#i imagine most relationships are really casual and change from world-to-world without like

[aquaquadrant]

if it’s just the double life cast.. please tell me we’re gonna get a little side impdubs content 😭

PERHAPS

#hels to pay au #HTP ask #in case it wasn’t clear in part 4 i’m going for a double life poly impulse-bdubs-etho-joel kinda vibe #but like it’s chill #i imagine most relationships are really casual and change from world-to-world without like #being a dramatic Thing #some players form deeper more lasting connections #but that doesn’t always mean they’re strictly monogamous either #players are functionally immortal beings that don’t reproduce the old fashioned way (they’re all made by the universe yknow) #so biologically speakin there isn’t a HUGE drive to remain monogamous their entire lives #ANYWAY. yes i am an ethogirl. yes i luv me some impdubs. we exist

[misc-obeyme]

Oh damn if I'm not too late, maybe "I just wanted to make sure you're okay." with Levi?

Hello, anon!

Okay, this one ended up being hurt/comfort. I almost wrote the whole thing without including the dialogue prompt, too. But I realized I hadn't used it yet while I was writing the part where I did end up using it lol. So it was easy enough to fix that.

As always, Levi's anxiety and low self esteem hits close to home for me and that always makes him a liiiittle hard to write for. BUT I feel like I'm getting the hang of it maybe. I had less of an issue with this one than I did with his daily chat scene, anyway.

Thanks for participating!

1,000 Followers Event!

GN!MC x Leviathan with prompt "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

Warnings: hurt/comfort, the usual Levi anxiety and such, brief appearances and mentions of the other brothers

Everybody knew that you were close with Leviathan. The other brothers never said it, but it was clear from the way they looked at the two of you, always together, always talking animatedly about your shared interests. Everyone noticed the amount of time you spent in Levi's room, watching anime and playing video games. Even Lotan seemed fond of you.

Levi was the only one who didn't quite realize the special bond you had. Not because he didn't notice how often you were with him, but because he simply couldn't believe that you would be interested in someone like him. There must be some other reason why you were always hanging around him. It was probably because video games and anime reminded you of the human world where you had enjoyed such interests before you were brought to the Devildom.

Levi easily explained away the things you did that didn't fit this narrative. He told himself he was imagining things when you smiled brightly any time he entered the room. He convinced himself that he was just the closest person any time you turned to him when you needed something.

Every day, he talked himself out of the idea that you might just like him for himself. Levi just couldn't wrap his head around that at all.

A few of his brothers tried to clue him in, but Levi came up with excuses for everything they said, too. Most of them gave up, but they were all equally annoyed at the way he seemed determined not to see your true feelings.

The truth was that Levi was too scared to confront you about it. It was just so much easier to pretend it wasn't happening. Especially since you hadn't actually told anyone that you felt anything for him beyond the casual friendship he kept believing your relationship was. What if everybody was wrong, like he suspected they were? He couldn't handle your rejection. It was too much to even think about it.

And yet things couldn't continue this way and everything changed one lazy afternoon. Everyone was at the House of Lamentation since it was the weekend. Lucifer was holed up in his office doing paperwork and Beel was no doubt in the kitchen, but everyone else was in the common room, doing various activities.

Even Levi was out of his room, though he was still playing a handheld video game. You were sitting beside him, watching over his shoulder. This was a fairly normal activity for the two of you. You both enjoyed watching the other person play and after a while, Levi would hand the game over to you so he could watch for a bit.

Asmo was sitting at the table bedazzling a new bag he had bought recently and Mammon was on the other side of you, scrolling through his D.D.D.

Across from where you and Levi sat, Satan and Belphie were in discussion about their latest idea for pranking Lucifer.

Satan was holding open a book of spells. "If I'm interpreting this correctly, it will cause the person it hits to state their deepest secret out loud."

"LMAO," Levi said from where he was listening in. "Do you really think a curse like that would work on Lucifer?"

"If we're sneaky enough and he doesn't see it coming, it might," Belphie said.

Levi handed you the video game so you could start playing. "You guys aren't sneaky enough to pull that off."

"We should probably test it," Satan said, still looking at the book. "I wouldn't want to successfully hit Lucifer with a curse only to find out it doesn't work as we thought."

Before anyone could do or say anything else, Satan recited the spell. It hit Levi squarely in the chest.

Levi fell back into the couch with a thud. "Even though everybody thinks MC likes me, I know they only hang out with me because my interests remind them of home!"

The silence that filled the room was broken only by the slap of Levi clapping his hands over his mouth and the cutesy music coming from the handheld device that had gone limp in your hands.

"Well, now we know it works," Belphie said mildly.

You looked at Levi, but he couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze. "Do you really think that?" you asked, the pain evident in your voice.

Levi wasn't sure what to say. If he denied it, you would know he was lying, but if he said yes…

He couldn't look at you and he couldn't say anything and he couldn't move. All he could do was sit there with his hands covering his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut.

Levi heard the sound of you putting the video game down on the table. He could hear you getting up from the sofa, heard the hitch in your breath as though you were trying to hold back your tears. Levi heard when you left the room, closing the door behind you.

"They're gone," Mammon said.

Levi opened his eyes and slowly lowered his hands.

"You're not really going to just let them go like that, are you?" Asmo asked.

Levi glared at him for a moment, then glared at Satan. "Why would you do that?"

Satan blinked. "I had no idea you would say that. I thought for certain you would say something about your favorite anime character. It seemed safe enough."

"Ya better go after 'em, Levi," Mammon said.

Levi considered this. They were right, of course. He couldn't just let you go. He had to go after you. He had to tell you why he continued to force himself to believe something that deep down he knew wasn't true. It was going to be the most terrifying thing he had ever done, but he had to do it. Not for himself. For you. The pain he had heard in your voice was more than enough motivation to help him overcome the fear of facing you.

Levi didn't say anything to his brothers. He simply stood up from the couch and went to look for you.

The first place Levi went was your room, but you weren't there. He poked his head into Lucifer's office only to receive a glare from Lucifer himself. You weren't there, either. He found Beel in the kitchen, but you were still nowhere to be seen. He checked the music room, the planetarium, the living room, the attic, even his brothers' rooms. Where else could you have gone? Did you leave the house all together? He checked the garden, but you weren't there, either. Perhaps you went to Purgatory Hall? Or the Demon Lord's Castle? Or somewhere else entirely?

Levi sighed. If he was going to leave the house to look for you, he wanted to be prepared. So he went to his room to grab a few things.

Levi opened the door to his bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks.

There you were, sitting in his bathtub, hugging yourself and looking miserable.

"MC?" he asked, too surprised to see you to do anything else.

You looked up at him and frowned. "What are you doing here?"

Levi blinked. "This is my room."

You looked around the room as though you were surprised to find yourself there. "Oh. Right."

"I was looking for you everywhere," Levi said. "I searched the whole house. Were you here the whole time?"

You didn't answer him, only ducked your head down and hugged yourself harder, your knees pulled up as you slumped down in his tub.

Levi closed the door to his room. He sat down on the floor next to the tub and looked down at his hands. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

When you didn't say anything, Levi began to ramble. "It's just that you're so cool and I'm so lame and I couldn't believe that you would actually like me just because I'm me and I knew it wasn't like that really, but it was too scary to think-"

"Levi."

Levi stopped talking and looked up at you. Your gaze was on the far wall.

"I came to your room instead of going to mine because this is where I feel safe," you said. "I feel safe when I'm here with you. And it isn't because of the anime or the video games or any of that. It's because of you. I thought you knew that."

"I did!" Levi insisted, then corrected himself. "I do. I do know it, MC."

You looked at him then, reaching a hand over the top of the tub, offering it to him. "Just get in here and hug me, won't you?"

Levi stood up immediately, grabbing your hand and climbing into the tub with you. You didn't even hesitate, collapsing forward into him, wrapping your arms around his torso, resting your head on his chest.

Levi felt himself blush profusely, but he didn't say anything or try to pull away. Instead he just returned your embrace, holding you close in his arms.

"I like you, Levi," you said, your face pressed into his chest.

Levi's blush deepened, but he powered through it. "I… I-I like you, too, MC."

Even though Levi's anxiety was sky high, even though he was still nervous to be this close to you, he was also the happiest he had ever been in his life. Holding you close like that, hearing you say that you liked him, being able to say it back, everything about these moments filled him with a joy he'd never known. He vowed to never hurt you again, to only ever tell you how he really felt, what he really meant. He vowed not to let his own insecurity get in the way of the truth of your heart.

1,000 Followers Event | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me leviathan x mc #obey me levi x reader #obey me levi x mc #leviathan x reader #leviathan x mc #misc 1k event #misc writes

[angelharness]

Was already planning on some so this works out! Like most characters I’m writing for the first time it’ll probably take some time for me to distinguish how I characterize them, currently finding things out with him. This admittedly feels more like a character study than anything.. I’m sure I’ll get to write more explicitly romantic stuff for him at some point

WARNINGS: blood (is that even worth tagging anymore) and plenty of mentions of killing

TARHOS KOVACS / THE KNIGHT

It’s hard to imagine how he maintains any non-strictly-professional relationships, even more so when considering the romantic variety. He tends to categorize most people he meets into relatively loose classifications of enemy, associate, asset, useful, or not worthwhile. In his line of work, he’s never had those lines blurred or challenged. Meeting you means rare introspection on his part. 

It’s weird to chat casually, to talk about personal or daily matters rather than the specifics of a contract or even the passing chatter over dinner with his companions. He does not ask questions and doesn’t expect you to. When answering any, though, he seems to respond curtly and explicitly matter of factly, like running down a checklist. This is not out of disinterest, it’s just the way he goes about most matters. It’s not so clear if he doesn’t enjoy talking about himself or cannot think of anything he deems worthwhile to reference.

On that note, it’s a long and maybe frustrating path of trying to get to know him. You won’t be having the traditional sort of dates in the Entity’s Realm, and communication is limited by a number of barriers; English is only Tarhos’s third language, and he has just an elementary understanding of it. All things considered, he doesn’t have a very in-depth grasp on any spoken language; he grew up speaking Hungarian but was taken too early to ever attain fluency and forced to take on Italian, learned primarily through barked orders and the background chatter of his cellmates. His English, when he chooses to use it, is even more sparse, and is very much different from the vocabulary you are more familiar with. You can attempt to teach him some, but it is unlikely he’ll hold onto anything longer than a sentence. He very honestly might establish his own system of sign language before he can make himself speak comfortably.

Your best bet for getting to know him is familiarizing yourself with and learning to read his reactions and body language. This is harder to get a grasp of without a visible face to interpret, but you’ll begin to pick up on things you hadn’t noticed before; he rolls his shoulders back and points his feet forward when he’s interested. He’ll begin to gradually look aside if he isn’t. The flexing and twitching of his fingers is somehow infinitely expressive in the absence of words.

He goes about a similar process with you—he spends more and more time just watching you and how your face changes, or the variation in your voice, in your posture. Admittedly, he can only tell so much from a facial expression; he knows the telltale signs of pain, the deep lines of anguish or outright despair. He knows the gritted, grinding teeth and furious brows of someone enraged, even the glow of satisfaction, but anything beyond that may as well be new territory to him. 

One way, though, to tell that he certainly likes you is that he looks at you fairly frequently. This would seem insignificant in just about anyone else, but Tarhos looks at people only when speaking with them. Not when spoken to or at, but when he puts himself on equal footing with another person so that they may discuss. He almost regards the world and other people like a single, separate entity. He does not always immediately look away when you catch his stare, but certainly doesn’t appear that he wants his interest to be known. You might never fully know what he’s thinking, but you might be somewhere momentarily in those thoughts. 

He doesn’t ever really properly hold your hand, which requires him to bend down or slant his shoulder down uncomfortably—instead, he’ll more often wrap his hand around the back of your arm. It’s a little funny, appearing as if he’s taking you prisoner rather than attempting casual affection. 

At some point in his life, if not during his initial capture, he realized there would be no place for him to have a lover of any sort, and given his asocial tendencies, he thought he had come to terms with that notion. Now that he’s met you, there’s been a pretty significant shift in his outlook for the future; he’s lost in how to fit you into it, and though at first this disruption is greatly offending to him, he realizes that there is an appealing aspect to perhaps settling down. For once there is an end in sight to the torrent of still, bleeding bodies. Just understand that his decided code of chivalry is very far disconnected from the stereotypes lovingly illustrated in adventure books. He’s more acquainted with the sight of mangled meat between the silver plating of ruptured armor. 

He wouldn’t have ever considered himself affectionate, at any earlier point would’ve have loudly scoffed at the term, but if you can get him out of his grungy helmet and coax him into letting you brush his hair, he’ll become insistent that you do it routinely. 

Tarhos might enjoy sparring with you on occasion, but these sessions tend to become more of him fixing your form and instructing you than actual skirmishes. He repeatedly has to stop to walk over and correct your stance. He’s infinitely more knowledgeable and trained than you—it’s more than second nature, but first—it’s unrealistic you’ll ever best him, but then again, you have the eternity of the Entity’s Realm to train. He’s certainly going easy on you, otherwise you’d be wiped out in the first few moments, but there’s been a handful of times you had gotten a legitimate hit on him. You had even sent him to his knees in one instance (he was at his feet again in seconds, and you suspect he had only ever got him there, in the first place, by surprise, but it felt unspeakably good).

Will not kiss your hand unless outright asked to, sorry. It had never been customary for him, beautiful maidens with rich dresses were not the ones enlisting him to go out and kill and shed pails of blood, were certainly not being saved by him, and never did spare him glances, unless they were colorless and terrified. Even the curt shake of hands was not typical in deals between those who enlisted him. However, he’ll oblige upon your request, and soon it becomes the only way he greets you when meeting again after time apart. This seems to work better after you had talked him out of bowing to you everytime.

He finds himself on edge whenever you’re away, now, especially when in a trial. He trusts you to hold your ground and keep yourself alive, but worry is such a new feeling to him that it feels, at times, unbearable. He’s never even worried for himself—things just happened and he would soldier through it, that is how his life had always been. No threats of torture or unrelenting whips had made his stomach turn and roil like it did as he paced in your absence. Days spent in sunless, lightless cells had seemingly passed faster than the time he would await your return to the campfire, to him.

He won’t run to you and hug you and sob at your feet when you reappear, but he’s back at your side before the hazy fog of the trial can leave your system. He similarly appears to search for you first when he returns from a trial.

Pet names don’t immediately appeal to him, but if you beg him for one, he’d settle on something like ‘my treasure’ or culver. ‘My heart’ is another, but he struggles to get it out and will oftentimes just stare intensely at you, trying to force the words together, hoping maybe you’ll understand and spare him the vulnerability. It’s odd, dated, and not what would come to mind when thinking of a nickname for a lover, but he actually likes it when you refer to him as your suitor. Maybe it is its explicitness, that it serves as a declaration and can only be said wholeheartedly.

ALTRUISTIC S/O

Tarhos wouldn’t believe you to be naive or ignorant for your benevolence, only ineffective. He’s found what works best for him and scarcely strays from that; slaying carelessly, indifferent to whoever stands opposite of him and his sword. He never reprimands you, nor ever feels the need to, even if your choices may puzzle him. He decides that the world will straighten you out if it so necessary, that everyone will come to learn of its ruthlessness (however life decides to show that side of its many-faced form). 

He’s aware there are less violent, distastefully bloody ways to get what he wants, but the both of you can imagine he hails from a comparatively more savage background where brutality could be called common; in his eyes, Tarhos only adapted to the cruel circumstances of the society he found himself in. Nurture and nature were equally unkind to him, a pair of twin demons. He might struggle to conceptualize the drastically different life and time you came from, but never looks down on you for your selflessness. He might, however, feel the need to look out for you, knowing how ruthlessly unforgiving the world can be at times. 

Eventually might develop a greater appreciation for your abundant kindness when he finds himself on the receiving end. He’s especially appreciative if you’d offer to rub his shoulders from time or time, or help him with shedding or donning his armor. Unfortunately, with such underdeveloped interpersonal skills, his only means of expressing gratitude is extending his services to you, i.e. slaughtering an individual per your request.

Tarhos will hold back on displays of violence if you are present, but it will be strange to him and require a restraint he had never utilized before. Once he does, he realizes he’s never stopped to think before bringing down his sword on the skull of an opponent. This introspection won’t change his ways in the long run, certainly won’t sway the taste he’s acquired for killing, but he tries to be more mindful of your sensitivity to bloody matters. 

#dbd x reader #dbd imagine #dead by daylight x reader #the knight x reader #x reader #reader imagines #horror imagines #reader imagine #horror x reader #tarhos kovacs x reader #dbd the knight x reader #reader insert

[ponett]

it's been a bit, so here's another roundup of some slarpg-related questions from my retrospring! some about the cast, some about worldbuilding and lore, others about the process of making the game

since holly floated the idea in her own stream: Did Jodie forge her own grill?

you know what? sure. this is canon now

very important question did catherine just pop out of the cauldron fully grown like that or did she actually experience childhood. need this answer for a debate

like most people catherine was born a baby

Given that it's the day of the Big Game: How do each of the Novas (+ Faith/Beverly) feel about sports?

jodie likes sports and follows the brightport teams actively, but she's also too good of a sport to really hate their rival teams

allison's always liked the act of playing sports way more than watching them (although she was never good enough at following orders to play on a team as a kid). she'll watch the big games with jodie, though

beverly is a casual fan who will at least root for local teams but doesn't really pay that close attention

melody and faith don't follow sports but can be convinced to show up for a super bowl party type get together

claire can only get invested in a sport or team if there's a jon bois type documentary that gets deep into the nerd shit

Were there ever any other names other than SLARPG in the running? Or was it always gonna be slarpg all the way.

i always considered changing the name. i have a list of 75 different names i considered over the years in my notes, ranging from more generic fantasy titles to sillier ones to more unique ones. early on most involved melody's name. many later ones include "Reverie." i may share the full list someday (possibly good fodder for a patreon post), but the "serious" title i've mentioned considering before was Power Couple (or Power Couples). i still like that one

i debated over the title a lot for many reasons. mainly, people are weird about the title, either treating the whole game as a joke or assuming it's porn or whatever. some also assume that you just cannot play the game if you aren't a lesbian, a thing that people don't do with other fantasy things that happen to feature sapphic relationships without putting it in the title

the problem, of course, is that changing your title is often a death sentence. half the struggle with marketing a game is even getting people to remember it in the first place in an era where a million things are constantly fighting for your attention. people need to have seen it a few times before they create that mental connection of "oh, THAT game, i've heard of that." so changing your title massively undercuts that

in that regard, Super Lesbian Animal RPG is just way more unique and memorable of a title than the alternatives i was considering. it's direct and unambiguous about the content of the game, and it grabs your attention in a way that something like "Guardians of Reverie," for instance, doesn't. (that's not a title i was considering too seriously, just an example.) also it abbreviates to a unique hashtag, which i find convenient. also i can say that rock paper shotgun once referred to it as "brilliantly named," so like, of course i can't change it now

several of the names i considered are now in the running for an overall franchise name, though, since i have zero intention of naming a game Super Lesbian Animal Platformer or Super Lesbian Animal Visual Novel or whatever

Do werewolves exist in slarpg

yes, werewolves exist on reverie. i briefly considered including a werewolf character somewhere as a gag because i think it's really funny to imagine someone being extremely melodramatic about being cursed and turning into a wolfman in a world that has furries all over the place

what order would you rank The Novas (+ Beverly/Faith) from most to least internet/irony poisoned

claire

allison

melody

faith

jodie

beverly

hey! sorry if this is a dumb question, but a friend asked me if there were any canonically straight characters in slarpg as a joke and now i’m genuinely curious. are there?

catherine, probably? i mean really, the orientations and love lives of characters outside of the main cast just don't get commented on at all. is vicky straight? is sean? are amelia, fanta, jack, or senna? who knows. i don't

i do think it's extremely funny to be in a situation where any character being confirmed straight would be an after-the-fact word of god thing though. i didn't even do this on purpose

Are there any characters that are straight edge

beth and mary ena, canonically

Are Dragon's Beastfolk?

the ancestry of dragons on reverie is unknown. some believe them to be related to reptilian beast folk, but they're usually considered their own thing due to their unique abilities

Did melody get Brent enlargement surgery? Or is she just lucky

who is Brent and why does he need to be enlarged surgically

are class names standardized across reverie, or are adventurers largely free to call themselves whatever class name they'd like?

they'll have certain commonalities that are widely understood. you can tell someone "i'm a witch" and they'll get that means you're primarily a magic user with a curiosity in the supernatural. but there are no strict regulations about what you can call yourself, no. like allison's class is just "punk," and that isn't A Thing that you can formally train to be recognized as. that's just her vibe. some titles may come with more specific expectations - for example, paladins are supposed to derive their power from faith - but a lot of the time it just comes down to semantics. what's the difference between a witch, a mage, and a sorcerer? who fuckin cares

was the secondhand staff's bent design conceived before or after holly's creation?

before. the origin story for the bend is that when drawing melody for the first time i realized it was going to block her face, so i literally just bent it out of the way. (and also it makes the design more memorable and fits with them being undergeared first-time adventurers making do with what they've got)

is 1 gold equivalent to 1 uk pound or something like that? or is 1 gold worth a lot more than our silly paper money

1 gold on reverie is more like a penny. it would be a bit less cheery in greenridge if food cost so much that a carrot was $95

whats melody's cup size!

you know what? i have to admire your moxie for asking me this

Does fortnite exist in the slarpg universe or are they free of such silly things such as video games

allison is always cranking 90s

is melody a fan of kirby : )

i don't think melody plays a ton of video games but i think she would enjoy kirby

Which of the cast would be most likely to play a game called Super Lesbian Animal RPG?

claire

really loved the game :] which somic character do you think would blend in the most into the SLARPG world

blaze as sir percival in sonic and the black knight

do you know where the vocal samples in "B.A.D." came from? one of the best parts of those really fun bosses

i do, but i think bee might still be keeping it a secret to see if anyone ever figures it out

I love seeing all the casual outfits the main cast has in the Prologue comic but I also realized we only ever see Claire in her adventuring gear and work clothes. Do you picture her having any casual outfits or is she just always wearing her witch clothes?

claire has other outfits, but these days she's wearing her witch gear and guild tabard as much as possible because that's how she wants to be seen

How would you feel about someone making nice body pillows of the main cast

it's preferable to mean body pillows

Yoshi P signed a fan's FFXIV body pillow, are you as based as him?

i am also capable of signing an ffxiv body pillow, sure

PLEASE TELL ME FAITH AND THE PALADIN BRIGADE ARE NOT COPS

this is all but outright said in optional dialogue lol. they're not cops. they aren't allowed to arrest or kill people. they're the emergency response for magical emergencies

I've just been wondering this but are there weapon regulation laws in the SLARPG world? Just curious if only registered guilds can have them or can just anyone carry a weapon around anywhere they want? lol

this isn't something i've really explored. my immediate thought would be that it probably depends on the weapon. wielding (or selling) an Ancient Cursed Obsidian Blade of Death is probably heavily regulated, but in a world where you can get jumped by monsters while traveling there's probably less concern over people carrying around regular old swords

I'm curious, was there ever any cut plans to expand on other locations in this universe such as Brightport? Was curious about that one since several characters mentioned it in game

if you mean "were there ever plans to visit brightport in slarpg," then no

the scope of the game was always confined exclusively to the sapphire islands from the start. one of my goals with slarpg was to have a small setting compared to other globe-trotting RPGs, but to explore that setting and its cast of characters more intimately. (mother 3's nowhere islands were a big influence.) but i also generally think it's good for worldbuilding when there's more to the world than what you see within the confines of the story. it stokes the imagination and makes it feel more real. if anything, i would've liked to reference even more locations elsewhere on reverie and things happening there, but i focused on brightport since it's claire and jodie's hometown and also the nearest major city

brightport is a big, big city, and if i ever explore it i want to do it right. had i found a plot excuse to make it appear later in slarpg, it probably would've needed to be smaller than greenridge with fewer buildings to enter, due to greenridge already being over scope. (notice how the other two settlements have simple outdoor marketplaces while greenridge has four separate shops you can enter, all with their own bespoke interior art and music. that was not a thing we could keep doing if we wanted to finish the game.) at that point it's not doing the idea of a big modern fantasy city justice, so why even bother?

it also would've felt very, very weird if you could visit brightport but you didn't get to meet claire and jodie's families, not to mention other characters since it can't JUST be them, and there needs to be some kind of transportation infrastructure connecting the sapphire islands to the mainland, and on and on and on. you can see how the workload quickly spirals out of control. so it was just never a thing i even considered for the game

#slarpg #slarpg asks

[one-way-dream]

The King's Shadow - Ch. 2

Rating: General

Words: 3000+ (4600+ Total)

Media: Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic and the Black Knight

Pairing: Sonic/Lancelot (Sonic/Shadow)

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Developing Feelings, Pining, Alternate Universe - Medieval (Check AO3 for any tag changes!)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Chapter: 2/3

Link to the original work

AO3 Summary/Excerpt:

The other’s embarrassment slowly melted away into a resigned sigh, before turning into a smile; mischievous in appearance, but nothing short of putting the sun’s radiance to shame. And then Lancelot truly felt the carefree and trusting weight, the sheer warmth of the newly crowned king’s hand in his own.

And he knew more than ever that his life now belonged to him.

Author's Notes: WOW sorry this took so long! nearly two years..... truth be told it's just been sorta sitting there but i finished up the chapter tonight (ya boy got medicated finally) and i hope to get the next one eventually too! hoping to get it out within the next 5 years /j

thanks for reading and for all the support!! ❤❤❤

Previous/Next

Lancelot came to learn that King Sonic was not fond of excessive armour.

Surely, it was made clear enough by the fact that he only sported a gauntlet most of the time during his time as a self-proclaimed knight. Though despite being crowned as king, he still insisted on minimalism.

“It’s just a little too much, y’know?” Lancelot barely picked up on words that still sounded slurred to his untrained ears, “It’s easier to run with less of that metal stuff on me.”

Said “metal stuff” lay in a carefully discarded heap in the grass by the entrance to the moat, which would undoubtedly be picked up by one of the castle’s workers after the king would accidentally forget about it. Despite being polished daily and in pristine condition, there wasn’t a soul alive in the kingdom to actually wear that armour for more than two hours a day.

“Alright, patrol time is finally over! Ready to move out, pal?” Sonic glanced back at the knight keeping a respectful distance between them, who gave a silent nod in agreement. Lancelot’s visor generally hid his face during daytime patrols – the sunlight had been stronger and brighter than usual, bouncing off dirt paths and stone walls all the same. It was a bit too harsh for the knight, who preferred the cool whispers of the evening air dancing through his black and red quills. It was quiet. It was safe.

The king technically wasn’t obligated to wear armour if he didn’t please, but Lancelot noticed that Sonic at least attempted to wear it once a week, even if it was just for show until they were out of sight from the prying eyes of townspeople. The knight assumed it was a way of balancing his lifestyle of freedom with the customs that a life as king expected from him. In a sense, Lancelot found it to be rather noble.

He could only imagine the turmoil he faced leaving his people – it became clearer each day that there was a major cost, a sacrifice, to staying in a different world as their king.

As they made their way into the open meadows, Lancelot watched the other hedgehog stretch to the best of his ability, locked hands reaching above his head suddenly swooping down to the flower-adorned grassy field under them, fingertips grazing the white straps of his well-loved ruby sneakers. 

“Y’know,” He starts, posture reverting back to a casual stance as he turns towards Lancelot, “I didn’t really expect to have to wear all this bulk.”

The knight felt his frown deepen without him meaning to.

“That ‘bulk’ is a royal heirloom, passed down from monarch to monarch, your majesty.” But as soon as he processed the sound of his own voice, Lancelot regretted his tone. “…I— I beg you to forgive me for my insolence, sire.”

Sonic could only shrug, as if Lancelot hadn’t just spoken abrasively to him like he was some low-ranking squire. As if their relationship weren’t that of a legendary king and one of his many knights. As if their relationship didn’t have complexities woven into it through the gaps between each fibrous cross of thread. Impenetrable, so to speak, – not only to outsiders, but also to them.

“I mean, you’re not the same as him, but I’ve definitely heard far worse.” He smiled back at Lancelot even brighter somehow, like he didn’t have a care in the world, “Don’t sweat it, Lance.”

The knight’s expression grew even more perplexed.

“What?” Sonic stopped, expression mirroring Lancelot’s own, or at least whatever he could make out through his visor, “Surely that painfully abrasive tone meant that you’re a little more comfortable around me right?” He said with a sarcastic grin, motioning with a nod of his head for them to keep moving and conversing.

“That’s a good thing then! You can let your quills down and be as casual as you want, and in return I can give you a nickname. That sound like a fair trade?” Sonic laughed breezily, grazing the back of his hand against Lancelot’s arm in a half-hearted but friendly nudge.

Warmth stirred in Lancelot’s chest at his words, at his touch; like a sweet nectar that trickled down his parched throat and made him feel alive.

“You know, back home I have a friend who goes by a nickname. He’s like a brother to me, so nicknames came pretty naturally after I met him.” He spoke fondly, not catching the way he had Lancelot’s attention rapt thoroughly and genuinely, “His full name is Miles Prower, but we all call him Tails. Actually, he looks a heck of a lot like the blacksmith we have back in town! A kind and brilliant kid… just like him.”

Lancelot tried to crumple the odd feeling he got at the mention of “brother”. The conversation had more or less settled into its usual back and forth of the day as they continued strolling through the field of sweet violets; admittedly, one of Lancelot’s favourite parts of each day.

Usually these hours were somewhat one-sided conversations, but only in the sense that the king loved to talk, and Lancelot was more than content to listen and affirm. Though, he kept silent mostly out of respect and necessity – he had a responsibility to focus and protect the king, after all.

But today, when the winds are quiet and gentle and the skies bloom with iridescent clouds above them, somehow everything shifted on its axis again; for once, Lancelot was willing to finally hold up his end of the conversation. His heart throbbed loudly in his throat, in his ears, as he took a few short breaths and practiced his next few words in his head.

“I… have a sister.”

There. He said it.

He breathed her back into existence, and never again could she be kept buried deep inside of his soul.

The king slowed his pace, glancing to the side at Lancelot who still kept his eyes hidden under a visor. “Yeah? That’s really nice to hear!” Sonic immediately perks up, livelier than ever at the fact that his favourite knight companion was finally, finally opening up to him, “What’s she like? How old is she?”

Lancelot’s hand slowly reached up to his visor, hovering by the edge as he contemplated, before lowering his arm again and letting it settle by his side, not catching the way the king’s ears drooped slightly at his actions. He let a smile play on his lips instead, reminiscing about sky blue and moonlit gold.

“She’s… a good person, and she’s a little older than me. Full of love; always eager to share it with those around her, even if that means giving up parts of herself.” Lancelot spoke wistfully, affectionately, and in the back of his mind he realized that this was the most he’d ever divulged to anyone about her, “Whenever she’d scold me, there was never any harshness to it – even that was always out of love. She wasn’t perfect of course, but to me she was the closest anyone could ever be. More than anything, I… I think I miss her stories and her mischief the most.”

“Oh… what happened to h—” Sonic’s eyes widened in realization as bit his own tongue into silence, shaking his head and hastily covering up his tracks, “I’m so sorry— please disregard that, you really don’t have to answer anything you’re not—”

“…It was illness, your grace.” He solemnly answered.

“And it’s alright, please do not apologize. We live in difficult times, after all.” He gave the king a small smile, though he didn’t doubt that he could see right through his mournful expression, “I do miss her dearly, but… now that I have shared a piece of her – proof of her existence and a piece of my soul with someone like you, I do not think she will be forgotten so easily.”

The king comes to a standstill and turns to face the other, and it’s only then that Lancelot’s mind catches up with the gravity of what exactly he’s said. He hadn’t said enough to betray how he truly feels, surely, but he can’t help but feel his joints lock up anyway. The first emotion that rushes to him is dread, but then he remembers who Sonic is in the first place, takes in his charming smile in a single brave glance, and relief cleanses every bit of dread out of his system.

“Still…” The king steps closer, reaching out and letting his hand gently hold onto the other’s arm. It takes every bit of self-control Lancelot had been taught in training to not have a visceral reaction at the contact, “I really am sorry for your loss.”

But Lancelot had not been prepared for the faraway look in Sonic’s eyes as soon as he chanced a glimpse at his face. There was something… unreadable. Almost sorrowful in its nature; although something told him that King Sonic wasn’t just mourning the loss of his sister.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to listen to his gut feeling.

As quickly as his expression had come, it was gone like the wind, replaced with another casual smile. A rare glimpse of his walls unguarded. Lancelot thinks carefully – but even if Sonic was going to pretend that nothing happened, he couldn’t let it go so easily. The knight wills his heart to settle before taking the dive.

“Do you miss it?” He finally says it, quiet enough that the other could disregard him if he so pleased. “Do you miss your home world, sire?”

“I…” Sonic opens his mouth, then shuts it with a shake of his head, as if to shake an unwanted thought out of his mind, “Nah, I’ll go anywhere an adventure takes me.”

But somewhere in his heart, Lancelot felt that he wouldn’t.

He would tire of this adventure.

He would tire of his duties.

He would tire of this world.

Would a free soul like King Sonic be able to bear the crushing weight of a kingdom in pain? His kindness had seemingly no end in sight, but for how long until he runs on empty? How long until he may have to realize that there were more mouths to feed than plates to give? Or worse: more sick people than there were beds in monasteries? Would Sonic give out pieces of himself at that point, or would he have the courage and humility to step down?

Rather, would Lancelot be able to bear the sight of seeing the king’s spirit broken until it was a mere ghost of what it used to be?

“You’re thinking way too hard about this,” Sonic spoke somberly, as if reading the other’s mind. “I’ve got no plans to leave just yet.” Lancelot felt his heart leap out of his chest from being caught off guard. “Did… you hear what I just said?” he paused, “Sire, did you perhaps use witchcraft to listen in?”

Sonic stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel with an incredulous look on his face only to find that Lancelot was completely genuine. He laughed, bright and lively.

“No, of course not. I just have decent intuition… erm, sometimes.”

They continued in silence for some time, taking in the scenery around them and Sonic carefully stepping around the flowers the best he could. Things continued as normal, walking side by side for once instead of Lancelot acting as King Sonic’s tail. They watched the sun slowly dip closer to the horizon – but there were still many hours left of the day, and many more hours to spend with each other. The thought alone made his heart squeeze for a moment, and he selfishly let his mind wander with thoughts about the other world, wondering if he could ever be a part of it, even if only in his dreams.

And then, against all odds, Lancelot made a request for the first time.

“Your majesty, if you don’t mind… could you tell me more about your world?”

-x-

Another month had passed peacefully.

The king and Lancelot had gone on their patrols together as usual, Lancelot never needing to prod Sonic for answers about his world, as the latter happily indulged him with hours upon hours of grand adventures and small tidbits about his dear group of friends, and occasionally, rivals. It was the one time in the day, besides the mere minutes he spends in his chambers before inevitably crashing from exhaustion, where he felt like he could truly let his guard down and be free.

Lancelot smiled to himself. Even under the rule of a king, he felt free for the first time in years.

In the present day, King Sonic had an audience with the duke of a neighboring kingdom, accompanied by Merlina. Though one of the knights generally accompanied the king, he insisted that he could manage the meeting this time, especially with Merlina’s assistance. Lancelot casually shrugged – another unique quirk that he adapted from Sonic through his behaviour and his stories alone, although he made sure to only ever do it when the two of them were alone. It makes him both nervous and happy that he’s able to learn so much from him, that he’s able to grow even closer to him as his right-hand – his most trusted knight.

Both Sir Gawain and Sir Percival had invited Lancelot to a sparring match between the three of them, as a means of refining their skill over the course of the meeting, as well as during Sir Lamorak and Sir Galahad’s absence. If he had recalled correctly, the two of them had been sent on a great expedition.

Percival and Gawain clashed viciously, sparks flying as they both met their match. Sir Percival knew all the right points to hit; she had a keen eye for weakness and vulnerability, which meant that letting one’s guard down could be fatal within seconds of realizing it. The latter had to be the most powerful of the knights – sheer, raw, energy channelled directly into Galatine as he threw himself head on towards Percival. Lancelot personally preferred a more strategic method of fighting, but even he couldn’t deny that his strength had the potential to overwhelm him.

He stares up at the overcast sky, already missing how blue it was that day he had a heart-to-heart with his king. As the other two finish their match, with Percival as the victor, his gaze eventually settles on the dirt floor before him. Now that he really thinks about it, before he met Sonic, he’d… never really noticed these things about the others.

“…Do you know if the rumors about the king are true or not, Sir Percival?” Sir Gawain was the first to speak, chest heaving from their intensive sparring match.

Lancelot’s head shot up from the ground, any fluttering thoughts screeching to a halt as he stood from his place on the bench.

“Sir Gawain, I do not wish to partake in the spread of—”

“Rumors…?” Lancelot interrupted, taking the other two knights by surprise. It was rare enough for the black hedgehog to speak, let alone intrude on a conversation. Gawain cleared his throat, looking hesitantly between Lancelot and Percival, before he continued, “Yes, I thought… you might have already known, given that you are closest to King Arth— I mean, King Sonic.”

Lancelot continued to look onto Gawain in questioning silence, his breath caught in his throat.

“King Sonic is said to depart back to his world in a week’s time.”

Everything slowed down to a crawl for Lancelot, and he couldn’t fathom why. It was a simple sentence, but one that had the power to shatter his entire world.

A week’s time? He couldn’t be serious. It just didn’t make sense to him how or why everything was happening so suddenly.

But more than anything, even if it wasn’t true, why couldn’t Lancelot simply be happy for the king returning to his beloved home? Nausea brewed inside him, twisting and thrashing around in his stomach – anger only adding acid to the mix as he stormed up to the other knights, eyes locked onto the red echidna.

“Sir Gawain.” Lancelot says coldly, looking straight at Gawain’s confused expression and feeling relief in the back of his mind that he left Arondight propped against the bench. He didn’t know what he would do if he brought it with him. What had King Sonic even done to him to make him feel this way? “If these allegations prove to be false, and lest I find that you show yourself to be the perpetrator of these lies… there will be consequences.”

“What… do you mean by ‘consequences’?” Gawain’s look of confusion sharply morphed into one of intimidation, shoulders tense and letting out a low rumbling growl under his breath as if to challenge the other knight, “Tell me, do you doubt me, as your fellow knight? Do you doubt the loyalty I have for our king?”

Something ached inside Lancelot’s very core. Whether it was burning him up inside or settling him with a pit of grief, he couldn’t begin to differ.

“That is quite enough.”

Percival speaks up next, deep and commanding – enough to make them less tense, but not enough to break their unwavering eye contact, ruby upon amethyst in a deep scowl.

“If you are not guilty of any such crimes, then you shouldn’t feel the need to bare your teeth back at me.”

But Lancelot was the first to quickly mellow, the guilt setting inside him and taking the anger’s place as he realized that he was being impossibly defensive, far enough to threaten a fellow knight. It gnaws at him, because he knows well enough that he’ll regret this action in the coming hours – especially if the king hears about it.

He steps back, giving up and tearing his gaze away from Gawain in defeat as he clenches his jaw, heartbeat in his ears loud enough to make them twitch.

“All I was… —all I am ever after, is protecting our king’s honour.” Lancelot watches Gawain lower his guard as well, rage fading from his features as he also takes a step back, seemingly willing to listen. “I will not let his image falter.”

“That is all there is to it.” He lied.

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #satbk #lansoni #satbk lancelot #sonadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonic and the black knight #satbk king arthur #sir percival #sir gawain #my work #my fics #fanfiction #I THINK THATS IT OK #party rockers in the house tonigh

[jackalmeat]

@letters-to-rosie said: okay so let's say Viktor has an s/o or just really good friend. how does he navigate things around questions of ability? how does he feel about disclosing things like pain, how long he can comfortably walk, etc? how does he feel about asking someone for help with certain tasks? how would this change as a relationship would evolve? are there some approaches that would totally just frustrate him and maybe even ruin a relationship?

You're so good to me, Rosie. I broke this line of questioning into three parts--

🫀 How does Viktor navigate questions of ability? How does he feel about disclosing things like pain, how far he can comfortably walk, etc.?

Viktor tends to play his hand fairly close to his chest in this respect. He'll acknowledge the factual existence of his limits or points of difficulty, of course; and he's apt to be quite tongue-in-cheek or sardonic about it to boot -- (imagine a flat look and a pointedly understated little quip when you find yourselves faced with a long, steep staircase, for example) -- but he's not inclined to disclose much about the exact scope of those limits willy-nilly if there's not a clear reason for more detailed information to be needed/relevant at that particular moment**. He'll be more forthcoming about himself with people that have done enough legwork to earn a more authentic relationship with him; but by and large there are many pieces of himself he's not quick to share. This, indeed, is often one of them.

He also, as an aside, is disinclined to apologize for his limits or ask if they'll be a problem for someone else (unless he's in a more fragile mental state and isn't as equipped to guard himself as usual). They're his to navigate; not yours. You don't get to act like his issues are your cross to bear.

(**In truth, one of the ways in which this matter tends to get broached most plainly and readily is through the medium of sex. It's important for partners, even casual ones, to understand how to interact with his body in ways that will be both pleasing and safe for him.)

🫀 How does he feel about asking for help with certain tasks? How would this change as the relationship evolved?

The short answer is that Viktor isn't an 'ask for help' kind of guy if he can at all avoid it.

The longer answer is that he isn't an 'ask for help' kind of guy precisely because he spends his life navigating a world in which people draw all kinds of conclusions about him (as a scholar, as a man, as a competent adult, and so on) the instant they so much as look at him, regardless of whether they ultimately mean well toward him or not. At this point he's more accustomed to being treated as an object (onto which others project a vision of what they expect him to be, based on preconceived judgements) than he is to being understood as the actual sum of his parts and being.

To loosely quote my own tags from this post about Viktor's tendency to hold others at arms' length when he's struggling in any way: he can't control whether or not people know about his disability (it's visible; of course they know), but he can attempt to control the flavor of the narrative people build around him in their own heads. His competence and general worthiness for respect are already under constant scrutiny by others, simply by virtue of his being a disabled man. As far as he's concerned, asking for help with anything simply reinforces the likelihood that others will find him lacking in some way, and subsequently treat him as such. Asking for help is a show of weakness he feels he's not 'allowed' to demonstrate without essentially cosigning others' right to judge him for needing it.

In sum, refusing to ask for help (or let others see him needing/wanting help) is one of the small handful of tools he has for maintaining a sense of control over both his own body as well as how he ultimately gets perceived by others. Likewise, he's not going to give up that tool quickly or comfortably, even if the person in question is a close friend or lover.

(Consider Jayce, for example. Even after approximately 7(?) years of developing a presumably close working and companionable relationship with each other, Viktor still withholds himself and the full scope of his issues from Jayce as a matter of habit when he's struggling. Viktor takes a massive, impulsive risk with Jayce based on the merits merely of a sheaf of research notes and a shared dream; yet balks at the prospect of letting Jayce witness him in a truly vulnerable state.)

Point being: it's not impossible for Viktor to arrive eventually at a point of being willing to risk that kind of vulnerability with someone, ask for help, let them see him in his 'weakest' moments and trust that they won't consciously or unconsciously think less of him in the wake of it, etc. However, the fact remains that that particular variety of trust doesn't come naturally to him, and having a friend or even a lover wouldn't change that.

🫀 Are there some approaches that would frustrate him and maybe even ruin a relationship?

Absolutely. It's worth noting too that, for as much as he wants to be seen (known, meaningfully) and valued by others, Viktor is not an easy person to get truly, lastingly close to even at the best of times. He has a lot of behaviors and defense mechanisms that can engage on a dime and perpetuate patterns which tend ultimately to lead back to him being alone in the ways that matter. While there are some circumstances beyond his control which have contributed to his overall lack of emotionally intimate connections with others, there are others that he could control, but hasn't. He isn't entirely blameless in his own emotional isolation.

That having been said though, when it comes to the things that others do which might be responsible for driving him away, it's largely a matter of balance. Keeping our scope here narrowed down to the matter of his disability, he doesn't expect anyone -- (especially not able-bodied people, no matter how conscientious they are) -- to be perfect. It's not automatically the end of the world if someone missteps a little out of ignorance but is ultimately well-intentioned. However, there are particular patterns of behavior that rub him very, very wrong when it comes to how people interact with his disability or overall health situation. Some examples of those patterns are:

❌ Second-guessing him all the time, as if he can't be trusted to make choices for himself. It's one thing to periodically check in with him or make suggestions; but if you act like you know his body, his limits, his comforts, his needs, and so on better than he himself does and treat him like he needs you to peer-review his decisions, then that says a lot to him about how you perceive him, and none of it is positive. It's not a cute show of affection to force your own idea of what he needs onto him 'for his own good' when he's made a choice you don't strictly agree with. He does not want a caretaker.

❌ Being overly skittish of acknowledging his disability or touching the affected parts of his body, as if you're afraid that 'reminding' him of his condition is inherently offensive or hurtful. He knows he's disabled; and he knows everyone around him knows it too. He doesn't like for others to fixate on that aspect of his existence, but it's just as offputting when people try too hard to skirt around his disability and act like it doesn't exist even though it obviously does. Shying away from it won't earn you any points with him.

❌ Telling him how to talk or think about his own disability, body, or life. He uses words like 'cripple' and 'gimpy' for himself sometimes (similar to how some people like to claim 'queer' or 'faggot', which he also has been known to do), and is prone to dry, irreverent, occasionally quite dark humor on the subject. You don't have to strictly like it, but he does expect you to know better than to micromanage his language.

❌ Treating him like inspiration porn. It's one matter to be aware of the fact that many things that able-bodied people take for granted are out of reach or difficult/painful/frustrating for Viktor, but it's another to focus excessively on his disability and act as if every single thing he does is some kind of courageous, statement-making triumph over the ~inherent, burdensome misery of his very existence~.

❌ Expecting him to be "innocent" in a way that's disproportionate to what you expect from other men. Acting shocked and appalled if he swears or makes a dark/raunchy joke--? Being overly surprised to find out that he flirts and has sex--? Assuming he's 'endearingly' clueless about all things worldly--? Halt, villain.

❌ (Something of a footnote related in various ways to many of the above, but when it comes to any kind of dynamic which involves a physical component: don't be weird about his relationship with sex. Viktor has had his fair share of sexual partners over the years, the overwhelming majority of whom have been entirely casual. If you're too interested in the idea of Viktor being inexperienced, needing you to ~coax his repressed sexual side out~ or ~teach him how to enjoy his body~, etc., then not only are you likely to be disappointed by the reality, but Viktor himself is going to question why exactly you made those assumptions about him in the first place.)

#Arcane #Viktor #always delighted to chew on headcanon questions like these! #thank you for humoring me and giving me the chance to spin Viktor around for awhile inside my thinkmeats

[goodbyenorthernlights]

(The "all others" Lina refers to here are "all the other Great Sages" just for clarification. Presumably there are other people in this world who have been born blind.)

Okay, this line? I distinctly recall that the clarification that Rezo has been blind since birth was what made me shift from "wow, rezo's a dick, lol" to seriously going "Wait a minute. What is going on in this guy's mind?"

I'm fairly sure I already knew that Rezo's ultimate goal was to heal his blind eyes, but I'd casually assumed that he'd have been blinded at some point, so the clarification that he's been blind since birth...

...Well, first, it made me go "Jesus, even if he did heal his eyes the adjustment period would be really rough."

See, there's a thought experiment called Molyneux's problem which is as follows: Imagine a man who has been blind since birth, who can distinguish between a cube and a sphere by touch. Now, imagine you cure his eyes and then show him a block and a ball, and ask him to discern- without touching either object- which is the cube and which is the sphere. Will he be able to do it?

Actually testing Molyneaux's problem is pretty difficult for obvious reasons, but the general answer we've gotten is "no" and "not for a little while, anyway" but even outside of that specific scenario issues with visual agnosia are very common in patients who've recovered from severe and long-lasting cases of blindness. There's a lot that can be said about recovery from blindness and the issues involved in it, but suffice to say that recovering from congenital blindness as a 100-and-something year old who missed the developmental period when most people learn how to use their eyes (it's not something you're just born with, any more than you're born with fine motor skills) would be, uh, difficult.

(It's not really mentioned in the wikipedia article I've linked, but I've also read that it's pretty common for people who have recovered from blindness to struggle with depression after they're cured.)

I am not sure if the writers were aware of all of this, but presumably Rezo would be at least somewhat aware since he's devoted so much of his life to researching blindness and has actually treated other blind people before...

Another thing is that it says a LOT about his relationship with his own disability that even with it having been a part of him since birth he's still very firm about wanting it fixed. Disabled people aren't a monolith, obviously, but I think generally with conditions such as blindness or deafness, if you develop them later in life they're harder to reckon with, feeling more like a thing that's been inflicted on you, whereas if you're born with them- even when they make life difficult it's kind of automatic to just treat it as a part of you? Like, this is how you navigate the world and always have, and if you were to "fix" your condition it would be a major change in your identity.

But Rezo definitely views his blindness as an affliction as opposed to a neutral facet of his identity. And that's very strange.

#slayers rewatch

[thekentuckyhimbo]

The Tweet

Pairing: MJF/Max Caster

Warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing

Words: 4.6k

Chapters: 1

Complete: Yes

Summary:

Smut, MJF is a pillow princess, probably out of character but who cares

Author Notes:

This is a pairing I never thought I'd ship and yet here we are. Those tweets really did something to me 👀

The Tweet

The tweet had sent Max into a tailspin the second he saw it. Which, unfortunately, had been as he checked his phone on the way out of the airport.

By the time he was at the baggage claim, he could feel a single bead of sweat making its way along the back of his neck and down his spine.

It wasn't that Max was afraid of being outed. He knew that every mark in the wrestling world (even the ones who thought they weren't marks) had bought his chauvinistic pig routine. Not one of them would ever seriously entertain the thought that he might be gay. Caster on the other hand... Max could imagine people thinking he was gay, especially given the fact that Bowens was out. That and the fact that Caster was always pushing the boundaries when they were in public; slapping his ass or blowing kisses across the room.

But no, realistically anyone reading the tweet would just think that Caster was making a stupid joke. That wasn't what was making Max sweat. It was that word.

Boyfriend.

They'd never called it that before. They'd never called it, well, anything. It was just something they did.

Max had picked his car up from the airport garage and was now driving home, his mind still racing. He was thinking about what he and Caster did when they were together together, trying to decide what it should be called.

Max thought back to how it had started, after an entanglement on an indie show. Caster had been new to the promotion, so it was Max's job to show him in the ropes the old-fashioned way. Max had been stiff the whole match, but despite his best efforts it had been Caster calling the shots in the ring.

According to most of the punters, their match had stolen the show. But Max barely remembered it now, so intoxicated had he been by Caster's assertiveness. Max was used to people finding him intimidating, at least the first few times they were in the ring together. But Caster had been so unaffected by Max's attitude, even going so far as to crack jokes while they were tangled up together on the mat.

But it had been after the match that Max really became infatuated with the other man. Caster had said something to him like, "Great match" and Max had replied, "I know," before Caster had slapped him playfully on the ass. Normally Max wouldn't have taken something like that as a sign that Caster wanted something more, but their chemistry in the ring had him keyed up and he'd shot Caster a look that revealed more than it should have.

Caster had noticed, of course, and winked at him easily, flashing a grin before disappearing into a change room. Max had followed, and the ensuing sex had been some of the best Max had ever had. But afterwards he was left yearning, like somehow it wasn't enough.

And so Max had gone back for more. And more.

By now Max had driven nearly halfway home from the airport reminiscing, and still Caster was the only thing on his mind. Without really thinking it through, Max took an exit off the freeway that wasn't his own.

Over the months Max had been sleeping with Caster, he'd never paid much attention to what they 'were'. Most of their time spent together was in secret, and Max got the sense the casualness of their relationship was convenient for Caster. And Max told himself it was convenient for him, too.

But as he drove the familiar route to Caster's Long Island apartment, he couldn't help but pay extra mind to the yearning in his gut that had been present since the day he and Caster first met.

Max remembered the night vividly. The way he'd pushed Caster up against the wall of the change room and rutted against him desperately. Just like in their match, to an outsider looking in Max would have seemed like the dominant one. But it was Caster dictating the pace; calling all the shots. In bed at the hotel later that night it had been Caster who'd bent over and been fucked relentlessly into the mattress, yet he was the one making teasing remarks and cracking jokes. It had been Caster who'd told Max, "That's it, cum inside me, baby". And Max had done what he was told.

The next time they'd hooked up, Max had been determined to show his dominance. He'd pulled Caster's hair, spanked him, told him he wasn't allowed to touch himself until Max's cum was running down his leg. And Caster had let him have that. But once Max had cum and collapsed onto the sheets beside him, it had been Caster who'd taken Max's hand and placed it over his dick, and it had been Max - pliant and blissed out - who'd jerked Caster off while he told Max exactly how he liked it done.

For a long time it had been like that. Max vying for control and Caster letting him have it right up until crunch time, where Max would crumble into a needy mess and Caster would take control effortlessly.

One night together Caster had finished blowing him and Max had been determined to show Caster that he could give a good blowjob too. But Caster's dick was huge and Max had choked on it right near the end. He was sure he'd ruined Caster's orgasm, but Caster had simply pulled Max's face back by his hair and ordered Max to open his mouth. Max had done what he was told, caught up in the moment, and Caster had cum hot ribbons over his face and tongue.

Max still jerked off thinking about that night sometimes, though he'd never admit it. The adrenaline he'd felt coursing through his body as he had succumbed to Caster's control had been electric.

Since that night Max had become needier. He would ask for more in bed, but he was never telling Caster what he wanted. He was asking and Caster was giving him what he wanted- what he needed.

By the time Max showed up at Caster's door he was half-hard in his jeans and glad no one else was in the apartment building's lobby. He knew the door code from months of visiting, and he let himself into the elevator and pressed the button for Caster's floor.

Max had stayed back an extra day after the show this week to do PR, trying to build his match with Wardlow to the fever pitch it needed to be. But when he'd gone back to the hotel last night, Max had felt the emptiness in his bed.

They still booked separate hotel rooms, but they shared a bed every night they were on tour. They didn't always see each other when they weren't at work, because their schedules were packed tight, but usually they found time to order in and spend a few hours on the couch together.

On the road Max had come to need that body next to him at night, to ground him. Even at home it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep sight of the real world when he was by himself. He spent far too long on his phone, reading twitter and the dirt sheets. Max knew it was unhealthy, but he kept going back. If he were honest with himself, he'd have figured out by now that part of why he stayed on his phone all the time was that whenever it buzzed with a message from Caster his chest would fill with warmth.

He was knocking on Caster's door now, still half-hard with his head swimming full of thoughts about Caster's tweet and what they were.

Caster was slow to answer the door, and though vaguely Max was aware it was 9 in the morning and Caster might still be asleep, he was racing towards the worst case scenario in his head.

Before he could freak out, Caster opened the door. He was bleary-eyed and his hair was a mess, wearing nothing but a pair of grey tracksuit pants.

Max loved seeing him like this, and he rarely got to. When they rolled out of bed on the road they'd both be up and dressed within minutes, ready to trudge home or to the next stop. But Caster in his pyjamas was something Max wanted to see more of. His chiselled body looked somehow softer in the morning light peeking in from Caster's still-closed blinds.

Max knew he should say something. A few things came to mind. Are we dating? Am I your boyfriend? Good morning. How'd you sleep? all seemed like viable options.

But instead Max was pushing his way inside and kissing Caster greedily, running his hands over Caster's bare chest and finding all the soft bits of him to hold onto.

Caster was often grumpy in the mornings, so Max was half expecting to be kicked out of the apartment and told to come back with coffee. Which right now Max would have done, if it meant he got to spend more time with Caster in his pj's when he got back.

Instead, Caster was smiling softly against Max's lips, reaching a hand up to cup Max's face in his hand. Caster pressed his thumb against Max's lower lip and Max parted them pliantly, letting Caster hook his thumb in the corner of his mouth.

Caster had a look in his eye that Max wasn't used to - the fiery kind he had when he was in the ring - and Max felt the sweat on his spine growing cold. He suppressed a shiver, but Caster was so close Max was sure he still felt it.

"Come to bed," Caster said.

It wasn't a question, or an invitation. It was an order.

Normally it was Max telling Caster what would happen next, and part of Max wanted to push back against Caster's newfound assertiveness. But he'd been hard the whole drive over and now his dick was aching in his jeans so bad it hurt.

Max leant into Caster's body until he knew the other man could feel Max's hard length pressed against his thigh. Caster took his hand then and pulled him towards the bedroom. Max didn't fight it, too busy staring at Caster's ass as he walked in front of him and feeling the heat of Caster's hand in his; how intimate it felt.

When they got to the edge of the bed Caster turned them around so that the backs of Max's thighs touched the bed.

Caster's lips and hands were on him again in an instant, this time with a purpose. All Max could do was go along with it, letting Caster nip at his lower lip and drag his t-shirt up over his head. When Caster got to his jeans Max twitched up into Caster's touch. Caster grinned at him and leaned in to drag his teeth over Max's neck while he undid his fly and pushed his jeans down.

Max wanted to moan so bad he thought he might cry. There was something so different in the air and Max felt like he was being touched for the first time in years. If Caster knew how on-edge Max was then he was trying to push him over, because the moment Max's jeans were out of the way Caster was cupping his erection firmly in his hand and squeezing.

The sound that came out of Max's mouth sounded like a strangled animal and it seemed to flip a switch in Caster's brain because right then Caster shoved Max backwards hard.

Max's knees buckled and he found himself spread out on the bed. Caster knelt between his knees and bracketed Max's head with his arms.

Caster was almost never on top, and Max felt a sudden rush of uncertainty. His jeans were still around his ankles but he was naked save for his briefs, while Caster still had his pants on. Max felt vulnerable beneath Caster's heaving body in a way he never had in a wrestling match. His skin prickled and Caster breathed heavily above him, breath tickling Max's face.

"You're a needy little brat," Caster growled out suddenly, his hand back on Max's dick through his briefs. "This what you want? Huh?" Caster asked.

His eyes were dark and he was squeezing Max's dick tight. It felt good, but it wasn't what Max wanted. That yearning in his gut was back even with Caster's hand on him.

"No," Max replied in a quiet voice, the tremble in it surprising himself.

Caster removed his hand from Max's dick immediately and Max couldn't bring himself to be ashamed of the whimper he let out at the loss of sensation. He felt so lonely he ached, his dick dripping through the thin cotton of his briefs.

Caster couldn't seem to look him in the eye now, but couldn't seem to keep his hands off either. Caster carefully brushed one finger across the wet patch of Max's briefs and Max shuddered openly at the minuscule contact. Caster never teased him like this, and Max could feel himself beginning to shake with the pressure of it.

"Then what do you want, Max?" Caster asked.

Max couldn't answer. Couldn't possibly. So instead he stared up at the ceiling for a long while. But he could still feel Caster's piercing eyes on him, so he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing.

That seemed to frustrate Caster, who let out a sound like a growl. Max was frozen, not used to seeing Caster like this. He was terrified but at the same time he wanted to know every inch of Caster in that moment, even the bad stuff. He wanted to know everything about this side of him, even if he felt scared.

And then Caster's hand was back on him. This time he'd slipped it into Max's briefs and wrapped his fist around Max's leaking dick. He set an unrelenting pace and Max's breathing became shallow and laboured in moments. Caster didn't stop and soon Max began making these little high pitched noises. Moans that he was trying to swallow but sneaked out between his teeth because the sheer pleasure was too much.

"This what you want, huh, Max?" Caster asked as he braced one arm beside Max's head and bent low to look into Max's eyes.

Max squeezed his eyes shut again to put some distance between himself and Caster's unrelenting gaze, even as he spread his legs wider to give the other man better access to him.

"You keep spreading your legs like that and I'm gonna think you want me to fuck you," Caster teased.

The mention of Caster fucking him broke something in Max. Even as he felt the words tumbling out of his mouth he didn't realise what he wanted or what he was asking for until he'd already said it.

Max moaned with abandon then, his hips bucking up into Caster's hand. He had to open his eyes, to look down and see what Caster was doing to him because fuck it felt so good that it had to look hot.

But when he opened his eyes Caster was crowded in too close and the other man's eyes were all he could see.

"Ah, shit," Max moaned, suddenly able to look Caster in his eyes where moments ago it had been terrifying. "Max," he moaned the other man's first name, the one they shared, "Need you to..." He was interrupted by a gasp as Caster swiped his thumb over the head of his dick. "God please fuck me," he begged.

Max was so close to his orgasm that he lifted his legs up out of desperation so that he could wrap them around Caster's waist. Instead Caster took them and put Max's knees over his shoulders.

Now Caster's dick was pressed between Max's legs and a moan was ripped from his chest by the feeling of it rubbing against his tight hole through his briefs.

"Please," Max choked out, hands finding the sheets beneath him and clawing at them.

Caster's eyes were lidded now as he looked down at where his dick sat between Max's legs. Instinctively Max knew the other man wanted to fuck him. Somewhere behind the haze of pleasure he was feeling he knew Caster had wanted to fuck him all along.

But Caster didn't seem satisfied with just having the opportunity to fuck him. He seemed to want Max punished. Maybe for waking him up early, maybe for the months Max now realised he'd spent pretending he was the top in the relationship when really Caster had been in charge all along.

Caster gripped his dick hard and Max yelped. Caster must have been able to feel Max's dick throbbing in his hand from how hard it felt. Max was close and Caster knew it.

"You're going to soak these panties for me," Caster ordered, his voice hoarse with arousal, "and then you might get fucked."

The maybe was good enough for Max and Caster's had barely started moving again when Max blew his load.

It felt like more cum than there'd ever been before as Max squirted it all over Caster's hand and inside his briefs. The thin fabric was soaked with it and Max felt cum dripping everywhere even as more shot out and Max screamed Caster's name.

Caster rocked his dick against Max's hole the whole way through it and then he was gone.

Max had squeezed his eyes shut as he came and he couldn't muster the strength to open them. Instead he laid there naked and vulnerable, in nothing but a pair of cum-soaked boxer briefs in the cool morning air.

He could hear Caster's footfalls somewhere in the room over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

Then Caster spoke from somewhere above Max's head. He was at the dresser where he kept the lube, Max realised dimly.

"Take those off," Caster said gently but firmly.

Max did as he was told, though the reality of what he'd agreed to was sinking in now. He wriggled out of the briefs and discarded them somewhere on the floor, still not game enough to open his eyes.

"Finally you're being a good boy for me," Caster groaned appreciatively from another location in the room.

Despite Max's fear of what was about to come next, he felt a warmth spread in his chest at the praise.

Max played with toys a lot on his own and he loved anal. His favourite toy was a prostate massager that, thinking about it now, had seen a lot more use since he started seeing Caster. But he'd never bottomed for a person before, and he was scared of what was about to come next.

Maybe Caster sensed his fear, because out of nowhere came a reassuring hand on Max's thigh, giving him a squeeze.

"Lift your hips up for a second, baby," Caster murmured.

Max lifted them obediently and he felt Caster slide a pillow under his ass. He was being considerate, but he also wasn't slowing down. A lubed up finger appeared against Max's hole then and he hissed at the cold sensation of it, but forced himself to relax like he would if he was fingering himself.

Caster pushed his finger in without much fanfare and Max focused all of his brainpower on relaxing. The burn of his ass being stretched was a welcome distraction from all the complicated thoughts in his head and Max found himself letting out an entirely different kind of moan now. Where previously the sounds he'd made had been desperate, now he sounded calmer; appreciative.

"Like it when you moan for me, Maxxie," Caster praised.

So Max moaned some more. He'd never admit it, but he was trying to put on a show for the other man. He was so wrapped up in making the hottest sounds he could that he barely noticed when Caster had pushed three fingers inside him and scissored them.

"Ready for me so fast," Caster tsked, removing his fingers.

Max knew Caster was adding lube to his dick, heard the cap of the bottle and the slick sound of his lubricated hand rubbing his shaft.

Max had the thought somewhere deep in the back of his mind that he wanted to be the one to lube up Caster's dick next time. Maybe he'd do it with his spit instead, taking Caster in his mouth. How had they gone from never doing this to Max already wanting it again?

Max felt the tip of Caster's dick against his hole and he shivered involuntarily. His body tensed with anticipation and a sudden panic rose in his chest.

"Wait," Max said weakly.

Caster groaned in frustration, but held his dick steady nonetheless.

"Don't you think I've waited long enough, Max?" Caster sighed.

Max knew that was true. Yes, he wanted to say.

But instead he said, "I just need to ask you something."

Caster gripped Max's hip with one hand then, giving it a tight squeeze.

"If you've got something to ask," he said gruffly, "you can look me in the eyes."

Max pried his eyes open and the sight he saw was enough jerk off material for the rest of his life. Caster's muscular body bent over him, his dick right at Max's entrance ready to fuck him into oblivion.

But behind all of that, Caster looked tired. Like Max had made him tired. Like I've disappointed him, Max realised. A sadness washed over him, replacing the panic that had overwhelmed him a moment ago.

But Max had to ask this. Had to get the answer he'd come here looking for.

"That tweet..." he began.

Caster pulled back from him and knelt between his legs, putting his hands over his face and rubbing at his eyes.

"Jesus, Max, you want to do this now?" he asked.

Caster looked exhausted now, almost like he might cry.

"Look, I wasn't trying to out you it was just a-" Caster began, but Max cut him off.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm not..." Max sighed, finally deciding to just come out with it. "Am I your boyfriend?"

Max wasn't sure if Caster laughed or screamed into his hands, but Max knew whatever it was, it was his fault. 

Caster sat there between his legs for a long time, still-hard dick forgotten. Then finally he removed his hands and looked down at Max, who was still waiting, legs spread and prepped ass in the air waiting for him.

Max kept his eyes open, looking into Caster's for some sign. He wanted to know the answer to his question, selfishly, but he also wanted to know that whatever this was - boyfriend or not - wasn't going to end.

Then Caster was on top of him, and he was pushing his dick inside of Max and fuck it hurt but Max had never wanted anything more.

Max groaned as Caster pushed deeper and deeper, for what seemed like forever, until he bottomed out inside of him.

Max was panting and staring down at where their bodies met, but Caster reached up to his chin with one hand and pushed it up until they were staring into each other's eyes.

"Of course you're my boyfriend," Caster said simply.

Caster pulled out then and thrusted back in experimentally, eyeing Max for a reaction.

"God..." Max panted, "Shit..."

Caster hummed appreciatively and ran his hand over Max's abs, loving the control he had over Max's body when they were like this.

Max felt transparent under his gaze, and suddenly felt compelled to confess.

"Nobody's ever fucked me before," he told Caster quietly.

"I'll be gentle," Caster replied immediately, concern washing over his face.

"Don't you dare," Max snapped. 

That earned a laugh from Caster, which turned into a moan as Max bucked his hips up to take his dick even deeper inside him.

Caster set a slow pace at first, thrusting deep and slow to the hilt into Max. Max expected it to hurt more, but once the initial burn subsided Max felt himself getting hard again.

"Oh God," Max moaned as Caster thrust especially hard into him, "Harder, please."

Caster gripped his hips tighter in response and said, "I love it when you beg, Princess."

The nickname caught Max off-guard but as Caster began fucking into him faster he decided he liked it, laying back and being pampered by Caster's perfect dick like a real princess.

He gave into the sensation and arched his back, tipping his head up towards the ceiling and moaning with reckless abandon. Max wasn't even thinking about cumming again, he just wanted his ass pounded into oblivion.

But he could tell after a while from the concentration on Caster's face that the other man was still trying to hold back, like if he was too rough he'd scare Max away. 

Max let out a frustrated whine, the friction not enough. He knew Caster wouldn't cum like this, and all Max could think about was how good it would feel when his ass was filled with Caster's seed.

"I said harder," Max whined, reaching for Caster's shoulders to try and get some leverage and buck his hips up into Caster's body.

It didn't really work, but Caster seemed to get the idea. He pulled out just far enough to get Max's legs over his shoulders again and he moved closer so that his hips were flush against Max's. Then he started to really fuck him.

It didn't take long for Max to devolve into an incoherent mess. Caster was fucking him so hard the whole bed was shaking.

Caster was bent over him so Max was nearly folded in half but it just added to the burn. Caster kissed up his neck and nipped under his ear, whispering sweet praises to him that drove Max wild.

"You take it so well, Princess," Caster was saying before a moan cut off his words.

Max could tell he was close. Even though they'd never fucked in this position before, Max knew Caster's body as well as his own by now. 

"You like having your boyfriend's dick in you, don't you," Caster growled in his ear.

Hearing Caster call them 'boyfriends' again made Max moan and he could tell Caster liked it too. God he wanted Caster to cum inside him so bad. He wanted it all over him, he wanted to drown in it and be fucked over and over until he couldn't walk straight.

"I'll like it better when my boyfriend's cum is inside me," Max moaned.

That was enough for Caster, who pressed a messy, feverish kiss to Max's lips and then came with a silent cry in Max's ass. 

Max rocked him through it with his hips, his hands coming up to rub Caster's back and kiss him again. Caster moaned against his mouth and Max felt a jolt of pleasure like he was being thanked for doing a good job.

When Caster finally came down from his high and rolled off, Max was quick to roll over and throw an arm over Caster's body, burying his face in the other man's neck and purring unashamedly. Something about the fact that the other man's cum was dripping out of his ass had made Max lose all sense of embarrassment around him. Maybe this is what they'd needed all along. Max was already daydreaming about round two.

"I'm gonna have to move out after all that noise you just made, Princess," Caster teased after a few minutes of cuddling and companionable silence.

Max laughed against Caster's neck, kissing him gently on the jaw.

"So... when are you moving in?" Max asked, totally seriously.

"Brat."

Max took that as a yes.

#mjf/max caster #mjf #maxwell jacob friedman #max caster #the acclaimed #mjf fanfic #max caster fanfic

[thereallordgrape]

How did Olevia know that Dai Tai is the one for her?

So, Olevia never had a serious romantic relationship before, not even a casual one, so romance is fresh to her. She had a tough time recognizing if someone's interested in her and despite how upfront Dai Tai can be, Olevia still might be oblivious to Dai Tai’s attention in the beginning. I imagine them starting off as friends, Olevia probably writes her flirtations off as being friendly or ‘that’s what friends do’ (Olevia never had close friends either growing up, people were typically in it to use her). It would’ve taken someone else to point it out to Olevia that Dai Tai is serious for the realization to hit her and Olevia would be awkward. But it’s the kind of awkwardness where she thinks she’s being the weird one when in reality it comes off as smooth so like: Olevia: says something unconsciously smooth Olevia: on the inside was that too much? Nuts, I think I over did it😖 DT: 🤪😍🥰🤩

Olevia indulges Dai Tai tentatively, this is new grounds she's discovering without her family hovering over her. However, the moment Olevia realized Dai Tai was meant for her wasn't some grandiose moment. Olevia was invited over Dai Tai's place to sleep over and they began late night talking for so long that time was nothing but a concept. Nothing sexual, just two sad people sharing space together. Realizing how vulnerable she could be without judgement and how similar their lives are, that was the moment Olevia realized Dai Tai was the one. Because we all want someone we can open our hearts too.

Funny you should ask this too, @laylaylamode and I had a conversation related to this question. I had asked them what was the difference between when Xiang and Olevia flirted with Dai Tai. They gave me permission to share it with y'all so I've copied it below, with a few edits: @laylaylamode: Whenever Dai Tai was flirting with Xiang it was always more sexual with the aim to please him. She always felt like she constantly had to remind him of her interest because she was afraid that he would become disinterested. She sought validation through his attention so her flirting was very physical and seductive. Xiang flirting back with her would get her flustered because she knew what it would lead to. But flirting with Olevia is a different game of chase. Dai Tai is used to having to be a people pleaser so this is her first time being interested in someone that doesn't have an ulterior motive. Coming on too strong could push her away and because she admires Olevia she doesn't want to disrespect her or make her uncomfortable. So when she flirts with Olevia it's based on keen observation of the little things. It could be a different hairstyle or a book she's reading, but most compliments will be on her intellect. Like a successful strategy or a shared philosophical quote. Dai Tai enjoys her company and tries to match her energy and engage her, which is a change of pace since she constantly had to prove herself to others (her mom, Xiang, etc.) So when Olevia flirts with her she MELTS. It's like that "you actually like me?" feeling where she's caught off guard. She'll blush and at a loss for word if Olevia takes charge/initiates the flirting. Dai Tai is still fragile so she knows that whatever comes from Olevia is genuine and that sparks a feeling in her heart. Olevia could wink at her and she'll freeze on the spot or blush and cover her face with a napkin. She's still a giddy romantic and she's really digging this ghost girl! Deeper into their relationship she'll evolve into cool and suave once she gets over her insecurity of being inadequate. But there are still moments 🥴 Dai Tai: do you like me…? Olevia: we're married, cher. She has high respect for Olevia and wants to be worthy of her but is afraid that her attempts for affection will be rejected. So when Olevia validates her feelings and makes her feel wanted just for merely existing, it rocks her little world ❤️

I thought this post deserved a long response since I took a while to answer and I do really like the question. Thank you for your patience!

Feel free to add your own opinion @laylaylamode👍👍

[rosietrace]

Poisonous touch

Event: Rosie's 2023 valentines day event 💌❣️

Part 2 of [ Record Waltz ]

Ocs featured: Victoria Shard, Yasuno Innochi(@fumikomiyasaki )

Mentioned character: Vil Schoenheit

Ship: Victoria (🪞) x Yasuno

Summary: Yasuno decided to annoy visit his girlfriend, Victoria, while she was working on her alchemy project.

Warning(s): Potential ooc moments, mention of rat poison, Yasuno

{ Apologies for any out of character moments }

[ Reblogs are recommended/encouraged ]

"Just what do you think you're doing here, you devil?"

Yasuno whistled flirtatiously, eyeing Victoria with an amused expression.

"Am I not allowed to see my girlfriend on valentine's day, or…?" He didn't bother to finish his potential question.

Victoria sighed heavily, ignoring his words and continuing to pick herbs from the Pomefiore forests.

Yasuno took it upon himself to visit NRC instead of having Victoria visit him instead. A change that she wouldn't really admit to liking.

He tilted his head, slowly getting closer."What are you doin'?" Yasuno asked, genuine curiosity hidden within his voice.

Victoria pursed her lips before she answered.

"As you can clearly see, I'm picking ingredients for my alchemy project." She put on gloves to pick up the poison ivy.

"I'd much rather prefer it if you didn't interrupt my progress. But since it's valentine's day… I'll let it slide." She added, taking her basket of herbs and other plants and dragging her boyfriend into her dormitory's laboratory.

Yasuno hummed, a sly look in his eyes."Good to know that you have a heart somewhere in there, angel."

She gritted her teeth in annoyance at his constant use of that nickname.

Angel? Victoria was far from one.

"Haven't I told you how much I despise that term of endearment?"

"You didn't ask me to stop saying it though, my angel."

Victoria fell silent for a quick second before she shook her head and used the keys she borrowed from Vil to open the door to the lab.

Yasuno held back a snort when he noticed the tips of her ears go pink.

The two of them entered the lab and got to work. Although Victoria begrudgingly allowed Yasuno to help her out.

Even though Yasuno knew she was perfectly capable of doing it on her own.

♜♛__________________________________♛♜

"I gotta say, angel, you're perfectly capable of doing this project on your own. And yet you ask me for my help?"

"I didn't ask you to help me. I allowed you to. You could've denied my offer, y'know."

Victoria rolled her eyes, gently mixing the concoction. Her touch looked so delicate that Yasuno couldn't believe how brutal she genuinely was.

"Rat poison." She requested curtly, expecting an immediate response from her devilish boyfriend.

Yasuno nodded vehemently, casually handing her the rat poison with an expressionless face.

At first, Victoria only added a couple of droplets of rat poison into the cauldron. But after glancing at the bottle containing it, she poured the entire thing into the cauldron without a care in the world.

Yasuno snorted."Are you sure that won't affect your results?"

She nodded without hesitation."I know what I'm doing, you devil. You know that." She spoke out of nowhere.

Yasuno walked towards her with a jar of witch eyes, knowing that she'll need them."I know." Was all he said before he poured five of the witch eyes for her.

As much as she hated to admit it, Victoria didn't entirely despise Yasuno. Which was obvious, since she was dating him.

But still. She's always shown disdain and utter irritation in his presence and frequently threatens to stab his eyes with glass.

So one could imagine the surprise their peers had when they unintentionally announced their relationship. It was unexpected, yet oddly fitting for the two of them.

No matter how much their personalities clashed, the two of them understood each other.

Not perfectly, but they knew each other better than most.

And they both knew that. They both knew that they didn't have to say anything for the other to respond accordingly. Words didn't matter for the two of them.

Body language did.

Yasuno put the jar away, and gently wrapped his arms around Victoria's waist, pulling her body close.

Victoria didn't flinch. She expected that. The look in Yasuno's eyes was enough to suggest what he was going to do.

A small smile was on her somewhat amused face.

She turned away from the cauldron, facing Yasuno with an amused smile. One that he adored so much.

They both walked out of the laboratory once the alchemy project was finished. And they didn't hesitate to walk straight to Victoria's room, not caring about the numerous eyes that were on them.

Once Victoria closed the door, Yasuno lifted her chin.

"Happy Valentine's day, angel…. I'll make it worth your while."

Victoria pulled him into a quick kiss. When they pulled away, her arms wrapped themselves around Yasuno's neck.

"Your touch is poisonous… And I won't deny the euphoria I get from it."

Taglist: [ I would like to hear your thoughts if possible! ]

@starry-night-rose @windbornearchon @nem0-nee @authoruio @sakuramidnight15 @oseathepebble @geminiiviolets @twsted-princess

For: @fumikomiyasaki

Happy Valentine's day, Fumi! I hope you enjoy this oneshot, even if it felt a bit rushed ^^|| I was struggling to write every request all at once since I wanted to make the valentine's week special for everyone-

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #victoria shard #twst ask #oc asks #asks #oc x oc ask #oc x oc request #oc x oc #oc x oc ship #twst oc x oc #night raven college oc #pomefiore oc #nrc oc #twst pomefiore #pomefiore #yasuno x victoria 🪞 #victoria x yasuno #ship oneshot #oc oneshot #twst oneshot #oneshot #mutuals ask #mutuals <3 #rosie [ valentines specials ] ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

[eryiss]

Keeping Pace [Freed x Jet]

Summary: A few weeks into their relationship, Jet finds himself contending with the urge to say I love you. But it's too soon, Freed won't want to hear it yet and Jet doesn't want to risk ruining things. He'll just keep it easy, keep everything normal, and keep pace.

Notes: This is a sequel to my previous Freed x Jet fic, Speed Boost. You don't need to have read it, but it fills in some context. Hope you enjoy it, I've really fallen for these characters.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Keeping Pace

Looking in the mirror, Jet grinned. He was part way through brushing his teeth when he noticed that, when the door was left open to his bathroom, he had an unhindered view of his bed in the reflection. Normally this wouldn't matter but given that he had someone in his bed that night - someone he loved looking at - the coincidence was something Jet was going to take full advantage of. Especially when Freed looked so blissful, yawning and with the comforter bundled loosely around his waist.

Both of them were naked, freshly showered after an evening of eating, talking, laughing and screwing. Freed, Jet noted with a smile, still wore that contented expression and fulfilled glow even after twenty minutes. Jet couldn't stop grinning at that, pride and pleasure settling together.

Hm. The night had been a really good night.

Not just because of the sex, although that had been jawdroppingly good. Freed had cooked for him for the first time, and Jet was pretty sure he had never eaten anything so good in his life. Once they'd eaten, they'd retired to Jet's living room, curled up on the sofa and watched a horror movie on the TV Lacrima. Jet had hoped that it would scare Freed into curling up against him, but apparently Freed was immune to scares; he still cuddled into Jet's side, let Jet play with his hair all night, and lay with his hand resting on Jet's stomach as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Jet's heart had been hammering in his chest, his body rushing with exhilaration throughout all of it, and every second was perfect.

He hadn't been touched so much in years! Again, not just the sex, but the casual stuff too. When Freed had been cooking, stirring something in one of the pans, Jet had been able to stand there with an arms around his boyfriend's waist without thinking. It was nothing at all, but it sent sparks down him and forced a smile on his face that he didn't care to fight.

Touching Freed was just amazing.

How this sudden overwhelming attraction to Freed had come about, Jet didn't really know. Before the harvest festival, Freed had been a name and nothing more. Then, for a while, he'd been a traitor and someone who should have been kicked out in the guild. Slowly, he'd turned to a solid and dependable member of Fairy Tail, until he disappeared. And when he came back, nothing had changed about him, but somehow, he kept catching Jet's eye. Somehow, he just seemed… different.

Suddenly, the way he filled out his coat was a little more distracting. The way he strode rather than walked made Jet smile self-indulgently. His rare, real smile was suddenly breathtaking.

Gods, imagine if Laxus hadn't given him an excuse to go up and talk to Freed. He'd still be pining!

"I can see you looking at me," Freed said from the bed, meeting Jet's eyes in the mirror as he swilled mouthwash. "If you're going to ogle me, then come closer."

"What?" Jet asked. "Like this?"

With a burst of magic, Jet propelled himself onto the bed, directly on top of him. His hands were either side of Freed's head, his legs were either side of Freed's waist, and his nose was less than an inch away from Freed's. Freed did a cute little blink of confusion, before that smile returned and his cheeks reddened just a little. That was another cute little thing about Freed; he never flinched when Jet used his magic around him.

"Much better," Freed hummed, leaning up and slowly pressing his lips to Jets.

Jet melted into this kiss the same way he always did with Freed, feeling his limbs grow lax and his mind flood with delight. One hand cupped Freed's jaw while he leant down into Freed, tilting his head as he slowly stroked his boyfriend's cheek.

Gods, he and Freed just seemed to click! It was amazing!

"I aim to please," Jet teased, pulling away just far enough to see his boyfriend's tired, blissful expression.

"Then you'll get in this bed," Freed ordered, and Jet curled an eyebrow at him with amusement. "I've grown quite fond of falling asleep in your arms, and I'm incredibly close to passing out from exhaustion; which is your fault I might add. If you're this close and I don't sleep in your arms, you won't hear the end of it."

"Well, if I have to," Jet mused. "And what exactly did I do to exhaust you?"

"You know exactly what you did," Freed chuckled. "And while I enjoyed it immensely, I would like to sleep, and I would like to do so in your arms. So, get to it."

"You're so bossy," Jet laughed, leaning down and pecking Freed's lips. "Kinda funny really. When I was getting you all exhausted, you were very quick to do as I say."

"Oh hush."

With another burst of magic, Jet lifted the covers, tucked himself under them, and pulled Freed into his arms. Freed immediately placed his head on Jet's chest, his hand gently roaming around his stomach while trailing small lines with his fingernail. Jet looked down at him with a smile, holding him tight.

He had never felt like this before; like he could happily spend hours like this. It was weird; Jet, by the nature of his magic, lived life in the fast lane. He rushed his way through life, always looking for the next thing to do or the next challenge to conquer, and not often taking the time to relax. Even in his previous relationships, he'd never enjoyed lying in bed with his partners and cuddling. He was always thinking of the next thing to do with them, but with Freed, he was happy to live in the moment. No matter how quiet and slow that moment was, too.

Freed let out a small, contented sigh which tickled Jet's chest. Jet moved his hand to cradle the back of Freed's head, and nestled his fingers into Freed's soft, velvety hair. Freed smiled against Jet's chest and burrowed himself in closer, and Jet's heart nearly burst.

Gods, Freed had him whipped and he loved it!

"I've been thinking about your magic," Freed said, apropo of nothing. Jet looked down at him, humming to let him know he was listening. "It's remarkable."

"You like it, huh?" Jet grinned, a hand stroking down Freed's back. Damn, his back was so strong. "Want me to go run some laps of the city, see if I can work up a sweat?" He leant down and pressed a kiss to Freed's jaw. "I can do it naked if you like. Nobody's gonna see me, but you'd know."

Freed chuckled, patting Jet's chest. "Not everyone has your recovery rate, Bunny."

"You gonna let the nickname go anytime?" Jet pouted, though he didn't actually care.

"When you wear something even more embarrassing and have it photographed publicly, then I will," Freed smiled, cuddling further into Jet. Their limbs were intertwined, and the warmth of the man was perfect. "And, I meant the implications of your magic. The speed is impressive, of course, but the way you use it is fascinating. You're not just fast, you're dextrous and agile. If I were to suddenly gain your magic, I would crash and fall hundreds of times a second. But your mind can keep up with the speed of your body. The amount of thoughts that must pass through your mind every moment. The mix of instinct and intelligence mingling together to allow you to keep going. It's just… you're just incredible."

"Oh, well. Erm, thanks," Jet said, a little taken aback.

So, that was something Freed had just said. He had just said those words without realising that they had gone straight to Jet's heart and made him feel both warm and cosy inside, while also filling him with enough energy to run the length of the country three times over without his magic helping him. But the only thing that his mind allowed him to do was look down at his boyfriend, who was blinking away sleep and gently running a knuckle over Jet's stomach.

"I just wanted you to know that I think you're remarkable," Freed continued, and by the gods Freed was just so damn sweet that Jet could cry. To prove this, Freed leant up and pressed his lips to the underside of Jet's chin, before cuddling back down onto his chest. "Goodnight, Bunny."

"G'night, Freed," Jet murmured, his tone a little breathless.

He laid in bed for a few minutes, eyes never leaving Freed's face. The sleepiness of the man quickly overtook him, and Jet heard the gentle sound of him snoring against his chest. He smiled, looking down at him with a lovelorn gaze, and before he could stop himself, two quiet words slipped out.

"Love ya."

Aw crap!

---

"Hey Speedracer," Bickslow's voice echoed over the beach, and Jet smirked at the greeting. "Been looking for ya."

Jet looked over his shoulder, and saw Bickslow jogging towards him, a beach ball under his arm and a grin on his face. Jet matched the expression - he and Bickslow had become pretty good friends since he and Freed had gotten together - and turned to fully look at the man. He was wearing a pair of swimming trunks and nothing else, just like Jet was, and pulled Jet into a big hug.

"Hey man," Jet greeted. "You finally got here."

"We did," Bickslow nodded, pulling away from Jet.

The entire guild had decided that, now their finances were becoming more stable, they could have a day at the beach. Jet had been there since the early morning and had watched the steady stream of his guildmates as they had arrived. He had been part of the setup crew, carting food, sun loungers, and games from the guild with the use of his magic. He'd spent most of the day lounging around, waiting for his boyfriend to arrive. And if Bickslow was there, then it meant that Freed would be there too. He wasn't subtle about looking over the beach to find him.

"He's coming," Bickslow laughed, wrapping an arm around Jet and walking with him. "I'm sure you'll be happy you waited. But I talked him into playing volleyball with me and Natsu. We need a fourth, wanna join?"

"Sure," Jet grinned. "I'm gonna guess it's no magic."

"Yep," Bickslow laughed, then his gaze caught on something. "Oh, look who it is."

Jet turned to follow Jet's gaze, and his throat went dry.

Freed was, of course, wearing his speedo. Jet had expected that and had prepared himself for it. But he hadn't prepared himself to see Freed in his speedo, walking out of the ocean, flipping his hair back like a supermodel, with droplets of water sliding down his rippling muscles. He hadn't prepared himself to see a walking wet dream in human form, in tight spandex that covered very little. He hadn't prepared himself to fight off the urge to run to Freed, scoop him up, and take him to the nearest bathroom to take that speedo off and lick him all over.

"He's such an asshole," Bickslow laughed, patting Jet on the back. "Expect a whole day of this, you're dating an evil man."

"I can deal with it," Jet grinned. If Freed's form of evil was looking like sex on legs, Jet was happy to be his victim. But, when Freed looked directly at him, winked, flexed a bicep then turned to show off his incredible ass, Jet rolled his eyes. "But I'm gonna get him back for this."

"Hah!" Bickslow laughed. "That's what I like about ya Speedracer, you don't put up with his shit. Can't wait to see what you do to him this time."

Jet chuckled, thinking back to what he had done a week ago. He had finally enacted his revenge on Freed for posting the pictures of him in a bunny suit and maids outfit in the guildhall. He had waited until Freed was changing in the morning, scooped him up, ran him to the middle of the guildhall, and left him standing there in his boxers without knowing what had happened. The glare, splutter and barely held back smile had been amazing. He loved that he could do this shit with Freed, and that Freed actually seemed to enjoy it.

After showing off for a little while longer, Freed approached Jet with a self-satisfied smirk. Jet crossed his arms with a seemingly unimpressed look on his face, but they both knew he was pretending.

"You pleased with yourself?" Jet asked.

"Hm," Freed said, looked Jet up and down, and grinned. "Incredibly so."

"You're such a dumbass," Jet said with a grin. He wanted to lean down and kiss the man but didn't. Instead, he spoke again. "I'm playing volleyball with you. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," Freed smiled, then looked up at Bickslow. "I hope you're ready for the most devastating loss of your life."

"Actually, I had a different idea," Jet said. "I think it might be more fun if me and Bix are on a team against you and Natsu. That'll make it a little more fun, and this way we can have a little wager," He smirked as Freed's eyes lit up. Who would have known that the man was so interested in challenges? "Losing team has to cater to the winning team hand and foot for the rest of the day. I'm sure you won't mind doing everything I tell ya, since you apparently love being the centre of attention today."

Freed chuckled, a little darkly. "I'd enjoy having you as my manservant. You could hold my drinks while I read."

"You think you're gonna win?" Jet scoffed. "Come on, nerd. Sports are kinda my thing. Not yours."

"We'll see," Freed shrugged. "So, winning team can make the losers do whatever they want for the day?"

"That's right," Jet nodded. He held a hand out for Freed to shake. Freed did it, and the chills ran up Jet's arm like they always did when he touched Freed. Gods, he wanted to wrap his arms around Freed! "Good luck."

"That's very considerate," Freed said, then yanked Jet forward so their faces were very nearly touching. Jet felt his cheeks burst into redness. "But you're the one who'll need it, Bunny."

And, with a peck on the lips that was so gentle that Jet very nearly didn't feel it, Freed pulled away. He walked towards Natsu, leaving Jet to watch his retreating figure with a dopey, happy grin on his face. Gods, he had been so damn lucky to find a man who could rock his world like this so easily. How had he missed how perfect Freed was for him for so many years. It didn't matter, because now he and Freed were together, and he loved him-

No! No, he didn't. He didn't.

They had only been together for less than a month, and he couldn't be in love with him. It was too soon. Not everyone drove head first into things like Jet did, and he couldn't feel love for Freed already. Not when it might mess things up. Not when he knew that Freed wouldn't be ready to hear it.

So no, he didn't love Freed. He didn't. He didn't.

Gods dammit. He was so in love with Freed it wasn't even funny.

---

"Why ain't you dancin' with 'im?" Gajeel demanded, making Jet jump where he stood.

As part of a mission, some members of Fairy Tail had been invited to the Magic Dance Ball as a security team. The intention had been for Team Natsu, along with Gajeel, Wendy and Warren to go, however a slight snag had happened when Erza had been practising dancing. She could dance, but not in any conventional sense. She saw it more as a fight to be won than an exercise to be enjoyed, and as such every man who had danced with her had been spun off the floor and left nauseous and not willing to take her hand again. That was hardly something that could be done if she was trying to fit in and stay unnoticed in the ball.

The exception to this rule was Freed. He had been sitting by, watching the mess unfold, before rolling his eyes and standing up. When Erza had demanded for her next victim, Freed had walked up to her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and guided her through the song. She had tried to pull the same crap on him as she had with everyone else, but Freed had glared her into submission and danced with her for the rest of the evening.

So, Freed had been invited to get her to dance normally. And Jet had been given an invitation on Freed's insistence.

"They're still dancing," Jet shrugged, sipping at his champagne.

"Cut in," Gajeel shrugged. "She ain't gonna kill ya here."

"I'm fine," Jet assured him, leaning back against the wall he was resting on.

It was weird talking to Gajeel; it always had been. Their first meeting hadn't been great - being beaten and shackled to a tree didn't leave you with the best first impressions - and then there had been the slow friendship that formed between Levy and Gajeel. The friendship that had turned to a romance, even if the two of them weren't keen on admitting it. For a while it seemed like Gajeel was the human form of everything that had gone wrong in Jet's life, and the woman of his affections had fallen for him.

Then, the S-Class nominees had gone missing. Everything shifted perspective then. All those awful things that Jet had fixated on - and blamed Gajeel for - were put into context. They were nothing, because Levy was dead, and he would never see them again.

Of course, then she came back. And she came back with Gajeel as her boyfriend.

And dammit, it was the best thing that could have happened to Jet. It put an end to it, closing the door on his feelings. Because Levy was alive, and happy, and that was something to be glad about. When that had been made clear, he suddenly saw Gajeel for who he actually was: a member of Fairy Tail. All the stupid animosity had fallen away, and an odd, slightly uncomfortable friendship had been formed. Gajeel ignored how Jet had crushed on his girlfriend, and Jet forgave Gajeel for how they first became acquainted.

He supposed he couldn't be angry about that anymore, not even if he wanted to. Yeah, Gajeel had started off trying to take over the guild, but Freed had done the very same thing and Jet cuddled with him every night and covered his face with kisses.

Maybe they should look back over the villains that they had fought and find someone for Droy. So, all of Team Shadow Gear matched…

"Your choice," Gajeel shrugged. "But if Levy were here and some guy was dancin' with 'er, I'd be pissed off."

"If Levy were here, I'd be dancing with her myself," Jet mused, grinning as he felt Gajeel tense. Now that his relationship with Levy was platonic, it was fun to make Gajeel angry by pretending it wasn't. Even better, Levy seemed to like doing it too.

"I'd kick yer ass," Gajeel grumbled. "And I'm glad yer guy's dancin' with Erza. Hope he doesn't look at ya for the whole night."

"You want me to be single again?" Jet asked. "Thought you were happy when me and Freed got together. Less competition."

Gajeel glared at him, grunted a "fuck off" without any bite to it, and walked towards the food table. Jet laughed to himself as he moved his gaze from the dragon slayer and to his boyfriend. Freed was guiding Erza around the dancefloor with majestic movements and firm control. It was weirdly hot, knowing that it was his boyfriend who had tamed the dance floor demon. It was even more hot to know just how quickly that version of Freed, who was in control and in charge, could fall away for the squirming, blushing, panting darling who Jet loved cuddling up to in bed.

He looked majestic. In a red tuxedo that flowed down and accentuated his form, he looked like a prince. His hair was tied high in a ponytail, and Jet wanted nothing more than to run his hands through it. Freed really was so damn handsome.

Jet stood by the wall for a while, watching as people danced and as his guildmates tried to complete their mission without drawing attention to themselves. As he was eating something, he saw Erza suddenly pull away from Freed and towards one of the doors to the hallway. The rest of Team Natsu did the same, so clearly something was happening, but Freed didn't follow them. Instead, he slowly walked to Jet and offered him a hand. Jet looked down at it with a frown.

"May I have this dance?" Freed asked.

"Shouldn't we be helping out with them?" Jet asked, jerking his head towards the doors Erza had just ran through.

"They can handle it, I'm sure," Freed shrugged, his hand still outstretched for Jet to take. "I'm starting to feel jilted, Bunny. Will you dance with me?"

"Hm," Jet hummed, thinking hard. "I don't know. I have very high standards and I'm not sure-" Freed took Jet by the hand, yanked him forward and pulled him towards the dance floor as he laughed. "Wait, let's do it in the corridor. More privacy."

Freed gave him an odd look but didn't argue as he walked to the corridor the team hadn't entered. It was alone, illuminated by the moonlight that was glowing through the large windows. The band's music was muffled slightly but still loud enough to hear, and Jet smiled quietly to himself.

Jet pulled Freed into him and, before Freed could get into position, he wrapped an arm around Freed's waist and pulled him close. Freed had been leading the dance all night, and Jet wanted to see how he would cope being led around. Freed looked at him with amusement, before stepping further into Jet's space and resting his head against Jet's shoulder.

Gods he was so cute. It filled Jet's heart to see him like this. He was so perfect. Drenched in the moonlight, with a private and happy smile on his face, in Jet's arms. Jet couldn't look away from him.

He loved him. He actually loved him.

And why couldn't he tell Freed that? Just because they'd barely been together for a month didn't mean it was too soon. Jet had never clicked with anyone like he did with Freed, so maybe Freed felt the same. And even if he didn't, Freed wasn't going to leave him if he wasn't able to say it back. At this point, it felt like his heart was beating out of his chest with the urge to tell him how much he loved him. He wanted to scream it from the rooftop, and make sure everyone in the world knew how much he loved his boyfriend.

But, as he swayed in time with Freed, he knew he shouldn't. Jet was always too quick with things, and he wouldn't risk losing Freed. He could sit on this, let it happen at the appropriate time. He'd follow Freed's lead, he was probably better at the whole relationship thing.

Dancing with Freed was enough.

---

The moment Jet walked into the guildhall from his mission with Droy, Freed was walking towards him. It was kinda scary.

Freed took his hand and walked him to the middle of the guildhall without saying a word, and Jet had no idea what the hell was happening. Once they were in the middle of the guild, with half of the guild looking at them with the same confusion that Jet was feeling, Freed turned to look at him. The intensity in his eyes was so strong that Jet felt frozen by them. What was Freed doing?

"Ever since we started dating, I noticed something," Freed began, speaking loud and clear. "The moment you're alone, you're hugging me and kissing me without shame nor restraint. But when we're in front of the guild, you seem to shy away from touching me. I've been wondering why."

Oh Gods. Crap. Gods dammit, he'd screwed it up, hadn't he? Was Freed going to dump him here? He couldn't deal with that.

Freed took his hands, stroking his palm gently. Comfortingly.

"I wondered why that might be," Freed continued. "I couldn't understand it, because you had always been the type of man who wore his heart on his sleeve without caring about who complained. I knew you weren't ashamed of being with me, that wouldn't make sense, not when everyone in the guild has known we've been dating for as long as we've been together. Eventually I realised what was making you hold back from being close to me when we're in front of people. You think that it's what I want, is that right?"

Jet's heart was hammering in his chest, and he nodded slightly.

Well, yeah, of course Freed was right. Freed had always been a private guy, and clearly, he liked being in control of what people saw about him. Just because Jet would happily hug and kiss Freed all day every day, didn't mean that Freed would want that too.

"I am so sorry for making you feel like that," Freed said quietly. "But I hope this makes up for that."

Freed, with a single step forward, wrapped his arms around Jet's neck in the same way he had for their first kiss. He leant into Jet and kissed him firmly, passionately, with everyone in the guild watching him. Jet melted into it, holding Freed's waist tight and pulling their bodies close and snug. He was kissing Freed in front of the whole guild, and it was amazing.

"Yeah," Jet whispered. "Makes it better. Not scared of PDA, then?"

"Not with you," Freed smiled, then swallowed. "But I'm not done."

"Oh," Jet laughed. "What else are you gonna do to me? Think there might be complaints if we take things further."

"Hush, Bunny," Freed laughed, before speaking again. It was loud enough for everyone in the guild to hear it, leaving no room for subtlety. "I am madly, unapologetically, unflinchingly in love with you, Jet."

Jet… gaped!

"I am in love with you, Jet," Freed repeated, voice firm. "I love the fact that I can have fun with you, and that I'm never bored around you. I love the fact that you're so clearly passionate and you wear it like a badge of honour. I love the fact you made me dress like an idiot for a month. I love the fact you're still wearing that hat, because it really is adorable. I love the fact you dropped me in the guild in my boxers just because it amused you, although I probably shouldn't love you for that," He laughed, before looking away with red cheeks. "I love the fact that you're always ready to help with the guild. I love the fact you can laugh at yourself and at me. I love that, when I was having difficulty sleeping while on a mission last week, you ran to the hotel I was staying at and spent the night holding me. I love you, Jet. So much that it makes me ache. And I want everyone to know it, everyone to see it, and everyone to understand just how perfect you are to me."

Holy crap. Freed had just… had just said all of that.

Jet almost cried. Nobody had ever said anything even close to that, and Jet felt his legs wobbling slightly. He was grinning so damn wide, and he didn't care. All he wanted to do was wrap Freed up in his arms and kiss the hell out of him.

And now he knew that he could, he did.

With his magic, he pushed Freed up against the wall and kissed him. He wasn't like Freed when it came to words; actions were his forte. He gave Freed the best, most overwhelmingly love filled kiss he could manage. His hands slid into Freed's hair, hands cupping his jaw as he kissed him.

"I love you too," Jet whispered, pecking Freed's lips. "So much," He began peppering kisses all over Freed's face. "You don't know how much I love you," He smiled a dopey smile. "But I love you more than anything."

"Oh gods," Freed smiled. "You're perfect."

"Nah, that's you," Jet grinned, awestruck. "And, just a little warning, now I know I can kiss ya and hug ya in front of people, I'm never gonna stop myself again. You're gonna have so many kisses and so many touches that you'll be sick of me."

"I doubt that very much," Freed smiled.

"Oh really," Jet laughed at the challenge. "Even if I do this."

Jet used his magic to put both he and Freed in the middle of the guild, wrapping his arms around Freed from behind.

"Or this."

Next, Freed was placed on top of the bar, with Jet standing between his legs. He was grinning down at Freed, who was smiling at him wide.

"Or this."

Within a moment, Freed was being held by Jet in a kiss that belonged in a black and white movie. He looked wistfully up at Jet.

"Or maybe even this."

Now, Freed was pushed up against the wall again. His hands were held above his head, with Jet leaning down at him with a cocky smirk. Freed smiled, leant up, and kissed Jet. It was easily the best kiss Jet had ever had.

#Freed x Jet #Freed Justine #Jet Fairy Tail #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #One Shot #Canon Divergent #Rare Pair #Inspired By Art #Sequel #word count: 5k

[witchling-valkyrie]

Stranger Things S4 Vol 2 Thoughts

Spoilers below, obviously. 

OKAY SO. I’ve really only seen two reactions from people: they either love the end of this season, or they hate it.

Since I’m a person who lies in the middle of that, I thought I’d casually weigh in my two cents here. Do with it what you will!

(& for a liiiitle context about me. I’m a bisexual mental abuse survivor & writer. Do with that what you will) 

I’ma start with my love, Max Mayfield

Something I saw about her arc this season on tumblr actually inspired this post. Essentially, it said something along the lines of “Way to have Max work through her trauma only to have her limbs snapped and go blind way to go Duffer brothers”

Okay first all--fair. It is so fair to be angry that Max has come to this beautiful, wonderful revelation about the trauma she suffered from Billy and his death, as well as letting her friends back in to help her only for her to die/nearly die. 

But here’s the thing: it’s supposed to make you angry. That’s the whole point! Because Max is one of our heroines, and she’s already suffered so much. But realistically, life isn’t fair that way. In the world of Stranger Things, life is not fair that way. Character’s amazing mental breakthroughs will not stop them from being physically harmed by a madman trying to kill her, I’m sorry. The “happily ever after” fan in me also wanted Max to fully escape and be totally fine, but I think the writers made the correct choice here. Max’s death/near death is powerful and upsetting! YOU SHOULD BE ANGRY! I sure as hell am--but on Max’s behalf in her storyline, not at the writers for making that choice! 

That being said, I fully think that Max had the best character arc this season. Her storyline was dynamic, thrilling, surprising, and troubling all in one. I hope she gets a “bad bitch take over the world” arc in season 5, because that queen deserves it. 

Side note--I think I would be happy with season five for a badass Max, Eleven, Will and Nancy team-up to fuck Venca up! Like, can you imagine? Woof. 

Moving on...Will and Mike. 

First of all, I’m gonna say that I 100% agree that Mike has gone from a really interesting character to the most blah “what are you even here for” character I’ve ever seen. The storyline of this season could have done without him completely. 

Secondly, I am also really disappointed that Will’s heartfelt and heartbreaking confession (for lack of a better word, I suppose, since he didn’t say the words & Mike is an oblivious blob) was used as a tool to further Mike and Eleven’s relationship. That just felt like twisting the knife. And perhaps I could have understood it storyline wise (if I could ignore the queerbating, which I can’t, but if I could) if Mike and Eleven’s relationship was even remotely interesting anymore, or if there was no other way for Eleven to power through in order to defeat Vecna. Mike and Eleven’s relationship has become boring. as fuck. Like I said above, Mike has turned into an extremely boring character that I can’t get behind in any context, let alone this one. 

ALSO fuck you Mike for saying your life got better as soon as she came into it when that’s when your best friend almost fucking died in fucking hell and is standing right god damn next to you. You’re a monster, Mike Wheeler. SO unless the Duffer brothers are intentionally trying to make Mike into an oblivious asshole (which hey, they might be! Idk what season 5′s gonna hold) then yeah, this was shitty af, cliche, writing. 

Piggybacking (lol) on that, there are 10 million other ways that Eleven could’ve been inspired enough by love to take on Vecna. IE Will and Jonathan, who are her BROTHERS now! Can you imagine a powerful Will Byers speech about how she found him and saved him and how his life has changed since she’s been in it? Or imagine if the timeline was a little different, the Hopper reunion would have been perfect for that moment, and 100x more powerful. 

Plus let’s be real, Mike’s speech sounded like every romance white boy speech in every Hallmark Christmas movie I’ve ever seen, okay. I said what I said. 

Side note--I really loved the Jonathan / Will scene though. They’ve always had one of my favorite relationship dynamics in the show, and this only furthered that for me. I always think it’s important that, when you have a character as traumatized and struggling as Will, you have one character who always sees them. Is this lovely as a romantic trope? Sure, but I think it can be just as powerful as a family relation. Jonathan is that for Will, and I really love that for them. 

A quick thing about Robin here, too. Her SL felt similar to the Will/Mike relationship in this way, but more realistic, I think? Like two women scared to come out but crushing on each other feels very relevant to me. Especially because the boyfriend was not at all relevant and gone in like...2 seconds. Still not great but I understood this writing choice a little more. 

Eddie. 

I’m tired of writers in general bringing on an interesting, dynamic character in just to kill them at the end of the season for some “coward to hero” journey. It’s bullshit, and I thought the writers were better than that, tbh. Would’ve been way more powerful if someone from the OG season died (Not Steve or Nancy simply because I will not allow it, nor Will because that would just be cruel of them). But like, can you imagine if this had been Dustin? Or Mike? Or Jonathan? YEAH. Way better writing. Like, c’mon. 

Russia

I mean I kind of have no words for how irrelevant Russia was other than to give Hopper and Joyce something to do this season. Happy they got together, tho. 

Eleven. 

I’m still very unsure how I felt about her storyline this season, mainly because as soon as I saw Papa I was like “ugh why are you still alive dickweed?” AND YES I know that his presence was meaningful to discovering One, but like..still. Her and One’s relationship was a super cool reveal and I like how that ties into the storyline of the show as a whole, but idk if we really needed the Eleven re-torture scenes for her to get her powers back. 

I don’t really have an alternative suggestion, though. 

Also, I don’t fully understand El’s powers anymore? She can now bring people back to life with good memories of them? I? Have? Questions?

Lastly, I just have to say that Nancy shooting Vecna like she did with no fear and ultimate badassery may have been my favorite scene. I love Nancy Wheeler, fight me. 

So yeah. That’s kinda where I’m sitting at with this season’s end. The Max and Will stuff I really wanted to get out, because I know that’s what most of the controversy was about that. I love other thoughts, but this is just my two cents & I’m not here to fight about it :) Would love to hear other takes, though!

#stranger things #stranger things spoilers #max mayfield #nancy wheeler #will byers #eleven #mike wheeler

[m34gs]

Hi friend!!!

For the character ask game: Rangiku and Rukia???💙💙💙💙

Hi friend!! Thank you for the ask! (related to this post)

A bit long, so I will be putting it under a cut!

Rangiku

1: sexuality headcanon: I think Rangiku is bi. I also like to hc her as polyamorous.

2: otp: OT3, actually :) with both Shuhei and Kira! I just really like their dynamics together. I feel like each of them has a great chemistry one on one with the others, as well as in a group, so I imagine them as a triad polycule.

3: brotp: Orihime. I feel like they really bonded during Rangiku's time in the human world, especially as she stayed over at Orihime's! I think they would have had plenty of time to get to know each other and become very close friends. I also feel like Rangiku would adore Orihime's gentle and sweet nature, and want to protect her.

4: notp: Hitsugaya. I just don't like the ship, and that's ok. I prefer to see them as a familial sibling relationship.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head: The "airhead" act is just that - an act. She's actually very smart and worries quite a lot about serious things. The act helps her in two ways: it makes enemies underestimate her which gives her an upper hand, and it helps lighten somber moods around her.

6: favorite line from this character: "That bad habit you had of always disappearing without telling me where you are going...still hasn't changed." I just feel this really sums up how much she does care about Gin, and how much she does notice despite her airheaded appearance/act.

7: one way in which I relate to this character: She can be very perceptive of the feelings of those she cares about, and worries about them a lot. I also worry about those close to me and try to be supportive of them.

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: Anytime there's a close-up on her breasts, and anytime she tries to use her looks to get her out of something or gain something she wants. I don't know, I just don't like that part.

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? "Sin-amon roll". Lol. :D

Rukia

1: sexuality headcanon: honestly, in my mind I most often hc Rukia as straight. That's just how I see her.

2: otp: Though I headcanon her as straight, I don't really have an OTP for Rukia...I am pretty flexible in who I ship her with. I like shipping her with Renji, I like shipping her with Ichigo, I like shipping her with Kaien, etc. It kind of depends on my mood and if I'm reading/writing a particular fic and what the other ships that are going on in the fic are. I find Rukia is pretty shipable.

3: brotp: Orihime. Again. Lol. I just think there's something about Orihime that allows her to form really good friendships. She is a very earnest, honest girl and she does her best to help those around her. I love it. I like to think they have movie nights and popcorn and go shopping together and talk about all sorts of things!

4: notp: Kon. I don't like them as a pairing; not when Kon's in Ichigo's body, not when he's in the stuffed lion, and I wouldn't like it even if Kon had his own body. I just really don't like it.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head: Rukia is not good at flirting. I feel she would be far too literal to catch most flirting aimed at her, and I feel she would try way too hard to be casual when doing the flirting that she would come across the exact opposite. And I think that would only add to her charm. :)

6: favorite line from this character: I can't remember it exactly, but I think it's "I may appear young to you, but I have lived nearly 10 of your lifetimes", which she says to Ichigo when they first meet. I don't know, I just think it feels kinda badass and also is an indication of the wisdom she's gained over the years from her lived experiences.

7: one way in which I relate to this character: Rukia likes cute things! I like cute things! I think if she were real she would adore my cat and we could go shopping online for Squishables or some other really cute stuff!

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: When she's acting for Ichigo's family to get them to let her stay over. I just don't really like that scene.

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? Cinnamon Roll. Definite Cinnamon Roll.

Hope you enjoyed these answers, friend! Thanks again for asking :D

#asks #friends #responses #backwardshirt #ask game #character ask game #rukia #rangiku #bleach

[starstruckwillows]

Hi! Can I request swan boat 🦢 for the Marauders era? I'm just going to copy paste my trading cards description with a few additions (and is it okay if I'll send this same description in a seperate ask with the Golden Era? 😅)

I'm a straight small (153 cm ~ 5'2 ft) Hungarian woman with wavy, shoulder lenght dark blonde hair. I wear glasses because of astigmia. My favourite colors are black, yellow, blue and purple. Besides my native language I can speak German and English. And I always considered myself as a Hufflepuff, despite being a bit more like Luna. For most of these MBTI tests I got INFP (though I don't believe in this I think our personality grows, changes)

I'm not the most talkative person, I have problems with communicating with others since I was in elementary. I have a hard time to warm up to others, got anxious about it, but if I find my people I slowly open up, and even crack some jokes and can be really sarcastic. I always say sorry about everything, even if it wasn't my fault. I have a huge imagination and do a lot of day-dreaming. I don't like being dropped into a situation without being prepared, but if I can use some skills well, sometimes it looks like I can improvise. Like for example I got drama lessons in the local theater and I could pull off some characters better (mom, serious director etc.) than others.

I consider myself as someone who deeply cares about people. I want to help others but I don't know how and am afraid that someone only wants to use me. And no matter what philosophies I grab to navigate myself in this wild world, I always return to people. We are ugly and beautiful at the same time and it's so devastastating seeing people treating each other shit.

My hobbies: I love listening to music, it always got my back when I was alone. And reading some good character-driven book always moves my imagination. I like spending time with a friend of mine and talking about films, music, and dirty jokes (they're mostly about JoJo and JJK lol) and maybe I'm the one who would stop the chaos between the two of us. Like to search for different languages and cultures on Google and different playlists on youtube or 8tracks. Oh and watching playthroughs of videogames on Youtube.

I have a wide taste in music I guess? From Starset through Fall Out Boy and Panic! At the Disco to mashups and videogame OSTs I listen to anything. But my favourite band is Starset. I'm always afraid to show other people my music taste because one time I've got booed that it's not danceble 😅 (the song I put in then was Anna Sun by Walk the Moon) I don't think I have a special aesthetic; my outfits are 99% simple T-shirt + Jeans combo. Indoor I wear one of my oversized band T-shirts I inherited from one of my cousins. So I would say my aesthetic is casual I guess? Though my favourite aesthetic is spacecore but I like dark, light, chaotic academia and a bit grungecore too.

i'll do both eras in this one lovely <3

🦢

marauders era - i ship you with... james potter!!

very different music tastes, always fighting for control over which tape (or aux cord in modern!au) and which cd, but you usually win because he could put up with much worse than music he doesn't love if it means he gets to see you smiling. loves your simple outfits but will constantly chuck accessories at you, like sunglasses, hair clips, his jumpers, ect. really admires your philosophical stand points, but sometimes worries he's not smart enough for you. your trope is forced proximity - neither of you considered the other a potenial love interest until stuck in a detention that the teacher forgot to let you out of. instantly hitting it off, however. your relationship moves pretty quickly at first but it mellows out <3

golden trio era - i ship you with... fred weasley!!

he loves all the styles and aesthetics, in a modern!au he'd scroll through pinterest with hours and make a joint account with you. like i said in your playing cards, the twins are you best friends, so expect a slowburn friends to lovers, where an oblivious you puts your feelings aside to preserve your friendship, but one night at a celebration party in sixth year, that all flies out the window. listens to music with you. muggle film nights but you always end up making out instead. matching halloween costumes, but with george too cos you could never abandon that friendship. able to tell them apart, after years of confusion <3

#jessie's 🍰&🌷 #swan boat 🦢

[newronantic]

HAIKYUU!! FICS

so this is mostly gonna be for myself to keep track of my favorite fics i’ve read, but hey if anyone else wants to check some of these out then thats great

MHA one is up!!

ill keep updating this as i read more, feel free to send me suggestions!

KageHina

plain as day - emleewrites

In which Hinata has spent the better part of the last twenty years putting his heart and soul into volleyball, hoping to be recognised, to be noticed. And yet he spends all these years also thinking of himself as rather plain, beyond his lack of height and bright hair, and not really noticeable at all.

In Transit - Mysecretfanmoments

Hinata finds that he likes standing close to Kageyama on buses and trains. It doesn't mean anything--probably. Maybe.

I like the way your clothes smell - Mysecretfanmoments

Power outages, ghost stories, and the presence of a certain orange-haired boy lead to bad decision-making on Tobio's part. He'd planned to keep his crush a secret; the universe has other plans.

Chaotic Neutral - akaraka

Who's this Kageyama person on twitter and is he gay?

1: Anonymous: see title

2: Anonymous: curry king

3: Anonymous >> 1: It's the curry king, obviously. Have you been using his memes this whole time without knowing who he was?

4: Anonymous: 1) Hinata Shouyou's boyfriend 2) See above

jellyfish - mysterytwin

At the beginning of his last year at Karasuno High School, Hinata Shouyou starts a list and calls it THINGS TO DO BEFORE GRADUATION, all with high hopes that he’ll be able to complete it before his time runs out.

TsukkiYama

Try This On For Size - CloudMonsta

A lot changed for Yamaguchi Tadashi over the course of high school. He started trying on dresses, for one.

The Great Yamaguchi-Tsukishima Split (Capitalization Necessary) - WyYeuw

"But no, the current situation isn’t normal. This situation requires the full attention of the team.

No, what’s really concerning this time around, is that Yamaguchi is the one ignoring Tsukishima.”

Yamaguchi confesses. Tsukishima fucks up—like, really fucks up. The volleyball club notices and loses a week’s worth of practice.

IwaOi

Terrarium - sausaged

He's practically a professional at being proactive (lies, lies, and lies when it comes to Iwaizumi).

At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

Can he really tag his Instagram photos with #YOLO if he doesn't actually put that phrase into practice?

A story about Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, plants, and rocks.

They Say it Rain Diamonds on Jupiter - exsao

"You're in love with him."

Hajime considers denying it. He considers deliberately choking on his drink to express surprise, to create a distraction by spitting onto the man in front of him's pristine white shirt and causing a commotion. Instead, he swallows his mouthful of soda and heaves a small sigh once his mouth is free.

"Yeah," he says instead.

He's never been good at lying, anyway.

bait and switch - Stylographic_Blue_Rhapsody

Oikawa's university volleyball team knows he's in a long-distance relationship with someone from high school. They imagine a sweet-faced girl that matches his sarcasm with patience. They are so incredibly wrong.

my heart is where it’s always been - foreverautumn

Iwaizumi places his phone down carefully.

Oikawa. Pining after someone. There’s no way.

(Iwaizumi knows he shouldn’t care who Oikawa might have feelings for, but within the span of three days, it’s somehow the only thing he can think about.)

KuroKen

Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life - todxrxki

Kuroo Tetsurou runs a private Twitter account where he's constantly tweeting about how desperately in love he is with Kozume Kenma. Little does he know that Kenma sees all the tweets and keeps referencing the account in an attempt to get Kuroo to confess to him. / Or, five times Kuroo didn't notice Kenma hinting about his private Twitter account, and one time he finally did.

the things that get caught in the valves of his heart - ghostpot

Emotional competency is not exactly Kuroo's strong suit. Kenma finds it quite amusing.

Accidentally In Love - todxrxki

Kuroo frowns, but then slowly, the corners of his mouth lift up into a smirk. "Well, if it's so unbelievable, why don't we give it a try?"

Kenma glances up at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Let's do the 36 questions to fall in love," Kuroo says, still smirking stupidly. "If we don't fall in love, then you're right, it's bullshit. But if we do somehow..." Kuroo waggles his eyebrows. "Then I win." / Kuroo decides he and Kenma should do the 36 questions to fall in love as a joke, but they both start to realize they might actually be in love already.

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) - cosmogony

TW: major character death

Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives

even if you’re ahead for a bit, i will catch up - ghostpot

Kuroo first confesses when they're sticky-fingered, wide-eyed kids, and subsequently every day after that. Kenma takes a while to come around.

you’re the brake lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway) - ghostpot

Kenma thinks that Kuroo looks ugly with his head bent against the arm of the couch like that. Then Kenma thinks that he wants to marry him, and is promptly thrown into the 5 stages of grief.

teach me the way home - icespyders

“Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —

because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.”

Kuroo and Kenma grow up in transit.

in this universe - crossbelladonna

Living with Kuroo is sometimes, just like this. It always feels surreal like he's living half a world and a lot of things rush by too quickly. Kenma feels like he'd watched him come and go in a blink, eyes wide and wordless as the shared space went snug in an instant and far larger in the next.

All this, and a glass of water.

Beginning’s End - todxrxki

Somehow over the course of Kenma's lifetime, he’s never really had an opportunity to miss Kuroo. He’s always been there. Even when they went to different schools, Kuroo would meet him afterwards so they could walk home together, shoulders brushing, Kuroo occasionally taking the opportunity to guide him when his nose was buried in the newest video game. The thought of Kuroo not being there anymore is uncomfortable, to say the least. / Kozume Kenma's third year and the changes the year brings in himself and his relationship with Kuroo Tetsurou.

All I Want for Christmas is You - todxrxki

“Kuro,” he says. “You’re a single guy.”

“Yeah, great, thanks for pointing that out.”

“And my parents already know you, plus they already know you like guys or whatever so… what if you pretended to be my date for Christmas dinner?” / In which Kenma recruits his housemate and best friend Kuroo to be his fake date for Christmas.

BokuAka

just to miss the sun - rosevtea

Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

Operation BokuAka - kazzydolyn

After spending two whole years watching Bokuto and Akaashi pine for one another, the rest of the Fukuroudani Volleyball Club has had enough. When everyone meets up for a reunion dinner, the team decides to play matchmaker and finally get the two of them together. Unfortunately, their plan starts to fall apart when they discover that Akaashi is already dating someone. And apparently so is Bokuto. What a strange coincidence.

bitter - silvercistern

He accepted his classmate's chocolates gracefully, then declared his lack of interest with as much dignity as he could muster. She deserved the courtesy. At least she'd acknowledged that Valentine's Day was all about her, and not about him in the slightest.

Because if any of these girls had taken the time to actually get to know him, they’d quickly realize something even more important than his lack of interest in girls.

And that was that Akaashi hated sweets.

In Another Life - LittleLuxray

TW: major character death

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

120% yes - pissedofsandwich

TOKYO FRANCHISE COMING SOON @OnigiriMiya

in reply to @bokkun_official 

Congratulations! In celebration of your historic engagement, please DM us so we can send you a free membership code with a 25% discount on every fourth purchase!

Kissing Ace - karasunovolleygays

It happens right after training camp.

Akaashi Keiji has a secret he has guarded since he was a child. He won’t go so far as to call it a fear, but more of an aspect of himself of which he is horribly mortified. No one on the team knows about it, and Akaashi does his best to keep it that way.

But years of dodging hugs and casual contact come to naught in the blink of an eye and the swipe of a hand.

daisy rings and frivolous things (i am deliriously in love with you) - gabstar

Akaashi Keiji is in love. Bokuto Koutarou is a star. Everyone on Fukurodani has a gambling problem.

SakuAtsu

The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets - isaksara (syailendra)

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

A Liar’s Truth - internetpistol

In which Sakusa Kiyoomi is raised to believe that gay people go to hell but then takes one look at Miya Atsumu and thinks, then why the hell did God make them so fucking hot?

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #ships #kagehina #daisuga #asanoya #tsukkiyama #iwaoi #kuroken #bokuaka #kageyama #hinata #daichi #sugawara #asahi #nishinoya #tsukishima #yamaguchi #iwaizumi #oikawa #kuroo #kenma #bokuto #akaashi #sakuatsu #sakusa #atsumu

[skiller0dani]

Broken Paradise | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut requests info wc | 9.1k summary | you run into an ex boyfriend during an interrogation. except it's you being interrogated, and it's your ex boyfriend doing the interrogating.

song

another draft just waiting to be published. really obsessing over Spencer Reid.

also there's mentions of abortion, nothing graphic it's literally just a short direct reference and nothing else.

You always hear people say your past will come back to haunt you, you just didn't know they meant literally. You leaned back against the metal chair in the interrogation room, you've been in here for what felt like hours. You couldn't complain too much seeing as it's your fault that you're in here at all. You wished they'd come in and tell you something, give you an update, say hi, say anything. You seriously underestimated how maddening silence can be. You knew little about the murders the police were investigating, something about druggie women being found mutilated. The pictures they showed you were downright horrifying, you'd need at least one solid bottle of tequila to forget the bodies of those poor women.

The Las Vegas Police Department were a bunch of judgmental pigs, the only reason they'd brought you here at all was because you were from the wrong side of the tracks. Both of your parents were users, and if you were lucky, also dead. They probably assumed you used as well, and seeing as you seemed to fit the killers physical preference the police brought you in for questioning and also for your own "safety". But really you knew they didn't give a damn about your safety, they just wanted to know where you got your shit from. No matter how many times you insisted you didn't use, they kept pushing. When one male officer started throwing your parents in your face, you stood up and promptly broke his nose. That's how you landed yourself cuffed to the table, tightly.

"Oh thank you so much for gracing me with your presence once more." You smiled sarcastically as another officer walked in, wait he's definitely not an officer. The man who entered the room had cleanly cut dark hair, and wore an expensive looking black suit. Not the run of the mill beat cop that you were expecting. You bit back any other fiery remarks, if you wanted to get the hell out of here you needed to cooperate. Diana would be expecting you, not that you were itching to see her but after letter number 75 of her begging you to swing by- well lets just say that Spencer's mother was never the problem. You doubt Spencer even knew Diana was contacting you, which was good. You wanted nothing at all to do with him.

"I'm Agent Hotchner here with the FBI I need to ask you a few questions." This man was all business, you seriously had to fight the urge to fuck with him a little bit.

"I'd shake your hand but..." Your eyes flickered towards the table, where the police officer who's nose you broke had very tightly handcuffed you. In fact he cuffed you so tightly that your wrists were already raw and bleeding a bit.

"They wouldn't have handcuffed you if you didn't punch an officer. Did he hit a nerve?" The Agent's face was level, and gave nothing away as to what he was thinking. You tongued the inside of your cheek, your foot tapping quickly on the concrete floor. These assholes were really starting to piss you off.

"He was being a dick, how many times do I have to tell you guys that I don't use? Are your heads filled with sawdust?" You snapped roughly, yanking away from him to lean back in your chair despite the biting pain in your wrists.

"That's not why I'm here Miss Y/L/N." Agent Hotchner said, his voice even and his eyes on you. The way he was looking at you made you feel exposed, like he could read all of your secrets because of the way your eye twitches when you're nervous. You hate these damn FBI profilers- wait.

"How's Spencer?" It's a shot in the dark, a very long shot in a very dark tunnel. Before the scumbag left you without warning, Spencer mentioned that someone was trying to recruit him for the BAU department of the FBI. The profilers. Spencer left and never came back, two guesses as to where he went. Your eyes locked onto the Agent's in front of you, and from the slight upturn at the corner of his brow you knew you got him. Spencer is here.

"You know Dr. Reid?"

"So he's a Doctor now, doesn't surprise me. Let me guess, he has PHD's and Doctorates in Math, Chemistry and something to do with Geography right?" You say as casually as you can and you can only hope this man is wondering how you happen to know so much about one of his Agents.

"Unless I'm speaking to Spencer Reid, I want my lawyer." You snap, leaning back. You know Spencer won't talk to you, and unless they have physical proof you're guilty of something they'll have to let you go.

Check mate.

//

Spencer couldn't ignore the questioning glances from his fellow teammates even if he'd wanted to. He watched you lean back in your chair from the other side of the one way glass, what are the chances that you are wrapped up in this case? You of all young petite blonde women in the metro area. The world was fucking with him, it had to be.

"She a friend of yours?" Derek's voice was the first to cut through the silence.

"No." One word answers were the safest route, the shortest diction would give little time for them to draw information out of the way Spencer was speaking. There was a tremble in his tone, he knew there was. Spencer prided himself for having little to no baggage behind him, but of all unopened suitcases- his previous relationship with you was the largest one.

"Really? Cause she seems to know a lot about you." Derek said, his eyes fixed on Spencer. The tension in the room was palpable, and suddenly it felt hard for Spencer to breathe let alone compose himself. After shoving free from the small viewing room, Spencer found it a lot easier to exist without the scrutinizing gazes of his coworkers.

"You hear her?" It was Hotch, with a patiently guarded expression on his face. Spencer and drugs wasn't an uncommon problem, although in the past his poison of choice was dilaudid. Now there's a string of drug related murders and a possible junky who seems to know a lot about him.

"Yeah, from before the Bureau." Spencer clarified quickly, and Hotch honestly looked the tiniest bit relieved.

"Think you could talk to her, she's made it obvious she won't talk to any of us." Hotch said, and from the tension building in Spencer's shoulders he can tell there's some bad blood between the two of you. Spencer took a deep breath before taking all of those unresolved emotions and forcefully shoving them down. Deep, deep down. It's time to do a job, there's a missing woman who needs to be saved.

//

When that door opened again, you thought you'd won. You thought they were coming to begrudgingly release you. Instead you were met by the big doey eyes of Spencer Reid, your first and last love. All the air was stolen from your lungs in an instant, the memories flood back and you can't stop them. The anger rises then, this is the first time you've seen him since he left you. The one person you trusted not to leave you did, he left like everyone leaves you. Like your parents left you. He's very clearly all business, his face hardly giving anything away as he swiftly reached down to unlock the handcuffs around your wrists. If you wanted to walk away from this without your heart getting broken you needed the upper hand.

"Heya baby." You smiled, you hoped that maybe it would disarm him. At least a little, but when you looked at him all you saw was a stoic and focused expression. Nothing? Really?

"I need to ask you a few questions Miss Y/L/N." Spencer's voice was controlled, even in tone. His voice... God his voice could bring you right to tears. You could still hear him saying how much he loved you with that stupidly angelic voice of his. Spencer was very quickly taking control of the situation and you did not like that at all.

"You know you can ask me anything, there's no secrets between us right Spence?" You leaned forward on your elbows, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing in your wrists. One of Spencer's biggest giveaways is eye contact, when he's upset or feels guilty he'll avoid looking into your eyes. You turn your gaze up to meet his, but once again you're completely disarmed to see him unabashedly looking into your eyes like it isn't a problem at all. Either Spencer has amnesia and forgot who you were, or what happened between you two doesn't hurt him like it hurts you. You refuse to believe it's the latter, he just forgot. Definitely forgot. Somehow he must have forgot.

"Nina Fredricks, have you ever seen her?" He slid a photo in front of you, you recognize her as the woman who was most recently kidnapped. Most recently being 12 hours ago so chances of her still being alive are unfortunately slim. You nibble on your lower lip, come to think of it you actually might have seen her.

"Yeah, saw her at Winchell's, little coffee shop on the corner of 5th? You remember right Spence? You used take me there all the time, I loved giving you head under the table." You smirk, but it quickly falters. Whatever training he went through must have stripped him of all emotion and turned him into a machine. Built only to solve cases and do nothing else. That wasn't the case however, you just didn't know how good Spencer is at compartmentalizing his emotions. He could only imagine the looks on his coworkers faces upon hearing you say that, at least he can just say you were lying to try and illicit some sort of reaction from him. They don't have to know that you totally used to slip under the table and swallow his cock in a diner full of people. They don't know about that side of him, and Spencer doesn't plan on changing that.

"When?" He presses on with the interview, and surprisingly you're forthcoming with information when you're speaking to Spencer. Even after all this time, he has this annoying power over you. This innate ability to get you to do whatever he wants you to, although you would prefer him to use this special ability in the bedroom. No! No you have to eradicate thoughts like that, Spencer hurt you worse then anyone else ever has. He hurt you worse because he made you think he was going to stay, and then he didn't.

"Few nights ago, she looked really messed up though. Winchell threw her out, definitely doped up on something. Before you ask, no I didn't see where she went." You sigh, finally giving up flashing Spencer the all too familiar 'you win' look. Usually a victorious grin stretches across his face, but not this time. Those times are over.

"Did you see anybody with her?" You're not entirely surprised that Spencer isn't writing any of this down, that stupid eidetic memory. You're fooling yourself if you think he forgot what happened, Spencer never forgets anything. Ever.

"Every detail matters."

You genuinely try to remember if anybody was with Nina, and while you didn't see anyone you remember shortly after she left the diner there was this horrible screeching sound. "After Nina left I heard what sounded like tires screeching on the street. Never saw a car though."

"Thank you Miss Y/L/N, is there anything else you can remember about that night? Anything that sticks out?" After a few moments of quiet contemplation, you shake your head.

"Am I free to go?" You ask quietly and Spencer shakes his head.

"Unfortunately we're going to have to keep you in protective custody. We'll move you to a more comfortable room, but you'll need to stay in the precinct."

"But why? I'm not a drug addict-"

"You are exactly this killers type, and we don't know if looking a certain way is more important or if being a drug addict is when it comes to him choosing his victims." Spencer explains simply, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he stands. When he turns his eyes back on you, you realize he's waiting for you to follow him. You stand and follow him out of the cold interrogation room to a comfier waiting room. It has a table and chairs, vending machine and a big plush couch.

"You can stay in here, we'll let you know when it's safe to go home." Spencer says, and this is when you finally catch the crack in his façade. His eyes flicker away from yours, trying to disguise the waver in his voice, the desperation to vacate the room as quickly as he can. But now that you've seen him break, even a little, you're going to crack him wide open. You won't let it go that easily.

"Spencer?" Your voice is soft, with an innocent drawl that Spencer can't resist. He turns his head to look at you, swallowing thickly when his eyes meet yours.

"You do remember me don't you? Once upon a time we were in love." You see the rest of his coworkers trying and failing to look like they're not listening. But it's not like you care if they do, Spencer will though but luckily his back is to the door. After a few moments of tense silence, he finally speaks.

"Of course." It's not the answer you were hoping for but it's an admission, which is more then you were getting earlier.

"Do you miss me Spencer? Miss me in bed next to you?"

"W-Well I-"

"Do you miss when I used to cook your favorite dinner every night when you came over? Do you miss how I loved you unconditionally?" Your voice was steadily growing more hostile, and you knew there were tears building in your eyes. This has all been building up for so long you know you can't stop it now.

"Y/N-"

"Do you miss being able to fuck me whenever the hell you want? Is that what you miss the most Spencer? You must not miss me that much because when you left I didn't even get a fucking call! You didn't even say goodbye, you just left!" You were yelling now, with tears streaming down your face. Spencer had slyly shut the door by now, he knew this was going to happen the second he saw you. He wished he could help you understand why he had to leave the way he did. He was trying to protect you, and he still firmly believes he's protecting you. Look what happened to Haley, what happened to Maeve. Spencer loved Maeve and he lost her like Hotch lost Haley, and Spencer can't lose you. Not you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to you.

"Please try to understand-" You never even let him get close to finishing his thought.

"Understand what? Leaving me? You said you loved me! How could you love me and then leave me alone? While I was pregnant!" Your hands flew to your mouth, you honestly never planned on telling him that. Spencer's eyebrows rose high in the air, and you can tell you just knocked the wind out of him. Spencer's hand reached back for the door handle, "pregnant?"

"Spencer I'm sorry I didn't mean to tell you that way." You tried to explain, and despite the fact that he'd abandoned you, you were dead terrified of him leaving again now that he was stood in front of you.

"Do I have a child you never told me about?" His voice is shaky, afraid. Now you can see all his coworkers heavily invested in your conversation.

"N-No, I...I got rid of it." You said softly, watching the mix of emotions swirl across his face. When his trembling palm curls around the door handle you launch forward to grab at his arm.

"I'm sorry, please don't leave. Not again-" But he's pulling his arm free from yours and turning out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind him.

//

Spencer ignored the questions, he ignored the looks. His legs gave out somewhere near one of the couches. He stared ahead numbly, trying to make sense of what you'd just told him. Trying to somehow wrap his head around the terror of you being pregnant and then the grief of the lost possibility all at the same time. By now, JJ and Rossi had shooed everyone away from Spencer. Which he was immensely grateful for, the only thing he wanted now was to be alone. Completely and entirely alone.

Pregnant.

The word kept replaying like a scratched record, screeching in his ears every time he closed his eyes. Spencer pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching him. Whoever it was, he already wished they would go away.

"Damn Kid, I didn't expect you to date such a spitfire." Derek joked as he sat down, doing what he can to ease the tension. Spencer didn't even bother looking up at him, his head stubbornly lowered and his gaze locked on the ground. Derek racked his brain for something adequate to say, but what was there to say? How could Derek find a way to make this right? Spencer just found out you were pregnant with his child and that you'd got an abortion all in the same 10 seconds. It was a lot to process.

"You gotta talk to her Spence." Derek's voice was less humorous this time. Spencer wrung his hands nervously, his eyes finally lifting to meet Derek's. A sharp shake of his head and a flash of the tears in his eyes and Spencer stands, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. Time to get back to work. Someone has to talk to you, Derek can't stand of someone crying by themselves like that.

"It's not really my place-" JJ tried to argue as Derek stood in front of her.

"Someone needs to talk to her, and Spencer isn't going to." Derek said, rubbing a hand down his face as his eyes flickered back to Spencer. Who was currently throwing himself headfirst into the geographic profile of the killer they're looking for, because maybe if he works hard enough the rest of the entire world will just disappear. Maybe if Spencer keeps working and does nothing else you'll just vanish from that room and he won't have to deal with this. It's not that Spencer wants you to go away, the opposite actually but there isn't room in his life for you anymore. It's not safe. Spencer would rather be alone for the rest of his life then put you in danger because he's lonely and misses you.

"Alright, fine. But only for Spence." JJ says, jabbing a finger in Derek's direction before reluctantly heading towards the room you're in. She glances back at Spencer, who has become consumed by the map in front of him. JJ can always tell when something is bothering him, he has physical giveaways. The way his shoulders are rigid as he scribbles something on the whiteboard, the furrow in his brow that lets her know that while he's working on something, his mind is elsewhere. The tremble in his palm from trying so hard to hold everything back, everything he doesn't want anyone else to see. To someone that doesn't know Spencer, he looks perfectly composed, his attention and focus completely on his work. JJ knows him well enough to know that his mind, and heart are sitting tattered in this waiting room on the couch next to you.

JJ creaks the door open, flashing you a smile that makes you absolutely hate her guts. Spencer probably has some puppy love crush on her, she's beautiful. Long blonde hair, slender body, stunning smile. Everything you're not.

"Hi I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ." The way she's looking at you lets you know that she came in here to try and understand. You're not in the mood to talk to her or anybody else in this stupid building except for Spencer. You want to hate him so bad but you can't. You can't because of how much you fucking love him. The bastard.

"Look I know you're probably not all that excited to talk to me-"

"I want Spencer." You snap, and by the look on her face you can tell she isn't surprised that you said that. JJ chewed on the inside of her cheek, how does she say that Spencer doesn't actually want to talk to you?

"Dr. Reid is needed elsewhere right now, but I'm willing to talk if you need to."

"You don't have to lie Agent Jareau. I know he doesn't want to see me, he's doing that thing where he pretends to work on something while secretly obsessing over something else." You say casually, and the fact that you can pick Spencer apart so easily is somewhat off-putting to JJ. But that could be her unrequited crush on him shining through, deep down JJ doesn't like that some other woman knows Spencer better then she does. While you'd love to sit here and wallow in your misery, a much worse idea strikes you then. If you can't talk to Spencer why not fuck with the woman who's clearly in love with him.

"And the little twitch in his fingers, the slight clench in his jaw. See that? He keeps rolling his shoulders back," while everything you were saying isn't a lie- it's guaranteed to annoy her. JJ stayed quiet, she hated that she didn't know what the goddamn twitch in his fingers meant.

"He's tense, but there's more. He can't stand still, keeps shifting from foot to foot. It's driving you crazy that you don't know why he's doing that." You laugh as her annoyed eyes flash to yours for a second before settling on Spencer again.

"You're a profiler, you can't figure it out? That doesn't surprise me, you've probably never considered the fact that Spencer has an unusually high sex drive." Your words completely stun her, and JJ's cheeks flush profusely.

"It means he's horny." You say casually, leaning back against the couch. You love the blush on her cheeks, and the fact that she's clearly biting her tongue to avoid saying something rude. You love that you got under her skin, and yes you're aware that you're a bad person. Now that you've said it, JJ can't get it out of her damn head. Spencer is horny. Spencer isn't a virgin. The thought of Spencer having sex makes JJ feel a sick turning in her gut. She was happy believing Spencer was a virgin, believing that nobody has gotten to experience that side of him yet. Happy to believe that he was untouched, but apparently that was not the case. Now that the illusion has been shattered, JJ feels as though the jagged pieces of it are cutting into her, and she knows you enjoy watching her bleed.

"Trust me, I know just what to do to relieve the tension, I know how to get him off quick. Do you?" You smile as you let your eyes shamelessly drag down his slender frame.

"You're only saying this because you want to control the conversation, and you hate that I see him everyday. That I can talk to him whenever I want, about whatever I want. You wouldn't lash out if you didn't feel intimidated." JJ says calmly, rendering you just as speechless as she was moments ago. The pain that was sent stabbing into your heart caused you to recoil back from JJ, trying to hide your misty eyes from hers. You can't let her know that she's winning.

"Look, we can both get nasty all we want but that's not why I'm here. I just want to help." JJ says sincerely, but you still don't budge. JJ taps her fingers against the wood of the table, thinking about leverage she can use to get you to talk to her.

"Spencer fell in love again." JJ says finally, and this time you turn your gaze up to look at her. You push your emotions down, no matter how much it hurts to hear her say that. Who is she? Are they still together?

"If you want to know more about her, then I suggest you talk to me. An answer for an answer, fair?" You can see her trying to bait you, and damn her because it's working.

"Fine." You grumble, leaning back fully against the couch. Your eyes catch Spencer's for a second when he turns to face the table, presumably looking for a map you remember being on the right side. You point to the right side of the table and Spencer looks nothing but annoyed when he follows your direction and finds what he's looking for. He hates that he functions better as a person when you're around.

"What's the deal with you and Spence?" JJ asks, and there is a lot to unpack with that question.

"Gonna have to be more specific." You say with a shrug, your eyes hesitantly meeting hers.

"How long were you two together?"

"2 years 8 months." You answer without pausing, causing her eyebrows to raise. JJ didn't expect you to remember down to the month, it's been years since you and Spencer were together. That's not a short fling like JJ originally thought, that's a substantial amount of time.

"What's her name?" You ask, desperate to get information on this mystery woman who has stolen Spencer from you.

"Her name was Maeve." Was. You don't miss how she says was instead of is.

"Why do you hate Spencer?" JJ looked like she cared, but you know it's not you she cares about. She's in here to try and protect Spencer in some way, she's acting like you're the villain.

"I don't hate him. He abandoned me. Just packed up and left, no note, no goodbye. Haven't heard from him since." You snap, hating the amount of emotion that was in your voice. JJ's eyebrows furrow, that's just so unlike Spencer. He's not cruel, he's never been cruel but that...is cruel. You see a look flash across her face.

"Sweet boy isn't as sweet as he seems." You say softly, folding your arms over your chest.

"He must have had a good reason." JJ insists, her eyes landing on Spencer's back as he continues to map out the hunting grounds of the killer. You know he's just wasting time to avoid coming back in here. Spencer is a certifiable super genius, he finished mapping it out a while ago. He's just pretending he hasn't finished yet.

"Spence still with her? Maeve." Her name felt like poison on your tongue, and JJ slowly shook her head.

"She died in front of him, really tore him up." Your heart cracks a little bit at her words, you can't imagine how hard that must have been for him. You see JJ open her mouth to ask something else when the door opens, and a man with darker skin pokes his head in.

"JJ? Reid found him, we gotta go." As soon as he arrived, he's gone with JJ hot on his heels. She sends you a smile before she rushes out of the room, and you see Spencer following her path out. They're going to arrest a murderer who has an arsenal of weapons at his disposal.

"Spencer! Y-You can't go, it's not safe!" You blurt from the doorway, and he pauses. His eyes find yours as he holsters his pistol, an unreadable expression on his face.

"It's my job." And that's all he says before he disappears out of the precinct, leaving you once again.

//

You couldn't quell the anxiety turning in your gut, you're not sure how to exist while Spencer is out there hunting a murderer. You wished that you could turn off the part of your brain that's still so damn attached to him, but no matter how hard you try you can't silence your heart as it calls for him. You're not sure you could survive the constant fear of losing him if you ever ended up with him again, this life is too much for you to take. Maybe he knew that all those years ago when he left you the first time, Spencer always could see right through you. Maybe he left because he knew staying would only lead you to live a life of constant fear, maybe he was trying to protect you. Either way the reasons don't matter anymore because he left, and nothing can change how badly that hurt you.

"Does it normally take this long?" You ask a passing officer, who in turn shrugs before continuing on his path. You feel like you're going to explode or vomit, or both. It's been over 2 hours, should it be taking this long? What if he got shot? What if he's dead right now and you're sitting here with your damn thumb up your ass worrying about him like a useless housewife? Feeling useless, that's what you hate the absolute most. Knowing there's nothing you can do to stop a bullet on it's trajectory to his heart.

"Spence, are you sure you're okay?" You hear a flurry of voices and when his name graces JJ's lips you're pushing out of the room. Your eyes find him instantly, and then travel to his palm which is pressed tightly to his neck. His bleeding neck. You feel your heart rate spike, hammering like the hooves of wild horses as you move without thinking about it. Before you even understand that you've moved, you're stood in front of him. Your eyes try to scan his neck for wounds but his palm covers the location the blood is coming from.

"C'mere." You grab his wrist and yank him back towards where you saw a first aid kit earlier. Luckily your 2 and a half years of nursing school taught you how to stitch a wound and perform basic first aid. Spencer offers no resistance as you yank him to a back corner of the precinct, pushing him to sit down. You grab the first aid kit, slowly prying his hand from his neck. Your eyes mist at the wound, it's a bullet wound. Looks old though, there's scarred tissue. This had to have happened a few weeks ago at least. You see the thin line of the scar, the middle section seems to have opened up again.

"You didn't wait long enough for this to heal." You scold gently, not missing how his eyes watch you with an intensity smoldering in them. You miss the way he used to look at you, the way he's looking at you right now. You miss being the center of his whole world, you scoff. Look how easy it was for him to walk away from you. You threat a needle to stitch the center of his wound shut again, and when you look for numbing cream you discover that there isn't any.

"Spence, there isn't any- I can't find the numbing..." Your voice trails off as you begin to yank things out of the first aid kit to search for the numbing cream. Spencer's hand catches your wrist and it's only just now that you realize you're trembling.

"It's okay. I'll be fine." He settles back against the chair he's sitting in, turning his head to reveal his neck to you. You hesitate, the Spencer you remember had a very low pain threshold. All of a sudden he's expecting you to stitch him up with no numbing agent?

"Y/N, I can handle it." Spencer says again, his voice firmer than before. You swallow a lump in your throat before reaching forward to begin stitching. You press the needle against his neck, eyeing him to gauge his reaction as you puncture his skin to make the first thread. To your surprise he hardly flinches, a small quirk in his lip is the only giveaway that he's in pain. Is this the same man that got squirmy getting a shot? That would shy away from the needle? Now he's sitting here letting you stitch him up without moving a muscle, without even flinching? The more time you spend with him the more proof you get that this isn't the same Spencer that left you all those years ago.

"How did it happen?" You ask, wondering how he could have survived a gunshot to the neck. He shifts uncomfortably.

"Got shot, two inches away from hitting my jugular." Spencer says it so casually, but you're so stunned that you halt your movements for a moment.

"How many times have you been shot?" You ask, your voice hoarse. Is him getting shot a common occurrence?

"Twice. Also got shot in the leg." The casual way Spencer talks about it almost convinces you it isn't a big deal. But it is. It's a bullet ripping through his body, and it's happened to him on two separate occasions. You finish stitching and bandaging him up, your hands moving away from him as soon as you can.

"Thank God you went to nursing school or I'd be six feet under." He jokes. You know he's kidding but still, the thought of it makes you feel lightheaded.

"Don't say stuff like that." You snap softly, and you know Spencer can see the fear and vulnerability in your eyes. You hesitantly steal a glance up at him once he's stood up only to find he's already looking at you. You shy away from his intrusive gaze, and you could practically feel him probing at your mind. Reading your thoughts as if they were written down for him. You hate that he can always tell what you're thinking, you hate that it was so easy for him to read you. Like a damn book. You have to fight the urge to reach out and grab his hand, it's what you always did when you felt lost or unsure. Spencer was always there to ground you and bring your mind back out of your thoughts.

"Miss Y/L/N?" You hear JJ's voice gently interrupt you two. You shoot away from Spencer as though you were doing something scandalous. He doesn't move an inch.

"Yes!" You blurt a little too loudly, suddenly flustered being so close to him. Why does your sharp tongue always leave you when you need it?

"You're clear to go home."

"I can take her." Spencer speaks up before JJ has a chance to offer, and she knew he would. You swallow a nervous lump in your throat, your palms shaking.

//

The SUV has dark tint, you weren't expecting that. The second you sat back in the plush leather seat your mind flew to lewd thoughts of you leaning over the center console, Spencer's hand in your hair as he helps you take his cock in your mouth. You steal one glance at Spencer, his right hand holding the steering wheel loosely. Your cheeks heat up as you glance down between his legs, get ahold of yourself.

"The address is-"

"I remember." You knew he would. That damn eidetic memory ensured that he never forgot anything. It broke your heart a little, because some naïve part of you was hoping he remembered because it meant something to him. You hoped he remembered the way to your house because he didn't want to forget, because forgetting it meant forgetting you. But you know the reality, you know that he remembers because he has no choice but to remember. His memory is too good to allow him to forget anything, even if it was something he wanted to forget. You're grasping at straws and you know you are, holding onto that foolish notion that Spencer still held onto the memories. That he still held onto the gifts you gave him, crying softly in the night like you did sometimes.

"JJ told me about Maeve." You say softly into the silence, and you saw Spencer swallow thickly out of the corner of your eye. "I'm so sorry you lost her Spence."

"Thank you." He honestly wasn't expecting you to say that, to acknowledge the pain. Because acknowledging the pain meant that you knew he loved her. He did love her. But it was a different love then the love he feels for you. It was special, but so are you. You're special too.

"Have you...dated anyone else?" Spencer can't help but ask as he subconsciously continues the drive to your house. A drive he's committed to his memory, a drive he never wants to forget. You shift to look at him, there were a few you dated. You know when you tell Spencer about them that it'll drive him crazy.

"Tony Anderson." You say and just like you thought, Spencer groans deeply. Spencer detests Tony, they were practically mortal enemies when he still lived in Las Vegas.

"Tony? Seriously?" His tone is incredulous as his grasp on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly.

"He was a good fuck at least." You know you shouldn't wind him up, but he hurt you for Christ's sakes. He deserves a little bit of pain too. Spencer flinches, a look of anger and something else simmering in his eyes.

"Please tell me you didn't have sex with Tony."

"Why does it matter?" You shouldn't enjoy upsetting people as much as you do. But there's still a small part of you that's convinced that Spencer deserves this.

"Because I can't live with the fact that somebody else has gotten to feel that perfect cunt of yours, let alone Tony." His crude words take you by surprise, and you can't fight the gasp that escapes your mouth.

"Well before you start digging your grave, relax. I never had sex with Tony." You decide to put him out of his misery, and you see the relief physically flood his body. You lean against the window, the next admission from you will leave the air heavier in it's wake.

"I've never slept with anyone but you Spence." You realize it's been a long time since you've seen Spencer let alone had sex with him but you could never bring yourself to sleep with someone else. It's not as though the opportunity never presented itself, you had plenty of chances to have sex with someone else. But you couldn't because there's still a stubborn part of you that doesn't want to betray Spencer.

"Really? Why?" Apparently this revelation surprised him.

"Because no matter where you go I will always belong to you." You snap without thinking, blinking tears from your eyes as you avoid his gaze. Spencer fell silent then, and you know he feels guilty. Probably because he's slept with someone else in the time since he's been with you.

"I know you have and it's fine I'm not trying to-"

"I haven't." Spencer corrects instantly, his eyes meeting yours through the darkness of the SUV. If he could see you he would see the look of utter surprise on your face. It's not as though Spencer was an overly sexually ambitious person when you dated, but you figured he probably slept with at least one person. "I haven't slept with anybody else either."

"I know someone that wants to though." You grumble without thinking, your mind drifting to JJ and the obvious crush she thinks isn't obvious. Spencer tilts his head in a way that resembles a confused puppy, you resist the urge to ruffle his hair.

"Who?"

"Agent Jareau." As soon as the name slips past the threshold of your lips, Spencer's jerks the wheel in surprise. You see a dark blush color his cheeks as his other hand reaches up to steady the wheel.

"J-Jennifer? No way! She's my best friend." You nearly laugh at his flustered state, and normally you would push it a little further but you decide to let it go. You don't want to completely destroy the way he sees her, you know you already destroyed the way she sees him.

"You have no idea what a catch you are Spencer." You tell him as you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting ready to exit the SUV. Spencer reaches over and places a warm hand on your wrist to stop you from leaving, his eyes searching yours for an answer he isn't sure you have.

"Come in?" You ask hopefully, you're not ready for him to leave again. Damnit why did he have to turn up again after so long? You were just starting to think that maybe you could move on and find someone new. You were finally starting to feel okay, and then Spencer reappears and turns your entire world upsidown all over again. Deep down you know that nobody will ever compare to Spencer Reid, and you don't want them to. You don't want anyone to be like Spencer, you want him to be his entirely own person. It's what you love the most about him, is his ability to be himself no matter where he is or who he's with. All of his little quirks, the things about himself that he doesn't notice but you do.

"Yeah." His answer comes across as an exhalation of breath, and you try to hide how excited you are. You want to hold on to any moment you can, stolen moments that you take as you please with no regret whatsoever.

"Nothing has changed." Spencer muses once you unlock the front door and push inside the darkened living room. You blush, admittedly nothing about your small townhouse has changed. It's all basically the exact same as when Spencer saw it last. You rub a hand down your arm as Spencer's eyes go wandering. Trailing over the curtains he remembers hastily pulling closed to protect your decency on more than a few occasions. His gaze then travels to the couch, all those movie nights you two spent curled up together. Or when he got you into Star Trek and you couldn't stop watching it. Pain stabs his chest for a moment, it's hard to remember everything he had to let go of to get the job he has now.

"I miss you too, you know." Spencer says off-handedly. It takes you by surprise, the sureness in his tone is jarring. He sounds so comfortable admitting when he's vulnerable, it's never been easy for you to be vulnerable with him. Maybe that's part of the reason he left, maybe you drove him away by shutting him out. His eyes meet yours, a look so soft in his eyes it feels as though his gaze is caressing your skin. You bite your bottom lip to keep the emotions at bay, what is it about this man that makes you so emotional?

"I never said I missed you." You try to snap, to add an edge to your tone. But instead it came out watery and broken, and in turn Spencer reached up to swipe away a falling tear.

"But you do." You can't even deny it, it's obvious.

"Damn you Spencer Reid, I was finally starting to feel okay again." You cry softly, curling your arms towards your chest in an attempt to shrink away from him. He cups your cheeks in his palms, turning your face up towards him.

"I wasn't." He admits before his lips are on yours, and it's not frenzied and desperate like you've been picturing all these years. It's slow and calculated, soft and passionate. Firm but with a tenderness that makes your knees buckle from the gravity of it. Spencer's fingers card into your hair, pulling your head closer to his. He nips at your lower lip, his arms crushing you against his chest. You throw yourself into him, your arms holding him as tightly as you possibly can. Afraid that if your vise grip loosens, even for a second, that he'll slip through your fingers like trying to hold onto water. You almost don't want to let your eyes close, you don't want him to disappear again.

"I missed you, I miss you-" You gasp against his lips, grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt. Spencer continues to move his lips languidly against yours, backing you against the wall. His hand ghosts down your side to the hem of your shirt, his fingers toying with it.

"O-Off." You beg, and in an instant Spencer is pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes land on your bare chest, shocked that he almost forgot that you never really wear a bra. His hands curl around your back, drawing your chest up into his awaiting lips. His mouth curls around your hardened nipple, your hand flying into his hair from the contact.

"Is this a dream? Please tell me you're really here Spencer." You beg, almost becoming lost in the emotions again. His eyes flutter up to meet yours, his mouth reluctantly leaving your nipple. He brushes his lips over yours, his hand trailing down your stomach towards the waistband of your leggings.

"This is real, I'm here baby. I'm home." Hearing those words was too much, and you launch yourself into his chest as the first tear trickles down your cheek. Your lips press sloppily to his, the kiss messy and wet as his hand slides into your leggings. His fingers find your wet slit in an instant, desperately parting your lips to slide a lithe finger into you. Your body reacts to him instantly, in a way that surprises you. Almost as though it too was crying out for him, keening into him and begging for his touch as much as your mind is. Spencer hauls one of your thighs up to hook around his waist as he presses another finger into you. You cry out softly into the quiet air, accompanied only by the labored breathing fanning across your face.

"I need to feel you, I- I need-" You can barely get the words out as he steadily pumps his fingers into you. His mouth on yours silences your desperate pleading, his chest firmly pressing your back into the wall. You missed being able to feel him and you hate that you forgot what it feels like to have his body on yours. It's been so long you forgot what the sting of his cock feels like. What it feels like when you stretch wide open around him, to feel like you're being ripped in two. Spencer continues his pace, his thumb rolling your clit to provide the extra stimulation you're missing. It's not enough to satisfy you, but its enough for you two cum. Which you do. You gush around his fingers as you gently come undone, your back arching into him.

"Please," You beg wantonly, curling your other leg around his waist as his hands hook underneath your thighs. Spencer's lips press against yours, moving slowly against your own. You know now that you will never stop loving Spencer, and that he's completely ruined you for life. You'll never be able to love anybody else without your heart wandering back to him. But then again, you don't really mind because you don't want to be with anybody else. You don't want to love anybody else. You just want him, only him. He pushes into your room, walking the entirety of the way with his eyes closed and his mouth pressed against yours. He has the layout of your house mapped out in his head? He never even bumped into anything until he was dropping you unceremoniously on the bed.

"Tell me what you need, I'll give you whatever you want." Spencer husks against you, hovering above you. Your fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt before you even have the chance to respond to him. You know instantly what you want, what you need from him.

"I want all of you, give me everything." You plead, your lips practically chasing his as he kneels up over you. He's being soft tonight, and that's something you appreciate greatly. You need to feel his love, you need to feel everything you know he can't quite put into words. His hands are shaking as he undoes the button and zipper of his dress slacks before kicking them off the edge of the bed. You stare up at his naked body, looking as though it's been sculpted by the Gods specifically for you. Spencer smiles softly at you as he pulls your leggings down your legs, leaving little nips and kisses on your inner thighs as he goes.

"Hurry." You groan, nearly clawing at his bare shoulders to pull him back up to you. Spencer chuckles at how eager you are, watching with interested eyes as the head of his cock breaches your folds. You reluctantly stretch open as he continues his intrusion, his fists curling tightly around the sheets. Christ you weren't lying about not sleeping with anyone else, you're so tight it's making him feel a little lightheaded. Inch by inch Spencer presses into you, his forehead resting against yours once his pelvis is sitting flush against yours. Sure, you've had sex with hi before but never have you felt this connected to him. Spencer sits like a gentleman and lets you adjust to his size, trying to take a few deep breaths himself. It's hard to breathe with your heat sucking him in with a vice grip.

"Can I move?" You're surprised by how collected his voice is, but the furrow of his brow is a giveaway that he's losing the battle to stay stock still inside you.

"Yes, please." You moan, unashamed. Spencer gently draws his hips back, pulling himself nearly all the way out before swiftly sliding back into your inviting cunt. He sets the pace slow and deep, his hands reaching up to lace through yours. Every time the head of his cock nudges that spot deep inside you, you can feel your toes curl. Your head slams back against the pillows, unable to keep your gaze on him any longer. You feel yourself becoming one with him, and you wish you could capture this moment somewhere other then just in your minds eye. Your memory is nowhere near as good as Spencer's, he'll be able to recall every detail of this moment up until the day he dies. But over time, this memory will fade for you. It'll wear out, all the details becoming fuzzy and blurred. If he's not here in front of you, you'll forget and you don't want to forget.

When the night draws to a close, and the moon has reached its peak, Spencer slips carefully out of bed. It chisels away pieces of his heart as he carefully gets dressed, reaching for his go bag which he'd brought inside upon realizing that he'd be staying a while. He pulls out a t-shirt he'd worn recently and leaves it folded neatly at the end of your bed, something for you to hold onto when he's gone. Spencer's cheeks are wet with tears as he leans over and presses a kiss to your head.

"I love you." Is the last thing he whispers in the space between you two before he's gone again.

//

On the jet, Derek can't keep his eyes off Spencer and that helplessly broken look on his face. A book is laid nestled in Spencer's lap, but Derek can tell he isn't really reading it. Trying to bother Spencer into opening up probably won't work, but it's worth a try. Derek has to do something and this is all he can think of.

"You okay kid?"

"Yeah fine, why?" Spencer draws his eyes up from the book, his gaze meeting Derek's from across the table. While Spencer might be a talented actor, he can't lie to Derek.

"Look I know how hard it must have been leaving her again-"

"Did you know that on average the FDA allows a minimum of 1 rodent hair per 100 grams of peanut butter? They have to allow themselves room for error just in case of-"

"Alright you win, forget it." Derek sighs, turning his gaze out the window. In an instant Spencer drops his peanut butter spiel, turning back to his book. A guaranteed way to get people off his back is to start rambling about something boring or gross, they usually leave him alone pretty quickly. It's not that Spencer doesn't appreciate Derek's concern, he just doesn't want to talk about it. He can't talk about it, because every time he imagines how you're going to feel when you wake up, tears come to the surface of his eyes. He hates this case more than all the rest even though they saved the victim. Spencer hates this case for ripping open an old wound, one he thought healed.

He was wrong.

//

When you wake the next morning you knew he'd be gone. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you reached over and felt cold sheets. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you cried how much you loved him over and over again even though he couldn't hear you. It doesn't change how badly this hurts, how much worse it feels compared to the first time he left. Your eyes catch the shirt folded at the end of the bed and you grab it instantly. You pull it over your body and you lay down in your bed, inhaling his cologne that you know will fade over time. Eventually his scent will disappear, removing all traces that this fabric belonged to him at all. Every trace of him will disappear over time, every mark from your body will slowly vanish. When it's all gone, you'll be left with nothing more than a t-shirt that's too big for you, and a cold reminder that the man you love will never truly be yours. A reminder that every time he comes home, he leaves again.

A cold reminder that this world is cruel for bringing you Spencer Reid, only to rip him from you again and again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer x y/n #spencer x you