while his eyes were locked on my body. This would mostly happen during our briefings with the Colonel where he would give us details about our upcoming mission. 

As time progressed, the small exchanges we had increased so much to the point, where I would look forward to seeing him just so that I could catch him sneaking his looks at me. I don’t know why I was so amused by it but I felt so in control of the situation. 

Things started to escalate but luckily nobody would notice our behaviour. Well, more like Prager’s behaviour. I had a good amount of self-control left whereas he seemed to be at his breaking point every time I entered the room. Once, Lopez did nudge him in the shoulder with his fist when he saw Prager zoned out and staring at me. Yet, he thought nothing of it. 

Two days after the ‘dinner incident’, all the recoms were back in the gym. Often we did our own workouts but the Colonel wanted to strengthen the squad to become one and get to know everyone better, so in his opinion, there is no better way to strengthen the team spirit than to make the team fight itself in a ring. 

Brown had just beaten Ja by tackling him to the ground and delivering a few allowed punches. They always had some sort of competition going on so it was amusing to watch. 

One thing you need to note is that while we were standing around and watching, Prager came over and stood right next to me. His body was slightly intruding on my personal space but I decided to not move away. I leaned against the elastic ropes on the sides, watching the fight with a grin until I felt my tail brush against something. I shrugged it off but then about a minute later it happened again. This time, I turn around and notice that Prager and my tails were entangled and lightly wrapped around each other. I notice him watching my reaction too and I wasn’t sure whether he did it purposefully or by accident. It didn’t really matter because I saw him grow nervous and retreat his tail back to himself. I did the same but when we directed our attention back to the middle, I deliberately caressed the back of his leg with the fuzzy tip of my tail. From the corner of my eye, I saw Prager immediately tense up and I heard his breath hitch before he held it for a good few seconds. 

Ja was leaving the ring, seeming irritated with himself that he lost to his friend. Since Brown won, he could choose his next opponent. I watched his eyes scan the circle and suddenly they met mine. 

He looked at me a little longer than he looked at the others and I raised an eyebrow at him with a smile on my face, challenging him whether he really wanted to make the mistake and pick me. The others followed Brown’s eyes while he grinned, gliding his tongue over his bottom lip before he trapped it between his teeth. 

“Y/N. Let’s go.” he said, standing up and making space for me to go inside. Mansk chuckled and Lyle gave me a motivational slap to the shoulder. 

Next to me, I noticed Prager’s head shoot to me but he didn’t do anything, so I bent down and joined Brown in the ring. 

He was slightly tired from fighting Ja before so I had a small advantage, however, Brown was still stronger than me. One thing I learned in the military as a woman is that it’s definitely not all about strength and muscle mass. If you happen to be fighting someone who thinks that, which Brown does, then you are entitled to win. Strategy is something one must come up with by themselves and Brown didn’t have it. I did. All he had was the reassuring thought that he could lift almost twice the amount I could. But that doesn’t play a role in the ring. 

The second he lunged forward I dodged his attack and pulled him back by his arm. It definitely took him by surprise and messed up his thinking but he wasn’t going to give up. I knew him well enough to know that Brown would fight to the death if he wanted to win badly enough. Luckily he wasn’t allowed to, so I was safe there. 

It didn’t last long until both of us were writhing on the floor. I had kicked his shoulder but it didn’t stop his movements. He grabbed my leg and took advantage of the tiny mistake I made. I went to kick him too soon and he managed to dodge it and now he held it tightly. I was on my back, having a hard time figuring out how to get out of this position.

My other one was free and I pushed his head away with it which seemed to rile him up even more. Within seconds, he had a death grip on both my calves which suddenly found themselves on each of his shoulders. He leaned forward with a smug smirk on his face, trapping me beneath him. 

“Really?” I questioned him, taking note of his cocky behaviour. 

“What? This too much for you?” he joked and I heard a few laughs from behind me. 

Did he expect me to just give up out of embarrassment due to the slightly sexual position we were in? Apparently, he did because when I lunged forward and punched him in the face, he stumbled back in shock. The positions switched rapidly and I now had both my knees on either side of his neck while he groaned. The fall must have knocked the air from his lungs. I was definitely not going to sit down because this position was still rather odd, however, I did lean back and I managed to keep him pinned down long enough to win. 

Once Brown lost, Ja’s laughter filled the room while he held a bloodied tissue to his nose and watched Brown just stay laying on the ground for a few more moments. 

I stood up and waited for him to recover and get up, but instead of thinking about how well I did, Prager was once again on my mind. I had caught a few glimpses of him during the fight and had noticed the way his eyes never left my body. He was especially eyeing the way Brown would hold or touch me and the second I fell back and Brown had me trapped beneath him, Prager’s ears pinned back and his strained tail lifted. 

He did not look happy at all but I had little time to examine him. Once I was on top of Brown, he no longer looked pissed off. In fact, Prager’s cheeks were tainted with a light blush. 

Brown got up and gave me a fist bump before leaving the ring to me. I got to pick who to fight next. And in that moment, I got an idea. My eyes landed on Prager and I evilly grinned at him, watching him grow nervous under my stare. 

“Prager.” I sneered, watching his ears twitch in response to me calling his name up. “You’ve been out too long.”

He stared at me wide-eyed for a while, processing the situation until Lyle moved over and gave him a nudge. Prager hesitantly gets into the ring with me. His eyes stay glued on me while I crack my neck and take my position in one corner. This was going to be interesting. 

“Come on, Prager. Take her down.” Lopez called with a light laugh, making me grin at his unsure expression. If I win too many times in a row I get more points than winning separately. Lopez was close to the top so he couldn’t afford to have me take his spot on the leaderboard. 

Prager was good at this. He had the muscle mass as well as the tactics and strategies. Let’s see if he will use that against me. 

When I attacked I was glad to see he wasn’t going to dodge me. Prager tried to reduce the blow of my actions by catching my arms and letting them go again which not only confused me, but the others too. Each time I hit him he either took it or moved away. He didn’t strike me once and it was starting to piss me off.

“Prager, what are you doin’?” Someone called from outside the ring. He ignored it. 

I pushed him in the chest as hard as I could and he stumbled back a little but stayed standing without properly defending himself. 

“Fight me.” I breathed out, locking eyes with him. I couldn’t properly read his emotions but he didn’t look angry at all. He seemed to be somewhere between nervous and calm and it confused me. 

“What you think I can’t take it?” I scoffed, flattening my ears back daringly and flicking my tail in irritation. 

A wave of panic flowed through Prager. He didn’t think of the possibility that you would interpret his behaviour that way. 

I glared at him now, rolling my shoulder while impatiently waiting for him to do something. 

“Fight me!” I almost shouted this time and he seemed to be considering it. I couldn’t be bothered to wait for his answer so I lunged forward, throwing myself against his middle and bringing him to the ground.

Finally, he stopped his nonsense and I felt his arms on me, pushing me away. A small laugh escaped my lips as I grinned at him. He looked uncertain.

I fell back but quickly got up, attacking him again. He got a fist to the face and I got a knee in the ribs but despite the violent actions, he was using an absolute minimal amount of force against me. Why he didn’t want to hurt me was a mystery to me. 

It went on like this for a few more minutes. Me not giving up attacking him until finally, he started to fail in his defence. 

I kicked in the back of his knee and he was down on the floor in seconds. The anger I felt from him not trying gave me enough adrenaline to continue to fight him like I didn’t just go another round before. 

I stood above him, about to kick him down but he caught my leg and I lost my balance. He lay with his back half on the ground and I landed over his waist. I saw him reach for me but his arm was kicked away by my free leg. 

He tried getting up and I put my weight on his shoulder to prevent him from standing. Prager managed to sit up with me on his shoulder which surprised me but the next punch I delivered had him falling back. 

Prager was laying flat on the ground with his back pressing against the soft flooring of the ring. Once again I found myself in the unfortunate position of having my legs on either side of his head this time. 

He looked up at me and stopped fighting. I couldn’t care for what odd arrangement our bodies were in, I wanted to beat him. So I leaned back, pinning him down by his middle while resting my weight on his chest. My knees stayed fixed on the floor where they were. 

I was about to win when I noticed something. Prager was blushing. Not even to a normal extent. His cheeks were burning up. When I elbowed him in his side he whimpered, just loud enough for me to hear and my ears perked up. As I leaned back, I saw a small bulge forming in his pants and immediately put two and two together. Prager must have been getting a kick out of this. 

My eyes shot back to his face and he gave me a pleading look. I realised no one has noticed yet because all the recoms were talking about why Prager wasn’t fighting properly. 

So, for whatever reason on Pandora, I decided to spare him some embarrassment. I knew he was into me but we didn’t need the rest of the team knowing. 

Quickly, I lifted my weight off him and my hand grabbed his queue from behind his head. I forced him to turn around on his stomach and I sat on his back, holding him down while forcing his face against the ground. He didn’t move again and I managed to hold him down long enough to win again. A few of his closest friends laughed at him as I got off the ground, but Prager stayed laying there. 

“Alright, that’s it for today. Pack it up.” Quaritch said, getting up from a weight bench and throwing a towel over his shoulder. I looked at him and he gave me an approving nod for managing to beat both Brown and Prager before walking out. 

Luck must have been on Prager’s side because this was the last match. Meaning, people would leave before anyone noticed what he was struggling with. Prager got up as everyone started to leave but he bent over to fumble with the leg opening hem of his cargo pants. No one could see anything that way. I took my towel from the ring, drying my forehead from sweat after assuring a few others I’ll come after them. It amazed me how nobody had suspected anything happening and within a minute, the gym was empty. Just Prager and I were in it. 

That’s how we ended up alone in this gym.

I sigh, leaning against the elastic sides and tiredly watching him. He feels my stare and looks up before seeming to feel intimidated and nervously looking away. His reaction makes me chuckle. 

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” I ask him, sipping water from my bottle. 

“Uh-” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. Prager chooses not to reply. If he doesn’t want to talk there are definitely better ways of making him confess. 

“You need to work on your attacks.” I grin, knowing very well he’s good at it, he was just holding back today. Prager nevertheless doesn’t say anything. His cheeks are still red. 

If I’m going to get him to confess, I know I’ll have to force it out of him. To achieve that, he needs to be distracted. Maybe showing more skin will do the trick. 

“You’re going to fight me properly now. Without all the previous bullshit.” I say, turning away from him and peeling my tank top over my head. My leggings join the top on the ground in seconds. 

I turn around to face him and Prager is respectfully looking away. His ears and entire body look tense.

“Come on.” I say and his eyes land on mine. He doesn’t dare to let his gaze falter and land on my body. 

“What are you doin’?” he asks, not taking his eyes off of me. His voice is strained too, trying to sound confident.

“It’s hot in here.” I smile up at him and he just stares. 

“What? You don’t feel warm?” 

My hand rests on his abs and I trail it down before tugging at the hem of his shirt to tease him. Prager shivers under my touch which makes me grin again. 

“No-” he pushes the words out as if he were running low on air. 

“Really? What’s this then?” I ask, letting my fingertip hook itself under the waistband of his pants, pulling it an inch away before letting the cloth snap back against his skin, making him flinch lightly. I gestured to his erection which was starting to strain against the fabric of his pants. 

He looked down at the ground with flattened back ears in shame. 

Finally, I come up with a good way to get him to break. 

“Prager, if you properly fight me now then I might consider helping you with your problem.” 

His eyes go wide while I playfully smirk up at him. Taking a few steps back to get into position, I raise an eyebrow to question whether he accepts the challenge. Prager slowly does the same, crouching down. 

His sudden eagerness amuses me. “Aw, you need it that badly?” I tease. 

“It was your idea.” he replies calmly. But his tail betrays him by excitedly swaying behind him. 

“Yeah, but I can also walk away now.”

“No-” he quickly replies, almost interrupting me which makes me scoff. He must realise how desperate he sounded.

“Just count down.” 

I decide to let it slide and count down. Prager doesn’t take his eyes off of me for even a second and once we pounce at each other, he’s on me in moments. I refuse to make it easy for him so he doesn’t manage to tackle me straight away. But soon enough, Prager has me pinned down in a way that restricts all my movements. 

“That good enough for you?” he asks, holding my arm behind my back uncomfortably. 

My own ears are now pinned back. 

“Yeah, but we’re not done yet.” I say, sneering over my shoulder. He lets me go which he shouldn’t have and in the next second I have him pressed face down in the mat again and his arm is in a tight twist. 

“Does this shit turn you on?” I grin, twisting his arm a little more until I hear him whine in pain. 

“Come on Prager, use your pretty mouth. What is it you want, huh?” I tease, leaning down to seductively speak the words into his ear. 

Taunting him was fun to me. Especially because he was so desperate. Prager was bigger than me and could easily overpower me if he wanted to but it seems that he prefers it being the other way around. Such a big recom being so whipped was something new to me.

His eyes close for a mere second. “You- please. I want you Y/N.” he stammers out, groaning in pain after finishing his sentence. 

Prager’s words take me by surprise. He sounded so needy, his words twisted my stomach in excitement and went straight to my core. 

I’m in deep thought which Prager seems to notice because my tight grip on his arm must have loosened. Being reminded of the possible prize he can receive as an outcome of wrestling me down, Prager removes his arm completely from my hold. His body swiftly turns around and his hands grab my shoulder, pushing me off of him and pressing me against the ground. Prager hooks his arm under my left leg, pressing it up all the way against my chest to eliminate the chances of me getting up before holding down my arm with his free hand. He is hovering over me and I can see in the fire of his eyes how worked up and eager he is. His heavy breathing allows me to see his fangs.

“Didn’t like being a bottom?” I question him with a grin. I had every intention of making him feel dirty and nervous. His tipped-back ears perk forwards as he hears my words and his heavy breaths suddenly become very uneven. 

“You said I need to fight you to get what I want.” Prager answered out of breath, managing to avoid the question. I chuckle beneath him. 

“That was good.” I say, smiling to myself. “You’re good at listening, huh?”

He doesn’t say anything but his eyes light up. 

“What if I told you to let me go?” I say, watching him think about my question. 

Prager wasn’t sure whether you asked him a trick question. If he didn’t listen you would either be disappointed he wasn’t being good or happy he wasn’t backing down from the fight. If he did listen, you could be happy he is being good or disappointed he isn’t sticking to the rules of the ring. If one were in hand-to-hand combat and you’d ask the enemy to let you go, they wouldn’t either. 

But Prager wanted to be good for you. So good. He wanted to be the best person for you and please you however you wanted. At this point, he was so flustered and riled up he couldn’t be bothered to think about his ego and feel embarrassed. So he let you go, moving back to sit on his knees while you lay beneath him. 

This situation would have worked out for him either way. I would have praised him for not letting me influence his will to win but I’m also pleased that I have him wrapped around my finger this way. 

Of course, I can’t let this end so quickly, so I get up, tripping him so that he loses his balance. Once he does, Prager is back on the ground and he groans when the back of his head hits the mat for the countless time today. 

He lifts his legs in an attempt to hold me back but they just nudge me forward and for the third time today, which honestly blows my mind, my legs are on either side of a head today. 

Prager opens his previously squeezed closed eyes in pain and is met with a sight that had his mouth watering again, just like it did before. He wanted to sit up to regain control of the fight but quite frankly, the last thing he wanted to do was move you away right now.

I didn’t think much of it. Before, this position made him give up so I assumed he wouldn’t move anymore. That’s why I diverted my attention to fixing my hair from today’s training session while staying hovering above him. I had gotten so distracted by Prager that I completely forgot I was fighting him this whole time in just my underwear. That would definitely ensure he wouldn’t move, so I can take time with my hair now, retying loose strands of it back into the braid. 

I finish taming my hair and I run my hand over my queue one time before I prepare myself to move off of him. Prager was still for too long, he had lost again. 

Just as I wanted to plant my hands on the ground to move off of him I feel his hands snake around each of my thighs. Immediately I halt my movements and stare down at him with wide eyes. 

This time, he isn’t looking at me. Prager is staring at my thinly covered pussy as if he were enchanted by a spell. His pupils dilated, almost leaving no space for the colour of his irises to show. I also noticed that his lips were slightly parted and only now realised that I could feel his heavy breaths fan against my core. 

“Prager?” I ask, regretting how squeaky my voice sounded. 

His eyes tear themselves from my slowly soaking panties and they beam up at me. 

“Why do you want this so badly?” I question again, feeling curious to know why he’s so weak for me.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot…” he whispers, letting his eyes just drink all of me in. It seems he’s become so turned on he can’t keep his eyes fixed on mine anymore. 

“I wanna make you feel good. Please-” he begs me, gently tugging at my thighs. I gasp lightly, realising he wants this more than me helping him with his hard-on. 

“Tell me how.” I breathe out, starting to feel aroused by him. 

“Let me taste you. Y/N please.” he whines, slightly tightening his grip on my thighs. “Sit on my face.” 

My cheeks are starting to burn up whereas he is already completely flustered. 

I wasn’t sure with myself whether this was the right thing to do. I’d also never done this with anyone but he was asking so nicely and I just happened to really be enjoying this. I couldn’t say no. 

My mind was fuzzy with arousal, clouding up my common sense. 

Even though it was late and no recom would use the gym anymore, there was still a chance of someone walking in. 

But as I said, my thinking is blurred so I decide to give in to my feelings. Prager’s begging eyes widened and his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as I slowly lowered myself down on him. I still had my panties on but it didn’t because I was testing the waters. 

My lips parted in a soft gasp when he guided me down with his strong hands and lightly lifted his head so that his nose was now pressed against my clothed heat. 

I bit down on my bottom lip and my eyes fluttered closed at the oddly pleasant feeling. Prager gently tugged me further down. His head was resting against the ground again and I felt him nuzzle his face into my clothed core which sent a shiver down my spine. I sighed in pleasure and he heard it. The noise made his desperation grow. 

“Please, Y/N. Can I?” he asked breathily, mumbling the words against the skin of my bare thigh. 

I watch him for a few moments before my fingers slowly fumble with the fabric of my underwear and I carefully move it to the side. My eyes are glued on Prager’s face, carefully watching his reactions in fear of some sort of rejection but Prager looks like he’s in love. I’ve never seen a man so pussy whipped before. 

I feel my core pulsing in anticipation of his touch and his lustful eyes just increase my excitement. 

“Fuck…” he whispers, swallowing nervously. Before I can say anything or even do anything, Prager slips his tongue out from between his wet lips and I feel him lick a stripe over my slick folds. He waits a few seconds before doing it again, and then again. With each swipe at my pussy, Prager grows more confident and uses more strength in his tongue. 

My mouth is hanging open as I watch him with wide eyes. It feels so unbelievably good. 

Prager hums against my hot skin approvingly, sending soft vibrations through me. My hands fall behind me and I rest them on his toned chest, curling my fingers against the material of his tight shirt. 

Suddenly, his tongue starts to circle my clit and I whimper in pleasure, throwing my head back for a second.

Every noise Prager gets is what he had been longing to hear for the past weeks. A reminder that he’s making you feel good is enough to get him off. 

His fingers dig into the plush flesh of my thighs and his tongue works harder. He’s starting to use his entire mouth to eat me out and it has my eyes rolling back. 

“Shit- Prager…” I moan, leaning forwards and running my fingers over his bandana and through his thick hair. He groans against me again, pulling me further down against him. Prager constantly switches from sucking my clit to swiping the strong tip of his tongue through my folds. My hips start to rock against his face which makes his tail thud against the ground repeatedly in happiness. Hearing his name has his stomach clenching in excitement and he wants nothing more but to make you cum on his face. 

I feel myself getting closer to my orgasm, but then I realise that he had been the one with the aroused problem the entire time, not me. I knew he wanted to please me but he was doing so well, I wanted to reward him in some way. 

Prager continues to eagerly lap at my wet pussy while tightly holding my trembling thighs in a reassuring way. 

“Prager-” I say, trying to sit up but his grip has me struggling. 

Prager doesn’t think much of it when you try to pull away. Maybe you’re overstimulated which would be an achievement for him.

“Prager, stop.” I manage to force out, looking down at him now. 

Immediately, Pragers halts his actions and his previously lust-filled half-lidded eyes shot up and met mine. His ears lightly tipped back, in dread of him doing something wrong. I felt his hands completely loosen around my thighs. 

“Let me make you feel good too.” I breathily say, while my chest heaves. Desperately, I try to calm my heavy breathing. 

“Please, stay like this. I want you-” 

“You’ve been so good, baby.” I whisper, running my fingers over his hand. “You deserve a reward.” 

His ears twitch forwards and his eyes brighten at the praise. Prager can’t compete with that, so he lets his hands slip from your thighs and lets you move away. Even though his erection has become painfully hard, he would much rather focus on you. 

I turn around, facing his lower half and my hands start to unbuckle his belt. Prager moves up and leans against his forearms to watch my actions. 

“Is this okay?” I ask, waiting for his permission before I unzip his pants. He hesitates a little before nodding. 

“I need to hear you say it.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” he breathes out. 

“Only fine?” I tease him with a soft chuckle. 

“I want you to cum on my face.” Prager whines out. 

His ears droop to the sides and he looks like a begging kitty. You notice his eyes have become glossy with tears as feelings of desperation to pleasure you have taken over his body. He really wants nothing more.

“Beg for it.” I say, feeling surprised by my choice of words. But he doesn’t waste a second. Soft pleas and whimpers spill from him as he frantically tries to express how much he wants it. I watch him intently before not being able to resist it anymore. 

“Good boy…” I coo, leaning forward to his face and pressing a kiss to his cheek. His flustered face once again is tainted with a blush as his clouded eyes stare deep into mine. I notice him slowly leaning in, as if he were asking for permission to kiss me. Who am I to deny him of that?

I press my lips against his and we passionately make out for a minute before I pull away and he lays down on the ground again. The taste of myself transferred from his watering mouth to mine.

I moved my leg over his head again but this time I was facing the other way. Prager didn’t seem to mind at all. His hands grabbed onto my thighs once again and he pulled me straight back down on him. 

I exhale shakily as pleasure starts to flood my body once again. This time, I want him to feel it too, so I lean over his body while he holds my hips in place. My fingers find the zipper of his pants and I quickly open it before pushing them down just enough to reveal his throbbing erection. 

I gasp when I see him. Never would I have expected Na’vi dicks to be so big. God, it looked so mesmerising and good. The tip was leaking precum which was slowly rolling down the side of his cock and my own mouth started to water at the sight. 

Without wasting time, I wrap my hand around him, forming a fist and I hear him groan against me in pleasure. I start to stroke him, smearing the precum all over him and I can see how the muscles of his thighs and abdomen flex. 

“Fuck, you’re such a pretty boy…” I mumble to him and I can tell he hears it when the rhythmic movements of his skilled tongue falter for a second. Prager also pushes his hips off the ground, desperately trying to feel more friction. 

I listen to his body, leaning my head down and sloppily starting to lick his shaft from base to tip. I can hear his muffled whimper which just spurs me on to continue. 

With all the pleasure he is receiving, Prager wants to increase yours so once he feels your hot lips wrap around his tip, he circles your entrance with his tongue before pushing it in as far as possible. 

I gasp, squeezing my eyes closed before continuing to suck on his tip. 

Soon we’re both moaning messes, trying to please the other more while relishing in the blissful feeling. 

I feel my orgasm approach and feeling his cock twitch in my mouth makes me believe he is close too. 

Suddenly, Prager tightens his grip on my thighs even more, holding me down while absolutely burying his face in my cunt. His nose is now pressing against my entrance while his mouth relentlessly sucks on my clit. 

I whine, which is followed by his name being moaned. My thighs clench around his head as I feel it near. 

“Prager- fuck. ‘M so close.” 

He doesn’t need to reply, he just keeps doing what he’s doing and within seconds, I’m coming undone. My hips grind down against him in desperate attempts to prolong my orgasm for as long as possible. 

Once I start coming down and my eyes open, I resume swallowing down his cock while he gently cleans me up. 

Since we’re both Avatars, I’m able to take all of him down my throat. My nose presses down against the skin of his base and I bob my head up and down him. 

He’s cursing under me, digging his nails into my flesh and I swallow around him to make my throat feel tighter while desperately holding back gags. 

“Shit-” he groans and his hips stutter, lightly thrusting up to match my movements before I feel his cum shoot down my throat. Out of reflex, I start swallowing it, squeezing more out of him with each gulp of my throat. Once it seems I have milked him of all his cum, Prager’s body slumps against the floor. His previously strained limbs and body now relax against the floor. 

Slowly I get off of him and watch how he recovers from the euphoria. 

I sit down next to him, flinching as my pussy comes in contact with my heel. It was still throbbing. Deciding to take care of him, I pull my panties back over my crotch before paying attention to him, gently tucking him back into his pants. 

When I’m done, Prager lifts himself from the ground, now sitting in front of me and staring into my eyes with his tired ones once again. 

“Thank you…” he whispers and I smile to myself. 

“You don’t have to thank me. You did most of the work.” I giggle, gently nudging his shoulder. 

“It’s more than I could ask for.” he says, softly gazing at me. 

“Either way, you did a really good job.” I say, lightly tapping his cheek in praise. To my surprise, Prager pulls me to him and our lips interlock once again in a much gentler kiss. 

“Was this the only time we’d do this?” he asks, and I see a small spark of hope in his eyes. 

“Depends on...” I say, slowly getting up. His head raises and he watches me pick up my clothes and water bottle with sad floppy ears. 

“...whether you want to join me in the showers or not.”

A smile returns to my face as I watch his face once again light up. He was so cute. Within seconds, Prager is on his feet and he gets out of the ring before stretching out his hands to help me climb out. The small gesture makes my heart warm up and flutter. 

“Damn, what a gentleman.” I say with a giggle as we walk to the shared showers. 

“For you, always.” he smiles, carrying my things for me. 

How had I not been interested in Prager sooner? He was such a sweetheart. 

Tag List: @ikranwings @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @number1gal @numarusworld @jatwow @ken-dala

[bonefall]

So, since BB!Ivypool will use her newfound deputy status to force a confrontation with Dovewing- how would she react if Dovewing snaps and told her to her face that she never, EVER wanted to speak with her again after everything? Like, would it click for her that even if she deeply regrets the way she treated her sister, no matter how sorry she is its up to Dovewing if she's ever forgiven? Or does she blame Heartstar thinking she turned her sister against her?

Let's pop open the hood of BB!Ivypool and her fucked up little life, and every person she's been leading up to the end of BB!TBC.

All of this starts with her father, Lionblaze, raising her with this axiom; That you are given strength to serve your Clan.

While he used Dovepaw and her powers in service of ThunderClan (often fighting with her mentor, Birchfall), Lionblaze encouraged his daughter to involve herself in Dark Forest training. Ivypaw felt like this was how she "earned" affection from her Ba, with hard work.

Just as Lionblaze believed that his physical abuse at the paw of Ashfur made him stronger, Ivypool also came to believe that growing up thrown to the wolves made her stronger too.

So when Dovewing first started to... not even REJECT the idea, just display any resentment towards it at all, it's like a personal slight.

No one ever fucking listens to Dovewing. No one cares what she wants. Just what she can do for them.

And Ivypool was super part of that. Her mentor is Brightheart, who often overexerts herself as an expression of PTSD. She saw Hawkfrost "die" turning against Tigerstar for the greater good. She sees Bumblestripe "working so hard" to "help Dovewing adjust" while she's losing her hearing.

In her eyes, Dovewing was being selfish. Look at all these people who give EVERYTHING to their Clans-- how dare you try and make it about yourself?

Tigerheart, in and out of their life constantly, gets blamed because it's a lot easier to pin it all on the Evil Codebreaking Foreigner than admit that maybe Dovewing has a point. Ah HA! THERE is the villain responsible for making my sister act weird! I knew it all along!

(Plus Tigerheart and Ivypool got pitted against each other a LOT in DF training because Ivy was Hawkfrost's apprentice and Tigerheart was Tigerstar's, for some incredibly fucked up projection reasons you'd expect of Tunnelbunstar. Ivypool will nonsensically blame Tigerheart like she's a Dinkleberg.)

(Also tbf tigerheart would 100% let her believe it, 1. Because it's funny, and 2. Because it takes the heat off Dovewing)

And Ivypool was VICIOUS about this. AVoS is still getting shuffled but if anything vindictive she did towards Dove in that arc gets removed, I will replace it with something just as bad. She would actively sabotauge ShadowClan if it meant keeping Tigerheart away from Dovewing.

She can't handle the thought of losing Dovewing. At some point, it became about control. It's her insecurity towards herself, towards her family, towards all of her losses, and even towards service of her very Clan.

And then Dovewing booked it. Couldn't handle this shit and panicked and BAILED.

And THEN it's about getting Dovewing BACK. She's even dragged Fernsong into this and tried to leverage his friendship with Dovewing to this end. She'll even support Bumblestripe when he tries to argue for an invalidation of Queen’s Rights on technicality.

Ivypool: "Those kits are Bumblestripe's! He has a claim! They even have HIS MANE"

Heartstar: "Hmm. No, it is very clearly MY mane."

Ivypool: "You can't-- wait what?"

Heartstar: "Lightkit even has my beautiful smile <3 so fuck off, maybe?"

For a long time that's where Ivypool was. She was the awful, vindictive sister-in-law constantly trying to weasel in to make Dovewing feel bad. When she had kittens of her own, she was still in this mindset.

It didn't end well. In BB!TBC, Bristlefrost needed her. Ivypool stepped in to prevent her from being the impostor's pawn, but refused to do anything when she was caught and imprisoned for being in a HalfClan relationship. She needed to be punished as a codebreaker.

Brought to the next Gathering, the impostor reiterated the need to enforce the code, and desperate times calling for desperate measures. He called for SkyClan to punish their own warrior. They refused to make this a public spectacle.

So he sliced open her throat, right on the branch beside him.

Ivypool didn't imagine she would be KILLED. Suddenly her whole world shattered. The moon stayed clear and bright. Her daughter was dead before she hit the ground and she had HERSELF to blame.

Dovewing and Ivypool served in the rebellion together, and eventually Ivy went into the Dark Forest as a Light in the Mist. She watched Bristlefrost die, AGAIN, knocking Ashfur out of the sky and burning them both up in orbit, and how brave Shadowsight had been in pinning him in place.

Ivypool NEEDS Dovewing to know now that she's different. She's learned a lot. She understands so, so much more now...

But DOES she? She still hates Heartstar's guts. She still feels abandoned. How different ARE you now, Ivypool, with your renewed interest in finding some petty reason to skirt around Dovewing's direct wishes? When you're still here getting into blowout arguments with Heartstar?

So to answer the question, if Dovewing told her directly, "I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR DESPERATION. IM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR FEELINGS. PISS OFF"

Ivypool would not be able to accept that.

It just wouldn't stick, ever. It really is desperation. Dovewing NEEDS to know that Ivypool loves her and misses her, and that she understands, but also that Heartstar is delusional, and this is still kind of Dovewing's fault. And Ivypool will do anything to make her know this.

But I also DO want to say; this is a very unique weakness. It is Dovewing Derangement Syndrome. Ivypool is a competent deputy, and she is a devoted and respected warrior of ThunderClan. It will be no surprise she's being picked for deputy, especially considering (god willing) Squirrelstar is seeking war with ShadowClan.

She is a good friend, mate, and leader. But BB!Ivypool is so, so fucked in the head about Dovewing. This family can fit so much trauma in it

[bitchlessdino]

Happier (m)

Pairing: minghao x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 5.9k

Tags: e2l, gendered reader, college au, mean hao, kinda toxic dynamics,svt member appearances (some good some bad), lap riding, oral (giving), unprotected sex, swallowing

Summary: Minghao was never more clear about how he really feels about you. And you couldn't be more wrong.

author note: So I found this old thing that i wrote a while and never posted and i was like, damn bestie you wrote that. It's been a while since I touched this so it's obviously very rough so I reworked it! always nice to revive old work. especially for hao and i think it turned out really well. enjoy!

You didn’t get why the hated you so much or at least behaved like he did. You belonged in the same circle of friends, were in a lot of the same activities and clubs on the same university campus, and lived a walking distance from each other, so you’d think that the two of you would at least bond or find common ground. Anyone that thought that would be wrong, including yours truly.

“Is dressing like shit your hobby or something?”

You huffed before turning to face him, gritting your teeth. “Nice to see you again Minghao, every one of our encounters is so...memorable and pleasant.”

Not to add fuel to the fire, but did you have to be so attracted to him despite him being a jerk? 

An evil chuckle escaped his assumably soft, pink lips, allowing his signature smirk to stretch over his cheeks. “I am speaking from the heart. There is such a thing as freedom of speech.

You cleared your throat, reacting blandly to his insult, already dulled to them, and pretended your attention was on anywhere but him. “I’m aware. Where’s Seokmin?”

He waved you off, walking past you. “Probably looking for you, when you see him, tell him how sorry I am for pushing your burden on him.” 

You didn’t know whether to punch his face for being such an asshole or punch yours for the hopeful feeling in the pit of your stomach taht is optimistic that his behavior is nothing but a ruse. Why he behaved like that around you, you had no idea, and neither did anyone else within a 100-yard radius. 

“Hey, Y/n. I notice Minghao passed by. How was that?”

You exhaled a breath of relief seeing the familiar teasing smile of the man you were looking for. “Like it always is, you know him. Rude, being a jerk, and me taking it like an idiot.”

“You always do something to change that, you know,” the boy wrapped his much thicker, brawny upper over your shoulders, guiding you to the warm and loving presence of your friends at the other end of the room bickering over an aimless topic like the purpose of time due to being either high or drunk, if not both, which was a disaster waiting to happen. You could see from where you stood, Minghao was already halfway there.

“Like I haven’t fucking tried. You know the man’s bitter like his coffee.” You spewed.

Seokmin looked at you amused. “You mean his vanilla latte with extra cream, I agree.”

“You know what I mean, Seokmin.”

His bright white smile resonates into view, softly giving his friend pats on the back as a sweet gesture, but loud laughter erupts from his lips. “Minghao’s weird and expresses himself unlike others, but he’s my best friend. However he chooses to behave, he probably has his own reasons.”

“Yeah, he finds me a burden and would rather have me dead.” You spoke rolling your eyes as you both reached your friends with friendly nods.

“Are you talking about Minghao again?” Chan oh-so rudely butted in.

You sighed at the younger as you accepted the beer offered in his hand and took a swig sitting on the space beside him on the worn-out, brown couch, “Yes child, but like any other times you ask, it’s none of your business.”

“Y/n, I’m not an idiot. You think I’m not listening when you’re ranting to Seokmin while I play games on my phone, but I do. So, you gonna jump his ass or not?”

You crinkled your nose, asking yourself why you bothered listening to what he had to say. “See? This is why I talk to Seokmin instead of you, Chan.”

You rejoiced in your reunion, smiling at the faces you’d see in some classes, faces that you wouldn’t ever see unless you’d intentionally planned something, and others that were new but simply pleasant. You’d poke one of your girlfriends at how Joshua reacted to being hardcore hit on when you knew she liked him, and every other minute you’d laugh at anything Junhui said, usually something random or obvious. College will always be stressful, but with the right people, it’s all worth it, even with Minghao throwing insults every few minutes, moments like these made everything seem okay.

“So, how long have you and Seokmin been a thing?” The radiant girl before you gave a breathtaking smile, making you peer at the male behind her blushing a deep crimson as you mention his name.

“A couple weeks, but I really like him and glad to know he likes me.” She pressed a tender kiss against his cheeks that would show no sign of deflating.

You cooed over at them, genuinely happy for the man whose care for you all this time. You remembered the last time you spoke the man face to face and that was when he had told you the truth of his feelings for you, how he found rapid his heart would flex at the sound of your voice, the familiar churn of his stomach every time you smiled, and the look of his eyes seeing you meters away jumping excitedly about some new music video from your favorite band.

It was awkward for a while knowing how he felt, but despite your honest rejection, it didn’t change how either of you acted toward each other. Seokmin understood your feelings and he was glad you told the truth instead of leading him on. You were still friends, and that was okay with him.

Now you couldn’t help but smile to see that he’s felt for you towards a girl more worthy for him. He’s someone you’ll always love as a part of your life, but you could never return the same romantic feelings. Now you were just glad that there was someone who would love your best friend for all he’s worth. He was special, and you knew that this girl would remind him of that everyday.

“You guys are precious. The last relationship I had wasn’t nearly this sweet.”

Seokmin chuckled, wrapping your arm around his beautiful girlfriend, “Well, in all honesty, your last boyfriend was pretty big as--Wait, what the fuck is he doing here?”

His eyes lingered on the presence behind you, who was anxiously finding a sign of his ex that has already forgotten all about him. You turned your head to witness the same scene as the couple, and accidentally met eyes with the devil himself, looking absolutely gorgeous from head to toe in a black t-shirt and jeans, stumbling and shoving everyone to grasp for your comparably small hands.

“Y/n,” he heaved a euphoric sigh of relief, “Finally, I’ve found you.”

“Mingyu, what are you doing here?” You spoke as you gave him a deadpan glare.

“I was wrong, everything I did was wrong, I was a terrible person and boyfriend.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

Your head averted to your friend you came with, red in the face, who voiced out her opinion in anger. “Jinhye!”

“No, no, she was right. It was no shit that was a terrible and you didn’t deserve any of that, but I’m here to say I’ve changed. I’m ready to be the person you can be with, Y/n.”

You shook your head. “Mingyu, you can’t honestly expect me to fucking forgive you every lie you’ve told.”

“I love you, Yn.” His broad arms wrapped around your smaller frame in an embrace, “Everything I’ve done was because I was being stupid and I’m going to change everything for you. Please. Please, tell me your feelings for me haven’t changed.”

You couldn’t lie to him, there were times you had thought about the good moments you both had and wondered if you had met later, that things wouldn’t have been as messy as it was now. You honestly missed his warm embrace, and how he smelled like he just spent hours building the most perfect tree house. Even though he ripped your heart into a million pieces in an uncountable number of ways and made you cry for three weeks straight, you couldn’t push him away no matter how much your head told you to.

Seokmin couldn’t stand the sight in front of him. You were just eating the shit he was feeding you as Mingyu grinned profoundly as if he reclaimed his prize. He obviously hasn’t changed and was just going to hurt you again just like he did before. No one could change that much or that quickly. This asshole was deadass looking for you just to use you again.

He was going to do it, make him leave quietly with a civil conversation, or a punch to the face, whatever comes first. Pulling himself up from the couch, he was blocked by the short, paler individual that did the latter for him, making Mingyu crash on the floor with bled out nose. “What the fuck?”

Minghao stood towering over him, stumbling over his own feet, but suavely swiping his nose with the pad of his thumb, displaying a shit-eating grin over his inflamed cheeks. 

“That’s right, bitch! You can’t come into someone’s home to get back a girl that’s dead over you. You cheated on her, stole her money, a whole apartment from her, and here you are groveling on your baby kneecaps saying you want her back. Well, stay the fuck away since she want nothing to do with your pathetic ass.”

Mingyu’s eyes burned a hole in Minghao’s head, quickly picked himself up and wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He is now the one to tower over that man that previously stood up to him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re just a big dick with no backbone or conscience. You’re pathetic. You couldn’t see how beautiful, amazing, beautiful, sweet, and most kindest girl you’d ever have the pleasure to date. And you took too long to see that, well, sucks to be you!”

You stared speechless over at the man hollering from the top of his lungs at your ex-boyfriend, insulting him while complimenting you, the very girl he’s insulted since day one, making you wonder if he was doing this because he wanted to or because he was drunk enough to do anything, either way it made your heart swell.

You noticed, with everyone else at that party, that Mingyu was at his last straw seeing him finally land his fist on Minghao’s cheek, causing the smaller man to fall backward and crash unconscious on the floor. Everyone gazed over at Minghao in horror, questioning whether or not he was breathing and friends immediately rushed toward his side. You immediately followed until an arm wrapped its thick, rough fingers around your wrist.

“I love you, Y/n. Don’t give up on us. I wasn’t there then, but I’m here now. I want to be everything for you.”

After the scene in your of you, all you could do was a scowl. The rageful disgust from simply looking back at the eyes you once loved made you wish that your fist was the one that planted against Mingyu’s face. You ripped your hand away from his grip, looking him dead in the eyes saying all the right words for the first time. “I never want to see you again. Leave and never come back. Stay away from me and my friends.”

Tearing away from his gaze, you followed your friends and Minghao into a room upstairs, checking to see if he was alive. You never let a breath of relief so heavy leave your lips as you say the man’s chest heave up and down.

“Okay, thank god the idiot’s alive. Who let him drink vodka?” Seokmin asked no one in particular.

Joshua sighed. “We should really let him rest. Come on, guys.”

They all proceeded heading towards the door, ready to head back into that party. Seokmin noticed you staying by Minghao, unable to pull your gaze away from the man who need his rest. “Y/n, you coming?”

You finally met Seokmin’s eyes and shook your head. “No, I’ll look after him if he wakes up.”

Seokmin saw recognized the look in your eyes, it was the same look you gave Minghao when you thought no one was looking. It was the same look Seokmin would give you when you weren’t looking. Seokmin knew all too well of how they felt for each other and for the first time in a while, he felt ready to give it up. He always suspected Minghao’s behavior to be for some convoluted reason and tonight proved that.

He smiled at you and nodded, leaving you two in your own peace.

Your eyes fell back at the unconscious man and wiping his bleeding nose and lip with a tissue you grabbed from the nightstand, feeling his soft breaths ghosting over your hand as you subconsciously smiled. His sweat dampened hair with smoothed over his forehead as you pushed them aside.

This was the most peaceful you’ve seen him, it was a refreshing sight. Any other day, he would be bashing on you for whatever it is you had or looked with no remorse for your feelings, very much like the beginning of the party, but what happened only moments ago on that floor with the surprise appearance of your ex-boyfriend was anything but ordinary.

Why would the man that hated you cared at all about your love life or who even whom had hurt you?

His actions left you with many questions, and many doubts about where exactly you stood in his life. You’ve never a lover, nor friend, he had no reason to get involved the way he did, yet he did. Like a dark knight, his fist landed against Mingyu’s face with all his might, getting himself hurt on the process. “Why would you do that, you idiot?”

It was ridiculous knowing Minghao and the type of person he was, he’d never sacrificed himself in a life or death situation for someone he simply knows. He was a bystander type of guy and very much would laze around in the background, sometimes not even batting an eye if he was in of of those moods, which was most of the times actually. And in every way he has made it clear that the man had nothing but pure hatred for you.

So why?

Your internal monologue was interrupted with a stir in Minghao’s sleep, seeing that him quickly unfamiliar with his surroundings. “W-where am I?”

“Well,” you scanned your surroundings, “I can only guess it to be Chan’s room from the multiple empty cups of ramen, gross by the way, and the unhealthy amount of figurines on his shelves. Wow, when the kid says he commits, he really commits.”

“What dumb shit did I do this time?” He pulled his upper body against the wall behind him.

You looked back at him, “You seriously can’t expect me to believe that you forgot everything that happened there downstairs.”

“Will you stop beating around the bush and tell me what happened?” He gave you the familiar scrunch of his eyes he’d give everyone when he was irritated.

“What happened was that you saved my dumbass from making another dumb mistake with someone I know is all wrong for me.”

He huffed. “Don’t get all hysterical.”

You exasperatedly shook your head, moving your hands in the air uncontrollably in disbelief at his request and lack of reaction. “How can I not? You punched Mingyu, Minghao, someone twice--no three times--your size and even defended me by saying all these nice things about me that I’ve never heard--”

“I was drunk, get over it. As if you weren’t annoying enough.”

He was his old self again, his cold attitude was back, flinging insults to you like monkeys with hands filled with shit, acting as if nothing had happened. He brushed off your enthusiasm and gratitude and you weren't having it.

“Hop off your fucking high horse. You obviously don't find me completely repulsive and even if you did, why would you punch someone for me.”

He gave an aloof shrug, “Maybe I'm nicer than you anticipated. Ever thought of that, Sherlock?”

“You're not nice for no reason. Not the Minghao we know. Just two days ago, you knew Seungkwan was struggling with those boxes, but you just stayed there with your ass on his couch. Like a dick.” You pointed it out, clearly frustrated.

“Kwan’s a big boy, he could handle it himself.”

“Fine! You’re not a complete ass, but that does not change what you said out there, chanting from the top of your lungs how beautiful, amazing, beautiful, sweet, and most kind--”

He brought up his hand to your face, muffling your words. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“That’s the thing, you don’t. You punched Mingyu in the face, said all those nice things, defending me every way you could, even though you act rudely to me on any other occasion because…” You almost couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth yourself, “...You’re into me. That’s the only logical reason for all this.”

“Will you shut up?” He sneered. “You’re so fucking loud and couldn’t be any more wrong.”

Your hands slapped against your sides. “Then what the fuck is it?”

“What? Maybe I did all that because you’re an ugly crier and I just didn’t want to see those stupid tears running down your dumb face since you’re a lot less ugly when you don’t cry. God damn it, Y/n. Just shut the fuck, before I go over there and make you.” He aggravatedly banged the back of his head against the wall, letting out a deep sigh closing off vision from all sides and closing his eyes.

“You’re so into me.” The corner of your lips curled up in a smile, taunting him.

He palmed over his head, feeling the alcohol hit him hard, but has found it in place to calm down. “Don’t get way in over your head because I was out of my mind a little bit, okay? This doesn’t mean I like you.”

You scooched yourself closer, feeling his arm brush lightly against yours. “Minghao, look at me and tell me you have absolutely no feelings for me.”

He exasperatedly sighed, rubbing his thumb and forefinger against his forehead before looking back at you, sitting up straight. 

“I…” He stared back at your eyes, gleaming in anticipation, finding it in his beating heart to reject you, only to find himself getting lost looking at every crease, mole, every scar on your face and committing it to memory. Much like the first time he laid his eyes on you, he could never get over how alluring you felt to him.

He let out a long and deep sigh to pull away from your gaze, then was quickly gripped by the chin to look back at them, noticing your other hand wrapped around his wrist, pinning him to the side of his head. “I’m right, aren’t I? That you’ve only pretended to hate me all this time to intentionally push me away. And for what exactly?”

He gulped down the saliva that formed in his mouth, wanting nothing more than to see if your lips were as soft as they looked. “What can I say? There’s no ulterior motive behind it if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Minghao!”

“What? There’s seriously nothing else to it.” Another lie. He’d spew them out like word vomit. He couldn’t stop.

Your hand crawled up to the side of his face, thumb brushing softly against the soft pink rose of his pale cheeks. “If I kissed you, would you actually mean all those words you’ve been saying?”

He said nothing as if those words have never been said, as if you weren’t in your position right now, hovering over him on the bed, staring deeply into his eyes, giving yourself enough hope that maybe you were actually right about your assumptions and maybe he did actually like you back.

You drew your lips close, fluttering your eyes close as you finally made contact with the velvety soft skin of his lips you’ve imagined on you more than you’d like, and needingly pressed against his until you realized the lack of response. You forced yourself to pull away, washing yourself over with disappointment.

The hand that gripped around his wrist loosened, only allowing you now to realize how insane you were acting, how the boy in front of you was probably terrified and hated you more than ever for being such a perverted freak. You tightly shut your eyes, embarrassed by your actions. You felt more ashamed than you’d ever been.

It came as a shock as he reached up for your face and reconnected your lips, returning the same passion you gave him seconds ago. His lips molded with yours, bringing his head up to kiss you deeper, now cupping both your cheeks in his hands, brushing loose strands of hair away from your face with his fingers.

You remained stunned, processing the fact the man you constantly thought and lusted over was here kissing you like he wanted you. You didn’t have any trouble reciprocating the kiss, running your hands up the soft locks of his thick hair. When you both pulled away, all Minghao could do was stare up at your eyes and for the first time and smile a smile that didn’t intend to be rude or insulting.

“Are you proud of yourself?” 

Heat rushed to your cheeks and now you were holding your cold, clammy palms against them. “I-I’d like to be, but your punk-ass had to get me all flustered.”

He hummed a low tune, brushing the pad of his thumb softly over your chin. His for the first time were genuine, gentle, and endearing, and your heart had no choice but to slam fast and quick in your chest, allowing you no control over the matter. “A-are you gonna deny that you like me?”

He sighed. He’s been doing that a lot lately, more than he should. Only realizing that resisting you get harder and harder every time. It couldn’t help with the fact that you get cuter and prettier every day, and this whole lying thing was getting to his head. He only had so much sanity left and denying it won’t make the truth falter from what it already is.

He was too drunk to deal with this responsibly, not that he wanted to anyway, so he kissed you again without for you a chance to think. He pulled himself up from the be, sitting up and cupped the back over your head. He relayed sweet pecks against the corner around lips, your nose, your cheeks, and then your lips against, unable to taste anything as sweet. 

“I don’t like you, stupid. Because I love you. I loved you then at that student orientation, I loved you when I got punched, I love you now. Happy?”

The corners of your lips pulled align your ears, pressing a hard cheshire smile as you nodded shyly into his shoulder, shielding away from his eyes. “You love me.”

The man scoffed, sliding his hand down to stroke lovingly at your back. “I do...but so does Seokmin, which is why I have to stop.”

You tore away from his embrace. “What? Y-you knew about that?”

“He’s my best friend, of course I knew. Like I knew it’d only be right if I backed off. If anyone deserves you, it's Seokmin.”

You let out a scoff of disbelief. “You don’t get to determine that, Minghao. Shouldn’t I get to have a say in who I get to be with?”

“I was just guiding in the right direction is all.”

You huffed, placing your hands against his shoulders. “Well, now I’m gonna take matters into my own hands and say there’s no way you are getting rid of me now. You’re stuck with me, stupid.”

He shook his head. “But Seokmin--”

“Did you not see him out there with that girl? He couldn’t have been happier.”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s over you.” He retorted.

“He will understand, like you,” you brought a hand to rest around his neck, looking back at him with knowing eyes, “he’s also an amazing friend, and I know that he’d want both of us to be happy, and what would make me happy is obviously you.”

A deep sigh escaped his lips, thumbing over your knuckles thoughtfully before looking back at your wide eyes, gleaming with pure ecstasy. He loved to see you happy, and all this time he thought it is with the best person he knew: his best friend. You were an adrenaline rush worth getting out of bed for. A perfect view to witness in the morning. He wanted everything you had to offer, maybe you were worth being selfish for.

He finally nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Your lips pulled back in an anticipating smile.

“Okay, let’s make this work. You like me and I obviously haven’t pushed you off of me yet, so yeah. Let’s make us work.”

You squealed and crashed your lips into his longingly. Your hands cupped the back of his neck and Minghao’s hands over your hips. You leaned in his chest, feeling him instantly melt underneath your touch. His hands reached around you, crawling up your back to rest on your shoulder blades. You steadily lowered your hands, easing them over the top of his pants to play at his button.

“I see you down there.” He spoke to you in hushed tone.

You hummed, feigning innocent as you undo his pants and teasingly allow your hand to pull the zipper down. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

A corner of his lips lifted up in a smirk. “Y/n, you’re being so obvious.”

You shrugged, “Are you going to try to stop me?”

“Now, I wouldn’t exactly say that.” You beamed a little too brightly. “I can only give you the excuse that our friends are a staircase away, maybe even smaller than that, and would definitely see what we’re doing.”

You drew yourself closer, your nose grazing his ever-so-slightly as suspicious playing against your lips. “I finally got where I want you and I’m not wasting any time, nothing and no one will stop me.”

You wanted this, only able to picture some things in the comfort of your bedroom, and if your roommate was home, the locked door of your bathroom with a running faucet as you touched yourself imagining his beautiful hands. You licked your lips at the thought and rolled your hips on his lap. Your lips reached up, ghosting up his jaw.

Minghao could feel himself practically shake underneath you. He’s never anticipated how active, and even dominant, you were. His mouth feels slack at the contact of your small finger over his member over the thin material of his boxers. He had always been sensitive, and strangely more than often when you were around. He would be lying if he were to deny the reason for his multiple trips to trips to the restroom was because of you.

Your lips pressed against his ear, flicking kitten licks against its structure, and darkly whispered inside. “I want you to fuck me so hard that I can feel your dickprint inside me for weeks. ”

The man in question was speechless, unexpecting such a vulgar and lust-hungry exclaim from the seemingly sweet girl everyone else knew, only giving him a few moments to respond back nearly the same level of passion. He pulled himself up from the bed and had you laid flat against the well worn out comforter.

“Don’t say words you’ll regret.”

His lips clashed with yours hungrily, holding you by your back wrapping your body possessively around his. Your hands reached down for the hem of his shirt and helped him pull it off to toss it aside to the end of the room. You neared your crotch over his, paying the throbbing cock in his pants enough attention to feel it grow against your arousal.

Your legs hook around his waist, allowing his upper body to sit up back on the bed as you, in result, straddled him. The tight dress around you scrunched up on your abdomen, allowing Minghao the easiest access to your cloth covered core as he fingered up your slit, feeling the damp material up rough fingers. “Fuck.”

The pretty brown eyes looked up content at you, satisfied with himself, and steadily bounced you up and down on his lap feeling his fingers thrust into you through your panties. That was enough to get your already weak heart from pumping your heart rapidly in your chest, “Shit, Minghao.”

Your hips moved in an identical rhythm, feeling the excitement pulsing through you like a shot of burning whiskey. You were beginning to understand the feeling of breathlessness as oxygen escaped your lungs in the hottest, unbearable way that just made you want more of it. Your hands instinctively clutched his arms, your mouth opened agape with your eyes locked in his.

A hand weakly pulled up and cupped his cheek, admiring the sparkly glint in his eyes that reminded you he wasn’t completely sober, but fully aware of what he’s decided to do. His hands ran up your sides and slid down the straps of your dress out of your arms and pulled down what covered your lightly-lined, cladded breasts, and reached up to pull the material down and handled them with a hankering squeeze.

The cold metal of his rings brushed along your exposed skin, running shivers down your back, making you gasp but quickly suppressed with the bite of your lips. Both hands grasp his face and your lips press more harshly against his, his hand squeezing, rolling your erect nipples in his fingertips effortlessly. You pressed deeper, feeling the full structure of his member in his pants twitch against you, urging your hands over it, pulling his boxers over, and springing the erect cock in action.

Your hands come in contact with his shaft with a single hand and thumbed over the tip. Some pre-cum immediately released on your digits, petting them inside for your mouth for a taste. “Mmh, tastes good.”

Slipping your hand over his length, you massaged it with between your fingers, coating himself in his arousal as you traced his bulging veins. Your fingers curled around his length to rub him up and down, jerking the grip you had on him, licking your lips. You can practically feel him squirm under your touch, letting soft, but low moans slip from his lips as he twitched in your fingertips like a vibrator at its mild speed. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“You like that, baby?” You pecked the corner of his lips. “Does that make you feel good?”

His chest heaved back and forth, looking at you with this delectable look of vulnerability, something that he knew he’s never felt until now. All he could do was shake his head, giving you an incredulous gaze. “Fuck you.”

“Soon, I promise.” You kissed his cheek. “Maybe I should get back at you for all those insults towards me.”

Your pace hastened, playing with it like a joystick with the single hand you held, and looking at him with a smug glint in your eyes.

“You know what’ll happen when you do that, it’ll backfire, Y/n.” Panting like a tired dog, he still spoke with such confidence and assurance.

“Maybe, I want to see that happen. Maybe, that’s my intention.” You shrugged well-knowingly it was exactly what you were doing.

He responded with a shrug of his one equally smug smile, and took you blindsided by pushing against the bed on your side. “Well, you’re giving me no choice but to react.”

His jeans were pulled down along with his boxers and kicked them aside. He leans close to you, pressing his lips along the structure of your back, tracing shapes against your thighs before reaching the wet arousal of your core. He pushed your panties aside and aligned his digits against your slit and chuckled lowly in your ear. “Damn, even wetter than before.”

He had his stiff cock in hand and help up against the entrance of your core and entered in you with ease. His upper body hovered face up against your side, watching as you struggled to adjust to his size. His eyes met yours as he thrusted his weight against you, feeling your walls clench around him. “Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this.”

His forearms are pinned on either of your sides as he leaned up to make a quick, but messy contact with your lips. Minghao’s hips moved in a steady rhythm and then proceed to grow more rushed. Your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he managed to lift a leg over his shoulder and spread you wider than before, his thrust becoming more than what you could usually handle. 

You ran a hand through your hair, pushing the loose, sweaty strands away from your face, and lifted your chest up slightly to watch him in action. “Minghao--ah--yeah, just like that.”

He grinned, fingering up your hair to wrap it around his hands, bringing low moans from you at his small tugs, accelerating the arrival of climax. You desperately grasped your breasts in your hands, feeling your vision grow bleary as you felt the urge of your orgasm happen soon than you’ve anticipated. “S-shit, you’re gonna make me c-cum. Minghao!”

“So soon, hmm. It’s okay, cum, I want to see. ” At the sound of his approval, you released against him and laid your hands for a momentary rest.

It wasn’t long before, Minghao felt himself soon about to erupt, quickly telling you lay flat against your back. He hovered his body and load-filled cock in front of your face and streamed the ribbons of milky white straight down your eager throat, catching every drop, only the small bit dribbling down yoru chin. Your chest heaved up and down, explicitly smiling as you looked up at him. His eyes showed clear pride and utter fulfillment.

He crawled back on top of you and press his lips chastely over yours, tasting sin on his tongue, feeling nothing but a blanket of warmth envelop him as you wrapped your arms around his body in the most perfect, fitting way. The man smiled, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You were amazing.” He exclaimed breathlessly.

You gazed up at him with an undying grin on your face. “I could say the say for you. You were so...incredible.”

He returned to you with a sweet smile and kissed your lips once more.

“MY EYES!”

Chan rushed downstairs, running from the rare scene in front of him, and proceeded to announce to everyone there that the injured and the person that caused his injury were upstairs frick fracking, inducing laughter from the couple themselves. A loud, but familiar voice then follows up by then shout, “Holy fuck, I knew it! Get some best friend!”

“Wait,” You stopped Minghao from going any further with kissing you, “is Seokmin talking to you or me?”

He scoffed. “Isn’t it obvious? Of course, me.”

“Well, what if it’s actually me.”

“Well, then we’ll see who is when we go downstairs after another round and ask, cool?”

You smiled this knowing grin, cupping his cheek in your palm. “Okay.”

[halfghostwriter]

Wraith Radio Pt. 2

Part 1

“You’re listening to Wraith Radio, your number one link to the living realm. I’m your host, the wandering ghost, Ellie Phantom. It’s day two of my adventure in Gotham City, and I gotta say, today was… wild. Bit of context for those who missed the start of yesterday’s show, long story short, I publicly told the Red Hood that I would wait for him at this place called Park Row so I could take him to a doctor in the ghost zone because his body is bad.

After I ended the show, I got this call from my cousin, Danny. He and his friends back in Amity had been listening, and they think that, because I never showed off any of my powers or anything, and cause I look like any other human, he might not have actually believed I was a ghost. Which, fair, I guess.

So now I’m thinking, ‘well, no big deal, I can just show him my ghost form.’ Buuuuut then I remember the stupid amount of curses and stuff all around this city, and as part of the ghost population who technically never experienced death— no, that time I melted does not count— I’d like to prolong that experience for as long as possible if you don’t mind. Where was I? Oh right, so now I’m thinking, ‘well, no problem, I can just open up a portal, bring him to the zone, and transform there.’ Quick, simple, no problem.

So we come to today. I’m at the meeting spot, it’s five minutes to the meeting time, and I’m sitting on the edge of this rooftop, keeping an eye out for the arrival of the Red Hood.

And then a building blows up.

Right across the street, the top floor of this sketchy run down place I had been staring at, just. Boom! And then I hear all these gunshots, and screaming, and I look down at my watch, and I have about four minutes before noon, so I turn invisible, float over, and poke my head through the wall. Right there, center of the room, I see Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood fighting this… I dunno, skinny twink with like a burlap sack over his head? Look, it took me a week to memorize the Gotham vigilante’s names and costumes alone, I wasn’t going out of my way to look up their entire rogues gallery. But anyway, they’re fighting this guy and a bunch of people who I assume are working for this guy, and I see some people tied up in the corner screaming their heads off for no clear reason. I mean, yes, I know it’s scary being tied up by an evil scarecrow of a man, but when I say screaming, I don’t mean ‘please, save me, I’m in distress’ screaming, I mean ‘the soulshredder just sliced through me and now I’m seeing my worst fears manifested in front of my eyes’ screaming.

So I get a little closer, I land on the floor, and just, to go off on a bit of a tangent for a second, the Gotham vigilantes are just. So much taller than me. I felt so incredibly tiny being in the same room as them. Like, yeah, I know I’m short, but I had hoped that I would at least be the same height as Robin, but no. I swear, every time I stand next to someone who’s supposed to be close to my ‘physical’ age, I become more and more convinced that the billionaire who made me had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He brought me to life and was like ‘you’re a twelve year old!’ and I was like ‘you’re right!’ because I had no frame of reference because I was born that morning. Anyway, so I get closer to the screeching humans being held against their will, and I feel this scratchy, almost burning feeling in the back of my throat. I try to brush it off, but then I look down, and I see my body fucking melting.

Now this isn’t be my first time melting, so my first thought isn’t ‘oh god I’m gonna go from half to full ghost,’ or even ‘ugh this shit again,’ but rather ‘why the fuck doesn’t this hurt?’ Because I know exactly what melting is supposed to feel like, and it isn’t a feeling you can just ignore. Like, I can’t really describe it to someone who’s never had every muscle in their body suddenly coalesce into one, with every attached nerve ending screaming louder than a heavy metal band, but trust me when I say that the “pain” I was feeling was barely anything compared to actually melting, like it felt more like my skin was itchy than anything. So, I try poking one of the places where my body is melting— don’t ask me why, I don’t really know why I did it— and instead of feeling ectoplasm drip over my hands, I just feel… my arm. And I realize, ‘oh, not only is this just an illusion, it’s a shitty one.’ Or, y’know, at the very least one that doesn’t work too well on a halfa.

So I shake that off, cause yeah, I don’t like seeing myself melt again, but as long as it’s not actually happening again, I’m good. Plus, if it does start again, I do still have my extra ecto dejectos in my bag, and yes, Danny, I will call you if it actually happens, sorry if I almost gave you a heart attack a few minutes ago. Anyway, I turn back to all the tied up screaming people, and I notice these, like, fog-machine-looking-thing next to all of them, and I get closer to one, and the scratchy feeling at the back of my throat gets worse, so now I’m thinking ‘oh, this must be what’s causing everyone to see things.’ So I turn my arm intangible, stick it into this machine, and I pull out this bottle of just… the worst smelling chemicals I’ve ever been near, which is saying a lot for someone born and raised in a basement lab. But, it stops the fog machine, so I plug it with some stuff from my bag, and pocket it so I can’t smell it anymore. I keep doing this to each of the nearby machines, and eventually the front pocket of my bag is just completely stuffed with gross chemicals.

So that’s over with, and I look over to see if the fight’s done, but no, they’re all still going at it, which means I still can’t talk to Red Hood and get him to the Zone, so I figure I have some time to kill. And I remember that there’s, like, ten or so people tied up against their will, so I start freeing all of them. Obviously, the ropes themselves are really easy, all I really need to do is phase them off. The people, on the other hand, are crazy hard to get to actually do anything other than scream. Like, I try pushing people towards the exit, I try dragging them across the floor, anything to get them to leave the building which is— in case you forgot— on fire. I mean it’s just the top floor, but I’ve heard from Ember that a fire anywhere in the house could be the cause of a human’s death, especially if no one’s watching it, and I doubt that anyone is actually watching that fire.

So now I’m kinda panicking, cause I was hoping the fight would be over by now and all these people would have been brought outside, but not only is the fight not over, I look over and see the bad guy throw these cans over at the people, and I realize that they’re giving off the exact same poison-fog as the machines from earlier. And I’m just. So pissed off. Like, I just took care of that!! For all I knew, that illusion stuff could’ve worn off in a few minutes, and I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping all these people alive!!

Side note— Danny. I get it now. I get the whole ‘desperate need to protect any and all humans’ feeling you were talking about.

They are just… so easy to put into danger.

Holy shit.

Anyway, I’m feeling that whole ‘selfless anger on behalf of strangers’ thing for the first time, and I think it turns my brain off, cause I just pick up the cans and throw them at the bad guys head while yelling ‘FUCK YOU, DIPSHIT!’

And my invisibility drops.

So.

Not my best decision.

But not my worst, because my aim was perfect.

I’m pretty sure I knocked him unconscious, but I’ll be honest I wasn’t really paying attention to that guy anymore because I had just revealed one of my abilities— not to mention I think my eyes were glowing— in front of the fucking Batman. Now, I don’t know if the rumors about him hating metas are true, but I do know that most humans fucking hate ghosts, that I definitely don’t know what he thinks I am, and that I’m not risking my ass to find out. So, invisibility goes back up, and I start to book it before I remember that the whole fucking reason I showed up was to help out Red Hood. So I take a flyer, write “sorry, try again tomorrow?” on the back, and then I get the fuck out.

I wind up flying so fast back to this little hideout I’m staying at that I guess I wound up jostling some things in my bag? Yeah, by the time I get back, I feel this… leaking through my bag. And I take it off, so I can check out the damage, and uh…

Ok, so remember how I mentioned those ecto dejectos I keep on me? Well, I tend to keep them in the front pocket. And the scary-illusion-liquid-stuff was also put in the front pocket. And one of the bottles and an ecto-dejecto hit each other just a bit too hard. And apparently. When these two things are combined. You get… a blob ghost. Who only knows how to melt.

I’ve named him Goop, and he’s the most pathetic creature I’ve seen in my life. He just melts until all of his body is liquid, then it all just blorps back together. He’s solid for like a second, then he starts to melt again. Also he keeps trying to drink the scary-illusion-liquid. I’ve been holding him in my lap this entire time, and while he’s not hard to stop, I do still need to sleep, so if anyone has any advice on how to handle a mutant blob ghost, I’m all ears. Also, if theres any specific way to get rid of mysterious chemicals that honestly shouldn’t exist, please tell me, otherwise I’m just gonna find a sink and dump it.

Anyway, that’s enough about my day, onto things I’ve heard about the city…”

————————

The batfam stared silently at the glowing radio that Jason had brought.

And an unspoken agreement was reached.

Meta, ghost, whatever— this was a child with absolutely no adult supervision, severe trauma, an unknown set of powers, and a ridiculous amount of fear toxin. Not to mention something that she described to be a “mutant blob ghost.”

It was time to do a bit of research into the kid.

Or, it would, were it not for the fact that “Wraith Radio” didn’t seem to exist online, nor did “Ellie Phantom.” It was also likely she used a fake name for her show, since there didn’t seem to be any records of an “Ellie Phantom” anywhere.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to deter them. After all, she herself had mentioned her family.

And so, they began looking into Amity and her cousin, Danny.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Sliding Into Home - A Frank Adler AU

Pairing: MLB!Frank Adler x Abigail Hernandez (OFC)

Synopsis:

After a trade from Boston to Los Angeles, first baseman Frank Adler would seem to have it all. Money, women, an amazing niece, yes Frank should have it all. Except for one thing. One thing that left after a mistake five years ago. Los Angeles should be the chance to start over. Except she is supposed to be in Boston. Not his new medical director.

* A Frank Adler AU x Major League Baseball Story**

Warning: ANGST (i can't stress this enough), second chances, cheating, eventual smut, slow burn, drug use, abandonment issues, betrayal, domestic violence (i may have missed some), flashbacks

AN: This is my new series I'm starting next week! I hope you all will like this one. Tagging my usual tag list but please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

Taglist: @patzammit @firephotogrl74 @texmexdarling @slutforchrisjamalevans @jennmurawski13-writes @tinkerbelle67 @before-we-get-started @bunnyforhim

Master List and Preview below:

Frank was looking at a Los Angeles icon, Dodger Stadium.  It was his new home, his new team and hopefully his new life.  He asked a security guard where to go and was met at the door by an assistant.  She was a shameless flirt, commenting on Frank’s forearms and his tattoos, cooing about how good of a player he is.  There was zero chance of Frank being interested.  His Friday Night adventures were reserved for road trips only. His one-night stands worked out just fine, in his opinion.  

As he was guided into the conference room, Frank was met with the president of operations, Nick Stanton. “Mr. Stanton.” 

“Frank! Good to see you again.” He shakes hands with Frank. “We’re waiting for everyone so can I offer you a drink?” He gestures to Frank to sit at the table. 

“Just a cola, thanks.” Frank took the seat next to the head of the table.  

“How was the move?” 

“Smoother than I thought it would be. Mary, my niece, threw a couple of tantrums but between me and my nanny, we managed to get her here.”  

“Nanny?” 

“Oh yeah, Scott, he’s great. He was willing to move with us, which is great since Mary seems to only listen to him.” Frank chuckles. “Who would listen to your uncle/pseudo father?” 

“I remember that story,” Nick replies. “You are brave to take on a baby right after bring drafted.”  

Frank shrugged. “Its not that big of a deal. You would do anything for family, especially Mary.”  

More voices float towards the conference room and Frank stands as he sees his agent and lawyer walk in and shake his hand. Then the general manager for the Dodgers comes in, making small talk with Frank.  

“Ok, I think we are just missing the team doctor and our legal team,” Nick tells everyone. “Its not Natasha, she’s busy with another client.  She’s sending in their new associate.”  

Frank just nods as the GM goes over the training schedule and when he would meet the team.  The conference room door opens and Frank turns to see and his stomach drops. He feels himself become clammy and pale. Because this shouldn’t be happening.  

Fuck.  

He looks at the brunette that walked in.  

she’s definitely not supposed to be here.  

What the FUCK! 

Abby Hernandez, his ex-girlfriend, love of his life, walked into the room.  

It Doesn't Stay In Vegas

The Future is West

Are You Sure We Aren’t Going Crazy

You Were Enough; You Are Everything

Fastballs and Fiancés

You Left Me

Take Your Niece to Work Day

Don't You Know How to Spell Assume?

Wanna Feel Safe Again

Maybe I should Have Ducked?

When It All Falls Apart

WTF Just Happened!

D N A: Diane Nicole Adler

Not Just a Pretty Face

It's A Ruff Life

Status: All Star

Since When is Ice Cream Evil

On the Hunt for Mike Weiss

The Next Adventure

A Bump in the Road

Unexpected Surprises

For Reasons Unknown...

Evidence, Emotions, Whatever

Trial By Fire

The One With the World Series

Oh Captain! My Captain!

Finale

[box-architecture]

I think Dream should be a vampire and Sam is a monster hunter raised in a catholic-esque sector, who believes that all monsters are evil so obviously Dream is also evil. And Punz is also a monster hunter who has stopped him multiple times and defended Dream and Sam has been steadfastly refusing to listen to them yell about how Dream is a person-

Except. Except even as he hunts down Dream he begins to have doubts. Over and over again. Until he and Dream are often working together against some greater problem. Until Sam doesn't want Dream to die.

I'll just capture him he says to himself. He can be reasoned with. Surely.

Except he doesn't want to do even that. He wants Dream to drink from him, to rely on him, to be sprawled out on the forest floor so Sam can hover over him and trace every freckle on his face. He wants Dream on top of him, haloed by moonlight, eyes bright and blood on his lip, taking Sam's neck between his teeth.

It's probably even better that way. Dream can't hurt anyone if he drinks Only from Sam. If Sam brings him home and keeps him safe and content. Surely he is being purely altruistic and not a little obsessed.

And he can't stop the Longing on his face when he watches Dream and Punz share a tender kiss before Dream has to disappear at sunrise. Dream holds Punz so gently, his voice goes soft and fond and sweet, and he strokes Punz's cheek like they matter infinitely, and Sam can understand why. Punz is just so ! Good. Competent and powerful and cocky but beautiful when they're covered in blood and had the courage to stand up for Dream and tell Sam he was wrong. Sam can understand why Dream would love someone so wonderful. So pretty. He thinks about what Punz would taste like and doesn't notice when they both glance at him, knowing.

I can't decide if he should become a werewolf through getting bitten protecting Punz, or if it should be a family thing that was never triggered because the church Suppressed it.

Wait fuck as I was typing I realized I could combine these.

Sam learns that a lot of the monster hunters of the church, their Enhanced Strength Speed Power, isn't actually a holy blessing but specifically them all being monsters who have the "monstrous" quality suppressed.

And he removes the suppressor so he can become a Big Boofer and save Punz.

Because Punz operates outside the church, and they don't like that, so they're going to sacrifice them.

And after Sam does a little murder, he is very growly and grumpy and can't tell who's friend or foe (his first transformation since he was 3 years old, something he can't even remember properly).

And Punz has to calm him down. Which, once Sam stops being growly, he realizes he knows this scent!!!!!! It's his Punz!!!! And now he must Sit on his Punz until all the evils in the world go away.

A Snuggly boof who doesn't understand why Punz is dragging him places, but he'll go anywhere with his Punz (they have to go find Dream, who's curled up in a trap and extremely upset that his enhanced strength and murder abilities don't work on his silver cage)

They flee the church and run off to one of Dream's makeshift hideouts and spend the night curled up with Werewolf Sam who is So Happy to have both of his people. He is getting skritched and kissed and he gets to hold them with his Big Paws and life is very good for a Sam.

He's going to have to turn back in the morning, and then he's going to have to reexamine his entire life and have like 30 breakdowns, but he'll get to be Himself, and he'll learn to become a werewolf at will, and then he will have two partners he snuggles with every day.

[hyolks]

GREETINGS!!! I just read through the wasteland doc and hough. . . it's really really awesome. Do you mind if I share some ideas? (rhetorical. you don't have much of a choice)

Okay, so about some of the toxic sludge stuff; what if it and the alchemist stone are related somehow/derived of the same stuff? Maybe the sludge is like. really temperamental to being handled but if handled PROPERLY it has some. WILD effect. and maybe that's one of the reasons they were testing it on the ishvalen people; to test out what lengths they could go with it? Perhaps through this experimentation they figured out. Wait. What the fuck? This stone thing that we just derived from this sludge and like. these people(idk. maybe it reacts with a blood/sludge ration that is like. super high in human blood but still need s a lot of sludge and thats why they need so many people to make it(or, another idea. maybe using some of the sludge in like. a single humans blood or something and it'll react with a human being as its environment. and make a minimal amount of like. basically the philosophers stone and they need to harvest a LOT but humans don't make much and get killed through it. idk)) but like.using these people and this sludge will make these stones that are SOOO powerful? Also maybe. The reason they raided ishval is because they historically were the main people who had the sludge and had like. writings and stuff making use of the sludge(in minimal amounts. maybe it's also like a religious piece?) and like. idk. And maybe also!! The way the sludge is mass processed/produced/whatever makes it toxic if not done correctly and needs like. special treatment in small batches to make it OK. anyways. Also IDK if you have stuff on Hohenheim yet . . .But I think it would be cool if he was like. One of the people to discover the sludge? Maybe you can keep him super old because he was the group to discover the sludge + with the properties the sludge can have, it kept him from aging or something(IDK if this would really fit the vibe all that well so. shrugs). maybe hohenheim had a twin brother(or childhood bestfriend even. they would probably have to be close) that acts as the homonculus/father? and they found the sludge together. but what hohenheim had regretted his brother indulged and basically did the whole. capitalize indutrial whatever thing to it. And hohenheim wants to stop that. The homonculus works from the shadows and maybe had like the sins working under him as a shadow thing for. whatever evil capitalism reasons. yeah. OH WAIT OTHER IDEA I HAD FOR HOHENHEIM that MIGHT be able to fit into the same thing with the sludge. Maybe he was a former outlaw that wanted to settle down? But he found it too risky to put Ed and Trish and Al in the way so he left. Maybe he became an outlaw because of the Homonculus wanting to et him out of the picture because they didn't share views(or maybe he tried to take him down spesifically and failed which turned him into an outlaw and the homonuculus decided he was to dangerous to be kept around and started to hunt him)? So he turned him into an outlaw. And kept an ear out for him and when Hohenheim knew they were close and there were chances of him being caught. He left. IDK. ALSO. I know you mentioned in the Doc that Al being in so much pain all the time from the sludge stuff eating away at him and how it's a major source of angst/guilt for Ed. But because I am a sucker for Al not being able to feel anything what if he like. Got his nerves to be 'paralyzed' or something? To the point where be can't really like. feel anything. It's a trade off; he either feels so much pain or nothing at all. Maybe it eats away at Ed because like. He put him into a position where he either feels a shit ton of pain all the time or he feels nothing and that's not fair. Anyways. I'm pretty sure I had more to write but I can't remember. So I might come back later if you'll allow it. these are all just suggestions btw. you don't have to listen to anything I say and tweak anything that you see fit. also ssorry if this is like. a jumble of nonsense. articulating can be hard BTW I absolutely ADORE your art. It's literally so swag. like the way you color and do clothes. . . SO scrummy. I hope your day is nice :))

OUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OUUUH I LOVE THIS I SUPER SUPER LOVE THE HOHENHEIM BEING AN OUTLAW THAT WANTS TO SETTLE BUT ULTIMATELY LEAVES TO KEEP TRISHA ED AND AL SAFE... shakes my fist at hoheinheim. if he knew/helped with all of the research before hand and then went rouge.... everyone and their mom in the government body would be hunting down his ass

you actually got pretty close from the shite i was thinkin for the sludge too?? like the uhhhh its super temperamental but is an incredible material when handled correctly??? like the reason the train cart full of it is on their property when theyre young is bc it was being transported cross country to central... for "science"... and it derails for some reason. explosion. and the longer it sits out in the country side the more it like... drains the environment. hence it being an Awful substance unless in a controlled environment and used properly. it being native to ishval would also lend to why it would literally be so invasive to resembool but hmmmmm... evil substances...

I was also thinking. ohhh what would the homunculus be. they. they could BE made out of it. or are just humans that are infected/injected with it like how king bradley is with the philosophers stone but instead of it just being bradley its all of them. also bc i like thinking of what their backstories could be. thinkin about lust in a saloon dress has me weak in the knees

BUT THIS KINDA BRINGS UP WHAT I hinted at somewhere in some tags but like. i was thinkin about . uhhhmm . the mold from re7/8. which after looking briefly through a google search bc ive got some silly idea of it in my head is described as a superorganism that is also literally just mold. it has some kind of consciousness to it, like memory. idk if it has empathy or emotions though.... either way it was used to create eveline, who does have some kind of empathy and emotions, and she can both control it and use its consciousness network ??? sorry i literally cannot think of any proper way to describe this atm but. i was like. oh THIS could be what the homunculus are. they could be like eveline to the mold network.

and ethan gets infected with the mold and bc of that he's able to stick his limbs back on with some goddamn peroxide and literally survive fatal wounds... i was like... ohhhhh what if..... what if at some point.................... ed gets infected by the sludge (perhaps unknowingly).... and sees the homunculus regrow their limbs (idk if mold would do that in resident evil games but this is now in my hands).... and hes like..... oh my god. Oh my god. We. We can get it back. We can get our bodies back.

BUT IF. IF the sludge has the same consciousness network bullshit that the mold does in RE... alongside the hallucinations n stuff... it could literally eating away at ed's sanity and al is like uhm the fuck not we are not fucking doing that . we're getting goddamn vaccinated. but the allure of having a body back...

I KNOW I SO AGREE al not being able to perceive feelings while being in the armor is soooo chefs kiss and RELEARNING how to be human again is even LARGER CHEFS KISS. but youre so right. it was 100% like that so it can be angst for ed. you mentioning this reminded me of a fic i read where ed smokes opium for pain relief and i was like oh what if al did that? since he's essentially a giant walking open wound? but idk... it would wean into drug abuse bc how could it NOT with the sheer amount of pain he would be in. i might think on it a little more but substance abuse is a topic I'm not super familiar with yet so.....

I HADNT EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT FATHER,, ohhhh you are one helluva thing to tackle my good friend. this is going on the back burner.

you are always welcome to say more!! i love listening. I'm literally kickin my feet and giggling reading messages like these. u have brilliant things to say love

[l-michalska-writer]

Random bookolots pt.1

Maybe loving me is the reason you cant love yourself.

I always said I love you too soon.

So it seems I broke your heart…

So it seems you broke my heart.

The monsters have their own disguise.

I know loving me was easier in your head.

Would you like to fuck off?

Some tears just dont dry.

If I cant have you no one should.

Monsters wont have power over you if you’ll become one of them.

Why can’t I say that you’re the reason I’m still awake?

Was that a metaphor for something more?

It’s like I can’t get close to you.

What makes me so emotional?

I never saw it coming.

You know you saw it coming.

You know where to find me.

Loving her seems tiring.

Haunted by your love…

You know you’re the reason you’re alone.

Moje serce… moje serce ma dość.

I should have bet on us.

I would have loved you…

And if you finally had enough… you know where to find me.

Sorry for your loss.

I heard what happened.

I really thought I lost you.

What a privilege it was to matter to you.

Break my heart again, I don’t wanna heal anyway.

She always comes first.

I mean the best but sometimes I’m wrong.

I’m just really grateful that I had you.

I would have loved you if you only gave me a chance.

You got one chance to make it worth my wait.

And I’ll tell you what the worst is. It’s the way it doesn’t hurt when I wish it did.

I don’t wanna go until you see everything you lost when you backstabbed me.

You give me much to say.

I killed him for you.

And if I had to break you… I wouldn't hesitate.

I think I could love you, but I’m not sure.

Hearts don’t only beat, they break.

But she always comes first.

You don’t see me.

I hate that I want you.

Take me back to the night we met.

You can think that you’re in love when you’re just in pain.

If you met my family, you would understand.

If I could only make my heart your home.

You don’t remember, do you? Or do you just not care?

If you wanna talk, I’m gonna listen.

I’m not as evil as you think.

You get what you deserve.

I’m a nightmare when you’re fast asleep.

Revenge has never felt so sweet.

I’ll be your worst and darkest dream.

You won’t see it coming.

What about us?

I’m still holding on to everything we had.

I would have bet on us too.

Do you love my daughter?

Look me in the eyes and repeat every word you said.

Huh?

I shouldn’t have come.

Just say it already.

Now look her in the eyes and tell her what you told me. Are you capable of that?

You’re the only thing I can’t live without.

You let me down and I’m used to it.

We were untouchable, you and I.

What started so perfect ended too fast.

Finally ending all alone.

You miss the old me, but she’s not coming back.

I’m tired of it.

You call yourself a man?

You knew your time would come.

You know the words you weren’t supposed to say.

See the satisfaction on my face.

I knew they would call me to end you.

You changed and so have I.

I could kiss you a little bit harder so you’d know how much I care.

You nearly gave me a heart attack when you said you’re doing fine.

Isn’t it obvious you’re all I have?

[ohbo-ohno]

"it just completely fucks him up because now everything he is doing is wrong and he's getting into trouble for it and he hates the bell on his collar and the cat bed is too soft and none of the toys are right" just. Fucked me up.

Johnny absolutely bawling his eyes out because he absolutely adores the subspace mindset petplay grants him when he gets to be a puppy for Simon and he sososososo looks forward to it and loves getting his chew toys and digging his molars into stuff and getting to rough house and everything that comes along with it and suddenly he has that taken away from him??? Even though he craved it so badly???? And he's expected to do stuff that doesn't come naturally to him and he doesn't like it and he can't do it right and he's being bad even though he can't help it because he's being asked stuff that's so unfair?????? He's so upset and so frustrated and he hates it and hates Simon and hates the fucking bell on his collar and not getting to gnaw at his chewy squeaky rubber bone and Simon taking away his tugging rope and having to meow and being slapped when he whines because "kittens down whine". He knows that!!!!!!!!!!! It's because he's not a kitten he's a puppy!!!!!!!!!!

here's the ask anon is talking about. btw i want this ask engraved on my brain

ok RIGHT!!!! it's suuuuuch a good idea. i think im gonna go with a different one to hit all three of that day's prompts but it's such an evil and perfect idea for mean ghost and needy soap.

being a puppy is so easy for soap!!! he just has to listen and be good, his natural energy levels keep him perfectly in that puppy headspace that makes his behavior dog-like. he hardly changes much, it's really the gear that puts him in the right headspace, not the behavior.

and he loves being a puppy. loves his cage (a little soft space to force him right where simon wants), loves his toys (bright rubber and hard plastic, the perfect dental stims that keep him just stimulated enough to not fully slip away into subspace), the tricks simon makes him preform (so humiliating in a way that always gets him hard, and he loves making ghost proud), getting to play rough and wag his tail and pant like a dog and gets his muzzle and his ears and his leash, oh he loves his leash, and-

but being a kitten? laying still and quiet? purring??????? licking over his body, only being able to give simon tiny little licks that don't even give him a taste?? that's so so much more difficult for him. he misses the sound of his name tag clinking against his collar and leash, hates the way the bell sounds.

i think part of the reason johnny would love being a puppy is because he wants to be praised. he's good at being a puppy, does it so so well unless he's looking for a punishment or some rougher play. puppytime is perfect for him - he gets to obey and be good and get belly rubs and orgasms (when simon lets him) and treats... it's his favorite time, he'd be ghost's puppy all the time if he could be.

and he's so so bad at being a kitten :( just can't do it. kittens don't play with chew toys, kittens play with laser beams and feathers dancing through the air. kittens don't wag their tails and pant, they purr. kittens don't beg for attention, they lay still and wait for pets - not even belly rubs!!! just pets down his back!!! the tail hangs too low, the collar is too light (and he hates the fucking bell) and he doesn't have his leash, and he doesn't get treats from ghost's hands he gets a bowl of milk. johnny hates hates hates being a kitten. wants to go back to being a puppy!!!

every little thing he does wrong - reaching for the chew toys, panting not purring, begging for attention, rolling to his back for belly rubs, trying to paw the collar off, trying to wag his tail - racks up more and more punishments. it's not fair!!!! johnny isn't supposed to be a kitty, he's a puppy!!!!! simon's being so mean and unfair!!!!!

keeps getting himself smacked around :( can already feel his cheek swelling a little where simon's palm keeps landing. makes him teary and whiney and sad and pathetic :(

[rockyroadkylers]

WIP Wednesday!

I was tagged by @ssmtskw and @littlemisskittentoes this time! (both your fics look SO GOOD)

I'm really excited this week because. Okay, listen. I started a new WIP. I had, like, five already, but we were talking in the server last week about how there are almost no "Alex fell first" fics, which is kind of understandable because it's hard to come up with a scenario where it would be him instead of Henry, BUT! I was thinking about it a couple days ago, and I swear, it was an actual lightbulb moment.

Everyone who's read the book knows Alex had a massive crush on Henry way before he realized it for himself, and I'm convinced that crush goes all the way back to the days of J14 magazine. I mean, come on, sneaking into June's room to touch a picture of Henry's hair? Multiple times? 😂 Alex, bless your heart, babe.

Anyway, that led my train of thought to Alex getting snubbed at Rio, and the whole concept of unrequited crushes, and then came the lightbulb moment: Hanahaki AU. I've seen a few where Henry has it, but only, like, one where Alex does. And now there will be another! This is not the kind of vibe I usually go for with my writing, but it's been fun to branch out!

It's, um, slightly evil (big whumpy angst vibes), as I have already been told several times by multiple people in the server who have seen snippets, but I'm having so much fun writing it. So, here's a snippet from my newest WIP, which will either be titled "i picked the petals, he loves me not" OR "come and meet me in my garden"

---

Alex has been snubbed by political peers plenty of times before, and he would be probably snubbed by plenty more, but for some reason this rejection had hurt a hell of a lot more than any other. His heart had dropped into his stomach when Henry turned away from him, with that look on his face like if he didn’t get away from Alex fast enough, he might give him fleas.

The thing is (and it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, even to himself), Alex used to look up to Henry. Until pretty recently, as a matter of fact.

Recently, as in, about two hours ago.

He’d always been aware of Prince Henry as a general concept. The royal family is always in the news for some reason or another, so Alex grew up seeing candid shots of Henry with his parents and siblings in magazine spreads, in waiting rooms and grocery store check-outs. But he can still remember the first time he saw a picture of Henry in one of June’s magazines where he hadn’t been with the rest of his family, just featured on his own in one of those locker-sized tear-out posters, with his name printed across the page in big block lettering and a little blurb about his hobbies in the corner. Henry had looked so bright, and happy, and full of life, and easy-going. Alex had been maybe a little bit obsessed with that picture for… a solid two years. Though his obsession with the boy in the picture ended up lasting much longer.

For all the fucking good it did him, in the end.

How does the saying go? Never meet your heroes. Alex gets it, now.

If Henry really is the reason he’s spending his evening coughing up flowers instead of getting wasted at the diving finals with his sister and best friend, Alex doesn’t know if he should be madder at Henry for being a dick, or at himself for being naive enough to believe they could be friends.

---

I think I've already seen some of these people's posts on my dash today, but I'm gonna go ahead and tag @read-and-write-, @suseagull04, @affectionatelyrs, @inexplicablymine, and @anincompletelist!

[ambiguousrubbish]

Happy Jowan Monday

Here, have some Ex-Tranquil Jowan and Company™️ goodness. Oh, and they’re recruiting Zevran too😍 Jowan was the one to knock Zev out, without any magic.

“Ah…and here I thought you were a caged bird, with broken wings.”

“What is that supposed to mean? Speak plainly or don’t speak at all.” Jowan’s frown reached his tone and the others nodded in agreement. Even Alistair.

“Come now, you know what I meant…blood mage.”

“You call him that again and you won’t live to regret it.” Maeve gripped her staff even as it was pointed at the elf.

“He works for Loghain, Maeve.” Jowan flinched a little when he said the regent’s name.

“Oh, great.” Alistair grumbled.

“You remember me, then?” The elf asked. “I remember you as well. You were different then. Younger, but more…forlorn.”

“I was fighting a losing battle-for my freedom. Now that I’ve earned it, and found a reason to live, I’m not going down without a fight.” Jowan replied with newfound courage. There was a sparkle in the formerly Tranquil mage’s eye. The Chantry truly hadn’t destroyed him, no matter how hard they’d tried.

“Ah, as it seems your life has been spared despite the odds, mine is now forfeit. I have failed my mission so it seems. If you do not kill me the Crows will.”

Maeve’s eyes narrowed. “Not to state the obvious but you just tried to kill all of us. Do you really expect any mercy?” Flames flickered to life at the end of her staff, at the ready should she chose to cast. The bound elf flinched away and something inside Jowan snapped.

“Wait, don’t do it!” He pushed her staff away, singeing his own hand in the process.

“Jowan, what the absolute fuck?” Fen’Asha blurted out. Everyone who grew up in Kinloch Hold collective flinched as she swore. Wynne shot her a pointed look.

“No more bloodshed, please!”

“Cheap talk coming from a literal blood mage.” Their prisoner said, looking Maeve directly in the eyes.

“Wait, wait, wait. You want us to kill you, don’t you?”Fen’Asha asked. She stepped forward towards them, Maeve had lowered her staff and was now fumbling with a healing salve from her pack, presumably for Jowan’s hand.

“What makes you think that, Ash? He just tried to-“

“We know, Alistair. We know. But if he really is a Crow they’ll probably torture him. It’s what they probably do if one of their people fails a contract, if they aren’t caught and subsequently executed. So we aren’t killing him. It’s not really what he wants. It’s a lesser of two evils. Isn’t it? What say you, fellow elf?”

“You know of the Crows. I see.” The asssasin considered the new information and then sighed.

“How?” Leliana asked. “I’ve heard similar stories of the Antivan assassins but I thought they were just tales to frighten children.”

“If it’s true then we have to protect him!” Jowan trembled a bit and then Maeve steadied him by rubbing his shoulders gently.

“The elven mage speaks the truth. I do not think the Crows would take kindly to a report that I failed a contract and survived to spread news of it.”

“Ash, we can’t exactly just forget he just tried to murder us all.” Kyle stepped over the body of another assassin and Jowan began to shake again.

“Right but if we kill him now, we become as bad as he is.”

“Forgive me, amigo, but you and your friends are already covered in blood. And this is not the first time-“

“Please don’t remind me.” Jowan snarled.

“So what do we do, comrades?” Maeve asked as she got the healing salve onto Jowan’s burnt hand.

“I don’t want to kill this guy either but we can’t just let him off-“

“Why not? You more or less turned a blind eye to Jowan’s crimes, my dear Amell.” Wynne said as she chuckled sarcastically.

“Listen-“ Jowan went pale.

Maeve stopped rubbing his shoulders and wrapped her arms around him, and Jowan returned the embrace. It didn’t last long and once he was reassured she was not going to let him deal with this dilemma alone, they both let go.

“Wynne, I understand where you’re coming from but Jowan was not exactly a stranger, now, was he? I grew up with him. You practically raised him. We don’t know what this assassin will do. Aside from attempt to finish the job.”

“I think I know when I’ve been bested, my good lady. But I could be of aid to you and your company if you would have me?” The elf asked. When he called her a lady everyone collectively held their breath, and as if on cue, Maeve responded.

“Please don’t call me that. I’m not a lady, I’m a mage.”

“My apologies. My offer still stands. I failed to kill you so my mission is forfeit along with my life. Should the Crows track me down it will not end well for me, as your friend said, I have seen it happen. Very messy.”

Maeve looked to Alistair and then Fen’Asha whose expression was softer than she’d ever seen it.

Alistair didn’t look pleased or swayed.

Morrigan looked distrustful but not angry. Jowan squeezed Maeve’s hand gently. “He deserves a chance I suppose. I can’t advocate for killing someone who’s tied up at my feet. Even someone I don’t trust.”

“Jowan, do you see yourself in him?”Maeve asked him, looking into his eyes kindly but firmly.

“I do, a little.” The ex-tranquil sounded a bit embarrassed but he did not falter.

“Then he will live. We can protect him and in turn he can help us end the Blight. We don’t act out of vengeance.”

“You have my gratitude and my respect, Grey Warden. I will not disappoint.” The elf didn’t break eye contact with Maeve.

“Ah, yes. Well we should probably inspect our meals more closely from now on.” Morrigan said softly.

Alistair nodded. “We can finally agree on something!”

“Someone tell the Chantry, they need to put it on the calendar!” Jowan rolled his eyes and Maeve grinned at him softly.

“I hate to be rude but it would be difficult to fight darkspawn with my hands tied as they are-“ the assassin’s request was met with a scoff from Morrigan and a slight chuckle from Leliana.

“I can take care of that for you. But mind yourself. Not everyone trusts you. What is your name?” Ash asked.

“Zevran Arainai. Zev to my friends.” He replied as she got to work undoing the crude knots that bound the elf’s wrists. He sounded dazed and she knew better than to assume he was just tired.

“Need a hand?” Ash asked once he was free.

“I think Jowan knocked him on his arse a little.”

Kyle said with amusement in his tone.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. But I’ll do it again if you give me a reason.” Jowan said softly.

“Fair enough, mi amigo. Please help me be rid of this headache.”Zevran sounded more dazed.

“Okay, definitely has a concussion.” Ash placed a hand on the other elf’s forehead and pressed a thumb over the temple Jowan had struck and began to cast.

[hongjoongpresent]

laws of attraction episode 5 thoughts. I LOVE seeing tinn being horny on main man it's just excellent. grandma galaxia best character of all time, literally she's so funny I cannot get enough of her. maya SLAYED that pink dress like I had to pause a moment to fucking breathe SHE'S SO BEAUTIFUL... the fact that all 3 of them just Know some gay shit is going on between tinn and charn when they haven't even Really done anything yet is so funny.

also obsessed with the concept of charn is a fucking menace even when he's asleep and it is physically impossible to sleep on the same bed as him. funniest iteration of the only one bed trope I've seen so far absolutely amazing 10/10

the really harsh difference between the scene where tinn says he doesn't want people to remember tonkhao just as she was murdered, and the fact that yeah but they still have to solve the murder. Idk that hit me really hard for some reason

tinn talking about tonkhao ;-; I could cry for ever man she liked dogs more than cats and she liked the color blue :((((

charn thinking he's going to make tinn happy by using thatthep to get his money is......... baby,, babygirl,,, no,,,,,,,,, tinn is going to be so damn angry and hurt when he finds out charn isn't planning on sending thatthep to court to get him convicted. it's exactly like rose says; he doesn't dare step into tinn's world but he's forcefully dragging him into his own world of evil little schemes even though tinn clearly hates it. iuhgifj man I wish charn would just LISTEN to tinn like ACTUALLY listen to him. he should know he really should know that money and power isn't what's going to make tinn happy

I CAN'T WAIT TO GO TO THE PLACE WHERE MY GUY CHARN GOT TRAUMATIZED I AM SOOOO HYPED FOR THE NEXT EPISODE LIKE YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE MAN EPISODE 6 IS GOING TO BE "CHARN IS ANGSTY: THE EPISODE" OGHOUHIGUFJEK TRAUMA TIME YIPPEE