#and maybe then i will stop coming up with aus that i probably will never write anything for
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deadpcnned · 2 days ago
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you're so vain (jj.m)
coming soon!
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general masterlist | join the taglist
pairing: jj maybank x reader (au)
synopsis: for as long as anyone can remember, jj maybank has been a ladies’ man—willing to charm any girl with a pulse. you, on the other hand, have never been easily won over, shutting down unwanted advances without a second thought in the name of higher pursuits.
so when his friends bet he can’t get with you, he sees it as just another challenge. what he doesn’t know is that you have a bet of your own—act like the worst girlfriend possible, and prove that guys don't just stick around for looks.
at first, it’s just a game. your weird quirks and stubborn attitude are nothing he can’t handle, and his flirtations are nothing more than motivation for you. but with every passing day, it all seems less like a game and more... real. what happens when winning the bet means losing each other?
* this series is inspired by 'how to lose a guy in 10 days' *
content warning(s): au, drugs, alcohol, language
author's note: uh oh, another series... like most girls, i am such a big fan of this movie and i couldn't resist adding my own spin to the plot. this series won't be starting until probably the end of february, but i wanted to go ahead and post it!
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“I seriously doubt a guy would stick around if he were fishing out spinach from my mouth every time we kissed,” You mumble, rolling your eyes at Ruthie as you return to tightly winding Sarah’s hair around the curling iron. Your grip tightens around the pink handle, more from exasperation than focus. Topper seriously needs to reconsider his recent taste in women.
Ruthie pushes herself up from the bed and saunters over to the two of you, a spark of mischief shining in her eyes that catches your attention in the mirror. Without warning, she scoops the ottoman from under your knee, ignoring your annoyed huff as she plops down. “You don’t get it, do you?” she says, shaking her head as if she’s explaining something painfully obvious. “Boys are simple. They’ll do anything for a good fuck.” 
“Ruthie!” 
“Sarah!” You exclaim, pulling away the curling wand hovering dangerously close to her turned cheek. “Stop moving! I almost burned you!” You cautiously rest your curling wand on the vanity, crossing your arms as you address Ruthie’s tireless campaign. “Ruthie, that’s just not true. Men suck, but they’re not that desperate.” 
“Care to test it?” The look she gives you, so full of unwarranted confidence, makes it tempting to agree blindly to whatever nonsense she’s about to spew. But in the short time you’ve known her, you’ve gathered jumping headfirst into whatever she plans is maybe not the smartest thing to do. 
“How would we do that?” You arch a brow, playing it cool, the picture of nonchalance. Girls like Ruthie want you to bark when you should be biting back. The best way to handle them is to beat them at their own game. It doesn’t matter how uneasy her grin makes you. You have to look like the picture of perfect insouciance. 
“Easy. You reel in some sucker and make him regret it. Clingy, loud, jealous – I’m talking full nightmare fuel.” 
“Me?” You scoff, reaching for the iron. “Sarah, I swear, if you move–”
 Sarah hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t angle her face towards the circular mirror like you need her to. She’s too busy watching Ruthie, waiting for her following words. 
“Yes, you.” 
“Why do I have to be the guinea pig?” You fuss, shifting your position to continue working on Sarah’s hair. You twist Sarah’s blond hair around the silver rod as you suggest, “You test it out with Topper. You’re the one with something to prove.”
“I’m actually serious about Topper,” Ruthie counters and you have to physically bite your tongue from making a snarky comment. “And you’re perfect for this. You’re objectively hot and leaving at the end of the summer. No strings with a hot chick? Guys eat that up.” 
“Ruthie, remind me again why you’re with Topper if you have such a low opinion of the entire male species,” Sarah asks. Sarah eyes Ruthie with a mix of genuine curiosity and plain judgment. Ruthie doesn’t dignify Sarah with a response, upholding the same catty attitude she’s maintained with her since the start of the evening. “Or not.” 
You and Sarah share a long look, not hiding your indignation, but you can’t deny that beneath you’re irritation, you’re a little interested. You would be in the Outer Banks for three months; you might as well find a way to kill time. 
“Done,” You announce, pulling back and smiling at your handiwork. As Sarah fluffs through her hair, you ask, “So, I just pick any guy and make him miserable?” 
Sarah spins around at a dizzying speed, her jaw dropping open. “You’re considering it? Like, actually?”  
You give her a sheepish shrug and look to Ruthie for confirmation. 
“No, I get to choose.”
“What, why?” You scoff. 
“Cause you’d choose someone you already know, and those guys have been harboring unrequited crushes on you since you were, like, twelve.” You try not to betray your surprise. Somehow, Ruthie knows more about your life than you want her to. You weren't sure how Ruthie knew this about you, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. 
“Fine,” You huff, flopping down onto your bed. “Who, then?”
Ruthie’s smile is one you could only describe as downright devilish as she leans in, lowering her voice to a lethal whisper. “Who else but Kildare’s biggest fuckboy? JJ Maybank.”
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taglist: @rinaarii @kaisgirlie @loophole3 @flourelle @xobeautifulfaith @brooklyn789 @jjscoquette
*if you would like to be removed, pls lmk!
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starcurtain · 22 hours ago
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More Phaidei Fics I Want to Read
1. Obligatory "fish out of water" fic (mostly AU because the timeline would probably not match canon, but we do what we want here!), taking place after Mydei and the Kremnoans first make it to Okhema. Okhema is already harsh on outsiders, let alone on a conquering "barbarian" tribe infamous for bringing strife to so many other city states. Mydei doesn't know the local customs at all, and while he doesn't care the slightest about how these pathetic Okhemans see him, the trouble he keeps getting into is affecting the reputations of innocent Kremnoans too. He's got to find a way to blend in, at least enough to stop costing his fellows any chance of finding paid work... Too bad the only person who is willing (and has time) to help is Phainon (who isn't native to Okhema either but done a much better job of learning to get along with the locals). The guy thinks he's the Titans' gift to Amphoreus just because he beat Mydei in a duel once. It was only once! And why does it matter whether we eat standing up or lying down? What are you laughing at, Savior Complex?! Or, tl;dr: The culture clash comedy one where Phainon and Mydei teach each other entirely opposing sets of manners, and come to learn a lot more about one another in the process.
2. Also obligatory omegaverse where Mydei is an omega born with a unique constitution: he's built like an alpha, snarls like an alpha, and dominates his opponents like an alpha. He even smells like an alpha, especially when he's in heat, so the only people who ever figured out his secondary gender were his doctor and his parents, all of whom are dead now. The whole world thinks Mydei is an alpha, and his reputation as an indomitable warrior prince pretty much hinges on people continuing to believe that. The problem is, Mydei wouldn't actually mind getting to live an omega's life, at least the part about finding a mate and starting a family. Only, who in the world would want him for a mate? Any alpha hunting for an actual omega would never think to look in Mydei's direction, betas would just be confused, and even those few alphas who are attracted to other alphas would only end up disappointed after discovering Mydei isn't one. He's nobody's ideal partner, and he'd mostly made peace with that--until Phainon. Until that upstart alpha from the middle of nowhere knocked Mydei down in a brutal spar and then pulled him up with the gentlest hand, and suddenly it mattered that no one would ever want Mydei. It mattered a lot. (Of course, the long and short of it is that Mydei is the man of Phainon's dreams, and after a series of setbacks and miscommunications and lots of silly angst, they'll find their way to a happy ending.)
3. After discovering Mydei's weakness for sweets and cute things like pink pomegranate juice, Phainon decides to engage in a bit of light-hearted teasing: He starts sending Mydei exceedingly adorable gifts and fancy candies under the guise of a "secret admirer." The joke is on Phainon, however, when it turns out Mydei finds the gifts quite charming and is determined to discover the identity of the mysterious gift giver. A reasonable person would quickly give up on the joke to avoid getting caught, but Phainon has always been weak to chasing thrills--and maybe this whole thing about being Mydei's "secret admirer" isn't too far off after all... (The real joke is that Mydei, realizing immediately who the gifts were from, invented an entire "hunting my admirer down" story just for the fun of watching Phainon squirm--and, well, because keeping the whole thing going, being showered with attention by his rival, doesn't feel too bad at all.)
4. The opposite fic: The one where Mydei's completely mismatched online personality accidentally catfishes Phainon and causes some very silly drama. Mydei's (anonymous) teletweet account is full of cutesy chimera kitten memes, aesthetic pictures of food, heart emojis, and overly punctuated (with exclamation points) recaps of shopping trips in Okhema's market... Can anyone blame Phainon for thinking this is the account of a cute girl who is refreshingly earnest about her love for chubby seals and pink milk tea? But as Phainon becomes closer and closer to "Fig Stew" online, things get more and more complicated--because he's also been getting closer and closer to his real world companion Mydeimos lately. Both Fig and Mydei are wonderful, and Phainon can barely bear the thought of losing either of them in his life. Trying to get closer to them both would be way too dishonest, but choosing one over the other... What should he do? Meanwhile, Mydei is in trouble. He wasn't planning to set up some secret identity or anything; it's not his fault Phainon mistook him for a girl online! There's nothing weird about dudes posting sparkling kitten gifs, godsdammit!! But now the charade's gone on way too long to come clean, especially since Phainon seems so invested, and... well, can you blame Mydei for not wanting to give up on the closest thing to a relationship he's ever managed to start? tl;dr: Online mistaken identity hijinks fic.
5. The required-in-every-fandom time travel fic (with bonus fake dating)! Through an outpouring of Oronyx's power, Mydei and Phainon end up in the bodies of their future selves, who, it turns out, have not only managed to end Amphoreus' war and revive Castrum Kremnos, but... appear to have also... gotten married?!! Now Mydei and Phainon have to not only find out exactly how their future selves managed to save the world (so they can accomplish the same task) then look for a way back to their own time--they've got to do all of that while also pretending to be a happily wedded pair of rulers to avoid raising everyone's suspicions. This would be a whole lot easier if either of them knew the first thing about being actual kings... or about relationships. The slightest slip up could create ripple effects that change the entire timeline permanently, but--no matter how nerve-wracking it might be to admit, after seeing the future in store for them together--there's nothing Phainon (and Mydei) won't do to make sure things go exactly as they should.
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marksmarkers93 · 2 days ago
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Part two! Okay so I've been kinda (not really) busy so this one was late BUT I HOPE YALL ENJOY THIS PART!!! THE COMIC ONLY HAS LIKE 3 ½ PARTS LEFT (in comic form durrr) but I've been enjoying writing lil fics to go with it that are part of the story.
Lil fic below!!
Sonic!poly Au : The ark, chapter two
Doctor Robotnik was paged during his tea break, something his staff knew not to bother him during unless it was important.
"Yes, what is it?" He asked into the comm.
"It's Project A.T.L.A.S Doctor." The female doctor on the other end spoke.
He sighed. "I'm on my way."
Doctor Robotnik wondered what it was now. It was unlike Project A.T.L.A.S to be causing frequent problems like this. It was normally Project R.E.D that was the problem maker. He thought about everything it could be as he made his way to Project A.T.L.A.S's containment room.
As he stepped into the larger laboratory he seen several of his staff standing in front of the viewing screen into Project A.T.L.A.S's containment room.
"What's is it now?"
"Project A.T.L.A.S hasn't been...well doing anything." A scientist spoke up.
He made his way over and looked in, staring at ball of dusky eucalyptus green quills. "How long has he been curled up like that?"
The head scientist sighed and turnt to look at him. "Doctor...he's been like that for days. He's refusing to eat."
His head snapped to look at her, his brow twitching. "Hmmm..." he stroked his moustache as he thought.
"His test results?"
"They've all come back normal, blood, lungs, heart. He isn't sick and yet..." she trailed off.
"He's acting as if he is...maybe... maybe it's time."
"Time? For what Doctor?"
He ignored her as he started walking away, his mind already set.
"Let's introduce them then."
Doctor Robotnik was making his way quickly to Maria's room, knowing her and Shadow were probably there playing. He let his mind wander for a moment. He was grateful Maria has Shadow to play with, she was so lonely before Shadow came to them. A thought clicked in his mind, one that solidified his decision to introduce Shadow and Project A.T.L.A.S now. Project A.T.L.A.S was lonely. Surely.
He was created for this. For Shadow, after all. One would be lonely and lost without their purpose. He stopped outside of Maria's door, knocking once before opening it.
"Shadow, come here please."
He could hear Maria speak to him softly, assuring him they could finish their movie later. He smiled at his granddaughter.
"Coming Doctor." Shadow spoke lowly, hurrying to his feet and over to Robotniks side.
Their walk to Project A.T.L.A.S's room was silent until they stopped outside of a door Shadow had never been inside of.
Upon thinking about it, he'd never been down this hall either. He looked up at Doctor Robotnik as he put in the code to the door.
"Today is a different kind of test. It's not for you." He said as he swiped his card, opening the door.
"What do you mean Doctor? Not for me..?"
"Correct. It's for him."
Shadow stepped forward into the doorway, looking inside the room. A single hand on the back of his head motioned him into the room as Doctor Robotnik spoke again.
"A-Type/Lycanthrope Alpha Success 003. A.T.L.A.S"
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sweetiemiller · 2 days ago
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MARRIED AT FIRST SIGHT. kind of.
Joel Miller!AU x Reader.
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hi again! so im doing it! ive read over it a million times and if there’s any mistakes please do forgive me. but here’s the full chapter of the start of my spiteful fic lmao.
kidding. im actually really excited to try something different and being embraced by a lot of you has been so great. so thank you everyone who sent a nice word or even just liked the post!
this will probably NSFW at some point. im still deciding when and how it’ll happen in the story but it’s going to be a lot of fun. the POV’s will jump around from chapter to chapter.
thanks to @highinmiamiii sending me the fic i was looking for! thank you! like i said before this fic is heavily inspired by https://www.tumblr.com/tokkiwrites/771944052123959296/game-show-hostjoel-miller-x-contestant-f
and the enjoyment of au!writing. it’s so freeing and let’s us explore characters in different ways. everyone please go read this story, it’s so good and they deserve every single bit of support.
ill stop yappin now and just post it!!
warnings— swearing. referring to killing Tommy Miller (will happen a lot), little bit of fluff for now. future warnings to come!
enjoy—
Chapter 1.
Joel’s POV—
Tommy Miller is a dead man. Joel thinks as he promises to whoever and whatever is above and below that he will personally kill him with his bare hands.
Those same bare hands that are clasped together so tight behind his back as he stands at the top of the aisle. His eyes were boring into Tommy’s who is currently standing up from his seat in the front row with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Yeah. He’s going to kill him.
The lights and the cameras are starting to make the skin on his neck prickle. The people behind the camera’s making him feel tense as his eyes flicker around the room.
He can feel jaw ticking and clenching as his eyes keep looking around the room and catching a few of the eyes of seeing the unknown bride to be’s family are staring at him too. Looking… well, friendly enough. For now anyway.
He can see their eyes scanning him.
Up and down, up and down.
From his slightly greying hair that is just sprinkling through his thick coarse hair. Right down to the black patent dress shoes on his feet that a woman named Jane from production had brought him along with this black three piece suit.
He thinks he looks good. But—
He doesn’t really care and if he was asked to give an honest answer right at this second he’d say exactly that. However, for the first time in a long time he willing to admit that he doesn’t look that rough around the edges.
Which is good, because in about 30 seconds his new wife is about to walk down the aisle.
Not legally of course. But for the sake of the show, he’s contracted to act like it is.
26 seconds.
Why Tommy thought that signing him onto goddamn Married At First Sight he’ll never understand. But the promise of a new Harley-Davidson Sportster Iron 883 and 60% of whatever income from the promotion the construction company will get from being on the show is more than enough to go along with it.
For now anyway.
14 seconds.
He just hopes whoever you are, you’re not one of those absolutely insane people who go on reality television just to cause drama. Because he will walk, cameras and contracts be damned.
He’ll buy his own Harley.
If he’s lucky he’ll get matched with someone who wants to promote their business as well and maybe they can come to some sort of agreement about this whole thing.
9 seconds.
Because who actually goes on a television show to look for love? Who genuinely believes that anyone could even fall in love under these conditions. Cameras. TV therapists. A group full of people who are desperate for their 10 minutes of fame.
It’s just not realistic.
5 seconds.
Joel snaps out his thoughts as he spots Tommy giving him a look. A look that Joel knows means, ‘Dude’, his eyes flicker back and forward before Joel realises what he’s saying. You’re coming down the aisle—
1 second.
Joel hears the doors cracking open and the music starting as soon as his eyes meet the huge white double doors at the end of the room. His hands clenching again as he keeps his focus on the door that’s opening and revealing who he is going to be stuck with for as long as he can handle in this absolutely ridiculous situation his brother has landed him in.
He see’s you walking through the doors. And he genuinely feels his breath get caught in his throat as he see’s your face for the first time.
Your eyes almost immediately meet his as you walk into the wedding hall with who he presumes is your mother. An older woman who’s eyes don’t even attempt to look at him, focused on you.
You look nervous. Terrified even.
Which, to his annoyance, makes him feel something in his chest as he watches you slowly making your way down to him.
He has to admit to himself. You’re genuinely beautiful.
And with that thought, all of a sudden he feels himself starting to panic. He realises wasn’t really expecting to find you attractive. He was fully preparing himself to be putting on his best face and foot forward during this process. His mind focused on that moment he has his first ride of his new Harley-Davidson the entire time.
But now, he’s going to have to focus on that damn bike to stop himself from doing anything goddamn stupid.
The closer you get to the bottom of the aisle, the harder he’s having to hold back a glare that is itching to aim straight for Tommy. But he doesn’t. Because he knows his pain in the ass little brother is going to have an even bigger shit-eating grin on his face now that he’s seen you.
It’s not until you’re kissing your assumed mother on the cheek and whispering something to her that he finally see’s you up close for the first time. His eyes feeling like they’re bouncing around his head as he takes you in.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph— he’s fucked.
The hair. The eyes. The nose. The goddamn lips. The white dress.
It’s not at all what he was picturing. He was fully imagining you and expecting you to go all out and look like princess cake topper. The show is paying for everything after all.
But no, you’re dressed in a long flowing silk dress. With little cap sleeves and the front of your dress making your tits look round and soft—
He has to stop.
He opens his mouth to say something, anything. But you’re already beating him to it with the sweetest voice he’s ever heard.
“I like your suit,” you say, the words falling from your lips like they were dragged out of you. Which admittedly— is very cute.
He lets a short puff of air escape his nose as he doesn’t quite laugh but, almost an amused look crosses his face as he looks down at you.
“I like your dress,” he says back, quietly but loud enough for you to hear. Or that least he hopes you do. Because he does like your dress, he likes it a lot actually, which surprises him.
He’s not a man to even care about dresses. Or anything stupid like that. A woman is a woman, he doesn’t care what they’re dressed in. But this dress on you? He’s struggling. Badly.
He watches you blush a little as you look down at your dress, running a hand over the front of it. The silk moving under your finger tips, almost hypnotising him for a moment before your soft laugh breaks him out his trance.
“Thanks. They gave my mom free reign in the dress shop,” you say with a soft, nearly genuine smile as you jut your thumb over your shoulder towards the woman who was walking you down the aisle now sitting in the front row behind you.
Ah, so he was right.
Joel smiles a little as he nods his head at your mom, being respectful for as long as he can handle this experiment.
Oh God he’s going to have to actually interact with your family.
He looks back at you, watching as your other hand is clutching your bouquet of sunflowers so tightly he’s actually a bit worried the stems might snap in half right here.
“She has good taste,” he says as his eyes travel back up to your face. He feels something twist in his chest again as he sees how nervous you look, and before he can open his mouth to give you just a little reassurance.
Knowing that the cameras and lights are probably making you just as nervous as him, someone clears their throat. Making you jump a little as his head turns almost too quickly to the sound tensing up a little until he see’s it’s just the very real officiant for this very real wedding.
God, what is he doing?
He hears her asking the both of you if you’re ready to begin and he just nods. He looks down at you and taking the chance to grab your free hand just right there. Temping him already.
He smiles a little bit as he sees the warmth spread on your cheeks and your almost wide-eyed facial expressions looking up at him.
Beautiful. He can’t help but let the thought sit at the front of his brain for a moment.
“You ready?,” he whispers to you, his own eyes going a little wide too from how fast his heart rate is going as he tightens his grip slightly as he watches you nod and breath out a soft, yeah.
He nods back as he turns back to the wedding officiant, taking a deep breath as he tries to focus on what the woman is starting to say, her very real speech.
Oh sweet Jesus, he needs to read the vows that Tommy wrote him.
This is going to be a nightmare.
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depressnt · 2 days ago
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If I ever wrote a Wicked dnd au (tw massive rant!)
There'd be 8 grimmeries that encompass the 8 schools of magic, written by the wise ones and enchanted with sentience, they all choose one powerful magic user who encompasses their school to be able to read it, but people only know of the Transmutative Grimmerie- the bronze one- because there's a spell that keeps it in the emerald palace and the wizard tries to brute force it to work for him, and none of the others have come out of hiding and are instead waiting for a magic user to discover them
I say magic users because they won't always necessarily pick a wizard just because Wizards are those most likely to use spellbooks. The grimmeries choose someone who will use their spells to the betterment of Oz, and sometimes they won't even pick someone who specializes in the school of magic they represent
Also, Galinda is a wizard. People pretend she's a bard, but she is 100% a wizard. I'm sorry but I don't see her being selfless or dedicated enough to be able to practice as a support class, and while that one wicked dnd au where she's a cleric is wonderful, I'm a wizard Galinda truther. She WANTS to study magic, she's BEEN studying magic her wholeeee life, she wishes it were innate but it isn't so she's gonna grab magic BY THE BALLS and bend it to her will. Whether she specializes in enchantments (charms) or illusion is something I'm still debating, probably enchantment, but I hc Conjuration comes easily to her because she knows how to make something out of nothing (through lying), and doesn't want to lie but she kind of has to do it all the time and it sucks, she wants her lies to not be fake anymore, she's an honest gall! Just sometimes honesty gets you killed real damn dead. I think the Evocation grimmerie might like her, she's selfish enough to call on the aggressive nature of its spells for her own gain, and it just so happens that "her own gain" is "making Oz the kind of place Elphaba can live safely again" (I read a two chapter 34k word gelphie hurt/comfort reunion fic, and her characterization just KILLED me, I'm never gonna stop thinking of her, I love her)
(Found the link!)
Elphaba wants to be a wizard soooo bad, but she's a wild magic sorceress <33 Unsleeping City homebrew style, where her wild magic surges build up over time like Pete's, she can't STAND it and she nearly hurt so many people whenever she surged, the transmutation grimmerie picks her both as a way to get out of the palace, and because she wants to enact Good and Solid change in Oz, and it likes that
Fiyero is a swashbuckler rogue who switches his sword out for a gun in act 2, and maybe switches subclasses to mastermind to try and help Elphaba as best he can (reference to mastermind's ability to use Help action from 30 feet away, alsp it was HIS idea to fake her death) (a revived or phantom rogue would also make perfect plot sense, but I don't see it for his character)
Nessa is a commoner until she gets the ruby slippers, which is when she realizes she needs to step up her game if she's to stay with the Charmed Circle, so she becomes a ranger, maybe a monster slayer- seeking out Elphaba to kill her with a gun (hc her father taught her to shoot when guns became a thing, because it was novel and interesting and she liked the power it gave her despite the chair) before having a change of heart
Boq is either a Barbarian or a fighter in my mind, maybe a champion fighter tbh? He'd have been Nessa's (unwilling) right hand during the dictatorship, and I'd believe she'd force him to essentially head whatever military she might have amassed, I think she'd gladly try and seceed from Oz. And also the Tin Woodman was wild with an axe in the books! (Allegedly) (still gotta read those), I think he'd find some release in physical prowess, maybe holding out hope he'd be able to fight his way out, since he was clearly too smitten to smart his way out of... pretty much any situation in his life
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spotaus · 3 months ago
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New Age AU (Error's Wacky Wild Plan)
Hi guys. So. Crazy Story. The crisis that stopped me from working on my banner art actually catapulted me into writing this drabble finally! (Also the wonderful @ancha-aus was also a life-saver and helped me hammer out a few plot points for this installment <3)
Currently my only context for this drabble is that Error is tiny, and ran away from home because Geno moved to Reaper's kingdom to make money to send back home, and Fresh spent too long away on his trip. Error was expelled from his magic academy and came home to an empty house, so he left! Now he's been on the road for about a month? Nightmare has been ruling for about 6-ish years now, almost 7.
(Hello @mutzelputz and @papiliovolens hi guys!!!)
     The town was bustling. 
   Error had been through a lot of towns since he’d left. Big ones, small ones, ones he was convinced weren’t even towns at all, just a few barns in a general closeness to one another who decided they needed to call themselves something besides the outskirts. Those people had been particularly hostile to his passing through.
   And, lately, they’d been really weird. People staring at him when he’d walk on the streets, or pass by shops. When they saw he had money from a different kingdom (he didn’t even realize he’d left his own, but he figured it meant he was on the right path) they’d squeeze their faces like they bit a lemon and hastily take his coin. Like it was cursed, or something. They were lucky it wasn’t cursed, honestly. He could probably figure out how to do that.
    This town, though, was filled so full with people that he imagined they couldn’t look at him weird if they wanted to. 
   People were riding horses, chatting in the streets, all sorts of stalls and merchants were peddling goods, and he was almost positive he could hear music lifting down the street over the general drone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d run into a place so busy. He’d always been told to stick to the side, out of the way, out of danger. 
   He didn’t have to listen to that anymore. Though, he did skirt the crowds. The mass of people seemed all too willing to bump shoulders or elbows with each other in the early morning sun, and the last thing he wanted was to have his magic act up in a crowd. He’d done well so far. 
   Every booth, every merchant, every passerby seemed jubilant, ebbing and flowing. It was like some sort of party. 
   That was, until, Error spotted it.
   A big building, something that Error recognized only vaguely. 
   It was an amphitheatre. 
   Geno had taken him to see one once. Or, at least, the ruin of one. It hadn’t been too far from their home, and it was pretty abandoned and lonely. Plants had crawled up its walls, stones had fallen off in chunks, animals seemed to have deemed its high windows a perfect spot to build nests. It had been breathtaking, and ancient. 
   This one? Seemed perfectly in-use. 
   The walls were all in-tact, stones, an easy to look at grey, smooth and covered in little intricate carvings. Spells, he had to imagine, in some language he didn’t know. Curtains hung over the huge arched entrances, and heavy gates seemed to be lifted, the spikes at the base loomed over the heads of every passerby. 
   He couldn’t help but marvel. Was this a restoration, or maybe it was new. Some sort of imitation. Regardless, he found that his feet carried him to one of the entrances, which stood largely empty aside from some folks who looked strikingly like guards.
   Two of them stood, long spears in-hand. They both stood stock still as Error approached, and didn’t move a muscle as he passed them. They were strange, definitely different. Not at all the town guard he was familiar with. 
   The inside of the theatre was even more impressive. Rows and rows of stands seemed to line up either side. Huge tapestry hung from the high arches past those seats, and down the runways of the bleachers, all a bright teal and dark navy blue. They seemed fancy, and much newer than the curtains which had hung in the entrance. 
   Beyond the walkway where he stood, was a set of stairs which led down a level or so, before it leveled out into an open space. Sandy, and very flat. It seemed like there were people there, too. A much smaller crowd, but still a crowd nonetheless. 
   Error was almost amazed he’d not been stopped by someone yet. Whatever was going on seemed important, and so far in his experience, people did not like him sticking his nose into important business. 
   With that in mind, he decided he’d stick to the entryway for now. He leaned his bag up against the wall and watched from a position where the sun still shadowed his form. He was often grateful for his miscolored bones. It made hiding in the dark a whole lot easier. 
   It took a bit for him to really process what he was watching in the morning light. 
   There were four people sat on a sort of raised box toward the front of a stage. A huge stage, raised up off the sand with wood slats. They had a long-table before them, and quills and ink jars in-hand. Well, three were sitting. One was standing. But the point is, they were all watching the stage very attentively. 
   On-stage there was… basically nothing. Only a simple backdrop Error had to imagine was there at all times, because it looked like it was coated in sand, even from the distance where he stood.
   A person would enter the stage, the people sat on the box would speak to them, and then there was a flare of magic. Another. Another. And then they were dismissed. 
   It wasn’t until he really bothered to think about what magic was being cast that he realized those were extremely simple spells being used. Levitate, Create Water, Mimicry. Or Flame, Gust, Light. All just three easy spells, and then they were off-stage. That was taught magic. It gave him memories of his entrance exam to his school. He’d been way overqualified to get in, Geno taught him after all…
   But, no, this didn’t feel the same. There were plenty of people who seemed to stumble at spells they didn’t recognize, or who couldn’t muster a simple breeze. Then others who were very old and obviously skilled. Obviously they found the three spells to be child’s play. Like Error would. This was no entrance exam, so what-
   “Hey, pipsqueak, what are you doing there in the dark?” A voice startled him, and it took all of his willpower to avoid jumping away from its origin. 
   Error twisted rapidly, just in time to avoid the thrust of an elbow in his direction. 
   There was a monster there. Three, actually. Two lizards, both bright green and tropical, and one who looked more like a dragon. The green one closer to him must have spoken, because he laughed at Error’s flinch. 
   “Why are you bothering me?” Error shot back haughtily. 
   The lizard seemed to grin at the response.  
   “Oh, so we’ve got a feisty little small fry here? Thinks he’s scoping out the competition?” The dragonish one hissed, voice deep. 
   The other green one tittered a giggle, “So cute! I can’t believe the King really decided to let just anyone try out for Royal Mage.” 
   Oh…
   The lizard before him seemed to take this silence as a weakness, and reached out quicker than Error could react. A flick to the middle of his forehead. 
   Error winced and pulled away, back and into the arena. He grit his teeth and clutched his skull, where at the same moment the lizard jumped back and shook their hand in the air a bit. His magic had reacted poorly again, and while it was better than it used to be, it still stung like 5 wasps touching down and stinging the same point all at once. 
   “Little freak.” Was all the monster hissed, before he fled. His two friends moving on behind him in confusion. Approaching the line to the stage. 
   Error stood there in the sun for a moment, rubbing at his forehead until the pain was more of a numb static. 
   If anything, he appreciated the little run-in with those wanna-bes. Now he knew exactly what this was, and why it had felt so familiar to him. 
   The Mage Trials. 
   Geno had to go through them, and he’s been very thorough about his every single detail while doing it. Even though he was the best mage Error had ever known, he’d still stressed and wrote page after page of plans and spells and had placed them into a folder that felt thicker than an encyclopedia. Geno had always been the only one of them who bothered studying. Fresh couldn’t go to school anymore, and Error… Well, Error didn’t need to. 
   Thinking about it, Geno had been very quiet about it, but Error had looked into his folder a few times. Just out of curiosity. It’d been split into three rounds, something Geno had said was standardized. The first was a test of someone’s basic magic skills, the second were more complex spells which the mage has practice in, and the third, the one that had given Geno the most grief, was the personal spell round. In the last one, there were no restrictions to what someone could do, so long as they had done the work themselves, and that it mostly used magic. 
   If he was right, and he usually was, then this was the first round. Eliminating those with nothing but a hope and a prayer in their pocket before they got embarrassed before the one looking for the Mage in the first place. In this case, whoever this kingdom’s king even was. 
   In just a few moments, Error had decided. 
   This was how he’d prove himself. 
   The line was already starting to get longer, and he didn’t want to be here until nightfall in a queue. He dusted off his scarf, his shoes, his bag, and set off into the bright sun to secure his place in this contest. No prep. No warning. Just with his raw skill and what he’d learned so far. Nothing could possibly go wrong. 
.
   Finally. 
   Error felt like it had been hours in the warm sun before he was finally up next. 
   He’d been watching, of course. Watching as the people before him were passed or failed. It was just as he’d expected, and he couldn’t help but be a bit giddy as the two green lizard who’d bothered him earlier both failed. Though their dragonish friend had passed, it was still enough of a victory for him.
   Along with that, he noticed that the three people sat were all in robes of nobles. Something the wealthy and lofty would think to wear in a blazing hot arena all day. The one standing, though, was wearing all black. A hood was over his head, but Error thought he might be some sort of cat-monster. Very stone faced, very still. The only time Error had seen him move was seemingly to veto whatever choice the other three were making. He thought it was interesting. 
   That didn’t matter, though. 
   Based on what he’d seen, these people wouldn’t have any qualms with his magic. He was much better than half the people who’d already been passed, and knew he could keep him calm up on the stage. It’d be just like his entrance exam. 
   He watched as the monster who’d gone before him, a skeleton who was twice his height and twice as animal-ish, bowed gratefully to the people on the boxes, the evaluators, and exited. She’d passed fairly easily, Error thought. Though, her focus seemed elsewhere based on how shaky the hold on her last flame had been. 
   “Next!” 
   The call was shrill, and Error had heard it over a hundred times already today, but this time it bounced in his ears as he lifted himself up the steps and strode onstage. 
   If he’d thought about it, he would’ve tried to find a place to stache his bag, but it was too late for that, and frankly he didn’t trust it not to get stolen once it was out of his sight. Not with how busy the city seemed. 
   When he was stood in the center of the stage, he looked out across the way to the evaluators. They seemed closer up here than they did when he was on the ground. Interesting. 
   “First spell,” The person on the far left called, though Error could tell now that it was a voice projection spell. So they didn’t strain their vocal chords, “ Levitate.”
   That was simple. One of the first spells he’d been taught as a kid. 
   His eyes skimmed briefly, there had been a few props on stage that he only noticed once he was closer that were meant to be used with this sort of spell, but Error wasn’t for that. Instead, he muttered the words under his breath, outstretched a hand, and felt his magic reach out around him. Beyond the stage. 
   There… There was a barrier of some sorts, pushing back against his magic, between himself and the evaluators. He furrowed his brow and urged his magic forward. He didn’t have to break through it. He just. Had to- His magic felt like it was looping and wriggling like a worm through the dirt, but when it broke through on the other end, it felt so much more clear. He could feel a potent magic there, something raw and wet, like the air before a storm. 
   That didn’t matter, though. None of it did, because he was on a mission. His magic finally found its target, the stacks of ink bottles which the middle evaluator had just before their parchment. The magic latched on, and Error finally allowed himself a grin as he tugged his hand upwards. They floated calmly into the air, three of them, and did a quick spinning motion, before settling back down just where he’d found them.
   He didn’t catch the looks on the threes faces, but he had to imagine they were priceless. He was more focused on letting the spell dissipate and preparing for the next. 
   It took a moment, before, “Second Spell,” They said, “Create Water.” 
   Another easy one. 
   Error held his hand out again, though this time his palm faced the sky rather than the ground. At the mutter of his words, he could feel the water manifesting. Tiny droplets leaking from his fingers and into the air above his open palm, where he let it gather into a nice, easy sphere. 
   It hovered, and for this one he could see the nods from the three evaluators. The fourth, the cat monster, didn’t move an inch. A good sign. 
   Error, after a breath, moved the orb of water and simply set it on the stage floor. If he had to release it, he didn’t exactly want to get his clothes wet. That orb tended to shoot outwards when he released it, and the water would go everywhere. 
   “Third spell,” They must’ve been contented with his simply setting down the water, for they continued, “Flame.”
   Ah, one of his favorites. He was never very good at it, of course, but it was certainly very fun. If nothing else it’d be a taste of his raw power.
   He rolled up his hanging sleeves, quickly using strands of string to wrap them in place, before he picked back up the water orb in one hand. With the other, he faced his palm toward the side of it, and spoke the words for the flame spell. 
   The heat gathered in his wrist, and all at once shot out of his palm, like a cannon blast. The heat was intense, and Error laughed quietly to himself in pure elation as the fire did exactly what he was hoping. All at once, his glasses fogged, and a burst of steam blew past his face, off to the exiting side of the stage. He’d evaporated his orb, no longer needing to risk someone seeing him fumble with it and soak himself. 
   He let the fire die after a few second, and quickly grabbed the hem of his scarf to wipe down his glasses from the fog left behind on their surface. 
   The moment the red rims were back on the bridge of his nose, the voice spoke up again. 
   “Name?”
   Error cleared his throat, before calling back his name in response. Just the first one, the last one didn’t matter anymore. 
   There was another few breaths of quiet, before, 
   “Age?”
   Error hadn’t heard them ask anyone else for their age, but he figured they’d noticed. How strong and talented he was at such a young age. 
  He puffed up his chest when he announced, “Twelve!” to the arena. 
   There were a few muffled murmurs from the line, but Error was too busy grinning across the way at the evaluators as they seemed to talk amongst themselves. 
   He was ready to hear the word that would mark him to continue. The next part was tomorrow, after this round was concluded and the king arrived. He’d heard about it in the line while he was waiting. 
   One of the evaluators lifted their gaze back to him. Opened their mouth.
   “Disqualified.”
   That.
   Huh?
   Error must’ve visibly glitched at the response, because one of the evaluators seemed to flinch. Ever so slightly. 
   “How come?!” Error called back, reservations immediately fleeing his mind.
   How could they disqualify him? He hadn’t heard them do that to literally anyone else so far today. 
   The evaluator on the far right spoke up, “Too young. Now please move off the-”
   Error might’ve let his mouth speak before his mind, if he hadn’t seen the way the mysterious cat monster seemed to slink forward. A simple tap to the evaluator’s side and they stopped mid-sentence, attention drawing to the person. 
   He waited with balled fists. Hoping, against it all, that this person was using his mighty veto powers to get him his passing review. 
   “The Knight wishes to speak to you further.” They said, when the person, the Knight, took a step back. “Exit the stage.” 
   Mm. 
   This was his chance. This was his moment. He was being allowed to move on, he was sure of it. It had to be. 
   He practically scrambled off the stage and down the steps, and found that the Knight had closed the distance very quickly. He gestured silently for Error to follow him off to the side of the arena, seemingly outside of the voice spell’s range, as the noise of magic and calling for the next viewer seemed all muffled and contained. 
   Something Error noticed about the guy, now that he was right beside him walking along, was also that he wasn’t a cat monster. No, he had some sort of mask shaped like a cat. Black spots painted on black fur, with piercing white eyelights hidden in the darkness cast by his black hood. A cloth mask covered the lower half of his face, so Error would’ve had no idea what kind of monster he was, if he hadn’t left his hands uncovered. They were grey and grimy, but they were most certainly bones. 
   The other thing he noticed, was the magic. That damp, airy magic was no-doubt from this guy. It practically enveloped the both of them until they were stood in the shade of the wall separating bleachers from arena floor. 
   “You said you’re twelve?” He finally asked, shifting on his feet to look at Error. 
   The last thing he noticed, which only happened once he was able to look past the aura, was that. Well. He was a bit taller than this guy. Not by much, but there was certainly something stark about having to look a bit downwards to meet his eyelights. 
   “Yes, I am.” He claimed proudly, still convinced this was to be his ride to the top.
   The knight seemed to skim him with his eyes. Surely taking in Error’s clothes, his bag, his glasses, the weird bones. Though, it didn’t feel pervasive. 
   “Impressively strong for a kid,” He praised loosely, “And probably talented in spells if the nerds were any indication.” 
   His voice was quiet and raspy, but Error had no problem listening to it. This strong and very cool guy who was called a ‘knight’ was praising him. This was much better than getting yelled at by his professors. Much. 
   “Does that mean I passed?” He asked impatiently. 
   He needed this. He needed this. 
   The guy’s eyelights lingered on his face a bit, and it was then that Error finally noticed how virtually unreadable this guy was. Impossibly quiet, posture unmoving, all facial features shrouded in shadow and covered by masks?
   “I’m not sure what kingdom you’re from, but you’ve got to understand that the folks up there didn’t say no because you’re bad. They said no because the king made a new decree. “No soul under the age of 16 shall be put to work under the crown.” They’ve gotta take it seriously, just like everyone else has to follow the new rules about their own shops and businesses.” He said evenly, eyelights never leaving Error’s face. “You’re a couple years too early is all.” 
   It felt like he’d been shoved into a ditch, and he could already feel his right hand starting to tremble with the beginnings of a glitch. He was furious! How could they possibly say no to him because of some stupid rule about his age? 
   “No!” He exclaimed, trying to bite back the distortion on his voice, “I’m not going to just walk away. If I could just move on to the next round, they’d see I’m different! I’m not some weak little baby!” 
   He clenched his fists, driving his jittering one forcefully into his pocket. 
   The knight didn’t even flinch at his declaration. 
   “They’ve already seen that.” He said easily. “Listen to me. Error, right?” 
   Error hesitantly nodded. 
   “Error, ‘m sure that if my Lord saw you in action, he too would agree that you are very strong and resourceful.” The knight said, and Error hated that it sounded earnest. “But, he set that law into place for very good reason. If by any means those folks back there were to let you through, to pass you, and you made it before the king next round? They’d have committed treason, and I’d have their souls on the end of my bone in three seconds flat.” 
   His voice was hard and serious, and Error held strong as a loud crack echoed out beside the knight. A bone raised from the ground, sharp and jagged on the end, absolutely radiating magic. 
   “Do you really want their blood on your conscience, just so that you get sent away by the King anyways?” The knight offered. 
   Error hunched his shoulders a bit, and he felt his static worsen as he let his eyes linger on the bone. Yes. He muttered inside his head. He wanted to scream it at the man before him. Tell him that this was his one golden chance to prove himself. 
   But to who? He would ask, and Error wouldn’t be able to say it. It’d be a wasted sentiment and wasted time and wasted lives just for his temper tantrum. 
   “...No.” He bit out meekly. 
   He stood there, feeling a familiar shame creep up his spine. The knight made no move to leave, though he did let his bone disappear. The ground looked untouched from where it had split out of. Just more sand. Sand that was getting into Error’s bones. That he’d have to clean out later. Swinging in his hammock, lonely and moping. 
   “Heh,” The chuckle was almost inaudible, and Error was almost ready to let his distress turn back into rage, but, “Better kid than I was.” The Knight mused into the open air.
   He seemed to shift his stance again, and Error took a half step back. 
   “You’ve got your life ahead of you, kid. Don’t let this keep you down. Take the road less traveled by or whatever.” He said then, waving a hand loosely before him. 
   Error stared at him, trying to even his breath, before he had an idea. 
   “The other two rounds will be here, right?” He asked, voice still harshly stuttering and screeching. The Knight seemed unbothered.
   “Yeah. Planning on sticking around to watch?” The knight questioned, though it felt more like a warning. 
   Error nodded in agreement without hesitation. “If these geezers can get the job, I need to see what kind of tricks they have up their sleeves.” He agreed. 
   That earned another little chuckle, before the knight looked back to the stage. 
   Up in the center was a new mage, a human who seemed to be making a pretty wild wind that was whipping the sand around, bothering the people in line behind him. Error heard the knight make a scoffing noise, before turning back towards the stage.
   “Go hang around somewhere else for a while, why don’t you? I have to go make sure those nerds don’t pass that guy.” 
   Error didn’t even get to say a farewell before the Knight was off. 
   It seemed like every stride he teleported a bit further, building speed until he stopped cleanly up on the pedestal. Just in time for the sandstorm to die down. 
   Error didn’t want to walk away from this, he didn’t, but staying would only waste his time. It only took a few more seconds, to watch the knight nudge the evaluator and hear the muffled call of ‘fail’ ring out across the arena before he was turning tail and moving out of the sandy paradise, back into the bustle of the living city. 
.
.
.
   It was impossible to miss it. The sounds of celebration as the monarch entered the town. 
   Error could see the royal carriage from his perch, an old temple tower that had at some point lost its bell. It seemed untouched, birds nests and cobwebs, so he’d set up a hammock and a little makeshift shelter inside using his strings just before night fell. 
   He’d snatched some food from the town as dusk was setting in, and he’d been comfortably whittling away the dark hours, working hard on his plan. 
   With the King officially in town, that meant the second round would be starting up shortly, taking the numbers of who would be in the third round down by hundreds. He hoped the king was stingy about it. He hoped that dragonish monster would stumble on his spell and turn someone into a frog. 
   The thought humored him, and he cackled quietly to himself from his makeshift room. 
   The sun was high again, and he was only a part of the way through. His spells required a lot of his magic to be woven into them, and while it was much much faster than what he’d heard was the usual, it was still difficult to make. 
   Weaving the blue strings from his sockets, to his fingers, around his fingertips, and into the shapes he needed. It was monotonous, and boring by all accounts, but with every strand there was a new flow of power. A new pump of adrenaline into Error’s soul as he recognized his creation becoming more potent. Intent, intent, intent, every loop and knot was filled to the brim with it. His frustration sat at the core. Much more volatile and destructive than his usual intent, but it would serve him well if he wanted this plan to go well. Around it was his determination. The strings woven in with a sense of stubbornness which refused to let go, like a snake swallowing its prey whole. This would compress the first layer into a proper state. Let it coil and coil and coil until it burst. It’d be big, and loud, and send out that message he so desperately needed to be heard by the king. 
   Skipping the second round would probably hurt him in the long run, but… That knight had said he’d have to kill those people if he showed his face in round two. So, he’d just appear in round three instead, and make up for missing the second one. A final act, of sorts. 
   He’d have to be at this all day to make the time crunch. The orb was hardly as big as his palm, not nearly big enough. Though, he had wasted time making the shelter and finding food. He’d just have to skip a couple meals to make up for it. He didn’t really need to eat that much anyways, he’d known that for years. He just tried to make an effort when he smelled something tasty. 
   He knew he could manage. 
   It was late in the night when Error finally started on the outer layers. Those which would be filled with his patience, so that the potent insides would not be sensed as he moved with it among the many magic users. 
   The town had begun to line the streets with torches and party as the stars arrived. No doubt celebrating those who would be at the third and final round tomorrow. The ones who would be competing to become the new Royal Mage. 
   To Error? Every single moment down there was dedicated to him. They just didn’t know it yet. 
.
.
.
   The morning came, and Error only had a few more layers. 
   By the time the sun was almost in the center of the sky above, he had finished it, and carefully tucked it into his backpack. He unraveled the strings and carefully wrapped them, shaping them, changing them into a thin net with long ends. This was shoved into his jacket sleeve, the ends clutched tight in his hand. 
   It took him hardly any time at all to get to the arena, and he was early. 
   Good.
   He settled himself up in the stands, as close to the stage as he could get. Many people seemed to be staying outside the arena, sticking to the streets, but there was still enough of a crowd in the bleachers that Error had to be careful as he worked his way along the edges. He needed to be closer. Closer…
   There. 
   He stood at the railing behind the stage. 
   From here, he could see the line to the left, and he could see the people who had finished lingering on the other side. None of them spoke to each other, only standing about, icily, waiting for the rest to finish so they’d know which of them was chosen, and who was not. Error had to imagine that these folks were just as lame and boring as the seniors from his old academy. No fun at all. 
   He waited, so, so patiently, for the next few people. The last few. 
   Though he couldn’t see the spells themselves, he could certainly feel the pressure coming off of them. The control that they’d need to balance it. How much it might’ve drained their energy to do it just once. He was attuned to that sort of thing, he had to be. 
   His assessment was that all of these last few folks weren’t bad, but they were no match for Error’s raw talent. 
   Each spell cast seemed to tick away at Error’s patience, until it finally happened. The last mage went on-stage. It seemed there had been 15 of them. 
   He’d have to make 16, then. 
   It felt like a blur as he jumped the rails and let his strings carry him across the open space, much to the shock of the few who had been watching the competitors from around him. The blue lines snatched at the wooden supports of the stage, and he swung right over top, landing a bit messily in the center of the stage.
   He didn’t have time to look at everything. All he knew was the crowd was much larger than last time, that there was a shout of ‘Hey!’’ from somewhere to his left, and that the box across from the stage now held only three people. Monsters. One Error recognized, the knight in shadows who’d spoken to him. The other two he didn’t know, but he had to assume the one in the middle, tall and imposing, and dark, with an eyelight the same colors as the tapestries, was the King he was looking to impress. That was all he needed to know. 
   “M’lord, my name is Error!” He called out across the sand, and in one motion he shrugged the bag off his shoulders and used his strings to tug the orb out of its canvas body. “I want to prove that I’m more capable than any of the adults who just went before me! I could be your mage!” He would be the mage. 
   The orb sat cradled in Error’s hand for only the briefest moment, before it was inside the little net he’d made. He swung it in circles. Again. Again. Again. 
   He had to be fast. He had to do this quick.
   Error spent one last moment, extending his reach through his strings, muttering words and igniting an intangible spark. 
   For a brief moment, he watched as the King seemed to ease forward. A hand now raised, seemingly calling off his knights, who had been almost in motion. 
   He released the orb directly upwards, momentum carrying it up. 
   Up.
   Up.
   Into the blue sky. Practically into the sun. 
   Error watched it rise above him. 
   Only. 
   “Shit.” 
   His calculations must’ve been off. He must’ve added a layer too many, or maybe he released it a swing too soon. But he could tell that it wouldn’t clear the top of the arena. 
   Maybe if he had a few more seconds he could’ve used strings to boost it. He could’ve sent a magic gust to lift it further. 
   Not the case.
   He watched as the orb detonated, just like it was supposed to. 
   The wave moved horizontally through the air, and swept across the air above the arena so quickly that it sucked the sand from the top layer and threw it against the tall walls. Error’s footing slipped, and he stumbled to his knees on the stage as the wind whipped and tugged the heavy curtains into the air current as well. 
   It was an almost invisible force, Error had to imagine anyone without a solid grasp of magic would entirely miss it as it spread out. 
  He winced as it finally reached the edges of the arena, where he had just barely managed to fall short of clearing. 
   As the magic passed over the stone and mortar, he saw as it fell. Not in chunks, but crumbled like dust into fine particles. The upper half of every arch at the top of the grand amphitheatre, turned pitch black, then wasted away. 
   He hadn’t meant for it to come in contact with anything. It wasn’t supposed to do anything but harmlessly wave over everyone’s heads. As a show of his strength. That was all.
   Error could only think back to when this had happened before. When he’d accidentally exploded Geno’s favorite mug while metering the strength of his strings. When he’d broken the wheel of a carriage passing through the woods with a wayward slingshot blast. When he’d broken all ten of the large windows in the lecture hall of the academy when he failed to complete a spell the way it was written. When he’d done it too well.
   As he rose to his feet, he half expected the nagging voice of his older brother to be there, chastising him for not being more careful, before taking him home and making him dinner. 
   It wasn’t that, though. 
   He watched out across the sand. The king had his head tilted only slightly, looking up at Error’s lofty mistake. At the clean cut where stone now met unbothered air. His knight, the one in all black, was leaned ever so slightly towards him. They must’ve been speaking. Or, at least, the knight was. 
   About Error, he had no doubt. 
   He stayed in place, watching, swaying a bit with the residual force of his own spell lingering in his fingertips. Every instinct which told him to run and to hide were smothered and stamped out by the ligering fact that he had nowhere to go. Without his brothers, there was no one to help him. He knew it. 
   Even in front of this crowd. These mages. This King and his knights. He couldn’t bring himself to move offstage. Some part of him, deep down, childishly wanted the King to announce that he was impressed. To parade him offstage and let him experience what Geno had. Let him know why Geno left. 
   The King’s single eyelight swam back over to look at Error in the silence. 
   Error felt like the world had stopped. 
   It hadn’t.
   There was a clattering of armor and rustling of fabric, suddenly loud in his ears, and he had no time to react as everything came rushing in all at once. 
   Hands. Heavy, gloved hands. Two sets, two hands each wrapped one of his upper arms, and immediately lifted him off the ground. Into the air. 
   Pain flooded into his bones from his soul, like twin lightning strikes, trying to singe the bone and the magic in its core. The pressure wasn’t much, his mind knew that, but his body usually didn’t listen to him. He tried desperately to hold it in. The rampant part of his magic that had been hurting him since he could remember. That made it hard to touch anyone. To shake hands. To hug his brothers. 
   “Let go!” He pleaded, though he wasn’t sure if his voice made any sense. Fresh always told him they couldn’t tell what he was saying when his voice got too bad.
   More pain. He kicked his legs at the open air, and tried to muster control over his strings, just for a moment, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t focus. 
   And all at once it stopped. 
   Error’s feet were on the ground again, though that promptly became his knees again as he swayed and wavered in the sudden aftermath of his active magic dying down. Receding back into his soul. Because it didn’t need to ‘protect’ him anymore.
   He spotted then, as his vision returned to something aside from the gloves or the sky, that the King was no longer in his throne. In fact, there was a heavy, encompassing, magical weight behind him now. Somewhere very, very close-by.
   He took a deep breath, grounding himself. 
   “We are taking a recess.” Announced a booming voice. Very nearby. It was deep, and felt almost the same as the projection spell from two days prior. Then, more quietly, “You will leave the boy to me. Go ensure no one was injured, then manage the crowd. I’ll make my choice tomorrow at sunrise.” 
   The second bit felt quieter, an edge to the tone that Error didn’t quite like. Considering he must be the boy in question. 
   It was a moment, a few muddled ‘Yes, my king’ s, before Error found a pair of boots stepping before him. His head swam as he looked upwards. 
   The King, he figured that had to be him, was dark. Very dark. Like a living, dripping, shadow. Magic seemed to be all he was made of, an aura radiating from him. Dripping off his back into long slimy worms, twitching as they sat near the ground. He wore a fancy cape, too. One with huge gold clasps on his shoulders, one was shaped like the moon. 
   Error looked to his face last. In hindsight, something that could’ve been very, very bad. He was met with a dripping face. Skeletal. The place where his right socket should’ve sat was covered in that dark substance. The other hollow, with that bright cyan orb staring right back at him. 
   “Can you stand?” His voice came easily, and Error braced himself. 
   Could he?
   He had to, he didn’t want to be touched again. 
   Error took another breath, and managed to rise silently to his feet. 
   “Good,” the King said once he was standing, “Follow me.”
   It was an order he didn’t dare refuse. 
.
.
.
   Error found himself in an odd position. 
   He’d been given time to sit and recover from his magic’s outlash, and now he was sat in a room beneath the bleachers of the arena alongside the King and that knight he’d met before. The other one was guarding the door, he thought. 
   It’d been silent for a while, and it was almost expected when the silence was finally broken. 
   “You said your name is Error, correct?” The King asked, and Error gave a nod of yes. He forced himself to meet the King’s gaze.
   “Dust says that you’re only 12, and our people disqualified you in the first round. Is that right?” 
   Error nodded again. 
   “And Dust even explained to you why you were disqualified?” 
   Another nod. It seemed he’d at least made an impression on the knight. Dust. 
   The King tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, eyelight holding Error’s tightly. 
   “Then, I’ll ask, what brought you to think this was a good choice? To try and become Royal Mage above any cost it might bring?” The king asked, and Error was surprised to find it was a shockingly gentle tone. “Your home, your family, your life. You are so young, why put it all on the line like this?” 
   Oh. 
   It was almost funny. Was this whole thing because the king was some sort of charitycase? So disillusioned by his perfect life that he couldn’t even think of the hardships any random kid could go through? He almost grinned at that, barely keeping his mouth from twitching in a mix of frustration and humor.
   “I wanted to prove myself,” He muttered, “And besides, becoming the Royal Mage would be great.” 
   He waited, waited for the King to inhale, to say something, before, 
   “I’m an orphan.” He spat, finally. “Family abandoned me, house is left behind, expelled from school. I don’t want to keep wandering.” 
   It was basically the truth. This was his big break. His one last chance before he became a hated little vagabond. Maybe even a criminal. Maybe he’d have to go on the run for the rest of his life, live as a nomad. Join a caravan. Those people got stopped a lot though, kingdoms didn’t like them. He’d probably explode some city’s bakery by mistake and get put in jail for-
   “Wait!” Error suddenly exclaimed, breaking free of his thoughts, “Am I in trouble? Am I going to jail??” He asked then. 
   His worries slammed to a grinding halt and he stared wide-eyed at the two before him. Geno had always told him not to go making his big stuff near town, because if the guard caught him he wouldn’t be able to bail him out. He’d end up in jail. Of course, it’d never happened back then because he was always fast enough. Always smart enough to get out of dodge when he broke something or made poor decisions. Here? Here he hadn’t run when he had the chance. 
   The King stared at him, his one eyelight nearly mirroring Error’s in surprise at the question. 
   “I mean,” he started, “You’re young. If I wont let you work for me, I wouldn’t dare put you in prison either.” The King stated, “Though, you did do quite a bit of damage to the theatre.” 
   Error watched him break eye contact finally and look over his shoulder to the Knight stood there. He’d been silently watching Error too. 
   When he had no insight, The king seemed to heave a sigh, and the shadowy extra limbs which draped around him twitched. 
   “You’re sure you have no family? No home?” the King asked him again, and Error nodded.
   The king muttered something under his breath, and shot the Knight another look. The knight shrugged. 
   “I… Will not employ you. Though, I do see talent in you, Error.” the King said carefully, a bit slower in his words than he had been up until now. Almost… unsure. “I will, however, extend to you the title so that you may conduct…” He waved a hand before himself, as though searching for a word, “ You may conduct independent research. If you accept, of course.”
   “You would be free to resend your acceptance at any moment, no strings attached, and may take any work you complete along with you, and any pay you receive would be given to you after your 16th birthday, if you stay that long.” He added, “I’ll have to rewrite the contract, but-”
   “I accept!” 
   Error couldn’t help himself. He was so excited he could puke. The last thing he’d expected was to pull this off. This shitshow of a scheme actually got him the job? He could scream. He could jump up and down for joy. He didn’t, he sat eagerly and tense in his seat instead, but he could’ve. 
   The King seemed to hesitate, for a few breaths, before relaxing. He stood, and offered a hand out slowly to Error. 
   Error stood too, grinning. He could manage this one. He could do it. 
   It was brief, but he grasped the King’s hand and shook it firmly.
   “Dust, will you help Error locate his belongings, and escort him to wherever he is staying tonight? I’ll send Cross to swap with you a bit later. We’ll reconvene in the morning just before sunrise.” 
#new age au#Gods these guys are so so silly to me#I wanted this to be Error's perspective mostly but also. I love the others dearly#I need y'all to know that Dust and Nightmare 100% talked about Error's situation after Night offered the deal and they agreed it was#probably the best call for Error's sake if nothing else. But like. What poor timing for such a strong orphan to come out of nowhere#and immediately mess up Night's new rule lmao.#Also idk if I lost steam into the 2nd half so I apologize if that's not as tasty but like... I had a lot going on and I knew if I stopped#it would never get finished ever haha-#Let's see what other thoughts i had...#Definitely need to write Error first arriving and feeling the whimsy of meeting Geno and getting to rant to Nightmare about his newest craz#idea and getting his own courtyard to try things out and all that jazz#And also experiencing Ccino panic at the sight of a young child because ??? Night ur better than that what happened??? And subconsciously#pick up on the brotherly energy they have towards eachother.#And to let Error set boundaries about his tower#who can come in and who can't and how to call for him (use strings outside like a door-knocker basically) and just! Watch him adjust and#thrive!!!!#anyways yeah. Dust definitely becomes the one Error speaks to the most often besides Nightmare. And Nightmare is busy so he mainly just#checks in on him to listen to his new ideas and make sure he's still alive#so there's not a whole lot of interaction aside from Night being a positive and encouraging force to Error's magic practice (maybe they#train on occassion too?)#And then. Y'know. Nightmare shrinks and is just a lil goofy nerd and loves listening to Error and thinks he's super duper cool.#(OH! And Error turns 13 like. a few days into his emplyment#so he's 14 when Night becomes 13 again-)#okay good night everyone!!
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thormanick · 11 months ago
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All the Kavetham/Haikaveh ideas I don't have capacity to currently write, a very detailed list:
(Which I am humbly placing here before you. Be warned: this post is an incredibly long one!)
1. Fatui!Kaveh AU, where the night before the meeting happens between Kaveh and Alhaitham at the tavern, Kaveh gets a deal from Fatui representatives to work on a huge project in Snezhnaya. Kaveh is sceptical about it, but decides to accept the offer during the dialogue with Alhaitham (seeing himself as a burden, Kaveh decides that he will cause more trouble to Alhaitham than the Fatui, thus he decides to accept their offer even if it seems too good to be true). He tells Alhaitham about his decision to leave for Snezhnaya, and so the two relatively amicably/peacefully part their ways (not without Alhaitham testing Kaveh's reasoning a bit, but Kaveh's resolve remains strong).
And so, Kaveh leaves for Snezhnaya, where he gets to work on several huge projects for the next several years under Sandrone. Most of them are related to construction, engineering and reverse-engineering of Khaenri'ahn and Khaenri'ah-inspired technology, and he gets barely any time to work on his personal projects (he's overworked and exhausted and doesn't get much time and opportunity to be creative; however, the payments are good and he's on his way to getting out of debt, which is practically the sole reason driving him forward. The projects get progressively more complicated and, in a way, unhinged - engineering military equipment is alright, but working with the remains of Khaenri'ahn technology, dead gods and such proves to be... mentally taxing. Everything happens very gradually though, so Kaveh does not immediately notice the true scale of where the Fatui are ready to go to achieve certain goals). Kaveh doesn't really like the work environment of the Fatui, but he does his best (the Harbingers creep him out whenever he gets to see them on a rare official occasion (he might specifically dislike Pantalone because the Harbinger keeps picking at him for his debt, given a chance), but Sandrone's a decent boss who is somewhat encouraging and invested in his work and personal projects. She might be especially interested in Mehrak's existence and operation). Overall, everything goes quite smoothly for Kaveh, even if he doesn't feel quite at home in Snezhnaya and is aware of how dangerous the Fatui can be. He does not consider himself to be paranoid, but the other shoe has to drop at some point - and that happens when the new Acting Grand Sage of Sumeru gets to visit Snezhnaya on a diplomatic mission (aka: Kaveh reconnects with Alhaitham & Co for the first time in what feels like forever). The situation gets complicated when Kaveh realizes that Sandrone encourages the reestablishment of his connection with Alhaitham specifically - and she never encourages an action if she doesn't directly contribute from it.
Feelings, emotions and shenanigans ensue.
TLDR: Kaveh's doing his best despite being restricted in his ways of work, prevented from realizing most of his creative projects and slowly but surely building emotional walls around himself because Fatui and Snezhnaya; Sandrone being a kind of decent boss with sorta good work ethic but horrendous morals who is not exactly a good influence on Kaveh's idealistic tendencies and guilt complex; Fatui being contextually horrifying but kinda normal coworkers if you don't look at them too close; Alhaitham trying his best as a political figure (Nahida help him) while also trying to get Kaveh to return home with him (because he misses him); the main conflict revolving around Kaveh and his life choices with Sandrone and Alhaitham being kind of foils to each other (with Sandrone gradually destroying Kaveh's idealistic morals and playing on his guilt to get the most out of his potential as an innovator, and with Alhaitham actively trying to resolve Kaveh's guilt and show him that, despite their arguments, Kaveh's idealism still has place in the world and can co-exist with other philosophies). There might or might not be some macguffin-esque Deshret relic that both Akademia and Fatui hunt for that eventually brings the whole crew back to Sumeru. Kaveh might or might not get a chance to meet a fragment of Deshret's spirit within the mentioned relic. But there definitely will be a happy end for everyone here (Deshret will make sure of it).
2. Calamity!AU. The new Cataclysm comes, enveloping all Seven Nations, and so Sumeru does its best to survive. The cities are ruined, and the people gather together in random places to survive. Alhaitham gets to live within one of the settlements, established by the Akademiya. While trying to survive the first wave of the new Calamity, he is also looking for Kaveh; after an argument between the two the architect left for an expedition to the Desert, right before the new Calamity began. Unfortunately, the news comes that his group should have been around Tunigi Hollow - one of the spots in Sumeru where the first wave of the new Calamity hit the hardest. There is no concrete information on whether Kaveh's group survived or not. Alhaitham, not loosing hope, does his best to find any information on Kaveh's whereabouts, but due to Sumeru becoming extremely dangerous to traverse and disjointed as a result of the new Calamity, the search stretches out for almost a decade.
One day Alhaitham helps a caravan, traversing the forests to get to one of the settlements, to fight off the monsters. Unexpectedly, Kaveh turns out to be one of the members of the caravan. Their reunion is almost cut short by the caravan's need to keep going, but Alhaitham convinces Kaveh to join him instead. The two return to the new Sumeru city settlement, where Alhaitham lives and works under the watch of Akademiya and Lord Kusanali. It appears that during his years of travels around the destroyed Sumeru Kaveh learned new ways of architectural construction that would be more efficient against the monsters, born by the Calamity. He also seems to behave quite differently, hardened by the experiences of the past years. Alhaitham proposes for Kaveh to stay with him in the city, and Kaveh accepts. The feelings, new routines, dealings with the changed versions of each other and attempts to find new pace of life in the new world ensue.
TLDR: The world might be ending and impossible to live in, but even so each new day is brighter when the person one loves is by their side.
3. Another Cataclysm!AU, where Kaveh and Alhaitham get assigned separate missions in the grander scheme of things created to prevent the coming of a new Calamity. The plan succeeds and the world remains safe, but not without heavy losses: amongst many others, Kaveh does not survive while carrying out his mission.
Decades pass as Alhaitham goes through his grieving process. Eventually, one evening on the anniversary of the Calamity's prevention, Alhaitham wanders to a place he and Kaveh used to visit together. A Ley Line disruption occurs, and he gets to see a glimpse of Kaveh through it. They have a conversation; the Ley Line apparition (a memory of Kaveh) is convinced that Alhaitham is from the future, and so they talk a lot about the Calamity, whether it was prevented, and about each other's futures. Alhaitham can't bring himself to tell Kaveh that he does not survive the Calamity, but he does tell Kaveh that his architectural legacy lives on. Kaveh commends Alhaitham on his achievements (though not an acting grand sage for a very long time, Alhaitham kept playing an important role throughout Sumeru's history, helping to keep it safe).
Eventually, their time runs out. Ley Line disorder starts gradually disappearing. Alhaitham urges Kaveh to be careful and stay safe, knowing that the Calamity (on Kaveh's side) is yet to come. Kaveh laughs and tells him that on his side, Alhaitham just told him the same words after they finished the debriefing session, related to the Calamity. He says that he was feeling very nervous, but that seeing future-Alhaitham made him convinced that they are on the right path.
And so, the Ley Line disorder disappears. Alhaitham spends some more time at the spot before returning home. Despite painful memories having been brought up, his heart feels a bit lighter.
TLDR: closure comes unexpectedly, takes many forms and does not erase the pain in an instant, but, nevertheless, it heals.
4. AU! where Kaveh and Alhaitham are both magical birds that can transform into humans (and half-humans).
They live together in the depths of Sumeru forest - a domain of a long lost God of Wisdom. Kaveh's feathers are rumoured to bring blessings, while Alhaitham's feathers, on the contrary, are said to bring bad luck or even curses. Humans, living at the edge of magical forest, kinda worship them, but also prefer not to interact with them, primarily because Alhaitham is not happy when others trespass on his lands, and because searching for Kaveh is extremely hard (he's often off working on his projects deep within the forest), and the magical forest is very dangerous on its own. So, the humans build their cities outside of the Sumeru forest, and Alhaitham and Kaveh peacefully live together in the depths of it.
Despite Kaveh and Alhaitham living together for a long time, their opinions on humanity are diametrically opposed: Alhaitham barely tolerates humans, finding them to be reckless, meddling, cowardly and deceitful; Kaveh, on the contrary, finds humans to be creative, inspiring, free and beautiful in their own way. Throughout the years, Kaveh manages to build somewhat of an amicable relationship with the humans, living at the edge of the forest: he learns more about their traditions and arts, while the humans receive his guidance and blessings in various matters of living, craftsmanship and arts. Eventually, Kaveh's knowledge and magical powers catch the eye of Lord Sangemah Bay, who resides in and governs one of the bigger settlements at the forest's border. She makes a deal with Kaveh that, despite providing him with valuable (in his eyes) experience of working with humans on some of his grandest architectural projects, costs him a lot - meaning he has to give away lots of his blessed feathers, which makes his remaining magic much weaker (and generally undermines his health for a bit). Alhaitham is not a huge fan of such approach (in his eyes, Kaveh is wasting his powers and time for nothing, endangering himself), and so a conflict between him and Kaveh breaks. As a result, Kaveh flees their home, secluding himself while he's focusing on other projects he finds curious. Kaveh keeps working with humans, and though Alhaitham certainly keeps an eye on Kaveh's wellbeing, he does not make it easy for humans to reach him. So what if there are new random magical seals, obstacles, almost-traps and riddles appearing here and there when people try to get to Kaveh? It's a magical forest, things happen! (Kaveh knows that Alhaitham does this on purpose, and Alhaitham knows that Kaveh knows, and it leads to them indirectly, and then directly bickering and arguing. The magical forest quite possibly grows very tired of them. Their friends Tighnari and Cyno certainly do, but alas.)
The new equilibrium, found by Alhaitham and Kaveh, is challenged once more when Kaveh leaves to the Lord Sangemah Bay's city to direct yet another one of his grand projects. They do not see each other for a long while. Despite all the challenges, Kaveh's relationship with Dori gradually grows stronger - the two value their partnership - and Kaveh ends up making friends amongst humans. However, not everyone is happy about Lord Sangema Bay's growing friendship with the "deity of blessings" personified. As some people come to despise her for her wealth, influence and ever growing power, so do they come to despise the bird of paradise.
When the project is complete, the time for celebration comes. Kaveh gets to attend a feast by Dori's side as a guest of honour, and is invited to stay the night in her palace before returning to the forest. Kaveh agrees: he's been spending all his days and nights at the building site, and resting a night before returning home would be nice. As the night goes on, however, Kaveh begins to feel weary and unwell - the new type of wine he was served did him no good. He excuses himself early for the night and, as soon as he gets to his bed, he's out cold.
After an undetermined amount of time (in what appears to be the middle of the night), Kaveh wakes up because of immense pain in his back.
As he gradually comes to his senses, he has a horrible realization: one of his wings was cut off when he was asleep. Alerting the guards and Dori yields no results: the intruder escaped, presumably with Kaveh's wing, and there are no traces of them left. While Kaveh gets immediately attended to, he goes in shock and, eventually, loses consciousness.
When the messengers form the city arrive to the forest, Alhaitham receives them reluctantly at first, but as soon as he hears of what happened, he rushes to the city. He ends up taking Kaveh back to the forest, hoping that its healing magic will help restore his wing. However, nothing seems to work: neither spells, nor the powers of nature, not even Tighnari's medicine. Though the wound is slowly healing, Kaveh remains unconscious for days. To get more information on what happened, Alhaitham returns to the city to question Dori together with Cyno (who's also to continue the investigation within the city once Alhaitham returns home), while Tighnari stays with Kaveh.
Though the questioning concludes that Dori knows nothing and is willing to assist in the search of the perpetrator, Cyno concludes that she was not thorough enough in ensuring Kaveh's safety and overall security of the celebration in general, revealing that Dori recklessly cut corners here and there. Furious, Alhaitham leaves Dori his cursed feather, giving her an ultimatum: she has to find the perpetrator and give them to Alhaitham to deal the final punishment. Until then, her city is doomed to slowly crumble into decay and oblivion. Dori accepts the deal.
Alhaitham returns to the forest to look after Kaveh, while Cyno remains in the city to continue the search. When Alhaitham comes back, Kaveh is finally awake. However, he remains extremely closed-off, practically a shadow of himself. The recovery process is slow and challenging, but Alhaitham does his best to support Kaveh in all ways that matter. Kaveh struggles with healing: the loss of a wing affected not only his body, but also his mental state and magic. He cannot transform, he can barely use any of his magical skills, and he cannot fly anymore, which hurts him most of all. It takes a while for Kaveh to get on his feet (quite literally), even longer to finally leave his room. He also feels guilty for being in Alhaitham's care, because he remembers all of the Alhaitham warnings about the humans he didn't listen to, and so lots of internal conflict ensues.
Meanwhile Alhaitham does all he can to try and navigate the situation. He looks after Kaveh's healing process; brings back his blueprints and equipment from Kaveh's place so that he has enough to work with if he wishes; he also (to the best of his ability) remodels their home to make it more accessible to Kaveh. Given that their natural method of moving around their house was flying (whether in form of birds of half-humans), Alhaitham now implements more adjustments for walking or climbing. (When Kaveh feels good enough to leave his room, he's amazed by what Alhaitham managed to achieve. He also helps fix some of the constructions, given he's the one with the experience in architecture.) Alhaitham and Kaveh grow closer, slowly unpacking and mending their relationship, turning it into something new and beautiful.
At the same time, Alhaitham continues to watch the forest borders - to make sure that no intruders interrupt Kaveh's recovery and their peaceful life together. One day he notices an interesting sight: a small, but beautiful shrine appeared right by the forest. He decides to investigate; upon approaching the shrine, he meets Nilou (whom he saw in the palace when he visited Dori). She explains to him that, after he and Kaveh left the city, a group of people decided to organize a shrine, dedicated to Kaveh, to pray for his recovery. Nilou explains that in their eyes it's the least they can offer for all the help that their city received in the past and as amends for the pain they have caused. Alhaitham warns her not to get any closer to the forest, but the action of people leaves a lasting impression on him.
Meanwhile, Cyno's investigation progresses. Cyno writes to Alhaitham that together with Dori they managed to find and capture the perpetrator. Questioning reveals no useful information, but Cyno suspects that there might be more to the attack on Kaveh than they anticipated. To uphold his end of the deal Alhaitham goes to the city to deliver the punishment to the attacker and to undo the curse he put on Dori's city. Before he leaves, Kaveh, scared of what might happen to Alhaitham, sews into his cloak a blessed feather for protection (because Alhaitham wouldn't accept it outright). While Alhaitham is away, Kaveh begins working on a new project: a mechanical wing.
When Alhaitham gets to the city, he is led to the cell where the attacker is being held. Cyno and Dori are by his side for the final questioning. The man - a mere mortal (with strange red-ish eyes), one of Dori's citizens - keeps talking in circles, making less and less sense with each new word. Alhaitham lets Cyno and Dori go before rendering the punishment. When the curse (one of Alhaitham's darkest yet) is finally prepared, suddenly, the tables are turned. The perpetrator attacks Alhaitham, but his movements seem unnatural, almost like those of a puppet. Alhaitham realizes, that the man is being controlled by someone with prowess for strong, incredibly dark magic that seems similar to that of the Desert. The strange puppet manages to overpower Alhaitham in a fight, but cannot harm him (due to the protection from Kaveh's feather). The perpetrator manages to escape, taking with him Alhaitham's cursed feather (they seemed to be pleased to receive it. Alhaitham fears to think what they will use it for).
Dori and Cyno pick up the investigation, with Cyno going straight to the Desert. Dori begins reinforcing the city (her people discover that Alhaithams curse (now lifted) awakened Miasma deep under the ground. The Miasma begins to slowly spread, seemingly in the direction of the Sumeru Forest). Cyno sends back a message, confirming that strong and dark magic seems to be gathering within the Desert, possibly for the purpose of destroying the magical forest.
Alhaitham manages to get back to Kaveh and tell him of what happened in the city. In order to be able to protect the forest together with Alhaitham, Kaveh doubles down on his efforts to create a mechanical working wing. Everything works, besides the golden feathers - they need to be blessed in order to allow the mechanism to work as intended, but Kaveh does not have enough power for it. Alhaitham takes a risk and brings the feathers to the shrine, created by Nilou and other humans, so that they could bless them for Kaveh. (They are short of one feather eventually, and Alhaitham gives Kaveh one of his own, his first blessed feather, to complete the wing.)
TLDR: Kaveh works on restoring his wing and faith in himself and humanity; Alhaitham learns that humanity is not always evil. Dori and Cyno discover that the escaped perpetrator (caugh controlled by Dottore caugh) used Kaveh to get to Alhaitham to gain his cursed feather for completing some sort of ancient ritual to unseal the forbidden knowledge magic deep within the Desert in roder to unleash it on the magical forest, slumbering God of Wisdom and human cities. Kaveh learns to curse his feathers (while opposing Dottore in a final fight), and Alhaitham learns to bless his. Humans and Sumeru Forest continue to coexist peacefully. Alhaitham and Kaveh live together happily ever after.
5. Pacific Rim!AU, where Kaveh and Alhaitham used to be pilots of a Jaeger, but during one of their battles they suffered too much damage. In order to save Alhaitham and what remains of their Jaeger, Kaveh takes most of the damage by severing already unstable connection between Alhaitham and Jaeger's system. Both barely survive the encounter, but meanwhile Alhaitham manages to recover fast, the damage Kaveh has taken leaves him in a critical condition, eventually resulting in him being unable to ever pilot a Jaeger ever again (and putting many new restraints on his usual daily life).
As soon as Kaveh comes to his senses, the two have a huge fight about Kaveh's rash decision, and eventually break off their friendship. They don't see each other for a long, long time.
As the time goes on, Kaveh learns how to live with the changes that his body sustained with the help of his service dog Mehrak. Eventually he takes on a job at one of the Jaeger construction facilities (together with his friend Tighnari), studying Kaiju and creating new Jaeger modifications - though no Kaiju has been seen in the past several years, the world is still afraid of their return.
When the suspicion of the new Kaiju appearance arises, new pilot recruits and ex-pilots are summoned to the facility. There, Kaveh meets Alhaitham for the first time in years. After their fallout, Alahitham resigned from piloting Jaegers, yet now he had no choice but to return to train new recruits (and possibly resume his role of a Jaeger pilot). Now once again the two have to work together as a part of a team in face of approaching danger, trying to resolve their past conflicts and overcome their fears and insecurities along the way (when deep down they simply want to keep each other safe).
TLDR: Kaveh & service animal Mehrak is a neat concept I'd love to see more of, just as a concept in general. I think this one could be an interesting story idea centered mostly around Kaveh's day to day life. Additionally, Alhaitham who used to be only drift compatible with Kaveh but now suddenly discovers he's drift compatible with Cyno. I need more Cyno & Alhaitham camaraderie I think it would do them lots of good (at least in this specific AU setting lol).
6. Oxenfree!AU where Kaveh and Alhaitham are two ex-best friends turned reluctant coworkers (photo-journalist and journalist respectively) working on writing a piece about the disappearances of a group of teenagers that happened at the Edwards Island several years prior (timeline somewhere between the first and the second games). The radio shenanigans ensue, making the two face their past, possible futures and, most importantly, their present. (In Oxenfree tuning into certain radio sequences can temporarily mess up time-space shenanigans, just fyi).
TLDR: I just think that this setting could facilitate some character exploration that would be very fun.
7. Modern MermanKaveh!AU, post-fallout, where it's a little bit more about haunting Alhaitham (and the narrative), than being a merman. Due to an unfortunate set of circumstances, Kaveh drowns one day, trying to save someone from the water. Due to an unfortunate set of circumstances, he doesn't really die, being stuck in between (existence and death, normal life and the necessity to live in water). Kaveh manages, for quite a while even!
But of course Alhaitham has to come back and turn his world upside down once again.
TLDR: can you tell Alhaitham's quote about drowning stuck with me huh (and I made it literal lol). On a serious note... Idk, vibes??? I want to see the "stuck in the middle" Kaveh, whatever that entails. Some existential explorations. And the development of his relationship with Alhaitham, of course. // Kaveh is a merman unable to fully live the life he used to have, and Alhaitham doesn't know that he survived (for a while), alternatively "let me help to save you from metaphorical and literal drowning" Alhaitham and "I learned to live like this, this is what my norm now looks like" Kaveh.
8. Another Modern MermanKaveh!AU/DrownedGhostKaveh!AU, because I apparently have no self-control (I feel like I should also clarify that whenever I mention a mermaid, I think of them more as of ghosts of drowned people and less as mermaids-mermaids, the half-human half-marine creature ones). This idea was initially prepared for chili/zhongchi but it's been sooooooooooooooooooo long and I still haven't done anything substantial for it so I'm borrowing it from myself for myself and tweaking it for kavetham because I figured it could fit them. So here it goes,
Alhaitham is a scientist/marine biologist that moves from the city to a much smaller port town, getting himself a place in a local partially repurposed lighthouse. Kaveh is a merman, who has been dead for a long while and who's been living within local waters ever since he drowned. Alhaitham leads a very isolated life, going through a rather rough patch emotionally (maybe a badly ended past relationship and relocation from an established group of friends to a remote place brought up past negative emotions related to loss that were bottled up for a while. who knows, not me). Anyways, Alhaitham's not doing too well, but seaside walks help him unwind, even if for a short periods of time. During one of such walks, he finds an old pendant washed ashore. He picks up his find, hoping to do some research on it outside of his work time (because research is his fun-time).
He expects this to be a brief excursion into local history. He does not expect to become haunted by the ghost of a man to whom this pendant belonged to way back when.
Kaveh, in turn, is extremely excited to finally, finally be able to get out of the sea to the surface. He intends to stay ashore as long as possible and, well, if he just so gets to amuse himself by haunting a grumpy marine biologist that refuses to believe in merpeople, ghosts of drowned and other supernatural occurences - who's he to say no?
TLDR: this AU can go two ways (in my eyes): the happy ending way and probably more gothic-horror-story-esque ending. So, Alahitham is cursed to be haunted by Kaveh: for a while he's the only one who can see him, with Kaveh being something akin to a ghost. However, the longer Kaveh haunts Alhaitham, the more human he becomes (others can see him, he cannot phase through walls anymore, etc.). The curse in itself goes something like this: the cursed thing, after being picked up/taken in, cannot be thrown away and will always come back. The ghost, tied to the haunted thing, shall haunt whoever picks the cursed thing (the thing should be tied to the ghost, but may not necessarily belong to them) and drain their life energy. The ghost can become free and human again if the haunting goes long enough and they kill the human who picked the cursed object in the end during a very specific time that doesn't occur too often (proverbial blue moon, idk). If they don't kill the human and decide to let them go, then the ghost will seize to exist and the human will regain their strength. (An alternative option to the ghost dying for a less angsty au: the ghost voluntarily takes back the cursed object and returns to the place where they died, but then they will never be able to haunt anyone ever again. The effect of the curse on the haunted remain, but much weaker).
In this case, let's say Kaveh and Alhaitham stay by each other's side from half a year to a year, idk. They grow closer, eventually becoming friends and maybe more (the usual kavetham shenanigans Kaveh falls first but Alhaitham falls harder). Alhaitham's mental state gradually improves, yet overall he becomes weaker because of the curse (to the point that it becomes a serious concern), which Kaveh blames himself for. The appointed time approaches (both Kaveh and Alhaitham are in on the details of the curse), and Kaveh, seeing it as an opportunity to set Alhaitham free, manages to separate himself from Alhaitham. Kaveh is ready to return to the sea/merge with it (ah yes the classic Little Mermaid influence does anybody feel it lol). However, Alhaitham sees through his plan and arrives just in time to stop him. They have a confrontation. Eventually, they manage to lift the curse (as you can see I have not figured out exactly how this can happen but! it definitely can!) with Kaveh becoming human again and Alhaitham regaining his health. The two continue to live together happily ever after.
The other scenario is practically the same, but it's more ghothic? and abstract (and probably more suitable for the og pairing it was made for, but i'll throw it in anyways). I have not engaged with gothic literature much and thus don't have much experience in how it works/how to write it, but the idea is that Kaveh is more of a projection of Alhaitham's grief than a ghost fo a drowned person (in other words, he's definitely a ghost, but his presence is also much more symbolical). The story follows quite similar beats, except the setting of the curse is a bit different: it's more of a "kill first or be killed" thingy with a deadline. Kaveh earnestly tries to drown Alhaitham at first through various means, but the more time they spend together, the more Kaveh sees of Alhaitham's life and pain and feels sympathetic for him. Despite the curse, Kaveh tires to help Alhaitham in various ways; and it works! Alhaitham gradually begins to feel better; the two grow closer to each other (more in a platonic way).
So now the precedent is that though Alhaitham's overall doing better, the curse still preys on him, hindering his life in various ways that become more and more serious/dangerous (the curse's deadline approaches, and it tries to survive the best way it can through Kaveh's influence on Alhaitham). Eventually, Kaveh lets Alhaitham go, merging with the sea (once again, yes, it was partially inspired by the Little Mermaid). Alhaitham realizes what happened and tries to look for Kaveh, but it is in vain.
Eventually, life goes on.
Bonus Elden Ring AU (because guess who suddenly went on a lore video watching spree): Kaveh is a craftsman and one of the inhabitants of Castle Morne who managed to escape before it was overrun by Misbegotten. He's a follower of St. Trina and Miquella (he doesn't follow Miquella at first, but slowly he comes to suspect that the two are one and the same). After escaping from Castle Morne, he finds his way to Jarburg, where he is welcomed to stay and be the new Potentate.
Alhaitham is from a distant branch of Carian royal family and a scholar at the Academy of Raya Lucaria. Quite possibly explored an area of studies similar to Sellen's. Eventually he separates himself from both Academy and his family, becoming a wandering scholar.
The two meet somewhere nearby Jarburg when Kaveh gets ambushed by the same people who were trying to get to Alhaitham. The two fight them off. Kaveh, trying to help injured Alhaitham, leads him to Jarburg. The two continue living together there ever since (not without hiccups, but they're doing their best).
TLDR: this one is short and very simple because I just started diving into the Elden Ring's lore, but I just. Really wanted to make some AU for them. I also desperately wanted it to be peaceful and happy one despite it being a seeming impossibility for anything dark souls/elden ring related, but one can dream. If I were to make this one darker I'd probably expand on the duality of their two characters here, and how Alhaitham probably used to conjure spells on humans (with gaining knowledge being his sole life purpose for a long time) and has challenges with comprehending the world outside of a framework of pure logic, and how Kaveh gets an increasing tendency of escaping to the dream world/wherever Miquella is in order to alleviate his mental turmoil (maybe he witnessed too much during his escape from the Castle), and how the two have opposing perspectives on the idea of worshipping gods, and- like, there's a lot that can be done. But I also just really really really want them to simply be happy together in a jar village, leading a peaceful life.
That's it for now! Thank you for reading all of this, I can't commend your patience enough if you got to the end of this list!!!✨🎉✨
Maybe in the future I will unpack some of these aus. who knows.
#if you made it till the end you're officially a hero#sorry for so many words lol#genshin impact#afinna explores teyvat#genshin impact kaveh#genshin impact alhaitham#kavetham#haikaveh#alhaitham x kaveh#genshin impact writing#genshin impact writing ideas#magical birds au my beloved (can you tell lol)#maybe one day#one day i might write it#i was sure i'd never write the inquisitioner x witch kavetham AU but guess what#istg the first chapter should be ready sometime this year. probably. i hope. i dream of it...#pacific rim au is also something i just cradle gently in my hands. weird apocalyptic-esque setting but make it more a piece of life thing#in order to better unpack the relationships between people and various internal turmoils#and the fatui au!!! i want fatui to be weird menacing coworkers that end up being weirdly decent!!! sometimes!!!#idk i just think kaveh and sandrone could be a great work duo#and just the interactions with others could be sooooo much fun#anyways hope these ideas are. decent#also lowkey i need more dori-kaveh-alhaitham shenanigans#like alhaitham is canonically banned from seeing dori as far as i remember [well. blacklisted from the market or something similar]#granted it's probably bc he's with the Akademiya but like. Are We Sure [glances at Kaveh's debt]#anyways i just think there can be some exploration done here lol#also a hot take probably but. we need more 'Dori the Scary Businesswoman that Seems Inhumane But is Actually Wise'#like I want her to push others to their limits for mutual/personal gain BUT doing so knowing exactly when to stop and not cross the line#she is The Monkey's Paw for people who come to her. anyways i just find her interesting#yay that's it thanks for reading all of it have a great day byeeeeeeeeeeeee!
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secondpersonpoetry · 2 months ago
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hi! heard the released “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call” (which i’ve seen you’ve heard live, if i’m not mistaken!!) this morning and i don’t know if there’s really a particular vibe/dynamic/ship hrpf-wise (personally haven’t yet been able to put my finger on it) that quite relates but the lyrics have been rotating in my head all day and i was wondering if you had any thoughts? hope you have a good one! <3
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OH ANON HAVE I EVER SEEN IT LIVE!!! and the second that song came out i zoomed it straight into my fic playlist and unfortunately there are so many guys this could be. right now the one that's resonating is, of course, the golden boy and his haunted ghost themselves: mcstrome.
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i am thinking about connor, specifically, after the stanley cup final. that game seven. how angry he was, how loud the silence when they told him he won the conn smythe. how close he's come before and again and again lost. there's nobody else to blame but himself. he's in the empty room and he knows why (1)
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at!! your best!!! you were magic!!! oh, golden boy. connor the anointed, of course. at the very beginning of his career we always knew he was something special and who wouldn't have fallen in love with him? weren't all of us a little bit dylan strome in awe of the generational talent? we were all bathed in radiant light just by being in the vicinity (2)
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don't even tell 'em that you know me breaks my heart (3). in terms of building a narrative i think i've said before there is a universe where connor/dylan were together before the draft and to protect both of them, dylan breaks up with him. connor says i love you and dylan says i don't. because he doesn't, you know? he loved connor. he loved davo. he can't be in love with connor mcdavid, first overall pick of the edmonton oilers. i'd rather be hurt forever than have to watch us try to make this work and destroy us.
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and after connor mcdavid left the otters, dylan strome captained them to a memorial cup win. what a haunted home, eh? to be captain of the team you and your best friend were on, only now he's left you? don't call me to tell me about your rookie season with the oilers--we both know about your broken collarbone. don't call me to tell about becoming the youngest captain in franchise history when i stepped into the shoes of your captaincy here. don't call me. (4)
narratively: dylan's the one who broke connor's heart and his own but by god it wasn't easy. we both know what happened, you went first overall. please don't make this harder on me. please don't call.
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this verse can be about the weight of dylan having to live up to connor's standards and always being measured by him. i would just like to bring up the connor stepping stone chart for absolutely no reason as well (5)
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we are, at long last, at the potential future of now: dylan strome, happy, smiling, thriving on the washington capitals. connor, on the oilers. i'm not yours, dylan can say. haven't been for a long time. it took some time but i made this. please don't call and ruin this for me, stay out of my life. i don't want you or need you (6)
[p.s. this took a while because when i received this ask i was a) immediately possessed to write this verse by verse breakdown i had never thought of before and then b) immediately plagued by the idea of making you a little graphic (above the read more) and finally got to do it after banging out all the actual lyric thoughts two (?) weeks ago. emerging two and a half hours later from the fugue state of GIMP with 37 layers in this bad boy hope you enjoy!!!]
#not me being like did i tell y'all about seeing bleachers? and then just proceeded to take it at face value like yeah i probably did#do i remember when or in what context absolutely not. maybe re: popstar jack? also very possible i was just. yapping.#anyway we're gonna put tag footnotes for other potential pairings &dynamics because otherwise this post looks frankly. unhinged. which it i#(1) because i am nothing if not a parody of myself i would like to provide an honorable mention to the death of the goon in this lyric.#when does time stop? when is it just you & your anger? who's the person you've divorced yourself from because you couldn't catch their fist#in case it was not clear this is also incredibly a trade narrative. did we pick that up? this is lovers to enemies. this is we were not goo#for each other and i don't regret that. parise suter fans rise up. the speaker in this case is the minnesota wild org.#(2) there is a note of nostalgia and longing here--when you were magic. i remember when you were a giant to me. i remember the hope#and possibilities. rip to sidney crosby the next one and golden boy of this generation but this is sung like a rookie to the vet they once#idolized. i was sold and maybe i shouldn't have bought it. maybe you tarnished over time. or in a softer light it is a comfort not a#criticism i bought tickets to the show. at your best you really were something and you made me believe i could be magic too. SORRY. dylan.#sorry. he'll come up again later. but every team has a golden boy don't they? do we know the cathal kelly bedard article where he talks abt#eating your prospects alive by building a narrative they can never live up to & promising them every year so that when they can it's a shoc#(3) three line devastation here my god. don't pretend you were kind golden boy! don't you dare tell anyone what you told me because then#they'd know too. the “coming out” narrative of it is discussed but while i don't love this it's the easiest example i have: jamie & trevor#have we heard jamie talk about trevor in a single interview? sometimes after a guy you loved gets traded you don't want the reminder.#it's even worse if he chooses to leave. claude giroux hater-era au arc where we don't talk about him. jt leaving the islanders dead to them#(4) while not a trade the other draft narrative we grew up together to enemies is of course zach and dylan. zach roaming around ann arbor#please also apply to subsequent usntdp team 100/101/102 narratives. alex turcotte i'm sorry they never speak your name you will hurt foreve#(5) to counter the rookie to the vet narrative of the golden boy this is fairly explicitly To Me a vet about his rookie who's supposed to b#the promised one the one who'll save them all. dallas is coming to mind here but not for any real reason. nail yakupov are you there.#taylor hall curse of the 1OA. pretty common also for guys to take in a kid when you're barely 26 yourself & haven't got ur shit figured out#so. dealing with a neurotic driven kid? yeah this is somebody who had a golden boy &fell out of favor. got traded. ty smith j'accuse style#(6) or in another story please don't call because i'll come right back#goodnight chicago the playoff handshake line. please don't call me. please don't call me.#HELLO BESTIE!!!! i think this is a wonderful song for Fic Purposes and could be applied well to SO many different narratives. i picked a#specific example but do feel the dynamic is very much what the song says: toxic ex and/or family/friend you don't need in your life. trades#seguin leaving boston etc etc. there IS an answer eluding me besides mcstrome though. not toxic enough. tk pat trade? OH TK PAT. or older#trade deadline tragedy
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screampied · 9 months ago
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‘ I JUST WANNA HEAR YOU (S)CREAMMM ! ’
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ᡴꪫ sum. what’s your favorite scary movie? is it carrie? psycho? or maybe nightmare on elm street? perhaps picking up the phone was a bad idea, but you don’t scare easily! or do you?
wc. 6.0k
warnings. fem! reader, ghostface geto & ghostface nanami, college au, threesōmes, unprotected, brief phone sēx, roleplay, dirty talk, praise, overstim, implied multiple ōrgasms, spit, manhandling, brēeding, hair pulling, oral (f & m receiving), cowgirl dp.
an. from this ask!
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“hello.”
“hello?”
“what’s your favorite scary movie?”
you deadpan, almost as if you’ve seen this movie before. it was around close to midnight. you were the only one sober at some random frat party you got dragged to. everyone besides you were probably wasted or shoving tongues into mouths. sitting up on a cushioned bed, you hold the landline up to your ear. “mean girls two. bye.”
“….girl what? that’s not a—”
you hang up, averting your eyes back towards the tv screen that displayed some cheesy soap opera. about precisely thirteen seconds pass before the landline screeches a loud deafening ring again.
sighing, you answer it. “stop calling this number. prank calls aren’t funny.”
“no.” the voice replies, and it’s very deep—you swear you’ve heard something like it before. a best way to describe it was that it had a gruff pitch to it, baritone running all underneath it. his voice was also a bit sly too. “i just wanna talk to you.”
“bother some other girl. bye.”
“don’t hang up on me.”
for whatever reason, you don’t hang up. his voice sounded a bit stern—you sit up before growing quiet. you’re fully alert now.
“good girl. now, i’ll ask again. what’s your favorite scary movie?”
pressing your back against the comforter, your thighs squeeze together. with another vexed sigh, you say the most random movie that comes immediately to mind. “halloween.”
“pft. basic.”
“wha— you’re the one who asked.”
“oh, doll i’m just joking. but anyway, you like slasher movies, yeah?”
for whatever reason, the more you talked to this total stranger, you start to feel a sudden uncanny stir delve around your stomach. you weren’t scared, yet at least, but it was oddly peculiar. his voice sounds a bit familiar the more you listen to it. with how teasing the caller on the other line appeared, it was strangely intriguing. you kind of didn’t wanna hang up anymore, besides this party you were at was quite … not the best.
“not really. i am a jamie lee curtis fan though, i only watched because i make fun of the deaths.” you mumble.
“hmmm,” the voice hums through the other end. it’s as if he’s pondering what his next choice of words will be to you. “so…you got a boyfriend?”
you were taken aback by how abrupt the change of subject was. the man on the other end laughs at your awkward silence before you finally speak.
“no, and it’s not like it’s any of your business.”
“easy, girl. i’m just curious. besides, what if i wanna ask ya out?”
you grow quiet again before rubbing your neck, you were growing a bit hot.
“whatever. no, i don’t have a … boyfriend.”
“ooh. you hesitated there.”
you grumble. “shut up. i’m hanging up.”
the man immediately replies with a chortle.
“wait, wait. heh, serious though. you never told me your name, doll face.”
with an eye roll, you utter, “why do you wanna know my name?”
“because i wanna know who i’m looking at.”
“what?”
“what?”
each word he spoke breaks through the phone due the deep mess of his voice. a few rough sparks from his dialogue punctures through the soundbox of the device. again, he did sound oddly familiar. you just couldn’t put your foot on it.
the man chuckles before responding in a more sly tone—changing the subject again.
“you know doll, you sound kind of out of breath. call me crazy, but before i called you, were you playing with yourself?”
your legs suddenly squeeze shut, you were wearing one of your borrowed hoodies and shorts underneath. any sane person would have hung up eons ago, but for whatever reason—you felt your heartbeat start to race. the more you listened to the deep voice on the other end, the more you started to grow more curious. what’s wrong with playing around for a little bit? besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen—you dying?
you scoff, thinking this was nothing more than a dumb prank call—you decided that playing along wouldn’t hurt. you had nothing else to do anyway.
“so what if i was playing with myself?”
“i bet you didn’t even make yourself finish, doll.”
his voice, the more it spoke in that rough pitched tone—you couldn’t help but press the landline up to your ear just a bit further. you furrow your curled up brows, lowering your guard a bit. probably foolish, maybe you’d regret this later, but alas, reality wasn’t on your mind at the moment.
“are you saying you can make me finish?” you mutter, growing amused now.
“oh i know i can. i can make you get off from just from my voice alone.”
he was toying with you, but it was too late to back down. you intake a honed breath before humming.
“okay, prove it then.”
he chuckles.
“mhm. take those panties off first. actually no, slide them to the side for me.”
you really felt like you were in a movie, shamelessly at this random guy’s beck and call. as the show played in the background, you press the middle part of your thumb against the volume button to turn it down four notches. the room was practically silent now, the only noises heard were from the blaring beat drops of edm music downstairs. sprawling your legs out, you creep a shaking hand between your thighs.
the voice grows quiet, you finally move your panties toward the side before slouching back against the pillow.
“you must be really bored. talking to a random girl at the m-midnight.” you exhale.
“heh, m-maybe,” he mocks your falter. “but i’m sure you’ll keep me entertained with that cute voice of yours.”
he was so smooth. smooth as if he was prepared for every word that flew out of your mouth. as your fingers glide against your now exposed entrance, you let off a shaky breath.
he was right, out of boredom you tried to play with yourself— yet, that didn’t work out because you could never make yourself finish. your attempt was basically useless. with a frowning pout, you reply. “now what?”
“finger yourself, silly. and i wanna hear, put the phone up against that pussy for me, doll.”
he was filthy.
you felt yourself start to throb before removing the landline from against your ear and placing it right against your doused entrance.
with heavy jagged breaths becoming more irregular, the person on the other line hears the wet sloshes of your cunt up against the phone. again, he grows quiet—it’s almost like you can make out his deep attractive breaths and it makes you pulse even more.
“bet you’re so nice ‘n soaked. sounds so sloppy.”
gnawing on the softness of your bottom lip, your thumb briefly skims past the nub of your clit and you whine. you were already a bit sensitive from before, starting to stroke your fingers against it. bringing the phone back up to your ear, you ease a single finger inside. it feels warm—you were slick, coating your own finger with a nice amount of your obscene arousal. it doesn’t take long for you to start to pant, slithering another finger inside of your cunt before moaning. it fits nicely, nice and snug.
“you sound so pretty. i want you to imagine those are my fingers, pretty girl. can ya do that?”
“y-yeah,” you start to stammer, feeling a sudden spongey texture inside of you—you gasp, not expecting to reach your sweetened g-spot so soon. it was a mere bumpy texture, gloopy gummy walls involuntarily accepting your two slender fingers with an open gesture. “fuck, ‘m still a bit sensitive.”
he guffaws lowly.
“yeah, i bet you are. poor baby can’t even make herself cum.”
you swallow, the playfulness in his voice making your thighs start to tremble a bit. with relaxed fingers stretching throughout your walls, you focus on your breathing. each pant that came out of your hot breaths seemed like it was gonna be your last. after a while, your toes start to curl up in pure pleasure—you moan, feeling a sudden rush of weightlessness nirvana overtake you.
“find your g-spot for me. tell me when you do.”
“i- i already found it,” you whine, a sheaf of nerves that store inside of your pussy pulsating at a rapid speed. your head throws itself back as you’re just moaning melodically. “fuck, why don’t you just come over ‘n finish for me already.”
the voice laughs again.
“yeah? you want me to come over instead? maybe i should use my tongue since your fingers are so useless, dollface.”
at this point, you didn’t really care. maybe making simple rational decisions today just wasn’t in your favor. the eerie voice, each second you spent listening to it the more aroused you became. maybe getting off to a pure stranger’s voice was embarrassing but you were feening. the air felt suddenly thick. so thick you could cut it with a knife. with your bottom lip being chewed on like gum, you briskly shiver. cold, wintry air wafts against your skin and you moan for the nth time. an unforeseen chill runs down your spine before you hold back yet another whine.
“f-fuck, just come ‘n finish for me. i can’t do it. please.”
he grows quiet for a solid good four seconds before replying in a cheeky tone.
“okay. turn around.”
your panting stops and instantly, you turn your head the other way—of course, no one was there. figures, the only things your eyes were met with was the wooden headboard. with a disappointed grimace, pulling your occupied fingers out of your cunt, you turn back around. as you’re about to speak into the phone again, you open your mouth before pausing.
there, you’re met face first with what appears to be some guy in an infamous ghostface costume. he was tall, staggering inches on him before you don’t see one but two. they both had the same getup, ghoulish ghost mask, a long black robe, and the same spectral, tilting head-stance.
one of them takes off a mask and it’s suguru geto, your roommate.
your eyes concisely widen. once he yanks off the mask, his silky well-kept black strands fly loose. no wonder the voice sounded a tad bit familiar. the other removes his mask and it was nanami, two of them—now you really felt like you were in a movie. “you always did say how much you liked scream,” and then you glance at nanami who had a sheepish expression. “don’t be shy now, someone’s gotta help ya finish.”
“o-oh,” you remember, sitting up against the bed. now you were embarrassed. just a few seconds ago, you were getting off to your roommate’s voice. suddenly, you felt even more hot. you did end up talking their ear off about your adoration for the beloved franchise, ranting about your cute little ghostface obsession.
truth be told though, you didn’t know they’d make it a sheer reality for you. the two of them get on the bed towards you before nanami brings a gloved hand to your chin. he strokes your chin softly, and geto moves underneath.
“sorry princess,” he whispers. “suguru wanted to scare you but i told him we should just show ourselves,” and as he’s speaking, you get lost in his soft, honeydew eyes. such gentle compared to geto who was a bit more—crazed. “he didn’t scare you too bad, did he?”
you moan once you feel geto run a thumb against your already exposed cunt. with a firm head shake, you huff. “no, n-not really.”
“aw what. i thought i was pretty scary,” and you whimper out once he blows against your folds. for a concise moment, geto stares up at you—dark eyes keeping a strong gaze on you. “tell us what you want, pretty girl. you want us to help you finish?”
you nod, feeling geto spread your legs apart further.
nanami, with a gloved hand purses your lips together, forming them into a tight squeeze before humming. “words, princess. use them, okay?”
the more you feel geto’s breath fan against your clit, teasing you—you were about to go feral. you stare up at nanami before letting off a sweet whine. “i- i want you both to help me finish,” you stutter out, stumbling over your pathetic words like you’d stumble with an untied shoe. “make me cum, please kento.”
he leans in to kiss your forehead and you hear geto scoff underneath. “i’m the one between your legs but whatever,” and you feel his soft lips kiss against your pussy. “kento, keep her distracted for me, will ya?”
“you’re so pretty,” he mutters, lightly lifting up your chin. as he wore black gloves—the fabric gently brushes against your lip, popping a thumb into your mouth. he doesn’t expect for you to happily take it in his mouth, sucking on it. “oh,” he breathes, a bit speechless. you stare into nanami’s eyes, swirling your tongue around his thumb in such an erotic way. lowly hooded eyes stare at him the entire time, you moan once you feel the flatness of geto’s tongue run against your sweet clitoral hood. his tongue—the texture of it was so cold, the moment he digs in he makes you know the pure definition of sloppy. all with his tongue, he slowly flicks it against your nub before delving his tongue deeper between your soddened folds. nanami pulls your chin to face him again before softly purring, “don’t look at him, look at me pretty girl.”
as your eyes focus back towards nanami, you could already feel your legs quavering. you felt hot, the lewd way geto drags his tongue against your pussy makes you gasp out three strained second puffs of air.
“k-kento,” you moan, pawing your hands at the low part of his robe. he watches, lowering his head at you before you reach there. nanami’s bulge, he has an abashed expression as he realizes what you were fondling at. “take it off.”
“ah, ask nicely,” he coos. your lips were now glossed with your own spit he smears against you as he pulls his gloved thumb out of your mouth. even though nanami was more tame than geto, his voice had a bit more dominance in it. he grabs your chin gently, cocking his head toward the side. “tell me what you want ‘n i’ll give it to you.”
your legs felt like they were standing on its last few hinges—geto’s tongue runs down your slit, taking a moment to depart his lips and spit on it, only to then lap it up again. a few annoyed grunts escape out of him partially due to his long strands of hair getting in the way. “so sweet,” he mutters, you whimper once he prods two fingers against your outer entrance. every few seconds he’d kiss near your thighs, leaving a few bite bite marks before focusing back towards your folds. “mhm.”
barely even able to keep focus, you gaze back up at nanami who’s standing near the edge of the bed—you’re laid back against the pillows with geto between your thighs. finally, a sweet mewl of words leave your glazed lips. “i- i wanna taste, ‘ken. wanna suck you off,” and he gives you a playful eyebrow raise, prying his pink lips open a few inches apart before you correct yourself. “pretty please.”
“better,” he murmurs, a hand of his reaching towards your head to give it a good pat. “good girl. go ahead, lift it up ‘n enjoy the meal.”
with a soft slackened sigh, you lift up the obsidian black robe. you’re met with ripped jeans, for some reason you just figured he’d already be sprung out for you. as geto’s still lapping up every drop of your taste, you unzip his fly before yanking down his pants. you were so impatient— and with geto’s demented pace, you were getting close. he chuckles, watching you struggle with the zipper for a bit before finally reaching near his boxers. they were a cerulean blueish color, his bulge was just appetizing. the entire shape of it, you felt yourself starting to drool the longer your eyes made direct contact against it. so rounded and full. with clammy hands, you tug them down before his thick cock springs out.
“it’s okay,” he whispers with a nod, watching you glance up him—a silent gesture as a way of asking if you could go further. nanami brings a hand towards the crown of your head, gingerly massaging his fingers through the crevices of your scalp. “you can be a little messy for me.”
a wretched whine that was raw rips from your throat once you feel geto’s tongue latch against your cunt. by now, he was sucking against your folds. the squelches were so sloppy, a hand of yours grab onto his hair for leverage and he shoots you a sly smile.
“don’t be shy girl, yank on it.”
dark pooled irises linger into yours for a long time before you get a good grip of geto’s hair, dragging him closer towards your entrance. over and over and over.
he giggles, hot breath ghosting against your folds and you throb even more. with dilated irises staring back towards nanami, you wrap your free hand around his length—he was so thick, such full balls that you just wanted to run your tongue all across it. he had a few veins skim down his beige, weighty cock. you could make out a few drops of lustrous pre-cum that decorates near his very tip. “u-ugh,” he shakes, the warmth that your tongue provides has him smothering his lips together. nanami watches, you’re slow but deadly.
pursing your lips together, you gradually start to sink him into your mouth.
geto’s still between your thighs, shoving two fingers in and out of you now—he surrounds your clit with his mouth, the suction he creates with just his lips was brutal. you’re moaning, even whilst your noises were pretty much muffled due to nanami’s fat cock. “easy,” he whispers, tapping a thumb against your cheek. “no teeth, okay? you’re doing s-so good.”
nanami groans, goading the same thumb against your cheek before you inch yourself further and further down. he has a shy smile at the way your hair forms in musses due to his tight grip. within no time, your throat’s already stuffed and few droplets of your own saliva trickles down the sides of your mouth. geto’s still making sure to thrust his gloved digits in and out of your soaked cunt and you don’t know which roommate to focus on.
“m-mphm,” was all you could manage out, your legs in a swift spread-eagle position. as you’re outstretched, you feel yourself about to cum. you’d recognize that feeling anywhere—the feeling when a swelling pool of heat residing inside your stomach tickles throughout your entire abdomen. that same feeling of nirvana courses through your veins as you’re now leisurely bobbing your head. every time you pull on geto’s long hair, he grunts—spanking your clit in response and that only causes you to whine for more. nanami strokes your face as he starts to feel his dick prod against the roof of your mouth. for a split second as you’re breathing through each nostril—you gag, long lashes fluttering in sync together.
your legs couldn’t hold still, geto’s continuously pushing you towards your limit before you whimper out. your tongue lathers over the splotches of pre-cum that paints nanami’s tip a pretty shade of snowy white.
he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, especially not with a face like that.
low eyes, sheepish smile, furrowed eyebrows. you’re convulsing profusely all in geto’s mouth, the sides of your thighs occasionally hitting against his face and he titters. “such a sloppy m-mouth,” nanami inhales deeply, and he starts to gently drag your head against his cock. he’s got your mouth filled with so many inches—your cheeks were all puffed up from his immense length, sheeny slobber emanating all down the sides of your mouth before he pants. “gonna make such a mess ‘n your mouth, princess. ‘s that what you want?”
you nod, feeling the vein that runs down his girthy cock twitch in your mouth. you moan, he’s feeling weightless—you’ve got his knees trembling, a hand’s still attached to your head like velcro before gyrating your tongue all over the crownhead of his shaft. “such a pretty face,” he gruffs lowly, swiftly pulling your hair side to side to take every inch. “s-shame i gotta ruin it a little.”
even nanami’s dirty talk was tame— it was cute to witness, the way his blond brows would tug into a furrow. he’s so pent up, and out of nowhere—you feel a sudden rush erupt within your cunt. before you could even react, you end up cumming hard. it shoots out of you like a rough wave, it’s such pure bliss that it takes you a few seconds to realize. geto’s making out with your pussy, slowly sliding his two protected fingers in and out of your sopping wet entrance and you shudder. “what a fuckin’ mess,” he hums, taking sight at how saturated you were. as geto laps his tongue against your folds once more, he stares back up at you and nanami. “aw. look at you two,” and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “slobbin’ everywhere, messy girl you are.”
your eyes go back up towards nanami, he’s sweating.
he felt as if the fabric of his robe stuck against his skin. while he’s holding it up with one hand, you sneak a stare at his abs, perfect washboard abs that looked quintessentially sculpted against his body. “g-gonna cum,” and he stares at geto, growing a bit flustered once all attention’s on him. “suguru, don’t just stand there. p…praise her.”
geto scoffs, kneeling beside you on the bed before moving a few strands from your face. “so bossy,” he grits before giving you your second head pat. he leans up close to your ear, grabbing the voice changer again and brings it up to his lips. “c’mon, doll. make ‘ken cum, yeah. doin’ so good for us. you’re gonna make him whine for you, heh.”
nanami’s legs felt like mush, he throws his head back, his long black robe syncing with his movements before he’s gently pulling your head against his thick cock. he shudders, welts of twinges close in on the undersides of his thighs before he finally finishes. it builds up gradually before you find him pouring into your mouth with a nice amount of parching hot cum. it’s hot, a good mass of satiny ropes coat the flat middle part of your tongue and you moan. “f-fuuuck,” he heaves through heavy lungs, it’s still trickling, you savor the taste. it’s bitterly sweet. he pulls out of your mouth before letting off a tremulous sigh. “good girl, f-fuck.”
“aw. don’t hog her, give me attention too,” geto sneers, softly grabbing you by the neck, making you face him. with his right hand, he squeezes your lips together with a rigid grip. “ah, don’t swallow yet. c’mere.”
with half-lidded eyes, you do—leaning into his touch before geto plants his warm lips onto yours. you’re caught by surprise for the umpteenth time today, prying your mouth open for him and he lolls his tongue down your throat. you let off a whine, feeling his gloved hands rub against every inch of your body. immediately, he tastes the candied flavor of nanami’s cum and it makes him groan. he didn’t even bat an eye—you return the kiss, feeling geto’s hand slither further down towards your ass. he caresses it, giving it a mean spank to make you moan out in ecstasy.
after a while, he pulls away, humming at nanami. “ken ken, don’t be so shy. you want a taste too?”
“yeah,” he mutters, needy eyes staring at your lips that were lubricated with your own sheeny spit. “can i?”
you nod, and he’s so gentle with you. a hand nimbly wraps around your throat before he brings you into a deeper kiss. geto’s still for his hands on you, strumming his fingers near your pulled to the side panties. you let off a soft pant, feeling the spiral of nanami’s tongue go against yours. he tastes sweet — savory even, his flavor was purely mouthwatering. a thumb drags down the passageway of your throat before he pulls away. it’s slow, a polished concoction of saliva departs from each mouth and you whimper. you were throbbing, desperate for more and they both knew that. if this— whatever this was was some sort of movie, you never wanted it to end. you never wanted the credits to roll because you felt like you were floating on cloud nine.
with the two of them, you were stretched in every way possible. if you could compare who was bigger, actually you couldn’t. throughout multiple positions, you felt as if you were gonna snap in half. they had you so stupid. pink tongue rolled out, full lungs of oxygen departing out such hot breaths of air, you were the definition of stupid.
cockdrunk at its finest. each orgasm that got ruthlessly snatched out of you had your head spinning, heart racing entirely.
you felt like something was creeping up behind your shoulder, chills. whenever you’d coax out yet another teeth-shattering orgasm, all you felt was stone cold chills. time after time, it felt like pure bliss—you thought you were in a whole new world, barely even able to move your thighs an inch. being sandwiched between the two of them, perhaps you were a little greedy but you just couldn’t get enough. geto’s degrading you whilst nanami’s whispering sweet pleasures into your ear, you’ve never felt more soaked.
you didn’t wanna stop—
currently, you’re straddling nanami. he’s got two rough hands gripping your waist, intaking every inch of your pretty physique. his stare sends you butterflies, his shaft was underneath you and only then pulls out. with a cute, “phew,” he swipes a sheet of sweat that expands across his forehead. you rode him so good that he couldn’t even figure out what to say. he was so flustered, tips of his ears a reddish hot before he watches geto creep behind you. “think she wants more, suguru.”
“bet she does,” he whispers, bringing a few sweet kisses near the inner corners of your neck.
you’re promptly sat up straight. the brief sounds of booming speakers roar from downstairs as you wrap your arms around nanami. geto licks near your collarbone before purring seductively. “say, doll. how ‘bout you try to take us both? would ya like that?” and with a gloved hand he gives your ass a squeeze. “wanna be the final girl ‘n prove your worth? our final girl?”
without an inkling of hesitation—you nod, mewling out a sweet, “yes, yes jus’ hurry up, sugu. ‘m still c…close.”
“so wet, so impatient,” he whispers once more, and with two hands he makes you sit up from nanami. you gulp—swallowing whatever sanity you had left, preparing to be quite literally double stuffed with your roommates. you aren’t so sure why, but the fact that they both still had on their ghoulish costumes made you pulsate a bit more. geto’s helping you slide back down onto nanami’s length before slowly making his way into you also. “god, you’re so hot in here. gonna fuckin’ swallow me whole.”
you moan, everything goes so slow—your cunt was a ticking time bomb. you clamp down on each before slumping into nanami’s chest. you’re met with kind eyes, he strokes your forehead before kissing the bridge of your nose, panting in a hushed voice. “eyes on me, princess. just relax.”
you wriggle a bit at the positioning—being on nanami’s lap, geto directly behind you, you’re quite literally being filled in every orifice by thick inches of cock. nanami’s words were soothing, filling up your tummy with a pool of fluttering butterflies. you keep your eyes on him, clenching down on geto a bit before you hear him hiss in response. “ugh. doll open up for me a little m-more, yeah.”
his voice was deepened heavily—you let off a cute gasp once they’re both finally in and a few shaky breaths exit past your lips. “hold my hand, i got you,” nanami coos, and that’s when geto starts to rock. he had more control between the two of you, the grip on your hips was firm and you let off a sweet babble. each individual entrance was stuffed, you swallow the invisible lump in your throat as you start to feel the sweltering friction of your thighs slap against nanami. “you’re so pretty like this,” and he kisses the temple of your cheek.
every kiss presented from nanami makes your heart race—being sandwiched between nanami and geto, you really did feel like the main character.
your lip tremors, grinding back and forth between each of them, you feel geto wrap his thick fingers around your neck.
whilst you’re still straddling nanami—you moan again and again, feeling a free hand of geto’s spank your ass. the stretch that you continuously felt had your mouth watering. you heard the harmonic pap pap pap’s until it rang throughout your ears. “fuck, ya like being stuffed don’t you, pretty girl? feel full enough?” geto rasps, pressing his body right up against you. you felt his hot temperature go against your skin. making you feel every amount of his heat. your brain’s swelling up with fog. giving him an inert nod, you hear him click his tongue. “didn’t say to nod your head, doll. i wanna hear that sweet voice.”
whenever geto lowers his voice a bit, you feel the abrupt tension arise between your legs. leaning against nanami, you whine out a, “hngh y-yesss, ‘m so full, sugu. want more, stuff me more.”
“let me stuff your mouth too then.”
and before you could come up with a reply, geto removes his glove—shoving your mouth with two fat digits. he grunts, watching as you’re so compliant with your throat being filled with his fingers. nanami stares at the entire scene in front of him, his dick idly twitching inside of you. your tongue runs down his fingers before your own spit starts to seep down the corners of your lips. it was messy—you were messy. your hips jitter and judder and you knew with having both holes stuffed you weren’t gonna last that much longer. it was probably the dozenth orgasm your pussy’s been introduced with and you could feel the creeping pleasure brew up inside your abdomen.
“suguru, ‘m gonna cum.” nanami groans, bringing his own hands to wrap around your waist. you lessen your tense from his touch before gagging a bit from the prodding of geto’s fingers way back into your throat. “she’s s-squeezing me so good.”
geto snickers, making eye contact with nanami. “are you? ‘ken, you’re more whinier than usual today.”
“shut up.” he grumbles, slapping a hand over his face in embarrassment — nanami wasn’t so known to be all flustered and abashed, but whenever he was, it was so cute.
you’ve still got a mouthful of geto’s fingers before he pulls them out only to shove them into his own mouth. he hums, sharp hips snapping into you repeatedly as his other free hand tightens its secured grasp around your hip. “mhm,” he groans, feeling himself reaching his peak also. “you taste like a final girl. so sweet like candy.”
with the piston of geto’s vigorous hips, you’re so loose that you feel the fleeting sensation of your cunt gaping.
its cavernous, you jerk forward against nanami before seconds later — geto groans, abruptly finishing two seconds early. even his moans were pretty, he tugs his fingers out of your mouth to wrap them around your neck. strands of black hair glue to his forehead and he puffs out a single breath. licking a stripe near your neck, he feels thick volumes of his cum ooze into your hole. it’s so sticky, you bring your hips to a slowing halt before nanami shoots inside you too.
“f-fuck, sugu,” nanami grunts, feeling his thighs stick underneath you. he was panting heavily, each breath that ran from his lips sounding more and more wearied. “damn, so m-much.”
everything spurts into you at once. they mirror each other inside of you perfectly. callused stubby fingertips of geto’s squeeze your neck softly, watching as you’re just being filled with bulky strings of cum, it floods your cunt until it drizzles further into your womb. you’re drooling, it feels so hot, sweltering hot. it sticks against your entrance before your arms wrap around nanami. “so f-full,” you whimper, and he returns the gesture by brushing his thumb against your waist. droopy eyes hang low before nanami pulls you into another deep kiss. you decided—this was far better than some dumb party. the cottony fabric of the ghostface robe pricks against your skin as you lean into his heinous touch.
you shift your weight against nanami’s lap, feeling geto pull out before he leans down between your legs. “spread your legs,” he mutters, and in the midst of your tongue roaming down nanami’s throat, you part your thighs—gasping once you feel geto’s own tongue lap against the freshly created mess. he makes little tiny licks, tasting the ropes of crisp cum that’s sloppily easing out of every entrance—you pulsate before he chortles, warm breath ventilating against your sobbing pussy. “so messy. don’t want any spillin’ out. gotta push it back in.”
you’re moaning, after a while you break away from nanami’s lips before he strokes your cheek lovingly, a cute drowsy look before he huffs, “did you hear me, pretty?” and he gently pokes your cheek. “you always do this..”
confusion hits you before your eyes suddenly open—you jolt up, both of your roommates beside you, gawking at you with a look of deadpan. you’re leaning against geto, the third movie of scream playing in the background—it was near the ending where the killer was being revealed. you sit up, staring down at your legs and you were fully clothed—there was no geto eating between your legs, no being stuffed with nanami, nothing.
“hellooo, earth to roomie,” geto waves his hand in your face, you stare at him before furrowing your brows. “you okay? you fell asleep on me again. what’s got ya so spooked? looks like ya seen a ghost.”
so it was a dream?
a mere glimpse of your lewd imagination—?
you have a sudden sheepish look, running your fingers near the nape of your neck. “huh. oh, i’m fine. i thought the movie would be over by now.”
nanami rubs your back. “we still have like twenty minutes left,” and then he looks at you with a concerned look. so gentle—so tender. “are you sure you’re okay? we can watch a rom-com if you want.”
“i’m okay,” you insist, slumping your head back against geto.
that was weird, out of all the dreams you’ve had throughout your life—none of them ever felt as surreal as that one. for some reason, you were still aroused though. you were a bit out of breath and felt chills run all over your body.
abruptly, your phone rings,
“sugu, can you pass me my phone?” you sigh, trying to relax. you were pretty bummed you weren’t at that party getting stuffed with your two roommates but instead—in your generic dorm watching a scary movie.
he hands you the phone, grabbing the remote to turn it down a few notches.
once you take it, succinctly, your eyes scan across the screen—it reads that it’s from an unknown number. not really thinking much, you decide to answer, swiping the green button to answer. “um, hello?”
“hello.”
“hi,” you rub your eyes. “can i help y-”
“what’s your favorite scary movie?”
rolling your eyes, you peer at your two roommates beside you, nudging them and peeling the phone away from your ear for a moment. “very funny, suguru.”
geto gives you a look of confusion and nanami mimics the same. he shrugs, averting his eyes back toward the movie. “very funny what.”
and suddenly you’re laid back, an unbelieving expression was expressed on your face as you were left with a weird feeling. if it wasn’t them then who—
that same chill eerily creeps up your spine before you put the phone back near your ear. it’s that same low voice you heard from before, each word it speaks pitches deeper before you grow quiet at its final haunting response,
“oh baby, i’m not suguru or nanami..”
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12K notes · View notes
saetoru · 2 years ago
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours
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synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his
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— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)
— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!
— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys
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satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.
“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.
“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”
“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.
“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”
“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.
he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”
“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”
“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”
“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”
“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”
“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.
“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”
“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”
“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.
even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.
“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”
“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.
satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.
he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he���s ever wanted was to be yours.
you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.
so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?
and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.
you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.
satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.
he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.
“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”
“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”
“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”
“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.
everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.
because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.
“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”
he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”
“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”
“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”
“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”
“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”
his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.
you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.
“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.
“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.
“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”
“got it,” you nod furiously.
“got what?”
“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.
“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”
“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”
“just what?” he raises a brow.
“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.
he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.
your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.
“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”
“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”
“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”
“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”
“say you love me,” he demands.
it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”
and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.
and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.
satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.
“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”
“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”
he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.
it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.
he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.
satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.
when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.
“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”
“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.
“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”
and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.
but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.
it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.
and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.
“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”
“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”
“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”
“how long do you plan on being mine?”
“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”
“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”
“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”
“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”
“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.
“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”
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dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this
15K notes · View notes
monzabee · 1 month ago
Text
park avenue polyanna (social media au) - mv1
masterlist ||
Summary: The one where everyone is confused how Max, the resident villain of f1, has such a wholesome girlfriend.
Pairing: max verstappen x gallerist!reader (model used: random people i've found on the internet)
Warnings: none other than some cursing
Author note: okaaaaay, this is kinda all over the place but to be completely fair, i started it like a month ago and i finished it right after the singapore gp, so it has been a while, lol. miss charlotte york is here (my personal fav alongside samantha), so i hope you guys enjoy this one as wel!! we have one more to go, and boy is that one going to be fun to work on!
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.
yourusername just posted a story!
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yourusername
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Liked by maxverstappen1, yourbestfriendsinstagram, f1wagss and 34,826 others.
yourusername: would %100 recommend pilates if you want to make a grown f1 driver cry because he can't handle the stretching!
user: please tell me there is video evidence of max doing reformer
yourusername: i can neither confirm nor deny these allegations against my beloved boyfriend
yourusername: but if i had to, the answer would be yes, yes i do
user: I LOVE YOU YOU ARE A NATIONAL TREASURE
user: she is probably the nicest people on earth and i can't, for the life of me understand how she and max are in a relationship
user: maybe we should stop assuming people's personalities and also speculate about their relationships bestie
yourusername: period!
user: thank you for giving us the best content on this app, queen
user: i will pay thousands and millions to see max verstappen do pilates
user: everybody say thank you yn for the best piece of information ever
view all 2,647 comments.
user: i just know some of the drivers on the grid are going to have so much fun with this brand new piece of information
maxverstappen1: not so simply lovely🙄
yourusername: but you were sooo cute
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yourusername just posted a story!
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yourusername
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Liked by maxverstappen1, elleusa, f1gossipworld and 39,267 others.
yourusername: mandatory busy week recap
user: nothing to see here just subtly flexing her chanel kelly on us (i love you queen you're so iconic)
user: omg she works??
user: stop this right now you're embarrassing yourself
yourusername: i wish i didn't need to work but gotta feed the kids, you know? (max, the cats and my dog)
user: she might be the busiest girl in the world, but one thing about yn is that she is NEVER missing that pilates class
maxverstappen1: come back hoooooome
yourusername: soooooon
view all 3,456 comments.
user: i can feel it, she's going to be in singapore
user: manifesting this for the looks
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yourusername
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Liked by f1wagsupdates, maxverstappen1, yourbestie and 43,2647 others.
yourusername: lesson from this weekend: kill them with kindness, or in our case, with a no comment interview!
user: the look on max's face is so telling of the situation
yourusername: nothing a bunch of cuddles can't fix!!
user: this relationship is the proof that opposites, in fact, attract
user: i can't believe we got a max mention before gta 6
user: oh to be wearing vintage chanel and dating max verstappen
user: she is who i wanna be when i grow up (i'm 23)
view all 5,253 comments.
maxverstappen1: no comment
yourusername: not disappointed and not surprised
maxverstappen1
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Liked by yourusername, redbullracing, landonorris and 601,3674 others.
maxverstappen1: i don't know what you are talking about i'm always nice
user: the duality of men
user: mad max to gentleman pipeline is actually insane
yourusername: can confirm that you are VERY nice
maxverstappen1: simply lovely
user: okay but are we winning the championship oooor??
view all 10,273 comments.
user: MAX VERSTAPPEN IN A SUIT, I REPEAT, MAX VERSTAPPEN IN A SUIT
user: this relationship confuses me a lot but i also love it so much
user: it's giving grumpy x sunshine to the extreme extents and i love it
1K notes · View notes
mvth3r · 10 months ago
Text
daryl doesn’t think he’s anything special. he never has. but to you? he’s everything.
or
5 times daryl feels your affection down to his core and the many 1 time he unconsciously returns the favor.
cw: 18+ MDNI, p-in-v, mention of injury, swearing, mostly fluff, 4283 words
a/n: this draft got the most votes in the poll, which was surprising tbh! next up medieval au, princess reader, forbidden romance?? hmmmm
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one.
daryl hears you coming before he sees you. he knows it’s on purpose, so you don’t startle him (“and get an arrow in the tit or something, i don’t know!” you had explained, laughing). he’s long since taught you how to be quiet when walking over leaves and branches.
his eyes drifted in the direction of the noise, watching you melt out of the trees, water bottle in one hand and knife in the other. you had a bad habit of speeding through or ignoring your own duties in favor of tracking him out into the woods while he was hunting. the teasing looks from rick and carol when they saw the gates open in the evening, revealing the two of you instead of just him, were enough to have him blushing up to his ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to stop you. if anything, daryl found himself lingering closer to the prison when he was first setting out for the day and making his tracks a little easier for you to follow as he went on. he liked to think of it as a teaching moment, encouraging you to follow his lessons, but he knew what it really was.
he liked having you here with him, away from prying eyes and ears. daryl wasn’t big on pda, he’d never been, and you knew that, but you could be as affectionate as you wanted out here.
the smile that split you face when you saw daryl was blinding, creasing your eyes and cheeks, “hey, handsome.”
daryl felt his heart start to pound immediately in his chest and warmth radiate through his belly and down his limbs. he had the distant, bizarre thought that any walker for a few miles would probably be able to smell his blood as it rose rapidly to his face, coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
he scoffed quietly to keep the words he really wanted to say from spilling unbidden from his throat as you caught up to him, instead deadpanning, “handsome? really?”
you hummed, raising a hand to card through his long bangs, eyes tender when they met his, “mhm, very handsome. don’t i tell you every day?”
you leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, no longer than a moment. you hand drifted from his hair down to cup his jaw as you did, and daryl found himself leaning into your palm, his own hand coming up to grip your wrist loosely.
you pulled away with a smaller, more intimate smile, one that daryl had only ever seen directed at him. and, if you had felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt or seen the intensity of his flush, you didn’t say a word.
two.
daryl was distracted.
this council meeting was dragging on much longer than intended. what was initially supposed to be a quick conversation about planning a run to get supplies for judith and a few of the other kids had turned into a heated debate about possibly opening up the council to a few of the people from woodbury. he could understand why. there was still a stark divide between their group and the new people, but daryl had been content to sit back and let the situation mend itself, so long as it didn't escalate.
the discussion was split down the middle. or.. maybe there were more in favor of maintaining the current council? daryl couldn’t tell because he couldn’t focus and he couldn’t focus because every time he tried to lock in on the conversation, he could feel your fingers brush over his knuckles.
earlier, when the meeting started, you had sat yourself right next to daryl, reached under the table, and grabbed his hand where it was resting on his knee. no fanfare, no lovesick gazes, just your fingers intertwined with his calloused ones like they belonged there. which, he mused to himself, maybe they do.
and so there your hand had remained as the meeting went on. every so often, you would brush your fingers lightly over his knuckles, or give his fingers a squeeze if you happened to catch his eyes… which would lead to you chuckling quietly to yourself when his neutral expression would warm over with a blush.
the meeting had been going on for at least an hour. god.
“daryl, what do you think?”
glenn’s voice cut through daryl’s thoughts like a knife. he jerked a little, almost dislodging your hand when he looked across the table, meeting the expectant stares of the council.
“uhh,” he grunted eloquently, “‘bout bringin’ some of them folks on?”
hershel nodded expectantly, his voice thoughtful, “don’t you think we could afford their input? after all, this is their home now just as much as it is ours.”
your fingers brushed again over his knuckles and daryl willed himself not to lose focus. not to allow his mind to run on with thoughts about the softness of your fingers and how much he liked the feeling of your palm against his. how comfortable-
no.
daryl blinked and cleared his throat, “we don’ even have rick on the council right now, i’on think it’s a good idea.”
glenn nodded along with maggie and, reluctantly a moment later, hershel did too, though his mouth had settled into a thin frown.
daryl felt your hand squeeze his twice, taking it as a nonverbal ‘good job!’, and paused only a moment before squeezing back his own nonverbal ‘thank you’. he saw a small smile flit across your face out the corner of his eye.
before the debate could start up again, you were leaning forward and speaking up, saying, “alright, let’s table this for next time then. the run is already planned for the baby stuff, so—?”
hershel’s eyes swept across the table and he nodded, “meeting adjourned, i suppose.”
three.
the woods were clear as daryl looked out over the gate. he could see everything from the watchtower, as was intended, but for once the calm darkness was not a comfort.
instead, every moment that passed heightened the panic that had been swirling in his gut since earlier that evening.
it had been roughly fourteen hours since you had left on a run with glenn and maggie. there was a small gas station a little ways out that looked to be mostly untouched, and you had been pulled to fill in daryl’s usual slot since he was already slated to go hunting.
he was regretting it now, though, as he continued to watch the road leading up to the gate for any sign of maggie’s headlights.
while the general rule of thumb was to be back to the prison before dark, everyone knew that sometimes shit happens, whether it be walkers appearing at the worst possible time, or not being able to secure the haul. hell, shit happened more often than it didn't, as far as daryl was concerned.
maybe the haul had been much larger than the three of you had planned for, and you had to hide some of it away for a return trip.
maybe y'all had come across a herd large enough to block the car's path and had to find a way around it to get home without leading them back behind you.
maybe the gas station had been a bust all together and you’d gone further out in hopes of not returning empty handed.
the thoughts swimming through his mind sent daryl pacing across the small area of the watchtower. back and forth he went, eyes flashing over to the gate of the prison every few seconds.
“you’re gonna wear out your shoes like that.”
oh right. daryl isn’t even on watch, not officially at least. he’d joined carol a little after the sun went down and been up here ever since.
carol continues on despite his brooding silence, “they’re okay. something probably held them up, it happens.”
daryl turned to face carol, scrubbing a hand down his face. he opening his mouth to respond, but before he could, the sound of wheels crunching across gravel made him whip back around.
he barely registered that it was maggie’s car before he was yanking the floor hatch open and climbing down. rick, who’d been poking around the farm despite the late hour, unwilling to admit his own anxiety, was already pulling the gate open to let the car in.
daryl stopped further up the hill to meet you, and, as soon as you popped the lock on your door, he was tugging it open with one hand and reaching for you with the other.
you went willingly, a sheepish smile on your face as you let him turn you this way and that, checking for any injuries or bites, neither of which you had.
“sorry i’m late, handsome,” you whispered, “i didn’t mean to worry you.”
daryl grunted in response, resisting the urge to press himself against you and feel your heart beat against his skin. he understood that you were capable, and that you had lasted just as long in the apocalypse as he had, but he can't help but wonder if he'll ever get used to this, or if he'll spend any moment you aren't within his reach on the edge of a panic attack.
by then, rick had made his way up the hill to the car and was helping unload their findings from the boot. all things considered, the three of you had brought back a pretty decent amount of stuff.
“everyone alright?” rick questioned, eyes skirting over the contents of the trunk to scan the three of you instead. "what held y'all up?"
maggie shook her head with a smile, “nothing like that. we found a good bit at that gas station, but there was a map of a small trailer park a little ways away, and we thought it was better to go for it while we were right down the road.”
“and we had the space anyway. didn’t make sense to waste a second trip, but it took a little longer to search than we thought,” you added. you had turned to face the group and, under the cover of the dark, you leaned back just slightly into daryl’s side.
carol, who had followed daryl down from the watchtower, hummed, and rick nodded thoughtfully. they both followed behind maggie and glenn, grabbing as much as they could carry from the car and heading up to deposit it for sorting tomorrow.
now alone, daryl took a moment to breathe you in, but he was moving soon as well, heading for the trunk to grab what was left.
he didn’t notice you coming up next to him until he felt your fingers slipping into his pocket.
“found something for you,” you said quietly, standing at his side.
daryl patted his pocket, feeling the dented box of what he assumed to be cigarettes and looked over at you, brows furrowed in confusion.
“i noticed you ran out the other day,” you answered his unasked question, a small smile lifting your cheeks, “combed through every trailer looking for ‘em.”
with that, you turned away from him and back to the trunk.
daryl stood speechless, his heart building up to that rapid thrum he only seemed to feel in your presence.
you had brought something back for him. had spent the daylight rummaging through dirty trailers on the off chance that you’d find a pack of cigarettes to replace his empty one that he himself hadn't even bothered to go searching to replace.
he wanted to think he didn’t understand why you would do something like this, why you would care, but he did. he’d done the same for you, time and time again on the road, if only to see you smile. he understood exactly why.
“‘preciate it,” he grunted, thankful that the darkness surrounding you kept his blush from being too obvious.
you hummed in acknowledgment, and daryl could your small smile growing out the corner of his eye.
four.
having sex in the prison was no easy feat, mostly due to the lack of privacy. a sheet could only provide so much, and even then it did nothing for the noise echoing constantly off the concrete walls.
as far as most were concerned, maggie and glenn had found the best spot early on, making the most unused watchtower their designated private retreat, but you and daryl knew otherwise.
deep in the tombs, which were no longer a threat as they had long since been cleared and sealed, there were a few tucked away offices that had sat empty even after the woodbury residents had been moved in. noise didn’t escape the tombs, and no one ever just wandered in, especially not in the middle of the night, so despite the cell that you and daryl shared, you both much preferred spending your more intimate moments here.
well, daryl did. you weren’t picky, and could be quiet when you really tried, but it made daryl more comfortable.
he’d like to think it was just because he was wary of any listening ears, especially with all the children roaming around, but he knew the truth of his resolve.
daryl had never been a selfish man, and certainly not after the world fell. everything he had, everything he was, he would give to his family in a heartbeat.
but this.. this was just for him.
your body arched beautifully under his, legs falling open to accommodate his weight settling against you. daryl’s hand left your heat, fingers dripping with wetness, to squeeze your hips, using them to guide you as your moved against him.
you were already bare, both of you having stripped each other of your clothes between heated kisses while you stumbled in the office. you hadn’t even made it to the double-stacked cot in the corner, daryl instead pushing you firmly down on the dusty desk and leaning in to mouth at your neck.
you moaned under him now, a breathy sigh of his name, and the sound sent a shiver down daryl’s spine.
“needy girl,” he grunted teasingly, reaching down to grasp his hardness. he dragged the head of his cock up your slit, collecting your wetness and smearing it over your clit.
your head knocked back against the desk and a loud groan burst out of your throat. your knees tried to close around daryl’s waist as if to keep him away, but you arms came up to wrap around him, pulling him closer to your body, and he leaned into you willingly.
your voice trembled when you spoke into his ear, want dripping from every syllable, “please, baby. need you inside me so bad.”
and god, daryl wanted to make you beg for it. he wanted to wait until he could see the desperation in your eyes and then wait some more, but he couldn’t. not when you looked so pretty spread out beneath him and your hands were petting over his shoulders and neck just how he liked. he almost thought you were doing it on purpose, but he knew better. this was just you.
you couldn’t stay off him when he was in you, always tugging at his hair or rubbing his chest, hands scrabbling for any skin you could reach. it used to send him reeling, flustered and blushing bright, but now he looked forward to it. he could feel the want in your touches like physical imprints of your affection.
daryl pushed into your slowly, groaning deep in his chest. your slick walls felt heavenly around him, but daryl was more focused on you right now.
soft whimpers fell from your lips as your hands drifted over his sweat slicked skin. daryl’s thrusts were slow but purposeful, and he ignored your legs squeezing around his waist, trying to urge him to speed up.
“relax, peach,” he soothed, hands drifting up and down your sides in pace with his thrusts, “i’ma take care of you.”
“kiss, please,” you whispered, voice floating past daryl’s ear. he would have missed it if you weren’t pressed together like this.
daryl would not describe himself as a selfish man. he might have had his moments in the past, but now, with the dead walking and a prison full of survivors to protect, it was virtually out of the question.
but as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, feeling your hands finally make their way up into his long strands, daryl thought that he might be a possessive man.
he’d sooner spread you out deep in the woods than have you where anyone could see you like this or hear the noises you make.
no, daryl thought, tongue sliding in your mouth to tangle with yours, this would always be just for him.
five.
daryl came into awareness slowly and then all at once. he startled, trying to sit up, but a searing pain made itself known in his abdomen. the pain clouded his senses, blooming out across his torso and down his limbs. he flops uselessly, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him.
hearing bits of voices above him, daryl wills himself to focus. he’s hurt, obviously, and it’s pretty fucking bad, but he’ll have to suck it up and figure out a way home if he’s in bad company.
the voices start to filter in. the volume makes his temples throb in rhythm with his abdomen and his heart as the situation starts to force adrenaline through his body.
“—harder! put more pressure on it!”
daryl relaxes just a bit. that’s rick. frantic, angry, but rick all the same.
“what the fuck do you think i’m doing?!” the other voice, higher, snarls in response, “just drive the damn truck!”
and daryl feels his body try to relax all together. he would recognize your voice in his sleep, and this milky haze of pain is no different. he can feel your hands pressing a wad of something soft into his abdomen.
he can hear your panicked breaths and feel the way your fingers flex continuously against his skin. whatever’s wrong with him must be bad, and it definitely hurts like hell, but daryl takes comfort in the weight of your body against his. you won’t let anything happen to him if you can help it, you’d sworn that fiercely, and if you can’t help it then he doesn’t think anyone could have.
daryl can just barely make out the creaking of the gate being pulled open over the sound of rick laying on the horn.
as they pull in, the gravel of the path rocks the truck and daryl feels the ache in his abdomen bloom again, distracting him from his thoughts, but here, knowing he’s safe and back with his family, he allows himself to drift away.
this time, when daryl comes into awareness, the first thing he feels is fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently as if to untangle a couple of knots and snarls.
without even opening his eyes he knows it’s you. he can feel the heat of your body settled next to him and smell the soap you like to bathe with. daryl leans towards you, chasing the warmth of your hand against his skin.
the bandages on his stomach are wrapped tight, but it’s more annoying than anything and the pain has finally, thankfully, subsided to a dull ache. daryl stretches on the cot, trying to loosen him limbs from their inactivity, but what he focuses on is your fingers immediately pulling away.
“daryl?” your voice prods quietly, “you awake?”
he opens his eyes slowly, squinting at the sunlight that streams through the bars of the cell. the privacy sheet isn’t down, actually there’s no sheet at all, daryl notes as he looks out. he must be in one of the cells near hershel’s.
“‘m up,” he grumbles, a cough working its way out of his throat. before he can attempt to clear the dryness, you’re standing to grab a bottle of water off some boxes stacked nearby and pressing it into his hand.
your fingers linger against his wrist as you pull away, but you’re resuming your previous position anyway, in a chair brought right up to his bedside.
daryl hasn’t sat up yet, staring instead at you as one of your hands return to his hair and the other rubs down his arm.
a few quiet moments pass before you speak again, head bowed and voice a little choked, “we almost lost you. i almost lost you.”
“didn’t though,” daryl croaks. he feels your grip tighten on his arm and just knows. knows that you’ve been sitting right here every moment that you could since he went down. knows that you probably haven’t had your hands off him. knows you’ve spent the time, however long it’s been, agonizing over what went wrong and how to keep it from happening ever again. he knows.
“i didn’t,” you agree with a barely restrained sniffle. you refuse to allow the tears beading your waterline to fall, but daryl sees them all the same.
oddly, he feels that familiar warmth blossom in his chest. he hates to see you upset, but to see your love, your heart laid so bare for him? daryl thinks he can finally understand the depth of your affections.
plus one.
to anybody who knew what to look for, it was obvious that you and daryl were.. something.
you remembered when the woodbury residents had really began to settle in, how they began to whisper about ‘the hunter and his lady’.
it had confused you at first. the group knew, of course, nothing could be kept a secret from them for too long, but for strangers? it was odd, given that you weren’t very public with your affections.
regardless, with an entire prison to secure and almost triple the amount of people to provide for, it was nothing to think too hard about. there was always something that needed to be done or something bigger to think about. you couldn't afford to think about it now.
eventually, though, you ended up mentioning it to carol, and the older woman had laughed, a teasing edge to her smile as she considered you.
“i think it has less to do with you and more with him, if i’m being honest,” she said.
“more to do with.. daryl?” you said slowly, raising an incredulous eyebrow, “nah, no way.”
carol hummed, her smile turning knowing, “just watch. he’s more affectionate than he gives himself credit for.”
you’d left the conversation feeling like carol had no idea what she was talking about. later that evening, though, when you were sitting with the group for dinner and daryl was sliding a couple pieces of meat from his plate to yours despite your multiple protests, you understood.
your face must have been the textbook picture of a lightbulb going off because carol sent you a wink from across the table, lips twitching like she was hiding a laugh.
it wasn’t that the woodbury residents were over analyzing the very minimal physical affection that passed between you and daryl in a day, no. instead they were observing his quieter, more unconscious actions.
they saw the way that daryl always took care to come and find you before leaving for a run, even if it meant holding everyone up a little.
and how every so often they could find daryl sharpening a knife that was far too small for him to be wielding safely while you sat nearby, watching with a grateful smile.
and how whenever you were in the same room, you always had his eye. daryl had been adamant about keeping you within his sights while you were on the road, and the habit hadn’t left him just because you were behind walls now.
even now, months later, the newer additions to the prison were starting to catch on quicker and quicker.
they overheard daryl talking to glenn about taking your place on the run later today because you’d overdone it in the sun earlier and he wanted you to get some rest.
they saw you gush excitedly every time daryl brought you back any kind of gift, whether it be a pretty rock that he thought you’d like, or your favorite animal to cook into the stew.
they watched him watch the road every time you left for a run, regardless of who was with you, and also saw him come back to be the first to greet you when you returned if he could help it.
daryl was a quiet lover and a private man if you didn’t know what to look for, but if you did, you’d see that his affections ran just as deep as yours.
your thoughts brought a sleep smile to your face as you stretched out on the cot in your shared cell, waiting for daryl to shut off the lantern on your makeshift nightstand in the corner.
you could barely make him out in the dark, but the weight of him settling in next to you sent you right into his arms, your head pillowed on his chest while his arms came up to wrap around your back.
you tilted your head up to place a small kiss to the bottom of his jaw, mumbling a quiet, “love you.”
daryl’s arms tightened around you momentarily before loosening again. you felt him lean down to press a kiss to your hair in turn.
just over the steady thumping of his heart against your ear, you could hear him whisper back, “love you too.”
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shotmrmiller · 4 months ago
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kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)
You're no fan of real-time violence.
Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.
So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.
You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.
"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)
"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.
You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.
Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.
Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.
"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)
"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.
Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.
The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.
"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."
Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"
Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.
"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."
Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.
Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.
"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.
His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.
"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."
You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.
"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."
(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)
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satoruxx · 7 months ago
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pairing: wolf!toji fushiguro x reader summary: wolfhybrid!toji, grumpy x sunshine again, animalistic behavior, bickering rheya’s note: man i couldn’t stop thinking about guard dog toji so it turned into a hybrid au! i can’t see him as anything but a wolf/dog tbh. anyways i will def be writing more for this au hehe <33
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you’ve been hearing noises.
it sounds strange, but you’re sure that there is something lurking in the normally deserted alleyway next to your apartment. at first you brushed it off as people traveling through, but now you've noticed the sounds are constant—every night.
you’re eating dinner when you hear the sounds of scuffling, followed by the yowl of a cat and realize you’re probably dealing with a stray looking for food.
so after you finish your meal, you put a bit of leftover fish in an old plate you seldom use, and take it outside. when you peer into the dark alley you don’t see any cat—it’s empty and quiet. you do notice a few scrapes on the walls and a couple of trash bins overturned, which means there definitely was some animal here.
maybe it’ll come back, you think as you bend down and place the plate on the pavement. with one last backward glance at the deserted alleyway, you head inside and go to bed.
a fond smile stretches across your face when you notice the empty plate as you’re leaving for work the next morning.
it becomes a daily routine after that. every night before you go to bed you go out and leave a little plate of fish for the poor cat. and every morning you’re met with a licked clean plate.
even though you never do see the cat, you do feel a strange combination of accomplishment and affection for the poor thing. and your little routine runs smoothly for a couple weeks—you have no complaints.
and then one night, when you’re going to drop off your little ration of the day, you see him. despite being hunched in a corner, he looms infinitely large—heavy shoulders and muscles straining as they fill with tension at your presence. his eyes are strangely bright, crystalline jade narrowed into slits as they appraise you, teeth bared in feral anger. they snap and snarl at you in warning, and you freeze almost immediately.
he’s terrifying—in a strangely gorgeous way.
dark furry ears are pointed up straight, twitching with the sound of your movements, and a warning growl bounces over the walls.
you raise your hands, ignoring the tremble, the instinct to run. “i just…” you keep your voice low, choosing to lightly shake the little plate you have in your hand. green eyes dart over—another snarl, a flick of a tail.
you slowly crouch and place the plate onto the ground, before backing away—you’re not trying to get attacked by a clearly feral hybrid.
he snarls and growls until you are well out of sight.
when you’re back in the safety of your apartment you almost laugh, heart pounding with disbelief. you thought you’d been feeding a stray cat—but no, it’s a hybrid. a big one, predatory in all aspects. you couldn’t see much in the dark lighting of the alley but the ears looked distinctly canine—with the addition of the teeth, claws, and tail, you’re almost sure he is some kind of dog or wolf or whatever.
dangerous for sure.
sensibly, you should probably stop feeding him so he doesn’t stick around. but stupidly, you can’t help it.
the next night you leave another plate. he’s not there this time, but you leave it just in case he’s lurking.
the following night his green eyes remain narrowed on your figure as you return—still snarling as he watches you.
you’re not fazed.
(tell that to your racing heart.)
over the course of the next few weeks, you repeat this process, not really sure what you’re expecting. you suppose you should be grateful that he doesn’t growl as much anymore, seemingly becoming accustomed to your routine presence. it becomes clockwork, so much so that you can always expect him to be sitting in the alley, ears flicking at the sounds of your footsteps.
the plate has now been saved for his little nightly meals, something you don’t necessarily mind. you notice that he is always clad in the same tattered clothing, a dark shirt that is far too loose even on his large body—it is littered with dirt and holes and you wish it was easier to offer some more comfortable items to him.
but you’ve only just gotten him to stop viewing you as a threat; you’ll take it slow.
you don’t notice that he gradually waits closer and closer to where he knows you leave the plate, the distance diminishing in a display of semi trust.
you think that this is all you’ll really get from him. which is fine—you’d rather he remain silent and alive than dead from starvation in your alleyway.
he surprises you one night.
“no more fish.”
you pause in your tracks, a few measly centimeters away from putting the plate on the ground. your eyes dart upward to see him already staring at you, jade slits narrowed. his tail flicks lazily in the shadows. your voice is breathless when you ask, “w-what?”
“fish,” he repeats. “no more of it.”
his voice is a low rumble, deep in richness and timbre despite its evidence of not being used in a while. you glance down at the plate in confusion—he had eaten it all for these few weeks?
he reaches for the plate, digging into the fish with practiced ease. you watch his canines dig into the flesh and tear away like it’s mere paper.
(should you be scared that the fish could also be your throat?)
“you uh—” you clear you throat, staring at him. “you don’t like fish?”
“i can survive off it,” he spits out in between bites—his pupils find yours. “but it’s not great.”
you don’t know why you’re so eager to make him happy. “then what would you like to eat?”
he quirks a brow at the enthusiasm, but answers gruffly. “meat. real meat.” he pauses to run his tongue over his lips, satiated—you can see a scar cutting over them. “like lamb. or beef. i don’t care really.”
“i can do that!” you’re seriously embarrassed at how keen you are, but the progress you’re making excites you. “i should’ve considered what you’d naturally like to eat. you’re a…?”
“wolf,” he grunts, still focused on his meal.
“right.” you nod, grateful to have confirmed the species. “makes sense you’d prefer real meat.”
he doesn’t answer. you don’t mind.
“then i’ll get you something different tomorrow.” you turn to leave. once again he doesn’t answer, but you can feel his eyes boring holes into your back.
you don’t tell the wolf hybrid that you stayed up researching his species just to figure out what he’d like. you just place the plate down the next night, hoping that it is enough to make him feel a little more comfortable with you.
(you’re sure he could kill you with just one bite, but you try not to think about that.)
the wolf watches you present the plate of lamb meat, some pieces cooked and some raw—his tail slowly thumps against the ground.
“i um…know that wolves like deer and stuff, but getting deer meat nearby is a little difficult. i can probably go find some places over the weekend,” you say hesitantly, watching his expression. he reaches a large palm out, claws tugging the plate closer, and digs in. you’re not sure about the taste, but you can see the rise in enthusiasm as he gobbles the meat down—a smile twitches at your lips.
“it’s fine,” he mumbles in return. “deer’s expensive. i like lamb and chicken. beef too.”
you nod, surprised at the consideration for the money you’re spending.
“do…do you prefer it raw or cooked?” you wait for him to click his tongue or indicate he’s getting annoyed by your presence, but he’s feeling forthcoming tonight.
“either’s fine.” he licks up the pinkish liquid that has dripped down his chin while biting into the raw pieces. “i’m used to raw meat.”
you nod, slowly taking a seat on the pavement. his eyes flicker up to watch what you’re doing, but he doesn’t protest. he just picks up another piece of lamb and takes a bite.
“you cook this?” he grunts, waving one of the cooked pieces. you grimace, nodding sheepishly.
“yeah. i wasn't sure if you'd like raw meat or cooked so i brought both. i can just bring raw pieces from now on.”
he peers at the cooked meat in between his claws, before shaking his head gruffly. “it’s pretty good.”
“the cooked meat?” you ask in surprise. he nods.
“yeah. tastes good.”
you can’t help the grin that stretches across your face.
“the fuck are you smilin’ about?” he narrows his eyes at you, ears pointing upright. you drop the smile hastily, shaking your head with a start.
“nothing!”
he snorts, continuing to eat. you watch him do so, strangely content. he doesn’t comment on how you’re seemingly inspecting him, eyes unblinking. he keeps his mouth shut because the taste of meat is heavy on his tongue, and at this point you’re a godsend to an animal like him.
so if you want to observe him like he’s in a fucking zoo, he’s fine with that.
you do have horrible survival instincts though. he wonders why on earth you seem so comfortable around a predator like him, especially a species that is so known to be violent. you’re just sitting there, a mere five feet away, watching him tear into raw meat with stars in your eyes.
(he could tear you apart in a second if he wanted to.)
he doesn’t leave a morsel on the plate, and you give him that same silly smile again.
“i have a little bit more cooked lamb leftover if you want?” you question him, and his eyes lazily roam over you. he thinks about telling you that he could devour meat for much longer if the supply was endless, but instead he huffs.
“did you eat?”
you blink. “me?”
“yeah you,” he replies harshly, rolling his eyes. “did you eat?”
you awkwardly scratch at your arm. “not yet. i was gonna eat some instant noodles later.”
“why the fuck are you worried about a stray like me then?” he snarls, crossing his arms—you’re so fucking naive. “go eat the cooked lamb and worry about yourself, for fuck’s sake.”
while his harsh tone would’ve definitely scared you on day one, this time, you feel more ticked off than afraid.
“i’m a grown ass adult. don’t tell me what to do. if i wanna worry about the noisy stray in my alleyway, i’ll do that,” you shoot back indignantly, mirroring his crossed arms.
the wolf’s demeanor changes, hackles rising. his ears go erect, straight and tense with frustration. he bares his teeth at you, a warning growl coming through them. “lot of talk for someone so damn tiny,” he barks. “don’t you have any self preservation instincts? i could just fucking eat you instead.”
you go a little slack jawed at that, a flicker of hesitation, but then you retort. “maybe, but i bet humans don’t taste as good as lamb or deer!”
“i’ll make do,” he growls back, canines pulling into an evil smirk.
your bravado dies down, and then he has to deal with the disturbingly wounded pout on your face. you don’t say anything more and he sighs heavily.
“i’ll eat more if you eat,” he grunts, glaring at the pavement. even then, he can feel the way you perk up.
“i’ll be right back!” you grab his plate and hurry into your apartment, eager, and all he can do is sigh, wondering what on earth he’s doing interacting with a fragile little human like you.
you come back with more cooked lamb in his designated plate, placing it in front of him before taking a seat on the floor again. he watches you stab at the pieces with a fork and chew on them, so dainty compared to the way his canines dig into his own share.
he can feel the curiosity thrumming through your veins, no doubt burning with questions—the need to talk to him. but you stay quiet as you eat, the sounds of chewing echoing through the alley. he concedes.
“you make it a habit to feed strays?” he mutters. you look up, once again sporting that silly look of surprise at his attention, but you recover quickly.
“no not really. you were just…really loud.” you sheepishly grin when he pins you with a glare, raising your hands innocently. “i just heard a lot of rattling around out here. i thought you were a stray cat.”
he takes offense to that.
“i ain’t no damn cat,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes as he bites into the flesh of another piece. your grin widens.
“clearly.”
the rest of the short meal passes in silence. he finishes up before you do, and for the first time you see him stand to his full height—he’s tall and hulking.
“well,” he grunts, shoving his clawed hands into his dirty pockets. “y’should go inside and finish that.”
he nods at your bowl before turning away. you briefly wonder where he sleeps; perhaps the park nearby so that he can rest on soft grass rather than cold stone. the thought makes you pity him more than you did.
his retreating form suddenly pauses, and he turns to stare over his shoulder—his jade eyes glow in the darkness. “see y’tomorrow.”
a wide smile stretches across your face, and you wave back, giddy. “sure! see you tomorrow…” your voice trails off at the end. the wolf rolls his eyes heavily, before turning around and continuing his walk.
“toji.” he finishes for you, voice low and yet still clear.
you bite back a laugh of disbelief. “toji,” you repeat, and it rolls off your tongue like butter. his ears twitch at the sound, surprisingly pleasant, and he grumbles in return, vanishing into the night.
he ends up keeping his promise.
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yuujispinkhair · 5 months ago
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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 02
🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna
Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4k Warnings: 18+, smut in later chapters, fuckbuddies to lovers. Mentions of cigarettes in this chapter. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear
MASTERLIST
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"Will you come to my game this Saturday?"
Sukuna smirks that charming smirk at you again, and his voice is so velvety that it sounds as if he is asking you to come to his bedroom instead of coming to one of his ice hockey games.
You have no idea why you seem to keep running into him lately. Maybe you never were aware of how many times your paths crossed. Or maybe fate decided to play some funny little game with you and the resident hockey star, and now you keep meeting over and over again.
You shrug helplessly and smile at him,
"I don't know. I've never been to a game. I don't even know the rules."
"That doesn't matter. You'll understand it once you watch a game. And if not, you can always ask me to teach you. So, will you come and watch me play?"
Sukuna looks expectantly at you with those pretty eyes. They are a shade of brown you have never seen on anyone else before, that rich maroon color that reminds you of red wine and autumn. Those eyes and that damn boyish grin make it hard for you to say no to Sukuna.
You laugh to cover up how nervous he makes you when he is standing so close to you. Attack is the best form of defence, so you cross your arms in front of your chest, look up at Sukuna, and ask with a raised eyebrow,
"You really want me to watch you play, huh?"
Any other guy would probably get flustered and backpedal or act indifferent. But not Sukuna. His smirk grows even wider, and he nods confidently,
"Yes. Can you even say you went to college if you never saw a hockey game?"
And then he adds with a wink,
"If you come, I will score a goal just for you."
He flashes you another cocky smirk and doesn't wait for your answer but just walks away toward the gym. You stare after him, shaking your head. He is impossible! That confidence is insane! Almost infuriating.
Maybe you should watch Sukuna's game just to see him not deliver what he promised. Sure, he is the resident starboy, but how good can he be? It's not like he is a professional hockey player. Low-key, you want to see Sukuna fuck up just so you can confirm to yourself that he is just another of those arrogant guys who are all talk and no action.
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That Saturday, you watch the game. Your first hockey game since you started college. The first game of the Tigers you see. The first time you see Sukuna play.
And you must admit that the stupid title they gave him is accurate.
Sukuna really is The King of the Ice. He is the King of this whole arena!
His playstyle is fast and brutal, which doesn't come as a surprise. But even as a hockey noob, you can tell that Sukuna's mind plays just as much a part as his strength and is just as dangerous as his physical attacks. Strong, ambitious, and intelligent. It's a deadly combination that makes Sukuna unstoppable.
He skates across the ice at breakneck speed, elbowing his way through his opponents and making the rival goalie yell in fear at his teammates in a desperate attempt for them to stop the devil that is speeding towards him. But nothing the other team does seems to work against Sukuna. He is always a step ahead, sidestepping them before they can reach him as if he can predict their moves. You recall him telling you that he does all the analytics and works out the tactics, and you can see now that he didn't just brag but truly seems to know what he is doing.
No wonder the whole team is built around Sukuna. He is the most important player of the Red Tigers. The center of the first line, which to your amusement, is called The Curses because they make their opponents curse their names for being so damn strong. And Sukuna is the King of Curses, which seems a very fitting title. His brother Yuuji is on his right, and Todo is on his left, and both of them are ready to beat up everyone who dares touch their star player.
That's something that seems to happen pretty often. Sukuna keeps getting into fights, but many of them aren't initiated by the rival team. Even without knowing how ice hockey works, you can see that Sukuna provokes fights. You can see his lips move behind the face cage of his helmet while smirking devilishly at a player of the rival team, taunting him until the other guy snaps and drops his hockey stick and pushes Sukuna angrily.
At first, you flinch when you see the fight that erupts from that scene. Yuuji yells something and yanks that guy off a still-smirking Sukuna, dragging him away while Todo brutally bodychecks another rival player who comes over to join the rumble.
But both Yuuji and Todo stop immediately when Sukuna casually skates over and says something to them.
You watch incredulously as Sukuna pulls his gloves and helmet off, revealing his usually slicked-back pink hair, ruffled and out of place. He cocks his head and jerks his chin challengingly at the guy who pushed him, saying something to him, and you frown in confusion as the other guy takes off his helmet and gloves too.
What happens afterward is more of a boxing match than ice hockey. The whole arena is yelling and cheering Sukuna on, singing the team's song anytime their King lands a punch on the other player. Sukuna is a dirty fighter. You can see that. He uses any means he has to win. But he is also smart enough to only do as much as he can get away with without the referee intervening. Though it is a riddle to you, why a fight like that is even allowed in the first place.
You look at Nobara, who is sitting next to you.
"Why are they having a boxing match? Why does the referee not give them a penalty?"
Nobara shrugs,
"I don't know! That's just how hockey works, I guess!"
Right at that moment, Sukuna's fist connects with his opponent's cheek, and the other guy tumbles onto the ice. Sukuna joins him immediately, pressing him down for a moment as if to show his dominance before he lets go of him, pats his cheek tauntingly, and gets up again, smirking broadly.
You only realize now that you held your breath the whole time during the fight, letting it out now and laughing as adrenaline flows through your veins.
You didn't expect to enjoy this game so much, but it's definitely an experience you wouldn't want to miss!
The crowd is cheering loudly, celebrating their King's victory in this weird, inofficial fight that somehow is part of the actual game.
Sukuna skates back to his position, his helmet under one arm and one glove between his teeth, while he puts the other back on. He casually glides over the ice while smirking around the glove in his mouth like a beautiful devil. His eyes wander over the stands, soaking in the admiring gazes and the loud cheers coming from his fans.
And suddenly, Sukuna's gaze brushes over you.
You draw in a sharp breath at the same time as Sukuna digs the metal blades of his ice skates into the ice, coming to a sudden stop. He turns his head to scan the crowd again, and your heart jumps to your throat.
What is he doing? Is he looking for me?
Your heart is hammering in your chest when his gaze finds you again in the crowd, and his grin grows bigger, causing the glove to drop from the hold his teeth had on it, but he catches it casually with his left hand.
For a seemingly endless moment, you stare back at Sukuna, involuntarily feeling your lips lift in a matching broad grin. Your pulse flutters nervously. And then Sukuna winks at you.
Yuuji skates up to his brother and claps him on the back, and Sukuna averts his gaze from you and says something to his brother, pointing at another player, and they both skate over to him. You still look at the spot where Sukuna stood a moment ago, feeling a bit dizzy.
Nobara's voice pulls you out of your daze,
"Did he just wink at you?"
And you shrug helplessly and chuckle to hide how flustered Sukuna's wink made you,
"I don't know. Maybe he was looking at someone else."
But you know he wasn't.
The players on the ice get into position again, and the game continues. But Sukuna's line leaves the ice to sit on the bench while the other players get their turn. You hate to admit it, but you catch your gaze drifting away from the actual game and over to the bench, where Sukuna is sitting, discussing something with Yuuji and Todo.
You watch Sukuna run a hand through his ruffled pink hair, slicking it back again while he takes a sip from his water bottle, which makes his Adam's apple bop in a very enticing way.
Occasionally, Sukuna yells something at his teammates who skate past him. There's an angry fire burning in his eyes. You can see how invested he is in the game. How he watches every move meticulously, probably so he can use it later when he thinks of tactics for the next game. You can see how passionate Sukuna is about ice hockey, and if you are honest, it fills you with respect for him.
Sukuna is back on the ice a while later, just as graceful as before with smooth, fast moves and brutal bodychecks, clearing a path through the rival team's defense, skating so impossibly fast that no one can stop him.
Your fingernails dig painfully into your palms as you watch in complete fascination how Sukuna hits the puck so hard that it almost tears the net when he scores the next goal. The whole arena screams, and you are one of them. So caught up in the thrill of the highspeed game that you jump up from your seat.
On the ice, Sukuna gets buried under a pile of his teammates as they celebrate his insane goal, but once he emerges again with a fist lifted in victory into the air, his gaze instantly lands on you again. And to your shock, Sukuna is smiling. A dazzling, beautiful smile that lights up his whole face. He looks happy and proud and so damn beautiful.
You remember what he said when he asked you to come see his game. If you come to my game, I will score a goal just for you.
Well, he delivered what he promised. And what a goal it was!
Somehow, it makes you giggle like a schoolgirl, and you feel your face growing hot, even as you grin at Sukuna like an idiot. He seems to have only eyes for you, locked in this intense gaze with you while he still smiles that smile that makes your pulse flutter excitedly.
The eye contact becomes too intense for you, and you avert your gaze, too shy suddenly to keep looking at Sukuna.
The game continues, and you lean back in your seat, sipping on your water bottle to calm yourself down.
You wonder why no one ever cared to inform you how exciting ice hockey is! The Tigers are really good. Sukuna is good. No, not just good. He is fucking amazing!
It's fun to watch him play. Watching him skate across the ice like some super-human. Watching him bodycheck his opponents with ease. Watching him score goals with so much speed and precision that it leaves your mouth hanging open as you stare at him completely in awe.
The game is over much faster than you expected. Time flew by any time Sukuna was on the ice. You still have no clue about ice hockey, but you know that you had a damn good time!
On the ice, you see the Tigers high-fiving each other and giving each other back claps, congratulating each other on the win. You watch Sukuna pull off his helmet and laugh at something his coach says to him.
The team takes a victory lap around the rink, waving at the crowd in the stands. But your gaze only follows one specific player with pink hair and face tattoos.
Sukuna is chatting with his brother, reaching out to ruffle Yuuji's hair while they casually skate over the ice. His left hand stays on top of his brother's head even as Sukuna lifts the other hand and smirks up at the stands, letting the crowd celebrate him one last time.
Nobara taps your arm and points to the stairs, and you quickly grab your bag and follow her, still feeling light-headed from the euphoric atmosphere in the arena.
You walk past the plexiglass separating the stands from the ice when you see a flash of pink from the corners of your eyes.
You turn your head, and your gaze instantly lands on Sukuna. He is skating casually next to you, slow enough so he matches your walking pace. There's a smug grin on his tattooed face as he lifts his chin in greeting.
You smile back at him and yell, "Great game!" and his smirk grows even bigger before he yells back,
"Did you like the goal I scored for you?"
You trip over your own feet, making a funny little dance to catch yourself, feeling embarrassment wash over you while you think you hear Sukuna's amused laughter.
You look at him sheepishly, nodding and giving him a thumbs up,
"It was very impressive!"
Sukuna grins proudly at you, flashing his white teeth with the slightly pointy canines at you,
"Oh, everything I do is impressive, princess, I can guarantee."
And you roll your eyes and groan at his arrogance, but at the same time you can't help but snicker in amusement.
Sukuna chooses that moment to grab the front of his jersey and lift it to wipe the sweat off his tattooed face, revealing his stomach with firm abs and more tattoos.
Your eyelashes flutter, and you quickly turn your head away, feeling strangely flustered at the sight of Sukuna's naked skin with the sexy tattoos and all those hard muscles.
Luckily, Nobara grabs your arm at that moment and tells you to hurry up because she wants to meet up with Maki. You let yourself get pulled along, lifting your hand to wave at Sukuna and yell a "Bye!" in his direction, which he answers with a broad, knowing grin.
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"So, could I convince you that ice hockey is the best sport?"
You're on your way to class when you see Sukuna almost at the same spot where you crashed into him two weeks ago. But this time, he doesn't wear his white team hoodie but a black sleeveless shirt, which accentuates his broad shoulders and shows off his muscular arms. His red backpack is casually slung over one shoulder, and his maroon eyes sparkle expectantly at you.
You shrug.
"I had a great time. I still know nothing about hockey, though, so I'm not sure about it being the best sport. It was a bit confusing because you practically beat each other up, but the referee didn't do anything about it."
Sukuna laughs. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and leans closer to you.
"Yeah, we have official rules and other rules. I'll explain it to you over lunch. Meet me here in four hours."
He makes it sound as if it is set in stone that the two of you will have lunch together. As if the option of you turning him down, is so crazy, that he doesn't even consider it.
You are suddenly very aware of how Sukuna is towering over you with his tall, broad hockey player figure. Imposing as hell. And his dominant personality only adds to the effect.
Maybe two weeks ago, you would have run, too intimidated by Sukuna's overpowering presence. But right now, he doesn't make you feel anxious. Instead, you catch yourself leaning even closer, looking up at him, barely resisting the urge to reach out and touch his bulging biceps with those sexy black bands tattooed on them.
Your lips lift in a smile, and you give him a nod and a soft,
"Ok, see you for lunch, Sukuna."
You quickly walk toward your classroom before you can do something embarrassing like really feeling him up or drooling on his stupid, too-tight shirt.
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Sukuna is already waiting for you at the agreed spot, and he grins so smugly at you that, for a moment, you contemplate just walking past him to see that smirk wiped off his face. But you behave and stop in front of him, cocking your head and asking him if he is ready.
Walking next to Sukuna feels strange, but not exactly in a bad way. Your height difference is even more prominent when you walk side by side, and it does weird things to your stomach anytime you sneak a glance at him.
But the strangest thing about the whole situation is the way Sukuna walks through the hallways as if he owns the place, and everyone seems to play along. You notice that people step aside to let him pass. Some even lower their heads, like peasants bowing to their King. It's insane to see how much authority he holds and how much people respect or even fear him.
And now you got pulled into this whole thing, too, by walking next to the hockey star!
You can see curious glances getting thrown your way. Guys are checking you out as if you are suddenly interesting now that Sukuna has graced you with his company. And girls watch you through narrowed eyes as if they ask themselves why you are allowed to walk next to Sukuna, and they aren't.
The only thing that's missing is people snapping pictures like some paparazzi.
The thought makes your lips twitch, trying to hold back a laugh as you imagine pictures of you and Sukuna walking into the dining hall together getting posted on some shady Instagram account with a caption asking who the mysterious woman by Sukuna's side is. Spotted: The resident hockey heartthrob and an unknown girl. As if you are in an episode of Gossip Girl.
A soft grunt escapes your lips, and you sway slightly to the right, making Sukuna bump into you. He reaches around you reflexively, and you feel his large, warm hand land on your upper arm, steadying you.
"Careful, princess. Or do you have a thing for crashing into me?"
You huff at his cocky comment, muttering an apology as you shake his arm off, at the same time as he pulls it away again, before you fall into step beside Sukuna again.
The dining hall is bustling at this time, but you and Sukuna make it surprisingly quickly to the counter because several people make space in the waiting line after taking one glance at Sukuna. You aren't sure whether it's his status as the hockey star or the glare he sends their way.
You get your meal and follow Sukuna, who leads you to a part of the dining hall you have never been to. Technically, this is not a private section, but everyone knows this part of the dining hall is reserved for the athletes, so you never bothered trying to find a table here.
Sukuna gestures to a table at the far end, beside the window. It is surrounded by lush decorative plants and even has a comfy-looking bench.
"This is my table. Come on, princess."
You frown at him,
"You have your own table? Is this some hockey player thing?"
Sukuna huffs and a low laugh escapes his lips,
"No, it's a Sukuna thing."
He strides over to his table and sits down on one of the chairs, graciously leaving the comfy bench to you. You smile at him and sit down across from him, placing your tray on the table.
Your gaze lands on Sukuna's tray, and you raise an eyebrow at the huge plate in front of him, filled with cooked chicken breasts, rice, and a whole mountain of broccoli. Sukuna catches your gaze and smirks at you,
"What? I have to take care of my body. I'm an athlete."
"Yeah, sure, an athlete who only eats cooked chicken and rice but smokes cigarettes. Makes a lot of sense."
"It's all about the balance. Now stop being a brat, and let me explain things to you."
Sukuna grins teasingly at you, and you can't help but grin back while rolling your eyes playfully.
Sukuna opens his backpack to grab a pen and a surprisingly neat folder from which he pulls a blank sheet of paper. He slams it on the table next to his plate and writes Hockey rules – A guide for curious brats by Sukuna on the top, making you complain in mock annoyance.
You spend the next thirty minutes eating your lunch while watching Sukuna fill the sheet with his unexpectedly graceful handwriting as he explains the rules to you. He even draws a small rink and some funny little hockey players. You laugh softly when you see him add face tattoos to the figure in the center of the first line.
Occasionally, Sukuna looks at you, maroon eyes framed by beautiful, long black lashes, gazing at you with amusement and so much intensity that it makes you feel like you are the only person in this room.
You gulp, feeling flustered at having Sukuna's undivided attention. And it doesn't help that his cologne smells really sexy when he leans across the table to point at the small drawings on the paper, explaining in that sexy, low voice how hockey works.
He is a good teacher, even though his pretty eyes and the sexy tattoos on his arms and face are distracting as hell.
But the official hockey rules are pretty easy to understand. What's more complex are the unofficial rules that Sukuna refers to as The Code, which explains why the players can beat each other up without the referee interfering. It leads to an animated discussion during which you have a ton of incredulous questions, and Sukuna answers all of them with an amused grin on his tattooed face but with surprising patience.
As your lunch break is drawing to an end, you are pretty well informed about the official and unofficial rules of the beautiful sport called ice hockey.
"Thank you, Sukuna. Now I finally understand what you are doing on the ice."
He cocks his head, laughing softly before he smirks that sexy, teasing smirk at you,
"You mean apart from looking handsome as hell?"
You groan at his arrogant remark but laugh, too, before you shove the sheet of paper across the table again. But Sukuna shakes his head.
"No, keep it, princess. So you can look at it again in case you forget something. Who knows... there might be some surprise tests. Better be prepared!"
He winks at you, and you laugh, but you take the note from his large hand.
The two of you walk side by side towards the exit, where your ways part. You thank Sukuna once again for the hockey lesson, and he grins at you. One of his large hands lands on your head and ruffles your hair, making you exclaim loudly. You reach up and try to smooth your hair down again while Sukuna walks away with his hand lifted in a casual wave.
When you return to your dorm later that afternoon, Nobara is instantly at your side, as if she manifested out of thin air.
"Why didn't you tell me you were going on a date with Sukuna?"
"That wasn't a date! We just had lunch together because he wanted to explain the ice hockey rules to me..."
You trail off, shrugging helplessly, while a triumphant grin spreads over Nobara's face,
"What do you need the rules for? To go to all his games?"
"It wasn't a date, Nobara!"
You quickly leave for your room, but you can't help but grin from ear to ear, clutching the note with the hockey rules even tighter to your chest. You know it wasn't a date, but you must admit that spending your lunch break with Sukuna was surprisingly nice, and you think you can still feel the warmth of his large hand on your arm.
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HE IS SO SEXY ON THE ICE AND OFF IT, TOO 😭😭 I had so much fun imagining Sukuna playing hockey! I hope you enjoyed watching him play, too, and that you enjoyed spending your lunch break with him ❤️
Thank you so much for reading Chapter 2! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!
In Chapter 3 Reader gets to learn a bit more about our hockey star, and they have a little scene that is filled with sexual tension ;)
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totally-here · 6 months ago
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dpxdc twins au except it's no-pulse flavored
Bart’s new roommate looks a lot like Tim. 
Like, suspiciously like Tim. 
Danny’s the same height, has the same shape of nose, same shade of hair, and even frowns like him. He would have been a perfect copy if he acted more like Tim, but Danny definitely holds himself looser than Bart’s ever seen Tim. 
But he still has his face. So, obviously, Bart has to investigate. Maybe he’s a clone, or a shapeshifter, or maybe one of the Gotham rogues decided to get facial reconstruction surgery to look like him, and this was all a ploy. 
Okay, probably not that last one. Bart doesn’t think Tim’s enemies know his identity. 
Anyway, investigation! Bart’ll figure this out himself, and deal with it if Danny needs to be dealt with. And the investigation will start right after he comes up with an excuse as to why he’s back in their third floor apartment when he passed Danny in the hallway a few seconds before. 
Danny stares at him, and Bart stares back. 
“Must’ve been a doppelganger!” Bart blurts out. 
Danny’s silent for a second before nodding enthusiastically and noting that everyone's supposed to have like seven in the world anyway and wow what a wild coincidence that there’s one in their building. 
Bart extends the same courtesy when a week later he walks in on Danny with an iced over pan on the stove. Danny says they should really get their freezer checked out and Bart agrees and asks if he can use the ice for a painting study. 
(They never get their freezer checked.)
Bart finds that Danny’s great at setting up fun things for him to draw, whether he knows it or not. Like the ice, or his collection of rocks, his astronomy textbooks with the pretty covers, his gestures as he rants about his classes, the excited glint in his eyes when he’s talking about his next repair project and how his eyes almost look like they glow in the right light. 
Hm. A good portion of his sketchbook is drawings of Danny, and yet he’s still having trouble with getting the right blue for his eyes. At first glance they’re Tim’s shade of blue, but when he keeps looking they seem to get lighter. Maybe greener?
He should probably stop staring into his friend’s eyes. 
Well, maybe not. Danny doesn’t seem to mind. 
Just like he doesn’t mind when they started regularly sitting very close on the couch, or falling asleep together, or Bart borrowing some of his jackets, or-
Okay, Bart’s kinda seeing a pattern. He and Danny should really have a conversation about if this is platonic behavior or not. 
But not right now, because Bart brought Danny across the river to raid Wally’s board game closet in Keystone. 
And Wally, who’s used to this, just passes by them with a, “Hey Bart, hey Tim.”
“Danny, not Tim,” Danny replies almost absent mindedly, then looks back at Wally, who’s also staring at him now. “Wait, you know Tim?”
“OhmyGod I was supposed to investigate!” Bart says, face palming. It just slipped his mind! And Danny was distracting him with his pretty face that he totally wears better than Tim!
“You know him too?” Danny asks. But he doesn’t look suspicious of them, more amused. 
“How do you know him?” Wally squints at Danny, eyes briefly catching Bart’s in question. 
“He’s my twin,” Danny answers easily. “The Drakes only wanted one kid, so they gave me to their friends the Fentons, who wanted a second one.” He shrugs and goes back to digging around the closet. “Tim and I were always in contact, though. Letters and phone calls and texting, you know?” 
He says it all so casually while Wally and Bart are sharing increasingly concerned looks behind his back. 
Do the Waynes know about Danny? Has Tim never brought him up? Why? Does Danny know about Red Robin? Does Tim-
“Holy shit does this mean Tim has ice powers too!?” 
Or: Tim and Danny are twins. Through a series of coincidences, the first people to find out that aren’t Fentons or Drakes are the flashes.
(This post was brought to you by me recently finishing the 1995 Impulse run, and wanting an excuse to share this panel:
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Look they both got called twinks clearly they're soulmates)
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