#i just need a way to either make it painfully obvious that im not interested or a way to idk trick him into showing his hand??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

helisol · 4 years ago

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dude im not sure you will get it after reading this either, but you Can read it now

okay so first of all do not expect me to adhere to rules of grammar or Proper capitalisation, I am writing from the heart

so it’s been said before by other people but if Quark and Odo didnt look like the aliens that they are but instead like two regular prettybois the fandom would do cartwheels over their dynamic and Not call them a crack ship. because really, their dynamic fucking SLAPS and I’m here to tell you Why.

their surface-level dynamic is “Respected and Talented Security Chief and Cunning Immoral Businessman who are in Love but pretend not to be” and that's just an off-brand version of enemies to lovers! which is excellent and for some people that’s all you really need to get invested in a ship.

but some people look at it and go “Hm, no, that’s not enough. I mean, they work as friends but it doesn’t really have to be romantic.” and to that I say you are Absolutely Valid, not everything has to be romantic.

it just so happens that these two fuckers have one of the most compelling romance stories ever, and it’d be a shame not to explore it.

so before I dive into the internalised homophobia and repression, I’d like to take a moment to talk about Quark as a character.

because if you have brainworms like me you can kind of see that its an honest to god greek tragedy.

this guy comes from a race of people where being kind, ethical and fair is considered Abnormal and Horrifying. and I’m not gonna call Quark out of all people kind, ethical or fair but,,,

you ever notice how he’s A Much Better Person Than Pretty Much All Other Ferengi?

dont get me wrong, Quark is still a bastard, but every once in a while his True Character shines through. and I say True Character because guys,,, the way he behaves around other people is an Act. he’s pretending to be something he’s not.

he has to try so hard to be a good ferengi it’s honestly painful to watch at times. because he is a SHIT ferengi!

he loves his friends- because that's what the ds9 crew are. they’re his friends! and it makes him miserable because that's not! normal! for a ferengi!

let’s compare Quark and Rom for a second.

Quark reeks of self loathing because a lot of the time he just Doesn’t act like a ferengi is supposed to, and this drives a lot of conflict in the show. he knows how a ferengi should act, it’s just that he can’t!! fucking!! do it!! but he still tries and tries to fit into that mold, which straight up ruins his life on multiple occasions.

Rom is also not a Model Ferengi, but he lives without hating himself. and it’s mostly because he doesn’t care about how a ferengi Should act, he’s loved and cared for even when everybody knows that he’s a shit ferengi! because his non-ferengi-ness works to his benefit. it encourages and highlights his abilities as an engineer. the success and love he finds make it easy for him to be content with his true self. Unlike Quark, who doesn’t get unconditional love from anyone.

its so!! tragic!! because you can see what Quark is really like!! his true self!! he’s a nice guy who cares for people!

its right there all the time and it's so blatantly obvious. especially in episodes like “Body Parts”, “Bar Association”, “The Way Of The Warrior” and “Ferengi Love Songs”

his own wiki page literally calls him “a compassionate and generous man by ferengi standards” which pretty much translates to “not really a good ferengi”.

anyway so Quark is a tragic figure or whatever but we’re actually here for the REPRESSED! HOMOSEXUAL! TENDENCIES! that he and Odo both exhibit.

with characters like garak you don’t really need to have brainrot to pick up on those tendencies, because that was something andrew robinson chose to do, on purpose.

and to be fair, Quark wasn’t intended to be Any kind of representation, not even by the actor. I’m just pointing out that he Does look and act and talk like a little gayman.

I will admit that he is Painfully Straight in the text of the show, but on a meta level he’s just. a dude who has a serious case of repressing his real personality. and taking it a step further- he also represses his feelings towards another man.

and that man is Odo.

a few things on him:

Odo is literally desperate to be a person. unlike Quark, who at least has the comfort of belonging to a society of people with a set of rules and expectations, Odo has never met anyone or anything like him in all his years of life.

like, we all know Odo basically grew up in a lab, right?

with people who didn’t know anything about him. who he was so unalike that they literally called him “Nothing”

but he still learned to look and talk and act like them (because if he didn’t he’d feel *pain* which is very fucked up by the way?)

so we know for a fact that Odo wants to be recognised as a person- which is why he tries really hard to conform to the ideals of the society that raised him. instead of exploring his nature as a shape shifter he maintains a humanoid form, picks up a job and creates an entire personality around what he wants to be seen as. but not what he really is.

and that's the thing that causes all the conflict between Quark and Odo. the type of person odo wants to be seen as is the polar opposite of whatever the fuck quark wants to be seen as.

In the same way that Quark acts like a Normal Ferengi, Odo acts like a Normal Security Officer. and in a cruel twist of fate, the Ferengi happens to be the antithesis of the Security Officer.

If you only look at them as the things they act like, and not the things they are, you might say they’re way too different to like each other, right?

but,,, if you think about the fact that they’re both putting on this act,,, this performance of idealised versions of themselves,,, you can see that they are The Same. They Are Both Gay Repressed Loser Aliens Who Try To Act Like Things That They Aren’t!

Imagine you’re Odo.

Imagine that you’re Nothing, because you’re not like anything anyone has ever seen- and because you are Nothing you don’t fall in love with anyone for years and years. since who could love something that isn’t like them at all?

But then one day this Thing shows up in your path and you just hate it. Because it’s not like anything *you* have ever seen. It’s disorderly and looks grotesque and it’s criminal to boot.

It’s all the things you learned would make a “Bad Person” It’s everything you aspire not to be, because if you were any of those things you would BE PUNISHED.

But the trouble is, eventually he’s not an “it” anymore, he’s “Quark” and you see him every day of your miserable little life because you live on the same damn station in space and it’s hard to avoid each other.

He also happens to be one of the only things in your life that are constant. He will never leave because he is stubborn and greedy and you just *hate him so much* that you’re convinced he must be doing all of it to spite you. And yet you also can’t seem to leave him alone.

So Odo Must Hate Quark. everything else is a non sequitur for him. he can’t not hate Quark.

because Quark is, and i’m sincerely sorry to apply christian fucking imagery to this, The Forbidden Fruit.

If he liked quark he’d admit some kind of moral failing. it would be the end of his act. but on the other hand...it might be a good thing, because at least he could have quark.

but Odo can never go through with biting into this apple because the consequences are horrifying to him. he could never have quark because, according to his performance, he would Never like quark to begin with.

and here’s a take for you: Odo's Brand Of Internalised Homophobia Doesn't Stem From Heteronormativity. It Stems From The Fact That He Was Kind Of Assigned Asexual At Birth.

and the show sort of alludes to this, for real! not just subtext! canon! except the writers used the wrong person.

because instead of Odo having these Forbidden Feelings for Quark he has them for,,, Kira.

but since this is My Quodo Manifesto you’ll understand that i am 100% willing to just toss that part of canon out the airlock.

so Odo does canonically have that mindset of “no one could ever love me” for decades he repressed any and all feelings of love to avoid getting hurt. in the show he breaks this cycle of repression when he takes a chance and enters a relationship with Kira. yay?

but we all know that aint it chief. and part of the reason why That Ship Ain’t It is the fact that Quark is Right There. and he is simply the more interesting choice for odo.

he and Odo literally share the same problem and have weird intertwined character arcs! they are both dreadfully afraid of not conforming to the ideal versions of themselves, so they reject everything that could challenge their Performance!

on some fucked up level they hate each other *and* themselves individually. and this hatred makes them reject parts of their real identities for the sake of protecting their image. which. yknow. in gay people. is internalised homophobia!

so you can see that they’re both repressing A Lot even if you view them as Friends, but the most important thing in this kind of romantic dynamic is usually,,, when the characters *stop* repressing.

and the thing is. the thing that Kills Me with these two. They Never Get That Moment. Thats Why You Need The Brainrot To See Them As Romantic.

The Ascent gives us an example of what happens when they both take their act too far. I mean, who could forget “Fascist!” and “Fraud!” That is what odo thinks of quark’s performance and vice versa, but we don’t really hear them adress the fact that they *are* playing these roles to a ridiculous extent.

We also never get an example of what would happen if they dropped their act instead of over-performing it. or rather we don’t get to see both of them drop it.

And the reason why we never get that moment is because there’s this one key difference between Quark and Odo.

Quark knows that he’s constantly repressing his true nature and his feelings for odo. We pretty much hear him say so in the iconic root beer scene in Way Of The Warrior. he knows that he’s not a good ferengi but he keeps up his act.

So quark is aware enough to feel that sweet sweet self loathing. But Odo isnt self loathing as much as he is just self sabotaging.

and this subtle difference between them is why, at the very end of the show, we get “That man loves me, can’t you see? It was written all over his back!”

this moment is quark dropping his act and asking odo to do the same. he wants to hear a genuine Goodbye from him because they have known each other for Decades and they are Friends. but odo is so unable to express the feelings he’s been repressing all these years. that he self sabotages again and just walks away.

even though this is like. very anticlimactic. considering I just spent 2000 words talking about how Odo and Quark are Most Certainly Gay For Each Other.

The fact that their ending is so Weird is the reason why quodo is so engaging and appealing to me? especially post-canon quodo.

like, the amount of “what if’s” this ship has are Astounding.

What if either of them had dropped their act a little sooner? What if they both did, for just a moment, and it was the straw that breaks the camels back?

What if Odo comes back after a few years? What if Quark comes to get him?

What if, in that moment in the finale where Quark drops his act, Odo had returned the gesture? What if Gag-Reel Quodo Kiss.gif Real?

with the depth that I read into their relationship, those what ifs are really fun to think about.

anyway its 1 am and i’m not an english major so literary analysis is not like, my strong suit. plus most of this was written in a late night screaming session with a friend who has the exact same opinions as me. i just think aliens hot and in love. thats all.

#the SOUND of my HEAD hitting my DESK with TERMINAL VELOCITY #quodo #star trek

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 4 years ago

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Oh my gosh so I also headcannon Jack as autistic! But im not comfortable with writing it yet because idk how. Im not autistic; my little sister is and i know a few things jack could have trouble with... but hes a grown ass man so i just dont know. Im definitely taking notes on what you write him as but could you give me some pointers?....maybe?

Im mostly referencing to Bitter with this

aaaa yeah it definitely presents differently in adults who've learned to mask, personally I don't plan to put certain things in specifically to talk about how he's autistic, I write with the background knowledge of what traits he displays, and then express them when relevant, it's relevant a lot with Jack simply due to how much it affects his life

now this is going to get long, so bare with me, because this is a whole lot more complicated than you might expect

there's really no one correct way to write Jack, since there's no one way that autism presents itself, the way I write him is based on a mix of myself and some people in my family, so I can give you a basic idea of what angle I personally come from

for one, I change the way I write about facial expressions and how emotions come across to Jack, in Jazz's chapters I'll write about the exact emotion she can see on their face, with Jack's I'll go with an obvious base emotion, but then if the person is expressing something more complicated, I'll describe their face in physical details

eg;

Jazz POV - Danny was upset, but his face was tight with frustration

Jack POV - Danny looked sad, but his eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was set in a hard line

it's a subtle difference but it's one I try to maintain throughout Bitter, Jack's POV is based on how I have trouble reading non-obvious expressions, although in my case I also have trouble looking people in the face when I talk to them, that's harder to write in an emotion driven POV story, so I made Jack better at that than I am

his interest in machines is quite obvious, since he's an inventor, and he looooves infodumping on people, he gets very excited about his passions very quickly and his mouth runs off with him, something I also have trouble with, it hasn't been a prominent trait for Jack in Bitter, because he's so out of his element he's mostly confused and in a way, almost grieving his own death, so he's been far quieter than he usually is

his special interest is obviously ghosts and machinery, and in Bitter I cover that he's got a degree in engineering, physics and mathematics. He's good at them, I like to look at it as though Jack rolled high in intelligence and low in wisdom, he's book smart, he knows things that are straightforward and have firm rules, he's less comfortable in topics that are more wishy washy and vague, biology is complicated and has too many variables, he finds it difficult to grasp, there's no one standard rule that applies to every body

I also struggle with vague and unclear directions, I need a solid structure and clear instructions, my strength is in sorting, organising, alphabetising and colour coding, I like things to Look Right, I stick to a particular routine with very specific things, and it's viscerally uncomfortable and even distressing for me to have that order disturbed, I nearly had a meltdown at work because someone had done a part of my job incorrectly, and I had to fix it, it made me genuinely upset on a personal level, it was MY system, NOBODY should be touching it, NOBODY should be moving things around, they do anyway, and I spend a portion of my shifts just frustrated and on edge because of it

Jack also has issues socially, he often says or does things that other people find uncomfortable or embarrassing, I reference that in Bitter, where Jack assumes everyone is mad at him because he said or did something stupid, this I have much experience in, while in the middle of a social situation it's easy to just do what comes naturally to you and not realise it's off putting to other people, because people often play polite and you can't tell that they're uncomfortable, even though people around you find it painfully obvious

sometimes it's easy to see in hindsight after you've been told you made something awkward or uncomfortable, but in the moment if nobody says anything about it, you can remain either totally oblivious, or become anxious and second guess every interaction you have

Jack is the oblivious type, he's fortunate to live in a family that is fairly understanding, they might get frustrated with him, or embarrassed by him, but they don't really take it personally, they KNOW he means well, they know he cares, and Jack does care, he cares a lot, he feels things a lot, he's incredibly empathetic

this is a trait that a lot of media likes to ignore in depictions of autism, because I guess it makes people with autism seem 'too normal', when tv shows always want to be like 'hey wow look at this clever asshole! isn't he clever, but also an asshole! but you can't hate him because he's ✨autistic✨ and he can't help it'

that bothers me a lot, I mean some people with autism do have trouble relating and empathising with people, my brother is one of them, but some people with autism really empathise a lot, some of us feel things very strongly, I'm highly empathetic and it's a real struggle to cope with

so yeah, it is a very complicated thing, so you need to go in with an idea of what their character struggles with, how it affects them, and when it's relevant in the story, also autism falls on a very wide spectrum, some people, like myself, are able to mask well, but that creates a big issue with identity, when you start to wonder how much of you is real and how much of you is mask, then you have to decide if you want to lower that mask and accept the social consequences of expressing yourself naturally

I have a friend who presents a little more obviously, he's very rigid in his ways and he talks like he's reading from a script, I have another friend who can socialise just fine, but will go into a total meltdown when a plan gets derailed and she doesn't know what to do next

another friend I have is highly social and incredibly boisterous, she stims with her whole body, dances around a lot, she's chaotic and that can be off-putting to people, she's had to spend a lot of her life holding that back, she's only recently started learning how to be herself shamelessly

my brother was incredibly social when he was younger, and people always really loved him, but most of that is mask, he's socially anxious and just wants to be alone most of the time, and he's a total prick to his immediate family, I don't take that personally any more, since now I understand that he's so blunt and brutally honest because he isn't masking with us, but also he still needs to be called out when he oversteps, autism might be why he has difficulty empathising, but it's not an excuse to be a complete asshole, even people with autism need to be called out on shitty behaviour, it isn't a get out of jail free card, our self expression shouldn't come at the cost of hurting other people, most of us are more than capable of learning to not be an asshole

I know this is like, A LOT, but these are the things that need to be considered when writing about autism, it is an all encompassing thing that permeates your entire life experience, I absolutely welcome people like you to try to write about it! Because I think it shouldn't be a taboo subject, and I appreciate that you asked for advice and that you want to do it respectfully, you've probably seen first hand how difficult living with autism can be, having a family member on the spectrum, so you already have some experience to draw from, I don't know your relationship with your sister or how old she is, or where on the spectrum she falls, but if possible you can ask her about her experiences in particular situations that you're having trouble writing, if that's something you and she are comfortable with

I hope this helps, just remember to keep an open mind and listen to any feedback you might get, it is very VERY easy to misrepresent autism so don't be too hard on yourself if you don't quite get it right, if someone gives you a critique, take it in stride and use it to become better ~ you can even express that in an authors note, that you want to write it accurately and invite anyone with experience to share their opinion, because like I said, it is different for everyone and my experiences are not universal, and you're welcome to run something by me every once in a while if you aren't sure about it ❤️

#asks #autism #danny phantom #bitter #jack fenton #this shit be COMPLICATED y'all

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angelicmichael · 4 years ago

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Imminient Annihilation sounds so dope, chapter nine.

Michael Langdon x reader

Summary: Reader and Michael finally learn how to communicate and decide to start being mostly civil and learn how to tolerate eachother.

Words: 5.6k+

Warnings: Mentions of bruises and falling, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, reader and Michael are both pretty mean in the first half of this part LOL, some Millory flirting <3, extreme enemies to lovers, extreme slow burn, reader is going through inner torment like always LOL, lots of cussing, witch! reader

A/N: First of all - i just wanna say I'm so sorry for not updating this in like 5 months LMAO. That's why I decided to make this chapter a bit long 😌. Still no romance but, reader and Michael are finally starting to warm up to eachother so hopefully yall like this chapter :)

Previous Chapter

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Dull, aching pain was what welcomed you when you woke up. It started off subtle; faint enough to ignore until you started to stir in your bed.. wrong fucking move.

Your entire body was throbbing. Saying that you felt like complete shit was definitely an understatement at this point.. You almost wanted to think perhaps this could be a result of partying last night but then again.. this pain was different. You knew for sure this was not a result of being hungover.

You winced as you pushed back the covers and stood up, wandering over to the closest mirror as you pushed up your shirt - wanting to examine your ribs - where the pain seemed to ache the most. Your skin on the left side of your ribs had turned into a ugly, mixed palette of blues and purples. Turning around only proved that the bruises had traveled to your back as well. You couldn’t help but wince at the sight and let out a painful moan when you traced your fingers across your skin - feeling the bruises. What the fuck happened last night??

You let your shirt fall back down as you stood - puzzled and thinking about the previous nights events.. and.. oh fuck..

You swallowed as you conjured up the memories from last night in your mind; you remembered Mallory.. going to the party.. drinking.. Michael.. going back to his apartment.. talking.. falling.. and then nothing.

What the fuck happened?!

You roughly swallowed, your eyebrows furrowed together as you turned around looked at your surroundings - something you should’ve done sooner. You felt a wave of Deja vu wash over you; as well as a wave of fear. Being in a room with no recollection of how you got there was hauntingly familiar. Too familiar for your liking. However, you knew you were you.. looking again in the mirror reassured you of that but.. that didn’t solve the issue of how you got from Michaels penthouse to.. wherever you were now.

You stared at the room; puzzled. You were trying to put your finger on why the room looked so familiar; and then it clicked. The hotel room you were currently in wasn’t a penthouse but it still looked similar and resembled Michaels hotel room that you were in last night. Which could only mean you were staying in the same hotel.

Your heart stopped when you came to the realization that Michael must've got you this hotel room. That's the only way any of this made sense. You wanted to think for a split second it could’ve been Mallory who came to your rescue but, that didn’t make sense because you knew she wouldn’t have left you alone in the morning. It had to be Michael.

The gesture almost would’ve been cute under normal circumstances.

The room looked practically untouched besides the bed you had just climbed out of. Your phone resided on the night stand, and as you quickly went through your phone - nothing seemed tampered with. Thank god.

Although, there was a message from someone in particular that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at. Of course he messaged you. You quickly opened up the message fully, reading through it rather quickly.

‘How are you feeling?'

You bit your lip as you crafted up a soulless response. At least he had enough of a heart to check in on you. I mean it was the very least he owed you at this point.

‘Oh I’m doing just peachy keen. How the fuck do you think I’m doing with bruises everywhere?? Did I get a concussion last night?’

You sent the message without thinking twice. You felt your face getting hot and your heart beating faster. You grinded your teeth; the fact you could feel yourself getting angry and agitated so early in the morning was beyond aggravating.

You paced around the hotel room, phone still in hand. You compulsively checked your phone nearly every second as you paced until you finally saw the notification you were waiting for.

'if we're going to keep talking about last night then it needs to be done in person. How about meeting me at the café across the street, asap. And bring Mallory. I'm not interested in talking to you alone.'

“Motherfucker," you muttered with a quick roll of your eyes.

Of course Michael wanted to meet immediately; it was foolish to expect anything less of him at this point, honestly. Luckily getting ready would be a rather quick ordeal since the only belongings you had were on you. You quickly paced to the mirror and attempted to make yourself look presentable before grabbing your phone and hastily running out the door before dialing Mallory's number.

Thankfully getting Mallory to agree to witness whatever torture Michael had planned for you wasnt hard; Although the pair of you were still confused on why Mallory's presence was required in the first place. But atleast you knew Michael was feeling better if he was still acting in character, being unpredictable as ever.

The café wasn’t hard to find; and neither was Michael. He sat at a small wooden table that was meant for four. A dim light hung from the ceiling above the table.

You grew increasingly more nervous as you approached the table. What could Michael even want to say to you that was so important that it had to be said in person? With Mallory?

A pit resided in your stomach - a feeling that something bad was about to happen stayed present within you even as you and Mallory sat down next to eachother. You offered to sit directly across from Michael, so that you could spare Mallory from having to deal with his crippling stare - but of fucking course, Michael chimed in and demanded that Mallory sat directly across from him.. and Mallory being the way she is obliged naturally. It made the pit in your stomach only grow.

You only wanted to cut all of the bullshit that you knew Michael was about to pull; you just wanted to talk to Michael and have a normal fucking conversation for once. Separation at this point seemed to give you a ridiculous amount of unwanted torment; emotionally, physically, and this point possibly even spiritually. You knew you were meant to be around him - there was no point in fighting the connection you two had. So.. that was why you felt justified in your choice of atleast attempting to have this conversation with Michael, and to make the effort that he barely had the balls to do.

"Hey, It's nice to see that the both of you bothered to show up," Michael sneered.

"Of course we did, Michael. I actually try to stay true to my word - it's not like you can say the same," you stated without missing a beat while maintaining direct eye contact.

You were aware that you probably sounded harsh to any eavesdroppers listening, but you remained unapologetic. You didn’t offer a smile with your words; and you tried your best to remain stoic. A quick glance to your right told you that Mallory was trying her best to avoid Michael's gaze still, most likely uncomfortable at you and Michael's vicious banter.

"Someone seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed,” Michael said with a dark chuckle.

“Ha. Funny," You spit out. Glaring daggers at him as you spoke, “As if you slept well either."

"I didn’t actually; but maybe you would've known that if you've been so kind to ask," Michael bit back.

You gave Michael a long, scorching glare - silently cueing him to shut the fuck up and to consider someone else's feelings for once.. but, you dont really know if he was capable of doing that after all.. but it worked.

You felt bad for Mallory; who was awkwardly staring at her hands and fiddling with her thumbs. You could practically feel how uncomfortable this conversation was making her, and not to mention it was painfully obvious.

You weren't surprised in the slightest that Michael seemed to pick up on her sudden dispirited aura, as well. His light blue eyes quickly traveled from you to Mallory; and it was absolutely revolting to see how fast he could go from having a expression of pure exasperation to.. fondness and concern when he looked at Mallory. It almost reminded you of his reaction to finding Madison after you completely kicked her ass but.. the way he looked at Mallory was different. It was more delicate. It would've been cute if.. you weren't in the current, complicated situation you found yourself in.

"Mallory.." he spoke her name with such softness your surprised she didn't melt right then and there.

They finally met each others gaze; and Mallory met him with a smile which Michael only mirrored.

"Are you okay?" he affirmed.

Mallory nodded, the smile quickly vanishing from her lips as she looked over to you, and then back at Michael.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just happy you two survived last night."

This comment made all three of you smile, but yours was definitely fake. You were grateful that the weird, heavy tension that was between you and Michael had been temporarily lifted though. Maybe having Mallory around to mediate all of yours and Michael's conversations wasnt a bad idea.

"I-"

"Me too. I dont know if (Y/n) told you but, the reason why im bothering to meet with you two today is to figure out what happened last night. Due to (Y/n)'s track record, I'd rather hear things from your perspective.. if you dont mind, Mallory," Michael said.

Essentially cutting you off and once again from speaking directly to Mallory.

Michaels eyes, which normally looked soulless and held a degree of ruthlessness in them (in your opinion) had lost a bit of their edge and fury when he looked at Mallory.. but she didn't seem to take notice how interested he suddenly was in her. Right now, she just seemed flustered and put under the spotlight. Her cheeks were spotted a uneven red color from the unwarranted direct attention Michael was giving her, and it was obvious that she was nervous. Her black, painted nails were tugging mindlessly and restlessly at the thin, decorative gloves she was wearing. A typical nervous habit you noticed she displayed.

Your gaze stayed focused on Mallory but you could feel Michael's hot, glaring stare on you. It was only for a split second after he was done talking - but after that second, he was right back to Mallory. Mallory. His seemingly new, favorite infatuation.

It wasnt jealousy that made you question why Michael was suddenly being so nice to her. It was the fact that you knew Michael truly was a scheming asshole at heart. At this point you were guessing he was only being so nice to her because he needed a favor done.. the mere thought made you bit your lip to suppress a eye roll.

"I-I can try but I wasnt there for the entire night-" Mallory stammered.

She looked at you for support but all you could offer was another meaningless smile in return.

"That's fine. Whatever you remember will do," Michael pressed.

Mallory gave her gloves (which she was still fussing with) a quick glance and then continued; looking at Michael while she spoke.

"Well, it was nothing really remarkable. I'm sure (Y/n) could tell you more than I can but, I saw you get drunk. Incredibly drunk and then.. well that's it. I went back to Robichaux's after that."

Her words left you astonished. How was that all she had to say?? Where was the part where she came back for you? Wasn't she the one who put you into the bed in the hotel room you woke up in, this morning? You knew it was most likely Michael who put you in the hotel last night but, a small part of you was still hoping it could've been Mallory.

"Wait.. what? But that's not everything, it cant be.. I-" The farther your words progressively came out of your mouth the longer your sentence ran.. or as long as Michael allowed too before once again interrupting.

"Mallory.. I think me and (y/n) will be good talking about things one on one from here. As much as I've enjoyed your company; I can only tolerate so many witches and.. according to nature; sadly it has to be this one," Michael flickered his eyes toward you, obviously referencing you in the latter part of his sentence.

Profanities that started with every letter of the alphabet ran through your head at his attempt of trying to be sweet. He extended his hand out to squeeze Mallory's - and after she said her goodbyes, she was quickly gone. Out of the venue.

Looked like it was just you and your favorite villain again.

As much as you loved Mallory and cherished the friendship you two had - you were kind of glad she was gone. The fact you could admit that to yourself with confidence shocked you but.. you felt as if you had to act like a nicer, polished version of yourself that just wasnt truly you around her. As much as your hatred for Michael still ran deep, you were free to act authentic around him - and atleast now you were completely free to call him out on whatever bullshit he just tried to pull off.. and that realization that you now had no bounds was.. completely freeing.

"So, what the fuck was that?"

"What?" Michael asked.

His voice was raised in a defensive, annoyed manner.

"How you were treating Mallory.. what do you want from her?"

You studied the man sitting across from you at the table, and you smugly noticed how even he seemed to be more relaxed now that Mallory was gone.. He was slightly bent over the table now with his elbows resting on the surface, but after your question - he brought one of his ring adorned hands up to his mouth, a poor attempt to stifle a laugh.

"So you noticed," He commented.

You watched as he dropped his hand from his mouth back down to the table in one swift movement.

"It was hard not too," You said.

The predator like focus was lively in his eyes again as he studied you. He was moving a bit in the chair he was sitting in - fully shifting and angling his body towards you. You knew you had his full, undivided attention now.. but this time you planned on taking full advantage of it.

"But.. just please leave her out of it, Michael. I'm serious. Mallory has enough on her plate already, she doesn't need... to be involved," you added.

You struggled to find the proper word to use for last part of your sentence. Labeling whatever this situation was still felt incredibly odd and- just really added to your point that Mallory didn't need to be involved or kept in the loop about things anymore.. It was obvious that Michael was starting to finally warm up to you and.. it seemed he was almost starting to trust you too. Almost.

Michael solely smirked at your words and gave a brief hum as a placeholder for a laugh, like your words weren't worthy of being praised or encouraged by something as gracious as a full on laugh.

"Oh, Dont worry (y/n). I wasnt planning on involving her. It was satisfying enough just to see someone with so much power and potential reduced to a blushing mess.. but - I'm done talking about your dear friend Mallory."

You dont realize that you've slowly stopped breathing until you feel the slow but urgent feeling of gradual suffocation constrict your lungs.. Was it possible he was alluding to you, and maybe not Mallory at all in his last sentence?

Was it really stupid at this point to consider that maybe him flirting and being so stupidly nice with Mallory was just another manipulation tactic.. to see how you'd react? Maybe.

"I only.. wanted to thank you for what you did," Michael stated - finally getting to the point.

Your stomach flipped. The emotions you were feeling before were already laced with confusion and uncertainty but - pining how you felt now never seemed more impossible.

"What I.. did?"

You looked at Michael's body language for answers while he verbally stalled. Both of his elbows were now resting on the table, both hands clasped together as his cheek rested on them. He looked soft.. vulnerable too, but it still didn't compare to how he looked when he gazed at Mallory earlier.. or even Madison. The way he looked at you was completely and utterly different. It was the way that his eyes darkened whenever you two happened to make prolonged eye contact. You thought maybe his pupils could just be dilated but then again, Michael was nothing like normal.. Or that's what you tried to tell yourself anyway. It was creepy to say the least, and deeply unsettling. Even when his eyes nearly changed to black; the rest of his face still upheld a sad, genuine, softness. You still weren't scared of him.

"Yes. What you did.. last night. You didn't have to do what you did but, I just wanted to tha-"

"Wait, you remember?" your words come out; rushed and sonorous. Striking like thunder.

Just the mere thought that Michael could've possibly remembered last nights events had your heart beating wildly in your chest. You felt the nausea in your stomach for a split second until you felt it start to spark up into your throat - you were only seconds away from getting sick. How fucking embarrassing was it that he remembered everything.. was he even truly drunk, at all?

The sudden, rash embarrassment that you felt must've been apparent to Michael because.. he looked concerned for you. His eyebrows were slightly creased and the light blue in his irises were darkened and swarmed with emotion.

You started to move to get up; at this point you weren't concerned with finding a bathroom necessarily - you just needed a fucking break. Michael's company was intoxicating; exactly like a drug.. no matter how much you truly hated him and wanted nothing more than to see him put in his place; he still managed to pull you in effortlessly. The type of territory you were headed into with Michael with purely dangerous. You remember Cordelia warning you not to get attached; and you certainly weren't so far.. so far.

The affect Michael had on women (and men, and really all types of people) was blatantly obvious. He drew people in so fucking easily, he was basically a magnet. He was beautiful, charismatic, had money, and was goal driven (even though his goals were horrific, like ending the world) - he met all the qualifications and standards most people had for a boyfriend. Including your own.

You couldn't decide whether it was painfully ironic or tragic that someone that seemed.. almost built for romance was really made for destruction. Destined for it even. But you knew that if Michael wanted too, it wouldn't be too hard to just.. make you fall for him. You suppose when it came down to it, that's why his prescense was so overwhelmingly suffocating.

It wasnt Michael that you were truly infuriated at; it was what this whole situation stood for. Sure, your life pre-switching wasnt the best but.. you missed the normalcy and the routine. The lack of chaos was something you dreamed about. Now, you were beyond fucked - going from having basically no powers to being stronger than Mallory herself, as well as being destined to help set up your soulmates death was far too much to handle. But.. at the same time it wasnt, because everyone in the coven made sacrifices and you know that if any of them were put in your situation they would do it without a doubt or complaint - so why were you hesitating?

There was no denying that when you were away from him you craved and hungered for his attention, his precense.. and it was the realization that you didn't really care how you got his attention that made you try to finally stand up and leave. For the second time.

Michael put his hand on your forearm, an inch right below your wrist. His touch was soft but firm - you reflexively tried to pull your arm back but he continued to keep you under his grasp.

"Dont go. I'm not going to beg but.. I just; need you to understand-" Michael's voice started to break.

"Need me to understand, what, Michael? What is it this time? I need to know that your being honest, you cant keep.. treating me the way you have," the words you were forced to chose made you squirm and bite your tongue.

You wanted to call him out on his pathetic lying but you chose a safer route instead. One that wouldn't burn his ego so bad. Being forced to tell a sort of.. half truth was annoying. It felt like he was in control again, over you, over your emotions.. and he was. He had total control over you, and it seemed as if he barely put in any effort trying to do so. Although, it was obvious he was trying to shy away and deny this whole.. weird arranged marriage as much as you had; but he was finally succumbing to the urge.. and so were you.

"I never lied. Every time I've seen you, I've never said anything that wasnt true.. but, I haven't exactly let you in - either," Michael's hands separated and dropped low to the table, his hands nervously fiddling with his rings. "I'm sure that your already well acquainted with my past or that you have pre-conceived notions about me but.. nothing in my life has been easy.. and that includes switching with you. I dont easily trust anything, or anyone so seeing how you acted last night.. made me realize that I want.. to try to make this work."

Flames of embarrassment licking up your body, first from your chest until the feeling infested up to your cheeks is how you first reacted to his words. Then it was shock that quickly numbed the feeling, like a acute natural anesthetic.. if only the feeling were stronger and could actually make you unconscious for whatever the fuck was occurring now. You licked your lips, completely uncertain of what you wanted to say but you started talking anyway.. letting the words find you as you went.

"I dont want to argue either, Michael. I never did to begin with.. and as much as I dont want too, I forgive you.. and hopefully you can forgive me too - along with Madison.. I'm sorry. I really, truly am and I hope you remember that from last night," as much you tried to sound confident in your words as you spoke, your voice unwillingly stumbled and wavered as your sentence drew on.

Your words came out quickly and unwillingly before you could even truly think them through logically.. Were you really apologizing to Michael, out of all people? The one person who had done so much fucking damage to you, and yet here you were - pathetically begging for his forgiveness. It was past heart-rending at this point; the feeling and realization of how much you yearned for Michael was hurting you, in every way imaginable. You had to remind yourself to not unconsciously hold your breath as you stared at him, but you only found kind - blue eyes staring back.

His lips slightly upturned at the corners, in a odd close mouthed smile. He made direct eye contact with you; Which at first you sheepishly tried to avoid but.. as much as you tried to avoid his eye contact, you surrendered and ultimately gave into it. After all; his eyes were fucking marvelous to look at - and what were you really trying to avoid anymore, after all?

"I remember every word you said (y/n), and I dont take what you said lightly.. I know you were telling the truth and that it wasnt easy to say.." His words drifted off almost unwillingly as he ultimately drew silent.

You watched as he hastily licked his lips nervously; and your stomach did another flip.

"But; if you were open to this.. I honestly want to get to know you and to try.. to atleast be civil. But you have to understand that.. I need your full transparency. I have to know that this is something your truly wanting to commit to because, i-"

Michael shifted and twitched in his chair, and wore a expression as if he was.. insecure.

Even though all you had heard about Michael in the past was complete rumors and you really had no solid grasp on what had happened in his past.. you felt an odd, wave of memories pass over you - but you were well aware that they didn't belong to you. These memories were accompanied by odd, foreign feelings. Ones that were stuck with you for only a split second but left you nearly in fucking tears. What the fuck was that? You met his gaze again, and it's like he fucking knew that you knew how he was planning to finish his incomplete sentence.

You bit your cheek to suppress the overflow of emotions you had just felt, and it was working for the time being but.. you figured that was just another distraction. Something else you to had to suppress and fight.

You first sat idle, your mouth incredibly dry and your throat painfully aching. Screaming for you to stop halting and just to fucking speak. You then realized that Michael didn't stop because he thought you were going to speak.. he purposefully cut himself off. There was something he was avoiding here but.. still expected you to know. Since Michael apparently was so focused on your apparent 'relationship' you figured it wouldn't hurt to start putting effort in and take initiative.. right?

"You dont have to say anything more, Michael. I get with.. what you've had to endure in your past on why you would be so guarded, even counting what I've done to you," you take a deep breath in "and, I dont know exactly how committed you want me to be but I know that at the very least that.. I'd like to get to know you too."

This was as far as flirty that you'd decide to be for the night. Even though Michael's guard was apparently as far gone as your current sanity; you decided that there was no way that you were going to be so carefree when it came to handing over your peace to him.

The time whilst you waited for Michael to react seemed to stretch impossibly long. The minutes feeled like long agonizing hours; your heart beating impossibly fast in tandem with every agonizing second that slipped away.. until he spoke, naturally.

"Are you sure you know what you're agreeing too?"

You didn't shy away from his gaze this time.

"The same could go for you," you challenged.

A sinister giggle escaped your lips, but Michael didn't back down. His blue eyes looked into yours in a way that spoke more words than he ever was capable of producing out loud. It proved that even now when he was attempting to be soft and civil with you, he was still trying to assert dominance. Fuck that.

"I think I'm more than capable of taking you on, (y/n)."

You scoffed.

"Okay, so.. what does this all mean? Like, what does this mean for us, Michael?" the words you spoke burned hot on your tongue with regret as soon as you said them.

"It doesn't mean anything except that I just.. would appreciate if I could see you.. regularly from now on."

His eyes held contact with yours.. It relaxed you a bit to notice how he looked as if he was holding his breath too. So, you weren't the only one that was nervous, right?

You breath haltered; he was still ignoring your question. What were you two? You knew that Michael's intentions with you were crystal clear - for the time being he seemed strict on his 'friends only' rule which.. of course couldn't really happen if Cordelia was expecting you to still carry out the plan that she had intended.. which she did. Certainly she did.

"Yeah well.. Cordelia-" your words fell flat and naturally died off on their own.

You had no idea why you even bothered to mention her name. You knew what you had to inevitably tell him eventually about Cordelia; but you knew now wasnt the time. It was too soon, you needed to wait until Michael got more comfterable with you before you exposed the coven.. and that's if you chose to do that.

"Look, I'm not stupid. It's obvious how strong your powers are.. and your still scared of Cordelia?" Michael looked at you now as if you were saying a joke.

A insult burned at the back of your throat. You tried your best to contain the fire you could feel, coercing you to open your mouth and to act on your immediate feelings rather than on logic.. but, to respect Michael and how vulnerable he had previously been with you - you held your tongue.

"Its not that I'm scared of Cordelia. I respect her and theres a difference. You have to understand where I stand between you and Cordelia, as well as the coven."

"You have no business being stuck in the middle though - which is why.. I have a solution," the left corner of Michael's lips upturned slightly.

Unconsciously you leaned forward in your chair.. a solution? You flinched as you saw Michael turn and pull something out of his jacket pocket; and suddenly threw it at you. A flash of silver caught the light as it passed through the air. It didn't take long for you to realize that he threw you a pair of keys. What?

"W-what is this?" Your voice shook as it raised to an higher octave.

"It's keys to an apartment. This will make things easier; in terms of us having access to eachother and it'll wean you off of having the covens support."

Your lips slowly turned into a frown, and your fingers nervously played with the keys as you put off having to look Michael in the eye.. it was clear to you now that even though Michael had been pretty open with you.. Michael was clearly misconstrued about your.. exact situation and with where you sat with the coven. He had no idea how involved you were, you could only guess.

However; your loyalty with the coven really had nothing to do with the fact you couldn't accept Michael giving you an entire fucking apartment.. There was no way you were going to let him hold this over your head, no fucking way.

You held the keys up and looked at them in a unsure manner before flinging them on the table in Michael's general direction. Ignoring the many dirty looks you got when the keys clashed loudly against the table.

"Even though I appreciate the gesture, theres no way I can accept that, Michael and you should know that."

"Your being stupid, I basically have all the money in the world at my disposable - at the tip of my fingers.. Take the apartment," the last three words sounded as if they were meant to be a threat.

His pronunciation on each last word was stern and final.

"I can't just move wherever you want me too; you realize I'm still a member of the coven, right? And if I just leave- it's going to look suspicious."

"Do you want to leave?"

Your breath came out as shaky when you exhaled. Now that was a good fucking question.

"I.. I mean maybe. Its been hard to live there to say the least recently and it would be nice to get away but I just.. I dont know if this is a good idea," your voice shook as you spoke.

This was the most candid you probably had ever been with Michael. Even when you were intoxicated, you made certain that every word that came out of your mouth around him was carefully planned and strategic.. but, just speaking and telling him what you were thinking right off the bat was a bit nerve wracking to say the least.

Your nails nervously dug into the skin of your palm as you waited for his reaction.

"What's holding you back?" You heard his voice ring out.

Your gaze fell down from his eyes back onto the silver keys that lied on the table. You couldn't help but to think - would it really be that bad just to take the apartment? If worse comes to worse you could always just move back to Robichaux's.. right? After all, it's not like Cordelia wouldn't approve - it was her idea for you to fucking seduce the dude in the first place. And Mallory would surely be understanding, if anything she would probably be excited. Fuck it.

"Yeah no, your right.. I'll do it."

You snatched the keys back from the table in an act of defiance - even though it really wasnt because once again, you were giving Michael what he wanted. Motherfucker.

Taglist: @mindlesschicca @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @instincts-baby @melodylangdon @littledemondani @langdons-pinkyring

let me know if you would like to be added :)

#michael x reader #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfic #ahs fanfic #cody fern fanfic #my fic #my writing #as always ill crosspost to ao3 in a bit hehe #kinda nervous about posting bc this has a lot of dialouge and dialouge is not my strong suit imo lol #ive been hyperfixating on millory hard lately so.. thats why i added the millory moment dhdjdh

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all-hail-the-witcher · 4 years ago

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cuddling

here is my contribution for ace week! im literally squeezing this in at the last possible second (as its 11:32pm on 10/31 as i start this) but better late than never i suppose!!

i dont often talk about my sexuality on this blog, but i do identify as ace and its not something ive ever been overly comfortable with. but seeing the plethora of ace week fics on my dash this past week (mostly by @jaskierswolf, hi, hope you dont mind being tagged) has been so awesome and has made me feel so much more comfortable in myself that i had to write something for this :)

this is some gray romantic/ace geralt with some ace jaskier. warnings for mentions of dubious consent/ not wanting to have sex but doing it anyway. there is no explicit sexual content but it is referenced.

___

Geralt was a Witcher. His entire livelihood consisted of him doing things for humans: killing monsters, bargaining with sorceresses, fighting wars, protecting them from pretty much anything that could hurt their fragile mortal selves. It had been trained into him ever since he was a child. Do what the humans ask of you. It is your job.

So why would sex be any different?

Humans enjoyed sex. This was something Geralt had come to learn during his time on the path. What was even worse was that some of them especially enjoyed having sex with Witchers.

Geralt did not enjoy sex. He was not a human, and it was decidedly a human activity. But that did not stop humans from wanting to have sex with him. Some sought him out specifically, wanting to know what it was like to lie with a Witcher for a night. Others insisted on paying him for his monster hunting duties with a round. He never took pleasure in it. Sometimes he would pretend he did. He had gotten quite good at pretending over the years, learning little tricks that humans seemed to like. But the act of it itself made his skin crawl for days on end and he could feel their fingers and lips long after the marks on his skin had faded.

But he worked for humans. He couldn't deny them what they asked of him.

He assumed Jaskier would be the same. The man was certainly human, so much so that he would flirt with grass if it came down to it (which, admittedly, Geralt had only witnessed once, and Jaskier had been very drunk at the time, but still). But he never tried to bed him, which surprised Geralt. He knew he was good, if the praises of the the people he'd laid with before were any indication Humans generally needed him for a favor and then left him to the wind. Jaskier hadn’t asked him to kill a monster or help him track down an unruly mage, and it had been years at least since they had first crossed paths. The only logical conclusion that Geralt could come to was that Jaskier was waiting for him to bed him and then he would leave, just like everyone else.

The problem was that Geralt had grown quite fond of Jaskier over the years (and his incessant flirting) and while he didn’t want the bard to leave, he also didnt want Jaskier to be miserable following him around anymore. Five years was quite a long time to wait for a round, especially in human years. Resignedly, Geralt told himself that in the next town he would lay with Jaskier and then the whole thing could be over, and they could both move on with their lives.

He rented a room with one bed, as they often did, despite there being enough coin for one with two. Jaksier hardly noticed, flouncing off to play a few sets for the locals while Geralt went upstairs to prepare.

He felt the characteristic tightening of his stomach and the shakiness that always came with this particular activity, but he stripped down obediently, even talking the time to rub some of the oils Jaskier liked to much into his hair before laying down on the bed to wait.

He didn’t have to wait long. “Geralt! You’ll never believe th- whoa, were you expecting someone?” He stood in the doorway awkwardly.

“Just you,” Geralt grunted. They should get this over with.

“Me? Geralt...did you think I wanted to have sex with you?”

“Well...” Geralt picked at the blanket, feeling foolish for having to explain himself, he thought that humans should understand these things. “Humans always need me for something. And you dont need a monster killed, so I figured....” “Oh dear heart,” Jaskier walked over and sat down on the bed next to him, running his fingers though his hair. “Please do not take this the wrong way, but I do not want to have sex with you.”

“You don’t?” Geralt was shocked. “But...humans....”

“Not all humans like sex Geralt. I certainly don’t. It makes me skin crawl and I feel all weird after. So I don’t do it. I’m still plenty romantic with people, but I dont get into bed with them.” “Hmm.” Jaskier didn’t like sex either? Maybe it wasn't a human thing after all.

“What it Geralt? That was your I’m-Contemplating-Something hum.”

“It...makes my skin crawl too.” He said carefully after a few moments.

Jaskier’s hand slowed in his hair. “Dear heart,” he began carefully. “Do you like sex?”

Did he? No one had ever asked him what he wanted before. He didnt think he did. It didnt feel pleasant and he usually had to jump in a cold stream after. “No.”

“Then why did you want to do it with me?” “You’re human,” Geralt shrugged. “Humans either want me to kill monsters or want me in their bed. I serve humans, I can’t turn them down. You are a human.”

"But you dont like sex?”

“No. I’m a Witcher. It’s probably the mutations. But can still get by.” Actually, now that he thought about it, from what he remembered, he’d never been much interested in it before the trials either.

“Geralt,” Jaskier tilted his chin up to look at him and he saw sadness swirling in his eyes. “Not wanting to have sex is not a Witcher thing. Plenty of humans feel the same way too. Admittedly there aren't many of us, I’ve only come across a few in my lifetime, and I think there's a word for it but I can’t remember it right now. Sex does not interest me either, but there are far more other important things in a relationship than just sex.”

Geralt was confused. “But sex is the only thing people ever wanted me for.”

“And I’m terribly sorry about that, dear heart, but you’re with me now and I will never make you have sex with me. Have you ever- or wait, is there anything else that you dont like?”

Geralt’s head was spinning, and he was still stuck on the part where Jaskier had said that he would never make Geralt have sex with him. For the first time that evening, he felt his hands stop their shaking and something like warmth bloom inside him. “Hmm?”

“Is there anything else you dont like doing? Besides the sex bit I mean.”

Besides sex....Geralt tried to remember what came along with laying with someone. He usually blocked it all out after. “Kissing,” he finally said. “Burns my skin.”

“Alright, we’ll do none of that then.” Jaskier moved from the bed, beginning to take off his doublet and Geralt seized up for a second, afraid that Jaskier was going go back on his word, but then he reached for his nightclothes. “Are you familiar with cuddling?”

“Cuddling?” The word felt unfamiliar in his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Jaskier smiled. “Go put your nightclothes on. I think I have something that you will enjoy far better than that nasty sex business.”

So here it was then, Jasper did need him for a service after all. Geralt got out of bed and slowly pulled on his night clothes, painfully aware this would be their last night together before they parted ways for good, before returning to the bed.

“Right, so youre just going to lay on your side, yes right like that, and then I lay behind you, see? And I put my arm around you like this, and we snuggle.” Jaskier’s breath tickled his hair.

“What do we do though?” “What do you mean, what do we do?” Despite Jaskier’s words though, he didnt seem angry. “This is it. We hold each other and enjoy each others presence. We can change positions, if you want, like you can take a turn holding me for example or I could lay on your chest, but we just hold each other close. Show each other we care. This is called cuddling.”

“Hmm.” As far as Geralt was concerned, it was far better than sex. But he knew it wouldn't last. This was all Jaskier wanted from him, clearly, which prevented Geralt from thoroughly enjoying it.

“Where will you go?” he spoke into the silence a few long moments later.

Jaskier paused drawing light patterns on Geralts forearm. “What do you mean?”

“Tomorrow.” Wasn't it obvious?

“Well I’ll go wherever you’re going. Just like we always have?"

“You...you’re not,” Geralt swallowed thickly. “You’re not leaving?”

“Leaving?” Jaskier’s voice rose an octave. “Why on the continent would I be leaving?”

“You’ve got what you wanted from me, with this....cuddling business. You have no reason to stay.”

“Oh dear heart.” The next thing he knew he was being flipped around to face Jaskier. Jaskier, who had tears in his eyes that were just barely visible in the low light. Instinctively, he reached up to brush them away. “I’m cuddling with you because I care about you, because I love you. Not because I want something from you.”

“Oh.” Geralt didn’t know what to say. Jaskier loved him? No one had ever loved him before, much less cared about him or wanted him to be comfortable.

Jaskier placed his hand on Geralt’s chest. “You never have to do anything you dont want to do with me. And if you don’t want to travel with me anymore, I’ll leave. You are your own person, Geralt, even if you are a Witcher. And you make your own decisions. You wouldn't take a contract that you felt unsafe doing, so in the same vein, you dont have to have sex with anyone if you dont want to. You make your own decisions. You dont even have to cuddle with me right now if you want to. You choose what you want to do based on what you’re comfortable doing, do you understand?”

Geralt nodded into the darkness. This was all so much. He hadn't been able to make his decisions in...well ever. And now Jaskier was giving him permission to. “I want you to stay,” he whispered. “I....care about you too.” He didnt say that he thought he could love him, he wasn't ready to say that yet. And according to Jaskier he didnt have to say it if he didnt want to.

“Good. Now that we've got that sorted, come here,” Jaskier pulled Geralt into his chest, running his fingers through his hair delicately. Geralt closed his eyes, never had he felt more safe in his entire life. Who knew humans could be so gentle?

Just as he was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness he whispered, “Jaskier?”

“Hmm?”

Geralt felt a small smile tug at his lips at hearing how own language on Jaskier’s lips. “Can we do more of this...cuddling?”

Jaskier’s laugh sounded through his chest, vibrating pleasantly against Geralt’s ear. “Of course we can, dear heart. Of course.”

___

that turned out way longer than i thought it would and its now 37 minutes late but oh well.

throw me an ask if you wanna be on my tag list!

taglist: @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @barlowarts @eminasan @llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @nonegenderleftpain @electricrituals

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myelocin · 4 years ago

Text

Diver | Miya Atsumu

Synopsis: For you, decisions have always resulted in one, then two, then twenty steps back from the jump you know you want to take, but never find the courage to do so. Miya Atsumu was one of those decisions, and it baffles you how he makes the edge seem so inviting.

Characters: Miya Atsumu, You

Warnings/Tags/Genre: Self reflection, Slice of Life, Fluff (atsumu is cute lmao), Mentions of sitting on a cliff, Friendship w Bo!! Pining!Atsumu, hard to get reader when irl ur just confused , more sky references are surprised? no

WC: 4.6k+

a/n: this was purely based on my desire to explore atsumu and the y/n i headcanon’s character more. this is also to those who struggle to decide which risks are actually worth taking. (atm this is not edited bc im just gonna do that tomorrow lol)

playlist: Hello by Elijah Who

++note: please click keep reading bc whole thing is posted!

You remember standing at the edge of the cliff and thinking about how big and beautiful the world looked at age seven. You think back to the words your grandfather tells you when he sits on the ground next to you and begins to tell the familiar tale of the boy who lived life too scared to leap. You don’t think it was a true story; some elements changed every other time the same story was retold but you listened with rapt attention either way.

Every summer when you visited your grandfather in that little house by the cliff hours away from the rush the city brought, more than half of your days were spent sitting by the edge watching the clouds chase and envelop one another. You’d watch as the blue moved into gold, then orange, then red, then back to blue—and finally dive into black. There was never a day where the chase looked exactly the same.

At nine, you still thought the world looked too vast and beautiful and now you think it was because there was still so much you didn’t know. At sixteen, you remembered seeing more streaks of pink along the horizon in the distance but when you look back at the photos now—it was still really just swirls of red and kisses of orange. Maybe that was the summer you first felt love, because the world you saw in those days were through the rose colored lenses that only you wore.

When your grandfather would ask you why you preferred to sit out by the edge instead of run in the field with the kids you knew nearby you only shrugged and said you didn’t want to miss the stories in the sky later that day. Some days, he’d sit next to you and you’d listen to the story of the boy who never leaped again, but during the last few years of his life when he became too frail for the world, he’d only ruffle your hair and go back inside the house.

There wasn’t a particular reason either; no dramatics that told a heartfelt backstory towards your infatuation with the sky, or a long spill about how you love letting the sounds of the waves crashing silence your thoughts—it was quite the opposite, really. Even when your first love told you it wasn’t working out and you spent the entire evening and the next crying over a story ended, you still sat and watched the colors changing with the expression of wonder that stayed constant since you were a child.

“I still care for you,” you remember him saying and his voice clear in your head doesn’t fight over the sounds of the waves crashing on jagged boulders below.

“—we’re just not meant for each other,” he says again but you don’t feel the need to look away from the sky because the sun’s beginning to dip into the horizon and the violets are starting to paint swirls in the sky.

“I don’t think I ever loved you, (y/n),” you hear along with the cry of a seagull somewhere on your left but you only let out the sigh you’ve held in when the show is over and the black curtains cover the sky. You remember closing your eyes to try to search for that twinge of pain you always read about when your first love is over. But, when you breathe in, you only hear the water below roar. When you breathe out, you hear your grandfather’s call from the house behind you.

That night when you stood up to leave, you dusted the dirt off of your pants and stepped closer to the edge; you weren’t going to jump but you wanted to step into that line of uncertainty to feel that rush.

The feeling you always get when you’re tipping your seat back and you let your fingers graze off of the table you’re supporting yourself with—and you’re dipping into the territory of whether you’ll fall forward or backward. Whether the fall either ways could mean good, or bad.

“Can’t we work this out?” is what you knew you wanted to try to say in the moment he turned his back. And then the first step towards him became one, then two, then three—before your hand stopped short of grabbing his shoulder because you realize you don’t want to say it.

Maybe because you were sixteen and the chemistry test you had to take next period was a more important thought than this, or maybe because this was the kind of puppy love where it as quick as it started—so you didn’t want to tarnish the final chapters with an ugly fight. But, really, you began to think, as your hand curled back into a fist and you watched him with dry eyes turn the corner and disappear, you just don’t have a reason to want to work it out.

So then as the bell rang, you turned to take a step that went from one, to two, to three, four—and then eventually six steps back.

Six steps away from the edge where you let yourself be dangled by uncertainty.

The strange part is you don’t remember what began shifting afterwards; when you lost sight of the horizon you spent years losing yet finding yourself in all at once.

After that night, for the years that led up to now it felt like there was never a balance when it came the climax of your decision making. Every time the atmosphere tensed and you feel your gut twist with the pressure of the outcome, your brain is suddenly creating loopholes to mend the situation and your body is already in motion—every single time moving one, to two, to twenty steps away from the drop. That way, you could rock your heels to the side or tip the back of your chair as far back as possible without the need to pull back because you know the steady ground would always break your fall.

You weren’t sure if you necessarily enjoyed it but the cliff by your grandfather’s house doesn’t look the same anymore. This time, you’re sitting in a chair on the porch, a heavy distance away from the pull of gravity down below. Because it’s safe, you reason, but the horizon from your spot doesn’t look quite the same. Peering at the strokes of colors in the 6pm sky through cracks in the porch’s rooftop makes the world feel so little. You hear the sound of the TV running inside the house instead of the water roaring below and you know it isn’t the same.

But when the sun peeks in finality before diving the world into dark, you stand at the edge of the porch like you did at the edge of the cliff so many times before.

One foot hovering over the ground below and you know your balance is tipping, but you don’t feel anything. There isn’t a hitch in your breath and the feeling of weightlessness and heaviness simultaneously nipping at your skin.

You sigh in blankness as you thrust your body forward and let yourself dive. Before you even leap you already feel the ground beneath your feet.

The ground is only two feet below you.

In your mid-twenties, Miya Atsumu came into your life in a whirlwind of laughter and expressions.

He wasn’t really that spectacular. Sure, Atsumu could twirl a pencil like the honor roll kids as well as he could land a service ace, but that was kind of it.

How the two of you became close friends was always a wonder to you as well. You knew his twin brother—Osamu, after frequenting his onigiri shop every day for lunch, but your interactions with him were mostly limited to the “hi”, “how are you”, “thanks”, and “goodbye”.

Atsumu was, well, interesting to talk to because of all the expressions that substituted some verbal cues in the conversation.

It took getting to know him for about a year and joining him in the last minute road trips he pulled with you to realize how much Atsumu embodied uncertainty.

He was like the push and the pull of the wind when you’re standing at that edge again. Like somewhere between the moments of unfiltered fear from plunging down into the ocean you know you can’t swim in, and that step back of reasoning that tells you a two more steps further means two more steps safer.

He was neither of those, but at the same time, made you feel the magnitude of both simultaneously. Atsumu, to you, was the cliff, the rocking wind, the steady ground, and the plunge below.

And it was frustrating because you couldn’t read him at all.

When he asked you one day if you wanted to join him for dinner, this time, just the two of you while the apples of his cheek blushed a visible shade of red despite the dimmed lighting of the sky—you felt your gut churn in uncertainty.

For a while you’ve felt he wanted to push the boundaries of your friendship into a territory more unknown to the both of you, but you thought it would just stop at the experimental prodding. You weren’t blind. You felt how his eyes would trail your profile when he thought your attention was too engrossed in a book, knew that the unmarked box of chocolates were from him because he wasn’t subtle in hiding the special instructions written on the bottom of the box. You saw the triumphant spark in his eye when you told him the gift he gave you on your birthday was exactly what you wanted even if he just shrugged and said he guessed lucky.

And that’s the thing—Atsumu was painfully obvious. He wasn’t explicit about his intentions—he was just obvious; you know he wasn’t dumb enough to leave all these hints and expect you to still not know so that frustrated you even further. Did he want you to find out? Did you want to find out?

“Do ya think you wanna get some dinner tonight?” he quips beside you, “—just us two?” he adds, finishing awkwardly as you two come to a halt in front of the train station.

You think about his offer; you really do. The feeling in your gut doesn’t go away and your left foot is subconsciously rocking backwards. One step back.

“Maybe next time,” you hear yourself say. Atsumu’s deflating in front of you and his right hand rests on the back of his head while he shoves the left into the pocket of his jeans.

Two steps, “I’d love to—“ you continue, “but I may miss the last train and I don’t really wanna take a taxi tonight.”

Atsumu’s nodding his head saying, “Of course! Of course. Yeah, definitely. Next time!” And in a way you’re thankful he doesn’t mention the fact that he could always drive you back instead of letting you take a taxi.

Three steps, as you wave at him from the top steps of the station’s exit.

Four steps, “For sure next time!” you call out as he waves at your retreating figure with a smile. Neither of you really have faith on when next time will be, nor were sure if either of you believed it in the first place.

It’s when the train doors close and you’re holding on the railing where it dawns on you that you just took about 20 more steps back.

Two weeks after Atsumu’s offer of a dinner date was when Bokuto comes to you to say that he understands why you rejected the offer.

“You and him are just too different from each other,” he says like he made a profound discovery and not like he’s commenting on your love life.

“Aren’t opposites supposed to attract?” you ask.

“Not all the time,” Bokuto answers almost immediately and you nod your head choosing to not expand on the topic while your mind begins to whirl at his words.

On the bright side, you were glad neither you nor Atsumu spoke much about it. The days where you’d spend the afternoons with the team until practice ended, if nobody wanted to catch dinner the two of you would eventually just part ways at the train station he walked you to every night.

“I could always drive you home, ya know, I’m a good driver,” he says when you search through your bag for your PASMO card.

“I live in the opposite way you’re going, ‘Tsumu,” you laugh, albeit still appreciative at his offer.

“I know,” he replies and rattles his keys in his hands.

You’re still digging through your bag as you look for the card you know you must have left at home before you finally sigh and look at him looking at you holding out his keys.

“C’mon, (Y/n), I won’t speed I swear!” Atsumu laughs as he leads the way to the parking lot.

A few more weeks pass and you’re glad no one mentions the fact that you follow Atsumu into the parking lot every time practice ends. The day after he drove you home for the first time, you flashed the PASMO card you made sure to have with you this time and told him thank you for dropping you off the day before. He only rolled his eyes as he grabbed your wrists and pulled you in the car with him.

In hindsight, you could have said no and waved him off like usual, but your feet were matching the steps in his before you could even process what you were doing. He just drove you home, made small talk, and asked about your days most of the time—so all in all it was pleasant.

And you lived in the west side of town so drive always meant that the both of you had a front seat view to the sky’s art show. One thing you noticed (and appreciated) about Atsumu was the duality in his focus.

First hand, you’ve seen up close the intensity of his focus during his serves. The air would whip itself into a deafening silence at the drop of his hand and his eyes steeled over as fast as the sounds came to a halt—it was eerie, almost. In the way that sent chills down your spine and admiration bubble in the pits of your stomach. Then, as quick as the ball slams on the spot of the ground he aimed towards—the yell of triumph he’d express and the smile that would break into his face would overflow from his whole being. Like exhaling shakily after a sharp intake of breath—Atsumu was everything intense.

But, Atsumu, you think as you peek at him looking at the skies in front of him, was also serene. The kind of focus that pulled you in all the right ways. Like the gentle teacher you had from elementary who would coax you softly to focus sounding out the words in the passage you had trouble pronouncing. His hands were steady on the wheel, at 10 and 2 and the car would slowly come to a stop at every red light instead of the sharp lurch your body moves into when you press the brake a little too harshly. He only sometimes put music in the car—he told you he prefers to have your voice as company instead of hearing about the weather from the radio.

It surprised you, but at this point Atsumu brought nothing in your life but surprises. Then again, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—you were just used to feeling the ground before you fell so his uncertainty was still very much of an unmarked territory for you.

“Is it something about me?” he asked when the two of you exited the car and stood outside the entrance to your apartment building.

You know what he’s talking about, but you opt to stay silent and look at him with your head tilted instead because you already feel the urge to take one step back.

He’s still looking at you even as the passing moments are stretching into an awkward silence so he sighs and shoves his hands back in his pockets—something he does when he’s nervous, you noticed—and waved you off when you opened your mouth to try to retaliate. You’re thankful because you aren’t exactly sure what it was you were going to say anyway.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he says as he turns.

“See ya tomorrow?”

He waits for you to nod and wave a goodbye at him, which he first smiles at, before he starts the car and drives away.

His question “doesn’t keep you up at night,” is what you try to convince yourself when it’s 2:05 am on a Tuesday night and all you’ve done so far is toss and turn in bed. To prove your own point, you’ve sat up and turned the bedside lamp on while you scroll through some unopened emails on your laptop.

Halfway into retyping the same email you know you’ve been staring at for the past hour, Atsumu’s contact photo chimes in your phone in the form of a text message.

“you up?” it reads from the notification bar and you automatically shut your laptop close, turn off the lamp, and throw your covers over your head.

“No,” you reply out loud and you internally groan because of how ridiculous you’re being.

Your thoughts from the night before still remain in your head as you’re sitting on the bench beside the court later that afternoon as you type away at your laptop. It’s still the same email you never replied to last night, but you try to ignore that. You also ignore the fact that you’ve kept count of how many times the ball slammed on the opposite side of the net when Atsumu practiced his serves.

You don’t notice it when Bokuto takes a seat next to you and looks over your shoulder at the email you’re not even halfway through typing.

“That’s the same email opened since this morning,” he points out and you groan before turning to face and quickly shush him.

He’s laughing when he takes a seat next to you.

“You know,” he begins, “I think you’re just scared to feel something for Atsumu.”

You close your laptop—the draft of your email unsaved, like it had any coherent content anyway.

“Bo, you’re being silly,” you reply knocking your shoulder against his in laughter.

“You’re avoiding the conversation, (y/n),” he laughs back and you wave him off towards the court in laughter when the coach calls for him. He stretches when he stands back up and tells you, “We’ll talk about this later because I think you need it,” before jogging off to the other side of the gym.

Inwardly, you heave another sigh, because this was one of the times where Bokuto’s being more serious. You had to give him credit—the duality in his personality and harsh line when he switched from jesting to seriousness was impressive. Bokuto Koutarou wasn’t smart in many aspects of the domestic parts of life—he didn’t understand taxes, or why you needed to change the oil often, but he had a way of looking through the layers people build around themselves.

At first, it caught you off guard because two weeks after you met you had only been sitting outside a convenience store watching him lick the melted parts of his ice cream on his hands when he suddenly turns to you and says, “(Y/n), I wish you would take risks more. You’re too cautious.”

He never brought it up again, but every time he chose to tell you something—it was always something you knew, never acknowledged, but needed to hear.

So when Atsumu waves at you and shouts that he’ll just shower and be out in thirty minutes, you ignore the urge to step back, and smile at him instead.

You’re thinking about Bokuto’s words again as you listen to Atsumu yell something at Sakusa from inside the locker room.

You’re too different from each other.

You suppose there are differences, especially in the way you address your friends—Atsumu’s not afraid to clap your back while he laughs while you choose to keep your hands to yourself. He’s not afraid to let his intentions be known while you try to wrestle with your thoughts every time you’re shifting closer to the edge.

You could always walk away, you tell yourself every day, but every day you also choose to not do that. You know day by day and sunset after sunset you watch with Atsumu you’re nearing that edge again—and you want nothing more than take twenty more steps back but each day he offers you a new joke that you genuinely laugh at you know it’s a couple centimetres closer to where you’re afraid of going.

Bokuto’s right, you’re different from each other, but you know deep down that you’re alike in so many ways. When Atsumu talks about what he wants to do accomplish in life outside of volleyball, he talks with such a childish wonder in the certainty of the tone of his voice. At times, he was stubborn to the core—just like you were, and you realize that would clash between the both of you some day but Atsumu smiling as he’s jogging towards you has you realizing that you don’t really mind at all.

“Ready to go?” he asks and you could only nod as you follow him out the door.

Bokuto’s looking at you and giving you a thumbs up which you nervously return with a smile of your own.

During the car ride back home, you’re thankful that Atsumu chooses to flip on the radio this time; you didn’t plan on telling much of a story, and your thoughts are too jumbled up with everything for you to even settle with small talk.

“You good?” he asks, then looks over at you at the red light. You nod yes and shift the bag sitting in your lap.

“The sky looks pretty today,” you begin, “—the sunset today looks like the ones I grew up seeing when I was a kid at my grandfather’s by the coast.”

Atsumu hums, but it’s still heard over the low volume of the car’s radio, “You should take me to see one day.”

Your gut churns and you curse yourself when you habitually chose to stay silent.

“I don’t mean it like I’m inviting myself there, (Y/n)—“

“It’s okay, you should visit with me next time,” you reply then turn to watch his expression shift from flustered to surprise from his profile. You’re watching him with baited breath and your heart thumping can almost be heard when the radio dips into a silence in the commercial.

The light switches to green and Atsumu eases his foot off of the break as the car slowly gains momentum before he’s nodding his head and saying a soft, “Yeah. Sure. Totally.”

It’s quite uncharacteristic for him to be so muted with his replies, but you suppose these are one of the similarities you’re discovering you have with Atsumu. He’s confident and barks out his comments when his emotions are running high, but at the moment you know the both of you are tiptoeing around that line of uncertainty at the moment.

When his pointer figure taps the steering wheel in an unknown rhythm, a nervous habit of his, you feel yourself slightly relax. The difference this time from that hallway breakup you had when you were sixteen was both of you were at the same page. That boy who said he didn’t love you let the certainty in his intentions be known in the way you could already anticipate the long term ending for. There was nothing more to be uncovered—and you didn’t find the push to dive down for more.

This, with Atsumu, was a different story. You had curiosity with the unclarity. You craved to unravel his truth.

Truthfully, every decision you’ve made so far had you already seeing the outcome—that’s why you’ve only felt like you were only jumping to a ground two or three feet under you.

With Atsumu, you’ve come to realize that he personified the edge. At the same time, he was the push and the pull of the wind when you’re balancing yourself between curiosity and reason. You know the frustration you feel when you can’t read him comes from the fact that you’re only seeing him from the surface. You see licks of who he is with every slam of the ball and every spark in his eye.

But just when you feel that knot in your stomach, you allow reason to cloud your desire to jump into the blurred lines of variability— Every. Single. Time.

And it frustrates you because twenty steps back have become too comfortable for you to try to leave. You hated it, but you knew what was waiting for you every time, so you learned to find the comfort in it.

The truth is, you’ve always had the curiosity towards what it felt like to plunge. Like the story your grandfather would tell you—it ended with the boy dying by the edge he never found the curiosity to jump in, surrounded by the questions that ultimately died with him. It was a pitiful end, and up till now you believe the entire story could have been avoided. You know you’re always thinking about the dive and what comes with it, but never found quite the push that’d lead you to want to throw your body forward and seek.

You know Bokuto always had a point in the passing comments he tells you when you least expect it. Bokuto presented them to you in forms of declarations not even in questions.

The sky in front of you is the same sky you stood under when you dangled your feet over the edge, fearless, years ago. Atsumu feels like the push and pull of the wind, and the tug of gravity under your soles when he looks at you as you stand in front of your apartment building.

You’re not in the cliff side this time but you see the horizon you forgot you loved when Atsumu shoves his hands in his pockets and offers you a smile.

You hear the cry of the waves below and the call of the seagulls to your left when Atsumu says, “About earlier, you don’t have to worry about it—I was just jokin.”

“You’re scared to feel something for Atsumu,” you hear Bokuto tell you when you itch to take a step back, then, “I wish you’d take more risks.”

“I wanna take the risk,” you say out loud and Atsumu looks at you quizzically, before softening his eyes when he realizes what you’re trying to say.

And you could almost laugh because of course he understands what you mean. Atsumu knew more than he let on and you could laugh again at the mirroring of your personalities. It was opposite and identical at the same time: identical like the both of you understanding each other’s metaphors without explanation, and opposite in the way he always addresses them while you do, well, the opposite of that.

“I wanna jump,” you say even if it doesn’t make sense because you’re confident the message will reach him all the same.

Atsumu’s beaming and you think it looks like the sun that’s looked at you from the horizon for years. When he takes your hands in his, you inhale yet feel breathless because the balls of your feet feel weightless and your body is leaning forward.

And when the clouds in the sky blend with the painting and Atsumu leans forward, you let gravity take you—

Then, you’re diving.

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ilydenji · 4 years ago

Text

❝crush❞

↳he has a crush on his best friend

characters: yamaguchi tadashi pairing: yamaguchi x male!reader warning: angst no happy ending (sorry) a/n: being in love with your best friend is the worst thing.

-he was no stranger to this, not at all. he once went through a period in his life where he ended up having a crush on tsukishima for the longest.

-going down this road once before, tadashi was extremely scared when he realized he was starting to fall for you.

-even though he knew it would lead nowhere, he couldn’t help but indulge himself.

-every day during practice, he would hand you a water bottle and silently admire you as you drank from it.

-or even during class he would take sneaking glances towards you whenever he had a class with you

-as subtle he likes to think he is, he’s painfully obvious.

-tadashi made it a habit of doodling your name with hearts and flowers in the margins of his notebooks when taking notes.

-he’s not the best artist, but sometimes he also draws you as well

-he’s so in love it’s cute ):

-but tadashi is too scared of rejection, and he would never confess to you. without the help of course

-since he’s so obvious, the other first years were first to take notice of his little crush

-at first, they teased him (tsukishima) but the other two encouraged him to go for it because it would be cute they said (hinata and yachi) and kageyama just stood there like 🧍🏽 bc he has no idea what's going on

-either way, after some talking they manage to convince tadashi to confess to you.

-although he said he would, he never found the right chance to.

-it was either you were caught up studying or talking to friends, or during practice, you’d be too busy... well... practicing

-that and the internal fear that he had, what if you just weren’t into guys? you never really expressed interest in any girl nor guy really, it wasn’t like the topic ever came up.

-it would come off as weird if yamaguchi just suddenly asked if you liked guys right?

-of course, the days had turned to weeks and tadashi hadn’t made a move

-every time he stood next to you, he felt butterflies in his stomach his hands would clamp up. his legs would shake ever so slightly and he felt so lightheaded

-he was undoubtedly nervous. how could he not be? you were so breathtaking, handsome and just so ethereal.

-tadashi spent every night beating himself up for not talking to you, sometimes even calling tsukki for comfort.

-tsukishima was getting tired of this bullshit and decided it was enough

-tsukishima sat him down for a talk

-“tadashi— for the love of god just talk to him. i promise you he’s not going to eat you just ask—“

-easy for you to say 🤨🤨

-“sorry tsukki, it’s just hard... what if he’s not even into guys?”

-at this point tsukishima understood, he was still tired of his shit but he understood.

-so he decided to “help”

-mf came up to you like “you like dick”

-im gonna fuciiiking kill him LEFBFBF

-you were just sitting there??? confused like??? huh??? who’s asking???

-“um... yeah i don't have a preference”

-tsukishima took that and RANNNN— not literally ofc. mf just stared at you like 😐😑😐 and walked away like?? HUH??

-tsukishima then came up to tadashi and told the info and left

-tadashi was confused, to say the least, but on the inside?? he was doing summersaults, jumping jacks, running into the horizon, levitating— everything

-he was so happy he had a chance

-that calmed down his anxiety a WHOLEEE bunch llfmskdn

-happy tadashi :D

-anyway, the next day he finally had enough courage to confess

-all-day he was planning out the scene in his head-

“ok so should i be sappy?? tell him that he’s my other half—- no wtf no— i should be quick like i like you and leave it at that— no that sounds not genuine at all!” you get the picture

-when it finally came down to it, everybody on the karasuno team was aware of what was going on, so when he asked to walk home with you they left yall alone

“yamaguchi- you never ask to walk home with me, something up?”

-tadashi’s confidence flew out the fucking window at that and he just stared like

👁👁

“well.. there was something i wanted to tell you...”

-and with that, he laid everything out. he explained that he loved you from the start of your friendship, he loved how you were able to give him the confidence he needed to go onto the court, he loved how you brought out the best in him in every way.

-he then told you how nervous you make him feel, and despite how he’s used to having a crush, he never had one to this intensity. it felt so new to him but, he was willing to try it out with you

-tadashi felt relieved when he spilled out his emotions, finally feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders

-but when he was soon filled with dread when he turned to look at you

-the same look tsukki had when he confessed way back then, a pitiful look.

-you didn't need to utter a word, he already understood.

“yamaguchi...i’m sorry but—“

“it’s okay”

-you offered to stay friends, he accepted painfully and he walked you home.

-he tried hard to mask his emotions, he told you it was ok and that he wasn’t expecting much

-but in truth, it hurt. as soon as he got home, went to his room, he let everything he’d been holding back out

-he didn’t bother texting tsukki about what happened, he didn’t bother with his homework.

-it was true, tadashi wasn’t expecting much.

-even if he wasn’t expecting it to go anywhere, even if his feelings were so strong, he couldn’t exactly figure out why he was crying right now.

something quick before i go to bed bc i wont be posting for a while hhhnggg,, um,, anyway yamaguchi <3

masterlist

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi headcanons #yamaguchi scenarios #yamaguchi imagines #yamaguchi x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #yamaguchi fluff #haikyuu fluff

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sword-of-the-writer · 4 years ago

Note

Oh Lumi I love "You take the bed, you need it more than me" 🥺 Can I request that one with felix pls? Im so sorry if you get too many felix requests, but you write him so well!!

This is 1.4k words I don’t even know how I did that but like 😳 (thats why it took me ages because adhd brain inhibits me from just knocking it out in one sitting)

I hope y’all like it 🥺

—

Silent Travels || Felix Fraldarius

The clouds grew dark and weighed heavy above, tentative drops threatening to fall more with each passing moment.

Felix Fraldarius was called for by his father to return home for undisclosed reasons. In an even more surprising move, the young lord had asked you to accompany him when the professor insisted he not go alone.

Why had he asked you and not, say, Sylvain? No one could say, really. Well, perhaps some could, but they didn’t, which perplexed you even more when you had asked.

But now it had been well into your travels, threats of rain looming overhead, and an unbearable silence had fallen between you. It was a 2 day trip on the fastest route, so you silently hoped that it wouldn’t be this painfully quiet the whole time.

“Felix? Why’d you ask me to come?” You finally pipe up “why not... like... Sylvain?”

The man sighed, though he didn't look in your direction. “Really? He’s more of a nuisance than anything. Especially since he’d just flirt with my house maids again.”

That’s a fair point. You probably should have considered that.

“I didn’t ask you because you were an obvious choice, you’re just far less annoying than anyone else.”

The icy tone of his voice warned you not to dig further. You knew he wasn’t interested in small talk right now.

“So, where will we be—“

“There’ll be an inn on this road eventually.” He interrupted.

“Okay.”

Another long hour of quiet befell the two of you before arriving at the aforementioned inn. It hadn’t become significantly darker considering the gray clouds overhead, but it still had grown much colder.

In truth, Felix had been averse to banter not because he found you annoying, but because he was annoyed he fell victim to the professor’s meddling. They hadn’t just told Felix not to go alone, but specifically told him to bring you.

The thing was, he didn’t want to outright tell you this... it would raise more questions than answers. The ravenette treated you with significantly less poison in his words and with significantly more gentle gestures. Significant for him wasn’t much, really, but the ones who knew him well caught on fast. Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid knew it, and now supposedly the professor too.

You waited outside with your two horses as Felix went inside to pay for a room. The rain that threatened to fall all day was beginning to leak from the clouds in heavy drops. Good timing.

Felix emerged with a huff and brows furrowed together angrily.

“My father neglected to send along travel expenses, and the professor didn’t give me much either. It seems we can only afford one room if we want to eat in the morning.”

“Oh.. hm.” You reply, though not fully processing the logistics of the situation “what about the horses?”

“Did you not see the stable?” He all but snapped at you.

“I meant the cost, Felix.”

“Oh, er, boarding them is free. It’s feeding them that’ll cost us. Luckily that’s something the professor thought of.”

“So she packed food for the horses but none for us? Funny that.” You snicker, effectively lightening the mood.

“Funny.” Felix parroted. “Now let me take the horses to a stall before the rain starts falling steadily.”

“I can do it.” You insist, but Felix quickly takes the reins from you and doesn’t acknowledge your statement.

Without another word, the ravenette walked away with the two horses. He didn’t give you the room key in return, but you hadn’t noticed until you stepped inside.

The inn seemed lively, despite the gloomy weather. Drinks were passed to and fro and many were engaged in lively conversations. A complete 180 to the past few hours of travel you experienced.

You took a seat at an empty table whilst waiting for your travel companion. It wasn’t in the center, but it wasn’t exactly too far from all the action either. The time spent idle you couldn’t help but think that Felix was likely having a hard time untacking the less cooperative of the two horses. That was precisely the reason you offered to do it, but you weren’t going to mention it now.

Suddenly, and less than gracefully, a clearly inebriated man had sauntered his way up to your table.

“Ohhh! What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone here, hmm?” He slurred, slamming his tankard of beer down on the table as he took a seat

“Um, well I’m just waiting for—“

“Waiting? Oh, no no no!” He shook his head “No one should keep such a woman waiting!”

“Well I... he’s just—“

“Fuck off old man.” Felix had reemerged, ice in his tone and fire in his eyes.

“Ohhh, so your man makes an appearance!” The man taunted, seeming less and less sober as he chose to insult Felix.

“He’s not my—“

“And what about it? What were your intentions if I hadn’t shown up? Can’t you see how uncomfortable she is?” He spat, not letting the man get in a single word.

“Well, I was just—“

“Just nothing. Fuck off!”

You had stood at that moment, concern riddled across your features and a hand placed on Felix’s shoulder to keep him from lunging at the man. Tugging a bit at his shirt, you managed to pull him away from the fight waiting to happen.

“Let’s just go to our room and get some rest, okay?” You suggested, leading away the still furious boy away from the crowd of people.

The two of you moved in unison over creaking floorboards down the hall to find the room which the number on the door matched the engraving on the key Felix had received.

It was a small room, modestly decorated and, in your opinion, quite cold. It wasn’t necessarily what you had in mind, but it didn’t disappoint considering it was their only lodging option.

After a long moment, Felix broke the silence. “You take the bed, you need it more than me.”

Right... that was a prominant feature of the room: one bed.

Unthinking, you blurted out “Couldn’t you have gotten a room with two beds?”

Silence met your words as Felix thought this over. He hadn’t outright mentioned he was not a lone traveler, but he assumed the inn clerk had seen you outside. Clearly they had just assumed the two of you were a couple. And that man from before had too...

Felix attempted to clear his throat in a nonchalant manner, but it seemed to backfire as he almost choked. If you looked clearly, you could see the pink that dusted his cheeks.

“What’s done is done,” He tried to shrug it off. “I wasn’t thinking. Just take the bed.”

“Do you plan to sleep on the bare floor?”

Your tone was lighthearted, poking fun at his mistake. Had anyone else made such comments Felix surely would have snapped at them. Instead, he just shook his head.

“Seriously, at least take some pillows and blankets. Or we can go ask the inn worker.” You insisted.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Stop being so stubborn! I don’t want you to get bad sleep and be even crankier than usual.”

“The hell do you mean by ‘even crankier’?!”

You gestured vaguely as if to imply “you’re literally being cranky right now”. He turned away from you and crossed his arms, clearly understanding your meaning but ignoring it nonetheless.

“It’s not a small bed. We could probably both fit.” You finally say, breaking the long held silence

“I’m going to act like you didn’t just say that.” He replied dryly.

The realization that you spoke your thoughts aloud hit you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t thought much of the implications at first, but now your face had become noticeably red.

“Whatever. I’ll be back.” Felix exited the room, presumably taking your suggestion.

Flustered, you allowed yourself to flop down onto the bed. You moved your hands to your face and felt the warmth of your cheeks.

Felix returned not long after with news of the two of you switching to a more accommodating room. He didn’t mention the disappointed look on the inn clerk’s face when he had explained the situation to them...

The rest of your travels were met with the same degree of silence as before, though now it was a much more awkward silence. Rodrigue later brought this up, but Felix denied any implication that the older man threw at him.

#fe3h #fe3h x reader #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem three houses x reader #felix fire emblem #felix fraldarius #felix fraldarius x reader #fe3h felix fraldarius #fe3h felix #fe3h felix x reader #felix hugo fraldarius #fe felix

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dessarious · 5 years ago

Text

Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt72

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Bruce waited impatiently in the living room surrounded by his family and Diana Prince. He’d been surprised to see her in her civilian form but once she got over the initial shock of the Miraculous users being teenagers she’d been staunchly on their side. He still had no idea if the Ladybug and her team were showing up transformed or not. He had no idea how many were even coming.

Barbara seemed more tense than the rest though he wasn’t sure why. He knew she’d spent a lot of time talking to Tim the last couple days though he had no idea what about. Dick and Steph were both about to vibrate off the couch in their excitement. He wasn’t entirely sure why but he’d heard them mention something about Ladybug hopefully having black hair and blue eyes in her civilian form so they could get a new sister. It was nonsense that he could only roll his eyes at. Jason was calm and that honestly worried him. Cass was… well Cass. She wasn’t very emotive on her best days and right now was no exception. She never participated when they discussed Paris’ Heroes so he wasn’t certain what she thought of this whole thing other than she’d agreed to be here not suited up.

When the portal finally opened he almost let out a sigh of relief. The first through were Tim and a horse themed holder who were arguing about various things from the sound of it. Next came a boy with teal hair and a blonde girl, both of which just seemed done with the other two. When the portal closed behind them he was a bit surprised, slightly less so when the horse themed hero turned into Damian. Neither one of the other two looked like Ladybug, both were too tall for starters, but perhaps the transformations could change them more drastically than they’d thought.

“Father I’d like to introduce Luka Couffaine, who holds the Snake Miraculous as Viperion.” The boy with the teal hair smiled calmly and nodded to them all. “Chloe Bourgeois, who holds the Black Cat Miraculous as Discorde.” The blonde girl had been sizing them up the entire time and was still just looking at them with an air of calm disdain. “And…” Damian let out a string of curses. “Is she seriously asleep?” Luka looked amused but Chloe just turned her annoyed glare on his son.

“She has been ever since you two refused to stop arguing about things that had already been decided. She’s had an extremely taxing week and none of this is helping.” She was speaking through gritted teeth, as though trying not to yell, and Bruce finally noticed that she was carrying someone on her back. Damian just glared back at the girl but Tim immediately looked guilty. While Chloe and Damian continued to try and stared the other into submission Luka reached behind Chloe to the person she was carrying.

“Come on Maribug, time to wake up.” They all heard a groan and saw matching fond smiles on Chloe and Luka’s faces. There was a hint of movement before a face appeared over Chloe’s shoulder, one hand rubbing sleep from her eyes. Bruce couldn’t help but notice how worn down the girl looked. It wasn’t having just woken up either. Her face was pale and she had dark circles under her eyes. Her eyes were another story entirely, and that made him pause. That haunted look of having seen too much that was normally reserved for soldiers coming back from war had no business being prominent in one so young. He had hoped that the Miraculous magic made them appear younger than they were but it was painfully obvious the two girls were the same age as Damian, and the boy not much older. He looked over at Diana and she was staring at them with horror and pity. Damian cleared his throat.

“And this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng who holds the Ladybug Miraculous.” The girl offered a shy smile and wave before dropping her chin to Chloe’s shoulder. Damian went through and introduced all of them as well, noting the looks of interest when he got to Babs but no one said anything. Once he was finished Marinette offered them all a bright smile.

“It’s very nice meeting you all officially, and I would like to apologize for our last interaction. I was very pressed on time and I couldn’t afford to have any unknowns making an even bigger mess of things. It was necessary but I still feel bad about how short I was with all of you.” Trying to reconcile this exhausted ray of sunshine with the hero who had appeared in the Batcave was simply not working. Chloe being Discorde made sense. She was still staring at them all, daring them to screw something up so she could lash out at them, though he had no idea why.

“You can put her down you know. No one here is going to attack you.” Luka winced as Chloe actually growled at Diana’s words. Bruce was just thankful it hadn’t been one of his family to cause that reaction and he watched Marinette whisper in Chloe’s ear, obviously trying to calm the girl down. When she finally turned to Diana she just looked resigned.

“She can’t put me down actually. I was paralyzed in the last confrontation with Hawkmoth in a way that Tikki couldn’t heal.” Diana’s astonishment was written all over her face and she didn’t seem to be able to respond. Suddenly their interest in Babs made a lot more sense.

“That’s why you’ve been hounding me about wheelchairs and everything else related to my condition.” Tim just nodded and Barbara turned a sympathetic gaze to Marinette. “You need anything you call me. It’s rough, especially at the beginning, but it helps to have a good support system.”

“I definitely have that.” He noted the way her arms tightened on her partner. “And once my parents stop freaking out about everything I’m sure it’ll get even better.” Chloe let out an amused snort but Luka looked concerned.

“You never did say how telling your parents about all this went.” Marinette let out a sigh.

“Well their immediate reaction was to ground me. I told them I’d appreciate the break as soon as the meeting with the Justice League is over. They didn’t really seem to know what to do with that information. It’s a lot to take in and honestly I would have rather eased them into it, but with the way things happened…” Her guilt as plain but it took a minute for Bruce to really catch on to the meaning.

“Wait, are you telling me that you’ve been Ladybug for over two years and your parents didn’t know?” She just nodded but Chloe started glaring at Damian again.

“No one knew until your son decided that his temper tantrum was more important than Mari’s privacy.” All eyes turned to Damian and he just scowled at them all.

“What?”

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Ko-Fi

Tag List

@noirdots @valeks-princess @chocolatecatstheron @krispydefendorpolice @bee-wrecker @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @northernbluetongue @paradoxal-occurance @scrumptiouslyelegantchaosqueen @sonif50 @thequestionablyhuman @persephonebutkore @elspethshadow @geekydragonyt @mmwolf1605 @da-tasuky @mjisntme @bluerosette23 @anjuschiffer @littleredrobinhoodlum @tazanna-blythe @resignedcatservant @schrodingers25 @seraphichana @persephonescat @punstoppablechatnoir @magicalfirebird @crazylittlemunchkin @corabeth11 @cyborgcandy @casual-darkness @shamefullove @miraculous-simmer7 @tamoni112 @cat181818meow @littleblue5mcdork @allthebooksandcrannies @enchanted-nerd @disneyfoxuniverse @fallinginthe-void @mandy984 @goggles-mcgee @fontegagrilledcheese @dorkus-minimus @theatreandcomicfreak @zerotosiki @ayuchan07 @mindfulmagics @urbanpineapplefarmer @winter-gardenflower @mooshoon @my-name-is-michell @melicmusicmagic @7-sage-7 @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @alicesangelofmusic @caffeinetheory @nataladriana9 @multplelifes @wanderingreader1019 @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @mvaree @redscarlet95 @storyteller-d @howabouticallyou @ginamarie1512 @kurogaya913 @tbehartoo @maddrag @two-faced-biatch @senyahgirl @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @iloontjeboontje @kakashixobito @welcometopradasa @amirahevens @amlesi @miraculousbelladonna @virgil-is-a-cutie @18-fandoms-unite-08 @cupcakeandkisses @angelofmusickaterinapetrova @book-r-the-best @dur55 @moonlightstar64 @fertileleaf @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @thecaptainthunder @danielslilangel @novicevoice @nyaabinch @interobanginyourmom @welcometopradasa @charlietheepic7 @im-here-for-the-content @maya-custodios-dionach @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @starwindmaden @tired-butterfly @rogueptoridactyl @emeraldpuffguide @suzen23smith @yuulxd @animegirlweeb @alovelyocean @kris-pines04 @semaalcocer-blog @cadencehood @jardimazul @shethecat @silent-storms-posts @simplysslytherin @tog84 @thesunanditsangel @dast218 @tall-and-angry @the-alice-of-hearts @captainmac6 @theyellowfeverexperience @chrismarium @alessialeone6997 @heaven428 @tinyterror333 @smolplantmum @lilyellowink @naoryllis @katiegardneriscoolerthanyou @magewriter @doodledeerest @athena452 @peachedpocky @tired-butterfly @risingmoonyue @lunammoon @mylife-demonstrates-murphys-law @bobothyross @silvergold-swirl @loysydark @heaven428 @peachedpocky @hauntedwintersweets @awesome-starfish-and-tacos @silvergold-swirl @rosesgonerogue @castielsofficialtoothbrush @myazael @aestheticnpoetic @creator-josie @sturchling @snowstar1016 @myblacknightworld @kittycatwowmeow @midnightkaito @chylou34 @hufflejournals @indecisive-mess-named-me @uwuteamleader @sassakitty @jessigurl-design @demigodgirl20031 @freshbark @soup-served-chilling @elmokingkong @unknownvsworld @thatonegaybitchfromschool @tis-i-beanbandit @damianette-is-life @peachesbackup @nobodyw8s4evr @the-fusionist @iwantwhirlledpeasandlotsatrees

#maribat #marinette dupen chang #Damian Wayne #bffmaridami

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valkyrieskwad · 5 years ago

Note

in case you’re still taking prompts (tho it seems like you have a lot on your plate already) — Kara as a vampire who has vowed never to taste human blood and Lena as her vampire-horny best friend who keeps sending her erotic selfies of her neck to try and tempt her

I have weird free time, so im trying to write as much as i can while allowed.

hopefully you like this, feel like i keep butchering these lmfao

Kara doesn’t, you know, spend her days fantasizing about necks or anything like that, but–

She’s a vampire, for whatever that’s worth. And no matter how many vows she makes to never drink human blood, or how committed she is to non-violent coexistence, it doesn’t change the fact that… god, Lena Luthor has a really nice neck–long, pale, corded with muscle when she strains it and perfectly freaking perfect.

Kara can’t help but notice how it moves when she talks or eats or does anything, or really truly, how soft the hollow of her throat looks on any given day, in any given picture. Like it’d make Kara’s heart erratic if it could, like it’d give her that thumpthumpthump feeling in her chest if it was possible, and god, again.

She just… she really can’t think of any other exclamation, because it’s just so entirely distracting.

“That one’s perfect,” she says, looking down at her shoes again. She’s always doing that around Lena, always looking away, mind always going wild and confused whenever it hits her how truly beautiful Lena is, how absolutely flawless she manages to be. “Where’d you say you’re going?”

“My ex-boyfriend,” Lena says, bright like it’s a date, like she’s looking good for him. “We’re meeting up tonight, has some of my things he needs to give back.”

“And you need a choker for that?” Kara asks, hoping she doesn’t sound disappointed, but keeping her eyes on the floor just in case she does. “Thought you said he was, um, like a jerk.”

“Yeah, he’s a real dick,” Lena chirps, and Kara glances up just in time to catch Lena fiddling with the choker, adjusting it on her neck. Kara isn’t obsessed with necks, she isn’t, nonono, but she’s not imagining the fact that Lena only wears low-cut shirts now, only sends selfies with her full-neck in view. She’s not… ugh, maybe she’s reading too much into it, maybe she is weird. “The choker’s just part one of my two part plan to drive him crazy.”

“What’s part two?” Kara asks, shoving her hands in her pocket and looking away again. Lena would never be interested in her, let alone want Kara’s fangs in her neck. Kara’s not even into that, anyway. “Why do you need to drive him crazy?”

“He was a dick, Kara, did you not hear that part?” she asks, like it logically follows that she should look good for him as a punishment. “Part two is the hickey I’ll have from my new boyfriend. The choker is just to draw his attention to it.”

“Your what?” Kara asks, lifting her head fast enough to make her bangs flop. “You have a new boyfriend?”

“No, you’d be the first to know,” Lena says, rolling her eyes. But it’s playful, like there’s a fire dancing behind them and both her and Kara are in it together. She always makes Kara feel so included. “The hickey is just to make him think I have a new boyfriend.”

“But you don’t have a hickey,” Kara points out. Lena just smiles, like it’s a silly thing to say, like there’s something Kara’s not getting that should be painfully obvious. And then suddenly it is painfully obvious. “Lena, I can’t–”

“Kara, it’s like six seconds of licking my neck, not the end of the world.” But i’m a vampire, Kara wants to say out loud, but that gives them a bad reputation. Really, she should say, but i’m in love with you. “You’re my best friend, who else am I gonna ask to do this? I need you.”

She pauses like she’s waiting for Kara to speak, but Kara’s mind is still stuck on lovelovelove, so Lena shrugs and says, “Fine, I’ll just grab a guy in the lounge.”

“No,” Kara blurts, like her mouth processes that faster than her brain. “I’ll do it.”

“Awesome,” Lena says.

“That’s what friends are for,” Lena says.

And then suddenly Lena’s close in front of her, with her flowery perfume and long lashes and exposed neck craned in the direction of Kara’s mouth. Suddenly Lena’s heart’s beating so fast, so loud, that Kara feels like she has one herself, feels like it’s practically jumping out of her chest.

Suddenly, crap, Kara’s fangs pop out, and she–god, she knows Lena knows what that means when it happens involuntarily, and she’s so incredibly embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, trying her best to bury her fangs in her bottom lip. She spent so many years telling herself they’re perfectly okay, but now they just seem so offensive and unwanted and why does she have them–she drinks blood from animals that’s packaged and uncontaminated. She’ll never, ever have to hunt for her food it’s such an ancient concept, ugh.

“For what?” Lena asks, as if she’s not even fazed, head still tilted as if Kara’s still supposed to like? Give her a hickey. With her fangs out, with her fangs that are trying to either express i want to eat you or i’m so turned on right now i could just… eat you or a combination of the two. “We have to hurry, need to leave soon so I can be just slightly late.”

Her voice sounds calm, low and even in that dreamy way that just screams Lena Luthor, but… Kara can hear her heart beat. Kara can hear the cadence of her breathing, can see how tense she is and how her chest is rising and she can smell, um, wow. Okay. It’s just–

Lena has been sending her pictures, Kara’s not imagining it, and sometimes it just. Sometimes it feels like they’re more risque than they should be, or like, more revealing. And they’re always accentuating her neck, even when Kara’s actively trying not to think about it.

And she could be crazy, could be batshit losing her mind so horny she’s making crap up crazy, but right now she can swear that Lena’s (at least a little, tiny bit) turned on.

And that, that’s a lot to handle, lot to figure out.

You know, like.

Kara could go with her gut and explain that, what? That she’s not interested in drinking Lena’s blood, if that’s what she’s searching for. But that wouldn’t be honest, would it? She’s been fantasizing about that for a while now, is the truth of it. Kara Danvers doesn’t spend her days fantasizing about necks, plural, she spends them thinking about Lena’s.

And now it’s right there, in front of her, angled towards her, and–christ, what is she even thinking. “Lena, I’m not drinking your blood, you know that. Stop this.”

Lena pouts, instantly, and then she sighs and says, “Fine, have it your way. I’m gonna get ice cream from the store, wanna tag along and get a blood-pop?”

“Yeah, of course,” Kara says, and then listens closely to the decrescendo of Lena’s heart beat, just hoping it’ll calm her imaginary one.

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #my writing #asks #Anonymous

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general-mahamatra · 5 years ago

Text

Absolute Idiots

Pairing: Platonic Race and Smalls, Future Ralbert

Genre: Slice of Life

TW: N/A

Wordcount: 1172

Tags: @suddenly-im-respecsable @dimenovelcowboy @ratt-eats-cookie-cake

“I can’t get him out of my head, Smalls. Him and his stupid red hair and green eyes and his shit-eating smile…”

“Mhm.”

“And his laugh! Oh my God, his laugh.”

Smalls swiped their thumb along their screen, scrolling through their Instagram explore page. They were barely listening to the words coming out of Race’s mouth. Their full focus was on the pictures of frogs taking over every single post.

They weren’t one to care about this sort of topic. Romance and feelings have never been a strong suit of theirs since they never really experienced it. It’s not like they wanted to. They were perfectly happy messing around with friends and dunking people in the pool just to dominate at chicken.

So, to be sitting there in their friend’s apartment, they had honestly forgotten why they were there.

First thing they knew they were hanging out and making some interesting recipe Race had found online and the next, Race was face planted on his bed whining about Albert. And dear God, the guy wouldn’t shut up.

Race sat up and pouted. “I feel like you’re not even listening to me.”

Smalls glanced up with a simple “hmm?” They paused for a moment as they processed what they heard before rolling their eyes. “Oh, no I’m listening, don't worry your gay ass.”

When Race gasped, Smalls grinned. The blonde grabbed his pillow and chucked it at the shorter teen, earning a squeal of protest. The force and surprise knocked them off the bed. With a pillow in their face and their back flat on the floor, Smalls just lay there, giggling nonstop.

“You are the worst possible friend,” Race whined from above them. His voice was high and pitchy and, truth be told, sounded like some valley girl who didn’t get their boba tea. It was pretty funny.

Smalls peeled the pillow away and stuck their tongue out at Race. “Yeah, well, at least I didn’t promise to cook and then started whining about a boy.”

“Okay, but-”

“We were gonna make lasagna!” They lamented, throwing the pillow back at Race.

This earned a squeak out of Race as it nailed him just right, ramming his glasses into his face. He hissed and reached up, pulling his glasses off to press his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

He shot a playful glare at his friend as Smalls continued to lie on the floor. Their hair was just as sprawled as their arms and Christ, they would not stop laughing.

It got to the point they had tears in their eyes. Smalls didn’t bother to move or wipe them away the entire time, quite content as they were. They looked like they were having some sort of meltdown with the way their face grew a deep red and she struggled to breathe.

Eventually they sat up and rubbed the backs of their hands against their eyes. With the tears gone, Smalls took a few deep breaths. They were quick to calm down, their shoulders no longer shaking and their heart rate steadily slowing down.

“We’re not gonna make lasagna,” Race finally said, “because you’re the one that got me on this tangent!”

“I did not!” Smalls exclaimed.

Race jabbed his finger in Smalls’ direction. “You did! You know how to get me talking about him and just how amazing he is.” His hand faltered a bit as his expression grew dreamy. “God, he’s fucking perfect Smalls. His arms… have you seen his arms?!”

Smalls sighed and ran a hand across their face. “Yes, Race, I’ve seen his arms.”

“I don’t want him to ever stop wearing tank tops.”

“I know.”

“I want him to crush my skull with them.”

“I know.”

The familiar buzz of Smalls’ phone distracted them from Race’s rambling. They tuned him out as they pulled the device out. They didn’t expect too much, maybe a stupid text from a friend. And, well, they weren’t too far off.

[ginger bitch himbo addition at 7:32 P.M.]

smalls smalls i need help smalls please this is important

[Smalls]

what is it fucko

[ginger bitch himbo addition]

why the fuck is race so cute

Smalls groaned and turned their phone off.

These two are fucking idiots and they were sick of it. Almost every day they had to deal with either Race or Albert talking their ear off about the other. From Race it was always about how hot Albert was and how much he wanted the ginger to absolutely ravish him. With Albert, it was complete gushing -- the sort of thing Albert would NEVER do around anyone else, let’s be real here -- about how adorable Race was. Every text from Albert would be about something he found quirky and cute about the blonde.

The way his hair seemed to always be perfect, the way he laughed, the stupid smile Race always had when joking around, the way he would constantly dress…

Smalls was desensitized at this point.

It was painfully obvious that Race would dress up whenever he knew he would be around Albert. Just the other day Race had found the most revealing outfit he could possibly own just to go rollerskating with the group.

Smalls was convinced Race had even dabbled in makeup for the occasion. Which, let’s be real, he most likely did.

But, sitting before Smalls and rambling on and on about how hot Albert is when they go swimming, Race was dressed casually. A simple pair of light blue skinny jeans ripped around his knees and a pink and white rugby striped shirt that hung loose around his skinny frame. A severe lack of shoes or socks and his hair was barely kept was rather noticeable as well; a sign that he really didn’t care around Smalls.

And Smalls was sick of just how oblivious Albert was to it all.

The way Race would oggle the ginger every second he could was getting annoying. There were so many times Smalls would have to flat out slap the blonde to get him to focus.

At least neither of them remembers what happens when they get drunk, dear God.

If one did, Smalls would never hear the end of it.

It’s safe to say everyone at the parties made a mutual agreement to never speak of what they’ve witnessed. Hell, most of them are making bets on who’s gonna make the first move.

Which will definitely be neither of them.

Another buzz of the phone.

[ginger bitch himbo addition at 7:36 P.M.]

shit wait his birthday is next week what do i get him? i should get him a cat

Smalls frantically scrambled to reply.

[Smalls]

no! no you should not those aren’t ALLOWED you dumb fuck

[ginger bitch himbo addition]

stuffed cat

[Smalls]

that’s better

“Hey, who’re you texting?”

Smalls’ head shot up the moment Race addressed them. They hadn’t even realized the guy had stopped rambling about Albert.

“Uh- no one,” Smalls said with an innocent smile.

This is gonna suck.

#newsies #newsies fic #albert dasilva #albert dasilva newsies #racetrack higgins #racetrack newsies #smalls newsies #albert newsies #race newsies #ralbert #a small dose of ralbert #smalls and race and albert entered a bar #prince's writing

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docmurph12 · 4 years ago

Text

Ok review time!! Been a while, its good to be back. Im a little behind on requests so the first is going to be one from my wife, who I think chose this because she wants to simultaneously torture me and because she doesn't like it either and wants to confirm the quality (or lack thereof). At the least I know this movie split audiences, and I know the music, while.......well enough composed is painfully simple and bland to the point of being tropey. It will be interesting enough to see how they manage to Disney-ize the world's best known racist exploitative exhibitionist. If you wanna know I'll do 5 about Barnum at the end, for the sake of historical reference.

To start, Hugh Jackman is predictably fantastic vocally. I absolutely loved him in Les Miserables and he is definitely in voice here. The interesting thing I noticed is that the music is REALLY canned, but mostly its not a bad thing. It's just really obvious they did the music in ADR style recordings after or maybe even before the fact. It is REALLY clean and sometimes is just a touch jarring that the performer's movements don't seem to appear at all audibly. It is all very well mixed though, the sound effects are not at all distracting, but also not distractably absent (Thanks CATS for making that a thing I notice now).

The movie is very well shot, this early in the film the thing thats bugging me is that they have some great shots, but they never let anything sit. There are a lot of cuts. I am obviously a fan of long shots, but you have to let the shot sit for a second. Camera movement is not a bad thing, and it adds a little continuity and relation to your characters to your visual storytelling. Watch how David Fincher tends to use a camera. Looooong cuts that precisely follow character movements. Lots of this is his specific style but man it draws you in.

Interesting introduction to Zack Efron's character. He is an awful big actor (with what im understanding will be a big part) to have been introduced with nothing more than a throwaway line about a specific rich family that hasn't been mentioned at all prior to this. Kind of removes the stakes or any level of interest in who this person even is or why Barnum wants him involved at all.

I really liked the scene transition from the bar to the circus. Well shot, interesting visual trickery, nice use of long cut shots to establish where you are supposed to be, so that when it changes incrementally it is very visually stunning and exciting.

The bearded lady has a trash application. Im surprised that made it into a big budget tent pole film. My God is that thing bad.

The whole "This is Me" "Rise up" thing really is tragic considering the people who were basically used by Barnum never were anything to him but a money making venture. They were made celebrities under Barnum but arguably never made what they deserved with him, and after the fact were still ridiculed and shamed. In fact riots were started because of Barnum's "den of evil".

Man, Zack Efron slays with his voice but he totally just bounced Zendaya's head off the ground. Holy shit.

Interesting that the one thing negative they focus on with Barnum is his inability to focus his energy on his family and the trouble it got him into.

Oh hey that's Yahya Abdul-Mateen II. Strange that its not even a bit part that he got. He's awesome. Shame they didn't use his talent to better effect. I really enjoy watching his performances. I mean the awfully bearded lady got more of a speaking role than one of the most talented actors on the cast.

Nice that some of the performances later in the film appear to be recorded live. Hugh Jackman should really have gone whole hog in performing live for the whole film. He's really very good.

The choreography in this is remarkably complex. They had to have spent a crazy amount of time in rehearsals on this, especially on the pieces in smaller spaces.

Oh man the VFX of Tom Thumb riding the elephant was REALLY bad. I wasn't sure if it was just me when I saw it earlier in the movie when he was riding the horse, but nope. Just bad.

And of course the obligatory positive quote from the famous historical main character.

Alright so the final verdict. This wasn't the atrocious train wreck I thought it was going to be. That said, there were a lot of things that left me pretty disappointed. The devil truly is in the details and there were things that had me wondering how they got through the final approval door. Bad makeup/prosthetics, good audio mixes combined with jarring combinations of live and pre/post recorded music, inconsistency in the editing room in terms of length of shots for effect, oddly throwaway introductions of main characters, bad VFX and unused talent really leave one wanting more out of this. Now the really tragic thing here is that there might be a way better film here if they grimed it up and really went for the more accurate story of PT Barnum, a little closer to "There Will Be Blood", where the tale of narcissism driven obsession of exploitation and profit takes center stage. Folks please let it be known this is just a movie. PT Barnum was not a good person. He exploited people for profit, and continued to put people on display as freaks in spite of the negative attention it brought them. THE EXHIBITION WAS KNOWN COMMONLY AS A DEN OF EVIL FOR CHRIST'S SAKE AND ALL HE DID WAS LABEL THESE PEOPLE AS FREAKS AND PUT THEM ON DISPLAY. He was only a philanthropist in the sense that for him to be so, he needed to see a profit on the back end. If you really need to know how bad things were take a second and look up the name Joice Heth. You might thank me, you probably won't. That said, I truly feel this was a wasted opportunity to tell a well written cautionary tale. Lots of good in this version of the film, but not enough to overshadow some very strange oversights.

Final Verdict?

C-. I dont see myself revisiting this. So much left on the table.

Next up? Either The Platform or Circle (I think that is the name of it). REALLY looking forward to those ones.

#the greatest showman #hugh jackman #musicals #movies #pt barnum #review

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burntmcnuggies · 4 years ago

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A Hopeless Fight

Yander Levi x Reader

Warning: this story contains blood, gore, and suggestive themes such as kidnapping, murder, non-consensual touching, forced sex, and drug usage. You guys have been warned! Now all of you who wanna read! Please enjoy! :D

Prologue:

*Drip*

“W-Wait! P-Please! I-Ugh! I’ll give you anything you want! Just please don’t kill me!”

*Drip*

“PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU!!!!!!”

*Drip*

“NO!! NOT AGAIN!! NO! PLEASE!!! IM SORRY!!! NO!!! SOMEONE HELP M—“

*Splat!*

His hands were once again stained with the familiar crimson liquid. The same liquid that smears the skin in red when you try and wipe it off. The same irony liquid he’s spilled countless times. The same substance he himself had within his body. Blood. Finally the soundproof walls of his basement could stop restraining against letting the screams of agony and torture slip through them to any listening ears outside. His lifeless metallic eyes glistened in satisfaction at the hefty amount of blood that covered his black elbow-length gloves and apron. He pulled down the black mask around his mouth and nose and clicked his tongue in annoyance at the mess his latest victim had made. He put the tarps there for a reason, easy disposal of blood, however his victim was so squirmy that blood had gotten onto his perfectly clean stone slab floors. His dark ebony brows furrowed, a heavy aggravated sigh escaping his throat.

“How troublesome. If you were still alive I would’ve tortured you more for getting blood on my floor before killing you.” He huffed and took his latest victim off of the hooks he had lodged into his armpits to keep him up and still. He heaved the large man up and took him towards a pristinely clean metal table, an autopsy table he had attained curtesy of a customer. He opened the drawer attached to the metal table and pulled out a large syringe, flicking the bottle twice before injecting it into his victims veins. Since he recently died and hadn’t started decomposing, it was necessary for the extremely sanitary man to drain as much blood as he could. Once he began to draw blood, he carefully watched as the crimson liquid filled the syringe with its thick content. He collected ten pints of blood from his body successfully, and refrigerated the blood packets in a large cooler he had built in himself. “Tch, this better be enough for that four-eyed bitch.” He mumbled irritably.

As if on cue, he received a call from the woman in particular. He grunted and slid one of his gloves off, pressing the button on the screen to answer. “What is it four-eyes. Couldn’t come to check this guy for yourself?” He placed the phone on speaker and carefully slid his glove back on, making sure his skin was clear and clean before he started again. The phone laid on a wooden table close to the metal one where he would skillfully be dismembering his corpse. “Ah, Levi! Great you answered! And murder isn’t really my strong suit! I don’t get off on it as much as you do! Did you get the blood?” He rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue at her energetic attitude. He rinsed his gloves in the sink quickly and grabbed the file on the guy his customer had faxed him. “Yeah. Ten pints. Need any organs or anything? Better hurry before they’re unusable anymore.”

“Well, there’s a specific process in removing the organs, I would need to do that! Plus the patient would need to be brain dead and still breathing to use organs to their fullest benefit!” He clicked his tongue once again and snapped the file closed, throwing it onto the wooden desk he kept downstairs to do his research and filing. He approached another metal table, but this one was full of more sinister tools. Many of the tools littered on the wall and on the table were stained and dried with blood. Leaving no room for excuse that the man had ultimately tortured his victim until his death. Although the clean freak he was, he found it pointless to rinse the blood off when he would be continuously torturing his victim. “Tch... well I have your blood. I’ll run some tests following the strict instructions you gave me to make sure this gluttonous bastard doesn’t have a disease or some shit.” His brunette customer laughed across the other end of the phone, shuffling being done as she pulled out some files. He was about to grab his circular saw to begin dismembered his victim, when his next assignment was given to him. “You’re next target is (Y/N) (L/N). A young college student with straight A’s, a bright future, and a promising education.”

“What? Why would you want me to take her life? Sounds as if you like her.” The prestigious doctor sighed on the other end of the phone, and she looked on the file, smiling as she stared at the young girl, reluctant to fax her murderous friend the file on her. She paused, before taking in a deep breath and slapping the file closed. “She’s a sweet girl. A patient here not too long ago. After getting hit by a drunk driver she had to have stitches and a cast put on her foot. She was very kind. But she’s proven a big distraction for my hospital.” The ebony-haired man quirked his thin eyebrow up at her sudden comment. This particular future victim interested him. Probably because she annoyed the eccentric woman, and rarely anyone ever annoyed the woman. “Hmm. Done. Fax me her file and I’ll get to tracking her down right away.”

“No need to track her. I can just ask her to come into the hospital.” He was interested now. An easy catch? An annoying girl to play with and taunt? He felt his lips twitch in the slightest, tempted to stretch into a sadistic grin at the rush of adrenaline spiking through his veins. One question spiraled his brain though. “Why does a shitty brat like her annoy you so much? Tch, thought you would’ve annoyed Moblit with your stupid chatter before a kid ever dreamed of enjoying you.” His friend sighed loudly and started typing on her computer, obvious by the familiar clicking of the keyboard. The doctor finally responded to his question, stunning him into silence at the very boring and stupid answer he received. “Well, lets see... She visits my sicker patients and gives them false hope. The people need honestly rather than hope if they’re terminal. They’re gonna die without a thought in their mind that they’re really dying.” The man scoffed at the received answer and started up the circular saw, trying to drown out her pointless chatter.

“Sounds as if she’s trying to help them and not let them suffer.” Silence spread around the air around the bloodied man, all except the familiar metallic ringing of his rather clean circular saw. He could perfectly tell she was considering his explanation, and was painfully reluctant to send him the assignment. However, even if she didn’t send the information, he would track her down either way. His powerful authority as a police officer gave him a hefty upper hand in tracking anyone he so desired. “Whatever, it’s a brat. Hurry up and fax me her file so I can continue with my hobby.” He mumbled, pulling the black protective mask over his nose and mouth, slipping on some protective glasses. His strong hands grasped onto the pale cold flesh of his victim, and leg the screeching metal collide with muscle, bone, and tissue.

Once his corpse was dismembered, he fired up his incinerator and slid the body into the enclosed space. He had gotten a clear document allowing him to have it in his basement. He had everyone convinced that he went through a lot of garbage, and thought it easier to have an incinerator. They reluctantly let him install it, but he paid the price of paying a fine every couple months. After the body had turned to ash, he threw the limbs in and hummed in satisfaction at a good kill. He turns towards the mess in his basement, and his satisfaction turned to disgust once he spotted the blood on his tools and his once sparkling stone slab floors. After hours of vigorous cleaning later, he replaced the tarps and made his once dirty tools sparkle and shine. Finally, he went to his desk and picked up the papers his customer had sent him.

“(Y/N) (L/N).” He grinned.

“Perfect.”

#levixreader #yanderelevi #leviackerman #attackontitan

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numba99 · 5 years ago

Text

The Intern - Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

summary: You are an intern at MSG, strictly forbidden to become involved in with any of the Rangers players. However, this becomes difficult when you catch the eye of a certain player. Word count: 2k

warning: Smut, this part is a lil choppy im sorry but we got smut so it makes up for it I think

You woke up the next morning with a pounding headache. You hadn’t even drank that much - just a few sips of a cocktail - but you were anxious and barely slept, which was never a good combination.

“I know, I know,” you sighed when you walked out into the living room. You knew Jess would be there waiting for an explanation. Jess let you go to bed without any details last night, which you were grateful - and surprised - about.

“I didn't say anything,” Jess replied innocently, though you could see she was fighting back a smile. You were sure she had an idea of what happened, she just needed you to confirm it.

“Ugh,” you slumped down on to the couch, “We kissed.” You covered your face with your hands, not wanting to see the I-told-you-so smile.

“Color me shocked,” Jess feigned surprise.

“Don’t be so excited, this is really bad,” you replied.

“Was he that bad?”

“No, I mean the kiss was good. Amazing actually, which makes this all so much more worse,” you said.

“Listen, y/n, I know you have this big no romance rule to follow, but like come on. How would your supervisor ever know?” Jess reasoned.

“What if someone saw us?” you questioned.

“Did you kiss in front of people?”

“No it was alone in his room,” you replied.

“Hot,” Jess smirked, “But then how would anyone know?”

“I don’t know,” you frowned, “It just makes me nervous. Like yeah sure a kiss is one thing, but it can’t keep escalating. It’s going to get me in trouble eventually.”

“So what are you gonna do just ignore him?” Jess asked.

“I’m going to have to,” you replied.

“I was joking y/n you can’t ignore this man after you kissed him,” Jess shook her head, “That’s fucked up and you know that.”

She was right. It was really shitty, and you didn’t want to do that to Lias. However, the thought of talking to him made your stomach twist in knots. And how would you do it? You most definitely couldn't have this conversation at MSG, where anyone could hear... but going somewhere alone together wasn’t a good idea either. You didn’t trust yourself alone with him at this point.

You sighed, “I’ll figure something out.”

___

When it came time to go back to your internship you had butterflies in your stomach. You still hadn’t quite figured out how you were going to handle this. Every plan you concocted either made you cringe or damn near go into a panic. Avoidance, while not right, seemed like your best and only option at this point.

“Y/n I need to talk to you in my office,” Beth said before you could even settle into your desk. Your stomach fell to the floor. She knows. Oh god you really fucked this up. You tried to keep a straight face as you sat in the chair on the opposite side of her desk, your mind racing with ways you could cover yourself.

“Is everything okay?” you dared to ask. You prayed she didn’t notice the slight tremor in your voice.

“Yeah I just needed to ask you something,” she replied simply, “Don’t worry it’s good.”

“Oh, great,” you let out a sigh of relief. You were off the hook for now.

“So the team is going to St. Louis in two days and the guy that normally travels with the team had something come up and can’t make it. They’re asking me to stand in for him and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me,” Beth explained.

“I would love to,” you perked up, “I didn’t even know that was a thing interns could do.”

“Not normally, I only invite the really good ones,” she said with a smile.

“I’m honored, thank you so much,” you beamed. You felt a twinge of guilt, you were hiding things from her after all. But you reasoned with yourself it was a one time mistake and you shouldn’t let it cloud something as wonderful as this.

Beth explained it would be a quick trip, arriving the day before and leaving directly after the game. Everything was already arranged for you, all you had to do was show up at the airport on time. That much you could most definitely handle.

The only problem you could foresee was Lias, but you had time to work on that. Beth informed you the team would be practicing a their practice facility leading up to the trip. Just knowing you had a few more days in the clear filled you with an immeasurable level of relief. Maybe you luck would least and Lias wouldn’t bother you at all during the trip.

That hope, however, was short-lived.

He spotted you first just as they were calling the players to board. You had been hanging back, trying to hover behind some of the other support staff on the trip. You were grateful he was already far enough along that he couldn't come back to talk to you, but from the look in his eye you knew he wanted to. A knot began to grow in your stomach. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But there was no turning back now.

The plane ride wasn’t much better. Lias was seated far ahead of you, but every couple of minutes he would turn back to look at you. You kept your eyes trained ahead, pretending to be engrossed by the movie the screen in front of you was playing. You were afraid if you made eye contact he’d try to engage with you, and with Beth sitting right next you you most definitely could not have that happen. Her being asleep was the only thing providing you any comfort, at least she couldn’t see Lias being painfully obvious about his interest in you.

Off the the plane the texts came in. It was nothing crazy, just a few messages about how he was happy to see you here and that he wanted to talk when you got the chance. You didn't know how to answer so you just didn’t.

The only time he actually caught you was in the lobby of the hotel. “Hey, did you get my te-”

“I’m sorry I can’t talk right now Lias,” you brushed him off. You could see on his face it hurt him, which you felt bad about, but at least he dropped it. Finally, you were able to escape to the cover of your room, which, to your delight, you had your own. As much as you liked Beth, you thought it would have been awkward to share a room with her.

You took some time to shower and relax, mindlessly flipping through the TV in just your towel for a bit. Eventually you got to what you were supposed to be doing - watching highlights from the past few times the Rangers have played the views and outlining some questions to ask at the press meeting. And then your phone chimed. Lias again.

y/n please, I need to talk to you. Can I come to your room?

The had bad idea written all over it... Beth was just down the hall. On the other hand, having her so close by may keep you more accountable. And you had to talk to Lias, you couldn’t avoid him forever. This seemed like the only way to do it privately without having to meet at one of your places.

Okay please just be don’t get caught. room 328

You paced the room, wringing your hands nervously as you waiting for the knock. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to come. You opened the door and pulled him inside, peeking out to make sure no one had seen.

“So you kiss me and then completely ignore me?” Lias asked as you closed the door behind him.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” you lied, “It was just a kiss at a party.”

“Oh come on, y/n, I don’t buy that. You don’t even sound like you believe it,” Lias challenged.

“It doesn't matter what I believe,” you sighed.

“But it does,” Lias replied, taking a step closer to you, “You deserve to be happy and to have freedom, these rules are ridiculous.” You were quiet because well, he was right, but also him being so close to you made you nervous. You totally forgot how to speak when his eyes were locked on to yours. “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll leave, I promise. Just say you don’t want me and I’m gone.”

“Lias...” you voice was just above a whisper.

The next few moments happened slowly, yet in a blink of an eye. One minute his hand was on your face, gingerly rubbing your cheek and the next you were falling on to the bed. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping him close to you as your tongue slid into his mouth.

You slid your hands under his shirt, feeling the muscles on his back. They felt better than you could have imagined. Lias made quick work of your clothes as well, stripping you down to just your underwear.

“We have to be quie- oh,” a moan caught in your throat as he slid his hand down the front your underwear.

“Shh, quiet,” he smirked. You wanted to roll your eyes but they ended up just rolling back into your head. Lias was more than skilled with his fingers. They slid easily into your slick entrance, as Lias kissed your neck. Your hand was woven through his hair, yanking on the golden strands each time you felt like letting out a moan.

He worked circles over your clit, sending little twitches throughout tour body. Your stomach was knotting with pleasure, ready to snap at any moment and flood your system. And with in moments it did just that. You let out a long, blissful sigh as you came around his fingers.

“Fuck,” Lias groaned near inaudibly.

“I need you Lias,” you practically whined. Lias nodded eagerly, leaning over the side of the bed to find his pants that had fallen to the floor. He dug through the back pocket, fishing out a condom.

“Did.. did you know this was going to happen?” you raised a brow.

Lias chuckled as he rolled it down his length, “I was hoping.” You smiled, glad he thought so far ahead. Lias slid back between your legs, looking at you once more to confirm you were ready. After a quick nod he pushed in slowly.

He stretched you out perfectly, you couldn’t believe how good he fit. Lias was feeling it too, the grip on your hips had tightened - like he was trying not to cum right then and there. He moved slowly at first, working both of you up. You arched your back, feeling him push even deeper inside you.

“Lias,” you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt yourself getting closer. You bit your lip, trying to prevent yourself from being any louder.

“Fuck, yes just like that,” Lias half whispered hand moaned as you rolled your hips to meet his. He moved quicker, his thrusts long and hard. Suddenly your vision was clouded with stars. You gripped his back, stifling a moan into his neck as you came. Lias let out a moan breathlessly, twitching deep inside you as he joined you.

You both caught your breath for a few minutes before Lias pulled out of you. He tossed the condom away and then cuddled back up next to you. “I have to leave right?” he mumbled against your skin. You could feel him pouting against you.

“Unfortunately, I think it would be hard to explain you leaving my room in the morning,” you tried to make light of it,

“Sucks,” Lias murmured, planting a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“I wish you didn't have to,” you admitted, snuggling closer to him.

Lias smiled softly, “One day I won’t have to. I promise.”

#the intern #lias andersson imagine #Lias Andersson smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #new york rangers imagine #new york rangers smut

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crystalconjunx · 5 years ago

Note

Love your writing! Do you think you could do some tfp mega/orion pax nsfw? Im such a sucker for them pre-war 😩

Orion sat comfortably at the small desk Megatronus had found for him as he proofread the gladiator's latest speech.

Today Megatronus was fighting his first offworlder. It wasn't terribly uncommon for offworld mechs to test their mettle in the Pits of Kaon, but Megatronus had only just begun to fight in the upper leagues. He told Orion Pax that he intended to become champion, and Orion had faith that he would succeed. But offworlders in the upper leagues were incredibly dangerous. They had weapons and techniques that even Megatron had yet to encounter.

Normally, Orion insisted on attending such important fights. He couldn't bear to watch Megatronus get hurt. Each of his challengers were deadlier than the next and this offworlder, Killer-watt, would undoubtedly be a nasty fighter— he was a murderer and a snake, known for killing his opponents even in low-level fights.

But this time, Megatronus had asked him to instead begin helping him with his next speech. He insisted that it would be one of his most important ones yet and that Orion needn't worry about today's fight.

The archivist found it difficult to concentrate with the worry that consumed his processors, but he put his all into reading through Megatron's work.

It was full of wonderful, brilliant, world-changing ideas, just as much as his last ones had been. Orion's spark soared in joy as he sat down the datapad. Megatronus was an excellent writer and a revolutionary idealist, and Orion couldn't believe that he was the one who got to help him with his works.

He was finishing his final notes when the door to their suite pinged and two large mechs walked in.

"By the spires!" He shouted in surprise, "What is th- Megatronus? Are you alright?"

The gladiator was leaning heavily upon the frame of Breakdown, one of his brothers-in-arms as the mech gently deposited him onto the side of his berth, handed him a small package, and left.

"Megatronus! What happened? How badly are you hurt?" Orion asked, fretting over the gladiator's frame as laid down. The archivist could see a large, freshly-patched weld on the warrior's left leg and some savage denting along his right arm.

"I'm fine, Orion, though perhaps not in the best shape I've returned. The offworlder certainly proved a challenge. A challenge that I overcame, of course. Although perhaps at no small cost... I did not mean to alarm you, Orion. Knockout has informed me that it will take a few days for my nanites to repair my internal communicators."

"I am sorry that I wasn't there, Megatronus. I should have been. I-" the archivist said, trying to keep his voice calm and his optics clear.

"Don't worry about that, Orion. I asked you to stay home, remember? Did you get the chance to review my writings yet? It's alright if you didn't. I know you tend to worry."

"Of course," Orion said. "I wrote a few notes on my pad for you to check later. I think it will be a wonderful speech, Mega."

Megatronus smiled fondly up at him, but winced when he tried and failed to move his arm. Orion stepped closer and leaned down to kiss him instead.

"Would that I could hold you, my little archivist. You are a gift to me from Primus himself." He sighed miserably. "What I wouldn't give to have your touch. But know that your presence is more than enough, I promise you. I am glad to have you here with me, my love." He assured Orion fondly, giving him the safe, contented smile that the archivist knew was reserved for him and him alone.

"Well, Megatronus..." He began, "I can, I mean we could... If you were interested, maybe I could be the one to touch you?" He finished.

"Oh?" Megatronus asked, cocking an optic ridge at the unexpected offer. "And how might you do that, Pax?"

"W-well, I..."

"Don't explain it, Orion," he growled suddenly. "Show me."

Orion's fans kicked on at the dark excitement laced underneath the command. Either Orion would show him and go through with his idea, or Megatronus would likely risk re-injuring himself to find out.

The whole point of his idea was to prevent that, so he supposed he had no choice. He moved down the end of the berth and climbed up to straddle Megatron's hips.

"This doesn't hurt, does it?" He asked. He had to make sure.

"No, Orion, I'm fine," he said. "I'll tell you if anything hurts."

They both knew that to be a lie, but Orion took comfort in the fact that his hip and thigh plating appeared to be relatively uninjured. He just wouldn't be able to move around much.

"Open your panel?" Orion asked, already opening his own to reveal his own wet valve.

"Orion? Entertaining yourself without me?" Megatronus growled, engines revving as his interface panel shifted open and his spike pressurized between them.

"You left so early this morning, we didn't get a chance to finish what we were doing." Orion answered under the scrutiny of the warrior's optics, turning his head away as energon rushed to his face. "You just looked so handsome in your war paint, I-"

"A discussion for another time," Megatronus interrupted with another revv so fierce it threatened to knock Orion off of him. "Keep going. Please." He begged.

Orion quickly nodded and inched his hips forward— Primus, Megatronus never begged— steadying himself on Megatronus's uninjured waist before lining his valve up with the large spike and finally lowering himself down.

After they first began interfacing, it was a near painfully tight fit. Megatronus took great pleasure in teasing his calipers open, no matter how long it took.

It had paid off. The fit was still tight, but the stretch had become manageable enough that Megatronus no longer needed to worry about breaking him every time they interfaced. He could be harder, faster, rougher.

Now his calipers only twinged a little as each ring gave way to clutch around Megatronus's spike. In less than two kliks, he was fully seated against him.

"Orion, are you alright?" Megatronus asked through sharp, gritted dentae.

"Y-yes, I'm fine."

"Then move," the silver mech demanded with a small, impatient thrust of his hips. He hissed as obvious pain fired into his circuits.

"D-don't, I'll move." Orion promised. "Just hold still, please?" He asked, punctuating the request with the first roll of his hips.

They both groaned in unison. This was Orion's first time on top of Megatronus, and it was wonderful. He could control where and how the spike inside him moved as he raised and dropped his hips.

But this wasn't for him. Not this time.

This was for Megatronus.

He dropped down, bottoming out again and squeezing his calipers around the huge mech's frame. He began following a steady rythym: a few thrusts quick and hard, another set deep and slow and tight, but Orion found himself chasing his own overload before he knew it.

"Mega, Mega, so close-" Orion panted, scrabbling against the gladiator's paneling as he chanted the warrior's name again and again, riding him as fast and hard and he could manage. He had to make Mega overload first. He had to!

Then Megatronus's least damaged arm had managed to reach for him, a silent permission.

It wasn't the same like this, wasn't gentle touching and kissing and soft words, wasn't nearly as good as when Megatronus would come back from a good fight and frag him into the berth for hours until he cried for mercy.

It wasn't the same, but it was enough.

"Megatronus!" He cried, unable to stop his own overload. His calipers cycled down as charge skittered across their frames.

He felt Megatronus's claws on his thigh again, intending to pull him away. He pushed them off and started riding the mech again, drawing out a choked moan from the warrior as his valve began moving over him once again.

Blessedly, it didn't take much longer for Megatronus to reach his own overload. His vents roared as he shouted out Orion's name and fought to keep still against the calipers that clenched down on his spike as he filled the archivist with his transfluid.

Orion slid off of him, quickly closing his panels to prevent making any more of a mess on their berth as he made to get up.

Orion yelped when Megatronus grabbed him again with his less-damaged but still powerful arm and dropped him onto the berth beside him.

"You are too good to me, Orion," he said before pressing a kiss to the smaller mech's helm. "But just wait until I am recovered, my little archivist. I intend to pay you back tenfold."

#valveplug #megop #tfp megop #Megatronus #orion pax #it's about the romance #i am exhausted so don't be surprised if I edit the hell out of this later lo #i got carried away #megatron

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