#listen let me me be a little cringe i think in earned it after suffering though Striker's character assassination

[sweetshelluvaau]

I swear if Viv makes Fizz and Ozzie take Stolas' side over Blitzo's in regard to relationships, especially Ozzie after he gave a ham fisted speech about consent that went over dirty bird's head; I'm gonna riot!

No one massacres my Cock's character and gets away with it!!

[iwadori]

So I'm reading your works and I love them !! I was thinking of requesting some kind of drabble or whatever you like, about a female reader who has thick thighs and is somewhat plump and is in love with Tsukishima but he makes a comment about the food and she feels bad and when she meets Bokuto in the boot camp Bokuto is too cute and attentive to her asking for her number and a date. If you don't feel comfortable with this, just ignore it and good luck with your blog. Sorry my english is bad<3

When they make you insecure PT 5 (tsukishima,bokuto)

Part One Part Two  Part Three Part Four  Part Five Part 6

Word Count: 2.6K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

masterlist

Tsukishima

You and Tsukishima have been dating in your first year (as you both went to the same middle school together.)

You were in love with Tsukishima, you always have been to be honest, but once you became officially boyfriend and girlfriend your feelings amplified.

But recently, Tsukishima hasn’t been so nice.  

“Y/N we’re going on another training camp at Nekoma” Hinata exclaimed running up to you, as you leaning against Tsukishima “and you get to come too this time!”

You recently became the new trainee manager as the third-year manager, Kikyoko, is going to graduate. Tsukishima acted as if you being around all the time in practice was the worst thing in the world, but Yamagucchi always assured you that ‘Tsukki’ was just joking.

“Oh well that’s fun...” you say entertaining Hinata’s excitement. You were kind of excited to go to the training camp too, as it was in Tokyo after all. You were always a big fan of volleyball as your dad used to play for the national team and you were planning to play on the girls team this year but you felt that you didn’t have the body for it (which was obviously not true.)

Hinata kept on rambling on before Tsukishima insulted him. “Gosh Kei, you don’t have to be so rude.” you complained, he slightly nudged you off of him and put on his headphones showing you that he was not in a good mood.

You let the rest of the practice continue, making notes of things and basically being Kiyoko’s shadow. As it ended, you waited outside for Tsukishima to walk home with you, but one of the guys told you he left 5 minutes ago. You knew there was no point of chasing after him so you just walked on your own, making you sigh in defeat.

Tsukishima was what you would describe as hot and cold. Some days he was fine a ‘perfect gentlemen’ but other days, days like this Tsukishima was just Tsukishima.  

When you got home, you decided to watch matches of all the other schools just to get some insight. You were watching a Fukarodani V Nekoma match from a few years ago and something caught your eye, well someone did to be more specific. A beefy, bicolour haired boy who was hooting like an owl was mesmerizing to watch.

You saw that his name was Bokuto Koutarou which triggered your next actions, which were to internet stalk him. You learned that he was the captain of the team and the team’s ace and the 5th ace in the country which piqued your interest in the boy even more.

‘This is going to be an exciting training camp’ you think to yourself before going to sleep.

`Kiyoko gave you an itinerary of all the things you should bring, since you weren’t going to be joining in any of the matches you were reminded to bring things that would keep entertained.  

You get to the bus at the crack of dawn, ready to be driven to Tokyo. Hinata and Kageyama were already arguing (let’s pretend that they didn’t have to do the retakes in the test) Tanaka and Nishinoya were being loud, and the rest of the members were already asleep. You wanted to sit next to Tsukishima but when you were about to sit down, he put his carryon bag in the seat next to him.

The bus ride was around 4-5 hours, and you spent your time reading and sleeping. Daichi got the loudmouths to calm down making the bus ride more tolerable. You suffered from slight motion sickness but you powered through.

When you arrived there, you saw all the other teams and their buses too. You felt a bit overwhelmed, seeing these tall boys just crowd around an entrance way. But too your surprise, noticing your slight anxiousness, Tsukishima grabbed your hand in a hand-hold.  

The Nekoma coach, explained how the day would pan out and where each team would be residing for the week. There was a lot of commotion getting everyone settled, Hinata and Nishinoya were basically bouncing off of the wall commenting on all the people and the place and how they’re going to ‘crush the competition.’  

You could tell that when the other teams were looking at Karasuno they were all staring at Kiyoko. Inquisitive about how there wasn’t only one girl manager but there was two. As you were walking your eyes locked with Bokuto Koutarou’s making yours widen, you blush and turn your head quickly.  

What you didn’t know was, after your small interaction, Bokuto elbowed Akaashi and said “Akaaashi AKKAAASHI, did ya see that? did ya?” he was flying with happiness “That girl from Karasuno smiled at me. She’s really pretty.”

“I think she’s from Karasuno” Akaashi said “So maybe you’ll see her around”

Bokuto stared off in the direction you were walking in “Yeah, hopefully.”

The first day, everyone got settled in and then the teams went straight into games. There were two different gyms and today, in gym 1, you were watching Karasuno V Nekoma. (By the way I literally don’t remember the teams at the training camp besides Nekoma, Karasuno and Fukarodani.) The game was very back a point each team making point after point, you already knew of Nekoma’s captain, Kuroo Testurou and the setter Kenma, you’ve actually played games with Kenma online before so you were fairly acquainted with him already.

The games ended and it was now dinner time, the canteen was packed with all the boys rushing to line up for the food. You waited at the back of the line, not really caring about when you got your food. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder and you looked over to see Boktuo,  

“Hi.” he said “I’m Bok-”

“Bokuto Koutarou!” You finished “I'm a big fan..” you cringed immediately at your excitement ‘pull it together Y/N’ you scold yourself.

“Oh well hi, I’m glad you know who I am” he said “and may I ask for your name?”  

“Oh I’m Y/N L/N” you say with a slight blush “I'm the trainee manager from Karasuno.”  

“Cool! Well I hope to see you aro-” he starts  

“Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you, I already got your food for you.” Tsukishima said pulling at your arm a bit harshly, dragging you over to a table with the Karasuno team.

“Gosh Tsukki, no need to be so harsh” you say rubbing at your wrist, he didn’t apologize and just started eating his food.  

You look down at your plate and see the small portion that Tsukki got for you. The Karasuno bunch was being loud, as they usually are, so when you whisper “Tsukki what the fuck is this” whilst nudging him in the side, he didn’t hear you (or atleast he pretended he didn’t.) You tried again but a little louder saying, “Tsukishima what the fuck is this.” you realised you said it a bit too loud as the whole Karasuno table stopped their conversations to look over at the slight commontion you caused.

“What do you mean Y/N?” he said with a slight smirk on his face.

“I mean what’s with the portion size of a bird that you gave me?” you ask getting upset “Do you really think im that big?”

“Well, you could start eating less that’s for sure.” he said earning gasps from you and some of the people sitting at the table “Y/N let's face it, you eat like a pig and you look like an elephant, me making your food portion smaller is the least I could do.”  

By now you had tears in your eyes, Tsukishima was a dick. You knew this, everybody knew this to be honest, yet you still loved him. He wasn’t like this in middle school, yes he was a bit snarky and rude (but wasn’t every middle schooler?) High school Tsukishima was like a completely different person. As much as you wanted to run away and hide, you knew you couldn’t.  

So you stood up and said “Tsukishima, I’ve spent 3 years loving and pining after you, because I thought you were this great guy, but turns out you’re a huge asshole” you start making some of the people listening in smile in laughter “Tsukishima, I’ve hated this past year dating you, you’ve been such a huge dick and I’m finally stopping you. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.” You start making your way to exit before finally saying “Oh and by the way I’m not the pig here, you are... oh and I’m breaking up with you.” You left, hearing a few laughs and some claps behind you.

You felt relieved, like the massive cloud that’s been over your head is finally gone. You went to the gym since you knew it was empty and picked up a ball to just throw it around a bit. After a while of ‘de-stressing,’ you hear someone else enter the gym.

“Oh I didn’t know you’d be here.” said Bokuto  

“Well here I am,” you say awkwardly “I can leave if you want me too, I know this is for actual volleyball players.”

“No no it’s fine you can definitely stay, in fact do you mind setting for me?” he asks  

“Sure, of course I don’t mind” you reply, excited you get to play with someone.  You haven’t played in ages, you always begged Tsukishima to just throw a ball around with you but he never did.  

You set to Boktuo a lot, with him always asking for ‘another one’ everytime he spiked the ball. Eventually, you were tired of setting and wanted to spike. You originally was a spiker to begin with taking after your dad. Thats why you took a liking to Bokuto in the first place cause he reminded you of the joys you had when watching your father play.

Bokuto set a ball to you and you spiked it with great strength and accuracy smiling at the burning feeling you felt in your palm.  

“Woahh” Bokuto shouted going towards you in amazement “Where did you learn how to spike like that?”

“From my dad, I don’t know if you heard of him before but my dad’s name is D/N L/N...?” you say

“D/N L/N, Y/N he is my idol!” he shouted again “I want to be just like him.”

“I think you can, I see a lot of similarites in the way you both play.” you say

“Really! And you’ve seen me play before..?” he asks

“Yeah, I watched some of your games before coming here... you’re really good” you shyly admit.

“Wow.”

You and Bokuto spend the rest of your time, talking about volleyball you’re interests, things you have in common, your likes and dislikes. Talking to Bokuto was refreshing, he didn’t randomly insult you or make snide comments about your weight or your looks. He just genuinely looked happy to be there talking to you, unlike Tsukishima.  

Seeing your change in mood, Bokuto stops talking and asks “are you alright? I forgot to ask earlier, but I saw what happened in the canteen and I hope you’re okay.”  

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just things with me and Tsukishima reached a breaking point, I guess...” you say sniffling a bit talking about it “But it’s fine now I’ve broken up with him and I feel better already.”

“So you’re saying your single...?” he asked blushing a bit

“Yeah I guess I am...” you smile blushing also.  

“Okay great...well I hope this isn’t too forward after everything happened with Tsukki and all but...” he starts “but would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Who me?” you ask as if you weren’t the only other person in the room

“No the volleyball” he responds sarcastically “Of course you Y/N.”  

“Are you sure, cause to be honest Bokuto you’re a really good-looking guy” you say making him smile widely “so I think you need someone to match your level in attractiveness” you look down and his smile drops.

“What do you mean?” he asks before realising all the stuff Tsukishima said about you “Y/N you’re beautiful, your face, your body just you.” you blush at his words “when I first saw you when you were walking past us in the entrance way the first thing I thought and said about you was “Akaashi who is that girl she’s beautiful.””  

“Really?” you ask with disbelief

“Mhm” he nods excitedly “So will you go on a date with me?”  

“I guess so...” you say a bit unsure

“HEY HEY HEY!” he exclaims “I gotta go tell akaashi!” he runs out of the gym in a hurry making you laugh, but he comes back to give you a quick unexpected kiss on the cheek making you smile.

You checked your phone for the time realising that you’ve been with Bokuto for 3 hours and you knew that everyone would be going to sleep now. As you are the manager you slept seperately from the rest of the team but before you went to your sleeping quaters you went to Karasunos.  

“Y/N where have you been? We’ve been worried about you.” asked yammagucchi  

“It’s fine yams don’t worry about it, guys” you say catching everyones attention “I just wanted to apologise to you for my outburst at dinner, it wasn’t my intention to cause a scence.”

“It’s fine Y/N” said sugawara “He definitely deserved it.”

“Yeah as your marvellous senpai we gave him a good telling off” said Tanaka and Nishinoya  making you chuckle.  

“Okay well thanks guys, I’m going to sleep goodnight.”

“Wait Y/N can I speak with you.” asked Tsukishima gesturing to outside the room

“Umm sure” you respond following him into the corridor.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for the things I’ve said and done over the past year and how I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, you don’t deserve that. So, I’m sorry.”  

“I can’t say I can forgive you yet.” you say making Tsukishima look sad “but maybe with effort from you we can become friends possibly?”  

“Just friends?” he said with hope in voice thinking that you could be something more.

“Just friends.” you repeated and confirmed “Besides I have been asked on a date”  

“With who?”  

“None of your business stingyshima” you mock the nickname that Hinata calls him making him scowl and you smile “Goodnight.”

After Bokuto’s confession and Tsukishima’s apology, the rest of the training camp went off without a hitch. In your breaks and lunchtimes, you got to know more about Bokuto and with Kuroo’s help you even got to sneak out to actually go on your date. You sometimes even went to practice with them getting to show off your skills, with Bokuto cheering you on and complimenting you every single time.  

Tsukishima kept his distance for the most part, and kept the snarky comments about you and Bokuto to himself (even though he was dying to say them.) You eventually fully forgave Tsukishima in your 3rd year but you definitely weren’t as close as you used to be. Tsukishima’s comments and actions did affect you for a while however with the help of your loving boyfriend, you were reminded how beautiful you are no matter what weight, shape or height you were.

You and Bokuto stayed together, you made sure to come to every one of his games and when you introduced him to your dad he fainted on sight. Your dad and Bokuto got along, and became very close friends, Bokuto always came to him for advice (especially volleyball advice.) You loved Bokuto and he definitely loved you too.

AN: I hope you liked it, since I didn’t want to make it too similar too the Atsumu insecure one. And I feel like it dragged out a bit but got rushed in the endd....but oh well...

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

please please a part 2 of that gamer!geralt au, them doing something like Q&A

Nonie, I hope you know what you signed up for. This got out of hand lmao. like 2.4k of Q&A kind of out of hand. 

Warnings: swearing, talk of drinking to excess, kinda spicy questions, lil kisses, idk how but I meant for this to be goofy and horny and it got kinda soft? what’s new?

____________

“Holy shit,” Geralt sat staring at his phone as he mindlessly stirred pasta.

“I swear to god, if you found a way to burn noodles-” Jaskier turned away from the blender to wave a wooden spoon covered in pesto puree.

Geralt shook his head and held his phone up to him, scrolling through the replies to a tweet as he did, going on for ages as Jaskier’s jaw slowly got closer to the floor.

“What are those for?!”

“I put up a poll for a boyfriend Q&A or a game review and not a single person has voted for the game review.” Geralt was still scrolling through questions people wanted answered as he watched Jaskier’s face go from shock to confusion to a smug grin. 

“They love me,” he sang, kicking his heel up as he turned back to the pasta sauce.

Geralt rolled his eyes and started screenshotting some of the less invasive questions, shaking his head and muttering, “Course they do.”

-

Geralt pressed record, waited a moment, and heaved a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, “You guys literally didn’t even give me a choice on this one,” he reached off frame and scruffed Jaskier, plopping him down on the couch with him. 

Jaskier didn’t stay where he was put for even a moment, using his momentum to bounce up onto Geralt’s lap with a shit-eating grin, “Oh? Are we rolling?”

Geralt dropped his forehead to Jaskier’s shoulder, stifling a laugh, “This is gonna be a long one.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jask agreed, then turned to the camera, stroking Geralt’s hair, “My fans want more!”

“OH-kay,” Geralt manhandled Jaskier to sit next to him which earned him a pout and a leg draped over his lap as he continued his intro, “I’ve got a bunch of questions from twitter. I didn’t even have to confirm which video we would do, you guys just went straight for the kill. I picked a few, Jask picked a few, neither of us knows which ones the other picked.” he turned to see Jaskier wiggle his eyebrows at the camera, “Why am I thinking you picked the raunchy ones?”

The brunet pretended to be offended before he smirked, “Only a few.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he nudged Jask with his shoulder and opened up his phone to his screenshots, “Okay! First up is AdamSandlersBitch, nice name. They asked what Jaskier’s favorite gaming console and game to play is.” he turned to Jaksier with raised eyebrows.

His boyfriend cringed, “My.. my phone? I don’t know? I play a lot of Candy Crush while I listen to podcasts?”

Geralt smiled sweetly, “Wait what about Stardew Valley? I thought you started that?”

“I did!” Jaskier brightened up for a moment before he deflated again, “But I got confused and then the ADHD made me bake cookies.”

“Those were good cookies. I’ll play with you if you want?” Geralt’s normal ‘streamer dude’ persona melted away while he played with the rips on Jaskier’s jeans. 

Jask leaned forward and kissed his temple, “I’d love that.” 

Geralt blushed, even after years, Jaskier’s affection still caught him off guard. 

“Mkay! My turn!” Jaskier flashed his devilish grin and read, in his most obnoxious voice, “Dwn2Clwn said ‘do you two live together? Have you said ‘i love you’? And who tops?’”

Geralt’s mouth twisted into an upside-down U as he stared at Jaskier in muted surprise, “Honestly, not as bad as I expected.”

Jaskier looped his arm around Geralt’s, “I’m starting off easy.”

Geralt let his mock-disapproving gaze linger just a bit before he answered, “The living together is kind of new-like a few months. This one said ‘I love you’ on, what? The fourth date? Fifth?”

“Fourth.”

“No, it was the fifth, Eskel locked himself out on the fourth. Remember?”

“Shit you’re right,” Jaskier gave the camera a stern look, “In my defense, we’d been friends for a good four years before this. I wasn’t just confessing my love to a tinder date - though I have done that before.”

Geralt nodded, “That was very amusing.”

Jaskier tapped his nose, “Don’t avoid the last part, darling.”

Geralt huffed and stared down the camera, and, in the most matter of fact tone possible, said, “We switch. Compromise, folks. Can’t have one person doing all the work all the time.”

Jaskier nodded sagely, patting Geralt's chest, “We got a pow-”

Geralt clamped his hand over Jaskier’s mouth, 100% sure he was going to say ‘power bottom pillow princess’, “Nope. I’ll get demonetized for that.”

“But not who tops?” Jaskier asked through Geralt’s fingers.

He just shrugged, “I don’t make the rules.”

Jaskier tapped his phone and raised his eyebrows, telling him to move to the next question. 

“Mis- Mischanication? Shit I hope I said that right, Mischanication asked, ‘would you ever get a pet together?’ We did! Her name is Roach and she’s a little shit! I told Jaskier not to feed her, but he did, now we have the snuggliest, crankiest cat I’ve ever met!” 

Jaskier had gotten up to pluck Roach from her perch on the windowsill when Geralt had read the question and plopped down with her as Geralt finished his proud speech, “She’s not a little shit! She’s just delicate! Isn’t that right, darling?”

Geralt scratched under her chin and cooed, “You are a nasty little dragon baby, aren't you?! Just a little garbage child! Yes, you are. We love the tiny demon beast.”

“Geralt!”

He snickered and kissed Jaskier’s hair, “Next question, love.”

Jaskier grumbled something about positive reinforcement as Roach scampered back to her cat tree and he unlocked his phone for his next tweet, “This darling wants to remain anonymous,” Geralt gave him some serious side-eye at that, “they said ‘I think I’m in love with the flower twink, where can I find one of my own?’”

Geralt frowned at the camera and pulled Jaskier onto his lap, holding him close and snuggling into his chest, almost growling, “Hands off.”

Jaskier giggled, brushing Geralt’s hair out of his face as he talked to the camera, “You heard the man. Unfortunately, I was not mass-produced and I’ve been spoken for.”

Geralt looked up at him with what could only be called suspicious puppy eyes, “You picked that one just to sit in my lap didn’t you?”

“Yes. And because I want to change my socials to ‘flower twink’.” 

“Do it,” Geralt kept Jaskier on his lap as he swiped to his next question, “Eggsfuckingsuck - heh, my dad hates eggs- Eggsfuckingsuck says, ‘what is the most embarrassing thing you’ve caught each other doing/saying?’ Oh boy, do I have a story for you!”

"Oh I couldn't say the thing but you can tell this story!?" 

"...you have a point... Check my insta stories. I'll put it there after I post this." 

Jaskier nodded, ever so pleased, and turned to the camera, "Our dear Yennefer of sorceryglammour once beat Geralt at trivia night when the theme was 'video games'." 

“We did shots before we went to the bar and she goaded me and Lambert into a chugging competition before the round started. I’m telling you, she planned this. Yen is ruthless.” Geralt desperately tried to justify his defeat but Jaskier was having none of it. 

“She’s mostly harmless, plus I have video evidence from that night. You weren’t that far gone.”

“Pull it up! Let’s settle it.”

Jaskier patted Geralt’s head like one would a toddler, “I’d have to get my old laptop out. Later, darling.”

Geralt had a smug look on his face, “That means he doesn’t have it anymore.”

“Next question!” Jaskier squeaked, not at all changing the subject. 

Geralt shrugged, “If you admit I won that one.”

“It’s not a competition!” Jaskier laughed, looking down at him with that stupidly smitten look on his face.

“Hmmm…” Geralt tilted his chin up defiantly, “if you say so.”

Jaskier kissed him, lingering a little bit more than could be considered chaste, “I do.” 

Geralt looked up at him, batting his eyelashes, “Fine then, next question.”

Jaskier handed him his phone and he read it off leaning his head on Jaskier’s shoulder, “CountryBumpkin42 asked if we play any instruments. I play the recorder very poorly, but Jask plays everything.”

“Not everything, but yes, I could cover a Trans Siberian Orchestra song if I had a pedalboard with enough loop settings.” Jaskier preened. 

“And more,” Geralt added, counting on his fingers as he spoke, “In this house alone he has two pianos, three different types of guitars, a drumset, a violin and fiddle, a flute and piccilo, an oboe, a mandolin, a lute, bongos, saxophone, clarinet, tambourine, trumpet, and xylophone. Did I get them all?”

Jaskier glanced from side to side with a guilty look, “Ah… no, I bought a bass sax that showed up last night.”

“Oh, did Thursday at 3 decide they wanted to switch after all?”

“Yeah! She got the third chair as a freshman on a loaner instrument! I’m very proud!”

Geralt seemed to remember they were recording and turned back to the camera, “J teaches music at the university and does private lessons.” 

“It’s how I can afford such a pretty trophy boyfriend,” Jaskier teased, ruffling Geralt’s hair and earning a little chuckle.

“Mkay, what do you have next?”

Jaskier smoothed Gearalt’s hair back down as he read the next question, “3R4108F6!J asks if we have any cute nicknames for each other.”

Geralt’s eyebrows nearly flew past his hairline, “J has a new one for me almost every day.”

“Its true,” Jaskier nodded, “I am a slut for cute nicknames. This morning was Ger Bear, one of my faves. I called him Thumbs for a bit, I lovingly call him Dumb Fuck rather often.”

“And he is Dip Shit, it’s balanced. I usually just shorten names? Jask or J is usually it, right?” Geralt asked, shifting so Jaskier was sitting on the couch between his legs and they were both turned out toward the camera but very much still cuddling. 

“And when I’m being childish I get Alfie. But Geralt is much more deliberate and specific with his nicknames. It’s a bit of a friendship level up when he uses nicknames.”

Geralt frowned at him, “I do that?”

Jaskier giggled, “You never noticed?”

He tilted his head, giving Jaskier a quizzical look, “Not at all.”

Jaskier cupped Geralt’s cheek, “You’re so cute.”

Geralt blushed again, leaning into the touch just a tad, “Who’s turn is it?”

“Yours,” Jaskier hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“Okay,” Geralt blushed even more, “I had this one as an alternate, but uh, Yen asked what we’d name our first kid?” 

Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s shoulder and hummed as he thought for a moment, “I always like Blake or Spencer, but I seem to remember you saying something about old world traditional names?”

Geralt nodded, absentmindedly running his fingers up and down Jaskier’s arm, “My grandma was hoping each of us boys would be a girl and wanted mum to name us Cirilla every time. I quite like it, but I’m rather open as long as I don’t know someone with the name. I really like Eric?” 

“Oo, I like Eric.”

“But you like the neutral names.”

“I do, but it’s your hypothetical kiddo too.”

Geralt gave him a little squeeze, “There’s time for that later. What’s your next one?”

Jaskier snorted when he looked at his phone, “What are your guys’ love languages?”

Geralt just looked down at Jask, completely entangled in his arms, then up to the camera, “I’m gonna hazard a guess at physical touch.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s a safe bet,” Jaskier giggled, “I haven’t taken the quiz in years, but I was that and gifts.”

“Oh, yeah. Physical touch and words of affirmation. I got like a 0 on acts of service and gifts, but I really like giving gifts.” 

“Mhm, yes you do,” Jaksier wiggled his eyebrows, then turned to the camera, “I also had no idea you could have different giving and receiving languages till I met this one.”

Geralt nodded then turned to him with a slight frown, “you know I really thought your questions were going to be more graphic.”

“Oh, honey I saved the best for last,” Jaskier winked. 

“Fuck me,” Geralt grumbled before reading off his last question, “Cali852 asked what we did for Pride.”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up, “Oh Pride was fun. We watched the parade, of course, then Yen did our makeup and… and where did we go after that?”

Geralt looked like he’d been waiting for this, “We went to a club, where you ordered three kamakazis, knocked them all back, danced for twenty minutes, then I took you home.”

“N-no… we went to the beach, didn’t we?”

“That was the year before. We were going to go to the drag show at our regular bar too, but someone had just finished grading finals and went a little too hard.” 

Jaskier grinned, “Speaking of finals, time for the last question. I had a different one in mind but if the thing I cant say from earlier would get this demonetized then that defintitelyi would. So we’re going with ‘what is the wackest placy y’all banged?’”

Geralt snorted, “Shit who knows anymore?”

“Well there was the boat?”

“Or the train?”

“Nah, too standard. What about the cabin?”

“Heh, no I think your o-”

“I don’t have tenure darling,” It was Jaskier’s turn to slap his hands over Geralt’s mouth, “The answer is a dilapidated structure my parents still try to call a cabin out in the foothills.”

Geralt laughed and pulled his hand away, “Okay, that can be the answer.”

“Is that it? Now we just say bye?” Jaskier looked between Geralt and the camera.

Geralt shrugged, “Yeah. You wanna say the thing?”

Jaskier wiggled with a little pride and excitement, “Don’t forget to like and subscribe! Bye Fuckers!”

They both waved for a couple seconds before Geralt got up and turned the camera off. He popped out the memory card and was going to immediately start loading it onto his computer but Jask hooked his finger through a belt loop as he walked past and tugged him back down. 

“I’m tired. Snuggle with me.” 

Geralt hummed, “We just snuggled that whole time.”

Jaskier heaved a dramatic sigh, “I know and this is exhausting. I don’t know how you talk to a camera all day.”

Geralt stretched to set the chip on top of his laptop before collapsing back on top of Jaskier who had stretched the length of the couch, “Are you making fun of me?” he teased. 

Jaskier cupped his face between his hands and pulled him up for a deep kiss, “Oh never.” 

[l4verq]

remnants (2)

ransom drysdale x reader

in which you have to protect ransom drysdale because he has the same face as steve rogers, your ex who’s gone back to peggy

pairing : ransom x reader

warnings : angst? mentions of guns

if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk in the comments💗

ʀᴇᴍɴᴀɴᴛꜱ

*not my gif*

-

ransom doesn’t remember the last time he was this dumbfounded.

his hands graze over the grainy picture of a andy barber who looks just like him.

down to the very mole on his left cheek, every feature seems to fit perfectly with his.

“we believe, these are all alternate versions of you,”sam glances at ransom, biting into a stale piece of bread, “steve, to be more precise.”

“so what? I’m a clone?” he huffs, cringing at his own words.

yoi look up from your plate and realise he’s looking at you for an answer.

“we don’t know but we do know they’re not from this timeline.” you pick at the canned beans with your fork.

you never really had an appetite on days like these.

“who? them?” he raises the stack of papers.

you nod, placing your fork down.

“thet all popped out of nowhere when everyone else came back after the blip. no one’s heard of them before.” bucky explains, picking up your fork and handing it back to you.

you grimace, glancing at the goopy mess on your plate.

“and what do you mean, timeline?” ransom questions, observing you and bucky.

you guys were close, that was evident enough from the way he’s been trying to get you to eat something.

but just how close were y-

“we don’t know.” sam gruffs, his throat parched from the dry, flaky bread.

ransom rolls his eyes, “what do you know?”

“that the only way you’re not going to end up like them is by staying with us.” bucky gestures towards the papers with his fork.

ransom slouches back in his chair, horrified at the thought of being in this dump for any longer.

he had to sleep on the couch, if you could call it one, last night and he’s pretty sure he saw some rats scurry by while washing his face earlier today.

and did he mention the clothes? he’s in a horribly mismatched shirt and sweatpants that feels like gravel on his skin.

his stomach growls but he’d rather starve than eat that soupy thing infront of him.

“it’s only for a few days, weeks at most. because of the blip, hydra’s suffered, they’re outresourced. the problem is, we are too.” you offer a sympathetic smile.

you kind of felt bad for him.

he sighs, “can we go shopping or something for clothes and food. actual edible food?”

“what can you get with,” sam dramatically digs into his pockets, pulling out a single bill, “five bucks?”

of course, he’d be stranded with three strangers, only five bucks to their names.

“aren’t the avengers supposed to be loaded?” ransom asks in disbelief.

“not everyone has a wealthy grandpa.”

-

“hey, what’s up?” sam walks in, a little too breezily.

you narrow your eyes as he awkwardly shifts around, looking for a place to sit.

the floor is covered with files and documents, you’d been rummaging around, searching for other safehouses set up by shield years ago.

“let me guess, you want to ask me how I’m doing?” you sigh, flipping over another file report from years ago.

he has a sheepish smile on his face as he picks up a file and starts flipping through.

“we’ve been at this for months now and this is the first time we’ve ever met one of them.” he trails off, hesitantly.

“and?”

he looks at you, raising his eyebrows.

you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes cause you hate to see the pity in them. hate that he knows you’re still hurting.

“just let us know if it gets too much.” he says, softly.

the stupid lump forms in your throat again and you busy yourself, picking up another file.

you flip to the first page, instantly recognising the familiar scrawlings.

cause you were used to seeing those on little notes Steve used to leave you.

you vaguely remember this mission, it was a grueling week of staying undercover as the new siblings in town until shield gave a green light on pursuing the subjects.

you’d never laughed so hard than when your new neighbour had caught you two making out, revolted by the act of incest she thought she’d just witnessed.

a gunshot outside alerts you, breaking your thoughts.

“relax, bucky’s teaching him how to use a gun.” sam chuckles, eyes still trained on the file.

“a gun? why?”

“precautionary measures.”

you furrow your brows, “for what?”

he shuts the file, giving you a look.

you realise why.

“no, he’s not coming with us. are you crazy?” you end up yelling.

joaquin had tipped you guys off about a run-down, abandoned hydra base that would hopefully answer some questions.

and there was no way you were letting them bring Ransom there.

“listen, if we leave him here, there’s no saying what might happen so we don’t have a choice.” he sighs, trying to reason.

“well, one of us can stay here, babysit him.”

he scoffs, “really? who?”

you hate to admit it but he was right.

ransom couldn’t stay here alone and no one would agree to staying behind to miss out on the action.

“well, I’ll go help.” you grit your teeth, storming out of the room.

a second shot goes off as you push the front door, greeted by the bright rays of the sun.

bucky’s passing the gun onto ransom who looks hesitant.

you know he’s never held one by the way his hand grips around it, a little too tight.

he aims at a can placed infront shakily, his posture awkwardly stiff.

you can’t help but walk over, holding out your hand.

he hands you the gun, muzzled pointed right at his legs.

you swiftly grab it, “first thing, don’t point this thing anywhere unless you want to shoot.”

bucky cocks his head in amuse.

you always flunked on training the new recruits back in shield and yet here you were, voluntarily helping ransom.

“your right hand, grip this here,” you guide ransom’s hand along the back strap, “your left hand, under it. Support it.”

he looks over at you, seemingly for approval.

and suddenly, you can’t breathe.

the familiarity of this catching you offguard yet again.

but it had been you in ransom’s place and steve in yours.

“it’s gonna be pretty loud.” you clear your throat, fixing his stance slightly.

a hesitant pull of the trigger, completely missing the can.

he scratches his head, adorning a sheepish smile which shouldn’t feel as endearing.

“wow, you’re really bad at this.” bucky exhales, earning a side eye from you.

“can’t I just hold a pepper spray or something?”

-

your eyes fall on the bag of transceivers, that you guys’d been heavily relying on these past couple of months.

however, beyond a minute they’d track you instantly. so every call made was timed under a minute.

“you know, you can call your family if you want.” you mumble, loading the car with boxes of tech sam needs lying around or else he swears red wing will “go hungry”.

he’s sitting in the passenger seat, legs out on the ground, hands in his pockets.

you bite back a passive agressive remark about how he could be helping you right now.

“no, that’s fine.” he mutters, an unreadable expression on his face.

based on the information you’d dug up on him, you knew their family wasn’t exactly close.

but if their son was being hunted down by crazed psychos hell bent on bringing chaos to the world, they surely had the right to know.

“our phones are untraceable, it’s safe if you keep it under a minute.” you reach out to grab one.

“s’okay, they won’t care.” he gruffs, shrugging his shoulders.

you breathe out an “oh”, internally smacking yourself for insisting.

an awkward silence follows as you resume loading the last box, shutting the trunk.

“who’s ready for a roadtrip?” sam gleams, palms raised.

you wrinkle your nose at the familiar smell of kerosene.

“do you guys have to do this everytime?” you roll your eyes, backing away from the scent.

ransom’s about to ask what when the house explodes up in flames right in front of him.

“what the fuck?” he jumps out of his seat, frantic eyes racing around.

but the fire stops as soon as it began, leaving a scorched framework of bricks and rubble behind.

“can’t find anything if you have nowhere to search.” bucky rattles an empty jar labelled corrosive.

san fist bumps him, smirking.

ransom’s starting to think you might be the sanest out of the three.

and that was saying a lot.

-

a/n : 🤨🧎🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ i need to stop cringing everytime i post smthing lol

tags : @readermia @inmate-marmalade @stephdavies95 @randomsevans @xoxabs88xox @thebadassbitchqueen @tcc-gizmachine @mypalbuck @natrushman3000

[birdbrain90]

Sylki Week Day 4 - Romantic Tropes (Falling in love on the dance floor.) (No NSFW, but suggestive themes toward the end.) (I have no idea what I'm doing LOL)

“Well? Do you want to…?” Sylvie snapped out of her thoughts at the suddenly irritating voice in her right ear.

“What? What’re you talking about?” She looked over, thankful that it was dark enough to hide the heat creeping across her face. She could blame it on the alcohol, but she hadn’t had a drop in over an hour.

“You’ve been staring at the dance floor on and off all night. If you’d like me to take you out there, I’d be more than happy.” Loki took great care to keep the tone of his voice in check, not wanting to sound too eager. Truthfully, he’d wanted to ask her all night.

“Yeah well, it’s mesmerizing. No, I’m good just watching from here. I don’t even know how to dance.”

“I could show you. It’s one of my favorite things to do at parties.” He shrugged. That part wasn’t a lie, he was tremendously fond of dancing. Back home, he had always been the man to find when one wanted to be whirled around on the dance floor for a night. As a matter of fact, his charm and grace while music played was how he’d been able to earn an evening with Lady Sif. He cringed, remembering how well he’d dealt with his amorous feelings back then. Not well at all, and their relationship was never the same, nor was her hair. He cleared his throat and shifted nervously, accepting Sylvie’s silence as a no. “If you change your mind, let me know.” Loki took a longer sip of his drink than necessary.

Several minutes went by, and Loki smiled watching the dancers, listening to the music and allowing the alcohol to ever so slightly grip his brain. Sylvie was quiet, and he strained his peripheral vision in order to get a better look. Her hand almost smacked him in the side of the face as he looked over.

“Loki if you’re going to insist, just get on with it.” Her other hand that wasn’t extended out toward him was holding up her chin. She was conveniently not looking at him.

“But I didn-”

“Going once… going twice…”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, a smirk lighting up his face as he slowly pieced her together. He took her hand in his, and only then did she look at him. He could feel her fingers trembling, and as he stood with a flourish in front of her, he felt her squeeze him.

“May I have this dance, Madam?” His smile grew wide enough to reveal his sparkling teeth as she all but knocked them out of his mouth with her fist.

“You’re the worst. Just dance with me, arsehole.” She stood with him, and he was surprised that she let him lead her. “And you better be a good teacher. Don’t make me look like a fool.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Sylvie.”

As they reached the dance floor, Loki felt his own palms beginning to sweat at where he would have to place his hands. He’d danced with ladies hundreds of times before. Why was this one different? This slightly annoying, always mean to him, always trying to hit him, woman, why was she the one who made his palms sweat and his heart speed up to surely inhuman levels? Shaking his head, he pulled her close, taking one of her hands in his, and placing one hand on her hip. She followed suit, placing her free hand on his shoulder. Both of them stood shell shocked for a moment, unaware that the next song had started but very aware of how close they were. He could feel every point where her body touched his, feeling as though each bit of contact had its own pulse. His heart, the main cause of his suffering in this moment, began to beat painfully in his throat.

“You look nervous.” She muttered, spite weaving its way into her words. She smirked up at him.

“Me? Nervous? You underestimate me. I’ve danced with hundreds of women before. You are far from the first.” Of all the things his fool mouth could have said in that moment, that was at the bottom of the list of good choices. He watched her face fall in a way that was nigh undetectable to the outside world, but he had spent enough time with her to know that his false bravado had hurt her feelings. “That was rude.” He sighed, beginning to lead her around to the rhythm of the music. “I’m sorry. I am nervous. A little. A lot, actually.”

“Me too.” He almost didn’t hear her. Her eyes fell down to his chest. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Well, let me show you how then.”

The next several minutes were spent whirling Sylvie around the dance floor like he had been dying to do all night. Luckily, it was a group of slow songs, because he didn’t think he’d be able to stop if he tried. True to his word, Loki was a fabulous dancer. His lithe body floated around, perfectly in time with the music, pulling her along with him in an elaborate choreography he seemed to be making up on the spot. He was still shocked at how she allowed him to lead her, and even more shocked at how quickly she had followed said lead. The twirling they had caught themselves in sent the rest of the world around them into a blur. Nothing else mattered but her lovely green eyes, and the feeling of her movements matching his. Eventually, as the final song played, they had abandoned their feverish waltzing in favor of gently swaying along with each other. Her arms were lazily clasped around his neck, his wrapped around her waist, their hips pushing and grinding perhaps a little too intensely against one another. She could feel the heat of his body in waves crashing against her own, and she silently wondered if any of the other dancers could see what was going on between the two.

“Sylvie,” Loki drew and released a quivering breath, “I think I might love you.” He loosened his arms around her waist, expecting her to run away from him. When she didn’t, his eyes widened.

“Never had someone to love before.” her eyes pierced his, and he feared he might lose his ability to stand before too long. “Never had a boyfriend.” She looked down at his lips, then back up to his eyes. “Can you show me how to do that, too? Or are you too chicken?”

“Chicken? Me? My lady I’ll have you know I never back down from a challenge.” He puffed his chest against her.

“Love you too, sweaty palms.” She laughed, resting her head against his chest as they continued swaying long after the music had stopped.

@sylkiweek

[starswornoaths]

On the Rocks

Commission for @anorptron! Thank you so much for your patronage! :D

Set during early 4.0, the Warrior of Light ventures to his home after suffering a recent defeat. In search of a balm for his wounds, he finds an opportunistic noble yielding proverbial salt instead.

Fortunate, then, that his family had thought of that.

Word count: 4,743

~*~

Despite the defeat that dogged every step traveled back to Ishgard, there was a strange, tentative sort of merriment in the air of Manor de Fortemps. The High House had been scheduled to host an event marking progress in the Houses of the Lords and Commons— to say that the Alliance’s defeat in Rhalgr’s Reach had been poorly timed would be a gross understatement. 

It didn't matter how many times Edmont and his brothers reassured him otherwise, Sage felt responsible for how thin the margin for political error had become in the span of days. Even as much as he tried to detach himself from the minutiae of the politicking that came with the day to day of government— and the Alliance’s military coordination, no less— it was impossible for him to not be acutely aware of how easily this initial loss could be used to twist the Ishgardian public against the war effort— and, by proxy, all of the progress they had bled and lost for.

A lurching churned Sage’s gut. His throat tightened in that warning sort of way that came with nausea. Before it could fully clench around his neck, he swallowed the feeling down with a drink from his glass. Though there was nothing in it to burn away the mauldin thoughts clouding his head, the sweetness of the fruit nectar was still enjoyable all the same.

Sage almost wished he was permitted to drink tonight. He didn’t even necessarily like the stuff, mind; Edmont hadn’t brought out his good stock of sweet liquor, after all. He’d known the company he’d be hosting tonight was largely unpleasant, bless the man, and instead saved what few alcoholic drinks Sage actually liked for another gathering. He instead tried to focus on the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel; whatever nonsense he might have to endure at this party would be worth it, to spend time with those he was closest to— with much better drinks in hand.

In truth, while Sage was still far from enthused about alcohol, it was hard not to look forward to those after parties, at least a little: once all but Aymeric and himself had been seen out for the night, they’d all sequester themselves in the lounge, to keep out of the staff’s hair, while they all unwound with, “the good bottles.” It had been a tradition among the Fortemps men—one Edmont had insisted kept his sanity—for years, long before Sage had met them. But Sage was promptly folded into those nightcap conversations, and Aymeric not far behind him, once Edmont had finally managed to catch him on his way out the door to last Starlight’s service in the Congregation, and would brook no refusals of his offer.

And that had been that: whenever House Fortemps was host for a formal event, regardless of scale, everyone managed to plaster on pleasant smiles and fashion themselves the very perfect picture of politicians and patriots alike, bearing the brunt of snide comments and would-be detractors attempting to smear their good names with grace and stoicism.

These days, it was one of the few pleasures Sage allowed himself, to have his newfound family all gather in the lounge to decompress. It was its own sort of happiness, expressing himself among others, who were themselves letting down their own masks.

Aymeric liked to play bartender, likely out of a need to earn his drinks, and Sage cherished seeing them all unwind and listening to them say all the impolite things that they couldn’t at the time. It solidified them as family, seeing this authentic version of themselves, and sharing it with one another.

And then they would unwind and vent about it to each other later, laughing and making merry all the while. It made moments such as these worth a damn.

Edmont must not have liked hardly anyone that had to attend this particular soiree; Sage recognized the bottles being carried by the servants as the same label that he himself had taken from the bottom shelf, back when he knew how to pick alcohol about as well as he knew how to ask for comfort. The former, he was abstaining from, on doctor’s orders, instead enjoying fresh fruit nectar Edmont had ensured was stocked for him, as something sweet to still sip at the gathering. The latter, he was working on, now.

As much as he felt he deserved, at least, with his most recent, catastrophic failure.

Holed up in Manor Fortemps, sheltered from the cold, Sage could almost think the loss at Rhalgr’s Reach distant. Far removed from him. In a literal sense, he supposed that tracked, though despite the malms and the days that separated him from his defeat, it was as if he could yet feel Zenos’ overwhelming presence bearing down on him.

Despite the warmth suffused throughout the manor, it felt like his limbs would never know that feeling ever again. The chirurgeons had reassured him that it would improve, as it was a result of the blood loss from his wounds. 

That was hardly anything new for Sage, mind; it wasn’t so long ago that he was so battered and bloodied, that he was bedbound not ten malms from where he stood now— and even that was but the worst of a long history of grievous wounds. It was just that, even in his most agonized recoveries— ones that were far worse than this one, admittedly, he had been able to rest, at least a little, knowing he was resting in victory. He’d broken himself upon the battlefield, and it was for something. He’d done enough.

But this...

He felt low. Uncharacteristically small, despite how he towered over the crowd, even here. If he wasn’t absolutely certain that it would bring undue stress upon his family, he would be somewhere quieter, darker, to be with his thoughts alone and stew in his defeat. Never before had he such an itch to sink into old habits, as he did standing there, feeling like his skin was pulled too tight across his bones, displaced from himself.

Alas, rather than sink into his own solitude, Sage instead had to contend with nobility, and all the demands that came with it. For instance: mingling. After so many incidents with such gatherings, he had learned to pick up on the signs that someone, not far from his vicinity, was about to interrupt his thoughts. For instance, there was someone worming their way through the crowd, removing any doubt that they were aiming directly for the Warrior of Light, for how intently they made their way over. Just as well; Sage settled on being grateful that he at least had some warning, this time.

“Warrior of Light! Why, Halone must have blessed me, personally, that I might run into you here!”

Unable to entirely stop himself from cringing, Sage managed to let it pass over his face into something more neutral before he swallowed the sip of nectar he’d pulled a moment before. His effort was nearly for naught when he locked eyes with the noble that had hailed him in question: he knew this man, in a sense, from how vocally –and frequently—he would protest declarations in the Houses of the Lords and Commons. 

“My lord,” Sage greeted, inclining his head politely. “You flatter me.”

In all honesty, he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d maneuver his way through an entire conversation with the man, if that was what he was after. Gods knew his brothers were oft times formal to a fault, but even Artoirel and Aymeric hadn’t been immune from venting their vexations with the man. Sage could so clearly recall the young Lord Fortemps storming about the foyer snarling about attempts to sway votes, or demands to recall a vote on a technicality, pausing only long enough to thank whichever family member it was that refilled his wine glass for him that time.

As Aymeric once put it: “His disagreement would be far more tolerable, had he ever any alternative suggestions to accompany it.”

Already, Sage could feel his temples threaten to pulse with a migraine as he forced his face into a pleasant smile. It was faint, for all his effort, but it was there.

If naught else, he at least had excuse enough to be less than perfectly pleasant; the wounds he walked away from Rhalgr’s Reach with were only just on the mend, after all. They were at least fully closed, and had been treated; a marked improvement from how he had handled previous injuries.

But the noble lord was speaking again, pulling Sage from his thoughts.

“Why, I speak only the truth! I had been hoping to speak with you even before the conclusion of the Dragonsong War, but alas! It seems as if you’re always on the move!”

“No rest for the righteous, and all that.” He muttered, half into his flute of nectar.

“For the wicked have all the fun!” The noble said, throwing his head back and laughing at his own joke.

When he leaned back, into his laugh, he lightly tapped the backs of his knuckles to Sage’s coat. Another wince pinched the corners of his eyes; he could smell the wine off of the noble’s breath; not necessarily drunk, but certainly enough to be loose tongued.

Sage pretended to take another sip to hide his lack of enthusiasm. Already, he wanted this conversation to be done.

“Oh, but I jest, I jest.” Said the lush lord, once he’d caught his breath on a delighted sigh. “I do beg your pardon, the wine brings it out of me.”

Sage tracked the overarticulated sweep of a bejeweled hand, as it reached up to wipe away a nonexistent tear from the corner of the noble’s eye.

“You certainly seem to be in good spirits, my lord.” Sage noted, not knowing what else to say.

“I have every reason to be! The Houses of the Lords and Commons were in unison this session, for a change, and with Starlight not far off, the festivities have been plentiful!”

“I see.” Sage replied, and prayed that would be the end of the conversation.

When it was clear that the Bard wasn’t going to offer a more verbose response, the noble cut off what would have been an obviously much more judicious pull from his glass, as if the thought of being left to lapse in silence for even a moment was considered some grievous slight. Maybe it was. Sage was in no mood to care. 

“Ah, I forgot! Your reputation for stoic silence precedes you!” The noble said, hastily blotting at the corner of his mouth with a kerchief.

“It’s one of my strengths.” Sage drained his glass of juice, and turned away to set it on the tray of a passing servant with a murmur of thanks. 

“A damn shame, then, to know that such strength fled you, at the battle in Rhalgr’s Reach.”

In an instant, what warmth Sage had managed to glean from the manor’s well tended hearths guttered out. Icy dread struck him at the base of his spine, freezing him in place, hand still outstretched from handing off his glass—in the best of circumstances, he was hardly one for conversation, but this was very clearly bait for him to blunder into, a verbal trap that was doubtless intended to damage his reputation—and, by extension, that of House Fortemps. 

Perhaps even Aymeric, too: as Lord Commander, he’d been overseeing Ishgard’s involvement in the Gyr Abanian theatre of war, this excursion included, after all. If ever there was a time for an opportunistic noble to try and undo all the hard work they had all put in, here and abroad, over one loss in a larger scale conflict abroad, it was now.

“What,” Sage managed to rasp, words dragged across the sandpaper in his throat, as he turned back toward the man. “Do you mean?”

“Oh come now, there’s no sense in dancing about the subject.” Said the noble, through a toothy, cruel upturn of his lips. “This was Ishgard’s debut into the Eorzean Alliance, was it not? Were we not counting on you to lead us into victory?” 

Indignation warred with nausea-inducing dread in the pit of his ribcage. The former, for how dare this man who had known no struggle remotely like Sage’s, speak on how war and its games were played. The latter, because how dare he echo the same thoughts Sage had been so keen on ignoring tonight?

To keep his hands from fidgeting, he stood at parade rest, and half wished he still had a glass in his hand to keep himself looking less stiff and affected. He knew this man would vex him until he cracked, if this was where he was already needling.

When he managed to find his voice, Sage tried again, “I did what I could—”

“Which was, somehow, not enough.” The noble swiftly rebuked. “Not enough, despite your victory over Nidhogg. A curiosity.” The noble sneered with a haughty twitch of his nose.

The chill that had clung to Sage’s limbs crept ever closer, brushing dangerously to his heart. As if he truly were freezing over, his breathing thinned out, and he felt his hands shaking at his sides, ever so faintly.

“By all accounts, ‘twas Sage’s strength that prevented an even  greater loss for the Alliance.” Came the voice of one of his brothers.

“One of those reports was mine own—and yes, we would have lost so much more, were it not for the Warrior of Light’s presence.” Added the voice of another.

Relief flooded him hearing Aymeric, then Artoirel, speak upon their unexpected appearance, flanking Sage on both sides. A united front was the best defense from such grave offense, after all. It was all Sage could do, to keep from slouching his ramrod stiff posture, as he remembered how to breathe again. Even without either of them coming into physical contact with him, he felt their warmth seep into skin and scale, bolstering him. Squaring his shoulders as much as his wounds would allow, he tipped his chin up, to hold himself proudly. Just like their Da had encouraged him—he’d earned that pride, paid for in blood, sweat, and tears.

The offending lord seemed only momentarily cowed, flinching his glass subtly closer to his chest as he recoiled from the unexpected intrusion to his personal belligerence against the hero. When it was clear, with a furtive glance around, that none of them were interested in backing down, he pulled himself upright and cleared his throat.

“The fact remains: a loss is a loss.” He pressed.

“Spoken like one who has never written condolence letters.” Aymeric replied almost instantly, the smoothness of his voice a whetstone for his lance-sharp words, poised to cut off this conversation at the pass. “Even one less family in mourning, is a victory in itself, my lord.”

It was faint—in particular, compared to the low din of the rest of the gathering, but the group of elites that had congregated and circled around themselves not far from where Sage had been standing, began to murmur between themselves about the conversation they were overhearing. Had Sage not been so keenly aware of his surroundings, over the roaring of blood in his ears, he might not have understood why the noble’s face turned ashen, then, when those words reached his ears. Aymeric and Artoirel had, in effect, struck far truer than anticipated, redirecting the very gossip that the nefarious noble had tried to weaponize.

“We wouldn’t be sending them at all, were we not engaging in conflicts that we had no business meddling in.” The noble replied, though it was clear by the way the pads of his fingers paled against the stem of his wine glass, that he was most certainly rattled. “Business, I will remind you, that we have made ours solely on debt to a singular champion! How can we condone it, as proud Ishgardian citizens, when our creditor cannot guarantee our victory?”

Were the man not gunning to undo everything that they had fought and sacrificed for and then some, Sage might feel some semblance of sympathy for him. As it was, it was at least a little morbidly gratifying, watching him squirm when challenged.

Aymeric seemed to expect the question. In truth, he had likely had to field it many times; he seemed almost bored with it.

“We did not commit ourselves to one war on the coattails of another solely because the Warrior of Light bade we do so.” He began in a low tone. One that gave a warning he put no words to, and did not have to. “On the contrary: as with the Dragonsong War, he only opened our eyes to the truth of the matter: that we were always involved in this war. We were always going to be involved in this war, whether we willed it or not.”

“Such fatalistic talk, from such a lauded, romantic politician!” The man jeered.

“Ishgard’s best defense has always been a proactive offense,” he explained patiently, in a tone that reminded Sage of one he’d used on Alphinaud, upon their first meeting in the Falling Snows. “The winds suggest but one course upon which the Empire has been set: total conquest. We cannot afford to watch, idle and indolent, while Garlemald marches right to our gates, afore we are moved to action.” 

“This was never our affair!” Cried the exasperated nobleman, perhaps a bit more inebriated than Sage might have initially thought.

Clearly, more than, as when the man made to jab an accusatory finger in the Lord Commander’s direction, he seemingly forgot that he was still holding a half-full wine glass. It sloshed enough to splash, faintly upon the chest of the Lord Commander’s coat. 

For a blessing, the fabric was dark enough that blotting at it with a kerchief was sufficient to keep the light colored champagne from damaging it, but the impropriety of the action was far from lost on even the inebriated offender.

With a singular, prim tug on his own lapel, Aymeric tucked the folded, soiled kerchief away with a barely repressed snort of indignation. “‘Twas ever Eorzea’s affair— and we have been Eorzeans for far longer than we have not, in our history. Garlemald is committed to making this the affair of every living soul on this star, to be conquered, until someone stops them. If every nation clung to their borders and insisted that it was not our affair, then we would simply be picked off, one by one—”

“Garlemald cannot invade us through the weather, and our neighbors besides—”

“Then they would lay siege to us, and our home would become our tomb.” Said a voice from the crowd that had begun to try to not listen to the growing ruckus.

That same crowd parted, and revealed Lord Edmont, honorable father of this evening’s host, looking every bit as graceful and dignified as ever. Striding purposefully, he stopped only when he was beside his fellow noble, and took his measure with an even, steely gaze. “I know I need remind no one here of what happened to the Stone and Dusk Vigils, following the Calamity. Would you inflict that upon our families, for turning away from the plights beyond our gates?”

It was clearly a future that the noble had not considered— in fairness, a future few would want to consider. 

In war, such wants do not matter: it is a path of death, and must be walked with both eyes open, or not at all.

Seeing the noble thoroughly cowed, Edmont eased that hardened stare, and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“But come! Such logistics are not for us retired folk to fret over any longer—”

“Edmont, you have surely heard your boy on the forum floor, debating that we meddle in—”

“And what right have we to criticize our children, when they protect a tomorrow that our inaction stole from them?” Edmont asked, not unkindly.

He might as well have struck the noble, for how he recoiled at the rebuttal. If there was a deeper, personal meaning for the noble, Sage did not know it, and did not care: he knew exactly who Edmont was thinking of, when he spoke so.

Edmont’s hand on his shoulder squeezed, comfortingly, as he led him away, speaking of happier things. There seemed to be an understanding between the two that Sage could only begin to fathom, but could readily identify: it was the look of a father that had to bury their child. It wasn’t enough for the dread and ire that the man inspired in Sage to completely vanish, but it was tempered with the understanding that, as he had learned is often the case with Ishgardians, his anger came from immense, generational tragedy.

It was a distant revelation, a balm on a wound, but it was nothing to the panacea that was watching how his family had managed to pull him back from the brink of panic, to cover his blindspots, to be his shield. It was an otherwise unfamiliar feeling, this sense of protection that settled over his shoulders and calmed his tumultuous heart. 

So distracted with awe for how swiftly his family closed in ranks around him, Sage had nearly forgotten to feel the sting of his injuries, until he’d shifted his weight and bit back a curse at the sudden jolt of fire that shot up his spine. When he flinched and his legs faltered, he felt two hands at his back— one of Artiorel and Aymeric both, bracing him.

“Forgive us for leaving you to the wolves, as it were.” Aymeric spoke up, gently startling him out of his thoughts. When he’d straightened and looked over at the Lord Commander, he was given a wincing smile. “No one wanted to smother you, mind, though we all attempted to keep the worst of them occupied.”

“Wh—“ Sage stopped himself from asking the obvious; even if he didn’t believe himself worthy of it, he could no longer deny he was their family, truly and utterly.

With a fond smile and a shake of his head, he instead chose to say, “I know better than to simper in the face of family, so, put simply: thank you.” When Sage smiled, it felt less like it resembled broken glass than it had since he’d left Gyr Abania—certainly less than it had all night. “I don’t know what I would do without you all.”

“And we would say much the same of you, Sage.” Artoirel reassured, clasping a hand comfortingly on Sage’s uninjured forearm.

“Which we have, on more than one occasion,” Aymeric added brightly. “And will keep doing so.”

“Artoirel might not fess up to just how much of that effusive praise comes from him, old sport, but I would be most glad to!” Chimed in the last of their brothers, who had otherwise been shockingly scarce all evening.

Artoirel harrumphed at Emmanellain’s delighted chirping, and crossed his arms. “Given you’ve the leisure to prod me for a reaction, I take it you’ve done your job?”

“Always business, with you!” Emmanellain’s expression momentarily scrunched. “But yes. Frankly, it’s almost boring, how easy it is to redirect the rumor mill. I do hope you’re not too terribly offended that the current affair-of-the-hour among noble lady circles is more stimulating gossip than whatever that lord’s quarrel with you is; he really is an offensively boring man, as politics go.”

Sage didn’t know what to say in response, and his surprise must have been evident on his face, as Emmanellain nudged his good shoulder and winked.

“What, not expecting me to pull my weight? I might not be half the knight my brothers are,” he said around an easy smile. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t still protect you, old sport.”

“I’m not sure they make shields tall enough for that.” Sage blurted before he could think better of it.

Practiced politicians they may have been, all the etiquette in the world couldn’t stop Artoirel and Aymeric from hiding their laughter behind their hands at Emmanellain’s gawping.

“Were you joking, just then? Why, Sage! I would almost think you liked me, or something!” Emmanellain gasped, a hand pressed over his heart, the very picture of mock horror.

This levity, this, this warmth, that permeated him, being surrounded by his family…it would not heal him. Sage knew that, deep down. But when he laughed, it came easily. The smile that followed, even easier. And that, that was what helped. What reminded him of his convictions.

“You’re my brother.” Sage said, his tone serious despite the smile still quirking his lips. “Stands to reason I like you.”

Emmanellain paused for a moment, his theatrics softening into something genuine. When he laughed the sort that had him holding his stomach and drying his eyes, it reminded Sage of Haurchefant.

“And you have good taste besides, don’t you forget that, old sport.” Emmanellain said, eyes crinkling for the width and breadth of his smile.

“And you discredit yourself.” Sage replied. “I see more and more of our brothers in you every day.”

It seemed Sage’s comment overwhelmed his little brother; he spun and plucked a flute of champagne from one of the wait staff passing by, and poorly tried to hide his flush behind its rim.

“Yes, well, I certainly have no shortage of examples to lead me.” Emmanellain half muttered into his drink, just before tossing his head back to tip the glass as far back as he could, and he drained it in one fluid gulp. “You included.”

He seemed not to know what to do with the quiet that came after emotional declarations, as, with a twist to set his empty glass on another tray being taken the opposite direction of the first, he used that momentum to turn back into the crowd, back into the mingling crowds that were resuming their previous low din of chatter.

Watching him fade into the crowd made Sage’s gaze wander through the faces in all the merrymaking that had resumed. On that passing glance, he caught Edmont through the crowd, having brought that offending noble into a group of other people Sage distantly recognized as some of the elder generations of the High Houses. It was only a moment, but it was enough to see exactly where the Fortemps propensity for warmth and good cheer came from, as much as their sense of duty had.

“Me included, then?” Sage asked, half to himself.

“Absolutely.” Artoirel said, with a surprising amount of conviction. “Our family has a reputation of housing the most upstanding knights in all of Ishgard. That has never been more true, than it is where you are concerned.”

Perhaps the alcohol did make Artoirel more verbose; Sage was unaccustomed to such declarations in abundance from the newest head of House Fortemps. For a certainty, it was the reason why it overwhelmed him, enough so that he was reminded of the burning shame of his most recent defeat.

“I was defeated—”

“And that should deplete you of your worth?” Aymeric countered at his other side. “Even the greatest people in history knew countless defeats— many of which were costly. Yet, they are not remembered as great because of their losses, but because they persevered despite them.” He gave a single, decisive nod. “I can think of no greater quality that could exemplify the knights of House Fortemps— you among the most exemplary.”

That overwhelmed feeling looped back around into a pleasant sort of warmth; it didn’t entirely absolve him of his guilt; none present expected it to. It weighed as it should— and no heavier. 

Grateful that his family was ever his shield, ever stopping him from pressing his burdens down harder on his own shoulders than he needed to, he could only lower his gaze, smile wider, and reply with, “I hope to be worthy of that.”

“You always were.” Artoirel and Aymeric replied automatically, voices nearly overlapping in perfect sync for their immediate timing.

With a surprised glance between the three of them, they dissolved into half-covered laughter, and that pressure on Sage’s chest settled, alongside his thoughts. It wasn’t enough to make the world okay. It wasn’t enough to make Sage strong enough to free Ala Mhigo and come home, not on its own.

But it was enough.

[xmalereader]

Newt Scamander X Male Reader

—

|| Masterlist ||

—

Requested: Hi! Can I please request a newt x punk male reader who likes to flirt and tease newt but they aren’t dating yet and the reader sees newt with Tina or Jacob and gets slightly jealous or something similar to that

Warnings: Flirting, slight jealousy, more like a mafia leader reader, reader being sweet to newt, reader knows about newt being a wizard, reader is a muggle, kissing.

Tags: @luckygirl144

—

Reader is a mafia leader instead because I thought it would be a bit more interesting??

—

Newt was standing outside the Ministry, holding his case in hand as he waits for his friends to exit the building. Tina, Queenie, and Jacob where visiting London for the weekend, they really wanted to visit newt after everything that’s happened back in New York.

“Tina calm down or else Newt can panic.” Said Queenie as she had her arm locked around Jacobs. The trio walked down the streets of London, heading towards Newts apartment since they were planning on surprising him at home first. “I’m sorry queenie but I’m excited for him, he’s always wanted to publish his book about magical creatures. He’s very passionate about them.” Tina says as she walks ahead of them.

“Yes, Newt really loves his creatures.” Queenie smiles at her sister as the three of them continue to walk together. The weather in London was cloudy, but it wasn’t cold. Queenie would say that it was a perfect day to be able to do anything, she really enjoyed cloudy days since it reminded her of her home back in New York.

As the three get closer to newts apartment they noticed a strange man standing by newts apartment doorway as the man knocks on the door and slips his hands into his pockets.

Tina rasies a brow as the three hide behind one of the apartments. “Should we go up there or should we wait?” Asked Jacob as they peak out to spy on the stranger. “I think we should listen to Jacob, Tina. That man looks dangerous.” Whispered Queenie as she worried for newts safety.

The strange man that stood in front of Newt’s door was tall and lean. They wore a flat cap on his head but you could clearly see the semi long black hair, he also wore a long long coat with grey pants.

Tina could feel a dark aura around the man but she knows that she shouldn’t start anything without knowing who this person is first. At first glance the man looks ruthless and quiet scary.

“Tina—“ before Queenie could stop Tina from doing anything stupid, they noticed Newts apartment door swing open. Tina is quick to hide as the continue to spy on them.

“Ah, Y/n I thought you were out of town?” Newt stutters out as he fiddled with the doorknob and avoids the mans eyes.

“I came back early,” said y/n with a small smile on his lips. “While I was away in Scotland I couldn’t help but think about my little zoologist.” He cooed out to newt, earning hismelf a blush in return. “That’s very thoughtful of you.” Newt mutters out.

Y/n hums. “Anyways, I brought you something that you might like.” He reaches under his coat to pull out a very peculiar creature that quickly catches Newts interest. The creature was a spider like lizard, it had eight legs and two large ears, giving it a curled up tail and big eyes.

“A doxy.” Newt breaths out as he reaches out for the creature. “But how did you—?” He asks the man standing in front of him as y/n grins. “I may or may have not taken some of your notes.” He mumbles out which newt chuckles too. “You stole my notes?”

“I don’t think borrowing is considered stealing, darling.”

Newt smiled shyly, taking the creature in his hand as he exams it. He’s been around doxy’s before so he knows how to treat them but what surprise him the most is that Y/n, his muggle neighbor was able to find one on his own.

“Thank you...for the gift.”

“Anything for my dove.” Y/n reaches out to brush his thumb against his check, causing newt to push his hand away.

Still rejecting him like always.

Y/n sighs in defeat. “Very well, I’m off. Maybe I can see you tonight? I heard about your book publishing.”

“How—?”

“Your brother was talking to hismelf when he left your place.” Newt rolls his eyes, he never expected Theseus to be so loud when talking to hismelf.

“Would I be getting a copy, Mr. Scamander?” He gives him a devilish grin as Newt holds the Doxy in his hand and bites his lip. “I—maybe.” He answers back.

Y/n nods at him. “I’ll see you tonight.” He reminds him once again before stepping down the small set of steps and heading back to his own place.

Newt can’t help but watch the man disappear once he turns down an alley. Letting out a large sigh of relief he placed a hand on his chest to keep himself steady. Y/n Black has been visiting him for months now and has been receiving constant gifts from the man and he still has no idea how this had all started.

Y/n was quick to find out about Newt being a Wizard since he’s seen him pop around London and in their neighborhood late at night, the only time that y/n is usually out late doing his own business.

It didn’t take Newt long to find out that his neighbor was the leader of the British Mafia. At first he panicked, thinking about his creatures safety first and wanting to move away from the man but he knows that he can’t since it’s hard finding a new place around London and he was also having problems with the ministry during those times.

The two were able to talk and sort things out. Y/n promised not tell anyone about the wizarding world as long as Newt didn’t move away. It sounded like blackmail but in reality, Newt he no where else to go so he had no choice but to remain here. The first couple of weeks were uncomfortable and awkward for newt but as he slowly got used to the fact that his neighbor was a mafia leader, he became less uncomfortable and quickly things went back to normal.

Both y/n and Newt became friends but of course their were time when y/n would ask newt out or flirt with him whenever he could. Newt would always ignore these moments and pretend like he doesn’t know but there are times when he slowly starts falling for the man.

—

Before newt Can head back inside his apartment he notices a hint of blonde hair from a distance, squinting his eyes he steps down his door and notices the trio. “Queenie?” He calls out, catching the sisters attention as she squeaks in surprise and comes out of hiding.

“Surprise!” She says with a giggle between her small gesture.

Newts lips form a smile as he sees his friends coming out of hiding. He approaches the three to ask. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back in New York?”

“Tina told us about your book being published today and we wanted to visit you.” Jacob says this time, smiling at his friend.

“You didn’t have to do that, I could’ve visited privately and bring you each a copy! The ministry is going to be full today because of this and it’s going to be very crowded, maybe you won’t be able to see me or maybe you—“

“Newt, sweetie, breath.” Said Queenie as she walks up to him and genlty places a hand on his shoulder. “We wanted to surprise you and who cares if it’s crowded today? As long as we can see our friend announce his famous book, that’s all that maters to us.” She whispers softly, hearing newts mind calm down as she smiles sweetly at him.

Queenie always had a way with others, knowing when to help during a crisis or to just be there for them. She loves newt dearly and would do anything to see this man smile.

“Now, why don’t we all head inside and settle before we leave to the ministry?” Said Queenie as the others agree.

Newt guides them back inside his apartment and smiles. He pulls out the doxy that hid inside his pocket and sets him inside a box full of soft blankets, he checks on the creature one last time making sure that it’s not Injured or frightened.

“What you have there?” Jacob approaches newt and looks down the box to see the doxy. “Huh? That one almost looks like a spider, because of its legs.” Newt rasies a brow. “I guess that’s an easy way to point out the uniqueness of the creature.” Newt points out, causing Jacob to chuckle and shake his head. “Where did you find him?”

Newt suffers out a response. “A friend.” He puts his focus on the creature, moving its scales to make sure that they were healthy before he lets go of small creature and pulls away.

“You mean the man that came to your house?”

Newts eyes widen, turning around to see Tina sitting on a chair and drinking her tea. A small frown on her face. “How did you know that?”

“We saw him when we arrived, we wanted to see what the problem was but Queenie kept holding me back.” Explained Tina as she set her teacup down, turning to face Newt. “Newt, he looks dangerous and threatening. Are you sure it’s safe to stay here?”

Newt mentally rolls his eyes as he noticed her change of tone. She sounded so much like his older brother, always warning him about things and telling him to change location but he liked it here and he wasn’t planning on moving anytime soon.

“He’s a good man, visits me often and he helps me with the creatures.” He sits across from Tina and the others.

“But he’s a muggle—“ Queenie gasps. “He’s mafia?!” She added, reading newts mind as he curses to himself. “Queenie please.” He says, reminding her to stay out of his head.

“What?! Newt this man is a no-maj—let alone a mafia leader!” Tina blurts out in anger and shock. “What if he finds out about you being a wizard? A guy that powerful can do anything?”

“He alreayd knows.” Newt mumbles out as he side glances her, noticing how her face heats up in anger.

“He knows?! For how long?”

“Almost a year.” Newt Cringes at her outburst as she continues to rant out about how dangerous this situation was. Newt is used to these kinds of conversations with his brother so he tends to ignore everything she is saying as he slowly drinks his tea and allows her to finish, wanting to seem polite and respectful.

“You can be in danger with all of this! Your creatures, your reputation!” She continues on. “Tina he isn’t a bar person, I did my research; yes, he is the leader of the British mafia but he wouldn’t hurt me. Not once has he done something that’s made me uncomfortable.”

“But what if he does in the future?”

“He wouldn’t.”

“How do you know?”

The two are suddenly glaring at each other. Queenie has to be the one to stop the arguing, “Tina that’s enough you’re upsetting him.” She whispers. “I just want you to be safe.” She tells newt, ignoring her own sister.

Newt stands up from his seat. “I can take care of myself.” He mumbles out in a soft voice, turning around he grabs his coat and heads outside to clear his mind. Every day is the same lesson, his brother was always telling him the same thing about not being careful or safe and now his friends were telling him the same too. It Just annoyed him!

“Newt!”

Newt continues to walk ignoring Queenies calls.

“Don’t ignore me, young man!” Newt froze at her voice and sighs, turning to face her as she placed her hands on her hips. “Good, I don’t like it when others ignore me. I find it very rude.”

“Sorry, Queenie.”

Queenie sighs and lowers her arms from her hips, she gently pulls newt into a hug and rubs his back. “Tina is just being overprotective, she wants to keep her family safe and the ones she loves too. She’s just afraid of losing you.” She explains, pulling away from the hug.

Newt slowly nods. “I know but I’m tired of people telling me what’s good and what’s bad. You know it’s hard for me to decide on stuff like this and this neighborhood is safe and I’m safe so she doesn’t have to worry.”

“Very well, then I’ll tell Tina that and make sure that she understands.” Queenie places a kiss on his head, smiling brightly as newt smiles back in return, comfortable with the kiss. “Go and clear your head I’ll handle Tina.” With that she turns around and heads back to the apartment.

Newt slowly smiles in relief, happy that she was going to help him sort all of this out with Tina.

“She’s a lovely women.”

Newt gasps in surprise, turning to his right to see y/n leaning against a wall, His head tilted to the side as he frowns. “Very beautiful.” He grumbled out.

Newt rasies a brow. “Yes she is, she’s my friend.” He slowly approaches the man, noticing the way that he was acting and speaking causes him to stay a few feet away in case anything were to happen.

“A friend? Now, now, newt we both know that a women like that isn’t just a friend.” Y/n pushes hismelf off the wall and steps forward, standing over newt.

“Are you—are you jealous?” Newt chuckles out in a way that causes the other man to feel weak for him. “Of course not.” He replies back which only causes newt to laugh a little louder. “Y/n she really is a friend of mine, besides she’s married!”

“I didn’t notice any ring on her.” Y/n huffs out.

“That’s because she’s married a muggle, she doesn’t show off her marriage when she’s back In America since it’s illegal to marry a muggle.” Newt explains, calming himself down from the laughter.

“Wait, she’s a witch?”

“Yes, she’s like me but her laws in America are different from here so for now she’s free to show her marriage until she returns back home.” He continues on.

Y/n sighs in relief, he thought that newt had moved on so quickly to a women that he’s here met before. After asking newt out multiple times he always ends up rejected and just seeing him with a women kind of hurt.

“Is she happily married?”

Newt thinks. “I’d like to think that she is.” He turns to look at his apartment, sighing happily as to knowing that his friends were inside probably waiting for him.

“I should head back, I need to apologize to a friend.” Newt steps back and smiled at y/n. “I’m still seeing you tonight right?” He asks quietly, looking away as y/n chuckled at him. “Yes, try not to be late again.”

“No promises, you know that my creatures come first.”

“I’m not important to you?” Y/n pouts.

Newt grins. “You’re not a creature but you are cute.”

Y/n’s pout turns into a grin. “Did you just—? Did I hear you correctly?” He takes a step forward while newt takes one back. “Are you calling me cute?”

“No.” Another step back.

“Don’t lie, Newt.” Y/n reaches out to wrap an arm around Newt and pull him close. Their chest touching as y/n smirks at him and leans down. “You think I’m cute?”

Newt whines. “Now your scary looking.” He blurts out, earning a frown from the other, rolling his eyes. “I’ll pretend like you didn’t say that.” He leans down to place a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t be late.” He reminds him once again, letting him go and giving him a wink.

Newt stumbles in his steps as he heads back to his apartment, he doesn’t look back because he knows that his face is red. So instead, he quickly gets inside his apartment and closed the door, pressing his back against it and notices the others staring at him.

Then Jacob stares at him and asks. “Why is your face red?”

Queenie then gasps. “He kissed you!” She squeaks out.

“He WHAT?!” Next was Tina.

This was going to be a very long day.

[paintingwithdarkness]

"i run the night slot on campus radio and some jackass keeps calling in to insult my music taste and request high school musical songs instead” with BluePulse please!

“Good evening, Tigers! You’re listening to Houston U’s nightly segment. I’m your host, Jaime Reyes. Y’all just listened to ‘Today is the Day’ by Yo La Tengo. Next up we have ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes.” Jaime pressed a button on the console in front of him, starting the next song before adding on to his commentary. “If anyone has any requests, don’t hesitate to call in!”

Jaime switched off his microphone and let the song play, flopping back in his chair. Running the night segment of the Houston University campus radio was a pretty chill gig. It paid him above minimum wage for every hour he worked, he only had to work six hour shifts, and it was only five days a week. Besides that, it was a solo job, and no one was there to tell him what to do. Obviously there had been some ground rules when he’d been hired— no cursing on air, and he had to take call-ins from students— but other than that, he had free rein of the radio frequency and he could play whatever music he wanted from 6 pm to Midnight, Monday through Friday. All he had to do was press buttons on a control console, sit back, relax, and occasionally answer the phone.

Speaking of which... Jaime checked the time. 10:28 pm. Great, that meant it was almost time.

With a groan, he raised a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, eyes squeezing shut. Every night for the past two weeks at exactly 10:30 pm, without fail, the same jackass student had been calling in to insult his music taste and request High School Musical songs instead. The first time it had happened, Jaime had been shocked at the audacity of the student, but had granted the song request anyway. (He had to. It was part of his contract. If a person called in with a song request, Jaime had to grant it. The only exception was if someone requested a song that was inappropriate to air. As long as it had clean/sensored language, and was free from overly explicit themes, Jaime queued up the song).

He mentally prepared himself. ‘Seven Nation Army’ was just about over, and Jaime already had his next song selected. If he timed things right, he could take the annoying student’s call during the next song, and wouldn’t have to subject himself to humiliation where everyone who was listening to his station could hear. It had only taken Jaime three nights to catch onto the trend.

As the guitar faded out, Jaime switched back on his microphone and addressed his audience, “That one’s a classic. ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes. Hope y’all enjoyed that one. I’ve got a few more songs in store for y’all with the time we have left-”

The tell-tale ring of the phone interrupted him. Jaime had to bite his tongue to prevent the string of Spanish curses that wanted to fall from his lips from actually coming out. He had spent too long talking, and now he had to take the dreaded call on-air.

He took a deep breath, and had to layer on the enthusiasm thick as he ‘cheerily’ exclaimed, “It looks like we have our first caller of the night!” Jaime picked up the phone and gave the scripted greeting, “Hello, fellow Tiger! You’re on-air with Houston U’s nightly segment. Care to introduce yourself to all the listeners out there?”

Like all the nights previous when Jaime had asked this question, he got the same response. “Nah. I think I’ll stay anonymous. Keep things interesting. Though if you want a clue, I’ll tell you; I’m on the track team.”

Jaime scrambled for his notebook. That was the biggest clue he’d gotten yet about this mysterious student caller. It was almost like some kind of game. So far, every night when this student had called in, they’d said they wanted to remain anonymous, yet would give a clue about their identity. So far, Jaime had a bulleted list of eight items, with ‘track team’ being number nine. The other clues he’d received were ‘hates Indie Rock’ (which was Jaime’s favorite genre of music, thank you very much), ‘favorite movie is High School Musical 2’ (which was blatantly obvious, based on the songs this jackass student always requested), ‘favorite color is red’ (which told Jaime squat about who this kid was), ‘favorite food is chicken whizzes’ (once again, jack shit), ‘red hair’ (which was the first major clue Jaime had gotten), ‘green eyes’ (now it was obvious the kid wanted Jaime to figure out who he was), ‘5’9”’ (somewhat helpful), ‘Freshman’ (which eliminated 3/4 of the students on campus this caller could be), ‘mechanical engineering major’ (another somewhat helpful clue), and ‘gay’ (which, wow, Jaime would never out himself live on the air. This guy had some balls...).

After the mad scramble for a pencil, Jaime flipped the notebook open and single-handedly jotted down the new piece of information, balancing the phone against his ear with the other hand. When he was finished, he leaned back in the big leather chair, kicking his feet up against the edge of the desk in front of himself, feeling satisfied. Jaime knew he had enough information now to track down this annoying student and put an end to these stupid calls interrupting his radio show every night. Tonight would be the last time ‘We’re All in This Together’, ‘Bop to the Top’, or ‘Get Your Head in the Game’ would play during his segment, and Jaime was RELIEVED.

“Is that why you feel the need to call into my show every night?” Jaime fired back at the student. “So you can rope all of your track mates into singing ‘We’re All in This Together’ while you run in circles?”

An airy laugh was the response. And there a slight second where Jaime thought to himself, ‘Wow. That’s actually kinda cute,’ before his brain rebooted and he realized how counterintuitive that was. This guy was an annoyance that had to be dealt with. So what if he had an attractive laugh? It didn’t erase all of the other judgements Jaime had already formed of this student. And they were that this guy had terrible music taste and needed to find another hobby besides calling in every night to bug the shit out of Jaime.

“What better song to commemorate mutual suffering?” The other man laughed again.

Jaime scowled. ‘Mutual suffering’? Sure, Jaime knew the vexing student was talking about his track mates, but he couldn’t help catching the irony in the choice of words. As far as Jaime was concerned, the only one doing any suffering was him.

“So is that your request for tonight?” Jaime just wanted to get this over with already.

A contemplative “hmmm” made its way down the line, before being followed with, “Well, I was originally gonna ask for ‘Get Your Head in the Game’ but ‘All in this Together’ works nicely, too.”

“Por Díos,” Jaime mumbled under his breath. “¿No puede este idiota tomar una decisión?”

“Woah, hey, is that Spanish?!” Apparently Jaime’s mumblings hadn’t been quiet enough. “Yo hablo español!”

Jaime cringed. The pronounciation was terrible, but the enthusiasm was endearing. And dammit! He shouldn’t be thinking things like that. His train of thought was off the tracks again.

Without saying anything else, Jaime turned to his computer, quickly punched ‘We’re All in this Together’ into the song search bar, and hit play. He switched over the audio connection so that the only thing his audience could hear was the music, took a deep breath, and then made his rebuttal to the annoying student.

“You might want to work on that pronounciation, ese.”

The response was whiny. “Aww, it’s not that bad!”

Jaime cringed. “It’s not great, either.”

The student on the other line sighed. “Fine. But at least I have good taste in music!”

“That’s debatable.” Jaime didn’t know why he was dragging out the conversation. Usually after he granted this annoying caller’s request each night, the student rattled off a final jab at Jaime, before just hanging up. Why was he staying on the line tonight? Maybe Jaime just had to direct the conversation in that direction?

“My music is better than what you play every night. I’m doing you and your radio station a favor!” And yep, there it was.

“I don’t think people are tuning into my station to listen to the one High School Musical song you insist I play every night.”

Jaime could practically hear the smirk through the line when the other student responded. “Even if people are tuning in to listen to your crappy music, my song is still the highlight.”

Jaime groaned. He was growing weary of this conversation. “Do you listen to anything besides terrible High School Musical songs?”

That cute laugh caught in Jaime’s ears again. “Doi. A guy needs to have a little variety in his music. I’ve also got ‘Can’t Stop Singing’, ‘Turn Up the Music’, ‘Determinate’-”

Jaime’s eyes rolled skyward. “I’m gonna stop you there. Does your playlist contain any songs that aren’t from Disney Channel movies?”

A horrified gasp marked the beginning of the indignant response. “What’s wrong with Disney movies? High School Musical is the crashest movie series in existence.”

Jaime didn’t have enough time to think over the choice of the word ‘crashest’ before the other student continued rambling on.

“What other kind of music do you need?! Disney movies have great numbers, teach you about life and friendship, and growing up, and you gotta be kidding me if you don’t think Zac Efron is hot playing Troy.”

Jaime snorted a laugh for the last amendment to the other student’s statement. He’d only watched High School Musical once, and that was enough for him. And despite occasionally finding other men attractive (being bisexual himself), Zac Efron had never really done it for Jaime.

“I wouldn’t exactly call those ‘musical numbers’ as you put it, any type of masterpiece, however, I suppose you earn a pass for the friendship and growing up part.” Jaime smartly decided to skip the Zac Efron comment altogether, “I would say I’m more of a fan of the Disney animated movies. At least I can tolerate the Lion King and Aladdin sound tracks.”

A little puff of a chuckle, and then, “You should really get a better hobby than bashing on Disney movies.”

Jaime scoffed and immediately fired back, “You’re the one who calls me every night to bash on my music.”

“Oooh.” The other student made a hissing sound, as if a flame were being extinguished. “Caught red handed. But—” And here, Jaime could sense something dangerous was about to be said— “how about we settle this once and for all. You obviously don’t get out of the radio studio enough. What say you come to the next Houston U track meeting? We can settle this music debate once and for all.” Yep. That was a challenge.

Jaime took a few seconds to deliberate. He was curious to see who this mysterious caller was. Besides, what harm could it do? Jaime was not the type to back down when he was challenged. He had his pride and dignity. He would not be bested by this asshole. He was going to go to that track meeting.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, ese.” If the other student were there in person, Jaime could imagine shaking his hand to seal the contract.

“Alright,” the other student said, and if Jaime wasn’t mistaken, he sounded rather gleeful that Jaime had taken the bait, “I’ll see you there.” And then the line went dead.

Jaime ran a hand through his hair as he hung up the phone with the other. What had he gotten himself into?

The next Houston U track meeting was a week and two days since the fated phone call. Since that night, the mysterious student caller hadn’t rung Jaime’s radio station. It was a power move, and a good one at that. He had put the ball in Jaime’s court (or passed him the baton? That was a track thing, right?), meaning all responsibility was on him. In all honesty, Jaime was tempted to skip out on their ‘deal’. Sure, he’d agreed, but only because Jaime’d thought it was the key to get the student to stop calling. Now that the calls had stopped, Jaime saw no reason to get involved and draw attention back to himself. Maybe if he didn’t go, the annoying student would just leave him alone.

On the other hand, if he didn’t go, wouldn’t that just give the other student more incentive to start calling him again? Not only would Jaime continue to get bashed for his music taste, but then the other student would also be able to expose him as a liar. That was definitely NOT the reputation Jaime wanted to have. He had no choice. He HAD to go to that stupid track meeting.

It didn’t mean he didn’t drag his feet the whole way to the field though. Even with his ticket and getting there five minutes early, it was near impossible to find a seat. Jaime had no idea a sporting event like track would be so popular. What was so special about a bunch of guys running around in a circle?

It took a little shoving and some mumbled “sorry”s and “excuse me”s before Jaime was finally able to plunk down next to a young couple, in one of the only empty seats left. They seemed like nice enough people; the man even tried making small talk with him once Jaime sat down; but Jaime’s shy demeanor prevented the conversation from launching into something deeper.

Once the couple was no longer paying him much attention, Jaime surreptitiously slipped his little pocket notebook out of his jeans and flipped it open to the page where he had noted all of the little clues his mystery caller had given him.

Unfortunately, only some of them were usable in this context. Clues about the other student’s personality and preferences wouldn’t help Jaime identify anyone. Only the clues the track star had given Jaime about his physical appearance would be of use. He was looking for a redheaded, green-eyed, 5’9” Freshman. Should be simple enough.

When Jaime glanced down to where the runners were stretching by the starting blocks, he immediately noticed three boys with red hair. Luckily, this track meet was only a Houston U event and other schools weren’t participating. That meant one of the three was his mysterious caller.

From this distance, Jaime couldn’t judge eye color, and height was difficult to gage. He supposed he would have to wait for the announcers to give the names and grades of the competitors. Hopefully only one of the redheads would be a Freshman, and Jaime could find his culprit.

Within a few minutes, a runner was at the blocks for every lane. The first event was the 100m sprint. Everyone on the team would be participating. Only six could go at a time, and the announcer said that there would be three heats. Unfortunately for Jaime, the announcer didn’t bother with the names of the competitors since everyone was running, but he hoped that at least the winners would be announced, in case his redhead happened to be one of them.

In the first heat, two of the three red-haired boys were lined up at the blocks. Jaime trained his eyes on them. The first boy was in the second lane, and the other in the sixth lane. Hopefully one of the two would win so that Jaime could narrow down his suspects.

When the starting gun fired, all six runners took off like rockets. The pure speed was quite a shock for Jaime to witness. Within fifteen seconds, all six runners crossed the finish line.

“Winner!” The announcer shouted, once first place for the heat had been determined. He held up the arm of one of the redheads Jaime had been watching. “Senior Wally West with a time of 10.8 seconds!”

An elderly couple three seats over from where Jaime was sitting sprang out of their seats cheering. “Yeah, Wally!” shouted the man. His wife was enthusiastically clapping.

When they sat down again, the couple next to Jaime (conveniently sandwiched between him and the cheering couple) turned to face them.

“Wow!” the blond man next to Jaime exclaimed. “That’s his fastest time yet!”

The other blond man laughed (and it was then that Jaime noticed the striking resemblance). “He’s been working hard. Of course, he’s no match for Bart, but just maybe Wally might have a shot at beating him in the 3200m.”

The brunette woman of the younger couple hummed, a smirk resting on her lips. “I don’t know about that one. Our Bart’s got Thawne blood, too. He’s got runners from both sides. Wests... not so much.”

“Mel!” the man next to Jaime gasped, scandalized. “I thought we said no family rivalry at track meets?”

Immediately the brunette woman, Mel, appologized. “Sorry, sorry.”

“That’s right,” the man from the elderly couple interjected. “You have to remember Donny’s got some West blood himself. Iris was a West before she married me.” He slung an arm around the graying red-haired woman sitting beside him.

It was then that Jaime was able to piece it together. The young blond man— Donny— sitting next to him, was the son of the elderly couple— Iris and her husband (unfortunately Jaime didn’t have his name yet). The younger brunette woman— Mel— was Donny’s wife, and one of the runners— Bart— was their son, and the grandson of the elderly couple. Wally— the runner who had just won the first heat was a relative (?) of the two couples.

By the time Jaime was done puzzling out the relations, the next heat of runners was already at the starting blocks. Unfortunately, the other redhead, whom Jaime guessed was Bart, was not in this heat.

The starting gun fired, and the race was over within fifteen seconds again. The winner was announced, and the runners of the third heat took their places.

Jaime’s gaze zeroed in on the redhead in the first lane. That must be Bart. Mel and Donny were balanced on the edges of their seats next to Jaime.

As soon as the gun fired, Bart was nearly a quarter of the way down the lane. He was insanely fast. Jaime wouldn’t be surprised if he hit an Olympic time. His teammates stood no chance.

When he was announced the winner, Jaime had to do a double take at the 9.63 second time blinking on the screen behind him. That was more than a second faster than Wally, who had won the first heat.

“‘Attaboy, Bart!” Donny yelled.

The exclamation caused Bart’s attention to be drawn towards them. He waved proudly at his parents, and then his gaze caught on Jaime. Even from this distance Jaime could see the electric green eyes trained on him. There was no mistaking it now. Even with the other redhead to consider (since Jaime hadn’t heard his name or grade announced yet), he was certain Bart was his mystery caller. There was something in his eyes— a knowing glint— that made Jaime nervous. Could Bart know who he was?

It wasn’t completely impossible. Because he ran the campus radio at night, Jaime had a page on the school website. His name and picture were plastered right along side Cassie and Gar’s. Cassie had the morning shift from 6 am to noon, and Gar’s comedy segment ran from noon to 6 pm, when Jaime started. All Bart had to do was look him up and he would know exactly who Jaime was.

In retrospect, Jaime easily could have done the same to figure out who his annoying caller was. Once he’d received the track team clue, he could have pulled up the roster and narrowed his suspects down. He could have ruled out Wally because he was a Senior, and possibly even the other redhead based on his year. The announcer had said that Bart was a Freshman when he’d announced him as a winner, so Jaime figured he was the most likely of the three to be the caller. He matched all of the physical descriptors.

There were two more sprinting events that followed, each doubling the distance of the previous. After witnessing the 100m event, Jaime wasn’t surprised when Bart came in first for the 200m and 400m. It was honestly impressive. Bart was talented both in the art of running and annoying Jaime over phone calls. Truly difficult feats.

Once the sprinting events were finished, the competitors moved onto the field. Unlike the sprinting events, some members of the team sat out. Jaime noticed only six members of the team were participating. Two for discus, two for shot put and two for javelin. Neither Bart nor Wally was one of the six. The other redhead on the other hand, was lined up at the javelin throwing line.

Jaime paid him little mind. As soon as the announcer introduced him as a Senior, Jaime tuned out completely. Now there was absolutely no doubt whatsoever. Bart was his mystery caller.

While the field events took place, Jaime watched Bart stretching out on the side of the track. He was surprisingly limber. And Jaime had nothing to blame but the part of his mind attracted to men when he watched Bart bend over in his running shorts to stretch out his hamstrings. He had really nice legs, among... other things.

Jaime shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking things like that. He’d come here to put Bart in his place because of the annoying phone calls. Not admire his amazing calves.

When the field events were over, some members of the team moved back onto the track for the hurdle events. Again, Bart was not amongst them.

“He doesn’t do hurdles either?” Jaime accidentally mused aloud.

Donny turned to look at him. “First track meeting?” he asked, kindly.

Jaime felt a blush crop up on his cheeks. He hadn’t meant for his comment to be out loud.

“Yeah,” he admitted, despite his embarrassment.

Donny gave him a smile. “They each only do one event plus the sprints. You’ve got the three field events, hurdles, and long distance.”

“Oh.” Jaime nodded to show he understood.

Donny outstretched his hand. “I’m Don.”

Jaime shook Bart’s father’s hand. “Jaime,” he returned.

When Don took his hand back, he used it to point to his wife. “This is my wife, Meloni.”

The brunette woman waved at him.

“And my parents, Barry and Iris.” He gestured at each member of the older couple as well.

Jaime ducked his head shyly. “Nice to meet you all.”

The pop of the starting gun drew their attention back to the track where the hurdlers had just taken off from the blocks. Jaime watched on in interest, amazed at the skill that had been displayed today. He’d never imagined a track meet being this entertaining.

After a few moments, Don turned back to him. “Who’re you here for?” He pointed down at the track members surrounding the edge of the rubberized circle, cheering on their participating teammates.

Jaime felt that blush bloom on his cheeks again. Should he be honest? He was sitting right next to Bart’s parents. What if they started asking questions he didn’t have the answers to?

“Uh, I-I’m here for Bart.” He didn’t really have any other options. He didn’t know the names of any of the other track members.

Donny’s green eyes suddenly lit up. “Bart didn’t tell us his boyfriend was coming! It’s quite a coincidence we ended up sitting next to one another!”

Jaime gave a hard blink, processing the sentences that had just exited the blond man’s mouth. “Uh, we’re not-”

Meloni cut him off. “Oh! You’re the one who runs the campus radio! I knew your name sounded familiar. Bart talks about you all the time!”

The first thought that went through Jaime’s mind was, ‘Does he now?’. There was no mistaking it. Bart was 100 percent the annoying student who called into his radio segment each night. And Bart knew who he was. As soon as this track meeting was over, Jaime was definitely going to have some words with him.

“It’s so nice to finally get to meet you!”

Jaime didn’t know whether he should burst their bubble. Don and Meloni seemed like genuinely good people, and they were happy for their son having seemingly found a relationship. Although their assumptions weren’t true, Jaime knew he would feel extremely bad telling them otherwise.

Luckily, there wasn’t much time for him to dwell on the subject. As soon as the winners for the hurdling events were determined, the obstacles were cleared off the track and the next set of runners were lining up at the starting blocks. Two heads of red hair immediately caught Jaime’s attention. Bart and Wally were lining up in lanes one and two, while a few more of their track mates joined them in the other lanes.

“Who do you think it’ll be this time?” Barry posed the question aloud.

“I think Bart’s got a running shot.”

Everyone groaned at Don’s poor-quality joke.

“I apologize on my husband’s behalf,” Meloni mostly addressed Jaime, “What he meant was that Bart’s been working on his pacing. He’s the fastest on the team, and has always taken first in all of the sprinting events, but Wally always gives him some good competition for the long distance stuff.”

Jaime nodded thoughtfully. Bart had definitely been fast; no doubt about that. But he was curious to see how he would do in an event that required more endurance. Apparently he would actually have some competition this time, unlike in the sprinting events where Bart had left all of his teammates in the dust.

When the starting gun fired, Jaime found himself actually holding his breath. This first distance was 1500m, just shy of a mile. Jaime could remember having to do the one mile run in P.E. back in high school and how much of a pain it had been. The best time Jaime had ever gotten was just over six minutes.

For the first lap or so, Wally and Bart were neck and neck. The rest of their teammates were about half a lap behind. Then, when they went into the second lap, Bart kicked it up a notch, pulling ahead. Wally kept his own even pace, a schooled look of determination set over his features, while Bart’s lips transformed into a confident smirk.

By the final lap, Bart and Wally were shoulder to shoulder again. It was clear that Wally had the superior skill when it came to pacing, as he had been able to keep the same speed the whole time, whereas Bart’s speed had varied in spurts, depending on his level of endurance. It was unclear which one of them was going to win.

When Jaime looked around at the stands, he could see fans eagerly debating which one of the redheads they thought was going to win. The general consensus seemed to be Wally, but Jaime had a feeling his High School Musical-song-loving caller had a trick up his sleeve.

When they reached the last 100m or so of the race, the stadium burst into cheering, each person of the audience shouting encouragement to their respective runner. Against all odds, and to the surprise of many, Bart burst into a full out sprint, easily overtaking Wally, and crossing the finish line with an enthusiastic whoop.

Jaime was absolutely shocked to say the least. After running three laps, how had Bart found the energy for that last burst of speed?

A time of 4.02 minutes flashed on the screen behind them as the announcer proclaimed Bart the winner. Meloni and Don broke into cheers beside Jaime, and Barry and Iris clapped as well to show their support. Even Jaime found a small smile working it’s way onto his lips as he clapped, in awe of the impressive speed Bart had just displayed.

There was a few minutes between events while the results of the race were recorded and the next set of runners lined up at the starting blocks. Again, both Bart and Wally were among the competitors. This time, the distance was more than double what they had just run at 3200m. Jaime was curious to see how Bart would hold up against the longer distance.

When the starting gun fired, all of the runners took off as a group, rather than Bart and Wally distinguishing themselves from the pack right away. With eight laps to go, Jaime supposed it made sense. No point in going all out during the first half of the race, only to burn out when it really mattered. Bart and Wally would probably wait until the final few laps to burst ahead of their teammates.

Around and around the track they went, keeping pace with one another until the sixth lap. As soon as they passed the starting line, all of the runners kicked it up a notch, and gaps between the competitors became more noticeable. As expected, Wally and Bart pulled ahead of everyone else, and chatter broke out amongst the crowd about which redhead it would be this time.

Barry and Iris seemed to have their money on their nephew (Jaime had finally pieced it together when Barry made the comment about Iris being a West before marriage), whereas Don and Meloni, being the proud parents they were, were betting on their son to come out on top. Jaime couldn’t help being biased, and was also rooting for Bart. After all, he was the whole reason Jaime was at this track meet to begin with.

Bart was giving his all. Halfway into the last lap, he was ahead of Wally by a few steps. It seemed like he had the win in the bag. Then out of nowhere, Wally pulled the same stunt Bart had last time.

Jaime could see Bart do a double take when his cousin passed him, but there was nothing he could do. Bart’s strength was his speed; not endurance. He was only able to give about 80 percent, whereas Wally had paced himself better, and could pour 100 percent of his speed into the last leg of the race.

While Jaime was disappointed to see Bart take second, he was still impressed overall. Wally had beat Bart by two seconds, but Bart had beat the rest of his team by nearly ten seconds, meaning he and Wally had had quite an impressive lead.

Barry, Iris, Don and Meloni were engaged in a chat about the outcome of the latest race, but Jaime found his eyes glued to his not-so-mysterious (anymore) caller. Despite losing the last event, Bart seemed to be a good sport. He and Wally were standing on the sidelines, getting a quick drink and catching their breaths before the final event was set to start. Between gulps of water, Jaime could see the cousins teasing one another, egging each other on, and hyping one another up for the competition of the next race.

When they were called over to the track for the last event, Bart elbowed Wally in the ribs with a cocky smirk on his face, and Wally retaliated by pulling the smaller man into a headlock to ruffle his hair. Jaime didn’t quite know what to make of it, other than that Bart seemed to have a cocky, playful personality. It explained why he had been so adamant about playing the stupid identity game he had roped Jaime into over the phone during his radio segments each night.

The last distance was 5000m, or approximately 12 laps. Just thinking about that much running made Jaime want to cry. Needless to say, he wasn’t a huge fan of running. Other sports, sure, but running was not something Jaime enjoyed for himself. He would have to give massive kudos to Bart for having enough dedication to running to put himself through the 12 lap race.

Again, all of the runners stayed in a pack for the majority of the race. By about lap eight, it was clear who the real endurance runners were. The six competitors had spread out, a few feet behind one another, with Wally leading. There was a black-haired guy on his heels, and following behind him were Bart and another black-haired runner, a little shorter than the man in front of him. Two more runners were taking up the rear.

Laps nine, ten and eleven passed without much change. It wasn’t until they got into the final lap that Bart mustered the energy to pull ahead of his two black-haired teammates and take up the trail behind his cousin.

Wally’s winning time of fourteen minutes and two seconds flashed up on the scoreboard, followed by Bart’s time of 14.08. Jaime almost had to do a double take. When he calculated the math, it meant Bart had averaged a time of approximately a minute and eleven seconds per lap, and Wally had been faster still!

While the judges and officials were confirming the results of all of the events that had taken place, the stadium around Jaime burst to life as audience members began to make their exit down to the track to meet with and congratulate the athletes they had come to support. Beside him, Don, Meloni, Barry and Iris stood from their seats and gathered up their belongings, preparing to go congratulate Bart and Wally on their wins in today’s events.

“You should come with us, Jaime,” Meloni suggested when Jaime didn’t stand up with the rest of them.

Immediately, a stone sank in the college student’s stomach. What would Bart think if he saw Jaime with his parents? He and Bart hadn’t even met yet. How would Jaime be able to explain if Bart’s parents brought up the boyfriend issue?

Reluctantly, Jaime got up to follow the two couples down to the track. He was sweat-dropping. He really hoped Bart’s parents wouldn’t make things awkward.

As soon as he was in range, Don slung an arm around his son’s shoulders, congratulating him on his multiple wins. Meloni also smothered Bart in a hug when she got her opportunity, cooing over how well he had done. Beside them, Barry and Iris were doing much of the same to their nephew, expressing their awe of Wally’s endurance in the long-distance events. Meanwhile, Jaime stood awkwardly by, waiting for a chance to hopefully have a chat with his not-so-mysterious caller.

When the Allens finally separated from their son, Jaime locked eyes with Bart. There was a glint in those green irises that Jaime couldn’t place. It wasn’t good or bad per say; Jaime could only describe it as making him feel on edge, ready to tip one way or the other.

As soon as Meloni noticed the stare between the two boys, she immediately turned on Bart, much to Jaime’s horror.

“Bart! Why haven’t you introduced us to your boyfriend? He’s such a handsome young man.” She used an insistant hand to push Jaime forward, so much so that he almost stumbled and fell into the chest of his supposed “boyfriend”. Luckily, Bart’s hands came up and caught him by the biceps before that could happen.

Both his and Bart’s eyes widened. Pink burned hot on each of their cheeks. Jaime took a quick step back. He felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Well?” Don goaded. “Don’t be shy! I’m glad to see my son’s finally been able to put the Allen-family charm to use! How long have you two been together?”

Jaime could feel the color in his cheeks getting darker by the second. Bart was still giving him this weird look, as if it weren’t his parents who had instigated this whole conversation in the first place. The prolonged awkward eye contact was making Jaime uneasy, and he was tempted to just speak up and shut down Bart’s parent’s idea about him and their son being in a relationship, but before he had the chance, Bart was clearing his throat to speak.

The track star raised a hand to the back of his neck, and Jaime had to do a double-take at the innocent “embarrassed” façade he was now putting on. “Well,” he said, playing bashful, “Guess the cat’s out of the bag, Babe.”

Jaime’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates upon hearing the pet name. Bart was just going to go along with this?!

Without preamble, the redhead slung his arm around Jaime’s shoulders, crushing him into his side in a display of “affection” for his parents’ benefit. “Jaime’s a little shy,” Bart said, when Jaime failed to fill in the silence. “He wanted to keep our relationship a secret. I’m actually a little surprised he came to the track meet today.”

Bart subtly bumped Jaime’s hip with his own, which was a cue for him to talk. It took a moment for the raven-haired boy to scramble for a response. He would play along... for now.

“I had to see if you were as good as you were making yourself out to be,” Jaime had noticed Bart’s encoded message; he hadn’t expected Jaime to take his phone call seriously and show up. Jaime was giving his own back in return (I had to discover who the annoying caller was).

Bart chuckled. “Would I ever lie to you?”

Jaime had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Now the guy was just laying it on thick.

“Of course not, Chiquito.” The pet name came out from behind clenched teeth.

Luckily, Mel and Donny seemed to buy their act. When it was clear they were in the clear, Bart asked, “Mom, Dad, is it okay if I have a few minutes alone with my boyfriend?”

Meloni and Don shared a look before Don said, “Okay. But no hankey-pankey behind the bleachers!” He waved a finger at them, teasing smile in place over his lips.

Jaime felt himself going pink. “Of course not, Sir,” he managed to get out, in spite of how mixed up this situation had gotten.

Bart grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him a little ways down the track so that they were out of Meloni and Don’s hearing range. As soon as he had the opportunity, Jaime whirled on him.

“What the hell was that back there, ese?” Jaime hissed.

Bart shrugged. “They bought it, didn’t they?”

Jaime felt his eyes narrow into a glare. “Why didn’t you correct them?”

Bart did another shrug, this time with a knowing expression on his face. “It’s not like you said anything either.”

Jaime’s glare fell apart under the truthful accusation. It was his fault for not immediately shutting down the idea when Don had first brought it up to him in the stands.

Bart placed his hands on his hips and began rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels. “In all honesty, I’m actually surprised you showed up.”

Jaime emulated Bart’s pose, resting a fist against his hip and gesturing with the other. “Well, I couldn’t risk you calling back during my segment tonight and accusing me of being a liar in front of my entire audience, now could I?”

Bart tilted his head in such a way that Jaime had to repress the thought of ‘Oh, that’s cute,’ before it accidentally slipped out of his mouth.

A faint pink blush rose to Bart’s cheeks. “I guess I did kind of back you into a corner, didn’t I?” He raised a hand to the back of his neck, and it was the moment that Jaime realized Bart was genuinely sorry for having done so. While he may have wanted Jaime to show up today, it was clear now that he wouldn’t have used Jaime’s absence as blackmail against him if he had decided not to show.

Not wanting Bart to feel guilty, Jaime shrugged it off. “No es gran cosa.”

A smile worked its way onto Bart’s mouth. “I have no idea what that means, but I’m guessing by the look on your face, you’re not actually all that bothered by it.”

Jaime sighed. “Well, besides inviting me here so I can tell you how much I hate granting your High School Musical requests every night, what exactly is the reason?”

Bart scoffed. “I can’t believe you had the audacity to say that to my face!” He was trying to deliver the line seriously, but the smile on his lips told Jaime that he wasn’t actually offended.

Jaime shrugged, a small smirk working its way onto his own lips. “What can I say? Disney Channel movies are cheesy, and their sound tracks are even worse.”

Bart chuckled. “Your music is too depressing. You need something more upbeat. Less lyrics about death, sad childhoods, and oppression. ‘We’re All in this Together’, right ah-me-go?”

Jaime cringed, both at Bart’s pronunciation and at the stereotypes. His music was more complex than what Bart was making it out to be. Besides, Jaime wasn’t here to argue anyway. Bart had invited him to this track meeting with ulterior motives, and Jaime was determined to figure out what they were.

“Not all of my music is depressing,” Jaime countered. “Besides, you ignored my question. Surely you had some kind of motive in inviting me here besides to just discuss your terrible music taste. I want to know what it is.” Jaime raised both eyebrows.

An unexpected pink blush rose to Bart’s cheeks, covering up the freckles sprayed like paint across his Caucasian skin. “I wanted you to notice me.” Jaime nearly missed the words, for they came out of Bart’s mouth in a whisper.

“You wanted me to notice you?” He repeated the statement, hoping for a bit of an explanation.

Bart’s blush deepened, skin in competition with his hair for reddest feature. His green eyes were piercing the ground, seemingly in an effort to burn a hole big enough to burry himself in to avoid such embarrassment. His fingers twisted harshly against one another. His whole aura had changed from the confident runner he had been on the track to nervous schoolboy.

“We’re in the same physics class.” Bart’s sneaker kicked up a puff of dirt as he ground his toe into the sand.

Jaime blinked. He’d never seen anyone like Bart in his physics class. Was he that non-observant that he had missed him?

“I-I usually sit behind you.” It sounded like Bart was struggling to admit something difficult. Usually Jaime was the shyer one in conversations, so he completely understood what it felt like having to lead a difficult conversation. But he wanted to get to the bottom of this. Bart was on the edge of a confession, and Jaime had to know what it was.

“I noticed how a-attractive—” Bart’s blush deepened yet again— “you were pretty much as soon as I laid eyes on you. I-I wanted to get to know you better, so I asked around a little. Turns out Cassie’s a mutual friend of ours. She told me a little bit about you, from working with you at the radio station, and I did a little bit of research on my own. I looked you up on the school website. I started calling in to your station. I kept asking Cassie if she could find out more about you for me. Your favorite color, food, movie... Any hobbies, or things you like. I started piecing together this picture of you in my mind, using our conversations on the phone to confirm or deny my theories about you. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was desperate for you to notice me, so I started dropping hints on the phone, hoping you would take an interest. But you didn’t. And I-I can understand if-if you don’t feel the same way but IthinkIaccidentlyfellinlovewithyou.”

Jaime blinked hard. “¿Qué?” That last bit had left Bart’s mouth in an unintelligible jumble of sounds. Had Bart just admitted he was in love with him?

When Jaime snapped out of his confusion and looked back at Bart, he saw that the track star was struggling to hold back tears. A salty droplet fell from his chin and landed on the ground between them, creating a dark spot in the dirt. His shoulders were trembling with the effort to not let out a cry.

Guilt settled hard in Jaime’s stomach, like a boulder being dropped into a lake. The aftershocks were still rippling through his system. The pieces were slowly coming together.

Bart was in love with him, and wanted the feeling to be mutual. He had called in to Jaime’s radio station, hoping that he could get Jaime to take an interest in him. He wanted Jaime to pursue him, that way he would know for sure that Jaime felt the same way. And Jaime had taken an interest; he’d just done a poor job at showing it.

Hesitantly, Jaime reached a hand forward in an effort to get Bart to look up at him. “Por favor, no llores. Lo siento, I-”

Bart took a step back, angrily wiping his tears away with his fists. “No. I-it’s stupid. I built this idea of you up in my head, and it’s probably not who you are at all. I was just desperate and wanted you to like me back. And I know that me calling you every night was probably annoying and that you probably aren’t even into guys-”

Jaime surged forward, grabbing onto the other boy’s bicep with one hand and cupping his cheek with the other, and did something that surprised himself probably even more than it surprised Bart.

Bart froze, teary eyes wide in shock as Jaime’s lips smashed against his own. He was too surprised to react.

As soon as Jaime realized what he had done, he pulled back, blushing madly. Despite his embarrassment however, he couldn’t help the truth that fell from his lips.

“I am.” When Bart still looked confused, Jaime rushed to clarify. “Into guys. Into... you. I’m bisexual.” He raised a hand to nervously rub at the short raven hairs along the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly.

Bart seemed to snap out of his stupor. “You’re into me? I didn’t think you were interested. I thought you only came today because I was blackmailing you.”

Jaime’s awkward laugh turned amused. “If you think I showed up today because of your so-called ‘blackmail’, you need a new definition for the word.” He moved his hand from his neck, slipping it into his pocket to pull out his notebook. Jaime flipped it to the page where he had taken down all of the little clues Bart had given to him over the phone and turned the book around to show it to the track star. Bart’s green eyes widened slowly as he read over all of Jaime’s scrupulously written notes.

“I wrote down everything you told me about yourself.”

Bart’s gaze slowly ascended from the page, an awed look in his eyes. Hastily, Jaime closed the notebook and placed it back in his pocket. He shifted his weight from foot to foot in consideration before finally saying, “I’d like a chance to get to know you. I want to give us—” Jaime used a finger to gesture between himself and Bart— “a chance. If that’s... crash?” He tested out the word he’d heard Bart use during a few of their phone calls.

The redhead’s face lit up like a child’s after receiving a piece of candy. “Yeah! That’s totally crash! When are you free?”

“Uh-” Jaime pulled out his phone to check his calendar, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

“Time to get this show on the road, Kiddos.” When Jaime looked up to see who the hand belonged to, he saw Bart’s father standing between them, his other hand grasping onto his son’s shoulder. “Who knows what you two would get up to if Mel and I left you alone any longer.” Don playfully shook his head, before turning the eyes Bart had inherited from him on his son. “Your mother and I were college sweethearts, too. We know what kind of things kids your age get up to.”

Both Bart and Jaime blushed at the implications.

“Dad!” Bart groaned in embarrassment.

Don chuckled, as if it were all in a day’s work embarrassing his son. He turned to Jaime. “We usually go out as a family after track meets to celebrate. Everyone’ll be there. It’s a good opportunity for Bart to introduce you to the family. If you’re up for going, Jaime?”

The raven-haired student shared a look with his boyfriend? friend? person-he-thought-was-very-attractive-but-wanted-to-get-to-know-a-little-better-before-dating? Bart shrugged.

Jaime felt put on the spot. He and Bart had just discussed the possibility of beginning a relationship, and now he was supposed to meet the ‘rents? Not that he hadn’t already, but that was beside the point. Going out for a meal with Bart’s parents, grandparents, cousin and who-knows-who-else, and having to pretend that he’s madly in love with someone he was just meeting for the first time today? This had the potential to kill any chances he and Bart had at actually beginning a real relationship.

“I’m sorry, I already have plans,” was what Jaime wanted to say. Instead, he said, “Sure. I’d love to get to meet your family, Cariño.”

“Good evening, Tigers! You’re listening to Houston U’s nightly segment. I’m your host, Jaime Reyes-”

“-and his amazing boyfriend, Bart Allen-”

Jaime had to stifle an ‘oomph!’ as his boyfriend of three glorious months slung an arm around his neck and plopped down on his lap, leaning in close to the microphone so that he could be heard, too.

“-Next up we have ‘Flourescent Adolescence’ by Arctic Monkeys-”

“-And after that, ‘I Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You’ from High School Musical!” Bart slammed a finger into the ‘play’ button, starting the next song in the queue, before swinging his leg around so he could straddle Jaime’s lap and drag him into a kiss.

When they pulled apart, Jaime had a pout on his lips. “Who let you in here?” Bart wasn’t supposed to be in the studio, especially when Jaime was live on the air.

The younger smirked deviously. “Cassie might have loned me her key so that I could pay my boyfriend a visit while he was working...”

Jaime shook his head. “Of course she did.”

Bart booped his nose with a fingertip. “Don’t act so put out. You know you looooove me.”

Jaime shook his head, trying to keep a poker face. “Nope. You just tainted my reputation by saying that we’re gonna play High School Musical songs voluntarily. How could I love someone who would pull such a slanderous act against me?”

Bart poked his nose again. “You looooove me.”

Jaime shook his head. His lips threatened to quirk up into a smile. His poker face was cracking. “Nope.”

Bart hovered his lips dangerously close to Jaime’s own. “Admit it, Babe. You love me more than anyone in the world.”

Jaime’s mask crumbled. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “Te amo con todo mi corazón.” He pulled Bart that little inch forward to kiss him again.

Unfortunately the phone cut their loving moment shorter than either boy wanted. Jaime picked it up.

“Hello, fellow Tiger! You’re on-air with Houston U’s nightly segment. Care to introduce yourself to all the listeners out there?”

“Yeah, Jaime, it’s Gar. I’m glad to hear that you finally found yourself a good partner, but next time you might want to make sure your mic is off before making any declarations of love while you’re live.”

Crimson bloomed to life across the entirety of his face while Gar hung up on the other end of the line. Immediately, the radio host leaned forward and flicked off the switch to his microphone. Jaime buried his face in his hands.

“I hate you!” He directed at Bart in an embarrassed moan.

Bart chuckled. “Nah. You looooove me.”

Here it finally is @purple--waffles! I’m so sorry it took me so long! I’ve been slowly working on it since the day your request arrived in my asks. Life is crazy, and I haven’t had a whole lot of time to write recently, but I really wanted to finish this for you. My mind ran with the prompt, and even though it took me awhile, hopefully the length makes up for it??? Maybe? Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

[samanthadalton]

Star crossed lovers (au) part 5

pairings: poppy x mc (bea)

warnings: throughout this fic there will be mentions of substance abuse, homophobia, sexual abuse, violence, NSFW, mentions of abandonment, depression and death including suicide

reader discretion is advised 

taglist: @somewillwin @save-me-the-last-dance @baexpoppy @cloud9in @stanzoeywade @ognenniyvolk @thepotatobleh @crazzyplays @rxssians @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth

word count: 3.6k 

part 1: part 2:  part 3:  part 4: 

The Unexpected guest

Tensions were at an all time high in wake of the party and all parties involved were playing a dangerous game of hide and seek. Over the couple of weeks that followed, Bea and Poppy were partially avoiding each other, not wanting to instigate any fights especially since the girls already had so much on their plate. Everytime Poppy tried to bring up the knife incident Bea would either change the subject or become irritable and leave. It was the same story for Bea and AJ, he did everything in his power to avoid Bea at school, home and anywhere else. To distract herself from all the drama, Bea began taking on extra shifts at the diner, focused on volleyball practice especially since Chloe was biting the heads off the girls every practice since they had a friendly match on Thursday and they needed to uphold their reign and bring glory to the Belvoire name. Simultaneously, she was also balancing taking care of her mother and sister, since her mom had been much more needy over the last couple of weeks and Bea couldn’t figure out why. The day before the volleyball game, Bea had gotten a text from an unknown number asking to meet her just outside of town as a small restaurant and Bea unquestionably knew who it was. 

…….

Nerves begin to wreck her entire body as she parks her bike just outside the restaurant. She smooths down her dress, pepping herself up a little, takes a deep breath and walks over to the entrance. She sees a hostess at the front of the small restaurant who greets her with a warm smile, “Table for 1?” 

Bea softly shakes her head, “Uhh, no I’m meeting someone here. It should be under the name Hughes?” 

The hostess scans her list, “uhhh, ah here it is, a table for two. Your dinner companion is already waiting inside”, she leads Bea to the middle of the restaurant where she sees an older man sitting in front of her. He nervously taps on the table, his gaze facing downwards, and he’s pulled out of his reverie when the hostess announces Bea’s arrival. 

“Mr Hughes, your dinner guest is here,” 

Bea father’s eyes practically light up when he sees his daughter and he jumps out of his seat to pull Bea’s chair out for her as the hostess leaves. Bea awkwardly accepts her father’s attempt at chivalry and lets herself be pushed in and begins to wrangle her fingers together while her father takes a seat opposite her, his expression elated as a waiter comes over handing them a menu and he pushes a glass of coke towards Bea while he has a beer for himself. 

“I wasn’t sure if you still like coke but if I got it wrong we can get to another drink” he looks up raising a hand to flag down a waiter.

“No it’s fine dad” to show she’s okay with the drink by leaning down and taking a small sip from the straw earning a smile from her father

”God, look at you squirt, all grown up. You look beautiful, sweetie. Did you grow over the last year?” 

Bea bashfully stares down at the table, “uhh yeah I think I grew 2 more inches since you’ve last seen me” 

“I can tell, you get your height from your old man here” 

Bea cringes slightly at the mention of her “old man” but quickly masks her discomfort but plastering a small smile on her lips and letting out a small chuckle. “Well that’s what happens when you don’t visit for almost 2 years, things change” though her tone is dripping with sarcasm, the atmosphere becomes uncomfortable as guilt flashes across Mr Hughes’ eyes. 

“Bea..” 

“It’s fine dad, we don’t have to talk about it.” Bea is about to say more until a waiter comes to their table, and takes their order before leaving again. 

“Are you sure you just want to eat a caesar salad? I’m paying sweetie, I’ll get you whatever you want?” 

Bea gives her head a shake, “no its fine. I have a volleyball game tomorrow so rules are no heavy carbs or anything before a game” 

Bea’s dad lets out a low whistle, “that’s tough. And also very stupid. Who came up with that rule” 

Bea laughs, “our team captain, Chloe. Let’s just say she’s not exactly the brightest of the bunch but she will definitely kick your ass if you don’t take volleyball seriously” 

“So are you ready for the game?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been practicing a lot and it’s only a friendly match so it’s not a real match or anything” 

“Still, you should make the Hughes name proud. Show them we don’t give up so easily,” Mr Hughes realises what he said and tightens his lips together in order for him to stop speaking. Quiet follows until the waiter comes to the table with their food and the two eat in uncomfortable silence. The dead air is soon broken when Bea lets out a frustrated sigh capturing her father’s attention. 

“I can’t pretend like everything’s alright dad” she slams the fork in her hand down, shaking the table a little. 

“Bea, I know-” 

“No you don’t dad. You can’t just waltz back into my life after not calling or texting for the last year and a half. Out of respect for mom and Aria, I haven’t told them about being in contact with you but I can only hide it for so long. I just need to know if you’re gonna be around this time or if you’re gonna leave again because-”

“Bea please!” Bea father’s tone pleading as he raises his hand to cut her off. “I’m not here to pick a fight. I just wanted to see my daughter.” 

Bea massages her hand with one hand as she takes a moment to reflect on her father’s words, “why now dad? Look I appreciate you sending me money every month to help us out but you’ve never really cared other than that.” 

Tears glisten in her father’s eyes, “is that what you think? That I don’t care about you?” his tone low and tinged with sadness, “Bea I will always be your father. I know I’m not the best at showing it, but I will always be here for you” 

“And what about mom? Aria? Is it just fuck them? You only give a shit about me?” Bea slightly raises her voice, gaining a few scowls from the other people in the restaurant, “Aria deserves to have a dad too.” 

“Bea please” he inconspicuously shifts his gaze around the room, “please can we have a civil conversation about this?” 

Bea glowers at the father, her mind telling her to storm out of the restaurant without a second glance while her heart tells her to stay and listen to what he has to say at the very least. She defeatedly sighs, giving into her heart and she shifts in her seat leaning back on her chair, crossing her arms, “well, you have 5 minutes” 

“Thank you” he reaches out to clasp Bea’s hand in his but his hand awkwardly hovers near Bea’s before pulling back again. He apprehensively coughs into his hand before speaking, “I know I’ve missed out on a lot of things. That… I haven’t been a good dad. But I want that to change Bea, I want to get to know you.” He looks at Bea, his eyes full of hopefulness but feels dejected as her eyes stare back at him blankly. “I know me leaving wasn’t easy on you, or your mother, but you have to see it from my perspective. She slept with someone else and led me to believe Aria was mine for 2 years.”

“That’s not a valid excuse to ditch your entire family!” Bea blinks back the tears forming in her eyes, and swallows slightly to get rid of the shakiness in her voice, “I needed my dad. You know how hard it’s been to watch mom throw her life away? To watch her kill herself with drugs and alcohol while I had to mature quickly so I can look after both her and Aria? Have Aria crying in the night saying she misses her dad and is confused as to why mom hates her so much?” Bea eventually breaks down, the strength of upholding her composure dissipating as the tears stream down her face and she looks at her father’s face who stares guilty back at her, his face pale. “You didn’t support us once during those years. You let me and Aria suffer because of mom’s mistake. So I take your money every month because I’m owed at least that very much.” She jumps out of her seat, “your 5 minutes are up” and without a second glance, stalks out of the restaurant. 

She throws on her helmet and swings one leg over her bike and is about to turn the throttle until a hand firmly grips her shoulder, “please Bea, don’t leave like this.” 

“Why not? You did”, she shrugs her father’s hand off her shoulder and with that she turns on the ignition and drives off leaving her father, who just watches her leave. 

……

The next day, classes whizz by, as Bea prepares herself for tonight's game with a quick practice squeezed in at lunchtime due to Chloe’s demands of ‘making sure they are ready for tonight’s game with no one dragging them down’, she stared icily at Bea when she said the last bit. 

Soon it was time for the game, and the audience began piling into the hall while the girls did their pre-game stretches and exercises while waiting for the other team from Berry High and the judges to arrive.

“Okay ladies, do not disappoint me today. We’ve been working hard for this moment. We cannot start off the season with a loss, it will make us look bad,” the girls stare blankly at Chloe who begins to monologue about Belvoire’s history of volleyball. Bea boredly looks around the hall and sees Poppy and the rest of the cheerleaders in the corner huddled together, most likely having a last minute pep talk. Their eyes meet across the room and Poppy’s covertly communicates with Bea to meet her in the locker room with a subtle nod of her head directing towards the doors. Bea taps her eyebrow with her forefinger in response to Poppy, showing that she’s understood her message and makes an excuse to grab her water bottle from her locker. A minute later Poppy follows her into the locker room. 

“Hey” Bea steps out of the shadows staring at Poppy in her cheerleader’s outfit with undisguised lust, “damn you look hot.” 

Poppy bashfully tucks her hair behind her ear, “shuttup, you’ve seen me in my outfit all the time” 

“And I’m gonna tell you how sexy you look every time” 

Poppy moves forward winding her arms around the taller girl’s neck before pulling her in for a long kiss. She breaks it off and places her forehead against the brunette’s, “I thought you were still mad at me” 

Bea carefully swipes her thumb against Poppy’s lips, “and why would you think I’m mad?” her voice low but full of playfulness. 

“Because…. We keep avoiding the conversation we are supposed to have” 

Bea huffs exasperatingly, “Look, I swear we will talk about what happened at the party, just not now, I gotta focus on the game and you gotta focus on your routine. I mean aren’t you performing at the football game tomorrow too?” 

Poppy despairingly stares at Bea but she doesn’t push anymore, wanting to enjoy a moment of bliss before they have to go back to reality. She squeaks out, “okay, I guess I can wait a couple more days”. Bea pulls her closer pressing a soft kiss on her lips before stroking the strawberry blonde’s hair. 

“So… are we going to do our pre-game ritual or no?”

Poppy lets out a snort, “Oh my god, I almost forgot”. The girls begin doing an elaborate handshake which ends with their pinkies hooked together while they kiss each other’s pinky finger before Bea slinks a hand behind Poppy’s neck and pulls her in for a long and passionate kiss. 

Poppy breaks the kiss first and looks back at the locker room entrance, “We should really get back before people start to wonder” she nervously chews the inside of her cheek. “But before I go are you gonna tell me what’s on your mind?” Bea gives Poppy an inattentive hum who in retort raises one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at the girl, “Bea, I know you well enough to know something’s up, what's wrong?” 

“We’re wasting time,” Bea moves out of Poppy’s grasp and takes out a water bottle from her locker, “Chloe’s probably going mental wondering where I am”

“Talk to me Bea” she desperately clings to Bea’s arm, “what the hell is happening to us? Why don’t you talk to me anymore?” Her bottom lip quivers but she quickly bites down on it, and when Bea doesn’t answer her, all emotions drain out of her face and she stares at Bea vacantly. “Fine, whatever, good luck” and she walks out leaving Bea on her own. 

Bea grabs her water bottle and leaves the locker rooms after waiting a couple of minutes and is met by a hot headed Chloe who looks like her head is about to explode as she screams at Bea, “what the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know how to read the time? We’ve been waiting for you for almost 5 minutes, hurry up and get on the court now.” Bea half-heartedly apologises and makes her way to the court and waits for the whistle to blow. 

The game begins and the Belvoire volleyball team manages to succeed in securing a hefty lead against Berry High, with substantial communication and teamwork. No matter how different the girls are outside the court, no one can deny the chemistry between the players and how easily they’re able to read each other in order to play exceptionally. Volleyball games are the only time Chloe treats Bea with an ounce of respect and can actually talk to her without throwing an insult (most of the time) as their dynamic although unexpected is almost as if they share the same brain during their games. Bea is so fixated on the match she doesn’t realise her mother, Aria and Zoey walk into the hall and take a seat in the middle of the bleachers until they start screaming her name. Bea at first is dumbfounded as she did not expect her mom to show up at her game especially after the drunken show in 2018. A small graces her lips as she blushes red and brings her finger to her mouth to quiet them down feeling embarrassed by the attention but Zoey only starts to cheer louder, gaining dirty looks from everyone around her. 

“What? That’s my best friend so imma cheer for her, problem?” She begins to argue with one of the parents who begins to quarrel with her for being too loud. Bea shakes her head trying not to laugh but is quickly pulled out of her thoughts when the ball lands right in front of her. 

“What the fuck Hughes? Pay attention” Chloe’s tone threatening as the rest of the girls look disapprovingly as Bea. The game resumes and soon it’s half time. During the entirety of the first half of the game, Bea doesn’t spare a glance at Poppy who in return just aimlessly scrolls through her phone until she notices Ms Hughes in the stands who gave her a little wave. 

“Ew, why is she waving at you? Do you like, know her or something?” Tasha’s face scrunched up as she looks at Poppy with disgust. 

“Uhh she used to be my neighbour so she probably remembers me from when I was a kid” Poppy looks back up to the stands and sees Aria who grins enthusiastically at the strawberry blonde and Poppy gives her wink before focusing on the game and watching Bea lose all focus when she realises her mom is at one of her games. 

When it's finally half-time Poppy plasters on a pageant smile while Veronica takes her hand and squeezes it tightly before the cheerleaders make their way to the middle of the court and begin their extensive routine. Music begins to blare on the speakers and the cheerleaders stand in a diamond formation before impeccably killing their dance routine while Veronica and Tasha do the splits and Poppy in the middle mounts the perfect front handspring before joining the two girls in a split as the rest of the group continue with their dance in the back. 

Bea longingly watches Poppy, her heart aching a little as regret begins to fill her insides as she knows there were some truths to the strawberry blonde’s words about being hard to talk to. The brunette can’t pinpoint when she began closing off on her girlfriend but she knows that it’s been going on long enough. As she watches the routine, she decides that on Saturday morning she’ll take Poppy out for the day where they can have a long long talk about everything. 

It comes to the part of the routine where the girls are supposed to be in a pyramid so Poppy, being the head cheerleader, flourishes her arms as she makes her way to the top. Just as she’s about to reach the top of the pyramid, she grabs onto one of the cheerleader’s hand to haul herself to the top but she accidentally misplaces her hand, which sends her tumbling down and landing with a heavy thud. The music abruptly stops as the audience gasp and whisper while Bea's heart drops and without thinking she runs towards the strawberry blonde, her entire mind and body beginning to shut down and stutter. Principal Steinhelm pushes herself through the group formed around Poppy telling everyone to move back to give the girl some space. 

Poppy winces as her eyes meet Bea, and when Bea stares into her eyes all she can see is pain, unsure as to whether it’s from her injury or what happened earlier Bea begins to distress until Veronica pulls her away from the crowding cheerleaders as the nurse appears and begins to examine Poppy’s injuries. 

“What the hell are you doing?! I need to see her” Bea tries to barge her way past Veronica but Veronica easily subdues the brunette by pushing her back to keep her in her place. 

“I know you’re worried but I’m doing this for you. Chill out with the puppy dog eyes because you’re making it obvious.” Bea quickly blinks back her tears and looks into the audience to see her mother, Aria and Zoey all with worried looks etched onto their faces. “Look you know I’ll always have Poppy’s back. I think it’s just a broken wrist, nothing she can’t come back from but she’ll never forgive you if someone found out about you two.” 

Bea furrows her eyebrows together before whispering, “I don’t give a fuck, she’s my girlfriend”. Veronica places a hand on Bea’s chest pushing her back even more. 

“Exactly you’re her girlfriend. Don’t put extra stress on her” she turns and sees the nurse leading out a teary eyed Poppy and turns back and sighs, “focus on your game. I’ll text you with updates” and she leaves the hall following after Poppy and her nurse and a few of the other girls. 

Principal’s Steinhelm’s voice suddenly booms across the hall, “Please settle in your seats.” She abruptly claps her hands together silencing everyone in the hall, “I know you’re worried because of this unfortunate incident but rest assured Miss Min Sinclair will be okay and her father is being contacted as we speak. Please let the game continue without any further disruptions.” 

The two teams make their way back to the court but one of the girls from Berry High begins to taunt a broken looking Chloe, “awww, you sad about the pretty little cheerleader having a fall” she begins to mimic Chloe’s anguished expression, pretending tears are falling out of her eyes as some of her teammates begin to laugh while the rest just stay silent. Just as Chloe opens her mouth to retort Bea heatedly stalks towards the girl, fury blazing in her eyes, “how about you shut the fuck up and get on with the game before this becomes more than a friendly match.” She glares at the girl, nostrils flared and her breathing heavy, Chloe gives Bea a weird look but Bea is too pissed to see it. The girl nervously gulps and ducks her head before walking over to her side of the court and the game resumes. Powered by her rage, Bea and the other Belvoire volleyball players manage to beat Berry High by a landslide and as soon as the game is over, Bea brushes past her mom who tries to reach out and talk to her about the game and runs to the locker room to grab her things determined to see Poppy in hospital. She checks her phone to see Veronica upholding her promise and texting Bea with updates of Poppy’s condition. 

She makes it to the empty parking lot as most likely everyone is still in the hall slowly beginning to pile out but a figure in front of her makes her stop in her tracks as she gawks at the person in front of her. “What the hell do you want?” 

“I know about you and Poppy.”

read part 6 here: 

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 30)

She knows that there is not a soul left in the world that cares for her. She knows it because if there was, someone would have reached out and taken her hand. Someone would have realized that she was slowly dying and they would have given her at least a little sip of water and a small morsel to eat. 

Nobody does. 

Because nobody cares. 

For all of its heat, she is certain that the Fire Nation is colder than the poles. 

No wonder she herself is so cold.

Her body aches and pains in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Dehydration leaves her muscles cramped without mercy. She puts one foot in front of the other, over and over. Her mind has grown numb to all else. Her head throbs and she has run out of sweat. She stumbles and pitches forward. She doesn’t have the energy to pick herself back up and so she drags herself on all fours. Crawling on her hands and knees. 

She doesn’t think of anything else, just of moving limb after limb until she finds herself at the base of a cliff. The Black Cliffs she realizes, faintly. She drags herself to the shoreline, tears welling in her eyes. 

She greedily laps at the water, feeling just as uncivilized as she has become. She thinks that there is nothing left of who she had been. Nothing good anyhow. She is certain that she has still retained and regained all of the most unsavory bits. 

After helping herself to copious amounts of water, she lets her body fall limp. Arm outstretched, her fingers dip into the water. Water that laps gently at the sand. The cliffs tower high above her, shadows washing over her. Atop them, short strands of grass sway and swish. A fuzzy green to adorn the otherwise craggy landscape.She bunches herself up; at the very least she will have a nice view to go with her death.

She doesn’t expect to wake up but she does. And she awakes to familiar pains. At least she is no longer thirsty, at least the water cools her body. At least she can refill the waterskin. But how terribly her stomach pangs. And the sun burns on her skin sear a bright red. Her skin is already peeling in places, she feels even less human.

She climbs to her feet anyhow, dizzy, swaying. 

She walks for miles, empty headed, reduced to nothing but the aches in her stomach and feet. The throbbing of her head. 

She isn’t going to make it, she isn’t sure why she is trying. 

She wonders if her corpse will be found and if she will be buried respectfully or unceremoniously. Perhaps her body will rot where it falls…

Approaching from the other direction, she sees the first people that she had encountered in days...weeks? 

She wonders if it would make a difference to tell them that she is their princess.

She recalls her haggard state and wonders if they’d believe her.

She approaches them.

She opens her mouth. She knows that she had.

But the blackness overtakes her--she isn’t sure if she had gotten any word out. Her body, spent and at its limit trembles all over even in sleep. She doesn’t wake up for some time. And when she does, she wakes alone. Alone and somewhere entirely new. 

Her heart thunders in her chest; where have they taken her? Is she dead? It’s dark. She chokes out a little sob. She doesn’t know where she is or how she got there. She shivers; what if she has gotten herself mixed up with the slave traders? Agni, can’t the universe at least let her die a free woman?

But her hands, her ankles...they aren’t bound.

Curiously, her middle doesn’t ache quite as terribly. They, whoever they are, must have fed her. 

Azula sits up and the tarp falls away. She looks around and her eyes fall upon a stocky man with a full beard and ample eyebrows. “What…?” She gestures to the tarp. The man catches it before it can blow away entirely.

“It was to keep the sun off of you.” The man says gruffly. He is a soldier. She thinks that she recognizes him. She can’t put a name to a face right now, neither can she put it to a memory.

Still shaking, she rakes her hands through her hair. 

Her hair!

Her dismay must have registered on her face because the man states plainly, “Matted. We wouldn’t have been able to comb it so we cut it.”

She falls back to the floor of the cart. It doesn’t matter. Long, lustrous hair is for the dignified anyways. She bunches herself back up. 

“We’ll take you as far as the outskirts of Caldera City, then you fend for yourself.” 

She manages a small nod but inquires, “why did you pick me up at all?”

“We’re not savages. We’re trying to show the world that the Fire Nation isn’t cruel.” The soldier shrugs.

But compared to everywhere else that she has been, it is. Very much so. 

“But we’re not about to give rewards to someone like you.”

“Like me?” It is an impulse to ask.

“Dirty. Dumb. Useless. You haven’t earned your keep.”

And now she recognizes him. He had been one of Admiral Zhao’s subordinates. Arrogant and dumber than he thinks she. She has earned her keep more than thrice over. It isn’t her fault that the universe keeps stealing it away from her. 

It isn’t her fault that the universe has a vendetta against her specifically. That it is trying to give her the fill of bad luck she had missed. Maybe in another fourteen years--maybe eleven to twelve if the years she has suffered already count--she will fall into another era of fortune. 

Maybe if she can last that long.

“You gonna get a job when you get to the outskirts or are you gonna…”

She doesn’t have the patience to listen to him anymore. Doesn’t have the patience for small minded assumptions and baseless judgements. She doesn’t have the emotional energy to deal with her own former ideals thrown back at her again. And again. And again…

She isn’t sure how many times she has to pay for them.

When it will end. 

When the world will finally acknowledge that she is doing her best. That she isn’t evil through and through; that she is just a woman who wants a home and peace of mind…

The rocking of the cart jars and unsettles her.

She thinks that she has learned it quite a while back but more subtly, kindly; that day she learns not to sneer at those who are down on their luck. She doesn’t know them. They don’t know her.

.oOo.

She is almost overwhelmed by how much attention she is getting. Mostly it is from Sokka who holds her as close as he physically can. But it is from Zuko too, who fixes her some tea (“just the way uncle always makes it!”) and from TyLee who gushes over what a caring mother she is until her cheeks grow red. It comes from Mai who brings her scrolls to read and occupy her mind with. From the servants and Lo and Li...

Caihong hasn’t spoken with her since she delivered the bad news nearly four days ago. 

“Trust me. Children are just like that.” Ursa insists. “She’ll come around.” 

But Azula hadn’t. 

She still hasn’t. 

She is still angry with the woman. 

The woman who had left her feeling neglected and hated for much of her life. The woman who, with uncle in tow, finally made her appearance--and at the worst possible time--two days prior. 

And yet the woman has her hand on the small of her back and rubs in small circles. At least Iroh knows to keep his distance. But really, aside from the lashing of her tongue, there isn’t a particular risk in pestering her. 

Ursa reaches out and grazes her fingers over the scar on Azula’s neck. The princess flinches back and her mother grimaces. 

“What happened, dear?”

“Ask Zuzu.” She is so tired and she doesn’t feel like explaining it again. She really doesn’t feel like dealing with more pity. 

“She’s been through a lot.” Sokka takes his seat at the edge of the bed. “And she can use some fresh air. Let's go for a walk, Azula.”

“I’d rather not.”

“You shouldn’t just sit in your room all day.”

“I’m not. I leave occasionally to get something to eat and have my bath…” 

“What about to socialize?”

Azula crinkles her nose and he laughs. She is in utter distress and he is laughing. “Talking to people isn’t that bad. Look how nice all of the Earth Kingdomers were to you.” He gestures to her journal. 

She takes it in her hands and stares at it for sometime before shoving it into Ursa’s arms. “Talk to me when you’re done reading it.” 

“Azula--!?”

“You haven’t even read the first page yet.” She scoffs. 

“You shouldn’t be so mean to your--”

Azula cuts him a glare.

“Strawberry garden, let’s check on that.” This time it is a nervous laugh. 

She grabs his hand and quite roughly. She doesn’t mean to be so rough, but he doesn’t even flinch. Caihong is already in the garden when they arrive, babbling away with TyLee. She holds Bao up with a delighted squeal. 

Azula sits down next to the child who turns around with a “hmph!” 

“Oh come on, Caihong,” TyLee tries, “Azula really wants to talk to you. She cares about you a lot.”

Caihong folds her arms, “nuh-uh, she makes me sad.” 

Azula’s stomach flutters. 

“Sometimes bad things happen, Cai.” Sokka tries. “She didn’t make this thing happen she was only telling you what happened.” He pauses. “Don’t you think you would have been sadder if that bad guy took you back to WuJing and no one was there?”

Caihong’s pout grows. 

“At least now you have me and TyLee and Zuko and…” He lifts her up and turns her around to face Azula, “you have a mom.”

“My mom died.” She says plainly, fidgeting with Bao’s claws. “‘S not fair.” 

“No kidding…” Sokka mutters. “My mom died too. Sometimes there are just bad people, Caihong. And they take really good people away. But there are lots of other good people and you have to talk to them.” He scoops her up and plops her into Azula’s lap. 

“But…”

“Is Azula a bad person?” TyLee asks.

Azula cringes at the question coming from her.

“Did she do something bad to you?”

Caihong looks up at her with those bright green eyes and shakes her head. 

“Did she do something good for you?”

Another glance is accompanied by an affirmative nod. “Lots of good things.” Caihong mumbles into Bao’s head. 

“So why are you mad at her?” Sokka asks. 

Caihong thinks for a moment, “she told me about the bad people.”

“And you didn’t want to hear it?”

Caihong shakes her head again. 

“Would you have rather heard it from someone else?”

Another head shake. This time her little fingers curl around Azula’s hand. 

“Do you still want Azula to be your mommy!?” TyLee clasps her hands together. 

Caihong pauses, squeezing and squeezing Azula’s hand before nodding once more.  Caihong nuzzles her cheek against Azula’s chest and Azula holds her close. She strokes at the child’s hair. “Bao and I were having a cave adventure.” 

“A cave adventure?”

“Mmhmm, see.” Caihong points at a small hole that she dug right in the middle of Azula’s strawberry garden. The princess sighs. 

“Did you find anything in the caves?”

“Rubies!” She declares, gesturing to the slain corpses of her strawberries. 

“Those rubies weren’t ready to be mined yet.” She mumbles. 

She isn’t sure why, but Caihong laughs. People, she decides, laugh at the strangest things. “You can plant more rubies, mom!” 

Mom…

Mother…

She could have had so much…

.oOo.

Even after tucking a newly happy and babbling Caihong in, Azula is very quiet. Sullen and withdrawn. Sokka sets a platter of roast duck on her nightstand, “you didn’t come to dinner?”

“I’m not hungry, Sokka.”  She doesn’t look away from the ceiling. She absently toys with the curtains draped over her bed. He doesn’t push her this time, though he decides that he will be delivering an extra nice breakfast to her in the morning. He lays himself down next to her. He very nearly springs back up, unsure if they have reached a point where she is comfortable with him laying on her bed. But she rolls over and reaches for his hand. 

“You haven’t even changed out of your day clothes.” He observes. 

She gives a slight shrug, “they’re comfortable enough. I’ve…”

“Slept in worse?” He rolls his eyes. 

She nods. 

“You’re going to be alright, Azula.” He promises. 

“Perhaps.” 

He sighs, they have been so focused on reassuring Caihong that he has forgotten to comfort Azula. He is certain that the princess has been neglecting herself too. “Ya know, everything we said about family applies to you too? Do you want Caihong to be your child?” 

“Of course, Sokka. I wouldn’t have gone through all of that trouble if I didn’t.” 

“Do you…” He swallows. “Do you want a new lover? A new husband?”

She is quiet for a very long time but she doesn’t withdraw her hand. “I don’t want to replace Hajime.” 

“I don’t want to replace him.” Sokka replies. “I want you to talk about him and tell me about him. But I want to be Sokka, I don’t want to take you on the kinds of dates Hajime took you on, I want to…”

She presses her fingers to his lips. “You talk too much. I got the point the first time.” She rolls back onto her back. “I know that you aren’t replacing anyone. You are Sokka. That’s good enough for me.” 

He takes his chances with moving closer to her. Having success, he slides his arm around her waist. She is quiet for another long span. It might have left him feeling anxious had she not let him trace his finger over the line of the scar on her belly. It is rougher in comparison to her otherwise delicate skin. 

“I don’t think that ‘good enough’, is exactly the right phrase.” She speaks again. “It’s…” she trails off. “It’s something new and it’s...it’s just as special.”  

[shihozaki]

Omg hi, I feel so exposed bc there’s no anon 😭. But oh well. I just stumbled across your account as saw that you did matchups! I was wondering if I could request a match up for BNHA? My name is Hannah (she/her), I’m 21 (almost 22 on the 13th of April 😔) (you can either age the character up or age me down if you match me with someone younger HSHDNKD they’re just fictional so I don’t mind as long as you don’t mind). I’m 5’6, ravenclaw, INFP, aries.

Personality-wise I’m honestly really shy at first but I could hold a lowkey awkward conversation and you’d probably never know that I’m shy BDJKD, but once I’m comfortable with someone I’m a complete crackhead. You’ll never get me to shut up. I think I’m pretty caring, I have a bad habit of not being able to say no though. I really need to stop doing that. My fav color is sage green or light blue! I’m honestly just scared of being alone and not accomplishing my future goal of becoming a writer/editor. Thinking about my future just really terrifies me 😭. I love to listen to music (BTS are my babies pls). I love making myself cry by watching sad k-dramas. I’m really new to anime, so if you have an sad one LMK PLS. I get attached to fictional characters very quickly. Catch me in my room fangirling to the walls bc I’m a loner ✋🏼😩. I also just have a hard time making eye contact with men, but like I do want a man for myself one day😔 just how the heck do I do that???? I’m very insecure about my looks and my body. I’m a little chubby, so someone who would not judge me bc of that would be PERFECT. I have dark brown hair and dark brown eyes (bleh) I wear glasses (I’m so blind :/) idk what else to say about my appearance LOL.

My ideal man 🤩 let me try and not make it obvious over who I simp over gosh. Uhhh I’m not picky about looks, like nothing in particular comes to mind. I’ve had a crush on real/fictional ppl that look very different from each other HDNDKSS. Call me crazy, but I would die for a protective s/o 😩 like yes protect meeeee pls. I can only see myself in a relationship with a man, so he should be male lol. But throw in a female bestie in there if you’d like 😩. As long as he loves me it really doesn’t matter how he acts. I just need me a loyal man who I can talk to comfortably. Someone who will understand my emotions and struggles? Idk. Dates—amusement park, concert, movie theatre. Somewhere where we wouldn’t have to do a lot of talking (dinner dates could be for later on when I’m more comfortable around him LOL)

Quirk o.o hm. I don’t think I’d want a major quirk that could overthrow him. Maybe I could have a quirk that helps people? If I’m matched with a student, then I’d probably be in a lower class. But if you end up aging them up or matching me with a pro hero or something then I’d probably work on the sidelines with helping rescue civilians. A quirk that allows me to see through any smoke or debris (if a building fell and someone was trapped I’d be able to see and locate them quickly) IDK honestly I haven’t thought about it much, but if you can think of anything better, then go for it 😭.

I really love Italian food, and any East Asian food (Chinese, Korean, Japanese) I love it all. Uhhh I have a dog she’s 5 years old and I recently got another puppy, she’s only 2 months old 🥺. I love reading and writing. I mentioned it a little before, but I’d love to become a writer and editor in the future. I still have a long way before I’m completely confident in my writing though :”). I love to dream. I try and think about a specific person to try and dream about them at night (it worked a few times with BTS and Bakugou 😭 I was so happy) Uhhhhhhhhhh, I think that’s all. Thank you so much for doing this! Take your time and I hope you have fun writing these. I really appreciate it! This is honestly how I comfort myself, by inserting myself into these scenarios that people write about my favorite characters, so my heart always leaps whether writers like you offer matchups! So thank you x 9827389292. I hope this was enough info to write something with 😂. OH and for the scenario maybe something like how we first met compared to how it is when we’ve been together for awhile? I suffer with frequent anxiety attacks, so that might play a role in the relationship somewhere? Idk. Just throwing ideas and info to you at this point 😭 thank you again! 💜

I pair you up with Kirishima Eijiro!

Your quirk is “Lucid dreams”, where you can visit people in their dreams! You also have full consciousness in your dreams, so you can practically do anything when you are sleeping!

- You guys first met in middle school, when you had first transferred there. You guys became friends when he volunteered to show you around the school

- You wanted to be a writer/editor and he wanted to be a hero. You guys fully supported each other, and still kept in contact even after departing ways to high school.

- He asked you out eventually, and when you said yes, the Bakusquad came out running to you, congratulating both of you. Turns out Kirishima told his friends all about you and they followed him when he decided to ask you out.

- He drinks respect women juice every single morning- he literally praises the ground you walk on?? He hypes you up whenever you’re feeling insecure, and makes sures that you’re feeling comfortable at all times

- You made him watch a bunch of K-dramas to cry together, and at first he refused to cry (“It’s not manly to cry!”) and then gave up and ended up sobbing with you.

- And he’s SO loyal! Whenever a girl comes up to him, he immediately turns them down, saying that he already has someone. When someone comes up to you, he gets very defensive of you, and shows the guy that you already have someone by PDA.

- He helps you calm down whenever you’re having anxiety attacks, and he actually researched about it when you told him. He!s very patient and helpful

- Adores your dogs (“I don’t know who’s cuter. You, or your dogs!”)

- Don’t tell anyone, but he’s already planning the wedding with Bakugou as his best man ;)

- Overall you guys have a very trusting relationship, where two kind but also crazy souls live in harmony :)

Scenario: When you first met VS Now

“Do you remember when we first met?” You asked randomly. You were watching a K-drama with him, and the flashbacks the lead was getting in the drama made you think past your own memories. “When we first met? Hmm, it was in middle school, right?” Replied Kirishima. You nodded. “We were so awkward back then!” You said as you cringed at the thought of middle school. “You were so shy back then- you would barely say anything to me.” Said Kirishima. “You were scared to make eye contact with me!” You laughed. “I’m shy whenever I meet new people!” Kirishima laughed along with you. “I think we got really close after being partnered for a project.. it was about our future career plans?” Kirishima wondered. “Oh, I remember! You said you wanted to be a hero, and I wanted to be a writer… we were high in hopes but had so many insecurities as a child.” You thought out loud. “We’re still children.” Replied Kirishima. “At least, you act like it.” You shoved him as he smirked. “Yeah, and you were so scared to hold my hand when we first started dating.” Said Kirishima as he hugged you from the back. “Now we do so much other stuff.” You replied. “We could be doing more.” Kirishima whispered into your ear, earning a whack in the head from you. “I miss middle school kirishima...” You joked. “Black haired Kirishima was so cute..” “Hey, hey, I’m still cute. I might even be cuter than your K-pop boys.” Said Kirishima while grinning. You smiled back. “Let’s not go that far.”

Song: Dreams by Fleetwood Mac

I hope you enjoyed it! I’m actually Korean so I love K-dramas! I hope the scenario was somewhat satisfactory. Please tell me how you felt about it, and I hope to see you again soon!

[shera-dnd]

Face Turn - Work the Left

The second chapter of our lovely wrestling AU. Now we get to go back in time a few months and see how it all started and we can take about 12 more chapters getting back to where we were

Just as a heads up, I had to google MMA eye injuries for this chapter, so please keep that in mind

also the AO3 link if you want it

The pain was blinding.

The pain and the blood streaming from her left eye.

Weiss Schnee was no stranger to blood and pain. She had been fighting in the octagon for years now and had her fair share of injuries, but fuck did that hit to the eye hurt like an absolute bitch.

It probably looked really bad too, because even her opponent - some newcomer with a Schnee sponsorship - took pause at the damage she caused. A real shame for her, because the judge hadn’t called the match yet and Weiss was more than happy to capitalize on that distraction.

Usually she’d play it safe and calculate the risks, but she knew she wasn’t about to beat anyone in an extended fight when she only had one working eye, so she just poured everything she had into beating that bitch into submission.

It was only after she had been announced the victor that she realized how bad the damage had been.

No, she wouldn’t realize how fucked she was until much later.

It took her a year to fully recover, and the word ‘fully’ was doing a lot of work there. They said it was a miracle that they managed to save that eye, that she was so lucky to have gotten so much of her eyesight back. They expected her to be happy that her life hadn’t been completely ruined by the event.

Except it had. Except she had lost a year of her life to surgery after surgery and treatment after treatment and at the end of the day she didn’t even get her full sight again. For everyone else it just looked like she got a cool scar out of the deal, while for her she was stuck with eye strain, headaches and a gigantic blindspot.

How the fuck could anyone expect her to be happy when she knew she couldn’t fight anymore? Her career had been ruined, her future was thrown under the bus, and she was ass deep in medical bills. It didn’t take long for the vulture to show up.

It had happened a few weeks after her final surgery. She had been dedicating just about every free moment after that to her workout routine. She wanted to make sure the rest of her body wouldn’t suffer from the inactivity, and she could definitely use the distraction from the absolute dread that came with any thoughts about her future.

It was during one of those workout sessions that she heard a knock on her apartment door. She was half expecting it to be her manager coming to check on her, but of course the universe wouldn’t even allow that basic decency. She looked through the eye hole of her door and was greeted by her least favorite sight.

“Fuck off, Jacques!” She yelled through the door.

“Is this how you greet your father?” He replied, as much of an ass as ever, “am I not allowed to worry over my own daughter?”

Worry. Of course he was ‘worried’. Same as he got oh so worried whenever she had shown any vulnerability, whenever he thought he could sink his claws back in her and drag her back under his control, just another pawn for his schemes.

“When have you ever?” She replied instead.

“Fine. If you wish to be like that,” the bastard replied, no longer disguising his intent, “if you’re done crying over your own failure, I believe it’s time for you to do something with your name besides dragging it through the mud.”

And there it was. Weiss didn’t matter, the name Schnee mattered. He had never liked seeing the family name tied to such a barbaric sport and she was sure he had liked it even less when it was tied to such a colossal failure.

“The name is mine,” she bit back, “and I can do whatever I want with it!”

“Oh don’t be such a child,” he mocked, “I came here to welcome you back into the family and cover all those medical debts you managed to amass in your foolish attempt at rebellion, not to deal with your temper.”

She had suffered through this man doing many despicable things to keep her in control, but she just had enough of it. She would not have her future, her health, her well being dangled in front of her like a carrot on a stick. Not now. Not after all the bullshit she just went through.

Her hand clung to the handle like she was about to rip the whole thing off, and goodness she wanted to. She was having a rough time and maybe forcefully dragging her dad off the building would make her feel better. Not like she needed both eyes to put him in his place.

No, she shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her angry. That man had a gift for getting under people’s skin and she wasn’t about to let him know he could still do that to her. He had no power over her and it was better that way.

“Whatever you’re selling I’m not buying.” She shouted through the door one last time before turning back to her apartment. She pumped her music up a little more so she couldn’t hear his incessant yelling and got back to her workouts.

It was a couple of days later that she received a different visit. This time from a man she only ocasionally wanted to murder. Jaune Arc, her manager.

“Hey, Weiss, you doing okay?” He greeted. Earning him just a single raised eyebrow, “okay that was a stupid question.”

She brought that fumbling mess to her living room and offered him a seat on her couch, lounging to his left so she could look at him while they talked.

“What do you want, Jaune?”

“I think I found a solution to our money problem,” he began. That same eyebrow raised again, this time in question, “it’s not MMA, but you’re still gonna get a chance to fight again, you won’t risk any more eye injuries, and we’ll still make enough money to pay the bills.”

That sounded incredible. It was good, really good… maybe even too good.

“What’s the catch?” She asked, knowing full well there always was one.

“It’s wrestling,” the man cringed as the words left his mouth.

“No.” She sneered, feeling absolutely insulted by just the suggestion of it.

“Listen-”

“No, you listen!” She interrupted, “I’m not gonna debase myself and make a mockery of the sport I love just for a quick buck.”

“Look, do you wanna keep fighting or not?” He asked, “because that’s the only way I got. I can’t put you back in the cage, but I can still put you in a ring.”

As a person Jaune was a mess, his personal life is the stuff of both comedy and tragedy, and Weiss has laughed at both of those things. But as a manager he was the best in the business and he had been with her for a long time. She trusted that if he said this was the only way, then it really was.

It was just a fucking awful way.

Still what was the alternative? She barely had any working skills besides beating the shit out of people, she was sinking in medical debt, she couldn’t go back to doing what she loved, and she sure as hell wasn’t gonna take up Jacques’s offer.

What other choice did she have?

It was with a heavy sigh that she finally agreed, “fine, but they better not put me in a stupid costume.”

[mortyvongola2-0]

Motivation

Pairing: Sylvain x F!Byleth

Genre: Oneshot, smut

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Student teacher relationship, descriptions of sexual acts, 69, oral sex, pinning, Sylvain is 19 so its fine, a tiny bit of a size kink.

Read it on AO3

Sylvain groaned and threw his head back in his seat. “This heat is killing me,” he whined. He brought a hand up to fan himself a bit, though the action seemed to do little to prevent his impending heat stroke.

 “Go get something cold from the kitchens then,” Ingrid tsked at him. More then tired of his whining. She brushed the side of her Pegasus thoughtfully. Sylvain noticed a slight flush to her pale cheeks, no doubt also suffering in the heat wave consuming Garreg Mach.

 “But Ingrid, if I get up, I’ll get even warmer.”

 “Then hush! I’m tired of your incessant whining,” she huffed. The redhead sighed, taking the hint. He put his hands up and stood.

 “Sorry, sorry, I’ll leave. Try not to miss me too much.” He didn’t have to see it to know that the blonde had rolled her eyes at him. A playful smirk crawled onto his lips and he began to make his way toward the dining hall. Sylvain waved his greetings to the friendly gatekeeper before noticing his favorite teal haired professor down in the market, buying some supplies from one of the merchants. He changed course and began to walk toward her. “Hey, professor,” he called, raising an arm to wave.

 “Oh,” she turned to look at him, her face as expressionless as usual. “Hello Sylvain.”

 “Mm, that’s a lot of supplies there. Need any help with that?”

 “Okay,” she responded with a nod. “Thank you.” Byleth handed him an armful of random trinkets that she had bought. Sylvain glanced down at everything, lots of boxes of tea and fishing bait, but other oddities as well. Coffees, stuffed animals, jewelry, snacks, and other things.

 “Hey, professor?”

 “Yes?”

 “What’s all this stuff for anyway?”

 “Most of them are gifts for all of the students,” she said nonchalantly. It took him aback a bit. He’d remembered receiving one or two things from her in the past, but he hadn’t realized she gave things to everyone. He bit back the soft smile that threatened to overtake his expression.

 “Anything for me in here?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her teasingly. She blinked up at him, her own arms full of knickknacks.

 “No.” Her tone was dry, and her expression hadn’t changed. Sylvain felt the disappointment creeping through his system. Why hadn’t she gotten anything for him? Had he done something wrong? It was childish, really, the jealousy that he could feel bubbling in his stomach, but he couldn’t help it. His face scrunched a bit in displeasure, but his breath hitched at the small smirk he saw grace his professor’s lips. “No need to be so disappointed, Sylvain.”

 “Disappointed? Me? Never,” he tried to play it off, smiling widely and laughing. “Come on, professor. You know me better than that.”

“Mmm,” she nodded, that darned smirk still on her lips. She was beautiful, truly beautiful, no matter her expression. He had always thought so about her, and he probably always would. He hated it.

 “Anyway, where to?”

 “My quarters,” she said plainly, that teasing expression finally gone.

 “After you then.” He bent at the waist playfully, one arm extended, ushering her in a manner that suited Dimitri more then him. After she had passed him by, the redhead easily followed her. It seemed she had forgone the cape today, as well as her usual tights and black armor. Instead, she wore her usual form fitting shorts and a black undershirt that had a very tantalizing window, revealing her usual amount of cleavage. He wondered if she had dressed down due to the weather as well.

 For most of the walk, his eyes were glued to her ass and the perfect sway of her hips. He wondered whether she would be soft and pliant under his touch, like most of the women he slept with, or hard and lean from the muscles she so obviously worked hard to strengthen. When they reached her room, he was still thinking about her body under his, still wondering how she would feel, stretch, move, and if she was a screamer. He wouldn’t mind if she was, in fact, he quite liked the idea of his stoic professor falling apart on his fingers, his mouth, his cock, and screaming his name for all of the monastery to hear. “Thank you, Sylvain, you can put those down on the bed.”

 “Oh,” her voice had pulled him out of his imagination. “Sure, no problem.” He made his way over to her bed which was still messy. A huff of amusement left his lips, of course she wouldn’t be the type to make her bed. What kind of mercenary had time to clean up like that? The redhead set the stuff down easily before turning back to her. He rubbed the back of his neck and almost cringed at the sticky sweat he felt there. “Hey professor?” She hummed in a questioning tone to let him know she was listening. “I’ve been trying to get better with the hand to hand combat lately, would you mind tutoring me a little bit? Maybe later today if you have the time?”

 “That’s not like you,” she muttered with an almost imperceptible pout. “Why the sudden interest?”

 “Just in case, it’s better to be prepared for anything, right?” He really just wanted to spend more one on one time with her, and he knew she wouldn’t go for anything else if he asked. She always catered to her students, tutoring and mentoring them at her own expense. She continued to stare at him in thought, then turned and checked a small booklet she had on her desk. Byleth gave a small nod to herself before turning back to him.

 “Alright, I have a bit of time before curfew tonight.”

 “Great,” he sighed in relief. “Even a little bit of time will be extremely helpful.”

 “I’ll meet you at the training grounds tonight then.”

 “Right, thanks professor!” With that, he ran off. Sylvain needed to find some other girl to work off his lust for the professor before their training session.

 ~

 The redhead paced back and forth anxiously. He had, in fact, found a random girl from the village that had let him fuck her, however, imagining the professor while doing so had only worsened his curiosity. Sylvain continued to wonder what his professor would be like in bed. Had she ever slept with anyone before or was she still a virgin? Either was fine by him, but he needed to know. He heard the doors to the training grounds open and he turned to see the object of his thoughts.

 She looked flushed, her pinks a dusted a light pink, her jagged locks stuck to parts of her forehead and neck, her ample chest rising and falling at a faster rate. He gulped audibly. “Everything okay? You’re looking a little flushed.”

 “Hilda dragged me into the sauna with her,” she responded and walked toward him. “Sorry I’m a bit late.”

 “The sauna huh? Its been so hot today, I can’t imagine getting hotter, let alone on purpose.”

 “Mm, it is hotter than I like it to be when I go to the sauna, but she insisted that I needed the relaxation.”

 His brow furrowed. “If you’ve got too much going on, you don’t have to train with me like this.”

 “No, I’m fine,” she grabbed two rolls of knuckle tape from a bin of supplies by the weapons wrack. The young woman handed one of them to him before standing a bit away from him and flicking her wrists back forth, applying the tape evenly and with expertise. “I find training relaxing anyway.”

 “Alright, then.”

 “Show me what you know,” she commanded, and he nodded.

 Sylvain wasn’t much for training, he found it exhausting and it took too much effort. He never understood Felix, Dimitri, and Ingrid’s obsession with it. But when he got to be so close to Byleth he could feel her breath mingle with his, he could get behind the idea of it. The teal haired professor taught more by example than by instruction. She would always critique when she needed to, but most of the time she would spar with or watch her students spar.

 She easily dodged another of his fists and slid her foot underneath his. Sylvain lost his footing and fell to the ground, he grunted at the pain that blossomed from the back of his head at his rough landing. He reached behind him to check and make sure he wasn’t bleeding. “Dang, you really don’t take it easy, do you?”

 “You aren’t focusing, Sylvain.” She frowned at him, her fists on her perfectly shaped hips. “If you aren’t going to take this seriously, then I’m not going to waste my time.”

 “I promise I’m taking it seriously,” you’re distracting me, “the heat is just, distracting.”

 Byleth continued to pout and Sylvain started to sit up. “I’m sorry professor we can-“

 “Let’s make a deal then.”

 “Huh?” He looked at her, incredulous.

 “So you won’t be so distracted,” she said, a playful smirk on her chapped lips. “If you win this next match, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

 “And if you win?”

 “You have to start actually trying in class.”

 “Whatever I want, huh? Are you sure?” She gave him a silent nod. He rubbed his chin before standing to his full height. Sylvain knew it’d be difficult to beat her, but the offer of whatever he wanted was too tempting. “Alright, you’ve got a deal.”

 As soon as the match started, he was on defense. She came for him, hard and fast, no holds barred. Obviously, she was better at hand to hand then him, but he couldn’t give up. There had to be some way for him to win, for him to get what he really wanted. He was fueled by lust, and he almost always let his lust win. Sylvain knew she had a weak spot, he’d seen her rub her left knee a few times after training sessions, she even wore a knee brace with her armor to keep it protected. For only a moment, he glanced down to see if she was still wearing said brace, and that moment earned him a swift punch to the gut.

 It had been worth it though; he had noticed that she wasn’t wearing it. Without thinking much more about it, he leaned forward and went to hit her side, while she focused on the incoming punch, he used his weight to his advantage and swept his leg out, knocking her on the back of her left knee and causing her to stumble. Sylvain continued to press his weight forward, eventually pressing it into her and causing the two of them to fall. Byleth landed on the ground, the redhead on top of her, straddling her torso and pressing the side of his forearm against her neck. They both panted, her eyes wide as she looked up at him, obviously she had not expected him to be able to win.

 “I win, professor,” he breathed out, droplets of sweat rolling down his unclothed arms, he had changed into the lounge wear earlier in the day to keep cool, and falling onto her own sweat soaked neck.

 “Well done,” she said after steeling her expression. “Though, that kind of trick won’t work very well on an opponent you know nothing about.”

 “Hey, all that matters now is that I won,” he said with a smirk, removing his arm but keeping his straddling position. “So now you have to give me what I want.”

 “Fair enough,” she muttered and tilted her head to the side in curiosity. “What do you want?”

 “You.”

 “Wha-“ he cut her off with a hard kiss. He almost groaned, he had wanted to feel her lips, to taste her for so long. Unlike his usual trysts, her lips were chapped and inexperienced. She tasted like sweat and saltine crackers, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. At first, she didn’t respond, but then she started to give in. That surprised him the most. Did she feel as attracted to him as he did her? Byleth wrapped her arms around his neck and when he licked her lips, she arched her back upward, her chest meeting his, and he ground his hips down toward her own.

 She gasped at the feel of his semi-erection against her, and he used the opportunity to pull her tongue into his mouth and suck on it lightly. When she gave out a soft whimper, he shivered and felt himself throb in the confines of his trousers. Once he couldn’t stave off his need to taste more of her any longer, he began to trail wet kisses down the side of her neck. “Sylvain,” she let out breathily. “We can’t-“

 Again, he cut her off. This time, by sucking on the junction between her neck and shoulder. He felt like he couldn’t get enough of her salty sweet taste. “We could get caught,” she tried again. He ignored her and placed his hands at her sides by the hem of her shirt, waiting there for permission. “We really shouldn’t.”

 “But professor,” he began between nips to the delicious column of her neck. “You said I could have whatever I wanted.”

 “My quarters,” she muttered. Sylvain lifted his head from her neck to look at her face. His stomach filled with butterflies and his chest tightened. Byleth had a dark blush on her face and refused to look him in the eye, she was nibbling at her bottom lip, the only indication of her sudden shyness. She looked adorable. “We can continue in my quarters, we’re less likely to be caught there.”

 The redhead smirked to hide the genuine smile that threatened to show, “Whatever you say.”

 Much to Sylvain’s chagrin they walked to her quarters at an even pace. He walked throw the door frame first and she followed, closing the door behind her and then standing there quietly. The redhead assumed the worst, she must be backing out, he thought. He put up his walls once more and gave her a tired and disappointed smirk. “Chickening out?”

 “No,” she replied, without hesitation. “But, before we go on, I’d like to request that this doesn’t become a onetime thing.”

 “Oh?” Sylvain was surprised, both by her request and by the fact that she wished to continue, his traitorous heart pounded excited in his chest. She nodded in response. “You mean you want to?” He trailed off.

 Again, she nodded, but this time she was the one to kiss him. He responded eagerly, pliantly complying to her rough and roaming hands, her chapped lips bruising with force against his. Her hands reached for the hem of his blue lounge shirt, and he helped her tug it off of his torso. Once his chest was bare, Byleth’s deft fingers began exploring. The redhead responded in kind, assisting her in the removal of her black top. Sylvain bit back a groan at the sight of her naked breasts, and she moaned when he reached up and began tweaking her nipples.

 She forced him back, pushing him to lay down on her bed. Not giving him too much of a chance to fix himself, she straddled his waste and ground her clothed cunt down on top of his swollen member. Sylvain threw his head back with a hiss, his hands flying to her hips to encourage her to continue. He could feel her heat through her shorts and wondered if she was even wearing any smallclothes. “You’re still wearing too much,” she grumbled and began tugging at his trousers. He was all too happy to oblige.

 He exposed himself to her, now free of his pants and smallclothes, and he smirked at her obvious attentions. “Like what you see?” He teased and brought one of his hands to stroke along his own cock. She nodded boldly, unabashed, and began to remove her shorts as well. The redhead was right, she hadn’t been wearing any smallclothes. “I know I do.”

 “You’re very attractive, Sylvain,” she said softly. Byleth brought her hands up and kneaded at her large breasts, she let out a soft sigh of satisfaction. He trailed his hands upward, running them along her sides, barely touching her flesh. Goosebumps rose on her skin and he watched her shiver. She removed her hands and let his hands take their place. They were soft, probably the softest thing on her body, and so very perky. Her nipples were sensitive, he realized, after rubbing her left nipple in rough circles and hearing her breath hitch.

 One of his hands trailed its way back down her body and cupped her ass, giving it a playful smack before grabbing a cheek and jiggling it roughly. She squirmed, and he leaned his head forward to suck on her now neglected nipple. The hand on her eyes slowly slid undo her, making a line from her plump cheeks to the lips of her vagina. Even before spreading those lips, he could feel the slimy wetness collected on them. Sylvain let out a dark chuckle, “I didn’t know sparring got you so worked up,” another tease.

 “Only with you,” she whispered.

 Sylvain’s heart skipped a beat and he pressed his forehead between the valley of her pillow breasts and let out a heavy sigh. “Why’d you have to go and say that, professor?”

 “It’s the truth,” she said. One of her hands reached down to play with his hair gently. “And while we’re like this, call me Byleth.”

 “Okay, Byleth,” he responded, his entire being feeling lighter than before. His cock twitched and he decided to lay back down against the bed. “Turn around and sit on my face.”

 The teal haired professor nodded and turned. She knew what he was asking for, and he let out the loudest groan yet as he felt her small hands wrap around his aching cock. “You’re bigger than I expected,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. He chuckled before grabbing her hips and forcing them down on his face roughly. Byleth squeak in surprise.

 Sylvain licked a trail across her pussy lips, already enjoying the taste of her leaking fluids. He brought a hand down and spread her open. For a moment, he leaned back and admired her twitching pink opening, leaking with slick and begging for his fingers, his tongue, his cock, anything of his to fill the empty space. She whined in displeasure, but he was done observing. He blew on her entrance gently, it flinched and pushed more fluid out, a minute amount dripping down onto his face. “Sylvain,” she whined again, stopping her ministrations to his penis, trying to encourage him.

 “You’re beautiful, you know?” The redhead licked a stripe from the tip of her clit down to her entrance where he swirled his tongue and pulled back. “Absolutely gorgeous, and you taste better than expected.”

 “So taste it some more,” she implored, then leaned her head down to give small kitten licks to his tip. He groaned and unconsciously bucked his hips upward, trying to force himself into her warm mouth. Byleth wrapped one of her hands around his base, the other grabbed at his balls and began massaging them gently. She squeezed the base of his shaft, almost too hard, before taking his tip into her mouth. With a grunt, the redhead took the hint.

 Sylvain wasn’t much for oral sex, always preferring the real deal, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to taste Byleth’s cunt forever. She moaned around his cock, the girth of him stretching out her lips and causing saliva to dribble down her chin and onto his pubes, he wished he could see it better. His tongue attacked her clit, pressing against it and flicking back and forth, giving it an occasional tug and suck. His hands, very thankful for their large size, grabbed each cheek of her ass and spread it apart, opening her lips wider for him to devour.

 Another moan wracked her and tingled down his cock. He shivered. The redhead brought his tongue again to her entrance and began lapping at it eagerly, enjoying the seemingly endless slick that leaked out. One of his hands came down to assist his tongue, a digit toying with her clit while his tongue slithered into her vaginal opening. She quivered and fell further onto his cock, pushing his head to the back of her throat. He closed his eyes at the sensation.

 Her throat pulsed around him, gagging a bit and trying to force him out of where he didn’t belong, but his hips started bucking once more, forcing her to take him in, all of him. Sylvain lost focus on his quest to make her cum and began to focus on himself instead. Much to her dismay, he began to flip them, wishing more than anything to see her take him in her throat like a horny teenager. She whimpered but complied, now kneeling in front of him while he sat on the edge of her bed. His hand, the one not soaked in her slick, went and tangled in her hair, assisting her in her bobbing and keeping her from removing him from her throat. “Fuck, Byleth, you look so good sucking my dick.”

 She closed her eyes, the smallest moan escaping her. There were tears beginning to well up in her eyes as he pushed deeper into her throat. “You’re getting off on sucking me off, aren’t you? I can tell,” he grunted, moving her head faster as he began to feel his impending climax. “I could taste it. You would gush into my mouth every time I hit your throat.”

 Byleth moaned again, louder this time, one of her hands reached down and began to play with her clit. She sucked on him harder.

 The coil in his gut tightened exponentially at the sight. Sylvain would have to burn it in his brain. His favorite, normally expressionless professor, with his cock in her throat. He could see the bulge in her throat where resided. His free hand rested against that spot and she whimpered while he bit his bottom lip. His cock throbbed and he felt it through her neck. She looked blissed out, tears running down her cheeks, nostrils flaring in attempts to suck in air, lips stretched wide around him and drool mixed with his precum leaking down her chin. Her cheeks were flushed, and goddess he couldn’t get over the bulge he made in her throat. He added some pressure to it, she choked, and he came. Hard.

 Sylvain felt bad, he really did. Normally he’d give a warning at least, or pull out, but he couldn’t help it. He was so high off his orgasm that he didn’t pull out of her spasming esophagus until he had sent all of his semen down into her stomach. Once he was out she coughed and gagged, gasping for breath and cradling her throat. “Byleth, I’m so sorry, usually I last longer but-“

 She held a hand up telling him to stop. He waited for her to calm her breathing, his now semi-hard dick sticky with his cum and her throat coating. The professor took one more deep breath. “Its fine. I liked it.”

 “What? Really?”

 She nodded, and gave him a small smile. “Besides, next time is my turn.”

 “I can get you right now-“

 “We have class in the morning, don’t be late. Do well enough, and we might just cum together next time.”

 He smiled, “That’s some good motivation right there.”

[softschnappi]

Winter Showers Bring...Tacos and Mike Wheeler?

hey guys! Finally sat down a shat out a 2k fic even though I have 80+ wips to finish...anyways...hope you enjoy! fun fact I coincidentally had tacos the night after I wrote this...

pairing: ryers

summary: Richie and Will share a shower together and Mike finds out, but he’s cool with it. It’s a little awkward, some shenanigans ensue and there’s a lot of talking about relationships (between richie and will and about mike and el)

warnings: swearing, lots of mentions of sex but no actual sex, showering if you consider that a warning?

read it on ao3

“Is this warm enough for you, baby?”

Richie reached his hand behind the shower curtain and felt the stream of water for himself, making sure it wasn’t scalding hot as Will usually enjoyed. “It’s good. I’ll just never understand why you want to feel like you’re burning in hell when you shower,” He paused, “You can’t blame me for not wanting to walk out of here looking like a hot cheeto.”

“You know I hate being cold,” Will reminded him, pulling off his sweater and shirt. They fell onto the floor in a wrinkled pile, followed by his pants, socks, and underwear.

Richie followed in suit, setting his glasses on the sink counter before stripping naked. “I know, I know, princess can’t have the room temperature below seventy…” He watched as Will rolled his eyes and stepped into the shower with him.

Will squirted shampoo into his palm, as Richie soaked his hair under the water, before beginning to scrub his boyfriend’s hair.

“You wanna get tacos after this, baby?” Richie asked, placing his hands in the familiar position of around Will’s waist, massaging his wet skin with his thumbs.

Nodding, Will replied, “Yeah, okay. Then we’ll watch that movie, right? And actually watch it this time?” He raised an eyebrow, expecting the smile that appeared on Richie’s face. It seems like every time they tried to relax together and watch a movie, they get distracted and end up fucking or just fooling around in some way or another.

“Tonight yes, because Mike and El are going to grace us with their wonderful presence, but next time...we’ll hopefully have to save the food for later…” Richie reached and grabbed the shampoo bottle off the shelf and squeezed some directly onto Will’s head. Every time they fought, which was very rare, or especially had sex, Richie always ordered some type of food to eat. Pizza or fast food, never anything healthy. “Well, unless you wanna get back at them, give them a taste of their own med-”

Will furiously shook his head as Richie rubbed into his scalp. Mike having El over all the time was no problem, he could care less, but hearing Mike’s bed begin to creak along with loud grunts and girly moans coming through the wall happened one too many times, and there was no way Will wanted them hearing him and Richie. They’d only recently told their inner circle about them being in a relationship, even though they’ve been together over a year, and Will would rather die than have anybody listen to him having sex.

“I was joking!” Richie laughed, “I know you’re no exhibitionist. Fuck, I mean you’re so shy you have trouble asking for a handjob, such a shy little baby...trying to hide your face from me when you cum even though you look so cute-”

Reaching behind him, Will stared into Richie’s eyes with a squint and his cheeks tinted pink, and turned the shower handle to the right, watching as his boyfriend writhed with pain as the sudden hot water hit his body.

“Ow! Ow! Fuck! Okay, I’m sorry, just-” He yelped, cutting himself off as the water temperature turned back to normal. “You can be a real asshole sometimes, under all those layers of whatever innocence you have left.”

“Well, I wonder who I got it from?” Will scratched his wet hair, pretending to think.  

Richie playfully gasped as he reached for the blue loofah and soap. “That’s not very nice. Ouchie, you hurt my heart…my feelings are so hurt, scrub me squeaky clean or I won’t buy you tacos.”

“You-”

Bang bang bang bang!

“Will? Hello?”

It was Mike, banging on the door with an urgent tone in his booming voice.

Will’s eyes went wide as both he and Richie froze. He blinked a few times before licking his lips and shouting back, “I’m in the shower! What do you want?”

“Okay, stay in there!” Mike told him as the bathroom door swung open. Will flailed his arms around in a panic, dropping the loofah and slapping a hand over Richie’s mouth to prevent him from giving himself away. “Sorry, I really really gotta piss, fuck !” Continued Mike once he was inside, an audible unzipping sound coming afterword, followed by him pissing into the toilet and sighing with relief.

Richie began licking into Will’s palm, for the sole purpose of just being a little shit. Will pointed a warning finger at him with a serious expression on his face. Richie responded by smirking into his hand and raising a challenging eyebrow at him, before letting out a loud and long fart. Putting his face into his hand, Will began to regret life and at the same time contemplate murdering Richie. He knew Mike heard it, and he knew Mike would think it was him since he didn’t know Richie was in the shower with him. Will’s cheeks burned with embarrassment with every silent second that passed and it felt like Mike was taking an eternity to piss.

Almost tripping over all the clothes, Mike turned the sink on, trying to hold back his laughter. If that was him in there, he would have waited until he was alone and then let it rip, but he guessed that Will was just super comfortable around him. But the silence between them was only making it worse.

As he soaped up his hands, Mike noticed the familiar pair of glasses sitting on the counter. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Those were definitely Richie’s, but why would they be here instead of on his face? He was essentially blind without them. Mike’s eyes trailed to the scattered clothes across the floor, which he now realized was a lot for one person. Well, he also now figured out that it wasn’t just Will in the shower because one, there were two towels also on the counter, and two, a Hawaiin printed shirt would never belong to Will, and neither would those pizza socks or PlayStation printed boxers.

“Hi, Richie,” Mike announced.

Richie shoved Will’s hand off of his face. “Hi, Mikey! Wanna join us?”

“I didn’t fart, that wasn’t me I swear , it was Richie!” Will pleaded aloud.

Mike burst into laughter. “Yeah, I was like, shit Will, you couldn’t wait until I left?” He paused, catching his breath and regaining his composure. “Anyway, sorry I had to intrude like that. I, uh, didn’t know you guys were at this stage yet…” It was a little shocking for Mike if he had to be honest. Sure, they only recently told him that they were together, but Mike really hadn’t thought much about what they were doing before they told people. It was a jump, for sure, to see Will doing relationship stuff after all these years of...not.

“Well, it would be nice if we didn’t know what stage you and your missus were at, but we do,” Richie fired back, earning himself a light smack on the chest.

“I--uh--well--sorry--I--we--” Mike stammered, face heating up with embarrassment. Will does such a good job at keeping Richie moderately quiet that he and El just assume nobody is home. Which will always be the wrong move. Richie and Will always make sure to check the entire apartment, sometimes even the cabinets just to be safe, before they get down and dirty.

Reaching down and grabbing the fallen loofah, Will waved his hand to dismiss Mike even though he couldn’t see him. “This totally isn’t awkward at all, but let’s drop it.”

“Right,” Mike replied. “I just came in here to piss, enjoy your shower,” He hurriedly finished before walking out and shutting the bathroom door.

Richie and Will each let out a long breath. At least Mike was cool with it, as he should be because it’s not like he’s had to suffer through hearing them fucking.

As Will began to wash Richie’s body, he said, “Well that was certainly something.”

“I kinda wanted him to come in here. I mean, you would have to leave since there’s barely enough room for two people as it is, but I bet Mike would let me wash his balls.”

Will visibly cringed at what came out of Richie’s mouth. It was like his ears were being poisoned. “I hate that...so much. Never say any of it ever again. And enough about the ball washing thing, you’re so gross!”

Richie raised his arms a little in defence whilst Will ran the soap over his upper thighs. “I’m just saying it would bond us more!”

“Okay, maybe it would, but I’m still not in favour of it. It’s embarrassing, it’s kinda weird, I wouldn’t wanna look at you, and you’d probably scrub too hard on purpose. End of conversation, I’m not letting you wash my balls.” He continued to wash Richie as he turned around to show his backside, before speaking up again, “You know, I’m surprised you’ve stayed soft for this long. You’re usually a huge perv when I shower with you.”

Richie laughed. “Thank you for the compliment, dear, but you’ve forgotten I haven’t washed you yet.” He batted his eyelashes and poked Will’s nose. “Don’t act like you don’t like the attention, shy boy. Or like you haven’t gotten hard from me washing you.”

“That was one fucking time! Fuck, always about sex with you. You’re nasty. It’s so hard to put up with you just so you can pay for my $5.99 taco box, it really is.”

Leaning in close to his face, Richie mocked, “Aw, it’s so horrible isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Will replied, licking his lips and putting his arms loosely around Richie’s neck as he got closer. “You’re a real piece of work. I don’t usually do this stuff for free, but you’re hot and have a big dick, so...”

Richie’s face faltered a little at that. “I feel bad, I’ve corrupted your brain so much since we met, but then again you’re so hot when you say stuff like that…” Will only saw Richie smile for a second before his waist was pulled closer and he pressed his lips against his. Will immediately opened his mouth to let Richie’s tongue inside, letting out a little sigh after he groaned into his mouth. Kissing down his neck and beginning to suck a red mark onto Will’s neck, Richie’s hands roamed his back before sliding down and giving his ass a squeeze.

Bang bang bang!

“You’re going to use up all the hot water, assholes!” Mike yelled from behind the door.

Shit, how long have they been in there?

“Yeah, and I have to pee…” El chimed in.

Will immediately reached behind him and turned the water off. Richie pulled back the curtain and they both quickly stepped out, wrapping a towel around their waist. Grabbing his glasses and putting them on his face, Richie followed Will out the door, neither of them bothering to pick up any of their clothes.

“Sorry,” Will mumbled to El as they passed by her on the way to his room.

“Did you enjoy your shampoo? Because that’s as far as I got with you…” Richie said once they were both standing in Will’s room.

Will giggled, “Shit, you’re right. It was basically your shower and I was just...there.” He dug through his dresser and slipped on a fresh pair of boxers.

Richie grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bed before he sat down. “How about I just Uber Eats the food? Do you wanna pick up where we left off?”

“Mike and El are home…did you already forget that?”

“You and that dirty mind of yours, I swear, Will, all you think about is sex,” Richie playfully huffed. “Such a bad influence. I just meant kisses. Can’t a man just kiss his boyfriend around here?”

Will rolled his eyes with a small smile and pushed Richie back on his bed before climbing on top of him and connecting their lips.

“Are you guys gonna get your clothes?” El shouted.

Richie let out an exasperated sigh as Will stood up. “We really need our own place. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Will whipped his head around to look back at him and flushed. “You really mean it?”

Giving him a small shove with his foot, Richie grinned, “Go get our clothes, buttercup, we can leave the talking for later when we finally get those tacos.”

[cordytriestowrite]

Calendar Days

Steve Rogers x Reader

One Shot

Summary: a series of monthly one shots focused around one of your favs

July

It was a rare thing to be alone yet so unlike the almost constant throbbing ache of being lonely. Steve didn't feel either so much anymore but unlike those lonely aches he was prone to suffering from time to time, the moments when he was alone were to be savored, treasured even. He did a lap around the entire floor plan and then had Jarvis run a scan just to be sure. Only with confirmation it was only him on this floor did he let his shoulders relax and eyes draw to his secret obsession. 

An acoustic guitar hung off a mount set into the wall between two tall bookcases. He had never seen anyone take the instrument down let alone play it and that fact was apparent when he strummed his fingers across the strings a few weeks ago and a flat note pushed against his eardrums worse than a punch to the side of the head. He had smacked his palm against the vibrating strings, holding it solidly as he would over someone's mouth and nose. It worked to silence the offensive sound just as well. 

He didn't touch it for a long time after that, not only because slight swell of intimidation under his tongue but because the chance didn't arise. 

It didn't stop his morbid curiosity. Without practical application Steve transferred all his obsessive energy into reading about guitars. In theory he knew how to play, in theory he knew how to tune, and now was his chance to try it out. Grabbing it firmly by the neck he lifted it from the hook mount and held it tight in front of him like a live snake hissing a threat and ready to strike. Walking backwards he eased himself down onto the couch and repositioned, bringing the instrument close in his lap with arms wrapped almost reverently around the body and neck.

With a deep breath Steve willed his heartbeat to slow so he could hear the notes past the blood rushing in his ears. Thumb against the taut top string Steve pushed down and let the horrid, untuned note ring out.

"Calendar day! Calendar day! Calendar day!"

The chant was his only warning and judging by the increasing volume he had very little time to react. Still, as a super soldier with lightning fast reflexes he made an attempt to right the room in time. Everyone rounded the corner into the sitting room just as Steve's hand pulled away from the guitar now hanging in its rightful place. Wiping his hands down the front of his jeans he watched you round the corner followed closely by Sam and Bucky all clapping along to their ceaseless chant.

"Calendar day! Calendar day! Calendar day!"

Steve groaned, rolling his neck to hide the grin threatening to lift his lips.

"Is it the first already?" He asked, feeling a flush of heat up the back of his neck.

"Oh you bet your ass it is Rogers. And you know what that means!"

Sam and Bucky bracketed the calendar hung on the wall across from the slightly swaying guitar, arms held out like game show assistants displaying a shiny new car. You practically skipped up to the display and Steve could only watch your back as you flipped the page to display the July page. 

Bucky let out a high pitched wolf whistle while Sam openly giggled in a way he wouldn't admit he could ever do. 

"The birthday boy in his birthday suit." Bucky teased, throwing a wink at Steve who had half his face covered with his large palm as if he could somehow avoid the embarrassment this month would bring.

"I have never hated that shield more in my life." You joked, letting your eyes roam across the image but unable to keep from tracing the lines of Steve's Adonis belt until the muscle hit the sharp blue rim of the strategically placed Captain America shield. 

"Steve, man, I can't believe you let them set you up like this." Sam managed to say through his throaty giggles.

"It was for charity!"

"Yeah, but no one else got naked for charity." Bucky countered.

If anyone could look away from the calendar they would have seen Steve collapse onto the couch, turning his head to bury it in a throw pillow. 

Taking Steve's silence as surrender you stepped in to help out your captain.

"Buck, just wait til next month."

Throwing his arm around you he cocked his hip with catty confidence.

"Hey, I looked good and I didn't have to strip down to do it."

"Alright," Sam interjected, letting out a few more weak chuckles. "Alright let's let Cap pout by his lonesome. We got all month."

The men sauntered out, noise trailing behind them and suddenly Steve wasn't alone on this floor anymore. 

You bit your lip, holding back words in favor of just watching Steve sink further into the couch, his body twisted in a way that was both humorous and sad. You moved closer to him, wondering if he would accept a comforting pat on the back for once.

"Sorry, Steve. But you knew this was coming! Honestly, it's not that bad after the first week. Just ask Tony or Wanda or -"

"It's fine. Really." Steve half mumbled into the throw pillow before sitting up and glancing right past you to the guitar on the wall.

It didn't take your years of training to catch the look. When Steve wasn't dead-set on a mission he let his face wear every thought and desire openly. Glancing in the direction of his gaze reminded you Steve was standing closer to that wall when you had come into the room. With an eye on Steve you moved closer to the wall, waiting for any sign you had hit the source of Steve's gloomy mood. Your fingers glanced along a set of strings, barely making a sound, and Steve swallowed.

"Ah ha!" You exclaimed, yanking the guitar off the wall.

"Fess up Rogers."

You offered the guitar up when Steve extended his arm for it. He settled into the position he was in before your interruption. Striking a cord you cringed for only a second before schooling your expression. Steve fiddled with the corresponding tuning knob. You watched him work, taking a seat on the ottoman as the minutes passed.

To see Steve struggle was not new. You had been by his side practically since the man came out of the ice. He struggled to adjust to a time he was never meant to be part of. He struggled to find Bucky, to bring him back onto the side of good. He struggled to patch things up with Tony and put ego aside in the name of friendship. But to see Steve struggle with something as innocuous as a musical instrument? It made your heart swell with a feeling you couldn't quite name.

Eventually Steve found the correct tuning. A solid, clear A note resounded proud and strong, finding harmony with Steve's wide smile and bright eyes. You smiled back, chin resting in your palm thoughtfully.

"You know they make tuners for that."

Steve's eyebrows stitched together in confusion. 

"Little battery operated things that will tell you the notes. You could even get an app on your phone if you bothered to use it old man."

The joke didn't quite land judging by Steve's slight frown. He looked down at the guitar in his arms with a gravity you wish you could say didn't suit him. 

"This isn't something I want to take shortcuts on."

You didn't think before scooting closer and laying your hand just above Steve's knee. You did take a moment to think about the squeeze that followed.

"It's not a shortcut, Steve. It's a tool. The same as your shield or the team."

"You're not tools." He argued.

"Well, Tony can be a tool sometimes." You countered, earning a breathy snort.

Steve looked down at the guitar, this time donning a small smile. He let his fingertips strum across the strings, pulling a face you imagined was similar to yours as the hideous notes clashed with each other and your senses. 

"Show me this app."

-

July passed quickly and it seemed like only a few days ago the team celebrated Steve's birthday in what ended up being a weekend bash that began with a cake with the screen printed image of Steve's scandalous calendar photo and ended with a groggy re-entry into the world of the living with a splitting headache, queasy stomach, and the distant strumming of an acoustic guitar. He wouldn't let you watch him practice, wouldn't let anyone really, but it happened every day, almost constantly. No one commented on the way Steve's fingers worked chord progressions on any surface, or how the guitar that once hung in the sitting room had taken permanent residence in his bedroom. You wondered if anyone cared to take an interest in the captain's new hobby, or if there was just an unspoken rule to not talk about it. Now that the month was coming to a close you were practically itching with the need to know how Steve was progressing.

The knock on your door was so soft you almost didn't hear it over your too-loud thoughts playing keep away with sleep. You sat up, listening for the sound again, ready when it came the second time.

"Come in."

It was Steve, his acoustic guitar in front of his midsection like he held his shield for the calendar shoot. You tried not to think about the hard planes of Steve's body currently hiding underneath a white muscle shirt and grey sweatpants.

"Did I wake you?"

You shook your head. Sitting further up in bed and turning on your bedside lamp as he entered your room and shut the door softly behind him. 

"I've been working on something. O-on the guitar." The clarification wasn't necessary, but you didn't want to scare away what felt like a very delicate moment being shared.

"I'm not ready to...do this in front of everyone but you have been there for me since the beginning of this and I...can I play a song for you?"

You wanted to cheer, to clap, to do that weird flailing then you do when you're super excited that Clint would inevitably mock with his own exaggerated version but now didn't seem like the time to make a big fuss, now felt like a time to just listen.

"I'd love to, Steve."

He smiled, nerves ensuring it didn't quite reach his eyes. He sat down on the edge of the bed, half in shadow and thus partially obscured from view. You leaned onto your right side, arm supporting your head, just to see a bit more of him.

He strummed a simple progression of E Minor and G once, twice, three times. And even though you knew the song you were still surprised to hear him sing.

"I need an easy friend. I do, with an ear to lend."

That feeling you had in your chest before was back. That first day in July when you watched Steve struggle to tune the guitar you knew in his hands there would be no shortage of dedication to the cultivation of this new skill. That same guitar he now played beautifully with a flow that looked so natural you knew he had to have practiced it all month and with that time and practice he chose to learn a song that meant something to you. You closed your eyes, going back further than the start of the month to the start of your friendship, to a man who was trying to navigate the world with only a little notebook of media to give him a jumping off point.

"Star Wars without a doubt. And Nirvana." You had said with a matter-of-fact tone that promptly ended the conversation. He wrote them down and that was that.

He did eventually see Star Wars, him and Bucky, but there was no mention of Nirvana in the years that had passed. You assumed he just hadn't gotten to it.

But here he was singing About A Girl in your bedroom, mumbling through the chorus as he concentrates on the chords.

Steve strums one final note, letting it ring out instead of stamping it down like you imagine he wants to since he cannot seem to look away from the wall opposite him. You give yourself a moment, needing a beat of silence to try to release some of the pressure in your chest. Instead, your heart flips and flutters as the lamplight crossed Steve's cheek when he glances almost imperceptibly your way.

"Steve Rogers."

He faces you fully now, face open for you to see the uncertainty and anticipation and tiny waves of pride that managed to break up the endless sea of self doubt. 

"I think I love you."

It was the only thing you could think would explain the balloon in your lungs, the feeling of overwhelming adoration directed toward this one person. The fullness in your chest ached so much it squeezed a few fat tears from your eyes. You smiled as you wiped them away.

"I love you too."

You couldn't tell if he meant it in the same way you did, but you didn't think it mattered. Steve set the guitar down, leaning it against the foot of your bed before turning as much as he could towards you. Rising to your knees you shuffled into his open arms and held onto him like letting go wasn't an option. 

"I have to tell you something." He mumbled as to not break the moment. 

You didn't pull away to reply.

"What?"

"I don't think I'm a fan of Nirvana."

You pulled away, mouth open in shock and the air filling your chest to bursting finally finding an exit.

"What?! How? Steve, I don't think you understand the genius of grunge music."

He shrugged, face forming a half smile as you took a soapbox for a generation defining genre. Because he loved you.

Permanent tag list

@instantnoodlese @bambamwolf87 @dyanlzbb @sebstanhun @thoughtfullhuman @sbluehi @fanfictionrecommendations-com @spacezombiie @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen @titty-teetee @alt-er-love-er-alt @bornfortherainydays @venitia89 @always-irrelevant @darkphoenixrisingwrites @drakesfiance @katzenwahnsinn @mywinterwolf @kcd15 @somewereinthegalaxi @justalilsad5 @becs-bunker @reading--mermaid @reviewfanfics @iamverity @evolving2deppression @darlingtholland @700teacups @lovemesomepietro

[rottmntquotes]

The Newest Problem

*In this “AU” Draxum has already been incorporated into the family. Obviously, things have played out differently in this universe in terms of dealing with the Shredder and such, but I don’t feel like going into those specifics just yet. That’s for another time entirely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Draxum and April walked into the lair with a giant egg, claiming to have found it drifting in the Hudson River, no one was sure of what to think. Almost immediately, the egg had been dried off and placed in a beanbag chair in order to keep it- and the creature in it -from suffering. Frantic questions from Splinter, Raph, and Donnie nearly made Draxum’s head spin, and he started shouting back at them, leaving Mikey and April to watch the large egg together.

“What do you think is in it?” Mikey asked, tilting his head and trying to determine whether or not it would be safe to touch the vulnerable object.

“I dunno, but it looks kinda familiar.” April responded, pulling out her phone and searching up different types of eggs. While April was occupied, Mikey hummed quietly, allowing a calming tune to drift into the air. As if responding to the sound, the egg twitched, a small crack forming at the top. Mikey’s humming stopped, and his eyes widened.

“Uhh... guys...?” Mikey muttered, not nearly loud enough to be heard over the shouting coming from the others. Noticing this, Mikey elbowed April, drawing her attention just in time for another crack to form, conjoining with the first and beginning to descend towards the middle of the egg. This time, Mikey spoke louder. “Guys?”

The egg shook violently, more cracks forming and spreading around the center. In a few seconds, parts of the shell were beginning to be pushed out, and Mikey and April started to freak out. A loud barrage of “Guys! Guys! Guys!” was spewed as the duo was forced to watch the activity continue, and when nothing happened, Mikey was forced to let Dr. Delicate Touch take over.

“HEY! PAY ATTENTION YOU MORONS!”

The rest of the group turned their attention to Mikey, preparing to scold him, and stopping at the sight of the hatching egg. After about a minute, a claw popped out of the egg, thick in width, but short in length. This claw was used to further push the egg apart, and a hand just a little bigger than a human baby’s popped out. When this happened, the first thing the group noticed was that-

“Hey! That hand looks like ours!” Mikey gasped. The statement was, indeed, true. Three green fingers moved around awkwardly before attempting to push more of the shell away. “Aww... should we help it?”

“No.” Donnie replied bluntly. “It’s dangerous to try and help any animal hatching from an egg. We could injure it.”

Immediately after Donnie spoke, a frustrated wail came from the egg, and the hand disappeared into the oval sanctuary. It was then that the group assumed the creature wasn’t going to try anymore. Much to their surprise, a tiny, green, reptilian beak poked out of the hole, and the creature used what could only be described as an egg tooth to chomp its way out of the egg. It only took a few chomps for the creature to create a hole big enough to slip out of, and it squeaked as it plopped onto the ground.

“It’s a... a...” Donnie was at a loss for words, and he stared down at the baby in astonishment.

“It’s a BABY TURTLE!” Mikey cheered, getting onto his knees and wiping a bit of amniotic fluid off the baby’s face. The baby sneezed, shaking its head before taking a peek at Mikey. Two pairs of bright blue eyes made contact, and Mikey squealed, startling the baby enough to start crying. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

“He’s fine, Michael.” Donnie huffed, having gotten over his previous shock. In one swift movement, Donnie reached down and grabbed the crying baby, looking it over with a firm grip, only serving to agitate the baby’s sensitive skin. The baby cried louder at the touch, kicking at Donnie’s plastron weakly. Before Donnie could scold the baby for crying, April took it upon herself to grab the baby, glaring at Donnie as she cradled it soothingly.

“Shh... it’s okay little one.” April whispered, keeping the baby close. “Those big mean turtles don’t know how to handle babies, do they? No offense, Mike.”

“None taken.” Mikey chuckled, blushing lightly as he stood. Donnie merely scoffed, turning on his heel and requesting Raph and Splinter to follow. Draxum stayed with Mikey and April, not knowing what to do or say. “Well, Barry? Are you proud?”

“Proud? Of what?” Draxum found himself nearly cringing at the lack of a condescending tone.

“Saving the egg! Because of your actions, even with April’s help, you were able to save the life of this adorable little angel!” Mikey praised Draxum openly, gesturing to the baby, who had stopped crying. “You’re getting so close to a true reformation!”

“Oh, I highly doubt-”

“WE ARE NOT KEEPING THAT THING HERE WITH US!” Draxum, Mikey, and April all turned their attention to the kitchen, where Donnie, Raph, and Splinter had gone into. The scream was enough to shock even Draxum, and he looked at the young teens as if asking for an answer. All he was able to receive was uncertain shrugs, and he caught himself nearly stepping in front of April to protect the baby as Donnie came storming into the living room. “Get it out.”

“What? Donnie, what are you-”

“GET IT OUT!” Donnie roared, standing straight and baring his teeth in an attempt to look threatening. Needless to say that it worked. “We already have enough to worry about without that creature coming in and drawing our attention! Taking care of a hatchling takes time, effort, and consistent attention, none of which we have right now!”

“Donatello! That is ENOUGH!” Splinter silenced his gifted son with one stomp, and all that remained afterwards was the sound of labored breathing. A tense standstill occurred between the group for a short time, and then Splinter chose to speak again. “You know that your outburst has nothing to do with what we agreed upon, Donatello. Just because you are not fond of the decision does not mean that you are allowed to force your opinion on others!”

“But father-”

“NO!” Donnie said nothing more, backing up and leaning against a nearby wall in anger. Splinter sighed, taking a moment to breathe before addressing the others. “Now, what the three of us had agreed on, was that this young one will be allowed to stay here in the lair. We will keep a close and constant eye on him, and we will make sure he is safe.”

“Yes! Thank you pops!” Mikey cheered, preparing to give Splinter a hug. Unfortunately, Raph decided that this was his time to cut in.

“That is, until we can find another family to take him in.”

“Hold on, what now?” April asked, tightening her grip on the baby slightly. An annoyed sound came from the baby, but it was brief, and it disappeared as soon as it arrived. “He’s just a baby! You can’t just give a baby away like that!”

“Oh, yes we can. And we’re going to.” Donnie rebuffed, shutting his mouth once more as Splinter glared at him.

“Listen, I understand that it is not the best sounding idea, but we truly have no other choice.” Splinter paused, looking towards Draxum. “That is, unless you are willing to house him.”

“Me, take care of a baby Yokai? I think not.” Draxum scoffed, grunting at the sharp jab to the side he earned. Mikey and April looked up at Draxum pleadingly, silently begging him to at least try the idea. “Ugh... fine. I will attempt to make my home “Baby Friendly,” but do not expect it to be a paradise. There is barely enough room for me in that place.”

“Maybe It’ll help us get rid of him faster.” Donnie muttered, hissing as he was shoved towards his room.

“If you can’t say anything productive or nice about this situation, then go to your room and stay there.” Raph ordered, watching the genius of the family walk off. “I can’t believe him. He’s never acted like this!”

“Do not dwell on your brother’s behavior, Raphael. For now, we must focus on the baby.” Splinter advised, running a hand along the baby’s head. A happy coo made everyone’s hearts skip a beat, and they all were easily able to come to one conclusion:

This baby is definitely going to change our lives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Yeah, I’m splitting this into 2 or 3 chapters. It just saves time and makes for great cliffhangers! :D

**Who’da thunk that Donnie started off hating baby Leo? Why do you think that is? Why do you think Leo’s egg was in the Hudson River? Do you think any villains have anything to do with it?

You’ll just have to wait and see!

Also, this is dedicated to @ash-the-sparrow-queen who requested this to be written! Hope you like it! I know this is a different premise from Leo being turned into a baby, but I felt this would be a bit more creative and easier to flow with. Forgive me. :’)