#(the impressing part being remembering/knowing my own fucking height)

[theglassdragoncollective]

Tens "How tall are you anyway?"

Me (Shrike) *completely blank* "Uh ... " *realizes Ky'de is 5'10" and what I must do* "5'11"."

Tens "What a coincidence!"

#shrike speaks #i honestly have absolutely no clue #so it's whatever is funniest in the moment #tens #trying to impress my new short bf #(the impressing part being remembering/knowing my own fucking height)

[eunoiaastralwings]

Dating Eönwë would include:

featuring eönwë x gn reader

fandom tolkien-the silmarillion

a/n this headcanon was requested by my lovely and beautiful friend @a-contemplation-upon-flowers - but tumblr decided to delete the request from my inbox ! Like seriously you fucking hellsite, leave my requests alone! this is the 3rd time it is happening and it is pissing me off ! thankfully mt pea-sized brain remembered your request because it just a headcanon and you are the only who requested the bird boi

𓆩♡𓆪 If Eönwë is interested in you - it is very obvious, because bird boi here keeps stuttering over his words, whenever he’s around you or there is a blush creeping up this face.

𓆩♡𓆪 The herald can’t make eye contact with you for more than 3 seconds - he’s melting and in awe of your eyes, he dies inside because of its beauty and how your emotions are there for him to read, your sincerity in everything you do.

𓆩♡𓆪 Compliment him and he’s literally falling part in front of you, he makes the dumbest excuse possible, thinking it’s believable and flies off because there’s too many emotions running through him he can’t understand and too overwhelming for him.

𓆩♡𓆪 He would leave you for a few days after that trying to understand these new feelings. Eönwë is yearning and missing you deeply these days - but he can’t understand why. It’s only understandable when he either reads something relatively close in a book he is reading or one of the Valar to become a parent (highly possible to be either Varda or Manwë) and explains to him, in a form of a riddle because it’s up to Eönwë to figure out himself.

𓆩♡𓆪 Eönwë probably needs another few days before he can approach you. He’s planning a beautiful and spectacular way of asking for your hand in courtship, because knows you only deserve the best. Will definitely push it forward when other birds/elves/maiar/human are looking to take your hand - little insecure jealous bird baby. Whatever your culture of courting is, he will add with how eagles call for their mates - yes, trying to impress your air dances and puffing out his wings.

𓆩♡𓆪 The longer you take to answer, the longer he it kills him inside. He concludes too quickly and wants to fly out again - thinking the silence was your rejection, but when you yell out an excited ‘yes’ just as he was about to fly away, he looks at you shocked, surprised and happy all at once.

𓆩♡𓆪 Eönwë fly over to you so fast like in a blinking second and wraps you in his arms and spins you in the air - that is happy he is. Eönwë feels like the luckiest being underneath Arien’s rays.

𓆩♡𓆪 Eönwë would the best lover – always putting your best interests and care at first, becoming your voice of encouragement. He would constantly bring you gifts from his travels – yes, you know what that means. He treats you like royalty, constantly wanting to see your eyes light up and smile at him – it is his favorite, your smile and your laugh.

𓆩♡𓆪 He can be a needy bird - constantly wanting your attention and jealous if anyone else dares to approach his mate. He loves calling you his - not as a possession, no he hates the idea of that. He calls you his because you own his heart and soul, just like he knows he own yours - you are his as much as he is yours.

𓆩♡𓆪 Eönwë loves serenading or reading novels to you - in fact one of his favorite things to do is being outside sitting on the ground leaning against a tree and your resting against his chest - or lying on the ground as you lie your head on chest while he reads to your. He constantly has an arm around at all times - he cannot help it, he wants to feel you close, It is also his way of ensuring himself you are real, especially at the odd times he is feeling insecure.

𓆩♡𓆪 He loves taking you for flying - you are someone like me and scared of heights, he adores how you cling onto him for your dear life. He also makes sure to fly lower, depending on how afraid you are. Only a few inches off Eru’s sweet grounds my dear Eönwë.

𓆩♡𓆪 Sometimes he loves is carrying you his arms and flying over Middle Earth or if it late after both you met up he would carry you over back to your house bridal style - he is just a hopeless romantic.

𓆩♡𓆪 Eönwë tackles your with hugs whenever he returns from far - arms and wings around your for the whole day with kisses and whispers of how much he had missed ‘his dove’ ‘his mate’ ‘his angel’ - he has the fluffiest and cutest nicknames for your. He doesn’t call you that for the sake of being cute but because he truly believes you are and is utterly in love with you.

𓆩♡𓆪 Call him by a pet or nickname or his title and he folds - he is by your side cuddling

𓆩♡𓆪 He adores showing you how much he loves you - one of this displays of affection is wrapping his wings around you. Especially, if it is cold, a wing instantly wraps softly around pulling you close to him. His wings are always their when your are hugging or cuddling - he only does this for you, no one else.

𓆩♡𓆪 His wings are very strong and he loves your to fall asleep on them - they are the softest, warmest and safest bed. Eönwë loves he can give that you - he adores seeing you have fallen asleep on his chest or his wings.

𓆩♡𓆪 Eönwë has a habit of tracing your features when you’re asleep and committing them to memory. He softly kisses all your features too - your forehead, the arch of your eyebrows, your eyelids, the tip of your nose, your cheeks and finally the softest of peck on your lips so he does not wake you up.

𓆩♡𓆪 Eönwë loves the feel of you brushing your fingers through his features - it calms him especially after an exhausting day. Just avoid his sensitive parts, otherwise it won’t be a relaxing afternoon, rather an afternoon that contains a lot of bed activities ;)

𓆩♡𓆪 He can be very protective of you - there can be some arguments because of this, especially if you want to fight in wars, but he does come around to respect your choices and decisions - even if it scares him.

𓆩♡𓆪 He vows to protect you at all costs - if you every end up injured or worse, Eönwë will forever blame himself.

𓆩♡𓆪 He will be looking over you for injuries or bruises - takes it upon himself to nurse you back to full health and he takes it very seriously, he is even afraid to cuddle you - afraid he might accidentally hurt you.

𓆩♡𓆪 All in all he is a perfect mate to have and court. Eönwë also only court you with marriage in mind too.

Taglist form

taras taglist: @fizzyxcustard @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @wandererindreams @aeonianarchives @mismaeve @spidergirla5 @ranhanabi777 @asianbutnotjapanese

#eönwë #eönwë x reader #eonwe #eonwe x reader #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #maiar #ainur #maiar x reader #silmarillion #the silm x reader #tarawrites #eonwë #eonwe imagine

[laurelnose]

how are we feeling about book of hours? or have you left your cultist sim phase

I was a bit confused by this ask bc I’m actually pretty active in Secret Histories fandom and then I remembered my activity for this fandom happens to be like, exclusively on reddit and the wikis, lmao. My Secret Histories phase has not ended, anon! I am always thinking about the Histories!!

Book of Hours: good! I find myself tripped up by choice paralysis every time I get ready to commit a History to paper (it takes so much LONGER to do a Librarian run than a Cultist run, Alex, I know you didn’t actually intend for us to replay the game 100+ times but also 😭) but it’s fun it’s cozy!

It is just flatly not as good or tight an experience as CS — some of the writing is weaker, like the proliferation of just... existing quotes from elsewhere? and the humor attempts are a little ehh; there are still missing features, tho’ yes, these are being worked on at an impressive rate; the replayability is not really there, on purpose — but Cultist Simulator is really fucking good, so BoH falling a touch short isn’t much of a criticism at all. I genuinely really like it and have very much enjoyed the lore-digging. There’s soooo much new stuff abt my problematic apostate fave 🩵 Coseley and Naenia? Coseley and an Hour from Nowhere? Delightful! The patches have been big QoL improvements. Plus I can’t discount the part where the first time I launched the game and the SH kachunk sound played it just—felt like coming home, and that feeling didn’t abate at all as I started working through the Library.

I’m waiting for DAYMARE before I start another descent (and, like, I also need to finish BG3 before Stardew 1.6 drops? besides all the holiday stuff I gotta get through in the next couple months) but I’m gonna do Magnate next I think. I’m a Moth/Lantern sucker so my past Librarians have been mostly the Twice-Born and the Prodigal. Time for Edge!

anyways here you can have a little sad Christopher fic snippet, as a treat

-

The Hotel Ciervo offers a continental breakfast. You pass over the buns and pastries glistening with sugar glaze, the sausages thick and dripping fat, the scrambled eggs beat to improbable voluminosity. You do not fear to eat the food of the Long. (Haven’t you eaten enough of it between your lovers?) But you lack any appetite.

You get a cup of Dawnlion coffee to have something to do with your hands and take it into the Hart Room. Choose a table near to one of the floor-length windows overlooking the glittering waters. In the distance you can see the fog-elided outline of Raven Isle’s caldera. It’s something to look at as you nurse your coffee and wait.

You’re not sure how long it is. Time in the Isles passes more like a memory than an experience, and you’re in a poor state of mind to keep track regardless. But presently a man of middling height with his dense curls cropped close to his head pulls out the chair across from you.

“So, what was so important that you needed to come to Noon in person?”

Coseley will look just as you remember him. He always does; he has been Long for centuries before your own birth. Out of the corner of your eye you see his fingers still long and graceful, his palms smudged with the walnut ink he favors, as he sets his teacup on the table and sits down. When you turn your head from the window and meet his gaze, his face is unchanged as expected. No new lines crease the deep warm brown of his cheeks; no fearsome new depth of Winter shines out of his familiar frost-pale eyes. Further heights of the Mansus have been closed to Julian for almost as long as he has been immortal, and thus he remains as he was when he first ascended.

You know he does not see the same changelessness in your face, the face of an occultist of middling power who is feeling the march of time, for no denizen of the Mansus are you. You are, and remain, merely mortal. You must not be able to keep the desolation out of your eyes, because his brows draw together like an oncoming cold front.

“Where is Teresa, Christopher?”

#secret histories tag #asks #anonymous #laurelnose fic

[bitchfitch]

There was a level of grandeur that came with a castle's grand entry gates being opened. Dozens of strapping guards rushing around in the delicate dance that was required to lower the ornate draw bridge halves so that they would thunk perfectly into place as the nearly one ton metal fence before the door itself was hoisted with the satisfying click click click of a well put together mechanism. A grand preamble to the doors being pushed open, two men each it took to move them, to finally allow entry for a single man on an aging horse with barely more than a saddle pack to his name.

Reidar bit the inside of his mouth to keep himself from grinning. He knew full well these gates were never closed outside of active battle. It was too much fucking work to do this for every supply shipment.

This was all for him.

His horse carried him through into the ornate courtyard, the guards standing at full salute as he passed. Flowers blooming in the late spring sunlight, their golden and red petals making the green spaces look cloaked in flames when the wind tussled them.

Reider held his head high, kept his face stoic. This would be the first time these people saw their new general, and while his cloak hid the worst of the truth, he couldn't let the rest spill out this early.

The doors to the ancient palace that sat nestled within the much newer castle opened with their own sort of fan fair, the court maids coming to stand either side of the main walk, bowing as their king followed behind.

Reidar had a first impression to make, an air of competency and strength to maintain. He managed to dismount his horse, and hand his reigns to the stable hand who appeared to collect it, before he met eyes with Baldric and nearly melted from the warmth and adoration that waited for him there.

Baldric, the king with his crown of gold nestled between his proud horns and his dusty pewter skin that turned lilac at the cheeks. Baldric, who called for all this fuss just to put on a show to welcome him home with.

He grinned and rushed the old fool. throwing his arm around Baldric's shoulders as he was caught and held tight to him. Baldric's hands fisting in the back of his cloak as they held eachother once more for the moment it took them both to remember they had an audience.

"My knight," Baldric looked on the verge of joyful tears, "Oh- Just look at you! My Darling, My Soldier-" he swallowed thickly as they parted, taking Reidar's violet hand in his own and putting his other on Reidar's shoulder, careful of where he knew it would probably still be sore, "Thank all that listens that at least this much of you made it home to me."

"You act as though you expected me to drop dead on the way from the train," Reidar joked, as he shrugged Baldric's hand off from his shoulder. He wasn't quite ready to confront that change with him yet.

"It was but a month ago I received word you were in hospital half dead from an infection earned in the heat of battle. There's not been a day I haven't worried for you since," Baldric squeezed his hand, "But! Today is a day for celebrating. Not for getting stuck in that particular bog again. Come, Come. Your rooms have already been prepared, but i demand you let me show you about this dreary old place before the feast."

"A feast?" Reidar followed h through the doors as the entourage was dismissed with a wave from their king, "How much are you spending on this? Truly there was no need for so much fan fare."

Baldric guffawed and through his arm over Reidar's shoulder an easy task considering the near foot of height difference between them, pulling him close as they walked. "Did that showing disatisfy you my dear?"

"Thats not what I said-"

"Then I've spent hardly enough on welcoming not just this castles newest general, not just my lover, but a war Hero! You know that's what you are right? That's the reception you deserve."

"I'd hardly say I'm much more than any other soldier."

"And I'd never call you a fool, but you do act it sometimes," Baldric teased and pressed a kiss to the highpoint of his curling horn.

Baldric whisked him down the halls, ducking in and out of various rooms as he prattled on about this or that. Never once did he stop touching Reidar during the whole ordeal, always leaving a hand to stray across Reidar's back or to rest on his shoulder or to tangle their fingers together as they found some new corridor to explore.

Reidar could tell their path wasn't random or as meandering as it might have seemed, Baldric had that light in his eye that meant he was up to something. Searching something out within this ornate maze.

They come to a small space tucked down a servants path. It was more a nook made by the mismatch of a few expansions than it was a room proper. It's entrance being recessed and hidden as it was.

It was barely large enough to fit the small table and pair of chairs that had been set beside it's narrow window.

Baldric sighed heavily when he saw the space empty, drawing back out and almost turning before Reidar caught him by the sleeve.

"Would you at least tell me what we're looking for?" Reidar asked.

"Maskota. He's usually so quick to come greet our guests," Baldric sighed, "He's been out of sorts the last few days, but I'm sure he's just found a nice place to nap. We'll find him soon."

"I know we've joked about this before, but are you sure he's your husband and not your cat?" Reidar hoped to lighten his spirits with the prod, even as some anxiety began winding itself up within him, "But, you're certain he's ok with me being here, right?"

"Of Course! Me taking a lover while away on campaigns was his idea, and he's never had much qualm with my other lovers over the years. I think the worst thing he's ever had to say against any of them was that Bernard's perfume gave him headaches. He's just You know, Maskota. He has his reasons I'm certain of it!" Baldric rambled, wringing his hands and not meeting Reidar's eye.

Reidar held his tongue for a moment, letting the king in front of him sweat, Baldric had his half truths, Reidar knew that, but this one felt higher stakes than those that had come before.

"Please don't look at me like that, my darling."

"Look at you like what?"

"Like you can read my mind."

"I promise I can't. If I could I'd know why you're keeping something from me."

"It's nothing you need to worry about. Maskota was just anxious about something a bit silly. It's ... Colored his view of you somewhat. But that doesn't matter. As soon as you two finally meet he will love you just as much as I do," Baldric had so much nervous hope painted in the fine lines of his face that it made him look decades younger, "And you'll love him too, I just know it."

"Are you going to be ok if we don't get along?" Reidar asked carefully. He hoped they would, but with what he had heard about Maskota from even Baldric himself made it feel like the chances of them being more than amicable acquaintances were very very low.

"Of course! Of course. You two are your own men, you can do whatever you please. But... I will admit I have fantasies that won't come to pass if you two aren't at least a little fond of eachother. So maybe I am being, well, me and attempting to weigh the odds a bit."

Reidar quirked a brow at him. It had been months since they were last in the same room with no one to observe them... Perhaps talking fantasies would be a way to warm Reidar up to the idea of 'being fond of' Maskota. "Will you tell me of these 'Fantasies' then?"

"Yes! I'm glad you want to hear. There's this corner in Maskota's garden, It's the most beautiful place in the entire world I'd wager. I'd love to have a picnic with you both there on a sunny day. Oh! and you both love horses so much, we need to all go for a ride in the woods just south of here-"

Reidar's grin turned to giggles as the king rambled on with so much enthusiasm and gusto, until Reidar was cutting him off with a kiss. Short and shallow but lingering I'm the way it left them both smiling quietly to themselves. Reidar leaned his head on Baldric's shoulder, and Baldric once again wrapped him in his arms.

"I love you," Reidar said against the side of Baldric's neck.

"I love you too, but I'm now realizing those weren't the sort of fantasies you expected me to share, were they?"

"They weren't. But I'm glad you did. I'll do my best to befriend him, so that you can have them come true."

"You could kill me with how gleeful those words have made me." Baldric held him a little tighter.

Reidar turned his head just slightly to press his lips to his lover's neck. The moment was sweet, the air calm, and the room private, why shouldn't they take this opportunity to sneak something quick in like they had many times before?

Reidar knew he had a private room now, and that Baldric would probably welcome him in his. There were no barracks for Reidar to return to before he was missed, no draft biting through the thin fabric of their tent. They had time now, security too. There was no need to be sneaky and quick about their affections, but as Baldric took the hint and let his hands trail down along Reidar's back to grope the firm muscle of his rear beneath the layers of his clothes, Reidar didn't care about there being a 'need' for any of this. It could just be a thrill with no fear to taint it now.

Reidar pulled back to catch the king in a more full kiss, open mouthed and wet, as he crammed his hand between their bodies to seek out the fastens on Baldric's trousers.

"Your Majesty!" a voice called from up the hall. Infuriating in its existence, questionimg in its tone, "Are you here? You are needed urgently in the throne room."

Baldric grimaced, Reidar glared in the direction it had come from.

"Duty calls," Baldric sighed. "You remember where my rooms are, yes? Be in my bed when I'm done so that we may continue this before the feast, but don't expect me soon. Explore for a bit, make yourself at home. Ok?"

"Yes sir," Reidar stole another kiss before stepping back to let him bustle past and towards the caller.

Reidar gave himself to the count of 30, readjusting his cloak to once again properly hide the stub of his arm. Straightening out his collar, and generally fussing as he let his frustration piddle out. It wasn't the first time they'd been interrupted, it wasn't even the worst time, but still.

He stepped from the small room and wandered back down the corridor until he was once again in one of the main halls. Vaguely he recalled how to get to his room from here, but still the task of navigating the grand and open spaces was daunting when he felt he looked so out of place within them.

He was dusty from his ride, still wearing a well worn pair of soldier's boots and the plain garb of a man who'd long since given up everything he had to serve in an army that had no use for a wrong armed swordsman. Even the maids bustling about on their day's labors wore silken bonnets and lacy ribbons, while he looked like a very lost beggar.

All the courtiers and maids and what not gave him a wide berth as he trudged to his room. All but one.

A stunning man with ivy green skin and hair like spilt ink knocked right into him. Their shoulders colliding as the mess of gold jewelry and flowy translucent silks failed to divert from his path.

"Oh- I'm so sorry-" the man apologized as soon as they both came to a stop, "I was just distracted looking for someone," he clasped his hands in front of him, his fingers heavy with rings and ornamental claw covers, and bowed his head in apology, heavy as it must be with the lightly jangling jewelry hanging from his swooping carved horns.

"Yeah?" Reidar asked, already having a feeling who it is he might be talking too, "Maybe I can help you find them."

He seemed a fool and vain as they come, but pretty, and polite enough Reidar could put aside his unobservant nature to begin working towards a friendship with him.

The man grinned, even his fangs were capped in gold, and it didn't reach his lilac eyes, "Thank you, mister. I'm looking for my husband's new toy. About yay tall-" he held out his hand at about a head shorter than Reidar actually was, nearly naval level on the willowy mess of opulence, "And he's supposed to be a skilled soldier, a Captain even, but I hear he couldn't even win a little scrap. Lost his arm to it and everything. He has a name I'm sure, but My dear only ever calls him something very rude when he speaks of him."

Oh, so he's going to be like That, Reidar thinks to himself bitterly.

"It's nice to meet you too, Maskota." Reidar fakes a smile equal to the one Maskota has plastered on his thin face, "Names, Reidar. Your husband definitely knows it considering how often I've made him scream it."

"Funny," Maskota let the act drop, his lips pursing as he stands to his full height, looking down his nose at Reidar when he does. "I will be frank with you soldier boy. I was here first. I'm the one he's married too. I get last say on whether you stay or get kicked to the street. Understood?"

"Funny," Reidar mimics, "That a man given to him as a pet has so much confidence."

"I'm his Husband."

"Keep telling yourself that, pet," Reidar spat. " And keep acting so big and I'll bring you down to size. I may be down an arm, but I doubt you would be much trouble with how much you've mutilated yourself to be pretty enough for him."

"I don't need to stoop to fighting in the dirt to be free of you, gnat," Maskota snarled, "Count your hours here, you won't be having many."

He stepped around Reidar, clearly planning on sashaying off like a man with dignity, but Reidar couldn't care to stop himself from stomping on the fine silk train of his dress, making him stumble and nearly topple, and hopefully leaving a boot stain on the fabric.

Maskota yanked his skirt free with a huff, not even bothering to glare at him as he stormed of once more.

Reidar felt it right the whore would have pretty diaphanous wings with so much decoration pierced into their clipped membrane that they looked useless for flight now. Of course the air head would ground himself to try and hold onto what should have never been his.

Reidar decided then and there. He could be cordial when Baldric was looking, Baldric deserved that much after dealing with that bitch for this many years, but as soon as his back was turned all bets were off.

He hadn't planned to be a homewrecker, but a man has to do what he has to do.

#a little prologue

[haruchiyos]

SANZU. youre my favorite sanzu writer. Go wild please idk what just something fucking crazy please❤️

AHHH thank you so much my love that really means a lot. Idk I just have a bit of a hard on for unhinged men bgjadkdgukafg 🖤

Okay so this is entirely self indulgent, but imagine the chaos that ensues when Sanzu finds out you're being stalked?

Bonten Sanzu being enraged, proceed at your own risk. tw: implies stalking, graphic violence, implies murder, torture, and kidnapping 

Haruchiyo was an impressively perceptive individual -- even while under the influence -- so the unusual quietness on your part didn't fall on deaf ears. "Something's bothering you, what is it?" he hummed against your ear, arms clasping around your waist as he pulled you back into his chest.

"It's nothing Haru," you breathed, eyes focused on the pot of food before you.

"I know you better than that Y/N," he shot back with a slight edge, giving your hip a squeeze, "Who is it?" Carefully you set down the ladle and turned in you husband's grasp to face him, eyes anxious and down cast. With surprising tenderness he took hold of your chin, angling your head to fully meet his gaze. "You can tell me anything," he stated with finality, leaving no room for argument.

"Do you remember the stalker I had in college?" He nodded, recalling that the 'pest' as he liked to call him had backed off right before the two of you began dating -- lucky bastard. "well, he's back," you admitted, fingers gripping the fabric of your -- Haru's-- shirt as you braced yourself for his reaction.

"Oh?" He offered and cocked his head as if what you had just told him was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. And to some it was: the thought that there was anyone brave enough to torment the spouse of Bonten's second in command.

He had that look in his eyes. That empty, ruthless gaze that froze the veins of anyone unlucky enough to be caught by it -- anyone, except for you.

Without warning he pulled you forward, his lips settling at the crown of your head in an act of cardinal devotion. "He won't be a problem anymore, I promise you that," he vowed. And you believed him.

It Sanzu took less than a day to find him. Fourteen hours to be exact. A few of his most trusted underlings had taken care of rounding him up. They had thrown him into Bonten's infamous red room, bound like an animal -- presented to Sanzu as a perfectly wrapped present.

The man, or pest as he'd dubbed him, was already crying as Haruchiyo sauntered in, scarred lips splitting in a smile of pure ecstasy despite being sober. A picture hung from his fingers; a picture of you, smiling and careless at the after party of your wedding. "Recognize her?" he mused, gaze of cerulean cruelty burning holes into the man below him.

He shook his head and Sanzu felt his blood boil. Was he really going to lie to him? As if he didn't already know everything?

A muffled screech of pain echoed from the man's taped mouth; its shrill sound reverberating throughout the room as he sent his booted foot hard into the man's ribcage. "I'll ask again," the pinkette began and crouched to the bastard's level, shoving the photo into his tear stricken face. "Do you recognize her?"

This time he nodded. Sanzu chuckled darkly and returned to his full height. "That's my wife," he stated icily "I can see why you've taken such a liking to her. She's beautiful, kind, strong -- everything a man could ever want."

Desperate muffles of what sound like 'I'm sorry,' came from the bound man, but Sanzu paid him no mind and sauntered to a locker in the far corner of the room. "Even so, a pathetic bitch like you has no right to even look at her. And yet--" he paused to suck is teeth in dismay, finger trailing along the various tools hung before him. "-- you took it upon yourself to torment her -- my wife." he finished, brass knuckles and a dagger in each hand.

He could of had his lackeys quickly dispose of your stalker, but that wasn't a fitting end for someone that had the balls to encroach on the comfort of his darling doll. He had already gotten away with it once and decided to try his luck again. What a grave mistake that had been.

Your husband stood stone faced over your stalker, taking a moment to remind himself of the fear he saw swimming in your eyes last night. His blood boiled again. Without warning, he surged forward and landed a kick even Mikey would be proud of to the underside of his jaw. A mantra of psychotic giggles spilled from Sanzu's lips as he watched the man choke on his own teeth -- the duct tape preventing any sort of relief. "Ohh, did that hurt?" he cooed, bending over and pinching the bastard's nose close. "You poor little thing. Should of thought before tormenting Y/N." he spat and waited until consciousness began to fade from his eyes before allowing the man to breathe once more.

Patiently, he waited for him to meet his gaze -- eyes bloodshot and tear-filled -- before lunging forward to seize his hair in a vice like grip. Savage glee coursed through Sanzu's veins as he angled the man's head back to meet the impact of his brass laced blows perfectly.

Each punch brought broken skin at the very least and broken bones at the very worst. The rythmic 'thump, thump, thump' of Haruchiyo's assault mixed with his own mantra of deranged laughs formed a melody of brutality.

"Don't go passing out on me now!" he hollered and threw the battered man back to the cold cement. Swiftly your husband retrieved his discarded blade and twirled it about his fingers carelessly "We're only getting started."

❤️ enjoy my lovely anon

tagging my other unhinged sanzu lovers @anubai @souyawn @katsukisbimbo

#🖤.az writes #🖤.the devil #🖤.tokyo revengers #🖤.sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu dark content #tokyo revengers dark content #tr dark content #Tokyorev dark content #tw violence #tw blood #tw beating #tw implied death #tw torture #tw implied stalking #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

[hockey-fics]

Is There An Us? ~ Brock Boeser 

Summary: Your relationship with your neighbour was just about casual sex and that’s all it was ever going to be. Or so you thought. 

Word Count: ~7k

Warnings: smut, arguments, language

Standing in the quiet hallway of your apartment you listen to the sound of the elevator whirring as it approached the floor. Grabbing the handle of your bag you readjust it on your shoulder, sighing as you wait for what felt like forever. Perhaps the six flights of stairs really would have been the better option. But just as the scales are tipping in favour of jumping ship and heading for the stairwell the polished metal doors glide open. 

Your eyes drift up to the man stepping out of the elevator. He seemed to be around your age, tall and attractive. You watch as he looks up from his phone, locking it without looking back down when he sees you. After stepping off the elevator and onto the solid floor he visibly pauses, eyes glancing up and down your body. You hold yourself back from rolling your eyes at the blatant way he was checking you out. “Hey,” he says with a slight nod. 

“Hey,” you reply, stepping to the side of him as you stick your arm in front of the closing elevator door. 

You glance back at him one more time. His eyes were still on you but he only looks up to look into your eyes when he notices you had looked back. Pulling your arm back you let the doors close, pressing the lobby button on the elevator. You hadn’t even realized that your heart was racing a little after the interaction till you were leaning against the elevator railing, already replaying the interaction. He wasn’t that attractive that he could do that and still seem intriguing to you…was he?

A couple weeks later you were digging through your purse, your anxiety levels bubbling up with each passing, keyless minute. You didn’t need your keys to lock your apartment door, it came with a keyless code entry instead. When you first moved in, thrilled with the ease of it all, you hadn’t realized what else would be incredibly easy…leaving your keys with the front door fob on your kitchen counter. 

“Need to get in?”

Flinching you whirl around, looking in the direction of the voice. Not only were you locked out alone it was also getting late and the darkness had started to worry you standing outside the building alone. But you recognize the figure immediately, your panic subsidizing slightly. The man from the elevator a couple weeks before. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Chuckling he shakes his head, his keys already in his hand as he steps closer to you, reaching his arm out to hold his key fob near the sensor. The light flashes green and he pulls it open, stepping back and gesturing for you to walk in ahead of him. 

“So you can check me out again?”

He raises his eyebrows, glancing into the empty apartment lobby. “I could have left you out here.”

Scoffing you step through the open door. “You’re kind of an asshole,” you comment, already walking to the elevators, pressing the button just a little too hard. 

“I wouldn’t…” he calls, jogging slightly to get to the elevators before you could disappear, potentially skewing your opinion of him forever. “…wouldn’t have left you out there.”

Keeping your body facing the closed elevator doors you turn your head to look over at him. “Oh, wow, sorry, you’re a real gentleman then,” you reply sarcastically. 

“I, uh…look, I’m sorry, I think I gave you a bad first impression,” he stutters, seeming flustered. “I’m Brock, by the way.”

The elevator dings as the doors slide open and you step into the brightly lit space. “Y/N,” you reply, voice quiet and uncertain. Were you really going to let his past behaviour slide simply because he got a little flustered and muttered a hollow sorry? 

You watch as he reaches over, pressing the number 6 for you both. “Did you just move in recently?”

“Just over a month ago,” you tell him, your shoulder pressing against the elevator wall as you lean against it. “How long have you been here?”

“A couple years,” Brock tells you. “I’m in 625 in case you ever need anything.”

You stare up at Brock blankly for a few minutes. Were you supposed to tell him your apartment number? Was he really offering to help you out in a time of crisis beyond being locked out of the apartment building? Or was he suggestion something beyond friendly and helpful with that? “636,” you eventually blurt out, feeling your cheeks redden immediately. “I’m, uh, I’m in 636…in case you need something,” you clarify just as the doors open.

“I’ll remember that,” Brock chuckles, stepping off the elevator after you. He turns in the opposite direction of you, glancing back with a smile. “See you around.”

“See you,” you call, heading down the hallway to your apartment.

And see him around you did. It seemed like you ran into him with greater frequency than anyone else who lived in the building. In the hallway, in the elevator, in the parking lot. Perhaps he was just easy to notice, tall and handsome, but you seemed to see him more than anyone else that lived in your building. And you couldn’t deny the little crush you had developed on him. Your heart would race when he would stop the elevator doors from closing to let you get in. Your cheeks would get warm when he would open the front door for you, cracking jokes about being there to save the day even though you always did have your key. 

Saying you were happy it was Friday was beyond an understatement as you yank the apartment lobby door open. Your day seemed to have gone on forever, everything so much more difficult than it should have been. You were stressed and frazzled and you were ready to be doing anything other than thinking about work. As you get to the elevator you hear the front door opening again, drawing your attention. Your eyes land on Brock and you can’t help but smile a little. “Hey,” you greet as he walks over, your voice a little deflated. 

“Hey.” Brock watches you for a split second, seeming contemplative. “Is everything…okay?”

Sighing loudly you nod, “just a really long, really bad day. I’ll be fine. How was yours?”

“Not bad,” Brock tells you honestly, stepping into the elevator after you. “What are you doing now?”

Shrugging you press your shoulder blades against the wall elevator, looking up at him. “Anything to get my mind off the day.”

“I have a bottle of wine at my place if you think that might help.”

Smiling softly you nod, pulling away from the elevator wall when the doors open. “I definitely think that would help.”

So you follow Brock down the hallway in the opposite direction of your own apartment, never having been down the hallway before.  

You step into Brock’s apartment, immediately noticing how much more spacious it was than your own. Suddenly you realize you didn’t really know much about him, only knew what you had assumed about him. You didn’t know how old he was, what he did for a living, didn’t know if he had roommates or even his last name. Kicking off your shoes you follow him into the kitchen, watching him grab a bottle of white wine from the fridge. “White okay?”

Nodding you press your elbows against the bar height counter, leaning down onto it. “That’s great.”

Brock pours two glasses of wine, setting one in front of you. “So, you want to talk about it?”

Picking up the glass you take a sip, the flavour unfamiliar. It didn’t taste anything like the nine dollar bottom shelf bottles you had gotten used to. “Not really,” you reply honestly. The last thing you wanted to do was recount exactly how stressful the day had been. 

Brock laughs and nods to the left, your eyes following to notice the living room. “Want to go sit down?”

Nodding you follow Brock into the living room, carefully settling down onto the couch, the glass of wine in your hand as you curl one of your legs under the other, facing Brock on the couch. “What do you…do?” You ask, gazing around the living room. While you were living in the same apartment building everything in his unit seemed to be just a higher caliber than your own. 

“I play hockey.”

Glancing back over to him you giggle quietly. “I mean, what do you do for a job?”

“Hockey,” Brock repeats, chuckling. 

You blink a couple times letting it process before nodding slowly, eyes glancing around the apartment. From what you knew about professional athlete’s salaries it did all check out. “Wow.” You look back to Brock, unsure exactly how to react. “Impressive.”

“Yeah, you seem impressed.” His voice is filled with sarcasm and the little smirk on his lips tells you he’s amused by your lacklustre response. 

“I didn’t,” you begin, pausing to laugh softly, glancing down at the couch as your cheeks warm up. “I didn’t mean anything by it...just not what I was expecting.”

Brock takes a drink of his wine, his eyebrows lifted slightly as he sets the glass back onto the coffee table, clinking quietly against the glass table. “I don’t look like an athlete?”

“Oh my god,” you groan, laughing as you reach over, playfully hitting his arm. “Stop...you know I didn’t mean that. You do look very fit...I mean, like from what I’ve seen.”

“So you’re allowed to say that but you wanted to like kill me for checking you out that one time.”

“That’s different,” you protest. Lifting your glass to your lips you take another large sip of your wine, setting it down and curling your other leg onto the couch you lean your side against the back of the couch. “I wasn’t like...fucking eyeing you up and down so blatantly.”

“Blatantly?” Brock enquires.

Groaning you roll your eyes, tipping your head to the side to rest on the back of couch, giggling. “Whatever...yes, you’re hot, is that what you want to hear?”

Brock shrugs, the smirk on his lips only growing. “Well I’m not going to say I don’t like hearing it...but especially from you.”

You swallow heavily as you stare over at him, an overwhelming urge to reach over and touch him. To kiss him, to let him run his hands and not just his eyes over your body. Your eyes flick down to his lips for a second, your own parted slightly as an unsteady breath leaves them. 

You slip one leg out from underneath you, sliding closer to him on the couch. Brock looks over at you for a couple moments, contemplative and tentative before leaning closer. His hand slips along your waist, gently tugging you a little closer as he brings his lips closer to your own. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you bring one hand up to his shoulder, sliding behind his neck as you wait for him to kiss you. The moment seems to last for longer than it should before Brock presses his lips to yours. But as soon as he kisses you there isn’t another second of hesitation. Your own lips are eager, your body relaxing as you let Brock pull you closer. Your free hand moves to his arm, grasping at his shoulder as his entire arm circles around you. 

The stress of the day was already so far out of your mind, so completely wrapped up in the moment. You clumsily pull one leg over one of Brock’s settling down onto his thigh. Your hips grind down against him and you’re not even sure if it was voluntary at this point, your body seeming to be taking over, needing a release. You moan against his lips as Brock brings his hands to your hips, guiding you to continue moving. Pulling back you gasp softly, fingers curling into the fabric of Brock’s shirt. 

“Feel good?” Brock asks, a smirk on his lips. You can tell he’s feeling pretty cocky, knowing he didn’t even have to do anything to make you moan. 

“Yes,” you whisper, leaning back in. Your lips meet his again, fast and eager as you bring your leg to the other side of him, now fully settled on his lap. You can feel that he’s just as painfully turned on as you are and you pull back. Your hands grasp at his shirt, tugging it up in an effort to signify that you wanted to speed things up. 

Brock takes over, pulling his own shirt off before swiftly moving to yours, pulling it over your head easily. You can feel his fingers on your bra strap a minute later, the familiar relief of the fabric loosening around your body as he unhooks it, the straps slipping down your arms. His hands slide slowly up your bare sides as your lips connect with his again. You feel a shiver run up your spine under his touch, confident but gentle and slow. 

A couple minutes later you pull back, sliding yourself back as you move onto the ground, your knees hitting the soft rug. Brock groans quietly as he watches you get down onto your knees. Your hands move to his jeans, fiddling with the buckle of his belt. 

Brock’s large hands are on yours not long after, lifting them away from his belt as he finishes taking it off himself, lifting his hips to slide his jeans and underwear off for you. Reaching back over you gently wrap your hand around his hard length, your eyes flitting up to his as you lean forward, tongue running over the tip of his dick. 

“Fuck,” Brock groans, his head tipping back on the couch. But as you take him into your mouth as far as you can he brings his head forward again, hands pulling your hair out of your face to watch you. 

You continue what you’re doing, spurred on by the quiet groans and stifled moans coming from Brock. You feel your desire growing with each passing second, squeezing your legs together to try to and get some relief. 

It’s not long before Brock is stopping you. “You’re so good at that,” he mutters, hands under your arms as he pulls you back to your feet. You watch him stand up a second later, leaning down to kiss you again. He slides his hand into yours a second later, pulling away and down the hallway to a room on the left. 

You look around the dimly lit bedroom before Brock places his hands onto your waist, pushing you backwards till you hit the mattress. His bed is soft and comfortable as you scoot backwards on it, watching Brock leaning down, his hands unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them off with ease. 

You swallow heavily when Brock runs his hand up your inner thigh, one arm supporting his weight as he leans down to kiss you again. His fingers brush over the fabric of your underwear and your hand clamps down onto his forearm. Your body language is less than subtle and Brock takes the hint to hurry up, pushing the fabric aside as his fingers run along your folds. Your hips jolt as his fingers find your clit, gentle and slow when he first gets to it. But as you stop being able to stifle your moans Brock increases the speed and pressure till you’re squirming underneath him, moaning quietly. “Oh fuck, I’m…I’m close,” you gasp out. 

Brock continues what he’s doing, your fingers digging harder into his arm. Your eyes shut when the familiar rush comes over you, your body hot as the waves of pleasure rush from your core. You push Brock’s hand back when you’re through your orgasm, clit sensitive from the constant pressure. “Fuck,” you whisper, it’s the only thing you can think. You were far from a virgin but you weren’t used to men caring about your pleasure so much that they would make you come even before themselves. 

Brock leans down, kissing you gently before laying down beside you. Tipping your head to the side you furrow your eyebrows. “You don’t want to…,” you drift off, watching him hesitantly. 

“I mean, yeah,” he tells you with a chuckle. “But it’s up to you.”

You press your hand into the mattress, pushing yourself up and swinging one of your legs over Brock’s body, feeling him pressing against you, still just as hard. “I want to,” you tell him, resting your hands on Brock’s chest, leaning down and kissing him again. “Do you have a condom?” You whisper against his lips. 

Brock nods and leans across the bed as you move off his lap, watching as he grabs one from the nightside table. He puts it on easily, glancing over at you, as if hoping you would just get the message that he wanted you back on top. You giggle quietly as you slide your leg back over him. Reaching down you wrap your hand around his length, guiding him to your entrance as you sink down onto him. You inhale sharply, pulling your hand away as you take over with your hips. 

Brock places his hands on your hips, leaving them there gently, letting you go at your own pace. “You’re so fucking hot,” Brock mutters, looking up at you. You feel Brock bring his hand to your clit again and you tip your head back, gasping softly. 

“Keep going, please,” you plead, the added sensation against your clit tipping you onto the fast track to another orgasm. 

Brock does exactly as you say, his fingers rubbing gentle, consistent circles on your clit. “I-I’m,” you whine, feeling your body getting tired and hot and overwhelmed from being built up to your second orgasm so soon after the first. You’re shaky as you continue moving your hips, trying so hard to keep going as you ride through your second orgasm. 

Brock’s hands tighten on your hips, stopping your movements as he takes over, hips smacking against your ass he thrusts into you. It’s only a couple more minutes before he’s slowing down, groaning softly as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your slightly clammy bodies together. “So good,” he hums, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

When you catch your breath and your heart has slowed down you pull your body off of Brock, rolling onto your back beside him. “You’re a pretty good stress reliever,” you joke, turning your head to look over at him. 

“I’m glad I could help,” Brock chuckles. Sitting up he climbs off the bed, removing the condom and heading into the en-suite bathroom. 

While he’s in the bathroom you scurry about to get your own clothes back on. When he comes back into the room you watch him pause for a moment, glancing at your fully clothed body. “Are you, uh, leaving?”

You glance over at the door and then back to Brock. You had simply assumed that’s what you should do, not thinking too much about it. “Um,” you hum, shrugging. “I was planning to.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ll uh, walk you out…home?” Brock comments, pulling his own clothes back on with a slightly flustered speed. 

Giggling you walk over, grasping Brock’s hand as he reaches for a pair of sweatpants hanging over the back of a chair in the corner of the room. “I can walk down the hallway alone,” you assure him, leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Okay,” Brock chuckles, still seeming a little taken aback by your hasty exit. 

“Okay,” you repeat, stepping back and towards Brock’s bedroom door. “Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, of course.”

So you gather your few belongings, heading out of Brock’s apartment and down the hallway to your own apartment. 

A couple weeks later you find yourself standing in front of Brock’s apartment door. It was pretty late at night and you had been contemplating what you were about to do for far too long. Perhaps if you had just bit the bullet the first time the thoughts crossed your mind the time wouldn’t have been such a problem. Eventually you bring your hand to the door, knocking gently. Maybe if you didn’t knock too loud you wouldn’t wake him on the off chance he was asleep. 

But the door swings open a couple minutes later and you can see the glow of the TV behind Brock, indicating you hadn’t woken him up. “Hey,” you greet sheepishly. 

“Hi,” Brock replies, clearly confused but not unhappy with your presence. “What’s up?”

“Are you busy?”

Brock shakes his head, glancing back at the TV. “Not at all.”

You glance around the empty hallway before reaching over, fingers curling into Brock’s shirt and pulling him down, your lips on his eagerly. Brock responds quickly, his arm wrapping around your body and pulling you into his apartment, his other arm closing the door swiftly. “Let’s go to your bedroom,” you whisper against his lips and Brock takes your hand, guiding you to his bedroom without a second of hesitation. 

And for months things continue just like that with Brock. Sometimes you would text him and get him to come to your apartment, sometimes you would run into him on the elevator or in the hallway and you would both end up back at his apartment, sometimes you would simply head to his apartment hoping he was there. But that’s all things ever were. Occasionally you would watch part of a movie together before or lay in bed talking for hours after. But your relationship with him revolved entirely around sex. 

But Brock wasn’t the only guy in your life. You had met Kyle at the gym a month after you first met Brock and had started casually seeing him. No strings attached with either person, so you figured there would be no harm done. You knew what you were truly doing though, deep down you knew the truth was that Kyle was a distraction. You were far more attracted to Brock, craved his touch, loved the late night conversations. But he wasn’t going to commit to you, hadn’t even taken you out on a date. So you found someone to keep yourself from getting too hung up on him, to keep your feelings from getting involved. 

You had just gone out for dinner with Kyle, now heading back to your apartment to hang out for the rest of the evening. You walk into the apartment lobby, freezing when you see Brock standing by the elevator. Just as you’re contemplating a way out of the situation Brock looks over his shoulder, doing a double take when he realizes it’s you and another guy. You quickly let go of Kyle’s hand, realizing it was too late anyway. 

Kyle continues walking to the elevator, completely oblivious to the tension that had settled on the lobby. “Hi,” you greet Brock, barely able to make eye contact. 

“Hi,” he replies coldly. “Having a good night?”

Swallowing heavily you nod, eyes glued to the ground. “Not bad,” you say quietly. 

“Hey man, I’m Brock,” Brock says to Kyle, his voice cold. He didn’t need to introduce himself, you knew he was making some kind of point but you weren’t sure what or why. 

“Hey,” Kyle replies, his tone friendly and light. “Kyle…how do you two know each other?”

You glance from Kyle and then back to Brock. Brock stares at you, waiting for you to give an answer. “We…,” you begin, trailing off, not knowing what to say. You were always bad at lying and you didn’t know if Brock was going to make it even harder for you to lie. 

“We used to hook up,” Brock replies, his tone unwavering. 

You feel your heart begin to hammer, freezing as you stare at Brock in shock. The elevator opening draws you out of your stunned silence and you reach over, placing your hand in Brock’s path, stopping him from getting on the elevator. “I was here first,” Brock grumbles. 

“I want to talk to you,” you tell him, looking over at Kyle. “Can you please just meet me in my apartment?” 

Kyle hesitates, seeming confused and concerned but he simply nods, stepping into the elevator alone. 

Once the doors close you look up at Brock, eyebrows raised. “What the fuck, Brock?”

“What?” 

Shaking your head you cross your arms over your chest. “You can’t just…you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“The truth?” Brock questions. 

“But you can’t just…you just can’t, okay?”

“Can’t what?” 

“Tell people we’ve been sleeping together.”

Brock shakes his head, scoffing. “Why not?”

“I…because, Brock, that’s personal information.”

Brock chuckles, looking away from you for a moment. “It’s my personal information too, I can do whatever I want with it.”

“Why are you being such a dick?” You snap, frustrated and annoyed. Sure, he was right, he could tell anyone he wanted that you two had been sleeping together multiple times a week for months. But he also could have chosen to be a gentleman and keep his mouth shut, sparing you from having to deal with the issues this would cause with Kyle. 

“Me?” Brock exclaims, shaking his head. “You’re the one running around with other guys.”

You stare up at Brock in stunned silence. “Running around with other guys?” You question, shaking your head. “I’ve been seeing Kyle for months, I haven’t been running around with multiple. Not that it would matter if I was, that’s none of your business.”

“Months?” Brock’s voice is suddenly quieter and his eyes are soft as he stares down at you. “What do you mean you’ve been seeing him for months? We’ve been sleeping together for months.”

“I don’t know…we’ve just been casually dating. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal,” Brock echoes, nodding as he reaches over, pressing the button for the elevator again, indicating he was done. 

“Brock,” you whisper, turning to him. “Brock,” you repeat, beyond confused. You were almost certain he’d been seeing other women, he just had better timing. It’s not like you owed him an explanation, there was no reason for him to be upset. “Can you not just walk away from this conversation?”

“What do you want me to say?” Brock snaps, looking down at you. 

“Why are you mad right now?” 

“Because you’re fucking some other guy.”

It takes you a few minutes for your mind to wrap around what he said and what it meant. “Are you jealous?”

Brock looks down at you, jaw clenched. He doesn’t respond for a minute, looking back at the numbers above the elevator as they count down towards the lobby. “Yeah, maybe I am.”

“Why?” You whisper. 

“What do you mean, why? Because I like you, Y/N.”

You reach over, grabbing Brock’s wrist and gently pulling him to face you. “Do you actually like me or do you just like fucking me?”

Brock glances towards the elevator, the doors opening. Brock slides his hand out of the grasp you have around his wrist, grasping your hand and slipping his fingers between yours as he pulls you onto the elevator. “I like you,” he tells you as the doors close, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. It’s so soft and gentle and you can’t help but melt into his grasp. You slide one hand up over his shoulders, leaning up onto your tip toes. He gently wraps one arm around your waist, the other on the side of your face. 

“We should, uh,” you hum, pulling back. Neither of you had pressed a button to go anywhere, standing in the closed, unmoving elevator. But it felt like you had figured out a pause button. “Fuck, Brock,” you exclaim a second later, taking a step back from him. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what this means.”

Brock reaches over, grabbing both your hands and gently pulling you back towards him. “Why him?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Why are you seeing him but just hooking up with me?”

“Because Kyle and I have been going out, on dates,” you explain simply. 

“What if I took you out on dates?”

“Brock, it’s not that simple,” you whisper, shaking your head. 

“Why not?”

“Because of…Kyle,” you tell him, your voice getting quieter when you say Kyle’s name. 

Brock nods slowly, leaning back against the elevator wall. “Because you have stronger feelings for Kyle than you do for me,” Brock mutters. 

You take a deep breath, shaking your head. “No,” you whisper. 

“Then what’s the problem?” 

“The problem is that you only want to be with me because you don’t want me to be with anyone else,” you tell him, reaching over and pressing the button for the sixth floor. 

Brock stares at you in silence, letting your words sink in. He didn’t know what to say because he realized that there was some truth to it. He had been enjoying what you had. No strings attached, no real accountability to another person. But it wasn’t that he hadn’t developed stronger feelings, he had just opted to ignore it. 

The elevator doors open and you give him a chance to say something, anything, else. But when he doesn’t you step off the elevator, hurrying to your apartment where you were sure you had a less than simple conversation ahead of you. 

After talking for awhile with Kyle he leaves your apartment for the night, both of you deciding you needed time to think. It wasn’t a volatile conversation, both of you well aware of the fact that you hadn’t done anything wrong. There were no strings attached but now you needed to figure out if that’s how you wanted things to stay, both with Kyle and with Brock. 

You went to bed early that night, doing your best to think through the whole situation rationally, to not get too upset about it. Going to bed you had hoped a good night of sleep would help, but when you woke up the next morning you hadn’t found anymore clarity than you had going to bed the night before. You go about your morning routine as best you can, getting ready for work while trying to keep your mind off of the events of the night before. 

You hated bringing your personal life to work but you had to admit that you were distracted all day. You forgot things you normally wouldn’t, things took much longer than normal. You were a mess. And by the time you left work that day you were exhausted, mentally and physically. Gathering your belongings you leave the office, later than anyone else because you needed to stay late to get everything done. It’s pouring rain and the sky is dark when you walk out of the office, hurrying to your car and heading straight home, wanting nothing but the warmth and comfort of your apartment. 

As you pull the door to your apartment open you notice Brock walking in your direction. Rolling your eyes you take a deep breath, avoiding eye contact. 

“Y/N,” Brock says, hurrying to your side. 

“I’m not in the mood tonight. It’s been a long day, I just want to shower and go to bed.” You keep walking towards the elevator, doing your best to ignore the fact that Brock was following you now. 

“We need to talk,” Brock says, voice serious as he steps in front of your path to the elevator. 

“About what?” You deadpan, arms folded over your chest as you stare up at him. 

“Us.”

Shaking your head you step away from him. “There is no us, Brock. There never was an us. So there’s nothing to talk about.”

“What if I want that to change?” Brock asks, voice gentle, eyes soft. 

“I don’t…I can’t,” you begin, hesitating as you reach around Brock to press the button for the elevator. “I can’t do this tonight.” You step around Brock and into the elevator as the doors open, leaning against the back wall and reaching for the 6 button. 

Suddenly Brock sticks his arm in front of the closing doors. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“I, uh, I don’t know, nothing I-.”

“Seven o’clock, I’m picking you up and we’re going for a date,” Brock tells you before letting the elevator doors shut, leaving you alone. 

Your mind races for a few minutes and just as you contemplate going back to the lobby, finding Brock in the parking lot and telling him to forget it, the elevator doors open on the sixth floor and you find yourself walking to your apartment like a robot with a set location. 

You had been hoping the next day at work would go a little smoother, that your distractions would be gone. But now you were fighting through the day with another mind full of distractions. 

“So what’s going on with you?”

Glancing up from your computer you look at Caroline, your work best friend, standing over your desk. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you haven’t taken a single break in the last two days. You haven’t sent me any snarky texts about the boss. You were here late yesterday catching up on work, which you never have to do because you’re always ahead. So, what’s going on?”

Sighing you lean back in your chair, staring up at her. “You know 625?” You had told Caroline about Brock, well, the basics of it. But he always went by the nickname 625. 

“Yeah, of course,” she laughs, sitting on the edge of your desk, ready for all the gossip. 

“And Kyle?”

“The one with the name.” 

“So I was out with Kyle a couple nights ago and we ran into Brock-.”

“Brock, that’s 625’s name?” Caroline exclaims. 

“Yeah, it’s Brock,” you laugh, swaying side to side in your chair. “So we ran into him and Brock got all pissed and jealous, acting like we were dating and I was cheating on him. But we haven’t even been on a single date.”

“But he clearly has feelings for you.”

Rolling your eyes you press your elbow to the desk, your head in your hand. “I don’t know, I thought maybe I just bruised his ego a bit. That he was just jealous because he wasn’t the only one I was sleeping with. But then…last night, he uh, he asked me on a date. A real date. Tonight, at seven.”

“Oh my god,” Caroline says, the shock in her voice not hidden. “So 625, uh, Brock, sorry…really does have feelings. What about Kyle?”

“I don’t know,” you whine. “I haven’t even really talked to him since that night. And part of me, I don’t know, maybe I don’t want to? Like now that I have Brock’s attention I don’t need Kyle as a distraction anymore. Fuck, I’m such a bitch.”

Caroline lets out a quiet laugh. “I mean, it’s kinda a bitchy thing to say but you were never trying to be a bitch so I don’t think it counts. I think you just need to follow your heart on this one.”

“My heart is dumb, Caroline.”

“Your heart will figure it out eventually.” Caroline stands up, giving you a reassuring smile before heading towards her own desk. “Oh, and can you finally answer my email about the meeting tomorrow afternoon?” She calls. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’ll do that now,” you call back, feeling guilty about letting your work suffer. 

Later that night you were standing at your kitchen counter, staring at the time on the oven. 7:02. You check your phone for what felt like the hundredth time that hour, trying to keep yourself from feeling nervous. It was just Brock. You had done things with Brock that you had never done with anyone before. He had seen every part of you, had touched every inch of your body. Yet the idea of going on a date with him was sending waves of anxiety through your body. A knock at the door makes you flinch, as if you weren’t expecting it. Taking a deep breath you walk over to the door, pulling it open and looking up at the tall figure in front of you. 

“Hey,” you say quietly. 

“Hey,” Brock replies with a soft smile. “You look beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks redden in an unfamiliar way and you glance down at the ground. “Thanks.”

“These are for you,” Brock says, handing you a bouquet of flowers. 

Reaching over you take them from him, looking at the flowers in awe. “I, uh-.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Brock says, stepping into your apartment. “You don’t, um, have to make it a big deal.”

“I’m not,” you say quickly, despite the fact that you were trying really hard to contain the smile on your face. Bringing them into your kitchen you look through your cupboards for a vase. 

“Do you want me to get it?” Brock asks, watching you reach for a vase on the top shelf. 

“Sure,” you say, not having a chance to step away before Brock is standing behind you, reaching up over you to grab the vase. When he sets it down you slowly turn around, your bodies pressed against each other. Your eyes meet his only for a second before you lean up, pressing your lips against his. 

Brock kisses you back, his hands tugging on your waist, pulling you even closer. Your arms slide up over his neck and he lifts you up onto the counter, your legs wrapping around his torso. Pulling your hands back you bring them to his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons. 

“Wait, stop,” Brock says, pulling back, his hands wrapping around yours and pulling them away from his shirt. “This isn’t what this is about.”

“What?” You whisper, breathless and flushed, heart racing. 

“Tonight. I’m not here to have sex with you. I’m taking you out, on a date. A nice date…which we’re going to be late for.”

“Brock,” you whine, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his gently. “That ship has sailed.”

Brock chuckles, his hands on your waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter. “I know, I’m sorry. I should have taken you out a long time ago,” he tells you, lifting you off the counter and setting you down gently. 

Rolling you eyes you shake your head, turning your back to him to fill the vase with water. “I was just your fuck buddy, Brock. You and I both know that. I don’t know what changed, if anything changed at all. Maybe you just want me to think we’re more than that, so you can have me all to yourself, I don’t know. But don’t pretend you’ve had stronger feelings this whole time.”

Brock wraps his arms around you, his chest pressed to your back. “I’ll be honest, I do want you all to myself. The idea of you being with anyone else makes me mad. But it’s more than jealousy, Y/N. I don’t want you to be with anyone else but I don’t want to be with anyone else either. I know that’s crazy to say on a first date-.”

You can’t help but laugh at the idea of this being a real first date, after months and months of hooking up. “Sorry,” you whisper, for cutting Brock off with your laughter. 

“I’m trying to be nice here and you’re laughing at me,” Brock chuckles, turning you around to get you to face him. “I like you…I have feelings for you. I didn’t even realize how strong they were till I saw you with Kyle. I don’t know, maybe I didn’t have to think about it until then. I just thought, things were good the way they were, we didn’t need to have that conversation…this conversation.”

You’re quiet for a moment after he finishes talking, processing what it meant, what you were supposed to say. “I don’t want you to be with anyone else either.”

“Good,” Brock whispers, leaning down and kissing you quickly. “Now come on, I’ve got a date to take you on.” 

Brock takes your hand, guides you through your own apartment to the hallway, watches you lock the door behind the two of you. He doesn’t let go of your hand till you’re at his car, where he opens your door for you, closes it once you’re settled in the passenger’s seat. The drive to restaurant feels strangely comfortable, Brock letting you pick the music, the conversation flowing easily. 

“This place is so nice,” you say to Brock after the two of you put in your drink orders. Wine, of course. 

Brock shrugs, arms resting on the table as he leans closer, towards you. “I hoped you would like it.”

“I do,” you tell him. “But I would have liked any place you took me. It’s not about where we went, Brock, it’s about you actually taking me somewhere, a real date.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind for next time, and the time after that, and-.”

“Shut up,” you giggle, rolling your eyes. “What does this mean?” You ask with a newfound sense of seriousness. 

“What?” 

“Us. We’ve been casual for months, but now…now you don’t want me to be with anyone else and I don’t want you to be with anyone else. And we’re going on dates. And you bought be flowers. And…”

“And I guess that means there is an us now, hey?” Brock says, reaching across the table and taking your hand.

Your lips curl into a soft smile, nodding slowly. “I guess that means there is an us,” you agree.

#brock boeser #brock boeser fic #brock boeser imagine #brock boeser fanfic #brock boeser one shot #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey blurb #hockey fanfic

[phoenixyfriend]

Vader Tries to Help

People encouraged me to share the dead dove concept! Yay! It’s a horrible concept with an undertone of comedic absurdity in the sense that you keep waiting to see what awful, incredibly stupid thing Vader is going to do next. Like it’s horrifying but it’s also very dumb.

By moving forward into the fic, you acknowledge that this is intended to be dark and liable to be upsetting, and that you are taking responsibility for your own engagement with the material.

This AU was helped along on discord by several parties but tbh I’m not sure how many of them actually want to be named.

Warnings: Mutual Extremely Dubious Consent (forced by a third party), drugging, irrational behavior (Vader), nonconsensual body modification, forced pregnancy, imprisonment, threatened torture of a child (not followed through on)

----------

Vader captures Obi-Wan a few years into the Empire. Because Vader is Anakin, but even worse on the emotional bullshit, he decides that he needs to keep Obi-Wan safe but harmless. Vader also got Luke in the whole 'capturing Kenobi' situation, so part of what Vader's thinking about all this is that Obi-Wan tried to protect The Baby and so Vader kind of owes him, obviously.

Palpatine lets him keep Obi-Wan "safe," because threatening Obi-Wan is a convenient way to make Vader shut up and do what he's told. Palpatine can kind of tell that threatening the toddler would make Vader lose his shit and attempt to kill good ol' Palps, so threatening the middle-aged depressed alcoholic being kept in Vader's guest room with Force-nullifying cuffs is pretty good. It's an additional layer of emotional torture on top of the electrocution of Vader himself!

Vader has Obi-Wan taking care of Luke, mostly, because Vader has Obligations and A Job, and Obi-Wan wouldn't hurt Luke, duh. He might try to escape with the kid, but he won't be successful, and Obi-Wan will definitely put Luke's safety first, so that probably won't happen.

This is all fairly normal for a variety of AUs, granted, and not very dark.

But see, Obi-Wan behaves. He's aware of how tenuous the situation is for him and his charge, so he plays nice. And Vader decides to reward that.

By giving him Cody.

There's an implied thought process there that Obi-Wan was fond of Cody, and Cody was fond back, and now that the Jedi aren't around, they can follow through instead of worrying about some silly Code. Vader's nullified the orders to kill all the Jedi, of course, possibly dosed their food with an aphrodisiac so they don't try to talk themselves out of What They Obviously Want.

Now, we’re going to make it a little darker, because why not make things worse by having Vader try to make things better?

Vader somehow twisted himself around to encouraging them to have a baby. This is accomplished through a combination of Sith Magic and nonconsensual surgery, and lots of questionable drugs.

Obi-Wan just wakes up in a hospital bed with a womb one morning, and is informed of the surgery then and there, after it’s already happened. The droid telling him about it is just like "in the Lord Vader's infinite kindness--" and Obi-Wan just.

Anakin.

What the fuck.

What in the actual fuck made you think this was a good idea.

(The Sith Chemicals, probably.)

I feel like Palpatine would maybe even order the pregnancy induction just to torture them by proxy because that's like eight levels of Fuck No and he barely has to do anything except tell Vader that he'd like to see what kind of children a Jedi Master like Obi-Wan has.

Luke needs friends, doesn't he?

Obi-Wan is having some very complicated emotions about all of this because Vader is, in his own absolutely insane way, trying to help.

Anakin wanted babies and Padme wanted babies so clearly, if Obi-Wan and Cody are in love, then they also want babies!

Cody and Obi-Wan very well might not be in love. Anakin definitely could have misinterpreted. It’s probably more angsty if they're just friends who ended up in this bullshit together.

(He's taking baby fever to new and somewhat horrifying heights, because... he would adore Obi's kids.)

(His family button is suprisingly large for a mass murderer.)

Vader Kindly Informs Bail That Obi-Wan Is Alive And Unharmed. Bail was a friend of Obi-Wan's, telling him this is only helpful and will keep Alderaan from getting more rebellious out of personal insult. Obviously.

Vader is almost offended when Bail implies he might hurt Obi-Wan. He kept his son safe, he owes him. Speaking of, don’t you have a child? How old is she, again? It would be Good for her to make friends, wouldn’t it? :)

Palpatine is just like... sitting back and eating evil popcorn as Vader runs around, ruining people's lives by trying to be less of The Worst than before.

Palps barely has to do anything, Anakin's fucking it up on his own!

Could have been just a sly "Kenobi is so attached to young Luke, but now that you've been reunited with your son, perhaps he'd be happier with a child of his own?" Come at it from both "make Obi-Wan happy" and "protect your relationship with Luke" angles.

Vader: I can't have babies anymore due to what you did to me on Mustafar. Obi-Wan: So you're punishing me by forcing me to have them instead? Vader: No! Children are a gift that you have been cruelly denied by the Order that held us in its chains! Obi-Wan: ...oh, right, you're insane. Forgot about that. Somehow.

Big dramatic speech about how the Jedi Order spent so long making them take lives, he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to create it! To put something good and bright into the world!

Poor Cody is like. "General, I am very fond of you but I'm having a million panic attacks at the same time because of the mind control, and also Vader is under the impression that we're in love and I need to be your stud? I wasn't aware you could have children--" "I can't. Or at least, I couldn't, but Anakin is... creative." "...what."

I don't want to actually objectify Cody in the narrative past the point that Obi-Wan himself is, because nnnnngh racism and clone stuff, so I'm going to say Cody was in love with Obi-Wan, and would have been okay with at least discussing the whole baby schtick if not for the absolutely horrible circumstances.

Like if the war had ended normally, and Obi-Wan had expressed a desire to retire, unlikely as that was, then Cody may have suggested a dinner, and they could have gotten married and then eventually adoption...

(Cody had a lot of fantasies he didn’t let himself think about too hard.)

But no. It's this... weird Vader-inspired bullshit.

I'm just so invested in Vader trying to help but making things legitimately a million times worse.

He wants to help :) Oh god, he wants to help.

Why aren't people more appreciative of how hard I'm helping them? - the Anakin Skywalker story

With less time to stew and also getting handed what he wants, Vader could absolutely flip on a dime the second he saw Luke being protected, and go from “I hate you” to remembering that Obi-Wan said he loved him, and now he must keep Obi-Wan safe out of debt and he just... he’s playing house. 

Vader throws Obi-Wan a baby shower after the pregnancy is confirmed. Bail is invited, because Obi-Wan doesn't have a lot of friends still alive. Vader decides Bail is top of the Obi-Wan’s Friends List.

This is the first time they've seen each other in two years. Obi-Wan is heavily pregnant despite Bail knowing full well he didn't have the plumbing for that before the Empire rose. Cody is there and emotionally exhausted but more lucid than most troopers. Luke is running up to Leia because New Friend!!!

....there may be MORE of the 212th and 501st at the baby shower, with “kill all Jedi” orders revoked, of course. But it will keep the children safe!! And Cody and Obi-Wan can see their surviving friends!!

Cody: I'd be much happier to see my surviving troopers if they didn't all still have chips in their heads. Obi-Wan: I feel much the same. Vader: [404 error]

Bail and his family might be there at blaster point, but aren't you happy to see them, Obi-Wan??

Obi-Wan's endless trauma is honestly somewhat curtailed by the incessant need to facepalm at Vader’s bullshit

Obi-Wan and Cody both outwardly have a very "there are much worse people I could be stuck with in this situation but obviously I wish I'd had a choice, no hard feelings" attitude at each other.

Internally, Cody is suffering because this is NOT how he wanted his crush to be realized, and Obi-Wan is just suffering, period.

Cody: How did he even choose which of us ends up pregnant? Obi-Wan: He thinks I need to be protected, and that he needs to keep me safe. Cody: ...he does realize that you're better at-- Obi-Wan: Cody, he's completely lost it. No! He doesn't realize!

I feel like over the course of the year or two this plot unravels towards Palpatine getting murder-deposed and Anakin getting locked down, part of the driving force to Vader not being Vader anymore is that Luke actually really loves Uncle Obi and always starts fussing and going "Ben's sad" whenever Vader dismisses what Obi-Wan wants in favor of what Vader thinks Obi-Wan wants, and Vader can't deny his child anything.

Luke cries because Palpatine Feels Wrong like, once or twice, and Anakin goes “oh, okay, assassination time.”

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Luke Skywalker #Commander Cody #Codywan #Darth Vader #Bail Organa #star wars #dubcon #situational dubcon #nonconsensual surgery #medical abuse tw #forced pregnancy tw #nonconsensual body modification #Vader Tries to Help AU #Phoenix Posts #dead dove do not read #dead dove

[forever-rogue]

Stutter Something Profound

A/N: Y’all wanted part 2, so you get part 2 with some sub!Din! It did get a little soft, I might add, but enjoy! Happy Valentine’s Day from me to you! As always, comments and feedback are welcomed! xx

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only) -  oral (m and f receiving, unprotected sex, etc...)

DOUSE THE LIGHTS (PART 1)

THE MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Quiet down,” Din’s voice was sharp and biting as your brow furrowed and you turned to him with a look of confusion marring your features.

“I didn’t say a word,” you huffed in response as you turned your attention back to the little bean sitting across the cold, metallic floor from you. His favorite little ball was in his tiny hands as the two of you rolled it back and forth to each other. You’d been stuck in hyperspace for some time, and there really wasn’t much else to do. It was like the Mandalorian - Din,  you reminded yourself - refused to have even a modicum of fun. He’d been even more quiet and stoic than normal recently. 

Ever since - 

“Yes, you did,” he turned his head sharply, surely almost breaking his neck as he turned to look at the two of you from the captain’s seat. You quirked a brow in question before gesturing between yourself and the small child. He huffed sharply through his nose, the sound a loud, bitter thing as it reverberated off the walls, “keep it down.”

“That’s what I thought we were doing,” you snapped back before rolling your eyes and turning back to your small compatriot. He cooed gently before smiling and taking the ball as you rolled it back to him. You couldn’t help but smile at the little one; he always had the best and most calming aura about him. Before you could stop yourself, under your breath you murmured, “maybe you just need to calm down a little.”

"Excuse me?" oh. You just knew there was a scowl on his face, those plush lips pulled in a frown. Maker, those lips, delicious and soft, has been all over your body, mapping and marking almost every single inch of skin. You'd been thinking about them ever since that night - his touch, his taste, his feel. All of it.

Nothing had been the same since. 

And yet nothing had changed.

"You heard me, Din," it was the first time you'd used his name since that night. It was a challenge as much as a question. It was silent, almost dead silent, as he slowly rose to his full height. He presented an impressive sight, covered in gleaming beskar, as his chest rose and fell steadily. Slowly, ever so slowly, he stepped closer, each footfall loud and purposeful. Shit, shit, shit. You’d fucked up and this was it. You were always pushing and pushing and pushing, and you’d finally pushed enough. Maybe he’d reached his limit. 

He came over to you and slowly crouched down, predatory in every way, reaching over and taking your chin in his gloved hand as you turned your face up to meet his own. You were left breathless as you stared back into the black T of his visor, wishing you could see the expression in his eyes, “are you telling me what to do?”

Part of you wanted to remain small and shrink away, but another part of you, this one was feeling particularly strong in the moment and there was no holding it down, “yes.”

“Uh huh honey,” he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip causing you to part them slightly, “you sure about that?”

“Y-yes,” your head was already spinning with all sorts of thoughts and fantasies. He dipped his finger slightly into your mouth and you had to resist the urge to suck on it.  But then you remembered - you remembered what you had told him last time. As you laid in his arms and made a promise that you planned on making good on, “yes. I am, Din.”

“Hmmm,” it was a soft gentle growl as he released your chin and stepped back, standing up again. Your heart was fluttering wildly as he walked towards the ladder, to head down, “we’ll be on Sorgan soon. Keep him with you.”

You waited until he was gone and thoroughly disappeared before hanging your head and sighing shakily. Before you could get too caught up in your head, a small bit of laughter and gentle cooing captured your attention. You looked up and found your little friend grinning at you, his little teeth on display as he made grabby hands for the small metal ball. 

“Of course, my sweet bean,” you smiled fondly at him, giving him what he wanted, “anything for you. At least one of my boys isn’t being a Mr. Grumpy Boots!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“This is Sorgan?” you asked softly as you held the little one in your arms, already falling behind Din as made it a point to stop and study your surroundings. It was a beautiful place, lush and green and teaming with the sounds of all sorts of animals in the distance. He made a small noncommittal sound without so much as looking back at you. You rolled your eyes at him before sticking out your tongue and blowing a quiet raspberry, causing the little one to giggle. It appeared that he still wasn’t over being grumpy, and you were sure that he was still sour over your little outburst. 

You remained quiet as you followed after him, deciding that it was best not to push his buttons. Although you weren’t so concerned with the possibility of what he would do. You knew that he wasn’t going to abandon you in some remote part of the galaxy as you once had feared; no, perhaps he’d even give you another...punishment like he had previously.

But you weren’t sure he ever would mention again. You’d wanted to bring it up, desperately so, but you just...didn’t quite know how. The morning after you’d woken up a few times only to find yourself still wrapped up in his arms, resting your head on his chest as he snored lightly. When you’d gone to get up for the day at hand, he was long gone, already dressed and going about business as usual.

You'd tried not to be upset, not to let it get it to you...but kriff. It was a one time deal but Maker, you wished it weren't. But who were you to question and interrogate him on the matter? Besides the words that needed to be exchanged, or your little altercation earlier, he'd avoided you like the plague. It was even worse than being stranded in the most desolate desert in the outer rim.

"Keep up," he called over your shoulder as you realized you'd been caught up on your myriad of daydreams and fallen far behind. You huffed as you picked up the pace to keep up with his long strides, "we're almost there."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Almost there ended up being another half hour of trekking through the woods until you reached the small village that served as your destination. Part of you had been tempted to complain, but the other half was thrilled to be able to get out and stretch your legs and see something other than metallic walls or dirt and decay. The air was fresh and light, doing wonders for your spirit and lungs. The little one seemed to be enjoying everything as much as you were - his eyes were wide and curious and as he studied the new surroundings. At the sight of a few butterflies, he reached out to try and capture one, almost tumbling out of your arms at one point. Giggling, you slowed your pace and set him on the forest floor, letting him follow behind the two of you all while keeping a close eye on him.

Eventually, the sounds of life - children’s laughter, animals, and animated chatter met your ears and you found yourself in a picturesque, small village. You look at everything in awe as your green bean toddled over to the nearest group of children. Instinct took over and you moved over to grab him, but Din grabbed your arm and shook his head, as you frowned at him, “he’s fine. He knows them.”

“Okay,” you nodded, but nonetheless your guard was up. You were more protective over Din and the little one than anything else. If something happened to either one of them you didn’t know what you’d do. Din must have sensed your hesitation as he lightly put his hand on your arm and pulled you along with him. Nodding, you silently acquiesced to his request.

It was another short walk to the center of the town, where you spied a small group of people milling about, almost as if they were expecting them. Din gave them a nod, but kept you close at his side. 

“Mandalorian,” a beautiful woman with long hair walked over to the two of you as Din held his hand out to her but you stepped slightly behind him. She had a kind face and eyes, and you could tell she meant no ill will, "you've returned."

"As I said I would," he insisted as he shook her hand. Turning her attention to you, she looked you up and down, observing you with intense scrutiny, and yet you did not feel afraid. Whatever had happened between the two of them, you could tell she was looking out for him.

Holding out your own hand, you steeled yourself as you offered it to her and gave a kind smile accompanied by your name. 

"Omera," she had deemed you worthy of her name and seemingly her approval, "you're…"

"She's mine," he insisted sharply, causing both you and Omera to look at him in surprise. Inside, you were beaming and bursting with joy and pride at the surprising revelation. You weren't sure if it was purely situational or he had meant it as more - as what it was, but Maker - your face felt hot and knees weak. 

"She's your…"

"Mine," he repeated simply with a curt nod and an air of finality. His hand found the small of your back as you raised your eyebrows at the woman in shock, practically glowing from inside.

"Very well Mandalorian," the woman turned on her heel and motioned for the two of you to follow, "we're pleased to see you and the little one again. You may stay as long as you'd like; let me show your quarters."

Hesitating for a moment, you watched as the two of them started to walk away, leaving you behind. All of this seemed so surreal - domestic, uncomplicated, and...free. It almost felt surreal and you were afraid it would all end up being a dream. Too good to be true - a taste of what your life could be. Maybe...maybe one.

"Sweet girl," perking up at the use of the almost sacred nickname you caught his gaze. Holding out his hand to you, it wasn't but a mere moment before you took it, nervously - tentatively - and let him pull you towards his body. And then softly, almost as if it was just the two of you and not a whole gaggle of people around you, Din leaned in, "keep up."

What was even going on anymore? Surely this had to be a dream...but then again the warmth of his hand in yours was tangibly real. This was actually happening.

»»————-　♡　————-««

"This is it, huh?" looking around the small cabin, you quickly decided that you liked it. It was quaint and cozy and warm - everything that the Crest wasn't. Definitely something you would appreciate for a week or two and definitely something you would miss as soon as you left. The little one had been busy with his old friends, and Omera had graciously offered to take him for the night. As much as you both loved him, it was nice to have a little bit of time to yourselves.

"Not to your liking, princess?" his hands were on his hips as he watched you closely. It was teasing - lilting and with a small tone of amusement. Shaking your head you turned to him and offered a small smile, "you'll be comfortable here. Better than the ship and it'll give you an opportunity to stretch your legs."

"I like it," you agreed, "its nice to slow down for a change. Who knew you had a heart and a brain after all, Din?"

"Very funny, brat," the way you tingled at his use of the word was enough to render you speechless. He paused for a moment, thoughtful and quiet, "I don’t hate you, you know."

"Huh?" your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden declaration and the doe eyed look on your face enough to make his own cheeks tinge with a pink flush. Once again he was eternally thankful for the beskar helmet. He slowly reached up and grabbed your chin between his fingers as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"I know I'm not always...the easiest to get along with," he all but whispered, "but I do appreciate you more than you know."

"Hmmm," your body was electric as his touch sent sparks down your spine, "I know, Din. I...fuck. I appreciate you too. I've been...thinking about you."

"Have you, naughty little thing?"

"Mhmm," you closed your eyes and keened into its touch, "ever since that night…"

"Then what do you want?" his voice was low - dangerous - as his hand tightened around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly. Your pupils were dilated, eyes practically black with lust as a small sound escaped your lips. How easy it would have been to give in and let him have his way with you, "tell me little brat. Use your words."

"You," it was almost a whimper as the heat pooled low in your belly and the delicious, tingling ache between your legs started. How easy that would be to let him use your for his (and your pleasure). Even within the thick haze of arousal, you reminded yourself of your promise.

He would be your good boy.

Almost out of nowhere, your hand was on his wrist, delicate compared to his large gloved one, and pulling him away from you. 

"What are you-"

"I'm in charge, Din Djarin," you reminded him, a surge of confidence running through your blood as desire seeped into every fiber of your beating. Your heart was beating wildly as you anticipated his reaction, treading carefully to make sure you didn't overstep any boundaries, "I made a promise last time and I don't break promises."

He chuckled - a dark, delicious sound that sparked pure fire in your bones. Instead of a smart remark for once he...acquiesced.

"Tell me what you do want."

"Strip," you echoed his words from the last time you'd found yourself in this position, "and get on your knees."

"As you wish,” he pulled back and started to slowly peel off his gloves, his gaze trained on you the entire time. You felt like a shy maiden, rather than a woman about to make a grown man cry, as a flush rose up in your neck and face; but you didn’t shift your gaze away.

Din made a show of pulling off each piece of armor, bit by Beskar bit, in painfully slow manner. The cocky Mandalorian knew exactly what he was doing. As soon as he was left in his underclothes, you could see that his cock was already painfully hard and straining at his trousers. A sense of pride welled up in your chest as you realized you were the cause of it all. Keeping the helmet on for the moment, his large hands skimmed the hem of his shirt as you almost lost your patience and tore it off for him. Languidly, methodically, he left the shirt up and tugged it over his head, letting it fall with an unceremonious small sound to the floor. 

He was beautiful - even more in the fading light of day than he had been in the dark. Tan, golden skin littered with freckles and scars came into view as your breath hitched in your throat. Maker. You bit your lip as he tilted his head to the side to gauge your reaction. Trying to play it cool, you motioned for him to continue his fingers trailed over the waistband of his pants. The dusting of dark hair that disappeared into his pants was enough to make your mouth water as you remembered the promise it held. 

Din popped open the button and slowly unzipped his pants before tugging his pants down his legs and kicked them off along with his boots. Apparently you weren’t the only one getting impatient. Making a small, musing sound in the back of your throat you walked over to him, admiring his beauty - and his hard cock that was already leaking fat beads of pre-cum. Smirking, you trailed a hand down his warm skin, raking your nails over it as you pressed a few lazy kisses along his broad shoulders. You were almost positive that you could hear a small sigh leave his lips. 

“You are beautiful, Din Djarin,” you murmured as you pressed featherlight kisses to his neck, noting that he swallowed thickly, “it’s a shame no one sees - but a privilege to have you at my mercy.”

Before letting him get a word in edgewise, you went over to the windows and made sure everything was tightly closed and curtains were drawn before turning off the bedside lamps. There was almost no light left in the small room, save for the candle near the door; just enough to get by but not enough to actually see anything. Flouncing back over to Din, his large, warm hands found purchase on your waist as you reached up and tentatively rested your hands on the side of his helmet. 

“Do you trust me, Din?” you whispered, a far cry from how domineering you intended on being. His hands circled around your wrist as he offered you a soft nod. You lifted your hands up, along with his as you pulled off the beskar and gently set it down along with the rest of his armor. 

When he was fully stripped, a sharp contrast to you being fully clothed, he immediately tried to crash his lips onto yours to kiss you; a hungry, feverish thing. You smirked against his lips before quickly pulling away and placing a finger on his lips and shaking your head, “no, no, no honey. Not yet.”

“Brat-”

“Hmmm,” your hands went to his shoulders as you pushed him down and onto his knees, “it seems to me like you’re the one not listening. Won’t you be a good boy, Din?” 

Knowing what you wanted immediately, his hands went to your waist as he undid your pants and pushed them to the ground, helping you to step out of them. You knew normally he would have argued with you or something but today something was different; almost like you had him under some sort of spell. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured as his hands ran up your thighs, stopping to paw at your bum and giving it a good squeeze, pulling a squeal of delight from your lips. He chuckled against your skin, placing kisses along your thighs and hips before working over to your mound. Running a finger through your already soaked folds, he gathered some of the your arousal before it in his mouth and sucking it clean, “like fucking candy.”

“Din,” it was a herculean task not to completely surrender control to him and have his face. He hummed in content as he nudged your legs further apart and you could feel his breath fanning against your warm, wet center. Carding a hand through his dark locks, you gently yanked his head away, “we don’t have to do this…”

“Tell me what you want, sweet girl,” he rasped as you nodded slowly, “I can handle it  - whatever you want.”

His gentle reassurance was enough to get you back on your game as you brought his face to your core, where you were getting desperate for his touch, “eat it.”

Warm hands anchored themselves to your hips as he buried his face in between your thighs, licking up your soaked folds like a starving man. It was such an unexpected, pleasant rush that you almost lost your balance as you braced yourself against the wall. A small whimper escaped your lips as Din continued to lap at you, his aquiline nose nudged against your clit. For all the talents this man had, eating pussy was definitely one of them. 

“Kriff,” it wasn’t long before your legs started to shake as the pleasure in your belly grew and grew and threatened to snap. He was not shy or soft spoken as he murmured filthy praises against your heat as he licked and suckled on your clit and folders before plunging his tongue into your velvety walls. He was quick to balance you as you almost staggered forward, “Din…”

“So good,” he praised as he reached up and added two thick fingers to his ministrations, curling them in a come hither motion as he quickly found your sweet - the one that made you see absolute stars. Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt nothing but warmth radiate throughout your body and pressed his face firmly against you. You felt the vibrations of his chuckle as he continued on, just a little further and harder until you were over the edge. A large hand had snaked up your body to cup and squeeze your breasts through your shirt as you keened into him.

This time you didn’t even bother to hold back your mewls and moan as you came all over his tongue and fingers. Making a sound of approval, he worked you through your orgasm until you were a shaking, whining mess above him. His name came off your tongue in reverence as he stabilized you and lapped up every last bit of your arousal. 

“Maker,” you finally managed to catch your breath after a few minutes as you pulled out of his grasp and helped him to his feet. In the soft candlelight you could see your juices glistening on his face. Unable to stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck and crashed your lips onto his, kissing him in a fervent tangle of tongue and teeth. He responded eagerly, taking his time to taste you and explore your mouth as your wicked hands roamed his body. Din almost choked on a moan as you grabbed his weeping cock in your hand, coating it in the reminder of your wetness. A smile grew on your face as you pulled back and looked at him innocently, “good boy, Din. It must be painful, huh? To be this hard and have no relief? Do you want me to make it better?”

“Mouth,” it was a soft whisper -  a plea, “use your mouth.”

“Hmm,” you mused as you continued to stroke his length, noting how he seemed to thrust into your hand more with each passing second, “I don’t know if you’ve earned that yet.”

A mess of sounds, guttural and visceral, met your arms as you played with him before massaging his balls just to push him as far as he could go. It wasn’t only before you felt him twitch in your hand and could hear the struggle as he tried not to come in your hand.

“Sweet girl,” he stammered out as he closed his eyes in bliss; but you beat him to the punch and pulled your hand away, creating a painstaking distance between your bodies. He hissed at the loss of contact and his orgasm as you ripped your shirt and bra off, letting the offending articles join the heap of his clothing, “fuck!”

“I told you that you hadn’t earned it yet,” you reminded him with a saccharine smile, “only good boys get to cum.”

“I am going to-”

“Get on the bed and lie on your back,” you insisted sharply. He huffed sharply before marching over and getting on top of the plush blankets. Looking around for a moment, you knew exactly what you were searching for, hoping you hadn’t misplaced the crimson silk fabric. After a few moments of digging, you made a small noise of triumph as you found the object of your affection. Walking back over with a sway of your lips, you displayed the fabric to him, “hands up and behind your head.”

“What are you doing?” it was a tone of wonder and amusement as you raised an eyebrow and hoped he was able to see it.

“You’re not allowed to use your hands,” you grinned as you stole a kiss before grabbing his wrists in your hands, “no touching, Din. Not until I say so.”

The Mandalorian  - your Mandalorian - grunted as you threaded the fabric through the headboard and secured his wrists. It wasn’t necessarily a strong, tight hold, but it was enough to get your point across. No touching. Din could have easily broken through the thin fabric, but he wasn’t going to try again - he was going to be a good boy.

"What are you going to do sweet girl?" he asked as you spread your legs on either side of his hips, your wetness brushing the soft curls of his pubic hair. Grinning almost sinfully, you grabbed his jaw and turned his face towards, only making out the highs and lows of his features. Leaning down you kissed him, chasing after his lips with your own.

"Have my way with you," you whispered as you kissed the shell of his ear before working along his jaw and neck, making it a point to nip and suck at the delicate skin. And then, as you reached the hollow of his throat and placed a chaste kiss there, he practically whimpered, "oh, my sweet boy."

Din tugged lightly on the restraints, enough to shake the headboard slightly, but not enough to do anything. Shimmying down his body you tenderly touched and kissed every part of his body making sure each little freckle and mark and scar were given attention. The man practically melted under your touch; no one had ever given him this type of love and attention before. In the past it had all been either sloppy blowjobs or quick fucks; it had never mattered about him or the other person before, the only end game was release. But this...this was different. Delicate, gentle - caring.

Kissing along the V of his abdomen before nosing along his soft pubic hair, your raked your nails up and down his legs.

"When's the last time someone loved you, Din Djarin?" it was a hushed whisper, one you really expected an answer to you, but Din had almost inhumanly adept hearing - perks of a lifetime as a bounty hunter.

"Never."

"Well I do," it was an easy confession that startled both of you. You had meant it as both a I'm going to love you just now and I'm in love with you all at once. But that was something to be delved further into another time, "I do very much."

Before he could say anything else, you licked a long stripe up his shaft. His reaction was immediate as he bucked his hips up causing you to just push them back down. Laughing lightly, you tutted at him before taking him in your mouth - as much as you anyway. He was big and it did take some effort to get as much of him as possible. 

It wasn't long before he was writhing under you as you licked and sucked him to an inch of his life. Making a point to hollow your cheeks and be noisy, you played with balls as you pushed him closer and closer to his release. Your mouth was already costing with your spit and his salty pre-cum and his cock twitched in your mouth. Just before he came, you pulled off of him and say back on your haunches watching his chest rise and fall rapidly.

"I was almost-"

"I know," it was a sticky sweet answer as you ghosted a hand over his body. Your hand found its way around his throat as you squeezed; more intensity than he had applied to you, but not enough to hurt, "tell me, sweet boy, are you going to let me sit on your face?”

“Use me,” he insisted as you kissed your way up his body and stopped at his lips and captured them in a searing kiss. His were perfect against yours - soft, full, and plush. Before getting too lost in his kiss, you positioned yourself over his face, and his eager hands tried to reach for you, only to find out that he couldn’t. A small groan of frustration left his lips as you grinned and ran a hand through his dark curls, “sweet girl.”

“Use your mouth, Din,” you braced yourself on the headboard as you lowered yourself down to meet his mouth. If you had thought he was eager before, you were sorely mistaken. The man in question lapped at your freshly soaked folds like it was the last thing he would ever do. His nose was perfect against your sensitive bundle of nerves as his tongue delved into you and caused you to cry out in pleasure. Seeming satisfied with his work, you felt him grin against you, his beard tickled you in all the best ways, “fuck. So good - so, so good.”

“Sweet girl,” he murmured against your skin as you felt yourself melt into a puddle of jelly. His praise along with this ministrations was enough to have you seeing stars as you closed your eyes and felt that familiar coil start to snap in your belly. Rocking against his face, he picked up his pace until you were just about to cum again, but instead of letting your orgasm fully wash over you, you pulled back and moved off of your face, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shock your head before kissing him, tasting yourself on his tongue, “you’re perfect. Want to cum on all over your cock, Din. Feel you inside of me.”

“Please,” he was practically beginning at this point; he was harder than he ever been and needed to be inside of you, “come on, sweet girl.”

Swinging a leg over his hips, you grabbed his hard cock and pumped him a few times before lining himself up at your entrance. Slowly sinking down on him, the two of you moaned in unison, as he stretched you fully and completely.

“Din,” his name was but a soft, reverent whisper off your lips as you put your hands on his chest and started to bounce at a slow pace up and down his cock. He felt perfect inside of you, hitting all the right spots as your clit rubbed against his pubic hair. He thrust his hips up to meet each of your bounces, pulling harder and harder at the bindings. You leaned down and wrapped your arms around his neck as you pressed your chest against his and kissed every part of him that your lips found, “so close - sweet boy.”

“Me too,” he agreed, his voice crackling and rough, “gonna cum inside you.”

“Yes,” you breathed as your warms started to contract around him and you felt him twitch within you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you buried your face into his neck, whimpering against his skin, “Din.”

“Sweet girl,” he so desperately whispered he could wrap his arms around but instead kept his hips as close to yours as possible, “so good - so perfect.”

You all but collapsed in his arms as you laid on top of him, the two of you working to catch your breath. Once you came down from your high, you kissed his nose, and slowly moved to undo the bindings and free him from his confines. As soon as his arms and wrists were free, he wrapped his arms around you and traced his fingers up and down your back in soft patterns. Relaxing into his arms, you sighed contentedly, “you can be a good boy, Din.”

“Only for you,” he whispered softly, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, “I...I love you, sweet girl.”

“Yeah?” you asked as you rolled over and next to him. He hesitated for a moment but then slowly confirmed with a soft nod, “good. I...I love you, Din Djarin. I have for a while.” 

“I never...would have thought,” he murmured as he pulled into you his arms without even thinking - so easy and effortless. You eagerly complied, letting him pull you tightly against his chest as you tangled your legs with his. You weren’t sure what this all meant, or would lead to, but it was definitely something you could get used to. 

“Really?” you laughed lightly, a musical wonderful sound that he adored, even on his grumpiest days, as you took his hand and brought it to your lips, and placed a tender kiss to his knuckles. How he hadn’t known was beyond you - it all seemed so obvious. Din made a small sound, “I thought it was so obvious. It was to me at least, honey.  Even when we’re at each other’s throats - it was with love. Besides, I like when you get mad. It’s sexy.”

“You’re such a brat - my brat,” he buried his face into the pillow, but not before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re just saying that because I finally let you cum,” you teased as you felt your eyes getting heavy, “worth it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a yawn, “but I’m getting you back for that next time. No hands? That’s just cruel.”

“Hmm,” you mused, “are we just going to keep taking turns? I could get used to that, Din.”

“I hope you do, sweet girl,” he murmured, “I hope you do.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[jaskierswolf]

Four Seasons

Summary: Jaskier is the god of winter and he gets invited to the four seasons ball. A formal celebration held by the the gods. This is finally the moment that Geralt realises just what Jaskier the bard really is.

Rated: T

Length 1.8k

CW: Jaskier wears a dress, brief mention of gods being genderfluid

Based of this art by @little-piece-of-tamlin. Another @thewitcherbog special!

________

As far as Geralt was aware, Jaskier was just a normal, very human bard. Jaskier had never said as such but people made assumptions, and he was happy to let people go about their day and think whatever made them most comfortable. Most people would be uncomfortable in the presence of a god, or they'd bow down, grovel at his feet, which whilst fun for a short period of time, got horrendously dull very quickly. He was a free spirit, especially during the summer months. Winter was a busier affair but Geralt was always tucked away in Kaer Morhen so never noticed Jaskier’s more immortal side during the coldest time of the year.

Geralt was about to get the shock of his lifetime.

It wasn’t as if Jaskier had planned it but the invitation had come in from Priscilla in the spring and he couldn’t just ignore it. The Four Seasons ball only happened once a century and it had completely slipped Jaskier’s mind, but he wouldn’t just abandon Geralt. The poor witcher might have thought he was dead if he hadn’t turned up at their unofficially agreed meeting place. So Geralt would just have to join Jaskier for the ball, and after that there would be no hiding. He was a guest of honour and gods and mortals alike would bask in the magic of the changing seasons. Most mortals wouldn’t remember the ball afterwards, the magic too powerful for their tiny little brains to comprehend, but those blessed by a god’s favour could remember.

And of course, Jaskier had blessed Geralt. One could not hold a god’s heart and not be blessed.

“You’re quiet,” Geralt grumbled as they made their way up to the rooms Jaskier had secured for them.

“I received an invitation to a party. I was hoping that you might come with me,” Jaskier stammered, feeling the frost creeping through his veins as it always did when his emotions started to get the better of him. He could melt snow and ice with a simple smile, but when he got anxious, things started to get a little frosty. The air temperature outside the tavern had dropped considerably since they’d arrived, but he doubted anyone had really noticed. It was late in the day and the change could be blamed on the setting of the sun.

“Already? Whose partner did you bed this time, bard?”

“Oh haha, very funny!” Jaskier scoffed, ignoring the frost glistening on the windows of their room when they stepped inside. Deep down he knew he needed to get a grip. Pris would be pissed off if he ruined her spring thaw with his own emotions, his poor sister would have to work even harder to counteract the effects of his magic, but it was always more difficult to rein in his magic in the spring. It was still strong from the winter months, and there was an adjustment period.

Even still, the snowfall last summer after the blasted dragon hunt had all three of his siblings up in arms against him. Valdo had to trigger autumn early and the whole harvest had been a mess.

He really should just tell Geralt he loved him and deal with the consequences, but… well… it had been a long time since he had loved like this and he still nursed the heartbreak.

“Jaskier?” Geralt said, snapping him from his thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked, focussing back into the room. He meant to say “nothing” or something along those lines. Something harmless and easy.

What fell from his lips was another thing entirely.

“I love you, oh bollocks!” Jaskier blurted, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry!”

“No, I mean… Jaskier,” Geralt gestured to the room, there was a snow flurry above them and the windows were completely iced over. He desperately tried to think happy thoughts, the warm golden glow of Geralt’s eyes. The soft growl of his voice whenever Jaskier did something stupid that would get any mortal killed. Even if Geralt never loved him back, the thought of his witcher was enough to soothe his panic. With one last deep breath and a flick of his wrist, the snow was gone, “What the fuck?”

“Oh fuck, Pris is going to kill me,” Jaskier whined. “I- umm…”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, one hand was holding his medallion and he just looked… well, done? Shit. Fucking cock balls.

“Explain, bard.”

“I love you? Quite hopelessly, I’m afraid,” Jaskier smiled sheepishly, his tongue flicking out to flick his lips, a nervous habit that he’d never quite overcome. “But!” he announced with false bravado, “that’s neither here nor there, it’ll pass. No need to worry about me, witcher.”

“And the snow?”

“Oooh yeah that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, there’s a chance that I might be a god, hypothetically speaking of course. I’ve always favoured the winter months,” Jaskier admitted, flexing his fingers and pulling at his lute strap.

“You hate winter,” Geralt growled, still painfully ignoring Jaskier’s love confession but that was fine. “You always spend the winter in that cushy academy of yours.”

“Not strictly true,” Jaskier sighed, “but are you coming to my ball or not, witcher? My sister has invited us both, apparently I don’t shut up about you, probably part of the being in love thing.”

“No, you just don’t shut up.”

“Rude! Fine, be that way, Geralt. I’ll go alone,” Jaskier huffed, pouting with his whole body in a way that he knew Geralt always fell for. “It’s a shame, I had a perfect outfit planned. Gods don’t play by your rules of gender, and oh you should see me in a dress, I look absolutely divine, quite literally in fact.”

“If I come with you, will you be quiet?” Geralt sighed.

“Now, now, we both know I can’t promise that.”

Geralt groaned before slumping onto the bed, the only bed, and it took Jaskier another half an hour to get Geralt ready for the ball. It helped that he could use his magic now that Geralt knew, but the witcher still fought Jaskier on the pale blue doublet that would match Jaskier’s dress perfectly. No man, mortal or otherwise, could fight Jaskier’s eye for fashion and eventually Geralt gave in. It helped when Jaskier reminded the witcher there would be no need for armour in the presence of gods, there was no monster they couldn’t best, and so reluctantly Geralt left his worn out witcher armour on the bed, and let Jaskier dress him.

“Did you mean it?” Geralt muttered.

“Mean what?” Jaskier asked, cocking his head as his magic weaved through the fabric, subtly marking the witcher as his, no other god could claim Geralt if Jaskier already had, and he just didn’t trust his brother, not after the Countess de Stael.

“You love me?”

“With all my heart and soul, darling,” Jaskier admitted softly, his fingers freezing on the collar of Geralt’s doublet, now printed with buttercups. If one were to look closely they would see the tiny little snowflakes that made up the design, “but I- I understand if you don’t feel the same. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to tell you.”

“Hmm.”

“Is that alright, Geralt?”

“Yes. I- shit,” the witcher growled, “It’s not easy for me, witcher don’t-”

“Oh fuck off,” Jaskier snapped. “ Don’t you fucking dare, Geralt. Witchers don’t feel. Whatever whoreson told you that-”

“I know. I know, but you got hurt, because of me, and seeing you lying there in Yennefer’s bed. I thought I’d lost you,” Geralt snapped, his golden eyes burning with fire.

“And that was the day I lost you… to her,” Jaskier sighed, “I was never in real harm. The djinn magic just hurt this body, and I’m rather fond of this one, but I would have survived.”

“You didn’t lose me, Jaskier. Yennefer, she’s, she’s less fragile, and the wish, my wish,” Geralt shook his head.

“Ah yes, you bound yourself to her, my poor aunt, you call her Destiny, was not impressed with that one, but never mind, dear heart, your destiny is set now,” Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “Of course, I could undo it. Djinn’s magic has nothing on mine, but the bond between you and Yennefer means nothing. It is a tie, not a love potion. I know you love her, Geralt.”

“I love you, Jaskier,” Geralt said all too quickly, and Jaskier froze, his heart racing in his chest and the world spinning around him in a blur. “It was easier to pretend that I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier cried out, whisps of frost dancing through the air around them. “You- you love me?”

“Yes, Jaskier,” Geralt repeated, rolling his eyes and shooting Jaskier a fond smile. “I love you.”

Jaskier beamed, and with a flick of his wrist his doublet and breeches melted away into a beautiful icy blue gown. The fabric was cold against his skin, a mesh of snowflakes so thin that the pale blue fabric was sheer. He left his arms free of sleeves, and winked as he saw Geralt’s eyes go wide as he took in the muscles that Jaskier usually hid under his clothes. He thought about taking on a more traditionally female form to fill out the cleavage in the dress, but he rather liked the way Geralt was looking at him with a dark hunger in his eyes. As he stepped forwards his boots shifted into elegant high heels, a dark navy blue with thin straps around his ankles.

“Jask,” Geralt breathed, “You look…”

Jaskier winked at his witcher, cupping his cheek with his hand. “There, now we match.”

“You’re taller than me.”

With a giggle, Jaskier nodded, looking down at Geralt for the first time in their acquaintance. They’d always been similar in height, but Jaskier’s shoes gave him the edge now. “Well, you are my guest for the evening, and no mortal should rise above their immortal, it goes against court etiquette.”

The witcher scoffed, “When have you ever given a shit about etiquette?”

“Human etiquette, witcher, not the gods’. This is different. This is my home, now come on, Pris will kill me if I’m late again.” Jaskier scooped up his lute, and took Geralt’s hand in his. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Hold on tight, darling,” Jaskier grinned.

“Wait, fuck, Jaskier! Not a portal!”

But the witcher’s protests were swallowed up in a flurry of snow as they were transported to the realm of the gods. An echo of Jaskier’s musical laugh hung in the air as the snow settled on the ground as the witcher and his bard set off on their latest adventure.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #wolfie’s witcher writing

[realcube]

soft haikyuu!! boys with a baddie* s/o  😈

characters:  yamaguchi, hinata, suga, akaashi, nishinoya & tendou

tw// swearing

*(a/n): anon requested a kinda sassy, sarcastic reader and verbatim ‘she is basically a salt bag, but she also has like some sugar’  so i simplified that down to baddie :) so the reader isn’t really a delinquent but they are a bit rough around the edges uffabvrslbv 

Tadashi Yamaguchi

he definitely thinks you’re really cool and he wants to be just like you :O

bc you give off ‘bad bitch who doesn’t care about what other ppl think about them’ energy and what he would give tO HAVE THAT!!

so that’s when he knew he needed to be your friend >:) 

so he was like ‘tsukki, go talk to (y/n) for me >:)’ thinking that was his first step to becoming confident pfft

luckily, god was on his side though bc the teacher rearranged the seats and you and him were sitting next to each other 

hence, he got the opportunity to talk to you without it seeming too forced

you both fell for each other so hard

like he would act tough to try impress you but you preferred his natural softness while you tried to act uncharacteristically docile so you wouldn’t scare him off but he liked you for your boldness 

it was a match made in heaven 💞

he eventually worked up the courage to ask you out one day and y’all have just been falling more ever since

although, that doesn’t mean yamaguchi’s forgotten one of the main reasons he wanted to be with you in the first place

‘please teach me your ways, (y/n)!’ he pleaded, his head resting on your lap so you had to cover his puppy-eyes with your phone

‘no, tadashi. firstly, you’re sweet and gentle- you’re just built like that. secondly, i don’t have any ‘ways’ to teach you!’

yamaguchi continued to pry, ‘then how are you just so effortlessly self-assured?’

‘who told you that, tadashi?’

‘no one.’ yamaguchi poked the back of your hand to get you to move it, ‘but remember that time one of the guys in our class tried to make fun of the size of your head and you told him to shut up?’

you rolled your eyes, setting your phone aside before placing a brief kiss on yamaguchi’s forehead, ‘he said he couldn’t see the board because of my ‘big head’, tadashi; that’s hardly an insult. also, what else could i have possibly said other than that?’

but then you remembered this is yamaguchi you’re talking to; if that was him, he’d probably apologise, move his head aside then cry in the bathroom or sumn.

‘i should be the one asking you why you’re so insecure. i mean, i know everyone is a little bit insecure about something but you just take it to a whole other level.’ you mused, absentmindedly massaging his scalp

yamaguchi frowned, ‘exactly! teach me how to stop being insecure.’

‘no please, no thank you?’ you inquired with a snicker, realising that your habits might of accidentally rubbed off on him

bc just a few weeks ago, he’d be thanking you for breathing the same air as him but now he didn’t even say ‘please’ when asking for a favour 

gasp

‘please teach me how to be resilient, (y/n).’

you chuckled, leaning down to whisper in his ear, ‘okay, since you’re so polite, i’ll tell you my secret - but promise not to tell anybody else!.’

‘i promise.’ yamaguchi replied without hesitation

‘okay, first thing you need to do is go to the depths of hell and find satan hims--’ 

yamaguchi let out a sigh as he realised that you weren’t being serious then playfully flicked your forehead away, ‘rude.’

you beamed, pressing another kiss upon his forehead, ‘i know~’

Shōyō Hinata

let’s not pretend hinata wasn’t shitting his pants when he first heard about you from kageyama

‘they called me a shitty setter the other day.’

but kageyama failed to mention the part where he cut you in line for lunch 🙄 mans had it coming

like hinata genuinely thought that if he came within a 5 foot radius of you, you’d literally come for volleyball career

plus, hinata knew he had a lot of things to be insults on (mostly, his height) so he decided to keep his distance at first 

but when he actually saw you - rather than a vague description that kageyama conjured - he kinda fell head over heels

well, not only bc of your looks - he isn’t that shallow

but the same day, you dropped your purse/wallet on the walk home and ,mhsince hinata was walking behind you, he acted as any good Samaritan would; picked it up then handed it to you 

then you said something along the lines of ‘thanks, shorty.’

not shawty. lord- shorty as in short with a y at the end

and whether you meant that as a dig or not was beyond him - but either way, he fkn adored it 

also it doesn’t matter whether you are taller or shorter than hinata- he is still short-stuff >:)

by some miracle he managed to ask you out successfully and he’s kinda been glued to you ever since

like he wants to spend every second that he’s not at volleyball club/school with you 

and if you tell him he’s being clingy, he’s going to cry-

nonono jk jk

he’d probably be a bit offended but then give you your space

also, you noticed how he was really endeared by the tad mean nicknames you gave him like ‘shorty’, ‘short stuff’ and ‘ginger’

the only ones he didn’t like was ‘boke’ or ‘dumbass’ bc it reminded him too much of kageyama + tsukishima

so you started calling him these things - teasingly - more frequently 

and he loves it ngl

as long as you aren’t truly mean to him, he enjoys being called these things by you for some reason

so, his first mistake was assuming that you’d like being called these joking nicknames just as much as he does

you were helping him with english once and it’s definitely not his strong suit

same, hinata

‘look at that! you spelt all your vocabs correctly, for a change.’ you commented, peering over the desk at the paper sitting in front of him

his eyes widened and his lips curled into a hopeful smile, ‘really?!’

‘no.’ you snickered, pointing to the first word on the list. ‘your word was taxis - you wrote ‘texas’, dumbass.’

hinata let out an exasperated sigh, propping his elbow onto the table to rest his cheek on his palm

then, he had an idea ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

‘alright, stupidface, should i rewrite them?’

you gasped, furrowing your brows at what he just called you 

for a moment, you thought you might’ve misheard him but upon observing his smug expression, you realised that he really did just call you a ‘stupidface’ 

so you burst out laughing 

obviously, hinata was rather shocked at your reaction

‘hey! what’s so funny?’

‘di- di- did you just call me a ‘stupidface’?!’ you panted in-between cackles, clutching your stomach to soothe the butterflies

hinata jutted out his bottom lip and folding his arms over his chest, ‘yeah, what about it?’

‘that is so cute!- do it again!’ you demanded, enthusiastically slamming your fist against the desk

‘IT’S NOT CUTE!’ hinata barked, playfully flicking your forehead 

once you caught your breath, you took hinata’s hands and looked him dead in the eyes, ‘you’re fucking adorable, shōyō.’

the hoarseness of your voice making it sound like somewhat of a threat 

‘you’re adorable-er, (y/n).’

‘i know.’

Kōshi Sugawara 

he admires how strong and independent you are/seem 😍

and the fact you don’t go out of your way to suck-up to ppl 

he kinda wants to be like you in that sense but unlike yamaguchi, he accepts that he’s way too much of a people pleaser for that lol

so he sticks to admiring you from afar

then he musters up the courage to ask you out with some chocolate cupcakes; the same kind that you accidentally got on his blazer on the first day of second year :))

and you say yes (╯▽╰ )

also a big part of your relationship is aggressive positivity ✨😡

like if he makes a joke about looking crusty, you’ll promptly respond, ‘shut up, kōshi - you look so hot.’

or if you berate yourself for getting a poor mark on a test, suga will interrupt with no hesitation, ‘fuck off, (y/n), you’re literally so smart and hard working - you’ll probably get 100% on the next test.’

also when he’s around you he switches between canon and fanon suga rapidly 

one second he’s like ‘aww, are you stressed bc of school? i’ll bake you some cookies, baby--’ then you’ll jokingly make a comment about his post-practise B.O and he’ll literally get so defensive

‘WOW I OFFER YOU SOMETHING NICE AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! STOP BEING SO MEAN TO ME, COMING FOR MY INSECURITES LIKE THAT  - I WAS JUST ABOUT TO GO FOR A SHOWER ANYWAY GEEZ’ ┗|｀O′|┛

ISVBFELIAEA plz he is too much ✋

he just prides himself in smelling like ocean breeze 99% of the time so you really didn’t need to hurt his feelings like that when you caught him lackin c’mon LMAO

‘wait so are we making cookies or not?’ you inquired, stifling a snicker at his little diva moment

‘ofc we are 🥺’  

he’ll probably use red icing on one of the cookies to draw a ‘>:(’ face then hand it to you, saying that he drew you

he’ll also break of bits of his own cookie and feed it to you’re doing something that requires both hands like typing, homework, dishes etc

whether you eat it from his hand happily, decline his offer or bite his fingers off is really up to you 

and over time, he probably picks up on some of your traits too

especially being more straight-forward 

the team will never forget the first time he was chatting about something with the vice principle and ‘sorry, but i don’t remember asking’  fell from his lips 

everyone was shocked :o

tsukishima, tanaka & noya were so impressed tho

and so were you IVBEAOGVRN

‘wow, suga. you wanna be me so bad.’ you gloated, pressing your hand against your chest 

‘GAEIVBSLR leave me alone.’ he growled, toiling over the apology letter he was currently writing to the vice principal

Keiji Akaashi 

he wanted you to be the dark academia to his light academia pfft

it was very much love at first sight btw 

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ soulmates  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the embodiment of opposites attract

he’d write you a poem/love letter to ask you out lol

‘you’re so sappy and lame, akaashi’ you scoffed in attempt to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips as your eyes finally parted from the letter to meet his 

he couldn’t help but chuckle, ‘so is that a no?’

‘-nonono!’ you shook your head rapidly, hastily correcting him, ‘it’s a yes.’

phew 

honestly, he acted all nonchalant on the outside, but akaashi would’ve been devastated if you rejected him

like he constantly tried to remind himself that you would probably say no, i mean he thought you were way out of his league. plus, it didn’t seem as though you were as much of a romantic as him

but fortunately, apart of him stayed hopeful 

now he was cuddled up beside you on a cold winters’ evening, casually drinking is hot cocoa as you both watched a disney movie (❤´艸｀❤)

he’s the type to not even care or retort if you call him stupid or whatever

as long as your context makes it clear that you’re joking 

he’d never call you those names back though ✋

to him, you’re always gonna be ‘love’ or ‘sweetheart’

also, he’s probably equally as sarcastic as you so that’s not an issue 

ngl he probably gets really insecure when you’re hesitant about PDA tho

like he just wants to hold your hand but he doesn’t want to force it upon you and make you uncomfortable 🥺

but also, perhaps you’re too embarrassed by him to kiss him in public 

so please occasionally reassure him that you love him (；′⌒`) that always washes all his worries away 

Yū Nishinoya

it’s literally canon that he likes ppl who show 0 interest in him (kiyoko, tsukki etc)

so it shouldn’t be surprising that he’s all over you after that one time you called him a midget 

to be fair, he had it coming - he stepped on your fkn toe >:(( 

he does everything in his power to impress you and get you to take back what you said 

‘hey, (y/n)!’ he calls out to you in the middle of the bustling lunch hall, ‘could a midget do this?!’ *backflips off the table*

or when he demanded that you come to one of his volleyball games so you could see what he’s capable of and whenever he makes a good receive, he turns to look at you in the stands and winks/ points

or when he actually studies for a test just so he can flaunt his slightly above average grade to you 

‘look, (y/n), i got a 49%!’ he waves a paper in front of your face, which you stare at before lowering your gaze onto your 95%.

but ngl..he really brings out that lil’ bit of sugar in you 

‘well done, noya.’ you choked out feeling your dignity slowly fade in your chest

he’s just so enthusiastic and charming how can you be mean to him 🥺

to his face, at least

as soon as he leaves you beef about him to your friends

‘he is so annoyingly bodacious - audacious! why does he feel the need to show me all of his achievements like i care??? and why does he have to be so cute while doing it???’

‘do you think you maybe have a teeny-tiny crush on him?--’

‘never.’

nishinoya probably asks you out pretty casually like ‘lemme take you bowling this saturday and i can show how good i am at that too!’ he offered with a bright, bold smile

‘sure, whatever.’

‘kay! it’s a date!’

‘wut-’ but before you could question him further, he sped off

nishinoya really likes to fluster and tease you 

you’ll be sitting waiting for him at the park or whatever and he’ll swagger in and shout something like ‘how’s my gorgeous s/o doing today?! i hope you weren’t waiting for me too long!--’

then you’ll have to quickly shush him before everyone with a 7 feet radius is looking at you judgementally 

he also likes to call you the most extra nicknames just to see you blush

‘good morning, my beautiful, divine, radiant god(dess) who i worship every morning of my life!~’ he sung as he waltzed into your classroom to spend lunch with you 

but he only does that bc you are so dismissive of his advances lol

like if you openly adored his kisses and nicknames, he’d probably do them sparingly  

oh and he calls you ‘my hunny bunny’ too - don’t ask why 

Satori Tendō

you gave him your number/snap for a project and he’s one of those ppl that just assumes that y’all are friend now lol

but that wasn’t nessicarily a bad thing bc you thought he was really cool and you were happy that you still got to talk to him even after the project was over 

not that you’d ever admit it tho (╹ڡ╹ )

he’d send you cursed memes at 3AM and you’d reply like ‘mood’  then he’d fall for you 

you’d also have random, deep convos in the middle of the night 

hence he fell for you even harder 

especially bc he basically just shared his whole life story with you 

he’d spill out all his insecurities to you then you’d reply like ‘ok’ then he knew he had to ask you out bc you’re the first person not to have left him on read

so he asked you to meet him in the park and you’d reply ‘no lol  🖕 ‘ 

then he’d just smile at his phone like ‘wow, they’re so in love with me’

he’s just so used to his friends being mean to him jokingly that he can’t even tell if you’re being serious or not

so he goes to the park at the time he put forward, and ofc you’re there even though you said no bc you didn’t want tendō to show up for nothing 🥺

he was ecstatic that you were there and he probably brought you an energy drink or lollipop then asked you out

and ofc you said yes

i mean- you had kinda developed a soft spot for the poor guy 

you’d let him get away with certain things that others couldn’t around you 

for instance, you’d let him borrow your pencils/pens despite usually not allowing others to get ahold of your stuff

but that was just coz like- he’s your trustworthy bf- not some random classmate who had no reason or motive to be kind enough to return your pencils 

also, you’d let him cut in front of you in the lunch line and he did the same for you

oh and please bully anyone who makes fun of him 🙏

#haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #hinata shoyo x reader #yamaguchi x y/n #sugawara headcanon #nishinoya imagine #akaashi x you #tendou imagine #tendou fluff #akaashi headcanons #akaashi fluff #nishinoya headcanons #sugawara fluff #yamaguchi imagine #hinata x reader #tendou x you #akaashi x gender neutral reader #akaashi x y/n #sugawara x y/n #nishinoya x reader #hinata x y/n #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya x you #akaashi x reader #sugawara x reader #tendou scenario #tendou x reader #tendou x y/n

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

i ain’t gonna face no defeat

in which alex was a figure skater.

word count: 2,916

some willex, juke if you squint

tw: occasional swearing, period-typical homophobic parents (q word is used as a slur exactly once)

———

“Cut off my circulation even more, why don’t you?” Alex grumbles, grabbing his arm away from his sister.

She rolls her eyes and nudges him as he adjusts the arm band. “Hey, feel lucky you’re even doing this. I don’t think Mom and Dad actually realize what you’re skating to.”

Alex hesitates and sucks on his teeth. “You think they’ll be mad?”

“Oh, they’ll be livid,” she deadpans, then smiles softly. “But they can’t stop you.” She gives him a pat on the shoulder as he leans over to pull on his boot covers. “I’m gonna head to the bleachers. Break a leg!”

Alex calls after her, not looking up, “That’s only for theater and you know it, Mel!”

A few minutes later, he’s called to the boards, and he can’t shake off his damn jitters. He knows he’ll be fine once the music starts, but right now his skate guard won’t come off and he really has to pee all of a sudden and oh my god why is he wearing a tank top when it’s so fucking cold—

Alex steps onto the ice, and the announcer calls his name while he glides into a stretch before taking his beginning pose. He ignores the way his arm, raised in a fist, is shaking while the beginning harmonies start to play, and he skates.

•••

Alex began figure skating when he was six. It was an odd situation, really; he didn’t care about doing it one way or another, and he would’ve been fine with not doing it since his parents would always say it was a girl’s sport. His little sister, Melanie, however, wanted to skate so badly, but with her being the four-year-old she was, she was terrified of doing it alone. Begrudgingly, his parents signed him up for lessons alongside her.

Much to their dismay, he was good. Like, really fucking good. He landed his first single jump after only two years, and his first axel after six. He managed to get height in a way that his coach’s other skaters didn’t; maybe it was the inner pent up anxiety making him bounce like a jumping bean, who knows.

Alex wasn’t just good at jumps, either; he got his Y-spin after four years. He was that kid on the ice who accidentally cut people off with an impeccable spiral. When he practiced his programs, the other kids would move towards the boards to give him room and sneak a glance.

As much as Alex liked the attention from his peers (god, that support system was something else), he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that his parents never sat in on his sessions. They would only ever come to the shows and competitions his sister was a part of; he had to find his own ride to the others (thank god for Bobby's parents, honestly). It had made him angry at first that they didn’t want to be involved, but as he grew older, and learned more about himself, he realized he could use it to his advantage. He could skate to anything he wanted.

Alex was 13 when he chose to skate to Somebody to Love. To anyone else, it was very unassuming, just another kid skating to a popular song at the time, maybe even a tribute, since Freddie himself had passed two months before. It was everything to Alex, though. He pulled out all of the stops; his costume was the whole armband and wifebeater getup, and his coach let him assist in choreographing it.

He didn't know it was his last program.

•••

"Hey, Alex?"

He looks up from his math homework and hums in recognition.

Mel bites her lip and leans against the doorframe before mumbling, "I wanna quit."

Quit? Shit, nonononono— "—nonononono, Mel, you can't quit! If you quit, they're gonna make me quit!"

She closes the door softly behind her and walks slowly up to him. "Alex, the only reason I've been skating for the past year was so you could keep doing it. I'm really sick of skating at this point, and I wanna switch to something else. I'll keep going if you really, really want me to, but—" She sits next to him on his bed, lowering her voice to a whisper, "You saw how they reacted to the recital, 'Lex. You think they might make you quit anyway?"

Alex sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. She's right, he knows she's right. It just fucking sucks.

He tilts his head back. "You can quit," he whispers.

Mel places her hand on his and squeezes, whispering back, "I'm sorry." Alex looks back down at her. "I really with there was something we could do, but there isn't," she continues, recollecting her hand. "At least your last program was a good one."

He gives her a sad chuckle. "Yeah, I guess so. And, I'll have more time to focus on the band. Luke'll be happy about that."

Mel rolls her eyes, takes a breath, and leaves Alex to his own devices with a pitying look.

If she hears him practicing the beat to Somebody to Love in the basement the night she officially quits, she doesn't say anything.

•••

"Julie, what are you doing up there?"

Julie throws a shoe over the wall of the loft and into the evergrowing pile on the floor. "Cleaning out all of your old junk. Which one of you had a magician phase?" she asks, holding up a cheap, ratty top hat and matching plastic wand. "It was Reggie, wasn't it?"

Alex chuckles to himself, poofing up next to Julie. "Why do you think he knew who Caleb was when we met him?"

Julie lets out a loud laugh, continuing her digging. "Are the other guys here?"

"Nah, they're looking for a gig. I just got back from the park," Alex answers.

“Just the park?” Julie asks sarcastically, and before Alex can retort, she adds on, standing up straight, “Hey, whose skates are these?”

She’s holding his old figure skates in her right hand.

The black fabric is a little faded, with the familiar scuffs still on the toe. His dark blue skate guards are all dusty, but the blades still somehow look intact, given there wasn’t much opportunity for water damage in a loft.

Alex scratches the back of his neck, ignoring the rising blush in his cheeks and bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. “Those, uh, those are mine, actually.”

Julie looks up from the boots at him in awe. “Whoa, you skated? That’s so cool!”

Alex drops his hand, mouth open in hesitation. “Really? It’s not... weird to you?”

He can recall a tight grip on his arm, firmer than the band that had been ripped off. "Alex, what made you think it was okay to pull off this kind of stunt? You don't want people thinking you're some kind of queer, do you? Why we've let you continue this is beyond me, it isn’t any good for you.”

“Why would it be weird?” Julie asks, quirking her head to the side in such a Julie way that Alex would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so worried.

He shrugs, shuffling his feet from side to side, and mumbles with a wince, “I don’t know, because I’m a guy and figure skating is like, a girly sport, I guess?”

Julie shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed with a soft smile on her face. “First off, it’s not inherently girly, and second, if it’s something that you enjoyed, then that’s what matters, right?”

“I guess so,” Alex replies, looking down at his sneakers. Is that all that matters, though? He pauses for a moment in debate, then adds on at Julie’s encouraging expression, “My parents made me quit when I was fourteen.” He takes a breath. “They were never that involved in it, though, they actually only let me because my sister did it. I, uh, after I skated to a Queen song in a full Freddie Mercury getup, they weren’t too happy, and made me quit.”

At some point in his spiel, Julie had put her hand on his shoulder, and now she was squeezing it before pulling him into a hug. “Your parents are stupid,” she mumbled into his chest.

Alex chuckles, something emotionless, a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah. They were.”

Julie pulls away with a gasp, a bright smile on her face. “We should all go skating this weekend! The public rink just opened up a couple weeks ago, and I can bring Flynn so it doesn’t look like I’m talking to myself—” she falters, cutting herself off, “I mean, if you’re cool with it. I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Alex thinks back to his many (many) practice sessions, and remembers the feeling of finally getting that move right, of flying in the air for that one glorious millisecond, of seeing some of his closest friends every other day. He misses it, of course he misses it. It was his biggest outlet before he focused all of his attention on drumming. But, he can’t help but feel that stupid fucking guilt clawing at his throat, can’t help but imagine oh, so clearly the look of betrayal on his mother’s face the night he came out.

Then again, he had lived the rest of his life out of spite of his parents. Why not keep it going?

“That sounds really fun,” he replies, pulling her back in. “Thank you.”

•••

A world sans Caleb was a new one to Willie. However, it was also a very welcome one, because it was in this world that he was able to just relax with Alex in the studio, enjoying every second they spend together without worrying about the time running out.

Which is why he was (reasonably) surprised when the time ran out.

They throw Alex an impressively offended look as he removed his arm from behind their shoulder. “What?”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Willie scoffed.

Alex chuckles to himself, pressing his lips into a line. "As much as I would love to stay here and cuddle with you—" At that, Willie's face goes bright red, and Alex counts it as a win in his head, "—the band and I are going ice skating when Flynn gets here, which should be in about five minutes."

"Oh," Willie's face brightens as they reply, "sounds fun!"

Alex winces. "Yeah, making sure Luke doesn't accidentally become tangible and run over a seven-year-old while playing human bowling on the ice with Reggie is super fun." Willie laughs something golden in response, and Alex only hesitates for a moment before adding on, "Uh- actually, would you want to come with us?"

Willie grows soft, still getting used to finally being included, but quickly schools his expression before replying, "Yeah, I'd love to! Though, fair warning, I'm kind of only good at the one kind of skating?"

Alex quickly scrunches his nose. "That's fine, I'll help you," he offers, slowly untangling himself from Willie.

Willie isn't sure how much help he's really gonna be, but they figure even an amateur would be better than whatever the fuck kind of Bambi creature he is on the ice, so they nod and pull Alex up by his hand off the couch.

•••

They arrived to the rink a few minutes ago, and while Julie and Flynn are buying their rental skates and Luke, Reggie, and Willie attempt to steal some without being noticed, Alex laces up his own skates by himself on an open bench.

It isn't until after he yanks the last bow that he realizes— putting on those skates should not have been that easy.

Yeah, their clothes are usually easy to put on, and they can summon their instruments any time they want, but touching anything else usually takes an immense amount of focus. Hell, the dahlia pin Julie had bought Luke for his guitar strap took five tries to actually hook on rather than just drop to the ground.

And yet, his skates just— went on? Laced up with no problem? His foot didn't go through the sole even once? He wiggles his toes around inside the boot, and only feels the familiar push of fabric against them.

He decides not to question it, to not think about the implications of his skates possibly being attached to his soul, and tries to avoid yet another afterlife crisis as they walk toward the boards. Or, at least, he walks, while Luke just bolts onto the ice with no hesitation, and Reggie quickly follows. Alex falls back behind Julie and Flynn, who step onto the ice and begin gliding around, and Willie somehow finds their way next to him, grabbing onto his hand. They make it to the door, and Willie lets go with a small nudge to the shoulder. "Alright, hotdog, show me what you've got," he jokes.

Alex lets out a small laugh and steps out onto the ice, a weird feeling of deja-vu settling into his nonexistent bones. Once he gathers his bearings, he glides along before maneuvering closer to the middle of the ice and pulling himself into a scratch spin. It takes him a minute to really center the spin, but with the phantom tingling of blood rushing to the tips of his fingers before he pulls in completely, suddenly it's 1990 and he's doing his Lacrimosa program and he wants to try to land every jump he's ever learned, even though he knows that trying his axel right now is a horrible idea, and—

He's exited the spin now, looking back at the door to see Willie about a foot away from it, gripping the wall with a concerning amount of intensity, an odd combination of fear, shock, and something else (awe, maybe?) coming to rest on their face. He skates back over, and Willie's expression doesn't seem to change. "You—" they swallow, "—you can skate."

Alex slides his feet back and forth, his arms behind his back. "Yeah, I figure skated for eight years, actually. Did, did I not mention that?" he asks, smirking a little, knowing damn well he very much never mentioned that.

Willie closes his eyes, sucks on his teeth, and takes a breath, getting over their minor bluescreen moment. "Help me?"

"In order for me to help you, you need to let go of the boards," Alex responds. Willie looks at the boards, then back at him, eyebrows furrowed. "It'll hurt a lot more falling into two flat surfaces rather than one," Alex reasons, and Willie hesitates before finally letting go.

"There we go," Alex says softly, taking both of Willie's hands in his. He begins to slowly pull them along, not caring about passing through lifers, while Willie's feet slip and slide beneath him. Alex tries his hardest not to laugh, and Willie quips, "I thought I was supposed to be the athletic one."

Alex scoffs, "Who told you that? Are you the one lugging around an entire drumset every weekend?" At Willie's laugh, Alex tacks on, "I didn't think so."

They make a full lap around the rink before Alex lets go, having to prevent Luke and Reggie from pulling on some little girl’s milk boxes to make her go faster, because no, that’s not how physics works, and yes, people will notice, Luke.

After, Willie moves to get off at the boards, and Alex pulls a disappointed pout. Willie just motions toward the ice, saying, "I know you didn't just come here to pull me around the whole time, I wanna see your turns and stuff."

Alex hesitates, "But I don't want to leave you here by yourself—"

He’s cut off by a familiar harmony playing in the background, and Luke and Reggie poof by his side in an instant. Alex barely has any time to register it before Reggie is putting a hand on his shoulder and Luke is asking if he’s okay.

And Alex doesn’t know how to answer that right away, if he’s being honest. At first, he thinks he might not be, because all he remembers is scolding, leaving, hiding, but he reminds himself it’s 2020 and he’s a ghost; that his parents are as involved in what was left of his life now as they were when he came out— not at all. The feeling of freedom starts to envelope him; the same freedom as when he danced with Dirty Candy at Eat ‘n’ Beats, the same freedom as when he played the drums at the Orpheum, and the same freedom he had before his last recital. He takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” Alex replies, trying to hide his newfound itching to just get back out there.

Reggie drops his hand from his shoulder with a smile; meanwhile, Luke catches notice of Julie and Flynn starting a mini snow fight, to which he immediately races over and shouts, “I want in!” Reggie just shrugs and poofs over. Whether to stop him or join, the world may never know.

Alex rolls his eyes at his friends’ antics and looks back over at Willie, anxious energy seemingly radiating off of him— except, not as it usually does; now it was more excitement than anything else.

“Go show off, Alex,” Willie says, shooting him away with a smile.

Alex unsuccessfully tries to suppress the overwhelming giddy feeling that rises in his chest, and he skates. Again.

Finally.

#i ain’t gonna face no defeat fic #jatp #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willex #willie jatp #jatp fic #willex fic #mari writes #my fic #my fics

[legoshi-plz]

Pretenses Part Five (Louis x Reader)

Summary: Louis is a spoiled prince and you are a clumsy maid. Prince! Louis x Canine!Dog! Reader.

Warning: NSFW (+18)

Despite Louis’ outwardly composed nature, inside he was in full blown panic mode.

He had just finished up yet another uneventful dinner with his father and his future bride; now it was time to return to his chambers. His chambers he hadn’t been in since this morning. His chambers where he was currently holding you hostage.

Louis stood in front of his door for who knows how long before finally opening it with great hesitation, preparing himself for your angry, perhaps even violent response. Instead he was greeted with.... silence. You were on the bed where he’d left you, sound asleep.

Louis couldn’t help the relieved flutter of his tail at the sight of your sleeping form.

You had curled under the covers, probably to keep warm in the cold air of his chambers, your form rising and falling peacefully as you snoozed. Louis approached you slowly, checking to make sure you were actually asleep before his hands flew to throw off his royal regalia.

Once free from the confines of his complex uniform, he was under the covers immediately. Bringing your snoozing figure into his arms. You didn’t move a muscle; it was evident you were a heavy sleeper. Louis already knew this from his time watching you as you took your midday naps in his chambers but he didn’t know it was to such a great extent. He shifted so that he could lay his head on your chest, arms encircling your waist. He listened to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, his breathing slowing down to match your own.

He was asleep in minutes.

////////

You awoke to a weight on your chest and the smell of Louis’ cologne surrounding you. When you opened your eyes, the brightness assaulted your vision, making you attempt to turn away but that attempt was futile.

The Prince, who definitely wasn’t there when you fell asleep yesterday, was laying directly on top of you with his head on your chest, arms in a deadlock around your waist. You were caged beneath him, his weight pinning you down. You contemplated screaming bloody murder, hoping you could shock him into letting you go and make a run for it but decided against it. You doubted he’d remember to lock the door behind him, that could possibly be an opportunity for you to escape. You slowly began trying to pull his long arms from you when you felt his grip tighten.

“Don’t even think about it,” Louis mumbled, nuzzling further into your neck.

“My liege, please stop this indecency. As rightful heir to the thrown, a lowly maid such as myself would only sully-

“How long did you practice that one? Is that what you were doing yesterday while I was gone? Rehearsing pleas so I’d let you go?” Louis chuckled, finally opening his eyes. Sleepy amber orbs met your own irises and you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful his brown eyes looked in the morning sun. They didn’t reflect the light but instead nearly consumed it, a complete contrast to the brown of his fur.

“You must be hungry? You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, if that. I’ll call the kitchen and have them bring us something up. Breakfast in bed doesn’t sound too bad,” Louis bit his lip as his eyes drank in your form beneath him. He definitely looked hungry, yet for something other than food; his eyes were burning with barely contained lust.

“I-I have to go, my Prince. I have to perform my duties in the kitch-AH,” you were cut off when Louis sat up and brought you with him as he pulled you onto his lap to straddle him. You felt your fur prickle with embarrassment as you realized not only was he shirtless, but he also seemed to be only in his underwear, the dark blue embroided material providing a very thin barrier to the Prince’s most precious asset.

“What about your duties to me?” Louis hummed, rubbing his hands up and down the fur of your outter thighs. The top of your uniform was still very much ripped open, so you brought your arms up to cover yourself, the blankets you’d been curled under no longer providing you coverage.

“Ah ah ah, you should know better than to hide yourself from me,” Louis hummed, prying your arms from your chest. He leaned forward, his mouth capturing once of your hardened nipples. The feeling of his hot tongue on your sensitive peak sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Pr-pr-princeee, pleaaaase,” you moaned lightly, your voice nothing more than a breathy whisper.

Louis ignored you, instead moving to the other peak while his hands found themselves back at your plush hips. He rocked upwards into you, his hard member making its presence know.

“Take these off,” Louis mumbled against your areola, tugging at your panties. When you hesitated, he simply sighed before ripping them off himself.

“My Pri-

“Shut up,” Louis groaned against your chest, the vibrations further stimulating your raised peak. Louis plunged his fingers into your arching cavern just as he had the day before. You felt your head swirl in embarrassment and arousal, the two emotions battling for dominance.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you? How long I’ve desired you?” Louis asked, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw. His eyes burned with such passion for you, it was hard to not look away.

“That’s it, ride my hand. Just like that,” Louis grunted and you hadn’t even noticed your pelvis had begun grinding into his hand to meet the thrusts of his fingers. Your body was moving completely on its own, anything to help relieve the pressure growing in your lower belly.

Suddenly, Louis ceased his movements, lifting you up slightly with one hand while he pulled his underwear down with the other. His member sprang to life, resting against his abdomen as it stood glistening with precum. Being a stag and royalty, it was natural to assume he’d be well-endowed but nothing could have prepared you for the vision that was his impressive length.

He took your hands in his own larger ones and wrapped them around his weeping shaft. He let out a soft “fuck...” as he guided your hands up and down. He let go once you found your own rhythm, no longer needing his assistance for such a simple act.

“You’re so good at this- too good, actually. Did you touch Azuki’s mutt like this? Huh?” Louis asked breathlessly, his death grip returning to your thighs.

“I already told you yesterday, we aren’t like... that...” you grumbled, swiping your fingers over his sensitive cockhead, causing a needy groan to tear from his throat.

“Then what were you two like? You were already letting that filthy mongrel close enough to scent you, it’d be nothing for you to get on your knees for him.” Louis said angrily and you suddenly remembered exactly where you were and, more importantly, who you were with.

No amount of pretty words and declarations of desire were going to keep Louis’ true nature at bay for long. He was vile and malicious at heart. You knew this. He’d proven it to you time and time again. So when was it finally going to register in your dumb little brain?

You released his cock immediately, and climbed off his lap and out of his bed. You headed straight for the door but Louis was faster, grabbing and pinning you against the very door you’d been trying to exit from.

“Why do you keep running away from me? Can’t you see what I’m trying to do here?” Louis groaned into the nape of your neck. It sent shivers down your spine and you resisted the urge to arch into him.

“You’re trying to control me, to manipulate me”

“I’m trying to love you.” Louis craned his head back to look into your eyes. He saw no warmth in them.

“You have a peculiar way of expressing your ‘love’, my lord,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Annnnd we’re back to the incorrect formalities. Every time I feel we’ve taken one step forward, you move three spaces back. Why do you insist on fighting me so? I know you feel it, I can’t be imagining this attraction between us,” Louis finished, the grip on you wrists that previously had you pinned against the door now residing so that he could caress your forearms with the pads of his thumbs.

“I fight it because I know my place. I’m a dog, your highness. Lower than any other Herbivore commoner, and amongst the unfavorable even within Carnivore spaces. Most of the animals around here think I should be banished for even working within the castle during the day, let alone catering to you.”

“Their opinions don’t matter, they have no authority here-”

“It does matter, your highness. Because once your infatuation with me ceases, which is inevitable, you will return to your fiancé, marry her, be crowned King, and produce heirs. And all I’ll have is my life as a lowly commoner. That’s the natural order of things.” You lamented, your voice feeling thick with emotion.

“So what, you believe your future is with Azuki’s guard dog? Popping out litter after litter for him until you die? That’s no way to live, he can’t commit to you. His life already belongs to another woman and that’s Azuki.”

“You don’t think I know that? I’m fully aware of the hold our future Queen has over him. I’m just grateful for every moment he chooses to share with me. Makes my life a little less lonely...,”

“I could make your life less lonely! I could do that for you, better than he ever could!” Louis was slightly begging now, he could hear it in his own voice but he was beyond the point of caring.

“Don’t you see I feel my loneliest when I’m with you? All you’ve ever made me feel was small, and stupid, and unworthy. Legoshi doesn’t point out how I misuse words just to remind me of how uneducated I am. He doesn’t point out how unrefined my taste pallet is or force me to eat food outside of the carnivore diet. He doesn’t drag me out of bed at night to look at some stupid star a million miles away on some balcony when I’m afraid of heights. He doesn’t tell me where I can and can’t go, who I can and can’t see, just because he felt like it. He doesn’t humiliate me every chance he gets! He doesn’t boss me around just because he can!” There were hot tears streaming down your face. You had been holding this in for a long time.

“I see...,” Louis said finally breaking the silence. He released you from his grasp and took a step back. He adjusted himself, tucking his forgotten member fully back into his underwear. Though he had a beautiful body envious to those of Gods, he seemed almost shy about his lack of clothing now.

He glanced at your tattered uniform before muttering a “wait here... please...”, and walking towards one of the humongous wardrobes in his room. He pulled out a pristine, new uniform and walked back over to hand it to you.

“I kept a lot of these on hand, in case you ever wanted.... a more comfortable bed to lay your head at night...” Louis’s voice had never seemed so clouded. You silently accepted the uniform.

“You have my deepest apologies for my behavior. Such veracity was never my intention. I hereby relieve you of all obligation to me. You may return to the kitchen or to the gardens or to somewhere new if you like. Whereever you choose to go is fine, I’ll notify Stallworth of my approval. I...” Louis hesitated, finally bringing his eyes up yours.

“You’re free to go.”

/////////

A/N: I finally know how I want this story to end so hopefully they’ll only be two more parts for this series and it’ll reach it’s completion! Also thank you all again for 1K!

#beastars #beastars louis #beastars louis x reader #louis x reader #louis x you #louis #beastars Louis x you

[writerofshit]

(I mentioned briefly a story of how the Stream Team met. This is that story.)

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the late night hours of a Tuesday, a convenience store is robbed. So is one several blocks southeast. And one roughly in the middle of them both. After all, what's more convenient than 24 hour chili dogs on every other street corner?

Cash. Cash is more convenient. So are guns. Hollering, waving one to get the other. Most important, back alleys that twist and turn, snaking away from increasingly distant sirens. Three individuals find themselves running through these alleys, a couple grand each weighing their pockets down.

It's through serendipity and convenience that their paths cross.

The man from the farthest store arrives first. He's done this a few more times than he'd like to admit, so he'd had a plan. Of sorts. Cut through the park, take a few sidewalks like an upstanding citizen, under the bridge and find a fire escape to utilize from there. There aren't any that reach the ground, of course, because he's smart but not quite enough.

And so this is why Trevor is standing in an dark alley, contemplating whether or not the dumpster will give him enough height to reach the ladder, when the man from the middle store appears. He's around Trevor's height, but would probably win in a fight between them, if he were so inclined. He doesn't seem to be, though. He seems shaken, like he's not quite sure how he ended up in this alley. He's holding a gun almost gingerly, as if it might bite him.

Trevor pulls his own gun.

'dont you fuckin' try anything!'

This does not go over well with Matt. He takes a step back, and then seems to remember that he also has a gun so maybe this is even footing. He holds it aloft, finger nowhere near the trigger.

'same, asshole!'

At this moment the robber from the first store arrives, also, of course, with a gun. And a mask. And an entire purple and orange neon fucking suit, actually, topped with a white cowboy hat. It gives them a few extra inches of height they are distinctly lacking, comparatively. Somewhere in the back of his head, Trevor acknowledges that this newcomer could probably kick his and the other gunman's asses. It is not a pleasant thought.

'oh, what the fuck!?'

Jeremy sounds more annoyed and less scared than one would think, considering they've run into an alley only to find two men with guns. Two men who quickly turn those guns on them.

'who the fuck are you?'

The question surprises them all, including Matt, even though he's the one who asked. As it turns out, people have a tendency to say the first thing that comes to mind when in a stressful situation. Such as, having robbed a convenience store for the very first time and immediately finding himself face to face with other apparent robbers. It would get to anyone, probably.

'i don't want any trouble, but i've already robbed someone tonight and i don't give a shit about felony murder!'

Two lies and a truth, is what Trevor has chosen to play, for some reason. In reality, one does not rob a convenience store at gun point if one is intent on staying out of trouble. And he does, in fact, care very deeply about felony murder. Felony murder is the precise reason he'd shot a bag of Doritos and not a clerk. In his defense, the clerk had initially rolled her eyes at him, asked what exactly he thought he'd get out of this. He'd found this question rude.

The truth, of course, is that he did rob a convenience store. That did happen. No take backs.

'so did i!'

Matt and Jeremy speak so in unison it's almost scary. If they didn't know any better, they'd think the two of them had always known each other.

Trevor's gun wavers between them, unsure which is the bigger threat. The guy who clearly has zero experience with guns, or the weirdo who seems to have far too much? It's a toss up, really. So his aim pinballs back and forth, but his finger does not curl around the trigger. He's serious about that felony murder thing.

The air seems to shift, suddenly, and the sound of sirens is now growing closer. This evidently also annoys Jeremy, and they throw a glance over their shoulder to the direction they'd come from. Red and blue lights flicker past.

'shit. ok. we're all robbers, i guess, and we're all fucked if we keep standing here. who's got a plan?'

Jeremy's eyes are staring impatiently at Trevor. Eyes being the only part of their face Trevor can see. And their hands, a plastic bag in one and a gun in the other.

Trigger finger is an apt name.

He glances at Matt, still wild eyed and glancing back and forth. No, Matt probably does not have a plan. He sort of gives the impression that he's never had a plan ever, actually. That perhaps he'd simply woken up here and decided to wing it. So Trevor makes an offer.

'fire escape?'

There's another moment of tense silence. Well, minus the sirens. And oh, helicopters. Even better. Jeremy shrugs.

'good a plan as any.'

And then they're off, brushing past Trevor and hoisting themself up onto the dumpster. He knew it could work. Trevor blinks and Jeremy has caught the ladder, is quickly working their way up. Shit, how does five foot something manage to get that high on a good day, much less in this situation and with a bag and gun in hand?

Matt's gun clatters to the ground, and honestly, that's probably for the best. He's climbing onto the dumpster now, and he mutters something about not signing up for this shit. Trevor reminds him that he apparently robbed someone, so yeah, he kind of did.

Before Trevor climbs up, he shoves his gun into his jacket pocket. Smart? Probably not. Convenient? More so than climbing with a gun in his hand. He follows Matt up the ladder, wondering what happened to his plan. Yeah, the ladder had been involved. Two other people, however, were not.

Above them, glass shatters.

'warning, maybe!?'

'oops. careful, there's glass.'

Jeremy's voice is no longer directly above them. Instead, it comes from one story up and a little to the left. So they've broken into an apartment. Sure, add breaking and entering to the list of charges, that sounds great. But Matt and Trevor follow, because there's not really another option.

Inside the apartment, Jeremy's mask is gone. The suit is quickly disappearing as well, revealing a rather boring outfit of a white tank top and...sweatpants? The true mystery lies in where the cowboy hat has gone to, because that's a hard item to miss.

'do we really have time for this? don't you think someone might, oh, i don't know, wake up and call the cops?'

Trevor doesn't mean to hiss, it's just that he's sure there's more pressing matters to attend to than an outfit change. Continuing to flee, perhaps.

'nobody's gonna wake up.'

They don't even have the wherewithal to lower their voice. It registers to Trevor that Jeremy's bag and gun are missing as well. Had they dropped them on the way up? It was certainly possible. Trevor thinks he would have noticed a gun flying past his head, but there's a lot going on.

'can we maybe not kill anyone? he brought up a good point with that felony murder thing.'

It's the most words Matt has strung together since he'd shown up. It's damn near a whisper, but at least it's progress.

'i'm not- god, can you two shut up? i gotta make a phone call.'

Jeremy yanks the door open, hand carefully wrapped in the fabric of their shirt. For a moment, Trevor thinks they're leaving and steps forward to follow Jeremy. Instead, Jeremy turns and heads toward the kitchen, pulling open a drawer and digging inside it briefly. They come back with a cell phone.

Something dawns on Trevor.

'is this- do you live here? did you break your own window?'

Jeremy doesn't answer. They put the phone to their ear.

'you're gonna wanna hide whatever you've got. and try not to look like you just climbed in through a window.'

And then-

'hello? yes, hi, i'd like to report a break in, i think? i was hearing a bunch of sirens and then i don't know what happened but some guy just broke my window? he ran through and i just- my friends and i are really scared and we didn't know what to do- yes, we're ok, he's gone, but we- you'll send someone? ok, thank you. the address? oh, uh, it's the del perro heights building, apartment 7. should i shut the door? no, don't touch anything. ok- guys, don't touch anything, she said someone's on their way to check on us! thank you so much- no, i think we'll be fine. thank you.'

It's a marvelous performance. Jeremy genuinely sounds like some poor flustered victim of a crime. Trevor would applaud if he thought Jeremy would appreciate it. Almost immediately, their voice is back to normal.

'check things out my ass. they're gonna show up, ask which way he went and never call me again. feel real fuckin safe.'

Jeremy settles themself onto the couch, choosing the spot closest to the door. Matt, who has apparently gotten over his initial terror, wanders into the kitchen. Searching for something to distract himself, if Trevor had to guess. Trevor is still standing in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded. How did a simple robbery become hanging out with other robbers, waiting for cops to show up?

'i'm jeremy, by the way. they won't ask, but y'know. just in case.'

They're flipping channels on the tv, seeming to arbitrarily skip almost a dozen programs. Finally, they settle on one and stand. Trevor recognizes it as an old Disney movie, and desperately wants to ask why the fuck Jeremy has put this on.

'uh, hi. i'm trevor. why are we watching Mulan?'

'matt. oh hell yeah, i love this movie!'

He sounds remarkably cheerful, considering the circumstances. How Trevor had seemingly switched places with Anxious McGee is beyond him. He needs to get it together. He pulls his gun from his pocket and takes it to the kitchen, sticking it in the drawer Jeremy had taken the phone from. There are several other phones of varying price point. He steps back to the living room just in time.

'that's why.'

They don't elaborate. Apparently Trevor is meant to just figure this out on his own, which ordinarily he might be able to do. After the course of events of this particular evening? Not a chance.

But he can't ask, because now there's a cop in the doorway and he's staring at Trevor and that will never be a good thing. Trevor stares back. He has no clue what he's meant to say. Hello? Welcome? He went that way?

'oh thank god! we've been so terrified, we didn't know if he'd come back or what he'd do.'

Naturally, Jeremy has taken lead on this. They're a phenomenal actor, Trevor has to admit.

'did you see which direction he went?'

'toward the stairs, i think. we've all been rooted to the spot, you know, it's so scary-'

Matt freezes in the doorway of the kitchen. He's just out of the view from the front door.

'right, well. you boys did the right thing by calling. can you give me a description of the man?'

The corner of Jeremy's mouth quirks.

'gosh, it all just happened so fast. taller than me, probably, but shorter than you, wouldn't you say, trey?'

Trevor nods, because he's not quite sure what else to do.

'alright, thank you. someone will be in touch with you for an official statement. in the meantime, if you remember anything else don't hesitate to call.'

He's holding a card out to Trevor, of all people. He takes it carefully, like if he does it wrong somehow the guy will know and arrest them all. The card is simply the number for a tip line.

As suddenly as he'd arrived, the cop is gone and they're all breathing sighs of relief. Jeremy closes the door.

'you guys can stay for Mulan, if you want.'

So they do.

Trevor asks about why Mulan again, and Jeremy explains that they assume most people have seen it, could answer any questions about it if they came up. Perhaps, if LSPD officers were less incompetent, they would have. Although if that were the case, they wouldn't be LSPD officers at all.

Matt asks about the window, and Jeremy says yes, they did break their own window. Of course they'd had an actual plan when they'd entered the alley. They were always going to end up exactly here, give or take the extras. Asking for a plan was simply a test, determining the merit in bring them along. They'd passed.

Jeremy asks if they want to stay for Mulan II, which is apparently up next. They do.

Somewhere in Los Santos, in the early morning hours of a Wednesday, three convenience stores are recovering from three separate robberies. Right in the middle of them all, their respective robbers are sitting on a couch together, watching a straight to video children's film.

It is the beginning of something far greater than any of them can imagine.

#is this dumb? maybe. did i have way too much fun writing it? absolutely. #is this how any of this would go irl? god no. is it still fun? hell yeah. #fahc #fake ah crew #ks writes

[votederpycausemufins]

Grian felt stiff. He wanted to move around, pop his joints, anything really. But Tommy had other ideas. They had been sitting here, watching the prison for a few hours and Tommy expected him to learn more about the place by staring at the architecture. To be fair, for what it was and with everything else in the world, it was built nicely, and Grian could appreciate a good build. But at this point it just felt like watching paint dry.

“Can’t we go in there? I could get a better idea of-” Grian spoke up with a suggestion, though he already knew the answer even before he got cut off.

“No. I’m not fucking going back in there until we know how to kill Dream.”

“But I already know how to kill Dream.” Grian replied, pouting a little.

“Sam’s not gonna fucking let us in with any gear. You getting shit handed to you isn’t gonna happen this time.” Tommy replied, making them glance over to some movement that was just a chicken moving around.

“I can still manage.” Grian spoke up. “I held my own pretty long that time. Not to mention the second time I killed him.”

That got Tommy’s attention. “What do you mean second time?!”

“Well the first time wasn’t serious. I was still figuring things out and lucked out, making it to sort of the end game of the round. The second time is the one everyone remembers since that’s part of what got me my lordship.”

“How many times have you killed that bastard?!”

“To be honest, not too many times. But it seems like it’s enough to be impressive.”

“Wait so what happened the second time?” Tommy asked, and now Grian felt a lot less bored.

“Alright so our team had found a building when Dream and his team showed up. They managed to loop me around the building in an attempt to separate me from the others. But instead I kept going and reached the tail end of him taking down one of my teammates.”

Mumbo had no idea what he was doing. Well, that was usual for him, but this time it was on purpose. Ranboo had been letting him take plenty of time to put together the redstone that would eventually be a jail cell. Of course, the redstoner wasn’t actually building a prison, especially not on the scale that the hybrid nearly had them locked up in, but it would suffice.

When making sure no one could break in, Mumbo was glad to make that a priority. Obviously someone was messing with Ranboo in a way that Mumbo didn’t want the teen to be in danger. Breaking out though was another beast entirely.

Mumbo tried to work on the interior when Ranboo was a bit more tired. He didn’t know how much of the redstone the hybrid actually understood, but the less he could comprehend at the time, the better. To someone who didn’t know better, the cell would look inescapable, but Mumbo had a way to escape.

He reasoned with Ranboo that if they could never escape, they would need food. That led into the production of a small melon farm which would also end up being the escape path. They simply needed to throw a melon on a certain block and a hopper minecraft would pick the item up, opening up the food path for some crimson vines, which would then be bonemealed, so Mumbo could climb out.

But the only time he could ever work on any of that was when Ranboo was tired. And usually that meant he was tired too. So by the time he finally clocked out for the night, Mumbo felt ready to collapse into the first soft thing he saw. Fortunately, he was building this prison not too far from where Ranboo was living, so he didn’t need to go far before he got through the front door and collapsed on the couch.

Grian groaned as he got to the bottom of Tommy’s lookout tower. He forgot how to get home. Again. This would be so much easier if he could fly, but he can’t! Well, technically he could use some Watcher magic, but he still doesn’t know how that would affect Tommy. So he has to walk.

He ends up getting lost along the way, and Tommy is of no help since he’s already asleep. Grian would like to do the same, but there’s no way he’s sleeping up in that tower, and hanging out in the middle of nowhere is a death sentence. Sleeping in someone else’s base is also out of the question since no one seems to get along well with each other. Well, Grian had noticed a few exceptions.

And man, was Grian glad for those when he saw movement from one of the houses nearby. The former avian was pretty sure he had gone too far north, ending up in a snowy town. From the second floor window, Grian noticed a very familiar person moving around which made him smile, being so tired he nearly mistook the ziglin for Jrumbot.

With a yawn, he went up to the front door and walked in, ready to collapse. Grian barely registered there was someone else on the couch he flopped onto until they stirred a bit, giving a familiar hum. Grian leaned over, using them as a pillow and snuggling into the redstone dusted suit, giggling a little as it tickled his nose. A hand ruffled his hair, feeling a bit different than normal, but probably just covered in bandages.

“Mumbo… I told you redstone’s bad for your health.” Grian spoke up, though he was still half asleep.

“Hmmph, ‘s if buildin’s ‘ny b’tt’r.” Mumbo answered, sleep slurring his speech.

“Well I-” Grian paused with a yawn. “I can just fly out of it.”

There was a chuckle from Mumbo, who then pulled Grian closer, and before long the two of them were asleep.

When Grian was next conscious, it was very obvious something was wrong. Tommy was yelling, though more in an argumentative tone than actual anger. He seemed to be saying something about having so many women, whatever that meant, towards Tubbo. The sheep… goat… okay Grian didn’t know what kind of hybrid he was, and honestly did it matter right now? Well, it did as long as Grian wanted to focus on something other than the argument so he didn’t mess something up by getting involved.

Like the fact that Ranboo was also here. The… other somewhat ambiguous hybrid seemed to look how Grian felt. They were watching the argument awkwardly, obviously not really involved but not able to leave. They fiddled with the sleeves of their suit enough for Grian to notice the glinting of redstone, something he didn’t think they normally worked with. With their attire and height, Grian was sure if they also used redstone, he would-

And then last night came crashing back into his memory. He had mistaken the hybrid as Mumbo. The very much married hybrid. The very much married to Tommy’s best friend hybrid. And suddenly Grian realized what the argument was probably about. Well then. Whoops.

#hc x dsmp #shared space au #grian #avian!grian #watcher!grian #tommyinnit #mumbo jumbo #ranboo #tubbo

[ackerslut]

of all i am made of (perhaps you are too)

ao3

Hugo does not believe in soulmates.

To be fair, he doesn’t much believe in anything but the feeling of coin in his pocket and the clever bite of his dagger. What use has he for god and destiny when he carves his own path of lies through time, with a sharp tongue and a cocky smile.

Why should Hugo believe the universe would gift him a soulmate when it already has made it perfectly clear that nothing is free?

Besides soulmates are rarities of the past--legends and folktales on the lips of elders and religious fanatics; the former clinging to superstition from the od era, the latter feeding false promises and hope to the instupid masses.

Soulmates are for hopeless romantics and tiny children. Not for Hugo.

“That does not surprise me,” Nuru says, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face.

She’s lying down in the golden field where they’ve set camp for the night. The contrast of the bright yellow against her dark skin is stunning-particularly in the moonlight, with her dark hair fanning out about her head.

Hugo, who is sitting upright a few paces away and playing with his daggers, frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, unsure if he should be feeling defensive or not.

Nuru folds her arms beneath her head, propping herself up enough to make eye contact with him. “Even if you had a soulmate, you wouldn’t know what to do with them,” she scoffs.

He snorts. “ You believe in soulmates?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes, actually. I thought you were the rational one in this party.”

Nuru gives him an expression that indicates how stupid she thinks he is. “I might be the only person who can keep their head in a crisis, but that doesn’t mean I can’t believe in a higher power, Hugo.”

She rolls over, so that she’s laying on her stomach, facing him. “Burning stars fall in my homeland every year. There are stories of a sun princess who’s tears heal the dead. Varian somehow hasn’t strangled you yet. I think you’d better start believing in a god.”

“Or soulmates apparently,” Hugo mutters.

“Or soulmates,” Nuru says. “Would it really be that far-fetched?”

“Do I believe there’s someone out there who shares my dreams? Or has my name written above their heart? Hard pass, Princess.”

“Alright then, how about sharing the same soul?” Nuru asks, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. “You’re telling me that doesn’t sound at least a little romantic?”

“I don’t have a soul.”

“Now that,” she says, a grin stretching across her face, “that I can believe.”

___

“I think Anya’s my soulmate,” Yong says dreamily, staring at Varian’s redheaded cousin like she hung the fucking moon.

Hugo, despite secretly adoring the round child, rolls his eyes. Hard. “Do you even know what that means?”

“It means we share the same time threads,” Yong replies distractedly.

Varian and Anya are nerding out over something-something Hugo would find interesting or fun to mock them over, but right now, for some reason, he’s more interested in Yong’s adorable-if not misguided-crush on Varian’s little cousin.

“Time threads,” Hugo laughs, cracking his knuckles. Yong winces at the noise, momentarily taking his eyes off the two babbling alchemists. “Alright, color me curious. What are time threads?”

Yong frowns. “You’ve never heard of time threads? Every child in Koto learns about them.”

Ah, must be some religious poppycock only spread in the fire kingdom.

“Well, I’m not a child living in Koto, am I?” Hugo replies lightly. “Spill, little pyro.” He pokes the kid in the shoulder repeatedly until he gets swatted.

“Her lady, Odiyesi, spins a thread for each person,” Yong recites in a sing-song voice. “This thread contains the beginning, the middle, and the end of our lives. If she so chooses, two threads will be intertwined-maybe even beyond the Snip, if she wills it.”

“The Snip?”

“Oh yeah, that’s when you die,” Yong says, side eyeing Hugo.

Hugo ruffles Yong’s hair. “And you think Anya is your thread partner. That’s so cute .”

Yong ducks out from under his hand, scowling. “Why did you ask if you don’t even believe it?” he mumbles, face pink.

“You know what I think?” Hugo asks, pretending like he doesn’t hear Yong. “I think you should go right up to here and tell her all that. Give her a heads up about your eternally bound souls.”

“Your soul is eternally bound to the underworld,” Yong shoots back, with a surprising amount of fire.

Hugo bursts into laughter. “That,” he says, “is the first thing you’ve said all day that makes sense.”

___

“What do you think about soulmates?” Hugo asks mildly. He has a glass of wine in one hand, but he’s barely tasted it. Instead, he stands, staring out the stained glass window and into the courtyard.

Donella, sitting behind her desk, looks up from Varian’s Ulla’s journal-recently procured by Hugo.

The amount of deception and sneaking around he’d gone through to actually get it out of Varian’s line of sight had been painstakingly difficult. And it had been even harder coming up with an excuse to Nuru why he needed to spend the night somewhere other than their current lodgings.

He doesn’t really remember the lie. Just the trust in the Princess’s face when she’d briefly patted him on the shoulder, telling him to be back by sunrise.

Donella closes the journal with a snap, leaning back in her chair. “What a curious question. And from you, no less.”

When Hugo turns around, she’s smiling that sharp smile-the one that makes his stomach plummet with discomfort. Something in him churns at that dangerous expression now, unsure of what he’s suddenly gotten himself into.

He gives a casual shrug, raising his glass to his lips. “Just making idle conversation, I suppose.” The wine tastes terrible. Still, he takes another sip before setting it down on an end table.

“Hmm.” His mentor eyes him skeptically. “What do I think about soulmates?” she muses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose the proper answer would be that I hate them.”

He frowns. “So you don’t believe in them?”

“You can’t hate something you don’t believe in, Hugo. Of course I believe in soulmates.” Donella must see the surprise in his expression because she laughs after a brief pause. “I would be hard pressed not to believe in them after seeing it with my own two eyes.”

Hugo blinks, startled. “You met someone with a soulmate?” he asks, disbelieving.

“You could say that.”

“How do-how did you know they were-”

She opens the stolen journal again, long scared fingers deftly flipping back to her reading place. “Because I could feel when she was in pain. Now shut up, Waif, I still have three quarters of this tedious reading to get through and only five more hours to do it.”

___

Even though Eugene has decided to make the conscious effort not to kill Hugo, the guy still shows mild animosity. And by mild, Hugo-of course-means that he drags him around, making him do tedious tasks and scowls whenever he gets close to Varian.

Whatever. It’s not as if Hugo’s going to complain, considering that it’s mostly his fault there was a demon monster briefly unleashed onto Corona that destroyed most of her capital city. As long as Varian isn’t blaming himself, Hugo calls it a win.

So he lets the Prince Consort drag him around the city and put his alchemy to work.

“You don’t have to stay,” Hugo says, at one point, when it becomes apparent that even though Eugene has no idea how alchemy works , he was still going to hover. “I’m not going to cut and run.”

The man had snorted. “Yeah, I already figured that one out for myself,” he’d muttered and then proceeded to not explain what that meant.

So here Hugo is, with an ever present shadow, hovering like he’s a fucking five year old. Hugo honestly doesn’t see what Varian sees in the guy-or Queen Rapunzel for that matter. She looks at the ex-thief like he hung the moon and all the damn stars in the sky.

“It’s because they’re soulmates,” Eugene’s buddy-Lance, Hugo thinks-had said when he caught him staring.

Hugo had scoffed.

Now, bored and overheated after a long day’s work, Hugo watches Eugene frown over some blueprints in the Queen’s study. Hugo’s not exactly sure why he has to be present for this particular part of the renovation project, but he’s too tired to protest.

“Are you and the queen soulmates?” he hears himself asking.

Eugene lifts his head, eyes alight with surprise. He glances back down at the blueprints once, before leaving the table to join Hugo by the open doors leading to the balcony.

“Weird question, coming from you,” he snorts, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “But yes. We are.”

Hugo doesn’t know what to make of that. “How do you know?”

The older man hesitates, something like understanding dawning on the man’s face. A small smile crosses lips. “Have you ever met someone that no matter how many times you tried to walk away, you couldn’t?”

Hugo swallows.

“That’s how I know. Now,” he claps Hugo on the shoulder. “If you’ll stop messing around, I need your opinion on whether Yong’s demolition idea or Varian’s solvent solution is going to work best for the lower district’s avalanche problem.”

___

At the end of all things-or perhaps the beginning-Hugo finds Varian on a rooftop.

It’s not hard to find him, as when Varian is brooding, he likes to perch. It’s a habit that the alchemist has either picked up from spending most of his time in a castle with high roofs or perhaps it’s born of chasing his dumb racoon into precarious positions.

Either way, Hugo learns early into his friendship with the darkhaired boy, that when he’s being introspective, he likes to pick a high roof and perch like a fucking woodland creature.

So when Varian goes missing in the middle of Corona’s lantern festival, it takes precious few minutes to find him.

“You are so predictable,” Hugo says, dropping down next to him. Heights don’t usually bother him, but the castle is impressively tall.

The other alchemist doesn’t really seem to mind, however. He lets his legs dangle over the edge, occasionally swinging in the air.

“Or maybe I wanted you to find me,” Varian replies easily. His head--tilted up, toward the stars that are mirrored in the constellations of freckles on his face-is wearing a peaceful expression.

Something in Hugo’s chest clenches tightly at the sight of it. There was a time, not too long ago, where he was convinced he’d never see Varian happy again.

But now, Varian turns his face toward Hugo and offers him a smile. “Or maybe I’m just predictable to you.”

The tightness in Hugo’s chest dissipates. What is left aches for something he can’t have.

“Or that,” Hugo says, instead of doing something stupid like trying to hold Varian’s hand or kiss the stupid expression off his face.

Varian turns back to the stars.

“You know, they say shooting stars fall in the direction of your soulmate.”

Hugo rolls his eyes. “Not you too,” he groans, eliciting laughter from his friend. “I thought out of everyone, you would be on my side here.”

“Aw, don’t believe in soulmates?” Varian teases, grinning boyishly. “Sun and moon, I should have expected that.”

“Yeah?” Hugo raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

“You’re so cynical. And not in the way Cass is-she’s like realistically -cynical. You’re just oh poor me I could never have a soulmate because my soul is made of garbage -”

Hugo clamps a hand over Varian’s mouth, shrieking when he tries to lick him. “I- stop -I don’t have to listen to this slander -”

“-and if you ever did find your soulmate you would be insufferable about it,” Varian goes on, catching Hugo’s wrist when he tries to silence him again. “You would spend the entire time trying to prove to yourself and everyone else that there was no possible way they could be your soulmate and when you couldn’t you would-”

He stops. Blinks at Hugo with realization dawning across his face.

Hugo’s wonders if Varian can feel his pulse racing where the smaller boy’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yeah? What would I do?”

Varian’s lips purse. “I don’t know what you would do. I’d hope you would be smart about it.”

He lets go of Hugo.

Hugo immediately misses his warmth.

“And what would be the smart thing.”

“Well,” Varian draws out the word thoughtfully. He scoots close enough to Hugo that if the taller boy wanted he could wrap and arm around his shoulder. “Well, an excellent start would be telling them.”

“And how would you tell them? If it were you,” Hugo adds quickly, when Varian shoots him a questioning look.

Varian leans back on his hands, head tipped back, exposing his throat to the sky. “I would tell them my heart started beating at the same time as theirs when we touched. That there’s a silver dagger inked on my shoulder that burns when they’re angry and sings when they’re sad-”

“Varian.” Hugo’s heart clenches so hard he briefly wonders if he’s having a heart attack.

“-I would tell them that I dreamed in color the first night we lay side by side in the forest,” Varian goes on, ignoring him. “I would tell them that when we touch I see every color-even the ones that don’t belong here.”

“Varian.”

Hugo’s hand finds his soulmate's.

Varian turns his head to the side slightly, finally meeting Hugo’s eye. With his free hand, he cups the side of Hugo’s neck, tentatively.

“I would tell him that our souls are made of the same thing.” He smiles gently. “It’s just science, Hugo.”

Hugo laughs, pressing his forehead into Varian’s. “How is that the most romantic thing you’ve said yet?”

“Because you’re a closet nerd,” Varian says, right before he leans in.

Underneath a starlit sky, Hugo kisses the boy made of the same stuff as him.

___

#varigo #hugo vat7k #varian #nuru vat7k #yong vat7k #eugene fitzherbert #my fanfic #vat7k fanfic #tts #tts fafic

[remuswriting]

interviews; o. tooru

Summary: Oikawa leaves a terrible first impression on Y/N, Seijoh’s newspaper editor, when the volleyball team gets to be featured in the paper.

Pairing: Tooru Oikawa x Male! Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 5,043

Notes: I have worked on a newspaper and had to do so many interviews, and Oikawa’s magazine interview annoys me.  I wonder if it was him or the interviewers, which is what created this.  Two things; my journalism writing is rusty and I’m not the best at writing Oikawa, sorry.

The Newspaper Club was a club that many people avoided because of its dictator editor L/N Y/N. This didn’t stop anyone from reading it, because all the stories were actually really well done and extremely interesting, and the editor had changed the formatting into a magazine style. Since L/N had become editor, the magazine expanded into different categories and had weekly polls to see what people wanted to see more of and what they wanted to see less of.

“Everyone wants to see an article about the boys’ volleyball team, L/N,” Sakura, a first year who wrote for lifestyle, said as she brought the polls up to the editor.  He sighed and his face fell into his hands.

“I’ll have to interview that brat Oikawa,” the editor groaned, and the first year didn’t understand why that was a problem because it was Oikawa Tooru. “He is the worst at interviews.  Or maybe those who have interviewed him don’t understand how to actually ask questions.”

Masaru, the head of the editorial section of the paper, walked over to move Sakura farther from the h/c haired boy.  The ginger girl got the cue and walked back over to her desk to start working on some articles.  The brunette boy next to his friend wanted to complain with his friend, because in a journalism perspective; Oikawa was annoying to deal with.

“What if I just interview Iwaizumi?” Y/N asked as he looked up at the other, eyes glimmering at the new idea before he dropped his face again. “But Oikawa would just complain that he isn’t getting any attention.”

“L/N you could always just have someone else write the story,” Masaru said, only for the h/c boy to scream into his own hands, which made all of the club members look over at the two.

“I’m the sportswriter; it has to be me.  Also, I’m the only one who understands volleyball shit in here.”

“Oh yeah, your older brother played volleyball, right?” Masaru asked, and the club members went back to what they were doing when they noticed that their editor wasn’t going to have a breakdown.

The h/c haired boy placed the right side of his face to the side of the desk, looking up at the other with his pretty e/c eyes.  Aobajohsai’s newspaper editor was pretty and if he wasn’t so aggressive and so in your face, more people would see how pretty he was.  Masaru had to see it too much, and sometimes it was hard to talk to his friend when he looked cute.

“I’ll talk to their coach tomorrow to go to their practice to take photos and interview Oikawa, as well as some of the other members,” Y/N said, and Masaru realized it had been quiet between them for a few minutes.  He also realized the editor didn’t answer his question. “So, you’ll have to hold down the fort here, even though everyone works independently.”

“Okay.” He hand ran through L/N’s hair to calm him if he needed to be calmed anymore. “Get to work now, Mr. Editor.  We’re all carrying your slack.”

“You really piss me off sometimes.”

 *****

 Although the boys’ volleyball coach agreed to Y/N doing things for the magazine, he was faced with how he was supposed to do all of this.  He had done the majority of the other sports clubs, but this one had Oikawa Toru, aka the guy who had been in magazines before, which made him have so many fangirls.  If the h/c haired boy even barely messed up on this, then all those girls would come after him ready to kill.

L/N walked to the gym with his bag full of things he needed when doing articles and interviews.  Masaru had once said he looked ridiculous, but Masaru rarely did interviews so Y/N never took anything he said to heart. The squeaky shoes in the gym rang out to where the editor could hear them clear as day practicing.  Or about to practice.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t watched on their matches, whether it was practice or official.  Y/N really did love volleyball, but not in the way to join a team or actually learn how to do anything in it.  The h/c haired boy just enjoyed watching it and how sometimes he could even feel the adrenaline radiating off the court.

“N/N-chan is here!” Oikawa called out, and the editor wanted to strangle the other for the stupid nickname. Their coach looked over at the third year writer and stood up from where he was seated.

“Okay, everyone,” the coach said, all players immediately looking over to him. “L/N is going to interview Oikawa and maybe a couple others but everyone else is to practicing while he does so.”

“I’ll also be taking some photos while you practice,” Y/N said, making the boys look over to him now. “It’ll be like I’m not here.  Tomorrow I’ll be taking what’ll look like professional pictures of you all.  You’ll be wearing your uniforms and it shouldn’t take maybe 20 to 30 minutes.”

“What’s this for?” Kindaichi asked, and the h/c haired boy smiled slightly.

“You guys get to be in the magazine this issue.  You only have to deal with me for two days, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Everyone nodded before they went off to practice, leaving Oikawa and L/N alone for the interview.  The brunette setter smirked at the other, obviously trying to be flirty and the other just stared at him confused before he pulled his bag out in front of him.

He grabbed his notebook, pen, and tape recorder.  A lot of members of the newspaper club usually used their phones, but the editor hated using up storage on his device.  He usually put photos on there that the magazine occasionally used but took most photos on the club’s camera.

“Is it okay if I record this?” Y/N asked as he looked up at the other, who was only looking him over.

“Of course, you can record anything we ever do, baby,” Oikawa said, and Y/N forced a smile instead of punching the other.  It was just an interview.

“Great, now we need to get somewhere I can sit, so I can write easier.  We don’t want to mess up anything in the team’s article.”

“You’re free to sit on my lap.”

Y/N closed his eyes as he bit into his, wanting to scream.  All he wanted to do was write this article and the boy in front of him was ready to make it far too difficult for him to do so.  So, he chanted in his head that it was just an interview and it would be over soon.

“No thank you.” He sat in the floor and placed the recorder next to him and motioned for the other to sit on the floor with him. “It won’t pick up your voice that well, sit down.” The setter sat in the floor annoyed and sighed. “Okay, let’s get started; what got you into volleyball?”

Oikawa looked like he was actually thinking of an answer, which gave the editor some hope that all of those interviews he had previously done had been full of stupid questions. Sadly, that wasn’t the case.

“Sports uniforms attract cute guys like you,” he said, and Y/N gave him another forced smile.

“We’ll come back to that question when you can think of something better than that.” He placed a star next to the first question, so he’d remember that answer was garbage. “Why did you pick Aobajohsai?”

“It’s close to home, and it also has you,” Oikawa responded as he placed his hands on the floor and leaned back on them.

Another star next the question.

“What’s your favorite part of volleyball?”

“It led me to meet you,” the setter responded and the editor slammed his notebook into the ground in between them.

“Are you serious?” Y/N asked, annoyance in his voice, and the setter nodded. “Is this interview a fucking joke to you?  I’m taking time out my day that I could be editing articles that people actually worked on, and your responses are this?  Maybe Iwaizumi-san would be a better person to interview for this and say we only wanted to focus on vice-captain instead of both of you.”

Oikawa looked at the other a little freaked out.  He had never spoken to the other but he had always found him incredibly attractive and had seen how compassionate he had been towards others.  Maybe the rumor of L/N being a dictator was right, even if the third year hadn’t believed it until now.

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa mumbled before speaking up. “I’m used to questions like what I want in a girl and my favorite color.”

“Okay, just please actually try to answer these,” Y/N said before he let out a deep breath. “What got you into volleyball?”

“I went and saw an exhibition match between Argentina and Japan in Sendai with Iwaizumi when I was in elementary school,” Oikawa started, and Y/N was trying to write and fully comprehend what he was saying at the same time. “When Argentina put Blanco in, he just made everything work, you know?  He brought balance back to the team.”

“Blanco is a really good player,” Y/N said with a smile, and the setter looked at him confused.  Most people didn’t know who he was talking about usually. “Do you want to bring balance to your team?  Make everything work?”

Oikawa smiled slightly at the thought of being like the man who inspired him.

“Yeah, I really do.” He lifted a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Setters are the ones who can restore balance to their teams if they do everything right, and I hope I’m doing that for our team.”

“I think you are,” Y/N said with a smile. “Now, that kind of goes into this question, but if you weren’t a setter; what position would you play?”

“I’d love to be a libero, they’re pretty badass, but I don’t think I’d be good at it.” He paused for a moment, and the interviewer knew he wasn’t done speaking yet. “Probably a middle blocker, because I have the height and I’ve already done it before.”

“Liberos are badass. My older brother is a libero, and he’s a badass.” It was obvious Oikawa wanted to ask who his brother was, because that meant L/N was probably really into volleyball. “I think that’s all I’ll ask you.  I know there were other questions, but I don’t want to write about everyone’s answers to the same questions.”

Oikawa watched as the other turned off the recorder and it put in his bag along with his notebook and pen. He didn’t want this to be over, because he knew Y/N would go back to not acknowledging the setter’s existence.

“Let’s go on a date,” the brunette blurted and the other looked down at him confused. “We go on a date and then start dating.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said as his expression became even more confused. “I’m just not interested, especially in someone who tried to wreck the first part of an interview.”

Oikawa stared at him and wasn’t sure on what to do.  No one ever really rejected him because he was used to being the one who always got confessions.  The h/c haired boy standing above him wasn’t going to give him a confession though, and that slightly broke the setter’s heart.

“Just think about it.”

Y/N offered a hand to pull the other up and Oikawa took it, hoping maybe physical contact would make the editor want to be with him, and the two were so close.  L/N took a step back before he smirked slightly.

“I’m most likely not going to think about it, but you could grab Iwaizumi for me when we go back to where everyone is practicing,” he said with such a sweet voice that Oikawa wanted to bang his head into a wall.

That sweet voice was only ever reserved to those who the editor wanted to deck in the face.  If any of his club members were there, they’d try everything they could to get Oikawa out of the situation.  Instead, if the setter said one more thing to piss the h/c haired boy off, then he’d probably lose it.

“Okay,” the third year captain said and the other smiled at him. “You sure you want to interview him?”

“Yes, I would’ve preferred to have interviewed him first.”

Silence fell over them as they walked to practice, and Oikawa kept looking over at the other, who was now on his phone.  Masaru had texted to ask if the editor had killed anyone yet and Y/N had to admit that he thought about it multiple times.

“When you’re ready for that date, just tell me,” Oikawa said before he went to someone else, and Y/N wondered if he should’ve killed him.  Would’ve made all of this so much easier.

Y/N’s fake smile dropped to show his irritation.  When the wing spiker approached him, he could see that Iwaizumi looked amused.  The editor raised an eyebrow at him, which made the dark haired third year chuckle.

“So, you rejected Shittykawa?”

“Yeah, is there a problem?”

“Not at all; it’s actually pretty funny.”

 *****

The next day when Y/N entered the gym to get the team to take photos in the photography room, where everything was set up.  Iwaizumi was the one to greet him as well as the two first years, who looked fairly nervous. The h/c haired boy thought it was ridiculous for them to be nervous, because photos weren’t hard.

“Where is everyone?” Y/N asked as he looked down at his watch, he had scheduled this to be before their practice.  He didn’t want to take up too much of their practice time.

“In the club room. Oikawa is trying to make them look pretty,” Kindaichi said, and the third year editor laughed into his hand. The three in front of him looked at him a little shocked because he actually looked cute unlike yesterday when he looked annoyed yesterday.

“Can you take me to the club room, because I don’t want to cut into your practice time too much,” Y/N said with a soft smile that made Iwaizumi feel on edge.

He nodded and took the editor to the club room.  He feared the boy was going to freak out, because Oikawa had said the h/c third year had snapped at him during his interview.  The ace opened the door to reveal Oikawa messing with someone’s hair, and he looked over at his shoulder to see e/c eyes staring into his soul.

“Hey, we really need to get going with these photos,” Y/N said, no anger in his voice.  He wasn’t upset, because it seemed that Oikawa just wanted everyone to look good in their photos. “I understand trying to look nice, but it would be good to fix hair and everything in the photography room.”

“Oh, okay,” Oikawa said as he stepped away from Yahaba, whose hair definitely did look better. “We can finish when we get to the place.”

“Thank you, Oikawa-san,” Y/N said before turning around to walk away from the club room to go back to the two first years the third years had left behind.

“Who was that?” Watari asked with a shocked expression. “He wasn’t like that at all yesterday.”

“He wants to make sure we don’t miss too much practice, because he promised coach he’d be quick,” Iwaizumi said as he looked over at Oikawa, who looked lovesick. “What’s with the stupid expression on his face?”

“Mr. Editor didn’t yell at him,” Hanamaki said as he laughed slightly. “He doesn’t know how to function.”

“I mean, he’s kind of hot when he’s angry,” Matsukawa said as he put his jersey on.  Oikawa looked over at him and pointed a finger at him.

“Don’t you dare try to take him away from me,” Oikawa said, and Iwaizumi started laughing.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself dumbass.  Let’s get to going,” Iwaizumi said, and everyone left the club room before Oikawa and Iwaizumi. “Stop pouting.  You didn’t give a great first impression, which is normal for you.  Try making up for it.”

 *****

 Y/N wasn’t skilled with a camera like he was with photoshop.  Thankfully the photography club knew that and helped him set up the backdrop and put the camera to the correct settings.  The only part they couldn’t help him with was positioning and poses.  It wasn’t that it was exactly hard, but he was the head editor and graphic design person for a reason.

“We will do individual shots, and if we have time, then we can also do some other shots as well,” he said once everyone was in the room. “I also need you guys to cooperate, because this isn’t my strong suit.”

“Then why do you do it?” Kindaichi asked, getting hit upside the head by Kunimi. “I’m just curious.”

“I edit all the graphics, and I struggle to explain how I want the photos because I don’t know what I’ll be doing until I have the photos,” Y/N explained. “Also, that’s a valid question to ask, so there’s no reason to hit anyone.”

Kunimi looked down at the ground, embarrassed, and the h/c editor shook his head with a small smile. Sure, this wasn’t his area of expertise, but he spent so much time in this room that it felt like a home.  He felt like he could be more himself here than when he was in the gym.

“We’ll have Oikawa go first, you brought a volleyball, right?” He asked, and Yahaba handed the brunette a ball. “Okay, you’re going to stand on the black piece of tape.  I’ll have you do a couple poses.”

The brunette nodded and the editor looked through the viewfinder, figuring out how close or far he needed to be away from the captain.  It didn’t help that the setter was 6’ while the editor was not.  He fixed the zoom and took a step back.

“Okay, we’ll do a couple basic volleyball poses,” Y/N said with a laugh. “My brother’s favorite is holding it with two hands around your abdomen.”

The mention of Y/N’s brother made Oikawa want to ask who it was.  There seemed to be a smile reserved for the mention of the older L/N, and the brunette wanted to know all about him.  Instead of asking anything, he posed the way the other wanted him to.

“Give me a smile,” Y/N said as he had his camera up to his eye. “We don’t want you to look like you hate everyone.”

“I just have to think about you to smile,” Oikawa said, and the editor gritted his teeth as he took the photo and looked at it.

“Stay in that position, but now smirk.  The smile may have been a tad too much.”

“My attraction to you isn’t too much,” the captain said, and all of his teammates felt embarrassed for him.

“I’m going to make a rule that you have to shut up or else I will butcher only your photo,” Y/N said as he continued to take photos. “Now, hold the volleyball out in front of you with one hand.”

Oikawa remained quiet, upset because he was just trying to be himself but he got so nervous around the h/c haired third year.  It was hard to think of things he said to his friends when a cute boy stood in front of him that he really wanted attention from.

“Thank you, Oikawa-san,” he said before he looked over at everyone else. “We’ll go in numerical order, so number two; you’re up.”

Iwaizumi hit Oikawa upside the head, which L/N acted like he didn’t see.  He didn’t hate the captain; there was no valid reason to.  Y/N had to admit the brunette was slightly amusing to be around, but he made things much harder than they needed to be.  Maybe he just hated being inconvenienced.  That was most likely it.

 *****

 Two days later the article was done and the third year stopped by the volleyball gym with a couple copies of the magazine.  It was something they always did if someone was in the issue, because it seemed polite to give them a copy in person.  The team was about to start practice, which was what the editor had hoped for.  A couple of the players stopped to look over at him with the magazines in his hands.

“Hey, I thought I’d drop these off for you guys,” Y/N said with a small smile. “I think your graphic turned out pretty badass, also thought your parents may want a copy.”

“Thank you, L/N,” Iwaizumi said before Oikawa entered the gym to see the h/c haired boy with the magazines, and a smile broke out on the captain’s face.

“L/N, you have the magazines!” Oikawa nearly squealed, which made the editor chuckle.

“Yes, you get to read your interview and see your face as many times as possible,” the editor said with a smile, and Kunimi looked at the third year curiously.

“You seem happier than usual,” the first year said slowly. “Did something happen?”

“I got a call from my brother earlier; we don’t get to talk much.  Just be glad that happened before I got here, because I was in a pretty shit mood before that.”

The mention of his brother made Oikawa look over at the editor, who had a smile on his face.  He also wasn’t in his uniform but a blue t-shirt and black jeans, which looked strange on the h/c haired third year.

“Okay, I’ve got to go. I have to stop by other places to discuss next issue,” Y/N said before he put the rest of magazines on the floor. “Have a good practice!”

Once the editor left, Kindaichi grabbed one of the magazines and flipped to the volleyball section and his expression changed into one of amazement.  He had never looked at one of their magazines before, because there was never anything for him to read but L/N’s sports section looked cool.

“The article is so long!” Kindaichi exclaimed, and Iwaizumi took the copy that Oikawa had picked up to look at it.

“He put all of our scores from the last tournament as well as our interviews,” Iwaizumi said as he flipped to the next page. “I wonder how hard it was to find all of this.”

“He probably goes to the games.  He’s mentioned his brother is in volleyball a couple times,” Hanamaki said as he looked at the graphic. “Mr. Editor made me look good unlike he did Shittykawa.”

“Hey!  Don’t call me that!” Oikawa said with a pout. “It’s so mean.”

“Wow, he made Oikawa seem like a decent person,” Matsukawa said before he clearing his throat.

 Oikawa Tooru is this year’s captain for the volleyball team, and he is going beyond the responsibilities of what a captain should be.  It is obvious he motivates his team to be the best they can be just as they motivate him back.  His passion for the sport is so strong that anyone is able to feel it if around him for long enough, especially when it becomes to why he loves being a setter.

“I went and saw an exhibition match between Argentina and Japan in Sendai with Iwaizumi when I was in elementary school,” Oikawa said. “When Argentina put Blanco in, he just made everything work, you know?  He brought balance back to the team.”

He wants to bring balance to Seijoh’s team just like Blanco did for Argentina’s team.  It is obvious that he does bring balance to his team when watching them in matches.  In June, Seijoh’s boys’ volleyball team made it to the finals, but ended up losing to Shiratorizawa.  No matter the end result, Oikawa showed that he is a phenomenal setter and captain.

 “Wow, I didn’t know you actually cared about us,” Hanamaki joked, and the brunette ignored it as Oikawa continued to read the article.

“I didn’t think he’d write about me so highly,” he said, and Iwaizumi hit him upside the head.

“He’s the editor, of course he’s going to write about you highly,” the ace said as he rolled his eyes. “Did you think this was a joke to him?  He didn’t get pissed at you for no reason.”

Oikawa stared at the article, unsure on what to do.  Sure, he hadn’t fully meant to be an asshole or a nuisance, but he also hadn’t expected the article to highlight him so well.  He gave him bullshit answers in the beginning, but he imagine he would’ve been able to make the article perfect either way.

“I’m an asshole,” he mumbled, and the other third years laughed.

“You sure are,” Hanamaki confirmed.

 *****

 Oikawa searched for the editor the next day to find the h/c haired boy on rooftop, staring at his phone. He had headphones in and the brunette noticed the other was watching a volleyball match on his phone.

“Fuck, they could’ve blocked that if they just fixed their stance,” Y/N mumbled, which the captain found slightly adorable. “Good thing he was able to receive it.”

Tooru slowly sat down to be next to the other, who looked over at him before he handed him a headphone. The brunette took it, noticing the other had paused the video, and put it in his ear.

“This is the UPCN San Juan vs Lomas Volleybal,” Y/N said before he played the video again, and Tooru stared at the phone, confused as to why the other was watching international matches.

Once he started watching, he noticed how the libero brought balance to the team.  He was crazy, receiving everything that came his way and things he had to run after.  It took a moment, but the captain realized that was L/N Yuki, the libero that was causing all the rage in Argentina and Japan.

“Holy shit, Yuki is your brother,” Oikawa said, and the other boy looked over at him and nodded.

“Thought you would’ve figured that out before now, but yeah he is,” Y/N said with a smile. “He actually came here for school, which is why I decided to come here.”

“Do you know how cool it is that he’s your brother?  I heard the national team wants him,” Tooru said with bright eyes. “He can receive anything.  He could probably even receive Ushiwaka’s spike.”

Y/N looked at the paused video before looking back up at him.  He realized that the dumbass brunette in front of him didn’t have people’s skills until he got excited or really knew the person.  The editor would like to say he was the same, but he was only comfortable with his family and Masaru.  With everyone else he was an asshole.

“I remember when he was in Panasonic Panthers and there was that setter on Osaka Blazer Sakai that was obsessed with setter dumps that didn’t get one successful one because of Yuki,” Oikawa rambled. “I remember wanting to be a libero just to piss off setters, but then I thought that I could be a setter that pisses off liberos with my setter dumps.”

“Let’s go on a date,” Y/N said, not ashamed of cutting the other off, because Oikawa’s mouth had been opened to talk. “Tell me all about your favorite volleyball moments on a date.”

“Are you being serious?” Tooru asked, and the h/c haired boy nodded.

“I’ve realized you have no people skills outside of trying to be charming,” he said, which made Oikawa look like he had been stabbed. “You’re passionate about volleyball though, and I imagine your people skills will get better the longer we know each other.”

“So, you’re really going to go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” Y/N said as he raised an eyebrow. “You’re making me reconsider though.”

“No!” Oikawa exclaimed as he waved his hands around. “Don’t do that!”

“Okay, stop asking me if we’re really going on a date,” L/N said before he clicked out of the video and handing his phone to the brunette to put in his information. “I’ll text you and we’ll figure out when our date will be.”

Oikawa put his number in, nerves eating at him.  He wasn’t used to people like Y/N liking him, because they typically didn’t.  He knew he could be a lot and not everyone was interested in that, but the editor seemed to not mind too much.

“Stop being so nervous, Oikawa,” Y/N said with a laugh. “I should be the nervous one because your fangirls may find out and want to kill me.”

“I doubt they’d kill me.”

“Whatever you say, captain, but I’m pretty sure they would.” Y/N put his hand out with an impatient expression. “Can we continue watching the game, because you know we’re not really supposed to have our phones.”

“Yeah, of course,” Tooru said, and he noticed it was an old game. “When is this from?”

“Yesterday,” Y/N said as he put his earbud in and looked over at the setter, his e/c eyes glimmering. “UPCN San Juan won, but I didn’t get to see it because it was so late here when it was on.”

“You spoiled the ending!” Oikawa exclaimed and the h/c haired boy laughed, forehead pressing into the other’s shoulder.

“We can’t watch the entire hour and a half right now,” Y/N said as he gave the brunette the other earbud. “You also have practice later.”

“I don’t,” Tooru said immediately. “We don’t have practice on Monday, so we can watch it later together.”

Y/N smiled at him before he took the earbud from Oikawa and looking down at the black screen on his phone. Blush covered his cheeks, but not enough to where the captain would be able to tell, which was a good thing.  He looked up at Tooru with a bigger smile.

“Let’s watch UPCN San Juan kick ass later, okay?”

Oikawa let out a breath that had gotten caught in his throat from the other’s smile before he smile and nodded.

“Let’s do it.”

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