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#IMPULSE YOU CANT TALK MR
computerpeople · 8 months
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infact i wonder how my mom feels about this i just realized thats something i dont think i told her. i wonder how SHE feels about that
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diordeer · 1 month
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౨ৎ SOMEONE LIKE YOU
“i've been searchin' a long time for someone exactly like you, i’ve been travelin' all around the world waitin' for you to come through” - van morrison (smau)
contains: charlie bushnell x fem!reader, where they play in a movie adaptation of ‘better than the movies’ also pls ignore how i spelt ‘preparation’ wrong
description: i cant lie, before i saw this request i hadnt read the book but my friend had and she loved it so i was like ok lets impulse buy it… let me tell u i finished it so quick im OBSESSED
requested by: @taysbeauty
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Liked by iamcharliebushnell, momonatamada and others
yn.ln in the winter in the icy outdoor pool when u jumped in first i went in too!!
tagged iamcharliebushnell
user1 THE DREAM CASTING OMG
user2 “I WANTED WES” 😖😖😖
↳ user3 she gets it
user4 only one more week until this god sent movie comes out 🫡
↳ user5 i think it should be a law to watch every romcom mentioned before watching this in the cinema
↳ yn.ln how can i make this an actual law
iamcharliebushnell im with u even if it makes me blue 🥶🥶
user7 we all know the soundtrack for this movie is gonna HIT
↳ user8 imagine if taylor swift released new years day (taylors version) for it!
↳ user9 i honestly doubt it but i WISH
momonatamada ahhh i cant wait!!
user6 me patiently waiting for the scene when wes reads over livs shoulder ☺️
↳ user11 the tension 😫
user10 i will now never watch a romcom if it doesnt have charlie and yn as the love interests
yn.ln just posted on their story
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Seen by dior.n.goodjohn, sabrinacarpenter and others
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Liked by yn.ln, walker.scobell and others
iamcharliebushnell how you swoon me like no other!
tagged yn.ln
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user1 can we talk ab how charlie probs took that photo of yn 🩷
user2 IS THAT MR FITZ PERVERT
↳ yn.ln no its michael
user3 them captioning their posts with lyrics from liz and wes’ playlist is KILLING ME
user4 guys i just saw the film wtf it was everything i imagined and MORE
↳ user5 any scene with yn and charlie made me physically kick my legs and giggle in the cinema
yn.ln ooomg do iiii 🤭🤭
↳ iamcharliebushnell i wouldnt say swoon
↳ yn.ln yet u did 🤨
user6 can we talk about their on AND off chemistry pls
↳ user7 THEY ARE LITERALLY IRL WES AND LIZ
dior.n.goodjohn charlie in a romcom?!
↳ iamcharliebushnell u got something against that? 😧🤨
↳ dior.n.goodjohn never!!
user8 dream man playing a dream man
walker.scobell finally he plays a good guy 🙄
↳ iamcharliebushnell i betrayed everyone ONE TIME, get over it
user9 the way better than the movies has almost every trope in the books is insane
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yn.ln hold on to the memories, they will hold onto you!!!!!!
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iamcharliebushnell did u actually just mug me off in the first pic while u look gorgeous in the last one?! absolute bias
↳ yn.ln u look great wdym 😃 plus! i think i got a pretty good photo of u in my last post
↳ iamcharliebushnell mhmm
user1 casually flicking past may jailer?!
↳ yn.ln im posing so cool in the photo, the second charlie took the photo i SCRAMBLED to the till to buy it
↳ iamcharliebushnell can confirm!!
user2 omg their latest interview together i cant 😣🩷
↳ user3 the way charlie looks at yn!!!!!!!
↳ user5 the things i would do for a relationship like theirs
↳ user4 lets be real if anyone played a relationship like liz and wes’ in a movie… you would 100% fall in love
↳ user6 guys they havent even said anything about being together!! and even if they are let them be
↳ user5 OH MY GOD its not that big of a deal get over it user6
kiernanshipka just saw the film, you were incredible!!
↳ yn.ln OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU
taglist: @lostinhisworld @lizziesfirstwife @auttumnsayshi @silkenthusiasts @taygrls @kidkrowk @kanojous @niktwazny303 @m00ng4z3r @highfidelities
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mischiefmoons · 2 months
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buddy system
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a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader
words: 4.2k
summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he comes with you to rescue your twin brothers, Pollux and Castor. A weekend 'quest' teaches you a lot about Luke, and about yourself too. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader
a/n: um i cant apologize for this word count and ive been looking at this for too long so fuck. Anyways do yall think Luke felt bad when he found out Castor died in battle because of his army in this universe? just me?? okay :) also trouble gets a cool magic item that makes an appearance here, kinda works like polyjuice but with smoke
(posted 2/7/24 betad by lovely ellie @lixzey might edit again when i get some sleep)
“No. You might be my father, but you’re crazy, man!”
You’re standing in D’s office at the Big House, and what was supposed to be a short talk before the counselors’ meeting has turned into a full-blown argument. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the words leaving your godrent’s mouth.
You’re going to pick up your little brothers.
“Those two statements are both true, kid. You’re old enough to understand that!”
They need your help.
“You’re really letting your 16-year-old daughter drive down to Florida by herself to pick up some kids she’s never met? Won’t even send me with any quest companions, or like, Grover?” you say exasperatedly, before slumping down into a seat.
“Think of it as family bonding! They’re great from what I remember. You all need to get along anyway.”
Whether it was jealousy or the sudden urge to be petty, you impulsively grab your dad’s Diet Coke and chug it, crushing the can with your fist as a tiny act of rebellion. 
Another one appears on the desk and you chuck it over your shoulder. Mr. D sighs as he conjures another one, to which you do the same thing.
“I can do this all day, kid.”
“So can I, and you know if I do, we’ll be sitting here until I’m 40,” you say expectantly, tapping your fingers on the hardwood surface of his desk.
“What do you want?”
The keys to his car are a start, as well as extra pocket money—but there was something, or rather, someone missing to make sure this weekend goes as smoothly as possible.
Your smirk widens at your father, and he wonders when you’ve gotten good at playing his own game.
It’s like looking into a mirror but his worst nightmare manifested as a teenage girl.
There are only two things Luke can think about when he hears the sound of your laughter.
The first is that, unlike your angelic singing that could rival the Muses, your laughter takes after the sound of a maniac, an incredulous crescendo that only something curated by Hades in the deepest pits of Tartarus could produce. It was almost madness-inducing, and it went off in his brain like you were a siren (although he means the kind used for weather advisory, he too gets lured in by your laughter each time he hears it like he’s lost at sea).
Second, as he watches you storm down the lawn of the Big House, your anger brewing something comparable to a Category 5, he raises an eyebrow and thinks, well this ought to be good. Or entertaining at the very least.
“You,” you growl at him, guttural and sharp like the finger you jab into his chest, “we’re going on a quest!”
“Me?” Luke blurts, eyebrows furrowing at you.
A loud groan echoes through the grassy space between the house and the counselors as everyone looks up to see Mr. D dragging his hands down his face at the sheer thought of his daughter causing him more gray hairs. 
“That’s not what we agreed on, kid!” “If you want any of your children to come back to this hellhole in one piece I need backup!” “There’s more of you?”
Both you and your dad glare at Luke now, like he’s interrupting a private conversation.
“Since when do you like asking for help, princess?” 
Mr. D’s arms are crossed over his chest as he speaks to you. Though your height severely differs due to the wooden steps of the Big House, the air is palpable with fear only an Olympian could invoke, reminding the counselors that the man wearing the ugliest Hawaiian shirt known to humankind, is in fact inhuman. You, however, are standing tall in the freshly-cut grass in your combat boots with wrath that could rival Ares’ as you stare your father down like the rest of them wouldn’t get struck into the next lifetime due to your impertinence, as Annabeth loves to call it. She looks up at Luke, with her eyes conveying that she thinks you must be clinically insane, but he knows that already so he shrugs.
“I’m not asking for it, I’m demanding it. Besides, he’s like my ESA,” you say, then taking Luke by surprise as you grab him by the wrist and drag him off the front lawn. You think you can hear Beckendorf and Clarisse bite back chuckles.
“Someone tell Rodriguez he’s in charge of 11!” you yell into the air, and words of affirmation and good luck are muttered in response.
“Don’t I get a say in this, trouble?” Luke says playfully, tugging at your arm lightly but unresisting as you sigh and pull him along. Who in their right mind says no to a long weekend away from this place? Monsters and demigods be damned.
“No. Besides, they’re gonna need more luck than we do.”
“Liam, I don’t know why she trusts you, but if my daughter dies, I’ll make sure you’re next!” Mr. D yells out to your retreating figures, and all of the counselors turn to face him realizing that without you, well… that means he actually has to be in charge.
“So what’s the meeting supposed to be about, Annabelle?” Mr. D says, looking at Annabeth only knowing that she’s supposed to be the smart one—and the small girl sighs.
This is gonna be the longest weekend yet.
You’re speeding down I-95 with the windows down and the wind brushing through both of your hair. While Luke watches you from the passenger seat with the road signs blurring past his periphery, he also notices that it’s the first time in a while that he’s seen you this carefree. With both of you taking up counselor positions a few months ago, and your dad appointing you to be in charge of all of them (because why have a counselor for a population of one), there’s a lot about you that’s grown up in the two years you two have known each other. But what type of demigod gets to enjoy their childhood anyway, right? Luke can only remember bits and pieces of his.
“How do you even know where we’re going? I can barely read the signs,” he asks.
“Cool blessing from my stepmom. Ariadne’s chill. We talk sometimes and she likes that I keep D in check, so now I can never get lost,” you grin toothily, violet eyes flickering to meet his.
“Was it true what your dad said? That you trust me?”
His voice is a bit louder than it should be over the wind tunnel that blocks out the sound of the radio as the air whips in and out of the car.
“Well, I wouldn't say trust,” you drag out, leaning back against your seat with your eyes still on the road, “More like if I got abducted by a harpy, I think you could cut its wings off and give me a fighting chance at living.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t invite Mason to come,” he mumbles, and you smirk.
“Who?”
His hands are clenched in his lap as a blush brushes his cheeks, windswept in the rays of the late summer sun.
“Your boyfriend. Wouldn’t he be a better companion?” 
Something about the older son of Apollo always ground his gears. It was even worse that you both would sing Broadway musicals together during his sparring sessions. Your harmonious voices echoing from the amphitheater aside, the repetitive grating feeling in his stomach reminds him not to go see Hamilton if he ever makes it out to the city.
“He’s not…” you huff, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you think hard on what to say next, “He’s nothing serious.” You pull the sun visor down as you squint, tilting your head in case he says something else, but you hear nothing. Luke’s staring at your side profile, unable to hide his grin at the new information, biting his cheek.
“Besides, he’s a fucking terrible shot. And you’re supposed to be the best, so I’ve heard. Who else would I want on this trip with me?”
He chuckles at this lightly, your words bolstering his ego.
“So you’ve heard.”
And for a second, the sight of his smile distracts you enough that the car swerves a tiny bit closer to the median. You both ignore it and keep driving.
—-
Hypnos increases his hold on your senses as you finally take a break somewhere in North Carolina, taking refuge in a dimly lit corner of a gas station parking lot. The old car reeks of greasy fast food and all the sugar Luke could get his hands on at rest stops (it was really cute to see him indulge in more normal things like sweets instead of swordsmanship), and both of your seats are leaned back, but it’s hard to get comfortable after having your butt in the same seat for several hours.
You readjust yourself again, making the car shake a bit as you turn over to face Luke. 
“What’s wrong?��� he mumbles through closed eyes. His head’s banged against the window one too many times, and it was starting to get annoying.
“Sorry. Just can’t sleep. Thinking too hard.”
He sighs, reaching over to toss your pillow into the backseat, and as you sit up, he rips your blanket off of you too.
“Hey!”
You go silent when you watch him make a makeshift bed for you, turning back with tired eyes as he gestures, “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”
“I feel bad, Luke. You’re taller than me and your knees almost hit the dashboard.”
He rubs at his eyes, looking at you impatiently, and you know his body is calling for comfort too.
“I’ve slept in worse conditions, you gotta remember that, trouble.” The stories Annie used to tell you about the both of them sleeping on the streets pull at your heart, and as you crawl towards the back, you move before you think rationally–tugging on his arm.
“Come on over here.”
“You sure?” “Before I change my mind, yeah.”
You both move around trying to find a place both of you can be comfortable in, first starting with your heads at opposite windows, legs tangling in the middle before he laughs a little too hard at your fumbling and you launch your pillow at his face. Awkwardly, you climb over his legs into his outstretched arms, slotting yourself against his side as he pulls your hair up from getting trapped between his shoulder and your back.
It’s deadly quiet, and Luke thinks if you could move any closer to him, you might hear his heart thundering in his chest.
“You smell like french fries,” you grumble into his sweater, and his laughter shakes you like an earthquake, uprooting the faint traces of sleep in your mind. 
“At least the monsters won’t find us. Gonna be harder when the twins get here. A lot of demigod smell to ward off.”
You don’t answer, and he thinks you may have fallen asleep until he notices your hand playing with the frays of his sweater.
“Trouble?”
“They’re really little,” you mumble, so low that he barely hears the hesitance in your voice.
“The monsters? Yeah, I fucking ho–” “Pollux and Castor. My…half-siblings, with really Greek names, and a mom that depends on me getting them to camp safely…” you trail off before your head jerks up to meet his eyes. It’s colder at night now, your bodies and the tiny throw blanket from your trunk providing ample heat even if his socked feet fight their way out from underneath.
“How old are they, nine?” He feels you nod against his chest before he continues, “I was nine when I left home.”
Your eyes get glassy at the thought of a smaller version of Luke, one who’s not all gangly legs and lean muscle—one much softer and innocent than the boy you lean your weight upon, running away from home to find a place he can belong. 
“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs, the arm propped against the headrest wrapping around you and resting on your hip, tapping you to continue your previous thought.
“I don’t know how to do this, I guess. I’m ripping them from their home and I—” “You’re not some kind of monster y’know? You put yourself down too much sometimes,” he sighs, and he watches the windows slowly start to fog up, “What don’t you know how to do?”
Ignoring his question, you change the subject hoping to talk about something lighter, and far less revealing to the thoughts inside your head.
“Do you remember all of that? Going to school and chalking up the sidewalks on the way home, hopscotch and ice cream trucks… I don’t want to take them away from that.”
Luke ponders, digging through his brain for anything happy from his childhood, but through the years his memories started to collect dust in the back of his mind.
“I don’t remember much.”
“Gods, I’m sorry…” 
Mason had told you of your habit of putting your foot in your mouth. You dealt in extremes, giving too much or too little, always saying the wrong thing—and it was the reason why things didn’t go further with the son of Apollo. As well as with the daughter of Aphrodite you saw briefly that told you you didn’t know how to love, not if you didn’t know how to share yourself with others (yeah that one hurt a lot).
Sharing. 
That’s what you’re hesitant about.
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago now,” Luke mumbles, a beat of silence passing before he redirects the conversation like you did, “What don’t you know how to do, trouble?”
“How to share. Be a sibling. Someone likeable.”
Luke doesn’t mean to laugh at your expense, but he does, and you punch his stomach hard enough he gasps for air.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Everyone likes you.”
“Everyone’s usually scared of me because of D, or hates me because I take dessert privileges and write them up,” you say matter-of-factly, staring out the window above his head at the gentle shine of the moon on his features. It’s a crime for him to look so soft under the low light, and you realize you’re staring when he calls your name.
“No, you don’t get it—you’re the most selfless person I know. You give up sleep to sing to kids before bed, conjure juice boxes so they don’t pass out during training—I’ve seen you carry a kid almost as tall as you across camp because they broke their ankle. You’ve got a lot of love in that twisted heart of yours. I’d know… I mean—I have to share a lot… I’m basically an expert.”
You blink at him as if seeing him in a new light, and you realize then why you picked him to go on this weekend quest with you. Your heartbeat slows despite the show of vulnerability in front of him, and you understand now that Luke makes you feel safe. Biting your lip to hold back a sigh, you decide to just unload the rest of your thoughts, knowing that you’re in the hands of someone who wants to hold the weight. “I’m just used to being alone, I think. I mean who knows what we're like when we're alone but us, right? What a terrifying thought,” you deflect, and Luke closely watches the slope of your nose, down to the smoothness of your lips, unable to put the right words to how he’s feeling.
 I know you, he thinks, and it's not as all bad as you make it seem.
“We’re never truly alone, y’know. Besides, even if you are, you still have me,” he says nonchalantly, and the warmth on your cheeks could generate enough heat to run the car for miles. Chuckling lightly as your eyes flutter closed, you know you need to rest before morning comes since you’re the only one between the two of you that can drive. You reckon you’ll teach Luke by the end of the year if he wants to.
“We’re getting pretty terrible at this enemies thing, Castellan,” you jest with nothing hard to back it, and a smile falls onto both of your lips.
“We were never really enemies, trouble. I just like getting on your nerves.”
Your laughs fall silent, settling into a comfortable silence, until his next words send you off into slumber as you listen.
“I remember my mom singing in the kitchen as she put peanut butter on my sandwiches. She'd act like she left the dishes out for me to wash, but let me lick the knife clean every time and I’d put too much soap and the sink would be filled with bubbles. I don't remember much else but that. Her kitchen. She smelled like…chamomile.”
A wandering hand pulls his free one into yours, holding it until sunrise.
—-
You push Pollux and Castor out the door before the sun rises after a short stay at their mother’s house, and as the engine heats up, you and Luke watch them say goodbye to her with the both of you thinking of last words with your own. The both of you ward off the hellhounds biting off at your heels for a few hours like how you deceived the police the day previous, a purple Zippo lighter in hand whose smoke grants temporary illusions wafting through the car, and it smells like grapes (thanks D!). The kids sleep most of the way, none the wiser and heavy with sleep and their emotions of leaving everything they’ve ever known. Your eyes flicker to their sleeping heads in the rearview mirror, ready to take them home.
Hours later, Luke decides to make you stop at a diner to get you a bit of rest, get actual food, and let the twins pee, and your head is bobbing slightly in front of your plate of food once he brings them back from the bathroom.
“You wash your hands?” you say tiredly, both Pollux and Castor shaking wet hands in your face in response, making you giggle before sipping at your coffee. Luke cut you off from Redbull yesterday, saying he was scared for your liver and saying you needed to drink something else for a bit. He bristles at the sight of you drinking more caffeine, and you smile as the mug touches your lips.
“You’re gonna kill yourself one day. At least your dad drinks Diet Coke.”
“Not by choice, though what a way to go!” you joke, and the twins giggle as the both of them gulp down root beer like it’s essential to their being. Luke sighs at the idea of you having two minions under your belt, who you’ll most definitely train to raise hell on Camp Half-Blood now that you’ve taken more of the administrative side of things.
“Is he your boyfriend, sissy?” Pollux, or maybe it’s Castor pipes up, swinging his legs under the table and you smile at the sound of the nickname, noticing the dimple in his cheek. Luke chokes on his burger, coughing until you elbow him.
“He’s more of my ESA,” you remark, and he still doesn’t know what that is, so he raises an eyebrow like your brothers do as they peer up at you from across the table.
“What’s an ESA?” Castor, you realize, who has no dimples, spits out behind munches of a pickle.
“Luke’s my emotional support animal.”
He eats the rest of your fries despite your confidence in that response, grumbling exactly how a resistant dog would.
As you’re paying the bill, a large shadow looms over the sunny disposition of everyone at your table—and then Luke shouts for everyone to cover their eyes. Glass shatters over you, revealing a hellhound the size of a minivan, and it pounces toward the twins, large teeth bared at their throats. Before Luke can pull his sword out, you whistle sharply and the sound whizzes through the air like a bullet as you toss the Zippo lighter at him as he’s pushing the kids to the car. Though he’s reluctant to lose sight of you, he wards them with an illusion, locking the doors despite their cries and he runs headfirst back into battle, you with your thyrsus and him with his sword, back to back.
“They okay?” you heave, jabbing at the red-eyed canine between the eyes as Luke pulls around to slash it across the neck, coming out of the tussle unscathed as you both watch it keel over at your feet into golden dust minutes later.
“Yeah. Are you?”
Though you originally found it funny, Luke does perform his job well, getting you to calm down as he holds you to his chest until you can breathe normally again.
“Mhm. Just scared me.”
The two of you run out of the destroyed diner and into the warded-off car before the police show up hand in hand as you escape without detection. As he falls asleep, Castor dreams that you two are Bonnie and Clyde like in an old Western movie he was definitely not old enough to watch.
—-
You’re finally back on the Island now, only an hour away from Montauk and Luke is getting restless in the passenger seat. He pulls apples out of his backpack, wiping them off with his shirt as you sing along to a Taylor Swift song playing on the radio.
And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about…. Foolish one… you hum, tapping the wheel to fight off your exhaustion.
Pollux and Castor are using their fingers to pretend to hop over obstacles in the smudged windows, babbling about something they did in class last week. The son of Hermes pulls out a pocketknife he nicked from a gas station this morning as he starts to cut the apples into pieces, putting some into a ziploc bag for the boys to share, and you smile at him, wistful at your trip nearing its finish line. If you weren’t enemies before this like he said, it’s crazy to consider him your closest friend. But he is, isn’t he?
His knuckles nudge yours over the console, pressing an apple slice into your palm.
“You know, Castellan, you’re sweet when you want to be. Shame you and that sister of Annie’s didn’t work out.”
Luke scoffs at the reminder of his ex, slicing another piece off for you to eat. She did say he had wandering eyes…always looking for you. He’s not going to admit that though.
“I just know you like your apples cut. Saw you battling it out with a butter knife last week. Couldn’t help but notice,” he says lowly like it’s normal for people to be that considerate about others, normal for him to care about you like that, a constant push and pull between you two. 
“Hurts my teeth,” you mutter, and Luke chortles like you’ve told him something life-changing. Your hand bumps into his again, feeling nothing but his calloused fingers, and when you look up his cheek protrudes with the last slice.
“Tax,” he winks, and you’re delirious with this feeling that only he can bring you, almost comparable to being high.
The popstar’s voice continues to trill in the background, with my head in my hands, saying “How could I not see the signs?”
You both don’t realize you’ve stopped singing until Pollux pipes up asking for you to play Fireball by Mr. 305 himself.
—-
The car finally pulls into the driveway of the forest path and you’re all greeted by the campers holding blazing lanterns. Chiron, your father, and the nymphs are waving as the twins marvel at the fairy lights strung up along the way for a warm welcome.
“You’re alive,” your dad remarks, and this time he doesn’t say it in jest, sounding more relieved.
“I was in good hands,” you affirm, looking up at Luke amongst the noise of your cheering friends and the feeling that comes with calling this place home.
The boys are tucked in at your side, shyly looking at the crowd, Pollux holding your hand while Castor holds onto Luke’s, and Chiron calls your attention.
“I know you didn’t get your official announcement,” he starts, and you laugh at that, remembering the bubbles in the lake.
“Because I pulled a fast one on D.”
“Nonetheless, I would love for you to get recognized for your efforts. Dionysus. Storyteller, Herald of Chaos,” he continues by announcing your name, and then,” Pollux, and Castor– children of the grapevine, the God of Wine!”
The campers are kneeling and you look at Luke, who’s smiling from the ground beside you.
“Take a picture, trouble, it’ll last longer.”
“My children are home safe. And thank you, Castellan, for being a formidable companion. My deepest appreciation.” Mr. D sounds serious for once, pulling Luke up as he nods in respect.
It’s a crazy feeling to finally feel at home though you’ve been here for two years now. But you remind yourself quickly of why that is when you see Luke carrying Pollux on his shoulders as Castor latches onto his legs.
“You know, your family is a nightmare. You two hellions will fit right in,” he grins.
You can’t help but agree.
“I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you bathing in my eyes. I hadn’t told them about you, but they saw you in my written words. The perfume of love cannot be concealed.” -Nizar Qabbani
ask to be added to general/luke taglists!
luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings
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scaranation · 1 year
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I saw that requests were still open and I crawled back from the firey pits of hell to offer you Scaramouche brain rott along with a personal AU that hit me like a foking brick like two days ago.
So first off. Imagine if you will. That Mr. McGrump wasn't actually just one entity but actually a trio of twin brothers that wandered around Teyvat known as the "the trio of eccentrics". They despise each other (cuz of course they do) but decide to travel together cuz no matter how hard they try to NOT bump into each other, the world is just so big for a trio of dumbasses that are chaotic on their own right.
They cannot get along to save their lives. The amount of times Scaramouche and Wanderer have gotten smacked on the face with Kabukimono's smithing hammer are just too many to count. Not to mention that as feeble as he appears to be he has a scarily good aim much to his brother's previous dismay as they have been greeted with a flying hammer to the back of the head multiple times when they have run into each other "by chance" before.
People tend just get confused when one of them randomly spawns on a town and seemingly sprout two other clones like some kind of mitosis type shit until they realize it's just a trio of siblings.
I also low-key feel y/n would accidentally bump and help all of them separatedly by chance only for them to all either think of them fondly or straight up have a little crush on them. I can just see Kabuki rambling to wanderer how some sweet person saved him from a hoard of electro slimes only for him to remember how someone offered to invite him to some food in one of his travels similar to the one his brother mentioned. Only for Scara to interrupt demanding if they were talking about this one very specific person that offered him shelter that one time he was injured after some misión or something. Cue y/n casually walking by and all of them losing their collective shit cuz HOLY SHIT THAT'S THEM- WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNOW THEM TOO????? And thus the quest of winning over the kind stranger begins.
Idk if this was even mildly entertaining but this idea has been eating my brain for days and needed to spew it somewhere. Love your work! ✨✨✨
OMLL HOWW YOUR BRAINROTS ARE SO GOOD I CANT 😭😭 this took me a while to write but i had to get everything out to even do this idea some justice it’s got me giggling fr
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༊*·˚ 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄
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ft. Scaramouche, Kabukimono, Wanderer
Content: fluff, crack (but treated seriously)
a/n - innocent Kabukimono just lives rent free in my heart omlll like just imagine a less traumatised Scara <33
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The trio of short haired, violet-eyed wanderers (also known as “the trio of eccentrics” by the local children) were a common sight in Teyvat. Prior to the revelation that they were, in fact, siblings, people had believed that they were either a teleporting ghost or some human aphid with miraculous cloning abilities. That was until someone saw two of the them in the same room, and connected the dots.
Scaramouche, the Wanderer, and Kabukimono were inseparable - not of their own will, of course. On their erratic, impulsive routes across Sumeru, they’d somehow cross paths more often than they wanted. In fact, they’d made an effort to avoid each other. The Wanderer had retreated all the way to the Hypostyle Desert, cackling at his own genius. Unfortunately, he also found Scaramouche and Kabukimono at the desert too - both dumbfounded at the ridiculous situation. Somehow, all three of them had simultaneously decided that hiding in the desert to not see each other was a great idea.
“What are you doing here?” the Wanderer had blurted.
“No, what are you doing here? I had this idea yesterday!” Kabukimono cried.
“Both of you, get out of my sight. I hatched this plan two weeks ago.” Scaramouche grumbled.
“Oh, how diabolical and calculating you are,” the Wanderer rolled his eyes, as though he wasn’t just praising himself for what he thought was the most intelligent idea to ever exist.
“Fine, I’ll leave first.” Kabukimono sighed. Perhaps it was because he was the youngest, but he was always ended up giving in to his brothers.
“Pushover,” the Wanderer smirked.
“Says the unemployed one,” Scaramouche scoffed.
“At least I have a vision.”
“Shut up.”
The many other times the trio convened by accident, two of them weren’t even conscious to fully process their irritation. The moment Kabukimono spotted Scaramouche or the Wanderer at his favourite resting place, he’d let loose his hammer - striking them on the back of the head with scary aim. He’d congratulate himself if he managed to score a concussion, too. It wasn’t as though the others didn’t defend themselves equally vigorously. If they couldn’t settle things with words, the brothers would just break out into fighting.
Things were especially bad when the Wanderer got ahold of Kabukimono’s hammer. Upon wrestling it out of the blacksmith’s grip, the Wanderer would flit into the air, gleefully holding the hammer out of reach until Scaramouche had enough and struck him down with a bolt of lightning.
“You look like a fly when you do that, you know?”
“You’re just jealous.”
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Somehow, you were always at the centre of the trio’s unpredictable paths of destruction across Teyvat. You never really guessed at the connection between them, only dismissing it as a mere coincidence that you’d developed a fondness for three purple haired, short-tempered travellers.
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As an adventurer, you’d first met Kabukimono on one of your errands.
“Stay away!”
You heard the clanging of something heavy on your inspection in Guyun, turning around to locate the source of the voice.
You followed the commotion around past the domain you’d just exited from, finding a crevice tucked away into a small beach-like area. Clumps of electro crystals clung to the stone walls of the cove, the lapping of the waves only perpetuating the intense elemental reactions. At the centre of it all was a strangely dressed man, being attacked by a hoard of electro slimes. He flailed around with a blacksmith’s hammer, presumably caught in his own attempt to mine valuable ores for a project.
His clothes looked to be of Inazuman attire, too - what was an Inazuman doing, looking for electro crystals all the way out in Liyue?
“Do you need help?” You crouched down, a little hesitant over whether or not it was obligatory for you to jump into the electro-charged mess.
“It… certainly looks like it, doesn’t it?” The man flashed you a defeated smile. Luckily, as a pyro vision holder, it wasn’t too difficult for you to deal with the slimes. With a brief flash of your vision, you also mined the ores for the stranger as well.
“Ah! So they require elemental triggers to be mined. No wonder it was taking me so long. Thank you, by the way - I’m Kabukimono.” The stranger extended a hand. You took it, but he didn’t shake it. The two of you stood there awkwardly for a moment, before he released your hand.
“Ah, sorry… That’s what I see people at the workshop do when they meet someone new. Is it strange?”
“No, of course not! You usually shake the hand after holding it, though.” You quipped helpfully.
“Oh.” A flush spread across his cheeks. He thanked you vehemently once again, insisting on offering you some spare iron in exchange for your help.
“Travel safe!” You called after Kabukimono, as he hurried off. He was a little strange, but his awkwardness was rather endearing. You smiled and shook your head, before resuming work and thinking nothing more of the entire ordeal.
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Unlike Kabukimono, the second of the trio you met was a lot more irritable. You met the Wanderer at some food stalls in Sumeru city, almost mistaking him for the acquaintance you’d met in Guyun - only to be quickly corrected by his vastly different attitude.
“Watch it.” The stranger that looked suspiciously like Kabukimono (but with a remarkably more hostile, pointed gaze) shoved past you.
“These lavender melons. How much do they cost?” Not-Kabukimono asked the vendor, tapping his foot impatiently.
“Uh, 200 mora-”
“What? Who sells trash like this so expensively? Forget it, I didn’t want them anyway.” The Wanderer scoffed, turning to leave before you quickly grabbed him.
“If you’re hungry, you can eat at my place. I have some leftovers,” you offered. He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.
“Why are you helping me? Is this a poisoning attempt?”
“No… You just remind me of an acquaintance of mine, so I thought I’d look out for you.”
“Pfft, I don’t need your baseless concern.”
At that moment, the man’s stomach grumbled. The two of you made eye contact, before reaching a silent agreement.
“My house is that way,” you pointed, as the stranger begrudgingly followed you.
Even if he didn’t say so, the stranger most definitely enjoyed your cooking. After introducing himself as the Wanderer, he was quick to open up - always stopping by to visit (claiming that you were a convenient dining place for his travels).
Whenever he stopped by, you’d laugh and cook him a warm meal - it almost felt like home to him, or at least what he thought a home was. He never really had one, nor did he care for the notion, but this arrangement was quite pleasant for him. If the Wanderer was in a good mood, he’d even share some of his travelling stories with you. He’d boast about the enemies he defeated in the wilderness, complain about the stupidity of mortals, before giving you the rare piece of acknowledgement (“you know, your cooking is edible,” or “it’s definitely not poisoned,” etc.).
You quickly grew to anticipate his sporadic visits, getting an understanding of what kind of food he preferred. You weren’t sad when he didn’t arrive, and the two of you thrived off a mutual relationship. The Wanderer was surely different from your other companion, but that didn’t make him any less welcome.
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Lastly, you’d met Scaramouche on an ominous rainy day. Or, rather, he’d been deposited on your doorstep.
“I don’t remember ordering a parcel…” You peered out into your doorway, squinting through the lashing rain - before realising that this ‘parcel’ was very much human-shaped.
With a surprised gasp, you dragged the figure inside as carefully as you could, wincing at the blood mixed with rainwater that swirled across his smooth skin. Peeling back the heavy layers of his outer coat, you took off the man’s hat to gape again in shock.
“Kabukimono?” You spluttered.
“Who are you calling Kabukimono?” The stranger snapped, sitting up slowly.
“Wanderer?” You tried again, guessing based on the man’s furious expression.
“Hah, you dare to…”
Before the stranger (that was neither Kabukimono nor the Wanderer) could finish his sentence, he passed out again in a haze of dizzying unconsciousness.
The man’s deep indigo eyes fluttered open a while later to the sight of you tending his wounds. He immediately flinched away, looking at you incredulously.
“Who are you? Why am I here?”
“You quite literally passed out on my porch, then again in my house. Don’t you remember?” You quirked an eyebrow.
“You dare gaslight a Fatui Harbinger? Try as hard as you want, but I won’t be giving you financial compensation for this.”
“You’re… a Harbinger…?” You frowned. He sure acted and looked a lot like the Wanderer - perhaps he’d hit his head a little too hard.
“Yes, Scaramouche. I’m better known as the Balladeer, of course.”
“I’ve never heard of you.”
“Well, then that just means we’re doing a great job of maintaining confidentiality.” Scaramouche huffed, allowing you to continue wrapping bandages around the deep gashes on his body. You chuckled at his demeanour.
“I’m not expecting anything in return for this.” You offered, leaning back to scrutinise your medical work. Years of adventuring had given you experience in this sort of thing, but your expertise was still lacking.
“Then why? Don’t tell me, you believe in kindness?”
“Anyone would do this if they found a stranger half-dead at their door in the pouring rain.” You rolled your eyes.
“I was not half-dead, and I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Scaramouche huffed, and you almost gawked at how similar he was to the Wanderer.
“Um, do you happen to know anyone named… Uh…” You hesitated under your new acquaintance’s fierce gaze.
“Named what? Do I look like an Akasha terminal to you?”
“Never mind.” You quickly shut your mouth. Perhaps it was just a coincidence.
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It took a few months before the trio finally figured out they had a mutual connection. They’d all visited you countless times, and yet were lucky enough not to encounter each other - that was, until they finally began talking about their latest travel experiences upon having a chance meeting in Sumeru.
“Hm, perhaps this is what mortals call… comradeship…” Kabukimono mused to his brothers one day.
“Feeling a little amicable, Kabukimono?” Scaramouche sneered. He eyed the glimmering purple blade Kabukimono flipped over in his hands.
“There was this adventurer who saved me from some electro slimes once. It was because of them that I could fashion this dagger… Humans really are compassionate.” Kabukimono mused. He happily smiled to himself at the reminder of you.
“You’re so naive, brother. After all, mortals are only driven by fair exchange. Nobody would help without expecting it return - ah, there is one exception. There was this person I met who offered me food. I’ve been having free meals with them for months, and they don’t even know how I’m taking advantage of them! How immature they are, selflessly acting like that. It almost makes me concerned for their well-being,” the Wanderer chuckled.
“I don’t think you’re taking advantage of them if you’re… just accepting the free meals they give you. It almost seems they have you wrapped around their finger.” Scaramouche snickered.
“You wouldn’t understand the idea of a mutually beneficial relationship. In fact, have you even talked to a living being other than your colleagues in the last week?”
“Yes, you, and a certain traveller who took me in after I was injured in a mission-”
“You got injured? How pathetic.”
“It was a calculated risk. Anyway, they gave me shelter and treated all my wounds without asking for mora once. And they even let me stay over long after I’d healed, too. Mortals are so foolish, to be blindly trusting. I could’ve snapped their throat in a second.”
The three brothers agreed on the extremely rare and (questionably naive) selflessness of humans.
Then, a beat of silence passed before a revelation dawned on them.
“Isn’t it weird that we’ve all met a strange, helpful adventurer?” Kabukimono murmured.
“Exactly what I was thinking. Surely not all humans are like this.” Scaramouche nodded.
“Maybe foolishness is more common than we thought…?” The Wanderer suggested, but an uneasy feeling was dawning on him as he began to connect the dots.
“Say, does the traveller you two met live near the Grand Bazaar?” Scaramouche prodded.
“Yes.” Kabukimono and the Wanderer responded simultaneously.
“And they have an adventurer’s bandana? With a Mondstadtian clock in the front room of their house?”
“Yes- YOU TWO KNOW THEM AS WELL?” Kabukimono spluttered.
The Wanderer only heaved a large sigh. He was so close to showing off that he had a new friend, only to realise that the new friend was also acquainted with both his brothers.
“How bothersome, it seems you’re already close with them.” Scaramouche raised an eyebrow.
“Of course I am! I met them first, after all.” Kabukimono insisted.
“Both of you, be quiet. I’m going to their place now.” The Wanderer pushed back his chair.
“Hey! I was planning to visit them too!”
The scraping of chairs resounded as the remaining two brothers hurriedly rushed to get to your house.
Any other person would probably pass out from fear at seeing all three of the notorious trio appear at their door. You, however, only shot them a bemused look and ushered them in.
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Once the three realised they had competition, Scaramouche, the Wanderer, and Kabukimono would be unrelenting in competing for your attention.
It was quite comical at times - you’d barely have to say anything and one of them would appear, diligently doing tasks for you and looking back at you eagerly for praise. It seemed almost strange to consider that these three had been marvelling at your profound naiveness only a few days ago, and were now basically at your beck and call.
Scaramouche would definitely be the most demanding. Whether it was a hand on your elbow or a risky grip on your wrist, he made sure you were close to him and sought your undivided attention. He’d recklessly snap out searing insults at anyone else, before getting ahold of himself and stating that he was merely defending a poor, foolish soul from being taken advantage of by some calculating purple-haired villain. Not him though, he’d never do anything like that.
The Wanderer (like his name) was more relaxed - he could go without your eyes on him at all times, and he’d drift in and out as he pleased. However, he did see himself as being entitled to your energy whenever he did happen to stop by. Occasionally, he’d even offer to take you on a scenic flight across Teyvat. After you’d tried it once, you were quick to refuse his latter offers - zooming across rooftops at breakneck speed was not your forte. The Wanderer huffed at your reluctance and accused you of denying his altruistic favour, but made an effort to do things you liked regardless.
Kabukimono was fiercely shy. He’d always bring you trinkets - small mechanisms or self-defends tools he’d fashioned from spare parts during his work as a blacksmith. He’d press them into your hands self-consciously, unable to bite back a smile when you praised his handiwork. He wouldn’t hesitate to stand up against his much fiercer brothers if it was for you, holding you in a tight embrace whenever you’d let him.
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And so, as it happened, it seemed as though “the eccentric trio” simply couldn’t escape each other. As if by some ill-humoured joke, they all ended up liking the same person. The only issue was, being that person, you now had to deal with all three of them at once.
As if one wasn’t enough, you now had triple the trouble.
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riotlain · 1 year
Text
TWD crushing on (an Oblivious) Reader
YOOO WE KINDA DUMB
upset there isnt alot of twd x male reader fics that arent smut but anyways
my very select few men💀💀 i might do a part 2 i just wanted to post
THIS IS A NWLNW BLOG!! WOMEN DNI
Daryl Dixon
Our man Mr. Daryl Hiding His Emotions Dixon 🫶🫶
Its fine you didn't notice at first
He seems like he kinda hates you from how quiet he is. Quite the opposite
Being quite in love with someone who isnt a woman is kinda just like. Not processed in his mind??
He didn't know how to feel at first
But eventually he confessed to Carol about how he feels (she suspected something but anyways)
To be honest he had a plan to ask you out
But was extremely extremely hesitant
"They prolly don' even like guys" He'd say
I think both of yall are oblivious
It was a group effort to get yall together
Like all these long ass runs, leaving gifts saying it was from the other
You probably had to be the one to confess ngl
Glenn Rhee
Glenn aint too obvious. Thats what he tells himself atleast
Hes very obviously crushing on you. The only one who cant see it is you
He'd pull harmless pranks, compliment you, help you around, usually adding on a lil wink for lil extra
Yet you still didn't get it. You just thought he was being a goody good friend
Especially since its a bit hard to find any queer folk that like you around here IN FUCKING VIRGINIA/GEORGIA
"You look nice today, Y/n." *Shitty Glenn wink* "Oh thanks man!"
Your obviousness is apart of what Glenn absolutely loved about you though
It gives him time to really think out his lil confession
Which took a while but he had it down! Flowers!!
Who doesnt like flowers??
Well Glenn originally planned to give you flowers. That was until Eugene let it slip that he likes you one time💀💀
You ended up interrupting Glenn like mid confession just because you knew
Simon
Negan teases him for his obviousness
Simon would yell it to the top of his lungs if he must (he probably has to)
Always gives you any ice cream or first shot of a drink
He also always has his arm around you or is LITERALLY FLIRTING WITH YOU
You couldnt tell tho. he looked gay and homophobic to be honest.
So you just didnt say anything
Simon, running out of ideas, asked Negan for any ideas
Since its, Negan what do you expect? Something cute and romantic?? No
SHOW OFF YOUR SEXUAL PROWESS OF COURSE‼️
So with this in mind Simon approached your room with some drinks and did what he does best!
Sexual jokes about his dick and such seeing if you'd take the bait
You didn't you just got a bit flustered and laughed along
Until yknow he actually just went with the impulse and kissed you
FINALLY YOU GET THAT HES LIKE IN LOVE WITH YOU
Owen (Wolf)
The king of being either really obvious or the complete opposite
Depending on your guy's situation then heres the various ways itll go down
Owens a prisoner in Alexandria? He'll tell you nearly everything about him. Along with the fact if he gets out of there hes taking you with him!
How romantic!!
If youre apart of the Wolves then you have for sure caught his eye!
He'd do anything for you and I mean anything! Well as long as he's yknow still in control of the situation.
You cant ignore him either. He'll make as much noise as possible for you to go back to talking to him.
Owen will try to stalk you to see what you like
Or try to get that info out of you through a weird interrogation
You dont notice though. If anything youre a bit weirded out that this kinda crazy cult guy is like asking you your favorite color but anyways
Eventually in the middle of one of these investigations hes just gonna kiss you (probably quite roughly too)
"I like you. So youre mine now." "I- Ok sure??"
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persephone11110 · 8 months
Text
Mother I’d Like To….
Jake Seresin x Bradshaw Wife Reader
Warnings: grey hair, aging insecurity, age gap(reader:45 J:34), Jake“I Love My Wife” Seresin, stepdad j.s, unnamed douchy ex/husband, religious word is used once-blasphemy, sprinkle of curse words, slighty smutty end
Summary: She embraced her grey hair with ease never seeing a problem with it until one night a young mean woman words come crashing into her head.
“One man's loss is another man's gain”.
ofc:Lucie Bradshaw-Seresin, other oc: Leo Bradshaw-Seresin,
pretend goose was born in 59 and the b4 he met carole he had a kid in 77 and then met carole and had bradley in 80. Also there’s kid name in their bcus Lucie has a son from her previous marriage and his name is hyphenated just like his mother. idc idc reader is an admiral while jakes still a lieutenant idk how idky. There’s five admiral’s instead of four.
AN: plz i don’t why the title is that don’t ask me, im dealing with insomia rn. I was gonna do B.Bx Reader. But decided against it. an old draft that took forever to finish. Should I make this into a small series?
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“Awe, I think its nice your younger brother is here with you celebrating your 54th birthday”, the younger waitress drops the cake down infront of her.“Give him my number please”. (sn: waitress purposely switched the bday # around)
Lucie was beyond tired— not because she had get up for work the next morning, but because she’s sick and tired of being mistakened for her husbands sister. Jake Seresin is a blonde man, while Lucie Bradshaw-Seresin still had streaks of her brunette hair left. She couldn’t help but think about what that waitress said a couple of nights ago.
Look normally comments don’t bother her, being a mother and a woman in the navy she’s built a pretty thick shield around herself, Lucie always throws a fake smile on her face and pushes it to the back of her mind. But she’s cant help but realize the wrinkles that have made her face their new home or how her bones cracked when she went on her morning and evening run.
She’s getting old— what’s new?, You can only handle being mistakened as your husband’s sister for so long before your self-confidence sinks into hell. Lucie Seresin is always been known for impulsiveness, she’s proved it too many times to count. There’s a reason why the navy calls her Falcon.
An example is allowing that jackass to walk all over her.
She was standing infront of the bathroom mirror alongside her was a box of brown hair dye on the counter. While Lucie there she spends sometimes looking at herself, picking and prodding at her sagging skin.
Surprisingly. Only because she’s afraid of what Jake will think if her hair is re-dyed.
No matter how many times she dyes her hair, she still be old. “Hey Jake where’s your old lady at?”.
Lucie talked him up. She recognized that cologne from anywhere, Lucie straightens up and throws a fake smile on her face and greets her husband.“Hello Lieutenant Commander?”.
“I hate that dumb fuck so much”. Jake says, he has one hand on his hip and the other hand is carding through Lucie’s hair. “I swear Lucie the next time him and I—”.
Lucie could see Jake visibly stiffen, she could feel his confusion.“My Love is there is a box of hair dye behind you?”
“Mr. I See All”.
Shit…that— Lucie herself stiffens at the mention of the hair dye, suddenly finds herself combing through various insecurities in her head. Was she right— did Jake also hate her grey hair?, did he want her to keep the grey?
“Options”, Lucie lies with a smile on her face.“Just wanted to have just in case”.
Her husband green eyes zeroed in on her, but luckily he drops it.“okay darlin”. Maybe she should dye it, Jake doesn’t deserve someone like her on his arm.
“I know my opinion wasn’t asked for, but I love your grey hair”. You gotta be fucking kidding me. Wait a minute—
“Really?”
“Of course, darlin—how could I not?”
Thank god, that means Lucie doesn’t have use her hair dye— also means that she just wasted 15 dollars.
“Wow”, she doesn’t mean for that slip— but then again maybe this conversation is something they need have. She’s getting it over with.
“What Lucie?”Jake so gentle with her— he’s not getting angry by the minute. Lucie bites her lower lips in attempts to calm herself down. Great…now shes crying.
“Sugar, I’m so sorry I made you doubt yourself”, She hates whenever his eyes get so damn puppy like. He’s used it so many times to get out of trouble with her. EX:Between me and you darlin I purposefully pushed to mach 10”.
“It’s….It’s not your fault—”, Lucie starts again, her ex-husband words echoing in her ear.“Ducky, Ducky—me and you both your not pretty anymore”.
Jake’s fingers are underneath her chin, her eyes are rimming with tears.“Yes it is— I should’ve made sure my wife knew how much I was in love with her”. His arms wrapped around her waist— his fingers interlocked together. Never letting her go.
“I looked so much better in my prime Jake— I looked so good twenty years ago”. Lucie spits out her mouth-as if she just tasted something distasteful.
“Blasphemy” Jake’s shaking his head, and pulls from Lucie him— having the need to make sure his hardheaded wife listens to him.
“Jake—”. A strong hands strokes her face, dissuading Lucie from saying more hurtful words.
“Lucie, Lucie—darlin I know you outrank me by alot but listen to me right now”. He standing infront of her with a slight frown on his face. “I love every physical & emotional trait about you from your grey hair to the stretch marks from carrying our son to how you switch between Lucie to Admiral Seresin or how you always smile when you see a bird in the air”.
God her husband could’ve been a poet. She practically throws herself into Jake arms— clinging onto him for dear life. “You mean that Jake?”.
“Of course I mean that darlin, I’ll love you till the day I die”. She hates when Jake pulls her out of his arms again. “Darlin the dye must go”.
He walks over to the bathroom counter—“Would you like to do the honors Lucie?”
“Sure Lieutenant”, She replied with a small smile on her face, Lucie picked up the hair dye box and without hesitation threw it away.
“Need make sure you understand how much I love you twenty years later”, Jake stands behind her.
“Come show me Seresin”, he has his hands tightly wrapped around waist.
“I will Seresin”.
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goldencuffs · 23 days
Note
i just wanted to let you know that rereading all my words has become a way of life for me… every few days my brain will be like hey isn’t it time for you to reread all my words again? and the answer is always yes brain, on it! i’ll be feeling lazy about going to the gym or cooking dinner and i’ll think ok if i do xyz chore i can then read all my words again as a reward. my last one was like 3 days ago and already i’m thinking of doing another reread (which i probably will bc i have no impulse control lol). and if i don’t have the time for a full reread, i’ll just read my favourite bits. it’s just sooo good, i can’t get enough
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NO FREAKING WAY THIS IS AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!
i cant believe you this is the most amazing thing ever what the hell!!!!! i genuinely cannot fathom this my mind is breaking apart omggggggg 😭😭😭😭
honestly all this talk about all my words has made me revisit it for the first time in a long, long while, and im determined to finish it all this month. the next two chapters are already done actually! i'll try and finish the third before i start properly posting again. meanwhile here's a tiny snippet hehe:
Damen feels bold, drunk on recklessness. “I’ve never seen your apartment.”
Laurent’s eyes flicker to him, pellucid stare bright. “Mr Vallis,” he says quietly. “My bed’s not big enough for the both of us.”
Damen’s eyes widen.
Laurent raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that why you want to see my place?”
“Yes.” Damen chokes it out. It takes everything in him to admit it.
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sixosix · 3 months
Note
This is the anon who called aether a dead man! Something popped into my mind and now I ramble it here.
This may just be me, but after seeing their interactions with each other after all this time, I feel like lyney’s and Thawed!Reader’s interactions reflect their visions and their control over them a little?
Like lyney is warm and touchy and already planning on how to not lose her again, like with apparently being very willing to push against what he believes to be the Knave’s; Father’s; decisions and despite his currently negative opinion of Aether rn using him to pass on a note since he put two and two together from the alley. Like a controlled fire in a hearth (I’ll see myself out-). He has the ability to be powerful but he also has fine control over his pyro vision.
Meanwhile, Thawed!Reader is not really initiating anything positively; verbally or physically; can’t even look at him( very detached from him despite their past, and even tho she really does care), and is reacting instinctively and impulsively. Like running the moment she realized she was recognized by Lyney and Lynette (which she most likely would have continued doing even after lyney caught her if it wasn’t for the fact lyney kept near constant contact with her and Lynette showing up with aether) and coming up with lies on the spot based on old information. (Am definitely side eyeing her because she tells lyney not to judge anything about her because they spent so long apart when the same could also be said in the reverse!). Like a blizzard/heavy snowfall which just whips around to the whims of nature, just like her cryo vision that she doesn’t really have any control over.
Not to mention!
“I’m happy to see you,”
“…I’ll see you around, Miss Lynette and Mr. Lyney.”
Just agstegeheb- thank you for coming to my Ted talk now I’ll see myself out
HI DEAD MAN AETHER ANON!! so glad youre back!!!
Also. your observations are AMAZING!!! during the planning stages of thawed that is exactly what i was hoping to go for! a controlled fire is a wonderful way to put it im in LOVE
and reader’s too??? you got it bullseye.
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AND THE WAY U MENTIONED THEIR CONTROL?? outstanding. You see the vision (haha bye.) and im so glad u pointed it out
im going to be a broken record but i will say it again YOUR MIND IS INCREDIBLE. we are on the same wavelength. U GET IT!!!!!!! aaghhhh im actually in shock i cant believe u managed to get the hints especially in that “mr lyney” scene ❤️❤️❤️ im sending u all my love rn
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minalblood · 6 months
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Ep 10... oh boy theres a lot to say with this one.
We begin with a nice twist. The woman needing help is Akrida and the victim is the other woman who's stopped to help. Since I've recently been reminded of it, this set up instantly made me think of Sam.meeting Cole for the 1st time, but in that the one flatlined actually needed help.
The Akrida committed to the acting I see.
God the actresses did such a good job raising the tension
LOVE seeing Millie do more handywork around. We dont have nearly enough of her getting into machinery
Mary and John hating being left to research is funny af to me.
Congrats Mary for getting into college and I like that John is actually happy for her, even ribbing her a bit. Love that dynamic actualy.
"Normal life will have to wait another day" thay cut deep fellas ngl. Mainly because i would argue its exactly what Sam and Dean told themselves to put off actually getting to do anything they wanted. And we have this exact sentiment echoed 5 min later by Carlos for why they need to break up with Anton (cant afford to with the fate of the world on their shoulders). The fact that both of these are accompanied by Dean's monologue about hunting and happy endings? Very very relevant to Dean and the life he led. But more importantly, the "how far will I go to get it" echoes back a few.more things amd makes it almost ominous. We'll come back to this when we meet Mr Sheffield (i dont remmeber the characters name rn, will use it later when they say it) since the dark meaning to Dean's words is highlighted by his story.
This might be the most clear indication of who Carlos was before the Winchesters, the version Samuel was mentioning when talking about them a few ep ago. The lone wolf version, the impulsive one, the not getting close to ppl one. Im very happy they've changed, i think they're happier like this.
Oh noooo, I forgot we have Roxy here 🥲 this'll hurt.
John and Mary see a tea set and alphabetized books out: now thats truly disturbing behaviour
John and Mary any other time: eh, thats normal
I live for the chaotic pair these 2 make together
Why tf does he still have the key if they threw him.out of the MOL? Then again, considering the many issues with the MOL, this is only a mildly annoying thing.
Ah yes, hunters are apes commentary, ffs what even started this bullshit feud between hunters and MOL?? It was there on Samuel's side too, and we even see Henry go with that particular opinion...
Sooo, either Jack was really the one experimenting on monsters or that actually was Hobbes' job, regardless we know what that turned into - not just the various bodyguards that our scooby gang has encoutered thus far, but the more insidious uses too like the monsters Cuthbert Sinclaire reprogramms or the manipulation of Mrs Butters or even Mary's own brainwashing. Safe to say all this send my mind to Naomi and how heaven has a very similar approach to keeping their angels in check. Fitting then that it's the Winchester side of the family that is MOL legacy with the Campbell side being the hunters family qho tends to go for a more straightforward will just eliminate the threat vibe (more hell aligned u could say). "A lobotomy makes most monsters subservient *wink*" he says and I cannot not be filled with revulsion on multiple layers. Including the actual issue with lobotomies generally and how their extended "use" was due to a fraud profitting off of people... yeaaaa all the red flags with Jack/Porter here. But also in general it goes back to the type of MOL we have in SPN, the exact kind that JAck/Porter is are the ones still alive, who have very little actual care of who they harm in their scientific pursuit.
Clear alarm bells sounding when askes about Henry, he has a very clear tell.
Hint hint nudge nudge about Jack/Porters lack of family
You know the thing that actually annoys me about people like Jack/Porter? The fact that if he'd applied his knowledge to actually get ppl depossessed he could've actually done something helpful, that would save ppl, but nope, instead he focused everything into his fixation and inability of letting go. To everyones detriment.
Well, Roxy's motel room reminds me of several times we've seen Dean in similar places... especially after the Mark got bad.
Roxy breaks my heart. Everytime.
And we have another instance of possession being portrayed as the violation it actually is. SPN had a few moments of showing this, most notably with Sam and Lucifer, but we've rarely had such an indepth showing of exactly how someone no longer possessed is coping. The only other ones I can remember clearly delving into are Jeffrey in s7 and Nick in s14, but in both those cases, Jeffrey and Nick were more akin toa depiction of Stockholm Syndrome or at the very least a dependence had been created having been possessed so long. Which is in itself a bit problematic a message to send tbh, but Roxy meanwhile is the opposite. Not only does she not want the Akrida back, she actively is trying to deny it ever having happened initially and she def doesnt want to be reminded of it.
Ironic that it's Carlos who says the forgetting isnt working for Roxy... considering
I also adore the parallel made between Jack/Porter and Lata in this episode? Like they both have that scientific curiosity that can become really dangerous (as seen with Jack) but unlike Jack, Lata actually wants to help people so she uses what she knows (just as much a type of brainwashing technique as Jack/Porters lobotomy fyi) to offer someone help. But! Lata asks for Roxy's consent and is upfront, where Jack/Porter is lying and manipulating and taking foe himself.
Mary's instant red flag reading of Jack/Porter for the win, but she should've listened to her instincts faster. She believes next to nothing of his words. I love her so much.
I love the round table Arkida scene... its so much fun to watch. Ironic that the Akrida call hunters pests... also yay Dean!
The fact that Jack/Porter is so so pissed off is his own downfall tbh. The bitter comments fucked up his facade.
Tonyyyyy yessss. Also Lata and Tony yaaay
I love how absolutely huge gossip queens both Lata and Carlos are.
I also love Carlos' little notepad during the scene with Roxy.
The description of her possession is way to visceral fuck I fogot how hard to watch this was. And how much it echoes to asault. Not even echoes tbh considering we have a clearer scene relating to sexual assault when Jack/Porter tries to have Dorothea possess Mary so thw comparison of possession to assault is very much there this episode.
Wonder if Jack Wilcox defected to the Brits in SPN? And began what would later be Lady Bevell's expertise? The fact that he even put on a British accent def is meant to remind us of Bevell and the Brits.
God Mary and John are obvious af that they suspect shit ... ffs kids!
Carlos continues to be the one that actually uncovers key info.
Aww, Carlos and Lata are so so kind and comforting with Roxy. I love them so much.
Im so proud of Roxy, but what I genuinely love about how the ep was written is that even if she'd have gone along with the erasing of her memory, it still would've been a valid way for her to move on. Like this it obviously works two fold in somewhat convincing Carlos they also should take a leap of faith that alls gonna be well with Anton, but its set up in such a way that regardless of Roxy's choice at the end, Roxy's own wellbeing was all that mattered however that looked. I can appreciate the nareative not ramming a specific interpretation down our throats.
Ah, yes, wartime decisions excusing the means... it nearly never actually applies tho, Jack. Tho I will say it's very satisfying having it be said to John who in SPN would use this exact rethoric for a while slew of shitty choices.
Now I wont get into the whole issue with the golem being used in this ep and specifically how they kill the golem - others have said far more better informed stuff on it (shoutout to @endofthebookpod fantastic episode discussion) and I do have a plethora of issues with it - what I do wanna say on the subject tho is that at leasr insofar as Jack is concerned it makes sense that he'd steal and use a golem for his own benefit (similar to how the nazi did in 8x13). The actual problem with this is how the writers chose to tackle dealing with the golem here. Because ultimately the golem is used as a weapon by Jack, just as all his lobotomised monsters were. But the ep chosing to not clarify a few things and deciding to burn the golem??? Not good fellas, not fucking good at all.
I do appreciate John's resilience in fighting the golem tho.
Like I said, the sexual assault parallel to possession is even more clear when discussion Mary's possession.
Gruesome death for Jack tho, I will say.
"Things we do for love"?!?! John Winchester I will murder you! If Mary doesnt do it first for u even suggesting that. I do apprwciate still seeing glimpses of SPN!John even now, 10 ep into it. Because for all that people can change, its very very hard to do so and its a slow process.
Thank you Mary for shutting it down immediately. High hopes that this low key promise they made here spells good things for their future. I do hope.
I also love that Lata explains why Roxy wanting to erase her traumatic memories isnt the same as Carlos avoiding dealing with his intimacy issues. But I also love that Carlos feels safe actually confiding in Lata, for all that they banter and shit talk they're each others person.
Perfect timing on the Tragic Haircut lady. Also yea, it def is a tragic haircut.
Noooo, Akrida!Kyle is here. Using Johns past against him is smart but also i need to read that file.
I will say, I never read Millie at the end as believing that John did anything like Ive seen in a couple of other places mentioned. I just saw it as her being a. Shocked about a dead body b. Shocked about John holding a dead body and c. The police being on her heels with john holding a dead body.
But that's all for today folks. Next up, ep 11. Slowly but surely making it through the show.
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bisexualpotterhead · 1 year
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Dead Poets Society boys = Marauders boys (parallels)
So, i think we can all agree that the Dead Poets Society boys reminds us so much of our beloved Marauders. And this thread is just to tell which character from DPS is like another character from The Marauders Era.
JAMES POTTER = NEIL PERRY + KNOX OVERSTREET
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I think, James is most like Neil Perry in this movie. The ringleader of the group, kind and including of everyone, and the typical golden boy, very bright and extroverted. Protective and loyal to the people he love. A troublemaker to an extent (never doing harm). Also, his death is the great tragedy of the story, like James.
But, he is also like Knox Overstreet, on that whole lady business. Knox is totally infatuated with Chris (*cough* Lily Evans *cough*), and would do anything for her, even make a fool out of himself just to get her. Like James. Also, that grin that Knox has, you cant tell me that James didnt have that grin too!!
2. SIRIUS BLACK = CHARLIE DALTON
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Well, this is pretty obvious i believe. Charlie Dalton (Sirius) the best friend of Neil perry (James), like the Marauders. Charlie, like Sirius, is always the more reckless, rebellious and impulsive one, the very extroverted charming friend, who sometimes tend to do things that harm others, tho not on purpose. They are also the official drama queen of their groups. His family is very rich, like Sirius' family, and he has "FRUITY" written all over him. Also Sirius/Charlie, definitely had a thing for Remus/Meeks.
3. REMUS LUPIN = STEVEN MEEKS.
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Now, Meeks and Remus are very much like each other. They are both the "Smart guys", Charlie mentioning Meeks to excel in Latin, Trig and English, the main classes, where i can imagine that Remus is excelling in Charms, DADA and Transfiguration.
Meeks is willing to try anything at least once (except sex), and is a willing participant in most of the dumb shit his friends are doing, but he doesent seem like the type to do dumb shit, much like Remus.
Also, Remus/Meeks has a very good friendship with Frank/Pitts, and Frank/Pitts were closer to Remus/Meeks, than the others guys, whereas Remus/Meeks is more close to the other guys, but still a good friend to Frank/Pitts.
Also Remus/Meeks definitely had a thing for Sirius/Charlie, and they did fuck many times.
4. PETER PETTIGREW = TODD ANDERSON + RICHARD CAMERON
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Now, i know many will probably disagree with me on this, but just hear me out.
Now, Peter is like Todd in many ways.
Todd is the shy kid. Or well, he was the shy kid until he was included by Neil, just like Peter was included by James (or so i would like to believe). He is a sweet boy and love his friends a lot (like the young Peter did). Todd struggles a lot in his classes and is afraid of presenting and confrontation like young Peter was. Todd was always outshined by his friends and brother, like Peter, but they both didnt mind very much. Todds friends tried to include him as much as possible, like the Marauders did with Peter in their Hogwarts years.
Buuuuut... Cameron was also like Peter. We see that in the bad qualities. Like, the betrayal Cameron did to Mr. Keating and to the Dead Poets. The way Cameron was reluctant to be a part of the Dead Poets schemes and rulebreaking, but still wanted to be a part of the group nontheless, like Peter with the Marauders. Both Cameron and Peter were weaker than their friends, and they both knew it, and betrayed them to be better/stronger than their friends. Also, the fact that they both got punishment for their betrayals, Cameron being punched in the face by Charlie, and Peter being killed by his own hand.
5. FRANK LONGBOTTOM = GERARD PITTS
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Pitts were a part of the Dead Poets, but not that close with everyone (except Meeks/Remus). He liked to be their friend and he was a part of the the Dead Poets meetings and he talked with everyone quite well, but he wouldnt call himself their best friend.
The same with Frank Longbottom and the Marauders. Of course, in this case he wasnt a part of the Marauders like Pitts were with the Dead Poets, but they were both friends with everyone in their groups, but mainly close to one person, Meeks/Remus.
They are also both quite good in school and smart, but not that remarkable or outstanding, like their peers.
They are both sweet and kind boys, pretty much just a character that is "there", and not someone holding that much purpose in the storyline, but still a important character nontheless.
6. MINERVA MCGONAGALL = JOHN KEATING
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Mr. Keating is like Minerva McGonagall in the teaching sense.
Mr. Keating were the Dead Poets favourite teacher, and he inspired them all. The Dead Poets also held a special place in his heart, despite all the dumb things they did. He was a brave professor, and he taught his students the way he wanted to, and was even fired for the ways he taught.
The same with Minerva. She was the Marauders favourite teacher too, and she also inspired them. They held a special place in her heart, and you cant convince me that Minerva didnt cry like Mr. Keating did, when she discovered that James/Neil was killed.
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couple of disconnected thoughts but okay so like if daemons settle as a part of puberty then it is more of a process than a Moment probably even if it might look like a Moment from the outside it’s not really it’s part of like a continuum of growing, and different for everyone
also because it’s a representation of You most of the time it probably feels Right what it ends up settling as. children talk about i want this or that cool animal but i expect most people feel at least in part that when their daemon settles that it settles as the right thing. even if it’s something that doesnt look good maybe like a snake or those magisterium guards with the dogs. you’d think like seeing those daemons settle you might be like ‘damn thats me? i hate that’ but most people probably wouldnt be like that because they are like that. if that makes sense
but by no means everyone. and it’s by no means a yes/no kinda thing. it’s not you love your daemon or you hate it, relationships to self arent that simple. but i do think there are people who watch it settle and just do not feel right with that. people who are going through a trauma and feel like maybe the way theyve been for years isnt who “they really are”. they might feel like no you cant settle like this im not like this ive been warped by this outside thing. you cant settle like this, im only response to circumstances rn. you cant settle like this this is not my real self
there are also undoubtedly lots of people who try to postpone the settling. who try to stretch it. who maybe see their daemon settle and sorta know this is sorta for real like sorta feel this is sorta permanent and they pressure them just do whatever they have to until that daemon shifts again. not sustainable obviously but it’s easy to imagine
ruth wilson also says in interviews that the way she plays mrs coulter or like the headcanons she has for her theres some kinda trauma in her past. sure thats just headcanon but i share it so im just kinda gonna go with that for now
it’s not hard to imagine that mrs coulters daemon settled as something she maybe didnt entirely feel like was fair. or her. like she’d been operating just like in response to circumstances for a long time, like just playing defence basically, and now her daemon might have settled as this thing that maybe it wouldnt have if this Something hadnt happened to her (“you think you couldve been something else, someone else”)
that would make you resentful of it from the beginning. and also it might feel like a sort of,,, destiny. embodiment of how youve been irrevocably changed by something out of your control and now you have to live with it. this reminder of how you mightve turned out different
and at the same time try not to let it determine who you are. like mrs coulter definitely didnt do that but if you dont want to end up like her then what you have to do is not give in to like the worst possible reading you might be inclined to give to the form your daemon has taken. no animal is inherently anything but humans do give those kinda meanings to them. you might be tempted to look at your daemon that formed at a time in a way you didnt want it to and interpret its form in the least generous way. and apply it to yourself. “well now that im already bad and ruined aNYWAY” kinda thing. why not give in to your worst impulses. youve been made wrong youve got visible evidence. even if the daemon hasnt changed in response to whatever youve experienced. you’d never know for sure. you could still make that assumption
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cainightfics · 1 year
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I just watched s4e4 and I'm terribly upset. Don't you think Tyrell's death was just for the drama? Of course, it showed his love for Elliot, but, you know, it was clear from his behavior even before that. Tyrell is impulsive and inconsiderate, especially when it comes to Elliot. But is he really so reckless as to break into Elliot's apartment and reveal the plan?
i agree that tyrells choice to give up and die seemed odd, especially considering that at the end of s3, he realizes hes been used by the dark army and wants revenge. i REALLY wished he had played a larger part in taking down whiterose. he would have been perfect for it—his new position at e corp, as well as his access to deus group meetings, put him in an excellent place to serve as a double agent for elliot. i agree the scene in elliots apartment seemed overly impulsive—tyrell should have tried to get elliot out into a public area to talk about his plan, but then again, he did also confess to murdering sharon knowles after breaking into elliots apartment in s1, so idk. i would imagine that the dark army were only watching elliot in s4, not tyrell, since elliot was the wildcard whiterose was constantly unsure about. thus, tyrell was likely unaware that the dark army could be following elliot, since they werent following him personally.
in terms of elliots storyline, though, tyrells death was important. its the first time in s4 hes actually pushed to cry. he openly sobs after tyrell dies, and cant wash the blood off of his hands. i think tyrells death (which was, in many ways, a sort of suicide—like you say, he took the dangerous side of the van to protect elliot, and refused medical help because he knew the dark army would be suspicious) really made elliot consider his own selfishness. tyrell was the only person who really loved him (excluding darlene, of course, but sibling love is different, and their relationship was also strained at the time) so to see him give up affected elliot. i think his choice to leave tyrell there instead of forcing him to get help/trying harder to save him really haunted elliot throughout the rest of the season. you can see this very explicitly in the final few episodes, but i wont spoil that for you.
so yes, i agree that tyrells end was weird. i think a lot of characters were hastily dropped in the beginning of s4, tyrell and angela being the most obvious. this is a shame, because i far preferred their storylines to doms, who got a lot of screentime in s4. angela and tyrell felt very complex in their motivations—theyve done horrible things, but you feel bad for them because theyve been so manipulated and influenced. dom, on the other hand, felt like a very upright and moral character to me. her greatest concern is protecting her family, and thats it. its a noble goal, sure, but eh, its pretty boring in comparison to two characters who have become cultish followers, believing in fantastical things like time travel and godhood, only to have their beliefs shot down as they are forced to realize theyve been played.
to be honest, i think there should have been 5 seasons. i also thought the whole introduction of the deus group felt odd and kind of silly. a lot of the shows complexity was pared back to make s4 fast and snappy. i sort of struggle to reconcile s3, which was so dark and despondent (think irving telling mr robot that attempts at revolution are pointless because the rich are financially cushioned from experiencing chaos), with s4, where things wrapped up so conveniently and easily. idk, thats just my opinion though. i appreciate s4 for being a whirlwind of a ride, and it has some of my favourite episodes of the series, but the season overall felt weak in comparison to s3 in terms of plot and character arcs. even worse was the way the show lost a lot of its political bite. s4 is basically capitalist realism. the problems are blamed on a small set of people, the deus group, rather than the system itself, which encourages exploitation. so what if you take down evil corp and whiterose? something else, maybe even something worse, will eventually rise to take its place. price even says this in s3, too—elliots vigilanteism and targeted attacks arent good enough, he has to inspire a full-on anticapitalist revolution.
i feel like a better ending for s4e4 is tyrell gets shot, elliot rushes him to the hospital in the crashed, but still working, van, and they have to scramble to clean up their mess afterward so it doesnt get back to whiterose. this would still force elliot to realize he does care about tyrell, while also keeping tyrell alive. i wont spoil anything for the rest of s4, because youre still watching it, but there are certain episodes later where i feel like tyrell could have been SO USEFUL in. tyrell was always such a mysterious but unfalteringly loyal character. i think he could have been a really great emotional force for elliot in s4.
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babybluebex · 3 years
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𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖉𝖔𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗 𝖐𝖗𝖊𝖎𝖟𝖑𝖊𝖗 | 𝔠𝔥.1: 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔞 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔫
𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 | there's a tension between you and dr. kreizler that ever john moore can sense and, after an injury while defending you, you and laszlo finally come to terms with your feelings. 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 | laszlo kreizler x fem!reader (y/n) 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 4.8k 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 | explicit language, smut, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, too much flowery victorian language, one single and awful cody ko reference 𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊 | alright the alienist is plaguing me and i cant stop thinking ab fucking laszlo so HERE YOU GO. enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!
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You heard the roar of the protests outside the door as you snapped the latches of the briefcase shut. Taking a quick chance, you pushed yourself up a bit in order to look out of a glass panel of the red door, and you surveyed the crows outside the morgue. “Goodness, Doctor,” you breathed. “There’ll be a riot soon, no doubt.”
The German doctor gave a little grunt, not so much in response but rather an affirmation that he heard you. You hadn’t known Doctor Laszlo Kreizler for very long, hardly half a year, ever since you had been convinced to join the little crime-fighting syndicate that your coworker Sara had roped you into. At first, you had only agreed because Sara had made it seem like they were up to their necks in work, but her real reason very quickly became apparent when you met Dr. Kreizler and Mr. Moore. They were brilliant at their jobs, each man successful in his own endeavors, but they were men. They were bold, brash, impulsive, and rude (especially the doctor), and they were often stopped from tyrades by you or Sara calming them down. After all, it was often said that women were more logical than men. You knew that both Mr. Moore and Dr. Kreizler were too prideful to admit it, but you suspected that they were thankful for both you and Sara.
“Keep your head down,” John said from behind you. “And keep a firm hold on that case, you understand? Those documents are important.”
“Yes,” you said softly. You did understand the importance of the documents: John’s sketches of the victim’s bodies, Sara’s paperwork that she had smuggled from the police station. Essentially, all of the evidence for the entire case was in your hands. You didn’t want to face John's (or, more frightening) Dr. Kreizler’s wrath if the documents were misplaced or ruined. The crowd couldn’t be that awful to handle, could it? It was a mere few meters from the door of the morgue to the carriage that awaited, and there were police.
John went to tend to Sara, and you were struck silent when Dr. Kreizler turned to you. Of all the men in the world, you were intrigued by him the most. He was intimidating on the surface, with his piercing dark brown eyes and dark accented voice. But he was brilliant, perhaps one of the smartest men you had ever met. You liked working closely with Dr. Kreizler, and you hoped that he would continue to call upon you for investigative help once this child murderer was apprehended. Dr. Kreizler called himself an “alienist”, a term that you were familiar with; when you were young, your mother had suffered an affliction that made her a frequent patient of an alienist in your home of Virginia. You had never met an alienist like Dr. Kreizler, though. He was rough and brash at the worst of times, but quiet and gentle at the best. There was such a dichotomy from Dr. Kreizler and his alter-ego of Laszlo, and you hardly ever knew which you were talking to. Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde, John called him behind his back (but you suspected that Dr. Kreizler knew anyway).
“Hold onto my coat,” Dr. Kreizler said quickly. “Stay close to me. Keep the case between me and yourself. Do you hear me?”
You nodded, and your grip tightened on the handle of the briefcase. Just a short walk, you reminded yourself. Just a few meters.
John left first, and, the moment the door opened and people caught a glimpse of Dr. Kreizler, an explosion of sound went off. They were yelling at him, yelling awful things about how dare he waste the lives of children, their children. You looked at Dr. Kreizler’s face, trying to see if any kind of emotion was showing through but, as he was skilled at, his face was a blank canvas. His left hand grabbed your arm and tugged you a bit closer to him, close enough to smell the musk of his cologne, and you took a fistful of the tail of his jacket. “Hold on tight,” Dr. Kreizler whispered, glancing over his shoulder at you. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought that his constant checks were for you, rather than for the documents.
The air outside felt charged with electricity as people of all sorts strained against the police barricade to have a crack at Dr. Kreizler. They were yelling, screaming, jostling the police and Dr. Kreizler, and, by extension, you. “You who have no children!” a man hissed at Dr. Kreizler, and you watched his give the man a side-long glance. “You have no soul. He has no children of his own so he must use the children of others to prove his crazy ideas-- our children!”
“Keep your head down,” Dr. Kreizler said to you, turning just enough to allow himself to speak without shouting.
“And her!” the faceless voice from the mob shouted. Maybe it was the mob as a whole. “Instead of children, she chooses crime! Can’t have children, little miss? S’why ya chose to do a man’s job?”
You hardly even had time to figure out how much the words hurt before Dr. Kreizler had spun around to face the direction that the shout came from. He sent a swift punch at a mustached man, the one who seemed guilty of the slanderous remarks, and you yelped at the suddenness of it. You had seen Dr. Kreizler get upset before, yes, but never actually get physically violent with anyone before. He had thrown chalk across the room and slammed books onto tables, but this was something new. And with his right arm, no less. Maybe it was just a scare tactic.
And surely it was, because Theordore came to the rescue soon after, and he used his boxing expertise in order to subdue the crowd enough to allow you, John, and Dr. Kreizler into the carriage. As soon as you were safely in the carriage, Dr. Kreizler was hanging over you. His face was red under his beard, and his piercing eyes seemed to be staring straight into your soul. “Are you alright?” he asked, and you jumped when John slammed the door of the carriage shut.
“Yes,” you gasped. You realized that you were still fiercely gripping Dr. Kreizler’s coat tail, and you let go of it with a grunt of pain. The thick fabric of the coat had managed to rub the heel of your hand a bit raw, and Dr. Kreizler saw it instantly. He started to take up your hand in his grip, but you stopped him. “Please, Doctor, I’m alright. Nothing a bit of salve won’t fix. Thank you.”
Dr. Kreizler took his seat across from you, sitting a bit heavily, and you tilted your head as you examined him. He was favoring his right a bit, and you watched the subtle flex of his shoulder. “You’re hurt,” you said quickly. “Dr. Kriezler, is your arm okay?”
Dr. Kreizler gave a small grunt of pain as he rolled his right shoulder, and he said, “Nothing more than a pulled muscle. It’ll correct itself in a few days.”
“Oh, goodness,” you mumbled. “Surely, that didn’t happen as you were defending me.”
“It did,” Dr. Kreizler told you. “But it’s nothing to be worried about, I assure you.”
You groaned softly, and you settled the briefcase on your lap. “I feel responsible,” you said softly. “When we get to the Institute, you must let me look at it.”
“I’m the doctor,” Kreizler said sharply. “If I say it’s alright, then it is.”
John watched you with wide eyes for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Dr. Kreizler. He was looking out the glass window of the carriage, watching the mob, and you hoped that neither man saw the tear that escaped your eye. You were quick to dry it up and return your hand to the briefcase, and you looked across to see John’s gaze slipping up your face. He had seen it, no doubt. “Here,” he started in his low gravel. “Let me…”
“No,” you said quickly. “I would like to keep an eye on them, John. Thank you, though.”
The Institute was a cheerful place. The grounds were always filled with the sound of children’s laughter, and the rooms were warm with fire. Particularly, Dr. Kreizler’s study was a fine place for you. Rows and rows of bookshelves housed so many volumes, old and new, big and small. There was a table in the middle of the room that was always disorderly with various books and papers and whatever else pertained to the tasks that Dr. Kreizler had at hand. You liked the window at the front of the room the most. It was made of milky-white glass, not clear enough to see through but enough to let the sunlight in. You would pull a chair from the table to the window and settle there, sometimes reading, sometimes listening to John and the Doctor’s bickering. Sometimes, if the Isaacsons were there, it would be the four men sharing ideas and discussing the murders.
Dr. Kreizler fell down into a chair the moment he reached the study, and you placed the briefcase on the table beside him. He grunted softly as he sat upright, and he mumbled, “Thank you”, and he slid the case in front of him.
You hesitated for a moment. Do you dare ask him a second time? “Dr. Kreizler,” you began gently. “Please.”
Dr. Kreizler shifted in his seat, looking down at his papers, and he said, “Please what?”
“Please let me look at your arm,” you said. “Even if you say nothing is wrong with it, I would like to see for myself.”
Dr. Kreizler fixed his jaw as he clenched his teeth, and he mumbled, “Why can’t you just be satisfied with the answer I give you?”
“Because, as much as you hate to admit it, I know you,” you said. “I know you more than you would wish for me to. And I know that you’re in pain. I can see it plainly on your face. Please, Dr. Kreizler… Laszlo--” At this, he looked up at you. You never used his first name, not in the few months you had known him. He was always Dr. Kreizler. Sometimes just Doctor or Kreizler or, when you were trying to placate him, good Doctor Kreizler. But never Laszlo. You had heard both John and Sara call him that, but they were closer to him. It felt almost wrong to call him that, and fear struck in your heart at his gaze. “Let me help you.”
Dr. Laszlo Kreizler studied you for a moment, almost like he was trying to measure if you were playing a game with him, and he finally said, “You musn’t comment on the limb itself. Only the injury area.”
You nodded quickly, and you watched as Laszlo began to undo the buttons on his vest with his left hand. Quickly realizing that he couldn’t do it one-handed, you jumped to help him. You carefully pushed his hand away and started at the buttons yourself, and you pushed the vest aside to work at the buttons on his shirt. You could sense the nervous energy that was coming off of him, and the overwhelming urge to kiss him overtook you. But you couldn’t do that, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to. Yes, Laszlo was a handsome man, but you hadn’t ever thought of him like that before. Although, you reconsidered as his shirt began to yawn open, maybe you had. The good doctor permeated your dreams often, perhaps often enough to cause the little fluttering stir in your stomach.
You pushed the butterflies aside and finished the task at hand, and you very carefully pulled the shirt from off of his arm. You let your eyes wander down the length of his arm, his so-called “broken wing”. It was decidedly smaller than his left, skinny, hardly anything on it except for the malformed bones and thin skin, housed by the pressed sleeve of his shirt. The skin about his elbows was marked with scars, and the rest was covered in freckles. And his shoulder was a reddish-blue, already bruising up. “Oh, dear,” you mumbled. “It’s bruised. I think it’s a torn muscle rather than a pulled one. You need to see a doctor about this.”
“And what do you suspect they’ll tell me?” Laszlo asked. “Anything more than what I already know?”
You sighed. “You don’t know everything, Doctor,” you mumbled. “Let me go downstairs and get you a cold compress, it might soothe it a bit.”
“You did what you asked to,” Laszlo said. “You looked at it. You never said anything about treating it.”
“I assumed that that was a given,” you said. You couldn’t help the way that your gaze lingered on his arm, and you hoped that he didn’t notice it. The last thing you wanted was for Laszlo to get truly angry with you. “But, alright. If you truly wish to dismiss me based on a technicality…” You carefully helped him do up his shirt again, making sure to adjust the boarded collar just right so that it didn’t make too much of an awful racket, and you froze as you did up his tie.
His hand was on your waist. His right hand. You looked down at yourself and where his palm was nestled just over your hip, and you looked back at his face. His head was tilted a bit, looking at you, and he carefully retracted his hand. “Have I overstepped?” he asked cautiously, which was not an emotion that you were familiar with when it came to Dr. Kreizler.
You swallowed thickly. Your hands were shaking just a bit, and you shook your head. “No,” you managed to tell him. “No, you’re alright, Doctor.”
“Why am I always Doctor?” Laszlo asked. “John is John, Sara is Sara, the Isaacsons are the Isaacsons. Why am I never just Laszlo?”
You shrugged, and you slipped a few fingers behind the knot of the tie in order to ensure that you didn’t fasten it too tight. “It never feels right to call you anything but that,” you mumbled. “I suppose I can start calling you Laszlo, though, if that pleases you.”
“It does,” Laszlo said, and you watched a rare smile upturn his cheeks. It was faint, but it was there. “Funny how pleasure works.”
You scoffed and dropped the tie. “Please don’t start waxing poetic about pleasure, Laszlo,” you chuckled, and you moved along the table to where a pile of documents awaited. “I’ve heard it enough.”
“Then you know the importance of it,” Laszlo said, and he stood up from his seat. “Without pleasure, there can be no pain.”
“And without rain, there cannot be sun,” you added. “Good and bad, yin and yang; one cannot exist without the other.”
“Right,” Laszlo said. “Antitheses. What if, perhaps, there can be no sin if there is not repentance? No righteousness without evil? No male without female?”
“I suppose that follows your logic,” you said. You looked at Laszlo across the table and smiled at him, and you quickly said, “What if that is our killer’s motive? Repentance for sins? Y-You said that crimes like this are done out of revenge, so what if the killer had similar crimes befall him in his youth, and this is a twisted way of repenting?”
Suddenly filled with fervor, you searched the table for the small journal calendar that Laszlo had pulled out several weeks before. “The murders take place on the holy days,” you said. “Pentecost, the Ascension… The letter about seeing Georgio in front of the church. What if this is religiously motivated?”
Laszlo took in a deep breath, and he said, “That’s very likely… Repentance… You’re a brilliant young woman.”
Your skin buzzed with the praise, and you stepped closer to Laszlo in order to hand him the journal. “I’m just glad to be of service,” you told him. “I can’t imagine what I would be doing at the police station.”
Laszlo took the journal from your hand and set it back on the table, and his hand slipped from his jacket pocket. The air was silent but fantastically electrically charged, and you nearly jumped out of your body when Laszlo’s hand cupped your cheek. The contact felt like a scalding iron, but you leaned into it. You raised your hand and covered his with yours, and you whispered, “I’m glad you think so highly of me, Doctor.”
“I think the world of you,” Laszlo whispered. His hand was warm against your face, and you were only apart for just a second more before Laszlo was leaning into you and kissing you. It was a foreign feeling for you, and you were sure that it was for Laszlo as well; with no fiancée or courtship of any kind, you doubted if he had any experience with kissing or things of that sort. That being said, his kiss felt good. His mouth was warm against yours, his beard soft on your chin and cheeks, and you found yourself leaning further into him. You were wholly unsure of what you were asking for by doing this, but you were sure that Laszlo would oblige no matter what.
You only broke the kiss when Laszlo’s hand went from your face to your back. “Marcus and Lucius will be here any moment,” you gasped. “I think it best if we--”
“I have to have you,” Laszlo whispered on shaking breaths.
“How?” you asked. “Have you ever…?”
“No,” Laszlo said. His hand on your back went flat, drawing you closer to him, and he added, “Instincts come in at some point, my dear. After all, we are nothing more than animals.”
“Oh, Laszlo, that doesn’t sound arousing in the slightest,” you laughed softly. “At least make an effort to seduce me.”
“Is my standing here not enough?” Laszlo asked. “Is my kissing you not persuasive enough to have me? What more must I do? Must I lavish your whole body with my tongue? Must my hands go places they dare not before? Tell me, my beloved; I’ll do it all.”
“Do just that,” you breathed and drew him back in for another kiss. “Do it all.”
In an instant, almost as if something had possessed the poor doctor, he had shoved your hips against the edge of the table, and his kiss was on your lips again. This was hungrier and more desperate than before, and you took handfuls of his jacket, urging him closer and closer until his body was flushed against yours. You reveled in the warmth that he gave off, and you gave a quiet gasp when his left arm wrapped around you and hauled you onto the table. In an instant, Laszlo was pushing your legs open and fitting himself between your thighs, and his mouth left yours in favor of your throat. The neck of your shirt nearly inhibited his actions, but he made do, kissing your jawline and ear instead.
“Laszlo,” you whispered quickly. “The door’s open, anyone could--”
“Exactly,” Laszlo said into your neck, and he gave it a gentle nip with his front teeth. “Which is why we have to hurry.”
You weren’t exactly thrilled at the notion of that, but you had no other choice. The shocking need in your core was too much to ignore or put off. You needed Laszlo. Your hands left his jacket and went instead to his pants, and you gave shallow breaths as you worked at the buttons over his groin. You jumped a bit when Laszlo gave a low, guttural groan, and you almost mistook it for one of pain before your hand touched him through his pants. The very thought that you had caused this reaction in the otherwise composed and steadfast doctor made your cunt flutter with a nervous anticipation, and you tugged Laszlo back for another kiss. By then, his mouth had learned the shape of yours, and he kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever do. You loved it. You loved everything about it. You loved the way his hands felt on your waist, or skating up your legs to bustle your skirt at your hips. You loved the warmth of his breath in your mouth. You loved the feeling of him nearly quivering between your legs; that, you were sure, was not an animal instinct.
For a long while, the only sounds were that of your shared panting and the rustling of your clothing. You hated how there wasn’t any time to do anything more than a quick fuck, and you especially hated how the time constraint meant that there was no full undressing. You gently pulled Laszlo’s tie slack a bit, and he gave a little huffing laugh and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. “You’re so wonderful,” he whispered. “I detest how I can’t see the whole of you.”
“There’s always next time,” you said quickly. “I mean, if I’m not being too presumptuous--”
“Does it seem like you are?” Laszlo asked in low, accented gravel, and you gave a small giggle at the sight of the bulge in the doctor’s pants. No, it certainly did not seem that way. “I intend to have you every night, if you’ll allow me. It’s the first thing I thought about when Miss Howard introduced us.”
“Really?” you asked. “The first thought you had was making love to me?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” Laszlo asked. His hips gave a sudden jerk towards you, pressing himself fully against your bare cunt, and you gave a gasp that was halfway surprise and halfway pleasure. Laszlo was right; pleasure could not exist without pain. In that case, pleasure of the body could not exist without the pain of the heart.
“No,” you breathed. Your hands smoothed down his back and that emerald-green jacket that you liked so much, and you drew Laszlo in so that your lips were next to his ear. “Stop your talking and fuck me, Laszlo.”
The brilliant doctor was as smart as a whip and had the quickest wit in New York, but he was struck dumb at that. His mouth was open just a bit as he examined your face, and you bit your lip as you laughed. “C’mon, we haven’t much time,” you mumbled, and Laszlo nodded quickly.
You were sure that the sight of his cock would make you uneasy, so you pressed your face into his neck as he started to stroke himself. And, as it turns out, sight was hardly needed at all. The moment he pressed himself into you, you could feel every ridge (and inch) of him, and you shuddered in warm pleasure when Laszlo let out a choked moan in your ear. The gravity of what you were doing was finally catching up to you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret it.
Laszlo’s hand was all over you. Gripping your waist, the back of your neck, fisting your skirt; anywhere he could find purchase, he did. His right arm was held firmly against your hip, and each thrust he gave you made your corset shift a bit and nudge his hand. What Laszlo lacked in emotional availability, he made up for in love-making. He was gentle with you, but breathtakingly intense at the same time. His lips were latched to your neck, his mouth open, and he was whispering small grunts and affirmations in your ear with every thrust. “So gorgeous,” he whispered. “Feel so good… Fuck.”
That’s how you knew that Laszlo was truly in the throes of lust. He would never dare use a word of that sort in any other situation. Quickly, you took his right hand from off your waist and brought it up to your face, and you began to pepper his palm and wrist with quick kisses. His fingers twitched just a bit, almost like an appreciation of sorts, and Laszlo whispered, “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” you told him. “I want to show my love for every part of you, Las.”
“Las,��� the doctor repeated, and he gave a quick little snort of laughter. “Nobody has ever called me that.”
“I think it’s high time someone does,” you said. “You deserve to have a lovely little name like that.”
You could feel Laszlo’s smile against your neck, and his breath caught in his chest. “Oh, darling,” he mumbled. “I’m afraid I won’t last much longer.”
“That’s okay,” you told him. “Me too.”
You tried to ignore the creak of the table that sounded in time with Laszlo’s movements, and you focused on the delicious way he felt inside of you. It felt right, like you were made to fit together. The slow drag and burn of him was lighting the most intense fire inside your belly, and you had read enough of those salacious penny novels to know what came next. You wanted to see him, though. You wanted to see his face as he finished and filled you with his seed, and you wanted to be able to kiss him as he drew you to fulfillment. You carefully pulled his face out of your neck and you smiled at the redness in his cheeks and the way his pupils were blown wide, and you pressed your forehead to his. “You’re so lovely,” Laszlo whispered, and his strong hand nearly left a bruise on your thigh with the strength of his grip. “I would like for this to happen again.”
Your heart warmed at his words. “I would too,” you agreed. “My only stipulation is-- Oh, fuck!” A jolt of white-hot pleasure rocked your body, jostling you further into Laszlo’s warmth, and you drew in a whining breath. “You have to take me to dinner.”
“Of course, darling,” Laszlo huffed. “Delmonico’s, every night.”
“I don’t need that,” you told him. “I just need you, Las.”
“Say my name again,” Laszlo said softly, and you smiled and gave his mouth a quick kiss.
“Las,” you mumbled. “Oh, fuck, Laszlo. You feel so good, Laszlo. Oh, Laszlo Kreizler, you fuck me so well.”
That was all it took. In an instant, Laszlo was moaning into your mouth as he came, and his hips carefully slowed as he filled you. The feeling of it was odd and foreign, but it also felt right. Everything about sex with Laszlo felt cosmically correct, and you pulled him into a tight hug by his shoulders. His left arm wound around you tightly, and you helped him maneuver his right arm around you as well, and you whispered sweet things to him as he caught his breath. “God, Laszlo, I love you to death,” you whispered. You felt his fingers dig tightly into your back, and his mouth pressed into your shoulder. “You say I’m wonderful, but I’m nothing compared to you.”
“What am I?” Laszlo asked softly. “A brain?”
“And a heart,” you told him. “You love so big, Las; so big that I think you’re afraid of it. But I want to teach you to embrace it. Love is what we’re made for, sweetheart.”
Laszlo kissed you again, slower and sweeter than before. There were no agendas left, nothing to work towards and to complete. You were lovers now, and you had all the time in the world.
Except, as the door to the Institute slammed closed three stories down and Marcus’s call of “Dr. Kreizler! Are you in the study?” floated upwards, you detached from Laszlo. Perhaps not all the time in the world, but enough.
“Yes!” Laszlo called back, his voice cracking awfully, and you pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle your laughter. “Come up!”
By the time the Isaacson twins had reached the study, all evidence of what you and Laszlo had done was squared away. The only memory that remained was the unforgettable feeling of his body between your legs, and the glances that you shared with him over the table. “We think that our killer is committing these crimes out of religious motivation,” Laszlo began. He had shed his jacket, leaving just the white shirt, vest, and tie, and you settled yourself in your usual chair by the window to watch the exchange. “Y/N pointed it out to me.”
“Hey, good job,” Lucius said, scanning the journal. “That’s a rather astute observation. Anything else come up?”
You and Laszlo exchanged a knowing glance, and you said, “Well, yes, but that’s a discussion for later, over dinner.”
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taehyungsgrowl · 3 years
Note
omg pleaseee do an nsfw or sfw alphabet for xavier
hi babie :')
ofc! i feel like i hardly write anything for xav 🥺
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
i think aftercare w xavier looks a lot like him pulling you close... letting you rest your head on his chest and just having him hold you for as long as you like... sometimes talking... sometimes dozing in and out of sleepy kisses... sometimes getting a little high... soft and hazy...
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
xavier's favorite body part on their partner would be their legs/thighs. he's the kinda bf that loves to lay on top of or in between his partners thighs. especially being a dance instructor, he's learned to uh really appreciate a good pair.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
oh! i've for sure talked about this before, but mr. plympton is definitely into some cum play. i think specifically because i dont think breeding k!nk would be his thing... so like... pulling out and covering you in his cum would be so hot to him
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
hmm.. i think.. canonically... his secret would have to do with the porn videos he made but thats getting angsty so uh... i think he has a habit of hooking up with some of his aerobics students in the locker rooms - he likes the rush of the threat of being caught. word kinda gets around and more people sign up for the after class special than the actual classes...
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
you on top!!! absolutely loves it when you rise him. especially on a lazy morning just slow and steady... would have his hands propping his head up... just watching as you work yourself on his cock
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
this was is an obvious one - xav is honestly a big clown... honk!honk! almost to a fault... sometimes doesnt catch on to when he should be serious... but never fails to make you smile! even during sex. giggly... touchy... clumsy sex with him is a frequent occurence
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
i feel like he would keep things pretty tidy down there not too sure what was "in" in the 80s but i do think he'd keep it well maintained lmfao
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
i think w his long term partner he'd be really intimate... soft kisses... holding their hand... almost a little gentle. i dont think that is always that case w his hookups though - intimacy is reserved for his special person
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
xav loves some mutal masturbation - hear me out: he thinks he's clever and found a "loophole" in margrets "no sex" rule (although we know he has no intention on following it! but im imagining him sneaking into your cabin or pulling you into the showers... gets you all hot and bothered and guides you as you both masturbate... he'd be like, "we're technically not making purple... yet.."
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
he's into some roleplay in the bedroom and you cant convince he otherwise - and you've definitely taken it out of the bedroom too
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
idk about his "favorite" but it might be the most common (which i guess by default is a favorite) but his van! if he doesnt take you out in the back of the van, he'd sliding his seat back and asking you to ride him right on the front seat.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
he likes knowing you want him. doesnt always have to be begging (although that does really get him going too) but just like... letting him know how much he's turned you on... telling him what you want him to do with you = he's in love
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
he's really not into daddy kink (or mommy kink) -bad taste in his mouth from blake :/ but even without that, just not really his vibe
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
receiving! not to say he wouldn't be into giving it as well, but... with just a promise of going down on him - he'd do anything.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
it really depends with xavier because he can give you both - and he can do both really well. like i said earlier, he loves when you ride him all nice and slow - but can definitely show you something a little.. rougher. no one gives switch vibes like xavier
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
omfg loves a little quickie in the van or in the dance studio! probably more often than not!!
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
loves having the risk of being caught. as far as other "risks" he takes... it would be more dependent on what you ask of him. always down to try things you suggest but doesnt always suggest "risks" himself
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
hehe idk but i love the thought of desperate and whining xav that... finishes too soon because he cant handle much more of your teasing
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
xavier said pegging rights! so he'd let his partner use toys on him. i also think he'd be open to using toys on his partner too...
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
he isn't the best at folling through w his teasing because he gets sooo needy and gives in + he's a little too impulsive to really drag it out.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
lots of sounds! not a ton of dirty talk but thats because he gets soo blissed out all he can focus on is how good you make him feel - which results in lots of pretty moans and groaning
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
i know we give dunc a lot of credit for best ass (of the cody boys) but you cant tell me aerobics intructor xav doesnt have a nice booty
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
im gonna say he's got a good 7 inches going on. not super thick but has good length
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
xavier is horny on main. i think he has a pretty high sex drive (hence the result of a lot of quickies)
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
surprisngly, doesnt fall asleep right after! he's too high strung to fall asleep right after lmfao
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unohanadaydreams · 3 years
Note
If ask is open can I request some Mayuri fingering the Reader in a somewhat public place pls? 🧐
I can’t say no to Mr. Kurotsuchi. This is sloppy and the tenses are all over the place but it’s SMUT.
Features: smut, public fingering, mention of noncon but everything is Consensual, dirty talk that revolves around non-con basically, humiliation kink, Mayuri is just doing this as a punishment and doesn’t enjoy it all you freaky sack of lust, heavy slander of the 11th division.
Is the 11th division public? Can automatons set to motion only by lust for battle and sex be categorized as such? By technicality of being shinigami, he supposes. Mayuri curls his lip in disgust at the thought of them being classified in the same manner of life as himself.
You whimper as he sneers, your thoughts entirely removed from his own. The alley way you’re splayed in is hardly private, washed in bright afternoon sunlight that illuminates your bare skin as though inviting any passerby to stop and look. There’s an awful lot bare at the moment. You feel nerves and pleasure roiling in your stomach, a shy performer under a harsh spotlight. 
The sun only exacerbates the uncomfortable heat boiling under your skin. Still, you do not move.
One hand is spread wide for balance on the filthy stone to your right as you face the entrance to the alley. Mayuri’s thin, bony hands are both upon you as you squirm, desperately wishing you had the gumption to simply leave.
The thought of fleeing the alley way, only to run into a group of towering men makes your legs shake. You would be hakama-less. And what would they do, those men? The one’s who Kurotsuchi-sama assured were merely appetites on legs.
Reasonable men would wrap their clothes around you and lead you to privacy. But, the sight of your thighs slicked with your own pleasure would inflame their hunger beyond reason. No, no, they didn’t have reason to begin with. Yes, as Kurotsuchi-sama said, they would not hesitate to grab at you. Dogs to a bone.
The leg held aloft by Mayuri’s bony grip hurts, his fingers digging into the soft give of your calf to keep you spread to his satisfaction. You can feel that he is satisfied, the length of arousal pressed into your back. Your chest heaves with excitement at the confirmation, at the proof that his fingers circling between your thighs do so from want.
The singular leg you stand on shakes when Mayuri’s lips graze the shell of your ear. “If one of them found you like this,” he says, not at all quiet, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Your hand scrapes into the beginning of a fist on stone as your other grips onto his arm. He asks again and you nod, moaning before you can say ‘yes’.
“Disgusting,” Mayuri says in a hiss, clothed cock pressing against you in one sustained thrust.
Hands pawing to touch you filled your fuzzy brain, urging your hips to circle as two of Mayuri’s fingers slid up and down the length of you, giving your clit a soft pinch with each pass. Those wild men who only wanted what was between your legs wouldn’t give you such precise attention. They would be wild, pushing down their hakama and jostling to be the first inside of you.
If one found you like this, what would happen? Would Mayuri push you toward them and leave you with sticky thighs and a look of disappointment when you whined at being left unfinished?
No, no. You moaned again, unable to stifle it, as those two fingers he’d been teasing you with dipped in to your pussy, feeling it flutter around them in soft squeezes.
No, it would be better if he watched. Kurotsuchi-sama was as cruel as he was smart. If he planned for someone to walk by, he would stay. He would look on with his sleek clipboard and tut his disappointment at your inability to resist large hands forcing your legs apart.
Disgusting, he would say. Just like he had moments ago. Disgusting, to have some horrible man stinking of booze and sweat push into you with Kurotsuchi-sama watching. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting.
Your pussy clenchs hard, sucking his fingers in, beckoning them deeper as your thoughts spiraled into more depraved territory.
Mayuri bites the inside of his cheeks at the drag his fingers must resist with each attempt to pull them from within you. Fingers wriggling back in with a wet, sloppy sound, he finds the bundle of nerves--your g-spot--in one smooth motion. Alternating between rubbing the spongy bundle and scissoring his fingers wide to put pressure against your tightening walls causes you to cry out his name.
His only response is to keep going. This den of reprobates are so below him. If one were to walk upon you and he, there would be little to cause him embarrassment.
The sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you is loud, wet, and makes his cock ache. But to give in--that would be the embarrassment. Your self-muted cries and leg shaking so finely within his grasp that it feels like a tremor beckon his breathing to come heavier than before.
There is no hiding his pleasure pressed against your back. And the pretense of punishment, of punishing you for something so asinine as forgetting to staple a report--one that was not even presented to him, but to Akon--felt distant and forgotten. He allowed his eyes to roll back and his hips to cant forward once. Twice. Again and again, in time with the pace his fingers had set.
The heat broiling within you gave one final heave before you gave a choked, ‘Kurotsuchi-sama’ and your pussy gave his fingers quick, deep pulls that drew your limbs taunt with exertion. You felt twice-baked and ready to collapse on the packed dirt, your upper body fully leaning on Mayuri as he stilled behind you.
Your back grew damp and your smile was bright. Until the heady fizz of pleasure in your brain lifted and realized your surroundings.
“K-Kurotsuchi-sama, my hakama.”
His hand dropped your leg and you crumpled, too shaky to sustain standing. You attempted to get up again, your hands using the wall as leverage. But you fell again.
“Don’t be pathetic,” Mayuri sneered, the wet spot on the front of his hakama working against the repulsed tone. He threw your own hakama to land across your lap and you waited a few second to collect yourself further before standing, fawn-like, and putting them on.
The impulse to thank him came. But you closed your mouth at the sound of chatter coming from the opening of the alley way behind Mayuri, who had slipped his sword back into his obi, in front of his crotch; covering the proof that he desired you.
You said nothing as you followed him from the 11th to the 12th division and accepted his direction to get back to work without complaint.
Akon welcomed you back, the cigarette hanging from his mouth curling smoke into the air. “Must’ve been pretty nasty,” he said, nodding at your hands. They were unsteady still, failing to open a bottle of water.
You nodded. “It was disgusting.”
He clucked his tongue, sympathizing with some experience that had not touched you in reality. “The fact he expects anything from you is good, though. Don’t let it discourage you.”
Your smile was warm, like the sun in the alley way, “I’m more determined than ever.”
And with the ghost of his breath at your ear, the thrust of his hips behind you, you were.
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mizunetzu · 4 years
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Can you do Daichi x male reader where Daichi asks his boyfriend to come over to meet his team and he forgets and goes home so Daichi give him a call and is like "where you at?" "I cant come I look like a clown." "I bet you dont look that bad." "No you dont get it im in full drag." So his boyfriend comes to the gym in full drag, booby and butt pads, and monster heels, and when he walked in it's like Kags that recognizes him as his drag name.
LMAOOJSKE DRAG QUEEN READEKRNRNF
——————
Daichi x reader - DRAG QUEEN?!
⚠️warnings - drag queen, college first year reader x high school 3rd year (if that’s even a warning skdjd)
Pronouns- male, he/him
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——————
Daichi said it on impulse, really.
“Do you guys...wanna meet my boyfriend?”
Everyone in the gym stopped. They were in middle of a practice match between themselves, and just when Yamaguchi was about to serve, he choked on air and missed the ball completely. The ball flew in the air, before landing somewhere near his feet.
Everyone stared at Daichi with a variety of expressions. Some shocked, some looking at him like he ‘said I’m gonna chop my dick off,’ and some who didn’t even care. (Tsukishima, obviously.) Ukai had to call timeout, since no one could focus after what Daichi blurted out.
Suga chuckled awkwardly, slinging a towel over his shoulders. “So uh, ahaha, your um...gay...?” His voice progressively died down into a whisper.
“Yeah. Is...that’s a problem?”
“No! No! I fully support y-“
“AND YOU CHOSE NOW TO TELL US? DUDE, WE COULD’VE LIKE, THROWN YOU A COMING-OUT PARTY!” Tanaka shook his captaincy the shoulders, while Noya squirted water into his mouth with his squeeze bottle.
“Well I don’t really mind, I’m already out, I was just asking if you wanted to meet him.”
“DO WE?! OF COURSE WE DO! DOES HE PLAY VOLLEYBALL?! DO YOU THINK HE COULD JOIN THE TEAM?!” Hinata jumped up and down, slowly inching is way towards Daichi with an awestruck look on his face. He’s rather surprised Hinata isn’t more shocked.
“Yeah. Uh-no, sorry. He doesn’t play.” Daichi chuckled, patting an excited looking hinata on the head. “I don’t think he has work tomorrow, so tomorrow’s really the only time he can come to practice.”
“Work?” Asahi looked up from the towel he was using to wipe off his sweat. “How old is he? Is he a third year?”
“He’s a first year in college. Actually-I think he goes to the college in Sendai.”
Asahi exhaled. It would’ve been weird if someone as young as a highschooler were to already be working, when the could be enjoying their time in classes or clubs. “Where does he work?”
Flashbacks of all the drag shows and money being thrown around a stage whipped across Daichis mind like a slap to the face. He’s sure the team wouldn’t mind, especially because they already don’t mind him having a boyfriend, but he isn’t sure if (Y/n) was ok with him telling his team he was a...y’know.
“...I’m not sure?”
————
“Oh-hello Daikkun! How was practice today?” (Y/n) opened the passenger seat to his door, waiting for him to step inside. Sometimes he liked to pick him up from school before he had to get in makeup for a night show. That didn’t stop him from doing a little bit of eyeliner, though.
“It was nice. I told them they could meet you soon. The team.”
“Really?!”
“Yeah, you don’t have any shows tomorrow, right? I kind of told them tomorrow.” Daichi scrubbed at the back of his neck, while (y/n) started up his car. “I know you’ve wanted to meet them.”
“You bet your ass! Well-I mean I have a show at like 2 am but that doesn’t matter. What time can I come? Are they nice? Didn’t you say there was one who was really short but could jump as high as me in stilettos?”
“Oi-! Focus on the road!”
“Sorry, sorry! I’m just excited. Anyways! Can you come to my show tonight? I’ll sneak you in.”
“Every time I go to one of your drag shows I get scared someone will kick me out since I’m 17.”
“Dude, have you seen yourself?!” (Y/n) gestures over to Daichi, putting emphasis on his thigh-region. “You’re big and muscly enough to at least pass as 18. It’s just a one year difference, when’s your birthday again?”
“I can’t believe you forgot, I’m hurt.” Daichi chuckled, fiddling with his backpack straps on his lap. “Besides, doesn’t your show run kind of late today? I don’t get to choose when to take my classes like you, (L/n). And I have morning practice, so I need to sleep.”
“You’re no fun, Daikkun.”
“Yeah, yeah, My house is over there.”
————
(Y/n) scrolled through his phone for the nth time that day. Fanning himself dramatically, he huffed and buried his face into his pillow. There was nothing to do today, and since he took morning classes, that left him with the rest of the afternoon to ponder, before working at night.
Was there something to do today? Was he forgetting something? He felt like he was, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.
He glanced guilty at a tube of light pink lip gloss tossed haphazardly on his desk. A light bulb went off in his head.
Hastily throwing his covers off his body, (y/n) dragged himself over to his closet, grabbing the lip gloss in the process. He shuffled through hangers of clothes, finally pulling out a girls uniform he bought from when he was in high school. He never wore it to school, choosing to wear the boys uniform, but he thought it’d be nice to have when he was feeling fruity.
Slipping on the skirt and cardigan, he walked over to his desk mirror. He unscrewed the wand from the tube of lip gloss, tentatively applying it generously to his lips. He shrugged. He figured he could do some more makeup. It’s not like he’s busy today, right?
Carefully winging the tip of his eyeliner, he took a step back and admired himself in the mirror. He looked cute, yeah, but cute wasn’t really his style. It screamed ‘cute femboy’ rather than his usual ‘sexy ass drag queen dominatrix who could step on you with their sharp ass knife heels’
Damn. He was really about to go all out, huh? Time to bring out the butt pads and fake boobs.
————
Sighing contently in front of the mirror, (y/n) did a little spin, puffing out the length of his dress. Damn, he was hot. And with his impossibly high monster heels? Take me now.
(Y/n) was in the midst of taking a couple cute selfies in front of his full length mirror, when his screen went grey and a caller ID appeared.
‘Incoming call - Daikkun!! <3’
(Y/n) smiled unconsciously and clicked the bright green button with his thumb. He brought his phone to his ear and twirled a piece of his faux wig with his finger.
“Hi Daikkun! Did you need something, cutie?”
“Are you still coming over?” Daichis voice was hushed, and the slam of volleyballs rang though his speaker.
“Uh-what for?”
“To meet my team? Where are you?”
Fuck.
(Y/n) paled as he eyed himself in the mirror. He couldn’t show up looking like that. And it was too much to take off before Daichis practice ended. This was the only time he had to meet this team Daichi had always been talking about, and he’d completely forgot.
“...I can’t, I look like a clown.” (Y/n’s) voice came out a hoarse, nervous-chuckly whisper. He could taste the expensive red lipstick sitting on his lips.
“I’m sure you don’t look that bad.”
“Dude no, you don’t understand.” (Y/n) picked at the hem of his dress, the silicone boobs suddenly squeezing his chest a bit too tightly. “I’m in full drag.”
A silence rang out from both sides of the line. Daichi awkwardly chuckled.
“Ahaha uh-didn’t you say you didn’t have work today?”
“No! No I-I don’t have work til like-later later but like-I got bored and I forgot I was gonna meet your team today...sorry-“
“Well I’m sure they won’t mind if you show up in drag. I mean-they seemed pretty ok with knowing we’re a thing so...?”
(Y/n) gulped.
“...I guess I’ll see you in ten minutes then.”
—————
“Good work everyone!”
Ukai dismissed the players, leaving them to start rolling up the net and cleaning up the gym. Sugawara jogged up to the captain, dragging his mop lazily behind him.
“You said your boyfriend was gonna come today, right? Where is he?”
“Uh,” Daichi checked his wrist, before realizing he didn’t have a watch and fished out his phone. “He should be here any minute now-“
Just in time, the doors to the gym creaked open. Daichi smiled, leaving Suga to trail behind him curiously. He reached for the door handle, giving it a firm pull.
In stepped a boy with a long synthetic wig on, and heels that made him tower over Daichi easily. The sharp platforms of his heels clicked with each step he took, jewelry and accessories also bobbing up and down. And not to mention the ‘bobbling’ the silicone boobs made. Jeez, even if they were fake, they did still jiggle a hell of a lot.
(Y/n) bent down daintily, pressing a kiss onto Daichi’s cheek. Lipstick smeared on his sweaty cheek, leaving a dark imprint on the side of his face. (Y/n) seemed to finally take notice of all the astonished stares directed at him.
Should he A, stand beside his boyfriend awkwardly and pick at the loose thread of his dress or B, put on his confident drag persona and play it off?
He chose B.
(Y/n) smirked and leaned on on of his feet, placing a hand on his hip. “What? Like what you see, boys? I’m afraid I’m already taken, though.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck. Fuck. Even with the confident display, (y/n) couldn’t help but stay somewhat behind Daichi, trying to shrink behind his 10 inch heels.
Immediately, a bald guy and a kid with a bleached strip on the front of his head erupted into excitement.
“Yo! Sick dress, dude!”
The atmosphere lightened up tremendously. (Y/n) let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Well thank you, Mr. Bleach strip.”
The bald one, who introduced himself as ‘Tanaka’, slapped Daichi on the back. “Dude! What’s with all the surprises?! You tell us you have a boyfriend but you didn’t tell us he was a drag queen?!”
“I-to be honest I didn’t know he was in drag today-I didn’t know he had work.”
The closet door opened, with Hinata and Kageyama walking out from placing the net inside. Hinata gasped excitedly, while Kageyama froze. Hinata practically bolted towards the unknown person wearing heels and jumped up to his height. (Y/n) choked on air. This kid practically flew at him.
“Wow! Are you one of those ‘drag queens’ I see on tv sometimes?! Cool! That’s so cool! I-“
“ARE YOU QUIMCHI?!”
Hinatas throat closed up, along with (y/n) after hearing his stage name being called out so...dramatically. The boy continued.
“...F-FROM THAT ONE INTERVIEW THEY DID ON THAT ONE CLUB ON THE LATE NIGHT SHOW WITH SHIN’ICHI HATORI?!”
Kageyamas booming voice rang through the gym as he pointed at (y/n) with wide eyes. Everyone’s gaze went from (y/n) to Kageyama, who was frozen in place. Even (y/n) was a tad bit confused.
The club he worked at recently had a special done on TV, and (y/n) was only in the background. He didn’t know how this...boy recognized him from that, or why he was even watching the drag special on that show in the first place.
“...yeah...yeah I am,” (y/n) smiled awkwardly and a boy with blond hair and glasses chuckled from somewhere in the gym.
The boy, with another guy with dark-green hair, walked out from the storage closet aswell. “Who knew the king was into that kind of stuff? Drag queens? No disrespect, ma’am-sir.”
Kageyama seemed to unfreeze just to glare at Tsukishima with a flushed face. “I-IM NOT! MY STUPID SISTERS JUST A BIG FAN, IS ALL!“
Kageyama turned to (y/n), and marched scarily fast towards him. He stopped abruptly and bowed his head so far it made (y/n) take a step back.
“M-MAY I HAVE AN AUTOGRAPH FOR MY SISTER?! AN-AND MAYBE A PHOTO TOO?!” Kageyama stiffly held his arms to his sides as he kept his head down. Small chuckles and snorts sounded from all around the gym, (y/n) even joining in and patting the black haired boys head.
“Sure thing, doll.”
————
“Your team was nicer than I thought.”
Daichi looked up questionably, fastening his seatbelt. (Y/n) started up his car. “What do you mean, nicer?”
“Well-I thought they were gonna be a bunch of meatheads banging their heads together. They’re actually more interesting than I thought they were going to be. Especially that Kageyama guy.”
Daichi smiled contently. “I’m glad you like them, then.”
A comfortable silence breezed by them, the only sounds audible being the hum of the car engine and the soft tapping of Daichis nails against the armrest. Daichi stole a glance at (y/n). His wig was discarded, placed neatly on the backseat with the wig cap and hairpins resting underneath it, and his hair was slightly damp and messy due to being constricted. His lipstick was a bit smeared from when he kissed him on the cheek, and droplets of sweat gathered near his hairline.
Daichi set his fingers lightly on the spot where the lipstick mark sat, caressing it softly so the lipstick wouldn’t smear more that it already has. He exhaled softly and shifted his gaze back down. He wouldn’t mind if he came to his practice again.
“...so wanna come to my show tonight, Daikkun?”
“It’s at 2am, no.”
—————
Extra:
Kageyama: miwa.
Kageyama: MIWA.
Miwa sighed and checked her phone, sliently scolding her brother for bothering her. She stretched and rubbed her eyes. She swore, if Tobio wanted a ride home from practice...
Miwa: mm
Kageyama: -photo sent-
Miwa: DUDE
Miwa: AJDJSKDKF
Miwa: HOW THE FUCK
Miwa: TELL ME YOU GOT QUIMCHIS AUTOGRAPH DJFJDJE
Kageyama: -photo sent-
Kageyama: I DID. I GOT ONE FOR U AND ONE FOR ME
Kageyama: HE WAS SO TALL TOO
Kageyama: LIKE HE WAS A HALF FOOT TALLER THAN ME EVEN WITHOUT THE HEELS
Miwa: WHY WAS HE AT UR PRACTICE WHSHD
Kageyama: apparently he’s dating my captain
Miwa: WHAT RHE FUCKCIDNEBRJ
——————
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