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screamin-abt-haikyuu · 10 months ago

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You're jealous but you can't do anything because you're not dating him (Part 7) - Wakatoshi Ushijima

Pairing: Ushijima x Fem! reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warnings: none, really? Reader calls him Toshi.

Requested by: @ushisrever

A/N: Can't believe I posted the last update to this more than two years ago. Has it really been that long???? The incomplete series has been bothering me for two years now lmao. Didn't think I'd ever find a fitting scenario for Ushiwaka but thanks to @dira333 helping me sound off some ideas, I was able to get that perfect "snap!" you get when you fit a puzzle piece in perfectly. Gave me enough brain juice to write this out before going back into hibernation.

Serving you some fresh, hot angst and then some lol. Enjoy the burn and then the healing. For someone who was as far removed from Ushiwaka (emotionally) as one can, writing this actually made me see him in a new light. Loved writing him. Hopefully, it stays as true to his canon nature as it can. Hopefully I don't trash this before it's out💀 but if you're reading this, it's good lol.

It feels like the entire Shiratorizawa is at the gates of the school.

"I can't believe she's coming to our school!"

"AAA I can't stop imagining how she'll look in our school uniform."

"Do you think she already has a boyfriend? Maybe I have a chance?"

"I don't know about a boyfriend but you certainly don't have a chance with her."

"Must you always be so cruel?!"

"If you think a star child actor who has made it so big in the industry is going to date a simpleton like you, you're delusional."

You sigh, annoyed, as you try to make your way through the babbling crowd. You're already late for your morning classes and you couldn't care any less about Hoshiko Nakamura. Or any celebrity for that matter.

"In fact, I don't think any boy in this school has a chance with her. Hmm... except maybe Ushiwaka? Not that he'd be interested in dating her anyway. Sometimes I feel like that guy doesn't have any emotions at all."

Your ears perk up at the Ace's name.

Wakatoshi Ushijima has become somewhat of a celebrity at school ever since he was selected for the under 19 representative for Japan in the Youth World Championship.

He was already well known as the formidable volleyball player who crushes any team that he takes on. However, his serious and stoic nature has kept most people from approaching him. Till now, at least.

The girl was right. Wakatoshi wouldn't even think about dating anyone. You seem fairly sure of that. However, the suggestion still leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You're wrong about him not having any emotions you think as you finally break free from the crowd and sprint towards your classroom.

You've known Wakatoshi for as long as you can remember. You remember when his family moved into the house next to yours when you were just little kids. You remember watching the reserved, determined figure of the boy practicing volleyball all by himself in the nearby park. You remember going up to him and offering to play with him. Out of all these memories, the most vivid of them all was the way his eyes subtly lit up when you said you wanted to play with him.

Time has blurred into a haze since then. Even though you both went to different schools all through junior and middle school years, you both kept alive the tradition of playing volleyball together in park.

"You should come to Shiratorizawa," he had said that fateful day. You both were in the last year of middle school. It was a beautiful evening as you both walked back home from the park, the setting sun throwing hues of red and gold across the partially cloudy sky.

"That's not in my hands. I tried in middle school, remember? I want Shiratorizawa but Shiratorizawa doesn't seem to want me," you said, kicking a pebble on the road. Funny how I could say the same about you.

"That was three years ago. You have grown," he said without pause.

"We'll see. I don't want to get my hopes too high. You know just as well as I do that they give preference to athletes over normal students like me. Casual volleyball games with you are just about as sporty as I get," you said as you reached out to open the gate to your home.

You turned to say goodbye to him and found him looking at you, his expression more serious than usual.

"It's not about athleticism."

"Shiratorizawa only accepts the best. Be it volleyball or anything else. I believe you fit into that category. You should come," he says, looking straight into your eyes.

Your stomach flutters. How could he have so much faith in you? There is no doubt that he believes in you because Wakatoshi Ushijima always means what he says. Almost 5 years of knowing him had taught you that. You still found it hard to digest, though.

"I'll try my best, I promise."

"I know you will."

"Class, please give a warm welcome your new classmate, Hoshiko Nakamura!"

You can't help but gawk at her. Saying she is pretty would be a severe understatement. If she looks pretty on screen, it is nothing compared to what she looks like off screen. You look at your desk partner to see if he is thinking the same. Wakatoshi, however, seems to simply be listening to the teacher.

"Miss Nakamura, I'm sure you will have no problem settling in here. To kind of help you settle in this new environment, I was thinking of seating you next to Ushijima as I believe you two have met before at some of the national events."

The teacher might as well have thrown a bus at you and it would have felt just about the same as you do now.

Hoshiko's face lights up. "That would be great. Wakatoshi-kun has always been a delight to be with. Thank you for having me," she says and bows.

Did she just call him by his first name?

"Ah, Y/N, sorry for springing this on you so suddenly. I wanted to get a hold of you before morning class but couldn't. I hope it's not a problem," the teacher says.

You force a polite smile. "It's not a problem at all," you say and start packing your bag.

Hoshiko walks up to the desk and waits patiently for you to gather your stuff, thanking you again.

Your legs feel heavy as you take the empty seat diagonal to them in the adjacent row.

I'm panicking for no reason. They just know each other from an event. It makes sense to make her sit with a familiar and safe person, given her popularity. Yes, Wakatoshi is definitely the ideal choice in this scenario. He is not someone who would be creepy in any sense. He's also strong and intimidating so it would keep the creeps away. It's fine. It'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen between them... right?

"Wakatoshi-kun, I'm so glad I got to sit next to you," she says, smiling at him, speaking loud enough for people sitting nearby to hear.

"Actually, if I'm being honest, when I decided to come back to my hometown to complete my studies, I knew I wanted to go to Shiratorizawa immediately," she continues.

"Of course. Shiratorizawa is the best school in the prefecture. It's only natural to want to study here," Ushijima says, completely seriously.

Hoshiko blushes. "Ah... that is not what I meant... nevermind," she says, causing the guy behind them to burst into laughter.

It seems like the hollow sensation growing in your stomach is here to stay.

It has been two months since the day Hoshiko joined your school. With Ushijima going to school earlier than usual and practicing late into the night for the Inter High preliminaries, he hasn't been able to spend much time with you lately. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered you because you could see him in class everyday but with Hoshiko now taking your place, you barely get to say more than hi to him.

However, with the prelims now over and the upcoming week-long break ahead, you're hoping to get some one-on-one time with him once again. All these years with him have made him such an intrinsic part of your daily life that it feels like something big is missing when he's not around. To the world, Wakatoshi Ushijima might be a lot of things. But to you, Wakatoshi Ushijima is home. He is comfort. He is strength. He is someone that you know like the back of your own hand. He is someone that your heart always keeps coming back to. He is the only love you have ever known.

You know that he doesn't share the same feelings for you. But that doesn't stop your heart from longing for him.

The lessons for the day are over and you walk back to your class, eager to pack your bag and go home with Ushijima. You wonder if he'll want to go to the park in the evening.

"She's asking him out! She's asking him out!"

"No WAY! I am SO jealous."

A small crowd has gathered around the window and they're whispering amongst themselves as they look outside.

"Man, that Ushiwaka is so lucky! He gets to date the most beautiful girl in the entire country."

"I mean… he is in the nation's top 3 aces and an under 19 representative of Japan. Not to mention he's tall and strong and good looking. They're actually perfect for each other."

Your heart drops down to your feet.

You look out the window and find yourself looking at Hoshiko and Ushijima standing a ways away from the school building. They're in a quiet, secluded spot and Hoshiko seems to be blushing as she says something to him. You see him nod and say something in return. Hoshiko's face lights up in pure delight and even though they are at a distance, you can hear the joy in her voice.

"No way!!!! He said yes?? I thought he wasn't interested in girls!"

"Goddamn it! There goes my chance!"

You feel dizzy as you watch the two of them walk back to school together.

No. This can't be. You have always known that he doesn't like you that way. But you thought he wasn't interested in dating at all.

No. You shouldn't make any assumptions just yet. These gossip mongers are messing with your head. For all you know, he could have said yes to being in a show or something. You shouldn't despair before you hear the truth from him.

You blink back your tears and run to your class. Thankfully, it's empty. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and wait. Both of them soon appear in the hallway. The crowd surrounds them instantly, wanting to drown them in questions but Ushijima breaks away from them easily and walks towards the class. He comes up to you.

"Y/N. I'm sorry I won't be able to come to the park today."

It's true.

"Hoshiko and I are going to watch this new movie playing at the theatre-"

He's going on a date with her.

"Apparently it has a lot of volleyball in it-"

He's going on a date with h-

"You should join us."

Huh?

"What?"

"I figured you might like it since you play volleyball with me even though you don't play it otherwise."

What? What? What?? What is happening right now??

Ushijima patiently waits for your answer.

"Uh... Whose idea was it to go to the movie?"

"Nakamura's. Why?"

"And how did she bring up the idea?"

"Well, I was returning from the club and she asked to speak to me in private. And then she told me about the movie and if I wanted to watch it with her."

He didn't get it.

"Ah... Toshi... I'm pretty sure she was asking you out on a date."

His eyes widen with surprise.

"A... date? But she never said she had romantic feelings for me."

Could this mean...? Can I hope...?

"Well, her asking you out on the date was her way of saying it."

"I see. I didn't realise. Thank you for telling me. In that case, I should tell her my feelings for her as well."

He has feelings for her.

Your heart shatters.

You're glad that he walks out right away because you couldn't have stopped your tears from coming out even if you wanted to. You run out of the back door, desperate to get far away.

I guess I was the problem all this time. I just wasn't someone you could look at that way.

You had always known that. You had always known that he didn't feel for you the way you did. But that hadn't stopped you from falling for him. Hard. How could you have not? Eight years of knowing him... You didn't even realise when you fell for him. Loving him just came so naturally to you.

Logically, it makes sense. They make sense. She is beautiful and tall and smart. And so is he. They are the type of couple who would be featured on the cover of a magazine. Which, given their career trajectories, is bound to happen sooner or later.

But the heart doesn't care for logic and at this moment you feel like it will actually burst from the amount of pain you're feeling.

You spend the rest of the evening and the entire night crying in your room.

Morning comes and you feel worse than ever. Your head is throbbing, your nose is stuffy and your eyes are swollen. You decide to skip school. It's the last day before break anyway. Maybe this break will be good for you. It will give you some time to adjust to everything and compose yourself.

You go back to bed and sleep through the entire day.

You thought you'd feel better after getting some rest but you still feel like shit.

You drag yourself out of bed. Your entire body feels like it weighs ten times more.

Maybe a shower and some fresh air will do you good.

You head out.

No matter how much you try to think of something else, your mind keeps coming back to him. Your eyes keep searching for him. You look in the direction of his room. The curtains are open and you can see it is empty.

Of course he's not home yet. He's probably out with her again.

Even though it's barely a minute away, you feel exhausted by the time you reach the park. Thankfully, it is empty.

You sit on one of the swings and look around. Most of your memories with Ushijima are tied to this park. This is where you both have spent the majority of your last eight years together.

All the sweet memories make you tear up again.

"You didn't come to school today."

You were so lost in your head that you didn't realise when he walked up to you. You blink back your tears.

"Oh... hi. Yeah, I - I wasn't feeling very well today," you say, not meeting his eye.

"You seem upset."

He noticed.

"Oh... I'm fine. Really. It's just been a rough day. It's nothing to worry about," you say, still evading his gaze.

He sits on the swing next to you. You look to the side and see he has a volleyball in his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You quickly avert your gaze again.

"No."

"I see. Well, would you like me to distract you? Talk about something else?"

It is getting harder to keep your tears in check. You're sure your voice will crack if you speak. You just nod.

"You would've liked the movie. It wasn't as focused on volleyball as Nakamura said it would-"

Great. He's chosen the worst topic he could have talked about. You don't want to hear about his date. You need to change the topic. Quickly.

"What are you doing here?" you blurt out the one question that has been weighing on your mind ever since he came here.

"What do you mean? I came here to play volleyball with you."

"I- I mean... I thought you would spend your free time with Ho-Hoshiko from now."

"Why would I do that?"

"B- because you're d-dating her?" Your voice cracks.

"I am not dating Nakamura."

What?

"What do you mean you're not dating her? I thought you liked her. Didn't you go on a date with her yesterday?"

"I do like her. Just not romantically. And no, I went to watch the movie with Tendou. She had already bought the tickets so I bought them from her. I wanted to watch it with you but you went home. "

"But... you left to tell her your feelings for her..."

"I did. I wanted to clarify that I only feel for her as a friend. It was only thanks to you that I was able to tell her in time before I ended up hurting her unintentionally."

"I...see..."

Relief floods your heart. You suddenly feel a hundred pounds lighter. You finally gather the courage to look at him. He is looking right back at you.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, your lower lip trembling.

"Of course."

"Do you have romantic feelings for anyone?"

You instantly regret speaking up as soon as the question leaves your mouth. You know he never lies. And if he doesn't feel the same w-

"Yes. You."

You stare at him blankly.

It's subtle but his expression has changed from completely serious to something a little softer. You can't quite place what it is. Is it concern? nervousness? Adoration?

"R-really? You like me? Romantically?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Ah," he rubs his chin, "I'm not sure..."

You're still having difficulty believing that any of this is real.

"You know," he continues, "After my father, you were the first person who ever wanted to play with me."

He points towards the corner of the park. "I was practicing against that wall that day when you came up to me. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember. I can never forget that day."

"So many people have come and gone from my life but you have been with me for so long that, I guess somewhere along the way I just assumed you would stay forever. Which, I now realise, I shouldn't have."

He feels the same. He has always felt the same.

"Toshi?"

He turns to you again.

"I love you."

He breaks into a soft smile.

"I love you too."

Holyshit this was a ride. I'm glad I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy.

Reblogs appreciated. Please do not steal or repost.

Taglist: @pinkiipeachiikeen @duckymcdoorknob @kakiwrites @ebiharachan @r0binscript I wasn't sure if you guys still want to be tagged for this series, seeing that it has been over two years so let me know if you want me to remove you from the taglist.

Check out THIS POST to know what all characters I have written for in this series.

MASTERLISTS | If you enjoy my work and want to, you can Buy me a Kofi!

#wakatoshi ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #Haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #ushiwaka #jealous series #ushijima headcanons #ushijima imagines #shiratorizawa #hq!!#haikyuu imagines #Ushijima x you

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chenya-my-love · 9 months ago

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Fictional Yuu

I see a lot of people basing Yuu off of characters on TV and in games. They'll have characters (usually Idia) make refrence to this fact but usually in just a throw away line. But nobody really leans into the idea of Yuu actually coming from some fictional media in Twisted Wonderland.

Like imagine some character like Cater, or maybe Vil while advertising the VDC, posting a photo with Yuu in it. Only for some random account to comment "That's an amazing cosplay, it looks so much like the character". And of course they're confused, they keep looking for who in the photo is cosplaying but nobody is there. Eventually just asking the commentor who was being cosplayed. The comment is simple.

"Right next to you. That's Yuu from (insert anime/game name here)". They don't believe it until they look up the listed media and sees the character they think Yuu is cosplaying and are shocked. They look identical to Yuu (except animated). Their name, looks, and personality are all identical to Yuu. It is Yuu.

I see two (techincally three) routes this could go. A RomCom route and an angst route.

The romcom route revolves around Yuu having a canon love interest making the boys jealous (regardless on whether they entered a relationship yet or the plot was still building it up) and trying to imulate them.

Like all the wikis say that Yuu's feelings blossomed after the love interest nursed them back to health when they were sick, so the moment Yuu gets sick the boy is just rushing to Ramshackle to take care of them. Or if Yuu caught feelings first and it was some romantic moment, the boys try to emulate that scene so Yuu will fall for them too.

But than we have the angst routes.

A scenerio where all the boys decide to watch the anime/play the game that Yuu is from. Only for Yuu to catch them, quickly learning that they're fictional.

Yuu realizing that all their memories were made up, and if their a playable character all their actions were being controlled. That all their suffering was pointless, that it was done simply to make them more interesting or to entertain a bunch of other worldly beings that Yuu didn't know existed.

Yuu having an breakdown over everything. Their life isn't even their own.

While learning about Yuu's world and story, they learn Yuu dies. And not just a shock value death that could be removed from the plot without care, their death is important. Their death leads to the ending whether that be Yuu sacrificing themself for the greater good or Yuu's death motivating the protag to take down the villain.

All that matters is that Yuu dies and Yuu needs to die. The story can't progress without Yuu there.

The boys realizing that if they send Yuu back to their world, their pretty much signing Yuu's Death Certificate. And Yuu doesn't know. The boys now know that Yuu is doomed by the narrative and is destined to die in the end, but Yuu doesn't. They can't even tell Yuu cause Seven only knows how Yuu will take the news that not only are they fictional but they're also destined to die.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #twisted wonderland yuu #yuu au #au yuu #twst angst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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sysmedsaresexist · 7 months ago

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Changing mindsets, from a Real Anti Endo™️

The Release of the (Pro/Endo) Golden Goose

I hope everyone from all sides will give this important, heartfelt post a read.

It's likely something you'll want to be aware of if you have a vested interest in syscourse and the validity of endogenic systems. Please give this a chance.

It's been almost three years since I started my blogs. Wow. I've been on tumblr a hell of a lot longer, but I really wasn't involved in the system community. I started out firm and loud. I probably inadvertently fakeclaimed (I went into this with the rule that I would NOT directly tell anyone they were faking, it was a boundary that I knew would ruin me socially if I crossed it, but I'm sure I probably did without meaning to), I name called and made fun of people and things. I was disrespectful to people. I invaded tags to get my message out there, though I was quick to stop once I realized I was making the tags unusable for the community I claimed to want to protect.

I learned very quickly what was appropriate and what wasn't, what I could get away with and what I couldn't. It started to become a numbers game, influenced by the risk of the post.

I made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies, and I amassed a following of over 2k. More people have come and gone from my little community than I ever thought possible. People made fanart of me, and I cherish those so deeply. I have over 300 asks because I struggle to delete the ones thanking me.

And the more I was thanked, the nicer I got, the more thanks, the nicer I got, rinse and repeat until I had trouble NOT empathizing with pro/endos. The more I was willing to listen, the more legitimate sources I came across that disproved my original ideas about consciousness. The people sharing the sources were more respectful than I thought they'd be. Things were starting to look a bit cloudy.

I talked to my colleagues about how they, as therapists, would handle some of these endos in their practice, and while their belief in the concept varied, kindness and attempts to understand was the consistent answer. When had I lost that kindness and understanding that had driven me to that field to begin with?

Colleagues, yes. For those who don't know, I have a degree in social services and counselling (plus three other degrees). It's why the current situation with the antis turning on me is so funny. I still can't get into the mindset of some of these new anti endos, I just can't imagine justifying that level of cruelty. I had lines that I wouldn't cross, and I didn't think people could be worse than me.

... That might have been a trauma thing, looking back on it.

So I got desperate.

I spoke to the actual doctors who wrote some of these papers all of us are quoting. Everyone was arguing the meaning of the words, so I went directly to the source.

Dr Colin Ross, who wrote about endogenous multiplicity in the 80s. I told him everything-- about plurals, non-traumagenic systems, syscourse, what was being debated, how I and others interpreted his words, and what I wanted to learn.

Was plurality only trauma based?

And back and forth and back and forth we went, with me asking over and over again in different ways, NEEDING to hear that it was.

But I never got that answer. He meant what he meant. He said what he said and he meant it.

That plurality was not only found in the aftermath of trauma.

And I said nothing to anyone because I couldn't reconcile it.

Don't try to read between the lines, I assure you, there isn't some hidden meaning to be found there. I can't share all of the messages because some contained personal information, but my final response will tell you all you need to know.

(It did NOT, in fact, make sense, and it took me three years to "rethink my paper" that endogenic plurality wasn't possible, I did not win that conversation, it was a dying stance that was not supported)

I've been accused of paying too much attention to my follower count, but I can't really help it. It's really scary when you make a post and see a sizeable drop. It means a lot of different things. My posts have less reach and support. I've upset people. I've done something wrong. My community is leaving me.

I'm in a weird spot, where I'm blocked by so much of the pro/endo community that I have nothing to join, and the anti endo community, who I still wholeheartedly support, continues to leave me for -checks smudged writing on hand- being too nice??

Misinformation about DID is a massive problem, and it's why I still consider myself anti endo and support that community. I relate to them in such a way that I'll always gravitate to and empathize with them.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

At this point, though, how can I not be pro/endo when Colin fucking Ross says it's possible?

I've already written about how I'm really struggling with these labels, and I love the people that have stuck around while I struggle to figure this out.

I hurt when I see the people that once supported me leave.

My (online) world is shrinking. Literally.

That's scary.

When you've watched so many turn away, you start to wonder, with every post, where is the line where the rest are going to leave? Is it this post?

I just want to be me, us, we want to laugh at the stupid crap people say, system or not, I want to talk about my disorder, I want to combat misinformation, I want to have productive, fun conversations about ideas and concepts with people who disagree and have different interpretations. I want to play devil's advocate and get people thinking. I want to be able to comment positivity and kindness on any post I see, I want to feel comfortable talking to more people about their ideas. I sympathize with anti endos, I relate to CDD systems, I still firmly believe that CDDs and plurality are different, unrelated concepts.

My priority will always and forever be the CDD community first and foremost.

However, I am a hypocrite. I have gone straight to the horse's mouth and failed. I've seen so much research that I finally get it. I'm grappling with holding on to this conversation with Dr Ross, wondering what harm I could have prevented if I'd gone public with these emails earlier.

Since when has being open to change been a bad thing?

Since when has showing respect to lived experiences been a bad thing?

What am I? What label describes this?

How do I go forward from here?

What are you going to do with this information?

I promise you, hate isn't the way forward.

#syscourse #not syscourse #pro syscourse conversation #anti endo #pro endo #anti plural #pro plural #debunk #endogenic safe #system safe #pro system

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peppermintquartz · 5 months ago

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Who did the post about young and openly queer Eddie and S2 Buck competing to pick up guys? Drop your link in the replies, I can't find that post 😅

The tall, handsome man in a black shirt leaning against the bar chatting to the bartender catches both their eyes. That jawline is carved from marble, probably, and while he's broad in the shoulder, he's deliciously trim at the waist, and with his shirt opened to the navel, he's showing off a beautifully sculpted torso. And judging by the tightness of his jeans, those thighs would be a joy to have clamped around you.

Buck feels his mouth go dry when Tall Handsome Man tilts his head back to drink a shot , revealing the lines of his neck, and a earring dangles, catching the light. He cocks his head at Eddie Diaz beside him. "Ten says he gives me his number."

"Ten says I get it," Eddie replies.

They've both put on their best outfits for the venue, of course. Eddie has his hair tousled just so, and his sheer shirt glitters in the lights of the club. And when he showed up outside the club to meet Buck, his leather pants left very little to the imagination.

Buck thinks he's not too shabby himself. His curls are left just free enough to garner several interested glances as he passes, and his own ripped black jeans show off his long legs, the rips at the thighs and knees a teaser for his muscles (never skip leg day!) while a single tear under the right back pocket entices with each step he takes. His black mesh top doesn't glitter, but it does show off his chest and allows him to display his arms. More than three try to hold his hand as he and Eddie make their way towards the bar, not that Buck is really counting.

Eddie takes the left of Tall Handsome Man, and Buck takes the right, leaning against the bar and sidling close.

"Hi," Buck says. It's a solid opening, nothing sleazy or funny. Tall Handsome Man is as tall as he is, but close to, he's definitely broader in the shoulder. The earring - two loose chains with a crystal at the ends - dangles, like a lure. Buck wants to take the bait.

"Hey," says the man, his small smile welcoming whatever Buck is about to do, it seems.

Eddie interrupts. "Hey gorgeous. Any chance I could buy you a drink in exchange for giving you my name?"

Tall Handsome Man raises an eyebrow. Damn, is that eyeliner? Buck feels himself getting warm. "I wouldn't say no to you."

"I'm Evan," Buck says quickly, before his prize is stolen away by Eddie's big brown eyes. He smiles when the guy turns to look at him. "It's only polite to tell someone your name if they give it to you, isn't it?"

"It is," the man agrees. His eyes are crinkling up, like he's amused. "I'm-mm!"

Buck realizes he's put his hand over the guy's mouth only after he's done it. Apologetic but keeping his hand there, he says, "Tell me, not him."

"It's a freaking name, Buckley, chill," Eddie says, rolling his eyes.

Handsome Man laughs and his lips move under Buck's palm, like he's just kissed it. Buck feels the back of his neck grow warm, and it grows warmer when the man takes his wrist - holy fuck it's big and strong - and lowers Buck's hand.

Leaning forward to whisper in Buck's ear, he says, "I'm Tommy."

Buck feels a shiver from the top of his spine all the way down. He angles his head so his own lips can touch Tommy's cheek. "Evan Buckley."

"Yeah, I figured that out."

Eddie must have got the drinks, because Tommy is now turning to him and accepting a beer. They clink their drinks and Eddie says, "Edmundo Díaz, but friends call me Eddie."

Tommy smiles languidly. "Eddie it is then. I'm Tommy."

"Hey, you weren't supposed to tell him," Buck protests, taking the chance to press closer.

Tommy grins, the expression making him look younger. "Someone told me it's polite to tell people your name after they told you theirs."

Buck pouts. Tommy laughs and orders a drink for him.

While waiting on the bartender, Eddie reaches a finger out to flick Tommy's dangling earring. "So what do you do for fun, Tommy?"

"Get hit on by two of the most beautiful men I've ever seen," Tommy replies and takes a sip of his beer. "For tonight, at least."

"Oh, you're smooth," Buck marvels.

Eddie chuckles. "If we're not around?"

"I fly for fun. And I practice Muay Thai."

On hearing that, Buck's heart sinks. Eddie does Muay Thai. He watches with growing jealousy while Eddie and Tommy chat, and sips on the drink Tommy's ordered for him.

Then Tommy turns to Buck. "And what about you? What do you do for fun?"

"I, uh, I'm learning to cook," says Buck. And he is, sort of, if observing Cap and taking notes is actually learning. "I've picked up several skills but none of them are, like, hobbies."

"Oh?" Tommy for his part sounds interested. "What kind of skills?"

Is that a chance? Buck adjusts his position so that his arm is pressing against Tommy's. "Bartending, surfing, construction, horse-riding..."

"Am I speaking to a cowboy then?" Tommy asks.

"Well, if you want, I could show you how well I ride," Buck says boldly. It's a terrible line, but sometimes terrible lines delivered with full confidence can be charming. At least that's what some people have told him.

Eddie has large, beautiful eyes, so when he rolls them in disbelief, it's really obvious that he's doing so. "You might as well show up in chaps over a thong, Buckley."

"Shut up, Diaz," Buck retorts, his cheeks flaming, keeping his gaze on Tommy.

It's Tommy's turn to chuckle. "Okay, so are you two boyfriends doing some kinda roleplay or is this some weird competition?"

"We're not dating-" "He's not my boyfriend-"

Tommy holds up a hand. "Well, in that case I'm very flattered. You both are absolutely gorgeous men and, uh, I'm not sure what you're doing with me."

"Easy," says Eddie. He runs a finger along Tommy's forearm. "I wanna dance with you for a bit, get all hot and sweaty and comfortable with each other, get your number, and maybe we go to my place for the night."

"Please, you can't bring him to your home." Buck slides an arm around Tommy's waist and tugs. To his surprise, he ends up pulling himself closer to Tommy, not the other way round. "Your son is probably still up playing video games."

"You have a son?" Tommy asks.

Eddie glares at Buck. "Yes, and he's with his cousins tonight. So my house is empty."

It's Buck's turn to roll his eyes. "For tonight."

Tommy holds up both hands this time, now grinning. "Okay! It really does my ego good to be fought over, but uh, I'm not really looking to go home with either of you. Yet. It's only my second time out here, so, um." His demeanor turns a little shy. "If you guys wanna dance? I mean, I'm open to it, and if you decide after seeing my dancing that I'm not that big a catch, it's fine too."

Buck tightens his hold on Tommy's waist. "You are definitely a catch. Any chance I can snag your number now? So I can call without this guy trying to horn in."

"You're the one trying to upstage me," Eddie argues.

"Boys! Boys, relax. You'll both get my number. Then can we dance? I'm really not used to being the center of attention and, uh, there are lots of eyes this way." Tommy licks his lips, and Buck's gaze immediately locks onto the wet sheen of Tommy's lower lip. He glances away to find Eddie staring hungrily and shamelessly af Tommy's mouth.

Tommy takes a napkin, rips it in two and scribbles his number onto both with a pen borrowed from the bartender. Buck all but snatches it and sticks it into his pocket (it's a tight squeeze but he manages). Eddie folds it and tucks it into a back pocket.

Then Tommy saunters onto the dance floor, whirls around and offers both his hands. Eddie and Buck glare at each other, but they do take Tommy's hands and let themselves be led into a dance for all three of them.

(Next morning has them all wake up at Tommy's in a naked tangle of limbs, and Tommy declares himself the winner of their rivalry.)

#buddietommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #eddie diaz

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charlottecutepie · 1 year ago

Text

୨୧ nsfw alphabet (william afton x fem!reader)

author notes: i felt too shy to post something here but I really want to share my writing with you, so I’ll be very glad if you like it <3 ty

cw: p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fear play, knife kink, daddy kink, choking, older man/younger woman, degrading, praising.

minors dni

art by melokoii and imsanlee

A �� Aftercare

William is quite rough during sex, but he gets softer after. He can quickly kiss you on forehead or gently stroke your hair, telling you what a good and obedient girl you were for him.

He can feel detached if he's in a bad mood and doesnt have strength to hide it. In this case, he doesn't show much emotion or interest. Doesn't bother to make sure you're okay.

B — Body part

William pays a lot of attention to your neck, sometimes leaving little hickeys on it. Sometimes passionate kisses. Sometimes worse things, like marks from his hands that squeeze your neck hard enough that you turn blue.

William likes your eyes because they speak much louder than your words.

William likes the fear he sees in them. It's like a drug to him, fueling his desire even more. He gets turned on by the fact that you're afraid and can't push him away. He likes the way you involuntarily flinch when he's too close, the way you catch your breath. It's just another reminder that he has control over you.

This isn't just an expression of fear or despair. It's a reflection of your true feelings for him. You're scared, but at the same time you feel a sick attraction to him.

A delightful mixture of emotions that he considers beautiful — fear.

He likes the way you try to hide your true feelings behind the mask of a brave girl. He knows that deep down you belong to him, your body and soul. And he'll make you really sure of that.

Your eyes are a reflection of your soul, revealing your sick and perverted thoughts and desires. A scared look serves as a reminder of how much power he has over you and how much you need him.

So yes, William loves your eyes. Not because they are beautiful and captivating, but because they show him how much you depend on him. And what are your real feelings.

Neither breasts, nor butt, nor any other part of the body that is considered attractive in a woman. William isn't kind of man who cums in his pants at the sight of bare breasts and nipples.

C — Cum

He prefers to cum inside, first of all, to show his superiority over you. Although you can imagine fairy tales that it's because he wants a baby, that's not really true. Afton already has three offsprings, and he doesn't seem to be taking good care of them.

One day, man leaned closer and whispered in your ear: "Will you let me cum inside, bunny?"

You turned your head to him, but he just grinned when he saw how cock drunk you were, pussy clenching on his shaft. You looked so dumb and all what came out of your parted lips were moans of his name as he thrusted inside of you. But for one second, he saw the fear in your eyes when you realized his his question. The fear of getting pregnant. The fear that he's holding you tight and you won't break free even if you want to. He shuddered. A second later, you felt his seed pouring inside. You immediately gasped in shock.

"Oh, baby," a hoarse whisper behind you, William catching his breath. "Damn, did I cum inside? Sorry, I must have gotten too carried away."

D — Dirty secret

William himself is a big fucking secret that no one would want to solve. No one has a simple idea of what is on this person's mind. Because sane people just can't think of such things.

You were aware that William has strange scars. But it was a big surprise to find out that they covered his entire body, every part: neck, arms, legs, pelvis, back, torso. They seemed painful, born a lot of questions, but they were wildly intriguing. The scars were perfectly symmetrical and fresh.

At some point, you found yourself going crazy, thinking they were attractive. But William turned out to be even more insane when he asked you to stick your nails in them.

William's completely naked body against yours was a surprise. He always left clothes on during sex, whether it was a shirt or trousers, but now hes not wearing anything. He was on top, his silvery eyes boring into yours. You didn't dare turn away, intrigued by what would happen next. William gritted his teeth, how charmed you were by him. This undoubtedly reinforced his narcissistic ego.

William's finger runs over your lower lip, pressing on it to open your mouth a little. William behaves differently, very differently. In any other case, this man would have already ruined you, fucked you hard and rough. But right now there's no hint of it.

"You like them," William says quietly, and grins when he meets your questioning gaze. "my scars."

"They are perfectly symmetrical..." your eyes run over his body.

He doesn't answer, instead he presses his nose against your neck and you feel his smile on your skin. You're confused, you don't know how to react to his touches and actions. How to behave in such a situation. Everything that is happening is new. William doesn't usually behave like that.

"Touch them." Afton suddenly says, looking up at you again.

You don't understand where the situation is heading, but you obey. The pads of your fingers lightly, almost weightlessly touch his scars on his shoulders. William nods for you to continue, and you run your fingers down his back, sensing his scars. William sighs, closing his eyes, his body tense, the veins on his forehead and arms popping out.

"Harder, y/n, harder." William's breathing harder. You can hear his heartbeat quicken. "fuck, do it with your nails, damn it." you shake your head, already scared of what this is all going to lead to.

"William, no, I won't do that!" you reject, but William doesn't care. In his eyes, you're acting like a brat, well, okay. His hands grab you by wrists and he literally forces you to follow his command. Against your will, your nails dig into his scars.

"That's it, that's it, y/n, yes."

"William..." you dive deeper into William's scars, peeling off the barely healed skin. Blood begins to flow down his arm. William's eyes are closed, and the only thing that can be heard is his loud breathing along with hoarse moans.

It's crazy, you don't know if it's a dream or not. It's wrong to hurt a person. Even if himself asked for it. But you can't stop, you keep tearing at his scars with your nails.

William leans closer to you, placing his palm on your cheek. You're afraid to even look at his face, but you don't have a choice. Although William's eyes are looking somewhere through you, his gaze is empty, mentally he's not here. A small wound on his dry lips bursts with a wide smile.

This is crazy, you think. I'm crazy, you tell yourself, because it turns me on. And William's voice, with sighs and groans, sounds more beautiful than ever.

A disgusting metallic smell filled your nostrils. The sheets under you are soaked in William's blood, you continue to roughly pick at his scars, also staining yourself with a dark red liquid. William's body is shaking. Open scars begin to burn. This pain is everywhere, and William feels it far from on a physical level, no. At some higher one.

And the next moment, Afton covers your lips with his own, pressing his already bloody body against you. He groans into your mouth and pushes his tongue inside, running it over your teeth. He kisses you roughly, continuing to rub his body against yours, which causes pleasant stimulation for both of you. You grab his brown hair, pulling his head back. You can taste awful taste of William's blood mixed with your saliva.

The kiss is sloppy, dirty, disgusting and aggressive. Just like William himself.

William is a disgusting and perverted man whose moral principles are far from normal. A very dark thought is wandering in his sick brain, which has been visiting him too often lately, even in his sleep. To share you with his business partner, Henry, fucking Emily. The sight of you trying to take two cocks at once stuck in William's head for a long time.

E — Experience

He has three children, so yes. Even before he got married, he had... one-night stands, but rarely. He usually studied hard, sometimes staying at the university until late at night.

Although you asked him to tell you more about his past relationship, before he met Clara, William refused, with a shadow of a smile. You're walking on very thin ice. It's a secret you shouldn't know yet.

F — Favorite position

His favorite poses involve dominance and control. He likes it when he can fuck you deeply without breaking eye contact. This is usually a classic old missionary.

He also likes it when you wrap your legs around him if he fucks you against wall. This allows him to enter you rougher and much deeper.

As a punishment, its usually poses where you can't see his face. William knows your weak spot, he noticed not so long ago how you always try to keep your eyes on him, peering and studying.

Also doesn't mind bending you over his desk in his own office. And the cherry on top is an unlocked door, so that sex turns into real torture while you try to restrain your moans. Either it's Henry, who can show up, as always, without knocking, or the staff, who can hear the sounds of bodies slapping and your moans, he doesn't care.

G — Goofy

William isnt a piece of ice that always walks around with a stone face. He has a sense of humor, even if you don't understand it. His humor is witty, dry, sometimes even rude, sarcastic, gloomy, caustic. He can make fun of your behavior in bed, of your inexperience, of things you don't know.

H — Hair

William is well-groomed, he shaves, not everything, but keeps clean. Being a perfectionist isnt easy, but he takes care of himself down there too. He expects the same from you.

I — Intimacy

William may be quite romantic in the early stages of a relationship. Gifts, romantic dates and compliments. All of this to create a feeling of affection.

But he's head and shoulders above such simple and tedious things, in his eyes it's all pretty boring.

William can be gentle and caring if necessary. And here, as in many other things, he hides his true self, his sick and animal sadistic nature.

William is a man with three children. Being a single father isn't easy, but he managed to learn how to wake up before sunrise and cook lunch boxes for them to school. William paid more attention to Elizabeth. All the drawings of his daughter were pasted on the walls of the Afton house. There were always about ten packages of ice cream of different flavors in the fridge, and girl's closet was bursting with a lot of dresses.

William paid a lot of attention to you, too. Whenever children were visiting Henry, William invited you to a romantic dinner at home. His culinary skills were amazing, all his dishes were delicious in appearance and taste.

The way his long fingers squeeze a lemon, the juice of which covers the phalanges, and then drips onto the meat. Your cheeks turn pink, you can't contain the association this sight causes. But it's just William, who does the usual household chores. Such thoughts shouldn't enter your head.

"Do you like the way I cook? I guess i pay a lot of attention to details, don't you think?"

The way his hands are covered in animal blood up to the wrist when he cuts up meat. You shouldn't fucking find it sexy. It's just fucking William, who's just cooking. You need to cool down.

His hand holding a butcher knife evokes another wave of memories. How he held a knife to your neck while ruining your pussy. You... you shouldn't like these kind of things…

It's first signs that you're drowning in this shit, first alarm bells that you're going crazy. And William is more than happy to see what he's turning you into.

He has one of his favorite things in his house — a vinyl record player from the UK, a family treasure inherited from his dead grandfather. It often plays old songs from the 40s and 50s. William is beckoning you with his finger. You feel pretty awkward not knowing anything about the hits of these years and dances thanks to big age difference with William. And when he asks you to dance a little to these songs, you act a little awkward, stepping on his oxfords.

William chuckles, watching your clumsy movements. He puts his arm around your waist, guiding your steps to the beat of the music. His fingers intertwine with yours, and you slowly spin around the room. His hand slides down your back, pressing against your curves.

William always prefers the old-fashioned style of clothing, he always wore white socks with black shoes, brown or black trousers, shirts, vests, sometimes suspenders. He looked damn handsome, perfectly matching the old hits that were sounding on the old record player.

J — Jack off

Only if he really needs to and you're not around. William rarely masturbates, he doesn't have time for this, always busy with paperwork, repairing animatronics and settling conflicts at work. But if you aren't there to calm his arousal, then his hand reaches for the zipper of his pants. Then William takes polaroid photos of you out of his desk. Or maybe of someone else

K — Kink

Dirty talk + humiliation: William has a sharp tongue and it plays a terrible role in sex. He doesn't mind praising you, knowing that you melt when he call you a good girl, but he loves to humiliate you. In all ways. Makes you rub on his expensive oxfords, covering them with your slick. He looks down at you, literally spitting out "Dirty whore."

Or when he pushes inside of you, takes you by the hair and whispers into your lips: "Is that how you like to be fucked, like little stupid whore? I didn't even prepare you but your cunt sucking my cock in so deep. A pathetic little fuck toy. Do you know what i think about when I fuck you? No? About how i slit your throat and break your little bones. Oh, what was that? Are you fucking moaning? Whore, you're even worse than me." There's a distinct mix of disgust in his voice.

Asphyxia/choking: The thought that you are literally in his hands and he can strangle you excites him. He completely controls your life, right up to your very last breath. You think it's just such a fetish, because he likes rough sex. But William looks at it from a different angle. When his hands squeeze you so hard, far from sexually, but like a predator, like a killer, not giving you a breath of air, and your eyes are already rolling back as connection with the world is lost, when his face becomes blurred. That's what William thinks is sexy — the fact that he controls your fate, whether you die or not, depends on him.

Bloodplay: William likes the look of blood, that red disgusting liquid. He hates mess, but whenever the floor of a pizzeria gets dirty with someone's blood, the remains of a brain or even some organs, he is overjoyed. It's probably the only mess he doesn't hate to clean up.

Whenever his hands are covered in blood, Afton without doubt will touch you. He will share this blood with you, leaving it on your clothes or body. William can be so disgusting that he uses a blood liquid as a lube. It's usually your blood, rarely his.

Knife play: William's murder weapon was and always will be a knife. No matter how good others are, the knife will always be special to him. After all, it allows him to approach the victim physically, to see their face distorted by pain. To look into their pitiful eyes, to peer into that very last look when life leaves their body.

Afton loves using a knife when he takes not only someone's life, but also your clothes, especially underwear. He quickly cuts your bra and panties if he needs quick access to your body. Before you can even blink, he's already running the blade over your ribs, stomach, down to your pubic. At this point, fear already appears. William is full of surprises and you will never be able to predict his next move. This creates a sense of power and control. The way a knife can cut through your flesh or clothes, the way a knife creates a sense of vulnerability in you, allowing William to maintain superiority.

If you've been good, he'll put the knife away, beside your underwear or what's left of it.

But if you've been a bad girl, William will definitely hurt you, not deadly, but a cut or scar will remain, on the inside of your thigh or under your breasts, wherever he pleases. This is your punishment, one of his favorites.

If he's in a bad mood or fucking you roughly, he can press the blade against your neck, right against the carotid artery. "Don't squirm or my hand will shake and I might accidentally kill you. You don't want that to happen, right?"

Daddy kink: William never thought about it. He discovered this kink some time ago, when you were so blissful from his cock that you accidentally moaned "daddy!", which immediately turned your cheeks and even your ears red. You immediately shut your mouth, looking ashamed, and hid your face on his shoulder. The level of embarrassment was too great.

"What was that?" William stopped thrusting, which made you almost whine. He pulled back a little to get a good look at your flushed face. "What did you call me? Repeat." because of your shyness, you were speechless. How could you blurt that out? He must have gotten angry. "I won't continue until i hear that word from you again, dear." His fingers lift your chin, forcing you to look at him.

Daddy kink suggests that he takes the role of a dominant and caring figure during sex. It includes William calling you "babygirl" or "princess" and saying how proud he is of you. He likes to control the situation and also show care, even if it is fake.

L — Location

Wherever he wants.

William's sex drive is far from low, he's already fucked you enough in the bedroom, living room and shower, so he's moved on to the next level.

His office, the basement (did it always smell so horrible here?), his car, the park (it was supposed to be just a cute date). And his most favourite is Henry's desk.

M — Motivation

When William plays psychologist with you. When he listens to you pouring out your soul to him and telling him about your problems. Whether it's the little things or something worse: problems with parents or self-esteem.

William enjoys seeing your shoulders droop, your voice tremble and your eyes turn red from crying. At such moments, William opens his arms to you, pressing your face swollen from crying to his chest. His hands are running through strands of your hair as he soothingly rocks you from side to side, sweetly whispering: "My girl, cry, cry as loudly as you can. I'm here." You weaken in his arms, immediately turning into a small child who needs only support and words of comfort.

William knows this and he has no problem being a shoulder to cry on. In his eyes, you are vulnerable, weak and fragile, practically begging him to destroy you, not only physically. Break your psyche, destroy your idea of what a healthy relationship is, make you fall in love with him completely. And he's damn good at it.

N — No

William doesn't like the idea of you dominating him. It just doesn't excite him. Most likely, he will let you try, but only for the first ten minutes, then he'll push you away and pin you against wall or bed. "You done? Now it's time for daddy to show you where you belong."

O — Oral

William is a selfish man, but that doesn't mean he won't please you. Not only his cock, but also his tongue make you arch and moan. Afton knows how to touch a woman, and he is very well versed in female anatomy. He slowly circles your clit with his tongue, while his two fingers are already inside your pussy, moving at a smooth pace.

Then he pulls away, his chin wet with your juices. His fingers are still thrusting. You lift your hips, clutching the sheets.

"Naughty girl, did you think i'd let you cum?"

And while you are trying your best not to reach orgasm, William first gently kisses your clit, and then begins to suck on it, making your toes curl.

William likes it when you give him a blowjob, there's something special about the way you look at him, trying to take all his length in your mouth, but he doesn't always show it. He can be quite restrained and detached, focusing on his own pleasure rather than on your condition.

Sometimes he loses control if you stimulate him not only with your tongue, but also with your hands, caressing his heavy balls. He catches his breath as you push his cock deeper into your throat, his fingers grabbing your hair, pulling you roughly to guide you. His hips involuntarily jerk forward, setting a fast rhythm.

P — Pace

Depends on his mood.

William knows perfectly how to move in a way that will bring you to ecstasy, make you moan and cum in seconds. However, he doesn't always keep the perfect pace. Sometimes he behaves like an asshole, roughly fucking you, moving jerkily, no stimulating you and no allowing you to cum after. And it really hurts, it feels like you've been stabbed right in the most sensitive part of your body. William usually uses this pace in punishments.

In general, his pace is rough and assertive, which reflects his aggressive nature not only in sex.

But there is another side of fucking with him, when your whole body is pierced with an electric current, adding colors to pleasure. The combination of this creates a beautiful picture of agony and dizzying orgasm.

William rarely moves slowly and gently, only at the beginning of your relationship, when he still didn't want to reveal his true side.

Q — Quickie

He's not really a fan of quickies. William likes to do everything slowly, enjoying the moment. To slowly chew the pieces. But there are some circumstances and situations that just force him to fuck you right here and now.

High on adrenaline, sweat broke out on his forehead as his pupils dilated. William throws the bloody knife on the floor, right next to the dead body. The impulses of the sick arousal send signals directly to his twisted brain. William lifts Spring Bonnie's head, revealing his face, a wry insane smile on his lips.

A dead child can wait. William's hands wrap around your throat, forcibly pinning you against the wall. You don't even have a chance to take your last breath, all you can do is grab his wrist, face is distorted with fear. William is more dangerous than ever now. He's already taller than you and now he's wearing an animatronic costume, which has only made him even taller, bigger, scarier. The blood on his hands and the remains of human organs on Spring Bonnie's fur. You're terrified.

"No, I'm not going to kill you. Something much-much worse." he says, as his hands begin to explore your body.

It also happens when William is sitting in his office, busy with work and you're on his lap. You can do what you want, but the clear rule is not to disturb him. And you're trying, really trying to be good girl, but you're fucking sitting on his lap. It turns you on. And you start moving, slowly and carefully fidgeting so Afton wouldn't notice. But you're getting awfully wet and you're not good at hiding your sighs.

"What are you doing, y/n?" he notices your movements. "What a fucking pervert, can't even sit still for ten fucking minutes?"

"I'm sorry," you sob, making a guilty face. "i'm sorry, I just…"

"Just a whore who can't sit still for a minute without my cock inside?" he throws the pen away and then grabs your hips, pushing you onto the table, right on top of his blueprints. "look at you, all soaking just from sitting on my lap." he hisses as his hands work on his belt.

And you're not sure how he's going to use that belt: tie your hands or spank you.

R — Risk

Having sex in his office with the door open is already a damn risk for you. But not for William Afton.

"Stupid lamb," he thinks, seeing how scared you are every time Henry's voice is heard outside the door.

William will put you in more frightening and risky situations than this. It's a dust compared to what he has planned for you.

Afton is always open to trying new things, especially in sex. Usually the offers come from him, not from you. Your brain just doesn't work in that way, yet. William often encourages you to experiment, enjoying your nervousness and inexperience.

This person prefers to risk your health by not using condoms, instead putting you on oral contraceptives.

S — Stamina

He has a lot of stamina, which was useful not only in chasing that boy who tried in vain to escape, but also in sex. Usually William lasts about 20 minutes.

There will be as many rounds as William wants. And, of course you, being his obedient girl, will accept them.

T — Toys

William doesn't use them very often, but he does have some.

Blindfold, handcuffs and vibrator. These three things can be used on you simultaneously or separately. It all depends on what kind of mood he is in.

If he blindfolds you, then he comments his every move. He runs his hands over your breasts, at first just gently touching, squeezing a little, making your nipples harden. And then he pulls them, causing pain, watching your skin turn red.

If he handcuffs you, it's either because you asked him to try or because it's your punishment. Anyway, eventually your hands are handcuffed tightly and painfully behind your back while you kneel in front of him with his cock in your mouth. The view is amazing, William thinks, moving his hips and going deeper, making you wanna vomit. And the thing is, you can't even tap on his leg to tell him to slow down. But that's the point of these handcuffs, that they immobilize you.

"Why all those tears?" he smirks. "didn't you ask for it yourself?"

If William uses a vibrator on you, he holds your hips, pressing the vibrating toy directly against your clit. You're crying not only from pleasure, but also from the growing pain of overstimulation, since you have already cum twice.

U — Unfair

William is an unfair man, in everything. And when it comes to sex, he's doubly unfair. He doesn't know which he likes more: to mock morally or physically, so he chooses both.

He spends eternity with you, stretching you to take his cock, making you so wet that three of his fingers easily enter you. And at the end... a sudden call to work. And the worst part is, he leaves a ghostly kiss on your lips with a whisper: "don't play with yourself while I'm gone, honey. You don't want to be punished, do you?"

William brings you to the meetings that his old friend Henry holds at the end of the work week to see how many dollars they earned. Henry likes to bring his favorite beer, snacks, and he's usually the only one who talks a lot.

You are sitting at the table, discussing something and eating, when suddenly you feel William's hand creeping under your skirt.

And then he pushes your panties to the side, his long fingers touching your clit, what makes you flinch slightly.

"Y/n, is everything okay?" Henry asks.

Meanwhile, you feel William's damn fingers spreading your wet folds, and he inserts one finger. You're choking on your food.

"Yes," Henry needs to be distracted urgently. "c-can you open the window? It's so stuffy in here."

Henry narrows eyes, but gets up from the table and walks over to the window. William starts to run his finger faster over your clit, and you make a moan, which you quickly hide with a cough.

V–Volume

Loud moans from him are rare. William takes deep breaths that ends in growls. Sometimes he makes little moans, murmuring how tight your cunt feels.

If he degrades you, he will mock you by imitating your whines and moans.

William's voice is attractive, and the british accent makes it even better.

The way he pronounces the letter "r" and stretches words, goosebumps run down your spine. When he whispers praises as "my good girl" or "my little rabbit." Or when he growls while fucking you, its both scary and exciting. His voice is enveloping.

His british accent is like velvet, soft and sophisticated. When he speaks, it seems that every word is covered with honey, slowly dripping from his tongue. It's like he's casting a spell on you, and you're succumbing to his charm.

W — Wildcard

Chica wasnt working properly. William needed to see what was wrong with her beak, but he needed someone to hold tools and napkins for him. This job won't take long, he promised you. But you've been here for hours. Turns out that something was wrong with the robot's voice box, Chica couldn't pronounce her lines correctly.

He explained something to you about robotics and how all these mechanics work, but every word he said passed you by. You couldn't concentrate. Although his request was quite simple, it was a real torture for you. The air in the room became heavier and thicker, you felt the warmth spreading throughout your body, passing through all organs and sinking to the bottom of your belly. You didn't know why. Or didn't want to know.

William was half-naked. His white shirt and purple vest were hanging on a chair. You're used to seeing a man like this, he often took off his outer clothes so as not to stain them. After all, work with animatronics has always been very very dirty.

You saw the proves of these words on William's fingers. It's always those damn fingers, you think. William's are long, thin and insanely beautiful. They're calloused, with small wounds. And now they were even more beautiful, stained with animatronic oil.

You tried to focus on something else, but William wiped his hand on his pants, leaving a dark oil stain on them. It only made everything worse. You urgently needed a fresh breath of air, not only because of this sight, but also because of the terrible smell that quickly spread as William began to pick at Chica's beak with a screwdriver.

"What is that smell?" you asked, wrinkling your nose.

"Chica has leftover pizza in her mouth and beak, probably expired. The smell is terrible, i agree." William muttered back. How did pizza ended up there...?

The smell was almost unbearable and your nostrils burned from irritation.

Expired pizza doesn't smell like that.

You turned your head to the yellow animatronic and leaned a little closer, getting under William's arm. Chica looked a little scary without a beak, her mouth turned into a dark hole with a lot of wires sticking out of it. The smell intensified, and you winced again, trying not to breathe through your nose. How could William even breathe so normally? You began to look closely at Chica's face, her design and a cute bib covered with a few drops of blood. Wait, what?

"Why is there blood on it?" you asked again, not taking your eyes off the animatronic.

"One boy got hurt. You know, it happens, the movements of animatronics are not always smooth. He must have tried to hit her." there's a slight pause, and he grins. "Children can be cruel."

You narrowed your eyes as you considered Afton's words. Before you reached the logical conclusion in your mind, William's voice sounded right in your ear, which made you flinch.

"Hand me the soldering iron." he asked, and you nodded, handing him the instrument. When his dirty fingers touched yours, you tensed up.

"This smell... " you couldn't ignore the strange topic. "it doesn't smell like an expired pizza at all."

"Did you know that curiosity killed the cat?" it sounded rather threatening. William stopped picking at robot's beak, making a serious face. You instantly froze, regretting the question you asked. "Haha, what happened?" he laughed. "That's just a warning for the future."

You didn't know what to say. You bit the inside of your cheek in worry, sighing. Although the smell was all over the place.

"Now my turn to ask." he put Chica's beak on the floor along with the tools, his hands reached for a napkin, wiping away the dirt. You were waiting for a question, worried. William was dangerously close to you, the terrible stench from Chica mixed with the smell of his cigarettes. Disgusting, but intriguing. "Do you like me?"

"No." you answer categorically. He looks at you in fake surprise, knowing full well that you're lying. "I mean, yes, a little bit, but-"

He rubbed between his eyebrows, smearing oil there as well. "Actually, i asked to listen to your stupid excuses once again." he paused before grinning. Your flushed face looked ridiculous, but it was pretty cute. "do you really think I don't notice the way you look at me? You think i dont know you're checking me out?"

Your stomach just did a somersault. Your throat got dry. But the last question fucked everything up.

"Do you think I don't know that you touched yourself in the toilet of my pizzeria?" William asked tartly, speaking the question emphatically loudly. You felt sick.

"How did you...?" you stammered, not even denying his words, you were so shocked.

"Cameras, Y/n. You're lucky I saw and not Henry." William continued to mock, slowly crawling up to you. His hand was on your leg. You couldn't take your eyes off his hands, now the oil has stained your clothes too. A chill ran down your spine, you lost all thoughts in a second. Even the disgusting smell seemed to have disappeared.

You automatically moved back and immediately squeaked softly in pain when you hit the back of your head against the wall. William's lips parted in a crooked grin.

"Stop acting like that." he commanded as if to a dog. William moved closer, getting between your legs. He was crawling towards you like a predator to a frightened prey, ready to attack and sink his fangs into its throat.

The dirty oil from his fingers burned your skin. His gaze stared into you, and the oil on his fingers left a stain on your shirt. You couldn't fight it anymore, your body succumbed to his touch, his hands slid over your hips.

"Come on, honey, take the initiative. Kiss me. You wanted this so badly, why don't you take the chance if I'm right in front of you?" you remained motionless, your body tensed. It was unclear if this was another mockery.

His words hung in the air, remaining as a tempting offer. You couldn't hold back the blush that spread across your cheeks, your pulse quickened and your heart seemed to jump out of your chest.

Your lips touched his in a feather-light kiss. William let out a malicious laugh into your mouth, his palms cupped your face, forcibly pulling you closer, now staining your cheeks with oil. His tongue ran teasingly over your lips before sliding inside, brazenly exploring every corner of your mouth. You gave yourself to him completely, wrapping your arms around his neck. William pulled away, your eyes met as you both needed to catch breath.

Before you could say anything, his hands began to unbutton your shirt, exposing your bra underneath. William's fingers traced the contours of your nipples through the fabric, making them harden. William smiled slyly, leaning in for another kiss before whispering, "good girl." He grinned when he heard you moan.

His hands quickly got to your pants and he pulled them down to your knees.

William fucked your mouth with aggressive kisses, not allowing you to pull away.

"Little pervert. Fucked herself with her fingers in the toilet of a children's fucking diner." William growled. "You couldn't even cum. Your little fingers aren't enough to satisfy your cunt, are they?"

You closed your eyes, nodding obediently. Again... again these mocking that make you want to howl plaintively.

You were humiliated by agreeing with every word he said. It was arousing as hell, your needy eyes screamed: "fuck me, right now and right here." Everything in your body burned and ached, begging him for more.

"Buddy, are you done with Chica?" Henry's voice rang out in the hallway of the pizzeria. William pulled back, his lips curling. Your face is pale from the fear of being caught. You immediately began buttoning your shirt with shaking hands.

"We'll continue this a little later, honey." William cooed, looking at your neck contentedly.

X – X-ray

18-19 cm.

Y — Yearning

You turned out to be his little stress reliever. And stress is a very common in William's life, being a single father and a workaholic, he's always busy at work, projecting future animatronics, designing and much more.

But is that all he's doing?

William is often tired at work, under intense stress because of the eternally screaming children and their moms. Also, Henry is always running around the place, either Charlotte is lost or something else. A lot of paperwork is also tiring. In this case, stressed William is more gentle and tender with you, allowing you to sit on his lap while you whimper and rub against him, trying to achieve orgasm. "Good girl. Helping daddy relieve stress after a hard day, that's right. I'm too tired to fuck you properly." he kisses you on the neck and then on the cheek. “Can you cum without my cock? Do it, show daddy that you're a big girl.”

Z — Zzz...

William is a light sleeper, he can wake up from any movement or rustle. If the sex took place in the bedroom, he will only be happy to rest after. Sometimes all William craves is just silence. And you're indeed silent, lying next to him, trying to catch your breat, because you're too tired to talk, even move. After all, sex with him is usually intense and exhausting.

Sometimes William gets so tired after spending the whole day fixing animatronics that he falls asleep first. It gives you an amazing opportunity to glance at him better, to look at his features without his always mocks and teasings about it.

#william afton #fnaf william afton #steve raglan x reader #william afton x reader #dilf william #william afton smut #fnaf smut #steve raglan smut #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf fanfic

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zero-and-crew · 4 months ago

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Anti!AU :D

So! At least 70 people voted yes on this poll we posted here ! Which means there's a few people who decided they're interested in hearing about our AU idea! Information under the cut!

(Adult) Anti!Irep Reference image!

This was a collab piece with @bubbleberryuniverse ! It did the line art :3 it also has its own au, Petrified!Peri ! You should check that out!!!

Content warnings for kidnapping !

The AU starts during the events of Fairly Oddbaby, when Anti-Cosmo manages to get his hands on Peri— and successfully take him to a second location. (The location is unknown to anyone but AC! And Wanda, Cosmo and Timmy— along with pretty much every fairy in fairy world) search EVERYWHERE they can think of for poor little Peri.

Anti-Wanda is kept there too, for a short time. That way she can't accidentally foil his plans. And, she gets to help take care of the cute little bouncing ball of a baby.

Anti-Cosmo keeps him there to keep him hidden, he doesn't start to drain the babies magic like he does in the original episode— his plans are much more long term. His plans are to raise Peri, who is still called Poof at this time in the AU, to use his magic for evil. (Side note, I'm not thinking AC would torture Peri! I imagine he'd be like an emotionally distant dad or teacher at worst, if that makes sense?)

Peri, still a baby, is slowly turning evil. It's how he's being raised, after all. His mind is being filled with evil thoughts, ideas and beliefs. There's still a piece of him that's nice... deep down.. Somewhere. But he's losing more of it as the days go by. He's never known anything other than this life with AC, and occasionally getting visits from AW.

The specifics of this aren't quite figured out yet, but, after several invasions from the fairies searching for Peri, they slowly start to lose hope. Some probably thinking the fairy baby was never born, some might think he died. Whatever it is, the searching slowly stops.

Then, suddenly, a square anti-fairy baby named Foop is born.

But no one notices. No one cares.

Except his parents, of course!

Both of them are excited to have their own son— just as they are in the original! Anti-Wanda might be a bit of an idiot, and Anti-Cosmo may be emotionally lacking as a father, but they are happy to have him! Honestly! Anti-Cosmo even takes him to meet Peri! But... his son doesn't seem too excited about what he's doing. Maybe with time, he'll grow to enjoy helping out! Right?

Irep doesn't talk about those days, ever. The only three people who truly know what went down are Anti-Cosmo, Peri, and Irep.

Well.. One day, Irep had enough. He was tired of being used to help train his counterpart— it hurt. It hurt him in many ways. But with his limited knowledge of the world, it took him a while. Eventually, he found some fairies who might be willing to help an anti-fairy.

EDIT: We have more for this! We just have to draw up Peri's ref, and wanted to start small. If it gets enough engagement, we might make a sideblog for the au specifically.

#peri #irep #a new wish #the fairly oddparents #fairly oddparents #fairly odd parents a new wish #alternate universe #anti-cosmo #anti cosmo #long post

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kirain · 11 months ago

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what do you think of this post about Gale? I saw it today and idk how to feel about it. h t t p s : // www. tumblr. com / galahadwilder / 741497332636467200

I couldn't disagree with it more, to be honest.

First of all, and I can't stress this enough, Mystra doesn't care about her followers. She cares about the state of the Weave and nothing more. If her followers don't worship her, if they're not useful to her, if they don't serve her purpose, they mean nothing to her. After she abandoned Gale, she had no interest in him until she realised she could use him to stop the Absolute—and she only wanted to stop the Absolute because it threatened the Weave. In general, Mystra doesn't care what people use magic for either, be it the most admirable heroics or the most depraved insanity you can imagine.

Case and point: Lorroakan. He is an arrogant wizard, far worse than Gale could ever hope to be, who uses magic for pure evil. When he beat Rolan, he undoubtedly used magic to do it. Do you think Mystra cared? Nope. You can help that nutjob achieve his goals, kill a demigod, turn him immortal, and give him free reign to abuse magic any way he wishes, but do you think Mystra cares? Nope. She doesn't. She doesn't care about people unless they benefit her. In fact, all three iterations of Mystra have a vast history of grooming, flat out 🍇, and the forced impregnation of unsuspecting mortal women. Despite being neutral good, Mystra is and has always been extremely vain, selfish, jealous, and problematic.

With that in mind, I'd like to break this post down piece by piece. Also, please be aware that when I use the word "you", I don't mean you specifically, anon. I'm more so addressing anyone who might be reading.

PS: Please no one harass this person's post. Their opinion is their own, and it's very respectful. At the end of the day, we're just talking about a video game.

Mystra didn't tell Gale not to juggle the torches. She didn't even tell him it was a torch. She let him go on believing it was a part of her missing Weave. Had she told him the truth, he would've stayed away. That's why he's so shocked in Act 3, when she finally reveals it's the Karsite Weave. He had no idea, and she likely never intended to tell him. She didn't before he went off in search of it, and she didn't the entire time he was locked away in his tower, scared and suffering. I can't for the life of me figure out why she wouldn't warn him, but I can only assume it's because she expected absolute obedience, or because she was getting bored of him and wanted him to mess up.

Whatever her reasons, she didn't tell Gale to leave the orb alone because he was "worthy" already. He clearly wasn't in her eyes, because he wanted her to see him as an equal. He wanted her to share her knowledge with him, which is perfectly fair in a healthy relationship. If you're dating a god and they treat you like a worshipper—that's all you are to them. A worshipper. A plaything. You're beneath them. You're unworthy. She told Gale to leave the orb alone because she wanted him to be complacent. She wanted to keep him in servitude. That's what she wants from all of her followers, though it's even worse when it's her lover.

In almost every story where a mortal loves a god, the mortal is either ascended into the heavens or the god gives up their divinity. And this isn't even specific to gods, but also vampires, werewolves, elves, and so on. Arwen, for example, gives up her immortality to be with Aragorn. Bella becomes a vampire to be with Edward. Hercules gives up his divinity to be with Meg. Elisa Esposito becomes aquatic to be with the creature. These are common tropes because it makes the couples equal.

Mystra contradicts herself by saying Gale was "always worthy", because her actions don't reflect it. He was a worthy distraction from her job, sure, but not worthy enough for her to treat him like an equal. So in order to prove it to her, to prove his love and devotion, he went after the one thing he knew she wanted—her missing Weave. Yes, she told him not to, and I agree he should've respected that, but this is on par with a woman telling her husband not to buy a bracelet she really, really wants because it's too expensive. If your husband worked extra hours and saved up enough to buy you that bracelet, would you divorce him?

Gale was completely unaware of the danger. He basically thought he was getting Mystra a bracelet. Had she taken the time to explain it to him, the whole catastrophe could have been avoided. He was just a hopeless romantic who wanted to surprise his girlfriend and prove he belonged at her side. The same girlfriend who very well could have made him her equal and shared her knowledge, but chose not to. Why? Because she's selfish. She didn't want an equal, she wanted a servant. We know this because, if you romance and ascend Gale, he will ascend you alongside him and give you your own domain! Mystra had the power to do this, or at least the ability to slowly ease him into it, but she refused. No matter how much he pleaded and proved his devotion to her, she refused.

Mystra did not save Gale when the orb embedded itself in his chest. He survived only because it fed on his gifts. He says as much, and so does she when you go to see her at the Temple. That's why, when we first meet him, he admits he used to be better at magic. He was once exceedingly powerful, but the orb basically knocked him down to level one. Mystra was perfectly happy to let him scramble to find items to absorb, knowing that he would inevitably run out and erupt. When we give him his third item in Act 1, the orb is becoming quenchless, and he knows his time is nigh. Mystra has nothing to do with satiating the orb until Act 2 and 3, and only because he becomes her wild card.

Gale: Mystra will consider forgiveness?

Elminster: She will consider ... what she considers to be forgiveness.

Even Elminster, her most faithful Chosen, knows her "forgiveness" isn't really forgiveness. It's an ultimatum. Do this for me and be welcomed into my hall, or die and literally go to hell. Why would Mystra make this offer? Well, because why else would Gale agree to kill himself only to end up in the Wall of the Faithless? How would that motivate him? Mystra didn't make this offer out of the kindness of her heart, she made it because she was desperate. Had the opportunity never presented itself, she would've let him die and suffer for all eternity, and possibly take hundreds of innocent people with him in the blast. She. Doesn't. Care. 🤷‍♀️

Now, one could argue Gale was asking for too much, but I'm going to have to call bullshit on that. First of all, Mystra showed him things no mortal has ever seen. It's only fair he'd want to share her world and learn as much as possible. Imagine if the Doctor from Doctor Who picked up some random people and took them on breathtaking adventures, but the audience got mad at them for wanting to see as much as they could. Amy, Clara, Rose, etc.—none of them could live a normal life after meeting him, and they wanted to learn as much about the universe as possible. But everyone loves those characters. They don't get mad. There's even several episodes where the companions call the Doctor out for not treating them as equals, and he admits he's wrong for doing that and adjusts his way of thinking.

I would argue that the only real divide between Mystra and Shar/Vlaakith is that Mystra doesn't inflict physical pain ... most of the time. That's it. Vlaakith and Shar only care about themselves and the effectiveness of their followers, but the exact same applies to Mystra. She is the Weave, and she only cares about the Weave; therefore, she only cares about herself. She had ample opportunity to help Gale or tell him the truth, but she didn't until it was convenient for her. The gods of D&D are basically the Greek Pantheon gods—a bunch of assholes toying with mortals, regardless of their alignment. The odd one is decent, but most are only out for themselves and their rule. Now, I will concur that Mystra is hardly the worst deity (in fact, she's unfortunately one of the better ones), but she's still not great and Gale is her victim.

To get a little controversial, I think the writers made a mistake. I know what they were going for, but I think they lost it along the way. At first, I was ready to stand with everyone and admit he belonged in the quintessential "overreaching wizard full of hubris" category, but upon researching the lore, getting to know Gale better, and doing several different playthroughs, I've come to vehemently disagree. First of all, before 5E (the current D&D edition), becoming a god was the ultimate goal for a lot of players, and that was perfectly acceptable, with many DMs providing celestial paths to make it possible. Moreover, many of the current gods were once human themselves, including Mystra!

Second, it's only hubris if you fail. Gale can ascend. He can succeed. Although it's not the canon outcome I would choose for him, he is right about the crown. He does his research and figures out how to reforge it. And he doesn't seek godhood to be worshipped, he seeks it to either free himself (and all mortals) from Mystra's chains, or for her to acknowledge and love him as an equal. His arrogance stems from insecurity; an insecurity Mystra herself planted and cultivated, and in the end he's not really arrogant atfter all. Does him wanting to be Mystra's equal make him selfish? Well, I suppose that depends on how you answer these questions:

Is your partner equal to you? If you don't think so, why are you leading them on? Why wouldn't you take steps to help them become your equal? Why are you holding them back instead of propping them up? If they show interest in your life, in your world, in the things you can do, why would you keep it to yourself, especially when you have the time and resources to share it?

Just some ambrosia for thought. 😉

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 tav #mystra #all my homies hate mystra

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cripplecharacters · 6 months ago

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Hi! I have three questions. In my story I'd like one of my characters to use a cane, because I never see any representation for younger people who use canes. For context this is in a medieval fantasy setting and it's going to be a comic so it will be visual media.

Question 1

I was thinking about why she might use it, and I thought maybe she could have broken her leg at some point and have chronic pain from that. I looked it up and it looks like broken bones CAN cause chronic pain, and I found a few posts from people saying that they have chronic pain/a limp after breaking their legs.

Does this sound like something that she would/could use a cane for? Would this type of chronic pain be helped by using a cane, or would it not make much of a differnece?

Question 2

At one point in the story her best friend/love interest is being attacked by a creature. Would it be okay for her to use her cane to hit it? She doesn't beat the shit out of it or anything, she just whacks it on the head to get its attention and stop it from attacking her friend.

Idk if this is even a trope but I don't want it to come across as me saying disability aids are dangerous or secretly weapons or something. She doesn't have one of those sword canes, it's just a normal cane.

Question 3

I don't know a lot about canes but I'm planning on her cane being a hand-carved, wooden, offset handle cane.

Will that type of cane be good for supporting her body as she walks around? She's pretty petite and maybe around like 5'2" or something, so she doesn't have a lot of weight to support.

I found a guide online that stated how to size her cane correctly, but do I need to add a few extra inches to compensate for the cane sinking into the ground when she walks around outdoors or will that not make much of a difference?

She lives in a rural village and there are no paved roads, just dirt. Should I maybe put a metal cap on the bottom of the cane so that it doesn't get worn down on dirt/rocks/etc?

Hi!

A cane would make sense for that! Especially if her leg doesn't offer enough stability or can't bear all the weight (though if it can't bear it at all, crutches would be better).

I don't see a problem with whacking something with a cane, though it's definitely a desperate measure (I mean, a walking cane is short as hell). I can't imagine that it would be a particularly good weapon unless she manages to knock it out first try lol. But for diverting attention it would be fine.

The type of cane sounds good to me! Though keep in mind that if she's petite and doesn't have a lot of strength, it being wooden could be eventually tiring for her in the long run. Most modern canes are much lighter for this reason.

As for the height measuring, unless she walks in mud or something equally swamp-esque it wouldn't really make a difference. The general rule is that a cane should reach the crease at the wrist, but in my experience it doesn't have to be exact. More or less around that height should be alright.

A metal cap is an interesting solution! Canes do very much wear out at the tip, and we have to change out the tips once in a while, especially if we happen to be going through harsher terrain a lot. Because her cane is wooden and non-modern, I think the best idea would be to always have the tip covered (these things wear off from any surface in existence, some are just faster than others) and change them occasionally when they're no longer usable (e.g. after walking through a rocky terrain for a long time).

I appreciate the amount of thought you put into the character! I hope this is helpful:-)

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #anonymous #canes

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crownedcloud · 6 months ago

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I have a lot of thoughts on these three

I like to imagine them as a love triange starting out, especially since Laios clearly has strong feelings for Toshiro, and Kabru's transition from obsession to friendship with Laios reads very romantic to me. I believe that, post canon, Toshiro will eventually start to simmer out of his infatuation with Falin, and once he does I think he could potentially find some of the same qualities he liked in Falin, in Kabru; they both are great listeners who are acute to subtleties, Kabru has passion for people, which nicely parallels Falin's passion for life, and Kabru is obviously very attractive.

I also think there's great potential for them to realize feelings for each other, and even develop prior feelings to a true appreciation, since despite Laios thinking Toshiro is very cool and talented, I don't think he had a chance to truly know him. I think he'd find they have more alike than he'd expect, and the vice for Toshiro. Todbiro liked that Falin understood him with little difficulty, but I think Laios would encourage Toshiro to make room for himself, and that he could appreciate his tenderness that he has been guided away from in the past.

Toshiro's somewhat delicate nature, appreciating plants and life outside of fighting and espionage would appeal to Kabru, as it seems that's one of his driving interests in Laios, the lack of active greed and ruthlessness he finds rare among adventurers. I also think Kabru has near always had to fend for himself, outside of Milsiril who (bless her heart) didn't give him a say over her swaddling, and I think like Toshiro's protective nature. I think they could understand each other the way they want to be known, something Laios is capable of in a different degree.

Laios's development of feelings for Kabru is just expansion on his already existing feelings, I think the line between affection and friendship tends to get blurry for Laios once he starts seeing someone in a romantic light, and he just needs the opportunity to clarify these feelings to really understand he loves Kabru.

I'm running out of steam; I want to think Laios is the one who suggests dating each other, as a polycule, but I can't help but see Kabru as the initiator. They're all cute together and they'd help each other grow 👍

These are all just my thoughts, and if you don't agree that's cool, please be nicies

*edit Tumblr uploaded the older version of the picture for some reason 😔

#dungeon meshi #laios touden #toshiro nakamoto #kabru of utaya #labru #laishuro #dinnerbell #i don't like the suggested ships names for them #okonomiyaki is their friend group name and I didn't wanna make it complicated #um but yes<3 #i have a lot more thoughts if anyone is curious #IF THERE ARE TYPOS my phone screen is broken and i wrote this while driving #uh also while I'm here I'm polyam yay

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fandomsfordays21 · 13 days ago

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Unlikely Sans AU friendship idea I CANNOT get out of my head...

So... I've been thinking about these two for a while and I've finally decided to post it on Tumblr.

Hear me out... Fresh and Lust as besties.

Now, I know what you're thinking, "Fresh would be disgusted by Lust or he would avoid him!" or something along those lines and/or another type of excuse as to why the wouldn't get along, HOWEVER! I disagree.

I actually think they could get along despite their differences and that the dynamic could be really interesting. Fresh is overall a chill, family friendly guy, right? We know that he hates swearing (Cause one of his powers is to literally censor it when he's around) and that he hates things like drugs and alcohol, right? But he's also a kinda flirty guy, and canonically has a list of people he has kissed and loves to add to it. I definitely think Fresh would be against dirty talking and stuff like that, but the overall idea of sex wouldn't really bother him. I mean, he wouldn't have any interest in it, but it's just a natural thing some people do. As long as they keep that behind closed doors, he wouldn't care. This is the reason I think him and Lust would get along.

Their relationship would definitely not be good at first, with how incredibly vulgar Lust is and how much he talks about sex, but I think that is actually how they would learn to get along. You see, my version of Lust is an Angel Dust like character. He's used to being seen as nothing more than "The sex fiend" and is probably used to people thinking that's all he is, so he acts like it. Lust is used to being seen as just a pretty face and body, but Fresh literally wouldn't care. Fresh wouldn't be all over him, nor would he be particularly disgusted by Lust, he just would want the guy to stop talking about sex all the time.

I think that, at some point, they would both reach a point of understanding about each other, and Lust would become more comfortable around Fresh. Maybe even comfortable enough to act a bit more like "himself" instead of the front he puts up. Lust would grow to like the nonchalant nature Fresh has, because he knows it's genuine. Fresh isn't pretending to have emotions he doesn't have, Fresh isn't pretending to be nice because he wants to get a discount on Lust's services. Lust wouldn't have to check every food or drink he's given, wouldn't have to analyze the tone of Fresh's voice to see if he's being lied too, because Fresh genuinely has no interest in Lust outside of friendship.

I headcannon that, even though Fresh doesn't really feel or understand any emotions, he will listen to other people vent about theirs, 'cause it'd be unrad of him if he didn't listen to his pals when they needed him to. I also headcannon that Fresh is the type of guy to tell when a person or place has bad vibes and will keeps his friends away from there. He's walking down the street with Lust and a guy is looking predatory? Lust is getting covered with a jacket three sizes too big for him because, "It's windy broski, ya need to learn to cover up." and then Fresh will give the guy a look that you never want to get from him. Lust wants to go to a club and/or bar? Fresh won't go due to the unrad substances inside, but he will be right outside the door waiting for Lust to come out and/or on high alert for any signs of distress from inside. Fresh would be the kind of bodyguard friend who no one realizes is a bodyguard friend because he's so casual about it.

I feel like Fresh would also be really understanding of Lust's hypersexuality, and that Lust can't help how he feels sometimes. Imagine Lust having a really bad Hypersexuality episode, the kind I sometimes have where it gets physically painful and you feel so ashamed about it where you just want to cry, and Fresh just covers him with a blanket and sits next to him so Lust feels safe having someone he trusts nearby so he's not so vulnerable. Lust doesn't have very many of those people, and I think it'd be great for him to have someone he's 100% sure won't take advantage of him.

I have so much more I want to talk about with this that I can't fit into this post since it's already so long, BUT DO YOU SEE THE VISION???

#undertale #undertale au #lust sans #fresh sans #underlust sans #underfresh sans #sans aus #sans au #friendship #i am cringe but i am free #please don't call me crazy you have to get it #ramblings #rambles #sans au rambles

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leviathans-watching · 1 year ago

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Breaking the Ice

includes: diavolo x f!reader (she/her & you/your pronouns used, no physical body description)

wc: 14k | rated t | m.list | crossposted on ao3

warnings: cursing, more raunchy than my normal stuff (implied/fade-to-black sexual content), past raphael x reader

huge huge huge thanks to my three amazing betas for this @jeschalynn, @hyperfixat, & @fickleminder, you all seriously elevated this fic and i'm so grateful to you!!

a/n: i have been (slowly) working on this since NOVEMBER. you can't imagine how good this feels to finally post 😫😫. here's a guide to the boys' positions & numbers if you're interested and also where i go over some of the hockey terminology used within this fic! please remember to reblog/comment/etc., it's really appreciated! also blah blah blah creative liberties and suspension of belief. i'm also not a hockey experts so mistakes should be expected 👍

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“And have more rumors about our relationship spread? I don’t think so. Simeon hates when people think we’re dating, which happened for a bit with the CC Chols. Says it gets in his way when he’s trying to find a date.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you!

∙

Following your childhood best friend across the country after his trade to the Devildom Dogs—one of the most prolific AHL Hockey teams in the business—hadn't been the plan, but you can't say you're not liking it. Especially because the handsome and charming captain of the team, Diavolo, seems to be making it his new season goal to break the ice between you and get to know you better.

“And now,” the announcer’s voice echoes over the arena, egged on by the cheers of the crowd, “we welcome the Devildom Dogs out to the ice!”

The sounds of blades scraping on ice fill the air, and the raucous cheering only grows louder. It should be no different from your old arena, your old team, and yet it is.

Well, except for one thing. Person. As he skates out onto the rink to warm up, Simeon catches your eye, giving you a quick wink that’s barely visible through his helmet. You sigh good-naturedly, and he smiles.

You and Simeon have been friends for as long as you can remember—since birth, if your mothers are telling the truth—and when he’d been traded from the Celestial City Chols all of the way across the country to the Devildom, you hadn’t really seen a reason not to go with him. Your work was completely virtual, and there hadn’t been anything really tying you to the Celestial City after your engagement had been called off. Honestly, though it kind of sucked that Simeon got traded to the biggest rival of the CC Chols, you have high hopes about this new city and team.

A puck slams into the glass just in front of your face. You don’t jump. The boys on the CC Chols had always loved to mess with you and you were long used to things flying at you at what seemed like a million miles per hour. But it wasn’t one of the CC boys who’d sent that puck flying, and as you scan across the ice, you see it was one of the forwards, number one. Simeon had been kind enough to give you the down low on all of his new teammates, and you’d spent a fair amount of time pouring over the roster and memorizing stats, so it’s not hard to put a name to the number. Face. Whatever.

Mammon, starting forward for the season, gives you a smirk then turns away, all flashy footwork and dexterous control. You pause to admire the way his jersey stretches across his back, and then the jersey itself. Damn, he looks good. The jersey looks good—you had designed it after all.

You hadn’t always wanted to be an AHL jersey and logo designer, but through a combination of hard work and dumb luck, you are now the hand behind a myriad of teams’ looks, including the Devildom Dogs and the Celestial City Chols. Not that many people know about the person behind the designs. The average person is typically a lot more invested in the person wearing the jersey, not the one designing it, which is just fine with you. With the amount of money you’re getting, you honestly don’t need recognition.

That paycheck allowed you to purchase the highest level VIP season tickets for the season, managing to snag the seat closest to the home team benches, meaning you’re only a few feet from the team. Simeon had laughed when you’d told him this, but you hadn't cared. Now you can make sure he heard you when you yelled at him for his playing.

As you wait out the warmups, you try to compare this rink with that of your old team. The biggest difference that you could sense was the vibe. Back at the Chols’ rink, the air had been light, filled with more excitement than anything else. But here, it’s different. There’s a bloodthirsty undercurrent running through the crowd, a cutthroat competitiveness that’s completely new to you. The fans are already bothering the opposing team, hurling taunts and insults their way, with the mascot of the Devildom Dogs, an iteration of Cerberus the three-headed dog, whipping the fans into an even crazier frenzy.

And it’s not only the fans that are different; the players are, too. Even within the League, the Dogs have a reputation for playing fast and dirty, masterfully bending the rules without breaking them. You’ve always been impressed by them (not that you’d ever admitted it before, as doing so would have been treason to the Chols), but you’re kind of excited to be able to openly study and praise their skilled playing. Especially since you hope this will give Simeon the team that he needs. It had been clear to you, that he was a cut above the rest in the Chols. Not that that was a bad thing, but now you hope he can be matched, have the room that he needs to stretch his wings and fully use his talent without his team falling behind.

Before you know it, warmups come to an end. The non-starting players file back into the benches and you’re proud to see Simeon remaining on the ice. He’d been traded during the off-season, so it had completely taken you both by surprise to hear he’d be a starter, considering all of the veteran players on the team.

You stand for the national anthem, then finally, finally, the puck is dropped. The team they’re playing against today is one you’re not all that familiar with, and honestly couldn’t care less about, so you focus your attention more on watching Simeon play than you do the game as a whole.

Due to the proximity of your seat to the benches you’re able to hear the chatter of the players, the coach barking orders, and even the signal to change lines. It’s a whole new experience. When you’d go to watch the Chols’ games, you were in the VIP lounge, which, while pretty fancy and awesome, was removed from the ice and the actual grittiness of the game.

Plus, you never got a moment to yourself. All of the other wives and permanent girlfriends had always wanted to chat, and while they were pleasant enough, sometimes you just wanted to lose yourself to the game, yell and scream with the rest of the crowd.

Simeon is on a line with Solomon, who’s a forward, and Leviathan, who’s a left-winger. He’s playing hard and well, proving he deserves to be on this team. You egg him on from your seat, making an effort to have your voice heard above the crowd. The Dogs are playing fairly clean tonight, and you wonder if it’s because it’s opening night.

Or maybe it’s because they don’t need to play dirty. It’s clear they outclass the opposing team in every way, their insane training schedule paying off. The boys are blurs on the ice, and hardly ever on your side of the rink, as they’re pushing hard to keep the puck near the opposing team's goal. At least you’ll be able to see better when they switch sides in the next period.

Simeon returns to the benches and gives you a grin, chugging water. You flutter your fingers in a wave, mouth twisting with a smile. Solomon, following his gaze, locks eyes with you, and you flick a glance between them before turning back to the game, determinedly not looking over. Your eyes are drawn to Diavolo and Lucifer, the defensemen currently on the ice. The other pair you’ve seen tonight, Barbatos and Belphegor, are good, but these two… they’re something else.

They move in perfect formation, seemingly able to anticipate one another’s actions. You remember that Simeon had said they’ve been together since the Q, even were drafted together which is practically unheard of, and now you understand why. They’re menaces of black and red, and it would be a complete shame to separate them. There was even talk of Diavolo moving up to the NHL at one point, but after he became captain he chose to stay down.

You watch as Diavolo steals the puck from under the opposing team’s nose, sending it neatly toward Lucifer, who delivers it right to Asmodeus. He, like the rest of the team, is incredibly talented, but unlike the others, he relies on speed and agility rather than brute force. You’d read somewhere he’d taken a fair amount of figure skating classes to improve his balance and form, and it’s really paid off.

Asmodeus takes the puck all of the way down to the other end of the rink, passing to Mammon, who scores. You’re on your feet with the rest of the arena before you can think, cheering loudly. The boys do a quick celly then get right back to business, switching out with Simeon’s line.

The players on the bench all slap Mammon on the back as he takes his seat, casual as can be.

“You should have sent it to me,” Satan grumbles, barely audible over the din of the crowd and you unashamedly eavesdrop, not even bothering to hide your stare. Around you, the other superfans are still celebrating and their enthusiasm is infectious.

“Whatever,” Mammon shoots back. “I got it in, didn’t I?”

Asmodeus laughs, light and airy. “Barely.”

“Can it, dipshit.” Mammon leans over and smacks him on the shoulder, and you notice he’s taken off his gloves. You smother a chuckle, then return your attention to the ice. The opposing team’s fighting pretty hard, but they’re clearly fighting a futile battle. Any time they manage to get the puck near the Dogs’ goal it’s quickly sent back across the ice, and the few rare times they do manage a shot, it’s easily stopped, mostly by the d-men or the goalie. It almost seems like the Dogs are toying with them, letting them get close to scoring and then removing the chance completely, then repeating the action.

Frustrated, one of the players on the opposing team lashes out, dropping his gloves and rounding on Simeon. He dodges the clumsy blows easily, putting him in his place with a clean uppercut. The ref finally gets between them, taking longer than normal, something you’ve noticed from watching the Devildom Dog’s old games is pretty usual for their arena. They tend to let them go a little longer, which gives the Dogs a better opportunity to beat the shit out of the other players with beautiful brutality. The Chols had been all about good sportsmanship, so fights were a lot less common with them than the average team.

You wish you had been filming, but no doubt there will be videos online depicting the fight thanks to some other fan uploaded within the hour.

Simeon is unscathed, but the other player spits blood across the ice, glowering at him. You let out a long whoop, and he half turns towards you, lips curving up in a small, feral smile. You can already see it—this change is good for him.

They both get a few minutes for roughing, but Simeon looks all too happy to be in the sin bin. You can’t help but snap a few pictures, throwing them on your story. The game resumes with more energy, with both the players and the crowd whipped up into more of a frenzy. The fans want blood, or at least for crushing defeat to be delivered, and it seems like the team’s hellbent on delivering. It’s a fantastic game, wilder and more energizing than you’ve seen in a long time, and you can’t help but be excited for the upcoming rest of the season.

As the game draws nearer to the end, the opposing team pulls their goalie, but quickly puts it back after the Devildom Dogs score yet another goal, increasing the already sizable score gap. When the buzzer finally goes off signaling the end of the game, the away team looks utterly defeated while the Devildom Dogs celebrate. You catch a few curses and middle fingers shared between teams, and again, have to laugh.

You stand and cheer with the rest of the crowd, reveling in the thrill of the win along with the team. Simeon’s in the center of it all, receiving congratulatory slaps and fist-bumps, and you know without a doubt he’s been accepted as one of their own. You’re a bit relieved—he’d been worried about not getting along with the others. Not that it’s necessary at this level of playing, but at his center, Simeon likes being liked and had been worried about how he was being received.

Around you, fans start making their way out of the auditorium, and you follow, knowing Simeon’s going to go out to celebrate with the rest of the team. You feel eyes on you as you leave. You look over and make eye contact with the team captain, Diavolo, who gives you a half genuinely warm, half inquisitive smile. You tilt your head and smile back, slightly teasing, then turn away.

∙

The walk back to your and Simeon’s shared apartment isn’t far, but it is a bit chillier than it is this time of year in Celestial City, so you’re grateful when you’re able to close the door behind you. You send off a quick text to Simeon telling him you’d made it safe, then just pause for a moment, digesting the game. The boys had played great, your jerseys had looked fantastic, and you were pretty sure you’d already caught the attention of some of the players. You’ll get to know them all eventually, or at least that’s what you assume since you’d been so familiar with the CC Chols, so you’re not too worried, but the image of that smile the captain had sent you plays in your head. It’s unusual for fans to be given attention like that, so you wonder if Simeon’s already said something about you.

Shaking yourself, you start your bedtime routine and change into more comfortable clothes. You won’t actually go to sleep for a while, perks of making your own hours and being a night owl, but starting it early never hurts. You also need to stay up for Simeon, as you know he’s going to want to tell you all about the game from his perspective. You’re excited to hear it, as well as excited to hear what hanging with the guys after is like.

Time passes, and with no word from him, you begin to get a little worried. It’s not unheard of for him to come home late. If he were with the Chols, you wouldn’t be worried at all, but he’s in an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar guys, you’ve heard about the hazing horror stories. You uneasily move around the apartment, trying to convince yourself that you’re overreacting. Suddenly your phone rings, that familiar ring-tone carrying through the air, and you hurry to answer it, raising your phone to your ear.

“Simeon?” you ask breathlessly.

“Uh, not Simeon,” an unfamiliar voice says, and you jerk back, checking the caller ID. It is Simeon’s number. “My name is Diavolo, I’m captain of the Devildom Dogs hockey team, the one that Simeon recently joined. I’m not sure what all you know or who you are, but your name is favorited in his contacts, and I think Simeon needs to get picked up. I would drop him off myself,” he adds regretfully, “but I’m a little buzzed and don’t want to get behind the wheel.”

“Totally understandable,” you assure him. “Is Simeon okay? What happened?”

Diavolo sighs. “Solomon and Asmo happened. They’re two other team members and they love welcoming the new team members with open arms. And lots of booze.”

“Are you saying he’s drunk?” you ask, finally catching his drift. “Simeon doesn’t typically drink much.”

“Asmodeus can be very persuasive. And not like, black-out drunk, but definitely feeling it.”

“I see. Well, what bar are you guys at? I can swing by to pick him up now, if you’d like?”

“That would be great,” Diavolo sighs with relief, and his warm tone sends butterflies through your stomach. He gives you the location and you realize it’s only a few blocks from your apartment, easily within walking distance. You’ll walk there, and if needed, call a rideshare back.

“I’ll be there in like, fifteen minutes,” you say, already pulling on your shoes. You look like crap, but honestly, you’ve never been one to care about things like that. If Simeon’s drunk enough that you need to pick him up, you really don’t want to waste time.

“Okay, thank you. And I’m really sorry about all of this,” Diavolo says earnestly. “I’ll be having words with Solomon and Asmo both about this.”

“Don’t be,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. “It’s only natural they’d get rowdy after a win, and I’m sure you have your hands full with everyone else. I totally get it. As long as it’s not a repeating occurrence. I can’t come and get him after every game.”

Diavolo laughs, deep and warm. “Yes ma’am. See you in a few.”

You hurry to the bar, hand wrapped around your pepper spray. Though Celestial City has been pretty safe, you know that the Devildom is less so, but there are enough people still out that you don’t feel too sketched out. When you arrive at the bar, you walk in, scanning the room for the team. They’re easy enough to spot, and you make your way over.

“No more autographs,” someone groans as you approach, and you realize it’s Belphegor, the d-man who plays beside Barbatos.

“I’m not here for that,” you say, and everyone looks over. You only have eyes for Simeon, who’s slumped over in a booth, tapping away on his phone. “Get up,” you demand, poking him in the side.

While he struggles to sit up properly, sluggish from the booze, you lean over to Diavolo.

“Hi,” you say, clearing your throat, “I’m MC. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

“You’re the chick who was at the game,” Mammon crows, pushing himself next to you before Diavolo can reply. “It’s nice to meet ya!”

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you too,” you say, taking him in. He’s tall and muscular, but nowhere as near as broad as Diavolo, who is honestly, a hunk of a man.

“Thank you for coming,” Diavolo says gratefully. “I’ve been giving him water to help him sober up but he’s still tipsy. You got here quickly.”

“Yeah, well, our apartment is only a few blocks from here,” you say with a shrug, pulling Simeon up to his feet.

“You live together?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of honey-blonde hair and Asmodeus as he speaks up. “Are you two married?”

Before you can reply, Simeon laughs, and it seems like he’s starting to sober up a little. “No. Lord, no.” He continues to laugh, shaking his head.

You roll your eyes and clarify, “No, Simeon and I are childhood friends. When he got traded to the Devildom Dogs I decided I was sick of the CC Chols and followed. And it’s a good thing I did,” you say severely, turning your scolding to Simeon, “because look at the state you’re in.”

“Please,” a smile tugs at the edge of his lips, “if you’d been here you’d be way worse off than me and we both know it.”

Well, he’s got you there.

“Hey,” Simeon says, and it’s like a lightbulb has gone off over his head. “I just had the most genius idea. MC, let’s stay here for a bit so you can meet everybody.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” you say doubtfully, and the boys all begin talking at once.

“No, no, sit down!” Diavolo encourages you, and after another moment of hesitation, you sit. Simeon slides back into the booth, scooting further over so you have room, and you make sure to jam him in the side with your elbow ‘accidentally’ as you’re settling. He pinches your side in return, but since you’re in public you can’t retaliate like you would at your apartment, or even back with the CC Chols, who were familiar with your relationship. Starting the night by getting into a hissy slap fight isn’t the image you want to start off with.

“Um, congratulations on the game,” you say. “You all played very well.”

“Of course we did,” Mammon crows, “we’re the fucking Devildom Dogs!”

“Mammon, be polite,” Lucifer, Diavolo’s d-man partner says, and Mammon makes a face. “Thank you very much,” he says, turning to face you directly. “I’m Lucifer, and this is…”

Lucifer introduces everyone around the table for you, and you do yours when they’re finished.

“So, MC, what do you do?” Satan asks.

“I’m a logo designer,” you reply. Simeon rolls his eyes at your vague response but doesn’t spoil your fun. “I run a small design business out of our apartment.”

“You must be pretty good to be able to afford those seats,” Solomon points out slyly. “That is if you’re a season ticket member? I guess you could have just bought it off the actual member for the night.”

“So, you’re not successful?” Belphegor asks.

Simeon shakes his head. “No, she is, but she’s also really humble.”

“Sure, humble,” you agree wryly.

“Is there anything you want to drink?” Diavolo cuts in, leaning over the table to be heard better, but you shake your head regretfully.

“Sorry, not today. One of us has gotta be able to manage getting us home.”

“Next time, then?”

A handful of men have pursued you in the past, but he’s definitely the most charming, you think as he gives you a look both guileless and expectant. And you’re not opposed, so you laugh and agree, “Sure, next time.”

“MC, was it?” Asmodeus purrs, and you turn to him. He knows damn well what your name is. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Ah, no,” you reply, and your mind flashes back to your ex-fiance. Your relationship with Raphael had been fun, but it was clear that neither of you were really interested in marriage, but the pressure took its toll. Honestly, your decision to move to the Devildom was a really good opportunity to start fresh. You were glad you didn’t have any reason to really see him anymore. “I broke off my engagement recently and I’m still trying to get back on the dating scene.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Asmodeus says a bit awkwardly. You wish you’d given him a little less of the truth.

“Don’t be.” You give him a bright smile. “It wasn’t a bad relationship, we just realized that we weren’t compatible long-term and it was best to part ways.”

“Kudos to you for having the balls to break it off, then,” Diavolo speaks up suddenly. “That must have been difficult.”

“It was difficult at first, yeah,” you reply, “but it was the best choice and I don’t regret it.”

“Enough of that,” Simeon cuts in, throwing his arm around your shoulders. He can sense your reluctance to fully jump into talking about your failed relationship. “I think MC wants to know more about all of you.”

“That’s true,” you agree with a laugh. “A girl can’t help but be curious about the most notorious team in the AHL.”

“What do you think of us so far?” Satan asks, raising one neat eyebrow.

“You’re all a lot nicer than the rumors say, for one,” you begin, and Mammon laughs.

“Well, that’s because we like you so far. Believe me, if we didn’t, you wouldn’t be callin’ us nice.”

“I’m almost offended,” Solomon says, putting a hand on his chest. “I’ve been described as a lot of things, but nice’? I deserve more credit than that!”

“Well damn, okay,” you say jokingly, holding your hands up innocently. “I wasn’t trying to offend. I guess you’re all also a lot funnier than I thought. In my experience hockey boys usually aren’t quite as witty as you’ve been tonight.”

“Was that an insult to hockey players?” Beelzebub grumbles to Belphegor, who nods seriously.

“I think it was.”

“Well not to you,” you say exasperatedly, and the honeyed laugh that you get from Diavolo feels like a win.

The night goes on with info and chirps being swapped back and forth, and by the time it’s time to pack up and all separate, you feel like you’ve gained a lot through this experience. Your worries are mostly assuaged; you’ve gotten to know all of the boys at least somewhat, and everyone now knows you.

“Well, we’re this way,” you say to Diavolo, who walked you out. Simeon is still inside, paying his tab, so it’s just the two of you under the entrance lights. The city is dark yet still busy, and you’re glad to see the nightlife is what had been advertised, lively and entrancing. “It was really nice to meet you. Thanks for letting me hang out and meet everyone.”

“We enjoyed your company,” he says smoothly. “Thanks for giving up your evening to spend time with a bunch of nice, witty hockey players.”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “You guys are never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Nope.” His teeth glint in the light, standing out against his dark skin. He has a nice smile, you think to yourself before you realize you’ve been staring.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though, if the interested expression on his face is any indication.

“Say,” he begins, “I couldn’t help but notice you had on a general jersey tonight. I’m surprised you weren’t repping Simeon’s number.”

“In that case, how about I send you one of mine?” he offers, and you blink up at him.

“A jersey?”

“Yeah, how about it? You could wear the ‘C’ off of the ice.” His dark eyes are even more shadowed and immensely alluring.

“I suppose that’d be okay,” you agree nonchalantly, though your heart is pounding in your chest. You can’t believe the captain of the Devildom Dogs is flirting with you! “You can just give it to Simeon whenever it's convenient for you.”

“Oh, no,” he disagrees, “I think I’ve gotta give it to you directly, you know, to make sure it gets to you safe and sound. How about you swing by one of our practices next week? I can give it to you then.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” you say, knowing you’re definitely free. “I’m a busy woman. Popular, too.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he recipes silkily, but before either of you can add anything else, Simeon appears, his suspicious eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you.

“MC, stop your flirting so we can get home,” he instructs, and you laugh.

“As if you’re not the reason we’re still here. See you, Diavolo.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he calls as you walk away. “Next week, okay?”

“We’ll see,” you return without looking back. You both know that means ‘yes’.

∙

Cracking your back, you push away from your desk, finally finished with work. The Devildom Dogs reached out to you and asked for a Veterans Day design, so you’ve spent the whole day brainstorming potential ideas for the jerseys.

You were glad they contacted you, especially since they were asking for a rush job which meant you were able to get them to sign a contract that would pay you a lot of money. Man, you love your job. And money.

“Done with work?” Simeon asks, poking his head into your room. Your apartment was pretty modest so your workspace was in your bedroom, and honestly, though it was kind of cramped, the setup was pretty sweet.

“Yep,” you say, and he walks fully in, sitting on the bed. “Management of the Dogs reached out, they want Veterans Day jerseys.”

“What do you have so far?” he asks, and you spend a few moments looking at the designs you’d thrown together.

“I really like that one,” he says, choosing his favorite, and you make a mental note of that. Ultimately, it comes down to the people you’re working with with the Devildom Dogs, but Simeon has pretty good taste and is usually right about which design will get chosen.

“How was your day?” you ask. They didn’t have a game or official practice, but you were pretty sure you’d seen him heading out to the gym earlier in the day.

“It was good,” he says, flopping back onto his back, “but I’m tired. And I don’t want to cook.”

“I don’t either,” you admit. “Takeout?”

“My trainer’s going to kill me,” he grumbles but opens his phone and starts scrolling through the delivery options.

“You rarely go off of your diet plan,” you dismiss. “Once in a while won’t hurt.”

Within a few moments, Simeon’s placed an order at some sandwich place nearby. “Should be delivered within the hour.”

“Sweet.”

When the food comes, the two of you ignore your table to sit on the couch, putting on the shows you’ve been watching. You take a moment to snap a picture of him, the TV, and the food, and put it on your Instagram story.

It’s only a few moments before your phone buzzes and you see someone’s swiped up.

Diavolo_14: Is that meal trainer approved?

MC: What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him lol

Diavolo_14: I guess at least it’s sandwiches. Could be worse.

MC: And I convinced Simeon anyway, so blame me not him

Diavolo_14: Oh, I have no doubts about who’s responsible. What are you watching?

MC: Some dumb sitcom. IDK, Simeon and I just make our way through shows together for something to do

Diavolo_14: Jealous.

MC: Of the food?

Diavolo_14: Of Simeon. I want to watch dumb sitcoms with you.

“What—or who—has you smiling like that?” Simeon asks, leaning over to look at your phone. You turn it away from him, sticking out your tongue.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“It’s Diavolo, isn’t it?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.

“You better not try to warn me or him off, okay? We’re both adults and—”

“I literally do not care.” He gives you a sideways glance. “Unless he breaks your heart, of course. But other than that, do whatever you want.”

“Thanks for the heartfelt sentiment,” you say sarcastically, and he laughs. You’re so glad Simeon’s never been the overprotective type, as you’d definitely chafe under it. Over time, the both of you have mostly been a listening ear, only giving advice when asked, and it’s a system that works really well for the both of you.

With a start, you realize you’ve left Diavolo hanging, and go back to the DM thread.

MC: Is that so?

Diavolo_14: That is so. Now, when are you going to come to practice to get that jersey?

MC: Well, I was going to surprise you tomorrow…

Diavolo_14: And now I’ve ruined the surprise, haven’t I?

MC: Yeah lol.

Diavolo_14: Well, you should still come tomorrow.

MC: Alright, alright, see you then

Diavolo_14: Looking forward to it, MC.

His words send a flutter through your stomach, and you have a hard time focusing on the show for the rest of the night, too busy thinking about one, handsome captain of the Devildom Dogs. Simeon chirps and needles you for it, something you let him do because you probably deserve it.

“Whatever,” you finally say, standing up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, get that beauty sleep,” he replies. “You need it.”

Grabbing a throw pillow, you chuck it in his direction, making a hasty retreat to your room.

It’s hard to fall asleep, but once you do, you have good dreams and wake up well-rested. Even though you’re really looking forward to Simeon’s practice, it’s not until the afternoon so you keep busy working on the Veterans Day jersey designs though your mind drifts more often than you’d like to admit.

You’ve only known Diavolo for a few days, but things are just so electric with him. Sparks truly do fly between the two of you and his flirting makes you feel giddy, but your last relationship wasn’t been filled with lots of laughter so you feel like you’re entitled to it. You wonder if he feels this way too. Does he feel the connection? What does he want with you? Before you can linger on the thoughts, you stand, forcing yourself to switch gears.

“Ready to go?” Simeon asks when you walk into the living room, and you nod. You have your laptop just in case you get bored (which you doubt will happen) and you put it in the backseat of Simeon’s car.

“This is so exciting,” you say, only half-kidding. “Behind the scenes with the Devildom Dogs. Do you think the others will mind me watching?”

Simeon shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Everyone likes you and this gives them a chance to show off.” Laughing, he says, “I think they might like you more than me.”

“That is so not true,” you argue with an eye roll. “They’ve only met me once. And how could they? Everyone has always gotten along better with you than me anyway.”

“Yeah, because I’m not annoying as hell,” he says nonchalantly, and you send him a glare.

“You’re so lucky you’re driving,” you threaten. “I don’t know why everyone always thinks you’re so angelic. You’re such an ass to me.”

“It’s deserved,” he points out, and okay, you have to agree.

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the ice rink they use for practice, you waste no time gathering your shit and hopping out of the car.

“Nervous?” Simeon asks, and you scoff.

“As if.” It’s a half-lie. Maybe nervousness isn’t the right word. It’s more like… anticipation.

Simeon leads you through the back doors to the rink, and you look around, taking everything in. You’re assuming it’s open to the public when it’s not in use by the team and that theory is backed up by the presence of a skate rental sign pointing down another hall.

“You can hang out on the stands,” Simeon says, pointing like you don’t already see them. “I’ll tell everyone you’re here and they can do whatever they want with that info.”

You sit near the rink, but not directly in the front row, and mess around on your phone for a few moments. You’re expecting people to approach you from the ice so when someone taps your shoulder, you jump, looking behind you.

“Sorry, sorry,” Diavolo says, holding out his hands in a peace gesture. His grin is easy and just as attractive as you remembered. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re good,” you say. “I was just waiting for you to skate over to me, not walk.”

“What I’m hearing is that you were waiting for me.” He does something with his eyebrows that comes off as insanely attractive and you wonder just how desperate you are.

“Well, yeah,” you say. “I was promised a gift.”

“That you were,” he agrees. “And I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a little longer for it. I left it in my car and since practice is starting so soon I totally don’t have time to go and get it. Darn.”

“Is this your way of asking me out after practice?”

“Well, it was my way of asking to give you a ride home, but hey, that works too,” he chuckles, eyes sparkling with some positive emotion you can’t quite pin down. “As long as Simeon won’t get mad. I know you’re close friends.”

“Him?” You laugh. “He won’t be, first of all, because neither of us really cares what either gets up to romantically, and secondly, even if he was, it would be none of his damn business. I’m a grown woman with my own agenda and I’m glad he’s always recognized that. Even when we were younger,” you say with a sigh, “he’d let me get myself into all sorts of scrapes and situations, then just smugly tell me it was my own fault. Nothing serious, of course, but out of the two of us I’ve always been rasher and he definitely uses that for his entertainment.”

“Seriously?” Diavolo questions. “He seems so kind and nice. I have a hard time believing that.”

“That’s because he wants you to think that,” you tell him darkly, and the laugh you get in return is glorious, full-bellied and rich.

Not noticing your sudden stupor, he sighs, catching his breath. “Well, I better get on the ice. Duties of being a captain and all of that.”

“What, actually having to show up to practice and set a good example? So hard.”

“You get it,” he says, and you shake your head, unable to stop your smile.

“Watch me on the ice?” he asks, beginning to walk away backward.

“Obviously,” you say, “but Diavolo…”

“Yeah?” he begins to reply, then trips over a bench, stumbling to the ground.

“...there’s a bench behind you,” you finish, and the gobsmacked look on his face is one you endeavor to remember, pressing into your memories.

The boys waste no time getting into the swing of practice, though you receive a few looks and waves. Their drills are intense and difficult looking, but they make them seem easy. Watching them makes you yearn to get back on the ice, a feeling you haven’t had in a while. Maybe you should see what days the rink offers open skate and pull yours out of your closet.

Watching them makes you feel oddly nostalgic. Both for the Chols and for the rec league with Simeon. You’d played hockey with him through school, quitting in college when he’d been scouted directly to the Chols. You’d been the forward to his right wing, and though you’d never had the same amount of sheer talent as him, you’d been no slouch.

But as time went on, you’ve been satisfied with just watching. Marveling at the feats the Chols were able to do on the ice, rather than rush to attempt them yourself as you might once have.

You’d been on the ice with the Chols a few times, but after the first year, the novelty had worn off. You’d shifted to the stands after your engagement, sticking with the other girls, and again, while that had been fun, you’re realizing now that you truly, sincerely missed the feeling of skating.

The coaches hardly pay you any attention, and while you’d thought that maybe your presence would have distracted the boys, they’re all business, showing you a much more serious side than you’d seen so far. Discounting that first game, of course.

Before you know it, the practice is halfway over. It’s going by way too fast!

“Hey,” Simeon calls from the ice, grabbing your attention. “We’ve got a five-minute break. Come down here!”

You roll your eyes but stand, crossing the short distance to the edge of the rink. He’s out of breath and sweating, clearly working hard on the drills.

“What do you think, huh?” he asks, putting a hand on the board.

“Yeah, I want to know!” Mammon cries, skating over and almost running into Simeon. “Cooler and better and more awesomer than the Chols?”

“‘Awesomer’ isn’t a word, dimwit,” Belphegor says, clearly listening in on the conversation, and you laugh.

“Way awesomer than the Chols.”

“Glad you think so,” Diavolo says from behind you, and you jump. Again. Man, he’s really got to stop doing that. Or maybe you need to be more attentive; you hadn’t even seen him get off the ice! He’s sweaty too, hair sticking down slightly on his forehead, but unlike with Simeon, you drink the sight in. God, this man gets more and more attractive every time you see him. “Did you see me out there?”

Honestly, he was pretty much all you could look at.

“Of course I did.”

“Was it impressive?”

Mindful of Simeon, Belphegor, and Mammon (whom Diavolo doesn’t even seem to care about), you choose your words with care. “Don’t fish for compliments.”

He grins, opening his mouth to speak, but before he can, the coaches call everyone to the ice.

“Stop your flirting, Captain!” Mammon cackles, and Diavolo sighs.

“I barely even got to talk to you!”

Your heart flutters. “Well, I’ll be here after practice…”

“That you will,” he says dorkily, looking all too excited. How can this man go from unbelievably sexy to cute so quickly?

The rest of practice flies by, and when it’s called to an end, anticipation bubbles in your chest. Diavolo nods towards the shower, and you give him a thumbs up. Simeon shakes his head with a laugh, and you can’t help but flip him off.

You pack your things slowly, or maybe it’s that Diavolo showers quickly, because he walks out of the locker room at the same time you approach it. And lord, if you’d thought sweaty Diavolo was attractive, then what was post-shower Diavolo? Off the fucking charts is what. His shirt, slightly damp, sticks to his chest in a way that makes you want to drool.

“Ready?” he asks, taking your laptop bag from you before you can protest.

“Of course.” You gesture for him to lead the way. “I’m excited to see this jersey after hearing so much about it.”

“And I’m excited to see you wear it,” he replies smoothly, and your cheeks heat up.

“Sweet talker.”

“Honest,” he corrects amusedly, holding the door for you as you exit the building into the parking lot.

His car is nice. Much nicer than Simeon’s well-loved and well-worn sedan, it’s sleek and expensive looking. Too bad you’re not much of a car girl, otherwise you’d definitely appreciate it more. You notice it’s also clean and smells good when you buckle in.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Diavolo says, sliding into his own seat. “Burned off a lot of calories at practice there.”

“What about your meal plan?” you question, faux-innocently, and he raises his eyebrows.

“What my trainer doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he replies, repeating your earlier words back to you. You can’t help but giggle.

“Well, I’m hungry too, so I think lunch is a great idea,” you say. “I’m obviously new around here so I’ll let you choose. Now, I want to be impressed.”

“Yes ma’am.” He starts up the car and smoothly exits the parking lot. “How about my favorite brunch place?”

“Isn’t it a little late for brunch?” you ask, and he shrugs.

“Eh, they serve brunch all day.”

“That sounds good to me,” you say, and he grins.

“Good, because it’s literally right down the road.”

∙

Once you’re seated inside, Diavolo takes the menu from your hand and sets it aside. “You won’t need this,” he says. “Trust me.”

“Oh, I didn’t know I was dining with an expert,” you joke. “Fine, I’ll trust you. But if you get me something I don’t like, get ready to pay the price.”

“If it’s you—” he waggles his eyebrows devilishly “—I wouldn’t mind getting punished.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts and images that had arisen from his words, and take a long sip of water. “So, um, what do you like to do?”

“Play hockey.”

You wave a hand. “You know what I mean, dipshit.”

“Fine, fine. Let’s see… I enjoy running, especially at this park near my place. The sunrise is super pretty. And I spend a lot of time with Barbatos and Lucifer too.”

“You do?” you ask, surprised. They were pretty close for a professional team but you hadn’t known it was that close.

“Yep. Been friends with them forever. Barbatos, for as long as I can remember—I’m pretty sure our parents introduced us in the hospital—and Lucifer and I met at a camp years ago. It’s honestly pretty crazy we made it to the same team.”

“Wow,” you say, remembering reading headlines of the unexpected draft pick for both of them, “that is crazy. I’m glad you guys are all so close.”

“Well, most of us have been on the team for at least a season,” he replies. “I’m glad Simeon’s growing closer with us too. He seems like a really cool dude.”

“He is,” you reply, “but don’t tell him I said so. He’d never let me live it down.”

Diavolo winks, miming locking his mouth with a key. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The waitress comes to take your orders then, and you leave it all to Diavolo. He gets the same dish for the both of you, promising it’ll be worth it.

“I hope so,” you say. “I’m kind of nervous. I’ve never heard of a dish called ‘Hotter Than Hot Toasted Sandwich’. It’s a good thing I like spicy food. What would you have done if I didn’t?”

He looks sheepish then, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I asked Simeon just to be sure.”

The thought put into it touches you, and you look down, then up at him through your lashes. “I see.”

The conversation drifts, moving from one topic to another with ease. And that’s what things are with Diavolo. Easy. He’s kind and funny, attentive to your feelings, and seems to find you just as appealing as you find him.

That is, if you’re reading the signs right, but honestly it’d be kind of hard to interpret his actions otherwise.

Your food arrives, and thankfully, it’s as delicious as he’d promised. You both finish eating at around the same time, and as if she’d been waiting, the waitress comes and drops off the check. Before you can move, Diavolo has his card out, a shiny black Amex, and sets it on the table.

“I’m not going to argue,” you say with a laugh, and he smiles.

“Good. I want to treat you.”

“Careful,” you warn playfully, “or I might get used to it.”

He leans forward, a little more serious. Those eyes burn into you, making you breathless even though he hasn’t said anything. “And what if that’s what I want?”

You blink at his sudden bluntness. It’s almost hard for you to believe what you’re hearing. That a man like him is interested in a girl like you. Not that you’re not a catch, but damn, he’s out of this world. “Well,” you finally say, “I guess you’ll just have to keep taking me out to prove it.”

“If that’s what it takes,” he says lowly, “then I’d be happy to provide. Let’s get out of here.”

The waitress had apparently grabbed his card and returned it without you noticing, so when he stands, it takes you a second to follow. He leads you back to his car.

“Do you need to get back to anything or can I steal you for longer?” he asks, and you consult your watch.

“Unfortunately, I do have a work meeting in like an hour,” you reply reluctantly. “That's not enough time for us to really do anything.”

He frowns. “That’s unfortunate. I wanted to show you around the Devildom since I figured you hadn’t had much time to explore.”

“That’ll just have to wait until next time,” you say airily, and he shakes his head.

“You really do know how to wrap me around your finger.”

You give him the address to your apartment, and all too soon he’s pulling up outside of the building.

“I had fun today,” you say earnestly. “Thanks for taking me out.”

He reaches into his back seat and pulls a piece of fabric forward. The jersey, you realize, as he presses it into your hands. A smile blooms on your face.

“I had fun today too,” he says. “And I better see you wearing that to the game tomorrow. That is, if you’re coming.”

You unbuckle, throwing his door open. “Oh, I will be. Coming, that is. And wearing your number.”

∙

The season continues. You wear Diavolo’s jersey to the games, cheering for the Dogs with wild abandon, and they continue to win. And win, and win, and win.

(“It’s all thanks to Simeon,” Solomon faux-whispers to you at one celebratory post-game hang. “He’s way better at being my right than Asmo ever was.”

“Rude!” Asmo returns, jostling into Solomon’s side. Everyone laughs, and you easily join in. These boys, they’ve become a part of you, like you’ve become a part of them.)

Off the ice, you and Diavolo grow closer. You get familiar with his life outside of hockey, staying overnight at his apartment here and there when you both have the time. You haven’t put a label on it, something Diavolo seems to sense you’re not ready for, as the ended engagement with Raphael is still a little fresh, but it’s clear to the both of you that this isn’t some passing fling.

Before you know it, months have passed, and it’s playoff season. The Dogs obviously make it, having a perfect season thus far, as do the Chols, who had a rocky start to the beginning of the season, probably due to the changed dynamics without Simeon, but quickly redeemed themselves to finish strong.

(“We bring home the Calder Cup all of the time,” Belphie says with an eye roll. “How is this season any different?”

Mammon grins slyly. “It’s different for our dear Captain. After all, he’s finally got someone he wants to win the cup for.”

Diavolo’s hand, where it’s wrapped around yours, squeezes lightly.)

Diavolo offers to fly you out to the West Coast for the championship game, as somehow, the Chols made it into the final two. They never quite managed that when Simeon was on the team. You decline, not because you’re not going, but because you can fly yourself.

The bonus from both teams’ championship jerseys is sitting nice and pretty in your account right now.

You’re a bit nervous on the plane. Not because of the flying, but at the thought of seeing the Chols. Especially since this wasn’t any old game, but the championship one. It’d be a hard loss, for whoever doesn’t make it, and though at this point, your loyalties lie entirely with the Dogs, you don’t want to make anyone on the old team feel betrayed.

It’d also be your first time seeing Raphael in a long time, and the thought makes you a little scared. But you’re also hopeful. Hopeful that you’ll get to see people who were once your world again without it being too awkward.

Although, considering the rivalry between the teams you’re not sure how feasible that one is…

When you get off the plane, carry-on in tow, you text Diavolo that you’ve landed safely, not expecting his reply to come right away.

Diavolo_14: I’m glad you made it

Diavolo_14: Still not sure why you wouldn’t fly in with us though :((

MC: I told you, I had it covered. You can spoil me some other way, on a trip that’s unrelated to your games

Diavolo_14: Is that you saying you want to travel with me in the off-season? After all of this postseason stuff is completed?

MC: Yes but you already knew that.

Diavolo_14: I suppose I may have had an idea.

Diavolo_14: Anyway, don’t get in a taxi or anything, our hotel is within walking distance.

MC: I already had reservations somewhere else!

Diavolo_14: Reservations Simeon canceled

Diavolo_14: I was hoping it’d be a nice surprise but if you’re uncomfortable with it I can get your old room back.

MC: It’s not bad, and I am surprised. I just don’t want to distract you before such an important game.

Diavolo_14: Pssshh, this game is nothing. And you’re never a distraction <3

MC: Liar.

MC: Remember when I made you late to practice last week?

Diavolo_14: Oh yeah. Anyway, if you’re really fine with it you’d be sharing with me

Diavolo_14: It’s got a jacuzzi tub………

MC: You spoil me. Yes I’m fine with it.

MC: What’s the name of the hotel so I can walk there?

Diavolo_14: You should be able to see it if you go to the east entrance and look up.

MC: Oh, good, I’m near there. Hold on

Diavolo_14: Yeah just look up and over by the sign for the shuttle, then slightly to the left.

You do as he directs, eyes widening when instead of a hotel, you see a familiar head of red hair. He waves, and you cross the street in a hurry.

“Hey!” he greets, wrapping you in a hug. “You sure it was a good surprise? I was worried it’d be too much, but I really wanted you with me. If I went too far, seriously, tell me. I know we haven’t really talked about where we are but I really like you and it seems to be the same for you so I’d hoped it would be alright. Plus, Simeon said you’d like it. And yes, I’m totally throwing him under the bus right now in case you don’t,” he adds, trying to alleviate some of the seriousness.

You laugh. “I like it. And I like the idea of a jacuzzi tub. I’m all gross from the plane. And I do like you, a lot, so you have nothing to worry about there. It’s a sweet gesture.”

Diavolo leans in to kiss you then, something you return, pleased. Though it’d only been a few days of separation, you’d found yourself really missing him. Almost too much, you worried.

Once you break apart, Diavolo takes your bag from you, slinging it over his shoulder, and you can’t help but smile up at him. You twine your fingers through his, relishing the feel of the west coast. Though it was winter, the balmy beach weather was much nicer than the frozen streets of the Devildom. And to think you once considered this weather cold.

Diavolo and you mosey out of the airport and down the street, not in any particular hurry. When you do get into the lobby, you’re instantly greeted by half of the team, who’d apparently been stalking the two of you from the expansive windows.

“You made it!” Asmo cheers, eyes sparkling. “Now we can really have some fun!”

“Sorry, sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to be keeping MC all to myself for the time being,” Diavolo says, not sounding very apologetic. “We’ve got a date with the jacuzzi tub.”

“We?” you say, giving him a look. “Who said anything about ‘we’? I said that I wanted a bath.”

Simeon laughs, shaking his head, and you share a smile with him.

“No, no, come on,” Diavolo begs theatrically. “Don’t deprive me. Of the wonderful jacuzzi jets, of course,” he adds hastily, seeing your unimpressed look.

“You’d better be nice to him,” Lucifer warns you, in a tone you’ve only recently begun to recognize as his joking one. “I already gave up rooming with him for you, and I don’t need him complaining to me. Not when I now have to deal with rooming with these nitwits.”

“Hey!” Mammon and Simeon protest.

“It’s not like I said your names,” Lucifer says drily.

“Yeah, but it was clear you were talking about us,” Mammon responds, and their squabbling fades into the background as Diavolo pulls you to the elevators, mashing the ‘Close Doors’ button before anyone else can get on.

“You didn’t really mean that, did you?” he asks, turning to you. “You’re going to let me in the tub, right? If you don’t it might cause me to not play my best and lead to the Chols winning the cup tomorrow. You don’t want that, do you?”

“Oh, we’re threatening now, are we?” you laugh, and he shakes his head.

“Not threatening, just informing.”

“I see,” you say. “Well, since I have a vested interest in seeing the Dogs take this game, I guess I’d better do anything that I can to ensure a win.”

“Anything?” Diavolo asks, eyebrows waggling, and you give him a sly smile.

“Anything.”

∙

“Are you getting hungry?” Diavolo eventually asks, and you roll over to better face him. He looks like a dream, hair spread across the pillow, dark skin beautiful against the white sheets. “Lucifer just texted; apparently some of the Chols want to meet up at a bar, do a little pre-game catching up. They really want to see Simeon.” He hesitates. “But if you don’t want to do that, we can grab food somewhere else by ourselves.”

“No, no,” you say quickly. “I’m not going to deprive the team of its captain. And, I have missed the boys. I’d love to see them. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Because of Raphael?” he asks gently. You’d filled him in on your past with the other hockey player, in bits and pieces, and Diavolo's been fully understanding, sharing his own stories of past love in return. You’d only grown closer through honesty, and you’re glad you’d been open with him, as now you don’t have to do any awkward explaining or suffer through any misunderstandings.

“Some,” you admit honestly. “Well, mostly because of him. But I think it’ll just be weird to see them all. The Chols were my life at one point, you know, so it’s just going to be bittersweet. I do want to see them, though,” you add firmly, making up your mind, “so let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Diavolo reaches over, brushing across your cheek. You lean into his touch, nodding.

“I’m sure. Now, stop touching me, because I need to actually get out of this bed and get ready.”

“You already look perfect,” Diavolo insists, and you bat his hand away, sitting up.

“Flatterer,” you reply cheekily. “But I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I want to see me like this. So let me get ready, alright?”

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I guess I’ll shower. Unless you want to join?”

“No!” you huff with a laugh. “Stop tempting me. And, we just took baths.”

“Well, I need a shower if we’re going to leave this hotel room,” he says meaningfully, and though your cheeks heat a little, you remain strong. Seeing that, he sighs, then stands, heading for the bathroom, leaving the door open as he dramatically turns on the shower, sending you enticing looks over his shoulder as he does so.

Once he finally gets in, you pull yourself out of bed, moving over to your carry-on. Thankfully, you’d packed a couple of outfit choices, not knowing what to expect. Choosing the most suitable, something casual and yet attractive, you get dressed, then realize you’re going to need the bathroom to fix your hair and do your makeup.

“I’m coming in,” you call, toiletry bag in hand. It only takes a second for his head to pop out from behind the shower curtain, excitement diminishing once he sees you’re dressed.

“Oh,” he says. “I thought you meant into the shower. But I guess not.”

“Stop it, you,” you say, turning on the sink to wash your face, and he laughs.

You’re almost finished with your makeup when the shower turns off, Diavolo stepping out a moment later with the towel low on his hips. You studiously ignore him, applying mascara with more focus than necessary. He doesn’t let that slide, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“You better not get me wet,” you warn, switching to your setting powder.

“I won’t,” he says, and you turn your head slightly, giving him a look from the corner of your eye. His chin rests on your shoulder, and when you turn, your faces are mere inches apart. Diavolo hugs you tighter, kissing you, and you’re glad you haven’t applied lipstick yet.

“Alright, alright, get off of me,” you say after a moment, a small smile crossing your lips. “Unless you want to have to take another shower.”

“Cruel woman,” Diavolo bemoans, but does as you say, disappearing into the other room to get dressed. He returns a moment later, in dark jeans and a t-shirt, one that displays the Dogs’ logo.

“You can’t be serious,” you say as he combs through his hair with his fingers.

“What?”

“Team merch, really?”

He cracks an attractive smile, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Of course. I’ve gotta represent, you know.”

You can only shake your head.

As you’re putting on your shoes, there’s a knock on the door. Diavolo answers it, revealing Barbatos.

“Oh, good, you’re both decent,” Barbatos says mildly, and you give him a glare. “We’re all headed downstairs.”

“We’re ready,” Diavolo says and you stand, making sure you have your purse. You all walk down to the lobby, Diavolo’s hand in yours the whole way.

“How are you feeling?” Simeon asks at one point, voice quiet.

“Nervous,” you reply honestly. “You?”

“Nervous,” he echoes. “But I think it’ll be fine. I’m excited to see Raphael and the others again.”

“I am too,” you agree. “It’ll be nice to catch up. Especially before we kick their asses tomorrow.”

Simeon laughs. “I like the way you think.”

As you get closer to the bar where you’re all meeting up, you can’t deny that your hands get a little sweaty and your stomach starts to knot. You know the worst thing you'll find is a shit-ton of awkwardness (or at least that’s what you really hope), and that once you see it through it’ll ease, but you’re still not super keen on putting yourself in the situation.

Ten minutes, you tell yourself, then things will be fine. Plus, you’ll have Diavolo and Simeon by your side and all the other boys to make distractions and break the ice.

Diavolo squeezes your hand as you enter the bar, and immediately, your eyes find the familiar sight of Raphael’s ash-colored hair. You gulp; there’s no turning back now.

“Hey!” Mammon calls out easily, and the boys turn. You recognize some others aside from Raphael, and thankfully a few have brought their wives, making it less awkward that you’re there and also giving you a breath of relief because you were familiar with them.

Raphael’s eyes lock onto yours, then sharpen on you and Diavolo’s linked hands. There’s no animosity in them, just that same awkward cautiousness you feel, another relief.

“Hey, come join us,” Raphael says, gesturing to the rest of the table. The bar staff, or maybe the Chols, had pushed a few tables together, making a monster table to fit the mishmash of people. You pull out a seat between Simeon—who’s across from Raphael—and Diavolo, who lets go of your hand as you sit. You smile at the girl across from you, not recognizing her.

“Hi,” you greet the table at large, among various other greetings being given. “It’s nice to see you all again, and nice to meet you, those I haven’t met yet.”

The girl across from you smiles at that, introducing herself as Thirteen, the main goalie’s sister.

“So, uh, how goes the season?” Raphael asks Simeon awkwardly. “You miss us yet?”

Simeon laughs. “Miss your snoring? Nah, not really. And the season’s going great, obviously. I’m glad you guys made it this far too, it’ll be fun to put you in your place.”

“Starting the chirping already?” Diavolo asks him, throwing an arm across your shoulders. “Careful, Simeon, I think we’re outnumbered here.”

“You’ve changed, Simeon,” Raphael says. “I think the Dogs are rubbing off on you. Anyway, MC, how have you been? Business going well?”

“Oh, yeah, your designs for this season are killer,” Thirteen adds before you can answer. “I mean, the font change for the Dogs’ numbers was such a good touch.”

“Oh, thank you,” you laugh. “I’m surprised anyone picked up on that! It’s such a small detail but really impacts the overall vibe of the Jerseys.”

Awareness dawns on Diavolo. “Wait. Are you talking about the team jerseys? As in, the jersey designs?”

“Bingo,” you say slyly. “My job: designing jerseys for sports teams. Mostly hockey teams.”

“I forgot you guys didn’t know,” Simeon says. “Yeah MC’s like, totally in charge of the jerseys. Remember the Veterans Day design? I helped with that.”

“Barely,” you snort.

“You’re serious,” Diavolo mumbles. “How did I not know that?”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t mention it when we first met and it hasn’t really come up since. Anyway,” you turn back to Raphael, unable to hide your amused smile, “yeah, business is going well! Thanks for asking. How’s that knee been?”

“Oh, you know,” Raphael shrugs. “I’ve been more careful this season since I don’t have someone to nurse me back to health.” His ears steadily turn red as he realizes what he just said, and you’re sure you’re no better.

“Well,” you begin, but thankfully Simeon cuts in.

“You were always lucky with that. Lately, MC just throws an ice pack at me. No sympathy, I swear!”

“That’s because your injuries are all your fault,” you criticize. “Never stops when he should, this guy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m getting something from the bar. Raphael, you want something?”

They both head for the bar, and you sigh, slumping in your seat. Diavolo leans over to you, eyes concerned but also accusing.

“I guess we’ll talk about the jersey thing later,” he says, quirking his lips slightly. “I’m sure the team will be very interested to hear. Who knows, maybe they’ll have some design input.”

“Oh, god,” you say quickly. You hadn’t even considered that. “You’d better not tell them, I swear! I’ll kick your ass if you do.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he assures you, laughing. “But seriously, I can’t believe I’ve never known that. Now I feel like a bad person for not knowing something so basic. And also kind of like an idiot. I guess I just thought you were acquainted with the upper staff through me when it was really through your own work. Self-centered, much?”

“Really, Diavolo, it’s fine,” you assure him. “I was aware you didn’t know, even taking care to avoid bringing it up at the beginning. Now you do know, so you can stop feeling bad about it. And I’m sorry if you feel betrayed, that wasn’t my intention.”

“No, no,” he hastens. “It just reminds me how much I still have to learn about you.”

“Well, there’s lots and lots of time for that,” you reply, and he smiles, something in his eyes easing. You really hadn’t intended to hurt him with this and now just feel like an asshole. “And I have so much to learn about you, too. But I’m looking forward to it.”

Realizing how rude you’re being to Thirteen, perhaps at the same time, you and Diavolo turn back to her. So lost in your own world, you hadn’t realized Solomon had taken Raphael’s empty seat, now engaged in some fiery debate.

“Let’s stay out of that one,” Diavolo murmurs to you, as Solomon starts using four-syllable words he only pulls out when he’s trying to academically shame someone, and you nod.

Instead, you and Diavolo split up, talking to various people around the room. It’s nice for you to check in on the Chols’ players and their wives and partners, and they seem just as happy to see you. Any worries of tension (to you or to Simeon) disappear quickly, and you find yourself interacting with them just like you used to. One look at Simeon shows he’s faring well, surrounded by teammates old and new.

Warmth expands in your heart and you grab another drink from the bar, just happy to be with the people you love and care for.

(Your eyes find Diavolo as you think that, and though you don’t particularly care to dig into the sentiment, you find yourself comfortable with it all the same.)

Raphael finds you, eventually, offering another beer as a peace offering. You take it, looking at the man you used to love so dearly. You still love him, but only as a friend. Something settles in your chest at the confirmation of what you’d been suspecting: any lingering feelings for him have fully dissipated and you’re ready to move on. Fully.

He seems to realize this, and you suspect that he feels much the same way. The memories between you will hold a special place in your heart forever, sometimes even hurt, but you don’t regret the time you’ve spent with him. You only regret that you hadn’t met Diavolo sooner.

“You’ve got yourself a real catch,” he says, a little sleepily in the way you know to mean he’s slightly inebriated. Not too much, of course, but socially, as are most of the players. “I’m glad to see you’re doing well.”

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m glad, you’re doing well too, Raphael. Congrats again on making it this far this season. Your playing has been incredible.”

“You’ve been watching?”

You sigh softly. “How could I not? Especially at the beginning of the season, when all I was doing was missing you. Guys. You guys. The Dogs are great, of course, but I can’t lie. They were a little intimidating at the beginning.”

He laughs. “You should see them on the ice.”

“Oh, I can imagine.”

A silence, soft and fragile like an early spring day falls between you two, and you give him one more smile. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” he promises, and you both exchange one more look, laying it all to rest, before you float off to find Diavolo, who’s conversing with Lucifer and one of the rookies from the Chols.

“Everything alright?” he asks, pulling you into his side, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning into him. “Everything’s alright.”

∙

Excitement bubbles through your veins as you take your seat, one similar in position to the one you have at the Dogs’ home rink, basically on the ice and near the team box. The only difference is that you’re on the away side instead of the home, allowing you to continue to sit near the Dogs.

As a personal guest of the Captain, you’d been offered a plush VIP box but had declined, preferring to get down and dirty in the thick of things as you always had.

Diavolo’s name sits proudly across your shoulders—his real jersey, not a replica sold to fans—and you inhale the spicy scent of his cologne (yeah, you’d asked to borrow it to spray on the jersey, so what), reveling in the electric feeling filling the arena. Though many of the fans are in the white and light blue of the Celestial City Chols, quite a fair amount of black and red can be seen throughout the crowd, showing the many diehard fans who’d made the trip across the country. The only similarities between the teams’ color schemes are the gold accents, glittering and shining under the harsh overhead lighting.

Everyone is excited for this game. Not only is it the last deciding game in the finals, the one that will determine who will take the freaking Calder Cup home, but it’s also between two rival teams. Two rival teams that are both determined to work themselves to the bone, pouring blood, sweat, and tears into winning (though not all of it their own, knowing the Dogs). It’s going to be a game that’ll go down in AHL history.

The minutes tick by and finally both teams take the ice for warm-up. The boys wave and smile, Mammon taking care to be an ass and send a puck right towards your face, as has become his pre-game ritual, but you really only have eyes for Diavolo.

Diavolo, who looks hot as hell in your championship jerseys (white, with red, gold, and black accents), who blows you a kiss as best he can around his mouthguard, who looks like he’s ready to lead his team to a very satisfying and devastating victory.

You would swoon but instead settle for yelling and screaming just as loud as the rest of the arena.

After the starting lineup is announced, with much more pomp and circumstance than the other games, and the national anthem is finished, you sit on the edge of the seat, watching as the ceremonial puck is dropped. It’s very nice and all, but you’re ready for the game to begin.

After what feels like forever, it finally does, and you watch as Raphael and Simeon face one another, kitty-corner. It’s surreal, after so many seasons of watching them play the same line. Diavolo and Lucifer aren’t far behind the forwards, and every member of both teams is completely and utterly focused on the puck.

The arena is so silent you could hear a pin drop as the music fades, and in a clatter of skates and sticks on ice, the puck is dropped. The Chols gain possession, the center sending the puck back to the left d-man, who sends it to the left winger smoothly. The Dogs don’t take that lying down, and chase after the puck. Levi gets there first, and manages to take the puck, passing it to Solomon, who forges a blazing trail down the ice. Amidst the various cheering and booing, you think, perhaps delusionally, you can make out Thirteen’s unique tone, screaming out her displeasure.

The Chols d-men are frustratingly persistent, and what follows is several minutes of back and forth, with both teams failing to make a goal. Shots are attempted by both sides, but are all blocked by the goalie or intercepted by other team members, and when Beel finally gets the puck in his glove, you let out a sigh of relief that they’re all able to take a break. You watch as the players all assemble for an end zone face-off, one that the Dogs win. Both teams are playing viscous and dirty, with checks rattling the boards all around.

“Get it out of there!” you scream, as yet another attempted goal shot is made, and as if they hear you, the forward line, which is now Mammon, Asmo, and Satan, push back towards the Chols’ goal. A brief scuffle near the defending line takes place, and the ref whistles, calling offsides on the Chols.

The first period passes without any goals, despite both teams' desperate pushing. Though neither side scores, you know it’ll only be a matter of time in the second, as the Dogs have been gaining momentum as the night goes on.

You whistle at the boys as they make their way from the bench to the locker room and Diavolo grins up at you, pulling off his helmet. He’s sweaty and out of breath, but handsome as all get out, and you’ve never been prouder to be bearing his name on your back.

When the teams finally return after the break, you’re back on your feet, cheering as they take the ice. The Dogs gain possession of the puck in the first face-off, heading the opposite way than they had been previously due to the goal switch, unstoppable. Asmo, who has the puck, leaves the other team in the dust, zipping through and shooting in the blink of an eye. It goes in, as you’d hoped, prayed, suspected, and the roar of the crowd is thunderous. You can’t help but imagine what it’d be like in your home arena, in your home city.

And it's odd. Sometime, over the course of the season, the Devildom had truly become your home. It’s not a shocking thing, by any means, but serves to make you cheer that much louder and clap that much harder.

With a goal under their belts, the Dogs have a new fire lit beneath them. But the Chols aren’t giving up easily, and once Raphael checks Simeon hard across the boards in front of you. He’s a fearsome one when it comes to that, known even during his rookie days for his painfully-placed and technically legal elbow placements, and you wonder if the smile that had been shot your way was purposeful. Simeon skates it off impressively, though you know he’ll be aching later.

Diavolo does a great job staying on top of defense, and you’re aware of that same ease between him and Lucifer that you’d picked up on during their very first game together. You’d gotten to know Lucifer well during the season, and you make a mental note to yourself to take extra care when making his ‘good job on winning the Cup’ basket, to thank him for being such a great friend and partner to Diavolo.

When the two of them go back to the bench, switched out by Barbatos and Belphie, Diavolo waves at you in between great big gulps of water, and you make sure to take lots of pictures when you can tear your eyes from the game.

The CC Chols score as well during the second period, tying them up as they go into the third. Though you’d think they’d all be quite tired, neither team is flagging, both playing and pushing hard. The Chols get another goal in, unfortunately, when Beel’s just a tad too slow, and you’re once again aware you’re in the fan minority as the crowd goes wild.

They stay in the lead for several heart-pounding minutes, and apparently fed up with the tension, Mammon drops gloves, firecracker personality on full display. He gets the Chol player into a headlock, raining punches down onto him until he’s pulled off by the refs, much to the crowd’s disappointment. That gets him a few minutes in the sin bin, and you groan, knowing what a disadvantage the Dogs are at. The last thing they need is to be two down in the final period!

Diavolo rallies the team, showing his incredible skill and prowess as a captain, and thankfully, the Chols are unable to use the power play to their advantage, and Mammon skates back onto the ice like a hellcat.

Gameplay is stopped again after elbowing is called towards a Chols player, and you cheer as he gets some time in the box. Unlike the Chols, the Dogs score on their play, tying it all back up. Satan manages to scare and gets piled on by the team, and for once, he’s not pushing them back, a rare smile lighting up his face.

The end of the period draws nearer and nearer, and yet neither team pulls ahead. Anxiety and excitement are racing through you, and you continue to scream out your support, even as your voice grows hoarse.

Will this game go into overtime? That almost never happens in a finals game like this!

But as you resign yourself to the possibility, Simeon takes possession of the puck, passing it to Solomon, who goes to take a shot, and upon realizing he doesn't have a clear one, gives it right back. Simeon doesn’t hesitate, finely honed instincts taking over, and delivers it into the net with only a few minutes left of play. You scream, cheering as loud as you can, and the celly that follows is almost disrespectful, lasting a bit too long.

Though the Chols don’t give up, they're unable to get another point before the buzzer sounds, and you can hardly believe it. The Dogs won! Your team won the fucking Calder Cup!

The boys celebrate in the ice, hefting Simeon up and onto their shoulders and Diavolo takes the cup and delivers it right into his waiting gloves. Simeon hefts it, grinning and crying, and you feel yourself crying too, unable to believe how far he’s gotten, the monumental feat he’d just completed.

Diavolo’s eyes find yours, and hastily, he skates for the bench, fitting on his skate guards sloppily. As if he expected it, the door attendant pulls open the door to the dating section, still blocked by the metal gate, and you reach for him through the bars, glad they’re wide enough for you to pull him close by the pads and kiss him long and hard. Fans around you boo and scream, but you’re lost in your own world, lost in him.

“I love you,” Diavolo says as he pulls away, breathing heavily. He’s crying too, but his smile is ear-to-ear, and you pull him in again, peppering kisses all over his cheeks, nose, and forehead, overwhelmed by your joy.

“I love you too,” you say, and finally, someone opens the gate between you, and Diavolo lifts you up into a hug, kissing you again. You hear camera shutters and see flashbulbs go off and have no doubt your image will be all over articles and social media posts by tomorrow, but can’t bring yourself to care. Eventually, Simeon joins you, and you break from Diavolo to hug him tightly, both of you breaking down fully into sobs.

Diavolo lets you have your moment with your best friend, but Simeon’s soon stolen away by members of the team and you’re all shepherded out of the stands and off the ice so the boys can do their post-game photos and interviews and the like. Diavolo hesitates to pull away, but you shove him along, smiling.

“Go,” you say. “I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

“I love you,” he says again, a little helplessly.

“I know.”

How did you get so lucky, with this man, this team, this life? You watch the boys, heart bursting, and can’t wait to support them for their next season as well.

Although, not before you and Diavolo do everything you want during the offseason, including traveling and exploring, putting some of both of your accumulated wealth to good use. You’ve heard the Maldives are pretty this time of year, and nice and relaxing for Diavolo to recover. And private, you think with relish. The hotel you pick will be private. Very, very private.

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