#i've been listening to their playlist the entire time writing this and man. man. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

damedechance · 1 year ago

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seek&destroy

read pt1 on ao3 || listen to the playlist

You're telling me I got to talk with @foundress0fnothing for the past few weeks (my favorite person) and write about Gwynriel (my two favorite idiots)? I have seriously enjoyed getting to know my precious giftee a little bit more during this event and I am so so so excited to finally share part of what I've been working on!!! Em, I hope you know how cherished you are in this little fandom community, and I hope this fic can bring you even just the littlest spark of joy! Love you endlessly, Santa 🌟

Pairing: Gwynriel

Parts: 1 of 5

Rating: Explicit (for eventual smut)

Summary: Those with a link to a realm long gone now live in secret, and Gwyneth Berdara is one of them. After a horrific tragedy rends her life apart, Gwyn finds herself in good company with her fellow Valkyries, a group of vigilantes who work to restore the forgotten relics of a land called 'Prythian.' When Gwyn's work brings her to an illustrious museum, her own world collides with that of the mysterious Shadowsinger--an encounter that leads to her vowing to bring him to his untimely end. [[FOR @acotargiftexchange]]

Read below for all of Chapter One:

CHAPTER ONE

Too. Many. Legs.

There were just too many legs, Gwyn thought, as she stared in open-mouthed horror at the projector screen. Just as she swallowed down a gag at the sight of the ghastly images before her, the presenter gestured passionately towards the slides, his tall frame and abhorrent posture giving the illusion of the rounded shell of a beetle. So uncanny was his resemblance to the subject of his own presentation, the species he’d apparently devoted his entire career to–the cerambycid beetle. Gwyn fought back a shiver. Or a scream of terror.

Not that she wasn’t sympathetic to his cause. A glance at the pamphlet in front of her revealed that he held a PhD in entomology–a degree she knew from personal experience was all but impossible if you didn’t feel truly dedicated to your work. He was probably a sweet old man, she struggled to convince herself. Someone like her, a person so entirely enamored with their subject of study that the less attractive facets of the field were of no consequence. In fact, she admired that sort of devotion.

Still, the clearly impassioned man wasn’t exactly persuading her to actually take up an interest in the study of insects. Gwyn suspected that the sight of those beetles was the primary driving force in that decision. Especially since she still couldn’t keep her eyes open for more than five minutes at a time, and was currently squeezing them shut as she counted out her deep, steadying breaths. Just a few moments of relief from the images on the screen was all she needed.

When she opened her eyes again, the presenter had switched to the next slide, which revealed a close-up view of the beetle’s segmented underbelly. Heaving, Gwyn bit down on her tongue as she felt the blood drain from her face. To distract herself from the urge to evacuate the contents of her stomach, Gwyn allowed her eyes to drift aimlessly about the room.

For not the first time, she was grateful that she’d been able to secure a seat for herself in the back of the auditorium. The badge hanging from the bright red lanyard across her neck proclaimed her a professor of entomology at the Dunmere College of Arts and Sciences, but she imagined that if any of the other conference attendees saw how green her face was, that title would prove itself somewhat implausible.

If nothing else, Gwyn needed to be sure that her act was flawless tonight. By the end of the Annual Entomology Society Conference, she wanted to have every single person in this room reasonably convinced that she was an ardent scholar of…bugs. Or, at the very least, she needed to not raise anyone’s suspicions to the contrary.

Perhaps if she simply kept sitting in the back, then.

Sighing quietly, Gwyn shifted down in her seat and allowed her legs to spread out in front of her. If she were to be stuck here, listening to the keynote speaker for the next–she checked the clock hanging above the door–five minutes, she should at least get comfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest, fingers tapping impatiently across her biceps, and stared unseeingly at the screen.

The minutes passed excruciatingly slowly. More legs, more antennae, more larvae, and by the end of the time Gwyn was biting on the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from screaming in abject horror at each new, impossibly grotesque image. Until finally, the presenter reached the end of his slides, and only a blank screen appeared above his head.

“Right,” the bug doctor said. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose, and began shuffling his papers over the podium. “Thank you all for such a thrilling discussion of cerambycid communities and their impact as an invasive species.”

Thrilling. Gwyn snorted to herself, and when more than a few heads turned in her direction, she quickly masked it as a sneeze.

“I will be available for a Q&A session later this afternoon,” the presenter continued, his finger prodding one of the papers on the top of his stack, as if pointing to a time. “Until then, I suggest perusing the rest of the museum for the insect nursery, where I am told some cerambycid beetle larvae are on display. Do take note of the well-progressed sclerotisation of the mouth parts, and if you find yourself peckish, I hear the cafe has an excellent gelato stand.”

That the presenter could possibly utter the words sclerotisation and gelato in the same sentence only served to confirm for Gwyn that she needed to get out of that room as soon as possible. Eagerly standing up, she shoved her notebook full of fake notes into her bag, and began to walk down the auditorium steps with the rest of the meager audience. Entomology was not a popular field apparently, and Gwyn could hazard a guess as to why.

As she approached the stage where the bug doctor still stood at the podium, politely accepting words of praise from some of the other attendees, Gwyn thought she hear the words antennal sockets and low tubercles, and immediately quickened her pace, slipping past others to ensure that she was towards the middle of the pack, instead of at the very end.

Sighing in relief as soon as she stepped out of the auditorium and into one of the connecting halls outside of the exhibits, Gwyn followed the flow of the crowd. She slipped her phone out of her pocket, pretending to be texting so that none of the bug enthusiasts would attempt to engage her in some conversation about pupation. Only looking up occasionally from her notes app where she just repeatedly typed the words ew ew ew, Gwyn nearly yelped when she heard a voice in her ear.

“You missed your turn,” Emerie said, her voice slightly crackling through the earpiece hidden behind Gwyn’s hair.

She cleared her notes app, quickly typing the words, I know. And Sorry.

A tinny sigh in her ear. “That’s okay, just don’t attract attention. Pretend to look interested in the exhibit.”

Gwyn locked her phone, slipping it back into her bag as she lifted her head. Immediately regretting the action, once she came face to face with hundred of wiggling, nasty looking larvae.

This time, Gwyn couldn’t hold back her yelp, though she did manage to close her mouth in time to capture the sound, so that it didn’t disrupt the group of people that had gathered to marvel at the nasty little things. Pointing out some fascinating detail of another, as they crowded around the glass window into the bug nursery. In hindsight, Gwyn really should have expected that following the crowd of conference attendees would have led her here.

Carefully controlling her breathing rate so that she wouldn’t alert the others, Gwyn took several steps backwards from the case before turning and walking in the direction of the entrance to the next exhibit. One glance around the room revealed to her that the rest of the entomologists were already deeply engrossed with the contents of the many cases around them, and so Gwyn was able to easily slip out of the room without attracting notice.

The adjoining exhibit, a hall of various bones and skeletons, was relatively less crowded, and Gwyn was just as easily able to weave her way in and out of the gathered bodies. She allowed her head to swivel around, if only to appear as any other mildly interested patron, but stayed resolute in her path towards the exhibit that she’d originally missed.

“Slow down,” Emerie hissed in her ear. “Or at least pretend to be looking for the bathroom.”

Gwyn huffed, shoulders sagging as she forced herself to slow down somewhere in the middle of the ocean exhibit. Above her, the lights illuminated the room in slowly shifting shades of blue, casting the impression of walking along the ocean floor. She ran a hand over her face, and continued walking at a much more deliberate pace.

Admittedly, the museum was rather impressive and on any other day, Gwyn would have been among all of the other patrons, staring wide-eyed at the displays and devotedly reading each and every plaque.

But she wasn’t here to admire the museum. The entomology conference had only been an excuse for Gwyn to come to the Helion Museum of Natural History. If she had simply attended as a regular patron, without a purpose for ambling through the halls other than pure entertainment, she wouldn’t have been granted a keycard that allowed her access to some of the more restricted sections of the museum.

She’d already taken advantage of that privilege the previous day, when she and the other conference attendees took a tour of the research wings, where the archivists and conservationists worked. Their guide had taken them through room upon room of lovingly organized samples stacked in neat rows upon the shelves or spread across tables as researchers gently worked to clean and preserve them. The ultimate purpose of the tour had been to view the yet unveiling showing of moths as the archivists carefully pinned and labeled them, but Gwyn had conveniently slipped out under the guise of a bathroom break before that ever happened. That night, she returned home to Nesta and Emerie with a neatly drawn map of nearly the entire research wing.

Now, as Gwyn ambled through the ocean exhibit, the brilliant displays of coral and skeletons of various sea creatures rose up around her. She walked slowly, arms crossed over her badge so that anyone passing her wouldn’t note that she’d wandered off from the rest of the entomologists. Emerie gently murmured her approval in Gwyn’s ear, just as she crossed the threshold into the next exhibit, a sign above it advertising the Space and Astronomy hall.

The entrance was a long, dark tunnel with white swirling lights on the rounded ceilings and walls. Not resembling stars, but instead pulsing from one end to another like a portal. Gwyn was the only one walking through it, and belatedly she realized that this was a relatively slow day and hour for the museum. She hadn’t seen many other patrons, except for the rest of the bug crew, and as she walked out of the tunnel and into the dimly lit chamber that was the space exhibit, she realized that she was the only one there, save for the security guard currently leaning against a wall and staring at the toe of his boot.

Gwyn adjusted her glasses, slowly winding around case after case of space memorabilia. Some artifacts collected from the surface of the moon, and hundreds of chunks of rock from meteorites that had crashed to earth. She paused at a few signs for good measure, but her gaze was drawn to the ceiling above, which was a careful recreation of the constellations in the night sky.

As she made her way to the end of the hall, Gwyn nearly tripped over a small pedestal that appeared to rise up out of nowhere. She stumbled back, staring dumbfounded at the small, square case that shone more brightly than any of the others in the entire museum thus far.

Just a small, glass box atop a narrow pedestal at the center of the corridor, right before the entrance to the next exhibit. And she was so close, Emerie was murmuring in her ear a list of reminders of what to take note of as soon as she entered the next room–but Gwyn couldn’t resist. That one lone box, that felt like it had been waiting for her.

Slowly, she approached, carefully leaning over the glass case to observe the contents, only to see that it was a single glass tube, stoppered at the end with a metal cap.

Gwyn sucked in a sharp breath, holding it as if letting it out would disturb the little granules safely behind several layers of glass. She admired it, this fine powdery substance within the tube that almost looked like glitter, it was so reflective. She didn’t know what it was, only that it was beautiful, catching the light in this oddly mesmerizing way, and there was so little of it. A pinch, really.

Her eyes flashed to the small sign below the display, and read the label: Presolar Grains.

Lips parted in awe, Gwyn looked back to the small tube, and recognized the particles inside as actual stardust. The dust from stars formed billions of years ago, before the sun even existed. She reached out, her five fingers spread across the glass as she crouched to get on eye level with it.

How something so outstanding could be kept in a place as unassuming as this–just perched on a small pedestal in a vacant section of the museum–was a wonder to her. There should have been hundreds of people crowding around this very case, craning their necks for a chance to see it, this evidence that something had existed before the sun.

“What is it?”

Gwyn jumped as soon as the voice sounded behind her, whirling around with her arm out in front of her with the impulse to shove the person away. With Emerie berating her in her ear, Gwyn managed to suppress her instincts just in time, her eyes widening as they trailed up a man’s chest to his face.

She was met with easily the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. Like molten bronze, these fluent pools of amber and hints of green, and she staggered back, catching herself with a hand atop the case behind her.

“Careful,” the man said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he took half a step forward. Either to catch her, or peel her hand off the case, she couldn’t tell. “The guards might think you’re trying to steal something.”

Gwyn tore her hand off the case as if she’d been burned, hastily stepping aside to put as much distance between herself and the display as she could. She had the strangest feeling, that his eyes had tunneled straight through her, and could somehow see her true intentions as if they’d been written out just as plainly as any other sign in the museum–there was no other reason. He knew why she was there.

But as her heart hammered in her chest at the prospect of her cover being blown, the man only gave her a small smile, really just a fleeting jump at the corner of his mouth, before stepping forward and leaning over the case.

“What are you doing?” Emerie was screeching in her ear. “Leave, geology is in the next room.”

But so perplexed was Gwyn by the man in front of her, that she felt rooted to the spot. Her head cocked slightly to the side as she studied him. How he silently mouthed the words as he read them on the sign, how the slight hook of his nose caught the light emanating from the case, sending an elongated shadow across his face, carving out his cheekbone. Those eyes that were framed by long arching eyelashes and hair that was so dark it seemed to absorb and devour all of the light.

Something about him bothered her.

Suddenly, his head turned, an amused smile already melting over his face as he looked at her. Gwyn jumped, eyes going wide as she pretended like she’d been doing anything other than assessing him. But the man straightened, stepping away from the case to stand slightly in front of her.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes slowly traveling down to the badge around her neck before she could answer.

Gwyn hurried to cover it with a hand, some deeply ingrained instinct of self preservation telling her that she couldn’t trust him despite his friendly smile or Emerie’s pleas for her to just act normal.

He lifted a brow at her, his gaze snapping back to her face.

“Is it a secret?” he said.

“Diana,” she blurted, forcing her hand to lift away from the badge. “Diana Bishop.”

He simply stared at her for a moment, before letting out a short, caustic laugh.

“Okay.”

Gwyn narrowed her eyes, her hands turning into fists as she studied him. Gorgeous face aside, he looked absolutely normal. Black shirt tucked into immaculately pressed and tailored trousers. Stylish, attractive even–but decidedly normal.

Why, then, couldn’t she smother the feeling that he knew all of her deepest and darkest secrets?

“What was that?” she asked, flinching slightly when her voice came out slightly more accusatory than she supposed it should have. She could at least keep up the appearance that she didn’t suspect him of anything.

“Just let it go,” Emerie hissed in her ear. “Apologize and walk away.”

Apologize. For being her best friend, Emerie apparently didn’t know her at all, because instead of walking out, Gwyn took a step forward, invading the man’s space, crossing her arms over her chest so that they bumped against him. And when she looked up to his face, where she expected to see reproach, instead she saw eagerness.

“Nothing,” he practically purred. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Diana.”

Gwyn frowned, her eyes roving over his face for any sort of tell. Reason told her that he couldn’t have been like her. He was tall, and built like a damn soldier with those broad shoulders and muscles pulling the fabric of his shirt taut over his chest, but there was no way he was dangerous. He had to be normal.

And then there was that gut feeling. Like electricity arcing over her skin, sirens blaring in her ears. He had come out of nowhere.

“And what’s your name?” Gwyn said derisively.

“Fine,” Emerie sighed, resigned, into her ear. “If you won’t listen to me, fine, but when Nesta comes back–”

Irritated, Gwyn jerkily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hooking her finger into the clear cord of her earpiece and tucking the entire thing into her palm in one movement so that he couldn’t see.

“Azriel,” he said, reaching his hand out. She noticed scars running up the lengths of his fingers towards his wrist, and she stared at the nearly mesmerizing patterns for far too long before she realized that she was meant to shake it, and she still had the earpiece in her palm.

“I have to go,” Gwyn said slowly, backing away and angling her body towards the entrance to the next exhibit.

She put Azriel at her back as she paced towards the short corridor leading to the gems and minerals exhibit, her steps quickening as she passed by the security guard she’d spotted earlier.

Azriel wouldn’t follow her, she assured herself as she crossed into the gems and minerals exhibit, where there were countless glittering gems winking at her beneath the lights. He wouldn’t follow her, because she had been so off putting and strange, he wouldn’t deem her worthy of the effort.

Placated for now, Gwyn adjusted her glasses over her nose, and swiveled her head about the room so that the camera hidden in the frames could capture the overall layout of the exhibit. It was a rushed job, not nearly as meticulous as it would have been if she wasn’t so paranoid that Azriel would jump out of nowhere with twenty armed guards ready to escort her to some secret dungeon in an underground government bunker.

Been there, done that.

She considered popping her earpiece back in, but just as she rounded the first display case at the center of the hall, a mother and child came bounding down the aisle, stopping right next to her to admire a row of amethyst.

She backed up, allowing the little boy some space, and was about to continue her walk around the rest of the room, when she ran into something hard, all of the air whooshing out of her lungs.

“Ugh,” Gwyn grunted, as hands wrapped around her upper arms and steadied her.

“Sorry,” the same voice from before said, helping her to turn around. Of course he’d followed her. She’d been off putting and strange, and he was definitely not normal.

Gwyn glared up at him, all pretenses of being some bookish bug enthusiast easily forgotten. He had found her out, she was sure of it, and she now dedicated all of her efforts towards thinking of a way to get rid of him. Collecting footage of the display cases so Emerie could catalog the contents for later was secondary, because clearly he was a threat to the mission.

Belatedly, she wished she hadn’t taken out the earpiece.

“What do you want?” Gwyn said, a hushed whisper so that the family behind her wouldn’t pick up on the thinly veiled hostility.

Azriel furrowed his brows. So he was going to pretend to be confused, then.

“You left in a hurry,” he explained. “I thought you might be in some sort of trouble, so I came to ask if you needed help. I didn’t mean to run into you.”

Gwyn scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Look, I really should be getting back.”

He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes drifting down to her badge again.

“To the… bugs?”

“Screw you,” Gwyn blurted.

She whirled away, stalking down the aisle as the mother gasped and clapped her hands over her son’s ears. Gwyn didn’t even bother with trying to capture more footage. Her cover was blown, and all she needed to do now was lose her tail without attracting anymore attention.

Unfortunately, that also meant it was rather easy for her pursuer to catch up to her.

She supposed she could kill him, if it came down to it.

“Did I insult your profession somehow?” He asked, jogging up beside her. “Was I not supposed to call them bugs?”

He came in front of her, trying to capture her gaze, which forced her to halt right beside a large tower of some type of quartz. She knew, not because she bothered to look at it, but because the reflection of it glimmered in his eyes.

“Get out of the way,” Gwyn said through her teeth as she rolled the earpiece within her palm. She glanced around him, eyes noting the camera wedged up against the ceiling. Murder was out, then.

He only smirked down at her, and just the sight of that gentle arch of his mouth was enough to convince her that he was privy to her homicidal intent, somehow. Any normal person would have walked away by now. He was staring her down like an adversary.

“Sure,” he said easily, stepping out of her way, and then waiting. Like he expected her to walk with him. “Maybe you could show me around? I had a bug phase as a kid, you know.”

Gwyn pushed ahead for the exit, struggling to ignore him as he easily matched her pace. If she could just lead him into an empty stairwell, she would be able to lose him. Knock him unconscious, and then leave him there for some poor museum employee to find. She could do it.

She tried to ignore him, and failed because then he started rambling about egg sacs, and Gwyn couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shut up,” she said. On an impulse, she grabbed his arm and pulled him with her towards a door marked Staff Only in a secluded vestibule off of the gem and mineral exhibit.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Gwyn immediately regretted her decision. Chest heaving, she looked around to see that she’d brought them into a storage room. Small, but not as tight as a closet, even with the towering stacks of clearly labeled bins around them. There were no windows, and the only lights were the strips of LEDs along the floor marking the narrow aisles.

“Diana,” Azriel said slowly, letting out a low breath as he glanced around the room. “This is all very flattering, but are you sure you want to do this here?”

“What?” Gwyn shrieked, her hands balling into fists. She backed up towards the door, where she thought she saw a broom, and considered using it to knock him out.

He was crowding her, slowly walking into her until her shoulders pressed against the door. She had been so sure, before bringing him in here, that he wanted to capture her, and with each vanishing inch between them, her mind was thrown into further disarray.

She had to get rid of him.

“I’ll admit,” he said, “There’s clearly something between us.”

Gwyn shook her head, trying to order her thoughts before she looked back up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“But don’t you think it’s a bit too soon for clandestine meetings in dark rooms?” he said.

His hands came up on either side of her head to cage her in. He leaned down, leveling her stare with one of his own, and she watched as his gaze drifted to her mouth.

“What were you thinking we would do?” he murmured. “When you led me in here?”

“Don’t play with me,” Gwyn said, her pulse thrumming in her ears. She reached out a hand, groping for the door handle.

“No?” he said, face angling to the side. Like he might try to kiss her, and the thought of it was no more terrifying than her realization that she wouldn’t have minded it.

And again, like he could hear every one of his thoughts, his mouth curved into a smile.

“Then what should I do with you?” he asked.

“Look,” Gwyn said, her fingers finally landing on the handle. She pressed herself flush against the door as he stepped closer, so that his chest wouldn’t brush against hers. “Just let me go, and I promise–”

“Let you go?” Azriel murmured, smirking at her.

“Yes,” Gwyn said flatly. She stared resolutely back at him, unwilling to allow him to see even a shred of nervousness. She could do this. She could knock him down right now, if she wanted.

So why wasn’t she?

“Let you go,” he repeated, humming as if he was turning the idea over in his mind. Considering it. His face dipped to the side, his lips somewhere near her ear when he whispered, “Why? Have you done something you shouldn’t have?”

Gwyn’s mouth fell open, her eyes roving restlessly up and down the side of his face as she tried to reconcile the part of her that desperately wanted to see him lying across the floor as she smacked him repeatedly with the broom handle–with the part of her that wanted to see him lying across the floor as she crawled over him and pressed her tongue to his neck.

Her fingers slipped off of the door handle, and were reaching for his shirt collar to do something, when the door suddenly opened behind her, knocking her into his arms. She scrambled for a moment, her hands peeling his off of her waist as he tried to steady her.

Above them, the overhead light flashed on, and she squinted against the harsh light as she turned to face the person who had walked in.

“What are you doing in here?” one of the security guards frowned at them.

Gwyn’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to come up with a reasonable excuse as Azriel scrubbed his hand over his mouth beside her, trying to hide a grin. She had just landed on I got lost, when the security guard groaned, stepping to the side to let them pass.

“They don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” he muttered to himself. He looked up at the ceiling, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’d think adults would behave with some decency.”

Gwyn glared at the security guard, brushing past him and out the door. She expected Azriel to be right behind her, but once she’d gotten over her indignation at having someone assume she’d been doing indecent things with him in public, she turned to look behind her.

Only to see the back of his head.

He was going in the opposite direction.

Stunned, Gwyn tore the lanyard off over her head and chucked it into the nearest trash can. She headed straight for the main staircase at the end of the vestibule, where she knew she could reach the museum atrium and eventually the exit. She needed to get out of there, needed to get lost in a crowd so she could rid herself of the feeling of being watched.

He had let her go.

It didn’t make sense, Gwyn thought as she hurried down the steps. He’d clearly been onto her, had clearly recognized that she was up to something. Any reasonable person wouldn’t have let her go, especially not if she had been his target in the first place. Gwyn wouldn’t have let him go, if the roles were reversed, and if she wasn’t so concerned with getting out of the damn building, she would have been right on his heels.

There was something wrong, Gwyn knew. And she would have to head back to Emerie and Nesta and tell them.

Tell them they needed to call this mission off.

#acotar secret santa #acotar gift exchange 2023 #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #modern au #museum heist #enemies to lovers #meet ugly

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humanitysstrongestsoldier1 · 5 months ago

Text

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 | 𝑀. 𝐼𝑆𝑆𝐸𝐼 x Reader

TW: cursing, explicit sexual content

AO3 LINK!!!

Summary:

"Shut up and listen." - Nicholas Bonnin, Shut Up And Listen

Omagari Hanabi (Omagari Fireworks Festival) had its perks.

Some being;

a annual party at Hanamaki Takahiro’s house,

Oikawa fully drunk and dancing on the table, stripping,

and Matsukawa Issei’s face between your legs.

~~~~

Notes:

Yokoso, watashi no Tumblr society...

a 4th of July gift, from me, to you

it's been a while since i've written lol, i love 2nd person

I'm tired of hiding my obsession with seijoh men (daisho suguru and kiyoomi still my mans, omg i have matching moles with Kiyoomi on my arm lol, i flex that all the time)

oikawa's dumb ass uses gen alpha humour 💀

okay... i took one look at the fireworks and my brain went 'imagine being at a party and matsukawa issei fucks you with the door open, but the fireworks cover the sounds'..... my hands went immediately to my keyboard....

i felt like a traitor writing this cuz i was listening to a gojo playlist lmfaoo

~~~~

Hanamaki flops down next to you on your bed after losing a card game of Speed. The two of you are card game fans, and you spend your time together learning new ones and mastering old ones.

The bet was that if he won, you would have to come to his annual party that he holds during the Omagari Firework Festival. Unfortunately for him, he lost.

"Y/N, please, can you just come by for a little while? We promise to not bother you; if it gets annoying, you have full access to my room.” Makki asks, jumping up and holding your hands up in front of you with pleading eyes.

Makki’s parties are always headaches, and the only way that you would possibly go is if there was someone to keep you to the earth.

“Is Hajime going to be there?” You say, removing your hands from his grip.

"Yes, he’ll be there! Mattsun will be there too.” Makki says, suggestively while smirking at the mention of Matsukawa’s name.

He’s going to be there, huh? Now that's pushing me to go.

“Don’t give me that look, Hanamaki; I will bitch-slap you.”

“Ah,” he dramatically gasps, holding a hand to his heart, looking baffled. “I’m trying to get you laid, hoe. I know the way you look at him.”

“Yeah? How do I look at him?” You ask, your patience running thin.

“It’s the ‘bend me over the table and fuck me till I can’t walk for weeks’ look.” He grins.

Your eyes widen, and warmth pools in your cheeks.

Do I seriously have that look towards him?

“Hanamaki Takahiro, you have 10 seconds to get out of my room and apartment before I change my mind about coming. Ten, nine, eight-”

By the eighth second. Makki was out of sight and out of mind.

Great, now you have to find an outfit.

— — —

"Y/N-chan, you made it!” Tooru pulls you inside from the crowd at the door and traps you in a hug. He was obviously drunk from the looks of it, and it did not help that he was half naked.

"Tooru, get your stanky, sweaty ass off of me.” Pushing him off, you head towards Iwaizumi, who waves to you from the kitchen.

"NOOO, Y/N-chan, come backkk!” Oikawa whines, trying to reach for your shirt but then being distracted by a drinking contest.

You immediately run from the six-foot setter to Iwaizumi, who pulls you into a gentle embrace.

“Hey, green bean. I’m shocked to see you here.” He whispers against your ear, and you pull back a bit, grasping his elbows while he holds your forearms, close but easily identifiable as friends.

“Makki said that you would be here, so I don’t really mind.”

“You sure it was for me, or a certain someone?” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, like Makki five hours ago.

You sigh, bringing a hand up to hide your blushing cheeks. “Not you too, Hajime.”

“What? Literally, the entire team has thought you two are cute ever since that beach volleyball day.” He smiles, moving your hand to meet your eyes.

That day, 3 months ago, was one to revel in.

The sun was blaring, and the boys wanted to play volleyball in a different environment. You helped them set up and tracked their movements, just in case they wanted a summary.

After playing, you all jumped in the water and goofed around. One specific game lit a fire in the spark you had for Matsukawa Issei.

You were on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, while Matsukawa was on Hanamaki’s.

Yahaba cheered you on from the side, and Kindaichi laughed at the struggling Makki, holding Matsukawa’s tall ass.

“Ready, set, go!” Oikawa yells, signalling the start of the wrestle.

You laugh full-heartedly while escaping Matsukawa’s attacks. You grab onto his shoulders and try to push him off of Makki, but he stands ever-strong and smirks at your will.

“Come on, dove, you can do better than that.” He laughs.

“Oh yeah?” You grin, an idea popping up in your cunning mind.

“Oh yeah.” He repeats, dragging on the sentence a bit longer.

“Hajime, loosen your grip on my thighs.” You holler, and Iwaizumi follows quickly to your idea.

“What-” Matsukawa starts but is immediately cut off by your jump, which launches him off of Makki’s shoulders and into the water.

He grabs onto your arms before you can return to Iwaizumi’s shoulders. If he was going down, he would take you with him.

The warm water met your skin, and a small wave disrupted your balance, and you couldn't make your way back up. Matsukawa’s hands pulled you up under your arms, and you emerged, taking a deep breath.

His hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you against him, skin to skin.

Matsukawa’s other hand moved the hair out of your face and brushed it behind your ear. “Cute.” He says, narrowing his eyes, a tug on his lips that curled them upwards.

You blushed at his sharp eyes, and to ignore the heat on your chest, you remembered his earlier action.

"Mattsu, you little shit, you dragged me with you!”

He laughs as you are pulled back by Oikawa, who requires your strong shoulders to go against Iwaizumi.

That day, they all heard the aloof Matsukawa Issei call a girl cute.

Snapping out of the memory, you flick Iwaizumi’s head. “Keep quiet about that! He literally only complimented me. He doesn't need to know about this.” You point to your heart, referencing your feelings for him.

“Who doesn't need to know about what?” A gruff voice appears behind you, and your eyes widen before relaxing and putting on a calm expression. Iwaizumi smirks at your red face.

“Mattsu! Hey!” You turn around and give him a quick hug, making sure not to linger for long. “I was just talking about the surprise party that we planned for Tooru; his birthday is next week, remember.”

His cute eyebrows raise, and he remembers the plan they set up for July 20. “Oh yeah, that.”

“Imma leave ya’ll to it.” Iwaizumi turns towards the large crowd heading towards Watari as he ushers him in for company.

“Haji-” You are cut off by a look from Iwaizumi, the classic dad look that is asking you to socialise for once.

Matsukawa chuckles. “Am I not enough, dove?”

You smirk, raising your head to meet his hooded eyes, a surge of confidence in you. “You're more than enough.”

He raises his glass to his upturned lips, his eyes tracing your body as you grab a drink from the drink counter.

The two of you stood next to each other in silence, your preferred company. Matsukwa’s shoulders would brush your every now and then to the sway of music. It was calm with him—for now.

“I'm gonna go throw my cup away, you done with yours?” You ask, your thumb pointing to the large trash can on the other side of the room.

Matsukawa smiled and handed you his empty cup. "Thanks, dove.”

You blush at his smile and head towards the trash can. Pushing through the crowd, the smell of alcohol and vape overwhelms you.

You absolutely abstain from drinking and smoking, which is why your cup held punch instead of alcohol. That's another reason you hate parties.

As you walked through, a girl in front of you accidentally tripped over her feet, and her drink flew at your white shirt, soaking it entirely.

“Oh my god! I'm so sorry; I really didn't mean to do that.” She apologises profusely, and you sigh, knowing it was not her fault.

You help her up and reassure her that it's alright, and she makes up for her mistake by grabbing the empty cups from your hands to help you out. You whisper a small thank you.

Before you could walk through to find some napkins, a hand grabbed the back of your upper arm and pulled you flush against their chest.

It’s Iwazumi.

“Hajime what-”

He cuts you off and pulls you closer, whispering in your ear, “Your bra is showing, sunshine.”

Oh.

“Stay behind me.” Iwaizumi pushes you behind him and heads for the stairs. But God decides to be a pain in his ass and throws a hurdle at him—quite literally.

Oikawa Tooru’s shorts launch at Iwaizumi and land on his face.

You peek from behind him and see Oikawa almost naked with his boxers on, dancing, and perched on the table with Yahaba trying to pull him down. Kindaichi is recording the scene and Kunimi is running to the other side for a different angle.

“SHITTYKAWA!” Iwaizumi bellows his voice, reaching Oikawa over the loud music.

Tooru’s eyes widen, and he stops dancing.

Makki appears next to you and drapes his jacket over your soaked body.

“Iwa, go get his ass; I’ll take her from here.” Hanamaki hollers.

You nod to Iwaizumi, letting him know it's okay, and he runs to Oikawa, who is already screaming for his life.

You lightly laugh, and Makki snickers, grabbing your hand and leading you upstairs into his room.

“As promised, full access to my room; take a shower if you are feeling icky. My closet’s all yours.” He smiles and exits the room.

You holler a quick, “Thanks, Hiro!” as he closes the door behind him.

You head over to his restroom, which, mind you, is really fucking nice. You're about to strip off the sticky shirt and clean off the alcohol on you, but you hear a knock on the door.

You walk over and open the door to which Matsukawa is standing at.

He drags his lazy eyes down your figure, a couple of seconds lingering on your chest where your bra is peeking out from.

“What are you-” You ask before being pushed lightly back.

“Fuck, Y/N. Get out of that shirt.” He groans.

“I mean, I was just about to before you barged in.” You sigh, heading over to Makki’s walk-in closet, looking for a comfortable shirt that could match your skirt.

Matsukawa also walks in and immediately goes to a certain area, as if he knows what's there.

“Here, wear this.” He says, handing you the all-familiar jersey. It's his number as well, number 2.

“No way he has extras of everyone's number.” You snicker.

Matsukawa snorts, “He says he wants it as a memory when we graduate.”

You hum, and the two of you head out of the closet.

But before you went to the bathroom to change, you turned.

“Mattsu?”

“Yeah?” He looks up, a blush on his cheeks at your appearance.

“Why did you follow me up here? And why, out of 16 numbers, hand me yours?”

He stops in his tracks, his eyes widening before they relax, he sighs, and a smirk stretches across his face.

“You want the truth, dove?”

The air-conditioned room starts feeling extremely hot, and you try to relax, but the hairs on the back of your neck are rising as he stalks his way over to you.

Walking backwards, he traps you next to the wall of the bathroom door. The light above the mirror shines out and onto his face.

“Mattsu.” You whisper, trying to get away, but he has complete control over your movements.

He pushes you back completely against the wall, his hands on your waist and his knee between your thighs.

A small moan erupts from your throat, and you turn your head to the side, hiding away from his strong gaze.

He leans down and whispers huskily into your ear, “Seeing you exposed like that and being pulled into Iwaizumi’s arms made me really fucking jealous, princess.”

He nips at your neck, and you whine at the feeling.

“This,” he whispers while dragging the tip of his finger down the middle of your chest to rest at your stomach, “is mine to see.”

“Mattsu…” You groan.

He darkly laughs, “You should know by now, you're mine.”

Matsukawa pulls back, his hooded eyes meeting your sultry gaze.

“But I thought—”

“You thought what? You were mine the moment you became our manager; you were mine from the moment we bunked together on our camping trip; you were mine when you fed me your mom’s cooking; you were mine when I called you cute at the beach.”

You still at his words and feel his hands move towards your bare thighs, spreading them apart.

“Especially that day, Y/N. The entire team heard me; they knew that you were mine. So you thought, what exactly?”

You muster up the courage to say, “I thought you wouldn't reciprocate my feelings.”

He chuckles, "Oh, naive little dove. I did feel the same, I do, and I always will.”

Matsukawa’s lips meet yours, and you gasp into his mouth. You feel his smirk as he pushes his knee closer to your core.

At this point, you were grinding like a bitch in heat on him, and Matsukawa fucking loved it.

His hands made it to your soaked shirt and yanked it off, leaving your upper body almost bare.

You swore you heard a low growl from the back of his throat before he latched onto the mounds of your breasts. His hand sneaked back and unclasped your bra, throwing it across the room.

Matsukawa’s warm mouth left open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of your neck, making sure to leave behind purple bruises to make you his.

He kissed the valley of your chest, where your heart was, and whispered a light, “mine.”

His tongue swirls at the bud of your nipple, and you throw your head back against the wall, hands going to his dark hair, tugging. He tastes the leftover flavour of alcohol on your skin and moves to the other side of your chest, giving your girls fair treatment. You sink lower on his knee and feel your clit getting swollen with beloved attention.

“Mattsu. Bed. Now.”

He released your tit with a low ‘pop’ and smirked at your lustful eyes. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed. You both kick off your shoes and immediately get back to each other's skin.

“Tell me what you want, dove.” Matsukawa moves down to your legs, flipping up your skirt and kissing your inner thighs.

Sighing at the feeling, you murmur, “Your tongue, please, baby. Need you so bad.”

He smiles on your skin. “You sound so fucked out, and I barely touched you, babe.”

You groan as he drags a finger down your clothed slit.

“Shall I eat you out through this lacy number, or be balls deep in you with your panties to the side, hm?”

You can't even speak; your eyes are shut, and beads of sweat are falling from your hairline.

“Just touch me, please; I’ll do anything~”

He kisses your clit through your panties before removing them and throwing them where your shoes are.

“Y/N” He moves up, tapping on the side of your cheek to open your eyes. “Look at me when I make you come on my tongue.”

Never leaving your gaze, he moves down, his face between your legs, just as you wanted.

He licks a slow, tantalising swipe up your lips to meet your swollen, puffy clit. The tip of his tongue swirls around the bundle of nerves, and he looks up to meet your watery eyes.

"Mattsu, oh my, fuck! Wait, the door is still open!” You screech lightly, trying to push him off even when you don't want to.

“Shut up and listen; do you hear those loud ass fireworks?” He utters against your pussy.

You look out the window, where hundreds of fireworks burst, and the light from them illuminates the dark room. You hadn't even noticed them; your attention was fully on Mattsu.

He continues his attack on your supple flesh, and you arch into the mattress, choking back a loud moan.

“Mattsu~”

“Issei, dove. I want my name to come out of that pretty mouth of yours, understand?”

“Yes, yes, Issei, oh fuckk.” You cried out, your hands lost in his soft hair, as he lapped at your soaking cunt.

A rippling feeling pushed through your lower body as you creamed on Issei’s tongue.

“Thats it, dove, fuck you look so pretty . Need to be in you, please.” Issei rasped while biting your neck.

“Issei, please~ in- in, me ah~” You wantonly moan as he plunges two fingers into your cunt, immediately brushing your G-spot.

Issei rips off his shirt and pulls down his shorts and boxers. You shudder at the utter length of him and pull him into a kiss from the back of his neck.

Teasingly, your hands feel his abs while moving lower and lower.

Your thumb grazes his slit, and Issei hisses, his face hiding in the crook of your neck. You slowly pump up and down, his precum helping you to his satisfaction.

"Fuck, oh, Jesus, fuck, lord, there, just like that, fucking Christ," he whines, kissing the conjecture between your neck and shoulder.

You laugh. “Taking God’s name in vain?”

He gulps, his voice shaky. “I have no need for a god when I have a goddess like you to worship.”

Issei’s hands gently play with the plush of your stomach as you continue stroking him.

You can hear him, his heartbeat increasing, his temperature rising, his palms getting sweatier, and just when he’s about to feel ecstasy, he grabs both of your hands and pins them above your head.

“No baby, wanna be inside you, pleasee~” He cries out.

He reaches his hands to the side table next to the bed and says, “gotta be some condoms here-”

“Issei, baby, I'm on the pill.” You pull him back towards you.

“Oh fuck, yes, dove, I get to feel you, all of you.”

You smile gently and bring him into a kiss. At this point, he’s so sex-crazed that he's fucking your mouth with his.

Issei slowly sits his cock inside you, the feeling of being full, pleasuring you to another level of the universe.

He pulls away, his forehead touches yours, and he kisses the tip of your nose. “Lift your hips for me, dove.”

You comply, and he helps you, digging his fingers into your hips.

“OH FUCKKK~” You jolt, biting the back of your hand to quiet your moans. This new position had you almost fading to black.

“Y/N, don't hide that pretty voice from me now. Everyone’s outside; let me hear you.” He says, in a needy way.

His hips snap with yours, creating a steady rhythm. The sound of skin slapping skin spread across the dark room, and Issei took in the sight of you completely. Eyes full of lust, your cunt wrapped around his cock, legs around his waist—the different colours of the fireworks illuminating your supple body.

He steadily continues at the same pace, but just when you are about to reach your second high of the night, he loses that rhythm and pulls out.

Holding your hips, he lands on the mattress on his back with you on top. Issei guides your hips and sinks you down his cock.

“Oh Issei, god, oh my , fuck.” This angle had his bulb fucking your cervix, and you swore that the window behind the bed had stars instead of fireworks.

Issei lifted your hips up and down the length of him, and he threw his head back against the bed. “Fuck baby, you feel so good.”

He hiked your skirt up, saw how your pussy wrapped around his twitching cock, and lewdly moaned at the sight. The rhythm continued, and waves of fire pooled in your lower abdomen.

Again and again and again.

Your thighs flexed as you rode him, tits bouncing; you saw his cock disappearing in your body. Issei’s hands played around with your breasts, teasingly flicking your nipples and kneading the flesh.

Finally, you dissolved into the pleasure as if a tight coil unravelled after being wound up.

“Issei, baby, im cumming , oh fuck, im cumming, oh godd .”

Fireworks—literally and metaphorically—burst from your vision as you came down from high.

He let you breathe before pulling out and flipping you on to your back again. Your knees pushed flush against your chest, and he thrust, burying himself inside you again.

You were overstimulated, but you wanted more and more from him.

His hips continued pounding. “Y/N, dove, fuck, can I cum inside, please, baby, please.”

You mewled out a quiet 'yes, baby’ and he took exception to that.

Soon you felt his warm, sticky seed coating your walls, and you came once again.

“Issei~

“Love you, baby; I love you so much.” He says, pulling out.

“I love you too ‘Sei; I love you brighter than these fireworks.” You coo, pulling him into your embrace.

After staying in each other’s embrace for what seems like hours, Issei breaks away and moves down to your overworked pussy.

“Issei~ not again.”

He smiles, kissing your thigh. “Relax; I won't push you.”

You sigh and lie back down, letting him do as he wishes.

Issei grabs his cum, seeping out from your hole, and pushes it back inside. You gasp, feeling his fingers push in deeper.

"Issei, what are you doing?” You shudder.

He comes back up and pecks your lips, brushing the hair out of your face with his other hand, similarly to that beach day. “Making the best out of a creampie.”

“Ugh, Issei, you're so nasty.” You laugh, playfully hitting his chest.

Your laugh stops as you hear the bustling crowd walk back in. The sounds of the fireworks drifted into a sombre silence. Some are still bursting from far away.

“Issei, we gotta get up.” You say, eyes widening at the open door, worried someone, especially Makki, would walk in.

He sighs lazily, slowly, pulling his fingers out, and you whimper at the sensitivity.

Luckily, the two of you did not make a mess on the bed; just the sheets were tussled.

You slid to the edge of the bed, found your panties and put them on while Issei also fixed himself up. Brushing your skirt down, you wobbled on two feet and slipped on your heels.

You grabbed the forgotten jersey and slipped it on. Issei looked up and saw your new outfit.

“Fuck.” He groans.

“What? Something wrong?” You ask worriedly.

“Nah, I just—I should’ve fucked you with nothing except my jersey on.”

You tremble at his eyes that were oozing with want before proposing, “Let’s get out of here, go home, and do exactly that.”

He smiles and grabs your arm, pulling you into his side. The two of you headed downstairs. No one noticed that you were gone due to the fireworks stealing the attention.

Makki approached you a couple minutes later and said, “Those were some crazy fireworks, right?”

Issei nods. “Definitely better than last year; I had my eyes on one sweet show.”

You blushed at the hidden innuendo he was mentioning. You looked over to Iwaizumi, who smirked at the look of you in Issei’s jersey. You quickly tore your eyes away from his gaze.

“Y/N and I are gonna head out; her heads hurting, imma drop her home.” Issei lies, trying to get away from the party.

Makki looks a bit sad but realises that they are going to meet again tomorrow for practice and lunch. “Yeah, okay, see you both tomorrow. Thank you for coming, Y/N!”

“Of course, Makki, I'll see you tomorrow.” You give him a quick hug and return to Issei’s side.

Before you turn to head to the car, Issei hollers to Makki, “Sorry about the sheets being all wrinkled. I was helping Y/N pick an outfit, and I flopped all over your bed.”

Makki laughs, “What? Like you always do when you come over to game?”

Issei chuckles, and you turn away, hiding from Makki.

That night, at his apartment, no fireworks hid your loud moans as Issei fucked you in nothing but his jersey…in god knows how many positions.

~~~

(Morning, 9:00 AM, Matsukawa Issei’s Apartment)

You had awoken before Issei, brushed your teeth, took a shower, stole his clothes, and made your way to the kitchen to make breakfast for the two of you.

As you rolled the tamagoyaki, a yawn caught your attention. After transferring the tamagoyaki to the plate and turning the stove off, you met Issei. He had his arms folded, leaning into the wall at the threshold of the kitchen.

“Good morning, baby.” You say, walking over to him and kissing his cheek.

He hums, his voice deep and honed, “Morning dove.”

“Breakfast is ready, coffee is set, and two spoons of sugar, just how you like it.” You smile.

“I should be doing this for you.” He whispers, kissing your forehead.

“Next time,” you promise.

The two of you had breakfast in comfortable silence until a prolonged buzzing at intervals came from the bedroom. The two of you ignored it until after washing the dishes and cleaning up.

Issei went to the room and grabbed both phones, handing yours to you. He plopped down on the couch next to you.

“Ha, it's both of us, the Seijoh group.” He laughs.

You open the Seijoh GC and scroll all the way to the top. Issei doesn't bother opening his; he looks at yours.

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

🏐Seijoh GC 🩵

Makki 🃏:

* Attached Image*

Makki 🃏:

mattsun, when you said last night, quote– “Sorry about the sheets being all wrinkled. I was helping Y/N pick an outfit and I flopped all over your bed.” – unquote. Did you mean picking an outfit, or taking an outfit off. Cuz this sure as hell ain’t mine, right @Y/N - chan?

Iwa 💙:

“wrinkle in the sheets” my ass. more like “tussle in the sheets.” 🤣

‘Kawa 👑: mattsun is rizzatron 3000

Iwa 💙: istg shittykawa shut your gen alpha filter off

‘Kawa 👑: bomboclat

Iwa 💙: this is why no one likes you

‘Kawa 👑: iwa-chan…😨

Watacchi 🛡️: oop- 🫢

Yahaba 😇: im sorry, but is that what i think it is?

Makki🃏: y/n’s boobie holders.

Onion-head 🧅: LMFAO HELP IM DYING 💀💀

Watacchi 🛡️: why is y/n’s bra there and what do you mean by mattsun…

wait– never the fuck mind 😀

Onion-head 🧅: I CANT IM WHEEZING RN BRO WTF

Kunimi 😴: bro its 9:00 why tf yall awake?

Makki 🃏: scroll up

Kunimi 😴: oh. not what i expected. nvm this was worth waking up for shits hilarious

Ken 🐶: same here, not what i expected

Iwa 💙: omfg kyoken spoke

‘Kawa 👑 : ken chan likes me, right?

Ken 🐶 : woof

Onion-head 🧅 : THIS JUST KEEPS GETTING FUNNIER

someone pls wake up those two

----

You slowly turn over to Issei, and his eyes are full of mirth. A couple seconds of silence are broken by loud laughter that shakes the apartment. You're clutching at your stomach, and Issei is hiding in your neck, laughing even harder.

“I accidentally forgot it there, oh my god.” You giggle.

Issei calms down from the laughter, still smiling when he opens his phone. You look at your phone, anticipating what he will type.

----

‘Sei ❤️: makki, get your hands off my girls bra

Makki 🃏 : your girl??

Iwa 💙 : final-fucking-ly

‘Kawa 👑 : OMG BRO ACC OHIO RIZZED HER

Iwa 💙 : oikawa

‘Kawa 👑 : calm your skibidi down

You: tooru…

‘Kawa 👑 : okok im sorry, sugar

I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU TWO

Ken 🐶 : ^

Yahaba 😇: omfg at least type it out u inconsiderate shit

Ken 🐶 : congrats y/n and matsukawa

Watacchi 🛡️: i knew somn was going on yesterday at the party, yall are made for each other

Onion-head 🧅 : ever since that day at the beach, we've all been just waiting, congrats you two

Makki🃏: ^^ i could give two shits less about my sheets, yall became each others at my house, thats fucking adorable, love you two. (p.s i def knew this was gonna happen)

You: hajime?

Iwa 💙 : told you there was another reason for you coming, im happy for you, love you sunshine 💛

You: love you too hajime, thank you everyone lol

Iwa 💙 : mattsun, you hurt her, i hurt you

‘Sei ❤️ : i would hurt myself but never hurt her, you have my word

Iwa 💙 : take care of her

‘Kawa 👑 : its like watching a dad giving his daughter's hand in marriage

Onion-head 🧅 : omfg bro is right lolol

‘Sei ❤️ : except im her daddy now

Makki 🃏 : omfg

Kunimi 😴: LMFAO BRO

Makki 🃏 : bro 💀 take that shit to the bed

Ken 🐶 : he did; took it to yours instead

Onion-head 🧅 : SINCE WHEN WERE YOU FUNNY?!?

Ken 🐶 : woof

Onion-head 🧅 : IM GONE

Watacchi 🛡️: atp i'm just existing

‘Sei ❤️ : get your asses ready for practice

Iwa 💙 : fr (i just burned my eyes from that text)

Kunimi 😴: alr imma gts for 30 more min

You: aki… istg get your ass up

Kunimi 😴: oh shit mom’s mad

You: “mom” is about to revoke your nap privileges

Kunimi 😴: im up

Makki 🃏 : i'll bring your boobie holders

You: ty makki, stop calling them boobie holders

Makki 🃏 : hehe

Iwa 💙 : alr see y'all there

You: bye guys, make sure you bring ALL your equipment or else no snacks from me

‘Kawa 👑 : yall dont need snacks, im a snack

Iwa 💙 : imma whack you

‘Kawa 👑: 🤫🧏‍♂️

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

You set your phone down and stretch your arms over your head. Issei’s head is on your lap, and you brush through his dark hair.

“Shall we get ready?” You ask.

He gets up and pulls you into his lap, kissing you deeply. “10 more minutes.”

You laugh into his kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. “10 minutes only, promise?”

Issei hums, biting your bottom lip before whispering, “Promise.”

From that day, when you saw fireworks, you thought of that night. You thought of Issei and his gentle embrace, which lulled you to peace. You thought of his touch, which set you afire.

You thought of home.

End Notes:

each emoji means something:

Makki's card = card game fan, like you Iwa's blue heart = deep friendship Oikawa's crown = great king (Dai Ōsama) Watari's shield = defense cuz he's a libero Yahaba's angel = because he is an angel and wants the best for everyone Kindaichi's onion = self-explanatory, turnip/onion head Kunimi's sleepy face = seems like a sleepy baby KyoKen's dog = self-explanatory, mad dog Mattsu's red heart = deep, passionate, true love ----

can you tell that i am also obsessed with iwaizumi, im still conviced that he is half-desi (south asian), The Tumblr Headcanon That Made It Official For Me

soooo... imma go watch aot for the umpteenth time hehe~

okay bye madarchods, love you guys 🤍🩵

#haikyuu #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei x you #matsukawa issei smut #haikyu smut #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime & reader #crack/text fic

29 notes · View notes

catsburgers · 1 year ago

Text

chat this MIGHT be dialtown! (closeups under the cut!! ft. their songs and why i paired them w/ the ones i did)

randy - today today (jack stauber)

the lyrics fit him heaps and it actually makes me a little sad. i didn't write out the entire verse bc i ran out of space but the full part is

"Today, today, is one of those days That carries you slowly into next time And as folks walk by, you see with your eye "Hold me" is repeatedly given

and by GOD is that him. pathetic sad sopping wet man who just needs a hug please give him one oh my god

norm - chemical overreaction (will wood) (you'll notice a pattern later on)

that song has a very midwest cowboy feel to me (the line "Nettles on my saddle and a badge on my vest" is a very big give away), and yeah he IS a chemical overreaction like.. yeah. the line i picked was just the one that stood out to me the most

"My mouth is dry and my eyes are red I’m chewing on sand ‘cause the desert’s in my head" uhh yeah

typegingi - popipo (lamaze-p)

i honestly couldn't think of a song for them because they are just So. if you asked me to make a playlist it would be full of vocaloid bc i feel like theyd listen to it. it plays 24/7 in their mind

"ぽっぴぽっぴぽっぽっぴっぽ (x11)"

oliver - things to do (alex g)

oliver was someone i struggled with admittedly, i was gonna go for a lemon demon song bc honestly he gives those freak vibes (he IS two trucks and i stand by that) but i feel like things to do fits too. like read the lyrics its so him (or i have a very skewed view of these characters idk sorry)

"Hold on tight to this time, this place cause Everything you know will be erased You were born inside your head and That is where you'll be when you are dead"

karen - willard! (will wood)

please listen to willard! its so her pretty please pls pls plssss. tired bank worker thats so so tired but wants to see the world. plss...

"You know I couldn't hurt a fly, my friend I'm not the type to step on ants I've nearly cried for moths that die at porchlight lamps More for the plights of mice than men See, I myself have been stepped on so many times It's started to feel like my place I've failed to fit in into those nests that scrape the sky Is there room for me in your cage?"

bigfoot

i did his route over a year ago and didnt do it again during my replay sorry bigfoot fans love you :(

EXPLODES I LOVE EXPLAINING THESE

god/hobo - mr capgras

ITS HIM. LIKE IDKK ITS SAUR HIM.

"What you feel and what you do Are those things really you? And if not, then what is? (Never never never) So, my God, what’s wrong with you? And I’m still asking who that is"

roger - i bet on losing dogs (mitski)

hes so mitski coded its insane. we havent got much from the dialtown teaser but we DO have his dsaf personality to go off, and he was a complete mess in that.

"I bet on losing dogs I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place By the ring Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down I'll be there on their side I'm losing by their side"

peter - a pearl (mitski)

all dsaf holdovers are mitski coded bc it was born into their body the moment they became a phone guy. once again not much to go off in dialtown and ik he seemed rlly chill in what interaction we had but god he is my fav and you can pry my mitski from my cold dead hands. also yeah i reused his art from my dsaf drawing sorrry i didnt think it was worth it redoing the exact same ref

"It's just that I fell in love with a war Nobody told me it ended And it left a pearl in my head And I roll it around every night"

mayor mingus - everything i wanted (billie eilish) / laplace's angel (will wood)

ok i couldnt pick between these two, theyre so different but so similar

everything i wanted is rlly her, like even the title is so mingus. she's dialtowns mayor, she has everything she wants, except her grandfathers recognition and she'll never get it.

"They called me weak Like I'm not just somebody's daughter Coulda been a nightmare But it felt like they were right there And it feels like yesterday was a year ago But I don't wanna let anybody know"

laplace angel is also her to a lesser degree, the song is about the difference between good and bad, and UGH we know mingus is evil but she's also hurting and thats not an excuse and [explodes]. the little (hurt people? hurt people!) that's officially in the song title is also her. like the term "hurt people hurt people" arehghks. the repeated "if you were in my shoes, you'd walk that mile/you'd see i wear the same size as you" like. shit if ppl were in her shoes WOULD they do the same thing?? probably not!! but she feels like she HAS to do these things and assumes that everyone else would do it too. yk. i love mayor mingus so much

"You, could you take a look at me? (Man no more than animal is made of moral chemicals) Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad? (Any form mechanical, thank you God) Ooh, whatever you think of me (From the hordes of cannibals, to psych wards of hospitals) If you were in my shoes, you’d see I wear the same size as you (It’s a small world after all) Oh oh right!"

billy - ???

demons dont get songs.

finally

jerry - half decade hangover (will wood)

hes sooo. even the title is him. like yeah he WOULD be hungover on the job if i was jerry id be pounding vodka by the litre. 12 german shepards each with different illnesses. yeah pass me the margarita (i have never had an alcoholic beverage in my life).

"Wonder how I didn’t die This is not my life, I’m no survivor, I only happened to survive Wonder how I sleep at night Well I count pink elephants, blessings, and skeletons"

if you read to the end, thank u so much (and please go seek therapy). if you have any other song suggests lmk in the replies!! but dont tell me songs wont fit i MIGHT cry. these designs r mostly canon but i added my own flair to them (namely typegingis entire design, god/hobo having dog ear antenna (inspired by my own dt oc having cat ear antenna), peters springlock scars, mingus being way more cat then orignally and also making rogers suit just a LITTLE too big for him, showing how he really isnt fit for this position in his job. he'll grow into it eventually <3)

#dialtown #dialtown art #dialtown typegingi #dialtown fanart #dialtown randy #oliver swift #dialtown karen #dialtown oliver #dialtown bigfoot #dialtown norm #dialtown roger #dialtown phone dating sim

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silverview · 4 months ago

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alright i’m shifting back into tlw mode. i'm finally writing a fic from chas's POV and it's sticking a little bit. i know i can never actually do justice to him but the attempt is being made and i have a lot of thoughts, i'm just going to throw them all down in one place

chas might be my all-time favourite in9 character. reece has described the performance as being basically the same as he gives in sardines, which is a fair comparison honestly – the difference isn’t really in the performance or the character as much as in the circumstances. as in, stuart doesn’t do much relatively speaking and he never really has to shift gears onscreen. whereas chas is what you’d get if that character went through literally the full spectrum of human emotion onscreen in the space of half an hour, including an extended closeup on him experiencing the most extreme betrayal and mortal terror it’s possible to imagine, while covered in gunk and immobilised from the neck down. it's an extreme exercise in humanising/complicating a stock character, and it's an extraordinary performance. chas’s vulnerability and humour and courage carry the entire episode. and his little dancey dance. i love him for his defence mechanisms and the pain and heart that's underneath when he lets them drop. i love him for losing his dream, and coping with it terribly, and being forced to rebuild his life and his sense of self. i love him for being a bad person and a good person

and YES i love him for being camp!!!! i watched the original boys in the band recently and recognised so much of chas in some of those characters, especially emory, both as written + performed. crucially the humanising/complicating of a comedy stock character for pathos. tlw is only two seasons out from how do you plead and i think that contributed to some negative reactions about reece's camp performances being too exaggerated and/or too frequent. i don't think many people really noticed that urban explicitly, intentionally speaks & acts that way as part of his job. he is a man who is explicitly playing a character for most of his screentime. why exactly he does it in that particular way is not clear to me. i am desperate to understand that episode & character better, partly because i feel like unlocking it would also provide a key to better understanding their overall handling of gay characters & themes

i've talked before about chas and simon being linked by the experience of death by parasocial rejection. lately i've been thinking about how this strand of rejection (in a less fatal but still tragic form) also runs through reece's characters in merrily merrily and plodding on. "i never responded in kind" = *suffocates you with a pillow* = "move on" = "i don't even know if we are friends anymore." why is he always the one who loves too much, discovering that his feelings are not reciprocated? and why is this tendency punished so much more violently in episodes where it's figured as explicitly gay, hmm? if you read the end of plodding on as resolving the rift in that episode, then it's also resolving this long-running meta arc; if you read it as unresolved then it is also leaving the meta arc unresolved

anyway here's my tlw timeline. i have joe & chas being born in 1965 + 1975 respectively. that puts chas in his early 20s in the late 90s when atlantic 5 was active, 30 when olivia attempted suicide, 39 when he met joe, and 48 when he died. if you listen to the audio described version it literally does differentiate them as being "the younger one" / "the older one," even though that's not explicit in the episode. they do need a bit of an age gap to make the backstory work. idk, i know they have a small age gap irl – it's just funny to me that they managed to turn that into a more noticeable/significant age gap through sheer looks and vibes

and here is my tlw playlist and here is my dedicated chas playlist, which has some overlap and is still evolving and is a mix of songs about him + pure vibes. i get really emo thinking about him listening to eternal flame as a sad teenager and dreaming of finding love someday :/

#in9 #inside no 9 #the last weekend

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a-hundred-jewels · 3 months ago

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ptsd made me a hardcore marauders fan for seven months

Ao3

content warning: the following contains discussions of school violence, teen violence, (briefly) domestic violence, mental health issues, depression, and trauma. if any of these are sensitive topics for you, please proceed with caution. in addition, if you feel i've missed a warning, please nicely let me know in the comments.

I don't like Harry Potter.

Sure, I binge-read the entire series in a bored, undiagnosed-ADHD-induced haze at the age of thirteen, have spent countless hours reading and even writing fanfiction for the series, have followed tumblr tags, listened to playlists, watched youtube videos, and am in the process of very slowly hand-binding myself a copy of A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety, but—

I don't like it, but nevertheless, I was sucked in.

"Some kid overdosed," one of my classmates said.

"What?"

"They're clearing the hallways."

Our principal had just come on the loudspeakers to issue a "shelter in place" order, telling us to ignore all bells and stay in our current classroom until he came back on and told us otherwise. I was actually glad, hoping the extra time would allow me to finish my Spanish homework before second period, since I'd spent most of the weekend thinking about the Strictly Come Dancing finals and my King Lear presentation in English class.

I hardly thought about the order itself—they're extremely common in United State schools, both as drills and as actual occurences. "Shelter in place" originated as a milder verison of going into lockdown where, instead of hiding from a potential shooter, students and teachers must simply not leave the room. In any case, I saw no reason to worry, and set about doing my homework.

In fall of 2022, I started my senior year of high school at the age of seventeen. I was having a rough year—my younger sister's depression was at an all-time high and my mother was recovering from a health scare—but, fandomwise, I was doing great. After all, Our Flag Means Death had come out that spring and I was in love. All I wanted to talk about were the gay pirates, and I even bought myself a "Team Edward" t-shirt with Taika Waititi's face smack in the middle as a "back to school" present. Everything was supposed to get better.

School sucked, because I went to a big public high school that looked like a prison and had equally-shitty Wifi, my (still undiagnosed) ADHD was worsening, and my grades were getting kind of bad. Even so, for a couple of months, I remained confident that my senior year would be my best one yet.

Third period was gym class, meaning I was only about an hour and a half away from the King Lear presentation. Senior year was actually one of the few years where I liked gym, which was awesome. It was just me and six boys, all of whom were nice to me, and our teacher was great. I think we were playing badminton that day, when our principal came on the loudspeakers to say that we were, once again, under a "shelter in place" order.

We were nonchalant about this, just as we had been in the morning. I cannot stress how desensitized children in the U.S. are to things like this, these days. When my little sister was in elementary school, there was a day when the whole school was put in a "shelter in place" because a man was walking around outside with a bunch of knives. When I was a junior, a boy severely beat up his girlfriend in the school hallway, giving her a concussion and leading to two mass protests. There were violent fights at my town's public schools almost weekly—and all of this is very, very normal. I would go so far as to say that my situation was pretty mild.

So we sat on the floor and did homework as time crept on, wondering vaguely what was going on, but no moreso than that. Third period ended, and we stayed. It should have been lunch time—we were getting hungry—but there was still no word about the lockdown ending. We stayed. Surely, it could only be another ten minutes or so?

And then, one of my classmates looked up from his phone screen, which was displaying a chat on Discord.

"Oh my god—someone was stabbed."

Before, I get properly started, I'd like to be totally clear: the point of this essay isn't to bash the Harry Potter fandom, not as a whole, and certainly not the sections of it I've been in. I met some incredible people while in my period of rabidly consuming Marauders content, and I don't want to put them down or dishonor the beautiful things they've created with my attitude. I loved my time in the Marauders fandom as much as I could love anything at that point in my life and have nothing but respect for the writers, artists, and tumblrinas who welcomed me into their space.

All of that being said, I think it's fascinating that I fell into a fandom like this one, particularly when I was doing so badly mentally. My dislike of Harry Potter only increases as I grow, as does my indifference, and, while I understand that's a fairly common sentiment shared among Marauders fans, I also get the impression that nostalgia plays a big part in their participation in the fandom. A Harry Potter- loving, bookworm child grows into a cynical teen, and then into a kind, brilliant adult with a "well, fuck it" attitude towards the world, using their limited free time to take that nostalgia from a childhood book series and write the kind of queer narratives they wish they'd had in adolescence. I could, of course, be wrong, but that's more-or-less how I understood the specific parts of the fandom I was in. (I know pretty much nothing about the tik tok side of the Marauders fandom, so we're just not factoring that in at all). Also, note that I said "adult" before, because the majority of people I interacted with were in their twenties and thirties. Being eighteen at the time and still in highschool, they all seemed at least moderately grown-up and untouchable to me.

All this to say, once again, that I literally didn't care about Harry Potter until I was almost fourteen and, even then, I only started reading it out of sheer boredom. I have pretty much no nostalgia or happy childhood memories associated with the series—I even skipped large sections of the fourth and seventh books because it irritated me whenever the main characters were fighting with each other. I was, at best, a casual fan.

There's something comforting, though, about being in such a big fandom, especially when your bad habit of choice is binge-reading smutty fanfiction in order to feel less dead. And, regardless of how I actually felt about Harry Potter , the concrete safety of a completed, unchanging series of books and movies where the author was already widely disliked definitely appealed tome and my less-than-stable life. You don't need to worry about a scandal if they've all already happened and, no matter how hard she tried to on Twitter, Joanne can't actually change the contents of the books. In my world of current fandoms and kind writers and actors all accessible on social media, the fuck-ass Harry Potter fandom was a bit of a refuge.

So that's why I think it was specifically the Marauders that I got into.

I don't actually remember how long we were in that gym. It must have been at least two hours, including the class time beforehand, but I barely remember any of it. I texted my friends, frantically trying to determine that everyone I knew was okay, and I told my parents what was going on. To this day, the thing I am most thankful for is that my sister, who we'll call Tabitha, wasn't there. I don't know what I would have done if she'd been in school that day. The other main thing I remember thinking about was my King Lear presentation, which was supposed to happen right after lunch, and, as the time stretched on, I became more and more worried that I wouldn't get to do it that day.

Shortly after my classmate saw the Discord messages about the stabbing, a video of the fight was leaked across Snapchat, as well as an image of the wound. We all looked on in horror, including my teacher (who we'll call Mr. Blake). It's objectively horrible to watch footage of a child being stabbed, no matter how grainy the video is, but, so far, we'd received no official information from the school, so this was literally all we had, and it had happened in the same building. Our principal wasn't allowed to make any statements (at least to my understanding) without it going through our superintendant and, for whatever reason, she didn't feel it necessary to get ahead of social media on this.

I was trapped in a school with thousands of other people, one of whom had just assaulted someone.

The night before my second semester of senior year began, I stayed up past midnight reading Dear Your Holiness by @mollymarymarie fleabag AU where Remus is a priest by day and a local rock musician by night, and Sirius has a popular music magazine. I had also spent much of my winter break listening to a podfic of All The Young Dudes (made it to sixth year) and generally rooting around people's bookmarks and gifts to get out of my head, so it's safe to say that, by the time I got to school in January, my brain was practially deep-fried in this new fandom, and it would only get moreso.

Mr. Blake felt, after an hour or so, that we'd be safer in the boys' locker room. He brought us down through a stairwell I'd never seen before, tucked away in corner of a closet in the gymnasium. I was thrilled by the opportunity to explore and filmed the journey on my phone. It's a weird, haunting video, not just for the grim situation and shadowy rooms, but because I'm so lively behind the camera. We're all fairly upbeat, joking about how big the school is and what things must have been like when it opened. I won't share the video here, as I don't feel like doxing myself, but I did rewatch it in preparation for writing this and it's truly disconcerting to look at the inside of a building I haven't been in for over a year, to hear the voice of a past version of myself and know I'm seeing snapshots of a day that changed me forever.

All there was to eat in the locker room were these Gatorade protein bars—mine was supposedly cookies and cream flavoured. I still remember the taste, sickly sweet and artificial. On an empty stomach, particularly an overly sensitive autistic one like mine, it was a horrible idea, and I felt sick afterwards, but god, I was so hungry.

I sent a selfie to my parents and Tabitha, then tried to read fanfiction while listening to one of my classmates talk in what sounded like Hatian Creole with his family on the phone. Boys were constantly being paraded in to use the urinals. The walls were painted concrete blocks, the benches were narrow and hard, and so I sat there.

In February, I spend a weekend binge-reading A Black Mass Over Highway Ninety, which kickstarted an obsession with seventies music and fashion. I read and reread the sex scenes during my final few months of highschool, trying desperately to shut my brain up and keep me from feeling so trapped in my daily life and the school I still attended. I got into the works of @spookymoonie, who was incredibly kind to me, and used to visit and refresh their blog every day to see if they'd (sigh) written more porn. Look, man, it was really good porn.

On the day of my high school graduation, I got dressed in pants that were too small for me, a shirt that was too big, and a cap and gown that made me look like a walking body bag. I mingled with my friends beforehand, taking pictures with people who I now haven't spoken to in months. The ceremony was long and boring but I'm a sucker for that kind of symbolic stuff, so I kind of liked it. I did say for weeks afterwards, though, that I didn't feel like I'd really graduated until I was cycling home, listening to "Telephone Line" on my tinny iPhone speaker. That was my graduation.

And I only knew that song from the official Black Mass playlist.

By the time we were finally released from the "shelter in place" and sent for lunch, it had been about three hours since our principal's initial announcement back in third period. There was little fanfare to the whole ordeal, and I don't recall any actual information being given to our parents from the school at this point, either, though I could be misremembering. Our principal simply came on the speakers and told us that the lockdown was up and we were to go for lunch. I had a pre-packaged turkey wrap that day—my mum got them from the store sometimes as a special lunch for me. I'm a vegetarian these days, so I wouldn't eat it regardless, but, even if I weren't, I don't think I could bring myself to eat one of those wraps again, not without remembering.

We'd only been in lunch for about ten minutes when somebody pulled the fire alarm. I don't know who did it, only that it was a student and there was no fire. I hate the fire alarm for the same reasons I hate all sudden, loud noises, and I was so overwhelmed already that I remember crying as we were paraded out into the parking lots, shivering in the cold, late-December air. I sat on a curb and ate my sandwich, wishing I had left when some of my classmates had, as soon as the "shelter in place" was lifted, or at least that I had my jacket and keys with me so I could get my bike and leave right then.

The fire drill was over as quickly as it had started and, god, I wish I'd left right then. Just grabbed my shit and got the hell out of there. But, well…my English presentation.

To anyone with rational mind capabilities, it would be incredibly obvious by now that said English presentation was absolutely not happening. A child had been stabbed, we'd all seen it on video and then been trapped for three hours— King Lear was far from a pressing concern. But I was traumatized and one of my groupmates was leaving the next day, so it felt like an emergency. So long as I was focused on my presentation and the soap opera-like melodrama of the play, I didn't have to think about what was happening around me.

Anyway, we did nothing English related fourth period, instead sitting in a circle and letting our teacher talk us through how we were feeling. I'm very grateful to her for giving us the space she did to feel our fear and anger without judgement, and I will never forget her telling us that we were to use the teachers' bathrooms for the rest of the day, and if any administrators had a problem with it, they could take things up with her. It might not seem like much, but when the stabbing had occured in a student bathroom, it was really nice for someone to acknowledge that we might be scared.

Another hour, or so, and the day was over.

I also want to get ahead and make sure I'm not framing my leaving of the Marauders fandom as a particularly good thing, or a good time in my life. I was still depressed and unemployed and, even after I finally got a job in August, I managed to hit several more crushing lows before the end of 2023—I was just reading different fanfiction to cope. At the very least, though, I was reading fic for stuff I was actually a fan of, which is typically a good place to start.

The feeling reminded me a bit of the one I used to get after I'd finished writing and posting a piece of puppet erotica—just this overwhelming sensation of "Wait, what was that?" It's like post-nut clarity, except clearly not. My time as a Marauders fan feels, in retrospect, like a bastardization, an appropriation. I was not a real fan because I didn't really care—I just needed something safe to numb my pain and confusion. That's why it feels so important to make sure I'm not trying to represent or bash the fandom in any way. It wouldn't be fair, because I wasn't really, genuinely a part of it.

When I finally had cycled home and let myself in the back door, I only remember collapsing. My mum was in the living room and I just stood there, I think. All I really remember is this image of how I think I looked, as though my mind had floated out of my head and taken a photograph. My face is very pale and completely blank, my bag somewhere on the floor next to me, and I'm staring at nothing, the performance of being okay just…evaporating. I know my mum told me she'd been facetiming my grandparents and aunt throughout the day and they were worried as well.

One thing I often forget about that day is that, barely an hour after coming home, I had a violin lesson over zoom. I assume it must have been a similar situation to the King Lear presentation, where I had to act as normal as possible in order to not completely freak out. I told myself that I couldn't cancel, because then I'd have to pay the fee, but, like. I'm pretty sure he would have made an exception. I remember telling him "oh, by the way, I'm a little out of it because someone got stabbed at school today," and seeing the utterly baffled look on his face. He offered to postpone, and I declined. I was not a very good student that day—I think I'd forgotten what we did in the lesson before the hour was even finished.

I went downstairs afterward and told my mum everything—I think. Either that or I lay in bed. The next thing I remember is going to school the next day, because I was still clinging to that King Lear presentation. Or maybe it was just because I didn't know what to do with myself? No idea. The next night, I was feeling sick and tested positive for Covid.

So that was nice.

My high school was never the same after the stabbing. Rules got stricter, a mass of teachers quit or transfered, the classes graduated and moved on, and I truly think something died that day. No matter how bad things were beforehand, there was always this hope I felt—this optimism. Even if I'd been cynical for weeks, all it took to love that shitty old building was an orchestra concert or a school play. It was trash, but it was home. That love didn't come back.

My love for the Marauders proved to be just as fleeting. I literally woke up one day last July with a craving for this Good Omens/Buzzfeed Unsolved crossover fanfiction (called video appeal by ravel_aorla) and that was the end of my phase. Poof! Avada Kadavra!

I'm proud to say, though, that I'm doing much better now. I'm writing and editing this in my college dorm room, which I moved into just yesterday. I'm also very into My Chemical Romance now, and am able to share that interest (and a long furby) with one of my best friends, @vriska-serketboard. It's been a year and a half since my high school has darkened the door of my feet and I am worlds better for it.

Call it instinct as a former GSA leader, but that's how I want to end this. It get's better. I got better, and you can too.

Thank you.

#school violence #teen violence #stabbing #marauders #the marauders #cameron rambles #harry potter #harry potter fandom #hp fandom #hp marauders #high school #school #senior year

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bg-sparrow · 1 year ago

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Get To Know Me Tag Game

(Thank you, @inevitablemoment!)

1) Spell your name in songs (Taking these songs from my "Smile Guaranteed" playlist - AKA songs that immediately make me go "Ooo!" and turn it up)

Everything is AWESOME!!! (feat. The Lonely Island) by Tegan and Sara

Real Gone by Sheryl Crow

I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing by Aerosmith

Captain Hampton and the Midget Pirates! by The Aquabats

Ain't No Easy Way by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

2) Why did you choose your URL?

It has been my fanfic pen name since 2004. The first published fanfic I wrote was for the Pirates of the Caribbean fandom, and it was a ridiculous crackfic about Jack, Will, and Elizabeth running around the 21st century with me and my two best friends. When they said goodbye at the end, they each gave us a pirate name. Jack gave me the name Black Grace, so "BG Sparrow" I be! I could never part ways with it at this point.

3) What is your middle name?

Dawn. And I don't like it. Makes me feel like some braided pigtail 12-year-old in Little House on the Prairie, and that's just not my vibe. My sister won the middle name game with "Linette".

4) If you could be any mythical creature, what would you be?

A mythical creature... I must admit, I have never been asked this. I'm boring in this way, but something humanoid. Powerful. Maybe immortal. Fairy? Yeah, let's go with fairy. I've always loved the message of how powerful belief is in Peter Pan.

5) Favorite color?

Brown. I know, right? Five-year-old me is screwing up her face screaming, "You could pick any of the gorgeous colors in the entire universe, and you picked brown?" Yeah, I did. Blues/teals/aquas have always drawn me in and still do, but brown wins out by a small margin.

6) Song you love right now?

The most recent additions to my Annual Awesome: 2023 playlist include Death Drive by junodream (My No Pines Marty anthem) and Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Alex Sloan. Also listening to the score for Lawmen: Bass Reeves by Chanda Dancy right now because for some reason, the scores from these Tyler Sheridan shows fuel my 1885 BttF stories like none other, and I need a new one to attach to Once Upon a Time in the North as I write it. So far so good!

7) Top four fandoms?

Back to the Future

Pirates of the Caribbean

Iron Man

National Treasure (back in the day)

8) Tag nine people

@odddelorean

@brinkle-brackle

@bri-to-the-future

@synthsays

@fiddlstyx

@marielle-heller

@additionaladdams

@mythical-bookworm

@professorsaber

#tag game #ask game #get to know me #thanks!!#i should be writing

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citrus-swirls · 18 days ago

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I have a playlist for Something About Blood Feeding the Garden. I associate music with books/fics a lot of the time and would love to hear if anyone has any songs they associate with my fic, or what songs you associate with other fics (parx or not!).

The order to this playlist is not in order of how I see it in the fic, but rather how I like how it sounds lol. There is a lot of my thinking behind plot points and behind the scenes stuff below too if you are interested :) I never want my author's notes to be very long so hopefully someone out there is interested in these rambles.

Pesticides Remix - Moselle & Matt Hip. This is where the title comes from, and is the ethos of the fic. Even though it's from Geoff's POV, to me I feel like Awsten is still responsible for the inciting actions and this is Awsten's song. I was interested in writing about the grief process, and how that differs from person to person and how we handle how other people mourn. I heard this song for the first time when V and I were outlining the story, and this just felt like fate and really shaped the story I wanted to tell.

my tears ricochet - Taylor Swift. This is Geoff's grief song. I think he feels very stagnant, especially in part 2 and most of part 3. This song also was a good theme for when Awsten and Geoff weren't speaking to each other.

Are You Really Okay? - Sleep Token. This song comes mostly into play in parts 2 & 3 as well. "And I cannot fix your wounds this time / But I don't believe you when you tell me you are fine".

This Empty Northern Hemisphere - Gregory Alan Isakov. This song inspired the radio station, with the lines "While you were sleeping I was the turning the dials / And I walled up your kingdom with radio wires / And the bells of the choir came in low and rumbling ". Fun fact there was originally going to be a radio station at the Zoo; I had imagined Great Uncle Joseph as this very eccentric old man with a million hobbies, and I wanted Awsten to start running the station and Travis & Jawn hear them and try to find them. But I quickly ran into the issue of...how would Travis & Jawn know where to find a random radio station in backwoods Texas lol.

Something in the Orange - Zach Bryan. This song is for right after Otto and Geoff's kiss in part 1. "If you leave today, I'll just stare at the way / The orange touches all things around / The grass, trees and dew, how I just hate you / Please turn those headlights around"

The Prophecy - Taylor Swift. Ugh, what part of this song ISN'T perfect for this fic? This song is mostly for part 6, with Awsten desperate to change the tides.

Gilded Lily - Cults. This is Aria's theme song actually. I was hoping someone by now would comment on it but nobody has haha, Aria and Owen are meant to be a direct mirror of Awsten and Otto. Desperate, crazy, stupid, with ill conceived plans but enough love to make it worth it.

Dinner & Diatribes - Hozier. I'll be honest this one is mainly because it sounds good audibly with the rest of the playlist and it helps when I listen to music while writing. Take that as you will.

Mylo Xyloto and Hurts Like Heaven - both by Coldplay. This entire album (also called Mylo Xyloto) has influenced this fic so badly I had to include it. Mylo Xyloto is an intro song that flows into Hurts Like Heaven, and Hurts Like Heaven is the first song they hear in part one on the CB radio. I wanted them to have something joyous and magnificent and hopeful and loving. I love listening to this album full blast driving down the highway with the windows down.

Who'll Stop The Rain - Creedence Clearwater Revival. This song has been on every zombie apocalypse playlist I've ever made, and it's never named but it is the second song they hear in part one on the radio. This song is included mostly for vibes.

Button On Brown - Alan Gogoll. Another song for vibes/background for writing.

Soon You'll Get Better (feat. The Chicks) - Taylor Swift. This will come into play......later. :)

As the World Caves In - Matt Maltese. Another vibes song that works for apocalypse/dying romance setting.

Spiral - Flyte. This album (The Loved Ones) is one of my all time favorites. This is Geoff and Awsten in the sunflower hut in part 3, kissing for the first time.

Killing Me - Conan Gray. I feel this is part 3 when Geoff & Awsten aren't talking. Originally there was going to be a huge part where Geoff feels jealous how Awsten has been mourning Otto, and feels he can't compete for his love. And then I was like well that is stupid. But the song stays because it's great.

The Very First Night - Taylor Swift. This is like Geoff and Awsten's love for Otto basically. "I wish I could fly / I'd pick you up and we'd go back in time / I'd write this in the sky / I miss you like it was the very first night"

I Know The End - Phoebe Bridgers. Classic apocalypse playlist song, really.

Polarize - Twenty One Pilots. I'm not sure I realized how long this playlist is until right now. This song is very Geoff to me.

Swim - Maggie Miles. This song was at V's request for Otto. It's a banger. "Roamin' through a dream with an unfulfilling motive / Say you're better now but your mouth fills with poison"

Swimming In The Glow - Joywave. Another song at V's request for Otto. This kind of feeling of perpetual waiting.

Little Lion Man - Mumford & Sons. This song just sounds good with the rest. Filler. I suppose you could argue this is another Geoff song but that was not its purpose to me.

Vignette - Twenty One Pilots. THE Zombie Otto song. This song inspired Otto having an inner world, this and the movie I Saw The TV Glow which honestly is not a movie I enjoyed much but it did remind me of a fanfiction I read on Livejournal when I was maybe thirteen of a similar plotline, where someone was sick and had an elaborate ongoing fantasy to cope.

Pink Skies - Zach Bryan. This song comes into play in part 6. :)

You And Whose Army? - Radiohead. Vibes song.

Jesus From Texas - Semler. A friend recently recommended this to me and I sobbed thinking of Geoff in this au.

Fable - Gigi Perez. Another very recent add. It reminded me of Nick, strangely enough, which is a perfect segue into my OCs. I love these OCs I have created. I know OCs aren't everyone's cup of tea, and to be frank I normally despise OCs in fics and think they are annoying and filler, but I needed a better balance to make this world truly feel like an apocalypse. I needed a family we didn't know for the Zoo so Awsten & Geoff could mourn safely, I needed a compound of migrants who settled around a military base because that is something that would happen. I needed a matriarch, I needed children, I needed characters who are coping just fine and others who haven't coped at all. So I hope you love them, because I do. And if you don't, well. The fic is almost over haha.

I hope you enjoyed this! Would love to chat if you have any thoughts or suggested songs, or if you have your own fic playlists. Also sorry for the numbering issues, Tumblr made me break them up for character limit reasons.

#personal tag #should I make a fic tag?#something about blood feeding the garden

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unfriendlyamazon · 5 months ago

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wip wednesday for real (heist au)

so @alectoperdita got me watching leverage for the vibes and i will say it has motivated my writing of the heist au. still in the early stages, but i've knocked out more words in the past 24 hours than i have since i first came up with the idea. i've posted a little bit before, but i cleaned it up, changed some things, and figured out what i needed to. still excited to be writing when it felt like a month of being clogged, so i'm going to share it.

and if you want to listen to the heist au soundtrack i do have a spotify playlist for funsies

The flight from Tokyo to New York was a beast, but Yugi didn’t mind. He curled up in his first class seat, headphones on as he tapped away at his computer. The lights were dimmed for the late crossover, and the business man that sat across from him was slumped over in his sleep, two vodka sours and a sleeping pill knocking him out entirely. Most of the other passengers snoozed as well, or shifted uncomfortably in hour eight of the sixteen hour excursion. There was the quiet noise from a few headphones, the soft snores of the passed out businessman, and Yugi’s fingers flying across his keyboard. A stewardess walked the rows. She brought a water to Yugi, who smiled at her gratefully.

“Oh,” she said, “you’re playing that game. My son loves it.”

Yugi dipped back his headphones to hear her better. His character stood idly on the square landscape. Creative mode boxes took up the screen, and a building was taking shape.

“It’s a hobby of mine,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “My grandpa runs a game store, so I get into all of these.”

“That’s so cute,” she said. “Are you building something? A castle?”

“Oh, no.” He moved his character back so she could get a better view of the tall gray structure. Window panes had been meticulously placed, and she couldn’t see it, but the interior included beds, a pool, and a reception desk. “It’s the Nippon International Hotel in New York. Do you know it?”

She blinked, smile turning confused. The stewardess looked again at the screen as though deciphering a puzzle. “I know of it. A lot of our passengers stay there.”

“I’ve only seen it in pictures myself.” He tapped a few buttons, pulling out steel blocks from his inventory. “I’m trying to get a good view of its layout.”

“Can I ask,” she said slowly, “why?”

He shrugged. “It’s a long flight, I don’t have much else to do.”

“And why the Nippon?”

“I’ve got some business to attend to there.”

She nodded, plastering on her best service smile, and quickly shuffled away. It’d be a while before they walked around again. At this point in the flight, the crew was taking a rest as well. Yugi finished aligning the blocks he’d been working on and glanced over at the businessman. He’d removed his jacket, and it slumped over his shoulders.

Eight more hours to go. Yugi felt the telltale twitch of boredom in his fingers. Saving his work, he stood up from his seat. As he sidled into the aisle, he kicked the plastic edge of the airplane seat and jutted forward, grabbing himself on the businessman’s shoulder. He stuttered out apologies, but it was unnecessary. The man slept through. Yugi gave an apologetic pat to the man before straightening up and heading to the bathroom.

He swung the door shut and looked at himself in the dull light that hung over a small mirror. He pressed a finger to the bags under his eyes and stuck out his tongue. He hadn’t slept much before this flight, spending the last week making preparations, and during it his mind was racing too fast to hope for any rest on the way there. Boredom was always a danger to Yugi. It kept him from building a path in high school, and dropped him out of college only a year in, and now it kept him awake at night with thoughts whirring in his head. He spent his days behind the register at his grandpa’s game shop, and in his time off, he hustled the chess players in the park, or practiced his sleight of hand. He still played with the magic show tricks he’d learned when he was young, but these days those skills went to different uses.

From his hoodie sleeve he removed the wallet he’d shifted off the man’s coat. Inside were a number of yen, a few credit cards, and a picture of his daughter, Yugi assumed. He shifted through the bills, counting out 30,000 yen. He pocketed half of it, tucked the rest back inside, and left the wallet on the counter. Someone would find it and return it later, no harm, no foul. It wasn’t really about the money anyway.

Yugi returned to his seat, admiring the build he’d done in Minecraft. It was a little weak compared to what he’d seen others do, but he had the time to spend on it. Tabbing over to another window, he opened the floorplans again and admired them.

Eight more hours to go, and all sorts of trouble to get into on the way there.

—

Joey Wheeler sighed as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. He closed out his voicemail, his landlord’s gruff voice still ringing. Rent was going up in Flatbush. When wasn’t it. Scrounging together the last few dollars he needed was getting harder each week.

He pushed it aside for now. He had other bills to pay, work to worry about, and he needed to stop by his dad’s place, just to make sure he was showering and staying sober. Serenity had texted him. He was reading her message when he jammed the key into the lock, and he paused. The door was pulled back from the frame a fraction of an inch. It stuck like that all the time. You really had to push it to make sure it closed properly. He did it every day when he left. Joey tucked his phone back into his pocket and swung his keys into his fist, shoving the door open.

His box of an apartment wouldn’t look any different for a breakin. This morning’s dishes were still in the sink, the egg and grease caked onto the plate. His shoes were kicked off next to the door in a haphazard pile. A pile of hoodies draped over the patched couch, and his books and DVDs were scattered on the coffee table, alongside week old mugs. The TV and Playstation were untouched, and his laptop, a few generations out of date but still functioning, was exactly where he’d left it this morning.

Joey let out a breath, stepping quietly through the door. Maybe his landlord had come by to see if the place was sellable. He hadn’t given his dad a key, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t drop in if he could manage it. A sound from his bedroom startled him, and he peered through the open door. Diesel Kane might be bold enough to trounce him in his own flat, or maybe it was Tetsu hitting him up again. Joey puffed up, fists curling, and he marked forward, ready to bluster and intimidate. A figure appeared there, a head shorter than he’d expected, and his hands reached for their collar, bringing up the face of--

“Yugi!” He gasped and let go. “Sorry, man, I thought--”

Yugi stumbled back, but he was smiling. “It’s my fault, Joey. I should’ve let you know I was dropping by.”

“Yeah dude.” He slid his hands through this hair, releasing the tension in them. “I didn’t even know you were in the city.”

“I flew in today,” he said. “I thought you’d be home.”

His grin was bright, round eyes warm. He looked like he did in his Instagram photos: vest pulled over his long sleeve shirt, a backpack slung over his shoulders, his usually spiked hair pulled back with the curls of his bleached bangs framing his face. Usually he was standing in front of his grandpa’s shop in Domino, or posing with cool kids in Harajuku. He must’ve just gotten off the world’s longest flight, looking exactly as cheerful as he always did.

“You shoulda told me.” Joey waved him into the living room, kicking aside the mess. “I’ve gotta shift in like three hours, but we could grab something quick. I know a great burger place--”

“Joey,” Yugi said, still smiling. “I didn’t come to visit.”

He stopped and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got something lined up,” he said. “And I really need your help.”

Excitement jolted in his veins. “A job?”

He nodded.

“How big?” Joey asked.

Yugi grinned. “You have no idea.”

—

There was a lot to Joey and Yugi’s friendship, too much to be packed into a simple explanation. The truth was, Joey owed Yugi his life, and Yugi could never let down a friend, and the two had been inseparable for the brief time they’d both lived in Japan. Joey left when he turned eighteen, but they stayed close, and it was only a year later that Yugi called him up, saying he needed a favor.

Joey’d been staying with his dad at the time, and things were going bad. He took work where he could get it to pay the bills, and Diesel had come skulking around again, always with a carrot in his hand and a stick behind his back. Yugi had appeared, staying with another one of his friends who went to NYU. Over dinner, at some sandwich shop over in Park Slope, Yugi had asked for his help. It was important, he claimed, and he could only trust him with it. He asked him to come back to Japan with him. Joey couldn’t say no.

The first time Yugi had laid out his master plan for Joey, he hadn’t known what to make of it. They’d been in his bedroom above his grandpa’s shop, and Yugi showed him a small replica of the art gallery two blocks over, using figurines sold in little plastic bags from the game store. The security had a major flaw in it. He’d pointed it out to Joey, who nodded numbly. He listened to his whole spiel, and then Yugi sat down across from him and asked him what he thought.

The next day they’d stolen a ten thousand dollar antique vase. Joey played his muscle when he and Yugi went to the fence. They split the take even. It didn’t really hit for Joey what they’d done until he was on the flight home, and an excitement thrummed inside his chest.

That was four years ago. The jobs got bigger. The payouts were good. It wasn’t like kicking over corner stores for Diesel, or brawling against street gangs. The people they stole from were rich, the things weren’t important, and most of all he trusted Yugi. Joey would lay down his life for the guy.

So when he told him there was a job in his own backyard, Joey didn’t even have to think twice.

“Who are we meeting again?” Joey asked as he stirred the hot chocolate he’d ordered. November in New York was already feeling the chill. He hitched up his jacket as the cool breeze hit. The coffee shop sat across the street from a shiny hotel.

“Anzu’ll be here any minute.” Yugi checked his watch vintage 90s watch shaped like a Tamogatchi. “She’s probably just hung up on work.”

The whipped cream on Yugi’s caramel macchiato was almost as tall as he was. A third drink sat ready for their lunch date, a pumpkin spice latte.

“Anzu’s that girl, yeah?” Joey said. “You’ve known her a while.”

“Since the third grade.” Yugi smiled as he watched the building across the street. “She’s been my friend practically my whole life.”

“She, uh, in the business too?” he asked.

“She’s an actress,” Yugi said. “Which doesn’t exactly pay the bills, so she’s helped me out.”

Joey followed his line of sight. The front doors to the tall white building opened, and a woman stepped out, pulling a fluffy jacket over her dress. “Is she a good actress?”

“Good enough to get the job.” Yugi waved his hand widely, and the woman bustled across the street to them. She huffed as she came to the table and plopped down in the seat, swinging her bag over the back of the chair. The dress she wore was black, clean, with a pink fuzzy coat and eggshell scarf wrapped around her neck. Her auburn hair was cut short around her ears, and her wide eyes were certainly expressive.

“Who’s that?” she asked, pointing to Joey.

“Joey Wheeler, Anzu Mazaki.” Yugi spread his arms wide. “Now shake.”

Joey stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet ya.”

Anzu looked him up and down and limply took his grip, pulling away with one shake. She picked up the latte thankfully and downed it right away.

“How’s the new job treating you?” Yugi asked.

“Awful,” she said, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

“To what?” Joey asked. “What’s going on?”

“Does he not know?” Anzu asked.

“I was going to do a whole dramatic reveal,” Yugi said. “Give me a chance here, I’ve been planning this for a minute.”

“Just tell me already,” Joey said. “I’m dying of suspense.”

“Okay, okay.” He pointed to the brick across the street. “You see that building? That’s Nippon International, very fancy hotel, club, and spa. Lots of wealthy Japanese people use it, and it’s most likely the location chosen to stay by any Japanese business man traveling abroad. There are club rooms, a pool, and onsen, the works. If you’re going to host an event as a Japanese executive, it’s the spot to pick.”

“And that’s where you work,” Joey said to Anzu.

She shook her head. “Nope. But I do have to get back soon.”

“Let me finish,” Yugi whined. “I swear I’ll be fast. So a while back, I saw that several important historical items were being shipped from Japan to New York. A charity auction, international style. The company putting it on has a lot of business ties to America and probably thought they could attract a wider audience here, I don’t know, I barely know how business works.”

“You run a business,” Anzu said.

He shook his head. “My grandpa does. I just run the cash register. Can I finish, please?”

They both settled silently into their seats. Yugi cleared his throat.

“Anyway,” he said. “It’s all good for us. ‘Cause about a month ago I saw that the business in question had a lot of openings in their New York office. High turnover, it seems, with a need to fill positions quick. It’s a company with a lot of sway, but I know Anzu’s worked plenty of temp jobs and was in need of some extra income. I tell her to apply, forge a few reference letters from some good looking corporations, but really I think it’s the fact that you’re born in Japan that won them over.”

“I like to think my natural charm and charisma had something to do with it,” she said with a flip of her hair.

He grinned. “I bet. So now we have a lot of really high priced items being stored in that hotel, where Anzu is now, what is it, third assistant? She knows where they’re stored, what security is like, and how to work around. Best of all, the security of the place hasn’t been updated in years. It’s a sitting duck right now. And I already have a buyer.”

“What does that mean?” Anzu asked.

“It means we’re funded,” he said. “I got contacted through some third party means to run this job. All we have to do is steal one thing, and that’s it. We’re set for life.”

“How set?” Joey asked.

“Depending on how smooth everything runs,” Yugi said. “It’s $600,000 for the job.”

“Holy shit,” Joey said.

Yugi grinned. “Each.”

“Holy shit!”

“Holy shit is right,” Anzu said. “It’s better than what I’m getting paid for this job.”

“Wait, okay.” Joey held up his hands. “So who are we stealing from?

“Big company in our home town,” Yugi said. “Kaiba Corporation.”

“Kaiba, Kaiba.” He sounded out the name. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“The company restructured a few years back,” Yugi said. “They make games now, you’ve probably played a few. So it turns out the previous owner of the company was into really shady business and they’re still going through his assets. So a few months back they announce this big charity auction with items questionably attained by the family. I’m guessing they’re trying to wipe their hands clean of the whole situation, and use the money to make themselves look good. Now, there’s a lot of valuable items in the catalog, but the one we’re going after–”

“Is this.” Anzu produced a booklet and threw it down. She folded back the page that featured ancient Egyptian statues, and on one side was a large white porcelain dragon. Valued at 3 million yen. Joey felt his jaw drop. “Part of an original set by some famous guy in some dumpy place. There’s only four of them in the entire world, and here’s your chance to own one.”

“It’s the centerpiece of the auction,” Yugi said. “Our client is paying us to retrieve it. So, here it is: the Kaiba Corporation is storing all their priceless valuable artifacts in the Nippon International’s safe until auction day, where they will be paraded out for rich people to drop oodles of money on, and then that money will be used for tax breaks that line the pockets of the wealthy. That means…”

“Victimless crime,” Joey said with a grin.

“See,” Yugi said. “He gets it.”

“Victimless might be a strong word here,” Anzu said, “but I’ll admit it’s a tempting situation.”

“Anzu’s covering our bases on the outside,” Yugi said, “and I booked a room at the Nippon also, just to stay centrally located.”

Joey snorted. “Our benefactor buy that for you?”

“If some people can’t keep track of their credit card information, that’s on them,” Yugi said. “Now we’ve got a week to pull this together. The auction happens Saturday. The Kaibas are arriving…”

“In two hours,” Anzu said, looking at her phone. “Look, I can feed you whatever information I’ve got, but they’re not giving me security codes. As far as I can tell it’s all going through the Kaibas until the day of. Staff is purely set up and maintenance, and making sure the Kaibas have enough mineral water to drink.”

“It’s in a safe too,” Joey said thoughtfully. “A big one. Neither of us are picking a lock like that. We need a guy who knows hardware.”

“I don’t have anyone like that on this side of the ocean,” Yugi said.

“I do.”

Anzu gave a dubious look. “Is it someone you trust?”

“Probably the only person more than this man.” Joey slapped his friend on the shoulder. “What’s the take split four ways instead of three?”

Yugi did the quick math in his head. “$450k, give or take.”

“Still a pretty good nest egg,” he said.

“Not bad,” Anzu admitted. “Okay, I have to get back, or they’ll fire me. I’ll tell you what I learn when the Kaibas land.”

“One week, huh.” Joey smiled to himself. “Then it’s half a mil for each of us.”

“Yup,” Yugi said. “All we gotta do is bypass the hotel security with a bunch of high value targets wandering around, and smuggle out one of the rarest artifacts on the list, all under the nose of the some of the most powerful businessmen in Japan.”

Anzu rolled her eyes. “Well when you say it like that, it sounds so easy.”

He grinned wide. “It always is.”

—

Yugi and Joey took the train out of Manhattan towards the Bronx. They found themselves in a row of industrial shops, welding, plumbing, and body shops on a cracked concrete path. Off to the side was a garage with a barbed fence around it, and a sign that read Taylor & Sons, now grayed and weathered. As they approached, a dog bounded towards them, barking and biting the air. Joey jumped back from the German Shepherd that paced the fence line.

“Blankey, stop,” Joey grunted. “This stupid dog never recognizes me. Taylor, come get your mutt!”

The door swung open, and out stepped a tall, broad man. Packed into his workman’s jumpsuit were stacks of muscles, and a sharp coif of spiked hair on top of tanned skin. He slapped a grease stained rag over his shoulder, walking to the gate.

“Which one?” he said as he grabbed Blankey by the collar.

“Don’t be a dick, man.” Joey leaned against the gate and put on his most winning smile. “I got something good for ya.”

“I never like when you say shit like that to me,” he said. “What kind of trouble you getting into today?”

“The best kind,” he said. “The kind that pays.”

To say Tristan Taylor and Joey Wheeler had been through hell and back was something of an understatement. There was nothing the two hadn’t faced together, fists raised, grins stretched on their lips. It was the sort of brotherhood forged in fire, strong as steel. It also meant Tristan knew when Joey was bullshitting him, and when he meant business.

“So this is Yugi, huh,” he said as he put on the electric kettle. “You take tea?”

“Sure,” Yugi said. “Joey’s talked about me, huh.”

“He’s said a few things.” He glanced up at his friend, tossing him a cola. “Nothing incriminating.”

“He’s being nice,” Joey said, snapping the tab on his soda. “Tristan’s helped me out plenty of times. He’s my go-to man.”

“That’s me,” Tristan said, dropping onto a couch in what had once been a waiting area. “Joey’s gopher.”

“Is it just you?” Yugi asked. He looked around the shop, but most of the furniture had been yanked out, leaving only the comforts of a few worn loungers and an employee kitchen with just a few amenities. “The sign says ‘& Sons’.”

“Hopeful on my dad’s part,” Tristan said. “My sister runs a bar not far from here, but the garage is closed. I use it as a workshop now.”

“Tristan’s a fixer,” Joey said. “Anything and everything.”

“Electronics, cars, other stuff.” He shrugged at the implication. “Pays the bills, barely.”

“Oh, yeah?” Yugi said. “How do you feel about safes?”

The kettle gave a long beep behind them, and steam poured from its spout. Tristan got up without a word, pouring two cups of green tea and handing one to Yugi. He settled back into his spot like a mountain settling, and he sipped from a peach colored tea cup with the painted image of a manatee curving around the base. He set it down on the table between them. Yugi and Joey glanced at each other.

“How big?” Tristan said finally.

“Uh, pretty big,” Joey said. “Yugi’s got schematics and shit.”

“It’d be on site,” Yugi said. “Quietly, best bet. And what’s inside is fragile.”

“Should I ask,” Tristan said, “what’s inside?”

“I can tell you what it’s worth,” Yugi said. “And I can tell you your cut.”

He did. Tristan let out a low whistle. He took another drink of his tea, setting it back onto the coaster, and he stood up.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go to the garage.”

Tristan’s workshop was spacious, and some of the car stands and equipment was still hooked up. An old Dodger was still being worked on in the fear slot, but the rest of the space looked like a junk yard. Old video game equipment piled next to ham radios, crates with shipping labels stacked up high, car parts, welding tools, and scrap metal was organized and displayed in patterns around the space. Yugi recognized the less than legal items for what they were, especially the materials for explosives carefully put away on industrial shelves. Tristan pushed some things aside, sitting down at an antique wooden desk with an old computer that’d been completely rebuilt.

“Okay,” he said. “Tell me the score.”

#heist au #i wanted to get the main gang together #we're just about to finish exposition stage and setting up all the players #i have some fun surprises in mind for this one #yugioh #joey wheeler #anzu mazaki #tristan taylor #yugi muto #my fanfic

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