#should I tag all the gender bending that went on here? Maybe. But no

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It's Not My Fault My Elegy for a Hockey Team Turned Into an Everlark Porno

Sometimes your hockey team loses and it puts you in such a Mood that you start writing and then suddenly you've got the strangest little slice of Everlark smut that has ever been crafted by your own two brain cells.

This is kind of niche, and full disclaimer it has been done with zero research and almost zero thinking and is in more than one way just my own therapy because god fucking dammit Toronto can you please just win one playoff series FOR ONCE PLEASE

but also I love my boys and wish them all the cheering up in the world

So yes, proceed with all this in mind. And uh, enjoy?

~~~ 

Just like that, another season was over. 

Peeta sat in the dressing room, helmet on his knee, eyes fixed on the edge of the blue carpet beneath his skates. He’d been here before—too many times—and knew that facing the summer on the heels of playoff elimination was always tough. But something about tonight’s pain felt different, somehow fresh, raw, and sharp. It didn’t make sense—the Miners had lost in every way imaginable in the past: they’d deflated before teams half as good as they were, they’d lost key players to injury, they’d collapsed under the pressure and made too many bad plays, they’d let bad reffing get to them… they’d done it all. 

But tonight hadn’t been like that. They’d played really well, made a number of excellent plays, and finally managed to keep their penalties to a minimum. In the seventh game of a close series, they’d held the Peacekeeper’s lead to one goal, keeping the threat of a comeback ever-present, looming over their opponents’ heads, dangling before their own eyes. They’d lost for every reason imaginable, but tonight they’d lost for what seemed like no reason, and it was the worst feeling yet. 

Last year, after losing in the first round, Peeta had made the mistake of checking Twitter, where he was greeted by half a dozen would-be sports journalists asserting that in life there were three certainties: death, taxes, and the Miners losing in the first round of the playoffs. He didn’t need to check tonight to see that’s what people were saying again. He couldn’t blame them. It was how he felt now too—devoid of answers, with nowhere helpful to lay the blame except at the feet of some curse that made their failure a cosmic inevitability. They’d only made it to the finals twice since Haymitch Abernathy had been the fresh-faced rookie who unexpectedly led the team to the cup, and that was over thirty years ago. 

Now Abernathy was their bitter and barely-sober head coach, somewhere north of fifty, a former player who’d fallen victim to injury and vice and had never reached his full potential. He was a brilliant coach in spite of all that, or perhaps because of it, and as he stormed into the dressing room, yanking off his tie and rubbing a hand over his jaw, scanning the room with his sharp grey gaze, Peeta was glad that he was also a coach on intimate terms with disappointment. Abernathy met each of their eyes with that unflinching stare, harsh, but clearly also stung by this latest defeat. He felt it too. He’d wanted this as badly as any of them.  

Abernathy just stood there in the corner of the room for a long moment. He had used up all of his pretty mediocre oratory skills during the intermissions, trying to encourage and even threaten them into being the team he knew they could be, the team they had been just a few weeks ago in the regular season, the team who won. 

He had nothing more to say now, but he was the coach, and he had to say something. Peeta knew it wouldn’t be the usual taunts he threw at them during humiliating losses in the regular season; there would be no “well boys, looks like it’s all over now but the crying,” and no barbs about booking tee times for next Saturday, since they were clearly no longer serious about hockey. Grumpy old codger that he was, even he wouldn’t make those jokes tonight.

After all, it was over, and they were crying. 

He started with something about a good effort, and while Peeta did his best to look like he was paying attention, he didn’t catch more than a word or two. He kept his eyes down, focusing on unlacing his skates without ripping them to shreds in frustration and heartbreak.

So close. He yanked on the waxy strings. His eyes felt hot. So fucking close. 

He’d been over the moon ten years ago when it had been the Miners who drafted him. One of many hockey players born and raised in District Twelve, the Miners were the team he’d been cheering for since birth, the team he’d begged to watch even when it was well past his bedtime, the team whose blue-and-white logo was stamped on the flannel pyjamas he couldn’t sleep without. He’d been a Miner at heart long before the draft, donning the vintage Gray Baird jersey his grandparents gifted him for Christmas and imagining he was one of the greats every time he and his brothers stepped onto the ice. Their family often joked about just setting their address to the ODR in the winter, since Peeta and his brothers practically lived there anyway. They used to wake up before school to get ice time in, layering up until they were stuffed like pillows on ice in the sub-zero weather, hollering about which legendary player they were that day. Getting to be a Miner for real seemed like everything Peeta had wanted since he first became capable of wanting anything. 

His desires had grown up as he had, and by the time he joined the lineup he felt that he’d become more reasonable in his hockey ambitions. Still, like most young players joining a struggling team he’d dreamt of being one of the instruments who turned their game around, who started the momentum that wouldn’t let up until the Miners won and he was holding the Stanley Cup in his own hands. He dreamed of being so good the team would have no choice but to get better too. 

And get better it had; the room he sat in now housed the best roster in the last thirty years of Miners hockey, and certainly a far better team than the one Peeta had joined as a rookie. Several trades and new acquisitions had transformed them from a team better known for its passionately loyal fanbase into one of the best in the league. 

It hadn’t been enough. The bad luck that had hounded the team for decades had not gone anywhere, not with trades, not with new coaches and GMs, not even when they’d drafted what might be the best player in franchise history four years ago in Gale Hawthorne. 

Peeta looked up. Rosie, as the boys called him, was sitting in his usual spot several seats to Peeta’s left, silently undressing as Abernathy wrapped up his speech. Like Peeta, he knew that the media room was waiting to hear from him especially, wanting their star to explain exactly why the team had lost yet another elimination game. Rosie had played well all series, though he hadn’t quite managed to put up his usual numbers. He and his line led the Miners in points, with Rosie and Thom having just beaten a franchise record for points between a pair of teammates, and Rosie himself finishing the season with more goals than any other player in the league. They were the stuff playoff dreams were made of, but Peeta knew that the pair hadn’t been as dominant this series as the fans would have hoped. 

Looking at the pair of them, red-eyed and dejectedly picking at their equipment, they knew it too. 

Neither of them had scored tonight, though they’d both gotten assists on Peeta’s goal—the only one of the night. Peeta was going to have to face the music in the media room too, though he knew he would have an easier time of it than Rosie and Thom; it had been a good goal, and as a defenseman no one was even counting on him to score it, not like they were with the forwards.

He realised he was still staring at Rosie when the centreman raised his head and met his gaze. Peeta couldn’t find it in himself to smile, as he would have done after a win, or even a less crushing loss, but gave a small nod, which Rosie returned. They knew what was waiting for them, and they would face it together. Win or lose, they were a team. 

He was glad to have teammates like Rosie and Thom. He was glad for all of them, honestly; they were a great group of lads and there was no one better to be miserable with than them. 

But as if to add insult to injury, as his eyes traversed the rest of the dressing room, Peeta found himself bitterly wondering which of his boys wouldn’t be back next year. This was the end of the line for some of them, it was just a matter of who, and when. 

Morph was a likely candidate, if Peeta was honest. Morph was a fellow defenseman who’d had a pretty shit season, and whose interference penalty had resulted in a no-goal call on a goal which would have tied the score back in the first. Peeta liked the guy, but mistakes like that were hard to shake, and while he and the other players knew that there was a fine line between stating a fact and placing blame, management tended to see things a bit differently. He wouldn’t be surprised to see a new face sitting in Morpho’s spot next season. 

Then there was Foxy, who was practically good as gone, though for very different reasons than Morph. Foxy had had such a good season he’d effectively played himself right off the team, thanks to a salary cap that meant the Miners could no longer afford him. Young and hungry, he’d be a valuable addition to any team looking to plan for the future and lock in some fresh talent. But players like Foxy brought character to the team, and gave it some much-needed depth. Peeta would be sad to see him go. 

Foxy looked maybe a little less sad than the rest of them now, already mostly undressed, green eyes skittering about the room as he stripped for the shower. Maybe he was already thinking about another chance with a new team, maybe he was trying to detach early to avoid feeling the same pain as the rest of them. One thing was certain: he’d do well wherever he found himself come autumn. 

Then there was Finnick, the veteran player they often called Vintage. Another lifelong Miners fan, Fin had been drafted second overall to their rivals, the District Eleven Maize, when Peeta was only seven years old. Peeta could still remember watching the TV in utter devastation as one of his local heroes was sent to “the enemy,” and had been overjoyed nearly twenty years later when Fin had signed on with the Miners. Vintage was a living legend, playing for the team he loved at a huge discount because he was close to retiring and could afford to play for fun if he wanted to. Maybe a chance at the cup had been a bonus, but with another of those chances come and gone, retiring had to be looking pretty good right now. They often joked that the old man still had it, exaggerating their surprise any time he made an especially good play, but the truth was Finnick was still better than many players ten years his junior. He’d earned his position on special teams and on key faceoffs, and with thighs like tree trunks he was frighteningly fast for a thirty-eight-year-old. But Fin also had a wife and four kids who were growing up at breakneck speed. He’d had a great career, had made his mark on the game and was destined for the Hall of Fame; maybe this latest disappointment would convince him that it was time to move on from the league and start the next chapter.

The thought of playing without Finnick only worsened Peeta’s already foul mood. He was a pillar of the team, with experience and wisdom that they all looked to, leaned on, and at times even craved. He’d forgotten more about hockey than most of them ever knew, and while he was fun to tease—whether it be for how often he switched sticks in a game or for how worked up he got when it was three minutes until they hit the ice and JoMas was still practically naked, shooting the shit with Thom and Briz—they knew how lucky they were to have him. The Miners may have had their reliable stars sticking around—Rosie, Thom, JoMas, and fearless leader Mattie Undersee to name a few—and much of the rest of the rest of their roster would be back in the fall as well, but the team would feel off-balance and adrift without Vintage, and Peeta dreaded the possibility. 

Having nearly completed his scan of the room, Peeta turned to his right, locked eyes with Carty, and deflated. It was hard to be in a bad mood any time the goalie was around, and especially when he looked as much like a kicked puppy as he did now. It had taken JoMas all of a week to dub new goalie Dale Cartwright “Mr Right,” an appropriate nickname for the nicest, most selfless, salt-of-the-earth kind of guy anyone could hope to meet. It was a nickname quickly picked up by their fans, who chanted it—no, screamed it at the top of their lungs—every time he made a save. 

Carty had played well tonight, only allowing two goals and earning every roar from the supportive home crowd, but Peeta knew he was his own worst critic. Carty would be beating himself up for the loss, even if objectively there was little he could have done differently. Worse, he’d be thinking back to previous games, to every goal allowed, to getting pulled back in game four, asking himself “what if” until he dug himself a hole it would be hard to climb back out of. 

They couldn’t lose Carty. As far as Peeta knew he wasn’t a trade risk, but they’d sure been having goalie trouble this year, and who knew what the solution to all that would look like? 

But they just couldn’t. Losing Carty would be taking the heart of the team and ripping it right out, it would mean losing the sweetest guy not just on their team but on any team. Not to mention it would start a fucking riot with the fans, who were head over heels for the guy. 

Some players—goalies especially—got nothing but chirps when they went through rough patches, with assholes trolling the comments of their instagram telling them to just quit already and stop bringing the team down. But not Carty. Carty got comments from old ladies saying they were praying he’d feel better soon, and tags from hockey bros saying they knew he’d find his stride again and just to hang in there. Peeta had even heard one announcer say that if anyone didn’t like Dale Cartwright, they were the one with the problem. He’d never seen anything like it, but he couldn’t agree more. Everyone liked Carty. And in a sport where things could get heated, where tempers often boiled over and where anger not infrequently cooled down through your fists, someone so good and level-headed was rare and precious. Especially now, the team needed Carty.  

Peeta finished undressing and stood, his legs aching, heading for the showers. He stopped by Carty’s spot on his way, finally finding the little smile he couldn’t earlier. Carty seemed to perk up a little to see it, offering one of his own in return.

“That was a tidy little goal, Peets,” he said. His voice was warm, though his eyes were glistening. “Perfect spot.”

Peeta smiled a bit more. “Thanks Carty. You’d have had it though.”

Carty ducked his head, like he always did when offered praise, no matter how well-deserved. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m glad it wasn’t me you were up against.”

Peeta almost mentioned that Carty had let in fewer goals in the series than Marvel Quaid, the Peacekeeper’s goalie who had some of the best stats in the league. He didn’t. It felt like a trite consolation, since Carty knew as well as he did that the only stat that mattered in the playoffs was the final score, and they were the ones who were going to be golfing next week. 

“I’m glad it wasn’t you too.”

 One by one the boys headed for the showers, the room quickly filling with steam and the sound of a sniffle or two over the rush of water. No clothes were hidden, no ice water was dumped on anyone’s back, no pranks of any kind were played as they dragged their feet through the post-game routine. It was clear that they were all just going through the motions, just trying to get to the next step, and then the next, and then finally they could go home. 

But first, interviews. As they shuffled out of the dressing room, towards the media hell that awaited them, Peeta took one last look at his boys, examining every face in case this would be the last post-game with them. Rosie, Thom, Mattie, Beets, JoMas, Cheese, Morpho, Cinner, Blight, Briz, Carty. He felt Finnick step up beside him, squeezing his shoulder and smiling at him in a way that forced Peeta to stare up at the ceiling to keep his eyes dry. 

“Fuckin’ thought we finally had it,” JoMas said from Peeta’s other side, shaking his head. “I could fucking taste it, Peets. Like everything was finally coming together.” 

Peeta nodded, wishing he’d worn a hat like Rosie and Thom—it might be nice to be able to cover half his face right about now. “Me too, man.” He sighed, opened his mouth to say something else, then closed it. What was he supposed to do, encourage Joey and Fin? Grin and tell them “there’s always next season” like they could just come back and try again any time they want? Remind them how close they’d come, how hard they’d tried, how high their hopes rose? Should he say that they should be proud of themselves for a good season even if it had a bullshit ending? 

All that hope, and here they were, about to dump bullshit on it before the press and then try to explain why it died. Putting on their Professional Athlete hats and carrying on like they were all fighting the good fight, playing the game as it was meant to be played, acknowledging that the game as it was meant to be played involved losing sometimes. But don’t worry, they didn’t like losing, and they would try even harder next year; they would lose less. They would remember that every loss was one step closer to the next victory, and that winning was what they did. 

Bullshit. Pretending they weren’t just grown-up boys playing a young boy’s game, feeling the heartbreak and anguish of defeat as acutely as they had at ten-years-old. Bullshit. All that hope, all that sweat, every expectation, every injury, the speckling of puck-shaped bruises on the soft insides of their legs and the bony edges of their ankles, their pulled groins and tweaked knees, the hits that knocked the breath out of their bodies and rattled their brains like jello in a goddamn bucket. Every foot of kin tape, every ice bath, every smack on the ass from Briz, every arena-rattling chant of “Mr Right,” their own voices screaming from the bench, Thom’s broken-toothed, mouthguard-dangling grin after he took a high stick to the mouth, every penalty kill, power play, every goal, every celly. Finnick’s dad laugh going on long after the joke, making them all crack up anew in the dressing room. Abernathy’s rare smiles behind the bench when the smell of victory was in the air. Morpho piping up that the smell wasn’t victory but just Blight’s nervous gas. The breakaways, the turnovers, the show-stopping saves and heartbreaking chances. Their three postseason wins, giving them more hope, painting a picture of round two, of the conference finals, of playing for the cup. Of winning it all, like they knew they could, because they were a good team and this is what they’d been working toward for years.

All of it. Bullshit. Not enough. 

Peeta sighed again. He took another step toward the door. I thought we had it. “Me too,” he repeated. What else was there to say? 

~~~

The post-game interviews could have been worse, all things considered. Peeta didn’t usually hate them, and even when they were a bit of a hassle he always tried to give reporters his best because he knew he was a sought-after subject. Plus… well, that’s just who he was. He didn’t like to brush reporters off, didn’t like coming off as the stereotypical inarticulate hockey goon whose brain was just a plate of scrambled eggs and fibreglass splinters, who spoke in sentences that spiralled into meaninglessness and regurgitation because that’s all he was capable of. 

But tonight that’s all he was capable of, and he didn’t even have the energy to be disappointed in himself. He gave his perfunctory answers, avoided snapping or making excuses, and tried not to look at his watch more than once a minute. It was like getting teeth pulled, but at least now he could go home. 

He may have driven a bit quickly on the way back, but he was exhausted. He was sore in every part of his body, and he was sore in someplace inside him, somewhere deep and soft and fragile. He needed to sleep for fourteen hours straight. He needed a cold beer, or a plate of salty french fries, or a hot bath. Or all of the above, at the same time. 

For far from the first time he was glad to live in a little spot off the heart of District Twelve, on a street where the neighbours were quiet and in a house where there was no lobby full of people lingering to watch him crawl back home with his tail tucked between his legs. Maybe they’d want to cheer him up, maybe they’d want to commiserate, maybe they wanted to tell him he should have scored two goals instead of one. Peeta wanted none of it.

He was surprised when he pulled up to see Katniss’s car parked on the street—he’d thought she was out of town until tomorrow morning. The heaviness in his chest lifted a little at the thought of her, probably already in bed, asleep or maybe reading, her hair pulled back in one long braid as it always was when she was home. Her outfit for tomorrow morning’s workout would be in a neat pile on the counter in the bathroom, where she’d get dressed quietly to avoid waking him before heading out for her morning run. The ingredients for Sunday brunch would be in the fridge, on the bottom shelf: eggs and turkey bacon and maybe even waffle batter. The barest trace of a smile had formed on his lips as he unlocked the front door, stepping quietly inside. He really did enjoy their quiet little routines, and the particular shade of domesticity that came from life as a pair of professional athletes. 

Peeta’s surprise doubled at the signs of life that met him in the entryway. She was very much awake, it seemed, loudly listening to that band from her university town that she liked so much, and… baking, by the smell of it. “Katniss?” he called, toeing off his shoes. Was that cake? 

“In the kitchen!” she called back. 

He guessed as much, and followed his nose, picking out vanilla, a hint of orange, and maybe some lemon in the mix? He’d been in the mood for something greasy and salty, but he wasn’t picky, and he could just as easily eat cake in the bath—

He almost slipped on the kitchen floor as he crossed the threshold, and only partly because she’d managed to get flour on the tile all the way across the room. His girlfriend—his beautiful, talented, beyond sexy girlfriend—was in the process of icing a plate of cupcakes, wearing a coy smile, an apron, and nothing else. 

The piping bag hit the counter, and she was across the floor before he’d picked his jaw up off of it. Then she was in his arms, her mouth pressed to his, hungry, sweet—definitely lemon—warm, gentle… the best balm for a bad night. Forget the french fries and the bath and the beer; she was exactly what he needed right now. 

His hands ran over the smooth skin of her back, travelling down to cup her ass, prompting her to hop up and wrap her legs around his waist. Decades of figure skating made it as easy for her to hang off of his body as it would be for most people to stand on their own two feet, and fuck he tried his best to appreciate that particular talent of hers as often as he could but he would never be used to it.

She pulled away, one hand massaging the damp curls on the back of his head, the other brushing invisible dust off his shoulder. She watched him for a long moment, grey eyes silently probing his blue ones. Looking back at her, it dawned on him that she understood. Maybe she could feel it all through his body, maybe the years they had been together had forged between them a connection that transcended the physical, or maybe it was just that she too knew what it was to lose when you knew you had it in you to win. There was a silver medal from 2014 hanging up in a glass case downstairs that proved it: she knew. She understood. 

And like him, Katniss knew when there was something to say, and when there wasn’t. She brought her mouth to his once more, her free hand moving from his shoulders to her apron strings, deftly untying them all while kissing him silly in this disaster zone of a kitchen. 

He walked over to the counter, clearing a space an appropriate distance from the food to set her down, watching as she pulled the apron over her head, tossing it onto a bar stool. He just wanted to get a look at her, wanted to thoughtfully decide where to begin, but then she was landing soft-footed on the tile and looking up at him through her eyelashes and grabbing him by the belt and suddenly he was incapable of making any decisions whatsoever. 

“Peeta,” she said, her voice a low purr. “You know I had a lot of time to think about what I wanted to do to you when you got home.”

She’d never been able to fake sexy, even on the ice—she had to really feel it in order to play that part convincingly. Knowing this just made it so much hotter to see her like this now, knowing this seductive confidence was one hundred percent genuine. 

“What did you think about?” he asked, fighting to keep his hands still at his sides, his whole body alight with the thrill of letting her have her way with him. “What did you decide?”

Katniss smiled, crouching down to unbuckle his belt. “All of it.” The button followed, then the zipper. “And I’m not stopping until we get a noise complaint.” Her hands stilled for a moment, and when she looked up at him, she looked just like her everyday self again, the mesmerising temptress vanished. Temporarily, he hoped. “Except I know you’re tired, and my alarm is still set for six-thirty, so that noise complaint may have to come soon.”

Peeta laughed, wanting to kiss that shy smile off her face as she bent back to her task, tugging at his waistband. “I think we can manage th—ahh!”

She was fucking quick, that minx. All business once more, her eyes narrowed to something feline as she traced her tongue experimentally along the underside of his dick. 

Fuck, he was tired, but it was a tiredness growing so distant it seemed irrelevant. What was tiredness up against Katniss Everdeen, gloriously naked in their kitchen with his cock in her mouth? 

She had him hard in seconds flat, one hand grabbing his ass, the other working his shaft in a way that had his head rolling back on his shoulders and his own hands reaching out blindly for support, fumbling for the counter, turning awkwardly so he could lean against it and let her work. “Fuck,” he gasped. His entire existence seemed to be rapidly narrowing to a single point, to the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her lips, the bite of her short fingernails against the back of his thigh. 

“Katniss,” he moaned, feeling like he was at risk of breaking the granite countertop he was gripping it so hard, struggling to stay in place as his hips twitched, trying to push him forward, seeking more. 

At this rate the noise complaint wouldn’t be the only thing coming soon. 

“Fuck, Katniss,” he released his death grip on the counter, resting one hand on the top of her head. He wouldn’t pull her hair—he didn’t want to hurt her, and at this rate his muscle reactions were not wholly voluntary. If she did that swirl thing with her tongue again he might just—

His moan was half a shout, pulled from the pit of his belly with a force that left him breathless. It was like she could read his fucking mind, and she was not taking it easy on him. “Katniss—”

There was something gooey underneath his hand. Peeta opened his eyes, not realising he’d closed them, and looked down. The remains of a cupcake, which was now a mess of icing and crumbs, covered his hand, squishing up between his fingers. He must have leaned back and put his hand on the counter again, only apparently he’d landed on the cupcake she’d been icing when he came in. 

Katniss straightened, laughing. “Honestly Peets, if you don’t like my baking, you could just say so, you don’t have to squash it.”

He was a little too dumbstruck at hearing his nickname on her lips to respond verbally, and just grinned back like an idiot. Katniss always called him Peeta—it was the boys who’d taken to calling him Peets. Something about the combination of the playful moniker and the sound of her voice was turning him on in a way he really didn’t have time to examine just then; he was rather enraptured by her as she lifted his wrist, took his fingers in her mouth, and sucked the icing right off. 

It was just his fingers—it had been his actual dick two seconds ago—but still it felt so fucking hot, so fucking good it almost sent him over the edge. He really shouldn’t be this close, but goddamn—

That mischievous look was back as Katniss pulled his fingers out with a pop. She kept her eyes locked on his as she reached for the plate of cupcakes, not breaking eye contact as she took one, crouched back down, and smeared the top across his cock, leaving a thick trail of icing in its wake. 

Had he died? Had he taken a hit from one of the Peacekeepers that had knocked him clean into the afterlife? Who was this woman and what could he have possibly done to deserve her?

Katniss closed her eyes, finally breaking the spell that had struck him still as a statue, and took him once more in her mouth. Peeta shuddered, fighting to keep control as she sucked him clean, her tongue almost scraping his skin as she slowly and with painstaking thoroughness licked off every mote of icing. 

It was going to be too much, he could feel that tightness forming, that tug in his belly that he could try to resist but wouldn’t, not when any sort of thought had abandoned him and the edge of ecstasy was right there. Not when she was coaxing him toward it like a siren to a doomed sailor, relentless, almost demanding.  

“Katniss,” he warned, almost whimpering when she didn’t stop. “I’m almost… Katniss I’m there.” 

She didn’t pull back, but doubled down, one hand scratching gently at his stomach as the other dug into his backside, her mouth wrapped around him as he stuttered and came. 

His knees nearly buckled, and he might have been able to blame it on tiredness from the game but right then he couldn’t even have said what sport he played. Katniss’s grip supported him for the split second he needed to find his balance again, the counter unhelpfully slippery under his sweaty palms. 

“Holy shit, Katniss,” he said, catching his breath, wiping his hair out of his eyes. “Holy shit.”

He looked down when he felt a small hand on each side of his face, meeting the tender eyes of the love of his life and feeling like he was going to lose his balance again. She rose on tiptoe to kiss him, and his brain might not have been working and he might still not have breath in his body, but muscle memory brought him down to meet her. It didn’t matter the circumstances, he could never get enough. 

This kiss was hopelessly soft, almost chaste in spite of what had just happened, and Peeta felt himself melting into her arms. Suddenly his head was on her shoulder, his face buried in her neck, his arms encircling her small, warm body, finding comfort in her that he couldn’t put into words. Maybe he was just a little boy who’d lost a game. Maybe he was a man beaten down by failure. But she knew. And gods above, she was just what he needed. 

“Peeta,” she said quietly. “I love you so much.”

He squeezed her tight. “I love you too.” He pulled back reluctantly; his heart felt a bit raw again, but his brain had finally rebooted and it was beginning to come up with an idea. He ducked to grab her behind her knees, hoisting her up, bringing her back to that spot of clean counter they’d abandoned earlier. He set her down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he leaned close. “So. How’d I do?”

Whatever she expected him to say, it wasn’t that. She frowned, confused. “How’d you do? What—in the game?”

He frowned back, trying to look equally puzzled. “Was there a game tonight?” She started. “I meant just now.” He grinned as she rolled her eyes. “Do you think I got us our noise complaint?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it. These walls are pretty thick, and you weren’t as loud as I know you can be.” She thought for a moment. “You know, I don’t think I heard you say ‘Katniss’ half as loud as I’ve heard you shout ‘Mr Right’...” 

He laughed, kissing the tip of her nose. “Well you’ve always been the loud one,” he quipped. Katniss scoffed. They both knew that wasn’t true. 

Or at least they knew it wasn’t true in most situations. But there were some, if you knew just what to do… 

He dropped to one knee, shuffling her closer to the edge of the counter. He didn’t break eye contact either as he rested his cheek on the inside of her thigh, winking up at her. “I’m sure we can get that noise complaint yet.” 

#this one's for my boys #particularly to Soupy and Spezz and Aussie and Mo #thank you Soupy for being maybe the best person ever I hope you have had lots of Red Lobster #thank you to Spezz for your thighs and for helping me help Finnick O'Dair realise his full DILF potential #thank you to Aussie for making me realise Gale Hawthorne absolutely DESERVES to have that dirty dirty mustache #and finally #thank you to Mo #(and to Tessa Virtue) #for being a VERY convenient candidate for Peeta Mellark #please understand that allowing you to be Peeta for this one hot minute is the greatest honour of which I am capable of bestowing #besides of course the honour of saying you're maybe the only man besides Scott Moir who I would allow to date Tessa Virtue #Okay I'm done now this has been a strange production but somehow a very on-brand way for me to welcome myself back to Tumblr #The Hunger Games #The Hunger Games fic #a fic... of mine??? #Everlark #Everlark fic #should I tag all the gender bending that went on here? Maybe. But no

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Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Companion piece to: Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You

Summary: After a few months of traveling together, Astarion has begun to experience some new feelings around you. After one fateful day in Moonrise Towers, he finally figures out what those feelings are.

Tags: Astarion POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Awkward Fluff, tw: mentions of astarion's past and all that comes with it, tw: mentions of araj scene, Feelings Realization, Jealousy

A/N: here comes the awkward, fluffy Astarion figuring out his feelings Valentine’s special. He’s a hot mess, of course. (happy Early Valentine’s because I will be busy on Valentine’s) And thanks to everyone who voted for this one!

Word count: ~4.8k

Ever since your group entered the Shadowlands, something has been bothering Astarion. He hadn't noticed at first– or rather, had tried his best to ignore it. But, as time goes on, he’s finding it more and more difficult to brush aside.

It had started out small. An odd pain in the pit of his stomach.

What was that? he'd thought, holding a hand to his abdomen in concern. Perhaps he was just hungry, but it certainly didn’t feel like the ever-present hunger in his belly. No, that was a dull, continuous ache. This? This felt like something was weighing him down. Maybe I’m ill. I shouldn’t mention it to anyone, lest Lae’zel slit my throat in my sleep.

Besides, the pain didn’t happen often. He noticed it a distinct few times.

Once, when you first entered the Shadowlands. He’d just watched you bend down, hands plucking at something off the side of the cursed lands’ road. He thought momentarily that he ought to stop you, that none of you knew what could be lurking in its magical darkness. But that tinge of worry was promptly replaced by that same gods awful pit in his stomach. 

Because there you were, presenting your party’s cleric with your spoils. You were gifting Shadowheart a night orchid– had remembered that she mentioned loving them. You bore the woman’s wretched joke with a smile. Disgusting, Astarion thought. No wonder my stomach feels uncomfortable, what a pathetic little exchange.

Like everything that had bothered him in the last couple of months since finding himself free of Cazador, he decided to forget the feeling. Life is his to take full advantage now, why let something like that affect him?

Or so he thought until the next time the feeling made its return.

You had just arrived at the Last Light Inn as a group, found shelter through the Harpers’ well-established safe haven. Astarion was quite happy to be rid of the shadows, content to cozy up in an inn. He figured, if he played his cards right, you may even let him partake in your blood or ask for a bit of fun.

Then your party found Dammon. Equipped with Infernal Iron and one blazing hot barbarian, Dammon made magic happen in a matter of moments. 

Astarion was glad. As much as the group was a bit much at times, he understood Karlach’s struggle with her body all too well. She deserved this small victory in reclaiming her body. 

His feelings of genuine sympathy were short-lived though because a moment later you were wrapping your arms around the tiefling’s body. It was a test, of course, to see if Dammon’s fusing had worked. But there it was again, the feeling in his stomach. This time it felt twice as heavy, a lead ball in his guts. Maybe I should let someone know, he thought. This can’t be good.

But the sensation was soon forgotten as your group settled into the Last Light Inn. Old allies were in some miserable new states– requiring even more help, gods– and new acquaintances were made. It was all rather dull for Astarion.

The one time Astarion perked up was when you went head-to-head with the head Harper. He chuckled under his breath when you outsmarted the old crone, Jaheira. That’s right, Harper. Don’t mess with my protector.

Your first night at the inn was capped off with a bit of revelry: a game of Truth or Dare. 

Astarion could sense your reluctance to play. You’d been acting odd all day, stiff and awkward around him. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease you to the high celestial plane– in fact, he already knew what he wanted to ask you. “You are going to regret this so much," he'd said to you from across the table.

Then the game began, and the deep, uncomfortable feeling never left his core.

Each and every companion received your attention throughout the game, in one way or another. Even that damned smith, Dammon, was given a dare from you. And Astarion just sat there, not even earning a glance, his mood growing more and more sour.

When, at last, he was able to taunt you with his question, you were far too in your cups to give a proper response. He sat on your lap, placed there from one of Shadowheart’s dares, staring into your surprised, open eyes, wishing that he'd thought of an easier question for an inebriated version of you.

The group had shooed you both out of the game upon seeing your state, though Astarion didn't mind. He'd much rather leave the lot of them and tease you by himself.

Once you were alone, you answered his question. That he, Astarion, was your favorite and for all manner of incredulous, unbelievable reasons. He’d expected you to say him. He’d asked to hear your praise, confirm your attachment in the name of his plan to seduce you. All the same he was left uncomfortable, juggling the sudden and unabashed flattery. Being praised for his looks was one thing but for being… himself?

The feeling in his stomach grew. Suddenly his lungs felt it, his undead heart felt it. What in the sweet hells is the matter with me? he thought, as he helped lay your drunken, passed out form to bed later that night. He hadn’t felt a sensation like this before– he hated it. 

Then you reached out to him in your sleep, and he froze. Something about the touch quietened the pain under his ribs, and so he extended his fingers, gently touching your brow as you fell asleep. See? I’m fine, he assured himself. I truly am just ravenous.

__

He continued this way for several days in the Shadowcursed lands.

One moment, he was perfectly fine, hacking and slashing at a Shambling Mound with abandon. The next, he would look over at you, see you laughing at something Karlach said, and it felt like an iron ingot had made its way into his insides.

Damned tiefling woman. I’m far funnier than her, you know, he thinks, resheathing his knives with a little too much gusto. The sound of your laughter rang in his head for the rest of the evening, as if he were being driven to insanity by it.

The next day, you had fought a horde of Meazels. At first, Astarion thought the fight was delightful fun– the tiefling woman and the cleric kept getting teleported against their will and after his recent annoyance with both of them, he found it quite amusing. That is, until you found yourself garrotted, teleported as far away from him as possible.

He was on you in mere moments, ripping the creature off of you with his blades. It was almost as if he’d reacted instinctively and, as someone whose instincts typically led him away from danger, he found the sensation quite off-putting. Nevertheless, he'd freed you, asking, “Are you alright, darling?”

Astarion couldn’t remember what you’d even said because once he saw the marks the creatures left on you, the pit in his stomach dropped. Where there had been a heavy pressure before, there was now a sharp feeling. His eyes carefully trailed over your injuries, trying his best to focus on you and not the phantom pain building inside him.

You had been fine, nothing that a quick heal from Shadowheart couldn’t fix, but that feeling stayed in his stomach the rest of the day. It’s simply the Shadowlands, he'd thought. They not only play tricks on the mind, clearly they’re playing tricks on my body.

It was a few days later, as you helped the Harper’s deal with their lantern problem that the sensation shifted again.

Astarion watched, eyes glued to your form, as you dispatched the hideous drider, your twin blades piercing the creature in its most vulnerable spots. He’d seen you kill many monsters before, hundreds likely at this point. But something about the way your body moved in the Moonlantern’s glow, the way your face lit up as the creature’s body crumpled to the floor, caused the vampire to stop and watch.

This time, he’d felt the heavy sensation move up, somewhere just below his throat. He tried against all odds to gulp it away, but nothing seemed to work. We need to finish our business here and get out as soon as possible, he thought now, convinced it was the shadows warping his senses…

But as your travel continues, the feelings never go away. 

It’s a different pressure, it builds, it ebbs, it flows between his heart, his stomach, his torso– and each time he brushes it off. Stewing in these uncomfortable feelings, Astarion spends the week in a hazy mire, not unlike the shadows that surround you all.

Then your group finally infiltrates Moonrise.

__

Moonrise Towers, the seat of the Absolute and a once grand fortress. 

Now, Astarion can’t help but think it seems rather underutilized. Your group is walking along the empty parapets outside, which are woefully missing any sense of grandeur or ornamentation. “Darling,” he says, leaning into you slightly. “Don’t you think we ought to just kill everyone now and take the place for ourselves. Might be quite fun.”

You bark out a laugh, which he feels proud to have produced, and reply, “Maybe later. This is an infiltration mission only. Besides, once we defeat the Absolute, I’m sure there will be a vacancy.”

Astarion laughs back at you. Gods, he enjoys this. The way that he can say something that others would balk at and you will miraculously not only appreciate it, but also play along with it. Having fun with them is so easy, he thinks. And look, I’m still wearing all of my clothes! What a novel idea.

The thought is cut short when your group walks through an outside doorway into a room that can only be described as grotesque. Whoever works here clearly has some knowledge of arcana, if the ingredients and alchemical tools are anything to go by, but it smells utterly foul to Astarion.

It’s when you spot the drow woman hunched over a table in the corner that he realizes where the stench is coming from. Hells below, that woman reeks of something truly awful, he thinks, recoiling. He’d grown used to following behind you closely, but as you step forward to speak to the woman, he finds himself taking a step back instead.

The woman introduces herself as Araj Oblodra, a trader of blood– a rather poor trader, by the smell of it. She takes note of Astarion, who shuffles back instinctively, before you and her go about some kind of business with your blood. Astarion contemplates speaking up, shooing you away from her, but decides to stay back, as far away as he can remain without arousing suspicion. They can handle themselves.

Then, after the woman looks back toward him one too many times, he hears you snap, “And why are you so interested in my pale friend?” 

“Ah, yes. Perhaps there’s one more thing we could discuss,” she begins, her voice a dangerous drawl. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn at least.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion says, all-too-ready to fill his role. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” she’s quick to respond. Her eagerness picks at Astarion’s nerves, and he raises an eyebrow at her. Araj doesn’t deign to give him another moment’s look though, as she turns back to you. “I assume he belongs to you?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds offended– on his behalf, Astarion wonders? “He’s his own person.” Your words cause the feeling in Astarion’s stomach to flip, and, as much as he wants to come to his own defense, he finds himself quite content to hear you do it for him.

“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” she says with a snide chuckle. 

Adorable? he thinks, but he’s unable to interject before the woman continues to barrel forward.

The blood trader turns back to Astarion, face wrinkled with distaste as her tone changes to something a bit more confrontational, “Do you have a name, spawn?”

Her sudden shift in attitude, the proud tilt to her head, it all throws the vampire off balance as he goes to answer, “Astarion, b-but hold on!” Astarion holds up a hand to try to slow this woman’s tirade, all to no avail.

“Good. Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl,” Araj begins, laying out the scene for her request.

Too bad that the scene sounds quite ridiculous to Astarion. Surely he heard her incorrectly? “I’m sorry, you want to be bitten?”

The woman goes on a new insane diatribe– something about dancing with death– but Astarion can hardly be bothered. All he needs to know is that she’s offering some measly potion for being bitten and, gods, does he not want to bite this woman’s disgusting neck. Or wrist. Or really any part of her. “I will have to decline,” he says, with a gracious little bow. Your group is still infiltrating the towers, it wouldn’t do to tell Araj exactly how horrid she smells.

It’s entirely more grace than she deserved, that much is clear because she presses him again. Again, he refuses. “I gave you my answer.”

The drow scoffs, turning back to you once more, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

You, for your part, look confused. There’s a line of concern in your forehead as you look between the woman and Astarion, wondering what it is that you’re missing. “I’m surprised, Astarion. I thought you’d enjoy an opportunity like this.”

What?! he thinks, a sudden, sharp spike of anger shooting through him. He tempers his immediate rage and speaks to Araj with that same, false pleasantry she doesn’t deserve, “I’m sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?”

Astarion, not waiting for her response, pulls you aside, away from the drow’s nosy eyes and ears. Once you’re alone, he turns to you, his voice a hiss, “Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some-some-some potion?”

“What’s the matter? Why would she be different from any other enemy?” you ask, leaning toward him.

Your voice is full of genuine worry, and some of his anger abates as he meets your eyes. Of course, they don’t know what they’re asking. How could they know? “Because there’s something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here. Ugh, it’s rank.”

Now your brows furrow, and a sharp edge enters your eyes as you ask your next question, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her blood?”

“I can’t say. It just smells… wrong. Unnatural.” His words sound pathetic to his own ears. 

Of course that’s not an excuse, Astarion laments. What am I even thinking? The potion is clearly useful. They are going to make me do this, and I may as well prepare myself. I’ve put up with worse after all.

So, he stands straight once more, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. His tone takes on a resigned tone as he continues, “Drinking it wouldn’t kill me, but it would not be pleasant.”

You both hear a sigh from behind you. “I don’t have all day, True Soul,” Araj calls, impatiently.

Your eyes remain focused entirely on him, ignoring the woman’s irritated sigh, her entitled words. “Astarion,” you begin, and he takes a breath in preparation for your other foot to drop. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if she refuses to take no for an answer again, we’ll simply have to start our assault on the towers a bit early.”

The breath leaves him.

"Alright. Uh, thank you,” he says, feeling the tension drop from his shoulders. He’d been prepared to acquiesce, to do exactly what you’d asked of him. But this? This is something he hadn’t been prepared for. 

In a daze, Astarion makes his way back to Araj, putting on as polite of a facade as he’s still capable of making, “It's still a ‘no’, I’m afraid.”

“How very disappointing,” the blood trader says, shooting you both a disgusted look. She turns away in a huff, leaving your group alone to recover from the exchange. And leaving Astarion floundering in another new sensation.

Because once more, the feeling in the pit of his stomach has reared its ugly head– only this time it shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He's not sure what it is, but it's stunned him into slipping off his carefully crafted mask. He turns to you once more, voice soft around its usual edges, "Thank you. I… appreciated that.”

"You have no need to thank me. It was always your choice, Astarion."

Huh.

The feeling sinks into him, settling deeper and deeper as you continue through Moonrise.

__

That night, you go to bed in your own bedroll, leaving Astarion to his meditations with a smile and a wave. It has been a long day for all of you, and it's clear from the way you take a glance back that you're worried about him.

Gods, he's worried about him.

After dealing with that vile drow woman, you'd all continued about the tower, ingratiating yourselves with even the most repugnant of creatures to appear faithful to the Absolute. But Astarion paid attention to almost none of it.

He'd stabbed when you told him it was time to stab, he'd joined your side when you called him to you, but his mind had been wholly preoccupied.

They didn't make me do it, he'd thought, as he unlocked some chest.

Well, isn't this exactly what I wanted? he'd thought, following you down some stairs.

Clearly they just fell for my charms, my masterful seduction, he'd thought, flanking a prison guard for you.

So why do I feel like this? he'd thought, staring at your back as you led the way before him.

Now, he lays here in his tent, staring at the fold of its ceiling in a rapt fascination he doesn't feel. The feeling in his stomach has stayed all day, tethering him to his thoughts with its continuous pressure.

When did I get to the point where I would follow them anywhere? Is their lack of self-preservation contagious? he asks himself, eyes narrowing in frustration. I shouldn't have gone into that horrendous tower in the first place. Then I wouldn't feel like this.

But he had.

And you'd not forced him to do so.

You'd not forced him to do anything.

They're a fool, an utter fool. I could have bitten that drow, as easy as breathing, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the thought. Close your eyes and push through, that's what I always say.

But did you want to? something in the back of his mind asks. 

Of course not, but when has what I wanted ever mattered– 

It may not have mattered under Cazador's grip, but it has always mattered to you. You're nothing like that evil man. You'd always been there for him, had managed to find trust in your heart for him, and had been genuinely kind to him.

The now-familiar feeling in his stomach seems to spread to the rest of his body, a warmth that doesn't quite feel warm. It bleeds all the way to his face and his lips curl up into an involuntary smile at the thought of you.

You– you, who had only ever been meant to play a bit role in the tragedy that is Astarion’s life. You, who had transcended your part, leaving Astarion contemplating every aspect of you in the stark solitude of his tent. 

Your beauty when you're covered in blood after a battle, the mischievous glint in your eye when you're teaching a child a sleight of hand trick– even when anger pulls your brows together and you're yelling at him for saying something particularly naughty. Each and every one makes his smile grow wider.

You, his chosen protector, are so much more than just that.

They are incredible. The thought comes to him unprompted, truly as easy as breathing.

His eyes widen in alarm, staring blankly at the tent above him.

The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t an illness. Nor was it hunger. No. It was guilt. It was jealousy. It was…

Oh fuck, Astarion curses to himself. Am I in love?

Now that he has a word to the sensation, that the feeling is in his grasp, he knows he's right. He doesn't have a lot of experience with love, if any– he'd never had the luxury under Cazador's cruel gaze and he can't recall much from before that– but he knows he's right.

And hells does he wish he could crush the feeling in his hands right here and now.

Gods, you complete and utter imbecile, he thinks, hitting his head against the floor. You have things to do, goals to accomplish. They were only supposed to be a means to those goals, not a – a–

Astarion’s mind blanks as he thinks of you again, your charm, your wit, your damnable caring.

Not a companion. Not a friend. Not a lover. When did those late night trysts turn from an obligation, a part of his simple, perfect plan, into something more?

Even now, as he thinks of those nights, he brings a hand to his lips, recalling a night where you had simply stayed in his bedroll. You had kept all of your clothes on, as had he, and simply held each other as you fell asleep. Their kiss that night was delectable, he recalls, tracing the line of his lips, as if he could still feel the ghost of yours on them.

Fuck, he thinks again, dropping his hand in frustration. How could I have been so blind? How did I not nip this in the bud before it got to this disgusting pining?

But he hasn’t nipped it in the bud. The feeling has grown, unfettered, quick as a druidic plant growth, all unbeknownst to him. It has been nurtured by your attention. It has been watered by your kindness. It has become unruly in the safety of your arms.

Now what? he thinks to himself bitterly, wiping a hand across his face with a sigh. What use are these feelings when everything they were built upon is a lie? You are, after all, still playing the role he set out for you.

He considers overlooking the feelings, just as he has inadvertently done in his ignorance. It wouldn’t be of any use to tell you, of course. You could hardly feel the same way about him as he does you, and he’d rather not add another nuisance in the fight against the Absolute.

Besides, if he told you, he would have to fess up, explain his entire plan to you. What would even be left of the two of you after that?

But, he thinks to himself. Let’s say I did tell them. What could they possibly say…

“I was pretending all along too.” – gods, that would break him. That much is all too apparent from the way his undead heart aches at the thought, with a pain he couldn’t possibly feel.

“I like you, but not like that.” – maybe this was worse. Actually, it was definitely worse. He may never recover. His ego would certainly never recover.

“I have someone else that I love.” – honestly, reasonable. What did he have to offer you after all? A bloodthirsty master and the occasional snarky comment? He wouldn’t be surprised to find you in Karlach’s tent at this very moment…

“I hate you.” – he might be able to take this the best. You should hate him. He’d done nothing but lie and manipulate his way into your bedroll. Hate, well, that he understood.

“I love you, but…” – every single 'but' cut like a different, jagged blade. But we’re in danger every day? An excuse, surely. But you come with too much baggage? True, but not something he would be able to resolve. But I don’t want to be with a monster? Again, reasonable, but out of his control.

Astarion runs through scenario after scenario, each one playing with his own emotions in a new and horrendous way. In the end, he all but slaps himself out of it.

No, I cannot tell them. I absolutely must take this to my second grave, he determines, shaking the thoughts away with a few hard blinks.

But the feeling in his chest is more persistent than ever. As if giving it a name and meaning has given it a new, annoying life. He laments to himself aloud, "I may never feel like myself again.”

If this is what love does to a person, he wants no part of it.

__

The vampire didn't have a restful night's reverie, that much is apparent. His mood is foul, his body tense, and his eyes are trying their damnedest to avoid yours. 

No way, he thinks as you all set off for the day. I spun myself into a frenzy last night. Clearly. I feel absolutely nothing–

Then you turn back to him, concern lining your eyes as you address him. What had you just said? He had found himself somehow lost in your eyes, your lips, the turn of your nose… 

Shit, he thinks to himself. No, get back in control. You have only just reclaimed yourself, you can't lose yourself to something as cruel as love.

But, try as he might, his eyes can’t avoid you. 

All morning, he continues to sneak glances your way. Despite his roguish nature, he finds hiding his stares to be impossible. After all, you are the group’s leader. You are at the front, you are at his side, gods, you are everywhere. This feels like some kind of divine punishment…

You catch him looking, of course. And each time, he curses himself, gods, you idiot. You may as well broadcast your feelings to the world. And hells, how long have you felt this way?

Astarion tries futilely to act normal. This is just another day with the group in the Shadowlands. He’s not thinking about holding your hand in his. He’s not thinking about the way you look when you sleep. And, above all else, he is not thinking of your lips or the way that they move when you say his name.

Despite his inner turmoil, the world moves on. You lead the group through the Mason’s Guild, and you all manage to clear the place out easily enough.

The vampire thinks he’s finally reaching some sort of peace. Yes, this routine work he can do. No problem at all.

Then, you say something kind to Karlach, that infernally charming woman, who continues to support you at your side. Who, for all intents and purposes, should be the person who warms your bedroll at night, now that you can touch her. Not him, the man who can only make your bedroll colder. Who, even now, is avoiding your every glance.

Oh hells, he thinks, face dropping. The realization that he’s right is too much for him to bear.

Astarion stalks off, annoyed at himself and his thoughts, needing a moment to recollect himself. I can do this, he thinks. I can do this. I can–

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath once he knows he’s alone. “You’re supposed to get over this, you stupid fool. Shit. Gods dammit.”

He hears your familiar footfalls approaching and freezes, his shoulders tense with anticipation.

You find him in a pool of shadows away from the others, and he can’t help but feel like a beast that’s been cornered. He’s certain his face reflects that, reflects every bit of emotion he’s feeling as plain as could be, but your patience with him has apparently worn thin for the day. Your voice is less kind than usual when you say, “Do you need to talk?”

Seeing the anger in your face, the way that your hands are placed on your hips in annoyance, he knows he can’t keep his feelings to himself. He’ll only continue to push you away, into the strong, red arms of another.

No, he thinks, in a panic. I should– I need to–

He needs to do something about his feelings, unwanted or not. Really, he needs to tell you, regardless of what your response may be. If not, he may regret it for the rest of his undying life.

Now that he is in control of his own choices, he supposes that means all of them, for better or worse. That means even the most difficult ones. This is one of those difficult ones, isn’t it?

So Astarion swallows his pride, his anxieties, his insecurities, and settles his fate.

“Later,” he says, barely getting the words out. He blinks, and tries again, pleading with you with his eyes, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

Later, I will tell them. Everything.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion pov #astarion is bad at feelings #astarion feelings realization

[uwusillygirl]

HAPPY END OF KINKTOBER! UWUSILLYGIRL'S BIG HUGE THANK YOU POST!

hi!!!!

first and foremost, i'd love to thank everyone for such a fabulous kinktober. i was tentative about doing something within the community; i was worried no one would participate, or i would be organizing an event "wrong", or that people would feel limited by my prompts and suggestions. you all made sure that absolutely NONE OF THESE FEARS WERE WARRANTED! everyone came with the COOLEST shit.

here is a brief collection of some of my personal favorites; either just stunningly written, fascinatingly done, or personally my cup of tea (and i will not tell you which is which! lmao!)

A SHORT LIST OF SOME FANTASTIC PIECES (IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER):

@aicosu's "KNOCK KNOCK": oxy-addicted, adhd, dopamine hole eddie and fastidious, nerdy, ex-fundamentalist chrissy meet at the glory hole of a seedy sex arcade. visceral, headachey, and so hot.

@staceymcgillicuddy's whole series was awesome, but i LOVED their "humiliation + bladder control" prompt especially. nasty and mean!

@jewelledfoxes' also had banger after banger, but i really loved their bottoming from the top prompt, "i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck" .

the anonymously posted "if loving you is wrong, I don't want to be right": the most charming, sweetest little take on hybristophilia a girl has ever seen! chrissy sees eddie being very evil and bad (read as: harmless graffiti) and is simply swept away by his raw criminality. so cute, soft, silly, fantastic.

@chrissy-n-eddie's "Bottom Bunk", a one-shot using "gender bend" and "spit" to give the CUTEST DAMN SAPPHIC CAMP COUNSELOR PUSSY EATING FIC TO EVER EXIST MAYBE EVER? THEY'VE GOT SUNBURNED NOSES! THEY'RE IN LITTLE YELLOW T-SHIRTS!

@bettercraic went big-brained as all hell with their jonathan/nancy/eddie/chrissy voyuerism installment, "let's make a team". quick and sexy.

@erythromanc3r wrote this mean and insane and nasty one-shot, "kiss me where you bruise me" that is the hottest anything ever. you're never gonna guess what i loved about it (kidding. you will. it's mean.)

FINALLY! i would like to thank those who stuck to THEIR OWN HARD LIMITS, CREATED WHOLE SERIES, OR WANTED TO DO SOMETHING ELSE! we had some people make whole cohesive (@hunter-gatherer-stuff) stories, we had some people come in and write about pimple popping, we had people write shit (@badlydrawnlips) based on my own indulgent little kink dynamics (sorry, couldn't not mention that one... so baller), and best of all, we had people write their own stuff when the prompts were not for them. that made my heart so happy.

A FINAL PERVERT'S NOTE:

if you are working on a kinktober series that's gonna take more time, if you have prompts in process that you suddenly have the urge to finish, if you wake up in a cold sweat on december 3rd and just NEED to write about spit, fucking do it and tag it. i love you so much. every day is kinktober if you are a true pervert. take your time, love your life, remember that fanfiction (like art in general!) should be an enjoyable effort and made under your own rules!

there is still some stuff i have left to read on the tag! and i loved literally everything i read, this is just a rapid-fire word vomit. i PROMISE i will get around to anything unread soon! i am so unbelievably pleased about this month, thank you all again so, so, so much!

#hellcheer kinktober 2023 #i couldn't find some of you to tag!! if you are unmentioned in one of my links please let me know!!

[raptorsaurusmelain]

Let me show you... Youtube - chapter 23

I think I want to post it on AO3, is this a good idea ?

Warning : no proof reading, English is not my mother tongue.

Trigger warning : once sentence speak about unaliving themselves.

If you are interested in reading this fic, the tag "#twst lmsyy" will give you all the chapters.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The woman didn’t understand the sentence really well. She turned her head. No one. [Strange… I was sure someone was there.]

Victoria looked at Crewel with her eyes full of questions. “Did you speak to me ?”

Crewel patted her head. “No. Hearing voices ?”

Victoria frowned. “... Maybe.”

Like magic, she received a text. about the painting. She smiled “I am sorry, I gotta go. Thank you for spending all this time with me.”

The man coveted her. He feathered the back of her hand with his mouth. “No big deals, it was wonderful to spend all this time with such a beautiful woman.”

Victoria reddened. “Thank you for the compliment… Goodbye.”

She flew to the art room. She was panting by the time she arrived. “I am here for the painting !”

A teenage boy greeted her. “Hello, I am the painter ! Nice to meet you.”

Victoria looked at him from head to toe. He seemed near a good burn out. They had the same dark circles and pasty white complexion, indicating the unhealthy lifestyle they lived. They even had the same fake smile plastered on their face. Damn it was like looking at a gender bending mirror.

The boy spoke first “Mh, about the canvas… Do you really want to buy it ? It is a depressing one… Ladies normally prefer bright paintings with flowers and cute animals on them…”

Victoria nodded. “No, I want this one. It is really a melting pot of raw emotions, I like it. It reminds me of myself.”

He seemed troubled. “Oh… Ok… Then for the price..”

They discussed the price. Once she gave him the money -after insisting to pay him rightfully- she asked. “This painting feels like something you already experienced. Is it you ? Or someone you know ?”

The boy had a faint smile. “I am the one in this painting…”

Victoria felt tears coming out. “You know… If you have help, everything will get better. I know it for sure.”

The poor teenager squeezed her hand before she went away. “Thank you..”

She turned around with her new addition when she heard a faint whisper. “Whore.”

She turned her head as fast as a human could to see who was speaking. No one again. [I don’t like this at all.]

When she was in the corridor she was stopped by a voice she knew. “Mrs Devi ? What are you doing here ? You should be watching the games.”

She smiled facing the man. “I could tell you the same professor Trein.”

He coughed. “I was merely patrolling inside the school.”

The cat in his arms meowed. He added/ “What do you have here ? A painting ?”

She nodded and showed him. “Indeed ! A fellow student made it. I think he has a lot of talent, the emotions are so raw. I love it.”

Lucius seemed intrigued by the canvas. He sniffed it. Trein frowned. “It is… an unusual taste in painting.”

Victoria shrugged. “Well you need a little bit of everything to make a world… I don’t critique people’s taste in food, don’t critique my taste in paint.”

The duo was stunned by her comeback. “I am not criticizing your taste, I just find it original.”

Victoria, deadpan, looked at him. “‘Original’ often means ugly. Like when we say that a hat is ‘original’ when it is just plain old ugly. In short, I have a painting and I am going to hang it, if you excuse me. Humpf!”

Trein was left speechless. Lucius meowed. Trein asked the cat. “What do you mean I screw things up ?”

Victoria came back quickly to the dorm to hang her painting in her bedroom -after watching a quick tutorial on how to hang a frame on old wood wall-. No one had good taste in paintings here. She could spend hours looking at it without getting tired of it.

She heard noises then a good “Victoria we are hoooome.”

The woman welcomed the duo. “Hello dearies ! How were the games ? I filmed your game of course !”

Yuu became shy while Grim boasted confidence. “Nya ha ha !!! We were awesome, no ?”

Victoria applauded, smiling. “Of course ! Everyone has witnessed the great Grim in action !”

Grim continued to laugh. This time it was Yuu’s time to speak. “You… Aren't you going to ask us about what happened before the match ?”

Victoria looked at the Child and asked. “Do you want to speak about it ?”

Tears filled Yuu’s eyes. The woman guided the Child to the sofa and Grim said. “You are a cry baby, subordinate !”

Victoria clicked her tongue. “Shh Grim if you want tuna later.”

Grim shut his trap and Yuu began to speak. The fear they had when Ruggie was hurt, the disaster it was to escape the attacks,... They had a lot to unpack, like last time.

She let them cry all they needed. It was to a point they fell asleep on the couch. Victoria covered them with a duvet before preparing dinner. She made tuna mayo onigiri for everyone and left a plate covered with cellophane on the table. She wrote ‘For Yuu <3’ in her best penmanship.

She was in a dire need of sleep.

Tag : @boba-tea-fish @hipsterteller

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst lmsyy #twst fanfic #twst yuu #twst grim #mozus trein #twst mozus trein

[hobisstar]

Tasteful Nightmare

Authors Note: Please this is super gay because i’m super gay so i’m highly excited to write this bihhh! please remember that this is a smut ! PURE SMUT PEOPLE!

Disclaimer: i don’t intend to say Rhea is apart of the lgbt community but i know she supports so she’s an alley. THIS IS PURELY FICTION SO IM NOT ACTUALLY SAYING RHEA IS GAY.

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader(Smut)

Summary: Rhea and Y/N have been the greatest of friends! they’ve done almost everything together but, there is one thing that they’ve kept a secret from everyone~ read to find out

Warning: Foul Language, same gender sex, dom! rhea, sub! reader

Tag List:

Enjoy!

“ 1..2..3! Here are your winners, Rhea Ripley and Liv Morgan!” The Announcer said out as soon as the bell rang.

Gosh, Rhea is literally so different lately in public! She’s so dominant towards me and i won’t lie and say that i don’t like cause believe me i get wet just thinking about it.

me and rhea have had this relationship for the past few years. ever since senior year of high school we’ve been this way.

What way you may be asking? experimenting with each other if you know what i mean.

she’s literally everything great mind, beautiful face, banger body, i mean she’s literally to die for.

snapping back into reality, rhea was walking back to the gorilla and as soon as she got there i jumped on her happily.

“ bestie! you did so good! as always of course.” i said hugging her then letting her carry me to her locker room.

“you think so? honestly i wish i was bending you like that seeing that ass bent is literally heaven.” she smirked and slapped my ass. she’s such a fucking flirt.

“heaven? you pounding me with the strap is more heaven than that you’ve got to know that.

We should we really pack up before we end up fucking in the showers again.”

i looked at her raising my eyebrow to give her a hint.

“ mm maybe i want to cum on your pussy before we leave~. we haven’t scissored in such a long time i miss the feeling. “

we reached the locker room and i didn’t even wait.

i started kissing her and grinding my covered heat all over her side while she started slapping my ass harshly.

i moaned into her mouth and started to undo her top not wanting to waist anytime to get my hands on her boobs.

“mm~ patients is-“ rhea started

“is stupid when i really want to put my hands all over you right now and i know you feel the same Vice versa.

we haven’t did this in months rhea i need you now” i stated.

“i know butterfly but momma is the dom here and i really want to rip your clothes and leave my marks all over when you move so fast. of course i’ll do it anyways so what the hell.”

as i jumped down rhea tore my shirt off and let my tits bounce out to the natural state.

She then bent down and took my shorts off and slapped my bare ass to give me a sign to open up my legs.

“mm bend over i want to eat this pussy from the back.”

i bent over and not even a second i felt rheas mouth all over my lips sucking and licking probably slurping too but i couldn’t tell by the way i moaned very loudly.

“omg your wetter than ever~ and you taste amazing” rhea said giving one last lick then got up and started to undress.

i got up and went to the showers and turned it on awaiting for rhea there.

[this part will be in 3rd person lol it’s easier for me to speed this up]

as rhea made her way to the shower ,

y/n was just getting the temperature right and moaned once it was relaxing enough.

feeling the warmness she almost didn’t want to continue but

who the hell would pass up on getting dominated by Rhea? definitely not her.

“gosh you look just like a goddess under that shower. how did i get so lucky with a best friend like yourself.”

rhea says as she walks to the shower admiring y/n’s beauty.

y/n smiled and put her hand out waiting for rhea to join her. “Says the nightmare herself.

Well your my greatest nightmare that i never want to wake up from i hope that’s okay.”

“oh baby that’s more than okay with me. you know i want to be the only person you ever dream of.

the only person you ever tell your deepest and darkest secrets to.

i want to be the reason your scared to have a nightmare so you cuddle up to me at night for a better sleep.

i want to be your every reason to live Y/N. Will you let me be your ever lasting nightmare?” Rhea said pick her up and putting her against the wall while caressing her sides.

“ Rhea do you know how long i’ve been waiting to hear you say you want to finally make it official? Yes! I want all the dreams and nightmares you bring!”

She said happily and kissed her deeply while rhea slowly eased her hand down to her heat.

she rubbed softly and moaned from just the feel of it and squeezed y/ns cheek.

She bit her lip and hosted her up over her shoulders and instantly started to devour her pussy.

Licking every inch and every once of skin she could get her mouth around.

she sucked on her clit then insert her tongue inside her warm hole.

Y/N gasped from the feel of her tongue jewel being so cold and rubbing against her walls.

“Fuck rhea right there baby~ please go faster.”

Rhea smirked and went faster taking her hand rubbing her clit at a fast pace

while her tongue was going in and out slowing collecting all of her juices and swallowing them.

“Holy shit mommy i’m cumming! im so gonna cum!”

she took her tongue out and said “Oh yeah? well cum baby cum all over mommy’s mouth. cum all over my tongue baby”

she lapped on her clit and put two digits in and fingered her harshly and

when she felt her pussy clenching up she put her mouth all over her pussy and felt her explode all over her tongue.

“mmm~”

“o-oh good”

“baby i forgot how good you taste~.” she smirked and put her around her waist.

“ Look at you all tired. Get rest for now because you’ll be up for the rest of the night.”

Y/N chuckled and looked at her.

“I fucking love you Rhea.”

“And i fucking love you to infinity Y/N.” She kissed her softly on the lips then of the cheek.

“Get washed up then dressed i want to take you out to eat before i make you scream again.”

“Uh about that, could you wash me? i honestly know my legs are numb and standing will only lead to me collapsing.”

Y/N nervously giggled and looked up at rhea.

“Hmm of course i’ll clean my numb baby but don’t kill me if i start a round 2.” She smirked.

“ Rhea your just a tasteful nightmare i could never kill you”

———————————————————

#rhea the nightmare #rhea x reader #rhea ripley #wwe universe #wwe imagine #wwe one shot #wwe smut #wwe monday night raw

[ijwrsmff]

Hello there

This one is a bit lengthy but can i please get headcanons of the straw hats reaction to an admiral reader(gender neutral please) who quits the marine to join them, and is at first is distrusted but does something to gain theirs trust

I hope it's not too much trouble

It's no trouble at all! I really like this idea, it was a ton of fun to write! I hope you enjoy it ^^

Luffy:

He found you during a fight with the marines

He noticed...you were so much stronger than the marines you were fighting with

Maybe not strong in comparison to Luffy...but he was extremely powerful so comparing to him isn’t fair

He saw you deal what should have been a finishing blow to his crewmates…

But for some reason you never hit them hard enough to kill them

Down them, sure...but never kill

He makes quick work of the other marines, and approaches you with a smile

“Join my crew!”

You looked at him baffled

“Quit the marines and throw away all my hard work to become an admiral because some...kid thinks I would be a good match for his crew? No thanks.”

Luffy left it at that, but knew he’d see you again soon

You encountered him once more at a nearby island

“Is...is that offer still on the table?”

He grinned wide and pulled you by your hand to his ship

He couldn’t put his finger on it...but something was special about you

He just knew the crew would love you

After they get over their initial distrust that is

But Luffy? He trusted you already

No hesitation, he knew you had a good heart and that’s what really mattered

Zoro:

He didn’t trust you...at all

He would go silent when you talked to him, giving you the silent treatment

He didn’t trust the marines...how was he supposed to know you weren’t there as a spy?

You tried to talk to him a couple times...but he just pretended he was sleeping

One day, he was up in the crow’s nest training and you walked in

“Mind if we spar? It’s been a while since I was able to.”

Since you left the marines

He huffed but gave a firm “sure”

He didn’t go easy on you, which surprised him when you handled yourself fairly well

You parried his attacks, and gave a few good jabs of your own

He respected your strength

He still won...but he expected to beat you within seconds

Not minutes, nearly half an hour of sparring

From then on, he’ll make small talk with you

Every once in a while he’ll go to take a nap and he’ll pull you down to lay beside him

He also sits next to you at the dinner table, even helping you fend off Luffy when he tries to steal your food

Overall...he respected strength. And if Luffy chose you...you were here to stay

Once he starts to trust you, he’ll protect you at all costs

Nami:

She trusts Luffy’s decision...but that doesn't mean she has to trust YOU

She won’t go out of her way to be mean...but she won’t help you if it means bending over backwards

She interrogates you, wanting to know why Luffy had chosen you

After days of interrogation on and off...she thinks she sees why

You were unhappy in the marines

Sure...you managed to become an admiral...but the happiness you had hoped to feel just wasn’t there

She discovered that in the short time you’ve been on this ship, you’ve felt happier than you ever did in the marines

She’ll be nicer after that, slowly building up her trust in you

“Want me to show you how I chart the islands we go to?”

Even if cartography wasn’t your thing, you figured it would help get you closer to Nami

After that, you would spend hours upon hours with Nami

She can be very...very protective

So once she trusts you, any comments about you that weren’t warranted she’d defend you

She wants to get closer to you, and spends the majority of her time with you

Either sitting on the deck or working on her maps

She even tells Sanji off if he starts to bother you, making the hearts in his eyes break

She’ll protect you...and she knows in her heart you’d protect her too

Usopp:

He is so...so scared of you at first

You were an ADMIRAL

How could you just give up that position to join a crew?

Doesn’t trust you for a good long while

He’s convinced you’re a spy

He lets his imagination get to him, and that drives a wedge between you two

You don’t blame him...the situation is sketchy, but you were genuine

You would spend all the time needed to get the crew to trust you

After only being with them a short period of time...you trusted them with your life

And that’s never happened before

In the marines...people wouldn’t go out of their way to save another if it meant getting hurt in the process

During battle, you stepped in front of Usopp and took a harsh blow, forming a long slash across your chest

After that...he’s significantly nicer to you

He visits you in the infirmary and looks...troubled

“What’s wrong Usopp?” You give him a concerned look

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you save me...you’re hurt now. Because of me.”

You smiled at him...so he did care

This was a good first step

Maybe eventually you can become even closer

Sanji:

He’s reluctant to trust you at first, but Luffy seems to see something in you…

Just like he saw something in him

So he tries to get closer to you, even going so far as to not flirt with you

Not until he got to know you better

The first time he really began to see the trust between you building was a regular day

Nothing particularly special about it, except you went into the kitchen while he was cooking

“Mind if I help?” It was your attempt to get closer to him

“Of course! Here, I need this mixed.”

You cooked together in relative silence, small talking every once in a while

Overall it was...nice

It was a bonding experience and he cherished it

That day, he sat next to you at the dinner table

You gave him a wide smile, which he returned

He would defend you to anyone who spoke ill of you after that

He could be quite protective, and it showed

Especially to Zoro, who made comments about your being a spy (which only made Usopp and Chopper panic more about the situation)

“Hey marimo! They don’t deserve the bullshit you’re throwing at them. Back off.”

“What are you gonna do about it, shitty cook?” A smirk formed on Zoro’s face

Oh dear...it looks like they’re fighting again

You went to speak up, but Nami stopped you

“They get like this sometimes. Though it’s impressive how quick Sanji was to take the bait this time...I think he likes you.” She gives you a wink and your face flushes

Who knows what the future will bring...all you know? Is that you made the right choice to join this crew

Chopper:

He wants to trust you...he really does

But the nagging fear of you hurting his crew is at the back of him mind

He avoids you, not wanting to risk getting hurt

Once you get injured in battle...he realizes how unfair it was that he did so

“I’m sorry y/n...you’re hurt. Please follow me to the infirmary.”

He keeps it relatively formal, only talking when he needed to do something to check on you

“Would you...come back in a couple days so I can check on the wound and how it’s healing?”

You gave him a smile “yes doctor! Thank you!”

“Hehe you don’t have to thank me I don’t deserve your thanks I was just doing what I’d do for any of our crew!” He swayed back and forth, his paws on his face as he smiled

You could swear you saw flowers around him…

After that, he invited you to play games with him, Usopp, and Luffy

While Usopp was still reluctant, Luffy was 100% on board

“Come on y/n! Play with us!” Chopper smiled up at you and...well...there’s no way you could say no to his adorable face

So you joined in

It was fun...more fun than you thought possible to have

You laughed as Chopper tagged you, and you spun around picking him up in a hug

“Chopper...thank you.”

He smiled and laughed, “for what? Tagging you?”

You shook your head, putting him down

“No...for being a good friend.”

And he was, he was your best friend. You grew closer to him in the days following and you were certain you made the right decision

Robin:

She knows what it’s like to not be trusted by the crew initially...but at least with her it was one pirate to another

You were a marine

And not just a marine...but an admiral

She is reluctant to trust you, but will give you the benefit of the doubt

She spends a lot of time with you, gauging if you’re a threat to her crew or not

She would sacrifice herself for any one of them...you’re no exception

She almost thinks its her JOB to determine if you’re a threat or not

It wasn’t until your first battle together that she finds she trusts you

You give her a look, and she knows to use her devil’s fruit

You both coordinate perfectly together, and it shows your trust

She has only battled so flawlessly with her crew...which means you’re entirely one of them now

She will defend you from that fight forward, and stands up for you when the others express their doubts

“Y/n? Would you like to read with me?” She pats the spot next to her and smiled at you

“Of course! What are we reading today?”

The two of you grow closer and closer, spending hours upon hours just...enjoying each other’s company

She looks at your smile and knows...she would do anything to keep that happy smile on your face

Franky:

He doesn’t trust you...but he doesn’t...NOT trust you

He’s reluctant to get close, but finds it’s really easy with you

He’s newer to the crew, but he trusts Luffy’s judgement

So he doesn’t have any reason not to give you a chance

He’ll spend time with you, requesting you sit in his workroom as he works on a specialized weapon for you

Over that time, you make a lot of small talk

It brings you closer together

“Y/n! What do you think?” He’ll say holding up your now finished weapon “Pretty super, right? Don’t you just love it?” He has a look of pride on his face that makes you grin

You take the weapon into your hands and feel the weight is perfect

Not light, but not overly heavy either

“Thank you Franky!” You jump up to hug him and miss seeing his face turn a dark crimson

“O-of course! Anything for a crewmate!” He hugs you back, lightly as if he’s afraid he’ll break you

This makes you laugh, “Franky...I was an admiral remember? I won’t break from a hug!”

“Well then...take this!” He lifts you up, spinning you around in circles

You both laugh, pulling each other closer and closer

Once he sets you down you see the fleeting color of pink on his cheeks

You were sure your face mirrored the same color

He knows in that moment he would protect you

Even if you didn’t need it

Maybe...protect isn’t the right word

It sounds so...one sided

“I’ll protect you...will you protect me?” He looks sheepish, almost as if he hated asking

You lean up and kiss his cheek

“I’ll protect you Franky. I’ll protect all of us...this crew...it’s special.”

He nods, knowing exactly what you meant

“Then we’ll protect each other.”

And it was settled

Brook:

As soon as you stepped onto the ship he approached you

“Your name is y/n...correct?”

“Yup! That’s me!”

He leaned down so your…”eyes” were level with each other

“Can I see your panties?”

SLAP

“...is that a no?”

It’s safe to assume...he doesn’t judge you for being an admirable

Though seeing some of the crew be distant from you...it only motivates him to speak to you more

You looked tired after playing with the crew on deck, so he approached you

“Would you like me to play you a song to help you sleep?”

You stared wide eyed, not knowing he was the musician on the ship

“Sure! Would you...maybe be able to teach me how to play an instrument?”

“Which instrument would you like to learn?”

You hummed, “I’m not sure. I’ll get back to you on that.”

And so he played you a song

It put not only you, but Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper to sleep

He would have grinned if he could, and looked over his crewmates with love

As he finished the song he looked at you once again

“Sleep well y/n...I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #x reader #gn reader #nami x reader #usopp x reader #sanji x reader #chopper x reader #tony tony chopper x reader #robin x reader #nico robin x reader #franky x reader #brook x reader

[hellothere-generalangsty]

Hello Deario, can I request # 14 and/or 21 from the sentence prompts? Maybe reader x Hunter regarding omega? I know that is kinda vague but do what you want with it☺

Hunter – Rescue Mission

Summary: An important rescue mission happens on the Marauder, and it is Hunter’s duty to fulfil it.

From the sentences prompts:

14. What do you mean “you lost it”?

21. Ho, so she get to be tucked in bed and kissed, but I don’t?

Pairing: Hunter x medic!reader

Reader description: can be read as any gender, no description

Word Count: 2030 words

CW/ TW: Fluff; kisses and cuddles, Hunter being a bit of a dad, that’s it!

Tags: @allamarisss @loth-wolffe   @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @dusk-dawn-and-stars @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @canwestayinthisdream @wakeupjackthisisntfair @namesmox @badbatch-simp24 @lightning-wolffe @maddieskywalker @for-the-love-of-clones @m-e-w-117

@ladykatakuri @firelordillyria

@andiebell2023 I can't tag you either 😔 (Idk why you're the 3rd one now; Tumblr would you stop messing with the tagging please?)

Notes: Thank you so much for your request, Andiebell! I had so much fun with this idea!! 😊 Feel free to send your requests in my Asks box I’d be very happy to write about them ^^

Here the Marauder has a closed room with four (4) bunk beds in it + Omega’s bed like in the series

“What do you mean ‘you lost it’?”

Omega nodded, worry painted all over her face.

“I can’t find her anywhere, I’ve looked all around my bed but…”

“Alright,” Hunter lowered himself on his knees to face her, both hands firmly settled on her shoulders. “I think we have a new mission. We need a plan; do you have an idea?”

He tried to soften his serious look to encourage her, and she thought about it for a second.

“Maybe… Maybe we should split up, to cover more ground?” she tried, building up her confidence when he nodded in approval. “You should check around your bunks, and I will see if she’s not in the cockpit!”

“Yes Ma’am.” He stood up, solemnly saluting her. Turning it into a sort of playful training was the first thing that came to his mind, and he hoped it could help her relax a bit.

Given the grin that washed the worry off her face, Omega seemed pleased with the idea. She waved at him and scampered toward the cockpit, throwing careful looks on her way there. Hunter watched her disappear behind the sliding door before he headed to the bunk beds.

You didn’t think much, at first, when Omega came in. In fact, you were so deeply focused on your read that it took you a minute to realise she was wandering around the seats, throwing looks under each of them.

“Looking for something?” you asked, eyes still skimming on the words of your datapad.

“Yes.” You didn’t notice the glances she threw around before she came closer to you, confessing in a whisper, “I lost Lula.”

You abandoned the report you were reading, straightening in your seat as you shifted your attention to her.

“Do you need a hand finding her?” you offered in a hushed voice.

“Please, yes. Hunter is already checking out the bunks, and I looked around my bed too.”

“You didn’t leave the ship with her when we went for supplies, did you?”

A flash of terror shone in her eyes before she realised she didn’t took Lula out that day. She shook her head, and you asked her if Wrecker didn’t took it back for a nap or something.

“I… I didn’t think of that. I don’t want to wake him up just to tell him that I…”

She fidgeted with her hands, looking down with shame and sadness.

“Well, three of us are looking for Lula, and you didn’t take her out, so she won’t be lost for long.” You smiled, gently stroking her hair to reassure her. “Let’s look around here first, then we’ll ask the others.”

Omega agreed, bending under the instrument panel, hoping for Lula to be stuck in a cleaner place than this one. You put your datapad away, turned around to check every seat, but didn’t find the plush anywhere.

“Hunter to Omega,” the girl’s commlink cracked, “anything?”

“Negative Sergeant, but I have some backup with me, so we’ll keep looking. What about you?”

“Nothing around the bunks. I’m moving to the refresher, I might be luckier there.”

“Coming your way!” Omega grabbed your hand as she answered, pulling you out of the cockpit, toward the refresher. Hunter was already on his way and you both collided, shoulders and chest knocking against each other.

“Sorry.” He immediately apologised, brushing your arms in a gentle touch to ease the possible pain. You didn’t find useful to say you were fine, and instead offered him a smile.

“We cannot ask Wrecker, I don’t want him to worry.” Omega looked at you and Hunter with a pleading look.

“Maybe you should check between his arms,” a voice resonated from behind you, making you and the kid jolt. “he’s probably sleeping somewhere with her.”

Crosshair rolled his toothpick in his mouth, pointing with his chin at the door that led to the bunks.

“Already done. He’s not there.” Hunter told him, and the sniper shrugged.

“Then check around the guns.”

Omega sharply nodded, letting go of you to run toward the munitions’ reserve, offering a hand to Crosshair on the way to take him with her. He looked at it for a second before accepting the offer, and the last you could grasp of their conversation was something along the lines of “won’t sleep until I find her.”

“She’s determined.”

“I wonder who she got this from,” you glanced at Hunter, who let out an amused sigh. “Are you sure Lula’s not in the room?”

“Unless proven otherwise, I’m the tracker, and you’re the medic.” He teased you, tilting his head your way, a smirk drawing itself on his face.

“Tell me again, who found your bandana last time?” you squinted, trying to hold back the chuckle forming in your throat as he lost his confidence and tried to defend himself.

“That was different-”

“Under your pillow. It took you three hours, and I barely needed five seconds.”

“I was sleep-deprived, and hungry!”

“Don’t look for excuses, you would still be searching if I didn’t helped!” you laughed, and though he couldn’t find any more explanation, he would have created one on the spot to hear you laugh once again. He realised he was staring when you lightly tilted your head, your smile softening in wonder.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat, “let’s check again then.”

You found nothing when you checked under the pillows, and almost thought of a victory when you noticed a bump under Wrecker’s blanket; but there was nothing underneath.

You let Hunter take a look in the trunks with the spare blacks and greys, but when he turned around shaking his head, you felt a bit disappointed.

“Told you,” Hunter moved closer to you, his chest plate brushing over your shirt as he whispered in your ear, “Not here.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine, and though you tried, your heart pulsed significantly faster now that you could feel his warm breath against your neck. That detail didn’t go unnoticed, and he used it to his advantage.

“I think you owe me an apology.” he muttered.

“Maybe we should check again, just in case.”

“Or maybe…” he moved enough to dive into your eyes, “you could apologize.”

“I’m not saying it.” You giggled, trying not to look down at his lips.

“I never said you had to talk.”

You didn’t had the time to think of an answer; his smug smile faded away as he took a step back, leaving a reasonable space between the two of you. You didn’t understand his reaction, until the door swiftly opened.

“I found her!”

Lula was proudly raised in the air, two hands wrapped around her plushy waist, gently shaking her to show she was back.

“I think this mission was a success,” Hunter approached Omega, “what do you think?”

“Another success for the Bad Batch!” she claimed, a grin painted over her face.

“And now,” Hunter opened his arms to wrap them around her, lifting her from the ground with ease and securing her against his chest, “it’s time to say goodnight.”

You walked toward them, putting a hand on Hunter’s back and another behind Omega’s head as you kissed her forehead.

“Goodnight little one; and goodnight Lula.” You smiled when she showed you the plush.

She snuggled against Hunter, and you watched him walk to her bed. He gave her a tight hug as he tucked her under the blankets, gently stroking her hair as he listened to how she finally found Lula laying next to a blaster. You couldn’t tell which melted your heart more; Omega’s smile or Hunter’s. He gave her a kiss on the temple, snuggled Lula in her arms, and got up, turning off the lights.

You decided to head back to the bunks, too lazy now to get back to the cockpit and work on that report you had abandoned earlier on. Your body crashed against the mattress, and a long sigh escaped from between your lips because of the sudden the ache in your back. You liked the feeling, though it hurt, because it meant you were finally allowed to relax, and the Stars knew you needed it.

“Tired already?”

“Mmh.” You turned your head to see Hunter; wedged against the wall, arms crossed on his chest plate. “I could use a few hours of sleep.”

“Then I won’t bother you.” He smiled, pushing on his elbow to leave.

“Oh; I see.” You feigned to be bothered by him leaving so fast – you were in a way – and kept going when he gave you a confused look. “So she get to be tucked in bed and kissed, but I don’t?”

His brows slightly rose, but the surprise only lasted a second and was quickly replaced by a curious, amused look.

“Are you jealous?”

“I think I deserved some attention too.” You smiled, stretching a hand in his direction.

“Alright.”

He came closer, pointing at your legs, then at the bed, and you silently obeyed. Once you were laying correctly, he grabbed the blanket at the end of the bed to cover you with it. He sat next to you, bending over your body to tuck it nicely under your back and legs; playfully holding your arms under the soft textile as you struggled to get them out.

“Stop moving,” he chuckled, nose wrinkled, “I can’t tuck you if you keep moving.”

“But I need my arms above the blanket!” you protested, barely holding back your smile.

“Why? You’re going to sleep anyway.”

“I need them to hold you back a bit more; make sure you don’t leave without kissing me goodnight.”

Your heart missed a beat when he approached your face; and you froze when his lips touched your forehead. You then noticed the hand brushing your hair, gentle, caring.

“Can I have another one?” you whispered, blood rushing through your veins, filling your lungs with confidence. Or nerve, you couldn’t tell.

“You asked for one.”

“I’m asking again. Please?”

He couldn’t fight your pleading eyes nor your little pout, so he nodded.

“Alright; but you have to apologize first.”

“That’s unfair…”

“That’s the only way for us to get what we want. A kiss for an apology, that’s a fair price.” He tried to keep a serious bargaining face, but you still noticed the spark in his eyes. The same he had earlier on.

“I’m sorry I doubted your tracking skills.” You murmured.

He waited a second, scanning your face; the shape of your eyes, the curves of your nose, your lips. He almost held his breath as he came closer; stopping briefly, making sure you weren’t protesting, and filled the gap between the two of you.

Light was the kiss, but tender nonetheless; locks of your hair rolling around his fingers as his lips brushed yours in a soft contact, an almost imperceptible sound rising between your mouths as they parted. You took notice of the scar above his left brow before you dived back into his warm whisky eyes.

“Are you getting enough attention..?”

He almost let the pet name slip.

“Would you like me to apologize a bit more?” you teased him.

You didn’t expected him to bend over and kiss you again, lips pressed a bit harder against yours, hand keeping you close to him. He wrapped his arm around you when you rested on your elbow, and for a moment nothing else existed but the sensation of his mouth moving against yours to kiss you soft and slow.

He couldn’t bring himself to stop, peppering you with little pecks on your lips, your chin, your jaw; making you chuckle.

“Alright,” a kiss on the tip of your nose, “you should rest now.” A kiss on your cheek.

“Goodnight, then. Thank you for the attention.” You pecked the corner of his lips, feeling the smile forming under your touch.

He let go of you, reluctant but obligated, and cleared his throat as he got up.

“Thank you for apologizing.”

You watched him leave, and as you closed your eyes, all you could think of was the light ache in your cheeks and the memory of his embrace around you.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #hunter #hunter x reader #hunter x you #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #tbb hunter #mesa writes #I hope you'll enjoy it! #Andiebell 💗 #also little thought for moony #i hope bandana made you happy! #bandana #sergeant bandana #dad hunter

[thebookreader12345]

The Wonders of Pregnancy

Pairing: Adam Ruzek x reader

Summary: Y/N and Adam are finally having a baby, but things are not going the way they expected

Requested: No

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of drugs and being pregnant

Word Count: 1,330 Words

First Trimester

The morning started out fine. Adam had made breakfast, so we were sitting at the table eating together. It had been a while since we had an actual breakfast together. Usually we’d just grab something quick either from the house or from somewhere nearby, but since I was now pregnant, Adam wanted to make sure I was eating better. However, things went wrong as soon as I had finished my plate. All of the food I had eaten churned in my stomach, and soon I felt it rising up my throat. I got out of my chair quickly and ran to the bathroom, barely making it there in time. Adam was right behind me holding my hair back as I emptied my stomach of all it’s content.

“You okay?” Adam asked and rubbed his spare hand up and down my back.

“I just need a minute,” I say and continue hugging the toilet.

“You sure?” Adam questioned.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine,” I mutter and spit out the tiny bits of vomit that had stayed in my mouth. Once I had gotten off of the floor of the bathroom, it was time for Adam and I to head into work.

“Well don’t you look like shit,” Jay commented when Adam and I entered the bullpen.

“Yeah, well, you look shittier,” I counter.

“Nice comeback,” Jay said with a smile as I took a seat at my desk.

“I’ve got to practice them on someone,” I joke. Jay and I had been friends for a long time, so this whole banter thing between us was just a way that we showed each other we loved one another.

“So, how long did it take after you ate breakfast to barf? Wait, let me guess. 5 minutes,” Jay said.

“Nope. 2. This baby is kicking my ass,” I mutter.

Second Trimester

At 5 months pregnant, it was getting harder and harder to do things. My stomach was growing bigger every week, and soon I would be huge. Now that I was in my second trimester, we were able to find out the gender. I wanted it to be a surprise, but Adam really wanted to find out if we were having a girl or boy. I ended up agreeing only because I wanted to have the rest of our team be with us when we found out. Kim had practically begged me to plan the party, so I let her. All she needed me to do was show up. The party was being held in our backyard too, so it was even easier.

“I’m so excited,” Adam chirped as he shoved practically a whole blue cupcake down his throat.

“I can tell. Now would you stop eating the cupcakes? That’s your third one,” I point out.

“I can’t help it. I’m trying to calm myself down,” Adam said.

“Well, I don’t think eating sugar is going to calm you down. Go talk to Kevin or something,” I suggest. “Maybe that’ll help.” After a while, it was finally time for the moment of truth.

“You ready for this?” Adam asked me as our friends gathered around us with confetti poppers.

“Not even a little bit,” I admit.

“All right. On the count of three. 1....2....3!” Kim shouted. All at once, everyone set off their confetti poppers, and blue confetti rained down on Adam and I. Adam was the first one to react and pulled me in for a hug, spinning me around as he gripped me tightly. Adam had been hoping that we were going to have a boy. Not that he didn’t want a girl, but he really wanted a son. Looks like he was getting his wish.

“We’re having a boy,” Adam cheered as he set me down.

“Congrats, you guys. Oh, and just so you know, I’m going to spoil this kid so much when he grows up,” Jay spoke.

“Well I would hope so, seeing as I want you to be his godfather,” I say to my partner.

“Wait. Are you serious?” Jay asked with a small.

I nodded. “Yeah. You’re my best friend, Jay.” Jay then walked over and gave me a hug.

“You’re the best,” Jay declared.

Third Trimester

I leaned against the door frame and watched as Adam used the paint roller to put a coat of navy blue paint on the walls of the nursery. I would have helped, but seeing as my stomach was huge and I could barely bend down to put on my shoes, Adam said he would do it on his own.

“You should take a break,” I tell him. “You’ve been painting for an hour straight.”

“But I’m just about done with the first coat,” Adam pointed out.

“I know, but Baby Boy is asking for you,” I say. Every time the baby would start kicking a lot, he wouldn’t settle down until he heard Adam’s voice. I could already tell the baby was going to love his dad, and he wasn’t even born yet.

“Of course he is. He’s a daddy’s boy,” Adam spoke and set the paint roller into the paint tray before making his way over to me. “Where’s he at this time?”

“Right here,” I answer and point to my lower stomach. “He’s been kicking me in the ribs for the past 5 minutes.” 

Adam laughed and placed his hands on either side of my very visible stomach, which was being covered in one of his t-shirts. “All right. Lets see. What to talk about. Oh. Uh, today at work, we caught a bad guy who was selling heroin to teenagers.”

“Adam, I don’t think you should be telling him about drugs,” I exclaim with a small smile.

“Ok. Fine. Your mommy and I are super excited to meet you. You are going to be the most loved baby on the planet. And while we are both super nervous right now, I know things are going to okay as soon as we hold you in our arms. I can promise you that,” Adam said.

After Birth

"You look just like me,” Adam told our son as he walked around the room with the little boy in his arms. “That’s going to be such a huge asset later on, little man.” Just then, the door to my hospital opened, and in walked the Intelligence Unit.

“And the party is here,” Kevin announced.

“Forget about that, Kev. Where’s the baby?” Kim asked.

“Over there with Adam,” I say and point to the other side of the room where Adam was. Kim squealed and ran over to him, followed by Hailey and Kevin, while Jay, Voight, and Antonio stayed back by me.

“How you doing, Y/N?” Antonio questioned.

“Good. Ready to get back to work,” I respond.

Jay chuckled. “Of course you are. You know, if I were you, I’d enjoy the leave.”

“Well, you’re not me,” I point out as Adam walked over with the baby nestled safely in his arms.

“You guys decide on a name yet?” Voight asked.

“Uh, yeah,” I mutter and glance at Adam who smiled. “We uh, we were thinking about the name Alvin.”

Voight smiled. “I think that’s a great idea. He would be proud of you two.”

“Okay. I’ve been waiting patiently. Can I please hold him now?” Hailey asked.

“Whoa whoa whoa. I’m the godfather. I should get to hold him first,” Jay said.

“But I’m the godmother, which is equally as important,” Hailey countered. “And I asked first so...”

I glanced over at Adam as everyone started arguing about who was going to hold Alvin first. “This is going to go on forever, isn’t it?”

Adam laughed. “Yeah. We better get used to it now. This probably won’t end until Alvin is at least 3, 4 tops.”

“Well, this is what we get for having the newest baby in the Intelligence Unit,” I say.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Adam spoke and kissed my cheek.

___________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13​  @anotherfan07​

#one chicago #chicago pd #adam ruzek #adam ruzek imagine #adam ruzek x reader #district 21 #x reader #imagine #imagines #adam ruzek imagines

[noirlevity]

Scent Chapter 4

Pairing: TadaAi

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Synopsis: Ainosuke once loved Tadashi, but ever since he broke his heart, he decided to never have anything to do with him. But what happens if he meets him again after so many years and finds out a secret that will change both of their lives forever?

Chapter summary: Ainosuke reunites with the ghost in his past.

Tags: Omegaverse, forced bonding, forced marriage, sorta angst, slow burn

Read: AO3 || 1 2 3

The wail of the engine blares as the plane prepares to touch down. Droves of people line to exit the plane. Ainosuke jostles through the crowd as he makes his way to the bus. The vanilla sky and the cold morning air greeted him as he walked.

He’s finally back in Okinawa. 

Inside the building, there were only a few people. Ainosuke waits for his luggage on the revolving platform. When he finally sees it, he grabs it and leaves. He reaches the exit and sees three familiar middle-aged women. Looking at them, Ainosuke quietly rates how bland their styles were. Ainosuke wore his custom-made navy suit with his newly bought oxfords. He was probably overdressed, but he needed to look smart and presentable for this reunion.

Ainosuke takes off his gucci shades and smiles pleasantly at his Aunts. He gives his luggage to the chauffeur.

“I’m back, Aunties.”

“Welcome back Ainosuke.”

His Aunts kisses and hugs him. Ainosuke only smiles to drive the awkwardness away. He isn't particularly pleased with being with them again.

“We missed you very much. You resemble your father now.”

"So handsome and smart looking. Truly the embodiment of how a Shindo heir should be. We're so proud of you."

Ainosuke wants to curl his lips in disgust but he stops himself. 

“When was the last time you went home again? Ah, if I remember correctly it was Aiichiro’s funeral 2 years ago.”

“Yes, it was Auntie."

Ainosuke looks away as his Aunt Sayuri chatters. Memories of his Father’s funeral flash in his mind. He remembers a familiar face leading the ceremony with solemn, empty eyes. He sat quietly at a corner as guests paid their respects. Tadashi looked so worn out then, pale. His youthful glow was no longer there. The dark circles underneath his eyes made him look like a stranger. Staring at the distance as his Aunts conversed with visitors, Tadashi's thin face and hunched figure painted a pitiful man. He looked so different from how he looked years ago when he last saw him.

Even though they had their issue, Ainosuke wanted to go to him to greet him, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t able to bring himself to. The sweet smell that used to make him happy made him feel sad. Ainosuke believes that the feelings he once harbored for Tadashi have long thawed. Yet bitterness still remained. At that time, he realized that Tadashi’s betrayal was something he couldn’t forgive. Ever. Later when he asked his Aunt Kaguya about why Tadashi was leading the ceremony, he found out that Tadashi had been working for his Father. She said that Tadashi was hired a year after Ainosuke left for the states. At that time, he didn’t pay attention to such information because he told himself he was not going to think about him and make himself miserable. 

“Ah yes, Ainosuke. Remember Tadashi? Since he is your Dad’s secretary, and he’s capable and hardworking, we decided to make him your secretary. You don’t need to worry, he can be trusted and we can vouch for his competence."

“Are there any other options?” Ainosuke asks, adamant that he didn’t want Tadashi to be his secretary.

“Tadashi is really capable. He is almost like an alpha in that regard.”

“But..”

“Ainosuke.”

“Ah, I understand. Tadashi it is “ Ainosuke smiles. He looks around to search for the man in question. Noticing that Ainosuke was searching for someone, his Aunt Sayuri spoke, “Tadashi is not here, he was finishing some preparations for the family so he could not accompany us today.”

“He insisted though, but we thought it would be better for us 4 to spend some quality time together. It’s been such a long time since we bonded. We couldn’t visit you in America all the time.”

Hearing his aunts talk makes him uncomfortable. Inside the car, Ainosuke is quiet. He only responds and smiles when he is asked a question. His thoughts linger on the thought that Tadashi is going to be his secretary. 

He didn’t like it. 

He didn’t want it to be him.

However, he couldn’t be stubborn about it. After all, he was voiceless in the Shindo household even though he was the heir. His aunts seem fond of Tadashi despite him being a beta. He assumed that was his gender considering he was hired. His family only hired either alphas or betas. For sure, he was a beta with how his Aunt Sayuri and Kaguya talked about him. 

While Ainosuke was in America, he didn’t hear any news about Tadashi. His Aunts never mentioned him as well. That was why when he learned he worked for his father he was irritated. He remembers the picture one of the maids mistakenly included in his luggage and how through the years he tried getting rid of it but he could never bring himself to. It was the only picture he had of both of them together since he burned the others. He might have to try getting rid of it once more.

His Aunt Chieko takes a call and announces that the restaurant they booked for Ainosuke’s return was ready.  As they ate, Ainosuke’s Aunts didn't hesitate to talk about marriage and for Ainosuke to meet people with that in mind. Ainosuke already had his fair share of relationships but it always ends abruptly. Well, except for one, but that too had to end. He was sure it would be the same this time as well. Maybe shallow relationships were what suited him. Knowing how persistent his Aunts were, he pretended he was interested in the thought of marriage. 

They drive home. As he stares outside of the car window, he notices that they were driving past the streets he traveled when he tried visiting Tadashi once. When they finally turned to the corner that leads straight to their mansion, Ainosuke felt overwhelmed. Earlier, it didn’t sink in that he was finally home but now it did. The mansion was unchanged.  Sure it looked grand and expensive, but that was all there was to it. 

Ainosuke sees Takahisa, the senior butler, and greets him. Takahisa, the old butler who took care of him, looked older. Despite his age, he still looked smart and handsome. A younger butler bows and takes care of his luggage. Ainosuke didn’t know him. As they enter the hallway entrance, another butler was instructing the maids and the other staff to line up for their introduction. The staff lined up face to face like they were in a military inspection. His eyes roam around. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead as he continues to search. A single drop sluices down his chin so he takes out his handkerchief and wipes it off. Ainosuke taps his feet irritably. He presses his thumb against his index finger and inhales as his Aunts introduce the staff one by one.

Looking at the faces in front of him, he tries to search for faces he was familiar with. He notices that some of the maids were new. It seems that more staff were hired since he was last home. He mentally takes notes of the changes he noticed. 

It always starts with a faint, dull kind of aroma; a pinprick scent tickling his nose. A nanosecond was enough for Ainosuke to find himself back to square one as if 8 long years was still not enough for him to make a single step forward. The sweet scent becomes heavier and he feels like he is still 16. His throat feels like sandpaper; his hands colder than winter.

How funny it all was. 

The scent that always made him feel warm and happy now made him remember the hollowness of the word love. 

Ainosuke hasn’t forgotten anything. Even though he wanted to, the memories were still there in his heart and now like opening pandora's box, everything turned into chaos inside of him. His stomach feels like a whirlpool. Memories and the feelings that came with it that he didn’t want to remember harassed him: Tadashi’s smiling face that always made him feel soft inside; his bubbly laughter and the way he used to hold him in his arms. Ainosuke freezes. Sweat glistens on his high forehead. It’s really been a long time since they’ve seen each other. Eight years was too long a time for a reunion. Time manages to make some feelings go away, but it seems the feelings that he tried so hard to bury are not one of those feelings time can extinguish. 

Ainosuke anticipated this meeting. He even prepared himself before he left, but the real raw sensation Tadashi’s scent gave him was different from what he expected. He always thought that it had the same scent as roses, but it did not. It was similar but different at the same time. The dissatisfaction that always enveloped him recedes. As he basks in the sweet scent, he feels complete. He feels like he has truly come home. 

“Tadashi, you’re back. How were the preparations?”

“It’s almost complete madam.”

“Ainosuke?” His Aunt Kaguya tries to get his attention. 

Ainosuke stiffens. He forces himself to smile when he turns around. 

“Tadashi is here. He’s going to take it from here. Everything is going smoothly for your introduction to society next month.”

Tadashi bends to greet him. Ainosuke just stares, his heart beating gravely in his chest. The anger, pain, and longing he felt all those years twisted in his stomach so much he wants to vomit. 

“Welcome back Ainosuke-sama.”

“Well then, we’ll excuse ourselves.”

The Aunts left, leaving Ainosuke standing there as if he had just seen a ghost. He stares and stares as if embedding Tadashi's image in his mind. The real thing was right in front of him now. He takes a deep breath as his heart constricts and his lips feel dry. He takes a step forward. 

Don't. Stop. Don't you dare take another step. He reprimands himself. 

Tadashi looks up and gives him a faint smile. He finishes the introduction and guides Ainosuke to the garden. They walk side by side. Tadashi’s silence appears cold; distant. The apathy hurts Ainosuke more than he can admit to himself. After 8 long years, Tadashi still has nothing to say to him. To shrug off unnecessary feelings, Ainosuke clears his throat and rotates his shoulders.

The sweet smell is distracting. It was unbearable. Ainosuke used to crave it, but now, he is overwhelmed. It was not helping that Tadashi was close. Unable to withstand it any longer, he wrinkles his nose and stops walking.

Tadashi walks back and looks up at him. Ainosuke sniffs and furrows his brows. He takes a step back and looks away. 

“Pollen allergy?” Tadashi takes something out of his suit hands him a face mask.

“Change your perfume. It’s too strong.” Ainosuke complains, still looking away; his mouth in a pout.

Since Ainosuke didn’t take the face mask, Tadashi mumbles an “excuse me”. He hangs the face mask string on Ainosuke ears, and gently says “But I don’t wear any.”

The soft brush of skin against Ainosuke’s ear flusters him. Out of embarrassment, Ainosuke glares but finds himself cornered at how close Tadashi’s face was to him. He could feel the warmth of the older man’s breath. Truthfully it is giving him gooseflesh. When they ended up meeting eyes, Tadashi was the first to look away. Ainosuke’s mouth quivers. He swallows a lump in his throat and clenches his hand into a fist. 

“So you're still sensitive to smells.”

As the words left Tadashi’s mouth, Ainosuke feels like he is put on the spot. He was often told he was sensitive to smells, when the one saying it is Tadashi it feels as if he was being judged. He tried to grab him. By the time he reached out, Tadashi already wheeled around and walked to the garden. Ainosuke hates himself for being caught in the flow. 

Like what the maids and butlers did, the gardeners lined up and were introduced one by one. As they introduced themselves, Ainosuke realized that Tadashi’s Father was nowhere to be found. After the introductions, they walked back to the mansion. 

“Your father is no longer working here?”

“He got sick when you went to the states so the master replaced him.”

Ainosuke falls quiet. So his father got sick. It’s a pity. 

“What does he do now?”

Tadashi was hesitant. 

“The Master gifted him a botanical garden for his work over the years. He also helps my mom with the flower shop.”

The response makes Ainosuke raise an eyebrow. He finds it odd that his father gifted someone something as expensive as a botanical garden. He's never heard anything about his Father going out of his way for a friend. Did he like Tadashi’s father that much? Ainosuke wasn't sure. He was not knowledgeable when it came to his Father’s acquaintances outside of politics. This thought made Ainosuke realize how estranged he is both mentally and emotionally from his father. As he stares at Tadashi, he couldn’t help but feel at a loss. 

“My old man gifted him a garden? Wow.” Ainosuke scoffs. “How kind of him.”

Both of them enter his Father’s office. Tadashi explains that it is going to be Ainosuke’s office. Ainosuke is familiar with the room. Sometimes this was where his father punishes him. He looks around the room and walks towards the shelves. Ainosuke ran his fingers through the spine of the books. 

“Ainosuke-sama, the master, donated some books to libraries so some of these books are new.” Ainosuke found the book that he used to ask Tadashi to read to him when he was little. 

He read the title with his eyes, 

The little prince.

"Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course, you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence means accepting the risk of absence.”

Tadashi turns to him. 

Ainosuke smiles. “I just remembered that from one of Exupery’s letters.” 

Tadashi didn't reply. 

 .

.

.

“The important documents are stored inside this room. The master liked things organized so we tried our best. It isn’t large but important copies of agreement contracts and party documents are here.”

They enter. The room was half the size of a servant's room. It had a single window at the end. Lines of filing cabinets filled the space. Tadashi explains how the files were organized. While he explains the contents of the compartments, Ainosuke can’t stop staring at him. 

He is distracted. 

He couldn't concentrate much on what Tadashi was saying because he got too conscious of their closeness inside the stuffy room. The sweet scent that permeated the air only added to his problems. He thought that if he pushed him down here and now, no one would help Tadashi even if he tried to struggle. But Ainosuke was not that kind of man. Even if he hated Tadashi, he won’t be able to do something that could truly hurt him. He has accepted this fact.

A white fabric peaked out of Tadashi’s suit. Ainosuke reaches out to fix it. When Tadashi backed away and stared at him with a surprised look on his face, only then did he realize what he was about to do.  Ainosuke clears his throat. 

“Since you’re my assistant now, you better look smart and presentable. This won’t do.” Ainosuke fixes the collar. He feels Tadashi stiffen under his touch. He irons Tadashi’s shoulder with his hands

“I can’t believe you were hired. You weren’t even taking a secretarial course in university, weren’t you? Or maybe you did, I just didn’t know.”

After a pause, Tadashi responds, “You’re right sir. I didn’t take anything related to secretarial work in university. Unfortunately, I had to stop my studies. We were having financial difficulties at that time since Father got sick. I had to quit school.”

Ainosuke feels bad at the revelation. He always thought Tadashi had great potential so it was such a waste he wasn’t able to finish school. 

“The master was kind enough to reach out to my Mom and offer me a job. He helped us out a lot with my father’s hospitalization bills and medicines. I’m grateful to him.”

Tadashi’s eyes were solemn when he said that. There was also a hint of sadness when he said he was grateful. With how things turned out, shouldn't he be happy? His father got the help that he needed at a critical time. Furthermore, he was given a stable job.

Aichirou helped them a lot. His Father got his botanical garden. And now they own a flower shop. But why does Tadashi seem so sad? Was it because he missed Aichirou? Was he that important in his life? Ainosuke concludes that he must miss him. After all, he was his benefactor. He was the person who was there for their family when they needed it the most. 

“That’s good.” Ainosuke finally manages to say after he fell silent. While he was having the time of his life in the US, Tadashi was working his ass off. The two of them truly lived such different lives, that was probably why their relationship, albeit only friendship, didn’t work out. 

#tadaai #ainosuke shindo #tadashi kikuchi #sk8 the infinity #fics

[randomfandomimagine]

Fast Learner (Cloud Strife x Reader)

Character: Cloud Strife

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Tags: Fluff, flirting, training, mutual pining 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,8k words

Requested by anon: Could you do a Cloud Strife x reader (.....i think maybe headcannon? Idk whichever you wanna do) where reader has been begging for Cloud to train her and the day he does, he gets knocked flat on his back? Its cool if you don't wanna, stay safe and healthy 

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CLOUD!!! 😍💖

Cloud Strife x Gender Neutral Reader

_

Cloud could not focus. He hadn’t expected this to happen, and although his SOLDIER experience reminded him to be alert in the middle of the battle, he could only worry about you and your wellbeing, your safety.

You had been taking a walk together, moving in silence even if you seemed coordinated, like two bodies that shared a single soul. The day was sunny and warm, and you were enjoying each other’s company. That was, until the enemies suddenly surrounded you and resulted in that sticky situation.

“Cloud?” You gasped, looking around you to observe the beasts that threatened you.

“It’s okay” He only said, using one arm to unsheathe his sword while he pushed you behind him with the other one. Despite his racing heart, he appeared calm. “Stay there”

You held on to him, simultaneously wanting him to feel you close and keep track of your position while at the same time seeking his comfort to calm your nerves. You weren’t used to battle, but Cloud didn’t bat an eye. He expertly swung his sword to one side and the other, leaning his weight in the direction needed without ever moving his feet. He stayed in that spot for your sake, still managing to quickly and effectively ending his opponents while also shielding you.

A bit shaken up by the encounter, you peeked over his shoulder when it was all over, still tightly holding on to him. Noticing your accelerated breathing, Cloud turned his head to you. When his hair brushed against your knuckles over his shoulders, you grew aware of how tightly you were clutching to him.

“Sorry…” You nervously chuckled, taking a step back to give him some space. “I just got a bit nervous”

“You okay?” He turned around to face you again, absently sheathing his sword.

“Yeah, I’m not hurt…”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You stared at him, surprised that he had read through you. Cloud wasn’t usually extremely perceptive, or at least he kept his thoughts to himself. At that moment, though, it seemed like he couldn’t help but to ask.

“I just… I think I really should learn how to fight”

“Not that crap again…” Rolling his eyes, Cloud resumed walking. When you noticed he was heading back for Seventh Heaven, you rushed to catch up to him.

“Listen, Cloud!” You tightly held on to his arm, shaking him a little to ensure he paid attention to you. Much to your surprise, he stopped walking and locked eyes with you. “I’m tired of not being able to defend myself!”

“I can protect you” He quickly replied, although his own answer flustered him and he corrected himself. “Don’t you think I’m capable of that?”

“Of course I do!” Showing him an angelical smile, you cutely tilted your head. “But I want to show you and everyone that I can kick ass on my own”

Cloud opened his mouth to reply, but ultimately closed it and heaved a sigh. He averted his gaze and frowned. There was a pause. The muscles of his arm moved under your fingers when he clenched his hands into fists. You watched him intently, wondering what was going through his head. Just when you thought you were starting to figure him out, he hid himself behind that mysterious façade again.

“Fine” Cloud suddenly piped up. “Meet me here in an hour”

You gasped in awe, startling him a little. He opened his eyes wide, staring at you and trying to understand what had shocked you like that.

“Really?!” You exclaimed, shaking him in excitement and bouncing up and down. “Cloud!!”

“What?” He clicked his tongue in annoyance, trying to get away from you as you continued to shake him around. “Y/N, quit it”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You threw your arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “You’re the best, thank you so much!”

“Stop” Even if he firmly pushed you away from him, his hands on your waist felt gentle as they lingered for a bit longer than they needed to.

“Sorry” You chuckled, unable to contain your enthusiasm.

“Go get ready…” He averted his gaze, even if you caught a hint of a blush in his cheeks. “Before I change my mind”

You knew you were tempting fate, but you still showed him your gratitude with another little gesture. Before running away to avoid the consequences of it, you quickly kissed him in the cheek. You didn’t see the effect it had on him, other than hearing him stuttering and trying to recover.

_

You had been trying to get close to Cloud, but it seemed like an impossible task. The ex-SOLDIER was completely hermetic. When you tried to chatter, he only responded with hums or monosyllabics. When you hinted that you liked him, he was too oblivious to notice. When you touched him, he didn’t reciprocate.

Despite it all, you still had hope. Maybe Cloud wasn’t the best at expressing himself, or dealing with his emotions, but he didn’t reject yours. He might roll his eyes at your senseless chatter, but he never once was rude to you or left you midsentence. Although he didn’t understand the true meaning behind your kind words, he always made an effort to at least give you a small smile or a head nod. Whenever you touched him, he let you do it without pushing you away. It was little things like those that gave you hope.

“Great” His voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Show me again”

Nodding your head, you prepared your position. Your hands went up, hovering before your face. Your fingers were closed forming a fist, with the thumb out just like he had taught you. You punched forward, twisting your hips as you did to infuse your hits with as much power as possible. You slightly bended your knees as he had reminded you before, prepared to back away or dodge any attacks.

“Kay” His hands suddenly fell over yours, squeezing them a little to make sure your fists were firm and stable. “Uh… M-Make sure you don’t cover your eyes”

“Sure” You tried to pretend like his touch didn’t fluster you, instead concentrating on listening to his advice and lowering your fists a little.

“Now” Cloud cleared his throat, taking a step back to put some distance between you. “Wanna learn how to bring someone down?”

“Yeah!” You threw your fists in the air, being excited still and satisfied with your progress. “Show me, teach”

“You can, uh…” Upon seeing your big genuine smile, Cloud averted his eyes in order to concentrate. “One way to do it is sweep the leg”

“Uh-huh” You encouraged him, energetically nodding your head.

“Throw your body forward and use momentum against them” He continued instructing. “Then also sweep their legs forward with your foot to throw them off balance”

“Got it!” You exclaimed, nearly vibrating in the spot. “Can I try?”

He nodded his head, squaring his feet up and preparing for your attempt. You didn’t fail to notice he seemed quite skeptical, almost like he was just humoring you and didn’t expect you to succeed.

“Move forward” He reminded you, gesticulating from you to him. “And sweep the feet”

You nodded your head, throwing your weight as you held on to his shoulders.

“Like this?” As you pushed him backwards, you yanked his legs forward.

“Ah!” Cloud uttered in surprise, finding himself tumbling down with you on top of him. Even as his back thudded against the ground, he kept his eyes glued to you. “Y-Yeah”

You beamed, peering down at him with a big satisfied smirk. He only gawked at you, equally surprised and impressed.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Course not”

“How’d I do?”

“Good…” He managed to say, even though a tight frown of confusion occupied his features. “Good job”

“Thanks” You smiled, out of breath from the exertion of the whole training.

It was then when you realized how close you were. Apart from the fact that you were sitting on top of him, your noses almost touched and you firmly pushed down on him to keep him locked in place. Your hand was pressing down on his chest, which heaved up and down just like yours. His hands were on your hips as he tried to brace himself for the impact. Even as he had recovered from it, they lingered in that spot just like your hand did on his torso.

Following the example you always set, Cloud wrapped his hand around your wrist to communicate. You still didn’t want to leave off, enjoying that closeness far too much. Nonetheless, you lifted your hand and scurried off him.

“I’m impressed” He admitted, standing up and calmly dusting his pants.

“I’m a fast learner” You muttered in response to his astonishment, shrugging a little.

“Sure… Me too” Cloud said in deep thought, facing his back to you.

You frowned, confused about what he meant. There was something off about him all of a sudden. However, he turned held his hand out for you to take. Once you were pulled to your feet, you stared at him.

“Cloud?” Puzzled, you intently watched him. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he was up to something, and it was unlike him. “Everything okay?”

“You… you did it wrong” He said suddenly, moving too quickly for you to react.

“What did I…” You yelped in startle when he threw himself at you, demonstrating how to ‘properly’ tackle someone as he carefully threw you to the ground. “Cloud!!”

As you both returned to the same position as before, albeit reversed, you stared at each other. There was a new gleam in his mako eyes that made you understand. For the first time, you truly realized what was on his mind.

You had quickly learned how to fight, so much so that you had impressed the cool and stoic Cloud Strife. On the other hand, he was a fast learner too. Mimicking your attempts to bond with him, he had established physical contact in a way very much like him. You didn’t expect him to hug you out of nowhere, or hold your hand without a reason. But tackling you to the ground with the excuse of training you was the closest it would get, and you accepted it.

Taken aback by the moment, you erupted into laughter. Playfully hitting him the chest, you guffawed and kicked your legs as he kept you pinned down under him.

“Like that” His falsely stern tone seemed to intend to remind you of what you were doing. But he didn’t fool you any longer.

“Thanks, Cloud” You said when you recovered a little from your laughter.

He nodded and backed away from you. As he did, you caught a glimpse of a smile adorning his lips, a sight that you treasured in your memory forever.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @anxiouslyreckless​ / @xionroxas​ / @dancewaterdance02​ / @little-faerie-artist​ / @x-joie-x​ / @honeybunhanbin​ / @legallyblindgamer727​ / @lotsoffandomstoimagine​ / @imaginealllthefandoms​ / @fandomatakeover18​ / @goodmorningawfulbye​ / @trunks-kiwi​ / @lostiintheocean​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

#rfi writings #ficlet #cloud strife x reader #ff #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii ficlet #ffvii #ffvii ficlet #cloud strife #cloud strife ficlet #reader insert #requested #faves

[saeysooo]

♚ yandere arcana ; main 6 headcanons {crybaby} ||

♡ tw: psychological terror, possession, manipulation, murder ♡ gender-neutral / female apprentice

♜ asra alnazar ; tag, you’re it ♜

They were your master, you their apprentice; But that relationship wasn’t enough to suffice Asra. NOT EVEN CLOSE! They wanted to be yours... Or more so they wanted you to be theirs!

They would watch you through your windows... In fact, they would follow you everywhere! You were so perfect to them, especially whenever you would get undressed after a long day of training. Your soft skin, the adoring stare in your innocent gaze... And yet you had no idea who was watching you behind open curtains.

“You’re so cute! I can just cut you up!”

“Let’s go on an adventure together... What do you say, darling? No..? It’s funny how you think you have a choice!!”

“Then how about we play tag~? If I win, you’re mine. If you win... Well, you’re still mine! You’re mine, ALL MINE!! Run darling!! RUN!”

Maniacal laughter invaded your thoughts, crawling across your skin as you ran for you fragile little life.

They pushed you to the ground, holding you in their dominating grip. At a loss for words, it was too late to scream for help, cry. And even if you did, they wouldn’t let you go!! YOU LOST THE GAME!!

They had no idea before... That YOU were their poison; the bittersweet wonder that they were always searching for on all their adventures into the unknown. There was no way they can give up such a rare flower!

Fluffy, white hair tickled your cheek, their lips dragging across your skin, leaving the mark of their adoration upon you.

“My mother used to tell me that I should pick the best lover... Oh, I love it when I hear your breathing... I know that you won’t ever leave me!”

Where were you...? CAN ANYONE HEAR?! HELP, PLEASE!! ...Ha, you’re talking to yourself!! Silly apprentice, they trapped you in their oasis~!!

♜ julian devorak ; mad hatter ♜

He’s absolutely. Fucking. INSANE.

Julian Devorak was CRAZY for you! Perhaps it was the drugs he experimented with that drove him to his insanity... Or not!

“WHERE IS MY PRESCRIPTION?!”

Maybe it was just the sole factor that you were the only person that showed so much attention to him!! He drowned himself in your touch, the mere sight of you. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do just to hear you call him such endearing things; things only reserved for HIM!

“Wonderland is wherever you are, pumpkin!!”

There wasn’t one dream where you weren’t in it; driving him absolutely nuts. There were so many wondrous things the two of you would do: Skinny dipping in a rabbit hole, painting roses red with his blood, getting high together off helium. Or perhaps the two of you can get drunk off a blue caterpillar and fool around?

The feeling of you being in his mere presence made him want to tear the skin off of him, he wanted so badly just to hold you!!

“IT’S ALWAYS JULIAN NO, JULIAN PLEASE JUST LISTEN! Pumpkin, you DON’T UNDERSTAND! My brain is absolutely SCATTERED whenever you are around, can’t you see!?!”

And by lord how much he loved roleplaying in the bedroom with you. He would go as far as to make costumes and everything to get the scene he wanted to play out absolutely perfect!

“How about this~ Oh I know let’s do some improv acting!! It can be a drama! You can be Alice, and I’ll be the Mad Hatter!”

No matter who you told, nobody would accept or believe that Julian was absolutely insane. He was beyond a histrionic, and it was all because of you. You did this to him. You made him fall in love so fucking hard it drove him mad. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! 

♜ nadia satrinava ; cake ♜

Everything about you was absolutely divine to the Countess. They would bend over backwards to make you happy, to have you stay in their loving gaze. Even if you wanted to leave... She wouldn’t allow it! Can’t you see?! YOU’RE ALL HERS!

Every night you would return home, Nadia felt as if a huge part of herself was missing. You were perfect to her, don’t get her wrong... But there was one ingredient to you missing that was stopping you from being absolutely divine: Her love.

You were warm to her like an oven, your kisses upon her cheek always so sweet like sugar. Your fingers were silk-like, every single time you touched her. Your skin tasted like buttercream and you smelled like vanilla! Every sense she felt around you was filled with empty calories... Calories that would never satisfy her until you were all hers.

You saw her as nothing but a friend... And oh how much she hated that. The thought of you not being more than such a berating title made her skin crawl, her jaw tightening with anger. 

It was when you started dating someone else that she felt more than betrayal... Oh no she went ABSOLUTELY. FUCKING. MAD. 

“I am NOT a piece of cake, flower!! How can you just discard me like I didn’t love you more than them?! HOW CAN YOU LEAVE ME WITH NOTHING BUT A FROSTED HEART THAT WAS SUPPOSE TO BE YOURS?!”

“I planned everything out perfectly when I was with you!! The dates, the outfits, the sex! ALL OF IT!!”

Nonetheless... she found a way to forgive you. That’s what a Countess does, forgive those who have made mistakes!! Oh how much you will miss your lover... But it will be okay! Soon you will have another!!

“I’m taking back what’s mine... And showing you a slice of heaven that you can have when you are mine. Not that you weren’t already mine~!”

♜ muriel of the kokhuri ; teddy bear ♜

What was once his cold, exposed heart? He couldn’t even remember anymore. Despite all his attempts to push you away, isolate himself once more... You showed him love, gave him a space in your heart that was unmeasurable. And he didn’t want to admit how much he loved it.

You could never be scared of Muriel, knowing he was just a big teddy bear! You found it absolutely endearing whenever he talked in his sleep, saying all the things he would do to you, nervous beyond belief!!

It was when you started finding knives under his pillow in the morning, crumpled photos that he had drawn of you, destroyed pieces of wood that he whittled of you... That doubt began to sprout in the midst of your naive heart. Should you be scared?

What was once a comforting and quiet energy... Became malicious and violent. His love for you seemed to only extend farther than what you could perceive “healthy.” How can love become so violent?! What happened to the sweet, gentle giant that sparked a newfound feeling in his mind?!

There was only one thing you wish you did... RUN.

It was when you disposed of the myrrh he had given you to forget him... That he went absolutely mad. How can you just try to dispose of him?! ACT LIKE YOU DIDN’T KNOW HIM? HOW COULD YOU??!

What was a normal, rainy day was filled with nothing but sheer terror. He was inside your home!! WHO WAS HE?! ... YOU’RE SCARED! But oh how you had brought this upon yourself!! SO WHAT IF YOU’RE FUCKING SCARED?!

You were unprepared when his heavy breaths radiated off of the walls, bouncing around inside your mind... He was absolutely silent... When he tried to bring a knife down upon you.

♜ portia devorak ; dollhouse ♜

There was nothing Portia wanted more than for you and her to be a perfect couple, someday a perfect family even. Pepi, you, and her... Alone in her cottage, living a domestic life. How wonderful does that sound? Absolutely HEAVENLY to her, that’s for sure!!

To the public, you and Portia were, in fact, the perfect couple! She was absolutely angelic to anyone who met her eye, and you were her darling lover, an endearing doll of hers that she kept close to her. She opened the walls of her home to you, to her heart!

But soon people started to see something... different between you two. Were you really as perfect as you looked?

She’s coming... SHE’S COMING!! Swinging the attic door open, her wide smile offered an array of madness that couldn’t begin to be assessed. Her giggles filled your ears, what was once something you loved became something you came to fear. 

When was the last time you truly thought for yourself? Portia did everything for you. She coddled you, fed you, dressed you, did your makeup, told you when you can speak, when you were to sleep. There wasn’t a moment where you were anything else but her rag doll, controlled and motivated under her loving hand.

“You were absolutely wonderful today, doll!! The way people looked at us. We’re perfect together!! EVERYONE THINKS IT, DON’T YOU?”

No matter how perfect everyone thought the two of you to be, you saw what everyone else didn’t see of Portia... How terrifyingly. Fucking. Insane she was.

But this is all your fault. You tried to run, tried to ruin the perfect facade Portia built up in her head. She just had to take things into her own hands to make sure you stayed! AND NOW LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!!

♜ lucio morgasson ; milk and cookies ♜

What else is there to say?! He LOVES YOU!! 

He locked the doors of the palace at night. He needed to know you were there with him, in his arms, sound asleep... But when you tried to run, Lucio lost his trust in you; Trust that you can be alone.

“YOU SHOULD THINK TWICE BEFORE YOU TRY TO FUCKING CALL FOR HELP AGAIN, LITTLE BIRD!!”

Every night became the same; Lucio spiking the milk that put you to sleep; enough poison in it where he would be able to bend you to his will. Day by day, you grew weaker, unable to think for yourself. He took his chance to hold you then, singing a lullaby to you until you were... absolutely... knocked out...

“Do you want me, little bird? Of course, I’ll hold you!! I’m here!”

When the plague hit, did Lucio care? Absolutely not!! All that mattered was that you were with him, until death did you part! But when Lucio got sick, ill-ridden with the plague... He needed a final resort... Something that would assure you both would be TOGETHER FOREVER

“I baked you cookies, darling bird. Do you like them? ...Do you want to know the secret ingredients? Well, it’s a little bit of sugar... And a LOT of poison! ...Oh look how tired you’re getting. Perhaps I should put you to bed? The plague can’t kill you if I do first~! But don’t worry!! I’ll be join you VERY soon, my beautiful bird!”

He held you close to him, the sickening look in his reddened eyes absolutely deadly, filled with lust. There was nothing more soothing than seeing the pure innocence on your face when you were asleep. He sang you a final lullaby, before he set the room aflame... Ashes, ashes... If he was going to die, you were going to go down with him!! Amongst the fire surrounding him, he found solstice in knowing you were waiting for him, beckoning him to join you in the supple whisper of death. Because even in death... You couldn’t escape him; Death couldn’t do you part!

═════☩══♛══☩═════

*Author’s Note: I re-listened to the crybaby album and heard certain lines in different songs that set off my yandere writing radar. I stayed in my seat for 4 hours writing this as well... So I really hope you enjoyed!

═════☩══♛══☩═════

#the arcana #arcana #the arcana game #yandere arcana x reader #arcana x reader #gender neutral apprentice #arcana headcanons #yandere arcana #yandere arcana headcanons #portia devorak x reader #portia devora #julian devorak #julian devorak x reader #asra alnazar #asra alnazar x reader #nadia satrinava #nadia satrinava x reader #muriel arcana #muriel x reader #lucio morgasson #lucio morgasson x reader #count lucio x reader #yandere headcanons #tw #yandere #yandere blog

[mocha-sim]

For a while now I’ve wanted to write out a post concerning where I stand on the whole issue with YanSim and its developer (in short: neutral, leaning heavily towards the negative side, but I like the potential of the story and characters). There are a lot of problems and I really want to throw in my two cents

This might not be necessary, but I need to get it off my chest, and hopefully make some people think about other points of view

Warning: long post ahead

1. Six years and still in development

I can really see both sides here

On one hand, six full years without even one rival - the single most important part of the game - and a game still full of placeholder assets, and terrible code on top of that, is pathetic

On the other hand, Yandev is working with only a small team of volunteers and himself, who (no matter what he claims) knows very little about game development (from what i’ve seen, he’s made one before, but it looks like a very small-scale and basic fighting game, unlike YanSim which is much more large-scale and has a lot of features)

Professional game teams do have full, high-quality games made in less than six years, but that time is also a product of game company employees being extremely overworked. Lately I’ve seen a lot more people talking about this issue, which is good, but isn’t it hypocritical to not also apply that logic to Yandev?

Again, though, I’m not sure how much time he spends actually working on the game - to me, it seems like he spends a lot of time on discord, reddit, etc. even if he does only stream for a few hours every night. Maybe the “harassment” that’s “slowing down game development” wouldn’t be such an issue if he didn’t spend so much time online interacting with these people?

2. The writing and characters

I’m not a huge fan of how the game’s story is handled, either

I don’t think it’s 100% fair to cast a final judgement with the game the way it is now - Osana not being out is in no way a good thing, but it also means that there hasn’t really been any opportunity for story or character development yet, especially for the rivals. That being said:

I feel like there’s a lot of wasted potential with characters’ individual stories and with the game’s story as a whole, like the “Aishi curse” - I just can’t think of many good stories with a main character who’s basically an empty husk. If Ayano had emotions from the beginning, and actually had to struggle with them, she could be a much more interesting character. There doesn’t even need to be a magical curse for it to run in the family - the way children are raised has a serious impact on the person they grow into. If Ayano is raised by a crazy, abusive stalker of a mother, she may well turn into the same thing.

Taro, too - he has so many contradicting character traits. He yells at Ayano for “scaring him” when she’s carrying a box cutter or laughing, but has the courage to run right up to a murderer and take off their mask?? He doesn’t care about reputations for Osoro or Oka, but won’t love Ayano if her reputation drops too low?? We’re told that he’s “friendly and respectful”, but we’re never shown that part of his personality. On top of that, we’re not really given a reason to like or pursue him as the goal of the game - when he’s not interacting with Girl of the Week, he doesn’t really do anything except sit by the fountain and read. I feel as though Taro should have a routine that involves interacting with other characters and gives us more of a feel for the personality we’re told he’s supposed to have

Raibaru as a whole makes no sense and feels like a satellite character to Osana. In Osana’s shoes, I would want to have a word with her about personal space. There’s not a lot to say about her aside from that, because... she doesn’t really do anything except follow Osana around all day and shut down the player’s attempts to kill her. She feels more like a soulless obstacle than a character

I think there should be more true pacifist options than just matchmaking - even the befriending elimination route will, in Yandev’s own words, involve someone getting hurt. If we’re supposed to have a choice on whether or not to hurt and kill people, there should be more variety in our options

3. The game’s code sucks/it’s poorly-optimized

Yeah.

I don’t know much about coding but the amount of awkward stretching/bending limbs on corpses, clipping through walls, low fps, etc. makes this obvious. It was definitely a bad move on Yandev’s part to start a project like this without at least taking a coding/game development class or something

I think the best course of action for Yandev would be to get a professional programmer on board after Osana is released and spend a few months fixing the game’s code before he starts work on the next rival

4. The character models are just stolen Unity models

They are just unity models, but not “stolen” at all - YanDev paid for them.

That being said, they’re sort of ugly and inexpressive, and personally i’m hoping they get replaced soon

5. The characters are all minors

They’re not. It’s in flashing red letters on the screen when you open the game. I can’t help but feel like the reason people keep insisting that the characters are minors is so that they can feel like heroes for defending them or something

It doesn’t make a lot of logical sense, but there’s still plenty of time for this to be fixed. I think it was recently confirmed that Akademi is called an “academy” now and won’t be referred to as a high school again

Imo YanDev should just change it to a post-secondary school, since that’s probably the most seamless way for all the characters to be adults

One last thing I want to say on this is that, when it gets brought up, I often see people use the excuse “the age of consent in Japan is 13″. 1: it isn’t - the Japanese government lets each prefecture decide its own age of consent, but 13 is the minimum. As far as I know, no prefecture has set it below 16. 2: even if 13 was the age of consent, that doesn’t mean we should accept and defend it as “part of a different culture”. It’s still pedophilia. 3: Japanese people actively protest against things like this

6. The uniforms are middle-school uniforms/don’t look like they belong in a prestigious school

Yeah

However there are multiple uniform options, and it looks like the default uniforms will be completely changed in the final game

7. Panty shots

YanSim is an 18+ game, but there is such a thing as too far

I’ve seen people who tolerate it, but I haven’t seen a single person who actively likes the panty shots and would complain if they were removed. Imo the part that makes this bad is the fact that we, the player, actively have to point our camera up a girl’s skirt and take a photo of her underwear with it being in full view; the whole way this works makes it obvious that the feature was put in there for titillation more than anything else, and it just feels uncomfortable. If it were more like Uekiya’s key-stealing minigame where all we have to do is push a few buttons, the whole gross/uncomfortable aspect could be taken away and a lot of people would probably be fine with it

It would also be better to replace it with an expanded version of the phone-stealing feature: this would let the player get “points” for students of both genders, plus it would still make sense to gain more points for certain students, like the student council or the bullies. Maybe you could even steal teachers’ phones under certain circumstances?

8. YanDev is homophobic

Again not too sure on this one

Iirc, most of the comments people bring up on this are from years ago when he still went by EvaXephon

But speaking as a wlw, I think some of the ways I’ve seen him talk about f/f relationships are pretty creepy. And on top of that, he seems to be considering adding a “female senpai” option to the game, but no male player character? (though i guess i can see the point of view that a male mc would need a lot more new voice lines, animations, etc. while the senpai follows a mostly fixed routine and would only need so many. still, it seems wrong to have one without the other). I hope I’m wrong about this but his support of the LGBT community seems mostly focused on the L and more for his own entertainment than any actual support

9. YanDev is making more money than he should (and handles it poorly)

His Patreon may be dropping, but his YouTube channel is raking in even more money with 2M+ subscribers, and he’s making even more money from things like merch and donations... all while apparently still living with his parents (which i don’t find hard to believe). He’s also apparently bought 2 switches and a sex doll instead of using the money to hire the help he desperately needs with his game

Assuming he really does still live with his parents, I fully support the petition to get his Patreon suspended until he at least finishes Osana. Most game devs don’t make any money off of their games until they’ve finished it completely

10. YanDev wrote rape fanfics

So I did briefly check his old ffn profile some time ago, and as far as I could see everything had the proper ratings and warnings

Tagging/warning/rating is a fanfic author’s only responsibility to you. You make the choice on whether or not to read it. If everything is appropriately tagged and you read it anyway, that’s on you, not the author. If you are mature enough to be on the internet unsupervised, then you are mature enough to curate your own experience.

Fiction is the place to explore controversial themes and topics. It doesn’t mean in any way that a content creator would condone the things they write about in real life

11. YanDev steals art/assets

He does, and still hasn’t apologized for the DLC rivals thing. In fact he made a post defending himself for it, and even compared himself to Andy Warhol in the process (lol)

I’m not sure but I think I heard something recently about him continuing to do this type of thing (the grass, etc.). In which case we should continue to put pressure on him until he credits the creators of whatever art/assets he stole. Art theft is inexcusable

12. The fanbase is mostly kids

This is unfortunately true, and it’s a big problem (i’ve had to deal with it myself on my youtube channel)

However I would personally say that this problem is outside of YanDev’s control. Kids seem to be drawn to edgy/violent things, or things they shouldn’t be allowed to see (just look at Call of Duty). I put the blame for this on the parents who aren’t monitoring their kids’ computer activities. As for YanDev, he’s not a babysitter and it’s not his responsibility to censor his content for kids who shouldn’t be viewing it in the first place

Underage or not though, he should really avoid calling his fans things like “fuck kittens”. Even from the perspective of an adult that’s super creepy to hear

13. The character designs suck

Some are alright, others are absolutely awful

I think that, in a game built on anime tropes, characters should be allowed to have unnaturally-coloured hair. I mean, a lot of characters in anime do have weird hair that you wouldn’t see in real life (seemingly without any dye), and it can add a lot of personality to their designs

But some YanSim characters push that too far. The science club is the worst of the worst imo, despite being otherwise one of my favourite clubs. The neon streaks are ugly, and what’s up with the visors? Why are they allowed to wear those outside of club time? Why do they wear them during club time, as opposed to actual goggles or something? (i have this issue with a lot of club accessories, imo the accessories are unnecessary in the first place)

The bullies and the light music club also take things too far. Their designs are crowded, hard to look at, and out-of-place. Nothing against characters with multi-coloured hair, but there’s a time and a place and a “prestigious” school setting isn’t it

(also, slightly off-topic, but why does almost every “intended couple” look like they could be siblings?)

I could probably make a whole separate post on the character designs in YS, but I’ll save that for another day. (i’m just very passionate about character design)

14. YanDev has collaborated with porn games 3 times now

Once I could overlook (after all, the characters are 18+ and YS is already not for kids) but a third time? Seriously? And so soon after the last one?

Not only do I have mixed feelings about Yandev doing crossovers when his game isn’t even in the demo stage yet, isn’t this game supposed to be taken seriously as a horror game? I can’t think of a single other horror game that has willingly put its characters in porn.

Also I can’t help noticing that he advertises the porn game crossovers a lot more than he did with that one Dark Deception crossover. Did he ever even mention that one? I only ever saw it on the Dark Deception Twitter

15. YanDev is rude to his fans

I don’t have a lot to say against this one. As far as I’ve seen, he is, and he doesn’t take criticism well at all (just look at the subreddit - yes, a lot of the things that were removed deserved it (unfunny cum chalice jokes, etc.) but there have also been completely innocent questions, fanarts, jokes, and fanfics that have been removed. Not to mention mods going through peoples’ post history and banning them for being active in r/Osana. Both he and his mod team seem insanely paranoid)

I think he’s going to have to grow a thicker skin and stop censoring critiques if he wants to get anywhere with this game. Not just fans who bring up tiny details that might need changing, but also big, glaring issues like the code and character designs and such. He also doesn’t seem that professional for a game developer who wants to be taken seriously

That being said, if you’re the type to spam the discord server/subreddit/fan communities who have nothing to do with Yandev like the amino, you deserved that ban

16. YanDev defends pedophiles/the “sex license” thing

“No adult ever has any excuse to do anything sexual with a child. As soon as you touch a kid, you have crossed the line from being someone with a mental disorder to being the worst scum imaginable. Having a mental illness is involuntary, but touching a kid is a choice. If you have a mental illness, I feel bad for you. If you violate a child, I feel disgust and contempt for you, and I think you deserve the death penalty.” -From YanDev himself on this page

The sex license thing is also debunked on the same page: the whole conversation was taken out of context and the hypothetical “license” was supposed to be something that only an adult could meet the requirements for

17. “Corona-chan”

This was a really insensitive move to make in the middle of a pandemic, and I agree that the design was racist

However, YanDev listened to the fans’ complaints and removed the easter egg a day later, plus gave an apology. I think that this was the best thing he could do in that scenario and idk what else people are expecting him to do about it

18. YanDev’s general portrayal of high schoolers

Honestly, it’s not 100% realistic (especially in some of the dialogue. you know what i’m talking about)

I’m surprised that more students don’t seem to have friends outside of their clubs. It seems like all the students mostly stick within their club/group - walking to school together, spending their breaks together, etc. A lot of the ways the characters behave are very robotic, like walking in a perfectly straight line everywhere they go

That being said, a lot of the things i’ve seen criticized in regards to this are not part of the problem. By the time you’re in high school, you’ve probably hit puberty. It doesn’t make a character automatically sexualized if they have bigger breasts (though some designs in the game are over-sexualized, like a few certain staff members)

19. Muja, Mida, and Hanako

Let’s start with Hanako: Yandev has already said that she’s not romantically interested in her brother, she’s just insanely clingy and doesn’t want him to get a girlfriend out of fear that he’ll forget about her. If you still insist that she’s in love with Taro, then that’s on you

Muja and Mida I have mixed feelings on.

If every student is 18 or older, meaning that the first-years are 18, that makes Taro, a third-year, 20-21 years old. If Mida and Muja are in their early 20s as Yandev has said, that means that the age gap isn’t an issue. However, it’s still wrong for a teacher or a nurse to pursue their student/patient

I don’t think Yandev should need to spell out “hey, Mida and Muja are not good people” in flashing neon signs. The game is rated M and anyone who’s old enough to play it should be able to understand that without it being said. If you need morality in fiction spoon-fed to you, you probably shouldn’t be watching/reading/playing anything rated above PG

On the other hand, YanDev has a nasty habit of making these things into a joke, which is really insensitive and creepy. Like saying that Mida’s favourite food is “the spit of a younger man” (yikes), that she’s tried to seduce her own students 69 times (haha 69 so funney right guys XD), or that whole confession scene mess. It’s less of a problem with Muja, but it’s still there. As much as the audience shouldn’t need everything served to them on a silver platter, issues like these should still be treated with respect, not made into gags

20. Yandev wastes time on “Easter eggs”

I have to agree that he does spend time implementing unnecessary things sometimes (like the abc challenge), but as far as I know the Easter eggs are what he does in his spare time while waiting for assets from volunteers. However: snap mode, which was hyped up for years, turned out to be a flop with zero purpose, disappointing a good portion of the fanbase.

21. Love Letter

So far I’m really liking the look of this game: I like the models and the school environment they’ve shown, and it seems like they’re doing a lot of things in better or more interesting ways than YanDev, like not outright telling us who the rivals are. I don’t think it’s fair to accuse them of “stealing” anything, when it seems like most of the assets the games have in common are the things they bought from the Unity store (Love Letter even changed the base Unity model to have a more appealing look)

I'm glad to see that they actually listened to criticism from fans on things like Setsuna’s design (I love her newest look and I hope it’s the final one). From design alone she’s already a more interesting protagonist, and she looks like the sort of character you’d actually enjoy playing as

Not sure I totally buy the claim that it was all done in two weeks, but even if it was over the span of months, that’s still miles better than YanSim’s six years

Knowing that Dr. Apeis has already ditched one project I’m staying open to new information on this, but as of right now I’m looking forward to playing the demo!

Overall: A lot of the hate against the game and the dev are unnecessary, but some is justified and we shouldn’t blindly defend everything he does (seriously, you can admit that the character designs are shit. no one is going to stone you for it).  There are a lot of improvements Dev could make, both on the game and on his behaviour towards fans.

I think that the biggest improvement would be for the game to just stop taking itself so seriously. At this point, it’s so full of memes, cringy google translate names, excessive edginess, and gags that it may as well just be a fun ridiculous anime game instead of a serious horror game. I feel like taking this approach could make it more successful (plus, it doesn’t really have a lot of horror elements aside from the gore)

There are a lot of cases of people taking things too far. Like spamming YanDev with explicit gore/animal abuse, trying to swat him, spamming volunteers with weird porn, trying to hack into volunteers’ accounts (including bank accounts), etc. That is going way too far, no matter how awful or pathetic you think a person is. If you are doing these kinds of things, you are doing more harm than Dev or his volunteers

Attacking YanDev’s appearance is unnecessary and not related to his behaviour or skills. Same with the chalice memes

However, I’ve seen a lot of YanDev’s defenders lashing out against “gremlins”, lumping all of them in with the kinds of people who do these things. If you check r/Osana, you’ll see that most if not all of the people there condemn this behaviour: the gore and porn spammers are a loud minority (and i’m willing to bet most of them are the basement-dwelling losers from KiwiFarms and 4Chan)

Attacking and/or spamming fans who are just trying to enjoy the game is also unnecessary. Someone liking a video game you don’t like is not doing you any harm. Be mature and move on

I’m not sure if some of what I’ve said above is 100% accurate so if anyone actually read this and has evidence against it then feel free to add

I think that’s about all I have to say on that. Again, i don’t know if it will change anything in the fandom but i really just wanted to get this off my chest

#yandere simulator #yansim #yanderedev #yandev #not sure if i should tag this as crit or not

[burtlederp]

Accidental Drabble: Hand-Me-Down

tw: mild swearing, character death, referenced violence.

---

Curled up tightly in the corner of the stark, white-tiled room, blood trickling down his chin, tears seeping from his eyes, his whole form shaking violently with sobs, Chester gave up.

And Loke took control.

It–no, he, he’d earned himself a gender now–wasted no time, quickly tearing Chester’s soul loose from the body’s interior and balling it up before he stuffed it out the mouth. Chester went willingly, he was happy to go, and a fine, silver mist curled from the body’s lips and disappeared. Chester had gone home, and Loke had his own place now.

Of course, circumstances could definitely be better. Heck, the body could be better too–Loke preferred something with more legs–but it was very clear the spirit didn’t have the time to make changes yet as he heard through his new ears the sound of footsteps approaching. Somebody was coming back to the room, his prison cell, and though Loke did not personally retain any memories of what that meant, he did have the information that it meant pain. And Loke, while new to this whole ‘having a body’ thing, knew he would not like pain.

He had to get control of the body quickly–at the moment, it was unconscious, slumped against the wall, not breathing. Loke began to clumsily push his spirit throughout the body, fill the whole of it as best as he could (even if it was a bit awkward) before somebody re-entered the room.

The body’s limbs jerked awkwardly, chest heaving with strained gasps as Loke filled it, like worming a hand into a wet glove, stretching to get all the way in there. He struggled to open his eyes just as the door to his white box opened, and in stepped a man. Loke knew him, but didn’t, no memories of him, only information. Handler Connor Manning.

“Good morning, sweetness,” Connor grinned, holding a baton in one hand. “We feeling obedient today?”

Pain began to filter into Loke’s new senses, dull aches and sharp stabs of broken material. Consequences of a hand-me-down. Loke didn’t like it. He didn’t like how difficult it made it to breath, to move, to even lift his head to look this handler in the eyes.

The body’s senses weren’t working correctly Loke realized as Handler Connor was suddenly crouching in front of him, fingers tangling in the body’s sandy-brown hair and yanking his head up. Connor had not teleported, Loke knew, the body was just a bit broken, not working right.

“Hey, '626, I asked you a question,” he growled, his dark eyes looking directly into the body’s own. “Are you gonna be good today?”

Loke realized he’d have to answer or pain–more damage–would be forthcoming. Like a church-goer trying to silence a ringing cellphone during prayer, Loke scrambled around, trying to grasp control of his new tongue. He had used it in the past, for brief moments, but Chester had always been there, unconsciously guiding him, and without the body’s native to help, Loke was finding it quite difficult.

He made sound, though it couldn’t be said he spoke. It was deep, guttural, not enough skill with the tongue and mouth to make it all work together yet. The body’s mouth opened, and made sounds that were vaguely like words, but still definitely not. It felt like the tongue was getting in the way more than it was actually helping.

Connor’s brow furrowed. “Speak,” he ordered. Loke attempted again, trying to inquire as to what he should say, but once more the path between the new spirit’s intentions and the execution of them was blocked by the tangled mess of flesh and blood. He again created sound, but made no communication. Handler Connor frowned, letting go of the body’s head as he straightened up, staring down at it.

“I didn’t… I didn’t hit you that fucking hard, did I?” Connor muttered, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “...Can you even understand me? Raise two fingers.” 

Loke’s eyes moved to the hand that was lying limply on his knee. His brow knitted unconsciously as he concentrated on them, trying to make them move as he wished. The fingers twitched, the arm jerking slightly and rolling off the knee. Slowly, the hand raised into the air, and Loke found the orientation of the fingers to be the real challenge. His own spirit hands did not fit comfortably into the body’s, that made abundantly clear as he tried to get them to move, to twist, folded, even simply bend. In the end, all he could manage was to fold the thumb to the palm, pinkie and ring finger slightly curled. When he had done all he could do, he looked back up to a very troubled-looking Connor. 

“Shit,” he swallowed, staring down at the body. He was sure he hadn’t done anything worse to 424626 than he had any other box boy--in fact, he didn’t even remember hitting it in the head last he was in here. It wasn’t the drugs either, 424626 hadn’t eaten its food for a day and a half. But here it was, slumped against the wall, head and hand raised, clear blue eyes fixed on…

Connor blinked. Hadn’t 424626’s eyes been brown? Because the eyes that stared up at him were not brown, but rather an impossible shade of blue, a quarter of the left iris an equally impossible yellow. They were somehow distant, far away, but not so much that it looked dazed. It was focused on its handler seemingly without issue. 

He took a step back, then turned, opening the door to the room and sticking his head out into the hall, peering at the dry erase board that hung on the wall outside. No, this was the right room, the right boy, the number 424626 scrawled in black marker on the board.

“Something up?” Handler Joseph was leaning against the wall opposite, arms folded, looking curious. 

“...Maybe,” Connor replied, and looked back at the box boy who hadn’t moved besides lowering its arm, those strange eyes still fixed on him. He noticed it was breathing oddly, an irregular pattern, labored. Connor rubbed his jaw, gulping.

“I think I fucked up.”

---

yeaahhh im thinking. im thinking this is gonna get a continuation.

Thanks to @ashintheairlikesnow for letting me use Connor! He ain’t mine, but he sure is great (in the worst possible way). 

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged for future bits! 

#whump? #kinda #there'll be more #whump community #loke #my oc #not my oc #connor manning just wants to be friends #ashintheairlikesnow #ash's ocs #box boy #bbu #box boy universe #424626 #loke is gonna have a time here #burtlederp writes #connor manning #rip chester we hardly knew thee #whump incoming

[simplyfandomish]

Sister, Sister (3/_)

Older! Gilbert Blythe x Older Shirley! Reader

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 ||

Anne and Diana took the usual route to school as they did every morning. Both girls were conversing about the basic math assignment they were given as homework the night before. Ruby ran up to the pair from the pathway that led from her newly built home and joined the two girls in their discussion.

“The both of you got 25?” Ruby’s eyes widened slightly, then ducked to the ground in embarrassment, “I got 16...” She had a feeling she had gotten the answer wrong last night, but a piece of her felt confident in her ability in Maths, but seeing Diana and Anne - the two smartest girls in class share the same answer, its was written in stone that she had gotten the problem wrong.

“Oh, the both of you are just so smart! Like Gilbert Blythe…” Ruby sighed with heart eyes. Diana and Anne shared a look with one another, the redhead crossed her eyes in annoyance. Diana snickered.

“Don’t laugh!” Ruby defended. “He is the smartest out of all the boys! He wants to become a doctor, remember?” She stated proudly, now with a skip in her step. 

How her mood could shift so quickly from just the sound of Gilbert’s name amazed Anne. 

“Maybe he could help me with my homework! Oh, it’ll be a date!” Ruby cupped her cheeks, surely her mind wandering to what would occur during their study date. Anne and Diana watched as the blonde haired girl’s cheeks turned a blaring red and she hid her face within her pink knitted scarf, suddenly bashful. 

Diana sighed and changed the conversation, “How is your sister, Anne?”

Anne’s blue eyes sparkled, “She’s spectacular! We write to each other almost everyday - or whenever she has a chance. She’s been increasingly occupied with work, lately. But that’s just like my big sister, always been busy, busy!”

“Sister?!” Ruby gasped, “You have a sister?”

Anne nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Have I not told you about her?” Her brows furrowed as she tried to rake her head if she ever mentioned her eldest sister.

“No! Oh, how exciting!” Ruby clapped her hands. “Why haven’t you ever mentioned her before?”

Anne played with one of her braids, suddenly bashful.

Diana piped up, “There was an incident with their letters and addresses, but we ran into (Y/n) in Charlottetown while we were visiting my aunt Josephine.” Short and simple. Anne nodded in gratitude. Diana nodded back.

Ruby suddenly sprung in front of the pair, blocking their path momentarily. “What’s she like?!”

Anne smiled, and her eyes grew distant, “Amazing. She’s really tough and knows how to throw a punch! She actually discombobulated a rude customer where she works. She works as a barmaid, but she always jokes about being security.”

“A-a barmaid?” Ruby stuttered. Her imagination drifted off to the cliche images of a barmaid. Tight corsets that supported large...ahem - bosoms, dark red lipstick that accentuated plump lips, hair teased high and tight with dirty curls, and a dark skirt that would be too tight around the bottom.

Could the man she had knocked out trying to be grabbing with her large bosom?? Ruby’s head nearly exploded.

Anne nodded. 

“Anne, you should invite her to Green Gables for tea!” Diana smiled widely. 

Ruby whipped her head to the ravenette with wide eyes, but she went ignored. 

Anne nearly lit up like a firework. “That sounds like a scrumptious idea, Diana! Let’s hurry to class so I can get some paper!” Diana nodded and both girls locked arms and began to scurry to the school house. 

“Come on, Ruby! We’ll be late!” Anne gripped the small girl’s elbow and began to drag her. 

Ruby was quite literally dragged as she felt numb like a wet rag doll as she still tried to grasp the concept that her dear, imaginative friend, Anne, was related to a busty barmaid!

A pair of dirty, brown leather boots stepped onto the wooden platform of Avonlea Station, the passenger took in a breath of the fresh country air, much different than that of musty Charlottetown. They nodded towards the train conductor as their luggage was placed by their feet.

The passenger pulled out a cigarette and lit the end of the paper stick. The tobacco ignited and a puff of smoke drifted from the smoker’s mouth. “So this is Avonlea.” They muttered with a nod of satisfaction. 

The visit to this small town better be worth it. A large hand slammed on the smoker’s shoulder. “Avonlea...the pictures and descriptions do no justice.” The large man sighed with a smile. 

The smoker jerked his shoulder away, “We’re not supposed to be seen together, you moron. You want our plan to fail?”

“Right, sorry.” The large man stepped away from the smoker and put on his bowler hat. He tugged on the front of his jacket and picked up his suitcase. “Meet you at Green Gables then.” He nodded in farewell and walked towards the stables to rent a cab.

The smoked rolled his eyes and drew out another breath of nicotine. Then he dropped the cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out. He ran a hand through his gelled hair and carried his luggage sack over his shoulder as he walked off. “So you’re here to surprise your sister?” A dark skinned conductor asked as he handled the redhead’s luggage. 

(Y/n) nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, sir!” She saw him bend over to place her luggage down, but she insisted she just take the case from his hands. He accepted and placed the heavy luggage into her hands. “Been working extra hard to save up some money to come to Avonlea. Speaking of, if you ever need a good place for good ale go to Emilio’s! Just say your a friend of mine and you’ll be treated like a king!” She was bouncing on her feet in excitement. (Emilio’s tavern was welcome to all genders of all races - after all, Emilio himself was a natural born Spaniard that happened to fall in love with Canadian woman and the country itself!) 

The conductor laughed and nodded. Never had he met such a white skinned individual who conversed with him like an equal. It was refreshing. “I wish you and your sister the best of luck, miss (Y/n).”

“Thank you, Maxwell!” She smiled at him and practically sprinted towards the stables to catch a ride. 

The conductor snickered and shook his head at the exuberant girl and hopped back onto the steps of a scarlet train cabin. He waved his hand towards the engine, giving the engineer the signal to depart. 

The train whistled cried and then the scarlet train chugged back to Charlottetown.

“Anne, you have a sister!”

“That’s marvelous!”

“When can we meet her, Anne?” Cole asked with a small smile. 

Anne smiled widely at the small crowd that surrounded her and Diana’s table. 

“An older sister, yes! And she’s amazing! We just recently found each other again due to a mishap with our addresses, but we haven’t stopped talking to each other since!”

“I bet she was actively ignoring you.” Billy snickered from the other side of the schoolhouse. “Tell us about your sister, orphan. Is she just as ugly as you?” His band of boys snickered as well and began to throw in their own two cents.

“Dotted with freckles!”

“Same pumpkin hair.”

“A motormouth know-it-all?” 

At each insult Anne grew more sour, and then anger filled her being. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Hell runs in terror when its a redheaded woman scoured.

“You take all that back, Billy Andrews!” She jumped to her feet and slammed her palms on the desktop. “I may not be the prettiest one here, but my sister is absolutely breathtaking. And you better watch your mouth or she’ll knock you to the ground!”

Diana nodded in all seriousness. But a part of her would happily pay to see (Y/n) put Billy Andrews in his place.  

The blonde boy stood from his desk and squared his shoulders. “Is that a threat, mutt?”

“Let us just say that when she does come to visit, you better watch yourself.” She crossed her arms in defiance. If her dear, older sister can knock out a drunk with one kick, then perhaps it was high time Anne learned how to step up for herself! (Plus the fact, that Anne now had an older sister to hide behind, made her a little more reckless - but she would never admit that.)

Billy scoffed, “Whatever, orphan. Bet she’s as scrawny as you.” He cracked his knuckles as he sat back down in his chair.

The girls couldn’t help but gawk at Anne. As common as it was for the redhead to lose her temper, never before had she seemed so...confident in her argument? Yes, confident sounded like a good word. 

“Sooo, when can we meet her?” Tillie asked. Bringing the conversation bacl to Anne’s current favorite topic.

Anne tapped her chin, “I’m not too sure. Soon hopefully! She’s just been really busy with her job in Charlottetown.”

“Oh? What does she do?” Josie Pye asked. 

“Tailor dresses?”

“A nanny?”

“A waitress?”

“Close,” Anne answered to the last suggestion. “She’s-

“A barmaid!” Ruby squeaked out in sheer embarrassment. Her cheeks pink like her dress and hair ribbon.

All conversations halted in the schoolhouse as all the students stared at Anne with unreadable expressions. Some of the girls’ eyes widened and some of the boy’s cheeks heated up. Even Billy was silent. Guess everyone in Avonlea had the same image of a barmaid as Ruby had...

Anne picked up on the silence and rose a brow, “Yes, and?”

Tagged List: [Open]: angel-in-the-roses 

#anne with an e #awae #gilbert blythe #gilbert blythe x reader

[shealynn88]

Not the Formless Being

Fandom: Supernatural Word Count: 1k Rating: Explicit Pairing: Destiel Summary: Non-Binary Cas.  Cas asks Dean a favor, and Dean struggles to help.  Established relationship, Cas tries to explain his dysphoria. A/N:  I am not NB, so I have done my best to represent how I think Cas would experience this, but if I’ve done anything offensive, please let me know.  It’s not my intent at all.  Huge thanks to @reallyelegantsharkfish for checking this over for me!!!!!

on ao3

Dean’s got his hand on Cas’s dick and his mouth on his pulse when Cas whispers something that makes him pull back.

“You want me to call it - what?” Dean asks, brow furrowed.

Cas sighs. “Dean, don’t - it’s a bad time. Don’t worry about it, it’s not a big deal.”

“No! I know! Of course it’s not a big deal. Either way.” He lets go and steps back. “I guess I just don’t...like, have I been doing it wrong, man? All this time?”

Cas sighs again, looking considerably less sure of himself. “That’s just the thing, Dean. I’m not a ‘man.’” He uses air quotes like a fucking nerd. “I’m not this.” He points down in frustration. “I’m in this body but it’s not me, and I’ve been in other bodies and my angelic form is light and wings and huge and has no gender and no genitals. I’m...not this. And I know you haven’t seen it, you can’t, and I understand it doesn’t make sense, but if you could...I think it could help me feel more...like myself. You haven’t been doing anything wrong. Please don’t...this isn’t about you, Dean.”

Dean swallows. Okay. Not about him. Don’t make it about him. But it feels like it’s about him. “Shit, dude,” he says, unthinking. “Fuck.” He looks up suddenly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t call you that, right? Like, should I call you...girl things?”

Cas closes his eyes like he’s reminding himself that Dean is tiny and clueless, and fuck Dean is so out of his depth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I know I’m being stupid about this. Just...I mean, look. I want to make you feel good, okay? However that works. I just don’t understand why - how…?”

“Would it be easier if I asked you to say 'particle wave'?” Cas arches an eyebrow.

Dean grimaces before he can stop himself, then shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean that. Whatever works for you, man - fuck! See? I’m garbage at this, I really can’t - maybe you should find someone else, I can’t even remember -”

Cas stops him with a kiss. “Dean.”

Dean takes a deep breath. He was maybe starting to panic, just then. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to be with someone else. It’s fine, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Dean says firmly. “No, I want to do this for you.” He leans in and kisses Cas’s neck. “Can I lick your clit, babe?”

Cas’s breath hitches, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. “Thank you, Dean,” he says.

He? Dean wonders.

And then he kneels. Cas is half hard, and big, and Dean has had him in his mouth so many times but this is different, and he wants to make it feel right. The way maybe Cas felt in his other forms, those other times when he wore someone with a different structure that still wasn't him. Dean closes his eyes and presses Cas up, so the long line of him is against his belly and the very sensitive underside is a hard nub under Dean’s fingers, and then his tongue. He concentrates there, and Cas’s breath goes slowly ragged above him as he licks in circles, flicks his tongue and then sucks gently, just there, that little bundle of nerves he knows so well.

It’s not so different. Not from a woman. Not from all the other times with Cas. But he can hear in the way Cas is moaning and coming apart above him that it’s different for Cas, that somehow it makes him (he’s gotta ask how to phrase that, now) more free, quicker to come apart.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” Dean murmurs. “You gonna come for me while I lick your pretty clit?”

“Ah, yes, fuck, Dean,” Cas’s voice breaks, and Dean reaches back and then pauses.

“Can I touch you?” he asks quietly, keeping his voice sultry, keeping Cas’s length pinned tight against his body. “Can I…” he doesn’t know how to say it without pulling them out of the moment.

“Yes...Dean,” Cas breathes, and he bends to reach the bed and fumbles the lube over to Dean. “Not...not inside, okay? Just, pressure. With this.” He taps the lube and then leans his head back again, against the wall.

Dean slicks up his fingers and slides them over Cas’s balls and then against the skin just behind them, over his prostate. “Here?” he asks. “Is this good?”

“Yes, oh, yes, Dean, just - ah - just - yes!”

“Fuck, baby,” Dean murmurs, and it’s suddenly easy, pressing and rubbing there through the slick lube, running his tongue over that sweet nub, sucking gently and flicking it with increasing pressure until Cas’s legs are shaking and he’s whining and his breath is erratic enough he might pass out if he were actually human.

Dean feels it coming so he slows the way he’s working, gentle, easing Cas through it and groaning at the spasms under his tongue. Long lines of come slide down Cas’s stomach until Dean gathers them up and rubs them over Cas’s...clit.

“So wet, baby,” Dean says, licking gently. “So beautiful.”

Cas helps him up off his knees, and his eyes are glazed the way they always are after an orgasm, but there’s something else there - something raw that is an honor to witness. “Thank you,” Cas says again.

“You’re welcome. Thank you...for asking me. I know I’m an idiot but I really want you to feel...comfortable, okay? Should I be calling you something different? Like, is ‘him’ weird?” He feels a flush rise in his face. He really is just fucking terrible at this.

Cas shrugs. “I know it’s how people see me. It’s all right. But you could also say...they? Or her. At times like...this. It depends? It’s hard to explain. I - I really needed that today. I needed to be...seen.”

“I’m glad you asked,” Dean says. He doesn’t get it. Not really. But there’s a lot about Cas he doesn’t get, and he loves all of it. Everything about them is new and different and more perfect than Dean had ever imagined. “I want to...be the person that sees you, okay? I’m sorry I’m so bad at this.” He wants to explain. To say that he learned from porn and there were no angels there, just the mainstream ideas of exaggerated parts and where they went, and it was all pretty straightforward but also sort of narrow, he realizes now. But Cas is right. What happened, how Cas feels - it’s not about Dean. So he shelves all his excuses and hugs Cas tightly.

“You want to lie down?” he asks finally.

Cas nods. “I’ll snuggle you.”

Dean frowns. "I'll snuggle you.”

Cas rolls their eyes. “We can snuggle each other.”

“Deal.”

Tagging: @all-or-nothing-baby @petrichoravellichor @legendary-destiel

#supernatural fanfiction #destiel #non-binary Castiel #sheawritesfic

[asthepheonixrises]

After 87 years I finally wrote a thing

This (probably terrible) thing is for @thewintersoldierdisaster because that super super cool person passed the bar exam and I can’t even imagine the amount of hard work it took, and they definitely deserve a pat on the back. Or... a fic in their notifications??

Anyway. This is a Hopper x Reader fic, and the reader happens to be an almost lawyer! (Also pretty gender neutral!) Enjoy!

There was nothing better than coming back home after time spent in the city. You loved the hustle and bustle, but nothing beat the lazy ‘traffic’ that made up Hawkins’ Main Street.

A tired smile made its way to to your face as you made your way onto the porch, Jim’s face appearing behind the front door.

“Finally,” Hopper huffs, closing the door behind you. “It was gettin’ too damn quiet in here without you and the kid.”

You toe your shoes off next to Hopper’s boots, drop your bag beside them; and turn directly into Hopper’s chest, slowly winding your arms around his middle.

“Missed you.” You mumble into his chest, letting our body sag against his much larger frame.

He chuckles, a warm hand rubbing against your back. “How ‘bout we get you some dinner, and into bed early, huh?”

“Mmh, just gon’ stay here.” Jim can barely make out your words, your face is pushed so far into his shirt.

The older man laughs at your response; it was clear he was going to have to move you if he wanted to leave the doorway.

Hopper moves your arms from his waist to his shoulders, bends down and grasps the back of your thighs, causing your knees to give out so he could pick you up.

You let out a quiet sound of surprise, arms tightening around his neck. “Why are we moving?” You pout slightly, but make no effort to get away from the man as he walks through the cabin.

“Gettin you outta these damn work clothes, that’s what I’m doin’.” Jim huffs, setting you down in the bedroom and giving your hips a squeeze.

“How’d you think it went?” He asked quietly, sitting on the end of the bed as you unbuttoned your shirt.

The ‘it’ he was referring to was the bar exam you had taken several hours prior in Indianapolis. You had gone to law school; commuting into the city every week and returning on weekends to spend time with Jim and El, and you had spent the last few months studying non-stop for the bar exam.

You shrugged your shoulders as you tugged your slacks off, letting them fall to the floor with your previously discarded shirt.

“I won’t know for a day or two. I think I did okay, but I don’t know, I mean I could’ve completely failed, i have no idea!” You shove your fingers through your hair, a nervous habit.

“Hey, hey,” Jim leans forward, his large hands finding your hips and pulling you in between his legs. He kisses along your ribs, his hands sliding up and down the backs of your thighs.

“You are the smartest person I know, and you’ve studied so hard for this-“ you make a noise somewhere between a whine and a grunt, twisting slightly in his grip.

“Hey-“ his hands raise to your lower back, and press you into his chest. “‘m serious. You’ve worked so damn hard, there’s no way you coulda failed.” He lays a kiss on your breastbone, mustache tickling the delicate skin.

You make a face, winding your arms around his neck once again, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He looks up at you, waiting for you to make eye contact.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if I fail.” You whisper, staring at Jim’s left ear.

“You won’t.” He answers immediately.

You roll your eyes, about to protest, but he starts talking before you can argue. “But if you do, and that’s a big if darlin, if you do fail, you’ll just try again. Study more and do more of those practice tests.”

Taking a deep breath, you start to pull away from Jim to continue getting undressed; the comfort of one of his flannel shirts was calling to you.

“Where d’you think you’re goin’?” Jim tightens his arms, creating a cage.

“To get my pajamas on, Jim, lemme go.” You giggle, pushing half heartedly at his broad chest.

“Mmh, I think I can think of something better to do.” Jim teases, his lips grazing your abdomen before he kisses across your belly.

Your hands find their way back to Hopper’s head, fingertips sliding beneath the collar of his shirt.

A loud bang from the front of the house startles you both, Jim’s head snapping to look out into the living room, his entire body drawing taut.

“I’M HOME!” El’s voice carries clearly into the bedroom, making you chuckle into the side of Jim’s head. You kiss his temple quickly, before slipping out of his grip to pull on one of Jim’s flannel shirts and a pair of shorts.

“Did Steve drive you?” Jim raises his voice slightly as he pushes himself off the bed and steps up to you as you’re buttoning your shirt.

“Yes! He took me home first so the pizza is not cold!” El shouts back, and you can hear her getting something out of the refrigerator.

Hopper chuckles as he leans down to kiss your cheek.

“I’m proud of you, darlin’, no matter what happens.”

“Thank you, Hop.” You whisper, smiling up at him.

The three of you spend the evening watching Magnum PI reruns, stuffing yourself full of greasy goodness while Hop grumbles beside you about the inaccuracies.

Three days later, you get a letter in the mail from the Indianapolis Bar Association.

Congratulations is the only thing you manage to read before you’re peeling out of the post office parking lot, most definitely speeding, as you rush to the police station.

Your sudden arrival startles Flo, and scares Callahan so badly he spills his cup of coffee all over his desk; but you pay them no mind as you tear down the hallway to Jim’s office.

You practically slam yourself into the door as you fling it open, the handle bouncing off the wall behind it.

Hopper jerks in his chair, mouth open to ask where the fire (or demogorgon) was, but your best him to the punch.

“I passed the bar.” You whisper, slightly out of breath from your antics.

“Wha-“ Hopper stands up behind his desk, frowning, not having really heard what you said.

“I passed the bar.” You repeat at a normal volume. “I passed the bar!!!” You’re yelling now, but you don’t care.

“Yes!” Hopper claps his hands together as he hurries out from behind his desk, enveloping you in a bear hug before you can even blink.

“I’m so damn proud o’ you, darlin’.” He says into your ear, still hugging you to his body.

“I’m gonna be a lawyer Hop!” You cry, a few tears slipping down your cheeks.

Jim sets you down gently, but doesn’t let you go far. “I can’t wait for you to be kickin ass right here in Hawkins with me, baby.” He grins, swiping a big thumb across your cheek.

You swat at his chest, pretending to glare at him. “I’ve been kicking ass this entire time, Jim Hopper!”

He laughs, tipping his head back before looking back down at you, his eyes sparkling.

“I knew you there was a reason I was keepin’ you around all this time.” He winks comically, a grin breaking out on his face.

“You’re a menace.” You snicker, grinning back at him. “I’ll make a cake to celebrate with tonight after dinner, hows that sound?”

Jim nods, wild grin turning to a soft smile.

“Sounds good to me. El’ll be really excited.”

“About the news, or the cake?” You ask, a laugh escaping you.

He snickers, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Both, but the cake will probably take priority.”

You nod, heading for the door. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” You stop in the doorway, smiling back at the most amazing man you’ve met. “Thank you, Hop. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He waves a hand, returning to his desk chair. “You definitely coulda done it with out me, babe, studying just wouldn’t have been as fun.” He grins again, leaning back in the chair and resting his foot over his knee.

You point a finger, scolding him. “A menace, Jim, you’re a menace.”

This is unedited and I read through it maybe once, and it’s the first thing I’ve posted in literally 100 years. I also posted on mobile so it’s probably hella fucky. Apologies.

And babe, I hope it’s okay that I tag you, and dedicate this to you, I just got a writing bug in my ear and felt like I should! So I did lol.

#chief hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #imma reblog this to my brand spankin new stranger things side blog #I hope you like it babe!!! #I also kept it as gender neutral as I could bc I don’t know your pronouns and I didn’t want to assume! #the last thing I posted writing-wise was like - at least 5 years ago lmao #also im terrified of writing smut lmao #I tried several times and I took it all out