#big fan when it's just treated like another form of drag anyway

[normalbrothers]

daddy (1973, dir peter whitehead & niki de saint phalle)

[klausysworld]

Okayyy so i just had a idea and since you are amazinggggg with tvdu fan fiction, thought I might a request😅

Basically, yn is a wolf but for some reason or another, her puppy sized wolf is out of control and so whenever she gets emotional, she slowly starts transforming, like first she will get the ears and like the shift is slow but not painful anymore since it has been happening a lot and she just gets a headache.

Elena's gang except for Tyler and bonnie dislike her and Caroline doesn't have much of an opinion. She is usually a happy person since she is homeschooled so doesn't have to deal with any bullies or anything.

Klaus finds her with teary eyes and her wolf puppy ears out as she tries to stop herself from full on crying.

Klaus takes her in and cares for her and helps her control her wolf side so that her emotions don't control them. At this point, she loves her wolf form so much that Klaus has to scold her and treat her kinda like am actual naughty puppy and he even has a hard time keeping her in human form because she has learned that she can run off in her wolf form and not have to study

-✨

Tamed and trained

Y/n’s parents had always been worried about her. She wasn’t exactly normal, being a werewolf anyways was hard enough let alone a completely out of control one. They assumed there must have been some sort of mutation in the gene system or something similar which caused her to turn at any time, like how only few vampires were rippers and few witches were siphoners.

They had been to the Bennett’s who told them that this had only happened a very rare few times since the first werewolf was created and that she would learn control as she grew.

Of course their first fear was she would be picked on, misunderstood and seen as a monster, so they kept her inside. And then they worried that her werewolf anger would be 10x worse as instead of having emotions heightened on a full moon, hers are 24/7. But it turned out she showed nearly every emotion but anger. But the tears were the worst. As soon as they started falling they knew they needed to hide her asap. The ears would sprout from her head, then the tail and claws, the nose and paws, until she were howling her sorrows for the world to hear.

And gosh did she cry when she was little, always in a puddle of pity and fear of her own shadow.

He parents had pretty much given up with trying to control her. Just locking her in the house and telling her to be quiet while they went out and tried to live like normal people, pretend they didn’t have a daughter that the council would kill to obtain.

When Bonnie grew up they tried to convince her to spell Y/n but Bonnie refused when she saw the fluffy ears a big sad eyes looking back at her.

They tried to have Tyler help her when he broke his curse but he wasn’t sure what to do either other than bond over the experience of being in wolf form.

So she continued to hide inside, only getting out when her parents had gone away, most likely to get drunk and forget their worries.

She knew she was an inconvenience for them but the harder she tried to control herself, the worse it made her feel and then she ended up turning again. She didn’t know how to fix the cycle she was trapped within.

But on that day, her parents had gotten a little too angry at her. Called her a freak and a mistake causing her to run as far as she could on her human legs, praying to god that she wouldn’t turn halfway through a step.

She huddled up to the big willow tree besides the Mystic Park and kept their until dark. Her sniffles were the only sound heard as she wiped her eyes and cheeks.

Her knees dragged to her chest and she rest her chin on top of them as she kept her cries to a minimum, hiccuping as she tried to fully stop.

It was the sound that drew Klaus Mikaelson toward the park that night. His eyes squinted as he spotted a girl in the distance, two large and fluffed ears on her head which twitched very few seconds. His curiosity was peaked and so he approached the source of such sad sounds and crouched before her. His hand slowly touched her knee making her jolt and look up at him alarmed. Immediately smacking the top of her head to make her ears go away making him frown and grab onto her hands

“It’s alright love” he mumbled as she shook her head and tried to squirm out of his hold. He sighed and resorted to picking her up which made her cry again and him to panic. “No no no” he whispered, covering her mouth with his hand and his eyes widening when a tail curled up between her legs and little claws scratched at his arms. “Oh bloody hell” he muttered before speeding her to his home and getting her on the floor just as she turned entirely.

His brows shot up seeing her so small, running around like a lunatic and barking continuously. He blinked in surprise and slowly shut the front door, locking it and walking around the smashed vase and torn painting as she chewed at his brand new sofa cushions with her tail wagging so wildly that her whole body shook.

He made a gradual approach but the second she was in reach, she had darted up the stairs making him sigh and chase her through the house for the next 20 minutes. Having a little too much fun for an almighty hybrid as he tackled a small wolf to his kitchen floor and kept her firmly to his chest until eventually she turned back.

Asleep and completely naked against him. He cautiously lifted her up and brought her to his bed, not wanting her to run off while he slept.

He slipped his boxers up her legs and henley over her head, not without peeking at her lovely little body of course, and quickly stripping to his boxers before tugging the covers over the both and watching her from the other side of the bed. He kept an eye on her for as long as he stayed awake, until the steady beating of her heart sent him to sleep.

When he woke he was entirely on top of her, her big eyes looking up at him as he lifted his head to find her squished beneath him and shoving helplessly at his chest.

He kept quiet and in response so did she, swallowing thickly as she watched him observe her. She didn’t comment as his eyes lingered on her nipples that stood out against the soft material on his top, nor the way his tongue wetted his lips when he studied her legs.

“Do you do that a lot?” He asked just above a whisper when his eyes came back to hers and she nodded with a blush of embarrassment coating her cheeks.

“I don’t mean to” she uttered and he tilted his head ever so slightly

“I wouldn’t have thought you did” he murmured and she kept silent. He thought to himself for a moment before making an unklauslike decision “I think I’ll keep you love” he told her and she opened her mouth to speak but he was already talking again “no arguing, I’ll teach you to control yourself and we’ll see what happens from there okay?”

“But my mother and- and school! I learn at home, I can’t-“

“Do you know who I am love?” He cut her off and she turned her head

“Klaus?” She questioned, having heard of him before when her parents were researching, the mention of him from Tyler and the smell of both vampire and werewolf which twisted together when she lay under him.

“That’s right little wolf, Klaus, now I’ve been alive a very long time, I can teach you much better than any mother could. And besides, your mother would’ve found you before I had if she were worried” he waved it off and she frowned

“She will be…” she whispered and he watched in amazement again as the ears formed at her head. His hand automatically reached out to feel the soft fur against his skin making her lean into him. He could feel the smirk pulling at his face as he calmed her back down

“Oh you’re right love,” he began, seeing her brighten up a little bit in curiosity, “she will puppy, so how about I’ll handle it okay? She’ll let you come here, you want me to help you don’t you?” He manipulated and she immediately fell into it, nodding and laying still under him. Klaus couldn’t help but admire how she looked beneath him, her big round eyes and wolf ears still on display. If emotion was what brought this out in her, he could only imagine how she would howl if he treated her the way he desired.

But he would wait, he needed to get her under control at least a little so that she didn’t destroy his house and hurt herself in the meantime. He didn’t believe she would be able to hurt someone else, especially not purposely but he saw how she basically ran into walls without a care and worried for her own sake.

He snapped out of his thoughts at the whine she produced, confused on his face before he realised his knee was inbetween both her legs and she had almost definitely never been touched like that. One because of her little wolf issue, and two because she clearly had a lack of time outside her home just based off how afraid she was outside and then looking in wonder at simple objects in his home. Not that it was an issue for him, the more unaware she was in general, the better. She would be easier to tame if he could train a fresh mind.

And she was just that, a breathe of fresh air.

Simple and appreciative. No matter how small a thing he did for her, she was smiling brightly with her tail wagging and ears up. Whether it be a new bookmark or a diamond bracelet.

He remembers when he told her she could decorate her own room, he had never seen someone get so excited so fast. The room looked completely out of place, the rest of the mansion was relatively dark and gloomy but her space was bright but soft, calming in a way instead of tense.

He loved how she was like that, calming. Whenever he was having an awful day, there she was in his lap, ears up and a book in her hands that he had ‘assigned’ her to read for her ‘schoolwork’. She seemed to have at least her ears out all the time, especially when he touched her, just a hand on her leg would have her tail wagging and he couldn’t find it in himself to make her stop.

But he found that if he did tell her to put them away, it was the only way she would do so.

He had found her in tears over two star crossed lovers in a book she had gotten from her personal library, a gift from him of course, and watched as she struggled to calm herself down. But the second he used a commanding tone on her to put the canine features away, they were gone and she was whimpering quite literally like a puppy being told off.

He found that he had more control over her wolf than she did. And he loved it, she was his good girl, his little puppy to play with and look after.

She kept his bed warm when he was gone and made his heart swell when he was there.

He loved seeing her so freely running around in her wolf form, finally able to control where she was going and what she was thinking as she chased the birds and and spun around to get his attention. Only issue was when she gained more control, he seemed to lose some. And she was quick to tease him, running circles around him and nipping at his ankles when he was busy, having him chase after her because she had taken his phone or worse: the white oak stake. Of course she didn’t understand the importance but to her it was a game and she wanted him to play too.

He understood her mindset of course and she was completely entertaining for him but it was a pain to have to hunt her down every time he needed her to practice her school work.

He would always remember the first time he turned to chase her down. The surprise in her eyes when she skidded to a halt and looked up at him. He must’ve been nearly 10 times bigger than her and although she should probably have been terrified, she yipped happily and darted for the tree line. He shook his head before following after the flash of grey and brown that weaves through the woods, ultimately pinning her down and bringing her home before claiming his prize for winning the game.

The prizes varied greatly, sometimes he got a kiss on the cheek from her, sometimes he would get to sink his teeth into her sweet skin, sometimes he would just lay with her, y/n on the other hand got very different prizes, on the rare occasion that she won he found himself wearing a face mask and cucumber on his eyes as she giggled and held his hand.

Whatever she did, whether she were human or a little wolf, he kept her happy and hidden from the rest of the world but this time she didn’t feel like a disappointment, she felt adored.

[ravenprinzess]

Hiii! I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if you could do a Genshin highschool au (modern au??? Idk what to call it-) and how Childe, Hu Tao, Kazuha and Diluc would confess to their crush (idk I just think it's a cute idea)

Anyways feel free to ignore! Thanks and have a nice day, dont forget to eat or drink water!

how would genshin characters confess to their crush at school.

featuring ; childe, hu tao, kazuha, diluc.

genre ; fluff.

warning ; none.

note ; thanks for requesting !! and you too, don't forget to take care of yourself. <3

𓄷 childe 𖤐

this dork has been in love with you for as long as he could remember.

he'd always slip you notes during classes, even though he'd know the two of you would most likely to get caught.

during breaks he'd sit with you, no matter where you decided to hang out.

sitting outside under the large tree ? he'd let you rest your head on his lap and play with your hair.

hiding in the library ? he'd hide with you, although he's not a big fan of the place.

sitting on the benches in the sports field ? he'd get jealous that you're looking at the other male students playing.

but he wouldn't say a word about it.

instead, he'd just tease you about it and laugh at your embarrassment.

but he knew that he'd have to tell you his feelings one day.

and this day came faster than you had expected it to be.

since the prom was coming up, he thought he'd confess by asking you to be his date.

"are we there yet ?" your voice echoed through the empty halls as childe lead you somewhere with his hands over his eyes to cover your vision. "impatient, are we ?" he let out a soft, teasing chuckle while keeping his hands on your eyes. "but childe," a pout formed on your lips as you whined playfully. "you know that i hate surprises." which was true, and he also knew it. however, he couldn't find another way to do it. soon enough, you sensed that the two of you were outside due to the wind blowing gently through your hair.

"i am well aware." the ginger responded with a grin forming on his lips before finally removing his hands from your eyes. you found yourself standing in front of the large tree where you two had met years ago. he was the new boy back then, he got lost and found you, you gave him a tour and gave him a warm welcome to the school - and that's how a beautiful friendship was formed.

just then your gaze fell upon a sign that was hanging on the tree.

"prom ?"

it said. your eyes widened in surprise, turning to face the man almost immediately.

"is that a yes ?"

"of course !"

"i love you, (y/n)."

... "i love you too, childe."

𓄷 hu tao 𖤐

this little prankster had probably realized her feelings for you when she watched you interact with an upperclassman.

the shameful feeling of jealousy clung to her chest, but she quickly brushed it off.

you weren't hers yet.

but she wanted you to be hers.

and so she came up with a brilliant idea.

she'd confess to you in halloween.

whilst trick or treating.

"come on, (y/n) !" the female let out, huffing playfully as she waited for you to get ready. the two of you had matching customs - which were mainly her idea. the girl dressed up as the devil, twirling around in her brand new, black dress; while you were dressed up as an angel. your white outfit had suited your curved perfectly, and she was quick to admire it. she also thought an angel suited you. after all, you were kind and considerate. you were the only person who tolerated her and still stuck in with her.

a soft chuckle escaped from her lips, causing the tips of her ears to turn into a dark shade of pink. she found your chuckle attractive - but if she were more honest with herself, she'd say that anything about you was absoloutely breathtaking and endearing. "come on, i don't want to be late ! i still need to pull pranks on people." the brunette pouted, causing you to roll your eyes playfully.

"alright, alright." you responded shortly to calm her down, feeling as her hand grabbed onto yours before dragging you all the way to the school. why ? because the staff promised a spooky party; and hu tao would never be the one to miss out on spooky things.

when the two of you approached the school, you could sense the sudden change in hu tao's aura. she was far more cheerful than usual, her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, reflecting the light from the moon. you shook your hand, being dragged inside. the female knew she had to confess at some point, and so she decided to do it here. sure, it'll be awkward if you were to reject her- but, at least it wouldn't hurt as much.

"reach into my basket." she hummed, handing out to you her basket - which was filled with candies even before you got an attempt to help her with it. your eyes widened in confusion, and yet you listened to her, slipping your fingers into the basket. your fingers soon brushed against a piece of paper, which you had soon picked up.

hu tao felt her heart bursting out of her chest when she watched you silently reading the confession later she had written you just a couple of hours ago.

"i like you a lot, please be mine. - hu tao."

what an adorable dork.

𓄷 kazuha 𖤐

the two of you had become friends due to the fact that you were in the same afterschool club.

you've decided to join the martial arts club of the school whilst he was the leader.

you've admired how strong he was; probably the strongest student in school.

and you've found it pretty cool that no one dared to mess with him because of it.

and then there's him - he liked you because you were brave.

like wow, you wanted to spar with him every week ? admirable.

but he'd always refuse because he didn't want to hurt you.

"we'll spar when you become a bit stronger."

and so you started learning harder.

it made his flutter, that you care so much about the club.

"let's spar now, kazuha !" you greeted the man this afternoon upon entering the club room. the male was holding a papersheet in his hands, his head was seemingly buried in it. what was he reading ? but then his head jerked up once he heard your voice. "are you sure ?" he asked, raising his brow. he was unsure at first, but the excitment in your eyes made him flustered for a mere second.

"i am sure, i'll be fine." you reassured him, squeezing his shoulder gently in the process. you then made your way towards the center of the room; getting ready by stretching yourself before standing in the intial fighting position. kazuha was hesitant for a moment, but ended up giving in the more you insisted. he then stood in front of you before with a sigh. "let's test your self defense skills."

kazuha has seemingly underestimated his own strength, seeing as you fell onto the ground after he swung his leg towards you. a soft groan escaped from your lips, the male immediately rushing to your side. "i-i'm sorry." he began to speak frantically. "i didn't mean to harm you. i- i love you."

you opened your mouth to protest, to tell him you were fine. but; you froze when you had suddenly processed his sudden confession. it seemed like he too, caught onto that - his face immediately turning red. "anyways," he coughed out, his eyes refusing to meet yours. "let's work on you self defense skills."

𓄷 diluc 𖤐

now, this is a tricky one.

this man is stone-cold, and somehow you managed to befriend him.

all because he was your partner in a school project.

the two of you sat in his house and worked on the project - you were a bit more talkative than he was.

he would usually respond with nods and hums.

somehow, the more you spent time with him - the more he grew closer to you.

he soon realized that he was in love with you; especially when he had a weird, unexplainable feeling inside of him when he was around you.

the two of you had another project, this time each student alone. however, he decided to help you.

what you didn't expect though, was the confession in the end.

"here is your work, (y/n)." diluc approached you in the morning, holding a small book containing your work in his hands. "thank you, diluc. i hope this wasn't a burden for you." you responded, smiling gently as you took the book into your hands. you were rather curious - though you wrote most of it - there were parts that he himself wrote as a way to help you.

your fingers trailed across the small book before opening it, your eyes scanning the papersheets. it was neatly printed; you were impressed. your computer was slow, thus it was a hassle to attempt. thankfully, due to being born into a wealthy family - he had countless of ways to print.

your eyes wandered across the content within, impressed by the information he had found himself. soon enough you reached the ending, a small note slipping out into your lap. your brow was raised in a questioning manner while the red haired man tensed. "what's wrong ?" you hummed, opening the note. to say that what was written there had surprised you was an understatement. it made you freeze in your spot, your face heating up.

"(y/n), will you go out with me ? - diluc."

[glyxy-wvs]

hey if you accept requests can you make a fluffy fanfic about Lucifer and Mammon being close? like that pic that you reblogged?

Hello, Anon! Omg, sorry for the long wait!!! 🥺💖 I was busy with irl stuff but AAAA I have finished the fluffy fic! I'm sorry if it didn't reach your expectations.😓 It was a bit difficult to write 'cause I'm not really used to writing fluff.😂 But I hope you like it!! (Also, I didn't base this fic off to the art that I had reblogged, but it's still a fluff fic!! It's fan art, and I think I need permission to write a fic about it.😅 So here's fluffy fanfic of Lucifer and Mammon being close.) Thanks for being the first person to request me haha. Please enjoy this. _ A Day To Relax. [ 1 & 2 ]

Mammon's back hurts; he did the best he could to organized the library at RAD. Maybe he deserves this, or maybe not. He sighs for the tenth time of the day.

There's nothing he can do about it because this was his light punishment for skipping classes again. Although he hates doing chores for his discipline, he needed to be a good big brother for Asmodeus.

Mammon decided to skip his classes so that he could be there to support his little brother. Everyone was busy at that time, with upcoming exams and projects, not one of the brothers could make time for Asmo. The latter understood. It's not like he could force his brothers to watch the stageplay with his classmates. But when he saw Mammon among the crowd with his D.D.D out, he almost cried while performing on stage.

(He felt a bit guilty when he found out that Mammon, believe it or not, skipped classes to watch him.)

Mammon stretched his back when he felt his phone vibrating. He took it out from his back pocket to receive a message from Asmodeus.

[Hey.

I just wanted to say thanks for supporting me there.

This beautiful brother of yours is going to treat you tomorrow! <3]

His lips cracked a smile. He feels soft and loved. Mammon chuckled as he took his bag, ready to go home. He had finished organizing anyway; he preferred to play on his phone for a while.

He started walking to the hallways; almost all of the demons were back to their places already. Some are doing their part-time jobs, and some are being lazy at home (Preferably Belphegor.)

"Mammon."

In instinct, Mammon quickly turned around. He already knows that deep voice.

"Are ya gonna assign me another chore to do?" Mammon quickly questioned his older brother, who was leaning into the student council's door frame.

Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly annoyed already. He pushed back his hair and fixed the wrinkles of his uniform.

"No. Well, if you want to do more. Your choice." With that answer, Mammon crossed his arms, a pout on his face— ready to complain. But Lucifer stopped him.

"Remember that cafe I showed you the other day? Let's go there, my treat." Lucifer stated; he laughed when he saw Mammon froze.

"I don't believe you." His eyes narrowed, looking for a flaw in Lucifer's face and words. "Are ya' truly Lucifer? What if you're a ghost possessing my big bro's body?"

Mammon intentionally loudened his gasp; his eyes were wide, one hand placed on his heart, while the other was grasping on his hair. He paused for a dramatic effect.

Lucifer brought his hand up quickly to pinch his brother's cheek. "You idiot. It's me, of course." He proceeded to ruffles Mammon's hair. "Come on, let's go before I change my mind and give you another chore as punishment. Maybe you could clean up the laboratory next time for a month."

He whispered the last part, but Lucifer knew Mammon could hear him, making the second-born whine.

The two exited the school, taking a detour through the streets.

"I thought yah were gonna give me another punishment." Mammon broke out the silence; Lucifer hummed before replying.

"Why would I? I only gave you a chore for skipping classes, but you being there for Asmodeus? You don't deserve punishment for that."

Mammon stared at the far distance. The cafe they were going to has a nearby sea, and he smiled at his elder brother's words; he enjoyed these simple moments between them. (They're rare. They don't hang out anymore like they used to do in the Celestrial realm. That's why, as much as possible, Mammon cherished these moments.)

Mammon could say that he's close with Lucifer, but not like before— It's weird. Lucifer is his older brother, his family. But as time passed by, Mammon started to get nervous whenever he had done something wrong. He doesn't want to anger and disappoint Lucifer. (But sometimes, he can't help it— he misses his big brother's attention.)

"We're here," Lucifer said. Mammon followed the latter's gaze and immediately formed star-shaped eyes.

"WOAH!! I didn't expect it to be this cool! I only saw the picture but never expected that it would be this big!"

Mammon kept looking around the newly built cafe. The cafe was a bit massive, with a view of the sea beside it. Its structure is similar to a casino. Mammon could already smell the fresh-baked bread and pies inside, making him giggle.

Mammon had loved the view it was showing; he could eat while staring at the horizon. The cafe was located on top of a hill, not too far from the beach. It looks so nostalgic and therapeutic that Mammon took his time admiring the whole place while Lucifer already entered the cafe.

Mammon wished it wasn't too expensive. He knows that Lucifer would be the one to pay, but he doesn't want to burden him with that kind of responsibility. The second-born tried to grasp the wallet on his bag, but then he hesitated. Mammon recalled that the money in there was a payment to his debt.

Ah, yes. Mammon needed to pay it today but decided it would be better to bond with his brother first.

He sighed, still has a firm grip on his bag. He's feeling unwanted emotions today. He wants to cry, laugh, or do something he doesn't usually do. Mammon was overwhelmed with emotions.

He remembered Levi's words that it's okay to be feeling emotions you usually can't explain. Sometimes, it doesn't have to be a reason.

Mammon's snapped out of his thoughts, thinking that Lucifer was likely waiting for him inside. He turned to see the display of different pastries outside, and Mammon immediately recognized Simeon's art.

Mammon recalled Simeon's word. He said that he's going to work part-time somewhere near the sea. And this made Mammon excited. He had already counted the treats and thinking which one would his brothers choose. After planning, he tried to hurry inside but suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Mammon looked over to his shoulder to see an unfamiliar demon. Their body is most likely the same size as Beelzebub but with a strict stare present. Mammon felt like he was burning.

"Heya! May I ask—who are you?" Mammon said; his tone wasn't that confident, and it's evident with his form that Mammon's going to run away in any second now.

He felt the grip on his shoulder got tighter, and the demon dragged Mammon into a less crowded area. He knows he's far powerful than this guy; he's one of the princes of Devildom. He's the Avatar of Greed. But man, he entirely wants to relax today. Mammon tried to stand with honor and kept his breathing in control.

The demon startled him. "Where's the money?"

And then Mammon realized.

"Oh!? You must be the brother's witch! Ah, here— give me a minute," Mammon took out his wallet and gave them the money. He doesn't feel that nervous anymore. Okay— he lied, maybe a little bit. Can't a demon have fears too? "Geez, you scared the hell out of me for a second there. The agreement was me and her meeting later." He muttered the last part.

But a dark aura surrounded him, and Mammon quickly backed away. He can't meet the other demon's eyes, but he can feel the rage from him.

Is the money not enough?? It can't be. I perfectly counted this; I also worked hard for this. What else could be missing???

"With all due respect, please don't go any nearer to him."

A voice. It must be Lucifer's. Mammon couldn't stop overthinking. What if Lucifer scolds him after this? What if Lucifer started to regret spending time with Mammon because of this?

Mammon looked up, tears threatening to fall. He saw his elder brother, standing behind them as classy as ever. His composure is straight, yet the glaring eyes are full of terror. Mammon recognized Lucifer's stance. It's for preparing himself to change into his demon form if the rest of his younger brothers are in serious trouble.

When the demon started to get closer to Mammon, the latter only felt a swift wind before realizing that Lucifer was there, in front of him now. "Didn't you hear what I said? What else do you need from him?"

"The money."

"It's not sufficient? Then alright, here." Lucifer took out his wallet to satisfy the demon in front of them. Mammon's full-out panicking now. His older brother saved him from trouble, and now he's going to be a disappointment in Lucifer's eyes.

"There, you got the money. Tell your sister that my brother had paid the debt." Lucifer dragged Mammon out of the other demon's sight. He looked back with sharp eyes.

"And as great as reasonable, if you're looking for Mammon—" He looked back with sharp eyes. "—strictly appear to see me. Thank you."

Both never turned their eyes back again as they entered the shop. Mammon quickly explained the whole situation. "I'm sorry! I'm sure— precisely sure that I had counted that money. And it's exactly the price the witch had been asking. I don't know what he's up to with—" He kept on babbling as they reached their reserved seats. Lucifer sighed.

"Look, stop chattering; it's annoying. I believe you. Can't I have a day where I relax with my little brother under no stress or orders whatsoever? Seeing you outside in that kind of situation is making my blood boil. How dare he waste such time when you and I could have been eating here already."

Mammon snickered, ah yeh— It's been so long that he forgot how dramatic Lucifer could be at times.

"Forget about it, Mammon. You had settled the debt, and the food that I ordered is already here. But make sure whenever you're going to meet someone concerning payment, always inform me. I'm serious. If the shares had been a burden to handle, you are welcome to visit my office anytime."

Lucifer already had bread in his mouth, but his expression is still irritable from the situation earlier. Mammon can feel his tears coming back again. Why am I so emotional today?

"Ah. Uhm, hey—" He called out to his older brother. "Thanks for backing me up earlier. I appreciated it!"

Lucifer munched the donut he was holding and then drank the newly served tea. His gaze was on the view outside, seemingly avoiding eye contact. "Hm? Of course. I'm your big brother after all, in case you forgot about it."

In moments like this, it was a rare scene between him and Lucifer. They usually argue and sometimes making each other's day stressful. But, just them eldest brothers, talking and sharing random topics— Mammon cherished this.

And behind that frown the eldest always wears, Lucifer could say the same too. He loved calm moments like this.

"But ain't Michael my first big brother?" Mammon teased. Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Silence, you have no elder brother other than me. Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor, you all are my baby brothers." And when Lucifer realized what he said, he quickly replaced the topic. "And eat the dessert I ordered for you."

Mammon's eyes turned into stars immediately when he recognized the smell, "Woah, no way?! How did you know this was my favorite?!!! This desert is expensive! Big bro! You do love me."

Then they chatted, random topics or something concerning about their home that needs fixing. Nevertheless, the atmosphere around them is comforting and warming. After a while, they had finished eating, and the moon was already out. Both agreed to go home.

"We should invite the others here too!" Mammon stated as he breathed the cold wind that passed by them.

"Yes, that would be a pleasant bonding time. Just don't be too chaotic, please. It's hard to handle all six of you."

It was a great day, Mammon thought to himself. It was entertaining and soothing to talk with his big brother without insults nor orders. Lucifer treated him today; it was— nostalgic for Mammon. It's like he doesn't want this kind of treatment to end. But of course, as the little mischief, as he is, he asked one more request.

"Lucifer!" Mammon rolled the letter r, a bit of a whining tone. "It's night, and I'm tired, yah know? Can I request a piggyback ride?" He knows Lucifer will reject it immediately. So it wasn't like he meant it, already hoping for the worst.

But then Lucifer looked at him, a contemplating expression, before getting down on one knee.

"Alright, just this once. Hurry up before I regret my decision."

Mammon's eyes were wide; he smirked before quickly hugging Lucifer from behind. He felt himself getting lifted off, and it reminded him of the old times, back in the Celestial Realm.

Lucifer doesn't mind; he also missed this. But not like he's going to say this out loud.

I should start spending time with my little brothers whenever I'm free. That would be nice.

[bucky-at-bedtime]

Stucky Fic Recs

So basically I went through all of my ao3 bookmarks and collated a list of some of my favourites (I couldn't fit all of them on this list, so if anyone shows interest there might be a part two).

Please read tags and descriptions of the works before reading, some of them are pretty dark or extremely horny so just make sure you check that the fic is for you!!

Please please please send me your favourite fics in return! I am always happy to hear fic recs, headcanons and any other ideas/comments you all have!

Without any further ado, here are a few of my favourite Stucky fics:

‘Not Easily Conquered’ series by dropdeaddream, WhatAreFear

Rating: M, Words: 117,692

https://archiveofourown.org/series/115516

“I told you, you heard me: I told you never to follow me into Hell. Now I’m not vain enough to think that’s why you’re out here now — if there’s any person in what’s left of this God forsaken planet who’s part of a bigger picture, it’d be you. But I’ll keep saying it until it sticks. You got nothing to prove. I’m not worth much, I damn well know that, but I’ll ask you anyway: Stay for me. If you leave me alone in this world I’ll turn into something terrible. I’ll turn into the nasty creature that’s growing inside me. This war, it’ll swallow me whole”

[To me, this fic is like the classic Stucky 101 fanfic – if you're a Stucky fan and you haven't read this, I highly recommend it. The authors explore the Steve/Bucky relationship in such an interesting, tragic, emotive way and I cry every time I read it. I couldn't praise this work enough.]

‘Ain’t No Grave’ series by spitandvinegar

Rating: M-E, Words: 131,789

https://archiveofourown.org/series/426577

"Yeah, he never calls me by my name," Steve says. "It's always champ, ace, hotshot, that kinda thing."

"Man, that is flirting," Sam says. "That nicknames thing, he is flirting with you. He's just working his way up to calling you baby or something."

Steve goes redder than a damn coke can. Sam pumps his fist. "Yes, I am so right, I am wise as hell. He did, didn't he?"

"He called me sweetheart," Steve says grimly, "because he's a drug addict with brain damage."

"Or because he looooooves you," Sam says. Captain America throws a cookie at his head. Sam eats it, because he deserves a treat for being so damn wise.”

[I'm currently re-reading this fic and absolutely loving it. The way spitandvinegar writes Bucky's road towards recovery and Steve's entire characterisation – it's all just so good. It's another one that covers some pretty dark themes, so make sure you're checkin those tags!]

'Einherjar' by thecommodore_squid

Rating: M, Words: 71297

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7157024/chapters/16249814

But Steve was fine.

Sure, he hadn’t seen Bucky in months, and sometimes he was at the punching bag so long that his skin started to peel off to expose the bones of his fingers, and sometimes he couldn’t find the energy to drag himself out of bed, and sometimes he went weeks without sleeping, and sometimes he thought about throwing himself head-first off the nearest tall structure, but he was fine.

He was absolutely, perfectly, one-hundred percent, fucking fine.

AKA In which Steve learns how to deal with his shit, and Bucky learns how to stop leaving.

[basically the definition of a recovery fic, I absolutely adore it. This is tragic and amazing and makes me cry and smile. It’s got a bunch of fantastic cameos and It really just ticks so many of my boxes.]

‘Like real People do’ by 2bestfriends

Rating: E, Words: 67,775

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887376/chapters/47103217

“"Ask me what?" demands Bucky. "I didn't hear a question."

Steve licks his lips. "Will you stay with me? Will you come back home, Buck?"

"Home," repeats Bucky in a small voice, and then he's crying for real.”

[Basically soft lumberjack!steve and lonely twink!bucky being horny and in love. This is a comfort fic for that’s really just about my favourite boys falling in love.]

‘This City Bleeds it’s Aching Heart’ by anonymous

Rating: E, Words: 34,537

https://archiveofourown.org/works/835829/chapters/1591736

“The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.”

[The plot in this one is just a good time and i think it’s just a really fun take on the fake relationship trope. Also some really great characterisation.]

‘Home is Wherever I’m With You’ by cydonic

Rating: E, Words: 88,570

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868081/chapters/44783077

“Bucky kisses Steve and Emma goodbye before they leave for school, which is why – partway down the road – Amelia turns to him and asks, “why are you and Daddy kissing?”

Which is definitely a conversation Bucky’s been expecting since Steve just did it, but it still takes him by surprise. Again, he thinks he should wait for Steve, but Amelia’s not the sort of kid to let anything rest. Plus, Bucky’s taking her to school where she will undoubtedly share the story with anyone who’ll listen.

He also stops to think that Steve’s asked him to stay, which means Bucky must be trusted with their happiness and well-being, at least in some small capacity.

Bucky clears his throat and searches for some explanation that will help Amelia make sense of this sudden turn of events. “Because we love each other,” is all he comes up with.”

[Bear with me, this is a House Flipper!Bucky Au. And dad!Steve. I just love a found family trope I’m not gonna lie to you. Another comfort fic that warms my lil heart.]

‘Lucky Seven’ by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves)

Rating: E, Words: 94,364

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7033105/chapters/16002481

“Back from where--?” James says, the sentence ending in a distinctly undignified squawk as Steve sweeps him up in his arms, bridal-style, and starts carrying him upstairs.

James tenses momentarily then relaxes into Steve's arms and throws back his head and starts laughing. The laughter peals out of him, his body shaking, his amusement occasionally broken by little gasps of pain.

“What's so funny?” Steve frowns.

“You are,” James says, still giggling. “You're ridiculous, Steve Rogers.”

“Behave. Or I will drop you,” Steve growls.

[The shrunkyclunks modern AU of my dreams featuring Mechanic!Bucky and cap!Steve and some really beautiful writing.]

'Dishonor On Your Cow' by mandarou

Rating: E, Words: 111695

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659162/chapters/23589582

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Oh, hell no, don’t call him that, man,” Sam warned.

“Captain Fuck Off!” Barnes shouted over him. “Fight me!”

Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or just slink away. He managed to combine the two by pacing two steps and snorting instead. Like a bull.

“I’m gonna need you to calm your ass, Barnes,” Sam said as he went limp again, obstructing Barnes’s struggling under him. “This is so undignified. That is Captain goddamn America.”

“Captain goddamn America!” Barnes repeated, louder. And angrier.

Steve cleared his throat again. “I’ve been looking for you,” he told Barnes.

“I hope you brought lube this time!” Barnes shouted.

[I’m not gonna lie it took me a minute to get into this one but by the end I was crying with them, laughing with them, and just really in my feels. Some very insane things happen so here’s a few of my favourite tags: ‘Seargent Barnes is done with your Shit Steve’, ‘blatant disrespect of a man’s motorcycle’, ‘Steve you ding dong’ and ‘PR nightmares in the form of Supersoldiers’.]

Propietary Information by Notlucy

Rating: E, Words: 85141

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964402/chapters/27054777

“Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.”

[We were never gonna get through this list without a Sugar Daddy!AU (I have a weakness). This one is… saucy and sexy and sweet and uh pretty kinky so read the tags and all. I’ve read it a few times, and I love the way the author has written Steve in this one, he just makes my heart go '!!!']

‘Roots Have Grown’ by AustinB

Rating: M, Words: 17280

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912451/chapters/15767941

“Bucky is a mildly agoraphobic veteran with funds to spare, who becomes enamored with the cute blonde guy in his building.

So when Steve mentions needing a roommate to cut down on rent costs, Bucky decides it would be a good idea to volunteer.”

[Another weakness of mine is Roommate AUs, and this one is phenomenal. I tend to go for post serum!Steve stories more often, but this is a pre-serum Steve that I just adore.]

‘The Cold Never Bothered me Anyway’ by icoulddothisallday

Rating: E, Words:75562

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728869/chapters/26425530

“Bucky Barnes has spent his whole life in a state of mild hypothermia. Steve Rogers has spent the last 70 years in the ice. The two things aren’t related until, suddenly, they are. Shrunkyclunks soulmate AU (AKA the awkward bb au).”

[I think this is the only soulmate AU in my bookmarks? I would totally be down to read more though! This one is really fun and really enjoy Bucky’s characterisation here!]

'War, Children' by Nonymos

Rating: E, Words: 106615

https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373050/chapters/12409394

“After Bucky was released from the hospital, it only took him a couple of weeks to give up on himself. Difficult to believe in any kind of future when the simple act of staying alive was almost too big an effort.

Out the frosted window, across the street, there was a tiny homeless guy burrowing under an awning.”

[An interesting exploration of Bucky’s PTSD with a trans!Steve which was a cool take on his character too!]

'The Company You Keep' by orbingarrow

Rating: G, Words: 51191

https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468605/chapters/7613072

“Hurt, hungry, and on the run, the Winter Soldier doesn’t have a lot of safe options to go to for help. Figuring that any friend of Captain Steve Rogers is unlikely to be HYDRA, Bucky takes a chance and reaches out to the first Avenger he can find.

It works out better than anyone could have expected. Eventually.”

[hurt/comfort, recovering Bucky, protective Steve, found family and domestic avengers, need I say more? I absolutely loved this one]

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Want You Bad ~ S.S. (part 6)

A/n: I would like to say now that I have only seen season three and am about mid season four, so when I say I no literally no other Warbler names except Sebastian and Hunter, I meant it. Big apologies for that one. Also, PLEASE read the warnings for this part, I used it for some major catharsis in my own life so it leans a bit triggering. I was going to make this drag on longer and make you hate Tony even more, but I got upset writing it so! I skipped a lot lol.

Warnings: Major transphobia. Mentions of past abuse (gaslighting, some serious manipulation). Trauma reaction (slight isolation, crying). Creepers being creepy. That should be it. If I missed anything, please let me know!

Word Count: 5100+

MASTERLIST

A month passed, and things seemed to die down. The Warblers got used to the new system, and embraced it with an enthusiasm that made Y/n genuinely very excited. He watched Warbler after Warbler form new friendships, and grab the spotlight for the first time. He saw talent that they’d been ignoring for too long, and suddenly everyone seemed higher energy. They trusted each other more, leaned on each other more. There were more people stepping up for leading parts, and before long they weren’t just a bunch of boys with one person in front of them all. They were a group. A mass. They were the Warblers. A united force.

Y/n had never loved the Warblers more, and it felt amazing to be a part of that.

Sebastian seemed to be reveling in it too, except all of his admiration for the Warblers was turned directly to Y/n. He was constantly praising Y/n’s ideas, and from what he’d heard, even went off to other people about how awesome and talented Y/n was. In person, he still flirted, but it felt different now. More like that game he always played with Blaine when they’d first met. Y/n didn’t think that Sebastian had lost interest, he was just being respectful of Y/n’s boundaries and giving him space. They actually became friends. It was nice.

Sebastian was less than enthused about the whole friends thing, but what was one to do?

The next time things hit the fan, it wasn’t Sebastian’s fault, which was a bit of a surprise to everybody. He lasted a little over a month, and before he could go any longer, drama created itself… in the form of one of Y/n’s worst nightmares.

It started when Y/n opened the door to go into the Warbler room and there were already loud, excited discussions going on. He smiled, closing the door behind him. “What’s going on here?”

All eyes turned to Y/n, each paired with a brilliant smile. Even Sebastian was there, stepping forward to explain as the group parted, revealing what everyone was so excited about. Dread hit Y/n in the face like a train and his smile dropped immediately, his body freezing right before he’d taken another step. Seeing Y/n’s reaction, Sebastian hesitated, leaving room for the person they’d all been excited to see to speak instead. “Oh my god,” the man cooed as he made his way toward Y/n, slow and precise. “If it isn’t-”

“What are you doing here?” Y/n asked. His voice was dangerous and tight. All of the other boys seemed to pick up on the way he looked at the man then, and looked at Sebastian for answers, who only looked back with equal confusion.

The man chuckled. “Aw, don’t be so cranky, Y/n.” The name sounded wrong in his mouth. Y/n took a step back, trying to get away from him. “Is that anyway to treat an old friend?”

Ethan stepped forward, his face full of worry. “What’s the matter, Y/n?”

Y/n swallowed. “Tony.” He almost choked on the name. “Uh- he-” He cleared his throat. “We were friends, in middle school.”

Tony smiled wider, moving to Y/n’s side and slinging an arm around his shoulder. Y/n felt sick to his stomach. “Y/n and I go way back. He’s two years younger than me, so I moved on to high school a bit before he did. I came here, to Dalton. I thought you went to McKinley though.”

Y/n looked at the floor. It was a one eighty from how he usually was. His confidence had grown, and he’d really found himself in the Warblers. Now he looked like he’d become a snail hiding in its shell. It was so weird, compared to the leader he’d become, that Sebastian and Ethan both looked at each other, recognizing a fierce protectiveness in the others’ gaze.

Sebastian was the one who spoke this time. “He transferred a while ago. We’ve gotten leagues better since he joined. I’m pretty sure next year we’re gonna win.” He smiled at Y/n, who seemed to be slightly relieved that someone answered for him.

Tony only chuckled though. “So you guys lost last year and again this year huh?” Sebastian swallowed. “You know, when I was here we won every single year. I mean, we at least made it to finals.”

“Yeah you’re kind of a legend at Dalton,” Ethan began. “Came here at fourteen and quickly skipped two grades, joining the Warblers as a junior. Bringing us victories in everything we participated in for two straight years. You were the one who started the tradition of one person leading and everyone else backing up.”

Tony shrugged, proud of himself. “I proved my theory that the strongest deserved to be at the front. Everyone else does their job to make the best look even better, and then you win. It seems that not long after I left though, your standards… fell.” He looked at Y/n then and everyone in the room bristled, bothered that someone they’d all come to adore was being talked to like that.

Sebastian was the first move. He stepped over, tugging Tony’s arm off of Y/n’s shoulder, pulling Y/n by his waist into Sebastian’s side. Tony raised an eyebrow and Y/n looked over, surprised. He was being… possessive. And it was completely unsure if it was in a protective way, or because Tony had a look in his eye that Y/n was some sort of… meal. “If you’re so sure we’ve gotten worse, why don’t you stick around and see us perform?”

That made Tony smile. “I would love to. How about I come by tomorrow again and-”

“No, please,” Ethan interrupted. “Give us a song. Anything you want. The best talent is shown when you least expect it. Giving us time only lets us overthink it. After all, what could be good enough for a legend? You can’t put pressure on us like that.” It was a sweet attempt to end this as quickly as possible, but even though Tony saw right through it, Y/n appreciated it anyway.

For a moment, Tony grew quiet, letting his mind wander as he considered. Y/n already knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth though. “Have you guys ever heard Closer by Nick Jonas?” Everyone looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed.

Y/n sighed. “I have.”

“Excellent!” Tony practically sang. “You know… I miss the good old days. Why don’t we perform it together for old times sake, since your friends don’t know it?”

Everyone hesitated, knowing that this was a tough situation for Y/n, but knowing that the challenge in Tony’s eyes meant that he won if Y/n backed down. So he didn’t, because Y/n was tired of watching Tony win, and he was even more tired of feeling lost in front of this man. He took some control back and stood straight, forcing a smile on his face. “If you think you can keep up with me.”

The challenge made Tony swell. “I’ve never failed before.”

They moved from the room into the auditorium, allowing for more space for the performance, as well as allowing the other Warblers to take a seat. Y/n allowed himself to focus on his blazer, and how it had become a part of him. Something that made him feel stronger. More masculine and attractive. More powerful. Now he leaned on it to boost him, and it did. Not because of the thing itself, but because of what it represented. It felt like all of his friends were behind him, even if they were all sitting down to watch. He wasn’t alone.

Lucky them, the band kids were still in the room, wrapping up for after school stuff. Y/n approached them. He asked if they would pitch in a bit of help, and they were eager to stay and watch the show down, as well as participate in a legendary Warbler showdown. The music started, and Y/n and Tony faced each other on the opposite sides of the stage. Tony motioned for Y/n to go first, so he did.

“Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn I'm so perplexed with just one breath, I'm locked in. Oh damn, oh damn, oh damn I'm so perplexed on that, it's almost shocking. I know, I know you know you're scared; your heart, your mind, your soul, your body. They won't, they won't, they won't be careful, but I guess that you don't know me.”

The song was more than just suggestive, with Tony’s smirk growing as Y/n moved closer to him, them circling each other, eyes locked. For a terrifying moment, it was like Y/n was thirteen again, saying goodbye to Tony, his heart shattered and his body aching. When Tony reached out and touched him, Y/n felt a shiver go through him. It was a dark version of how Sebastian had been when they’d first met, getting off on Y/n’s reaction, even if it was disgust that crossed his face instead of admiration and yearning.

“Cause if I want you, and I want you, babe. Ain't going backwards, won't ask for space. Cause space was just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get too…” He moved closer to Tony again, but this time it was anger in his eyes, and a hate so genuine that it paled in comparison to anything he’d ever shown Sebastian. Any way he’d ever looked at Blaine. Any glare he’d ever shot at Rachel. Nothing he’d ever looked like before was even remotely similar to this.

Tony joined him, and it was a game of cat and mouse as Tony tried to get closer, and Y/n was suddenly set on dancing out of his reach. “Close! Oh, so close. I want you close, cause space was just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get close. Oh, so close. I want you close. Oh, I want you close, and close ain't close enough, no-” Their voices matched beautifully, and the second Y/n hesitated Tony closed in, his hand tracing across Y/n’s shoulders, behind him and down his arm. Y/n flinched, and Sebastian felt his hands curl around his arm rests.

“Oh man, oh man I am not really known for ever being speechless,” Tony picked up on his own as the second verse started. “But now, but now somehow my words roll off my tongue right onto your lips, oh. I'm keeping cool while you keep smiling saying all the things I'm thinking. Oh man, oh man I am like you so I want proof I'm what you're feeling.”

Immediately Y/n thought of himself demanding Sebastian prove himself. He thought of how unsure they’d been, and how much they’d changed in dynamic but not in relationship. They still both yearned, and Y/n allowed nothing to happen. It was so oddly similar to how he and Tony had been all those years ago, as much as Y/n didn’t want to admit it. Back then, Tony had asked Y/n to change too...

“Cause if I want you, and I want you, babe, ain't going backwards, won't ask for space. Cause space was just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get too…” Tony’s breath hit Y/n’s neck and he found himself recoiling, stepping forward to get away from it. Tony chuckled, smirking as they faced each other again, but on opposite sides of the stage as where they’d started.

“Close. Oh, so close. I want you close. Cause space was just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get close. Oh, so close. I want you close. Oh, I want you close, and close ain't close enough, no,” they harmonized again.

They were inches away as Y/n tried to stay strong as he sang, “Cause if I want you, and I want you, babe. Ain't going backwards, won't ask for space-”

Tony came in again with, “Cause space was just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get too... close. Close. Oh, so close. I want you close. Cause space was just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get close. Oh, so close. I want you close. Oh, I want you close, and close ain't close enough, no-”

They moved around each other again, but this time they were within touching distance, their eyes locked and waves of the bitterest tension between them. Y/n felt himself wearing thin at every word he said. At every plea he had said back then. At every sign of love he’d once felt. This song begged them to wound together, when all Y/n wanted was to run away. Tony knew every bit of how Y/n was feeling right now, and was using it against him.

“Oh, I want you close, and close ain’t close enough, no.”

It ended with Tony pulling Y/n into a kiss. One that he pushed away from, wiping his lips and blinking away tears. Tony was grinning. “You said you wanted to be close right?”

Y/n’s head filled with a million memories and suddenly he was crying. He turned and ran, booking it as far and as fast as he could out of that room. Of all places, he found himself back in the famous piano room, moving as far away from the door as he could. He closed it behind him, sitting on the ground on the wrong side of the piano. Anyone who looked in wouldn’t see him without going to the other side of the piano, and he hoped it was enough to find comfort in this place without anyone finding him.

He lay on his back, looking at the ceiling. Sort of. He used his arm to cover his soft crying as he stared at a watery blob he assumed was the ceiling. He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, but he ignored it, instead using it as a way to anchor himself. He managed to fight off a panic attack, so at least there was that. He could breathe evenly again before the calls and texts stopped coming in. He took the chance to listen to “Motion Sickness” by Phoebe Bridgers. It was one he could never bring himself to sing, even if it was a perfectly fitting song for how he felt when it came to Tony.

He lay there listening to that song on repeat for what must have been an hour. It was nice. The song, though sad, was also calming, and Y/n let himself melt into the floor. For a moment he didn’t have to be on top of things. He didn’t have to be productive. But then his alarm for work went off and he picked himself up, heading to his room and changing out of his Warbler uniform and into something more comfortable. He cleaned his face, ignoring the slight redness that clung to his skin. When he got to work, he was a little late but the librarian just waved at him. He was never late, so she looked a little worried, but was also easy to forgive the slip up.

The rest of the day he spent in the back, doing paperwork and putting labels on some new books they’d gotten in the library. There were a few late books out there so he sent some emails. It was during that when Mrs. Henley, the librarian, came to the back. “Y/n?” He looked up. “Someone’s here to see you.” He felt that dread return. Tony was the one who had gotten Y/n the library job. If he was here again… Y/n was going to lose it.

Y/n went anyway, bracing himself for the worst. To his surprise, it was Sebastian instead. He was dressed down again, worry all over his face. “Hi,” Y/n said, confusion in his tone.

Sebastian seemed to let out a breath of relief. “God you scared the hell out of me Y/n. You okay? You didn’t answer any of our calls or texts, and I couldn’t find you anywhere. You weren’t in your room or the Warbler room or with any of your friends. When I called all of them they seemed surprised at first, but then… Where did you go?”

Despite his lack of energy, Y/n still had the ability to feel embarrassed. His face warmed a little and he looked away, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, I was in that piano room. The one we first sang in.”

The expression on Sebastian’s face melted, softening. Y/n could have said that he was in there to use the piano, but he hadn’t. He’d gone there because it reminded Y/n of Sebastian, and he took comfort in the taller Warbler. He hadn’t thought about trying to seem lower key, or hiding why he had gone there and not to his room or his friends. He hadn’t even considered it. He hadn’t thought of running to Ethan. He had gone to the one place he could be alone while also feeling close to Sebastian, and he had done it in his most honest moment. At his most desperate.

Y/n cleared his throat and Sebastian remembered why he was here. “Are you okay?”

A shrug was all Sebastian got at first, but with a raised eyebrow and a prodding stare, Y/n gave more. “Not really.”

For a moment, Sebastian hesitated. Then whatever held him back seemed to lift just enough for him to carefully ask, “What happened between you two?”

Immediately, Y/n’s shoulders dropped. “I…” He closed his eyes. Then he sighed and opened them again. “I knew him before I transitioned. Back when I was still questioning who I was, and who I wanted to be. I knew him when I was in a very fragile place in my life, and he took advantage of that. I was easy to manipulate, and fun to manipulate at that. I fell in love with him - in puppy love really, I was like twelve. The point is, I was willing to do just about anything to please him. And, well he’s straight, so he told me to-” He cut off, his arms crossing over his chest as he gripped his upper arms like he was clinging to himself.

Reminding himself he was here and not back then, Sebastian realized.

And that’s when it clicked.

A terrible feeling wound through Sebastian and he actually took a step back in shock. “Please tell me he didn’t tell you to not transition to be with him.”

Y/n closed his eyes, head tilting away as if to hide from it. “And then I did it. I threw away everything I needed to feel comfortable, to feel myself. It was like- like Blaine not wearing hair gel.” He tried to laugh, but there was a grimness in Sebastian’s face. They both knew how viscerally uncomfortable Blaine felt without hair gel. It was a good comparison.

“I…” Sebastian moved closer, slowly reaching out to touch Y/n. Both boys hesitated, but then Y/n leaned into it, and Sebastian immediately hugged him. His head raced with all of the things that had happened between them. The way Sebastian had used him for attention, and been so hot and cold. He thought about comments he thought would have no effect on Y/n, but of course they did because… because… He leaned away from Y/n, his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Do I remind you of him?”

Y/n winced. “You… did, at first. The mind games and the teasing and just in general being a complete idiot.” He tried to laugh again but it died in his throat at the expression on Sebastian’s face. Y/n just shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve only known one person who didn’t care what length he had to go to in order to get what he wants. So… yeah. But when I came to you about gender stuff, you didn’t gaslight me or anything, you owned up to it and immediately changed. You were so stunned I would ever think you didn’t respect my identity, because you did. You do. You respect me, and you- you care about me-” He swallowed. “In your own way.” At that, Sebastian did muster a small smile.

“You’re getting all sappy on me,” Sebastian joked weakly. “I’m not prince charming.”

Y/n chuckled, more genuine this time. “You wanna fuck me so bad.” At that, the tension eased and they both laughed. “You know what, I moved past that. I broke up with him and did what I needed to accept who I am, and I’m proud of that person. I’m a bit of a mess and a little broken, but that’s life you know? It’s in the past.”

Sebastian nodded. “You’re safe now. Ethan and I aren’t going to let anything happen to you. None of the Warblers will. You’re one of us. That’s never going away.”

The smile on Y/n’s face strengthened. “Thanks, Bas.”

“Anytime.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Y/n’s forehead, then leaned back. Y/n seemed to melt at the touch, warming up and relaxing a lot. It made Sebastian feel… soft. It was weird, but not in a bad way. “You get back to work. I’m sure they need you and your many talents.” He winked and Y/n groaned before they exchanged farewells and Y/n indeed set off. Sebastian waved once before turning around and walking out of the library. The second he was out of sight, his smile dropped and a dark expression crossed his face. He pulled out his phone, calling Ethan. When the boy answered, Sebastian didn’t wait for a greeting. “We need to talk. It’s about Y/n and Tony.”

-

“Why are your little friends terrorizing me?”

Y/n turned around, guard raising as he saw Tony come into the room. Warbler practice was about to start, but as school hadn’t ended yet, Y/n had been using the room to set up. Mostly to clear his mind. His last class was English and he’d gotten ahead on the reading for this exact reason. The fact that Tony of all people was ruining his alone time was annoying as all hell. It was perhaps why his words came out far sharper than he intended when he bit out, “What are you talking about?”

Tony scoffed. “Your captain told me to stay away from you or else. Whatever that means with his seventeen year old rich white boy attitude.”

For a second Y/n thought about ignoring him, but then he just shook his head. “I told him about what happened between us.” Tony scoffed but Y/n held up a finger. “Listen Tony, I know that it happened a while ago, and you were young, okay cool. Well it ruined my life, and you never recognized that or even apologized for it. And that’s because you don’t care. Am I wrong?”

“Y/n, you’re not a boy. And that- that name is-”

Suddenly Y/n was dangerously close. “You can come into my school and show off like the narcissist you are. You can walk into my Warbler room, MINE. Not yours, not anymore. It’s mine and it’s Ethan’s and it’s Sebastian’s and all of the other Warblers’. You may live on in history, but I’ll always know the real you. The you you hide so well. You’re a monster.”

Tony scoffed. “Well don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel. Please.”

So Y/n did, the only way he knew how to.

“Honey, I'm telling the truth: I did something terrible in my early youth. My mind went blank, I lost control. I was just a little boy, I did not know.” The words were mocking, mimicking all the excuses and reasons Tony had given Y/n a million times. Excuses he knew now were lies. Just manipulation in the hands of a child who had too much power and too much cruelty in him to refrain from abusing it. The next line Y/n sang with a power that made Tony feel… uncomfortable. “I better let you go to find the prince you thought you found in me. I better set you free and give you up. Just wave and say goodbye and let you live without a monster like me.” They were words that Y/n had wished a million times to hear. An apology.

Pain emanated from Y/n. So much that Tony… hesitated. And then he cut in, joining in this little dance Y/n was trying to do alone, because what else was one like him to do but try and regain control? “Honey, what am I to you? I have pulled the trigger on this awful truth. Oh, hold me now 'cause I'm burning up. Sing me something beautiful, just make it stop.” His words were a little mocking too, and it only fueled Y/n’s fire.

They didn’t dance, and there was no music to back them up. It was still and raw and they both felt every second of it. Their voices melted together, and it hurt. “I better let you go to find the prince you thought you found in me. I better set you free and give you up. Just wave and say goodbye and let you live, without a monster like me.”

Y/n sang it with such ferocity, such accusation, that for a second Tony seemed to regret it. It had been years ago, and he’d tried not to think about it, but they’d both been holding onto that. That rush of power, for Tony. That crippling desperation that had almost consumed Y/n. And for once, Tony didn’t see power when he looked at Y/n. He didn’t see a fun time. An easy target. He saw someone he’d really hurt. Someone who had come back stronger. And it made him step back. Step away. Try and hide.

But Y/n wasn’t hiding. Not anymore.

“Just go to find the prince you thought you found. I better set you free and give you up. Just wave and say goodbye and let you live without a monster like me,” they both sang, Y/n’s voice strong and Tony’s voice softer. He seemed to be turning more genuine, more awkward. But Y/n didn’t revel in power or glory. He just seemed to hurt for the both of them, and Tony hated it even more. “To find the prince you thought you found in me. I better set you free and give you up. Just wave and say goodbye and let you live without a monster like me. To find the prince you thought you found in me. I better set you free and give you up Just wave and say goodbye and let you live without a monster like me-”

Y/n went silent, allowing Tony to end the song alone as the last line rang out, perfectly clear: “Without a monster like me.”

The words rang true, and Tony scoffed to cover it up. “You got your victim story line. You happy?”

That actually made Y/n laugh. “No Tony, I HAD my victim story. But not anymore. Not ever, ever again.” He stood tall. Unbreakable. Unwavering.

Someone cleared their throat and the pair of men looked over to see Ethan, who stood with all of the other Warblers behind him. “I think that’s your cue, Tony. Get out. And don’t come back. We don’t want anything to do with you, and neither will any future Warblers. I can promise that your legend here is ruined. Move on, you have nothing left here.”

“You can’t just-” Tony began to stutter.

Sebastian cut in, “Actually we can. We told the faculty that you were harassing one of the students, and they said that if we were to see you around again, we were to alert them immediately. Rumors spread and I don’t know exactly what they thought you were doing, but it’ll stay here forever. You’re not a hero anymore.” He smirked. “THAT is what I meant when I said or else. In case you were wondering.”

For a moment Tony seemed to be speechless, but then he just gave Y/n one last look - a look which got one in return; one empty of remorse or forgiveness - and then fixed his shirt and his hair before giving a grunted, “Whatever.” Then he was gone, his shoulder catching Sebastian’s on the way out. That wasn’t Tony’s fault though.

With the room empty of anyone other than the true Warblers, everyone relaxed.

“Well that was-” Sebastian was cut off as Y/n moved quickly to him, grabbing him by his blazer and pulling him into a heated kiss. The Warblers all broke out in uproarious applause and cheers and whoops and hollers, and the two boys grinned as they parted after relishing in their moment. Their first kiss that had felt real and genuine. No pressure or weirdness or tension that snapped. Just Sebastian and Y/n and a kiss full of meaning, all of it something to be proud of.

Sebastian’s arms fell around Y/n as they began to pull back, both a little red in the face. “Are you free on Friday?” Y/n asked, far more red than the other.

“For you?” Sebastian pretended to think, but when Y/n hit his arm he just laughed and admitted, “Yeah. Always.”

Y/n stepped back fully. “Cool.” He cleared his throat, but his grin didn’t drop even a millimeter as he turned to the board, motioning to the picked topic of this week. “So, now that that’s all settled. Anyone got anything prepared for this week?” The other Warblers tried to let it continue, settling on their win. Their otp had gotten together, and Tony had been put more than just in his place. Y/n needed some air, and they were more than happy to give it.

That rehearsal was their best yet, more powered with celebration than any of them had ever been. It was amazing, and for once they felt like more than a show choir group, or just friends. They felt like a proper family. Nothing could ruin that - not even school the next day.

-

Taglist: @starjane312

[velvetmel0n]

No More Than a Name For Yearning

Summary: It’s a late night at the office when the tension becomes too much.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.5k+

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, a threesome (tag teaming?? idk man they take turns), Javier and Carrillo being competitive? penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, egregious use of italics and em dashes, exhibitionism and voyeurism? little bit of dom!Carrillo, Javier smoking as per usual, mutual pining, angst 

A/N: let’s hope I didn’t overhype this lmao. Special thanks to @tintinwrites and her knowledge of musicals for the title💕

@damerondjarin @mandoplease @tintinwrites @poeticandors @darksideofclarke @futzingorchids @pascalplease @glowingpena @ollypopp @yougottakeeponkeepinon @bisexual-space-slut @agentpike @mylifeliterally @pedropasscals @huliabitch @winters-buck @hystericalmedicine @watsonwise @1zashreena1 @chelsfic @halfwaythereroyal @leahsafae @qveenbvtch @maxlordd @acomplicatedprofession @bobafvtt @propertyofdindjarin @milleniumvalcon @the-bird-suit @girlpornparadise @okay-murdocks @slfreya @aellynera @duamuteffe @ah-callie @bookshelvesandteacups @woakiees @himbopoes @shadow-assassin-blix @thedevilwearsvibranium @littleferal @veuliee2 @mserynlarsen @lesqui @softpedropascal @writefightandflightclub @catfishingmorales​

“I’m done.” Steve’s voice, all Southern hospitality and exhaustion, breaks you out of the haze you’re in and have been in for the last two hours, English and Spanish swimming before your eyes and you smile up at him reflexively, grateful for the distraction, however small it is. It had been a bad day for everyone, bad intel and a bad raid and now you’re stuck shifting through mountains of files, looking for where you went wrong and the next plan of attack. “Do you want a ride?”

“I’m good, I want to work on this a bit more,” You say confidently, trying for a tone and an expression that says ‘I’m staying because I want to finish this, not because I don’t want to be alone yet’ while his blonde eyebrows knit together high on his forehead. Your smile doesn’t crack under the weight of the energy he’s putting out, brotherly and almost concerned as his eyes flick towards the only other people in the office with you; Javier and Carrillo. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” You snort when Javier waggles his eyebrows dramatically at you over a stack of his own files to go through. “Javi’ll take me home,” You say because he will. You don’t have a car, having wanted to save money and not fully grasping the inherent dangers of being a DEA agent who relies on public transport in the middle of Escobar’s territory before you had moved here. 

You’d started saving the second week of living in Colombia, but somewhere along the way it had become less of a pressing issue and more of an afterthought as you fell into the rhythm of jumping into Steve’s car as he swung by on his way into work or pounding on Javier’s door, just down the hall from your own with some sort of baked good in your hands as the customary bribe. 

“You sure?” He’s giving you another chance, another out, because it’s late and it’s hot and his nerves are probably still frayed just like everyone else’s who aren’t showing it and he no doubt thinks you need a break just as much as he does.

“I’m a big girl, Steve. I’ll be fine,” You turn a page, sending him the message that yes, you’re staying. You’ll wait Javier out, promising him some muffin or cookie you’d picked up from the store, crumbly and too sweet but he gobbles them down anyways.

“Oh—kay,” He drawls out, sounding unconvinced but he’s picking his jacket up from where it’s been laying on his desk. “You crazy kids don’t have too much fun now,” He digs his keys from his pocket as he walks out and the hollow slam of the door shutting behind him doesn’t shake anyone.

And it takes a moment for the gravity of what you’ve just done to sink into you, how you’ve just stranded yourself on a desert island of paperwork and intel. How you’re trapped between the two men you think about late at night when you’re alone and hungry, now hunched over one singular desk with them and your mouth goes dry.

Your skin prickles and some part of you thinks that this might be better; better than the stress of the day and the frustration that rises in your blood every time you have to ask one of them to translate for you because cartel slang isn’t taught in any class and at least Carrillo tells you. You’ll tilt the paper at him and point and he leans close, brows heavy over his sharp eyes and he’ll say it once in English, only once and his tone is equal parts exhaustion and frustration but it’s enough.

Javier is more of a bastard about it. The way he smirks every time you ask him for anything, smooth and suggestive and asking what you’ll do for him as payment and as much as it gets on your nerves you can’t help but rise to it, batting your eyelashes and threatening to do one thing or another which of course never fazes him. It helps soothe the more ragged edges of your nerves, falling back on the familiar rhythm of your friendship, the push and pull wrapping around your shoulders like a security blanket.

You both know that you’ll each fall apart in your own way as soon as goodnights have been said and your apartment doors have closed, but that’s a problem still hours away. It’s a problem you’ll deal with alone in your bed, hugging your pillow and wishing you had someone warm and solid sharing your bed because you could attach yourself to them somehow you think. Anchor your body to theirs, to reality, so you don’t float off into nightmares.

Carrillo seethes beside you, quiet and his mouth set in a hard line but you still find yourself wanting to reach out to him. It’s stupid but you want to reach out and smooth your hands over him, want to bleed the tension form his body because he carries too much of it and he can’t bury it under innuendos and harmless flirting like Javier can, like you’ve learned to. 

You think about it sometimes, what might happen if you acted on your desires with the Colonel. You know what will happen with Javier if you ever take him up on the offer, one that’s stood since your first week here. You’ll know that he’ll treat you right, that he’ll take you out of your head and take you apart piece by piece. Maybe he’ll even put you back together again and you can’t deny that you’ve been thinking about it more and more lately. 

But Carrillo is a puzzle and maybe that’s why you keep thinking about him as much as you do, maybe you want to take him apart just as much as you want Javier to do the same to you. You want to know what it’s like to have all that energy focused on you, intense and bordering on obsessive. All consuming. 

The next exhale is shaky and you realize you need to stop before you start staring at them, at the way Carrillo’s shoulders fill out his uniform or catch Javier’s profile out of the corner of your vision, the way his mouth twists with displeasure underneath his mustache. You need to stop before you start thinking about what that mustache will feel like against your skin or how tight Carrillo’s grip on you would be. 

You try to bury yourself back in the files and grainy photographs, trying to ignore the ache between your thighs and you realize that you were wrong, that this is worse.

The next hour passes in a haze, steeped in frustrations and stress and an insidious kind of tension, the air plucked taut like a bow string. You’ve untucked your blouse and have already undone the first button but you’re reaching for the next two barely ten minutes later and you don’t know if you’re overheated from the weather or the look you’d seen Javier give you when you reached for your collar the first time, thick eyes slid over to you and following the motions of your fingers. You think Carrillo might be watching you, too— see his head tilt from the corner of your eye, see his fingers still as they turn a page. You keep going, slipping the buttons from their closures and maybe you make more of a show than you should of opening your collar. Of fanning yourself and slipping your hand underneath your shirt to rub your shoulder.

No one says a word and you keep your eyes fixed on the ones in front of you, absently kneading your own shoulder as you wait for their eyes to slide away, for the moment to pass because it feels like it’s clogging your throat. 

“Need a hand?” Javier raises his eyebrows, points his chin at the one you have stuck up your shirt, your fingers squeezing at the knot that’s formed and you snort. It splinters the tension enough that you can breathe.

“In your dreams, Peña,” Because the last thing you need right now is for him to touch you, the rasp of his fingers over your smooth skin with Carrillo watching the entire thing, less than three feet away. Your stomach clenches at the thought, a traitorous thrill forcing its way up your spine and you dig just a little too far into the tendon and a noise slips from your lips. 

You expect Javier to call you out on it, on the way the sound just...flows out, low and keening but pitched up towards the end and you don’t breathe. You don’t know if anyone breathes because it’s like you’re the only three people awake right now. The only three people alive and the glow of the streetlights outside is pulsing and hazy as it slips through the cracks in the blinds and it’s making you feel like you’re in a fever dream, like suddenly all the consequences of bad decisions, of feeding the monster in your gut are going up in the smoke that bleeds from Javier’s cigarette.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t and neither does Carrillo and your breath shakes itself out of you, your fingers smoothing over the tendon you had just curled into and you have half a mind to go home, to try and call Javier off the hunt so you can curl up in your own bed and try to sleep off the stress and the heat, the thoughts that keep rising to the surface.

The sound of Carrillo yanking a drawer open drags you out of the daydream that’s trying to coalesce and you see him pull the bottle out; think that the frustration must be getting to him. You can’t blame him for it.

“I hope you’re planning on sharing, Carrillo,” 

Because there’s something to be said for warm alcohol and the way it burns the whole way down like it’s holding a grudge. You don’t know what it is— it’s something clear and biting that smells like window cleaner when Carrillo unscrews the cap and passes it to you, the bottle half drunk already and the thought is dim in the back of your mind that the Colonel himself must’ve done this dozens of times before, that your lips are wrapping around the very same rim as his must have as you swallow a mouthful and try your best not to grimace. Your lips tingle on contact and you know whatever it is it’s strong, probably enough to fuzz your better judgement.

You’re already passing it to Javier when you see him reaching for it, fingers hungry in the way they wrap around the bottle. He gulps, bares his teeth at the taste and holds it out to Carrillo who swallows a mouthful of what you suspect to actually be paint stripper without blinking. Rinse, repeat.

The alcohol loosens your tongues and before you know it Javier is cluing you in on the things that are said behind your back, when you’re not in the room. Warning you about a young agent who’s been making noise about asking you out, maybe getting you in bed and you can’t help it.

You chuckle and the words rise unbidden to your tongue, spurred on by a combination of alcohol and stress, of sleep deprivation and the oppressive heat. You don’t realize your mistake until a second after the words are out of your mouth and you can feel your stomach drop to the floor.

“I’d rather fuck you grumpy bastards,”

Because it’s just as much about the wording, how you said it as much as it’s about the fact that you said anything at all. You’d rather fuck them. Not either, not one of. You’d rather fuck them.

“What was that?” There’s a change in Javier’s voice, some new chord resonating in the air and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Carrillo drinks slowly from the bottle and you can see his throat working, his Adam’s apple bobbing and he’s looking at you with intent. It makes you want to squirm. 

“I— I just mean if I had to choose, between you and Miller I mean, I’d— I would choose you,” You fumble it and you know it. You’re not looking at either of them, eyes staring down at the files still on the desk because you feel warm and prickly all over, trying to keep your breathing even because you’re spiraling. You’re afraid; afraid of their reactions, if they’ll snort and reject you after all and afraid of what will happen if word gets out. The fear tangles with arousal in your gut, as exhilarating as it is confusing and no one is saying anything.

You see motion out of the corner of your eye, a large hand gripping the back of your neck a moment later and he almost pulls you out of the chair with his urgency to crash your lips against his own— Carrillo. You melt into the kiss, welcome his tongue into your mouth and you’re abundantly aware of the fact that Javier is just on the other side of you, that you’re being watched.

Your breathing shallows and it’s like you have a fever you’re so hot, drinking down every bit of attention that’s being lavished on you between Carrillo’s mouth on yours and Javier’s hands, sliding around your middle and squeezing your sides before you feel him crowding further into your personal space. It’s already verging on too much for you, too many things happening at once and not going to stop until you’re boiled down to a creature of lust and sensation and nothing else. 

Carrillo keeps one hand in your hair while he eats at your mouth, keeping you in place for him while his other drops to your thigh, palming it before he slides his hand down to your knee and holds, stopping you from creating any friction for yourself before you could even try. You whine and Javier’s even closer than before, covering your neck with kisses now and his mustache tickles enough to have you trying to recoil from it, chills sweeping throughout your body and his chuckle dark in your ears. 

Carrillo’s teeth drag over your bottom lip at the same time Javier starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, his hand deft and seeking as it slips underneath the fabric, his other mirroring Carrillo with the way it grips the meat of your thigh. You whine, trying to grasp Javier’s shirt in an effort to ground yourself or to pull him closer you aren’t entirely sure because all you know is their hands on you and the ache that’s burning you up inside, the taste of the alcohol on Carrillo’s tongue as it sweeps through your mouth. 

Your shirt flutters to the floor in a soft heap and Javier’s attention stays on your chest for what feels like ages, palming your breasts through your bra while Carrillo’s head dips, mouthing along your jawline and down your throat, and in that moment you want nothing more than to feel his teeth. To have him suck marks into the fragile skin that you can look at in the morning to make sure this isn’t some fever dream brought on by the heat and frustration because you feel like you’re being melted down between the two of them and reshaped into something new, something hungry and aching and empty.

A hand trails from your chest and down your stomach while teeth scrape along your neck, your shoulder, and you almost hold your breath when you feel the button of your jeans being fiddled with. A whine builds in your throat, a sharp sound undercutting it and sending a jolt through your body when the Colonel smacks Javier’s hand away before he could slip it inside your pants. Your eyes flutter open for the first time since this all started, just in time to see the way Carrillo’s jaw clenches, hostility or just plain competitiveness you can’t be sure belying the heat in his eyes as he glares at the other man.

It shouldn’t turn you on— you know it shouldn’t, having him snapping over you like that, like you’re a new favorite toy he’s loathe to hand over but you can’t deny the way you squirmed, either, heat curling in your gut at the thunderous look on his face. And then Javier is huffing and for one insane moment you’re afraid that he’s going to give up without a fight, that he’s going to stop.

But then he’s turning your head towards him, wrenching you away from Carrillo so your chest is pressed against his own and he can have his fill of your lips. His kiss is different from Carrillo’s— the bristles of his mustache tickle and it’s less like an onslaught but no less heated, his groan sinking right down into your bones.

Carrillo’s fingers make quick work of your jeans and you almost leap out of your skin at the first touch, thick fingers slipping underneath the band of your underwear and dragging through your soaked folds. 

You moan into Javier’s mouth, the sound ripped from the back of your throat and you hear one of them chuckle— self satisfied and almost mocking and you want to snap at them and call them names, want to regain the edge you maintain so carefully in this line of work but you can’t. You can’t because Javier’s teeth are scraping along your jawline now and his hand is working its way underneath your bra to start thumbing over your nipple, the edge of his nail against the sensitive skin making a chill skate through your body and Carrillo— he’s— he’s rolling the rough pads of his fingers over your clit, using enough pressure to make your thighs jerk and the insults wither on your tongue.

Then it’s your hands that are moving, unclenching from their shoulders to follow the lines of their torsos down, down, down and the scrape of chairs across the floor is loud and disjointed as they’re yanked closer. Half of you wants to take your time, to explore the both of them at your leisure and finally have your fill of each, to run your hands along their bodies and kiss each of their scars but the other half of you is louder. The other half of you is greedy. Impatient. 

You smooth your palms along the front of their pants, reveling in the feel of their cocks twitching through the fabric and how Javier’s breath hisses through his teeth, how Carrillo drops his head to your shoulder and squeezes the inside of your knee, his fingers stuttering against you. It’s heady, knowing that they both want you like this and holding evidence of their arousal in your hands and you can’t help but stroke them, biting down on a grin when a moan works itself from Carrillo’s chest. 

Javier recovers first and pulls you until your body is fully facing him, hunching over you with his fingers working at the closure of your bra, mouth trailing down your throat. Carrillo huffs behind you but he doesn’t pull you away, not yet. Instead he shifts closer, close enough for you to sag into the solid mass of his chest because his fingers are moving again, slipping lower and teasing your entrance, circling and only barely dipping the tip of one inside. At the same time Javier’s mouth is engulfing one of your nipples and sucking, teeth glancing off of it and you don’t know whose name to moan, writhing between the two of them and trying to get a grip on Javier’s hair. 

Your other hand is still over Carrillo’s cock and you squeeze, a whine bursting from your lips because of course the bastard was waiting for that, waiting for just the right moment to slide one of his thick fingers home while Javier laves across your chest, licking and sucking at your tender flesh. “Fuck,” Your voice is high and reedy and you feel like you can’t breathe. It’s the first word you’ve spoken during this entire thing, whatever it is, whatever it’s going to turn into, and you think you feel Carrillo’s lips pull into something sharp that might be a grin against your cheek when he starts to move.

The angle means the heel of his hand is bumping into your clit and his pace is a cruel thing; dark and twisting and somehow it’s too much and not enough all at once and your head is spinning from it. You hear him in your ear, speaking low and soft and his praises are clogging your throat. Encouragements, teasing when he asks you if you want more, can take more because he knows you can, that you want it because you’re good for him, aren’t you? For them?

And Javier is murmuring his agreements against the pillow of your breast, dragging his teeth along your nipple and you think if it’s possible for a human being to go up in flames you would right at this moment, trapped between the two of them with no buffer, with nowhere to go. 

“Need more already?” Javier’s voice is thick like honey, almost gloating as he picks his head up from your chest, taking in how it rises and falls in time with your rapid breaths, shining from his mouth underneath the fluorescent lights. His eyes drop lower and he can’t see you, not with Carrillo’s hand in the way and the thick denim of your jeans still biting into your thighs, but he can hear you, slick and obscene with little whimpers falling from your lips like you’re trying to stay quiet because you are. It’s not working, but you’re trying.

“Javi—” Your voice tilts up at the end, high and whining and you don’t know how much more of this you can take. You feel like you’re melting down, burning up from the inside out and you can’t remember if you’ve ever felt like this before. If you’ve ever felt this on edge, coiled up tight and vibrating with this much tension, if it’s because you’ve been wanting each of them for months now, if it’s because they’re both here with you. Both watching you, both stringing you out further and further and pulling you in different directions. Each trying to get their fill of you before the other. 

And maybe you’re asking for Javier because Carrillo is cruel, working you with his fingers but never giving you quite enough, working you up and up and up. Like he wants to see how far can push you, if he can make the need swallow you whole. You know he can, that for all your wanting to take him apart piece by piece he can do the same to you, is doing the same to you just as you know Javier will show you more mercy.

Javier reaches for you, curls his hands in your jeans and pulls them down over your knees and maybe he meant to pull them off, to get you naked in the middle of the office but his eyes catch on the way Carrillo’s finger is sinking into you over and over again. The way he gives you another and how you still when he does, your breath stuttering.

You almost don’t feel the way Carrillo hooks his chin over your shoulder to watch for himself because you can’t think over how his fingers feel, thick and heavy and buried up to the knuckle and you whine. You whine because he’s just holding them there, seemingly content to just feel the way your cunt is squeezing around them, the way your thighs are shaking and listening to you crying in his ear. 

You hand fists in the material of his pants, your other digging your nails into Javier’s shoulder and you use them for leverage, rolling your hips on Carrillo’s fingers. Someone groans, ragged and strung out and for terrifying seconds you think that they’re going to leave you like this. Leave you to fuck yourself on his fingers without any help.

But Javier doesn’t last that long.

Javier doesn’t last that long before he’s reaching for you all over again, pulling you away from Carrillo and you almost protest, almost call him a bastard for cutting off what little stimulation you’re managing to eek out for yourself but then he’s pressing you up against the desk and you forgive him.

You try to brace yourself on the desk, hands slipping on file folders and you look back, over your shoulder because you can hear his belt jangling, loud against the background of hurried breathing and arousal-softened voices. You don’t see it but Carrillo leans back in his chair, sucking your slick off his fingers and thinking about eating you alive even while he watches Javier line himself up with your weeping cunt, the way his head leans back as he pushes in, the way you go still. The way your chin drops to your chest and how you rock your weight onto your hands, spine curving when his hips meet yours. 

Javier isn’t moving, not yet, and Carrillo almost feels sorry for you because another of those whines is falling out of your mouth, soft and needy and you lick your lips before you speak, begging him to move and so he does. They both do. 

Javier’s hands curl around your hips and he starts to thrust as Carrillo stands, rounding the desk and his lips might pull into something crueler than a smile but pleased nonetheless when you reach for him, a moan on your lips. He lets you fumble with his belt and untuck his shirt with shaking hands and his chest swells with a twisted pride, that you can be filled with another man’s cock and still reach for him.

It goes to his head a little bit while he watches you, glassy eyes fluttering and your hands slipping. Your head drops to his shoulder with a high pitched moan, your hips rolling back, and that’s when he grabs your face, his fingers pressing into your jaw, lifting your head and forcing you to look at him. 

It’s too much, you realize, trying to remember how to breathe while you stare into Carrillo’s face. His nostrils are flared and his eyes are swallowed up by his pupils, and he’s not looking away. Your breath is puffing into his face and you’re trying to keep your eyes open, you are— but Javier’s cock keeps dragging through your walls, catching on something bright and sharp and it’s almost enough. 

You don’t realize that you keep closing your eyes until Carrillo is almost throttling you, tightening his fingers on either side of your jaw, the meat of his palm pressing against your windpipe and tomorrow you’ll feel embarrassed at the pathetic sound that leaves your throat. How you sway towards him, his "look at me” ringing in your ears, soft and biting all at once.

Javier hunches over you then and you feel his teeth in your shoulder, feel the rasp of his mustache on your skin. Carrillo’s shoulders move but you don’t look, don’t let yourself get distracted from the way he’s looking at you like— like—

You don’t know because Javier’s hand is moving, slapping Carrillo’s away before he can touch you and you see the muscle in his jaw tick before you crumple, would have spilled across the desk if his grip wasn’t holding you up because Javier is slipping his hand between your shaking thighs.

Your hands fist in the material of Carrillo’s shirt, your quest to get his belt undone long since falling by the wayside and being replaced by focusing on the way your nerve endings are lighting up under Javier’s fingers, buzzing and firing and the knot in your belly bursts, thick and sweet like syrup. You sob into Carrillo’s shoulder, bearing down on Javier’s cock and he groans behind you, ragged and grating. 

But he doesn’t let you enjoy it, not really. Because the next moment he’s pulling away from you and you feel so empty you could almost cry, shaking yourself apart against Carrillo’s chest, dense and warm and the part of your brain that’s still functioning wishes you could feel his skin on your own. You don’t get the chance to dwell on it, on Carrillo’s hands and his arms, the feel of his torso through his shirt because the next thing you know liquid is splashing across your lower back, hot and dripping and you shudder right down to your bones.

“Fuck,” Javier sounds as wrecked as you feel and you can hear him pant, the air whistling over his teeth but the ache between your thighs isn’t fading away. If anything it’s getting worse as you try to pull yourself back together, trembling against Carrillo’s body because you don’t necessarily trust yourself to stand on your own quite yet and apparently neither does Javier, rolling his forehead on the space between your shoulder blades. 

After a few moments he straightens and you feel his eyes on you as clearly as you do his hand, stroking down your side and squeezing your hip. He starts digging through the desk then, opening and shutting drawers until he finds what he’s looking for, wiping his cum from your skin with what you assume to be an extra shirt Carrillo keeps in his desk, always prepared.

Your fingers unclench from the shirt he’s wearing, sliding over his stomach to pull on his belt because you aren’t satisfied, won’t be until you know what it feels like to make him fall apart right along with you. You mouth at his neck, slipping your palm into the front of his khakis after you conquer the buckle and zipper. 

“You’re breaking my heart, baby,” Javier sits back in one of the abandoned chairs, his voice hoarse and colored with exertion, and if you didn’t know any better you might think he’s serious, that his feelings are well and truly bruising with your efforts to get in Carrillo’s pants, still greedy for more after he had his turn with you. 

“Fuck off, Javier,” You say it without any real venom against Carrillo’s skin and the other man might have barked out a chuckle, bared in his teeth in something that might have been a grin, but the only thing you can focus on is the way Carrillo groans when you close your fingers around his cock and stroke. You want to hear it again and again, want to have it vibrate through you while he’s pressed impossibly close. 

He’s a sight as he pulls himself away from you, his uniform shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, unbuttoned now and his undershirt wrinkled from your fingers, his jaw set and you have to turn, all loose limbed and soft as you seat yourself on the desk, able to finally peel your jeans the rest of the way off and spreading your thighs in blatant invitation. He takes it, slotting his hips between your knees and wrenching you to him and you’re able to wind your arms around his wide shoulders like you’ve been craving to.

You rub yourself against him, your breath catching in your throat from how your sensitized cunt slips across the coarse fabric and it almost hurts, sharp and corrosive in the way it floods through you, dissolving in its wake. But you can’t stop, chasing after the pleasure with a whining moan because he’s just watching you, eyeing the slowly growing wet spot on the front of his underwear because of it and you squeeze your thighs around him, trying to spur him on. 

"Horacio,” The name slips out unbidden, tinged with something you can’t describe and it’s the magic word. He huffs as if he’s coming back to himself, as if he’s realized that he can move, that you really do want this despite the circumstances. Despite Javier watching with rapt attention and a fresh cigarette.

He doesn’t make you let go of him, doesn’t make you pull him out because you’re clinging to him so sweet and nice and purring for him that he can’t imagine it and you’re grateful. Actually grateful that you can keep yourself wound around him, touching and tasting like you’ve thought about for months now, raking your fingers through his short hair and arching against him until you’re balancing on the very edge of the desk, his arms the only things keeping you from slipping right off.

And then you’re being split open. 

You warble something that might have been his name, choking on it and you scramble at his shoulders for a better grip. He groans deep in his chest, rough and filthy as his head drops to your neck and it’s overwhelming. You want to blame it on the fact you’ve already cum, that you’re still overly sensitive from Javier because he’s making you feel better than he has any right to as harsh as he is, as stone faced. As mean.

But then his hand is slipping between your thrusting bodies and he’s anything but, unerringly finding your clit and it’s almost embarrassing. It’s almost embarrassing how hard your body jerks, grinding into his calloused fingers while he breaks you apart, your cunt pulsing around him as he keeps up the onslaught, hips snapping into yours. 

You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, as the pleasure sweeps through you, glimmering and razor sharp and you say his name again, only this time mewling and shattered. And it’s the combination of everything that does him in; your cunt fluttering around his cock, your voice in his ear saying his name like that, you trying to pull him infinitely closer. He grunts as he spills himself within you, the sound strangled and you can’t help but gather his face in your hands to pull it to your own, slanting your lips against his and drinking it down.

Your thighs are quivering as you pant into each other’s mouths, Carrillo almost languidly stirring his cock in you as you both come down. You didn’t expect it— didn’t expect any of this to actually come to fruition, to exist somewhere outside of your mind and the four walls of your bedroom but here you are. The smoke from Javier’s cigarette hangs in the air and Carrillo— Horacio, now, is nosing underneath your jaw, staying right where he is and kissing the salt from your skin. If an ache wasn’t blooming between your legs, in your thighs and your hips you don’t know if you’d believe it happened at all, letting the memories turn hazy in the sunlight that’s only a few short hours away.

But it is and when you blink your eyes open you see Javier looking at you with an unreadable expression, flicking his eyes to Horacio and back again and a different heat starts to suffuse your body, this one prickling and bordering on uncomfortable. That’s when you unlock your ankles from behind Horacio’s back, your heart slipping into a nervous rhythm and you don’t want to press your palms into his shoulders and apply pressure, telling him to move without so many words but you do because you can’t take it.

Can’t take the way Javier is looking at you, can’t take how much you want Horacio to stay, to wonder and find out if he stays as gentle as this when the fog clears from his head. 

You can’t take the way he’s looking at you either as he shifts, following the directive of your hands and you swallow the gasp that tries to burst from your mouth when his cock slips from you. You weren’t expecting this either, how bereft you feel without him filling you up, without him in your arms if you’re being honest with yourself. You can’t even blame it on the alcohol, not really. None of you had drank that much, the bottle still not empty after being passed between the three of you and now on its side, knocked over at some point from your combined haste but miraculously unbroken as it lays there on the corner of the desk, liquid pooling on the linoleum below.

Javier is the one who sees it first and throws Horacio’s crumpled, used shirt on the caustic puddle while you’re pulling your jeans up, dressing as if your clothes could become your shield from the emotions that are trying to flay you alive.

“Are you okay?” It’s Horacio who asks how you are while you button your blouse, his voice gruff and threaded with something that’s going to haunt you.

“I’m good, I promise,” You try for a light smile, like you’re not turned inside out, like you won’t keep thinking about this for the rest of the night and maybe into the day when you have to pretend like everything is fine, that nothing has changed. 

Javier throws the shirt onto the desk then and it hits with a wet plop that makes you cringe. You see Horacio’s mouth thin, any traces of the softness from just moments ago bleeding away and you want it back. 

But it will have to wait for another time, maybe a better time or none at all because Javier is crushing the end of his cigarette into an ashtray and picking his leather jacket off the back of a chair, looking at you expectantly because he knows you can’t refuse him, not without revealing anything. “Ready to go?” And maybe Horacio has some inkling about the arrangement, gleaned from comments that have piled up over the weeks and months but maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he thinks you’re going home with the agent, not bumming a ride to the same apartment building because you were naïve and are now complacent.

You nod, looking again at Horacio and running your eyes over him, as if you don’t want to forget how he looks in this moment despite everything. His uniform a mess, cock tucked back into his pants but his belt staying unbuckled for the moment and for one second, one harebrained second, you think about kissing him. Just kissing him, just a peck— just enough for him to maybe know.

But you don’t. 

“Goodnight, Horacio,” Your lips wrap around the syllables, turning his name into something gentle as you drift towards the door after Javier.

The Colonel nods and you think you might see his lips part but the shadows make it impossible to tell and you don’t know what’s in his eyes either, just know that they feel heavy on your skin. Javier calls your name and you finally look away before you do something even more stupid than anything else you’d done tonight.

The door closes behind you and he knows you can’t hear him but he says it anyways, alone and looking at the door like you’re going to walk back in.

“Goodnight.”

[emerald-amidst-gold]

OC Interview: Fane Lavellan

Thank you for the tag @dungeons-and-dragon-age! I’ve been eyeing up this meme for a while actually, so this was perfect timing! X3

This takes place Post-Trespasser, about a month or two after, in fact. Solas brought the idea forward, and of course, Fane refused. But after some coaxing, some explanation as to why, and the promise of a whole cake, Fane agreed to humor the request. 

*THERE BE BIG THINGS REGARDING FANE HERE* 

I got carried awaaaaaay! XD

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

“I can, but it’s a lengthy list,” He sighs, “...Those who are close to me, who see as but an elf, call me Fane. Those who wish to meet cobble, call me Lavellan or Herald. Those who are blinded by reverence call me ‘He Who Flew Above’. Denizens of the Fade refer to me as, ‘Devotion’ or ‘Tenacity’. However, my true name is..” He sighs again, “...Aterian. I rarely go by it, but the truth won’t be ignored. It never can be.”

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

“Male. Elvhen. Dragon.” He huffs through his nose, shifting his gaze off to the side, “That’s all I’ll say on that. As for orientation, I’m...emotionally driven. If you asked me to look at another and tell you what’s attractive about them I would say, ‘Nothing.’ I don’t know them, so I feel nothing for them.“ He shrugs, turning his gaze back, but brandishes a glare, “There’s only one person who defies that response, and that’s because he knows me, without and within. More than that, is none of your business.”

Where and when were you born?

He lifts a hand, massaging a temple, “The ‘where’ is simple; Elvhenan. Specifics are lost to me, however, so you’ll have to be content with that response.” He shifts his gaze downwards, slowly crossing his arms, “As to when?” He sighs heavily, “...I have no answer for that other than: I’m roughly the same age, if not older, as Solas. Does it matter, honestly? Numbers fall through the cracks after a specific threshold is crossed.” What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

He unravels a crossed arm and guides his hand downwards, tapping the pommel of a sword he has fastened to his waist, “Sword. I use either long swords, short swords, or great swords.” He raises an eyebrow as a question is forwarded, “Shields?” He sneers a bit. “I don’t use shields. They get in the way, and anyways,” He raises his hand once more, the expanse steadily beginning to glow blue and silver before a spectral coating of scales cover the entirety, “this is better than any shield. I prefer the front lines, the place I can make sure no one breaches, and the lingering memory of what I once was makes sure I can do just that.” He dispels the scales and shakes out his hand before returning it to his crossed counterpart, “It takes energy to maintain, but I’m getting better at holding it for longer.”  Lastly, are you happy?

He blinks before his entire expression softens, two toned eyes shining with primary gold as they shift downwards, “...If you had asked that of me over twelve years ago I would have spat in your face and said, ‘Happiness doesn’t exist in this world’. But now..” He trails off, casting a sidelong glance towards one of the fortress’s entryways; a familiar voice sounding, firm, but soft, as if reprimanding a child, “...I understand what happiness is, and it’s in every corner if you allow yourself to see it.” His eyes shift back, holding a far away look and voice coming forward in a murmur, “I only wish we all could be happy; together.”

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

His face holds a conflicted look, as if the memory is painful before speaking, “Complicated,” he says before beginning to tap a finger against his bicep, “I had a mother. She died when I was fifteen from a wasting disease, but she was the picture of serenity. Calm, guiding, measured. Hair like moonlight. Eyes like a clear autumn day. She was--” Unbranded features twist with a look of grief, eyes going dark as his voice drops, “...I’d rather not speak of her. It still hurts to. It hurts to speak of any of them,” His eyes narrow, grief stricken expression turning somewhat bitter, “...Especially those who throw all you did for them back into your face because they refused to listen when you needed them to most. Even so, I still wish for her happiness. Cullen better be treating her right,” That bitter turns outright malicious, dark eyes going darker as another question is meekly asked, “Father? I have no father. I only had a monster that haunted my childhood, tore my token of devotion apart, and then stalked me in my dreams. So, no. I have nothing to say about that concept.”

Have you ever ran away from home?

He chuckles, “Many, many times,” He throws most of his weight into one side, tilting his head back as if thinking, counting, “I can’t even remember the amount of times I fled into the forests, to be honest. All I know is that it happened weekly, maybe even daily,” He brings his head back, snowy hair moving with the action to brush the tops of his cheekbones, “Why do you look so surprised?” he asks, snorting a bit at the meek response of, ‘Why so often?’, “Because I refused to endure being treated like a beast every hour of the day merely because I believed differently, or rather, not at all.” He sighs within the next moment, “...I wasn’t any better than the Dalish, though. I lashed out, I spat in their face, dragged their heritage through the dirt, inflicted harm from the smallest of things...” He squeezes his arms, eyes narrowing into a glare, but seeming to see through everything, “...The past repeats. An infernal spiral that will never slow.” Would you consider marriage or having children?

“Marriage? Children?” He blinks, pale visage suddenly going flush before he snarls, “Why do I need to answer those questions?!” The blush deepens and he responds despite his displeased expression, muttering and biting the inside of his cheek, “...Damned keen eyed elves. They know, don’t they? I swear if Abelas fucking ran that mouth of his, I’ll--” He sighs heavily, letting his head fall limp a bit in defeat, “...Yes. To both. The latter is already taken care of, as everyone situated in the Crossroads knows, but...” Pointed ears are now a deep shade of red, “...marriage is...on hold. War time isn’t an ideal summer wedding.” His voice drops, eyes shimmering as if he was before the person his heart yearned for, “...The sky deserves a venue better than a garden of death and deceit.” Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“There were those in the Inquisition who I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with,” he started before shaking his head, “but I didn’t hate anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own views and what they find important.” He scowls a bit, tapping his bicep once again with a finger, “...Even if they didn’t extend the same kindness to me in the beginning. ‘Do you believe in the Maker?’ ‘Do you believe you’re chosen?’ ‘You need to use the people’s faith. It gives them hope.’” He mocks before snorting harshly, “No. No, I don’t. Oh, that suddenly makes me trash? Ohhh. How terrible.” He scoffs. “Disgusting.” Which friend knows everything about you?

“Solas,” He says within a heart beat before clearing his throat, shifting his gaze away sheepishly, “He knows me without and within.” Emerald and gold blaze as the orbs go wide, the blush of roses coming back in full force, “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t mean--! Fuck! You better wipe that shit eating grin off your face, elf, or I swear I’ll do it for you!” He growls in frustation, throwing his hands in the air, “Why did I agree to this? What fucking dragon entertains an interview!? This is worst than the courts in Arlathan used to be! And that’s saying something!”

Asked by Fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

”I am literate. Sometimes to a fault, in fact,” He smiles a bit, “Poetry is my niche; a lingering memory of my mother. So, I speak cryptically at times,” He snorts, amused, “Although, I guess that isn’t much of a surprise since the Elvhen language is riddled in verse rather than practical application. Still, even some of the ancients left have a hard time deciphering my words,” He shrugs, smile turning into a smirk, “They never expected a dragon to be able to talk, I guess. Well, ta-dah.”  The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

A somber expression flits across his visage and eyes, “...That, eventually, I would hurt the one person I never wanted to.” The corner of his mouth twitches, holding both bitterness and grief; a painful duo, “...And retribution came just as swiftly, but it--” He sighs, shaking his head in defeat before muttering under his breath, “Observe and accept. Observe that what came to pass was uncontrollable, and accept that it had to happen for your path to continue, for your soul to be complete.” What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

His face blanks, mouth going into a hard line before a sigh exits through his nose slowly, “...That I don’t have tail.” He snarls, blank expression twisting in warning, “Laugh, elf. Do it.” He nods in the next second when no sounds of amusement come forth, expression going stoic once more, “That’s what I thought. You try living centuries in one form and then transitioning. See what happens.” Do you have mental health or physical issues?

He nods, sighing tiredly. “Like my names, I have a lot.” A hand motions to his body lazily, “My entire body is littered in scars, inflicted through crude experiments by an abomination that sought power like so many others,” He expression sours, jaw working back a forth, “They’ve calmed over the years, but the memories are not so kind.” He sighs, trying to calm himself and lifts his left hand; the Anchor glowing faintly and his eyes watch it, “I have an illness, or rather, sensitivity to any Fade born essence. That, too, has calmed and I’m grateful for that. As for my mind..” He trails off, grimacing a bit as if suddenly in pain, “...Visualize the Void, and there’s your answer. Black walls with crimson torches, seats empty, but somehow wanting for memories to take their seats. However, those occupants never come, burnt to ash by fury’s flame. That’s my mind in a nutshell.” What is your current main goal?

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips, “Mm, as of right now, I’m busy helping Solas unlock the eluvians that he couldn’t while I was away,” He flexes his marked hand, watching it with a look of determination in his eyes, “That’ll take time, but after, my people, my kin will have their skies back. I won’t let this power be squandered, and I won’t let the key that I’ve been entrusted with fall into the wrong hands.” His face hardens further, “For if that key rusts, the locks break and the sky will blacken as surely as the earth will redden.”

Choices

Drink or food?

“Drinks.” He says with ease, shrugging, “Food is comforting, especially sweets, but a glass of rum or ale, or a cup of chamomile tea really pounds the word ‘relaxation’ into my head.” Cats or dogs?

He smiles, warmth caressing its edges, “You’ve seen Nislean wandering about the halls, laying on the window sills and curling up in front of the fire,” He hums suddenly, crossing his arms again, “Which reminds me, I need to go out of the Crossroads for milk. I’ll be getting more than five bottles this time.” Optimist or pessimist?

“Depends on who you ask,” He shrugs, seeming unbothered, “I’m neither from a personal standpoint. I try to see the bright spots, but shadows can be very persistent.”   Sassy or sarcastic?

He snorts, “Ask Fen’harel,” his voice is light upon the title, playfully mocking in its deepness, “He knows all about that side. Although, he would label it, ‘insufferable’. I would call myself dryly sarcastic, though.”

Have You Ever

Been caught sneaking out?

He purses his lips, “Hmm. Not that I can recall,” he says slowly before his brows jumped and his eyes lit up with memory, “Oh! Wait. There was that one time where I was with Solas and Mythal in a...courtyard, I think?” He shrugs before shrugging, “Doesn’t matter. But, I tried to slip away, tail and all, and I...may have shattered one or two or three eluvians trying to get to the balcony.” He somewhat wistfully, smirking, “Elgar’nan got fucking stuck in a far off settlement for a week, though. Completely worth getting my horn chewed off by a wolf.” Broken a bone?

“Surprisingly, no.” He huffs in amusement, “Wonder of wonders, truthfully.” Received flowers?

“I have,” He scowls, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust, “but I always throw them into the fire. Most are from suitors, those who don’t know what the fuck ‘taken’ means.” Ghosted someone?

His face tightens, completely deadpan, “...No?”, he says, voice raising in question a bit, “At least I don’t believe so. But, then again...oh.” He blanks further, “...Oh. I understand the term now. You mortals are forever twisting the languages, aren’t you? I can’t keep up, but the answer is still no.” Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“Maybe once or twice, but I don’t ‘laugh’ per say.” He huffs through his nose deliberately, “I do that; a puff of air. Some habits are never truly able to be broken. No matter the form.”

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @blueheaded @little-lightning-lavellan @noire-pandora @the-dreadful-canine and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course!)

[beelspillowpet]

If your requests are open and your willing to, would you be able to do the brothers reacting to a trans MC? 👉🏻👈🏻 preferably female to male, but either way is fine! Sorry if your not comfy with this type of request >~<

Anon, just because you were afraid that I would turn down your request, I am going to PROVE to you how much it doesn’t bother me I'm going to do the 7 brothers AND the side characters. Because you BETTER BELEIVE we have a cast of supportive people!! Yessir!!!

I myself am the twin sister of my late twin brother, who was also FtM! I’ll be using his memory as inspiration, if you do not mind? Thank you for requesting this!

~

Lucifer

At first he presumed you were just not girly. He didn't really mind your behavior or way of dressing, so long as you got your tasks done on time and were on your best behavior.

When you cut your hair and stopped wearing that nail polish (despite Asmo’s pleading) he still thought nothing of it. You wore pants, and started trying your best to drop hints, and thankfully, Lucifer isn’t an idiot.

So what you’re telling me is that we’ve made you uncomfortable when referring to you as a woman? If that is the case, MC, then we would be more than happy to refer to you as anything you request. You only need to say the word.

He is dedicated to making sure you’re happy and comfortable here. He and his brothers may be demons, but they aren’t heartless. They were once angels too. He goes through the process with you, if you were shaky or unsure of what to do in the past. If you want HRT, surgery, need a new wardrobe, he and his brothers will be the first to provide. Whatever to keep you happy in your skin.

Mammon

Oh. Honestly speaking, he’ll still love you regardless of what form your body takes. He liked the way you looked, but secretly he can’t wait to see how you’ll look after you transition.

Before we even get to that point though, it takes a lot of hint dropping for him to get it. And even then, he has to go and ask the others what you’re trying to tell him. Of course he gets picked on a little bit for it, but once he figures it out he’s really happy you were comfortable enough to tell him.

Hell, he might get a job just so he can help you be able to afford all the things you’ll need to properly transition. Some of the details make him blush quite a bit, and if you’re uncomfortable with touches or any signs of affection during your process of transitioning, he will politely refrain from making his human uncomfortable.

He’s taking you to Majolish and you are going to get your ENTIRE wardrobe redone. Courtesy of The GREAT Mammon! You should feel grateful that he’s working this hard to make you happy. I mean c’mon, he LOVES you! He can’t wait to love you more after you’ve become the man you always were deep down inside.

Leviathan

He does notice that you act different from other women. Not that he minds it, not at all. His Henry is still the same old Henry. Just a little bit different. He’s a little bit different too, there’s nothing wrong with that. Right?!

It’s when you start preferring to be called Henry as opposed to your birth name, do the cogs start churning in his brain. He would have suspected at first that maybe you just were very good friends with him and loved TSL almost as much as him.

He’s seen a few heart-warming anime about it. Specifically one about a girl becoming a boy, and the struggles he went through while attending school. The title wasn’t too important to him, but now that he had a reference for what you were dealing with, he was a bit happy. He just wanted to wait until the moment was right to bring it up to you. Perhaps his Henry was really a Henry after all!

When the moment comes, he’s proud to say the least. He throws his arms around you happily, and promises to be there by your side every step of the way. He’s not exactly rolling in money, but an Otaku finds a way. The Lord of Shadows is your best friend ever, and he can’t wait to see the before and after pictures of your full transition!

Satan

It started with a book you read with him. He didn’t fully comprehend your situation, but he knew you didn’t act like normal girls. It reminded him of a character in a book he read a few weeks ago. The guy didn’t really act like a girl.

While sweet and thoughtful, this character didn’t hit the nail on the head in some ways. When talking over the book with you, you explained just as much to him. The energy was there, but it was backwards for you. He picked up on it immediately.

So what you’re telling me is, you understand this characters struggle with themselves, and can relate to it. But something about it is backwards? A little smile appears on his face as it fully dawns on him. MC, I think I’ll be able to assist you in any way you need.

With Satan’s wonderful connections across the entire Devildom, it wasn’t long before you were getting some of the best treatment possible. The prices seemed a bit scary, but he assured you everything was being taken care of behind the scenes. If you needed to worry about anything, it would be the tiring, long process to come with transitioning. He’ll be sure it goes relatively smoothly for you, though!

Asmodeus

Oh he gets it immediately. Darling why didn’t you just say so in the first place?

He’s dragging you back to your room, rambling the entire time about how he can’t wait to take you out and go shopping. He puts together a devious little page to gather up donations and the like to support your transitioning. His fans would be HONORED to pitch in, right?

In the mean time, he stops pampering you with makeup and his other routines that you used to tolerate for the sake of being cordial. He still pushes for the nail polish, since gender is simply a social concept and he’s ready to crush it into dust any chance he can get. But it’s not about him, it’s about you.

Soon your room is painted a new color, your dresses and skirts and frilly outfits are tossed out for more appropriate attire for your sex, and he’s taking photos for his Devilgram page to show everyone how beautiful you are, even while going through the long process!

Beelzebub

You and Beel got along fabulously. He seemed astonished that a female was interested in all these manly habits he indulged in. He heard from some of the guys on his team that you were interested in playing Fangol. As evidenced by how you always showed up to his practices and games, no matter if they were home or away.

He figured you were just a really big fan of sports. But then you even started working out with him, and giving him suggestions and tips on how to get even more out of his workouts at the gym. You were really passionate about this.

Let’s not kid ourselves, he probably does not pick up on any of the signs. You have tot ell him, and you have to tell him firmly. You are a man, just like him. When you do tell him, however, he’s eager to help you transition. Imagine having another guy in the house who loves Fangol as much as you do!?

He isn’t much aside from emotional support through the transitions, and he coddles you when you have those bad days. If you want to eat something, he’ll rush to the kitchen and cook you a full meal before you move an inch. You’re allowed to lay in bed today. Let him handle the heavy load of work for you.

Belphegor

Oh wow, look at that. He picked it up almost immediately.

I mean, there’s no way a girl would act the way you do, right? Dress the way you do. Be the way you are. He doesn’t care though, and just wants you to be happy. If that means you transition into a man, then hell, he’s on board with you.

He may be a lazy bastard, but he knows when it’s time to get up and work hard to get something. That was what he was like as an angel, anyways. Working at Hell’s Kitchen is the worst, and you hear him complain about as much, but he smiles and assures you that it’s all for a good reason.

His final gift to you to apologize about the Incident, is money. Now at first glance it seems like something Mammon would do. Probably. In reality though, this is the money that will be going towards your HRT. He doesn’t know if you want to fully transition or not, but if you want that top surgery, he can help pay for that too. He’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy and healthy in your own body.

Diavolo

It really is a house of men, isn’t it?

He’s glad though, truly, that you were comfortable coming to him about it. Don’t bother ever opening your wallet to pay for any therapy, medication, or surgery. As the Prince of the Devildom, he would be more than happy to get you doctors of all sorts to help you. No questions asked!

It might be a bit overwhelming at first, but the news is exciting. If the Prince accepts you so readily, it gives you hope that other demons will as well. Pretty soon you’re going through your processes, and Diavolo couldn’t be happier to see it happening.

You really is a wonderful guy, and he’s glad he’s getting to experience the changes you take in your life. 

Barbatos

To say he didn’t suspect this would be an understatement.

Ever silent and respectful though, he never spoke a word of it. You are probably uncomfortable with people assuming it, even though it’s true. An insecurity that humans seem to deal with, although unfortunate.

However, when the news is broken during a meeting between you, Lucifer, he, and the Prince himself, a smile creeps on his face.

He’s happy to hear that you are so comfortable speaking about this sort of thing. He knows it must be tough, having hidden your true feelings for so long. He prepares a delicious tea with small treats, to celebrate your coming out, and transitioning.

Simeon (and Luke)

Oh dear. God loves you, still. Don’t worry about this. He doesn’t see you as an imperfection.

They assures you constantly that you have their full support, and that will never change. You are not broken, you are not unwanted, and you are not strange. You are a regular trans man in their eyes, and they will defend you on that.

Simeon almost takes on a fatherly role to you, wanting to make sure everything goes as smooth as possible. He probably has done a bit of research in preparations for your transition, and all the nasty little side effects that come with it are worrying him.

However, once it’s all over, Luke and Simeon are glad you came out on top. And my, what a handsome man you make!

Solomon

He figured, but didn’t want to assume. I mean, who the hell is he?

He’s got a few spells for this though, make it quick and painless. One wave of a wand and POOF! Woman no more!

Oh but that’s probably dangerous. The shifty bastard. You would much rather do it the regular way; and not have your insides and outsides shifted around by some crazy sorcerer.

He doesn’t protest much, but that does suck. Hehe. Oh well. You can count on him to support you through it all!

[vodkassassin]

You've been bullying SQH too much, he needs a break! Maybe some cuddles? A vacation? An emotional support animal? All of the above?

Two of the above, as a treat. Other options to be considered at a later date, perhaps... ;3 @dancibayo

Warnings for injury and near drowning >.>

—

There is a reason that, way in the beginning of all this peak lord business — before then, in fact, when they were all still just head disciples, brand new to the job and still figuring things out— there is a reason that Shang Qinghua signed the paperwork making Mu Qingfang his mission partner. And only Mu Qingfang.

It wasn’t because Mu Qingfang was the only one out of all of his martial family that Shang Qinghua liked, or could actually deal with… though it was kind of for that reason, but not entirely! The main reason, here, is that Shang Qinghua was not at the time entirely sure how to work with his martial siblings, and when he had tried, it… didn’t really work out.

There are a lot of examples in which missions with a martial sibling other than Mu Qingfang have not worked out, but the paragon amongst them all was that first mission with his fellow head disciple, Liu Qingge. Whenever Shang Qinghua thinks about why Mu Qingfang is his preferred mission partner, that one clusterfuck with Liu-shidi always comes to the forefront of his mind no matter how he wishes he could just forget about it.

A lot of the reason that mission had been such a total failure, in hindsight, really doesn’t have anything to do with Shang Qinghua at all, and a lot to do with the fact that Liu Qingge had, at the time, held such a low opinion of Shang Qinghua that it made working with the man an absolute trial.

In Liu Qingge’s defense, he’s much better nowadays. Like, a lot better. He barely glares at him anymore, even! Well, Liu-shidi glares at everyone, that’s sort of his default expression, but the glare is much less scary when pointed in Shang Qinghua’s direction than it had been even just a year ago! Progress!

Shang Qinghua ducks under the heavy swipe of one colossal, furry paw, complete with wickedly sharp claws that peak out just above the oversized toe-beans, and resists the urge to wail. He yanks out his sword and hops onto it like it’s a snowboard, and directs it into the air with a monumental push of his qi. The claws miss the edge of his robes by mere inches, and Shang Qinghua starts to daydream, a little bit, about what kind of headstone he wants for his memorial.

There’s another big reason, which he’s being reminded of right now, why Shang Qinghua would actually rather be partnered on a mission with anyone other than Liu Qingge.

The man loves monster fighting.

Now, listen. Listen! Shang Qinghua, he is a big fan of the monsters of this world. Mainly because he created most of them himself. They are just as much his beautiful (and sometimes incredibly less-so) babies as the characters he’d spent hours crafting with his words. Seeing them in full-form, brought to very real life in this world that is fashioned after his story is so fucking cool, but also! Actually mainly! Very, very fucking terrifying. Because those things, most of them, can, will, and have certainly tried, many a time in the past, to kill him.

And Liu Qingge’s absolute, favorite pastime is hunting these creatures down and facing off against them, for fun.

So like, sue Shang Qinghua if he can’t really see the appeal.

He’d rather be stuck in his office surrounded by stacks of unfinished paperwork with a deadline, than be dragged out by his martial brother to face another monster. At least then, he would be safe, and not have to deal with nearly being shredded by giant titan tiger claws, thanks!

Unfortunately for Shang Qinghua, ever since Liu Qingge had decided, for some reason that he still couldn’t figure out, that they are friends, he’s been coming to An Ding to regularly kidnap Shang Qinghua and force him out on what the man probably thinks is fun, bonding time between martial brothers or something.

It’s not. It’s not fun. It’s certainly bonding time, perhaps, if only because of the many times Liu Qingge has been forced to come over and save Shang Qinghua’s skin. Then again, Shang Qinghua has also been forced to save Liu Qingge’s skin, through vastly different means than Liu Qingge has saved his, so maybe it is some type of bonding? Experiencing life-threatening situations together is a sure-fire way to form close ties with someone. Like, that’s a legitimate trope. Shang Qinghua has used that one in his own stories many a time before.

So, Liu Qingge might be onto something here. But Shang Qinghua wishes he’d choose some other way to level up their apparent friendship than monster hunting. Can’t they just stay home and have tea? Play some go? Not potentially die?!

“Qinghua!” Liu Qingge calls. He sounds a little exasperated. He’s exasperated, huh? Shang Qinghua is exasperated with this entire trip! “Pay attention!”

Shang Qinghua ducks again, aiming his sword down sharply as his shidi’s sword shrieks by overhead in the spot he’d just been, to parry the monster’s attack with a serious OP swing of the same blade.

It’s really unfair, sometimes, watching how easily powerful his martial family can be. And then there’s Shang Qinghua, who… isn't, really? Just, nowhere near as powerful as the likes of Liu Qingge, or Yue Qingyuan.

Then again, maybe that’s trying to compare 5G internet to dial up? They’re simply in entirely different leagues.

Shang Qinghua’s eyes water as he rockets toward the ground, to where there huddles a cluster of disciples that stare with wide-eyes and awed faces as Liu-shidi does his thing. Their expressions are practically meme-worthy. God, he misses the internet so, so much. He might cry.

Wait, no, he can’t cry right now, the Bai Zhan disciples are right there, and they will make fun of him for it. Absolutely no respect with these kids. Liu-shidi, please teach your peak disciples some manners!

“Shang-shibo,” one of them complains, sword unsheathed entirely and obviously rearing for some action. “Does Shizun — does he want —?”

Shang Qinghua holds up a hand. The disciple falls silent, and the entire group of them watch him like over-eager hawks waiting for their prey to make a mistake. He takes a moment to catch his breath.

“No,” he eventually says, sending a brief glance over his shoulder to where the Bai Zhan peak lord is going head to head with a flying tiger the size of a dragon. “Shizhi, does your Shizun look like he wants help? Does your Shizun ever want help?”

One of the other disciples, a girl this time, bearing biceps that might be bigger than melons, grumbles. “He doesn’t. But why can’t we fight, too? It’s not fair, Shibo!”

“What wouldn’t be fair, is having both your arms ripped off before you can even graduate Jiedan.” Shang Qinghua refutes, and begins to herd the lot of them back toward the tree line so that they are at least out of sight. “This beast is a third-rank Flying Thunder Deity, it is so far out of your league in terms of strength that I’m currently questioning whether we should have brought you all with us on this mission in the first place.”

The disciples look disgruntled.

“But, Shibo—!”

“Nope!” Shang Qinghua holds up a finger and gives them all a stern look. Liu Qingge may not give a fuck whether his disciples remain unscathed or not — honestly, the man likely assumed them to all have fled like smart disciples of their level would, but he obviously greatly underestimated their enthusiasm for a good fight. Which is just incredibly fucking ironic of him. Anyway, no disciple of Cang Qiong sect is going to be in harm's way, if Shang Qinghua has any say about it. “I don’t want to hear it. All of you stay here, if I see a single limb out of these trees, I’ll assign the lot of you as aids to my paper-pushers for three months.”

At their adequately horrified looks, Shang Qinghua decides that his job here is as done as it can be, and so he turns around to peer back out at the currently thunderous (as the name of the beast might suggest) battle currently being waged. If any of the disciples decide to actually take their chances — both at potentially becoming paste on the ground and being stuck helping his disciples with copying out fresh requisition forms, then that’s not exactly his problem, is it? Shang Qinghua tried his best!

He rises up on his sword to where his shidi is fighting the Flying Thunder Deity several hundred feet up in the sky.

Aerial combat has never been Shang Qinghua’s strong suit, and quite honestly it’s neither the strong suit of any other cultivator, strong in battle as Liu-shidi or not. There’s just something about attempting to juggle needing to balance on your soul sword to stay in the air and also needing that same weapon to fight with, that is just altogether difficult.

It’s fifteen minutes of ducking and weaving and praying that he can move just fast as to be an irritating enough pest to the Deity that it turns it’s attention onto Shang Qinghua and consequently gives Liu Qingge the opening he needs, when Shang Qinghua’s hopes come true a little too well.

The thunderous (ha-ha) expression that graces Liu Qingge’s face when the Flying Thunder Deity snaps it’s huge, hulk of heard forward and encloses him in its massive jaws would have been gratifying in literally any other circumstance. Shidi! You do care! Or are you pissed at Shang Qinghua, for being so slow and requiring rescuing yet again? He’s sorry, Liu-shidi, he really is! Next time he would move faster! Or better yet, not come at all! Just as he’d originally begged you, shidi!

Shang Qinghua wishes that people would listen to him more. It would make his life so much less stressful than it is.

“Qinghua!” Liu Qingge shouts, with a tone to it that makes Shang Qinghua’s heart stutter oddly. Or maybe that’s because he’s, you know, currently trapped in the mouth of a vicious monster that probably won’t hesitate to swallow him whole? But, could it be, that Liu-shidi really does care?

Such ponderous thoughts will have to be shelved for now, to be ruminated upon later when he’s safe. For now, Shang Qinghua curls up into a ball, shaking like a leaf, his elbow bouncing off a curving incisor that’s nearly the length of his entire body, and he can’t help but let out a terrified cry.

This is it, isn’t it? Nearly a century of surviving against all odds, making it through perilous situation with no hope after perilous situation, avoiding death flag after death flag, to be eaten by this hungry, flying tiger the size of a small mountain.

Truly, he’s so blessed to be going out with such a bang.

System! Shang Qinghua wails miserably inside his head, a series of loud whimpers bursting from his mouth without his permission. Be useful for once and lend me a scenario pusher!

The cheerful ding that rings throughout his mind is incredibly ignorant of the current circumstances. [Request acknowledged! Please contact customer support to undergo an eligibility survey.]

There is no such thing as customer support, Shang Qinghua knows. He’s neither a customer, nor is he sure that the System actually has any higher power that it answers to. It clearly loves fucking with him, though, and he clenches his jaw and screams through his teeth in frustration as the sharp point of one of those too-close teeth digs viciously into his side.

I don’t have time for that! Fuck! System, please! I don’t want to die! Be nice to me for once in your miserable existence! I deserve it, dammit!

There’s a brief pause, and during it Shang Qinghua thinks he can hear his shidi yelling amongst the sounds of battle.

[... Host’s complaint has been posted and reviewed.] Oh, wow. That’s a first! [Due to Hosts exemplary services rendered, compensation has been rewarded. Would host like to exchange for a scenario pusher?]

Just save me already! Shang Qinghua demands, curling into an even tighter ball. The tooth digs into his flesh painfully, and he bites back a sob.

[Compensation loading…]

The tiger is growling, now. Shang Qinghua can feel the coalescing vibrations of the sound as it emanates from behind him, from deep within the beats chest, rippling sound waves that travel up it’s throat and make him tremble from the force of them alone. His skull is split by a resounding headache, and his vision doubles. It’s like being trapped inside a subwoofer box, and it hurts.

Shang Qinghua is struck rather suddenly by a massive fit of vertigo, as the tiger seems to shake its head in response to whatever attack Liu Qingge is throwing at it. Being inside its mouth, the motion sends the An Ding peak lord sprawling, and he nearly impales himself on one of it’s incisors. Thankfully, being covered in its saliva, though disgusting, seems to be a silver lining of some sort, because he’s by now slippery enough with it that the tooth only deals him a glancing blow. Despite not being as fatal as it could have been otherwise, it still hurts enough, sharply enough, that Shang Qinghua can’t hold back the cry of pain and surprise that escapes him.

The deep vibrations of the growl come to an abrupt halt. Shang Qinghua only has time to hear Liu Qingge make a distant sound of confusion and anger, before he’s unceremoniously spat out into the open air.

It’s a relief! Truly, it is, to be freed of the tight, damp space that was a beast’s hungry maw at long last. However, there’s still a problem! A big one!

Shang Qinghua doesn’t have his sword, and they’re all still hanging out several hundred feet up in the air! By the laws of physics, he has only a brief millisecond to feel any sort of relief before he goes plummeting to his death. He brings up his arms to shield his face from the turbulent air, robes flapping in its vicious currents.

“Qinghua!”

He peeks open eyes that he doesn’t recall closing to find his amazing, beautiful, talented shidi diving down beside him, sword under his feet and hand held outstretched toward him. Shang Qinghua doesn’t have enough air in his life to breath out a sigh of relief as he reaches out for him, ready to cry, because within the very next second he’s ripped away from the help by a big, furry blur that knocks him out of the sky entirely.

He continues to fall for a few long, terrifying seconds, and then he’s fighting to breathe not because the air is moving past him too fast to catch, but because he’s been submerged in water.

He panics, kicking his legs uselessly against the heavy weight of the tide that wraps around him and shoves him roughly to and fro. He’s not entirely certain which way is up and which way is down. His lungs are tight and painful with their pleas for air, and Shang Qinghua can see spots begin to dance before his vision.

Something grabs onto the very back of his robes, then, and he’s dragged out of the water and lands heavily on a patch of what he’s able to eventually identify as grass, once his mind has enough ragged gasps of sweet, sweet oxygen to get itself into working order again.

He rolls himself over and onto his knees, fisting his hands in the grass as he spits out mouthful after mouthful of water. His eyes sting with tears, but thankfully he’s so soaked he doesn’t think they will be all that apparent to anyone who thinks to look at him now. He brings up a hand, to press the back of his fist into his mouth and smother the sob that wants to burst free. He doesn’t really succeed.

There’s an odd sound from nearby, almost like an engine of some sort, which is incredibly confusing because Shang Qinghua hasn’t heard anything of the like since his last life, where the world was much more industrially advanced. There’s a brief moment of confusion, where his mind races in trying to correlate the sound with something that makes more sense, before something big and warm presses against his side and nuzzles heavily into his neck.

Shang Qinghua blinks, dumbly, vision still swimming in such a way that it makes his aching, pounding head revolt in nausea, but after a moment he’s able to turn his head to the side and get a mouthful of fur instead of a visual.

He splutters, reeling back, which of course gives the Flying Thunder Deity, which is no longer flying nor deity-sized, to press forward even more. It knocks the befuddled Shang Qinghua into the grass and clambers over him, purring loudly and aggressively all the while as it nuzzles him and butts it’s head into his again and again.

“Um,” someone says, and Shang Qinghua blearily looks up from the now normal-sized tiger to find a group of disciples staring down at him, looking just as confused as he feels. “Shang-shibo?”

He blinks, head canting toward the side as the Flying Thunder Deity shoves at it with it’s leathery nose. It’s purring so loudly he can feel it in his jaw. “Yes?”

“Would you, uh…” The disciple speaking gestures at him and the tiger. “Would you like help?”

“Hm,” Shang Qinghua considers the offer, laid flat out on the ground as he is while being aggressively cuddled by a suddenly, oddly, terrifyingly over-affectionate tiger that had literally, just a few moments ago, tried to eat him. “.... Hmm.”

“Mwrrrr,” the tiger echoes, long whiskers tickling Shang Qinghua’s face.

“...Shang-shibo?”

“Qinghua!” Ah, look who finally decides to join them!

Liu Qingge barrels to a landing in the grass right beside him and barely has time to yank his sword up from under himself when the newly enamoured tiger jumps to its feet, bristling and hissing like a house cat facing an annoying, yapping dog that’s intruded into their home.

Liu Qingge is very visibly confused at the newest course of events, but there’s still a level of rage that thrums underneath it, and he readies his sword against the Thunder Deity, muscles twitching in anticipation that far exceeds his usual excitement for a fight. For some reason, that Shang Qinghua is currently too dazed to even guess at, it has become personal.

The tiger’s tail flicks, it’s sharp teeth bared as a growl erupts from its throat, and Shang Qinghua apparently had lost all common sense during his fall into the lake, because he props himself up on one elbow and reaches out his hand to curls it into the damp, wet fur around the tiger’s neck.

Immediately, the beast stops growling. It even turns its back to Liu Qingge! In order to plop down into Shang Qinghua’s lap and nuzzle it’s face into his neck, purring once again at full blast. The Bai Zhan disciples that are gathered a few hundred feet away make a series of quietly alarmed sounds. What the fuck! Liu Qingge looks just as confused.

“Qinghua?”

“I don’t know, shidi,” Shang Qinghua says, shrugging. It sends a ripple of pain that spikes in his lower abdomen and winds up his side, and he winces. “Ow.”

“You’re injured,” now Liu Qingge is frowning at him, but he doesn’t move to come any closer. His hand is whit knuckling the hilt of his sword, and he glances between Shang Qinghua and the tiger in open puzzlement.

“Yeah, kinda got impaled on its teeth,” Shang Qinghua replies, and makes a face. “When they were, uh, you know, bigger. Before...”

“It shrunk.” Liu Qingge states, scowling.

As if on cue, there’s a bright flash of light that momentarily blinds him, and the weight in Shang Qinghua’s lap shifts. Once his vision clears, he glances down to find a small, fuzzy little tiger cub gazing up at him with big, round, glistening eyes.

Shang Qinghua stares at it. The cub purrs, much softer than it had in its adolescent form, and gently butts it’s head against his chest, mewling quietly.

Shang Qinghua tears up. He can’t help it. He struggles to sit up, gathering the cub into his arms as he goes, and holds it against his chest. It’s fuzzy little ears perk up, tickling against his collar bone, and Shang Qinghua swallows.

Liu Qingge stares, as well, about as absolutely befuddled as the rest of them. After a moment, though, his face clears of its confusion, as if he’s decided to simply discard it, and he gives a shrug, hefting his sword arm up a bit and taking a step forward.

Shang Qinghua startles, scooting back a bit even though it pulls at his injury. “Shidi?!”

“It will be easier to kill, like this.” Liu Qingge says, nonchalant.

Shang Qinghua clutched the tiny, purring little tiger to his chest, aghast. “Shidi, no! It’s a baby!”

“It’s not,” Liu Qingge frowns at him. He points at the cub, who continues in its mission to aggressively cuddle the An Ding lord. “It’s a fully grown adult Flying Thunder Deity. It can just change its size.”

Shang Qinghua pauses. He pulls the still-purring cub away from his chest and holds it up to his eye-level.

“You tried to eat me,” he accuses.

The tiger cub blinks once, slowly, and lets out a tiny mewl in response.

“....” Shang Qinghua wraps his arms around the tiny thing and cuddles it to his chest. “I forgive you!”

“Shang Qinghua,” Liu Qingge exclaims, exasperated. Which! Not fair! Shang Qinghua wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him! So really, this is all Liu-shidi’s fault to begin with!

He tells him as such, and Liu Qingge scowls grumpily one response.

Shang Qinghua stands to his feet. And immediately tilts to the side. Liu Qingge steps forward, sword sheathed, to catch him around the waist, and the tiger gives a startled meow as it’s suddenly squished between the two of them.

Both men stare down at it. It blinks up at them for a moment, before turning to nuzzle it’s face into the dampened collar of Shang Qinghua’s robes, closing its eyes as if it's decided to take a nap then and there.

“You can’t tell me you’re going to kill it,” Shang Qinghua says. His words are beginning to slur together. “It’s too cute, Qingge!”

Liu Qingge tenses slightly at his given name, as he always seems to do when Shang Qinghua uses it. If he didn’t want him saying it, he shouldn’t have given him permission in the first place! After a moment, the man relaxes, and something about his face is… not as fierce, somehow.

Shang Qinghua doesn’t know what that means.

“You’re soaked,” Liu Qingge says. “... And injured.”

“Impaled,” Shang Qinghua reminds him, blinking his eyes slowly. They feel a little heavy. Maybe the tiger had the right idea of a nap. “Almost drowned.”

Liu Qingge frowns at the reminder. He stoops down after a moment and scoops up Shang Qinghua’s legs. Normally, he would protest being bridal carried like some maiden, but right now he’s way too tired. He rests his head against Liu Qingge’s shoulder, the tiger purring sleepily on his stomach, and closes his eyes.

There’s a quiet cough. “Shizun.” One of the disciples speaks. They sound embarrassed, for some reason?

“We’re heading back to the sect.” Liu Qingge announces.

“The, ah… the tiger?”

There’s a long moment of thoughtful silence. Then, “It’s your Shibo’s.”

“Ah…. okay….”

Shang Qinghua turns his face into his shidi’s collar and falls into a doze.

[eryiss]

Ship: Freed x Laxus [Fraxus]

Rating: Teen

Alternate Links: Fanfiction, Archive of our Own

Request: Something based off the official Rockband Raijinshuu art.

Summary: Being a rockstar, Laxus had to endure far too many chat shows. Usually he would grin and bear it, let the pointlessness of it roll off his back, but not this time. He was alone, forced to keep his budding relationship with Freed secret, and done with it. Fucking done with it all! But he had a way to fix it, and all it would take was a little courage.

Notes: This was a request by @fuckyeahfraxus. Just a warning, it has a bit of homophobia near the end, but nothing too vicious. I hope you enjoy it.

The Life Of A Song

Fuck chat shows. Fuck their hosts. Fuck their producers. Fuck their directors. Fuck their too-hot lighting, their stupid uncomfortable sofas, their tiny changing room's, their cramped green rooms with too many camera, their always cheering audiences and their utter lack of anything interesting or unique. Fuck the whole damn thing.

But Laxus' opinions on the matter weren't important. What did matter was that he smiled, laughed, told anecdotes and sat in a way that showed off his thighs and crotch just enough so that his Twitter stans - what a shitty word - made him trend once it was over.

Still, fuck chat shows.

This particular show, Late With Jase, was one of the worst. The host was young, overly enthusiastic, and his name was Jason rather than Jase which pissed Laxus off more than it should. He'd somehow dragged an audience of Netflix only watchers back to mainstream, with a mix of meme crap that Laxus cringed at, and celebrity gossip that would make a tabloid envious. But the ratings were skyrocketing, celebrities who went there usually got a boost in sales of their latest projects, and Laxus' manager had insisted he take his turn.

It would have been fine, were he not alone. If Ever, Bix and Freed were with him, they could take the responsibility and he could fade into the background. They had been a band for years, and that was how they always dealt with interviews. But they weren't there, because according to their management, Laxus was the moneymaker and all they needed.

"So Laxus," Jason turned in his chair to look at him. "Let's talk about Thunderstruck. What a success that's been? You must be thrilled.”

"It's doing well, yeah," Laxus nodded. He wanted to cringe at his words.

"It's doing more than well. You can hardly escape it," Jason laughed, and the crowd laughed with him. Laxus chuckled, even though he didn't find it funny. "But this is the first song that you've written, isn't it? And it's one of the most popular you've had. Must feel good."

"Well, it wasn't just me," Laxus swallowed slightly. "Everything we make is collaborative. Freed worked with the lyrics a lot, and Ever composed it."

"They're your bass player and electric guitar player, right?"

"I wouldn't call them mine," Laxus mumbled slightly.

There was a beat of awkward silence, and Laxus relished it just a little. Jason recovered quickly, which was annoying, and flashed a happy smile. Laxus would have preferred the man to stew in the uncomfortable silence, it would be a fitting response to him being dismissive of the band's contributions, but perhaps it was a childish way to think of things.

"Well we'll be hearing the song live at the end of the show," Jason continued, and Laxus' eyebrow twitched. The rest of the band were in the damn building and yet were being treated like shit. "But let's talk a bit about how you came to write it. Heavy rock and love songs have a troubled history, and you managed to make a hit out of it."

"Just lucky I guess," He shrugged. "Got good people around me too."

"Don't be so modest," Jason dismissed. Laxus wasn't being modest; luck was the dominant factor in successful music and without the band, Laxus would be fucked. "So, take us back. Where did the idea start."

"Well, hard to pinpoint I guess," Laxus murmured. "But, I suppose it was at the end of our last tour."

——

Performing live was indescribable. It was an assault on all his senses, in the very best way.

Everything was exhilarating. The feeling of vibrations on the stage, the cheers, roars and singing from the crowd, the sweat running down his back, the roar of his voice cutting through his throat as he sang. It all flowed through him, removing any sense of doubt or self consciousness he might have. On stage, before a stadium of fans, he was Laxus Fucking Dreyar. King, God and Dragon. Nothing was better.

They were on their last song of the set, a roaring anthem that the crowd could sing along to. It was thrilling to hear a song he'd worked on sung by thousands. Freed's words were being screamed at them, with the passion and love of their fan base. It was indescribable.

"We are The Thunder God's Tribe," Laxus yelled into the microphone as the instrumental began. The crowd roared in response.

Freed, Ever and Bix held the crowd's attention, and Laxus looked over the gathered mass of thousands. They were all there for them, because they loved them and wanted to experience them in person. A loud roar of appreciation cut through the stadium as Bickslow finished a drum solo that always brought the house down. How he managed to do that night after night while never screwing it up was beyond Laxus, but it was incredible.

Laxus sang the final verse, putting his whole heart into the performance. It was the last show of the tour, the last time they'd sing in front of a crowd like this for two years. He loved songwriting, but this was the best part of his work. The crowd, the music, the experience.

God he would miss this. This high. This buzz.

The lights died around them as the song ended, plunging them into darkness as the crowd roared their appreciation. The four of them could still see their fans as they cheered and yelled, and they took a few moments to appreciate it. He would miss this.

As they were taken from the stage, the adrenaline didn't waver. Laxus could run a marathon, deadlift any weight, swim any ocean in those moments. It was pure euphoria.

Evergreen trailed off to her dressing room first, scraping her nails down her bodyguard's chest before dragging him in with her. They were no longer pretending they were simply platonic anymore; Bickslow walking in on them must have removed any hope they could keep their relationship a secret. Good for them; Ever worked hard and deserved a big man to fill her bed.

Bix's groupies appeared out of nowhere, two men and a woman. They clung to the drummers bare chest instantly, and he cackled as he was dragged away for a night of depravity and booze. Laxus grinned; the party boy really had hit his stride this year.

Glancing at Freed, he saw the man looking equally amused.

A shared moment of eye contact sent a pulse of heat through Laxus. They stared at one another for a moment, and Laxus found his eyes crawling over Freed's shirtless torso without shame before he could stop it. Hard muscle and flexing abs were fully shown, and the heat in Laxus' face settled down lower. The rush of the performance was still running through him and he knew he wasn't in his right mind, but dammit Freed looked fucking hot in that moment. Tousled, sweating, shirtless; who could fucking resist that?

Laxus had always known Freed was hot. They spent hours upon hours together, it couldn't be missed. But he'd never thought too hard about it. You didn't fuck your badnmates. You didn't fuck your male bandmate.

And if he weren't coursing with adrenaline and dunk off of the cheers, he might have stopped.

With a stride, he surged forward and wrapped a hand around the back of Freed's neck. He pulled the man against him, pressing their lips together in a passionate, needy, energetic kiss. Freed dragged him back, pushing himself against the wall and taking Laxus with him. Hands were roaming over his chest, and Laxus groaned as they slid lower.

"Wait," Laxus whispered, pulling apart. A string of spit hung between them, and Laxus felt a twisted form of delight at it.

"What?" Freed asked, and his husky voice ran down Laxus' spine.

"We better take it inside," Laxus murmured, and Freed grinned.

They snuck into the nearest changing room, locking the door behind them. It was only in the next morning, when Laxus' mind was focused on something other than mindless, unadulterated pleasure, that he began writing a song. That he felt the need to write in a way that he'd never felt before.

Because kissing Freed was music. A high unmatched by anything else, and one that Laxus would find himself addicted to.

——

"And how did it come about?" Jason probed. "You've never written before. Did you find your muse?"

He had. But Jason didn't get to know it. Not that their manager would let it happen.

"Well, you know how bands work. You tour, make an album, then tour with the album," Laxus shrugged, reaching for his glass of water. "Your mind goes into production mode, I guess. You see things a little different, put a little creative spin on the things happening around you. Something struck me and I started writing," He laughed, awkward. "Not that interesting, really."

Not the fake story he'd been told to say, anyway.

The audience didn't seem to care about how crap the anecdote actually was, and applauded his words for some reason. Jason forced out a laugh, as if his statement had been a self-deprecating joke rather than a simple fact. What he'd been told to say wasn't interesting.

"Well, maybe you weren't struck by some divine intervention, but whatever happened it certainly worked out well," Jason continued, and the small screen beside him showed the album cover. Laxus hated the cover, it was just him. Not the four of them. It should be the four of them, or none of them at all. "It shot to the top of the charts and seems like it'll be there for a long time. That must feel good."

"It's incredible," Laxus agreed, and it was.

"So talk us through the writing process," Jason promoted, grinning. "I can't imagine you hunched over a desk night after night?"

"Well, the first draft only took a couple hours, really," Laxus confessed, blushing a little. The lights would cover it, but it was still embarrassing. "But me and Freed spent a couple nights together, and it became what you've been hearing."

——

"You always this tried?" Laxus chuckled, placing a takeout cup of coffee beside Freed.

The bassist blinked slowly up at Laxus, removing his face from its resting place against his arm. He glanced towards the coffee he'd been given with a thankful smile. Laxus smiled a little as Freed sat up straight, running a hand through his loose hair and letting it flow over his shoulders. He had bags under his eyes and a yawn split open his lips.

Laxus found himself slightly transfixed by the sight of Freed picking up the coffee, bringing it to his lips and drinking it in large gulps. His throat bobbed, pale skin stretching and chords tightening.

"Better to be tired that not focused," Freed smirked a little as he placed his coffee down.

"I think me looking at you is exactly the kinds focus we need," He grinned, and Freed chuckled.

The two of them were writing alone. After a fair amount of hesitation, Laxus had shown Freed the draft lyrics he'd written, and Freed had instantly presented ideas on how to fine tune it. He hadn't been patronising - nor had he teased Laxus about the fact he'd written a damn love song about him - and instead decided to encourage and help him make it a hit. They'd spent three subsequent nights in their studio, completely alone, and Laxus was loving it.

He'd never written a song before. Words weren't his forte, at least not the writing of them, and he much preferred to show passion through performance. But hours of Freed and him in the studio, bouncing ideas off each other, was thrilling.

Laxus suspected any time alone with Freed would be thrilling now.

Walking behind Freed to get to his own seat, Laxus leant down and pressed a soft kiss atop his head. Freed made a small sound and leant back against his chair to get closer to Laxus. He chuckled, ruffling Freed's hair slightly as he sat beside him.

"You made any progress?" Laxus asked, stretching slightly. He didn't miss Freed's eyes roaming over his chest. "What were you saying about being distracted."

"Until you wear looser fitting clothes, you don't get to talk about me being distracted," Freed smirked.

"Maybe I'd agree to that if I didn't know how uncomfortable those jeans you're wearing are," Laxus smirked. "Flatters the ass but crushes the balls, right? Regretting it yet?"

Freed didn't answer, but blushed a little and Laxus cackled.

They quickly fell into step, working on the song again. They were focusing on the second verse, which Laxus had dubbed the catalyst chapter. It had initially been a torrent of ways to describe how explosive his kiss with Freed had been - though names were vague enough for nobody to know that. With Freed's help, it had turned into a well written lyrical explanation to the first flushes of a romance. The burning passion, the fire between the two people, the erotic rush that could ignite from a simple glance. Watching Freed write, Laxus had to hope he was writing about his own feelings for Laxus.

He also had to stop himself from jumping the man, because Freed knew how to write a hot song. A really hot song…

Taking his espresso and gulping it down, Laxus looked away from his lover. Perhaps if Freed were anyone else - if he weren't a guy, or if he weren't in the band - Laxus might have given in and kissed him. He wanted to, but couldn't,

Once they'd been signed, te band had been given a long speech about how you couldn't screw your bandmate by their manager, how it could ruin things and screw up the dynamic. When Laxus had discovered he was bi, and wanted to come out as such, multiple crisis meetings were held. Not only had Laxus not been allowed to speak about his sexuality, with the risk of his contract being terminated immediate held over him, but he'd also been forced to stage pictures with a woman so he looked to be dating.

There had been backlash even then. His fans were vicious to the poor model, many seemed angry at him for supposedly betraying them by dating someone, it was fucking insane, and Laxus hadn't known hot to take it, but it had scared him off relationships for years.

So, he couldn't date. Definitely couldn't date bandmates. Certainly couldn't date men.

And knowing that, he'd still come back to Freed. Slept with him after their tour, then in the hotel later that night, they'd even fumbled about in the tour bus to the airport when everyone else was sleeping. They'd been in dates - or as close to dates two famous men could get - and a week prior had sat down and talked. They didn't care about the rules, because their budding romance was too damn good.

Never let it be said Laxus kept things comfortable for himself.

"Stop that," Freed scolded.

"Stop what?" Laxus asked, looking from the song and towards Freed.

"Torturing yourself," Freed explained, taking Laxus' hand and stroking it. "It'll do you know good. Certainly not when we're trying trying to write a ballad about the two of us."

"Sorry," Laxus hunched.

"Don't be, I think about it too," Freed admitted, leaning towards Laxus and against him. "But drowning in what ifs and self doubt is hardly going to make things better. We might as well enjoy what we have while it's still between the two of us, and deal with the fallout should it present itself.”

"You're right," Laxus nodded, blinking himself back into focus. "Not sure I can write tonight, though. Not in the mood."

"You don't want to write sonnets about how much you want me? Should I be offended?" Freed smirked, and Laxus laughed. "Or perhaps should I see it as a challenge to refocus your attention."

A hand ran down Laxus' inner thigh, and his breath hitched slightly. "Really?"

"Well, the song needs to be finished eventually," Freed hummed a little. "The sooner the better, I'd say. So getting your mind back on me seems the only thing that makes sense,"

"Really," Laxus tried to make his voice sound seductive, but Freed's wandering hand made him crack slightly. "H-how d'you think you'd do that."

"Well, let's say that in five minutes you find yourself in the instrument store down the hall," Freed mused aloud. "And let's say you find me already there, and I happen to be kneeling there waiting for you. Well, we can hardly be blamed if we find ourselves distracted."

Laxus swallowed. "Here? You sure?”

"There's no one around," Freed shrugged far too nonchalantly, and then grinned a devilishly handsome grin. "And I must admit, making you come undone in here has been a fantasy of mine," His hand squeezed Laxus thigh, before he stood up, and all flirtation was gone. "I should find a guitar, we can hardly write without practice. Perhaps I'll see you in there."

And then he was gone, walking away with his ass hugged perfectly in his jeans. All doubts about his future with Freed disappeared, replaced by the uncomfortable tightness in his boxers.

He found himself grinning, and a few minutes later he found himself in the instrument room, panting and moaning.

——

"It was pretty normal," Laxus continued, not looking to Jason. "We wrote, we practiced, we rewrote."

"Keeping your secrets close to your chest, I see," Jason laughed. "Now, speaking of secrets, the rumours have been flying on Twitter about who this is written about."

"I hadn't heard about that," Laxus tried to dismiss the statement.

"I'm sure you haven't," Jason nodded almost patronisingly, clearly not believing him. It was fair, Laxus supposed. #WhoIsThunderstruck did trend for a week. "But you have to admit, a virgin songwriter making something so powerful on their first try, and in a song so distant from anything else you've ever made, does seem to suggest maybe you've found someone to inspire you."

"I'm around a lot of talented people," Laxus shrugged. "They know how to make a hit."

He was squirming now, and not because of Jason. Their manager was seating in the front row of the live audience, and a quick glance his way showed Laxus a glare. This was a topic he had to avoid, because his fans needed to think the song was about them. It was patronising, Laxus thought, but they'd found success with their manager for a reason.

"So," Jason continued. "Have you found yourself a special lady?"

And then something ridiculous happened. Laxus found himself furious.

Such a simple statement, so innocuous and normal for Laxus' life, had opened the floodgates for Laxus. Because why had he assumed it would be a woman? Why had he assumed he could ask a question like that? Why was Laxus in a position where he couldn't answer something so simple when he really fucking wanted to?

Every ridiculous injustice seemed to swarm over him at once. How was it fair he had to parade himself on shows like this, on his own despite how his band deserved as much love and respect as he did? How was it fair that he'd known he wanted to be with a man for five years, and he'd never allowed himself to indulge before Freed? How was it fair that he'd been forced to endure meeting after meeting about how 'stupid' he was being for hooking up with Freed? How was it fair that he couldn't go out for a fucking pizza with his boyfriend without starting a ridiculous internet scandal? It was all so bullshit.

"Nah," Laxus answered, leaning back in his chair. The anger gave way to confidence; every interview he'd been on edge, but not any more. "Not a girl."

"So nobody's tamed the dragon slayer then?"

"Not a girl," Laxus repeated. "A guy. I'm bi, and for the last couple months I've been dating Freed," There was silence, and Laxus grinned and turned to Jason. "Bet you wished you'd gotten him on stage with me now, huh?"

"You're…" Jason seemed at a loss for words.

"Screwing the bassist, yeah," Laxus laughed, exhilaration flooding through him. "Inevitable really. I've known I liked guys for five years, and there's a load of fan pages who talk about how hot Freed is, so it was bound to happen," He grinned, running a hand through his hair.

This felt so good. Fuck, he didn't know how much he needed to do this.

"So," Jason tried to recover. "Well, erm, we have r to go to break now. Maybe we'll talk about that when we get back, I really don't know."

The moment the cameras cut, people began approaching Laxus. His manager, his PR team, and most importantly, his band. Ever and Bix attempted to run interference on their management team, but the angry man and his cronies pushed through them with fury on their faces. Still, Freed met him first, and wordlessly grabbed Laxus by the collar and brought their lips together. It was more passionate and desperate than any of their kisses had been.

"I'm so proud of you," Freed whispered. "And we are definitely talking about how you know those fan sites exist."

"Who d'you think made 'em," Laxus grinned, and Freed laughed.

Their small, shared moment ended when a throaty cough cut through them. Their manager was looming over them, and Laxus met them with a cruel grin, knowing it was too late: that was the problem with live TV.

"Problem?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"What the hell were you thinking?" The manager snarled. "You just fucked all of us, do you understand that? How fucking selfish are you. You've ruined this album, you know that? You think your bandmates will forgive you?"

"Nothing to forgive," Bix said immediately.

"You're a dick for not letting him do it before," Evergreen agreed.

Their manager seemed to flounder for a moment, before narrowing his glare at Laxus again. "Do you think your fans will want to see that?" He growled again, voice getting louder now. "You think they'll still want you now they know that. Now they have to think about you being with… with him!" He motioned to Freed disparagingly. "They'll leave you. You've fucked yourselves, you know that."

Silence filled the soundstage, and their manager seethed. Laxus grinned, then looked past him towards the audience, half of whom had their phones pointed towards them.

"Since you're always talking about PR," Laxus smirked. "How d'you think you'll look once this hits Twitter?"

Their manager halted, then slowly turned. He turned sheet white, and it was brilliant.

"Oh, and in case you're worrying about your little threat to drop us if I came out, don't," Laxus smirked, though looked up to his band, who all nodded. "Yer fired, so fuck off."

[nineteenninety-six]

Cheater Cheater - Part 2

Here’s part two! I’m not sure I like but eh. I made Tommy into a massive asshole in this but truly speaking, he’s always an asshole so lol

I also watched Knives Out last night and omg!! What a great fucking movie, like holy shit. Fun fact, I’m a film student but I’m not a big fan of watching films lol

TAG LIST: @shadow-of-wonder @stassiebabyy @dayna041101 @kingarthurscat @soleil-dor @gothicwidowsworld @captivatedbycillianmurphy @porcelainjokersmadness @futuristicslimemongerbanana 

(I can’t tag some of the people who asked so I’ll see if I can tag you in the notes or smth)

WORD COUNT: 1837 

[PART ONE] 

(Y/N) strolled into the distillery, Alfie’s men greeting her as she passed by. It was nearly one pm and (Y/N) decided to bring her husband lunch, knowing that if she didn’t, he wouldn’t eat until dinner, where she would force him to eat with her.

Alfie’s tendency to spend all day working and less time eating and sleeping reminded her of a certain someone from her past, one that she had tried so hard to forget about over the past three years but it didn’t help that Alfie was very similar to him.

(Y/N) had met Alfie just a few days after she had arrived in London. She had gotten a room at a boarding house with the bit of money she had left with and was prowling the streets of London looking for a job when she had stumbled into a bakery in Camden after a long day of walking around looking for jobs and getting rejected. She had only initially gone in there to buy herself a snack but in a moment of desperation, she had asked if there were any jobs going and just after the man said there wasn’t, the hulking form of a man who had walked into the shop through the back had interrupted the man and told her there was a job vacancy. The man had introduced himself as Alfie Solomons and he was the owner of the bakery and after a brief meeting, he gave her a job of the bookkeeper for the bakery.

As time went on, (Y/N) found herself getting closer and closer to Alfie and after a few months of not so subtle flirting, Alfie had asked her out to dinner as a date and the rest was history. (Y/N) fell for Alfie hard and fast, she had doubts about being in a relationship after what had happened with Tommy and feared that she would never love someone like how she loved Tommy but Alfie quickly erased those fears and doubts and he quickly became the love of her life. (Y/N) had thought that Tommy was the one for her but after a lot of thinking, she realised that her relationship with Tommy was one-sided, she gave him all the love and affection she could whilst he could barely be bothered to reciprocate. To Tommy, she was a someone who loved him unconditionally and would do pretty much anything for him and of course, he didn’t want to throw that away, his affair with Grace wasn’t probably the only time he had cheated on her and as she spent more time with Alfie, (Y/N) realised that she hadn’t truly loved him, not like how she loved Alfie.

Alfie had treated her like a princess, always taking her out and buying her things and if she hadn’t told him that she didn’t care about those materialistic things and all she wanted was him and his love, he would still be spoiling her to this day, though he still has those moments where he gifts her extravagant and expensive things.

After a year of dating, Alfie had proposed and they married only a few months after his proposal. Their wedding was small, only a few of Alfie’s friends in attendance but (Y/N) had no-one. Despite how much she missed Ada and Polly and how much she wanted them there at her wedding, she thought it was best to cut off everyone from or connected to the Shelby family, it was only way she was going to live a safe and peaceful life, though her opinion on living a peaceful and safe life quickly changed after she was followed by a small group of men shortly after the wedding. Luckily for her, some of Alfie’s men had seen what was happening and dealt with them before anything could happen to her but it meant that night Alfie was quietly explaining about what he actually did for a living and how the bakery was just a front to his distillery business before begging and pleading for her not to leave him. (Y/N) had spent a couple of days locked up in one of the guest bedrooms, thinking about her future with Alfie and whether or not being married to a gangster is what she really wants and after those few days of thinking, she left the guest bedroom and tripped over Alfie who had been sitting outside of her door and she was pretty sure she saw tears in his eyes when she told him that she would stay with him and that she had no plan on leaving, not that he would admit he was tearing up anyway.

(Y/N) was happy and content with Alfie and he never got her involved with his illegal business, allowing her to manage to the bakery instead. Her almost three years with Alfie were pretty much perfect.

“Is in Ollie?” (Y/N) asked Alfie’s assistant, Ollie.

“Yes, Mrs Solomons but he has a meeting in a bit” Ollie gave her a smile.

“Ah okay, I won’t be long then.” With one last wave, (Y/N) left Ollie’s desk and made her way over to Alfie’s office.

(Y/N) knocked on the door before she stepped in, a wide smile coming over her face as she locked eyes with her husband.

“Mrs Solomons, how wonderful it is to see ya” Alfie smiled as he leant back on his chair.

“You’re in a good mood, Alf.” (Y/N) made her way over to him, placing the bag with Alfie’s lunch on it on his desk.

“My lovely wife has decided to come visit me, why wouldn’ ah be?” Alfie pushed himself out of his chair and walked around his desk so he could stand in front of (Y/N).

“Uh-hmm” (Y/N) hummed before she pushed herself up on her tippy-toes so that she kiss Alfie.

“Not that I don’t like to see ya luv but what’s the special occasion?” Alfie slowly walked back towards his chair, dragging (Y/N) along with him.

“I brought you some lunch, I know what you’re like.” (Y/N) allowed herself to be pulled by Alfie.

“Ahh!” (Y/N) let out a small shriek as she was suddenly pulled down as Alfie slumped down into his seat.

“Sorry darlin’” Alfie smiled at her, his large hand running up and down her thigh.

“No, you’re not, you horrible person.” (Y/N) muttered.

Alfie simply grinned at her before pulling her into a kiss.

A knock on the door along with Ollie announcing that the person Alfie was supposed to meet had arrived, had the couple pulling away from the kiss. (Y/N) hopped off of Alfie’s lap whilst the man glared at Ollie- or rather the door to his office that separated them for interrupting.

“Stop pouting Alf.” (Y/N) smiled at her husband.

Alfie good-naturedly rolled his eyes before shouting to Ollie to let the man in.

(Y/N) was too busy saying goodbye to Alfie and making sure that he remembered to eat the lunch she bought him to pay attention to who walked it but when Ollie announced who the person was, she left like a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over her and when she looked at the man with wide eyes, she found her ex-boyfriend looking back at her with surprise written on his face.

“(Y/N)?”

“T-tommy?” “How do you know my wife, Shelby?” Alfie had stood up, his large form standing behind her and a strong, comforting hand resting on the small of her back.

Tommy said nothing, still staring in shock at (Y/N) so Alfie asked (Y/N) instead.

“(Y/N)?”

“This is Tommy, I-uh, my ex from when I was in Birmingham.” (Y/N) said, reaching behind her searching for Alfie’s hand, gripping it tightly when she found it.

“The one who had cheated on you?” Alfie tensed up and growled.

“Yeah…” (Y/N) whispered.

Ollie had smartly escaped and (Y/N) was wishing that she too could escape.

“So you left me for another gangster eh?” Tommy scoffed, disbelief on his face.

“No” (Y/N) retorted, feeling insulted by Tommy’s insinuation, “I left you because you cheated on me and treated me like rubbish Thomas.”

“You blew it out of proportion. You know that if a man cheats on you, it’s because you’re lacking and he has to seek elsewhere.”

Alfie growled, ready to shout at Tommy but (Y/N) spoke up before he did,

“So you sought your way into the Irish whore’s bed who also ended up being a spy that got your brother-in-law thrown into jail and in turn severed your relationship with your only sister? Or how about when she nearly got you killed and the business ruined? I wasn’t the fucking problem Tommy, you were. You and your massive ego.”

(Y/N) didn’t know where all that came from but she was glad she spoke up and finally spoke her mind.

Tommy grit his teeth, “That’s been resolved, everything ended up fine.”

“Oh so I guess you’re still with Grace if everything ended up being fine”

Tommy’s jaw ticked as he hesitated to answer and (Y/N) instantly knew what had happened. She guessed that she was able to read him after all those years together.

“She’s left?” (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh, “So she spied on you, betrayed you and left you.”

Tommy just glared at her.

“Good, you deserve it.” (Y/N) shook her head, a small smile on her face.

Tommy was visibly angry and opened his mouth, most likely to yell abuse at (Y/N) but Alfie cut in,

“While it was great to see ya mate,” Alfie says, sarcasm dripping from his voice before he switched to a serious and intimidating growl, “I never wanna see you again, now piss off.”

Tommy opened his mouth to argue but Alfie interrupted yet again, “Any business we might have had is finished and if I see you or anyone from your fuckin’ gang around (Y/N) or in Camden, I will kill you.”

Tommy glared one more time at them before storming out of Alfie’s office, the door slamming loudly behind him.

When (Y/N) was sure Tommy was gone, she turned around and cried into Alfie’s chest. Alfie simply wrapped his arms around and slowly rocked them from side to side, whispering comforting words to her along with pressing soft kisses on her head.

When (Y/N) had stopped crying, she slightly pulled away from Alfie and looked up at him, “I’m sorry Alf.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for luv. Don’t worry about him or anyone else eh, you and me are the only one who matter.” Alfie soothed her

(Y/N) wrapped her arms around Alfie and hugged him tightly, grateful for him and his love and support for her. She was glad she had found someone who loved and appreciated her for who she was.

[dinosaurtsukki]

haikyuu!! music idol au (seijoh and shiratorizawa vers.)

hello hello! now for the groups with seijoh and shiratorizawa! if you like this why not check out music idol au karasuno vers.

CROWN ENTERTAINMENT

okay so basically this is now the entertainment company for the groups FALCON and KING

HAHAHS THE NAMES I REALLY CAN'T GUYS I'M SORRY THE NEXT POST ABOUT NEKOMA AND FUKURODANI ARE GONNA BE MUCH WORSE

okay but yes

they're one of the biggest names in the country and their groups have been around for quite some time

washijo is CEO

they're known to be very hard to get into because all of their idols are trained to be polished at whatever they do

but all of their releases are top quality

so lets get into the groups !!

KING - seijoh

okay so KING has 8 members and most of their comeback concepts are pretty bubblegum pop and boy-next-door

our leader for this group is oikawa of course

he's also wanted to be an idol for so long and trained really hard for it

• he managed to pass the auditions but his trainee years were hard on him because of all the expectations and work

luckily he befriended iwa who was also a struggling trainee

they spent years helping each other out and leaning on each other for support until their debut came

oikawa's the all-around vocalist, visual, and dancer so he's almost always in the center

the kind who nails all the notes while busting out the hardest dance moves

he's also multilingual because he wants to talk to a variety of his fans

everything he does seems so natural but in reality he practices so hard that iwa has to drag him to bed

iwa's our main rapper and main dancer of the group

his audition tape of him dancing was a bit embarassing because he was wearing a godzilla sweater and his hair was gelled up

everyone likes to bring it out from time to time

his fans also like sending him anything godzilla

his rapping is pOWERFUL and he can also beatbox really well

he also leads the dance breaks in performances

everyone thought he was scary until oikawa accidentally called him iwa-chan in a radio show and now everyone calls him iwa-chan

while oikawa is the leader, iwa is the one who manages everyone and makes sure no one gets lost when they go to awards shows

matsukawa and hanamaki were trainees that came in later and they became friends because they were roommates

hanamaki saw matsukawa taping printed out pictures of memes on the wall beside his bed and immediately knew they would be friends for life

and they were

they're notorious for sneaking food into their dorms and also picking on oikawa

they're kind of like an inseparable duo especially since hanamaki is on vocals and matsukawa is on rap

they have a lot of onstage moments and fans love how playful they are

they kind of improvise a bit sometimes when it comes to dance moves which makes washijo want to pull his hair out but fans like it so :/

they're the oldest members but they still call iwa and oikawa 'mom and dad'

they like doing weird shit to hanamaki's hair and taking videos of it 

the ‘what’s a contract? never heard of it’ duo basically 

yahaba's like the resident beautiful guy apart from oikawa

his voice is really melodious and he's often the one harmonizing with the high part

also sUCH a fLIRT

camera: *is directed at him*

yahaba: *blows a kiss*

matsuhana try to get him into their pranks on oikawa but he's too much of a goody two shoes

likes to film his skincare routine for the fans

secretly oikawa’s favorite junior

kyoutani auditioned for CROWN because he thought they were forming a hip-hop group or something edgy but no he was put into KING and he has to be around softies

he was desperate to get kicked out at first until iwa convinced him that he could still keep his look

they gave up on making him smile or look bright on cameras and said that if he's going to glare at least make it sexy

only listens to iwa and always stands next to iwa during award shows 

kindaichi and kunimi are their most treasured juniors and they'll do anything to protect them

both of them are vocalists and even though they don't often sing the melodies or hit the high notes, they're great harmonizing

actually knew of kageyama back in their auditioning days and were lowkey jealous of him

kindaichi is the sweetest junior he's always the one giving the members water and making sure they're alright

kunimi just silently observes the entire time and barely says anything but he'll often approach iwa for pointers when it comes to dancing

they were super young when they debuted and attended high school together in between practice

their seniors surprised them by coming to their graduation and even performing at the ceremony

both of them aren't as good as their fellow members yet but kindaichi works hard to be able to earn a few more lines in their songs

kunimi doesn't show much effort but he secretly likes to learn songwriting and music production because his dream is for KING to perform one of his songs

FALCON - shiratorizawa

another group that debuted about a year or two before KING

it is a POWERHOUSE of talent

also pretty much the OG group for most fans that inspired other upcoming groups

a lot of their concepts are centered around a mature gentleman image

idk what im saying but i'd compare them to super junior pretty much

they also do a lot of edgy concepts

ushijima's the leader of the group plus main rapper

he was actually inspired to become a rapper after watching another idol's performance

tbh he never expected to debut with a group but he had grown attached to some of his fellow trainees

he's also really talented at writing and producing songs

super stoic, even in front of the camera, but fans love his attempts at humor

tendou's like their main dancer and rapper

when he was younger people said his dancing looked weird because tendou could do those really cool, almost jerky movements

when washijo saw his audition tape he was like 'hmm we could use that'

thats because FALCON is super big on choreography, especially the ones that look like all the members are creating this huge other thing just by using movement

tendou pretty much leads the dance breaks all the time and he looks super serious and intense

he likes saying the most random, funny things during interviews

sometimes you'll catch him dancing by himself when they’re just waiting for results in award shows

so many conspiracy videos as to whether or not tendou has joints

now we have our shirabu kenjiro

this boy is like a prodigy he was destined to be recruited by CROWN and to end up in FALCON

the more i spell out these names the more i see how absurd they all look i'm sorry

tendou likes to call him his 'beloved junior'

he's as serious as ushiwaka is but with sASS

is known for sassing out interviewers and show hosts when he can tell that they're making up bullshit and now everyone's scared of him

he's main vocals and visuals

his voice is like a really nice baritone and he's very powerful with his singing that people don't question whether or not he lipsyncs

actually gets the most lines in their group

he likes to challenge the limits of his contract and even cut his own bangs and that's why they're Like That

he ended up getting chewed out by washijo for it

ya boi semisemi is out here being a dAncE gOD

he can learn choreography really quickly and in variety shows the hosts always challenge him to learn another group's choreo by looking at it once

so far he has not lost

everyone in his team cheers him on

also basically the group's main choreographer. he'll lowkey get mad at someone who forgot the choreo but teach them anyway

interacting with fans makes him so happy and soft he treasures every letter he receives and likes giving out gifts during fanmeets

he keeps his room really neat and likes to display the presents he receives from fans

also main vocalist in the group but just gets a line or two

his real skill though are opening dance performances during music award shows

he, tendou, and goshiki slay every opening performance and its amazing

reon is the last main rapper of the group and basically The Mom of the group

he's the one calming everyone down and checking up with people before they perform

his rapping sounds really smooth and very close to how he speaks normally so he shines most in the b-side tracks of their album

he had a lot of struggles passing auditions because most companies would discriminate because of appearance but washijo saw a lot of potential in him

he likes to speak out about the discrimination in terms of appearance in the music industry

everyone in FALCON supports him

lastly we have goshiki the precious little maknae of the group

everyone dotes on him because he was a skinny child when he debuted with the group

goshiki's like the legendary maknae who could do pretty much anything

he's main vocalist, dancer, and visuals

when he started out he was always super active and full of initative as a trainee

he trained super hard just to debut with FALCON because he looks up to ushijima

like shirabu, he gets a ton of lines and sings a lot during the chorus

when he graduated everyone from FALCON attended and he treated them all too lunch

after every comeback tendou's jus like 'our little baby goshiki is growing up'

i basically wrote him as jungkook from bts didn't i?

additional hc’s for funsies

oikawa was actually supposed to debut much earlier with FALCON but he had grown attached to his fellow trainees (iwa and matsuhana) and wanted to be in a group with them

FALCON and KING have a small rivalry ongoing to see who can get the most views in one day during every comeback video that the members do all these crazy things to get their fans to stream their comebacks

one of them was matsuhana promising to release a rare picture of kyoutani smiling 

FALCON has Boardgame Fridays where they just play boardgames all night and it’s super fun and precious because goshiki gets super competitive

also all of his seniors tried to get him drunk after his graduation and goshiki did in fact get drunk and ended up spilling some secrets about how shirabu cuts his bangs on instagram live

FALCON and KING love having dance-off sessions with each other and the music they always choose is ‘Crazy in Love’ from the White Chicks movie

the reon and semi have a mukbang series on instagram live and sometimes yahaba and kindaichi join in

ushijima allegedly wrote and produced a song about the joy of farming but washijo rejected it from appearing on the album because it was weird but thanks to tendou spilling about it, fans demanded to hear the song and ushijima performed it in one of their concerts

kunimi also wrote a song about that was supposedly about a loving a bad boy despite being a nice girl and when people asked what his inspiration was he just said ‘kyouhaba’ 

haikyuu!! music idol au series: karasuno vers., seijoh and shiratorizawa vers., nekoma and fukurodani vers.

[jcmorrigan]

blakeworther- I personally I love your hc’s so much- any au’s or anything ya got for them? I really wanna know more about what goes on.

This was once again a BAD QUESTION TO ASK

Aside from the Skyward Sword AU, which I never went back to again, there’s only one AU that I like for Blakeworther, which is the AU that I like for everything ever. I’m not even sure I consider it a true AU, even though it absolutely is. So, okay, I have this thing called the WHAM ARMY, which is a massive crossover group of my favorite villains (led by the eight who make up the acronym but this ain’t about them). Obviously, because Victor, Vincent, and Albert are all pretty firmly villains (even if they lean “those weird morally bereft people we end up being friends with somehow”), I want them to join the WHAM ARMY. So my thoughts for them here are pretty much how they’d react in a multicrossover setting, which of my other villain loves they’d get along with, and what the intro arc is for them. Keep in mind I haven’t gotten here in the fanfic yet, so some of this could change in practice, but here are my plans right now.

Cringe ahead.

-They aren’t the originals. I want to make something that doesn’t trip over canon’s current trajectory, even though I don’t know exactly where canon is going, so what happens is that Vexen (Kingdom Hearts) is going to rebuild the three of them as replicas, since he can easily find memory cores for Victor and Vincent in Myers’ storage rooms and there’s just going to be an Albert core there for no reason.

-Vexen then pulls some Chain of Memories magic and restricts the memories they have access to. They will only remember things we have literally seen in VTSOM/TWDAK, and then I can have him release more of their memory banks to them as we get more chapters. (Even if they all three get redemption arcs, my replica versions can stay little shits!)

-He DOES NOT tell them that they’re not the originals! For all they know, they fell asleep at the last day they remember and woke up here. But they figure it out on their own despite his best efforts. They still want to get their memories back anyway so they know what the people they were replicated from were like and have a framework to build their personalities from.

-Yes, of course they’re cyborgs! Cyborg replicas. Since they’re operating by KH rules, they prooooobably don’t need to eat human meat? But also I like when villains do fucked-up things and I have jokes about the others packaging “cyborg chow” to embarrass them so maybe they still do engage in a little cannibalism, as a treat

-Each was engineered with a different specialty. Vincent’s is raw physical strength; he can walk into a gunfight without even needing a weapon and still have a chance of winning. Victor’s arms have been upgraded to hold a variety of cannons; he’s the team sniper. Albert is the team “mage”; he can conjure Dream Eaters. In this AU, TWDAK Dream Eaters and KH Dream Eaters are basically the same thing. Albert has mastered a strange art of being able to draw Dream Pieces out of the Realm of Sleep and implant them in physical forms of creatures in the waking world, creating his army. They look like they do because he hates the pastel aesthetic of KH Dream Eaters and redesigned his personal ones to look more fitting with his aesthetic. He’s also a speedster.

-The intro mission involves Vexen attempting to track down a newly-rebuilt Xion (this AU is divergent from KHIII) in Radiant Garden so he can bring her back under his control with some brainwashing. I’m also bringing in the Tsviets as past experiments of Vexen’s, so he’s basically pitting his newer models of experiment against his old ones.

-The party he already has built by this point is going to be Demyx, Simon Laurent (Infinity Train), Tsumugi Shirogane (DanganRonpa), skekSil (The Dark Crystal), and a couple other people I haven’t hinted at instory yet and don’t quite want to spoil. But Simon, Tsumugi, and skekSil will all also be Vexen’s creations - Simon and skekSil are replicas and Tsumugi is an android.

-Vincent, Victor, and Albert wake up for the first time, and while Vincent and Victor remember each other as friends, they’re just like “And why is our nemesis from RMU also here?”

-Albert probably fights with Vincent for dominance of the trio and I’m not sure which one of them is the trio leader at this point.

-I moved Nine Bean Hill from World of Final Fantasy to Radiant Garden because Radiant Garden needs a coffee shop and first of all, thanks to Hunger Games Simulator fuckery, my friends and I have an in-joke about Vincent Edgeworth having an eternal grudge against Dunkacino, so I’m going to use the coffee shop to reference this somehow without having to put actual Corporate Brainwashed Al Pacino in this ‘verse

-But also I like to think Lann and Reynn play a lot of bubblegum pop, so catch Victor and Albert dancing to the PA like idiots and then getting Demyx, skekSil, and Simon in on it while Vincent and Vexen are like “Oh God why are these our friends”

-(There are reasons this particular Demyx goes by a different name instory and it’s weirding me out to type “Demyx” for this post)

-Without spoiling too much of the arc, there IS a part where Blakeworther beats up the Tsviets, there IS a part where they battle the Anima summon from FFX and win, and there IS a part where despite all of this, Xion kicks their asses across the city

-They go through this mission seeing each other as partners and friends (though Vincent and Albert are reluctant to use the “friend” word at first), but after they all get back to base, they’re just...suddenly overwhelmed with the fact that they’re strangers in a strange land missing half their memories.

-They room together, and they end up crawling into the same bed for solidarity reasons. This is actually where I first envisioned the “rough day” sleeping position - Vincent and Victor are chest-to-chest, then Albert just snuggles in behind Victor and the other two are like “Okay, we’re gonna just let this happen” and Vincent and Albert touch at one tangent point where their arms cross.

-The days might get a little rougher after they realize they aren’t even the originals.

-Eventually they assimilate into the chaos house with no problem.

-Vincent tends to hang out with the party poopers of the house. Especially Mozenrath (Aladdin: The Animated Series). (P.S. If there are any VTSOM fans out there who also know the 90s Aladdin TV series...I CAN’T be the only one who noticed the surface similarities here, right?)

-Victor Blake and Roman Torchwick (RWBY). Oh, God, this is the hell duo. They’re party animals who love to dance and drink and dance drunk. It was not a good idea to let these two redheads meet.

-Albert and Neopolitan (RWBY)! They both love stabbing people and Victorian button boots! I actually kinda have this idea that they would pick up more fucked-up serial killer types to hang out with them - Mad Madam Mim (The Sword in the Stone) is their patron despite being a much tamer example, but Albert also decides he really likes Scaramouche (Samurai Jack), Junko Enoshima (DanganRonpa), and Jerome Valeska (Gotham).

-For a real deep cut, Albert also opens up a joint Dream Therapy office with Dr. Cheshire Broach (Crypt TV). It’s either called “Krueger & Broach” or “Broach & Krueger” depending on how long it takes either to notice that the other moved his name to the front of the sign again. You should ABSOLUTELY not trust either of these men to give you legitimate therapy (though if you’re good friends with them, they can and will use their dreamon powers to help you best your nightmares in a bloody fashion).

-Actually this ‘verse is the entire reason I thought of them doing drag karaoke to “United We Stand” by Amberian Dawn because the WHAM ARMY is all about karaoke, drag, and any combination of the two

-I haven’t decided yet if their romance will be a slow burn or a faster affair. I’m expecting them to tell me as I write out the fic. But I think in a lot of respects, it’s going to be more of a friends-to-lovers story than their original forms had. The three of them are forced to become an elite cyborg warrior unit created by the same mad scientist, they had a big bonding mission together where they became ride or die (whether or not they want to admit it), and eventually...we can start revealing that they’re CATCHING FEELINGS.

-The WHAM ARMY has many, many power couples and ships of various numbers of people but Blakeworther ends up becoming yet another POWER THROUPLE around base, and it’s understood that messing with one of them will earn the wrath of the other two

-They go on to assist in many, many missions with the purpose of taking over various worlds and kingdoms and just fucking them up

-Vincent Edgeworth will kill the TBTC equivalent of Dunkacino

You have to understand that TBTC is my hyperfixation to end all hyperfixations. Every piece of fiction I touch ends up related to it in some way. At some point the majority of how I interact with Blakeworther is going to be through this AU. I’m just a sucker for crossovers and villains having a place to be bros and party.

[alkhale]

Shoot the Ball (Ushijima x Reader) Ko-Fi request

Guuuurl can I please get like a bunch of accidental run in encounters with ushiwaka plssss I feel like he doesn’t get much love

Here’s the problem with a school like Shiratorizawa.

It’s a big school.

Fucking huge.

Massive campus yet elite, trimmed student body with a very personal class average of students to teachers. Private tutors are offered in every nook and cranny of the libraries, and the dorms are luscious and extravagant.

Unknown to many of your classmates but most of your team members are aware, you got into Shiratorizawa on a favor from your childhood kyudo coach and a hefty scholarship you had to claw your way towards over a bunch of other studious bookworms. 

You’re the leading star on Shiratorizawa’s kyudo club, the ochi from your tachi group, the last person to shoot, the person who guides the rest of the team. You also hold the position of captain in your third year at Shiratorizawa, and kyudo is all you have ever known and love.

But, but, but, but, at a school like Shiratorizawa where a classic, high performance sport like kyudo, a traditional, beautiful sport like kyudo should be fairly popular, your club and your teammates’ performances are always outshone by more high-energy, easily watchable sports.

Shiratorizawa’s sports expect nothing but the highest level of triumphs from all their divisions. From basketball to dressage on horse, each club is required to perform admirably. If you perform well, the more funding you got for your club, the more prestige, and all good things.

Shiratorizawa’s kyudo club is actually high on the list, last year your team placed first at the Inter High and made it to the top four in nationals. Despite all this, despite the fact that you even scored consecutive kaichus, hitting all your marks and not missing a single arrow, making waves in the kyudo community and getting higher renown for your team, your headmaster still refused to acknowledge your club.

You’d come to him, white headband tied around your head, posters ready, armed and prepared to fight tooth and nail for an increase in funds and a spot at advertisements because if your fellow student body just knew about the sport, more people would join, more people would watch, and your club wouldn’t be in danger of closing down after you graduate or declining—

“It’s just not popular!” your headmaster clapped you over the shoulders himself, beaming. “Keep working hard though! Good job last year!”

Because popular and television-worthy, massive poster worthy, constant overhead announcements in the morning and the afternoon about matches, constant offered opportunities for extra credit, belong to certain sports at Shiratorizawa.

Shiratorizawa’s Boys’ Volleyball team.

Every morning you came to school and stared in disgust, not out of a personal vendetta for the guy, but for his whole damn team for taking the spotlight for the past three years you’d been here at Shiratorizawa, at the giant, blown up poster lining your school’s walls, posted in any classroom you two might have together. He flooded the school’s daily bulletin, online articles, even the god damn konbini near your house when your returned home for the holidays.

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Volleyball star, playing for Japan’s national youth team—which was something you did drool over because nationals was your goal for kyudo—and even top of all his classes.

You kinda hated this guy and you didn’t even know him.

But it was no matter because this year you planned to take your team all the way to the top. Everyone at this damn rich school was going to known kyudo and love it, damn it. They were going to sing your praises all the way down the halls, line up outside the shooting range to get a peek at your beautiful team and fall in love with the bow.

All the way to the same stage this rich, boastful school’s especial crowning achievment and pride, enough to get them their own stupid bus, enough to get them their own damn gym, enough to get them their own damn cheer squad and—

Your first real, personal meeting with Ushijima Wakatoshi goes something like this:

I don’t need more protein, I need better results. You frowned, staring at the picture of the protein drink you’d been texted that was apparently quite popular these days, according to your fellow teammate. She constantly sang its praises, promising nothing but the best and urging you to start getting into it.

“Your practice schedule is too rigid!” she lectured, shaking her hands at you as you notched another arrow and took aim. “You’re going to shoot arrows till you’re an old maid! No one will marry you at this rate!”

“Kyudo will marry me,” you said, completely serious. “I’m marrying the best kyudo archer of this era and no one else.”

“He’s over fifty!”

“I like them older anyways.”

While normally you would have ignored your vice captain in favor of your own home remedies, your joints were acting up lately, specifically your left wrist and that was never a good sign. You had a feeling the tautness to the new string you were trying to break in wasn’t doing you any favors either. You needed to keep an eye on it in case it got worse.

I can’t bring this team down.

The school’s mini-grocery was fairly empty at this hour. Most students were back at the dorms and anyone still lingering around should’ve just finished with their own club practices.

The rows were designed so items could be taken from either side, not just one. You browsed the aisle, tempted by the choco-snacks but willing yourself to put another batch of fruits in instead. Have to treat my health like second nature. Results don’t come from potato chips.

“Finally,” your eyes zeroed in on the brightly colored bottle. A hefty size, meant to be poured out in cups and drunk daily. You had no idea how it would taste, but by your vice captain’s face, it couldn’t be too great.

You crouched down, reaching for the last bottle on the lowest row.

A massive hand engulfed yours at the top of the bottle’s cap, swallowing your hand whole.

“Holy shit!” you shrieked, ripping your hand away—only to find yourself unable to do so with the massive hand still laid down over yours. You hit the floor on your ass, gaping in horror at the monstrous palm and the calloused fingers and fearing this was finally the moment you were dragged into some abyss by an unknown creature and killed—

Eyes like olives, flecked with gold.

You stared, caught, unable to move for a second. You’d always thought his eyes were brown. You never noticed the weird lining to them that gave them a sharper look, like an eagle or—

“My bad,” Ushijima. Ushijima Wakatoshi said, his voice a deep, resounding rumble in his chest like a goddamn bear. 

He crouched there, sitting back on his heels, directly across the aisle from you, peering through the metal shelf like some kind of monster trying to fit through a crack. His massive hand and massive arm barely had to leave his body to reach the same bottle of protein you’d both been shooting for. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

All at once, the flood of posters assaulted your brain. The blaring announcements, the squealing girls, the headmaster, the volleyball buses with his face printed on the side, the magazines, the articles and—

You blinked, once, twice.

His lips parted.

You ripped your hand out from under his with a hefty amount of force. The action sent you flat on your back and you were sure he’d gotten a front row view of under your skirt but you really didn’t give a crap.

“Have it!” you barked out, awkwardly scrambling to your feet. You grabbed your basket and Ushijima blinked once at you, slowly, face monotonous. “You need it more anyway, jerk!”

You huffed, shoulders puffing up. Ushijima was silent on the other side of the aisle, wordlessly taking the bottle of protein with him as he stood.

You gaped.

HE’S A LIVING TREE.

Your neck actually craned a bit, straining to look up at him and he stared down at you from the top of the aisle.

His arm promptly stuck itself through the gap in the shelf, offering the drink to you.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, voice devoid of emotion. “You should take it.”

For some reason that irked you.

You forcefully—struggling with great difficulty—shoved the drink back to his side through the shelves. Ushijima blinked once, slow down at you and you bared your teeth at him before hoisting your basket up into your arm and storming to the check out where you flew through your wallet, aggressively paying the lady at the counter, nearly running into a smirking redhead at the doorway and rushing the rest of the way to your dorm where people kept asking why you looked so damn mad.

“Who was that?” Tendou chirped, sidling up to Ushijima. “A fan?”

Ushijima stared out the still swinging door and calmly examined the bottle of protein in his hand.

“No,” he said.

“...you gonna continue with the sentence or what?” Tendou prodded.

I hate this time of the year. You frowned, burrowing deeper into your muffler as you fought the early morning chill. Several other students were trudging beside you, sleep in their eyes as you all headed to the regular meeting for club time slots. You always showed up as early as possible to get the best dibs for your club. 

You absently kicked a pebble in your way, wondering how you should organize practice this week. You wanted to brush up on your form again and—

Why was everyone looking at you like that?

“Good morning.”

It took you a moment to realize a massive shadow had engulfed your own. You stared at your feet for a moment, rubbing your eyes before slowly turning.

Ushijima Wakatoshi bore down on you, face cast in dark shadows from the early morning darkness, puffs of steam clouding by his mouth where he breathed.

He looked like a monster.

You felt your hackles raise, nearly jumping out of your sneakers as you started to backpedal away from him, “Hah?”

“Good morning,” Ushijima said, looking completely unfazed by the crack of dawn and cold.

You continued to hurry backwards toward the gym while barking back at him as Ushijima took calm steps forward—since you were both headed the same way—every three of your steps one of his own.

To anyone else, it looked as though a bear were advancing on a chihuahua.

“G-Good morning to you too!” you snapped. “Bye!”

“What?” Ushijima asked.

“I said bye you—”

“We’re still headed the same way.”

“Stop following me then!”

 - - - - - - - - 

You smirked, hefting the pile of posters into your arms. This was it, this was going to work for sure. No way anyone could ignore the please join flyers if you were pinning them up all around the school, and the team had worked hard to make it stand out and eye catching, appealing to all genders and interests.

Your wrist was starting to bother you a bit, so you shifted the papers to the other arm. I got careless trying to get the bow turn again. I need to slow it down and ice it tonight.

Who says we’re last on the funding list? You grinned, grabbing your tape. They can’t ignore us with a bunch of members—

“Good afternoon.”

You screeched, dropping your stack of flyers onto your foot. They scattered the hallway.

Ushijima calmly turned his gaze downwards, staring at the colorfully illustrated flyers now flooding both your feet.

Join the kyudo club!

“You,” you snapped, urging your heart to calm and shoving your tape back into your pocket. You hurried, grabbing the flyers and restacking them as he stood, towering above you. “What the heck do you want? Do you get some kind of kick out of scaring people or—”

In one smooth, swift motion, Ushijima had crouched down beside you. You stared, gaping in disbelief as his large hands—he has such big hands, I’ve never seen anyone with hands that big, this guy is all muscle and—moved across the floor, gathering up the papers in one fell swoop. His bangs shifted slightly over the slight furrow of his brows. 

Ushijima looked at you, quiet, somber, unreadable as he carefully put your stack back together.

He looked weird in the school uniform. You were so used to seeing him in his volleyball one. He seemed like a different person. Oh, you’re the type that leaves the first button undone.

“I did not mean to scare you,” he said, slow, with that rumbling voice of his. It sent a timbre down your spine.

Ushijima remained silent, staring calmly at you, seemingly content with the silence.

“Y-Yeah, well,” you started. “My bad then.”

You quickly stood, lifting your stack. You stared down at Ushijima for once as he calmly looked up at you and promptly ran off without another word, unable to figure out the weird awkwardness that sat on your tongue whenever you dealt with him.

I mean, it’s not like I really… hate him right?

Why the hell am I running into him so much?

You just needed to shoot some arrows and you’d feel a lot better.

-----------

You shot too many arrows.

You frowned at your throbbing wrist, giving it a look of utter betrayal. The nurse had said to give her a few minutes for her to come back with some pain killers. You were only in the infirmary this time because the pain had gotten to a point where you’d actually dropped your bow in the middle of a draw.

Prelims are coming up. You glared harder at your wrist. You just needed to ice it and you’d feel better. I can’t let them down.

You were taking them straight to the top and then it’d be kyudo posters this school would see, not just stupid Ushijima’s face and—

“(L/n)-san.”

You screeched, nearly toppling off your stool. Your wrist smacked into the counter and you hissed in pain, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

Ushijima stood in the doorway of the infirmary, staring at you with furrowed brows.

Why him, why now? You grunted in greeting, gingerly rubbing your throbbing wrist, turning away from him toward the window.

You heard the door close behind him, focusing all your attention on anything else to ignore the massive presence behind you.

“What happened?”

WHY IS HE TALKING TO ME. 

“Oh, this and that,” you said simply, vaguely, struggling to find better words. You… you really didn’t hate this guy personally or anything, but it was personal at the same time? You didn’t know how you felt about him and it was making you confused.

You hated being confused.

Ignoring any and all other social cues, Ushijima took a seat on the stool beside you, back and posture impeccable. His hands calmly set on his knees. His volleyball uniform like second skin against his form, revealing nothing but miles of muscle and hardwork.

You stared at him in disbelief.

Ushijima faced forward, face unreadable.

….okay. You awkwardly glanced to the side, rubbing at your wrist. Way to make it even more awkward. Does this guy not socialize much or what?

“Uh,” no! Don’t talk to him! Just keep your mouth shut! “What happened to you?” you said awkwardly.

Ushijima’s face relaxed an inch. You blinked in surprise.

“My knee,” he said. “Coach made me go get it checked out.”

“...me too,” you said. He looked at you. You looked away. “Not my knee, I mean. My wrist. My vice captain will have my head if I didn’t. I told her I could just ice it.”

“You should be more careful,” Ushijima said.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

“I’m sorry?”

“You do not need to apologize.”

You stared.

Ushijima motioned to your wrist, not taking his eyes off your face, “Your fans would be disappointed if you were unable to perform.”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You do not need to apologize,” Ushijima said again, shaking his head. You gaped at him. “I would be disappointed. I wish to see your kaichu again.”

Your brain short-circuited. You were left to dumbly look at Ushijima. He seemed to take pity on you and turned fully on his stool, several heads taller, looking down at you before he calmly said—

“I am a fan of your archery.”

The two of you sat there in silence.

Steam shot out of your ears as your face exploded into red. Ushijima watched in silence as you toppled over your stool and back onto the ground.

- i also stan one giant tree

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Dragon Egg (Parts 4-6)

Long post because I neglected uploading for a few days. For @secrettunnelatla

It is all about fibs and careful twists. Change a few names and situations and suddenly Ozai is just a nameless man. A vague set of lyrics and verses on a page. A collection of words that shape the story of an abuser and his victim.

It is all the easier, picturing Zuko as the victim. Surely it can’t be her. Father treats her well; he has given her this recording studio. He has rewarded her for her three new singles with a newer car. He has given her nothing but praise for surprising him with so many new songs all at once.

Father buys her so many new stage outfits and lets her pierce her tongue and decorate it with genuine ruby. She has everything. He loves her. He is proud of her. It is only a hiccup, a lapse in judgment when he shows anything but affection. It is the alcohol that makes him smash the windows on her car. She doesn’t remember what he did it for but she knows that it was the alcohol because he has a brand new car waiting for her the next day.

And she drives it to Seicho’s house to deliver her birthday present. She will open the box and find a skateboard and tickets to see her show. Seicho is a delight and a somber presence all at once. In many ways, she reminds Azula of TyLee and that stings.

Sometimes she misses TyLee. Misses that sweet smile. Misses playing make believe in her backyard. Once upon a time, TyLee was going to be her drummer and they were going to tour from nation to nation in a bus with diamond studded tire caps. Once upon a time, she, Mai, and TyLee were going to be the rock trio that the world wouldn’t be able to forget.

And once upon a time, Mai decided that she liked Zuko more and TyLee decided that she liked Mai more. Zuko always had been the more lovable of the two. But Azula is the more successful. She has made a promise to herself that they would regret abandoning her for him when her faces is everywhere and Zuko is a sellout.

Seicho invites her inside, her friends are already there, a girl named Song, a girl named Jin, and a younger boy named Hide.

“Have a slice of cake or a whack at the pinata.” Seicho offers. She holds out a bat, wrapped with skull patterned duct tape and studded with nails. “You can have the first swing.”

Azula is sure that it would only take one good swing for the nails to shred the pinata. “I’ll have a slice of cake. I can’t stay for too long. I have a show.” There is a part of her, a very large part of her that wants more than a taste of this world. A simpler world where goals and aspirations aren’t make or break. “But I had to drop this off for you.”  The skateboard in the box is expensive, it is more than enough to make up for not being able to stick around for the party.

Seicho’s face falls and Azula tells herself that it is only because she hasn’t unwrapped the gift yet. She knows that the smile is forced when she replies, “thanks, Azula. Maybe you can join us next year.”

Regret doesn’t hit her in full until she has already stepped back into her car. By now it would only be rude to change her mind and ring the doorbell again. Maybe this is why it was so easy for TyLee to choose Mai and for Mai to choose Zuko; she tends to choose her career over companionship.

She promises herself that after Audio of Agni, she will make more time for social obligations.

.oOo.

The stage doesn’t quite have its thrill tonight. The energy itself is excitedly frantic, vibrant with enthusiasm but it doesn’t quite reach Azula. It doesn’t matter, she is good at pretending. She knows what she is supposed to feel like--she has felt it before when the band was brand new, when Mai and TyLee were her backup vocalists.

So she emulates the vibe she is supposed to give off. She pretends like the crowds cheers and shouts and claps mean everything. She pretends like their liveliness gives her life too. Pretends like she can feel the music in her body and soul the same way everyone else does. But she only feels empty.

Empty and alone. A disorienting feeling when she is looking upon more faces than she can count.

All the while she sings lyrics that make her stomach squirm and her heart ache. If her father knew that he is the inspiration behind them, she’d have another song to write.

She doesn’t understand why singing these songs hurts so much. She is singing about Zuko and her father, not about she and her father. Or maybe she isn’t singing about her father at all, but a nameless father and his nameless child. Hell, it can be a mother too. Just a vague musical rendition of a dreadful parent who is merely neglectful on a good day.

It dawns upon her that she is the victim that she sings of when she finds herself getting teary on that stage. They think that it is part of the act. They think that she is a stellar actress on top of a damn good lyricist.

She doesn’t correct them. The only thing that sells more than sex is sorrow.

Things change after that. There is more attention, more interviews, more magazine photoshoots, and more simmering resentment from From Ashes To Phoenix. She basks in the limelight and relishes in Zuko’s envy. And with the spotlight shining so brightly, she can no longer see the darkness that had helped put it on her.

****

Seeing her on TV is hell. Even when she isn’t right in front of him, flaunting her riches, talents, and everything he could have had, she is still able to mock him.

These days, he can’t escape her. She is everywhere; on the radio, on the magazines, on the TV, and on posters. He even sees her in the hallways of Caldera Capital High. He sees her there, though she has been pulled out months ago for a private education tailored to her personal schedule. It is just one more thing for him to envy. He has to manage his band and school, of course his progress is slower. Sometimes stunted altogether.

And for his troubles he averages C’s and D’s--B’s if he is lucky--and music that is half done and not nearly what he had imagined in his mind. He knows that he is going to have to make a choice and he thinks that he has begun to make that choice a few months back. He has lost track of how many times he has stayed after class to discuss his grades. He wonders how uncle will take to him dropping out. Should he turn in the forms that are tucked away in his backpack and seal the deal there won’t be any turning back. He will have to make it big. It will be his only chance.

A gaggle of fangirls fawning over the brooding lonewolf with the choker and black nailpolish can only take him so far. It doesn’t leave the hallways. But he does, he evades the teachers and hall monitors and climbs his way onto the roof. Mai is already there, he can see the smoke trail.

“Want one?” She offers.

“I’ll take a drag from yours.”

Mai passes the cigarette. “Have you told your uncle yet?”

He takes his drag and passes it back. “No.”

Mai gives a little hum. “Make a decision and commit, Zuko. Either you tell your uncle that you’re dropping out or start hustling to fix your grades. You have to succeed somewhere.”

He flinches. She sounds all too similar to Azula. She sighs. “Sorry. I just worry about you, Zuko. Indecisiveness is going to ruin you if you let it.”

There are a lot of things that are going to ruin him if he lets them. To some degree he thinks that he is already ruined. That he should just fester in the failure. “I could use another drag.”

“Sure.” Mai replies.

He takes his drag and watches the smoke curl up to the mid-afternoon sky. Mai leans back with her hands behind her head.

“What are you doing up here, Mai?” He asks. “You can actually pass your classes, why are you letting me drag you down?”

“Zuko, I’ve never felt more...up. Sometimes I just need to get out of there.” She spares a glance to the door. “It’s suffocating and smells like cheap perfume and testosterone. I smoke at least a cigarette a day, gym class is pointless anyways.”

He chuckles. He feels right when he is on the roof with her. When he is with her in general. Pessimistic as she nihilistic as she is, he feels the most hopeful when he is with her. Even if it is just for a moment, Azula’s shadow doesn’t envelop and shroud him. Even if it is just for a moment, he can forget about she and her antics and everything her overachieving has helped steal from him. Even if it is just for a moment he can see, truly envision and believe in a reality where he strums his guitar before an arena full of adoring, audio hungry fans.

He makes a decision, he is going tell uncle that high school isn’t for him. That he is meant for...that he deserves better things. As the sun reaches its zenith, he decides that he will truly work for his dream.

****

The darkness floods right back in when she is away from the stage. When the lyrics that echo through the venue become a reality. She doesn’t know exactly what she has done. Maybe she has done nothing at all. He very well may just be in a bad mood. She is texting Seicho when he enters. “Hello father.” She greets with a smile.

He returns it with a blank face and folded arms. “What is this?” He slaps a piece of paper onto the table. He nods for her to read it over.

“It’s a…” she knits her brows, “a printout of our ticket sales.” She looks up from the paper. “What’s wrong with it?”

“How many tickets were sold for the first show?”

“It was sold out.”

“What about all of last week’s shows and the week before that?”

“Sold out.” She says again.

He nods. “Yes, sold out. What about last night’s show?”

Azula swallows, “1,684.”

He drums his fingers on the table. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

She thinks that it could be a lot of things; that night had also been the night of the high school homecoming baseball game, people might have been short on cash, the time slot had been a tad earlier than usual. All of these answers seem like excuses--she should have a performance more compelling than baseball, she should have had a performance with spending money on, she should have pushed for a more favorable time slot. “It was a smaller venue.” She says at last much.

Wrong answer.

“I was selling out all of my shows.” He slaps the page and she flinches. “These aren’t metal legend numbers, they aren’t even Audio of Agni numbers.”

She wants to point out that he probably hadn’t been selling out all of his shows when his band had been as young as hers is. Instead she very quietly promises, “I’ll do better, father.” She must and she will because he is right. Only 1,684 tickets sold in a venue that could hold 2,000 people? That is embarrassing.

“Maybe if you weren’t fooling around with that tattoo artist… you won’t be seeing her anymore”

“Wh-what?” She sputters. “No, that’s not it! Seicho isn’t a distraction!” She realizes too late that she has gotten too loud.

She closes her eyes and tenses for the strike that is sure to come. When it doesn’t she cracks an eyelid. He hasn’t even closed the distance between them. She allows herself to relax. It is only then that his hand snakes out and finds her cheek.

Reflexively her own hand comes to rub it. She bites the sides of her cheeks and swallows down the cry that is waiting to come up. More than anything she hates knowing that she has failed him. That she has disappointed him. These moments are few and far between, she makes sure of that. But they are still there and she has just given herself one more ill mark. Has put herself one step closer to ending up like Zuko. “I’ll do better.” She says again when she finds the words.

It was never like this before. She glares at the empty bottles. It was never like this--he used to love her. She used to be is gleaming little star. He would yell at her, sometimes until his face went red, but he has never hit her before. She looks at the bottles, but it might be that she has finally made enough mistakes for him to see her as a splendid failure instead of his rising rockstar.

She takes out her phone and taps the screen a few times before holding it up, “see no more distractions. I deleted her number.” She forces a smile. “I needed to focus on memorizing my new material anyways.”

At last he returns the smile. The tightness in her chest slackens, giving way to an optimistic and relieved fluttering in her tummy. He ruffles her hair, “that’s my girl.” He gives her a small hug. “I should know better than to doubt you.” He smells so strongly of booze.

But she has satisfied him. She is still is gleaming little star.