#and boom he's energized enough to finish his shift

[softquietsteadylove]

Thena thanks Gil for bringing back Olympia. Kiss on the cheek?

"He's in there."

"Thank you."

Gil straightened up as the door opened an, instead of the club doctor Ajak walking in, it was Thena. She had sent him to get checked by Ajak after rescuing Olympia, of course, but he watched her take Olympia back to the stables herself. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you're faring," she said gently, in that pretty accent she had. She closed the door behind her, walking in, still in her boots and her white sweater dress. He could see where she had gotten mud on her from hugging Olympia and wiped it off after.

"Ah, I'll be okay," he smiled, hoping to downplay his current state. He naturally went to rub at the back of his neck, but flinched his hand away before he could upset the burns on his palms. "Nothing to worry about."

Thena visibly chose not to believe him, seating herself on the stool across from the examination bench. "Gil, really--how are you?"

He sighed. He was exhausted. He hadn't exactly prepared for a mountain hike at top speed this afternoon. And even once he had found Olympia, it was no easy feat, getting a horse back up through the woods to the club grounds.

And that was ignoring when Olympia had fallen and he had to all but pick her up, or when she had stumbled and crushed him into a tree with her rib cage, or when she had headbutted him any number of times in her panic. He'd had a rough day.

"I'm okay," he admitted, his shoulders sagging. Thena looked like he had completely lied to her but he raised his hands and shrugged, "really! I mean, it's nothing serious, is all."

"I didn't ask about the severity," she huffed, but didn't lecture him the way she had lectured Olympia about running off and causing trouble. She reached out, running her thumb over some scratches on his cheek from branches hitting him in the face.

He nearly leaned into it, her touch was so cool and so soft. But he restrained himself, trying not to seem like a pathetic fanboy or something. He cleared his throat, "is Olympia okay?"

Thena rolled her eyes as if he were asking about a child they babysat or co-parented. "Do not worry for that spoiled mare, she is safe and snuggled up in a blanket."

Gil chuckled, though. "I know how worried you were."

Thena's more stern facade melted, and the times he had seen this side of her were some of his favourites. She far preferred her horse's company to that of any person here at the club. And she cared for that horse like her own child. "She is uninjured, for the most part. And although she may lack confidence for the next few days, I believe her recovery will not be so hard a road."

Gil hunched even further, resting his elbows on his knees, "that's good."

Thena looked at him again, tilting her sandy blonde eyebrows. "It is thanks to you that she's home safe and sound."

"Hey," he shrugged, rising as she did the same. "I'd do it again--in a heartbeat!"

"I know, Gil."

He blinked, suddenly finding her hands on his. He blushed, but Thena turned his hands over, examining the balm that had been applied to the raw skin there. He hissed as she pressed.

She glared at him, "nothing severe?"

He gave her his most innocent shrug, "Ajak fixed me right up. So I'll have to wear gloves for the next few days. These things happen."

Her eyes flicked up at him, making her annoyance clear as she examined his palms, then the tiny cuts and scratches anywhere else she could see, even pulling his sleeves up just a little. "These things do not simply happen. They happen because someone is...careless."

It would be easy to think she was referring to him, but he caught the downturn of her lips and the little knot between her eyebrows. "Thena, there wasn't anything you could have done."

She tugged his sleeves down for him again, developing a hunch in her own usually immaculate posture. "I should have been out there watching her. I should have gone after her. You wouldn't have-"

"Thena, listen," he cut her off, happy to interrupt her this one and only time. "Look, I won't say it was easy to get her back. But are you capable of lifting half a horse's weight?"

She looked away, not that she really wanted to admit that she couldn't.

"If you had gone after Olympia I would have been out there trying to track both of you. Then it would just be the three of us stuck out there," he chuckled, imagining poor Thena trying to get Olympia's award winning haunches up a mudslide. "I'm glad you didn't have to."

"You do entirely too much for us." He wasn't sure if she meant 'us' as in the club as a whole, or just her and Olympia. And if she was referring to just herself and her mare, then she was entirely correct. It was almost enough for him to have to worry about favouritism. But not quite.

"I do my job, Thena," he corrected, still with a smile. She pursed her lips at him and he just this once admired how the pink colour of them caught the light. "The rest is just because Olympia is, like, my only friend here."

Thena paused for a minute before clearing her throat. He tilted his head but she swatted his hands away from her, "oh, your only friend?"

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow at him. She was unhappy to be excluded from that.

Gil blushed. "W-Well, I-I mean, I didn't, uh...wanna assume-"

Thena stood from the stool, swiping her lips over his cheek on her way up. "You are so adept at reading the horses, Gilgamesh. I suggest you brush up on your ability to read humans, as well."

Gil had to grin, although he successfully bit back a chuckle; that was rich coming from the Ice Queen. But he his cheek tingled and he felt like he had been given morphine, or maybe pure adrenaline. "I'll study up on that."

"Hm," Thena sufficed to say, collecting herself to leave as if she hadn't kissed his cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world for her.

"Leaving so soon?" Ajak asked, catching her on her way out.

"I came to see how he was doing," Thena used in her own defense, looking down at Ajak and then back at Gil. She kept her expression unreadable but he liked to believe he could see a hint of a smile on her lips. "And he seems fine, now."

He was much more than fine, maybe the best he'd felt in months.

[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze, Pt. 6

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, Wild Thoughts™️, Angst, Yearning, 18+, Walmart shopping, Anime discussion, Anthony Ramos. Lots of Plot

Word Count: 2.8 K

Plot: Linden Marshall just finished law school at Columbia University in NYC. Daveed Diggs is still creating magic with his platonic life partner Rafael Casal in the form of their Blindspotting musical, Bay Boys. Linden’s boyfriend WAS Mark Monaco, star of the superhero movie series Invincible.  They were together for years, and her trauma and his addictions were toxic. She knows now that wasn’t love. 

A/N: Keep in mind that this the same AU as Arrivals, with Holly Woods, but is BEFORE Rafa and Holly get together. 

Read the previous chapter.

==================

Isabela, Puerto Rico, May 2023

“We are about 30 minutes from our destination. Please stay seated with your seatbelts fastened. The pilot will let you know when it is safe to do otherwise. Enjoy the rest of the flight.”

The flight attendant’s announcement woke up Daveed. He felt warm and happy. And he had you in his arms.

Daveed moved his head down into your curls, and kissed the top of your head., checking to see if anyone was watching. Everyone was knocked the fuck out. 

You had fallen asleep on his shoulder about 45 minutes into the flight after passing around champagne bottles. You were so cute, but he could tell that your neck was gonna be wrecked when you awoke.

Daveed had carefully maneuvered you so that he could pull up the armrest without waking you. You were dead to the world, so you waking up wasn’t a problem. 

Then, he pulled you to his chest, situating the blanket around you two and leaning back.  If he wanted anything from you right now, at the top of the list would be to be able to hold you like this and to show love.

He questioned that word in his mind. Love, really? He did love you, even if it was only as a good friend. But could it be more? Were you ready for that? Was he?

Daveed looked around to see Craig watching him and giving a thumbs up.  No one else noticed, Rafa was on his laptop and he could have sworn that Anthony and Jasmine were doing something nasty under their blanket behind you.  

He settled back into this feeling of being with you and fell asleep too, happy and content.

You woke up to a strange rhythm under your ear. It was a blue covered heartbeat, you recognized as you opened one eye, and it was insistent and hard, yet warm and safe. You shifted, held Daveed’s torso tighter and tried to drift back off. His arms tightened around you in response.

 Then your eyes popped open.

“Oh shit!”  You realized what was going on. You sat up slowly and squinted at Daveed’s smile and his damn low sexy voice. 

“Hey sleepyhead.”

“Hey.”  

You blushed and wiped your mouth. 

“Shit, I’m sorry…” you wiped at his onesie. “I think I drooled all over  your…” 

You didn’t finish the sentence when you glanced at Daveed and caught his eye. 

What you said that night came back to both of you. D’s eyes darkened and he licked his lips. For a minute, you were trapped by the static energy of your attraction. Daveed could do a lot with those lips right now if you’d let him. 

But of course you fought it.

You took a deep breath and sat up, separating from Daveed more fully. You had to get it together. You reached for your phone and checked your face, making sure you weren’t too crusty.

“Practically perfect in every way.” Daveed was watching you.

“That’s your first mistake.” You clicked your camera off. “ Anything that’s perfect isn’t real. Or alive.”  You had learned a lot in therapy.

“Truth.” Daveed looked at you appraisingly. “Such wisdom from a young one.” He leaned close to you.  “That’s why I said, ‘practically.’”  He was staring at your lips, not wanting to give up on meeting them again.

“I’m not a ‘young one.’ I’m thirty in two days.” 

You lifted your chin as a child would do, Daveed noted.  It was appropriate, because you were being stubborn as fuck right now.

He chuckled and stayed close, not letting you off the hook.  

“And I’m 40. I could be your…”  

The timbre of his voice was causing your pussy to vibrate. Holy fuck.

“...Daddy,” you said, huskily.  

You opened your mouth to breathe, as Daveed grunted quietly in his throat. God, you wanted to fuck him. You remembered that you knew how big he was. Your eyes widened and you watched his mouth.

Daveed would teach you about Daddy. He wanted to rail you until your pussy curved to his dick.  Got damn.

Daveed wanted you and you wanted him. It was crystal clear. He began to reach for you under the blanket when the flight attendant’s voice intruded on your vibe.

“We are beginning our descent into Rafael Hernández Airport, please stay seated with your seatbelts fastened and bring your tray tables and seats to an upright and locked position. The temperature is 75 degrees and the current time is 12:47 am.  We should be at our gate shortly. Thank you.”

That’s it. The moment was gone. You reached for your water bottle and took a drink to cool down. You were grateful.

Daveed was frustrated, as he sat back, brought his seat up, but held the blanket on his lap for a little while longer. It wasn’t fair, he almost had you. He closed his eyes. Now he felt like a child.

---------

The crew finally arrived in town around 2 am, after the two hour flight and renting a couple of cars to get to Isabela, a village on the seaside.

Loud music was playing to avoid falling asleep, Rafael driving one car and Ant the other.

Arriving in town, the two cars headed straight to the Walmart to get some food and things. It was almost 2 am, but everyone was re-energized and playing around, glad to be free for the time being on the island.

Daveed had to concentrate to read the titles in the video section.  His mind kept going back to the moment on the airplane.  But he vowed not to chase you up and down this island. He didn’t want to crowd you.  It had to be your decision.

You had to come to him. And  the thought of you made him want to cum. He’d have you to think about in the shower tonight, or today, whatever.

He needed to stop thinking about it.

Daveed was looking for Black Dynamite to watch in the condo in case it rained. He knew better than to think that Walmart had it, but he tried anyway.

He did see Afro Samurai tho… He picked it up as Rafa approached him with a toy xylophone and a big grin.

==================

Puerto Rico did something to all of you. It was like some weird no inhibitions pollen or something. When you stepped off the plane you decided to not overthink shit. You were just going to respond naturally, fuck the consequences.

This was your weekend, after all.

You walked into the entertainment section and heard some vaguely familiar music. As you got closer, you realized what it was.

Daveed was in the book section rapping “Rubber Duckie” as Rafa played a toy xylophone.

I got my rubber duckie

I'm in the tub with bubblies

He isn't very fuzzy

I know my duckie loves me

Call up my homie Ernie,

You know the orange one, ya heard me

D was going in, being silly and laughing with his bestie. He was fucking adorable.  You grinned at them and turned down the dvd aisle.

“I can’t believe they don’t have Cowboy Bebop.”  

You shook your head as Daveed and Rafa walked up and flanked you at the display, a shopping cart by Daveed’s side.

“It’s a classic.  Children will be referencing the War on Titan and it's after effects a hundred years from now."

Rafa just nodded and stroked his chin, having enough sense to be quiet.

“Wait, Attack on Titan is right here Lindy…” Daveed reached for a dvd and held it up in front of you.

Rafa shook his head and covered it with his hand.

"Spike Spiegel wasn't in Attack on Titan.  That's an entirely different anime series, my dude." 

The sardonic wit in your voice. Daveed just nodded, face on the floor, and put the blu ray down.

You squinted at what D had in his hand. 

"Afro Samurai is 20 years old as well.  You know that and not Cowboy Bebop? You put shame on your house. Old Man.”

You gave him a sexy grin and sauntered away shaking your head.

Rafa had been watching the scene, head on a swivel. All he had to say after you left was, “Boom. Roasted.” 

Daveed just chuckled, surprised and exhilarated at the same time. It seemed that you were up to letting loose a little bit.

He looked at Rafa who just watched Daveed falling. He couldn’t catch him this time.

"Man. Tonight looks like the beginning of an EPIC weekend,” Rafa said as he pushed some more dvds into Daveed’s cart.

Then he pulled a pack of Magnum XLs off the shelf that he had been hiding under his arm from you.

Daveed looked at him. Rafa stared back.

“What?  All these beautiful women on this island. I’m not gonna be unprepared or take any chances.”

Daveed shook his head, grimaced and looked around to see where you went, but you were nowhere to be found.

----

You were busy eating some Hot Cheetos that you’d grabbed on the chip aisle and were turning down the candy aisle when you saw Grumpy Care Bear standing there with a basket full of food, dvds and shit, looking at some sour patch kids.

"Oh hell,"  you said as you turned right back around.

"Ay, yo.  Lindy. You can get your candy. I'm not going to assault you with my inferior anime knowledge."

He laughed that sexy laugh and held up his hands. He sort of regretted calling you back because you walking away...Damn. Even in the Pikachu onesie.

Daveed continued to hold up his hands to show he didn't intend any harm, a smile on the lips that were your weakness earlier.  Fuck me, you thought.

You smiled back at him and went for the Jelly Bellys. You crunched loudly on your Cheetos as you clocked him out on the low. You felt bad. A little. 

"Look, I'm sorry about that in the dvds.  I'm just passionate about what I like."

Daveed wondered if you liked him. Like liked him liked him. He allowed himself to go there. 

You sucked the Cheeto dust off your fingers and it was making D feel some kinda way as he watched your fingers go in and out of your mouth. His eyes began to slide down your body.

He needed to stop. Daveed cleared his throat and looked at your face.

"No problem. I get it. It's all good." 

Diggs unconsciously licked his lips and grinned, causing you to stare for a second at his casual hotness. This couldn't continue. You frowned.

Daveed sensed the change in mood, grabbed his Sour Patch kids and backed away.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

That was a close call you thought as you felt some weird pang of disappointment at him leaving. But it was what it was.

Soon enough, you all left the store.  Rafa stole some of your Jelly Belly’s. You just handed over the pack to him and pulled out some more. You were prepared.

==================

When the crew finally got to the house, you dropped your bags and ran to the beach, celebrating four days of freedom from work, acting, fame, fortune, and expectations.

After a few minutes of staring at the waves, y’all made your way back up to the house.

When you walked in before Jazzy turned the lights on, you recognized a large dark expanse which seemed to be the back wall. As your eyes got adjusted, you noticed the white rolls of the waves on the shore. 

The back wall was floor to ceiling glass.  When the lights came up, it turned into a mirror and 6 characters in onesies stared back at you.

You were at the back of an open concept space with a huge u-shaped sectional sofa and a beautiful, big kitchen with a bar.

Daaaammmmmmnnn! This place is gorgeous!  Craig’s mouth was hanging open. You reached over and closed it.

“Welcome to our home away from home!” Anthony was bleary eyed and smiling wide. 

He pointed to the right of the house.

“Me and Jazzy’s room is over there,” he then pointed to the right of the house. 

“The birthday girl’s room is opposite over there, a mirror of the master,” then he pointed to the back of the house behind you and to the right,  “and the other four bedrooms are here.” 

Ant started pulling their luggage toward their room, talking over his shoulder. 

“Everybody gets their own room, even me, when I fuck up.” 

All of you cracked up laughing whole Jasmine nodded her head.

It was almost 4 am, so you all were tired.  You gladly pulled your suitcase to your room, feeling grateful and warm for being the guest of honor of your friends.  Your room was the bomb.

You walked into a spacious room with bamboo wood floors,and exposed wooden beam ceilings and several floor to ceiling windows.  There was a huge fluffy white rug under a comfortable king sized bed in the middle of the room. 

Two uniquely designed bamboo lounge chairs and white pillow ottomans faced a window where you could look through and see the pool and beach.

It was a luxury get away and right now, all you wanted was a shower and the bed.

You put your suitcase on the floor and got down and opened it.  You shook your head at what you saw.

“HOLY FUCK GOT DAMN SHIT!!!!”

Daveed, Craig and Jasmine came running at your screams.  Rafa and Ant were behind.

“What happened.”

You were embarrassed. But so irritated.

“Craig. You got the wrong suitcase.  This is Mark’s shit that he never came to get.  None of my clothes are here.  I have nothing to wear.”  You felt like crying.

“I’m sorry Lindy, you said that your summer clothes and bathing suits were in the rolling soft Louis bag…”

I mean the large one. This is the medium one. It’s okay, Craig.

“You have nothing to wear hunh?”

Daveed was smirking at you and you ignored it, crossing your arms and tapping your foot.

“But it’s perfect!”  You looked at Jasmine and her chipper British accent.

“We can go shopping for your birthday tomorrow. Treat yourself!”

You couldn’t help but smile at Jazzy’s happiness. She was right. Rafa and Ant went away and left y’all to that talk. Daveed was glued to his spot.

“OOooooh. Good Idea.” Craig was in. 

“Ok.I’m tired as fuck. I just wanna shower and sleep now. I’ll not need anything tonight.

Daveed couldn’t get the image of you in the shower and naked in bed out of his head now. He cleared his throat.

“I can give you something to wear shopping tomorrow, Lindy.”

His voice was soft.  You smiled at him and he was a goner.

“Man, you are like three times bigger than she is?”  Jasmine didn’t understand.

“Hold up. Are you willing to sacrifice, D?  Can we cut up one of your t-shirts and jeans?”

Daveed felt pain. The only t-shirts he had were Oaklandish.  

“Let’s compromise. You can cut my jeans all you want, but not the shirt.”

Craig smiled wide.  “Deal, if you throw in a belt.”

“Damn, Diggs…” was all that Jasmine said, smiling and shaking her head.

“Thank you Daveed. I appreciate it.” You were blown away.

Daveed played it off. “No problem…” And then he just turned around and walked out of your room.

“Girlllllllll!!!!”  Craig and Jasmine squealed at you and it took you a minute to get them out of your room.

You walked into the en suite bathroom and marveled at its beauty. It was large, with a huge tub and a walk in glass encased shower with an overhead waterfall  shower head. 

You turned on the shower to get it hot, stripped off your onesie and your underwear, wrapped yourself in a towel and went back into the bedroom.

You stopped short, because there was Daveed standing in your room, clothes in hand.

He had immediately gone to find his least favorite jeans and the Oakland shirt that would suit you the best.  He decided that you would look beautiful in blue.

You just in a towel was a sight to behold. He was sure that underneath that towel was paradise.

You stared at each other for a minute, Your eyes were glued to his.  

“Th-thank you again Daveed.”  He couldn’t discern if your hesitant, sexy voice was for him or from embarrassment.

“Sorry, I…. didn’t think you’d be… sorry.” He put his hands up and backed out of the room.

“Daveed.” You called, softly. “Stop.”

You approached him with a smile on your face. Daveed’s eyes were wide, not knowing what was going to happen.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering. Daveed closed his eyes and fought the urge to grab you and hold you close to him.

“You’re welcome.” His smile wrinkled his eyes as he smiled down at you. 

“Goodnight, Linden. Have sweet dreams for me.”

You just stared at him as he turned and left the room.

Daveed was just outside your door when he heard your reply.

“Yes, Sir.”

==================

Read the Next Chapter.

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[hqmoonsun]

𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙙𝙮 ♡

genre: fluff

pairing: oikawa x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

“when you’re lonely, do you stare outside the window like i do?” the music from your earphones loudly booms against your ears as you quietly hum to yourself. the bus has stopped in front of tokyo’s volleyball gymnasium. the boy’s volleyball team are already running down the bus as they excitedly yell to power up the team.

you stand up from your seat, hands warm inside the pockets of your varsity jacket.

“are you excited for today, fellow captain?” kuroo says from behind you while nudging your shoulders a bit. you turn around to face him. “sure, i can’t help but feel nervous though since we’ve never played against seijoh,” you reply shrugging your shoulders, a way to show your cool and hide the anxiety. “well, goodluck!” he says, patting your back a few times before going ahead of you to catch up to kenma.

as expected, there are less spectators for the girl’s volleyball team. it always bothered you that the boy’s are the popular one when both teams have gone to nationals. the only advantage of having less people watching is that there’s less pressure.

“is everyone warmed up?” you ask, raising your voice for the whole team to hear. a loud reply of ‘yes’ echoes throughout the gym and the cheering team for your school took that as a sign to chant.

“nekoma is serving,” the referee announces between the team. you nod your head, your heart beating faster than it did once you’ve stepped inside the gym.

“nice serve!” the team cheers you on as you take a deep breath with the volleyball between your hands. like with every game, you’re nervous again. it’s your third year, yet nothing’s changed. you’re able to perform well during games, but perhaps it’s human nature to feel anxiety.

“now that i’ve changed i know that i’ll be better, better, this round,” you sing softly and in the quietest voice you could let out. this is the best way you could calm your nerves and every time, it’s proven itself useful.

the referee whistles, signaling you must serve now. you open your eyes and take another deep breath before tossing the ball upwards before hitting it with enough strength while jumping, a perfect way to earn the momentum to the benefit of your team.

25 - 18

the board score reads after the first set, which your team has taken. the chants from your school sounds more energized and pumped up for the next set.

‘i was so steady, on my feet but now i’m up in the air,’ a sweet, calm voice from your head pops up, startling you a little.

“you okay?” tsubaki, the team’s libero, pokes your shoulder.

“oh yea, just my soulmate singing,” you answer, giving her a reassuring smile.

“thats cool, i dont think my soulmate sings,” she jokes, playfully rolling her eyes.

“agh, well mine sings the same song over and over again,” you jokingly complain.

the referee whistles again, signaling that break is over. the second set starts.

you sigh, finding out you’re the first to serve again. you love serving, yes, and you’re known to have one of the best serves in the prefecture, but serving first never fails to be nerve-wracking. the fate of a good game depends on your hands, literally and figuratively.

just like before every serve you do, you close your again, focusing on taking deep breaths.

“we thought we were invincible,” you quietly sing for the thousandth time to yourself today.

the referee whistles once again, another signal for you to serve.

“nice serve!” aiko, one of the team’s wing spiker, cheers you on. the whole team and the cheerers from the bleachers follow.

you open your eyes, deeply inhaling and exhaling before doing a jump serve with your maximum strength, aim and control.

the other team couldn’t receive it, first point is yours. once again, you’ve gained the momentum.

27-25

the score board displays as you gaze at it, the team behind you celebrating. the team did it again, you won.

“we did it again!” tsubaki excitedly says, patting your back.

“gather up!” you announce to the team and they do so.

“good job, guys! we did it again, and let’s do it again!” you encourage, happiness overflowing through you.

after the match, everyone quickly rushes to the locker rooms to change as they fill the hallways with squeals of excitement.

apparently, the boys are playing a good, yet tough game at the other side of the gym, so what’s better than to check it out?

as soon as you stepped into the nekoma vs. seijoh match, the mood immediately shifted from a solemn to an intense one.

25-26 on the 2nd set. match point.

“who won the first set?” you ask tsubaki, who is already immersed into the game.

“us,” she quickly answers, her eyes not leaving the volleyball being played.

“good,” you huff. “we can take the win,” you confidently say to no one before plugging in your headphones.

“baby, you’re my kryptonite, im falling from the sky,” you sing quietly in your seat, paying little attention to the game before you.

you could hear the referee’s whistle through your headphones as tsubaki slumps down her seat, her face showing disappointment.

“did seijoh take this set?” you ask surprised, quickly getting up from your seat to examine the match closer. seijoh did take it. “who scored the winning point?” you turn to tsubaki, incredibly amazed at seijoh’s comeback.

“that guy, right there,” she points to an averaged height guy, his fluffy brown hair almost poking his eye. “the last point was his serve,” she continues, her tone matching that of admiration.

“a serve?” you shockingly ask, amazed and curious to what his serve is like.

“yes, it’s like he has full control over his body and strength,” she finishes, her tone of admiration not faltering even once.

you sink back into your chair. you plug your earphones out. the game definitely now has your attention.

26-24

the boys lost, yet none of their faces show anger, but instead astonishment. seijoh was amazing and that was one hell of a game.

‘i can’t deny, i’m falling for you,’ the same song you were listening to earlier plays in your head. your soulmate has just continued singing for you. they have great taste, after all.

“hey! you guys were amazing, i know you did your best,” the team catches up to the boys outside the gym.

“thank you, but really, we’re still surprised at how seijoh did that,” yamamoto wonders as he looks around for any seijoh members.

“their #1 is one hell of a server,” kenma comments, his eyes already glued at his ps4.

as the boys head for the lockers to change, the girls decide to make their way inside the bus. your earphones are plugged in again, your voice occasionally singing some of the words.

“what did you just sing?” a familiar voice from behind gasps.

you turn around, confused. seijoh’s #1 is looking at you, his eyes shaking in confusion.

“a song?” you reply, furrowing an eyebrow.

“we drive around town, you’re holding me now,” he randomly sings as he steps closer to you.

you’re about to tell him off to stop singing so loud when it hit you. he’s your soulmate. no one seems to be bothered by his loud singing, except for you. because not only can you hear him in front of you, but his voice also echoes inside your head.

you keep stepping back as he inches closer, until you’ve hit a wall. he finally stops walking, leaving a feet of distance between you.

your heart is pounding fast and you can’t seem to look at him in the eye, so you stare at the plain grey flooring you’re standing on.

your soulmate, you just found your friggin soulmate.

“i can’t deny, i’m falling for you,” he keeps going as he crouches down to connect his eyes with yours. “hi,” he cutely greets, followed by a soft smile.

“h-hi,” you mumble flustered.

“thank you, by the way,” he starts, earning a confused look from you. “you calmed me during the second set,” he adds, his smile gradually growing.

“how?” you ask, oblivious to the answer.

“your songs, duh,” he answers cheekily. “i’m oikawa, by the way,” he sticks out his hands, his pretty setter hands for you to shake.

“i’m y/n,” is all you could let out from surprise. you slowly take his hand, it’s soft and warm. you could hold it forever.

oikawa tilts his head to the side, his gaze still on you. “question,” he starts, his hands not letting go of yours.

“um, sure?” you reply. deep down, you’re glad he hasn’t let go of your hands.

“why’d you stop singing?” he asks, his lips forming a pout. your heart beats a little faster.

“um,” your words fall short. “i wanted to see you play,” you finally admit, your cheeks heating up and displaying a red, crimson hue.

“you’re cute,” oikawa giggles as he changes the positions of your hands to intertwine them.

‘i just found my soulmate,’ you think to yourself, feeling a rush of joy you’ve never felt before.

[syriul]

A Time Traveler in Viking Court - part 12/?

How are we going to get out of this one now? You asked yourself as Ivar led you and Kyle to the center of a small crowd made up of displaced Viking men, women, and children. The size of the crowd was surprising-- Kattegat was home to at least a few thousand people, so why were there only a hundred people here?

“What do you think happened to everyone else?” Kyle voiced your thoughts as he leaned in, making sure no one else heard him. 

“I don’t know. Maybe they're over there,” you motioned towards the woods that surrounded the sizable clearing where multiple tents stood with a nod of your head.

Kyle’s gaze searched the shadowy, tree-covered landscape in an attempt to find unseen faces.

“Actually,” Ivar spoke, “they are still in Kattegat.”

“What?” You asked, startled at Ivar’s sudden intervention. 

“The rest of my people were unable to escape King Harold’s army,” Ivar answered. “They are caged in like animals and Kattegat, my Kattegat is their cage.” 

There was nothing you could say. You weren’t a king or held the future of thousands of people in your hands-- you simply didn’t know what to say.

An uncomfortable silence fell over you and Kyle as you continued making your way amongst the scattered crowd; your palms became clammy the closer you got to its center.

Your own eyes roamed over the weathered and tired faces that made up the crowd. For a brief second, you imagined the horror of being woken up in the middle of the night by an invasion. 

But I was woken up in the middle of the night by a sudden invasion too, you reminded yourself.  Images of the of the fighting in the thrown roam, dead bodies, and pools of blood flooded your mind-- you silently prayed that with time you would be able to shake away those awful memories. 

“Tonight has been a trying time,” Ivar’s voice boomed through the still, night air, effectively startling you for the second time in mere seconds, “but tonight we have been given a sign that the Gods are on our side.”

A collective gasp ran through the sea of people that surrounded you. 

“We,” he continued to speak with kingly authority that demanded he be heard, “have Gods among us!”

Another gasp, this time mixed with murmurs, ran through the crowd. Your stomach dropped as Ivar motioned toward where you an Kyle stood, side by side.  You felt the heat rise in your face as hundreds of pairs of eyes turned their attention towards you and your best friend. 

Ivar’s stone-like features, illuminated by both moonlight and torch fire, stared you down. It was clear he wanted you to do something, but you didn’t know what.  It was only after a few seconds of shifting your eyes between Ivar and the crowd that you realized what he wanted. He thinks you’re a Goddess. They think you’re a Goddess. They all want you to confirm it.

You took a deep breath, wiped your clammy hands on the skirt of your dress, and shot Kyle a look that seemed to ask for luck before taking a step forward, chin raised in false confidence, and began to speak. 

“It is true,” you bellowed out, the edge in your voice successfully hidden, “the Gods have not forsaken you.” You raised your hands above your head, becoming a living Y. “We walk among you, we feel your plights and have come to help.” You did your best to mimic the enthusiasm of the televangelists you often came across while flipping through channels back home, back in your own time. “We,” you signaled from yourself to Kyle, “are here to win back Kattegat for you.”

A silence fell over the surroundings before the people of Kattegat, who’d been chased out of their own homes, broke out into a cheer that shook the ground.  For a brief second, you wondered if their loud, hope-filled chants would attract the attention of the invaders, this King Harald, and his warriors, then you felt energized by the sheer vigor radiating from every single person present. Guilt at your finally began to knaw at you. 

You turned to look at Kyle from over your shoulder. A look of guilt that mirrored your own rested over his features. 

This isn’t going to work. I can feel it.

“Why did the Gods send you two?” Hvitserk asked from his perch on an unusually large tree stump a few feet in front of you. 

It was early morning and everyone in what you’d decided resembled a refugee camp was still asleep. Last night you’d boldly lied to everyone here, told them you and Kyle were Gods, now you were sitting among tents, trying to answer questions you hadn’t even though up answers for. 

What would be a good enough reason? Why would two Gods be here?

You raked your brain for an appropriate answer. 

“Brother,” Ivar’s voice suddenly filled the silence you’d allowed to grow, “you are bold to question the  dealings of Gods.” You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he dragged himself towards where his brother sat. His entire disposition had changed when he learned you and Kyle were otherworldly-- his mannerism had gone from slightly condescending to utterly respectful. 

Of course, he’s being respectful. He thinks you can make anything happen with a snap of your fingers.

“May I ask, where is your companion?” Ivar asked you once he’d pulled himself up beside Hvitserk.

Your eyebrows knitted together. “My companion?” 

“He means Kyle,” Hvitserk replied for his brother. 

Ivar side eyed him in return. “I would never  be so disrespectful to a God.” He spoke as if warning his brother, daring him to say another word without reverence. 

“He’s asleep,” you said, studying Ivar’s features, “and please, don’t be so formal.” 

Something behind Ivar’s deep blue eyes seemed to spark to life as you finished speaking; admiration and gratitude towards you radiated off of him. “That you would allow me to speak to you as an equal  is an honor.”

Taken aback, you gave him a small smile. Honor. It’s an honor. It wouldn’t be an honor if you knew I’m faking it. 

“Should we wait for Kyle to wake up?” Ivar asked, a proud smile spreading over his lips as he said Kyle’s names.  

“What for?”  You asked.

Hvitserk let out a small, excited laugh. “For battle preparations.”

Battle preparations..? Oh, of course! Fuck. 

Your eyes ran over the battle plans that rested before you. You weren’t sure how long it’d been since Ivar had started talking, relaying his plans for taking back Kattegat, but you were looking forward to its end. 

“You,” Ivar looked at Ubbe while pointing to what looked like a mountain range on the old, hole-riddled map sprawled out on the small wooden table, “will bring your warriors through here and wait for the signal.”

Ubbe, who stood with his arms crossed over his chest, focused solely on the map you all huddled around. “And what will the signal be?” He asked, eyes never looking up. 

“My warriors will swarm the gates,” Hvitserk chimed in, “once we distract the guards in the towers you’ll make your way down the hills, storming the unguarded left side.” 

Ubbe and Hvitserk nodded in understanding. 

I can’t take this anymore. 

Without warning, you walked away from the map, turning your back towards everyone. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you. 

“(Y/n), are you okay?” Kyle was the first to ask. 

You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation and turned to face Kyle and the Ragnarssons. “This isn’t going to work,” you practically yelled. 

Ivar inched forward, a look of worry evident in his features. “And why not?”

As quickly as possible, you racked your brain for a possible answer. “Becuase,” you started, unsure of where you were heading with your remark, “because--”

“Becuase you are planning on using brute force,” Kyle finished for you. You silently thanked him for it. “I was going to bring it up,” he continued, “but I wanted to see just how good your plan would be.” Your eyebrows knitted at the air os self-importance he’d suddenly obtained I think he might be enjoying being a God a little too much. 

Ivar eyed the crude map. “Brute force,” he quietly repeated to himself as he thought over his battle plans.

Ubbe crossed his arms and looked from you to Kyle, then back to you. “What would you suggest we do then?”  

You lifted your chin up in the air, mirroring Kyle’s demeanor. “That is for you to tell us. We,” you motioned towards Kyle, “would like to see if you are worthy of our help.”

“Of course we are worthy,” Hvitserk intervened, “we are son’s of Ragnar Lothbrok, the direct descendant of the All-Father.” 

“Even so,” you continued, “you cannot expect to ride on the tails of glory your father held before you.”

Ivar looked up from the map, directly at you. “Of course not,” he agreed, “we will prove to you that the Gods are right for choosing us.” You could see an idea forming behind his eyes. “And I have the perfect way to show you just how worthy we are of your help,” he bowed his head and turned towards a man dressed in rags that stood by the tent’s only opening. “Gather as many slaves as possible,” he commanded, “tonight we will prove out worth with a great sacrifice.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. I think I’m about to throw up. This is going too far.

It’s been a super long time since I last posted, so just let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in this anymore :)

@eating-pie-in-the-tardis @titty-teetee @doklausoneverysurfacepossible @iamwarrenspeace @thehunterofthelord @justacrush @thefangirlsoul @florenceivy @marauderette130 @tis-itheapplepie @vaisabu @ketepara 

[keeroo92]

Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch29 (V x Reader)

Chapter 29 - United, We Fly

______________________________________________________________

V

The moment he sends Griffon back for you, the yellowish cave is blocked off by crimson fibers; a demon attack. V instantly flicks his cane, summoning Shadow for the fight just as the creature appears. A Lusachia.

Ugh.

At his mental behest, Shadow streaks forward across the fibrously textured mesh under her massive paws, using her talons to leap forward at the Lusachia with a vicous roar. She shifts, her feline form becoming a mass of blades that stab into the violet glow of the demon’s shield and swiftly break it. With a gesture of its spindly arms, two points of white light appear beside the floating demon, their pale luminescence growing until several missiles streak forth.  

His eyes track them across the arena, easily dodging the slow-moving projectiles. He senses Griffon closing in and adrenaline floods his system as he realizes the bird is bringing you directly into the path of the lights.

NO!

He doesn’t have time to shout or signal you. His desperation consumes him and his vision splits chaotically as his body tenses, dual realities of what he can see and what Griffon can see wrestling for dominance in his perception. For a fraction of a second V’s mind is mayhem, his center of gravity failing him utterly as his stomach drops from motion sickness. Even as his eyes stare at the ground and his human arms automatically stabilize him with his cane, he catapults his focus into Griffon with a singular intention and time itself dilates to stretch the next few seconds into what feels like minutes.

 DROP HER!

V can feel his glorious wings beating powerfully, the movement sending air through his carefully groomed and gleaming feathers. He opens his harsh beak to make a sarcastic comment, several choice options on the tip of his demonic tongue already.

 Man, what am I, a pack mule?

The muscles in his purple legs abruptly stop obeying his instructions, his claws opening against his will to drop you before he can react. True panic blooms in his ethereal brain, the first whiff of fear caressing his mind as he hears your surprised shout.

 What the FUCK?!

V’s awareness violently snaps back to his familiar human form, his emerald eyes moving rapidly to watch you fall the last ten feet with bated breath.

The lights pass only centimeters from your skin, but one strikes Griffon in between his wings and he falls to the ground soundlessly, morphing into a pulsing sphere. V’s connection with the mouthy bird fades at his hibernation as you crash to the floor feet first, falling to your hands and knees at the impact.

With you out of immediate danger, V turns back to face the demon with his lips set in a firm line as he forces himself to focus. Keeping his eyes on his enemy, he slowly steps closer to Griffon’s orb as he sends Shadow his need to end this quickly. The spectral panther bares her teeth and shifts into her spinning blade form, her sharp edges slicing into the Lusachia repeatedly. V feels Griffon’s connection strengthen once again as the avian recovers, his long string of curses making him smirk.

“Goddamn, mother fucking shit that hurt like a bitch!” he caws, already diving at the purple demon angrily for his vengeance. The creature vanishes and Griffon splutters as his target reappears on the other side of the cave, its arms waving mystically as flames gather in front of its body. You finally manage to stand and draw your sword as a beam of orange energy shoots out in V’s direction. He sidesteps it nimbly with Shadow’s timely help, mentally commanding her to press the attack the moment he’s out of range.

“Suck it, turd!” Griffon caws mockingly as he joins Shadow in her frontal assault, black blades and blinding lightning striking the Lusachia without mercy. V darts forward and thrusts his cane through the creature at long last, forcing it to dissolve into ash.

For a few seconds the only sound in the vast cavern is rapid panting as V catches his breath. The battle leaves him feeling physically energized but mentally exhausted, his mind struggling to assess the alarming moment of unity as he paces and taps the porous floor anxiously with his cane.

Until now, his connection with the three odd beings sharing his body has been a partnership, each one of them able to refuse his commands if they so desired.  He has been able to see through Griffon’s eyes before, but never has he utterly lost awareness of his own identity and experienced what Griffon felt.

 What in the world was that?!

Is this simply another new facet of his growing abilities? It makes sense; in his first moments of existence, he hadn’t yet bonded with the three demons. The connection was quite weak at first, taking time and practice for him to even be able to bring them forth. For those first few days, he had assumed they simply ceased to exist when he released their energy.

Then he began to feel a distant echo of their now-familiar minds within him at all times, a sixth sense he could never find the words to describe. It grew more and more powerful until he could identify their unique signatures inside himself. The bond thickened and he learned how to read their moods, though Nightmare was still an enigma that refused to be defined.

He remembers the moment he summoned Griffon on a rooftop, desperately begging for silence as he hid beside you from the horde below, his astonishment when the loud-mouthed bird was silent upon his appearance.

And how could he forget the first time Griffon had spoken to him in his mind? He had even mentioned how difficult it was at the time, yet now V can barely get him to stop sometimes. Shadow and Nightmare had made their voices heard as well, their emotions and opinions of his actions startlingly complex.

It had been only hours since he first saw through Griffon’s mind, the distance between them almost irrelevant as he felt the urgent terror within his friend as Dante stabbed himself. The image had been choppy, brief and requiring his total focus to perceive.

And now this.

 What could possibly be next?

“V? You’re going to make a rut if you keep pacing much longer,” your bemused voice informs him, breaking his analysis.

“Yeah, Shakespeare! I doubt that’ll work fast enough to stop Urizen,” Griffon chimes in. V probes their bond, startled as he realizes the bird had no idea what had just happened.

 Did I imagine it?

 No, my mind was too occupied to create such a vision.

“I need to show you something,” the poet tells the bird, and he pulls Griffon’s energy back within himself, bringing Shadow along to save whatever energy he can.

 What the hell, V?

 Just… look.

He sends everything he can remember about the jarring experience through the connection in a downpour of sensory recollections. He can feel Griffon’s shock, his bewildered confusion as he absorbs everything.

 What the shit? What the SHIT?! You were me?!

“V, what’s going on?” you ask him worriedly, coming over to lay a concerned hand on his shoulder. He pushes the hair out of his face to catch your gaze, his lips twisting in a wry smirk.

“I honestly don’t know. I… merged with Griffon just now, I was him. I forgot who I was entirely. It was me who dropped you,” he attempts to explain, still wrapping his own mind around it. Your eyebrows rise significantly, then draw together in deep thought. V waits patiently as your clever mind seeks understanding.

A loud boom nearby makes both of you jump, eyes shooting to the direction it came from.

“We should try to catch up to the others, we cannot fall behind,” V remarks softly. You nod, still lost in thought as your hand joins with his and you set off towards a small opening lit by blue sacs of sap. You sigh as you look within.

“Another drop… I can see Dante and Nero, looks like they could use a hand,” you murmur quietly. Within moments, you’re wrapped around V’s slim frame, clinging to him as Griffon carries the pair of you down the long drop.

 Less carrying, more like a slow fall…

He sends Shadow down with a slight wiggle of his hand, her black cloud assembling into her form near Dante and helping him take down a pair of demonic knights with a harsh growl. By the time his feet touch down, only a Behemoth remains.

He hears the drawn-out sound of you freeing your blade, your body settling into a defensive crouch and moving forward at an angle. He stays back, Shadow and Griffon already working to get the armor off the massive beast. Dante roars as he streaks forward, his fists and feet covered in metal. His punches are a blur as he strikes one of the chains, breaking it to release a plate of protective metal. Nero’s busy reloading his pistol, staying almost as far back as V for the time being.

V watches the battle carefully, his fingers ready to snap at a moment’s notice. His belly twinges uncomfortably as you exchange a nod with Dante, the man smirking roguishly as he darts in again to keep the Behemoth distracted. You seize the opportunity and spring forward, thrusting your blade deep into the patch of flesh revealed by Dante’s efforts.

 They work well together…

“Damn, nice moves with that sword Y/N! How about a little one on one training session later? You show me yours, I’ll show you mine?” Dante asks flirtatiously and V’s lips twist in an angry snarl, the force of his envious frustration apparent in Griffon’s massive release of electricity.

“Ha, you wish!” you shout back mockingly. Your tone eases V’s irritation enough for him to restrain the urge to show off and finish off the Behemoth as dramatically as possible.

“You wish for something long enough, eventually it happens!” his idiot brother replies as he draws his own blade and heaves it through the tentacles writhing from the demon’s mouth with a mighty swing. The beast howls and turns to charge at him, but he’s already gone. His tricks only serve to highlight his prowess as he appears on the creature’s other side and slices through several chains, leaving it unprotected at last.

“Care to do the honors, gorgeous?” Dante offers with a gesture. A loud gunshot spoils his fun as Nero slays the Behemoth with a wide spread of explosive gunfire, burning through every bullet he just loaded. V barks out a laugh as Griffon and Shadow return to his body in a whirlwind of black.

“You guys are all idiots,” the young warrior comments with a smirk. “Dante, this is really not the time for flirting. V, she’s about as likely to take him up on his offers as I am of hooking up with Nico. And Y/N, the more you tell him ‘no’ the more he’s gonna mess with you.”

In unison, your face and V’s twist in disgust.

“Well, I’m not going to say yes!” you exclaim angrily at the implied suggestion.

Nero raises his hands in surrender, doing his best to diffuse your rage and shooting an apologetic smile at V for good measure. The entire situation is so surreal he can’t maintain his annoyance; who would have expected Nero to be the voice of reason?

“That’s not what I meant. I meant just don’t say anything. He’ll get bored eventually,” he explains quickly. Dante snickers, striding forward to clap a hand onto your shoulder. V’s blood boils as he watches your face twinge in discomfort at his brother’s overly friendly contact with you.

“I’ll back off, if that’s what you want. Your face just does this weird thing when you get mad and I couldn’t help myself, it’s so cute,” Dante admits with a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

Oh, for heaven’s sake…

Just as V steps forward to intervene,  you clench your hand and swing at the smug bastard with all your strength, your entire body rotating with the blow. You move so quickly that neither Nero nor Dante react in time to stop you, and your strike lands on the underside of the younger Sparda’s jaw, his head snapping back with a sound of flesh on flesh. To V’s immense pride and satisfaction, Dante staggers back, his hands coming up to protect his face out of instinct as he finds his footing.

Nero bursts into laughter, his opinion clear on the matter as he holds his stomach in amusement. V takes your hand in his and you relent, sending a final glare at his brother as you step back.

“I meant cute like a puppy, damn!” Dante groans as he rubs his jaw.

“I don’t care why you keep flirting with me, but I swear to god if you ever call me cute again I’ll punch you in the throat so hard you won’t be able to swallow for a week! I’m too busy trying to save V’s life to deal with your bullshit!” you shout emphatically.

“Jeez… I promise I’ll be nothing but professional, just don’t punch me again!” the red-clad man pleadingly pledges, still rubbing his jaw.

 That may have been the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

His despicable brother being punched in the jaw by you for the same attitude he has always loathed… Delightful. The words you had delivered after are just a bonus, your comment about him making his heart warm.

“Wait, do you mean to tell me you have a plan to save him?” Dante suddenly asks, incredulous. “Trish didn’t tell me that part.”

V sighs, already imagining the brazen man’s reaction to your theory of emotion saving his soul. He isn’t disappointed when you finish your explanation and the veteran devil hunter chuckles lightly.

“Well, now I’ve really heard it all. Not saying you’re wrong, but I’ll be damned if that isn’t the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard. But hey, who am I to talk about what it means to be human? I’m half demon!” he comments humorously. He crosses his arms with a slight frown, clearly pondering something important to him.

“Guess that means the best way for me to help out is for us to have a little chat, big brother,” he adds with a glance at V. Dante starts walking away, clearly expecting to be followed. V catches your eye, expression pleading for you to save him from whatever dreadful conversation Dante wants to have, but he finds no support in your happy smile.

“He’s got a point, it might help,” you pronounce, shooing him toward his brother. V pinches the bridge of his nose.

 Just don’t kill him…

The two men leave you and Nero behind to chat and wander to the other side of the cavern before Dante begins, his tone more serious than V has ever heard it.

“I keep forgetting you’re… him, because you look so different. I wonder why that is?” he asks benignly. V doesn’t bother answering; it mystifies him as well. Dante sighs, looking at the floor uncomfortably.

“So, how much of my brother are you, anyway?”

“If you’re asking about my memories, all of it from what I can tell. Right up until the creation of myself and Urizen,” the lean poet responds flatly. Dante lets out a whistle.

“You remember mom, then? What happened to her?” Dante inquires awkwardly. V can’t bring himself to speak on the matter, the memory too painful to revisit again and settles for a tight nod instead.

“Did you know she ran after you? Hid me in a closet and tried to go find you,” his brother adds quietly. V shakes his head mournfully, still not trusting his voice.

 Is that why she was in the front room? Is that why she didn’t escape? Because of me?

 I failed her twice that day, then.

His fingers tighten around his cane and his jaw clenches painfully as he grits his teeth against the despair threatening to overwhelm him.

“I probably would have died too, all of us maybe, if you’d been with us. She would have hidden in that closet with us both, maybe try to make a run for it but we wouldn’t have made it. It’s fucked up, but in a way you saved my life that day,” Dante continues, carefully avoiding eye contact.

The dam bursts within him, his voice sounding choked and agonized as he finally speaks. “I saved no one that day.”

“Neither did I, big brother. And I was with her,” Dante whispers sadly.

A miniscule tendril of compassion weakly reaches out. V thinks of you and allows it to remain, but doesn’t display it outwardly. Dante coughs and V wonders if the man is trying to hide behind the sound. He glances at his brother through his dark hair to see a conflicted expression on his features, some internal battle raging within him. The pale-haired warrior turns to V suddenly, having reached some kind of decision. He speaks hurriedly, the words obviously sticking in his throat.

“Look, I gotta ask you something gross, spare me any details but… were you a virgin before you split yourself? In particular, was there an instance around twenty odd years ago?”

 The fuck is he talking about?

 I’m not sure… why in the world would he care about that?

 Only one way to find out.

“There was. Why do you ask?” V asks apprehensively.

Dante’s eyes go wide, an inscrutable expression flooding him before he turns away abruptly, rubbing his hands over his face excitedly.

“I knew it! I knew it! Haha, holy shit!” Dante exclaims, and the urge to punch him is exceedingly difficult to ignore.

“What? What did you know?” V implores him urgently, rolling his eyes. Dante turns to face him again with an absurd grin on his face, his teeth shining and eyes dancing with mirth.

“Nero is your son, dipshit!”

[strawnillas]

Another Space [Klance]

Summary: Keith goes through a panic attack from all the stress he's having. Lance finds him just as the Red Lion starts attacking the castle.

i wrote this before the entire ‘hey man’ thing happened and then GOT REENERGIZED TO FINISH IT... so here, take it, and give me shiro,

[Also available on AO3 and FFN! Check out my other VLD/Klance fics while you’re at it if you like this one ;)]

headcanon of the day: keith being korean or japanese, but he can't speak write listen or read ANY of it, yes please,

♡

“Alright paladins, dismissed.”

A collective groan of relief echoes throughout the control room. With the meeting done and over with, Lance stands from his piloting station and stretches, ready to call it a day just like everyone else.

Ah, he can’t wait to hit the hay with his beauty mask on.

“Good night Keith.” Hunk says to the red paladin as he walks past him, the greeting more of an unshakeable habit than an actual time-teller. But he barely gets a glance in return—just a curt nod of the raven’s head.

Lance raises his eyebrows as the doors shut behind Keith.

“Hey, don’t you think Keith seems a bit off today?” he approaches Hunk and Pidge, who look at him skeptically.

“I don’t know, he seemed pretty normal to me.” Pidge says. Hunk nods in agreement.

“What about you, Coran?” Lance turns around to face the gorgeous man. “Do you think Keith’s acting weird today?”

“Number four? I can’t confidently say I do, Lance. Why? Did you notice something peculiar?”

“Well, it’s just…” Lance starts wildly gesturing with his hands. “He seemed way too quiet during the meeting just now, and… I don’t know, more tense I guess?” Here Lance crosses his arms and makes a frowny face, as if imitating the Keith that he noticed. “Like more uptight and brooding and junk. Shouldn’t we be worried?”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Lance.” Allura cuts in, still at the castle’s main control panel, flipping through some holograms here and there. “It’s possible he’s been distracted by his thoughts. A lot has happened, after all.”

“Yeah, what with Shiro being gone, and him having to pilot the Black Lion till he comes back… that is, if he comes back.” Hunk says, a solemn note to his voice. “Not to mention he’s probably still thinking about having Galra DNA in him and finding his family and junk.”

“Okay, point.” Lance agrees. “But shouldn’t we check on him? See he’s doing okay?”

“Your kindness is admirable, Lance.” Coran says. “But perhaps for now we should let him on his own for a while. Maybe he’ll perk back up like usual once he gets some sleep. Speaking of sleep, you should really get some, Princess.”

“I’m fine Coran, I just need to…” Allura starts, but with one wave of the gorgeous man’s hand, the computer shuts down all holograms.

“I’m sorry princess, but I have to insist this time.” Coran says as he escorts the obviously tired yet stubborn Allura out the door. “That goes for all you paladins too. Have a good sleep everyone.”

“You too Coran.” Lance calls out as the door closes. Bidding goodnight to Pidge and Hunk as well, the blue paladin makes his way towards his room.

The halls are dimmed to give that nighttime effect, but after the Alfor AI incident, Lance wishes they’d leave the lights bright all the time. The path to his room suddenly feels doubly long and spookier; the goosebumps are crawling up his skin.

For a split second he considers running back and bunking in with Hunk or at least get Hunk to accompany him to his room, when he notices the back of a figure in a darker part of the hallway.

The alarms rise in Lance’s head as he considers the possibility of an intruder—but he diminishes the thought almost instantly when he realizes, Oh, it’s Keith.

“Hey, Keith buddy, you okay?”

Keith doesn’t respond. He seems frozen in place, his shoulders hunched and against the wall. Lance takes a step closer, his brows furrowing. It’s not like Keith didn’t hear him, right?

“Keith?” Just as Lance says his name again, the raven falls to his knees.

“Keith!” Lance is by his side almost immediately. He holds onto Keith’s shoulder and realizes that the red paladin is gasping for breath hurriedly, almost as if he just got out of drowning, as if his lungs are failing him. His eyes are wide and unfocused, and he’s hugging himself and digging his nails into his arms hard enough to leave marks on his jacket.

Lance’s own eyes widen as he realizes what’s going on.

The first of many tears falls from Keith’s wide eyes, and the Castle of Lions shakes.

“What the—!” another tremor, harder than the one before, almost topples Lance off his feet despite him crouching. A lion’s roar echoes throughout the ship.

“Oh quiznak!” Lance dodges a fallen ceiling piece, and he shields Keith from some smaller debris with his body.

Keith himself is against the wall of the castle, his sobs louder now and his fingers pulling hard at his hair.

Allura’s voice booms through the castle. “Paladins?! Where’s Keith?! Why is the Red Lion attacking us?! Oof!”

Another hit seems to throw Allura off balance as she grunts.

Lance looks at the quivering body under him. He sets his jaw as determination fills his eyes.

♡

Allura is understandably distressed.

She was almost to her room when the attacks started, and ran back to the control room as fast as she could, her fear of the Galran Empire finding them or another enemy attacking their castle energizing her.

Finding out it was the Red Lion attacking her own hangar was not what she was expecting.

“W-What’s going on?!” Hunk shouts as he runs in with Pidge, the both of them suited up in full paladin armour.

“The Red Lion? What do you mean it’s the Red Lion? Where’s Keith?” Pidge asks in rapid succession as she jumps into her station.

“While we’re on the matter, where’s Lance? Has anyone seen Lance?” Hunk adds, going to his own place and seeing what he can do.

“That’s what I hoped you two would know, but I suppose not.” Allura says, gripping onto the controls as the castle shakes once again, even harder this time. The roars of the Red Lion almost feels deafening.

Coran comes running into the control room, ash and soot covering him. “Her hangar’s completely on fire, Princess! She wouldn’t let me in!”

“This is crazy! Again, where are Keith and Lance?!” Pidge shouts, her fingers flying over her computer. “If the Red Lion keeps this up, she’ll melt off her part of the hangar!”

Almost as soon as she said that, the tremors stop, and everything is quiet. No more roars are heard, and no more attacks are felt.

The control room and everyone in it is silent as they find themselves pondering, what just happened?

Static echoes through the speakers. “—rincess? Guys?”

“Wait, wait, what’s that? Is that Lance?” Hunk taps something on his computer and a screen pops out on the main display, showcasing Lance’s face.

The brunet instantly looks relieved. “Oh thank God. Is everyone okay?”

“Lance!” Pidge exclaims, noting the slight ash on his face. “Dude, you look like you just walked through a fire pit.”

“Lance, we’re fine, but where are you?” Allura cuts in.

“I’m… kinda in the Red Lion?”

“You’re… what?”

“Look, I can’t explain right now because I have to take care of him as soon as possible, but I’m going to take Red back to Blue’s hangar. This place is a hazard and needs some serious cleanup. Oh, and Keith’s with me at the back, so don’t worry. I got him.”

“Lance, what do you mean?” Allura sounds understandably more confused than before. “Did somebody attack him?”

Lance, in his white-blue shirt and with his jacket missing, shifts some controls and gets the Red Lion out the castle and back. “No, no, Princess. We’re fine. Nobody attacked Keith. Hunk will explain it to you.”

“What? Me? I literally don’t know anything about what’s going on here right now—”

“Hunk. It’s pineapples.”

Hunk immediately stops talking, a look of realization crossing his face. Allura, Coran, and Pidge have never looked so confused in their lives.

“Dude… like, in a cake?”

“Yeah, in a cake.”

“Gotcha. You go take care of him Lance. If you need anything from me, I’ll be here.”

Lance grins. “Thanks bud.” And he signs out as soon as he lands Red in Blue’s hangar.

“What the quiznak is a pineapple in a cake?” Pidge exclaims, once the hologram screen disappears.

Hunk looks at the other three people in the room and takes a deep breath. “Okay, so, back in The Garrison, Lance and I, we… kinda have a system.”

“What kind of system?” Allura prods gently when it seems that Hunk is hesitating.

“Well… we kind of take care of each other’s mental health, y’know? And Lance… he gets panic attacks a lot.”

A small gasp comes from Pidge. Hunk continues on when nobody else says anything.

“And because he can’t address it when it’s about to happen and he doesn’t want anyone to see him having one, we set up a system where he can hold my arm really tight, and I ask him, ‘pineapples in a cake?’ and if he nods, I take him back to his room and just… be there for him.”

“Wait, wait, so you’re saying Keith’s having a panic attack right now?” Pidge says and when Hunk nods, she slumps in her seat. “That might explain why Red suddenly started attacking us…”

“I’m sorry paladins but… what is a panic attack?” Allura asks, with Coran beside her looking just as curious.

Hunk and Pidge look at each other, and then begin to tell the Alteans what it all means.

♡

Lance sits in his seat for a while once Red landed, feeling her hum in worry for her paladin. He places a hand on one of her controls and pats. “It’s okay, girl. I’ve got him. Just don’t go attacking the castle again, got it?”

When the brunet feels like he’s got an agreeing hum from the overprotective lion, he turns around in his seat to face Keith.

It was no easy feat getting him to the Red Lion’s hangar, Lance’ll admit that. He almost burned himself thanks to Red’s flames. But seeing Keith slumped against the wall of the cockpit, Lance’s jacket wrapped around him as he rides out the attack, his eyes shut tight, and the occasional sob echoing in the small space, Lance thinks he’d probably be willing to do it all over again.

Lance sits down by Keith, and gently pulls the other down so he’s lying in his lap. He pats Keith’s hair, running his fingers down the length of the mullet and back. After another moment’s silence, Lance begins to sing softly.

He doesn’t know what’ll help calm Keith down, but he hopes at least this is enough.

He racks his memory for any and all the gentle songs he knows, from the typical lullaby in English or Spanish, to the ridiculous self-written songs of his childhood. Once in awhile, a soft love song he remembers from the radio would come into play as well.

He loses track of time with his whisper-singing, unsure of how long he’s been here with Keith occasionally letting out a sob before finally stilling with slow breaths.

Ah, he’s asleep…

Lance’s own eyes close, resting his head against the wall of the cockpit.

Maybe he’ll sleep for a bit too.

♡

When Lance wakes, it’s from being jostled around by a waking Keith.

Lance opens his eyes, realizing he’s still in the exact same position when he fell asleep, and sees Keith trying to push himself off his lap.

In a hushed tone, he asks, “Hey Keith… you okay?”

Keith visibly flinches. His hair hangs and covers most of his face from this angle, so Lance can’t read his expression.

“I…” Keith starts. Lance sees his hands are trembling. “What… happened?”

“You had a panic attack. You don’t remember it?”

Keith shakes his head. Lance’s jacket is still secure around the raven’s shoulders.

“Is this your first time?” Lance asks, just to make sure.

For a moment Keith is silent. But then he shakes his head, almost hesitantly.

“I don’t know… But I think I went through something like this… back in the Garrison… when they told me that he… that Shiro…” Keith doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before another tear hits the ground.

Lance pulls the other into a hug gently, letting Keith cry in between his neck and shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says as he starts humming. “It’s okay.”

Things aren’t really okay, and he’s aware of that. But for now, for just one tick, he needs things to feel okay. At least for a little while.

Keith isn’t actively sobbing this time, his tears silently trailing down his cheeks. Lance plays with the other’s hair again, partly for something to do other than sing, partly for the hope it can help ease Keith’s worries.

It takes a bit for Keith to stop crying and for him to pull away, wiping his face with his shirt.

The raven slides around to sit beside Lance, their shoulders, hips, and legs touching. His mouth opens and closes, as if trying to figure out the words to say to Lance.

“I’m… sorry you had to see me like this.”

Lance places a reassuring hand on the other’s knee. “Don’t be. It’s okay to fall apart sometimes,” with a little smirk to ease the tension in the atmosphere, he adds, “Even for little mullet paladins like you.”

The raven snorts, but Lance spies a small smile, so he takes that as a victory.

Keith raises a weak hand, as if to gesture at everything. “Thanks… You know, for…” he trails off and his hand falls.

“No problem.” Lance says. And he means it. Gently, he bumps the other’s shoulder with his own. “I’ve got your back man.”

Keith smiles at him. His eyes are red and puffy, and there are still tear stains on his cheeks. Without another word the raven leans his head against Lance’s and closes his eyes, curling in on himself.

Lance raises his hand to play with his hair again.

I’ll always have your back.

[emblem-333]

Paul Millsap: And The Music City Miracles

Trade deadlines are fun. Though sometimes uneventful. With the moving of Kyle Korver to Cleveland, the Atlanta Hawks have given up on the season, winning in this era. 21-16, currently on a six game winning streak, seeded fourth in a unspectacular Eastern Conference. If Atlanta decided to once again stand pat for the remainder of the season they’d likely finish above younger teams like Boston, Charlotte, and Pacers, grab home-court advantage, lose to Cleveland either in round 2 or three in another curb stomping.

Course there’s nothing wrong with being that team. I defended the Los Angeles Clippers running back the CP3-Blake-DJ nucleus in hopes of becoming the late-90's Jazz, when competition becomes lackluster enough for a second-tier team gets to the final round.

Trading Korver to the second best this team in the league signals the end of an era, any hope to strengthen the roster before February, and commence the rebuild. That last part being said, it is too late to tank for the Hawks are twenty-games better than the worse team in the NBA: Brooklyn Nets. Tanking is basically pointless for Atlanta, as they are only able to, at best, capture a pick between 10-15.

With this strategy, what the Hawks should try to obtain for All-Star forward Paul Millsap shouldn’t be a high 2017 pick, as it seems the only potential buyer/pseudo contender that can reasonably pony up for him is Boston. It make zero sense for Danny Ainge to give up a top-2 pick for a player that doesn’t push them over the top, arguably cannibalizes the forward positions, and will have to pay a large sum of money this summer to keep.

Boston is not a team that should push all their chips in the middle of the table for one year of contention. The Washington Wizards, Los Angeles Clippers, Indiana Pacers are those teams who should do an all or nothing deal like this. Their respective futures are nonexistent, but LA and Indiana possess the assets to chase someone of Millsap’s caliber. Washington can put up the best offer out of the three teams: Ian Mahimi, Markieff Morris, two 1st round picks (2017-18). Their general manager is desperate to keep his job, no matter how painful it may be to the team’s future.

Washington is the clear front runner to trade for Millsap. Their package of picks, chances of mediocrity make what they’re offering more enticing than the Raptors Terrence Ross, Patrick Paterson, Norman Powell, Jakob Poeltl, and an unprotected 2018 pick.

The upside to that Raptors deal I just outline is fairly hit or miss. Powell is a quality two-guard that doesn’t play enough where he currently is. We don’t know what Jakob Poeltl is, has an accomplished résumé from Wisconsin, winning the PAC-12 player of year with 17.3 points and 9.1 rebounds over 30.5 minutes per game. That 2018 pick may be a middling first rounder, even if the Raptors lose one or both of Valanciunas, DeMarre Carroll, or Paul Millsap; to keep all of Millsap, DeRozan and Lowry more than $100 million of the Raptors cap will be tied to those three players. The risk could be too much for GM Masa Ujiri to take, but Toronto’s been wanting to make the big move for the past two seasons, only to have no fish to catch. This is the biggest fish they’re gonna have the chance to catch for the time being.

Outside of the east, Memphis is a team that could offer mainly cap filler, a prospect, and draft picks. The Grizzlies kinda lucked into a season as pseudo-contenders in a year they weren’t supposed to be. Marc Gasol is the best center in the NBA, has extended his game beyond the arc, the emergence of James Ennis, Troy Daniels, Zach Randolph as a bench player, and rookie coach David Fizdale successfully transition the Grizzlies from the old school “Grit ‘n Grind,” and combined aspects of the previous era into new school Pace ‘n Space basketball.

After this season it is hard to see the Grizzlies being this good with this nucleus. They’re two stars are getting up there and have their fair share of injury history. Fans, players of the team have clamored for one more chance against the Warriors, a team they held a 2-1 lead over despite Mike Conley having a broken face. This is the price a contender must pay. You cannot think of just your future when your present could lead you to Cleveland in early June.

Looking east, Danny Ainge of the Celtics is willing to be the third team in a deal such as this. Boston has too many picks for its own good. Last summer the Celts had to depart with players they did not want to due to the unavoidable roster crunch. Some of those assets outside of those Brooklyn picks can be appealing to a team as long as they ain’t giving up much for them. Ainge can afford to take a risk on a guy like a Dwight Howard. Not saying that’s what I’m proposing, but you get my point.

Atlanta can pilfer the Grizzlies for Brandan Wright, Andrew Harrison, Memphis’ 2018 1st, and 2nd round picks, and unprotected 2020 pick. The Celtics can throw in their 2017 2nd round pick from the Clippers, their own 2018 1st (top-15) protected, and Amir Johnson’s expiring to make the contracts work.

Memphis will get Paul Millsap and Tim Hardaway, Jr. a player they’ve been shopping for recently, hoping to get multiple 2nd round picks in return. It was a mistake to trade Bobby Portis for Hardaway, I don’t believe they’ll get much for him outside of a deal like this. I don’t know what team is begging to give up assets for someone that’ll sit on the bench for the most part of ballgames. This is a guard heavy league, not many squads outside of Memphis need one at the moment.

Hardaway may be able to play point guard, which would mean the world to Memphis due to their lack of depth besides Mike Conley at that position. Hardaway has been respectable this year. 44.7% from the field, 35.3% from three, 64.8% at the rim.

It be interesting to see if the Hawks inquire Memphis of rookie point guard Wade Baldwin IV. He’s only played 314 minutes in his career, it can’t hurt for the Hawks to have a rookie prospect under a cheap contract for a few years.

For Atlanta, they get a plethora of picks that can jump start their rebuild, 2017 is a loss cause if they decide to tank right now (which makes a Paul Millsap trade stupid, but I think we’re heading there regardless).

Boston could take advantage of the cluster of forwards in Memphis’ frontcourt, and curry favors for assisting them. Grabbing Zach Randolph’s expiring, maybe Deyonte Davis too, if Ainge can somehow manage that.

Randolph for Amir could be a big boom or bust deal for Boston. Amir is a quality backup center, frontcourt partner for Al Horford, and is the best rim protector on the team that really doesn’t value that skill too much. Defensive minded, Amir takes no shit, can bang against Tristan Thompson, and belongs on the court against the Warriors. Him and Thomas running the PnR was huge last season, and his numbers haven’t dipped considerably from the 2015-16 season, a year he ranked 10th in Defensive Box Score Plus/Minus (3.2). On certain nights he just brings it, is ferocious, attacks the basket and assumes the amount of swagger that energizes the crowd, teammates and shifts the momentum of ball games.

Randolph possesses an outside shot, something Amir struggles with. Numbers suggest Zach crashes the defensive glass more than Amir, 28.8 DRB% ranks 8th in the entire league, his ORB% of 10.4 ranks nineteenth. Him and Johnson play roughly the same amount of minutes per game, the difference in what constitutes as a great game could be startling. In my opinion, a great game for Amir is judged by what doesn’t show up on the stats sheet. For Randolph, it’ll be measured solely on points scored, given up, rebounds, etc.

Relegated to the bench since the departure of the “Grit 'N Grind” era, Z-Bo shined against the 2016-17 World Champion Warriors, in his reserve role. Posting a 24/11/6, 12-17 from the field in 35 minutes of playtime.

That night may just be an anomaly. Or, a shine there is something left in the tank of the 35-year-old.

Paul Millsap to Memphis means the Grizzlies now have their army ready to take on the Warriors Armageddon Society. Gasol is already an All-Star, and would be the best center Millsap has ever played with. Horford is great, and his floor spacing rubbed off on Millsap as shown by his dip in field goal percentage when paired with Dwight (last two seasons with Horford: 47.6%, 47%, first season with Howard: 43.8%). But Gasol shoots has a better 3P% on a team that is worse than Boston at shooting. As a team, Boston ranks sixteenth in the league in FG% (45.1), Memphis ranks dead last (42.5).

DRB% is roughly the same, both are the long bigs with the privilege of working with top-tier guards and quality head coaches. What a Millsap/Gasol frontcourt can accomplish, with the emergence of Troy Daniels, James Ennis, and if Chandler Parsons can just play 20 minutes a night, 65 games (including playoffs) the Grizzlies can beat back the Spurs, who are weak at the point guard spot, and don’t have as much depth, and place themselves as the second best team in the conference.

Could they beat the Warriors? The Grizzlies showed allot of moxie in their ability to take all the punches the Warriors had to offer. When facing Golden State you’ll have to deal with deadly runs from Curry or Durant, being down 15 midway through the third quarter. What the Grizzlies exposed was their opponents inability to finish off good teams in the final period. The Grizz, on the other hand, know how to finish. So does Millsap.

You can reach me @Sailboatstudios, Vinny on twitter.com