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lushrue · 7 months ago

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hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader pt 3

thank you all a million times over for all your love on this series! comment to be added to the taglist and send some asks my way if you have a scenario that you wanna see these characters in, i eat it up!!

cw: drinking

price stood at the center of the face-off circle, his stick resting on his knees as he sized up his opponent. it was the third period and the score was tied 2-2. price’s team was on the power play after the visiting team had received a two minute minor for slashing. figured, he thought. they’d been playing dirty all night; the ref just finally saw fit to call them on it. it was two minutes where they had the upper hand, two minutes to take advantage of their strength in numbers. he adjusted his stick in his grip, looking over his shoulder to make sure gaz and soap were in position before turning his attention back to the face off. he inhaled, and on the exhale, the sound of rubber smacking the ice hit his ears.

price gained control, taking the puck down the ice into the opposing team’s zone. he glanced to his left, meeting soap’s eyes before making a pass. soap received it, the puck smacking off his stick as he took up position on his side of the ice. a defenseman skated towards him, poised to try for a steal. but soap was ready. he made quick eye contact with gaz, sending the puck sliding his way. gaz took advantage of the fact that no one was on his ass, taking it and skating ever closer to the opposing goal. price was lined up, ready to go. it was the perfect position for a slapshot straight over the goal line. the goalie wasn’t watching his right flank, still preoccupied with gaz skating towards him. perfect. gaz made the pass, simon smacked the opposing defenseman into the boards to stop his approach, and price swung. the puck slid over the line before the goalie even knew what happened, setting the buzzer blaring.

through it all, you were watching in the stands. their coordination on the ice was enough to show you why they were first line, why laswell trusted them more than anyone else to get the game started on the right foot and to end it just as smoothly. you were one of the first on your feet after the goal, shouting and clapping. soap skated past price, giving him a congratulatory knock on the helmet as gaz held up his glove for a fist bump. simon gave price a thump on the back, skating behind him as they returned to the bench. “good shot, cap,” he shouted over the music, stepping off the ice as the second line stepped in to relieve them.

you smiled and waved as soap turned to meet your eyes. you’d taken to sitting right behind the bench, making your presence known to them rather than blending into the crowd like you’d done before. soap winked before nudging kyle, who tapped simon’s helmet, who elbowed price. soon, all four sets of eyes were on you. you blushed under the weight of their collective gazes, but managed to collect yourself enough to give them two thumbs up. price chuckled, nodding his head in thanks at your gesture. soap tugged his helmet off, the sweat making the longer strands of his mohawk stick to his forehead. “come out with us after tha game!” he called, his voice slightly muffled by the plexiglass. you didn’t even hesitate. “yeah, ‘course i will!”

…

it was a handy victory after that, simon managing to eke out a goal of his own before the game was over. this win would move them up in the league rankings, signal to everyone else that they’re a force to be reckoned with. with an ever-rotating roster of fresh blood, rebuilding years were bound to happen. but now they were on the rebound, and it felt better than any vice they indulged in.

that wasn’t going to stop them tonight, though. the four of them stepped out of the locker room to find you waiting, your coat draped over your arms. your eyes were glued on your phone, a familiar crutch to pass the time. the moment you heard soap and gaz’s jovial chatter, your head snapped up, meeting the eyes of your victorious men. you flashed them a smile and a little wave, closing the distance between all of you. “that was a really good game tonight,” you said sincerely, your eyes flicking between the four of them. it wasn’t just a win for one of them, it was a win for all of them. you wanted to make sure they all felt properly congratulated.

“thanks, dove,” price replied, a smile of his own threatening to show through. usually, his mind was racing with thoughts of how they could improve, what they could’ve done better. but not tonight. tonight was for celebrating, and he wasn’t going to let his overactive mind get in the way of that. gaz chimed in, putting his hand on price’s shoulder. “well, it helped havin’ our good luck charm in the stands. didn’t it, cap?” his pointed glance settled on you as price chuckled, your cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. their good luck charm. how about that? “good point, kyle,” price said. the weight of their eyes boring into you threatened to overwhelm you, like the tide overtaking the shore.

thankfully, johnny’s scottish brogue broke the tension. “did’ja see my assist in the second period, bonnie?” he asked, shouldering past gaz to be closer to you. you couldn’t help but laugh a little, nodding at him as you clutched your coat a little closer to your body. “yeah, i did,” you reply. you also hadn’t missed the way he skated with more gusto after that, knowing that you’d seen him. “it was impressive. you all work so well together out there.” simon finally made his presence known, shifting on his feet beside price. “yeah, we’ve worked really hard to get ourselves there,” he said, sounding proud of the progress they'd made as a team. you notice kyle and johnny exchange a glance, but you can’t quite read it. there’s something there under the surface, something that goes beyond the game.

before you can spare it a second thought, price places his hand on your shoulder, guiding you out the doors of the ice rink. “c’mon, dove. we’ll take my truck.”

…

it’s around your third mixed drink that you start to get a little more comfortable.

they’ve paid for the last two rounds for you, indulging whatever fruity concoction you find yourself craving. they took you to the one good bar for miles where the air was free of stale cigarette smoke and depression. the five of them weren’t the rowdiest table by far, but they were holding their own. the boys carried on their own conversations in the background, chattering loudly about the game. as you sip at your vodka cranberry, your attention is on kyle’s phone screen as he swipes through pictures of his family. “and tha’s my brother, steven. he’s got a wife and kid. haven’t seen ‘im in a while, they live kinda far.” soap nudges him, causing his phone to nearly tumble into his pint of guinness. “don’ bore the poor lass,” he says, his words already starting to slur a little. johnny was drinking whiskey, which hit a little harder than the beers that his teammates were nursing. no wonder he was on his way to being three sheets to the wind.

you blush and shake your head, giving kyle a reassuring glance. “it’s not boring, i promise. i like getting to know you all. it’s what friends do, right?” friends. you hadn’t stopped to think about it before, but you supposed you’d fully entered friend territory with all of them. you’d come to watch them play multiple times now, and they’d come and watched you skate. not only that, they’d stayed for both your programs and stuck around when the final rankings were posted. mere acquaintances didn’t do that.

your words seemed to strike some chord in each of them as the hum of their side conversations abruptly stopped. you caught price smirk over the rim of his glass as he took a swig of his drink, his posture confident with his shoulders back and chest forward. johnny looked at you like you’d hung the moon and stars just for him, but only for a moment. kyle’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, like he hadn’t expected you to perceive them as friends. and simon, as usual, was hard to read, but you were getting there. there was a tightness in his expression that spelled unease to you. you faltered, opening your mouth to backtrack before price waved a hand to cut you off.

“nah, the bird’s right, johnny. guess we should know some things about each other if we’re gonna be friends.” his smirk remained, his eyes now fixed on you. maybe it was the alcohol talking, but you could swear you saw a glint of hunger in his eyes. you swallowed, desperate to ignore the electric thrill that struck your core. “why don’t you start us off, love? we wanna know more ‘bout ya,” he said, leaning back against the booth seating and staring you down expectantly. you clear your throat and take another long drink from your glass. you’d need some liquid courage for all this.

“well, i’ve been skating since i was little. i’ve loved it for as long as i can remember.” the memories brought a smile to your face. you recalled sitting in front of the television set, cross-legged as you watched the figure skaters dance on the ice in your ballerina dress. your dad sat next to you, telling you that that could be you someday. you certainly hadn’t competed in any olympics, but you were proud of the level you’d achieved. johnny chuckled, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. it sent a bloom of warmth through you and your cheeks flushed crimson. “somethin’ besides the ice, bonnie,” he said playfully. “we wanna know you, not the skater.”

you composed yourself quickly after being startled at his touch, settling into the casual display of affection. glances were once again exchanged, but this time, it was price and simon. “umm…my favorite color’s green,” you said, looking between johnny and kyle for approval, to see if this was what they wanted. when you got a nod in reply, you decided to continue. you told them about your favorite foods, family vacations, the artists that were on heavy rotation in your car radio. they seemed to hang on your every word, letting the aura of you seep into their bones so they’d never forget it.

the more you drank, the more you talked. so price kept the drinks flowing.

…

kyle drove you home in price’s truck, your swaying body sandwiched between ghost and soap. johnny had an arm around your shoulders to keep you steady and simon had his hand on your arm for comfort. you’d been drunker in your life, but you certainly had a good thing going. all this contact from attractive men was only fueling the fire, butterflies stirring in your belly that weren’t born of alcohol. you muttered things you knew you wouldn't remember in the morning, something about how warm their bodies were and how good they looked in their pads and gear. they were gentlemen, of course. their touches remained innocent as they walked you to your door and made sure you got in safely, staying until they heard the lock click. they had to be satisfied that you were secure for the night.

as the four of them piled back in the truck and headed back down the road, it was simon who broke the silence first. “we gotta have her, yeah?” he said, his voice a rumble that harmonized with the engine. kyle and johnny didn’t respond, looking to their captain for a response. ultimately, he made the final call. price hummed, his head falling back against the headrest of the passenger seat.

“yeah, think we do.”

taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew

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cloveroctobers · 5 months ago

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RODEO — Javi Rivera.

A/N: got the chance to see twisters on my birthday and it ofc inspired me to finally write something for Anthony lol. This isn’t going to be anything big since I still want to be on break until late September early October. Am I going to give Javi the love his deserves or am I going to be messy? What type of summer is it? A brat girl summer…whatever that means 😉

WARNINGS: language + stepping out of relationships, mentions of another character from challengers, reader and Kate don’t get along, mentions of minor smut/sexual relations, and ended up different than I originally planned. Enjoy!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

A text on short notice never bothered you.

Granted you had to take a ride from Brooklyn to Manhattan but majority of the time Javi was considerate, letting you know when he was going to be on your new side of town—you were a South Carolina native—and the both of you would make it work. He had this experiment that he worked on with his old friend Kate that actually proved to work this time and with some other guy that had the widest laughter lines you’ve ever seen. A classic cowboy—you deemed him as—that looked awfully familiar when you met him in passing at a dinner you didn’t know you were “imposing” in on.

Kate’s words not Javi or the cowboy’s.

The trio were going back and forth to the city, mostly Kate and the cowboy you learned to be named Tyler but once Javi learned you were in the city too? (Apparently Kate found a home in New York also, working in Mahattan after what went down in Oklahoma five years ago.) He had no problem trying to get to you. You learned that Kate didn’t approve of what you two had going on (Javi let it slip one night as he smacked on some chips and you sipping on some terribly made Kombucha around the outside of the usual meet up spot once he touched down in NY), considering that you were engaged to someone else and that someone was slowly rising in the public eye, Patrick Zweig…you may or may not know him.

Tyler did.

To keep it short, this wouldn’t be the first time that you didn’t give a fuck about what Kate Carter had to say about you. Back in college the both of you tried to get along but it’s just the common case of two people not being able to mesh well. You didn’t appreciate how Kate always felt like she was right, sure the girl was crazy intelligent but she didn’t enjoy your sarcasm or want to listen to your opinions on anything, she found your lack of drive for storm chasing to be confusing on why you bothered to hang out with the group when that was their sole connection, and didn’t understand the relationship you had with her boyfriend, Jeb who was actually your friend first and you were the one who introduced them at a party—it was childish sure but even years later you didn’t need her judgment.

Which is why you and Javi were always discreet. Moments with your college friend in the present never felt like enough but reminded you that you often wondered what it would have been like if you had a different ring on your finger given to you by someone else. Javi always made it his mission to take it right off, slamming it in the drawer beside the bed before interlocking his fingers right with yours as he rocked you into the temporary mattress.

That never lasted long since you loved to be on top. Just ask Tyra’s problematic self! And who was Javi to say no, having you above him like this? like the true goddess that loved to be in control, you never left his mind, even when he struggled to keep his eyes open at the rotation of your hips. His fingertips would leave bruises but you never complained, you liked him leaving marks. Javi felt like this should be wrong, of course he cared about you, maybe even more than that, always did but he had his head turned in a different direction once upon a time. He wasn’t sure if your feelings were genuine or just something to pass the time but he was the first person you told that you didn’t want to marry Patrick after accepting his proposal.

People pleasing was never something that you often did so why were you settling for a man who was fucking around with not only his ex but some strangers on tinder? Javi did his research on your fiancé, some tennis athlete that didn’t have the best stats which was odd since it seemed like he was in his prime in college, Javi would give him credit on that, it was evident that this Patrick guy knew how to play yet something was missing in his gameplay. It was also safe to say that Javi didn’t think Patrick was even your type to be honest…but maybe you had other people in your head too much about where you should be in life.

When it was time to have those deep conversations, like you were nineteen again, present you didn’t want to hear it majority of the time with your fingers in his curls and another hand feeling a part of Javi that was always ready for you. Javi always cursed himself for folding every time you got your hands on him, he wanted to know what was going to become of this relationship but he couldn’t help it.

A piece of your heart was okay for a little while.

There was something about you that he never wanted to let go. You weren’t with the crew when that tornado touched down in Oklahoma that day, you got into an argument with Jeb that day for putting you on the back burner for their project, and as usual Javi checked in on you the best that he could since he was also part of the experiment. You brushed it off like you always did, tired of being the main one to put your frustrations out there; since you were basically the black sheep to the group and clocked into your shitty part time job with Javi promising that he would come check you out once they were done out there. The aftermath of it all also whipped through the friendship that was once there. There was tension no doubt, misdirected anger of course, your unresolved feelings for Jeb, Javi wishing he could have been at two places at once—as if he could have saved his friends from something so destructive with just his two hands. Kate became a ghost, you actually didnt have much to say to her like you thought you would, she was a walking frostbite, with a limp so prominent, disconnected, and leaving a numbing coldness trail behind her everywhere she went the longer she stayed in Oklahoma. It was sad because you knew she had to witness it all and that would forever haunt her.

Unfortunately that bitterness gave you joy. Javi dropped out of college but you kept at it, to distract you from the what if’s along with the great loss and when he thought the military was his best option, you tried to beg him to stay with a kiss that wasn’t the answer to your shared pain. He’s done the dissociating shit before as a way of grieving, he just hoped that you being with him now wasn’t your way of escaping whatever you were still running from.

Storm chasing wasn’t really your thing, don’t think you didnt try but Kinesiology and bull riding was more of your passion. Javi liked to trace and kiss those scars on your body because of that old hobby when you allowed him to hold you afterwards but he had them memorized just like you with his freckles. Yet you still kept coming around which really confused Kate but you got along with everyone else for the most part. The dance parties and stick and poke tattoos with Addy, the 150 questions the hypochondriac Praveen had for you about body horror stories he caught himself reading and watching! And wanting to know what proper care he would have (as if you were suddenly a doctor and not a kinesiology major) to take if that ever happened to him—getting struck by lighting wasn’t enough to get him to stop storm chasing but it was his life and he lived it how he wanted, and then there was Jeb. You used to be able to catch each other’s eyes from across the room and send each other ridiculous facial expressions before carrying on and eventually finding each other later. The shift in your friendship changed once you got left outside of the team. You began to connect with party-man Javi once Jeb started to slip away and build something more with Kate.

It’s always funny how that works out in friend groups isn’t it?

Coming in sync was always something you made your priority. Knowing Javi’s ticks and studying not only his face but his body always made you kick it up a notch, just crossing a boundary that you knew he would try to tap out but you proved to know his body better than he did himself and Javi honestly wanted to hate you for it but couldn’t.

He didn’t think anybody could lock you down—not even your fiancé—and it was something he always thought of when you put your back to him and let him to hold you while you briefly checked your phone.

No new messages from the Fiancé!

Javi peeped.

This Patrick guy didn’t give a fuck about you, just liked having a place to rest his head in instead of his car that you probably paid majority of the rent on. That’s right, Javi always remembered your blabbering once you had too many aperol spritz and what seemed to open you up more on a personal level lately.

“Want something from the café downstairs?” You asked, turning your phone face down to peek back at Javi who was still panting.

Javi slowly blinked, lifting his head in search of the alarm clock to find out what time it is.

[1:40 am]

You were making it your mission to try everything at least once on the menu every time Javi flew in. It was your usual hotel with a delicious café and you just about finished everything on the lunch and dinner menu except for two items that didn’t seem that appetizing to you. This time around you snuck up behind Javi and his laptop while he was downstairs about to dig into one of the dinners he wouldn’t share with you at one of the high rise tables…you were onto the breakfast menu.

He slips his free arm to caress the bone by your ear, “I want you.”

You snort, “I’ll give you another round when you can handle it, preferably in the shower since I’m meeting the girls at 8 for hot yoga. Breakfast can come as early as 6.”

The freckled face man fought the urge to roll his eyes at this. Since when the hell were into hot yoga of all things? The rough around the edges person seemed to be morphed into something else but Javi knew you were still in there somewhere. Don’t get him wrong, Yeah people grow and you’re into what you want to be into but he would have never guessed you hanging out doing yoga or brunch or even having a routine. Maybe axe throwing but he guessed he better be thankful for the yoga since you seemed to be more flexible every time the both of you tried a new position.

Javi tossed in, “is your bitch of a soon to be husband, Patrick joining in on that session?”

You quirk up a brow at this energy but don’t work to defend him, “…never mix business with pleasure.”

Which meant that you never brought multiple parties into your relationship together. He did his thing and you did yours. Patrick was never faithful to you, you knew it and Javi knew it too, you couldn’t be upset about it because you never truly wanted to marry him. There was no wedding date set because frankly the both of you were still young and trying to figure it out. It was selfish since you were still holding out hope that Patrick will actually make something of himself but you both weren’t sure if you even liked each other besides having nightcaps or getting people off your backs when you were seen together. The both of you were lonely, him more than you—if you wanted to make it a competition but it’s what worked and it didn’t need to make sense. It just made Patrick’s family (who were a lot to handle and always kept referring to two of his exes before you in front of you) happy that he had a “stable” person in his life for once and it got your parents off your back—some—but not without their own sly comments.

“Is that what your relationship is?”

You shrug, “yeah.”

“And what about us?”

You turn your face away to reach for the card, “i think you’ll like the BLT French toast or even the prosciutto toast—

He nudges your face back to meet his sunlit honey eyes and there wasn’t an ounce of humor in them. “Listen, I’m serious. We got too much history to keep downplayin’ this. I’m moving back to Miami by the end of the summer and I just want to know how much longer we’re gonna keep doing this. Is this only just sex for you or what?”

Javi’s thumb burns into your skin now and his stare is sharp. You try not to get lost in his eyes and the tightness in your chest isn’t the most pleasant. You’re scared and have been scared before with Jeb but there’s no risk without action. Or whatever it is they say.

“…if you’re in love with me, just say that.”

Javi blinks, “What I know is that you won’t be marrying Patrick Twig—

“That’s not—

“I’m not done.”

Javi ignores the tilt of your head at his command, “You’re better than this and I know you see that when you look in the mirror. Maybe you didn’t fully heal yet and that’s not me tryin’ to disrespect you or nothing but I’m just callin’ it like I see it. I could give you the world besides just this or shit, as least try to but only if that’s what you want because I know what you need and it definitely ain’t a bozo who can’t even take care of what he thinks is his.”

You can always count on Javier Rivera to tell you exactly how it is. He was on your case about your feelings for Jeb just like you were with his with Kate but that all changed once the two started dating. It would have made sense for the both of you to gravitate towards each other then but the need to compensate for what you both missed out on wasnt fulfilling that void with forced love. It was platonic then but what was it now?

“…Do you think I’m yours?”

Javi puffs out a breath at this, “respectfully, imma need you to stop answering me with questions and just be honest with yourself and me. I don’t know how much longer I can keep holding out.”

“But you don’t, not unless I say so anyways.” You wink reaching to caress the back of his shoulder blade but Javi isn’t budging, which makes you sigh, “…okay fine. I hear you, you don’t want to be in a situationship with me anymore.”

Javi nods and awaits for you to say more but the glazed over look in your eyes, tells him that you’re trying to get out of this and he won’t lie, it stings.

“Here’s the thing,” you start with an intake of breath, “you’re right, I’m probably never going to marry Patrick. We’re equally each other’s placeholders, as fucked up as it sounds it’s true. As for this…”

Javier swallows the lump in his throat, just waiting on you to break his heart.

“You’re not the first person to pull this. It’s not my first rodeo…and no that doesn’t mean I’ve been with anyone else outside of you. I wouldn’t do that, not to you. You’re too important.” You admit, “and if we’re gonna do this…I just need you to be patient with me.”

A grin splits onto Javi’s face then, “so that does mean you love me?!”

“…I didn’t say all that.”

He smooches your cheek multiple times that makes your nose crinkle, “you didn’t have to, I can just tell.”

“How?” You ask as he rests his head back on the cloud-like pillow beside yours.

Javi hums, “I’m real in touch with my feminine side you know? Raised by my mom and aunties, got a sister that really wants to meet you—

“Huh? What?”

“Baby steps though,” Javi promises seeing the smidge of panic in your eyes, “I just need more confirmation that you’re going to try this with me. And that you’re not gonna run away since that is kinda what we all do.”

It was your turn to be vulnerable like Javi knew you could be. So you turn to face Javi, face to face and take a moment. “…I can’t say that I’m not scared and not of you but just the idea of actually being loved more than the intimacy and I’m sure you’re more than capable of giving that to me…it’s just that I get in my head a lot.”

Javi nods, “well it’s okay to be scared…Rome wasnt built in a day. We’ve been diligent—

“What if this doesn’t work—

“Nah, we’re not gonna back out when we just started.” Javi slips his hands down to clasp your hands in his, “We keep going, we love, we share—

“Just like your sandwich last night?”

Javi snorts, “we’re all works in progress, don’t hold that against me, baby.” He pecks your hands while you laugh a little, “we do what feels right and I got to ask, does this feel right to you as it does for me?”

You press your forehead against his, “every time I’m with you it does…as much as I try to block you out when we’re away from each other…I can’t. I wont.”

Javi pulls back to kiss your forehead, “bet. Feelings mutual and i just needed to hear you say it so…now that we’re on the same page…go ahead and order me that prosciutto and meet me in the shower.”

He’s kicking the covers back as you sit up on your elbow, “I’m not debating over which asscheek of yours is bigger than the other again.”

Javi sucks his teeth as leans against the doorway of sliding bathroom door in all his naked glory, “you pointed that out, I just wanted to know if the freckles on my left asscheek were also shaped like a palm tree like the ones on my chest.”

Scrunching up your nose, you hold your hand up in the air as if that defense was any better. Javi’s laughter suddenly turns dark as he takes in your appearance and slowly steps back as something stands to your attention.

“So…you joinin’ me or are you just going to continue watching the show?” He points behind himself, slowly stepping back.

Sighing you fold your arms back behind you, “ah…I’ll think about it finster.”

Javi sucks his teeth, stomping right back into the room to yank the tight hotel sheets back from the bed making you hiss at the coolness of the AC. “No way you just compared me to a rugrat.”

He pulls you right into his arms, limbs locking around him easily as you toy with the ends of his curls as he spins you around to lead you right into the bathroom, “did I?” You tease, bumping your nose against his before pulling back, “wait! You didn’t let me order.”

“Guess we’re skipping breakfast now and you might be late to yoga, sorry not sorry.” He mutters before slamming his lips right against yours.

Your thighs alone clench right around his hips as Javi slips his tongue along the shape of your lips while feeling around for the shower latch.

This time around, as sure as you are of the racing of your heart, you’re willing to let Javi lead this round…for now.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

read more twisters anthology fics here.

#Spotify #queued #twisters #twisters movie #twisters 2024 #javi rivera #Javier Rivera #javi rivera x reader #Javier rivera x reader #Anthony Ramos #Anthony Ramos x reader #Kate Carter #Tyler Owens #patrick zweig

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 14 days ago

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Outside the Lines 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsessive compulsive behaviour, kidnapping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has her routine and her fellow patient gets in the way of those.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, (lumberjack AU)

Note: I am tryn rotate through fics and such. Thanks for all your patience.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You put away the last of the dishes. The smell of bacon hangs in the air as your stomach mulches the few bites you managed to swallow. You're trying but it's very hard to get used to it all. Dr. Makira always says change is difficult.

Everything is just new and strange and confusing to you. Not just the walls you don't know but the men within them. You know that Steve is a hero and Bucky too, but you really don't know them.

"Hey, sweetheart," Steve startles you as he enters behind you. "Looks good in here. Good job cleaning up."

"Yes, sir, er, Captain," you correct yourself as you face him, looking down to keep between the borders.

"Bucky just went to go get that label maker so it'll be just me and you for a bit," he nears the island and leans his elbows on it. Even as he curls his shoulders forward, he seems inconquerably large. "Do you want to do something fun?"

"Fun? Oh, do you have books... Captain?" You tug on your ear three times and mouth the last word again.

"Um, maybe later I'll dig some out. I was thinking we could play a game."

"Play a game? Like, er, go fish?" You ask.

"Yeah, how about... battleship?"

"Battleship? I've never played that."

"No? I thought it was really popular," he says. "Guess we can learn together."

"Okay, I can do that, but uh... Captain? Don't I have other chores? Laundry?" You wonder.

"Later," he assures you as he comes around the counter. He offers his hand. "You earned some fun."

"Yes, Captain. I'm trying real hard, don't you know?"

"I know it, sweetheart. I see it." He takes your hand and tugs you across the tile. You teeter and squeal as you arch your feet and walk on your toes to keep from crossing the lines.

He brings you into the front room and points to the couch. You dutifully go ahead and sit in the middle. He goes to the standing cabinet at the wall and opens the doors. He takes out a box and nears. He sits beside you, close enough to touch you.

He lifts the lid off and reveals a cluster of small pegs; red and white. They're all mixed up. It makes you feel itchy. You reach and take a handful and start dividing them by colour. He doesn't stop you.

Instead, he takes out the boards and opens them like cases. There are grids marked with numbers and letters.

"Alright, so, we can't look at each others' boards," he grabs the instruction booklet and scatters the pegs. You continue to sort through them. "Sweetheart, are you listening?"

"Oh, yes, uh..." you keep your handful of pegs and pluck up a cushion, "I'll sit on the floor."

"You don't have to, we can move the chair."

"It's okay," you hurried circle the table and drop the cushion. You sit on your legs and keep sorting the pegs. You don't like that there mixed up.

"So, you put your ships on the board wherever you want. I do the same thing. And then we guess where the other put theirs," he explains. "The red, you use to mark hits on your ships and the white, you mark up on this," he points to the verticle board, "your hits and misses too. The white are misses."

"Hm, okay," you say as you keep the red and white pegs from rolling into each other.

"Here are your ships," he takes out a handful of the little plastic boats.

"Thank you, Captain."

"Good girl," he praises again and you look up at him over your board.

"Am I good?"

"Of course," he smiles.

You take the boats and line them up by size; smallest to biggest across the top row. That's nice and tidy. Steve takes longer to finish his.

He looks up with a pinch between his brows, "you ready?"

You nod.

"You first," he says.

"Me? What do I do?"

"Guess. So you can look at your board and guess where you think I put my ships. So like... E4, and if you hit, I'll tell you. You can put red if you do. If you hit every spot on a ship, then you sunk my battleship."

"Oh, right, right," you say. "Um, er..." you look on the board. "G2?"

He glances down, "miss."

You take a white peg and mark the space. He hums before he makes a guess.

"I9," he says.

"Miss," you chime then check the board, "hmmm, C4."

"Nope," he puts a peg in where he missed. The board looks tiny in his large hands. "B2?"

You shift and check the board, "hit." You pout and takes a red peg. "A8?"

"Miss," he replies. You mark it.

"B3?" He says.

"Hit. Erm, D2?"

"Miss. What about... B1?"

You blink. All your ships are together. Oops.

"Hit."

Your next guess is a miss too. Then he hits. He sinks the smallest ship with A1.

"Oh, I lost a boat," you say.

"It's not over until you lose them all," he says. "How about we add some extra fun?"

"Um, what?" You ask.

"We could make it more interested. How about, each time we sink a ship, we... give the other person a kiss."

You squeak, "what?"

"Yeah, it'll be nice," he goads.

"But... but..." you chew your lip as he stares at your mouth.

"Just a peck, sweetheart," he purrs.

"Mmm, but, mmm, I don't know."

"Come on," he pleads. "It's just a kiss."

"I... I..." you stare at him. It must be a part of the plan. You're not very good at being close to others. Touching is tough but you've been working to move past those things. "Okay."

"So... I sunk your ship," he taunts with a playful tilt of his head.

"Um, right," you push yourself up with the table. You reluctantly traipse around and wring your hands together.

He offers his cheek and taps it. You bend and hover just before it. You quickly peck, his beard tickling you, then retreat, ducking to hide behind the board.

"Oh, your lips are soft," he says.

"Thank you, Captain," your voice comes out in a whisper.

"Your go," he prompts.

"Oh, uh... E9."

"Hit," he says.

"Oh!" you grab a red peg.

"Good job," he returns and gives a thoughtful hum. "Mmmm, C3?"

You mutter, "hit."

"Alright," he comments with a hint of surprise. He probably didn't expect so many together. Did he figure it out?

"E10?"

"Miss. B3?"

You groan. He knows! You could move it. No, you wouldn't be able to do it without moving the whole board.

"You sunk another," you utter.

"Ooh, other cheek?" He wonders hopefully.

Your face is on fire. You stand up and go around the other side of the table. You stare at his flannel shirt. You can't bare to look him in the eye. You bend and plant another kiss, one he leans into until your lips smush on his cheek.

You recoil and once more resume your place on the cushion. He purrs again.

"You're go," he urges.

You guess randomly. You forget to check where you hit. It's another miss. You don't even want to sink his ships. The kissing is too much.

Several back and forths and a third ship goes down. You feel like crying. You didn't really think about the rules before you put the ships on the board. You're so stupid.

"Come here," Steve cooes.

You get up, slouching shyly as you approach. You bend to kiss his cheek but he surprises you as he turns and you meet his lips instead. His hand catches the back of your head before you can react.

He smothers you, locking you in place, and you push on his chest. You whine as his tongue slides over your lips. You don't like that.

He lets you go and you stumble back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"Captain, I... I'm not used to it. I never... I'm sorry," you stop and sway on the other side of the table.

"Ah, sweetheart, of course, it's alright. The more you do it, the better it'll be." He coaxes.

"Oh, okay," you get back to your knees. "F9?"

"Shoot! You hit. Sink."

"Huh?" You flinch at the last word, "really?"

"Got the small one," he says as he gets up. "My turn to pay my dues."

"Oh, that's... that's-- You don't have to."

"Fair is fair," he reaches for you, latching onto your upper arm to force you up.

You stand knowing that resistance is not an option. Not only is he stronger, but you want to be good. You want to get better. That's all you've ever wanted.

He guides you to face him and you tremble. It's much more intimidating like this. He cups your chin as he gazes down at you. You gulp.

He bends and your body goes rigid. He tilts your head and presses his mouth to yours. The tip of his tongue flicks along the crease of your lips but he doesn't persist. He parts with a pleased drone.

"See, we both win," he says.

You pull away and sit. Your scalp is on fire. You don't know how much more you can handle. Dr. Makira always said change shouldn't come all at once.

He clears his throat and sits again. He grins over his board before he refocuses. He rubs his chin as his thinks. His blue irises glimmer.

"D1."

Yep. You figured.

"Hit."

It isn't difficult for him to go down the ship. Hit. Hit. Hit.

He wins again.

"Steve-- Captain," you say as fidget. "I don't think-- I can't."

"Aw, sweetheart, you already did it. You're so good."

"But... er, I'm... I don't know."

"Here," he waves you up and shifts over on the couch.

You flick your lashes and stand. You go to him as he extends his arms. He puts his hands on your hips and draws you between his knees.

"I just think you need to slow down. You're not taking your time," he says. "So, just go at your own pace," he brings his hands up to frame your face, pushing your hair back, rubbing your cheekbones with his thumbs. "Alright, I'm yours, sweetheart."

He closes his eyes and puckers expectantly. You stare back. He's being nice, you think. He's not angry. He hasn't hurt you. You'd like to keep it that way.

You gather your courage and lean in. You put your hands on his shoulders and close your eyes just before your lips meet. His beard tickles you again as his hands stretch around your head.

He holds his lips to yours and gently opens his mouth. He pokes with his tongue and you twitch. He keeps you in place. You surrender to his diligent effort and let him in.

He tilts his head as he invades your mouth. You garble around him and clutch the seam of his shirt. You feel his muscles beneath. He's stronger than you, remember that.

When he finally pulls away, you're woozy. He lets his hand fall down your neck and he feels along the top of your dress. As his speaks, his voice scrapes in his throat.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" He asks.

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel #outside the lines #mcu #avengers #captain america #winter soldier #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic

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sl-vega · 7 months ago

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Hi there! Recently stumbled upon your Hiori piece (I Don’t Know Much, But I Know I Want You) and Oh. My. Gosh. It’s amazing!! The story was so cute and I also love the little Karasu interactions you threw in; it matches their characters so well and it’s so well written! If you ever feel motivated or inspired to do so, I’d love to see where you’d take the piece in a part 2! No pressure of course, I just think that seeing how they’d interact in your writing would be really awesome. Currently on my way to binge read every other work of yours; I love your writing style o7

Thanks for reading my ask and have a lovely day!! :)

˚୨୧⋆｡ MALL MEET CUTES

part one // part two // part three

pairing: Hiori Yo x [FEM!] Reader

genre: fluff, oneshot, classmates to lovers, friends to lovers (?), pre-bluelock au/canon compliant

synopsis: hiori is still pretty damn smitten when it comes to you, so like the lovesick fool he his, he decides to drag karasu to the mall with him to help him find a gift to impress you, of course, in a strange turn of events it turns out you're at the mall too, so whatever shall our poor loverboy do when he sees you? (or in which hiori "soccer genius" yo, is dumb enough to ask karasu of all people for girl advice, and karasu like the wonderful friend he is, tags along for the drama)

CW/additional tags: mild language, potentially ooc, i actually did research on a mall in kyoto so look at me go, might make a part three if i really feel like it

author's note: AKJFJFHAFHKJ TYYY ANON YOU'RE SO SWEET, i'm so glad you liked the first part and all of hiori + karasu's interactions, it really means a lot to me that you thought i did them justice <3

"Would getting her makeup be a good idea?"

Hiori asked his senior as he stood outside of COLOUR STUDIO, it was a cosmetics store that he heard the girls in his class talk about occasionally , you among them.

"Or would that be too intimate? Do ya' think she'd think I'm trying too hard? Maybe we should've just stuck to stationery...."

Hiori bombarded Karasu with questions as he sighed and stared up at the daunting illuminated white sign of the shop.

His friend groaned and grabbed the sleeve of Hiori's light blue sweat shirt, dragging him into the store where a few employees and clerks gave them slightly concerned looks.

"No, we're here now so we may as well get something."

Karasu chastised his younger teammate as he escorted him into the lip product aisle, in which Hiori found himself surrounded by many unfamiliar brands with colourful packaging.

"Ya' sure know yer' way around Karasu, have ya' been here before?"

"I've been to their branch over in Osaka, my sister makes me get 'er shit whenever she runs out..."

Karasu plucked a small box from the middle of the shelf, making a point to read the label and the brand to make sure it was the one he needed.

"So what are you gonna get yer' special girl?"

He asked teasingly, as his slender fingers clutched around the small container he was holding.

"I dunno actually...I was hoping you might help me?"

Hiori replied, chuckling nervously. He already knew that Karasu had an older sister, so must have some knowledge on these kinds of things.

His teammate seemed to deadpan at his friend's request, feigning a hurt expression at his friend's question.

"So I'm just a personal shopping assistant to ya'? I'm hurt Hiori."

Karasu gave him a playful pout before breaking into a mild fit of laughter after Hiori swatted his shoulder. The older boy promptly turned to one of the shelves and tossed Hiori a small pink tube of lip gloss.

"Get 'er this one, the quality is pretty good and it has a reasonable price."

Karasu said nonchalantly as his back was still turned, still browsing through some of the shelves. Hiori looked down at the product tube and read out the label to himself.

"Canmake Candy Wrap Lip..."

He muttered as he rotated the slender cylinder in his hand, reading the adhesive tag on it, he realized that Karasu was right, the price was within his budget, and the packaging was rather cute, not to mention how the tube itself contained a good amount of product.

He was about to thank his friend before realizing that Karasu was back at the front counter of the store, probably asking one of the employees for help with finding something.

Observing his surroundings, Hiori thought that browsing the shop a little bit more couldn't hurt, he still had plenty of funds to spare, more than enough to buy you something else.

Hiori continued to browse the current aisle he was in, allowing his fingers to brush against the array of cosmetics, all neatly sorted and arranged by brand, type, and flavour.

As he continued to run his hand along the rows upon rows of products, he stumbled across another area of products that caught his eye.

"Rohto Mentholatum Lip Balm..."

He read the mini card board sign that was clipped to the shelf as he observed the packaging. The one's that were currently stocked were said to be peach flavoured, the price seemed fairly reasonable as well.

Now, that he thought about it, having a lip balm on hand would be pretty practical, Hiori hated the feeling of his chapped lips. Plus, he deserved some kind of reward.

Hiori reached for one of the tubes, and right before he was about to take the lip balm from the shelf, his fingers brushed against a stranger's hand who was reaching for the exact some one.

On instinct, Hiori pulled away, muttering a quick apology. He turned to said stranger to say tell them that they could take it before realizing that said stranger wasn't a stranger at all.

"Oh! Hiori?"

Oh God, it was you

"H-hey!"

He managed to squeak out as you gave him a soft smile, he was surprised he hadn't made a complete fool of himself yet. Without realizing it, he had promptly shoved the tube of lip gloss he was going to buy for you into his back pocket.

"Hi! I didn't realize you were the shopping type Hiori."

You greeted him once more as you observed the hand that quickly pocketed the lip tube, you didn't press any further however.

"Oh, I'm not actually, I'm just getting a gift for someone special..."

Hiori chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. He chastised himself for his wording, of course he had to say it like that, now if he gave you the gift you'd know for sure that he liked you.

But then again, that would spare him the humiliation of actually having to say it directly to your face, not that he ever wanted to confess in the first place...

"Someone...special? I didn't know you had a girlfriend Hiori..."

You trailed off, you sounded disappointed almost.

Hiori's face flushed at your words, he didn't mean to give you that idea. He could slowly feel heat creep up his neck as you continued to stare at him.

"Guess I shouldn't be that surprised..."

This time you were avoiding eye contact, you laughed somewhat bitterly. Were you jealous? Part of Hiori wanted to delude himself into thinking that, but another part of him wanted to die right there and then to avoid making a bigger fool out of himself.

"N-No I don't have a girlfriend actually!"

He assured you as his face turned an even brighter shade of red.

Where was Karasu when ya' needed him?

Suddenly, Hiori felt a light tap against his head. It was Karasu! His knight in shining armor, to save him from the train wreck of a conversation. His teammate was holding a small basket full of a few products, some mascara, eye liner, and a few skin cream tubs among them.

"I'm gonna go check out now, are ya' done yet?"

His friend asked as he rested his hand on Hiori's shoulder, Karasu looked up at you, realizing that there was company present.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You glanced between the two boys, you had recalled Karasu from Hiori's youth team, but you didn't know much about the older boy, but you had spotted him hanging around Hiori pretty frequently, so you assumed that they were fairly close.

"Oh, I'm sorry am I interrupting something?"

You questioned as your eyes flickered between the two of them, your head was tilted slightly in curiosity. You noticed Karasu's grip on Hiori's shoulder tighten ever so slightly at the sound of your question.

Hiori shook his head frantically, Karasu was probably giving you that same unsettling stare he always used whenever he was sizing someone up on you.

"No! Not at all! But I should get going right about now..."

He assured you that nothing was wrong, but he was already flustered enough, and there was no way Karasu would let him hear the end of whatever this incident should be labelled as.

"Well I'll see you school I guess!"

You flashed him another bright smile before turning to Karasu, and you gave the older boy a curt and quick bow.

"I'm (Y/N), Hiori's classmate, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Karasu was caught off guard by your sudden politeness, but he returned the favour.

"Karasu."

He stated quickly before taking Hiori's hand in his own, you seemed to take note of this.

You were about to walk away, so you waved to them before saying;

"Have fun on your date!"

Wait what?!

If Hiori's face was red before, it was basically crimson by now. The girl he liked not only thought he was taken, but now she thought he was into guys?!

"W-we're not!-He's not-I'm not-"

Karasu simply wheezed at the current predicament, clearly amused by your assumption of Hiori and him's relationship and by his younger friend's sudden flustered expression.

"I wish! Don't worry yer' pretty little head off though, he's still avaliable∼. He's quite taken with you at that too."

Karasu teased as he winked at Hiori, clearly taking sadistic pleasure in his friend's suffering.

"Karasu!"

Hiori whisper shouted as his friend dragged him out the store, still laughing as the cyan-haired boy continued his flustered protests which bore no fruit.

Well at least you knew how he felt now...

BONUS!

"This is why I told ya' to quit flirting with me like that! People are getting the wrong idea about us..."

"Aww but I can't have random girls stealing you away from me∼"

"Shut up ya' stupid crow!"

"Make me prodigy∼"

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fic-dumpster · 15 days ago

Text

A.N: Quickly typing this since I can’t write anything coherent lately. Wanted to do a DIH chapter but ughhh… anyway hehe. Prob gonna do that later tho. Just gotta get these ideas out. Also thinking about a haunted house (I KNOW ITS SUCH A COMMON CONCEPT BUT I LOVE THAT)

Headcanon that whenever Bonten takes you to an amusement/water park the main issue is Mikey.

Mikey’s told to use sneakers. He refuses and goes with his flip flops anyway. Proceeds to loose one repeatedly during rides.

Heated debates (arguments) with the park’s staff about his height. Mikey is tall enough (most of the time… not always) but because he walks all hunched most of the time… it makes way for fights at every ride.

Sanzu goes all devil’s advocate on most of those arguments. Has an excuse to ride with Mikey since he couldn’t ride alone.

They argue who goes with who on different rides. Mostly because they try to avoid certain individuals or just want to be with you.

You made yourself scarce whenever the teacup ride was next. Avoiding Rindou and Sanzu like the plague. In all honesty, nobody wanted to ride the rotating cups with them. Kakucho even kicked Rindou out from his cup. The infamous Bonten mullet pair went berserk on the teacups.

Ran struggles so much with the high drops. He rather get his toenails pulled than going through those experiences again.

You have never heard Ran Haitani scream so much in your life.

Mochi and Takeomi always offer to wait in line for food and stuff. They rather be on land. Safe.

Yes, Mikey gets mistaken for a child a lot.

Yes, people have stomped on Mikey’s foot a lot.

Kokonoi is proudly wearing a ponytail. After getting his hair all tangled up or in someone’s mouth, he learned his lesson.

Kakucho, Takeomi and Mochi have to hold the Haitanis from annoying the park mascots/cartoon characters. They just find so much joy in unnecessary chaos. Meanwhile you, Koko, Mikey and surprisingly Sanzu watch from the sidelines.

Sanzu comments how uncouth that behavior is, and the people in those costumes are working. You are about to praise him when he adds that he also enjoys watching Takeomi struggle with Ran’s long limbs. You quickly close your mouth.

#omificstags #bonten x reader #bonten headcanon #tokyorev #tokyo revengers headcanons #hcs #tokyo rev x reader

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sanctus-ingenium · 1 year ago

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Just wanted to ask, please forgive me if you've already answred this, what program do you use? Your art fucks HARD and like. I was looking at your art of the two moths over the city they die in and I was hit with the wave of "oh that looks really fucking fun actually." Like i know my art program can't do some of those effects and like, I'd love to try fucking about with them.

hi there, thank you! all my art is done in procreate and paint tool sai

because you mentioned that drawing in particular i thought it would be fun to break it down and show ppl what exactly went into each part of it so check this out

sketch & lineart - the brushes come from georgbrush.club and the urban sketcher is my most commonly used lineart brush, it has a nice irregular shape. the square brush is nice for big blocky sketches.

the cityscape was REALLY hard but basically I got a photo of the skyline of florence, traced some basic building shapes, then bullshitted the rest using the vertical symmetry/mirror tool to cut down on the amount of work (so i only had to sketch one half of the city). then for lineart I turned off vertical symmetry, turned on the two-point perspective tool, and got this:

the rose windows were made using the radial symmetry tool.

I didn't like it being so flat, so I used the liquify tool to make a kind of fish-eye effect (limited success tbh). I liked how it looked but the buildings in front needed something to cover them up to make the liquification less obvious...

first pass colours. I felt they were very washed out, aside from the sun which i loved. I use the spectra brush (default procreate) for skyscapes a lot, I love the texture. Although the clouds were filled in using the lasso selection tool, I softened the edges using the square pencil again and added texture using true grit sampler grainy brushes. The translucency effect comes from my setting the brush as an eraser. The sun rays come from the radial symmetry tool.

Blocking in the moths' colours was done with the urban sketcher again.

Something people may not have noticed is the labyrinth hidden in the sky! yeah I had a bunch of versions where it was more obvious but I found that it clashed a bit and was too busy, so I made it subtle. But yes. I searched for "royalty free labyrinth" and picked one.

The toner grit brush is one you've seen before if you've looked at any art on tumblr lately (this is such a popular brush) and it's from the true grit fast grit set. The pointillism brush is from the true grit free sampler pack, like my grain brushes.

I added shadows to the moths, increased saturation overall, and changed the clouds to a translucent blue (you can even see in the sun where I forgot to block in the sun itself because the clouds over it used to be opaque lol). Moon rays were drawn using the radial symmetry tool but this time with rotational symmetry off. I also moved the moon down closer to the moths because I felt that it was a bit far away, and this served to visually divide the drawing into three equal parts, so I chose to lean into that and divide the sky colours too, to show passing time, or an endless moment - morning, evening, night, etc.

And then the oroborous, I tried a few different effects on it because I wanted it to be very clearly separate from the main scene - I settled on a dot matrix newsprint texture, using procreate's onboard tool, and some heavy chromatic aberration. This is because the oroborous isn't real, it's purely symbolic and the moths' demise started when they became photographers so I liked the print media aspect there as well. The story itself is about grief without closure, cyclical violence, and sunk cost fallacy, while everyone explores an endless labyrinth, so an oroborous fits I think

what makes art fun to me is thinking up ways I can tell a story using just a single image. and sure a lot of it will be lost to an audience who isn't familiar with the characters or backstory but i want to leave enough in there that even complete strangers to my work will be able to construct a narrative about what's happening here, rather than it just being a cool image. that's my goal.

Finally I exported it to sai on my pc to give it a once-over. this is really important because the retina display on an ipad is oversaturated on purpose, to make everything look amazing and vibrant. but what this means is that on other screens, your work might look washed out. it's especially bad at displaying yellows! so i look at it in sai on my pc and i make minor adjustments, in this case I actually added another multiply layer on the moths and an overlay on their non-shadowed parts to increase the contrast there.

finally if you've read this far, I played a little trick with the caption of the drawing. yeah, THEY die... but only one of those moths is a theythem pronoun haver... the other has to survive. he isn't given a choice in the matter.

#fr you will never catch me trying to mystify my process i will explain literally everything #brushes

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mossy-cobble-slab · 10 days ago

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(Rotating @space-princes-posts 's Joel post and the empathy for the reds thing in my head. Thank you for that.)

Hes such a protective character in general, especially of underdogs (like the reds in secret life +Jimmy at all times) and his teammates. You dont get to see it for the first few seasons because hes more or less solo, but its so obvious as a defining trait later on. In WL he always responds to people asking for help in combat. The number of times he turns around and goes back to fight when hes trying to escape the trial chamber because Grian is calling for him in a panic. Also the moment in the mobs episode when the Bamboozlers come for shelter and he throws himself into trying to fight the mobs off of all of them rather than staying in the safe house (car) himself. Same with Jimmy and the ravager in the finale - who was trying to kill him with it by the way. Not that that matters to Joel, just look at the bridge incident. It was so clearly bait, but he still let himself be led into an obvious trap because Etho played at needing someone to fight for him.

Fighting for his allies means more to him than his life. In WL he tells Gem if Pearl kills her he'll kill himself until hes low enough to legally kill Pearl over and over til shes out. He was going to kill himself for Jimmy in LimL.

He doesnt really want it reciprocated either, the sacrificial element. Hes happy for it to be his role and no one elses. In his last few minutes in LimL he refuses to take Grians time even though he'll die without it. And Im always thinking about his ending in SL when he thinks hes killed Bdubs and hes really frantic about it, then he realises he hasnt, then he realises he should have cuz it was his only chance to beat Scott - he dies and says that it may have been the smart thing to do but hed never have done it, not to his teammate.

By the end of WL, even loyalty doesnt seem to need to be reciprocal for him to honour it. The Etho situation is obvious - never punished. But Joel also never even considers breaking ties with the Bamboozlers for killing him (and continuing to try to), but does consider breaking ties with Grian (which would hugely disadvantage him) for killing them.

He's not great at making allies, he prefers to make enemies, but if you get him as your ally you know hes ride or die. Ride and die mostly. And a lot of the time you dont even have to do anything more than act like you need help. The only time he ever betrayed an alliance was all the way back in 3rd life, when he allied with Dogwarts to fight the Crastle, then betrayed and fought Dogwarts too. But I don't think thats even out of character. Dogwarts werent the underdogs. They were the overdogs, the big controlling faction. And Joel loves to hate an overdog.

#its life!joel meta day today isnt it #trafficblr #life series #joel smallishbeans

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

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hello! i hope you’re doing well! i would like to request something for alex keller! could you write something about sunshine!alex being absolutely smitten by his girlfriend who’s a grumpy!reader? sorry if this request doesn’t give a lot of ideas. love ur fics btw!!!! <3

Sun and Stars

Pairing: Alex Keller x F!Reader

Synopsis: Bloodied, the two of you find yourselves alone in a mountainous forest, surrounded by the termite-eaten walls of a lone shack. But Alex always finds a way to make the world brighter.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Canon typical gore & themes, blood, a teeny tiny bit of angst, lots of fluff, banter, sunshine and grump dynamic

A/N: This is a bit shorter just because I wanna understand Alex's character more - take this as a test fic lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He was peeling back your skin like layers of paint on a canvas, gripping at the dried bits and ripping them to the side. Growling as your teeth sink deeper into your boyfriend's leather belt, your eyes swirl with hatred that you direct to the man kneeling beside your propped-up form; digging the bullet out of your left arm with all the delicateness of a rhino.

“Stop,” Alex grunts under his breath, “squirmin’ for me.” The tweezers go deeper, trying to find the sweet spot where the metal pellet had dived into your flesh at high velocity. Of course, it had been where the thick kevlar of your vest hadn’t been able to stop it – flew right to the place where the skin was uncovered.

Alex’s breaths are steady as you stare daggers, minutes away from yanking him off of you and doing it yourself. He was so damn slow, sending concerned glances every other moment with a furrowed brow and concentrated eyes. From under your makeshift gag, there so you won't bite off your tongue, you grumble with pain lacing your barely understandable words.

“Hurry up and get the fuckin’ thing out of me, Alex!” It didn’t sound like that, obviously, but the general heat to your words made – hurrey uh ahn geh tha fuhking thing ou of meh, Ahlex! – clear enough.

The light-haired man clears his throat, gripping your arm just a little tighter with his blood-stained gloves as his mustache rotates, scrunching his nose. His eyes are locked onto the entry wound, lids scrunched in a way you would have found comedic if you didn’t want to smack him upside the skull. Lord, could he just hurry up?

“I’m gettin’ there, Hon…just quit trying to make my head explode with your mind over there, yeah?” Alex dares to smirk when you take your free hand and slap his heavily tattooed forearm. You’re shaking your head to the side with displeasure that would transcend any barrier known to man.

A velvety chuckle leaves your lover’s lips before he leans close to your shoulder, placing a kiss on the fabric of your shirt in apology as your narrowed eyes don’t let up an inch. He pulls back and continues his exploration of your gaping puncture with focused eyes.

Prick. You chuff through your nose like a cat, fingers twitching in your lap as you fight the pull to bring it into a fist.

Sweat travels down your nose only to plop on your bunched abdomen, and in the back of your throat, you force your esophagus to hold back a whimper of restrained pain. Everything burned like your flesh was being placed on a hot spit – like you were a sheep carcass slowly rolled around and around and around–

“Here we go.” The pressure dissipates at the heavy whisper, and without even realizing it had happened, your head had tilted back into the wall and your eyes had ground themselves shut. Opening them quickly and blinking away the black dots, the soft face of your boyfriend pops into view; beaming as you deadpan up at him. The man holds up the tweezers in one hand, showing off the red-dripping metal almost lazily with a tilt of his head and a raised brow, speaking slowly. “Told ya’ I could do it faster than you.”

Letting the belt drop from your mouth with a metallic clink, you rotate your jaw at the ache your clenching had caused. You settle with a simple, “I said I could do it better not faster. What the hell were you looking for in there anyways – gold? My whole damn arm’s numb.”

Alex chuckles, rolling his eyes with an easy smile. To anyone else, the two of you would look like the strangest couple in the world. Covered in blood but you still have the time to bicker back and forth like a married pair. The Agent’s eyelids crinkle.

“Yeah, alright, Miss World-Class,” he motions with two fingers and a smug look, “scoot upwards so I can pack that wound before blood gets stuck in your gear. Can’t have my girl bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, now can I?” He huffs, placing the tweezers and bullet on the floor of the safe house before taking off the ruined gloves with his teeth as his neck muscles peek out from his scarf.

His gear was all covered in fluids – blood, mud, you name it the two of you were drowned in it. The Op could have gone better, to say the very least, but, hell, when does an Op go well? It had been too long since you and the man had a break and it was starting to weigh on you. Long nights and little sleep, it was like SAD was trying to go get you both killed with all the orders being given. Do this, do that…and what happened today? You feel a weight in your chest.

But the bullet wound wasn’t what was bothering you.

Sighing, you take a deep breath before grunting, forcing your back farther up the wall with shaking legs and a weak stomach to comply with Alex’s request. Your arm still blazes something awful, but the numbing agent your boyfriend had been insistent on you having was finally starting to work.

“Blood loss sucks ass…” You growl under your breath, lips twisting into a frown as you force away the haze in front of your eyes with fluttering eyelashes and sheer spite. The man spares you a pitying glance as he grabs fresh gauze from the medical punch on the floor.

Inside your chest, your heart warms despite the outward hatred you feel for getting put in a situation like this. Blinking at him, Alex tilts his head to the side as he sits up, one knee on the floor as the other behaves as an elbow rest.

“I know, Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Just bare with me, alright? I’ll take such good care of you, ya’ won't even feel a thing.” You roll your eyes with an infectious smile, head tilting back to rest on the dilapidated wall once more, and say nothing.

“Hey, now,” your boyfriend teases with tell-tale amusement in his voice, and you mumble a half-assed ‘quit it’ under your breath that goes unheeded. “I saw that smile there – you can’t get past me that easily.”

“Keller, shut up and patch me before I bleed out.”

An amused pause makes your cheeks hurt from holding back laughter.

“...Yes, Ma’am.” He says it so smugly you can’t help the exasperated chuckle that leaves your lips. The man’s hands caress your stained skin like you were formed of glass, rubbing soothing circles as he pushes back your shirt sleeve just the tiniest bit more to see what he’s working with.

Alex was quite good at keeping his emotions in check, knowing how to act when he needed to, and even how to change his personality to get the job done with minimal hiccups. But there were small tells – the way his hands held your skin slightly tighter, the flickering of his eyes over the crimson-coated skin. He was used to blood, but he didn’t think he could ever get used to yours. Swallowing saliva in this mouth, the man focuses on the thrumming pulse of your heart; your skin.

She’s right here. Alex tells himself. I’m gonna fix her up, and she’ll be just fine.

If he had the chance to shoot the man that did this to you again, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The story of how you two met was one mentioned often by friends and coworkers back in the CIA-SAD headquarters. It never got old, apparently, and as Alex gets to stuffing and wrapping your wound until the extraction team comes with proper supplies, he hums a song under his breath softly. The song.

When Alex’s presence presses nearer, you tilt your head to the side, watching the wrinkle in the large man’s brow as his careful hands fix your marred skin with the patience of a saint. Unlike him, you were more than content to bask in the silence of each other's company, gazing with hidden love at the twitch of his large nose or at the way his hair stuck every which way.

“You remember how I asked you to dance at that ball while Frank Sinatra was playing? The one in Washington back in ‘02.” Alex asks, looking up at you with a small smile under his mustache, skin peeling back to show perfect teeth. You nod, transfixed, as the light from outside gets dimmer, watching the dying rays play in his eyes that shine like shades of blue sea-glass, “God, I thought you were going to laugh straight in my face. I swear you nearly did.”

“The stupid corporate thing that Laswell made us go to? Yeah, I remember it,” you frown at the accusation, annoyed, “and I would never laugh at someone asking me to dance.”

He raises a light brow, and after a brief staring contest, you concede with a scoff.

“Okay, I’d never laugh at you asking me to dance…Better, Sunshine?” Alex laughs and you swear you nearly melt into the floor, cheeks feeling hot.

Oh, when he laughs.

“Maybe, I don’t know yet. We’ll have to go dancin’ to make sure.”

“I hate dancing,” you tease, only biting your lip when the knot he ties in the gauze makes your blood pump faster. “Thought I told you that the first time you asked?”

“You did – but I like when you’re swayin’ in my arms. Plus,” running his hands over the bandage, pulling at the fabric to make sure it’s secure, his blue orbs sparkle with his unique mischief you’ve come to tolerate. If only for the fact that it was his. Your face softens. “I did get you to join me eventually, if my memory’s correct.”

Smirking, you bring your hand up to his chin, tilting it towards you without hesitation. Alex complies easily, setting some of his weight onto the limb as a particularly smitten glimmer sparks over his face; he stares down at you with his mustache twitching.

“As I recall,” your blank words echo out over the small shack, “I only said ‘yes’ so you would stop following me around like a lost dog in search of its owner.”

“Is that it?” He jibes, a smile so wide on his face you feared he would rip his lips open.

“Hm,” leaning closer, you watch Alex’s breath stutter not a second later with satisfaction singing in your blood like a hymn, “you had that same look on your face too…Absolutely whipped.”

“And is that such a bad thing, Sweetheart?” He whispers, not missing a beat, breath fanning your cheeks as the scruff of his beard hairs scratches your flesh. “I don’t see you complaining when I make you dinner every night.”

Scoffing, you squeeze his chin, “how could I? Your mother blessed you with her culinary skills. I’d be a fool to pass it up.”

Alex’s chest rumbles in a purr.

“So you’re usin’ me?” He asks, his smooth voice tilted in a tone of bold cheekiness. Like a steady wave rocking a boat.

“Would it be unethical if I was?” You counter, staring dead on into his eyes without blinking. His lips nearly brush yours when he speaks.

“Incredibly.”

“Hm…Pity.” You release his chin and lean back into the wall, murmuring complaints under your breath about the weakness of your arm and the sweat that makes your clothes stick to you. The regular grumpy frown on your lips re-takes its place where the easy smile had once been, unknown to you.

Alex’s heart beats loudly in his chest, but he refrains from showing his disappointment at the lack of lips pressed to his, only happy that you were still acting like your normal self. It would take more than one bullet to keep you down, he knew, and his admiration only continued to grow.

His girlfriend was a badass.

“Here – let me.” You allow the Agent to loop his strong arm under your shoulder, taking your weight like it was nothing and helping you to your feet. The comfortable conversation slips to the back of your mind when your feet are connecting to the ground.

Alex keeps a hand on the small of your back to make sure you don’t fall, whispering a small, “steady,” as your feet momentarily stumble.

“How far out is Evac?” You force through gritted teeth, the back of your neck heating in wounded pride.

You loved Alex - you really did - but if anything made you feel powerless it was not being in control of your own body. In the corners of your vision, black dots swirled like paper mache puppets, their phantom bodies leaving long streaks of mist behind as they danced from one position to another. The man at your side watches closely, face going tense; ready to catch you if your legs give out.

After a moment’s hesitation, you once more gain control over yourself and clear your throat, shaking your head from side to side. The light brunette takes a step forward so his body brushes yours, leading you to blink and look up at him with curious eyes.

“I’d say about three hours, give or take.” You can’t help the utter annoyance that enters your expression, eyes going half-lidded as you turn to stare at the barricaded door.

No one would be coming after you from the city – and the safe house was so far off into the mountains, no one would want to try. If your thoughts hadn’t been running so fast, you would have reveled at the situation; Alex and you alone with no one coming for hours. Now that was a blessing in disguise.

But there was something wrong.

She’s not acting right. Those sea-glass eyes narrow, optics flickering to try and find what exactly you were staring at, but lands on nothing but an old door with moldy wood before he gravitates back.

Concerned confusion builds in Alex’s chest.

Now that he thought about it, you had been more snappy on this mission than the others; less open to letting his jokes and quick quips curl your lips or soften your constant scowl. He’d refrained from mentioning anything due to the fact that he knew some days were worse than others – in this line of work sometimes it was best to take a breather than to blow up. But this was different. When those days came around, you always told him about it first thing – there hadn’t been anything this time.

“Sweetheart?” Alex asks, tilting his head forward to stare at you. “...Something going on?”

“No.” Straight-faced, your hands go to work the straps of your vest, peeling at the velcro at your sides. The man’s eyes widen, taken aback, and his soft smile freezes as his eyebrows pull in. You go back to shoving away pouches and hucking off your weapon, setting it to the floor before righting yourself.

Continuing, Alex feels his worry grow tenfold.

“Would you–” he laughs heavily in his chest to try and dispel tension as you try harder to force the vest over your head, scowling. Your arm was ripe with needles, static living under the skin as your gauze turns more red. “Would you just let me take care of you?”

“...You shouldn’t have to.”

A moment of brain-shattering silence.

Fuck, you curse with a burning face, did I say that out loud? He wasn’t supposed to hear that–

“And what if I want to?” Alex utters, feet carrying him in front of you and sighing. You slow your still unexplained actions, avoiding his eyes and feeling your chest tighten. He continues, bringing his hand up to your cheek to tilt your head up to him. Losing some of that tension instantaneously, you glare at his collarbone instead. “Accidents happen, Hon. We can’t always come out of this at one hundred percent. I’m not disappoint–”

“We don’t get second chances, Alex,” you interrupt loudly, motioning around you at nothing, eyes flashing as they lock with his. The man just runs his thumb over your cheek – leaving molten heat behind. “Not us. Not when every mission could be it.”

Alex halts, body suddenly going stiff and muscles bunching. His forearms seize, the vibrant tattoos that you love to trace with your fingers jerking as if being lifted from the sun-kissed skin. His thumb ceases.

What?

“...Where’s this comin’ from?” You turn away quickly, moving back a step with your hands at your side bunching into fists, “hey,” Alex follows after, hesitant, but when you don’t move away he lays both of his hands on your shoulders. “Hey. Talk to me, Sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You shouldn't, but Alex just makes everything so much easier. It was like the words just fell out of you; whispered like a prayer.

“...If someone would have snuck up on you while I was down…I…Y-you would have…” Your tongue bunches, catching on syllables and finding walls embedded in the vowels. God, you couldn’t even say it.

Alex had become so important to you – the thought of something happening to him while you were unable to help…It broke you.

What would have happened if even one more hostile was there; if he was outnumbered? And all I could do was watch. Your jaw clenches tight, throat holding back a growl.

No one had ever mattered this much to you, and that made you incredibly nervous.

The hands at your shoulders tighten, a gentle squeeze before you’re being brought into a warm embrace without another word. Immediately, you reciprocate, the one wounded arm remaining at your side as the other digs past pouches and spare ammo to curl over Alex’s back, where you latch onto his shirt like a child. This was unlike you.

But it wasn’t like that mattered to Alex.

His body kept you close, security leaking from the locked position of his hand on the back of your head and the even swelling of his lungs. Home could mean many things to many different people, but for you, it would always be here. Colorful tattoos and a well-groomed mustache. Kind eyes.

Sunshine smiles and sea-glass blue.

Your lips thinned, keeping the glossiness in the corners of your vision away as you bury your head into Alex’s neck and suck down a deep breath. You both stay like that until the last light of dusk stops making shadows of the termite-eaten furniture, content to listen to each other's heartbeats and in the warmth of living skin.

He speaks in whispers.

“How about we take a vacation? Just the two of us – take a breather from all of…this.” His words move your hair, spreading over the skin of your scalp as he presses his lips to it, murmuring into your skull with utter devotion. “You said something about Iceland to Laswell once, yeah?”

Alex knew just as well as you did how draining this job was; how it was bad most days and horrible the next – never having choices, doing things that made an identity crisis seem like a holiday in comparison. There were some things the Agent would never tolerate, and that was you going off the deep end and him not being there to fish you out as you do with him. Being together meant fighting for one another when the battles were physical yet more so when they were unseen.

All you had was each other.

He feels your fingers grip his shirt slightly tighter, and a mocking laugh.

“You remembered that?” Your voice is garbled by his gear, but the vibrations spread over his skin as he fights the closing of his eyes; weaving his fingers just a little more through your locks. When you press kisses to his neck, Alex swears he’ll bend to one knee without hesitation.

“‘Course,” he smirks softly, lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth despite your half-hearted protests. “I remember everything my girl says. But if we’re goin’,” the Agent leans back, prompting you to look up at him with fatigued but bright eyes, “you owe me a dance first.”

“Alex,” you roll your eyes, chest lighter and mild panic gone. Funny, how the man could make everything disappear so simply. “We don’t even have any music.”

“You’re insinuating that we need music, Sweetheart.”

“...You’re exhausting, Keller.”

“Shush – you’re getting me off beat.”

“There is no beat–!” He presses his lips to yours, and the melody of your heart becomes song enough. Your eyes flutter shut as the scratch of Alex’s mustache leaves you grinning, his own lips peeling back in a smile in answer.

A great bout of chuckles spills over the room, separating your supple flesh but never making you move far apart.

“...Just be careful. I’m still sore.” You hum your admittance, and he connects your foreheads together more gracefully than butterflies wings.

Sea-glass blue.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The stars might have been out, shining through the dusty window of that old shack in the middle of nowhere, but you didn’t need the illumination from them to guide your unhurried steps. You had a sun of your own to light the path, and he was keeping his arms around you; squeezing as if you’d leave.

As if.

Gentle laughter spills out from under the doorway, seemingly making the rocky forest outside come alive. Birds sang songs to their adoring mates, deer grazed in lush green meadows in contentful calm. Wood Nymphs frolicked to and fro on fast feet, but would pause near the ancient forgotten building with termites living in the frame; taking quick peaks inside through murky glass and pressing moss-coated fingers to lips.

They watched the two lovers dance with awe-filled expressions. For they had seen many lifetimes but had never once glimpsed such a sight as this – proof of every principle that Eros had preached as he and Psyche became inseparable. A love so pure and giving, some would call it divine.

The immortal beings watched just a little longer, lichen-lips parted into smiles.

TAGLIST SIGN-UP || Here

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @antigonusyuki, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @lora21, @330bpm-whiplash, @michirulol, @john-pricee, @cl0wncxre, @jade-jax, @anna-banana27, @lothiriel9, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @bespectacledhuman, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @wolfyland07, @shoe1412, @levietc, @shmaptin, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaut2029, @kk19pls, @omeganixtra, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @cringe-kats, @serpahic, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @icepancakes, @batmanunicorns523, @gills-lounge, @nanialis, @pukbadger, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet

(sorry that some of these don't work! I have no idea why!)

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thewritetofreespeech · 5 months ago

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Hola!

Could I request Solomon defending his s/o when her older sister (very poorly) attempts to bully her?

Solomon x Reader

It was good to be home. ‘Home’ being a relative term for just being back on Earth, but the sentiment was still the same.

Though being in the Devildom was exciting, and certainly lively with the brothers & their friends, Solomon liked coming back to the mortal plane with [Y/N] to be alone. He honestly never cared what they did when they had their ‘top side’ dates, but visiting their family was usually on the list and typically pleasant. Most of the time….

“Oh [Y/N], since you’ve been in the exchange program for so long, I went in your closet to rotate a few things out. You know, to make more space and freshen things up.” Their older sister was not one of the more amenable visits they had planned for this week. Solomon had met the type before. The undercutting, faux helpful character. The kind that would smile with a knife in your back. She always came off sweet to [Y/N], but Solomon knew her intent was never that genial.

“Um…ok. You didn’t get rid of any of my stuff did you?”

“Just a few boxes. It was all stuff from like…high school.”

“Some of that ‘stuff’ is important to me! Which pieces did you get rid of?”

“I don’t know like..some of the shirts and stuff. God. Try to do something nice for you and you jump down my throat…”

“And what, pray tell, did you replace it with?” Solomon asked, getting her attention. “You said you were going to ‘freshen things up’, so what did you get [Y/N] in exchange.”

The sister looked shocked but quickly bounced back and showed [Y/N] some of what she had gotten from her phone. As expected, they were all clothes that fit her taste more than [Y/N]. “So, you cleaned out her closet to make more room for your own things. Lovely.”

The sister frowned at him. “That’s not what happened!” She insisted. “I was only trying to help! Besides, if it was so important why didn’t she just take it with her?”

“If it was so important, why didn’t you just put it in boxes for [Y/N] to review on her return, if you really only wanted to help?”

The woman growled at him and then turned to [Y/N]. “You know, I’ve been meaning to say this for a while, but we all hate your boyfriend.” Despite the conversation, Solomon grinned at the term ‘boyfriend’. “He’s always making these snide comments and passive aggressive remarks. It’s not cool!”

“Ironically, it is the very definition of ‘cool’ behavior.” Cool: to appear unfriendly and unsympathetic by not showing much emotion, especially affection. Solomon would have laughed at his own joke if tensions weren’t running a little high.

“I was just trying to help, and you’re making it out like I’m some bitch!”

“The senators of Rome were also just trying to help, and yet Ceasar is still dead.” That had been a very sad day for him as well. “But, if we are going to dissolve into foul language, I think we will take our leave. Profanity is the parlance of fools.”

Solomon stood as the sister’s jaw dropped wide enough to catch files. He sheathed his retort on that and offered his hand to [Y/N]. “Please email [Y/N] on where you sent their belongings, so we might buy them back. Even if it costs me tenfold, I will return you whole my love.” With this promise they leave the café to enjoy the rest of their Earth visit.

“You really didn’t have to say all that to her.” [Y/N] said when they were down the street.

“Why? I enjoyed it. Besides, your sister was right about one thing: she is a bitch.” He didn’t have to ‘make her out’ to be anything, and he already felt bad enough to stooping to her level. “Now, let’s go shopping until your sister texts where she sent your things.” He doubted she would, but he sent a quick text to their mother, who he had a great relationship with, to hopefully push the needle. “I’ll text Asmo for some fashion tips. He’ll be over the moon when he hears you are updating your wardrobe properly, and we’ll be on the hunt for the rest of your things.”

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers)#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #ob scenarios #ob imagine #solomon #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #solomon x you #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x you #scenarios #imagine

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sunshine-zenith · 5 months ago

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You opened up a can of worms with that post detailing Peri's apparent horrible taste in men and now I'm gonna subject you to my ramblings about it.

Like with peridale I see it as completely one-sided from Dale's end and he knows that Peri hates his guts but it doesn't matter to him.

With perirep it's more of an on-and-off thing (situationship?). And when things truly did end for good, Irep wouldn't really be over it and tries to get his attention.

The point I'm making is that I then thought about Irep x Dale and how that would just be a really terrible rebound. I think I saw one post about Irep being Dale's crooked lawyer to contrast with Peri being Dev's babysitter and how they interacted in the Battle of the Big Wand that inspired this.

But poor Dev man, everyone wants to get with his godparent.

Yesssss, I love all this — Dale and Irep rebounding with each other screams disaster, and a human AU where Irep is the corrupt lawyer totally works

Between baby Peri spending months trying to befriend the guy who was actively trying to kill him in the original show and Cosmo specifically wording Peri quitting on Dev as “he said you two were on a break, he was waiting for you to call!” I 100% see Peri as the type of person who, upon seeing a red flag, goes “I can change him”

In all scenarios involving him and Dale, I imagine it starts with Peri trying to get custody of Dev while not breaking any human or fairy laws — he just needs to be Dale’s spouse long enough to legally adopt Dev, becoming his legal parent and not just a godparent or stepparent. Dale almost certainly would be as bad a significant other as he is a parent lol, but he’d still be blindsided by a breakup/divorce. At some point, Peri realizes that underneath Dale’s layers of negligence, greed, and corruption, there’s more layers of trauma and daddy issues, and he can’t help but get invested

It isn’t worth it, but at least he gets Dev and (if he plays his cards right) some hefty alimony out of it

As for Irep… calling them a situation ship is perfect tbh. There’s so much history there, so much genuine positive and negative feelings on both sides. I deffo headcanon that they at least dated in the past (again, Cosmo’s wording about Peri waiting for a phone call felt very specific — possibly unintentional projecting, like that’s how Peri and Irep’s last attempt at dating ended). If you think about it, there were probably times where Irep was the most consisted person in Peri’s life (he ended up low/no contact with his parent after they retired and he basically lost his big brother. I can’t see Irep necessarily being his rock throughout this, but he was probably at least a steady figure).

I really love all the fanart of Peri and Irep co-godparenting Dev and I lowkey hope that if we do get a season 2, we get at least one episode with them doing that — it’s both incredibly funny and incredibly wholesome to think about

That said, I agree lmao, if they’re officially done done, Irep would be significantly less willing to accept it that Peri. Shoot, I’m pretty sure that’s a little bit the point they’re at in the episode Irep is reintroduced in — Peri barely gives Irep the time of day and acts smug when he brings Jorgen onto the scene, and attitude that probably comes from years of having your emotional investment in someone tossed back in your face

As for your last point, yes yes yes I am rotating Dev’s face when he realizes his godparent has such trash taste around in my head. He absolutely openly judges Peri and is constantly mortified. If you’ll tolerate me being wholesome for a moment, though… we see that between Dev stealing Hazel’s hat to protect her and him going back to save her from Vicky that Dev is actually very protective of the people he loves (a character trait I do plan on taking advantage of in my fanfics). I love the idea of him getting to the point of being protective of Peri. He’d see the type of people Peri dates and decides to sabotage those dates, possibly with Hazel’s reluctant help. It drives Peri up a wall, but let’s be real, it’s almost always justified lmao

(Cupid, whose known Peri since he was a baby and was likely an uncle figure to him, probably sees his pseudo-nephew as a disaster, but at least it keeps him busy)

#ask #anon #long post #also thank you dear Anon. this ask made me laugh so hard when I saw it. I needed that :)#peri cosma #perirep #peridale

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ragnarokhound · 5 months ago

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Hi wife. Staring at the green dot on your profile like my boy Gatsby and sending increasingly ridiculous asks in the hope of winning your heart.

not to bring up chapell roan, but have we considered the lyric “You could kiss a hundred boys in bars” for recently broken up jaytim?

I’m thinking Tim freaks out about love and affection™️ and totally ghosts Jason after their first kiss/near death experience. Jason runs into him at a club a few weeks later and sees that Tim is potentially kissing boys that ARE NOT JASON — cue angsty drama, maybe another near death experience where they save each other, and jason figuring out Tim ghosted because he’s a big chicken. Then (important for plot and character development) they have dirty dirty sex

Hi wife. You're yearning for something you already hold. Now come inside off the dock, the only thing you'll catch is your death of cold out here 💖 (I swear one of these days I'll find you dramatically floating face down in the swimming pool and it's gonna give me a goddamn heart attack /affectionate)

I'm so glad you know exactly what I like because a) good luck babe plays in my head 24/7 it was absolutely in the rotation when I was writing Secretary fic so how dare you and b) this is so up my alley for jaytim like you don't even know skdjfjks

In fact it's so up my alley that I'm gonna have to slap my response to this one under a cut cause it spiralled out of control:

Idk if you've noticed but I am deeply obsessed with Tim figuring out his own feelings re: Jason first and having a mcfreaking meltdown about them lmao.

Between the two of them, imo, he is much more of an anxious overthinker who will think he's making the most tactically sound decision because he really has thought it through with all the information he has access to -- but he always fails to give full weight to considering the best case scenario when it's something he wants. When it's something he feels selfish about. And boy, does he consider Jason Todd a best case scenario.

And mmmm I am so very here for jealous! and possessive!Jason. Especially when Jason didn't realize what he was feeling until after he's already acted on it. It is the bread and butter. Bonus points if he's not even trying to show it to Tim. Tim isn't the problem.

For instance: Tim's in the club, looking to see if he's just horny and needs to get it out of his system, come on, I cannot muck up the good thing I have just because I want some fuck-- and his prospective dance partners just start to dry up.

Because the big guy who looks like he's done time and a half keeps glaring daggers, keeps shoving his old partners off the dancefloor or knocking into them when they've come back with drinks for the cute twink they were totally gonna score with. Not anymore.

Jason thinks he's doing it because he's looking out for Tim. Because anyone with eyes can tell they just want Tim for one thing, and he deserves so much better than that.

When Tim realizes what's going on, he's already been grinding on this hot buff guy who came up behind him for two songs in a row. Tall, dark and silent keeps stopping Tim from turning around, and he doesn't slip a hand any lower despite all of Tim's silent offerings. Weird, but the anonymous gentleman act is kinda hot, so--

And then he glances at the round, silvered mirror in the corner. He clocks the white streak in the head of black hair dipped low over his, the gun callouses running rough over his bare stomach. He stiffens up in Jason's arms just long enough that he knows Jason knows he's been made. He drags him off to the bathrooms ("come on, handsome") and the second the doors shut and they're alone, he whirls on him.

They argue. Tim is embarrassed and it's coming out as anger, Jason is annoyed (and still processing the revelation he'd been having on the dancefloor, the one where Tim was lithe and warm in his arms, his long fingers twining through what hair he could reach at Jason's nape, where he smelled like sweat and musk and Tim and Jason found himself wanting to know if the gleaming patch of skin in the bare crook of his neck would taste the same--)

Jason is annoyed and has no explanation that will satisfy Tim. He wants to know why Tim ghosted him when the last mission they worked ended in bloody, near-disaster, and the case it was tied to still hasn't fully wrapped. He gets taking a few days off to recover, but it's been longer than that. Way longer, with no contact, no explanation, no 'I got shot so I'm gonna need a week or maybe three'. Wasn't Tim going to finish the job? He told Jason he would help. Did he lie?

It yanks the rug out from under Tim. Makes him feel small, and selfish. He promises Jason he'll come back to the case, he just had some things to figure out. But that's done now.

Jason loses the thread on his irritation as Tim deflates, hates the hunched, defensive hug he's giving himself, looking vulnerable and tired in his scanty clubbing fit under the cold LEDs flickering above the bathroom sink. He catches sight of the fresh pink scar, the one he'd just felt out under his palms not ten minutes ago with something bordering on relief. (And hunger.)

He wants to reach out, "Tim--?"

But Tim brushes past him, fleeing out the door and disappearing through the crowd before Jason can stop him.

Everything is fine. Totally 100% fine and dandy--

--is what they both are telling themselves.

Tim is doing his best to stifle his feelings, stomps down on them ruthlessly every time he catches them flaring up, and is counting the seconds until this is finally over and he can get to work dousing the massive fucking torch he's been holding in peace.

Tim comes back to help Jason with the rest of the case, but he's palpably distant, brittle when they banter-- and Jason hates it. He still remembers how Tim felt against him, how he'd melted into Jason, silently begging to be touched. For Jason to touch him.

It's been quietly rearranging some things in Jason's head. He's replayed their argument in the bathroom over and over. He thinks about Tim, about the timing of his disappearance--

(About the bullet he'd dug out of Tim's body, silver and red, and the desperate flow of his blood over Jason's wrists. About the night spent monitoring Tim's condition in a rundown safehouse, feeding him ice chips and brushing the hair out of his eyes, brushing off every bullshit attempt he made to tell Jason he was fine.)

--about figuring things out and avoiding Jason's eyes. And Jason wonders.

They have one last big bust to make, after days of stewing in their own unresolved tension. It goes down textbook; easy. In and out.

Except, at the last minute, during extraction, Jason gets shot. And Tim freaks.

He puts their plane on autopilot the moment they're clear (maybe a few moments before they're clear, actually) and dashes to where Jason is groaning just inside the bay doors. He's tight-lipped and grim-faced; his hands are fast and efficient, but shaking.

"Tim," Jason tries to say, but he gets shushed with a glare.

"Don't talk," Tim clips out. He undoes straps and disarms panels Jason thought were secret, and then he pulls out a pair of medical scissors.

"Tim--" Jason tries again, more urgently, but Tim doesn't even glance at him, just cuts through Jason's undershirt to expose--

"Oh," he breathes.

"Yeah. I'm okay," Jason sighs.

The crunched up bullet is caught in Jason's last layer of kevlar. The round they'd fired on him had been dramatically big, but Jason gets in firefights basically 24/7. He's padded to hell and back, even more than your average Bat. He'll have a wicked bruise and his rib might be sore for a week, but that's about it.

That's it.

Tim is still for an achingly long ten seconds, breathing shallow as he stares at Jason's armor. The proof that it's effective. And then he collapses.

He sits back heavily, elbows on his bent knees as he rubs his pale face. Jason watches as he visibly tries to pull himself back together, but relief keeps shaking him apart. Jason sits up.

Tim startles, tries to stand; Jason doesn't let him.

"Come here," he entreats, tugging Tim closer, firmly by the knees, to sit between Jason's legs with his thighs around Jason's waist, trembling under Jason's hands. "Don't go."

Tim twists his fists in Jason's jacket collar, eyes squeezing shut as Jason tips their foreheads together. Like he can't stand it. Caught in fight or flight-- but flight has been denied him.

"I know," Jason murmurs. "But don't go this time. Don't."

Tim drags in gasping breaths, and Jason runs soothing palms over his thighs, his waist, his arm, his neck. He thinks he understands. This feeling is too big. And if Tim is feeling half of what Jason feels, he gets why he'd want to run from it.

"Don't," he begs against Tim's mouth anyway. He kisses Tim until he moans into Jason, until he's sunk his fingers into Jason's hair; until he's sure he'll stay.

--AND THEN THEY HAVE DIRTY DIRTY SEX ON THE FLOOR OF THE PLANE AMEN

#so that wasn't supposed to turn into prose halfway through but it did. so. oops?#still gonna tag this as #not!fic #because its not actually fully fleshed out enough for me lmao #everyone please thank my wife for what just transpired 💖 ilu babe #🍷💥 anon #aka the love of my life evidently lmao #jaytim #my writing #asked and answered

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msmargaretmurry · 15 days ago

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I’m rotating Matthew Tkachuck in my head right now and trying to figure out what’s an interesting direction to take him in, in general, in a post SCF win world. Real Matthew is obviously living his best life right now but I feel like there’s interesting things to explore with fanon Matthew. What angst avenues remain after he’s reached the dream of every hockey player in the show, fulfilled the expectations put on him by putting the tkachuk name on the cup? I’ve always liked stories that explore characters after they reached their ultimate goal and the ‘now what?’ question that they have to answer, I’m having trouble figuring what that ‘now what?’ is for Matthew beyond play more hockey and win more cups. As the foremost Matthew Knower I know, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

(Also needless to say i’d love hearing the extra mattdrai take on this too, either already established pre-SCF, broke up before SCF, or never even got together yet)

OK HI ANON i am so sorry for taking so long to answer this! and thank you for sending such a fun and interesting question!! as usual this got long so i'll put it under the read more.

so first of all i've definitely seen people say that matthew is less interesting to them fannishly now that his narrative is "over" — he won the cup, he's getting married, he's got his ideal happy ending, etc — and i do understand that, both theoretically and having seen it happen before in fandom (after the caps finally won the cup fannish hockey interest in them seemed to drop off SO abruptly at the time, lol). which is fine! if the thing someone was most invested in was the narrative and the narrative concludes, if the tension they were interested in is no longer there, it's natural to move on to new victims players of interest.

however, anon, i like you am for better or worse still invested 😂 and despite writing almost nothing this past year (i cannot express enough how burnt out grad school had me, but i have WAY better plans for stress management this year, hooray for having writing time again) i have been rotating our beloved rat boy CONSTANTLY on the gas station hotdog roller in my mind. he is one those players who obviously i enjoy him as a real person and a hockey player but for fanfiction purposes i find him so interesting for his potential as a character, and that character is only very loosely tied to his real life circurmstances and is a separate, totally fictional entity from the real guy. so while the real matthew is living the dream, and i am so happy for and proud of him, i still have fictional matthew in my head like, well i can do whatever i want with you, lol.

so i think what maybe makes it more difficult for people to stay invested fannishly in situations like this is the (understandable) tendency to set "canon" fic (fics that aren't full AUs) in the here-and-now, and matthew's here-and-now, like we said, just doesn't have that much obvious tension and conflict, and the tension and conflict are what make for great stories! so i take a few different approaches here, and hopefully you will find one or some of them interesting or useful.

firstly i totally agree that "what now" stories are great. you've achieved everything you ever dreamed of — what now? well, as a writer, you figure out why that wasn't enough and then you send your character on a journey to figure that out, too. and honestly a lot of the time this is just about making shit up! like, in haw matthew is such an anxious character — obviously matthew in real life is not anxious like his haw counterpart, but haw!matthew has something real matthew doesn't have: his big gay secret that is constantly weighing on him and stressing him out, so the anxiousness (hopefully) makes sense, character-wise. with matthew as a character i am almost always ignoring his real-life love life (i have just never been a person to include real wags in my fic in any major way) so my immediate thought is: if he has the cup, but not the engagement, how does that make things different? is he lonely? does he need to admit to himself that he's lonely, or is he already aware and making a choice to stay that way? or, maybe he uses the cup press as a way to come out, and he's dealing with all of that? maybe he gets caught putting his tongue in some guy's mouth during the drunken cup celebrations and he's dealing with that. (insert matthew pairing of choice into any of this, obviously.)

or maybe we want a fic that lets him have the whole happy ending, cup and wedding and everything. fast-forward five, ten, fifteen years, and how has that happiness lasted? like, he's pretty young, he has a lot of career ahead of him! will he be content as his career winds down if in all those years he hasn't had another sniff at the cup? does his (fictional) marriage last (obviously not, if we're going to have him sucking dick in a supply closet or w/e, but ykwim)? does he get to end his career on his own terms? there are whole worlds of futurefic out there for exploring what happens when all your dreams come true so young and so you spend the rest of your life chasing that high.

and then there is like, we can write fic set in the past! we're allowed to do that! if we still want to write about calgary matthew or pre-cup matthew and explore the conflicts and tensions in those parts of his life, we can do that! i think that his first two years in florida are SO ripe especially for like, matthew/sasha or matthew/benny or other fic with his teammates culminating in that cup run. like with good romance novels, knowing it has the best possible ending doesn't make the journey less interesting. we love that real matthew has his real happy ending; it could be really fun to recreate that journey for him with bonus matthew/[insert hockey man of choice here] content. (obviously i love matthew/leon, but i really will read anything 😂 so this is me encouraging all pairings.)

and then for ME there is a particularly delicious option, one of my favorite types of of hrpf fic in general, with the canon divergence au. we have seen matthew live his dream; what happens if something in his life happened that derailed his path to it? how does he reach that level of joy and contentness and peace with himself if his perfect cup/engagement summer is taken out of his reach? i'm talking your classic career-ending injury aus, something else happens to derail his career aus, etc. maybe not for everyone and maybe not quiet what you're thinking about with a "what next" type of fic, but i love this shit so much, so i have to include it here.

finally, OBVIOUSLY, the matthew and leon of it all!!!!! like, man, WHAT a wrench to throw into our beautiful wonderful made-up mattdrainiverse. i think there are such fun possibilities in every version of the scenario like you mentioned — established relationship, broken up, not together yet, a fourth secret thing, etc. for established relationship, the question of, does this break them up (and then you the writer has to get them back together) (if you're feeling nice)? if not, how do they get past it? if they're exes, does it weirdly ignite something between them again, and how does that go? and honestly my favorite might be the "not together yet" option, just because the journey for leon getting over that resentment and growing feelings could be soooooooo good.

and i think maybe that is the key to post-cup fic for them, for me, if the fic is going to end with them happy together? is, whatever their relationship, taking leon's feelings about the cup seriously — his resentment, his pain, his annoyance, what have you — and showing me that journey of processing those feelings and getting to a place where even if he's not happy for matthew, he is happy with him. and on matthew's side, his own feelings — refusing to be sorry for winning, refusing to tamp down his joy, etc — are obviously also important, and i think there could be some really good conflict there as they butt heads and work through all that.

but every fic doesn't have to deal with that whole-ass emotional journey, obvs. not every fic has to be a 60k feelings journey 😂 one-shot encounters, hate-fucking pwps, whatever, they can all be delicious. (unsolicited fic rec, @hopetorun recently wrote me this matthew/leon post-cup fic that packs a punch in 10k.) for me though i think these feelings about the cup need to be centered in the post-cup era, even if they don't get nicely resolved. even if it's set 15 years in the future, those feelings are still going to be there, and whatever happens between them is going to be messy and complicated. and we all know i love mess 🥰

anyway, i'm not actually sure if i answered your question here but i hope it did! regardless, i had fun thinking about all this, and that's the most important thing!

#ask #matthew and leon #hockey for ts

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