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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

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hello love! would you consider writing a smut fic where sirius starts working remus up while they're at practice, like whispering in his ear telling him to be good and stuff like that, and remus goes all red and the rest of the team is a little concerned for him bc "you don't look so good loops", but sirius is just super smug- also love the way you write praise kink and aftercare for coops so that would be perfect in there as well. thank you so much!

This is more the aftermath of this prompt, combined with an ask for some Coops smut with high tension. Hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for smut

Sirius leaned back against the wall, letting his mouth fall open and his eyes slip closed. The gentle hiss of fabric and his own panting breaths filled his ears as Remus pulled the knot from his tie; Sirius just barely swallowed a moan at the pressure on his bulge.

Teeth and tongue flickered over the arch of his neck and he whined. “Easy,” Remus murmured, winding the tie around his hand to free it in a slow drag. The quiet rustle and steady pressure went straight to his groin, leaving him dizzy when the last of it slipped loose.

Remus’ mouth was slick and warm on his own; it wasn’t until his fingers disappeared from Sirius’ chin that he noticed the rhythmic rocking of his hips, but he didn’t have enough coherency left to stop himself without breaking their kiss. A full-body shiver ran through him when the front of his shirt was tugged from his pants and slender fingers began expertly popping each button, one by one by one until Remus’ palm pressed just beneath his sternum and coaxed out a small noise.

He silently mourned the loss of contact when Remus stepped back, though it wasn’t like he had been doing more than panting into his mouth. “Quoi?” he managed, tightening his hold on Remus’ hips to keep him close. He could feel his pulse in his cock and hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. “I��what? Where?”

A smile quirked the corner of Remus’ mouth; he reached up and smoothed a hand through the side of Sirius’ hair, turning the last of his brain to mush. “You’ve got sex hair already.”

“Re.”

“Hmm?”

“Bed? Couch?” Floor, countertop, coffee table, I don’t give a fuck as long as my pants come off before I combust, he thought, grinding slightly against the thigh still keeping him against the wall. Remus gave him a cursory up-and-down glance and Sirius poured all his desperation into the next pleading look. “Please?”

“Think you can make it upstairs?” Remus all but laughed, the bastard.

Sirius licked his lips—god, he even tasted like the sugar from Remus’ lollipop—and straightened, walking Remus backward toward the stairs, where he crowded him up against the thick banister and leaned down for more. He felt Remus’ breath catch and smiled; his heart skipped a beat at the tug on the curls at the base of his neck and another push on his stomach. Sirius pulled back just enough to nuzzle into Remus’ soft cheek, keeping his voice low. “Take me apart?”

“Yeah,” Remus whispered back, shaky despite the calm movements of his hands on Sirius’ hypersensitive body. It felt as if every nerve and cell was tuned to him. “Gotta give you what you’ve been after, right?”

What Sirius had technically been after was a hard and fast fuck as soon as they crossed the threshold of the house, or perhaps a sneaky handjob once they were done with their interviews. Maybe both. His murmured comments, delivered directly to Remus’ ear with a nonchalant expression as they waited in the wings of the press room, should have been more than enough to get him at least one of the two.

But Sirius was the last man on earth to argue with his fiancé’s vivid imagination, least of all when that imagination held the promise of getting off in the near future. His heartbeat hammered harder with each step as Remus led him up the stairs by his half-buttoned shirt; his deep blue suit pants hugged the muscle of his ass and thighs like spandex, and Sirius was so distracted that he didn’t fully register the end of the staircase until he was already laid out on their bed.

The mattress dipped as Remus straddled him, clever fingers moving to finish the job he had already begun. Sirius shifted to shrug his shirt off—firm hands pinned him back down before he could even touch a seam and he squirmed, hips bucking instinctively. “Shh,” Remus said, pressing his index finger over Sirius’ lips as if that would help his current predicament whatsoever.

“I need it.” He twisted his hands in the sheets while Remus started in on his belt. “Remus.”

Amber eyes like wildfire stopped him in his tracks. Sirius could taste the tension buzzing in the air, winding him up so tight he almost couldn’t breathe through it. His belt came off much like his tie, in slow pulls that drove him so mad he couldn’t even look until the last bit slid through its loop. Remus settled comfortably in his lap and splayed his palms on Sirius’ heaving chest, meeting his dark gaze. “You got me hard during a press conference.”

“Before,” Sirius corrected.

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.”

The ghost of a smile shadowed Remus’ face. “That’s selfish.”

“Seemed pretty good on my end.”

Remus huffed and lowered himself to lay out fully, their lips mere inches apart. “You know it never goes well for you.”

“On the contrary, mon amour, it goes very—” He was silenced by fingertips on his lower lip, waiting patiently for permission. He held Remus’ gaze as he traced his tongue over the pads, then took them in with a hum.

“I shouldn’t let you get away with this,” Remus said, eyes never leaving the practiced motions of Sirius’ mouth. “The next time you wind me up in public, you’re not getting laid for a week.”

Sirius arched one eyebrow.

“Three days at least.”

He hummed again, letting his teeth scrape one of Remus’ knuckles as he skimmed his hands up those pretty thighs. Sure, Lupin, keep telling yourself that.

“Do other people know you bite?” Remus asked, unbuttoning his own shirt. Sirius shook his head with a hard suck. “You need a big sign right on your forehead. ‘Caution: Bites when horny’.”

Sirius let Remus’ fingers slip free for a moment with a squeeze of his ass. “Sounds more like you, mon loup.”

“You of all people should know I have a very soft mouth.”

Oh. Remus laughed as Sirius’ face flamed red; his cock twitched in his too-tight pants and he relaxed back into the pillows when Remus rocked against him, already feeling like he had been on the edge for hours. That same soft mouth attached itself to his neck again, too light to leave marks but enough to send sparks of pleasure through every limb as he kicked his socks off.

“Do you need these off, baby?” Remus asked with audible amusement and a press of his fingertips to the outline of Sirius’ cock.

“Fucker,” Sirius bit out around a moan.

A light pinch pulled his attention away as Remus sucked a small mark on the hinge of his jaw. “That’s not nice.”

“I’m—” Sirius faltered as the button of his pants finally released, leaving only a thin layer between Remus and his shaft. “I—I’m…”

“You’re…?” Remus finished sliding the zipper down, though his thumb kept moving in slow circles beneath the head of Sirius’ cock. He felt his lungs constrict; the familiar chill of precome leaking through the fabric drew a short whine from him. “What are you?”

“Fuck me,” Sirius mumbled. He slid his palms along Remus’ spine and relaxed at the comforting pulse below. Remus nudged the soft part of his chin and he tilted his head back to give him more space, shuddering at the feather-light kisses on the hollow of his throat.

There was a light vibration as Remus hummed his acknowledgement, followed by a thumb skimming his nipple just to make him jump. Sirius pouted at the loss of warmth when Remus sat up to take his shirt off and received a placating kiss in response, then another on the corner of his mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” Remus huffed as he pulled Sirius’ pants down far enough that he could kick them off himself. “It’s mean to use that when people can see. Pots asked me if I was sick, you horny little—oof!”

Sirius grinned down at him as he tightened his thighs around Remus’ waist, scooting back until he could sit firmly in Remus’ lap. A pink blush crept up his bare chest and neck; Sirius leaned down and kissed the tinted high of each cheek. “Stay,” he said, bringing Remus’ arms up over his head.

He turned to the nightstand and squinted in the low light. Night had fallen since they came home—Sirius didn’t even want to think about how long Remus had kept him against that wall, kissing him silly until the whole world was upside-down and backwards. If he thought too much, he’d start remembering the feeling of his hands in the dips of Sirius’ muscles, the gentle nibbling on his lips and neck, the way a single press of a strong thigh could reduce him to a shivering mess…

Remus’ fingertips dipped below the waistband of his boxers as Sirius finally located the lube by touch alone; he closed the drawer and rolled his hips in a hard circle, shocking the breath right from Remus’ lungs in a single gasp. Sirius took his wrist and pinned it again, holding them both with one hand as he rested their foreheads together. “You’re shit at following directions,” he said, brushing his nose against Remus’.

He felt him swallow. “Oops.”

“I shouldn’t let you open me up now,” he remarked between barely-there kisses that trailed along the low curve of Remus’ cheekbone.

“Oh, wait—”

Remus fell quiet as Sirius took the soft skin above his pulse point between his teeth. He smelled good, like the heady cologne he only wore for special occasions. “I said I shouldn’t, not that I wouldn’t.”

Hot breath fanned over his ear. “Really?”

Sirius released his hands and passed him the lube, swinging his leg back over to pull his underwear off as Remus shimmied out of the last of his clothes. He closed his eyes when they were finally pressed together, when Remus was bare and warm and familiar beneath his touch. One of his hands worked steadily over Sirius’ shaft, his thumb slipping along the head now and then as the other teased his entrance and made his back arch.

“Fucking love you,” Sirius panted. His lips parted when Remus pushed in to the first knuckle, only to slip right out again and continue tracing slick over the sensitive muscle. “Holy shit.”

“You’re so strong.” Remus sounded rather awed; Sirius blinked his eyes open and saw the faint white spots where his fingertips pressed in, but the bliss on Remus’ flushed face stopped him from pulling away. That, and the slide of his middle finger followed by a rush of pleasure when it crooked.

“Ngh,” Sirius managed, rolling his hips for more. “More, more, more—”

A long, low sound tore from the base of his lungs as Remus slipped a second finger in as well and gave them a smooth twist. “Want it there, baby?” he asked while his other thumb pushed into the divots of Sirius’ lower back to keep him still. His fingers curled up against Sirius’ prostate and Sirius took a shuddering breath, biting hard on his lower lip. “Right there? Does that feel good?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Sirius sank into it, relishing in the drag and letting his head tilt back. Remus’ hold on him was solid, his fingers practiced and insistent; Sirius spread his knees and sank deeper into the feeling.

“How much can you take?”

“All. Any.” His eyes fluttered shut at an indulgent rub over his sweet spot and he moaned when a third finger entered to little resistance, bringing with it the stretch he had been itching for all day. “Ouais.”

Remus moved his free hand back around to trail up Sirius’ dripping shaft, light and playful before he wrapped his palm around it and gave it a firm squeeze that Sirius swore he felt all the way in his ankles.

“Shit—fuck,” he said, breathless, rocking back harder on Remus’ fingers as they stroked inside him.

“Gonna leave bruises.” There was laughter in Remus’ voice—he looked up and met Remus’ dark eyes, then glanced down at where he was still gripping his pecs.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You like it.”

“Never said I didn’t. Ready for me?”

He bit his lip and nodded as a spike of anticipation flashed through him. Remus pulled his hand away and took the lube again, never breaking eye contact as he blindly slicked himself and gave Sirius’ hip a squeeze.

The air hummed between them; Sirius exhaled with a muttered curse as he sat all the way down on the first push, jaw going slack and brows pitching at the sudden fullness. “Yeah,” he said through gritted teeth, ignoring the tremors in his thighs as he snapped his hips back, chasing the high. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, right there.”

Remus hitched his hips up to meet him and a broken whine punched from Sirius’ chest—a warm hand pulled him down by the chin for a kiss, and he could taste Remus’ groan as he resettled on his knees to cling to him. Sirius licked into his mouth and tugged his soft hair, losing the outside world to a hazy blur. All that mattered was their bed. Tangled sheets, shared breaths, heavy heat inside him, Remus’ hands digging into his back, Remus’ noises sinking into his skin like music.

“I’m gonna come.” The confession shuddered out of him as he squeezed Remus’ hips between his thighs, riding back on him as hard as he could without losing it completely. His sweat was cool on his overheated body.

Remus nodded, chasing Sirius’ mouth with his own to tug his lower lip between his teeth. “Go on,” he said into their next kiss, tugging on his hair. “Go on, baby.”

“Gonna come.” The realization hit half a second after he said it and Sirius jerked, writhing as the head of Remus’ cock slid over his prostate again. “Touch me, touch me, please.”

He buried his face in Remus’ shoulder and cried out when a hand tracked down his stomach, pausing to rub just below his belly button before closing around his shaft. He had lost all sense of rhythm—there was nothing he could do except clutch Remus’ arms and try to remember how to breathe as he finally tipped over the edge, feeling the burning heat of Remus following after him as the bright lights behind his eyes began to fade.

Remus’ heartbeat was fast and hard under his cheek and he shone with a thin sheen of sweat in Sirius’ bleary vision; Sirius knew he probably wasn’t any better, but the flood of endorphins dismissed that as a worry for a later time.

“Off, baby.” He closed his eyes at the vibration of Remus’ chest under his face. There was a light, affectionate sigh before Sirius wrinkled his nose at the sting of overstimulation while Remus tugged on his hips so he could pull out. It faded fast, leaving him sated once more. He nuzzled into the nearest collarbone as Remus smoothed his hair back and held him close. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sirius mumbled, cracking one eye open. “That’s what I was after, y’know.”

“The whole time?”

“Whole time.”

“You sure? Even though you said you wanted me to put your knees by your ears earlier?”

“Mhmm.”

“What color is the sky?”

“Purple.” He smiled to himself as Remus laughed, then leaned up and kissed each of his dimples, along with the scrunch of his nose. “Gorgeous.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

Sirius hid his blush in Remus’ neck, listening to his own pulse calm. He dragged himself over to curl into Remus’ side, throwing a leg over him with a long exhale. “I feel like I just finished a double practice.”

Remus left a lingering kiss on his bare shoulder. “If this is what happens at practice, I’ve been missing some very important memos.”

“You wrung me out, Loops.”

“Exactly what you deserved.”

Sirius watched him in the darkness, taking in the rosy planes of his face and the scattered freckles. The slope of his nose and the caramel of his eyes, the sweat-darkened curls on his forehead and the playful arch of an eyebrow. He kissed the smile right off his pretty lips, then laid down again and let the sleepy haze wash over him like fog over the harbor. He deserved it.

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #smut

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dontwannabefat · 4 years ago

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Hey lovelies!

For all my anas out there with a higher SW that feel like they don't look different despite losing more weight than anas that start out smaller, I just want to give you a visual.

"I've lost 90 pounds, but that's not much for my SW!"

Wanna know something that's 90 pounds? MY DOG

This absolute unit of a 1 year old Old English Sheepdog puppy that weighs enough that we had to reenforce the fencing running through our hedge in the back yard because he BENT it. As in, pushed it down with his front paws before trotting through the hedge and into the neighbors backyard like the smug little bastard he is.

You "only" lost the equivalent of a dog whose paws are legit the size of the palm of my hand.

"Oh, I've only lost 30 pounds"

That's how much he weighed at 12 weeks when we got him! That's the size of many regular sized dogs! That's a whole lotta dog!

From now on, you have my permission to recontextualize the weight you've lost into how many Sullivans (or Baby Sullivans) that would be.

"I lost 20 pounds" nonono, you've lost 2/3 a Baby Sully.

"I lost 45 pounds" now it's 1.5 Baby Sullys, or .5 Sullivans

Go forth and proper y'all

#thiispo #only pro for me #pro anna #pro ana #thinspo

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champagnesly · 4 years ago

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[fic, wine verse, spamano] slow form of seduction

****This is a repost from my OG blog, bubblelounge! I am testing to see if this new blog will allow my stuff to show up in the tags and be searchable! Apologies if you are seeing this twice!!****

After 9000 years, a return to the wine verse -- but the wine verse in progress. Returning to the sunny hills of Spain to expand a fic I wrote almost a decade ago as @quenoeslomismo @benevaletete has inspired those warm, wine-drunk feelings in me once again with her art.

from the original fic:

And then there was the touching. The constant brushing of fingers and reaching of hands and flash-quick caresses that kept Lovino riding the edge of desire and frustration as he sat in bed at night attempting to recount each moment of contact. Antonio tracing his fingers along his palm as he passed the salt at dinner; Antonio leaning close as they signed paperwork; Antonio dragging his fingers through his hair late one night as he’d had his head tipped back in worried exhaustion, murmuring sweetheart as he passed, conjuring wisps of a broken memory.

It was a slow form of torturous seduction.

From the new fic below the cut:

“You’re here,” Antonio said the moment he pushed open the kitchen door -- and it wasn’t a surprise any longer, no it was like the bastard knew that Lovino would come, like he knew that Lovino couldn’t resist.

Slow Form of Seduction

It was after ten but the lights were still on in the kitchen, inviting Lovino to come inside despite his better judgement. It had become increasingly dangerous to cross Antonio’s threshold, what with all the long, knowing looks and the reaching hands, but Lovino was really fucking hungry and the smell emanting from the kitchen was too delicious, wafting up the hills and carried along on the too warm, too sticky air of a late summer night to fill Lovino’s nose with temptation and make him reckless.

He would keep it brief, he swore to himself as he washed his hands and attempted to scrub the terroir from beneath his nail. He would be just grateful enough for the food, hold his fucking tongue and then get the hell out of a kitchen that was too small for Antonio’s no longer anxious hovering and his own pathetically weak heart. It was just dinner, after all, just a late meal between colleagues, nothing more, nothing fuck less.

Lovino grunted and plopped down on the nearest chair, narrowly avoiding the sweep of Antonio’s welcoming hand across the back of neck. He kept his gaze planted firmly on the table, ignoring the twist of his stomach at the settings for two and the candle flickering ominously between the hideous, cracked plates that Antonio had once told him were his mother’s favorites, that she loved them precisely because they were so ugly and incongruous in a place as beautiful as the Bodega.

Forever smiling like an idiot in the face of Lovino’s disregard, Antonio hummed as he scooped heaps of that something that had smelled good enough to summon Lovino from the protective depths of the caves and vines. Lovino felt his breath catch as Antonio’s song made its way up his throat, as familiar to him as a nursery rhyme to a child.

Later he would blame it on the exhaustion of a twelve hour day and the way Antonio’s skin looked in the glow of the candlelight, but before he could help himself, “I profumi d'amore inebrieranno i nostri corpi, la bonaccia d'agosto non calmerà i nostri sensi,” was tripping off of his tongue and he’d invited Franco fucking Battiato to join them for dinner. Antonio’s smile was blinding and Lovino was caught, trapped by the delighted warmth in Antonio’s eyes and the knowledge that he’d just colluded in singing a goddamned love song with the one person he had no business doing that with.

He reached for his wine for something, anything to do, cursing the fumbling of his fingers that spilled precious drops.

“Leave it,” Antonio said, stilling Lovino’s hand with a touch that presumed way too much. “What’s one more stain?”

Lovino drew his palm away as if he’d been scalded, drips of red wine clinging to his skin as he pulled his hand into his lap. “You should take better care of your shit,” Lovino muttered, wiping his fingers on his napkin.

Antonio settled in across from him and shrugged. “I take care of the things that matter to me. A table from IKEA, it’s not so important.”

“Whatever,” Lovino said. He chose to ignore the way Antonio looked directly at him, as if he was waiting for Lovino to find deeper meaning in his choice to let Lovino ruin his crappy kitchen furniture with extremely good wine. “It’s your table to fuck up, I guess.”

Lovino took a long, deep sip of the wine that had actually remained in his glass and eyed the food in front of him, suddenly remembering how bone fucking tired and hungry he was now that Antonio had stopped torturing him with badly hummed renditions of Italy’s greatest songs. He dug his fork into the massive pile of paella before him, giving into the base urge to stuff his face.

“Jesus,” he blasphemed, trying and failing to contain his pleasure at the taste.

“Good?” Antonio asked, watching Lovino from across the table with his chin in his palm, his expression lazily contented.

Lovino swallowed and shook his fork at the smug asshole. “You fucking know it is, don’t go fishing for compliments.”

Antonio laughed and poured him another too-full glass of wine. “But you give them out so rarely, so I’m happy to hear it. I want you to like it. And to say it.”

Lovino flushed and looked away. This fucking guy was too much.

“Yeah, well,” Lovino said, watching the flicker of candlelight on the kitchen walls. “It’s good. Fucking great.”

“I’m glad,” Antonio murmured, finally sitting back in his chair and picking up his own fork, releasing Lovino from the prison of his constant attention.

Lovino retreated into the safety of talking about the vines and worrying about the weather as he filled his stomach with the fruits of Antonio’s talents and thought, despite himself, that Antonio was wasted on the Bodega. He could have been great somewhere else, in some important kitchen cooking for important people, but instead he was here in an old ass place cooking for a party of one who was too tired half the time to give Antonio even half the credit he was due.

In no time, his plate was empty and there was silence between them, a silence made mellow by the lateness of the hour and the warmth of too much food and just enough wine. Lovino let his glass roll between his fingers and tried not to look at the flush on Antonio’s cheeks or notice the way his hair had curled around his ears. There was something in the way Antonio’s smile stretched around another sleepy yawn that made Lovino feel reckless and generous, willing to give something away to this man who drove him crazy with his stupid happy confidence and his asking touch -- this man who had been pissing him off for decades but who had always fed him really fucking good food.

“It was delicious,” Lovino said, the stillness broken by his confession. “Thank you.”

All the surprise that Lovino had missed in Antonio’s face earlier in the night came flooding back, rendering Antonio irritatingly attractive in his stunned happiness.

“You are welcome, sw--, Lovino,” Antonio said, reaching for Lovino’s hands across the table. Lovino watched as their fingers touched and held his breath. Antonio smiled at him in invitation. “Stay for dessert?”

Lovino shook his head, once, twice, three times, trying to return to sanity and remember all the reasons he needed to pull his hand away for the second time that night. He stood up slowly from the table, legs heavy with exhaustion and wine and the desire to sit the fuck back down.

“Not tonight,” Lovino said, keeping his eyes on the doorway to freedom from Antonio’s fucking bedroom gaze. “I’m too tired and too full for this shit.”

“Another time,” Antonio murmured to him, still sitting at the messy table for two, dragging his fingers over the stain from Lovino’s spilled wine. “I promise it would be really good.”

Lovino turned around and fled before he could say something really stupid like, “I know it would.”

#aph hetalia #spamano #aph spain #aph romano #fic #wine verse

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gastlyash · 4 years ago

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Pokemon Sw/Sh Hug Headcanons

my first time actually posting headcanons, just thought of this and it made me happy

(under the cut b/c it’s pretty much all important/recurring characters minus Swordward and Shieldbert b/c,,,i don’t like them)

Hop: Quick, tight hugs. He’s hyper, and doesn’t have time to have a long hug with one person, he wants to hug everyone right NOW! Only exception to this is if he’s comforting someone, or he’s being comforted himself. In times like that, he’ll just let the hug last a bit.

Leon: TIGHT HUGS, AND BEST HUGGER IN GALAR!! Who do you think Hop gets his tight hugs from? Lee will squeeze you, pick you up in the hug, and just hold on for a moment (i just really need a hug from lee, i think we all do). Will keep an arm around you after the hug, just to keep you close.

Sonia: Gentle hugs, usually a brief side hug. Unless you’re Nessa close to her, then it’s a full on hug, tight and with a kiss on the cheek. Pulls away so she can look at you and talk, but keeps her arms around you.

Professor Magnolia: She’s a grandma! Of course she gives good hugs! Very gentle since she’s old and kinda frail, if you squeeze her she’ll probably laugh, or demand you let go. Could go either way.

Bede: Oh, this bastard. He’d act like he hates hugs, like he’s too good for them, above some stupid show of affection...But as soon as someone he can tolerate hugs him, he doesn’t want them to let go. Loose hugs, just puts his arms around the other person gently. However, if the other person squeezes him, he’ll squeeze back tighter. He’s not losing to them in this “who can hug tighter” game.

Marnie: Very gentle hugs. She’s gotten confident since she started the Gym Challenge, but is still pretty timid. Basically just a shy kid/teen that feels kinda awkward with hugs, but also kinda likes them and wishes there were more chances to hug people (totally not speaking from experience here).

Chairman Rose: Gladly gives fans hugs, and accepts hugs if he has time...Usually he’s too busy though, having Oleana pull him away from anyone that wants a hug. His hugs are quick but firm, usually patting the other person on the back.

Oleana: Not a hugger. But if she does let someone hug her, she’s very light with her hugs. Just a quick embrace, probably just uses one arm, not even a full-on hug. If she’s hugged unannounced, she just calls for security. Do not hug her if she doesn’t explicitly tell you she’s okay with it (i mean, same goes for anyone tbh).

Milo: YOU ALREADY KNOW THIS BOY GIVES 10/10 HUGS. Do you see his arms? Those arms probably feel like pure comfort and affection. He HUGS his pokeball when he Dynamaxes, so I imagine he will hug you on sight. How dare you enter his line of vision and not prepare for a bone-crushing hug. Definitely pats the other person’s back, kisses their head, and lets the hug last a while, squeezing real tight before letting go (Piers and Rai may be my big faves, but Milo gives off Amazing Hug Energy).

Nessa: Kinda like Sonia, she gives gentle hugs. A bit firmer than Sonia, though. She’ll rest her head on the other person’s if they’re shorter, or rest her head on their chest if they’re taller. Gentle as heck.

Kabu: Grandpa time. Gives quick hugs, patting the other person’s back/shoulder before letting go. If you’re close to him, he probably hugs a bit longer and tighter (guess you could call it a warm hug??).

Allister: TIMID. Do NOT try hugging this boy, he’ll get uncomfortable. If he initiates a hug, he’s very gentle, and still extremely unsure. Hug back, but GENTLY. Don’t squeeze! He WILL get upset, and Gengar WILL come out to defend his trainer! Really comfortable with the other gym leaders, though. Will occasionally run to Melony, Bea, or Raihan for a hug.

Bea: Also not the biggest fan of hugs, but if you ask her for one, prepare for a tight hug. Will make you regret hugging her, squeezes until your back cracks.

Opal: Another grandma, but different hugger. Picky with who she hugs, and when she does hug someone it’s usually light. She’s frail, but don’t underestimate her. Will trick you with a hug sometimes, gentle at first...But will squeeze the HELL out of you...Just because she can. Worst part: You never know which hug you’ll be getting. Loves keeping people guessing.

Melony: For an ice type user, she give the warmest hugs. Very snug grip, pretty much cradles the other person in the hug. Will reassure the person she’s hugging if they need it, or just ask how they’re doing. If someone needs a hug, she’ll be there right after Lee. Her battle style is brutal, but her hugs are so, so gentle.

Gordie: Oh, you want a hug? Sure, he doesn’t mind hugging a fan! Gives pretty tight hugs, pretty quick ones too, definition of “bro hug”. Pats the other person’s back, will ruffle their hair when they pull away (he has like 4 siblings, he’s pretty skilled at hugging).

Piers: Big fave time. He has a lot of fans, and a little sister, so he’s become pretty comfortable with hugs over time. Quick hugs for fans, tighter and longer hugs for Marnie. If you’re close to him, he gets pretty flustered with hugging. If someone else initiates the hug, he gets pretty shy and flustered, but hugs back gently. If HE initiates it, expect a tighter hug (nothing bone-crushing, but just very firm), a hug that’ll last a bit before he decides that it’s been long enough. He doesn’t seem like the kind to be into hugs and touching, but actually probably craves it.

Raihan: SECOND BEST HUGGER IN GALAR (since he’s Lee’s rival). Will hug you tightly, pick you up in the hug, spin you around, and not let go for a while. Also expect videos and selfies, he’ll let Rotom fly around to capture the hug. Has probably recorded himself hugging every gym leader + Lee by surprise, just hug-tackling all of them out of the blue to get a reaction. This resulted in Gengar chasing him, Opal lightly hitting his head with her cane/umbrella, a very flustered Piers, and Leon totally expecting it, and hugging even tighter.

Avery: Ew, a hug?? Fine, but only because he feels bad that you’ll never be as great as him. Another case like Bede, except he’s genuinely somewhat uncomfortable with hugs. Only seems truly comfortable with hugging Mustard and Honey. His hugs are pretty light, nothing extreme.

Klara: I know next to nothing about Klara except that she’s similar to Avery. But judging from that, I assume she’ll hug reluctantly, very light, and shove the other person away when she thinks it’s been too long. If someone asks for a hug, she’s smug about it. Why, of course you want a hug from her, she’s the best!

Mustard: For an old man, he gives stupidly tight hugs. Hugs like a Bewear, blames that on being the Dojo Master.

Honey: Quick and tight hugs, will gush over the other person like a proud mom if they’re close. Actually, even if she’s not close to someone/has just met someone she’ll hug them as a greeting.

Hyde: He’s probably more of a high-five person. Only hugs his parents, and high-fives/fist bumps everyone else. Super chill inventor kid.

#ash rambles #pokemon #pokemon swsh #pokemon headcanons #swsh headcanons

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 4 years ago

Link

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 3,977 Warnings: Spoilers and I’d consider checking them. Characters: Roman, Patton, Remus Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Power Angst

Chapter 21

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

“Remus Reinhart!” A guard called, and the door opened.

Roman’s heart could have stopped. He was completely blindsided by finally being able to see his brother after so long. He didn’t look different from Roman, other than the fact that he was almost twice as muscular. So his fear was as stupid as he thought. Though it appeared like Remus had broken his nose and it set funny, even though it wasn’t very noticeable. Roman only saw because he looked at it every day in the mirror. His hair was shaggier than Roman’s, which was saying something, but everything else was like staring at an alternate universe version of himself. That would be bizarre if he wasn’t used to it somewhere in the back of his head.

“Ro!” Remus shouted and rushed up to the table Patton and Roman were seated at.

“Remus! Holy shit!” Roman exclaimed fervently before he could stop himself. “Have you been lifting the younger kids? What the fuck?” Roman exclaimed in bafflement.

“Why aren’t you lifting the younger kids? You got to be able to throw a punch!” Remus sat down next to Roman and the pair laughed buoyantly. “‘Ey! Seriously though, Sanvgjet?” Remus pointed to Patton.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. He’s okay. Do you still speak that nonsense language we made up?” Roman asked curiously, leaning toward Remus.

“Half of my unit does, the guards can’t break the code since there’s no code to break,” Remus tapped his head with a smug smirk.

“Remus is your identical twin?” Patton asked loudly and incredulously. Oh yeah, that’s the expression he was looking forward to. Sheer bewilderment. Roman smirked at Patton’s dropped jaw as he glanced between the two.

“He didn’t know we were twins?” Remus pointed. “You chaotic bastard, you wanted to see his face, didn’t you?” Remus laughed and hit the table lightly.

“I only just realized they didn’t tell him on the way over. Perfect opportunity. The face is worth it,” Roman smirked. “Seriously, though, this is bullshit. I’m really sorry you’re stuck in here. My SW said something about you getting drunk and starting a fire? There’s no way,” Roman said pointedly.

“I didn’t get drunk. I’m not that fucking bastard. That family was just assholes,” Remus huffed angrily. “But I did start a fire,” He shrugged, disaffected.

“You did?” Roman raised his eyebrows. “For god’s sake, why?”

“I didn’t mean to! They didn’t cook for me there and it was mom’s birthday so I tried to make her paella and it sort of scorched part of their stove. I ran away so they wouldn’t beat my ass for it. Mom would have been pissed if somebody touched us on her birthday of all days,” Remus said sheepishly. “I’m not the best chef, but I was sick of peanut butter sandwiches, and I just really miss her food,” He added solemnly.

“I knew that was absolute horseshit. I can’t make her paella, either. I’ve been trying, but it never tastes right,” Roman admitted hourly.

“We’re just going to have to wait till Dia de Los Muertos and ask her ourselves for how to do it, huh?” Remus laughed. “I just… still really want it again, even though I got in Juvie for it,” He admitted much more quietly with a reserved look on his face.

“If they wouldn’t kick me out immediately, I’d give you a hug, man,” Roman said sympathetically.

“That’s also horseshit nobody’s allowed to touch anybody. We’re all touch-starved bastards who get off on punching each other as human contact,” Remus bemoaned. “I think we could cordially shake hands like fancy fucks and be fine,” Remus held out his hand and Roman took it and they shook vigorously.

“Hm, yes, quite, stocks,” Remus hummed.

“Yes, yes, indeed, business contracts,” Roman nodded. They released before the guards got antsy.

“So who’s this incredibly baffled looking stiff and how’d a non-parent get in to visit me?” Remus pointed vaguely to Patton with a quizzical expression.

“That’s Patton. New foster parent. He’s nice, actually,” Roman motioned to Patton. Patton waved weakly, but he looked like he was still processing everything.

“I mean, he drove you out here, so probably. It’s been fucking years, man,” Remus faced more towards Roman.

“I’m sorry. I’m pissed about it, too. I’ve had just a real shit lineup of foster families. I lost phone privileges two families back, and I was with them for just short of a year and then I didn’t have your number anymore, I’m so sorry I never called, man,” Roman apologized emphatically.

“I mean, I’m not happy about it, but I get it. It’s not like I could get your number to call, either. Your jackass social worker would never share it with mine,” Remus shrugged. He didn’t look happy, but he also didn’t look hurt, which was relieving. Maybe Roman was afraid for nothing.

“Oh, I got a new one. They fired the old one. Long and Kistka story. Events transpired,” Roman replied, honestly not wanting to get into it. Though Roman wasn’t sure he could hold it together if he saw the police here. It was unsettlingly sterile, like those holding centers, and the guards were extremely unnerving.

“Shit? Kistka? Jesus. Some serious events must have transpired to get an SW fired, I had one who used to hit me and he just got suspended,” Remus said flippantly.

“Shit, that’s a bad SW. My new one is nice. He pulled some favours to get me on the approved visitors list along with the new guardians,” Roman explained.

“What, a real bro? Nice. Mental fistbump. If we make fists they will tase me,” Remus nodded. “My parole officer isn’t the worst. I had to throw my weight around for a while, but I’ve got respect now and the other kids give me some space. Can’t be the top of the ladder but can’t be the weakest here. I think I’ve mostly got this place figured out by now,” Remus explained proudly.

“I’m so sorry Remus, I feel like such a piece of shit for winning the fucking lottery while you’re stuck in Juvie,” Roman wrung his hands and dropped his shoulders.

“Hey, the fates be dicks like that. Honestly, it’s nice to know you’ve got it good, if that’s what you mean,” Remus nodded encouragingly.

“Nobody hits, nobody yells, and they have real ice cream. It’s awful I don’t deserve a lick of it,” Roman and Remus laughed together. Patton looked like he tried to object, but Remus cut him off before he could start.

“Man, I hope I get placed with someone who will let me visit you after I get out. I’ve just got one more month,” Remus said, seeming excited.

“One more? Seriously? How long have you been here?” Roman perked up immediately at that news.

“Just a little short of two years. They couldn’t prove much, but the family was intense about pressing charges. So I got a lengthy sentence for freaking out and running off,” Remus said, sounding annoyed.

“God, I freaked out and ran off last Wednesday and they’ve been nothing but nice about it and it’s driving me up the wall,” Roman rolled his eyes and flailed his arms slightly.

“What’d you freak out about? The usual?” Remus asked curiously, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

“Nah, I got this new thing where I have a fit about being a fuckup and I’m not punished for it, it’s weird,” Roman said dismissively.

“Ugh, what a nightmare,” Remus laughed. “So you’ve had mostly shit homes, too? I always kinda hoped you ended up better than me,” Remus admitted, sounding disappointed.

“Same,” Roman agreed sourly.

“Well, the nice part about Juvie is I’m so desensitized to hitting and loud noises that I don’t freak out about it anymore. I mean, the smell of alcohol still sets me off, but otherwise I’m a little better at handling it.” Remus said. Roman smiled at that. It was a mixed bag at best, but at least it was something.

“God, I’m worse if anything. Pat says that good environments are hard or something? I don’t follow. I just know I have a mental breakdown every goddamn day and I’m just so sick of it,” Roman groaned and leaned on the table.

“Ugh, that sounds like shit city. I haven’t had one in a while. Some kid choked me out like dad used to recently and I pulled myself together long enough to sock him in the dick and get out of there,” Remus looked proud of himself and nodded.

“Oof, in the dick?” Roman made a disgusted expression and winced.

“You’d do the same,” Remus accused and gestured towards Roman vaguely while he tilted his head.

“I know I would, I can’t even handle shirts touching my neck, but that had to have pissed off some people in your unit,” Roman said, motioning to the building in general with the hand that wasn’t propping him up on the table.

“Yeah, but ‘dickpunch mcgee’ ain’t been fucked with since. Somebody will doubtlessly try to get me back in the dick, though. I’ve gotta stay ready,” Remus said resolutely. What a nickname.

“That’s probably the hard part even if you have it figured out. No safe spaces,” Roman nodded hourly.

“Man, what’s even a safe space anymore. Safe spaces are a lie we tell ourselves. We ain’t safe from ourselves, even if we’re safe from others. Under the bed or in the closet always seems like a great idea until you’re cornered, you know?” Remus said blithely.

“Deep. Dark. But deep. Turns out I’ve been attacking myself so I get it,” Roman held up his arm. The bandages were finally off, but you could still the healing lines of nail cuts.

“Brutal. Badass looking though, like you fuckin’ fought a badger,” Remus smirked.

“Is fighting a badger badass?” Roman raised his eyebrow.

“I dunno, I fought one in the yard once and people said I was a badass. Rabies shot hurt like a bitch. Do you know when you started doing that?” Remus pointed to the healing scrapes on his arms.

“I don’t even know I’m doing it. They’ve been making me wear these stupid gloves at home,” Roman said, feeling annoyed with the situation.

“Gloves are pretty cool, IMO,” Remus made a spirit fingers motion and wiggled his eyebrow.

“I don’t want to be a ‘Hans’. Who wants to be a ‘Hans’?” Roman’s voice raised slightly and flipped his hand in the air dismissively.

“I thought Hans was a cool villain! He found himself in a shitty situation, so he made a master-plan to put himself in a good one! If he could have just married Anna off the bat, then he’d have been sitting pretty as princess-consort of Arendelle. I mean, assuming he stopped trying to kill Elsa to ascend the throne. He’d have no need to do anything shitty unless he felt like he wanted to dominate the world or something since he’d assuredly get a say in running the kingdom since he was honestly helpful other than the whole evil plot thing,” Remus explained his standpoint. It weirdly made sense.

“Huh. I never thought about it like that. I mean, Anna would still have been in a loveless marriage,” Roman said, not completely sold.

“She could’ve got the weird reindeer fucker as a side piece, it’s super common for royalty to have extramarital affairs,” Remus nodded sagely.

“Boy, that’s a freakin’ AU I never saw coming,” Roman whistled. “Bypass the events of the story completely. Elsa is clearly a lesbian, anyway. The movie could have used her powers as a metaphor for coming out or something,” Roman mused.

“Yes, make it gayer,” Remus hissed in delight.

“Um… Hans is gay and mostly leaves Anna alone. And Anna’s bi and Kristoff’s NB?” Roman suggested, not sure what Remus was looking for.

“Perfect,” Remus nodded. “Now you can be cool with the gloves,” Remus motioned to Roman’s hands.

“I do not follow your crack logic,” Roman furrowed his eyebrows.

“Gloves are gay,” Remus grinned.

“I’m not-” Roman tried to object.

“Yes, you are. We’re identical twins, fucko, that’s how I know. That’s dad talking and you need to sock that voice right in the fucking face,” Remus said seriously, looking Roman dead in the eye.

“Identical twins don’t necessarily have the same orientation,” Roman said dismissively.

“We’re monozygotic, not dizygotic, we statistically likely have the same orientation and I’m bi as the day is long,” Remus said firmly.

“Don’t you use math to fool me, I can’t do math,” Roman hissed in displeasure.

“It’s true, see, ‘cuz you’re gay and gays can’t do math,” Remus laughed.

“Fine! I’ll consider that maybe it’s dad and reevaluate my life or whatever,” Roman dramatically huffed and gave up.

“Thank you,” Remus gave Roman a thumbs up. “Any chance you’ll get kicked out in a month and they’ll maybe place us together if there’s a home willing to take two gay teens?” Remus asked hopefully.

“I said I’d consider it, I’m not admitting anything! But probably not. I’m getting medical care and shit, I think they might like me for some ungodly reason that I can’t comprehend, I’ve been nothing but an ass,” Roman sighed. “Patton, any chance you’ll send me back next month?” Roman asked, equally hopeful and depressed about the concept.

“What? Huh? I’m so lost! You’re both talking like a thousand miles a minute,” Patton answered, looking between the two with furrowed eyebrows and pursuing his lip.

“Any chance you’ll change your mind and boot me out next month?” Roman asked again, a little slower.

“What? No! Why would you ask that? I told you we’re not sending you back and I mean it!” Patton insisted.

“Ugh, see? But they promised they’ll take me to visit you even if your new ones won’t take you to visit me. I think they might actually be good for it since I’m here now and all. I’d kill to live with you again, though. I’d put up with you kicking me and everything,” Roman sighed, motioning to Remus’s tapping foot.

“I do be kung fu fighting in my sleep. But, actually, I shouldn’t share a bed. I sleep-attack anyone within a foot of me,” Remus said. “Defense mechanism, these days,” He tilted his head and shrugged slightly.

“I’d put up with the sleep fu. We can have 4 AM panic attacks together maybe,” Roman chuckled.

“Aw, brotherly bonding,” Remus cooed and fluttered his eyelashes.

“Shut up, you fucking dork,” Roman groaned. “I miss you so goddamn much,” Roman said intensely.

“Miss you, too. Don’t get emotional or they’ll kick my ass,” Remus shot a look to the door he entered from.

“Sorry. I know the no emotions rule. I’ve just been waiting this whole time in the stupid hope that maybe we can be brothers again,” Roman admitted quietly.

“I’m always your brother, you can’t lose me that easily,” Remus smirked and leaned forward.

“I must start lifting more weights and then I can punch you in the face through the mirror,” Roman motioned to Remus and laughed.

“Man, that’d be cool. I’d stab you behind the ear,” Remus nodded. “It’d hurt like a bitch,”

“Ugh, Rude!” Roman scoffed.

“Mirrorverse Twinicide! Calling the band name,” Remus declared.

“Shit, that’s a magnificent band name,” Roman nodded in agreement. “Is the food here okay?” He asked curiously.

“I mean, it’s better than starving,” Remus shrugged loosely, not seeming very bothered.

“That sucks. Hey Patton, can I give him the chocolates? They made Patton carry them in for some reason,” Roman asked, holding out his hand for the bag.

“Huh? Chocolates?” Patton pulled the bag out of his shirt pocket and Remus hissed in delight and made grabby hands. Patton passed it over, still looking kind of confused. “We couldn’t bring much, sorry kiddo,”

“Kiddo? Weird. Thanks, though! Oh my god, I just want to eat them all, but stuff like this is gold in there. I can use it to trade for things or favors,” Remus said, sounding really conflicted, glancing between the bag and the door he came through.

“Just pick a favour you’d do for yourself and eat a chocolate for it,” Roman offered.

“Oh, life hack,” Remus nodded and considered it, holding the bag. “There is more here than I need of favours, I think. Hm. Staying alive is a favour,” Remus chuckled and dug out a chocolate to pop into his mouth. He ate it with a massive smile. “Oh my god, I have had nothing sweet since our fuckin’ birthday,” Remus hissed in delight.

“We can bring more next weekend, kiddo,” Patton offered.

“What, we can come again?” Roman shot in excitement. Remus looked to Patton with a wild joy in his eye.

“Bring chips, too!” Remus cheered.

“I have no idea what’s happening, but sure?” Patton said. “We’re almost out of time for visiting. I think I see why you’re not good with time because I literally do not know how that happened,” Patton sounded really confused.

“Shit, already? Can we please stay till they kick us out?” Roman pleaded with Patton, holding his hands together.

“Of course, bud. I know it’s been a long time. Why are they only letting you get an hour, Remus?” Patton asked, still clearly befuddled.

“Oh, one hour is the ‘good’ amount of time. They don’t let us have more than an hour. If I was in trouble I’d have less,” Remus shrugged.

“That’s awful. Prison really is better,” Patton’s frown deepened. “There’s not a lot we’re allowed to bring you, but is there something other than chips you want?”

“Seriously? You don’t know me and you’re willing to buy stuff for me?” Remus asked incredulously. “What’s with this guy?” Remus pointed with this thumb.

“I still can’t figure it out, honestly,” Roman shook his head. “Too nice. People can’t be this nice,” He tilted to the side.

“I mean, he puts up with your ass,” Remus pointed to Roman and laughed.

“And I continue to be baffled by it,” Roman shrugged with amusement.

“Man, I hope someone will barely tolerate my presence over the clear and present disdain here. I mean, I will be hard to place now because I’m a ‘dirty criminal’. I’ll probably be in a holding center and end up in a group home at best,” Remus said, dejected.

“I’m so sorry, those centers set me off just thinking about them. I hope you’re not stuck in one long,” Roman was equally distraught at the idea.

“My parole officer says he’s already working with a social worker to find a placement. He warned me to not get my hopes up or anything, but he knows those places freak me out,” Remus said, a little hopefully.

“You, too?” Roman asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean, we were screaming like we were being gutted with a fishhook when they dragged us apart. I don’t think anybody in the room was okay with that. I bet we traumatized other people,” Remus gestured outward with his hands.

“Oh, god, probably,” Roman sighed. “Man, prison’s too good for dad, they should have let mom kill him,” Roman groaned angrily.

“Wait, what?” Patton asked incredulously. “I thought your mom died protecting you?”

“She died in the emergency room. The cops separated her from him before she could finish stabbing the bastard after he gave her the fatal internal damage,” Remus spat. “We were all in the hospital, after that. Black and blue with broken bones and shit! ‘Cept good ol’ Arthur, anyway. He was out back at the time. Obviously, dad had to get his guts put back in, but they should have just let him die,” Remus rolled his eyes.

“I still have fuckin’ nightmares about it. Ugh! Dude, the smell from dad’s guts, holy shit. I’ll never forget it. I try not to use serrated knives…” Roman mumbled and trailed off.

“I mean the flashbacks and nightmares aren’t great, but serrated knives always just reminded me that mom loved us enough to try to kill him for it,” Remus shrugged.

“I mean, that is nice of her and all, but that doesn’t stop the fucking blood-curdling screams from playing in my head. Though, to be fair, mom probably thought we were dead when she came in. I mean, we were barely breathing and there was blood all over us,” Roman shuddered. “You think we’d be here if Abuela didn’t have a stroke and she could still take us when dad fell off the wagon again?” Roman asked curiously.

“Dad would have done it one way or the other. I don’t think Abuela could have protected us forever, as hard as she and mom tried. I miss the fuck out of her, though. Remember when we got bored and sawed off those tree branches in the backyard when she fell asleep so we could hit each other with them and after she was mad she let us keep the branches? Great day,” Remus smiled and nodded.

“Not that this information isn’t completely and utterly horrific, but do you need me to bring you anything, Remus? We’re running out of time,” Patton shuddered and looked absolutely horrified for some reason.

“Oh! Right!” Remus smacked himself in the head and they both cackled.

“Mood,” They deadpanned together.

“Underwear. Medium. Black boxers,” Remus said. “Boxers and chocolate,”

“They-” Patton started, looking concerned.

“Listen, you and your sad smile don’t need to know what sick shit they put us through back there,” Remus pointed behind him with his thumb. “Just trust me on that. Don’t bring too much stuff or they won’t let you in with it. Less candy and only one of those snack bags of chips,” Remus showed the size of the bag with his thumbs and foreigners.

“I’m going to miss you all goddamn week, Remus,” Roman said despondently.

“Eh, we waited four years, we’ve probably got this. I dunno about you but life’s suddenly a lot more worth living,” Remus leaned on his arms.

“Oh, same. I can’t wait to throw you out of a tree,” Roman laughed evilly.

“Oh, come on, it only happened a couple of times,” Remus rolled his eyes, sounding amused.

“An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, but a little vengeance never hurt anybody,” Roman smirked.

“I’m pretty certain revenge hurts people, there, Roman,” Patton stopped him and Roman shook his head sarcastically.

“The tall twink will protect me from your cold vengeance. He could probably reach in a tree and pull you out. You’re skinny as shit. I could carry you above my head,” Remus laughed darkly.

“Man, I haven’t had a house that let me eat full meals for years until these gay dorks, cut me some slack,” Roman huffed and flipped his hand as if he was shooing a fly.

“Gay dorks? All of ‘em?” Remus sounded oddly impressed.

“Yup,” Roman popped the p. “I mean Virgil hasn’t mentioned it,” He added while considerately tapping his face.

“You will get so bullied at school if that gets out,” Remus whistled.

“I’ll just start benching the other kids like you do,” Roman laughed.

“Time’s up,” A guard barked out near them and Roman and Remus both jumped.

“Shit,” Roman and Remus hissed in unison.

“I miss you, I have stupid emotions for you, I’ll see you,” Roman blurted out as Remus got up.

“Ditto. See you next week, thanks again for the chocolate!” Remus waved as he walked back over to the guard. Roman sighed deeply and Patton stood up to help him out of the table. He grumbled and stared at the door Remus exited through and pulled himself up to his feet to head out. It would be a long ride home.

Personal Taglist: @bunny222 @elizabutgayer @prinxietyforever @kanene-yaaay-o-retorno @the-sympathetic-villain @croftersjam15 @ollyollyoxinfree

the taglist repository:

High school: @dragonwithproblems @starlight-era @averykedavra @potatsanderssides

Roman Angst: @k1ngtok1

Hurt/Comfort: @callboxkat @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123

Roman-Centric: @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd

Fostering AU: @i-am-not-a-dinner-roll

literally everything sanders sides: @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @ananonsplace

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generic-url-name · 4 years ago

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Sometimes I forget that Victor had like 5 or so pages in the LN before he died and I haven’t posted all my HCs about him/his personality so ppl might look at my poll and go “huh?” on some of the options, but honestly I’ve always HC’ed Victor as giving off lowkey bitch/bastard vibes, like just enough smugness but not enough to be an actual Asshole, but also still being a genuinely funny person and lighthearted enough to be liked by pretty much everyone. Basically horny on the main extrovert who’s kiiiinda overdramatic sometimes. Also likes to fuck up shit from time to time and mess with people (harmless fun. Mostly). Also he was literally described in the LN as drowing in pussy and being pretty/fashionable, as described by Crowley, and we KNOW what Crowley’s standards are like. So yeah, I’m trying to pick pokemon that kinda fall into that category and Snivy was originally my go to for Victor, like it was the perfect pokemon for him, and then they wiped almost every started from SW/SH except for the galar, previous gen, and kanto starters :/

#ons #owari no seraph #victor roleine

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yodawgiherd · 6 years ago

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In Pursuit

Rating: T

>>>Read on AO3<<<

It was cold outside, as one could expect at this time of the year, making Sasha shiver and bury deeper into her coat. That damn cook told her that his shift was ending, she checked her watch, fifteen minutes ago, yet here she was, and Niccolo was nowhere to be seen. Sitting in her wheelchair in front of the soup kitchen, she must have looked like a beggar, judging from the glances the passing pedestrians threw her way. Gritting her teeth, she just hoped that no one who actually knows her will walk past, because that would be rather embarrassing. Finally, after about five more minutes of her contemplating if the guy didn’t forget about her, Niccolo appeared, nodding in greetings as he came to stand next to her, hands hidden in the pockets of his jacket.

“What took you so long?”, Sasha hissed at him, righteously upset.

“What? I’m late?”, he frowned down at his phone, shrugging afterwards, “Whoops.”

Bastard. But she couldn’t antagonize him, he was the best lead she had.

“So, can we go?”, she asked, forcing a smile on her face despite really wanting to punch the smug bastard right between the eyes.. Or in his stomach, if she was being realistic, because she couldn’t reach his head.

“Just one last thing.”, Niccolo looked left and right, squatting to be on level with her, which simultaneously gave her the perfect opportunity to fulfill her dream of breaking his nose. With a lot of self- denial, she pushed that desire back. For now. “Is there something you didn’t tell me? Anything that could help us?”

“Gabi talked about needing a “fix” from time to time. Does that help?”

He nodded.

“Immensely.”, Niccolo grinned, “Luckily for you, I do have certain knowledge of the drug underworld here, so don’t worry. I know just the person to talk to.”. Standing up, he stretched, groaning when his back popped a bit. Spending the whole day behind counter and handing out soup was not exactly comfortable. “Shall we?”

With Niccolo leading, Sasha followed, wheeling herself next to him. The road was silent, with only the passing cars cutting into it. She was used to being around introverts, after all, she was Mikasa’s friend, but she wanted to know more about this guy, the I’m a cook and volunteer in soup kitchen profile didn’t really cut it for her, especially when she had to trust him with something as personal as this.

“So, Niccolo,”, she began, getting his attention, “your family is Italian?”

“Because of the name, huh?”, he smiled, “It does give it away, doesn’t it. Anyway, if you are interested, I was born and raised in America, but my grandfather was Italian.”, he looked down at Sasha, his voice dropping to a secretive whisper, “Apparently he was a mobster, and tried fucking with the wrong people, so he was forced to flee Italy to save his life. Crook can’t deal with a boss.”, he looked back forward, making sure that they were taking the right street. “That’s how mafia works.”

She watched his face with an unamused expression.

“You’re full of shit.”

“I know.”, Niccolo shrugged, “But it’s much more interesting than what actually happened. Dad simply wanted to live in America, so he came over and met mom here. Not much of a fun story now, is it.”

“I prefer the truth.”

“Suit yourself.”

Abruptly, he stopped, turning back to Sasha.

“We are here.”

Sasha wanted to ask what does “here” mean, but then she noticed a man coming their way, dark skinned youth in a buttoned-up jacket. He reached Niccolo, and they nodded at each other, before his gaze slid down to Sasha, and he frowned.

“Who’s this Nico? A cop?”

Before the cook could answer however, Sasha did it for him.

“Oh yes, I’m a policewoman, special wheelchair division.”, she patted the side of her seat to emphasize her point, “We specialize in chasing running suspects and climbing stairs.”

“Right, chill lady, I’m just careful.”, satisfied with her outburst, he turned back towards Niccolo, who extended his hand.

“You got the stuff?”

Instead of answering, the youth reached into his coat and pulled out a small plastic bag, stuffed with certain substance that she recognized from her college years.

“Weed? You’re buying weed? Do you two realize that it’s been legalized?”

So, they were doing all this sneaking around and cop accusations for a few grams of cannabis, which you can buy in a regular drugstore nowadays. Perfect, just perfect.

“I do know that.”, ignoring her, Niccolo pocketed the bag, “And I also know that I can get better price per gram here than in any other store. Plus, I’m also getting something else…. right?”

“Right.” Agreed the salesman, pulling out another package from his pockets of wonders, smaller this time, filled with pills. Sasha watched, wide-eyed, as Niccolo grinned in satisfaction, handing over some cash.

“So, we came here just so you can get your stuff? Or what the fuck did we walk all the way for?”

“All in due time.”, as if annoyed by her eagerness, he shook his head, looking up at his supplier. “Listen buddy, I need to know, have you seen a young girl recently? About thirteen, apparently going around with a guy of the same age. We just want to know if you sold her anything, and where.”

“I don’t deal with underage kids. Shit’s too risky.”, the dealer redirected his eyes at Sasha, “Sorry lady, can’t help.”

“Well, worth a shot, thanks anyway.”

With that, the man turned around and walked away the same way he came, doing his best not to look suspicious.

“Dead end?”

“Nah, not at all. An elimination tactic.”, Niccolo looked smug, even with Sasha glaring at him. “Now we know that she didn’t buy form this guy and can move on from here.”

“Ah, and you get your own fix in the meanwhile. Junkie.”

“I just take some stuff from time to time, to feel better.”, he patted the pocket where he hid the weed, “Nothing beats a joint after work.”

Whatever, Sasha wasn’t here to criticize his life choices. She came to find Gabi.

“So, what now?”

“Easy. Now we…”, but before Niccolo could finish his thought a motorbike stopped nearby, and a figure jumped off, removing the helmet to reveal a pale face framed by waterfall of shiny midnight hair. Sasha’s eyes widened. She knew that face very well.

“Sash? What are you doing here?”, Mikasa asked, her eyes flying over to Niccolo, measuring him. “Who’s this?”

“This? Uhm that’s…. eh..”, Sasha’s brain was working in overdrive, trying to figure out an excuse that her friend would buy. It had to be something real, something good, because Mikasa was far from stupid, and wouldn’t buy just anything. “A cook?”

“Cook?”, the biker wondered, looking back at him.

Niccolo smiled, giving Mikasa a small nervous wave. He seemed to be shrinking where he stood, rather intimidated by her presence.

“Yes, a cook. Me, Armin and Connie are considering adding a kitchen for our bar, and this guy, Niccolo, is one of the potential hires to work there.”, she nodded, satisfied with her fabrication, “It’s of course just a possibility, nothing is certain.”

“Okay… But why are you meeting out on the street?”

Damn she was persistent.

“We just wanted to get some fresh air.”

Mikasa seemed to be turning her statements over in her head, eyes flicking from Sasha to Niccolo and back. The whole thing didn’t seem right, not at all, but she had no intention of trying to act like a Spanish inquisition towards her friend and just grill her out in the street. Sasha’s life was her own. Faking her best, “I understand”, expression, she took a step back towards her ride.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.”, she finally spoke, putting her helmet back on and mounting the bike with a practiced movement. “See you around Sash. Niccolo”

With that, she kicked the machine back to life, and with a screeching of tires disappeared after taking a sharp corner. Sasha exhaled in relief, wiping her brow. Crisis averted.

“Fuck.”, Niccolo breathed out as soon as Mikasa was gone, hanging his head, “She was scary.”

“Scary?”, Sasha blinked in surprise, not sure where that was coming from. She wouldn’t call Mikasa scary, but then again, they each other for a very long time. It was hard imagining someone as scary after you saw them wiggling on the bed, trying to hide beneath the blanket moaning “Just five more minutes.”, when you tried waking them up in time for class.

“Yea, with the bike and her figure and the black leather clothes and stuff, she looked like a gangster.”, he gestured towards his face, “the dark lipstick and narrowed eyes didn’t really help it either. And the way she looked at me, it was just…”, he ran out of words, shrugging. “Scary.”

“And here I thought you knew how mafia worked.”, Sasha couldn’t stop herself from poking fun at him, just a little bit, for all his previous bullshitting. Felt good.

“Yea well,”, he let out a breathy laugh, “this one was definitely a hitman.”

Finally collecting his bearings, he straightened, giving Sasha a wink.

“Let’s go.”

“You never told me where we are going now.”, she said as she followed him, matching his tempo.

“Oh right, it’s a…. well, how do I say it, a house where you can shoot your stuff into the vein without fear of someone robbing you and raping you after. Safe house of sorts.”

“Crack house.”, Sasha corrected him.

“You could say that. They do sell more than crack though, they are rather well supplied.”

“Wonderful.”

“It’s a good thing.”, he pointed out, “Since we don’t know what Gabi’s thing is, we can’t filter places by what they sell.”

“How do you even know all these people?”, Sasha wondered, “Wild youth?”

“Grew up around them.”, he said, but didn’t elaborate further. This conversation was over.

The rest of their way was quiet, as Sasha sensed that she broached a sensitive topic that Niccolo didn’t have any intention of speaking about. The destination showed to be a rundown building, the stairs at the front flanked by three guys, lounging around. Not suspicious at all.

“Wait here.”, Niccolo ordered, crossing the street to meet the welcoming party.

Ignoring her gut, which was telling her that this was a bad idea, Sasha watched him swagger right into them, greeting the one who stood up with a raised hand. They talked between themselves, with the guard pointing at Sasha, demanding something, but Niccolo calmed him with a few choice words. After a bit more discussion, and some money flowing from the cook’s pocket to the sentry’s, they parted, with Niccolo returning to her with a thoughtful expression.

“Didn’t see her either.”, he said, shaking his head.

Sasha could feel the desperation in her rising. Nothing at the guy they met before, nothing here. What now?

“He did promise that he will put a word out, for a small fee.”, seeing her so crestfallen, he put a hand on her shoulder, “Don’t worry, she will turn up. Sooner or later.”

“Why would he help you? Just for the money?”

“That and other things. Dealing with a minor is tricky, if you get caught the authorities will fuck you hard.”, he stammered, cheeks coloring slightly. “Excuse my language.”

So, he drags her through a meeting with a drug dealer, to a street where a crack house is, and he still apologizes for swearing. This guy.

“It’s quite all right. Thanks for the help today.”, burying her hands in her pockets, she blinked up at him. “But what do we do now?”

“Now we wait. I’ll contact you as soon as someone finds her, I promise.” He handed her his phone, watching Sasha put her number in. He chuckled. “Gotta be honest, this is the hardest I ever worked for getting a girl’s number.”

“Then you had it easy.”, Sasha answered, returning both his phone and his smile. “Wonderful first date, I learned a lot about drug dealing in our city. Call me?”

Niccolo pocketed his device.

“Count on it.”

Half a city away, Mikasa sat in a random bar, replaying the weird encounter in her head. From time to time, she liked to just take her bike and ride, with no destination in mind, simply enjoying the way the motor purred between her legs. What she didn’t expect however, was her meeting Sasha in a rather unpleasant part of town, accompanied by a short blond guy, talking out in the street. She circled the cold bottle of coke with her fingers, studying the mental image she made of them. Both Sasha and the guy, Niccolo, seemed nervous, and the excuse that she was interviewing him to be a cook at the bar didn’t sit well with her at all. Why would you look for a staff, when your establishment has no kitchen? Mikasa was also rather familiar with the layout, as she spent a lot of her free time there, helping, and she knew that there were no plans on building anything new. But even if her friend told her that the guy was a waiter or something more credible, she would still have very strong doubts about it. Talking in the street, in that part of the town? Yea right.

The meeting plagued her mind, so much in fact that she couldn’t focus on driving, so she took the first exit she saw and went to sit down, entering a bar she never visited before. There were a lot of bikes in the front, and the interior was half full of leather clad men and women, making her realize that this was most likely some kind of biker meeting point. With her clothes, she fit right in. The atmosphere was nice, rock music playing, with most of the patrons playing pool, talking and laughing between themselves. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her, which suited her just fine, until a man emerged from the crowd, coming to sit down next to her.

“Now what’s a beauty like you doing here all alone?”, he asked with a suggestive smile.

His intentions were easy to guess, so instead of answering, Mikasa held up her hand, letting the light shine on her engagement ring, offering him an apologetic shrug, hoping that he will understand. To her own surprise, he did.

“That’s a damn shame.”, he muttered, standing up, “Have a great evening miss.”

And with that, the well-mannered biker returned to his group, leaving her alone. With that out of the way, she was once again free to think about Sasha. What was she doing there? The dramatic explanation would of course be cheating on Connie, but her friend wasn’t that kind of person. Sure, she was way more socially active than Mikasa, having a number of boyfriends and even some short flings in college, but to her knowledge she never cheated on anyone, ever. Then again, what other solutions were there? Why would she just hang around bad neighborhood with a random dude, chilling on the street? Mikasa had no idea. Finishing her coke, she decided to go back out for another ride, hoping that the wind and the sound of engine will put her mind to ease.

The door creaked closed behind her, as she jumped on her bike once more, speeding away.

#fanfic #snk #eremika #sasha braus #niccolo #gabi

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goaprose · 8 years ago

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.24: Priesthood | SG SW 7.2016

24th: Has your character ever pretended to be something or someone they're not? Have they ever been tempted? What prompted their deception? How did it turn out?

"And you! All your work, and for what? To join this?!"

Iiloridan paused mid-bite, pomegranate juices running red down his chin. Perched casually on a roof-ledge, sun basking and eating his lunch high above the bustle of Silvermoon's streets, the rogue's ears perked up instantly at the sound of a semi-familiar voice raising in anger. Wiping off his chin with the back of his hand, Iiloridan peered around the corner from behind some well-placed shrubbery.

An old man - a priest, by the looks of the white robes and golden staff - was surrounded by four warriors in bristling armor. -No, Iiloridan quickly corrected, Blood Knights, in their black and red livery. The new order was everywhere these days, blustering about with arrogant importance and high on the smell of their own bullshit. Iiloridan watched on as the priest stood proud against the Blood Knights circling around him, all bluster and intimidation against a cloth-clad willow. Iiloridan had long heard stories and rumors about how they gained their power, and was disgusted on a deep, internal level. Apparently the priest agreed with him.

"It is an afront to the Light, doing what you do! I'm ashamed to have ever called myself your mentor-!"

It clicked at the priest's disdainful tone. He knew that priest. He himself had been in a similar position as the damned Blood Knights not long before, all but begging for aid.

Iiloridan had done his research, when hunting for a surviving priest to train him. Pontarias Whitesong was positively ancient. His hair had long since gone as white as his name, nearly crystalline-transparent with age and reaching his hem-covered heels in length. Among all the potential trainers that had turned Lori down - and there had been a great many of them - Pontarias had been the one that had intrigued him the most. As long as the Light had been in Quel'thalas, Whitesong had been one of the movers and shakers of the faith. Known for his work in the wars and battles against the trolls, Whitesong was famous for healing, as his named implied, with song and hymn. Literally singing the dead back to life. Rumor said that he had coaxed the sundered souls back into over a dozen slain soldiers at once with a single song. In addition to his own deeds, he was well-known for training other priests, accepting and teaching only those who went on to wield the Light with great skill.

It was no wonder that the priest had looked at Iiloridan like he was something that had been scraped off the bottom of a boot, rejecting the would-be priest without the briefest of consideration. It still rankled, and Iiloridan couldn't help but smirk at the confrontation in progress. Watching the arrogant old bastard get his ass handed to him by some whelp a fraction of his great years would be a pleasure to watch.

"Please, sir! We could really use your wisdom in the Blood Knights!" The former apprentice pleaded passionately. "Your skills are greatly needed-"

"I want nothing to do with that arrogant blasphemy you call an Order!" The Blood Knight group bristled at the insult, the captain visibly hardening.

"Your students had abandoned you for the greater path, priest-"

"High Priest," Whitesong snapped again, even as the captain only raised his voice and continued.

"-and without students or followers, your teachings are obsolete. You can no longer serve Quel'thalas in this manner. Quel'thalas is in need of experienced men and women to lead us now. You can either serve- or you will be seen as...an obstacle."

"You. Wouldn't. Dare." Pontarias growled, ears turning red with fury. Like a dawning bell, Iiloridan realized he could get more out of this escalating situation than just vindictive pleasure. Abandoning both his front-row seat and his lunch, he ducked out of sight and fled the rooftop.

"You will serve Quel'thalas in some manner, priest. Idleness will not be tolerated."

"Idleness! Idle!? You think I sit around- I spend less time idle that you surely spend just polishing that ridiculous shoulder armor of yours!" The priest and Knight were yelling at each other in the street now, the captain's solider's hands resting uneasily on their blades.

"Master! There you are!"

Five heads swiveled in his direction as Iiloridan ran up, a guileless smile plastered on his face. He carefully only had eyes for the flabbergasted priest, running up and feigning breathlessness, as though having run too far.

"Sir, I've been looking for you for ages. I'm afraid I confused the location of my next lesson- I'm so sorry I'm late-" Golden eyes widened at Iiloridan's bald-faced lie- but he had to give Whitesong credit where credit was due. The bastard recovered quickly, even as the Blood Knights glanced between them.

"-Who is this-"

"A-h. There you are. I'd just about given you up. Completely irresponsible- " Whitesong slipped into a chastising tone all too readily, in Iiloridan's opinion, but he obliged the old bastard and allowed his ears to droop.

"It's entirely my fault," Iiloridan simpered. "I assure you, I take my training entirely seriously, sir-"

"Who is this?!" the Blood Knight captain demanded again, voice rising to a low boom.

"My apprentice. -The last one, apparently," Whitesong snapped, throwing a withering glance at the former priest in ill-fitting armor. The fresh Blood Knight winced.

"Iiloridan Sunshard, sir knight," Iiloridan answered just as quickly. He could tell that the priest recognized him, but he wouldn't put it past the man to have already forgotten his name.

"Apprentice?"

"Well, as you can see, I'd just about given him up as having run off to join your cause. But, as he is obviously still here-"

Iiloridan beamed, all clueless innocence. The Knights, as he expected, didn't seem to know what to do with themselves for a long moment.

"-you should be joining the Blood Knights, not wasting your time and any talents you may have with this- this false religion!" The former apprentice barked, the beginnings of zealotry glowing in his eyes. "It never did us any good! It's only let us down-" Both Iiloridan and Pontarias bristled at the same time.

"That is enough, initiate," snapped another Blood Knight, this not one Iiloridan had seen speak up before. She glanced between the initiate, Pontarias, and Iiloridan, before turning to her captain.

"Sir. I think we're wasting our time here."

The captain glowered at the confident look on Whitesong's face, before leveling his fel-gaze at Iiloridan. He couldn't hide his sneer.

"You intend to go through with this training, priest? The light will only let you down, unless you take the power you require. Take the power to help our people."

"With all due respect, sir," which is none at all, Iiloridan corrected mentally, "I feel I can do our people the most good if I follow this path. The Light has not let me down. Only my own ignorance in it's workings has."

"Tch! Blood Knights! Let's move out! Leave these light lovers to their fruitless endeavors, for now," he glared at the pair of them, remounting his snorting charger with a bound, despite the heavy armor. "You'll come to us eventually, Whitesong. All will know the true glory and power only belongs to the Blood Knights!"

Pontarias' wry smirk was his only reply, and the captain spurred his beast onward with more force than was necessary. The female knight gave them both the barest of nods, hidden respect in the gesture, and Iiloridan found himself returning it as knights departed in a noisy herd. The two that remained stood silent for a long moment, and Iiloridan finally turned, watching the priest expectantly.

"...I gather you expect a 'thank you' for all that?" The old man let out a tired sigh.

"Oh, I expect much more than that," Iiloridan smirked, innocence sliding off him like a shed skin. "I'm holding you to it."

"To what?" Whitesong barked, indignation blooming in his face.

"The whole thing. I came to you for training before. I expect to get it from you now."

"You cannot be serious!"

Iiloridan raised a brow. "I am completely serious. I didn't ask for it as a joke, Whitesong. I want to train as a priest. I know the Light."

"You don't even have a talent! No skill!

"I wasn't making up what I said before," Iiloridan hissed, looming toward the older man. "I found the Light. I used it during the sack of Silvermoon- my cousin lives because I healed him with it!" His passionate words were met with an incredulous stare.

"Why? Why do you want this?" Pontarias asked, face chill as stone.

"Because..." For the first time, Iiloridan was unable to meet the priest's gaze; he could hear his disdainful snort just fine. He swallowed, mouth dry. "If I had known more then, I could have done more. Helped more people."

".....I am going to regret this. I already do."

Iiloridan started, staring at the priest. His teacher.

"Don't look so smug. You're going to regret this even more than I will. I'll make sure of it."

Iiloridan only laughed, relief making him giddy. "You can try."

#goa writing #SG Site Write July 2016 #Iiloridan Sunshard #Pontarias Whitesong #old writing #my favorite #STILL LOVE THIS ONE

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