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azsazz · 3 days

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Over Ice (Part 3)

Hockey!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: She’s walking around Campus and BOOM right smack dab into Broody McBrooder!! She THEN finds out he’s the tutor for one of her hardest courses (personally Psych would be a good one) and they become super duper close with him and the team!!!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3147

(Part 1) (Part 2)

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Rhysand’s face hurts.

His hands do, too, but the scrapes and splits in the skin of his knuckles have nothing on the cut in his lip, which currently stings from the rush of alcohol that passes over his lips.

It’s cold, crisp, and free, so it’s the best beer he’s had all night.

Hell, his cheek is bruised too. It’s not a Picasso of mottled yellows, greens, and purples yet—curtesy of the time he spent poking and prodding the knotted bump in one of the locker room mirrors, post shower.

The only thing that isn’t bruised is his ego because he more than won that fight against the Penguin’s center, Kallias Winterborough. He fucking wiped the ice with him and then proceeded to use the rest of his team to clean house.

Somewhere in the Hockey House—aptly named for the number of players that reside in the five-bedroom, two-story craftsman—you and his cousin meander around, violet Solo Cups in hand because the red ones are so overrated. Plus, one of their biggest rivals—the Foxes—wear crimson, and no one at Velaris University would ever be caught repping that team at one of his parties.

It's a move he’s regretting a little too much right now, unable to revel in the Bat’s big win with his lip split in two. Fucker got him good, he can admit, but never aloud. Cassian would never let him live it down and Azriel would shoot him a scathing glare at the mere mention of another school’s team under their roof.

Az takes his superstitions seriously.

“Rhys, dude.” Cassian stumbles in through the square arch connecting the spacious living room to the cozy kitchen. It’s the only thing Rhysand doesn’t like about the Hockey House: no open floorplan. That means, when he plays host as he so often does because he can’t afford a hangover from hell following most mornings, he can’t see what’s going on in the kitchen if he’s in the living room or vice versa.

He can’t see people sneaking up the stairs, and even though he keeps his room locked at all times following the Cassian Incident™ that included two leggy blondes and the Frozen Four first place trophy—announcing the next afternoon that blondes do, in fact, have more fun—he still doesn’t trust a horde of university students on a high from their win not to do anything stupid.

Speaking of stupid…Cassian slides to a halt beside him. He’s so eager to share whatever the hell with Rhys that he overshoots, slamming his hip into the counter. His friend howls, and much unto Rhys’ surprise, others join in, like it’s some kind of victory cry and not one that says ‘I just bashed my hip in, somebody help me, please.’

Rhysand is in no mood to help.

“What’s up, Cass?” Rhys sighs, frowning when he tips his bottle back to his mouth only to find it empty. He hadn’t realized how much he drank; thought he was nursing it with the way his lip burns.

Cassian’s face contorts from pain back to amused like a flick of a switch and the pain was long forgotten. His nose is permanently crooked from the number of times he’s broken it during fights both on and off the ice, and he’d be missing one of his pearly whites if he hadn’t just gotten it fixed earlier this week. Thankfully, his moustache has been shaved off for tonight, showing off his plump, pink lips. His brunet hair is the longest on the team, just brushing the tops of his massive shoulders, and thankfully. On one side, it’s tucked tightly behind his ear, showing off the gold ring he punched through it on a dare at their first party freshman year.

Cassian’s hazel eyes have a spark in them that 1: Rhys has seen too many times, and 2: never means anything good.

Rhysand narrows his own, breaking that eager contact to scour the kitchen for another beer because goddammit, he’s going to need it with the way his friend is all but shaking with excitement.

“Have you found your nurse yet?” Cassian asks, trailing him around the marble slab counter.

“My what?” Rhysand side-steps a couple making out so hard that they go crashing into the first thing that isn’t each other: the wall. The petite girl with bright blue hair whimpers loudly, and the noise is swallowed up by the guy that’s sticking his tongue straight down her windpipe.

It looks grosser than it seems, Rhys defends when a pang of want slaps him right in the chest.

“Your nurse, dude,” Cassian whines. He slips on a rogue wet patch on the obsidian floor tiles and now Rhysand has another thing to dislike in this house. All he needs is someone cracking their skull open on his kitchen floor or the couple to fall and have his teeth through her lips from the impact. “You know, cause you’re all injured.” He waves flippantly towards Rhysand’s wounds.

“I don’t need a nurse,” Rhys answers, confused. He pulls open the fridge and snags two beers off of the shelf Cassian and two of his other roommates have dedicated it to. He hands one to his friend, who pops the top off with his teeth, and Rhys raises an unimpressed brow. “I didn’t get that hurt.” Plus, he’s already been to see the team trainer for his shiners.

He busies himself with the beer opener that’s stuck to the side of the fridge, then grabs the roll of paper towels from their holder to wipe up the mess Cassian’s leaving footprints with. Well, he unrolls a few and tosses them onto the spill, anyway.

“No, I mean like a lady nurse.” Cassian waggles his brows. “Someone who can kiss you better, maybe even give you a hand—”

And, well, that might just help his mood.

“Hey.” Azriel breezes into the kitchen like he’s still on his skates. He has his own cup in hand, filled with water. Rhys know this because he’s never seen Azriel drink anything other than water and the occasional coffee. He takes his training more seriously than half of the team, which bodes well for Rhys because he always has a gym buddy, but sometimes, he wishes his friend would let loose, even if it meant seeing a girl. Or sleeping with one. “Heads up.”

The warning has Rhys standing straighter, ready to abandon his beer on the counter to play his role as captain and the one in charge of the party. His roommates naturally defer to him in house affairs because they’re used to it, but really, Rhys doesn’t have much more room in his packed schedule for warding off drunk students and stopping fights.

The last thing he needs tonight is to find himself in the middle of a fight.

“Rhys!” A perky blonde squeals, and his shoulders drop for a second only to tense right back up when his cousin throws herself into his arms.

He catches her with an oof, spitting out her wild locks that somehow always end up everywhere. He loves his cousin dearly, like a sister, but why is she here right now?

He doesn’t see you following your roommate into the kitchen, jaw slack like it’s been since you first saw the Hockey House lit up in all of its glory. The place is absolutely massive, it looks like it could rival one of the houses on Greek row.

The kitchen is moody yet warm. The dark tiles match the onyx-stained flat arch you just walked through. The lighter gray marble countertop brightens the room, and the deep blue cabinets paired with the soft lighting paints the room in perfect synchrony.

It’s absolutely stunning.

Neither of you see the other at first. Rhys because he’s still trying to blink Mor’s hair from his eyes and you because you’re entranced by the interior design of the home. There’s no way five boys could possibly live here, let alone five hockey players. It’s a bit of a mess with the party raging around you, yes, but you haven’t seen one hole in the drywall, not one forgotten dish nor a pair of boxers left of the bathroom floor—you checked.

Because you were using the restroom of course, you weren’t looking for that specific reason.

“Hey, Mor,” Rhys greets when she finally detaches herself from him. She doesn’t go far, only stepping back enough to introduce you to him. “What are you doing here?”

Violet eyes clash with yours, drawing your heart to a standstill. He looks just as good as he did when you were sprawled out on his chest: dark hair clean and mussed through, red lips parted as if the words he wants to say are stuck in his throat.

The only thing different about him now is that cut in his lip and the redness to his cheek from his fight on the ice that you bore witness to.

The memory replays in your mind again, awakening tingles in your body that shouldn’t be. And just how you’re praying for them not to, they converge right between your thighs, settling in nice and hot and begging for attention as the sight of him with burning violet eyes as he decks his opposition across the jaw replays.

It really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, and he himself shouldn’t be as hot as he is, either.

You hold yourself still, focusing eighty percent on your attention on trying to calm your eager bits down and the other twenty percent on making sure you don’t look constipated while doing so.

Rhys blinks at you and you return his blank stare, watching, waiting to see if he recognizes you, too.

Oh, he does.

“We came to see your game tonight,” she says, as if it isn’t obvious from your attire. The attire that Rhys is currently dragging his eyes down, drinking in every inch—all four of them—of the jersey your roommate forced you into tonight. You watch his eyes flare as he reads the number across your chest. His number, you’re just now realizing.

Heat floods your cheeks but you’re unable to bolt like you so desperately want to. Your heart is beating three times as fast in your chest as he slowly, slowly, rakes his gaze up from your legs that are glued to the floor, all the way to your eyes, that are glued to his face.

“This is (Y/N),” Mor announces, gesturing to you with a flourish. When you make no move forward to greet them, her red nails curl around the hem of your jersey and yank.

You stumble forward, and the trance is broken. Unfortunately, so is your face, because you slip in something on the tiles and are plummeting face-first into the ground. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, lips parted to scream or groan, whichever your mind catches up to first—

The impact never comes. Strong hands grip your arms, stopping you from eating tile. You’re too stunned to speak, even when you’re planted back on your feet and staring into the chest you were lying on only this afternoon.

Rhysand Cunningham.

Jesus, you’re really going to have to stop saying his full name like that. It’s creepy.

“Easy now,” Rhys says, making sure you’re steady. You somehow find the courage to look him in the eyes, hastily tamping down the mortification that threatens to consume you.

As soon as your eyes lock, it’s like magic.

There’s no other way to describe whatever is happening between the two of you right now. His light touch is searing, and so are his eyes as he scans your face, making sure you’re not hurt.

Rhys’ abandoned beer sits precariously close to the edge of the counter, and Cassian accidentally knocks it off with his elbow when he dodges a playful swat Mor tosses his way. It goes crashing to the floor, startling you and Rhys from your trance.

You jump, gaze following the noise. Rhys’ hands slip from your body and you shiver at the cold that replaces him, even though it’s stifling in this house with the number of bodies packed into it. You manage one large step back that he doesn’t seem to notice because he’s already snatching the paper towels from where he put them last and barking at passerby to “be fucking careful.”

“I, uh,” you stutter, and holyfuckingshit, he’s leaning over to clean up the mess. You get a full view of that toned ass; despite the jeans he’s wearing. It’s perfect, round like an apple, juicy like one too, you bet. The sudden urge to lean over and sink your teeth into it hits you like a semi— “I need to use the bathroom.”

You scurry away from your roommate and her cousin like it’s your ass that’s just been bitten into.

Rhys grumbles the entire time he cleans up the spilt beer. Cassian tried to help, his chocolate eyes wide and sad, spouting off apologies like he did something much worse than break a fucking bottle, but hissed when he cut his thumb on a sharp edge. Rhys had pushed him away from the scene immediately after that.

He wonders if Cassian is going to bound off into the living room and find himself a nurse of his own, now.

“Hey, where did your friend go?” Rhys asks Mor who’s chewing on a cherry stem. He grimaces, not even knowing where those came from.

“Roommate,” Mor answers pointedly, serving him a harsh look that only confuses the hockey player.

“Okay…where did your roommate go?” He clarifies, eyes sweeping the room for you. Disappointment prickles at his skin just as much as the look his cousin is shooting him. He’d gotten his look at you alright, but he’s suddenly feeling like the single up-down he gave you was not nearly enough.

“To the bathroom,” she answers, rounding the counter, eyeing all of the opened bottles of liquor on top. She must not see anything she likes, because he doesn’t reach for anything. “Why?”

Why? Because you brought her here and I want to be nice? Rhys thinks. I want to get to know her, maybe somewhere private—

“I didn’t really get to introduce myself.” Is what he goes with.

Mor snorts, rolling her eyes because she is not falling for that one. “She’s off limits.”

“Then why did you bring her here?” Rhys blurts, unable to stifle the words before they slip out. Damn beer.

“Because we wanted to see your game,” Mor replies, watching her cousin closely.

If you wanted to see my game, you shouldn’t have warned me against your roommate, he thinks, and then cringes.

“Well, thanks for coming, cuz,” he offers, because there’s no good rhyme or reason to start arguing with her. Especially when both of their parents are just phone calls away.

He’d rather be getting the third degree from Mor than his mother, anyway.

Rhys swiftly changes the subject. “Hope you enjoyed me kicking some ass.”

Mor’s tight face melts into amusement. She laughs, tossing her head back on her shoulders. “Yeah, I really did enjoy that, actually.”

It’s at that exact moment that Rhys catches sight of you again. You’re caught halfway in the archway of the kitchen, presumably on your way back from the bathroom. Your lips are pulled into a smile as you giggle, and he wishes he could hear it over the gods-awful music. Your eyes are bright and he watches you brush a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks pinkening with a blush that makes him wonder just who’s putting that look on your face.

Rhys takes one step to the left and his entire body begins boiling with heat when he catches sight of one of his players speaking to you.

If she’s off limits to me, then my players are off limits to her.

And that’s exactly what they are, too, players. Mor’s right, he can’t end up letting one of his teammates fuck around with you, not when you’re so close to his cousin. She’d be devastated if you got hurt, and fuck it, he would too. He’d kill one of his guys if they broke your heart.

Rhys doesn’t talk sense into himself as he stalks your way, doesn’t think about the repercussions or his actions when he slides up to your side, all rigid muscles and sharp looks.

“What do we have here?” he asks, drawing you away from the friendly conversation you were having with the handsome hockey player about the types of tapes and casts that can be used when treating different injuries.

It’s James Attor, from your Athletic Training Techniques class. You’d recognized him, but didn’t know he played for the Velaris hockey team. He’s a sophomore like you, and more interested in the injuries part of his sport than the actual scoring.

“Oh, hey, Cap,” James greets, shrinking under the scrutinizing gaze of his team leader. He knows that look, it’s the one Rhys gets before he’s about to lose his mind on the ice. “I was just talking to (Y/N) about—”

“About nothing,” Rhys finishes for him, and you frown. What the hell is his problem?

“James, wait,” you call, but it’s too late, he’s already slipped into the crowd of people dancing in the middle of the living room, and you don’t have supervision to see through them.

Whirling around on your heel, you glare up at Rhys. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Rhys asks, striding back towards the kitchen. You decide that playing stupid doesn’t look good on him. And neither does that split lip.

You can’t believe you wanted to get closer. For a better look at his wounds, of course.

“That!” You exclaim, throwing your arm out and pointing where you were just standing. It serves no purpose because Rhys isn’t facing you, which only stokes your anger further. “I was talking to him!”

“Yeah,” he rounds on his feet so fast you don’t even see it coming and for the second time today, you run smack dab into the middle of his chest.

This time, you don’t tumble into a pile of limbs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“And I’d prefer it if you don’t,” Rhys finishes, chest tight. He feels on edge at the way your body pressed up against his, like lightning in his veins. He grits his teeth, willing the feeling to go away.

“Yeah,” you scoff, tossing him your best glare. You cross your arms over your chest for effect, but all it does is make that skimpy shirt you’re wearing ride up more, and both Rhys’ eyes and throat catch at the sight of your creamy skin. Your word sounds like a threat when you say, “Unlikely.”

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Over Ice Taglist:

@saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @mrsjna @velarisdusk @bionic-donut @tenshis-cake @eleganttravelercloud @lilah-asteria @serena05 @bwormie @soph1644 @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @judig92 @se7enteen--black-blog @thecraziestcrayon @cherry-cin @itsinherited @justafictionalnerd

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #rhys/reader #rhys x reader #rhysand #rhysand x reader #hockey!bat boys #hockey!rhysand #acotar au #acotar hockey au #rhysand hockey au #over ice

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liahaslosthermind · 2 days

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~ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒔 ~

(Past) Rhysand x OC, (Eventual) Azriel x OC Part 2 of Betrayal

Summary: He was out of his mind with grief. Azriel had been through his fair share of trauma. He had seen and done horrific things, but that was always with Adelaide by his side. Now, he didn't know what to do, and he was losing it. Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, grief, Hurt/No Comfort

His limbs ached as he stood up from his chair. He had been sitting there so long that walking felt much harder than it usually did.

He rubbed the haze from his eyes while walking to the door, the incessant knocking making his headache worse.

"Fuck, Az. You look- how do you- do you want me to..." Cassian stood in front of his brother, a man he'd known for 500 years, and didn't recognize the person he saw.

It had been the first time in almost 2 months that Cassian's knocks were answered. He had come to her room, everyday, multiple times a day, to plead with his brother to talk to him, to eat something, to just let Cassian look at him so he could see he was alive.

Azriel said nothing as he turned around and went back to the chair he had been occupying. Cassian closed the door behind him as he took in the room.

It was the same as it had been the day she left. Even though this had been the place Azriel spent most of his days, the Shadowsinger had kept it all the same, only touching her bed that he would sleep in the nights he could stomach it, or the chair he was currently in now.

A mess of papers on the desk brought tears to Cassian's eyes. Adelaide, sweet and caring Adelaide, had been making a list of Solstice gifts for her family when she was called to join some of the Inner Circle on a meeting all those months ago. A meeting that had been a trap for them. A meeting that ended up taking her life.

Azriel cleared his throat when Cassian went to pick up a piece of paper. He had tried to hard to keep her room clean while also not disturbing things from the spot she had put them in.

"Nesta told me that her and Elaine have been leaving you food but it remains untouched."

"Is there a question, brother?" Azriel asked. His voice had always been rough, and he had always been more on the quiet side, but Cassian could tell that because of lack of use, it hurt him to speak.

"Why aren't you eating? How can we get you to? I would do anything, Az." he pleaded.

The spymaster didn't answer.

"Whats the end goal? Believe me, if you want 1,000 years to mourn her, I will be with you every step of the way. I've tried to give you space, but you are killing yourself! You sit in here all day, only coming out when everyone is asleep or gone. What do you need to care about your life again?"

He was met with a distracted look from Azriel.

His brother was never distracted. He was never careless. He hadn't missed a day of training for no reason in hundreds of years. Cassian knew he still trained every once in a while, but Azriel always found times to do it when no one else was around.

Azriel didn't have an answer for Cassian, at least not one he would like.

How could I care for my life when her's is over? he thought. By the desperate look on Cassian's face, he could tell his brother knew the answer.

"I lost her too. I know it was different with the two of you, you were each others'... person, but she was as much my sister as you are my brother. I didn't... I didn't even get to say goodbye." Cassian finally broke at the confession. He hadn't let himself think about it, he had to keep himself together for Azriel. "The last time I talked to her, we where fighting over food. She stole the slice of cake I had saved for myself, I called her an inconvenience and a burden, she called me a spoiled bat who needs to learn to share." He let out a bittersweet laugh at the memory. They were usually at each others' throats, and when they weren't, they were teamed up to annoy someone else in their family. But they loved each other, always were there for one another, except in the end, when it mattered most.

"24 hours later, I was picking out the sarcophagus my sister was going to be laid in. I would have let her have all of my leftovers, all of my desert, if it meant I just got one last conversation with her." Choking up, Cassian sank to the floor, a wave of familiar grief washing over him.

Azriel joined him, crying as he hugged his brother.

The two illyrians, sat like that for a while. Long after their tears had dried, long after the sun had gone down, Cassian finally spoke up.

"Why don't you go see her? Visiting helps me, talking to her even though I know she can't hear is something I do often."

In truth, Azriel hadn't gone to his best friend's mausoleum since the funeral. He couldn't see her like that, couldn't come to terms with it.

These past 6 months had been dark. Everyone was mourning her, many of the people of Velaris included, but none more than Azriel. Part of him had died, laid in the cold marble box that held her body. For the first few months, he had completely disconnected from reality. He went on with his daily routine, he trained, ate, went on missions, did paperwork, slept. But it was as it he was on autopilot, as if the real Azriel had been asleep that whole time.

Two months ago, he woke up. It was sudden, he had gone to his room for the first time in a while to grab some books that had been long overdo at the library, and the priestesses had kindly told him if they didn't get them back he would be banned for life.

Thats when he saw the blanket on the chair by his desk. She had given it to him over a century ago. It was a birthday present, a wool blanket that was enchanted to smell like her always. She had played it off as a self centered gift, so he doesn't forget about his favorite person while away on missions, in front of their friends, but Azriel knew it wasn't that. Adelaide had always been a master gift giver, and she also knew Azriel had trouble sleeping most nights, but he never had any problems falling asleep on the couch next to her after a long night of conversations, wrapped comfortably in her own wool blanket.

He hadn't slept without it till the night she died.

Then, he picked it up, trying to see if the enchantment still worked. And that was all it took for him to wake up. It was awful, every bad feeling he had been too far disassociated to feel hit him at once. He curled up on the floor with the blanket wrapped around his hands and stayed there for days, silent tears never ceasing to fall.

After getting yelled at by Madja, who Nesta had called to knock some sense into him, he got up and went to her room, where he remained most of his days.

He sat in the chair in the corner of the room, only eating to quiet his stomach, and tried as hard as he could to detach himself from the never ending agony that was his life now.

He told Cas he would see her, the general's face lighting up at the news.

He felt guilty, making Cassian so happy for something he knew would later destroy him.

Hours after Cassian had left the room, as the sun came up, Azriel went to his room to grab the blanket he hadn't touched in 2 months. Then he grabbed Truth Teller, wrote his final request, and went to see Adelaide.

The building was large, and beautifully constructed. He would have been happy that she had a resting place deserving of her, but he knew Rhysand only spent that much money and made it this beautiful to try and lighten the guilt he felt.

The Shadowsinger stopped by the entrance, the sarcophagus without a lid placed up on the platform.

Before the funeral, Helion had come to place a enchantment on her body that would keep it preserved.

It had been a show of good will, Adelaide had been head of the Night Court's scholarly texts, education, and research. The two had met to have academic conversations at least once every few months for decades.

But as Azriel looked down at her, it felt like a cruel punishment from Helion.

6 months later, she was still as beautiful as she was the last time he saw her, and she was still just as dead.

This was where he would remain, his final request was to be laid to rest in the same building. He would be adding unnecessary pain onto his loved ones who had suffered so much already, but for the first time in his life, Azriel had decided to put himself in front of his family.

Looking her over one last time, he realized he was now completely numb.

Azriel held the gifted blanket and went to take off the one she currently had. Based off the fact it seemed to have been picked out with meticulous care to match Adelaide's coloring, and her outfit, there was no doubt it had been placed their by Mor.

On her lap, previously being covered by the blanket, laid a large and very old book.

Had one of the scholars she worked with placed it? One of the educators?

Strange marks littered the cover, but no title. Not till he opened the first page did he see what it was.

The Walking Dead

A cruel pick. Who would ever leave such a book with a corpse?

The second page was blank, so was the third, so was the fourth. Thumbing through the book, Azriel just about gave up looking at the blank pages when he finally found one with writing.

It seemed to be a poem, but it was formatted too strangely.

The title at the top read Eternally Intertwined.

A spell.

He almost dropped the book at the realization.

No one had left this book, it had been fate that had given it to him, kept it here waiting for him to stumble upon it.

He knew what he needed to do.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand x reader #azriel angst #azriel #acotar fic #rhysand x oc #azriel x oc #~ lia's betrayal series ~#rhysand

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stainedglassvariations · 3 days

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LADS and Claymores

Inspired by the lovely @heartswithinreach and her amazing imagines. I haven't posted anything on tumblr for YEARS, but I love the boys so much I decided to give it another go!

Inspired by the fact that I am, for the first time in my twenty three years of life, a heavy weapon main in this game. Minor spoilers for some of the main story and yes, no Sylus. I'm trying to be a good girl and not skip ahead so I haven't met him yet :(

Zayne is concerned. Throwing all that weight around everyday applies serious stress on your body, and he wants to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Are you consuming enough protein, carbs, and water to aid in your muscle recovery? What about your sleep schedule? You are making sure to stretch before and after work, right? You always feel a little dizzy whenever you have dinner together, trying to keep up with his rapid fire questions.

On a softer note, he always offers a massage whenever you come home with him. His evol leaves his hands blessedly cool as he rubs soothing circles in your knots. By the time he finishes, you’re a boneless, half-asleep heap on his bed. They also make up for the foul smelling horse pills he expects you to take with a full glass of cherry juice in the morning.

During combat, he stays clear. He knows his strengths, and they don’t include trying to keep up with your great-sword swinging self. He can, however, freeze the feet of your targets which gives you ample time to wind up a decisive, fatal blow. And… you do look lovely under a shower of ice and Metaflux.

Rafayel is upset. It’s hard to be your knight in shining armor when you’re swinging around a sword as tall as he is! Not that he wants you to be a damsel in distress anymore or anything, but a part of him misses the way you once needed him to come to your rescue. Plus, his flames and dagger are just a piss-poor combo when it comes to your team ups. You spend more energy making sure you don’t end up cleaving your favorite artist in two than you do fighting Wanderers.

Now, outside of fights, it’s a bit of a different story. If you can handle the weight of a claymore then surely holding him in your lap for hours on end is nothing in comparison, right? Oh, and he needs help moving a second wardrobe into his bedroom, you don’t mind do you? While you’re at it, Thomas is having a new frame delivered for his newest portrait so could you please bring that in with you?

You roll your eyes at the majority of his requests, but he always looks so genuinely put out whenever he sees you materialize your sword for combat that you don’t have the heart to say no.

Xavier is confused. What’s wrong with a normal sword, why do you need one that’s almost as big as he is? You honestly don’t have an answer for him outside of “I like the way it feels” and “it’s hard to be scared shitless when you’ve got a big ass sword”.

Really, watching you swing that thing around makes him feel tired. More so than usual he means. You’re not built for prolonged combat, so you go into every fight ready to put down the threat as quickly as humanly possible. He dutifully marches in after you, cleaning up the Wanderers lucky enough to escape your initial slaughter.

It does make it weird for him whenever you ask him to open jars or help lift heavy boxes outside of work, though. Do you really need his help opening this pickle jar or are you just feeling lazy and don’t want to apply the effort? Your silence is telling.

BONUS:

Caleb thinks you’re kidding. He laughs when you tell him that you chose to specialize in two-handed weapons, and then he sees your Hunter’s application. What follows is the most bizarre fight the two of you have ever had.

He asks you if you hit your head on the way to register or if you’re just stupid which immediately puts you on the defensive. When you deny both these things, he proceeds to lecture you on the long term consequences of muscle damage as if that’s the biggest thing you’ll have to worry about when you’re going to be out hunting literal aliens. Surprise, surprise, that makes him even more mad.

In the end, the truth comes: he hates that you’re becoming a Deepspace Hunter. It’s a surprising show of vulnerability that makes your chest go tight and your knees weak. You toe the ground, suddenly too shy to look up at his face, and mumble something about switching over to mid-range pistols before hightailing it out of his room. You don’t, of course, you forget somewhere in the two minutes it takes to wrench open your bedroom door and dive under the covers. The look on his face when he sees you going through some exercises while back home from basic almost, just almost, makes it worth it.

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #imagines #x reader #lads x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #caleb x reader

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verycoolusername1 · 2 days

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The Game

Summary: In which Ethan Edwards can't help but pay attention to the drum major of the Umich marching band.

Ethan Edwards x Gn!reader

Warning: I can't really think of any right now

A/N: Yes, I made y/n drum major, something I could only wished to achieve in high school, and I'm a band kid. SO WHAT?? I based this off of my high school band(which isn't competitive but has two drum majors(in this it's just one, I'm giving yn the spotlight- BUT I DO HAVE AN EXCUSE FOR THE OTHER DRUM MAJOR) and like SO many people), so things might be a little bit different, but nonetheless band is band, so let's go!

I never had games during the day so for 3rd quarter break, uhhh they're just getting lunch(which is still pizza cause that's what I always got lmao)

Uhhh and this when the hughes family came to umich for a game, so like recent(Jack's girlfriend isn't in this though at all as I do not support her nor her actions)

I have a cold rn so I'm missing a game today :(

It was his senior year of college. Ethan honestly had no idea how he made it this far, but he was happy it was almost over.

His lungs were on fire for cheering at every touchdown. He had never been more grateful it was now halftime.

"I'm going to concessions, you guys want anything?" Luca asked.

"Nah, I think I'm gonna stay for this." Ethan exclaimed.

"Looks like someone wants to see the cheerleaders." Luca mutters.

Ethan slapped the back of his head, Luca held his hands up in surrender. When Ethan turned his head he was met with a stranger bumping into them.

"Oh gosh I'm so sorry!" They began to apologize.

"It's fine." Ethan rushed out.

This also gave him a moment to observe the person, they weren't in typical clothing but rather the opposite. In uniform that stood out from others.

"That's uh a nice uniform you got there." Ethan cringed mentally at how he sounded.

You chuckled awkwardly. "Thanks." You turned your head. "Sorry I gotta go, uh see you around stranger!"

"It's Ethan!" He called out after you.

"See you around Ethan!" You said your goodbye before running to the field.

Ethan watched you in confusion, you weren't on the football team or atleast not that he knew of but then he saw it. You were with the band.

You stood in front of them on the field while the band was in count out position.

Subconsciously you looked up and met eyes with Ethan, you blushed slightly before remembering why you were there.

"At the ready!"

The band followed your command and got into position, getting quiet while doing so. The crowd got silent too, waiting in anticipation for what to come.

"Band ten hut!"

"Hut!" The band replied.

Ethan watched in amazement as you controlled the band and how they listened to you without a second thought.

You were nervous to say the least, this was the first time you was on the field without James(the other drum major, he had a cold).

The band were making their way towards the opening set of the opener leaving count out position.

Just ten more minutes you told yourself, but it felt longer with Ethan? You think his name was, had his eyes set on you. You couldn't see it but you felt it.

"One, two, one, two, ready, and!" You counted off.

Ethan watched at the band move miraculously as you kept conducting and in time. He could never do that, playing a song from memory and remembering where you went on the field. He never knew how much work the band puts into a ten minute show until now.

Ethan watched you most of the time rather than the actual show. Hell, even when the band came off the field, he was still only staring at you. No cheerleader could pull him away from the drum major.

"Looks like someone caught Ethan's eye." Duke whispered to Luke, who laughed.

Luca came back from concessions with a bag of popcorn and a hotdog.

"Who caught Ethan's eye?" Luca practically yelled, forcing Ethan's eyes to leave you and to his friends.

"No one!" "Someone in the band!" Ethan and Mackie spoke at the same time.

"The drum major?" Luke clarifies.

"What no you can't be serious?" Luca asked. "A band kid?"

"Hey band kids are awesome." Quinn piped up.

"I gotta agree with Quinn there Luca." Jack agreed.

"And this one in particular is good looking." Mark adds.

"You aren't allowed to say that." Ethan muttered.

"Yeah cause only you can." Luke teases.

"Do you know their name?" Jack asks.

"No but they know mine." Ethan began to smile.

"Oh my god, don't even know their name and you're already whipped." Duke laughed.

"Ethan!" You called his name, making him and everyone turn to look at you.

You were used to the attention being drum major and all. But having Ethan and his friends look at you made your stomach churn up butterflies.

You guestered for him to come to the plaza as the band was having their 3rd quarter break. You stifled a laugh as Ethan practically tripped on his own feet trying to get to you.

"Are you okay?" You asked as he reached you.

"Better now." He chucked, out of breath.

"Y/n." You told him.

"Hm?" Ethan looked down at you.

"My name is Y/n." You clarified with a nervous chuckle.

"Oh." Ethan now realized what you meant. "Well then Y/n... halftime was amazing."

The way your name rolled off his tongue made it feel like he'd known you for years. It made your heart swell.

Realizing that you have been staring at him and didn't say anything in reply and you cleared your throat and looked away.

Thankfully before you could say anything, your friend Robin came up to the two of you.

"Hey Y/n and..." Robin eyes widened as she whispered to you, not so subtly. "Oh my god, is this the cute guy you bumped into before halftime?"

You looked at her with a look that read, 'if you don't stop talking imma shut you up myself."

"His name is Ethan." You muttered, not even daring to look up at him as he held an amused look on his face.

Robin nodded slowly before blurting out. "I'm gay! I mean uh- I like woman not men! They said you're cute not me obviously I mean- wait what? Sorry!" She clarifies.

"Robin I love you," You started. "But please leave."

Robin nodded quickly. "Alright yeah got it bye!" She ran off.

"Sorry about her, she tends to over share sometimes." You explained.

"Oh no Luke's like that all the time." Ethan chuckled. "So uh you think I'm cute huh?" He starts to tease.

You muttered an "Oh my god." Before covering your face with your hands.

Ethan laughed again only a bit more softly as he spoke. "Hey it's okay."

"And this is the part where you tell me you have a hot girlfriend back at home." You told yourself, not caring if he heard it.

Ethan frowned at this. "This is actually the part where I tell you I'm single and I would like to get your number."

You snapped your head up at Ethan, shocked.

"You want my number?" You asked him.

He nodded rapidly. "I mean yeah, why wouldn't I want the cute drum majors number?"

Your face grew hot to his words before clearing your throat. "Oh... then uh yeah yeah I can give you my number."

Ethan gave you his phone as you quickly typed your number in and sent a message to yourself.

"Two minutes!" Your band director called out.

"Shit," You cursed under your breath. "I have to go."

"Right." Ethan smiled sadly.

You did as well before you came up with an excellent idea. "Meet me at the band room after the game."

"Uh I would but I have no idea where that is." He explained.

"The band room? Oh I definitely know where that is." Luke suddenly appeared beside him. "I'll make sure he arrives in one piece."

"Thanks Hughes." You chuckles before giving Ethan a soft smile. "Bye Ethan. I'll see you later."

"Band, let's start making our way back now!" You yelled.

"Oh they could totally yell at me like that." Ethan whispered under his breath.

Luca slapped his chest. "Dude this is getting weird."

"Hey uh Luke, how did they know your name?" Mackie asks.

"Well It's complicated." Luke says before quickly adding. "We didn't hookup!"

"You're probably the reason Robin's gay." Ethan muttered as a joke.

"Hey! I heard that!" Luke rolled his eyes.

#ethan edwards imagine #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards #umich hockey #umich boys #umich wolverines #umich imagine #luke hughes #luca fantilli #verycoolusername1 #dylan duke #mark estapa #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl players #jack hughes #mackie samoskevich

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warping-realities · 3 days

Text

A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation.

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret.

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.”

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan��s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

#male tf #jockification #mental transformation #corruption #race change #reality change #mind change #musclegrowth

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lilianalovespink · 1 day

Text

CW// incest, mentions of nipple piercings, mentions of only fans

Price has a daughter.

She's a spoiled little princess with chubby little arms and legs, but she's not mean by any means. Just all teary eyed and pouty lipped, mary-jane dressed feet dragging along the floor when she's told no.

She's the result of his promotion to Sergeant, his wife's gift, he says. He sadly misses a lot of her development, but she's not exactly missing out on luxuries and treats when he's away, her mother spoiling her just as much. So, when John decides to 'hang up his boots' and retire from his military career as captain, she's already 'all grown up', bright eyed, sweet and honest little thing, definitely very sensitive, but not afraid to question everything. Well, anything but her papa, of course.

Cue John inviting the task force over for dinner once they're on leave, meet his wife and kid, only for a very dumbfounded Johnny to stand in the doorway, holding some whiskey for John, flowers for the missus and... a little Dolly for the very much nineteen year old girl, standing next to her father smiling from ear to ear, happily greeting the task force.

"Och'- I'm so sorry lass', I thought ye were still 'Bonnie little thing-"

But she's all cheerful, say's she can add her to the shelf with her old Barbie's with a smile as Kyle cackles at Johnny embarrassing himself. Turns out John had only shown his teammates the old pictures, the ones of her in poofy pink princess dresses holding magic wands and giggling, the ones of her sleeping in his arms for the first time, small newborn safe and sound in her fathers strong arms.

Seeing John interact with his daughter now, however, is not much different.

She's still his baby, his sweet little girl, his princess, the one that's dressed in the most proper, well ironed, pink and cute clothes, bows and ruffle, adorable but somewhat elegant and they all understand that, whatever he was with them was far from paternal if this is how softly he cares for the chubby little girl, grinning at him as he talks to his lieutenant, all with a loving hand on her head, stroking her hair.

And none of the team would see her as particularly rebellious or even... mildly mature, not with how pink and soft and full of old Barbie dolls and music boxes her room is, not with how she goes to sleep at 21:00 wearing a white, short, silk pyjama with pink hemming at the top and pants and a pink bow in the middle of the shirts top hem, after giving both her parents a kiss on the cheek and waving the team goodbye and not with how she's listening to some kids CD story as she goes to sleep.

So then it makes no sense to Ghost that he catches her smoking outside of her University just two weeks after they visit.

It also makes no sense to Soap when he sees her giggling, hanging off some boy's arm who's currently showing his mates his 'Brand new pistol'.

And it absolutely is nonsensical for Gaz to have seen her with her pretty pyjamas pushed up, exposing swollen, pierced nipples on her Onlyfans account. <3

//and it makes the least sense to see a video in their groupchat of her crying and whining as some very familiar big, hairy hands stroke her plump backside as a big, fat cock pistons out of her little pink hole all whilst a gruff voice says; "Good girl princess, y'r moving y'r hips so well."

#cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty x reader #captain price #18+ mdni #tw inc*st #coquette

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slippinninque · 3 days

Note

Hi👋🏽 This is my first time ever putting in a fic request. I’m not sure if you take requests and I didn’t see anything on your blog so please feel free to ignore this. I was wondering what Fontaine would do if he saw his girl working so hard to balance school and work that she wasn’t taking care of herself like she should or not spending as much time with him?

💆🏾‍♀️Some Place Warm🫂

Fontaine x blackfemreader

Warnings: none, some cursing, mainly fluff. Mentions of feeling overworked and overwhelmed, before-work-post (may have some mistakes lol)

"It was tonight, wasn't it?"

You were standing in the middle of the living room, in the middle of wakefulness and the fugue that has been stubbornly following you for the past three weeks.

He saw you stare out into space as you tried to regain your thoughts. Fontaine froze when you turned wet eyes to him, the rest of your face fixed into flat mask.

Still wearing your hoodie and jeans, your cheek held the imprint of one of your text books. He normally would protest you bringing books to bed but with how thin you were already stretched so thin...

"I missed date night," your voice cracked and your hands came up to your face, "We would have been back by now...I...I really missed it...."

Fontaine was up brought you close and closed his eyes against the feel of your trembling. He gently pried your hands away from your face, seeing how your fingers began to curl into claws nearer your hair.

Fontaine hugged you tight, "Hey, hey, you're good."

Your wide eyes met his but Fontaine knew you were only seeing your thoughts plastered across his face. All the things that demanded your attention, the projects and papers and team meetings and recruiting.

He said nothing as he brought your head to his shoulder. Fontaine didn't want think too much about how you sagged against him. You felt, like a rag doll with weighted feet.

"It wasn't you, baby. You've had a lot on your plate, I didn't feel right waking you up." He admitted, "I thought maybe we could have date night at the crib this time. "

You made a quiet, hurt noise and nuzzled closer, "I'm so sorry..."

"Ah, ain't nothing be sorry fo'. I already ordered some grub, it's gonna be dinner in bed tonight. A'ight?"

"I'm sorry...."

Fontaine hushed you and wished he had more to say. Wish he could erase the nerves he could feel prickling along your skin. There was nothing he could say to you. Not right now, at least.

"The only thing I want you to be is getting in that tub for me." He cupped your face, "Bath is already made. Then we'll take it from there, okay?"

"No, that's too much." You tried to shake him off but Fontaine kept hold, "Date night is supposed to be special for the both of us--

Fontaine spoke over you just a bit, "Hush! You want--"

"Don't you hush me--!"

"-- You wanna to make it up to me?"

You nodded at once. Fontaine nodded back before he stepped back and took your hands in his. He took in the worried bend of your brow, the way you chewed and picked at at the healing spots on your bottom lip.

"I've been waiting on your ass to crash for 'bout two weeks now--ain't plotting on your downfall...just worried."

Fontaine's tone robbed you of your fight. You nodded and sniffled, the knot in your throat loosening. He was right. You couldn't keep going on like this, you were only going to get sloppier.

"Okay, good, c'mon and let me get my hands on you a little bit and you can curse at me later for hushing. Yeah?"

Fontaine tugged gently and you went after him feeling like the worse girlfriend in the world.

-----

When you finally felt like you could stand being in your skin. You washed yourself and did so again, mind humming on low as the water steamed and soothed you. There were mountains of bubbles and you could smell the lavender scented candle from its perch in the dreamy fog of the bathroom.

It was strange to feel so wrung out so soon. With the holiday season swiftly approaching, you were tied on both ends. Midterms papers and collaborations clashing with the growing seasonal demand at your Granny's catering business.

While you weren't charge of the magic of making the food you made sure the 'magicians' had their wands and their doves. Grocery orders, appliance repairs, and even down to scheduling for tastings and deliveries.

You made sure that all the elders had to focus on was doing what they loved and being as much of a mediator between them and youngin's of the staff as you could.

It was a good thing to see your grandmother be so invigorated by the rush but she ran a tight ship that felt more like a sardine can lately with all the passive aggressive wars that often came with family businesses.

You cut that thought off before it could take root. That would always be there. Instead you turned your thoughts on the man who still managed to surprise you.

Fontaine waited up for you when you stayed behind for next-day prep. He met you at the front door with a blunt rolled and the shower steaming. He rubbed your aching feet as you pounded out a essay analysis.

Fontaine, bless his heart, has been nothing but supportive. Also rightfully worried, of you had to be honest.

How could you have forgotten the one night in the week that mattered most? That's what sent you over the edge at the end of it all. Not the 11:59 deadlines and collapsing cake towers--the fact you forgot about your man.

As of drawn by the sound of your spiraling thoughts, Fontaine knocked a little on the door before you saw his free forms peek in.

"I got you all set if you're ready, baby." He came in a bit further as if he hadn't already seen your all, "If you're ready, that is?"

The water sloshed as you rose instead of answering. Fontaine came fully into the bathroom with a towel stretched and waiting for you.

"Bring yo' lil self here."

The towel wrapped you up and you were delighted to feel it was fresh from the dryer. Fontaine hummed knowingly and rocked you a bit before pulling back to dry you off in earnest.

It felt silly at first, you wanted to grab the towel and insist that you had it but....it felt nice to be out of control for once.

You were then led to the bedroom instead of the living room. There you found your nest ready and waiting. There was no textbooks or notebooks to be found, or pens to be stuck by. Only one of Fontaine's hoodies and your well-loved sleeping shorts.

A single touch made you gasp in delight, Fontaine must have tossed everything into the dryer while you were soaking.

Once you were dressed, Fontaine patted your bottom and peeled the covers back. You dove between the covers and was immediately enveloped by lilac and fresh-linen scent.

"Stay put for me and let me go get some shit together, 'kay?"

" 'kay..."

Fontaine smiled at the sound of your crunchy, sniffly voice, "That's it. Find us something good to watch. Imma be back ."

He saw right through you. Though you knew he would be only a few paces away, somewhere in the house, it still felt too far at the moment. His reassurance that he'd come back had you melting into the blankets.

By the time you settled on Antique's Roadshow, Fontaine returns balancing two styrofoam containers, cups, and a 2 liter of your favorite Faygo.

The logo on the bag with the condiments let you know he ordered from the Mediterranean spot you've been hankering for. This man could have very well unlocked mind reading in hopes of getting you to take care....

You made room for him to settle beside you but Fontaine slid in and was nearly behind you. Emotion locked your throat as you watched Fontaine settle in.

"Thank you, Fontaine. For all of this."

Fontaine took the remote and lowered the volume when the nice lady from Vegas whooped about a found white gold watch.

"You're buried, right now. Gettin' pulled in all sorts of directions. I would have seen it by now had you not told me to be ready for it. That's something we've talked about happening when you started going back to school. What we also talked about is showing up. Remember that?"

It was one evening on the back porch days ago. You were frustrated with your progress with things. Of school, of family, of life. In feeling over overwhelmed by things to do, you strangely end up feel like you aren't doing much.

Fontaine looked into your wary eyes, "We've been making it work. We make time when we can. I let you sleep in because, baby, you needed it."

"You need me too. I need you...I have to be more-more mindful. You're what really matters to me. I should do more..."

Fontaine shook his head and took your hand again, looking at where you fingers laced quickly with his before putting them both against his chest.

"What you said to me when I asked? 'Showing up is doing something. Anything you can.' That goes both ways. Understand?"

You took in the earnest look on his face and couldn't resist kissing it. You probably tasted like stale gum but Fontaine surged forward all the same.

"Mhn, nope--no..." Fontaine pulled back and narrowed an eye at you, "Behave, missy. Food first--something that ain't no damn trail mix or whatever you be snacking on..."

Before you opened your tray, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Can you help me do something first?"

Fontaine was reaching over to pull one of your bonnets out of the nightstand as he answered, "Of course, baby. What do you need?"

"Moral support...."

Fontaine held you as you typed out an email to your professor and your cousin.

First asking for a two-day extension to polish and submit your paper. To your cousin, you apologized but insisted you needed the rest of the week off to get some rest and refocus yourself.

Though you doubted you would take the whole week, Fontaine correct to point out that a little wiggle room couldn't hurt just in case you did need it.

While you were going to have your phone on, all that they would need to get through the week would be ready for pick up and payment.

Before your stomach could sour after you hit send, your phone vibrated where it still was in your hand.

[Girl, fuck these oldies! Get some sleep and let them learn a lesson without you for once! 💜💕💞]

Your eyes welled as the pressure in your stomach eased away. Fontaine saw the way your shoulders sagged and took the hand still holding your phone, kissing the laxing knuckles.

"See? Handled that shit like a fuckin' boss." His other hand went behind your head, strong fingers massaging the base of your neck much to your pleasure.

You released an exhale as your eyes slipped close, unaware of the shadow of a smile on your face.

Fontaine shifted closer to get both hands on you, going for your temples and the knot of thoughts at the base of your skull as he murmured, "Mm. That's sexy as hell--do it again."

"Hm? What, breathe?"

Fontaine purred when you gave a more exaggerated puff of air and a laugh danced a laugh out of you. Between Fontaine's attention and the soft comforts surrounding you, it felt like you were going to be fine.

Fontaine's voice was at you ear, "That feel good? You like when I rub your big, pretty brain like this? Hm?"

Of course you did and of course he already knew. The tension in your neck was no match for the most dexterous fingers in all the Glenn.

"Hmm...dunno. I may need a few more minutes to decide for sure."

"You ain't got to tell me twice, let me get up in that kitchen..."

Luckily for you Fontaine didn't ease up at all. Careful of your dinner, he pulled until you were back to chest and set to work massaging your neck and temples.

All you could feel was his warmness, the give of your bed. All you could hear was the soft shift of styrofoam and an explanation of the popularity of faux gold in the 70's from the TV.

All you could think of, blissfully, was how much you wished you had the HP to jump 'Taine's bones...

Your stomach growled loudly and indignantly. Fontaine chuckled when you shushed it and brought his retreating hands back to your scalp.

"A little while longer and then I want to see you go through at least half that plate." Fontaine pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before popping your bonnet over your hair

"Then I'll rub you however much you'd like..."

With a little chirp of agreement, you flopped back against your man and let him do what he did best.

Take care of you.

-------------

💜ending notes💜: a long time coming and I'm so sorry anon, I hope you see this and know to please please please feel free to submit again! This ask saved me like no other🥹💞💜💕 thank you to those who were so kind during my burn out, slow and steady definitely wins the race lol! 🙏🏾✨💕

✨taglist✨: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful

@8ttached @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile

@ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93 @sageispunk @hunnishive

@notapradagurl7 @mcondance

@miyuhpapayuh @mogul93 @kindofaintrovert @blowmymbackout @kindofanenigma

@ellethespaceunicorn @soft-persephone

#fontaine x black reader #fontaine #fontaine x reader #x black reader #john boyega #they cloned tyrone #fontaine x blackfemreader #Submission fic #writing #x blackfemreader

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bengals-barnesbabe · 6 hours

Text

Picture Day

Tee Higgins x Chase!Reader

Desc: You start getting antsy 5 weeks postpartum and find something to do with your hands.

TW: nothing too bad, mostly fluff.

Princess Ti | Main Masterlist

WC: about 1k

＊✿❀ *. ꕥ * · ❀✿＊

The buzz from your clippers fed your creative soul. You had only come in the salon to reminisce and take some time to yourself while your baby girl naps. You couldn't help but miss the chatter of clientele and the smell of coconut oil usually in the air. The pristine white counters in front of each station were completely bare, only each counter’s handheld hair dryer sticking out of the black cubbies.

Sitting in front of the first station, you think back to when your husband asked you what you really wanted in your home. It was a ballsy ask, in your opinion; you weren’t even sure what he meant by it. But he said you could turn the basement into whatever you wanted. It baffled you because you thought he’d want a man cave to escape the realities of marriage. That’s what your dad did, so you thought it was normal to think so.

So you tossed around the idea of taking on more personal and private clients in a home suite. A month later, he pleasantly surprised you with a fully furnished and functional home salon. It resembled a mini version of your main salon in the city. There is nothing that man wouldn't do for you.

After giving birth, Tee kicked into full dad mode. When he said your only job once Tiana was born was to just take care of her, he did not go back on his word. He's been an absolutely phenomenal father and partner, always taking her when you need a break, making sure you eat and stay hydrated, and even getting up during the night to calm her down. Him and your brother are literally upstairs putting together a new nursery glider so your morning feedings can be cozier.

Maybe that's why you're so antsy. You were so used to always caring for others; now that someone is holding you down the same way, you don't know what to do with yourself. You don't even cook anymore. Your mom has been handling all the meals so you can take time and heal. Everything they were doing was amazing, and you deeply appreciated it, but damn, you were bored.

The sound of your phone buzzing made your train of thought drown.

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

we're done with yo fancy ass chair, come see it while Titi still sleep

sent at 2:23 pm

You thought about going back upstairs for a minute, but a different idea caught your attention.

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

I have a better idea, you bring your wack ass fade to the basement and come sit in my chair😌

read at 2:27 pm

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

arent you supposed to be resting, imma tell momma👎🏾

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

Im offering you a free haircut and you wanna go rat me out😑 don't you have team pictures in a few days👀

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

fine im coming, but when momma finds out I'm blaming you

To: Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

yea right, just come down here. AND DONT TELL TEE!

Bigheaded Dumbass🐧

yea... a little late for that one😬

read at 2:33 pm

Great, just when you thought you'd be able to do your own thing, your little brother goes and fucks it up before it happens.

Oh well, you shrugged and walked over to the back of the salon for your supplies to set up for Ja'Marr's haircut. You grabbed an apron for you and a barber cape for him (even though you should let him be itchy for threatening to snitch), your black pro clippers, a razor, a number 1 and 2 comb, some holding spray, and a brush. Then, set up your chair.

Minutes later, you were all ready, and your client walked in with your husband.

"Y/n, what are you doing?" He asked with an amused smirk on his face.

"I'm giving my brother the haircut he so desperately needs." You smile back, patting the back of the chair for J to sit down.

"You're supposed to be resting." He crosses his arms as you drape the cape over your brother.

Smirking, you untie your apron and walk up to your husband with your hands on your hips. "Look at me, babe." You slowly spin around to give him an eyeful of your postpartum baby body.

"I see you, mamas. Trust me, I see you." The very nice thing about everyone making sure you take care of yourself these last few weeks has been your ability to prioritize your "snap back." You weren't working out to get to a certain shape. You were just prioritizing strengthening your core, which meant some belly binding, light ab exercises, and self-care. You were nowhere near your pre-baby weight, but you liked the extra curves, and someone else did too.

"You can't just expect me to just sit down and wait for Tiana to wake up. I gotta keep my body active, practice my trade."

He knew you were saying words, but ever since that apron came off, his mind was somewhere else. "Oh, I know how you can get active."

"Alright, y'all just nasty. Am I getting my hair done or what?" Ja'Marr groans from behind you.

"Yea Tee, you gon' let me work or what?" You say, biting your lip.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Fine," he says, pulling a waiting chair over to the corner of your area. The 6-week rule playing over and over in his mind.

"Good, now let's get to work. Don't worry babe, you're next." You chirp, picking up the brush to begin the haircut.

But Ja'Marr jerks his head away. "Ay, Y/n don't go too rough now."

You can't help but snort. "Yes, yes, I know. You too tenderheaded for my skills."

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

~ a/n: yall see what I did there ;) last addition to the au for a while. time to go work on some other fics ♡

#black reader #cincinnati bengals #nfl imagine #tee higgins x chase!sister reader #tee higgins x black!reader #tee higgins x reader #tee higgins #jamarr chase #chase!sister reader #married life #hairstylist!reader #bengals barnesbabe #husband!tee higgins #brother!jamarr chase #postpartum

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eljeebee · 18 hours

Text

An old thing

Vladislaus stared at the painting.

He was deep in his paperwork when Caleb barged in his office with a package in his arm, and a letter in his other hand. He thanked him before the Vatore left his office.

He opened the letter first. It wrote,

Overlord Straud, Lana wanted to write this letter to you, but I knew she would write unpleasant things instead. I forced her to give the pen and paper to me. Anyway, we made a dedicated team tasked to search for our old belongings. Some would be kept by either of us, while the rest would be put up for auction. The team was able to retrieve this painting. Lana wanted to keep this for herself, but Lenora and I thought it would be best to give it to you instead. After all, this is your family. I promised you. We’re giving this to you free of charge. Please take good care of it. Regards, Valentina Asvang

He remembered taking a deep breath. He remembered his fingers twitching when taking the package from one of the armchairs Caleb had left it on. He remembered slowly going up the stairs, and he remembered taking it to his room.

Then, he took it out of its huge box. An old thing.

He hung the old thing outside his room, on that blank space on the wall.

And then he stared at the painting. The music coming out of Caleb and Helen’s room faded as his vision tunneled towards the painting.

This old thing…

His trance was broken when Helen stepped out of her room. He took a quick glance at her; she smiled. He smiled back, before turning his attention to the painting.

Helen stood beside him, curious about the thing he was looking at.

“Hey, that’s you, Dad,” Helen said, pointing.

Vladislaus chuckled. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Who are they?” Helen asked. She gestured at the woman in red, and the boy beside her.

Vladislaus glanced at her. How would she react?

“The boy looks like you,” Helen noted.

“Indeed, he is,” he replied, “he has her mother’s eyes, however.”

“Yeah, I can see that…” Helen nodded. “Mother, huh? Hmm. Is she your wife?”

It took him a moment to reply. “She is.”

“And that would make the boy your son,” Helen deduced.

He nodded. “That would make Hugo your older brother, my child.”

“Would that make her my mother then?” Helen asked. Chuckling, “Just kidding. I know how I came to be. You picked me up in a random alleyway.”

Vladislaus shook his head, relieved that the memory they’d implanted still holds. “Yes. Mhm. But still, she would be a good mother to you.”

Helen nodded, “She’s beautiful. She…she looks familiar.”

“She’s the eldest sister of Lenora and Lana.”

“Woah, no shit?” Helen let out a laugh. “No way. How is she? Annoying like Lana? Nonchalant like Lenora?”

“Nothing like them,” Vladislaus smiled a little. “A queen. That’s what she is.”

They looked at it once more.

“Do you miss them, Dad?”

He didn’t answer at first. He continued, gazing at the painting.

“I do. I miss them, Helen. Especially Hugo. My son is her greatest gift for me.”

Helen hugged him. “Wherever they are, I know they miss you too. They love you, Dad. I love you.”

Vladislaus embraced her.

“What’s wrong boy?”

Hugo inhaled. “Hello, Lady Priestess…”

“You’re deep in thought,” she stood beside him, “what’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” Hugo grumbled.

“It’s not nothing. You’re thinking of your father, aren’t you?”

He sighed.

“I could see it; it’s written all over your face, my dear.”

“I miss him,” Hugo murmured.

“And you want to see him.”

He hummed.

“Not yet,” the Priestess said. “Not now. Too soon.”

“You always say that,” Hugo frowned. “When is now? When is it soon?”

“An old ally of your father is alive, Hugo. He must die before you reunite with the Overlord,” she said.

“Can’t we kill him? Can’t you?”

“We must let the actors play their roles,” the Priestess says. “I can do it in theory, but I vowed to Vladislaus never to step in. Remember who I was, Prince Hugo.”

“The Tiebreaker. The Vampire Hermit,” Hugo said. “You’ll only fight when you know it’s time.”

She nodded. “Now is not the time.”

Hugo sighed.

A beat of silence.

“Tell me one of your mage tales, please?”

She chuckled. “Come inside, then.”

#i apologize with the dark lighting by the 7th pic #i wasn't mindful of the in-game time when shooting this #vladislaus straud #codename: son is ->#hugo straud #helen straud #codename: high priestess #Beneath #the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims 4 vampires #sims 4 story #ts4 #ts4 vampires #ts4 story #simblr

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missmarveledsblog · 1 day

Text

It's only pretend right ? ( Bucky barnes x reader) part three

summary : kitty ( y/n) brings bucky to one of the spots in her life she can just breathe and take it all it , while the two enjoy the time alone soon realize that they been gone far too long get back only for bucky to take a tumble and learn more and more about her , he even get asked to bring her grandmother to church and a surprise shows up that makes her happy to be home

warnings : this is actually unlike me to have a tooth rotting fluff piece but i ain't mad at it , grammatical and spelling errors ( whats new)

previous part

Maybe it was the scenery , maybe it was the company or even it was the both that had her instantly more calm more settled , the fresh green grass , trees and fields as she passed by was something she did miss even though the compound was surrounded by some trees and stuff it wasn’t like this . it wasn’t the great outdoor of home she always looked forward to . The two stopped near the meadow just an hour from her house. She felt calmer being away from the judging gazes and comments, finally being able to breathe fully and it was like bucky could see the shift himself .

“ You know they have no idea about who you are,” he spoke up.

“I used to think they did , they used to make me doubt myself so much that when i was on my own I thought I was a disappointment so when i was left in big city i was afraid to come home, until I met fury , he showed me I was worth something then I came on to the team and even more, I mean my dad's side they're awesome they let me know i'm loved , they tell me all time that their proud of me” she smiled brightly.

“ I understand you more” he nodded “ huh ? “ she felt herself suddenly doubt kicking in.

“ Why you make everyone's day better, let them know their worth even when they don't themselves “ he smiled softly watching the horse move to the little river.

“ I make sure they never feel the way I once did, sorry also I didn't know dickface was here” she grumbled .

“ gotta be a specific doll” he chuckled .

“ Good one but I was talking about my ex,” she laughed.

“ He's the one who hurt you badly huh?” He knew of him , Knew it was bad but never pushed her to tell him .

“ he left me in new york two days after arriving found him with another girl when I went go get my stuff out of hotel room and he didn't care like they waited for me to leave” she scoffed.

“Well he never deserved you , he screams of what is it Parker says , small dick energy “ he mused as her laughter filled the meadow. The way the light hit her honestly looked like an angel,as he knew one week was gonna be hard , two was going to definitely kill him .

“You know I'm glad fury found me “ she sighed flopping on to the ground staring up at the clouds above.

“ As am I, you know you still never told me that story either” he flopped down beside her .

“ you make it through these days without killing my family or ex and well then I'll tell you both stories “ she giggled .

“ you got yourself a deal doll “ he held his hand out as she took it, sealing their deal

“ so Is this your spot , you know that one spot that everyone has to feel free , The one that is just for them ” he asked, eyes watching her reaction.

“ It's one of them only Jessie knows my real spot, the one I went to as a kid when they would visit or when I had a tough time, he’s the oldest and in the army but he got leave so be here tomorrow ” she smiled softly.

“ Are you two close?” he asked .

“ He was the first best friend I've ever had and the first person I rang when I got both jobs then my dad” she smiled.

“ I mean I love izzy and jack to death and we’re close too, we bond over different things , she is closer to Jack ,twin thing “ she explained . He could listen to her rambles even for hour , days even and not get tired of sound of her voice .

“ I get what you mean doll” he held her hand and two just looked up at sky enjoying the comfortable silence. She even had a nap before the buzzing of her phone startled her seeing the sun setting .

“ shit mama texting to say it almost time for dinner” she yawn as he stood holding his hand out for her to take pulling her up . “ just us and grandma “ she added .

“ the evil one?”.

“ The devil lady , she ain't so bad I mean she's quiet and grumpy and judges everything most of the time and ignores everyone. My dad convince she sold her soul to the devil to live forever hence the nickname , she’s had a few close calls ” she chuckled easily mounting her horse as bucky got up on the moon easier.

“ I would say race you but this one is too far gone” he chuckled as she walked a head and moon followed.

“ I'll see if I can keep you guys together” she cooed to the horses .

The sun completely set as the two pulled back up on the ranch. All the cars were gone meaning they were gone too .

“ I can't believe this,” her dad stared as they approached.

“ What are you about, old man?” she laughed.

“ the rebel stallion walking like a show pony , you know he bucked Jack off” he said coming to the two .

“ he's misunderstood , hard at trusting but once he does , big softy plus jack in the box is annoying “ she giggled, flickering a glance towards the man beside her.

“ We think he's after star too “ bucky patted the stallion not realizing he was going to sneeze once horse head went down bucky tumble after hitting the ground with a thump.

“ shit bucky you ok “ she hopped down so quickly honestly her father never seen her move so fast .

“ is it dark enough that neither of you saw that” he groaned, eyes not wanting to open.

“ it not even dark enough to hide the red of your cheeks son” her dad's hand slipped into Bucky's, pulling him off the ground.

These two stay together from now on , you get in and rest that was quite a fall I'll check you over once I get these settled “ she called back .

“ come on son we get you in “ her dad led the super soldier in suppressing his laughter.

“ Are you ever gonna tell her how you feel?” he asked. “ I mean we're together “ he panicked.

“ I may be old but I ain't dumb , plus the team clued me in “ he chuckled .

“ steve?” He asked .

“ he and Natasha , they rang three nights ago” , his words making Bucky stop.

I only found out last night.” His brows furrowed.

“ she only found out that morning” he winked, heading into the house leaving the door open once the super soldier let the words sink in.

“Come on before she kicks both our asses,she a cute little thing but shit never get wrong side of kitty ” he walked faster into the house as bucky followed .

“ about time … wheres kitty “ her mother turned to see two men .

” Bucky here took tumble off the moon so she gone get them set for night while I checked over lover boy here” he patted the man's vibranium arm .

“ shit” bucky huffed.

“ What's broken , we ain't got insurance for that '' her dad said his first proper look at the metal arm he's only ever seen in pictures.

"Nah the plates and calibration is out of whack ,makes it off” he explained lifting the glasses up and instantly smashing it. “ I can feel pressure with it “ he winced as they jumped at the sound of glasses shattering .

“ hey who’s making a mess in here” she walked in seeing their worried expressions set on bucky .

What's wrong, do we need to go to the hospital?” she rushed in front of the man. Eyebrows furrowed as her face laced with worry checking him over.

“ my arm just acting up” he smiled softly loving the doting attention she was giving him .

“ Pop, can you get my tools please?” she asked softly .

“ You need to take the arm off , I can clear the table” her mother rushed over .

“ No, he doesn’t easily do it while on so he can feel it’s in the right balance” she shook her head . Bucky couldn’t help laughing when her father pushed in the heavy trolley neon purple in color.

“ nice choice color doll” he winked making her chest flush.

“ Jessie and Jack got them for me” she rolled her eyes .

“ She and my dad used to fix cars when she was growing up , little tiny thing picked quickly. I mean she was fixing engines to her daddy’s machines at 10” her mother chuckled.

“ Ok, you ready buckaroo?” she asked, opening the trolley.

as i’ll ever be” he saluted with his other hand.

Her parents watched as she was lost in her task. It was like watching her as a kid working with her grandfather again. While bucky was lost in her , just the presence of her alone. “ ok …more or less” she asked as he flexed the metal appendages.

“ nearly there a little more” . He loved when she was this close, how he could see every detail of her face, little freckles that littered her cheeks, how he could enjoy the full beauty of the color of her eyes. When the tip of her tongue peaked out when she was fully concentrating on a task.

” ok how's that” she asked.

“ Perfect thanks doll” he kissed her cheek .

“ y-y-your welcome , food time” she turned so fast she felt dizzy but she was sure if it was his lips or smell of his cologne , the way she had to force her eyes to stay on task at hand or get lost in his beauty but boy did her knees feel weak.

“ kitty dear, could you get me a blanket” her grandmother asked .

“ Yes grandma, which one ?” she asked softly.

“ surprise me dear” she let a little smile on face.

“ She needs to teach me to do that,” her father whispered to bucky.

“ Mama is always sweet to the grandkids” her mother rolled her eyes.

“Mr Barnes, would you bring me to the church tomorrow? '' the elderly woman asked face showing nothing .

“ I can indeed ma’am” he nodded .

“ Mama, he doesn’t know where it is, '' her mother protested.

“ They got computers for that , thank you mr. barnes'' she nodded before bowing her head, not waiting any longer saying her own grace and tucking into her food .

“your immortal right” her dad Frank teased.

“ Why, '' Bucky asked.

“ Don’t mind him '' Beth's eyes rolled, swatting her husband as Y/N walked in with a flowery blanket.

“ Perfect dear, thank you, '' her grandmother cooed. '' Bucky is taking me to church tomorrow” she added as the woman froze while sitting down.

“ He doesn’t know where it is , we don't have a car here” she began.

“ your fathers car and he’ll find the way” she dismissed easily.

“ good luck, you know what buckaroo it was nice meeting you ” she gave him thumbs up dodging her mother swatting her .

Once dinner was done and everyone was retired for the night, Bucky found her sitting on the porch looking up at the skies .

“ i was wondering where you went to , nat is wanting to facetime” he held his phone up .

“ ok park that ass” she patted the spot beside her. What they weren’t expecting was the team sitting in the living room, even Tony .

“ Hey you two, how did the first day go” nat asked .

“ he survived the first day with the vultures” she joked.

“ I went horse riding too,” Bucky beamed.

“ fell off the horse too” she burst out laughing .

“ last time i was one was the 40’s” he rolled his eyes but didn’t hide his loving glance at her laughing.

“ Two weeks guys” she said as they all looked away from the camera.

“ you haven’t had your vacation yet and neither has the cyborg so yes two weeks pretty girl” sam sassed.

“ Hey little pyro you haven’t seen my black card have you” tony asked arching his brow.

“ Remember that hug?” she asked .

“Little shit , buy anything good even? ” he asked, chuckling.

“ nah not yet might buy my horse a new saddle you know the luxury brand” she mused playfully.

“ Her little accent is so cute , you can hear it more,” Wanda cooed.

“ I dont have one , anyway funny find out you got my parents involved in the ploy” she asked softly.

“ you both need a break ok so shut up and enjoy it , not much happening here anyways” nat rolled her eyes.

“ I mean it is good to be home , just can’t wait til the rest of them leave, especially dick face” she huffed.

“ What is your brother thinking?” Nat crossed her arms.

“Honestly jack doesn’t think” a gruff voice called, making her head shoot right up.

“ JESSIE” She ran off the steps, almost knocking the man to the ground.

“ her older brother is here i’ll ring you guys later” bucky hung up before standing up.

“ Hey kitty, good to see you,” he smiled, holding her tighter to him .

“You're supposed to be here tomorrow” she sniffled.

“Hey they best be happy tears” he pulled her into a hug.

“ very happy tears i missed you so much” she almost climbed into his arms .

“ sergeant barnes” he saluted while still holding his sister close to him .

“corporal” he saluted back .

“ Are you being safe?” she asked, checking him over.

“ I should be asking you that,” he arched his brow.

“ I'm safe,” she smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Sorry you had to deal with them today” he smiled sadly knowing his own family.

“ s’okay i mean dad was there” she shrugged.

“ They give her a hard time?” He looked to bucky.

“ hey i’m right here i can handle it , how long's the leave for” she asked.

“ It was a bit harsh,” Bucky smiled sadly.

“ dickface saying anything? And I got two weeks, funny that ? ” he asked.

"No, I mean anytime he did Helen answered, even though she doesn’t like him and I didn't influence your leave ” she giggled.

“ Jack just thinks her family should be there , her parents are gone so he’s all she has” Jessie rolled his eyes still not liking it hell he almost left his post to get her in NewYork when he found out.

“ Come on mama and papa haven’t been in bed long” she pulled the men into the house , she and bucky stood on the landing watching the reunion. She grabbed his arm when she saw her mother crying at the sight of her son making him move his arm lacing his fingers in hers .

“I'm glad i didn’t miss this” she whispered seeing how happy her parents were.

“ Me too,” he smiled, eyes locked on her , seeing how happy she was.

taglist : @vicmc624

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creatingblackcharacters · 7 hours

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I think I remember seeing someone submit him but I Love This Man A Lot and want to share my thoughts

I'd like to submit Demoman from TF2!!

Real name Tavish Finnegan DeGroot. He's a Black Scot mercenary who comes from a long, long lineage of demolitionists, and out of the main cast, he's one of the ones with the most known backstory. Canon contradicts itself about it, but the gist of it is: he was an orphan, and an attempt to blow up the Loch Ness Monster when he was six accidentally killed his adoptive parents. He's later taken in by his bio parents, and to quote canon, "who lovingly explained that all Demomen are abandoned at birth until their skills manifest themselves, a long-standing, cruel, and wholly unnecessary tradition among the Highland Demolition Men. His unhappy childhood had ended, but his training had just begun." His eye got stolen by a wizard when he was seven, and his missing eye has become some eldritch monster called MONOCULUS! that the mercs have to fight every Halloween. He currently lives in a mansion with his bio mother and looks after her. And makes 5 million per year. %_% rich boye. Very energetic and lively, bombastic if you will, but also very chill and sweet with a melancholic sad streak.

He has a lot of cool voice lines and aooguh his accent's so cute. I've heard it's not the most accurate and I'm not Scottish nor do I live anywhere in the UK so I dunno myself... but his voice is still really good. He could read the phone book and I'd be intently listening. Some of his lines are weirdly dramatic too, it's cute lol. Like,

Shoutout to this render on his update page

Demo's also really really fun to play as (I personally have almost 400 hours on him alone.... ajkdfjk) and very versatile, there's a lot of different playstyles for him. You could spam stickies/pipes and get a LOT of DPS, you could set traps and be a little doorway troll, you could ditch the explosives entirely and run around with a big ass sword. Or do both the sword and explosives gaming. And more.

Because of his high burst DPS and ability to control space with stickies (little manually detonated mines that stick into most map geometry) he's also really important in the two main competitive formats of the game. In a lot of scenarios, a team's Demo going down is grounds for them to back up, since holding a point without em is going to be a lot more difficult. I'm not as familiar with other formats, but from what I know, formats that include him in the standard team comp are similar.

He does get a decent amount of screen time in the main comics. I don't have many pictures from them saved cause most if not all of the 6 issues whitewash him. >_> I'll spare you from looking at that.

There's also a lot of really really good cosmetics for him, including a few hairstyles. I've seen some really cute ones on the workshop too, one of my favorites was this awesome loc bun hairstyle. I can't find it though :(

One of his aforementioned swords is the Eyelander, an old claymore haunted by a sentient, bloodthirsty malevolent spirit. It's fully capable of speech. He watches corny ghost drama shows with it. In-game you get a cool glowing effect once you get on a killstreak with it. (No other weapon in the game does this!! Which makes it really stand out. It's SO cool.)

I think he's a really interesting character with a lot of potential, but neither canon or a lot of fanon really explores his character. gee I wonder why 🙄🙄 (sarcasm)

This ask got long and I might have left sentences unfinished, sorry about that, I'm very tired right nwo but I hope I got the gist across

TAVISH FINNEGAN DEGROOT. oh I love the existence of Black Scots. "Wholly unnecessary tradition" is crazy lmaoo but I guess they came back for him! Sometimes I feel like it's pure racism in games like this when people don't pick the Black player. Bc... Why not?

Hot Chocolate: I had no idea TF2 had lore like this, WTF?? Abandoned as a baby, Eldritch monster eye, haunted sword??? This sounds like a d&d character transported to another world! Actually... The captain of my crew is missing an eye and he's a warlock 🤔🤔. Time to ask him about his eye again! Make sure it hasn't turned into an Abyssal creature. Anywho, Black man with crazy lore! We love it, need it! Everyone play more Tavish!

#september challenge #post your favorite black characters!#creatingblackcharacters #black characters

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ausssbutlershortstories · 2 days

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Alright, so obviously we were wrong about Austin and the Canada trip. That's fine. I will hold my hands up and say I was wrong. But I also didn't need to go to someone's random TikTok and ask for the video, but hey shippers are another level of crazy. Cause it was a shipper who asked her to post the video of Austin and Kaia. They just wanted to prove everyone wrong. Whatever.

Either way, Austin and Kaia have not been seen together in over a month. They've both been in NY at the same time, and nothing. One of those times, Kaia was with Marcello. This new video from last month changes nothing. Kaia was still all over another guy that wasn't her boyfriend. Because a break up hasn't been announced. Rumored, yes. But nothing confirmed. So even if they're broken up behind the scenes, to the public they are still an item. Those pics make Kaia look bad. Her team has done nothing to help her either.

I don't know the exact timeline of when Austin did go to Canada. It was either before his birthday or after. But regardless, that was a month ago. Also doesn't mean it was a happy trip with him and Kaia. They've been having problems for a while. It's naive to think they weren't. I believe a break up has been on Austin's mind for some time.

I do have a theory that they might've taken a break after her book event in July. You could cut the tension between them with a knife that night. It was bad. I'm wondering if they decided to take some time apart. Austin said "Go to Paris and we'll talk when you get back" kind of thing. I did notice how down Kaia seemed in Paris. That's also when people started to notice her rapid weight loss. I can imagine the stress of your relationship being on the rocks would cause that. They were spotted together after she got back. So I guess they decided to work things out, so to speak. Then he went to Canada at some point.

I personally believe they did break up after that trip. I could see it as Austin trying one last time to see if things would be different. I don't think they were. So he broke up with her around her birthday. Kaia hasn't cleared up the shady insta post either. It seemed fresh and she was mad. So maybe Kaia thought things were better when he came to Canada. But I could also see it as he didn't want to ruin the trip either. Couple can break up at anytime.

Again, a lot had happened since the Canada trip. He missed her birthday. My theory, he dumped her. She was all over another guy. There have never been break up rumors like this around them before. The media doesn't care enough about them to randomly make up stories like a break up. The L&S articles aren't random.

I agree with everything here !

Something definitely happened after the Canada trip. The shippers are a bunch of annoying , desperate wanna be Kaia weirdos.I have no God given idea on what they thought the Canada trip was going to prove. Kaia was still on her knees in front of Marcello looking sloppy.

#ausssbutlershortstories

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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 3 days

Text

Alibi

The morning had gone seemingly well, having the day off, you were able to take care of a lot of errands you had been putting off such as pulling all of the weeds from your backyard that managed to weasel their way back in even after drenching them in weed killer.

You were so engrossed with picking them and listening to one of your favorite podcasts, you almost missed hearing the doorbell ringing. Taking the gloves off, you paused your podcast and went inside to answer the door, slightly surprised to see two very professional people standing outside.

"Good evening ma'am. I'm Special Agent DiNozzo with NCIS and this is Agent McGee, mind if we ask you a few questions regarding Karen Moss?"

You shifted your weight nervously, stomach turning at the sound of your friends name.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

They shared a solemn look between the two of each other, telling you everything you needed to know.

"Her body was found this morning a few streets away and based on her call history, you were the last person to speak with her before her death. May we ask where you were last night around 11pm?"

You covered your mouth in shock, not believing that they just told you that your close friend died, let alone was possibly murdered and know were questioning you as if you might be a suspect. You thought back about the time they were referring to and memories of Jethro and you tangled together in your bed sheets popped into your mind. You thought about telling them, not sure if they even worked with Jethro, but decided on giving them the simplified version instead.

"I was here. With my boyfriend.."

"Is he here now to verify your whereabouts?" DiNozzo asked, taking a small peek over you as if he'd catch a glimpse of someone fleeing. Were all NCIS so suspicious?

"No, but I can give you his number. His name is Leroy Gibbs. His number is-

"Wait, sorry. Leroy Gibbs?" Agent DiNozzo interrupted, facial expression disbelieving. "Grey hair, high and tight haircut, broody mysterious Leroy Gibbs?"

You chuckled a little at his choice of words to describe your boyfriend, seeing how well he made an impression on people.

"Well not usually broody around me but yes, I guess you could say that. Why? Do the two of you know him?"

Once again, the two agents shared a look, this time one of confusion and awe.

"Uh, could you just hang on one second," DiNozzo asked. "I'll be right back."

You stood there with Agent McGee who looked like he wanted say something, but didn't as Agent DiNozzo walked a few paces, pulling out his phone and dialing a number.

"So was Kathy murdered? You said her body was found. When I talked with her last night, she said she was on her way to meet up with someone for a blind date," you asked McGee who was focused on the phone call Agent DiNozzo was having.

"Well Abby was able to go through the Lieutenant's phone and her number was the last dialed. We were just following- Uh yes- Well I wasn't sure- Of course boss, I'll tell McGee."

Agent DiNozzo came back over before murmuring to Agent McGee.

"Gibbs wants us to bring her in for protection. I told him you'd explain to him why we questioned his girlfriend without letting him know."

"What do mean, me? You're the one that had Abby look up the phone records."

"Just take one for the team McProbie. He's still mad at me for the whole coffee incident. Plus, you owe me."

You watched the two supposed Federal Agents argue like siblings, neither one of them wanting to be in the line of Jethro's mood and honestly it was kind of funny. Jethro never really talked much about his team but you had only been seeing him for a few months and 9 times out of 10, the two of you weren't doing much talking when you saw each other.

You decided to break up the little tiff the two of them were having in order to save some time.

"Alright, well while the two of you sort all that out, I'm going to change and lock up the house before we leave."

"Sounds good," Agent DiNozzo responded before going back to bickering with his partner.

- - - -

You took another sip from the little paper cup of water Agent David had given you as you waited in the conference room. She wanted to know about you and Jethro but you didn't divulge much information, knowing Jethro liked his personal life kept close and unknown for the most part. It wasn't long before the door opened and your boyfriend walked in along with Agent DiNozzo and David. You decided against giving Jethro a hug or kiss in front of his subordinates, although the both of them looked like they'd love nothing more than to see that happen.

You all sat down at the conference table except Agent DiNozzo who was wound up tighter than a jack in the box.

"Did Kathy give you a description of this blind date she was seeing?" Jethro started the questioning with. You spoke about everything you knew from the phone call you had with Kathy, tearing up towards the end, still not believing your friend was dead.

Jethro reached out to hold your hand and give you a tissue to wipe your eyes with, making his agents stare in interest at the caring gesture.

"It's like I'm in an alternate Gibbs reality," DiNozzo whispered to Agent David.

Jethro shot him a look before speaking. "Why aren't the two of you putting out a BOLO on this guy?"

"On it boss," Agent DiNozzo spoke quickly, leaving the room with Agent David following close behind, shutting the door after them.

"I think you should stay with me just in case until we catch the killer," he offered, standing up.

"Ok," you squeaked, not wanting to do much talking anymore.

"Come ere," he ordered softly, pulling you to your feet and into his arms for a hug. You accepted it eagerly, breathing in his scent, calming you down a bit.

Once you were better, the two of you walked out of the room and into the squad room, not expecting to be stared at by almost everyone there.

"What kind of reputation do you have with the opposite sex to make everyone look at me like the new zoo exhibit?" you asked Jethro, making him chuckle.

"They're just being nosy. Ignore them."

Jethro stopped Agent DiNozzo from asking anymore questions about the two of you as well as pulling you away from a very animated Forensic Scientist that seemed to have had entirely too much caffeine.

Jethro accompanied you back to your house where you packed a bag before driving you to his house, making a drawer available for you in his bedroom.

"I get my own drawer now. Things are really becoming serious, aren't they?" you teased him.

"Hey, I'm not the one who told my agents that I was your boyfriend," he retorted.

"Should I not have?" you asked genuinely worried that you had overstepped a boundary. He pulled you into his arms, staring into your eyes and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I don't mind the title. Just know that they're gonna have a million questions for you now," he stated, referring to his very curious agents. You smiled, giving him a peck on the lips and loving the new stage you both were now in.

"That's alright. I'll be sure to tell them how you love it when I give you back scratches while we cuddle together and watch movies."

Your joking was cut short as his fingers pressed themselves into your ribs, effectively tickling you till the both of you were on the bed, him hovering above you.

"You know, had it not been for you, I wouldn't have had an alibi for last night," you told him, running your fingers through his hair.

"Must of slipped my mind but," he murmured into your skin, kissing your shoulder. "I don't exactly remember how last night went. Maybe you can help jog my terrible memory."

Laughing at his playfulness, you played into it, pulling him in for a passionate kiss, ready to remind him exactly what happened that night.

#gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis #ncis fanfiction #agent gibbs #mark harmon #ncis request #jethro gibbs x reader #ncis imagine #jethro gibbs fanfiction

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positivelybeastly · 1 day

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What have been some of your favorite rps over the years? Have you developed any personal ocs that you particularly enjoy (I know you've got Dark Beasts going on, so if you wanna talk about what's going on there, that'd be cool too!

Oh, this is a tricky one! Not least because it relies on my memory, which is one of my least reliable traits, ha - but I shall do my best!

The first one that comes immediately to mind is this thread with @themckaytriarchy - it was sort of integral to the process of my getting over what X-Force did with Beast by taking control of it, and it also just let me dive into a more horror based thread, which I don't often get to do. Beast is a character who is often very horror-aligned, so getting to really explore that was a ton of fun. I got very poetic in there, but I had a great time.

There's also this thread with the same writer, which was sort of how Cereal and I really got to be such good friends, and how Hank and Tess ended up becoming BFFs. They just had such instant chemistry and bounced off each other really, really well, and I love getting to play Hank as the best aspects of all of his selves - the more mature vibe of his feline self mixing with his younger, gremlin energy, the regret of his modern self mixing in with that, I like when I can pull on all the strings at the same time, if that makes sense.

Oh! Another one is this thread with @silverjetsystm - one of the things I absolutely love about Hank is that he knows goddamn everybody, like, the man's been on every team you can imagine, so there's always some era you can dive into, and his time on the Secret Avengers was so undeveloped, and MK-mun has just been an absolute joy to write with. You can really tell when I'm getting into a thread because I just write reams and reams and reams, and things get more poetic, and Hank starts thinking heavier and heavier things.

Easily another one is this one with @thebettermccoy - I've been wanting a good Dark Beast to bounce off for ages, to the point where I took him on as an extra muse just so he and Hank could interact and I could practise their voices, but then Squirrel-mun took the brave step to take him on, and it's been a joy ever since. It's so gratifying to get to refer to one specific issue from 1996 that no-one but me and Squirrel-mun know about, and they know the lines of dialogue just as well as I do, and we can just dig.

Another one is this one with @themarvelliteraryuniverse - I've lowkey shipped Beast and Sabretooth for years because of Wolverine and the X-Men vol. 1 #8, and getting to actually attack that dynamic and explore it and see Locke's unique take on Victor mesh with my Hank in such an instantly compelling way . . . god, it's a dream come true for me, honestly. Something that often gets lost about Hank is his inherent sexual drive and energy, his repressed primality, his morals interacting with his pull towards the dark, and exploring that is always just a complete joy.

Oooh, ooh! This one with @notmymamasboy - not only is it fun to play Hank as getting used to being pursued again, but Stabby is just so good at throwing this inescapable, unrelenting energy into Raze that makes him feel like a force of nature that Hank has immense affection for and attraction to, but, again, knows has a lot of darkness attached to them. They just bounce off each other really well, and it's probably what fandom would qualify as a crack ship, but I just like the intellectual conflict intersecting with the interpersonal chemistry.

Another one I've loved is this one with @emmatriarchy - I'm an absolute sucker for getting to fill in missing bits of Hank's history, and I always thought it was such a travesty that X-Force never tugged on the very brief but incredibly impactful time where Hank and Sage interacted in X-Treme/New X-Men, because it adds such dimension to their dynamic. Getting to explore that in-situ is a dream for me, and I also just love getting to play Hank from specific periods with specific moods, especially with gloriously obscure and underappreciated muses, with is sort of this mun's whole thing. :)

Ooh, ohh! This one, with @maximummuses - I again felt like this entire thing was swept under the rug back in the 2010s, and it felt like such a disservice to Hank and Logan that they never got to have this conversation, that they never got to just GO AT one another, everything laid out, all honesty, all feeling. This was, again, just another dream for me, and as far as I'm concerned, this is canon and exactly how it happened.

Now we get into stuff that was more dynamics, and also older threads with are, like, a decade old . . . my X-Force Beast's twisted toxic relationship with dusktrip's Wolverine was a delight, and I miss that writer very dearly (they had to stop RPing due to a lack of time) because it let me just drown in a very dark place for a bit in a very controlled way. They, like themckatriarchy, were integral to me coming to terms with what X-Force did with Hank's character.

There are tons of threads with people like brandisnotmygivenname (Abigail Brand), technarchology (Warlock), hulksdontdoweak (She-Hulk), this-city-is-a-symphony (Dazzler), fangedfirecracker (Jubilee), levoleurcinetique (Gambit), healingtheassassins (Elixir), dontcallmejulio (Rictor) - a lot of people from nearly a decade ago who aren't active anymore, but I still think of them a lot, and a lot of the time, I have to remember that Hank's dynamics and history with these people in canon don't necessarily include these versions of the characters, ha.

But, very formative to my interpretation and exploration and journey with Hank.

As for OCs - I'm sort of a one fictional obsession kinda guy, so I don't really have too many! I did have a guy called Danny Jones who was a mutant based on Tito Bohusk from New X-Men. He was from a Young Avengers RP ages and ages ago, and I think at one point he was going to become a Ghost Rider? It was a long time ago, in fairness.

I also have an AU version of Hank called Sir Henry, codenamed Grandmaster, who's inspired by the Ghost Box steampunk version of Hank and Sublime. Instead of being a scientist, he's a Victorian era spymaster with Hank's typical intelligence, but a lot less of his warmth and ethical consideration. He tended to dual wield pistols a lot.

I actually still have some art a friend of mine did from the Exiles RP he came from. This is her OC, Joan, with whom he had a budding romance.

But, as of late, the biggest one has been The Irredeemable Beast, which has spawned a number of characters, the most significant of which is Zeke.

Zeke has always been a clone of Dark Beast, in my conception of him. I always figured that Dark Beast would absolutely be the type of person to keep spare clone bodies around because, frankly, he keeps wagging his ass at people who are stronger than him and can kill him, and the fact that he kept dying and coming back diminished only solidified to me that he would eventually kick the bucket and need an out.

The version of him in Irredeemable is altered slightly, in that he's a recently created clone of Dark Beast - in the original chain of events, he was released as a kid, along with a twin brother, Strauss, and they grew up relying on each other, eking out a meagre existence by living between the lines. They had full lives, but obviously severely disadvantaged, and hated Dark Beast whenever he was around because, well, why wouldn't they?

Zeke's fun to play around with just because he has a lot of Hank/Dark Beast's perception and wit, but he doesn't have the same level of intelligence, knowledge, privilege, or advantages, so he has a bit of a chip on his shoulder - yet he still tries to have fun, which is very Hank. He's a good grounding presence, which is why I decided to make him a central part of Irredeemable, and I have a good few plans for his arc going forward from Dark Beasts.

His narrative arc is sort of meant to tackle a big problem I had with both X-Force and, more widely, the Krakoan resurrection system, which is the amount of wasted bodies/clones, and the lack of thought put into what's a 'real' life and what isn't.

The whole Talon/Wolverine split is treated completely differently to how the clones in X-Force of both Hank and Logan are treated, and I wanted to unpick that, question exactly what a clone's life is worth, and question why we arbitrarily decided that we put more value on Talon/Wolverine, but carving dozens of Hanks and Logans was perfectly acceptable.

Every one of those Hanks or Logans could have been a valid individual in the exact same way that Ezekiel is, and I want Hank to have to think about that, and be faced with the ethical/existential question of the lives he arbitrarily brought into existence in such a cold, mercenary fashion without any consideration for his responsibility for them.

Zeke is just a really good foil for Hank, and Hank absolutely needs a foil, because his internal monologue is fascinating, but it really can get maudlin and self-involved, so you need to break that up with some youthful 'I don't give a shit' energy, which Zeke provides in spades.

One of the other characters in Dark Beasts, Yekaterina, is a pretty minor character, but pretty much any time I come back to my long term plans for the fic, I keep wanting to give her more to do. I think it's really important to me that X-Men have human characters who are friendly and pro-mutant, who make up the other half of the mutant metaphor, because that's something the comics really did just give up on for the longest time, and it makes such a difference to have a human who's like 'no, fuck Orchis, fuck all these racists, I'm with you because it's the right thing to do.'

I also have a tendency to write exclusively dudes, so Yekaterina and Jennifer Nyles keep being given more and more to do so that I break out of that writing rut. Same thing with Olivia Ocampo, the Orchis commander in Dunfee - I explicitly gave her a Marvel branded alliterative name so that I would use her more, and I know where her story goes. I need to get on that, actually, I want to release that chapter close to Christmas if I can . . .

Gorobitz and Taft are pretty shameless Rosencratz and Guildenstern expies. I like giving goons personalities, and I think it's funny exploring the weeds of the arbitrary distinctions of anti-mutant racism through the lens of a pair of garden variety Orchis grunts. They're gonna turn up in future chapters with similar segments.

I think that covers the majority of it? There are other characters who are going to appear later on, including an Orchis agent that I want to be a bit of a surprise. The entire fic is about the ramifications of Hank's actions and dealing with them, and that agent has a backstory that is all about Hank's actions and what they meant for her, and I think he's gonna struggle not to feel like he should just let her shoot him in the head when he finds out what her deal is.

Thanks for the question! It was a really good one!

#dantelupine #outofmuffins

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