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demonslayerunhinged · 18 days

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Unhinged theory

Sanemi and Giyuu are exes (Part 1)

In celebration of the canonization* of my favorite couple, I've decided to try to get out of my writing funk by writing this theory. There's a teeny tiny spoiler included for those of you who haven't read the manga. So bewareeeeee.

Ok so, whenever I think of the actual-current-canon-in-the-anime/manga relationship between these two, something about their animosity just seems off. Even though they don't 'like' each other, and they clash a lot, their interactions give this "We used to be somewhat close" energy. Whether it's ex-friends/boyfriends doesn't matter, the point is that I feel these two have history.

So lemme explain:

Hide yo coins cuz I'm finna reaching with this one 😂

The beginning

I think their relationship started around the time when Sanemi became a Hashira. He was still raw and hurt over the death of Masachika, his new colleagues have a terrible first impression of him, plus he just got the news that Genya has joined the Corps and there's nothing he can do about it. Needless to say, our boy isn't doing so well.

Enter Giyuu, he's new to the Corps too(I figured he joined a bit earlier than Sanemi), Obanai isn't here yet for Sanemi to bond with, and he's an outcast so they would probably gravitate to one another even if they don't realize.

Maybe they went on joint missions and during that time they would have to communicate to one another. Sanemi was probably the one who initiated the conversations and I know this seems unbelievable but don't forget Sanemi has a general openness of 60% while Giyuu has 30% so it's not so far off for Sanemi to try to communicate with him.

Giyuu liked Sanemi, it was probably one of those love-at-first-sight kind of things, but his constant NLOG statements, general aloofness and social ineptitude prevented him from connecting with Sanemi properly. And like I said earlier, Sanemi was still emotionally raw so a lot of Giyuu's actions and mannerisms were probably triggering for him given his background and after many attempts to connect with this guy albeit in his own aggressive way, but he doesn't have the patience to understand Giyuu's words and behavior.

The breakup

Aside from miscommunication, I think the factors that led to their breakup were Giyuu's depression, imposter syndrome and Sanemi's depression and low self-esteem.

Giyuu probably told him one time, "I'm not like you." and refused to elaborate, so Sanemi interpreted that statement as Giyuu looking down on him. He got embarrassed, angry but most of all hurt because of course, he's not dumb he knows how far apart they are when it comes to class. Before becoming a Slayer Giyuu came from a well-to-do family, he's attractive, he's educated, he speaks well and he can write.

So why would someone like Giyuu want to be with an ugly, monstrous, ghetto rat like him? He couldn't tell all this to Giyuu because doing that would require him to be vulnerable and Sanemi would rather die. So he did the thing he always does when he gets hurt, he withdrew. Then proceeded to cover up his pain with anger and his shame with pride.

Giyuu, on the other hand, was oblivious to Sanemi's pain and just assumed that he was just 'hot-tempered'. Around this time, Obanai joined the Hashira and he and Sanemi became fast friends. Finally! Here was someone Sanemi was able to relate to, someone who has the same level of openness, who had similar traumatic experiences, has an equally suicidal desire to kill demons and most importantly someone who doesn't look down on him.

When Obanai encountered Giyuu for the first time probably in his first Hashira meeting, he asked Sanemi about the weird, sad guy who stood way off to the side. Sanemi being comfortable around Obanai tells him about Giyuu, his attitude and their history and Obanai is like 'What an asshole!' and like a true bro starts hating Giyuu in solidarity with Sanemi, much to Giyuu's confusion.

Thus began Sanemi's one-sided antagonistic relationship with Giyuu, but no matter how hard he tried to hate him, deep down Sanemi still cares, and he still wants to connect with Giyuu, but he can't risk being hurt again. Giyuu still views Sanemi as a friend and doesn't realize yet that Sanemi was gone - physically and emotionally.

Then after his first and second encounter with Tanjiro in the first season, I believe that there was a massive but subtle change within him that led him to begin a more active approach in his attempts to connect with Sanemi, and he does so in a really clumsy way that only makes Sanemi even more annoyed.

Giyuu didn't know at the time, but he had an opportunity to get back with Sanemi, and that was when the Master asked the other Hashira to try to make him happy so he would open up.

Shinobu who noticed Giyuu's pining after Sanemi figured that an invitation to eat his favorite food from his favorite person would help Giyuu to open up. Not knowing about Sanemi's beef with Giyuu, she made the request, but that just made him angry as all the emotions he tried to bury came to the surface. Why did he have to reach out? So he can get rejected again? Embarrassed again? Hurt again?

Shinobu being the sneaky manipulator she is used the Master as bait which worked and Sanemi begrudgingly, painfully approached Giyuu and Giyuu in his infinite knowledge replied with a "No" as the start in his response instead of simply telling Sanemi that he was full and that they could go eat later.

Another embarrassing rejection, which made Sanemi snap with an emotion so fierce that he didn't even listen to the rest of the response. All he heard was the cold "No", all he saw was Giyuu's aloof expression, like his Sanemi meant so little to him. Giyuu fucked up, and oblivious as always was left wondering why Sanemi was so angry at him, but his desire to connect with this grumpy man remained unquenched.

So what now?

Well, what follows is a slew of weird interactions between two people who are frustrated with but ultimately drawn to each other.

In the episode where the Hashira were first introduced, Giyuu probably hadn't seen Sanemi in a long time, which was why when he looked when he heard Sanemi's voice.

He also doesn't interfere when Nezuko gets stabbed but when it seems that there might actually be a fight between his love and his son he tries to stop the fight the only way he knows by invoking the Master, which works in distracting Sanemi but not on Tanjiro who is already on a warpath and proceeds to introduce Sanemi to his forehead. Notice that this is the only time aside from his introduction that we see him actually have a visible reaction.

During the indoor meeting, Giyuu sits close to Sanemi like everything is all normal. When Sanemi blames him for the distraction he replies in a friendly tone mocking him like they're friends, because to him Sanemi is just being grumpy. He genuinely doesn't think anything's wrong.

In the next Hashira meeting, he tries the friendly mocking thing again but Sanemi is having none of that. His expression kills me everytime 😂, like mans was ready to scrap.

It reminds me of the 'You have to treat a car like you treat a woman' scene in Ben 10.

Sanemi, the pissed off wife: Go on.

Giyuu, the whipped husband: No, I sense I've made a mistake of some kind.

Obanai being the precious gem that he is, is ready to back his bro up.

Then after Amane left, something changed in Sanemi. In one of my previous posts, I talked about his attempts to reach out to Giyuu by questioning him, but why did he do it? Of all the times, why did he try to confront Giyuu now?

I think it's because of what Amane told them about the Demon slayer marks, about how the mark bearers don't live past 25. Take a look at his expression, he's surprised obviously, but there's something else mixed in.

I figured he knows they're in the endgame now, with the possibility of Muzan coming for Nezuko now that she can conquer the sun. There's no problem this is what he's prepared for, he's always accepted his death as an inevitable outcome but what about Giyuu?

He just realized the unlocking of the marks means that Giyuu would die too. After all this time he still cares and the fact that they could both die without them even trying to mend their relationship scares Sanemi and remember in this post discussing Sanemi's mental health how his impulsive actions are most likely done out of fear, well this is one of them.

Giyuu says the regular NLOG stuff which triggers Sanemi, but instead of running away he confronts him instead. He tries to work past his feelings of inferiority and really listen to Giyuu's words. He tried reaching out in a sort of friendly way with a smile, even if his words came out as aggressive.

Giyuu as usual doesn't elaborate, but Sanemi has had enough, so he literally reaches out for Giyuu, ready to pull his man by the weave if it means that he'll finally get an answer.

Then Gyomei daddy claps, everyone shuts the fuck up, you know the rest. Shoutout to Mitsuri for being the highlight of that scene, she's honestly the best girl 😂.

The first attempt failed, but Sanemi undeterred goes to confront Giyuu again, but this time he tries a different approach. He asks Giyuu to spar with him, maybe he thinks the heightened emotions would cause Giyuu to erupt and reveal his true feelings, maybe he wants to wear Giyuu down so he would be willing to answer Sanemi's question but unfortunately it doesn't work...or so he thinks.

Unknown to Sanemi, this time there was a difference and that was Tanjiro(bestest boy ❤). After the successful Torture the Introvert mission, Giyuu now has a renewed sense of self in a way and he's now willing to make a more active approach towards opening up to people. I already talked about the romantic undertones of his desire to get closer to Sanemi here and here so I wouldn't really get into Giyuu and Tanjiro's conversation after Sanemi left but suffice to say that our Giyuu is a new man. He knows what he wants now and what he wants is Sanemi.

In Conclusion, here's part two.

*Extra stuff

I noticed that even though Giyuu seems emotionless, his hands tell a different story. In Demon slayer, I've noticed that the characters' veins on their faces pop to display strong emotions or reactions. Giyuu doesn't have on his face when they're fighting, unlike Sanemi, but he does have on his hands.

This is the first time (that I know of) that we're seeing this, which tells me that he does feel something. He just doesn't know how to express it.

Also, I'd like to attribute Sanemi's persistence with getting Giyuu to open up to him being the eldest child, we all have the experience of pestering our younger ones until they give in and respond to us. Tanjiro is the same way as well.

Also, Sanemi be treating Tanjiro like an opp when our precious boy is basically his biggest supporter and possibly their future Best Man 😂.

*Disclaimer: I'm not saying it's canon canon, I'm just stating that Ufotable acknowledges this ship, which means that they see something between them too.

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tryskomys · 6 days

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Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 7 - Bloodshot Ruby

Summary: i am her. it’s her fault.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: working title: Stone and His *Day* of Wonders.

it has come to my attention that the haters said i will have seven OR more chapters without a proper and thorough Stone POV. pft, excuse me?! not in this household, haters, not on my watch. i max out at six.

minors - naughty, watch out. bet you’ve read much much worse (maybe even on yours truly, tryskomys blog) and will definitely laugh at my disclaimer.

(a tiny note for those reading from the start - i proof-read the past chapters again and changed up a few words, such as kiki’s nickname now only appearing in the dialogue bc keeva is a rly pretty name and i want it to be seen ok?? <3 to any keevas out there ily and i gotta put some respect to your name lol)

jesus, these chapter notes of mine will soon reach the word count of an average tryskomys chapter. and that’s saying something.

tws: news flash - the actions described in this text are not a healthy way to deal with emotions. nothing too explicit but alluding to the word that ends with the same five letters as ‘situation’ and the bad word that sounds suspiciously close to…‘snacks’? whatever !!!SAFE SEX RULES EVERYONE!!!

ok bye enjoy

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

“Stoney? Stone. Stone, tell me you’re joking.”

“I forgot to call him.”

“You forgot?”

“Yes, I did. I’ll call him as soon as we leave, I’ll take care of it.”

“But -”

“Let’s move on, we gotta end in half an hour. Take it from the top - Stardog. Everyone ready?”

As winter faded, February and March seamlessly blended together. Not that it was any less cold or damp - it was still Seattle.

But - much to Stone’s annoyance - the afternoon sun was already growing way too bold. It was ruthlessly tickling his eyes as he stomped through the streets, alone.

His boots splashed against the melting snow along the way home from rehearsal.

It was fruitful, until both guys from Malfunkshun - meaning Andy’s brother Kevin and Regan - walked in on them practising with both Andy and Greg, the drumming legend of the Seattle underground.

Stone had already played a couple of house parties with Jeff, Keeva, Bruce, Andy and Regan. They just went in, got drunk for free, covered a bunch of songs and had a grand fucking time doing it, too.

To him, it felt amazing. Besides Andy’s larger-than-life voice, the booming sound of the triad of guitars was just magical - Keeva’s psychedelic and experimental tinkering and Bruce’s soulful-yet-edgy solos fit so well with Stone’s dirty funk riffs.

And he wanted to have a band with Regan ever since they were pimply preteens.

But Jeff, apparently unable to skip an opportunity to be a thorn in Stone’s side, just didn’t click with him. And that was always an immovable problem when it came to a bassist-drummer relationship.

So Stone was, as always, tasked to give the hard and stern announcement.

Yeah, sure, leave it to Stone.

The calculating Stone. The level-headed Stone. The pragmatic Stone. The emotionless Stone. The ‘nomen est omen’ Stone.

He was sick of it.

Frowning, he harshly chewed on his bottom lip and huddled himself deeper into his scarf.

How could you forget something that important, you -

No. No, no, it’s her fault. It’s her fault.

Stone rubbed off a damp drop at the tip of his freezing nose and adjusted the guitar case that hung on his shoulder.

He knew precisely what was wrong with him.

That night, he had a nightmare. He was trapped in a maze of tapestries - they surrounded him from all sides, each one of a different shape and size. At first, it seemed like they were vignettes of some strangely shaped landscapes and woods.

Only after Stone took a closer look at the biggest one, the blood in his veins curdled as he realized that all of the embroidery depicted his friends - many of his friends, all lying dead in grotesque positions like battered rag dolls.

Surrounded by heaps of dirty drug paraphernalia, taking their own lives...so many.

Mountains upon mountains of bodies - and at the very top sat a lone crying figure, delicate like a porcelain doll about to break. She was the only one moving.

Pale, naked, shivering. She was extending her shaky hands as if she was begging him to free her. He reached out, but she was stuck in the tapestry, crying louder and louder as he desperately clawed on the fabric in an attempt to rip her out of the horror.

That’s when he woke up - deep into the night and drenched in cold sweat. Her fading screams were still ringing in his ears.

After a few moments, he realized that something dragged him out of the terror. His hazy mind caught the faint sound of a muffled tune coming from upstairs.

Suddenly, Stone was convinced that he’d just woken up in a different, prettier dream - everything seemed so cloudy and unclear. He got up and walked over to the stairs. He felt like he was floating through the room, light-headed and weightless.

Her curtain was nearly closed, but he caught a peek of her through the small gap between the fabric and the frame.

Her silhouette was enlightened by the faint warm light above her bed - it made her rosy curls glow like a halo.

The way her fingers danced around the fretboard was hypnotic, producing sounds that he didn’t even know a guitar could make. The melody was entrancing, like something you would only hear in - well, a dream. That only solidified Stone’s deluded belief.

Closing her eyes, her lips parted as she quietly started humming a harmonic second line to her strings.

She moved in a way he’d never seen her do before - as if she was floating on waves, her body flowing from side to side like in a trance. And, knowing her, it occurred to him that she definitely did not want to be seen.

There was something incredibly erotic about the scene.

Somehow, Stone knew that she was imagining him there with her, obediently playing the part she was humming. Like a puppet with its maker. It drove him mad.

His ears burned so harshly it caused him pain. Her voice was as soft as pure silk to his ears. Always breathy and wonderfully deep - truly a contrast to her small figure. And when she sang, it transformed into an irresistible siren call.

For a split second, he was determined to invite himself in and listen from up close. Let her sing him to sleep, fade away into blissful oblivion while resting his head in her warm lap. Feel her fingers running through his hair.

Maybe even let her place a head-spinning kiss on his lips. Just this once. Why not - it was just a dream, after all.

But then, just as the wooden stairs faintly creaked under Stone’s feet, she abruptly stopped with a frustrated headshake.

She was always like this. Forever dissatisfied with her musical abilities. Come to think of it, generally anything that had to do with her skills.

She put her battered guitar away, rubbing her eyes. She stretched. Her baggy t-shirt was cut off just short enough to lift above her ribcage and -

Stone shook his head with an annoyed huff, now seriously pissed at himself.

She’s fucking with your head. It’s her fault.

He wasn’t used to being this careless. This project was incredibly important to him and Regan was one of the best friends he’s ever had. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. And the blame was on him.

It’s her fault.

Keeva angered him. The whole concept of her pissed him off. A tiny flickering will-o’-the-wisp floating around his safe space. She always just appeared wherever he happened to look.

That’s how often she occupied his brain - sometimes it felt like she could be in two places at once.

Stomping around in fuzzy socks. Faded pink curls that bounced when she hopped up on the kitchen counter. All the needless jabs and how she had an answer for everything.

Her tired eyes were bordered with dark purple circles, always twinkling with tears and slightly out of focus. Brown irises speckled with blue that seemed to glow from within while scanning the indecent thoughts in his head like an X-ray.

As if she realized the effect she had on him and smugly rubbed it in his face with that stupid little smirk.

Whenever she forgot to act like she hated his joke and broke into joyful laughter, little dimples appeared on her blushing cheeks - her canines were protruding and sharp, like they would draw blood if she kissed his neck. Worst of all - he’d risk that, given the chance.

Stone had vowed to never feel like this again. But somehow, Keeva managed to drag it out of him and make it more excruciating than it had ever been.

Bullshit. It wouldn’t hurt like this. The ‘in love’ thing, surely it wouldn’t. Fuck. I don’t even remember.

No, definitely not.

You’re just a horny asshole.

He’d hoped that if he stomped through the snowy mud hard enough, he might let some of the steam out. To no avail, as he just got the rims of his jeans even more wet and annoyed himself further.

Keeva was caustic, cynical and bitter.

I am her.

It’s her fault.

When Stone arrived home, she wasn’t there. After the argument they had while locking up the rehearsal space, it wasn’t too surprising to him. They were supposed to see Soundgarden play The OK Hotel, but it was still early for that.

He was pretty sure that she was either at Andy and Chris’s place or roaming around Discovery Park to calm down like she always did.

“I can’t believe you forgot to tell him. Stoney, it’s okay to divide the responsibilities a bit, you don’t have to do everything alone. You insisted even when I offered to do it, but -”

“As far as I know, I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Oh. And where did that get us, exactly?”

“He’ll live, Baby, don’t worry.”

“What the - did you see the look on his face? He was devastated.”

”Might be a surprise to you, but I am, in fact, not blind. I’ll call him as soon as I get home.”

“Is that tone of yours really necessary?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

“You’re fucking insufferable.”

“Good thing you live with me, then. Birds of a feather or something.”

“Watch your fucking mouth, Stone.”

“Or what, you’ll bite my ankle?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Stone’s throat tightened as he rummaged through his clothes drawer. He didn’t even know what he was looking for, it just felt good to mess up all the folded laundry.

After a few minutes of mindless ransacking, he decided that his nerves needed a hot shower before calling Regan with the apologetic news.

What if she doesn’t come back?

He banged his head against the bathroom tiles in an attempt to shut down the childish thought and turned the faucet on.

Idiot, of course she’ll come back. She lives here.

You brought this upon her. She’s stuck with you.

It’s your fault.

Boiling water harshly splashed against Stone’s naked skin, leaving angry red marks on his back.

And as a thick mist spread through the tiny room, he didn’t even try to battle the image of Keeva’s stretching body that crept back to the very front of his consciousness.

It spilt into every corner of his brain and pulsed through his veins like a fever - until the only things he could see, feel or touch were her nude pale breasts, illuminated by the dim glow of her lamp.

● ● ● ● ● ●

The phone beeped while Stone impatiently waited for his friends to pick up at the other side. He was supposed to leave in a few minutes and she still hadn’t come home.

“Hello?” a female voice answered the phone, making Stone jump out of his dissociation. It wasn’t Keeva, though.

“Heeey, it’s Xana, right? Stone here.”

“Hi, Stone!” Xana, Andy’s new girlfriend, called back. She was really nice, although slightly overwhelming - sometimes a bit too opinionated for Stone’s taste. He, too, was opinionated.

In fact, they had different opinions on a lot of things, something he faced every time she hung out with them for the past month. Andy seemed to be on cloud nine, though, so who was he to judge?

She took care of his friend and that was what mattered.

“Hey, uh, any chance Keeks is around? We’re supposed to be at The OK in, like, fifteen minutes. Could you put her on the phone for a second?”

“Oh, Kiki isn’t here. Chris already left for a soundcheck about two hours ago and Andy is staying in tonight,” she said. In his head, he scoffed.

Does Andy know that he’s staying in tonight?

“You mean she wasn’t over at all?”

“Nope, not that I know of. She’s your girlfriend, shouldn’t you know where she is?” she teased.

Stone rolled his eyes.

When Andy and the others joked about the two of them, it was still annoying, but he was used to it by now.

With Xana, he had a nagging feeling that she hadn’t earned the right to do it yet - she just parroted it after Andy, who was allowed to poke fun only because he had to put up with their antics.

“Very witty,” he snapped and then took a deep breath to calm down. “Ugh, okay, thanks. She’s probably already there.”

“I’m sure Kiki’s fine, she’s a big girl,” Xana giggled and Stone couldn’t wait to put the phone down.

“Only about five foot one. Anyway, say hi to Andy. See ya,” he said and waited for her to stop giggling.

“Sure, he says hi right back. Bye, Stoney!” Xana replied when she stopped laughing and ended the call.

He loudly sighed.

God dammit.

Fine. She’s a grown woman, she can do as she pleases. If she wants to play divorce, I’ll play divorce.

What the fuck do I care.

Stone ran his hand through his matted mop of hair. By now, it had washed out to pinky orange and the brown roots were growing more extensive every day.

He grunted in frustration as he stomped through the room - when he walked past the wooden stairs, he gave the bottom step a thorough, childish kick.

After checking his watch for the final time, he grabbed his keys and denim jacket and stormed out of the door.

I don’t care.

● ● ● ● ● ●

The set was electric, as always. Stone decided to stay in the pit this time, instead of looming behind the speakers at the side of the stage. He had to get it out of his system, fast. Whatever it was.

He tried not to wonder if Keeva was around as he screamed incoherent lyrics back at Chris.

Because she wasn’t around when he came in. She still wasn’t around when he searched for her during the third song and by the eighth song, he gave up and decided to focus solely on the feeling of sweat beads running down his temples.

It was so uncomfortably hot in there.

The OK always had a problem with the heating system, but this time it didn’t bother Stone. Even though he felt like he was going to faint by the end of the encore, it did not bother him.

He was certain that if he kept himself feeling as uncomfortable as possible for long enough, it would truly not bother him.

He happily kicked back a tequila shot that Chris bought him.

“You looked like you needed it. Where’s my little greenie? I know she doesn’t like the pit but I haven’t seen her at all.”

“Probably at the playground playing hide and seek with the other children or something.”

It was nearly midnight and she still hadn’t shown up.

“Yeah, so I had a lot to handle there, but you know, survival of the fittest!”

A girl around their age stopped by him. Stone had seen her around before, a tall brunette who was a part of Mel’s friend group. They were at almost every show he’d attended and he was pretty good at remembering…let’s say faces. This one was Betty, a psychology major at U-Dub.

“Yeah. I didn’t even get through the first exams, so there’s a scoop for ya,” he replied, not sure how to keep the conversation going.

I dropped out. That’s it. Can we move on?

“Oh, what a shame. They say smart is the new sexy,” Betty shrugged with a sultry smile while re-applying her lipstick.

“Do they?” he asked and let himself break into a condescending grin. She seemed to like that.

There we go. See, Baby would tell you to get fucked, Gossard.

“You don’t agree?” Betty pouted and leaned against the wall. Stone followed her movement like a shadow, resting his palm next to her head.

“I think sexy is what it’s always been,” he said, slowly took her beer bottle from her hands and wrapped his lips around it, brashly taking a drink. Betty nodded, humming.

“Hm. Enlighten me.”

Stone nonchalantly reached out and brushed a stray strand of her silky brown hair out of her eyes, gently tucking it behind her ear.

“You’re smart, aren’t you?” he mumbled, letting Betty lean closer to him. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sheepishly nodded. He was so close he spoke against the skin of her neck.

“You can figure it out on your own, then. You’re a big girl, no need for me to hold your hand through it.”

When he pressed a fleeting kiss under her ear, she let out a tiny gasp.

“I need to go powder my nose,” he said when he pushed himself away from the wall, smirking. Betty knew what to do when he turned his back on her and disappeared into the crowd, somewhere in the direction of the restrooms.

“You gonna take me back to your place?” she softly sighed when he dragged her into one of the stalls and locked it behind them.

“Can’t,” Stone muttered, secretly plotting. He’d hoped it would put her off sooner or later. “Uh, my roommate’s home.”

Rejection, that’s what you need, Gossard. Uncomfortable. Keep yourself uncomfortable and it will be fine.

“Oh, Miss Bitchy Mary Poppins? The little one?” Betty raised her eyebrows, clearly aware of their ‘hip-attached’ reputation.

“There’s more than one kind? Good grief,” he huffed and firmly grabbed her waist. He brushed away her hair and briskly started kissing her neck, leaving wet red spots behind as he moved along.

Through soft gasps, she giggled without realizing that it wasn’t a jab at his friend, but a real sentiment.

“She’s a bit stuck-up, isn’t she?” Betty chirped and shivered under Stone’s hands when he accidentally bit down.

“Fuck, sorry.”

“No, no, do it again,” she shook her head and pulled him closer, but he was very focused on keeping himself in line. “I’ll be much more fun than her, I promise.”

Stone smirked, satisfied with his plan.

That’s it. Stay uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“No way you didn’t sleep with her,” Betty chortled again and pulled on his hair when he unbuttoned the top of her blouse.

Okay, that’s a bit too uncomfortable.

“Can we change the subject, please?” he mumbled as he snaked his clammy hand under her lace bra.

She hummed and returned the favour by reaching under his t-shirt. She ran her finger down his abdomen.

“I mean - oh - I know she’s not the sweetest and that her eyes are a bit too far apart -”

Fuck. Why am I not enjoying this?

“Still the same subject, Betty.”

“- and her front teeth are pretty big and her nose is a bit flat at the top -”

Why am I not having fun? This was a shitty plan.

“Betty,” he said a bit more sternly.

“- fuck - and she kinda looks like she’s never had a good night’s sleep in her life -”

“Betty.”

“- and if you see her from afar, she kinda looks like a funny little gnome - oh, Stoney - but if you squint really hard, she’s kinda cute, I gu-”

Betty gasped when Stone suddenly dropped his hands and stepped away from her with an annoyed frown.

“Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Short awkward silence filled the stall as she stared at him, a bit startled at his tone.

Yeah, this isn’t working. Good riddance, asshole.

“Uh, yes. Yessir,” Betty nodded - which was not the answer he wanted to hear - and a wild blush filled her tanned cheeks.

Stone tried to force a smile, but it must’ve come out quite insincere. Because it was.

“Good. Then let me, please. Sorry. Thank you,” he muttered and inched closer to her again, but she took a tiny step back, the blush burning even brighter.

“Wh- you wanna do it r-right here?” her voice cracked a few octaves higher. Stone had to bite his lip to contain the joyous smirk.

Eureka! Here we go!

“Something wrong with that?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, but his cocky attitude withered as soon as Betty shook her head with a loud giggle and took his face in her palms.

“Oh my god. The girls told me you were a good time,” she breathed out and tried to go in for a kiss.

“Charming,” Stone deadpanned and - thanks to years of training - swiftly dodged her and played it off as bending down to kiss her nipple.

A vignette of Keeva’s room from the night before flashed in front of his eyes. The way she swayed side to side, perky breasts moving against the fabric of her baggy cut-off pyjamas.

Isn’t this what you wanted, dumbass? Is this uncomfortable enough for you?

He frantically searched his pockets - all empty - and suddenly thought of a way out.

Sorry, Betty, you’re a nice gal. But this is my Golden Ticket.

“Shit. I forgot a wrapper,” Stone slapped his forehead and rose up, trying to sound bothered. Betty just took his shoulders and tried to push him down again.

“I don’t care,” was her breathy answer. Stone’s eyes popped open and suddenly, his resolution to stay uncomfortable flew out of the window.

“Oh, okay then. Skirt up,” he stepped back and folded his arms, motioning her to lift her flowery dress. Betty eagerly did so right away, making him sigh as he hurried to put her hands back down along with the skirt.

Baby would’ve told you to go fuck yourself, Gossard.

“That was a joke, Betty. I don’t do it raw,” he said matter-of-factly and stepped away again.

“But I’m on the pill,” Betty said, nearly moaning.

“I don’t care,” Stone mimicked her cool girl attitude from earlier. By now, his tone was bordering on rude, but she apparently didn’t mind and had a clear goal for tonight.

“Well, there’s a CVS down the street. I can go get some, what do you think?”

“No, it’s -” he started, but then he realized something.

If I go now, I can act like they were out of stock and tada!

You wanted uncomfortable, now you can drown in it, dumbass.

“Fine. You stay here, it’s cold outside. Go have a drink or something, I’ll be back in fifteen.”

“So Stoney Gossard is not only a good time - he’s gentleman, too? That is not something you hear every day,” she giggled, twirling her finger around a strand of Stone’s hair as he put his jacket back on.

“Some say I’m generous as well,” he said bluntly and wrapped the scarf around his neck. Betty’s excited giggle pinched his ears.

“Do they?”

“No. See ya.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

Stone was walking down the street as slowly as he could, kicking rubble out of his way with way too much strength.

He was slightly shivering, one gloved hand buried deep in his pockets and the other one squeezing a half-smoked cigarette.

Christ, the jacket wasn’t the brightest idea.

If Baby was there, she would’ve told you to wear something warmer, Gossard.

He cursed under his foggy breath, staring at the three packs of condoms tucked inside the pocket on his chest. He was planning to hide them somewhere before coming back.

At least they were on sale.

Passing a record store, Stone had to walk back and double-check the window. He caught a flash of his woollen beanie in one of the listening booths.

No way.

When he glued his face to the glass, he let out a relieved sigh. His eyes didn’t fool him.

You little shithead.

It was Keeva, sitting on a small stool and nodding her head along to whatever was playing in her headphones. He couldn’t tell what was spinning on the record table in front of her, but he didn’t really care.

Oh, you’re getting it.

The bell hanging above the door shrilled as Stone walked into the empty store.

“‘Sup, Mick,” he called on the way past the disinterested teenager that sat behind the counter, reading a comic book.

“Hey, Stoney.”

Stone had no patience for small talk, though, so he beelined straight to the two improvised listening booths. Only one was occupied, and the listener didn’t notice right away that he stepped in front of her, arms crossed.

I’ll carry you out in my teeth, lady.

Keeva’s eyes were closed and she was softly wiggling to the rhythm. The curls that stuck out of the beanie obscured her eyes. Stone had to knock on the chipboard table to get her attention.

As soon as she looked up, all his hopes of being stern and upset faded.

Her eyes were a bit red, like she’d just recently stopped crying. Her freckled cheeks were still flushed from the cool breeze outside, so she must’ve arrived not too long ago. In a split second, she recognized him. There seemed to be a little light that switched behind her irises.

He was - once again - powerless.

“Oh. Hey,” she said as she took off the headphones, her voice slightly raspy.

She must’ve been in the cold for some time.

Stone had to restrain himself really hard so he wouldn’t jump over the table and give her a bone-crushing hug.

“Whatcha spinning?” was all that came out of him, arms still stubbornly crossed at his chest. It was like Keeva knew that he wanted to say something else, so she smirked before putting on a nonchalant expression.

She always knows.

“Just some local band I rummaged out of the gutter,” she lifted the album sleeve that was lying on the floor. She showed it to him with a sarcastic smile. “They’re fucking wank.”

It was Green River’s first EP.

Stone couldn’t help but snort.

“Heard the guitar player was a hack,” he said, basking in the feeling that always came to him when the two of them got into bickering.

“Big time. The riffs are so sloppy I feel violated,” Keeva said and theatrically shivered. “Filthy.”

Stone took a moment to think about his next words.

I can’t just say sorry. I’m not sorry. I’m not. Why should I be? I didn’t do anything.

“Funny thing, he called me up earlier and asked when you were coming home. Said he was worried or something. So I thought I would help out and go looking.”

Keeva nodded, biting her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling.

“What a Good Samaritan without any ulterior motives,” she said and scratched her forehead. “I planned to roam the downtown and drown my sorrows in cheap alcohol - but now I’m tempted to come with you, not gonna lie.”

Silence.

“Kim was asking about you.”

Stone just couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of justice when her face dropped, red with embarrassment.

“Oh. Oh, shit. The gig,” she whispered and dragged the rim of his stolen beanie over her eyes.

“Yup,” he added. The good feeling didn’t last long, though. When Keeva lifted the blue wool again, she looked crushed.

“Fucking hell. I promised him, too. He got some new humbuckers and wanted to show me,” she whined.

Okay, I’m done grilling.

“I think they’re all hanging around, we’ll still catch them if we hurry,” he said and looked at his watch.

What Stone hadn’t realized was that the chest pocket of his denim jacket wasn’t sown in mind with three boxes of Trojans stuffed inside. One of the boxes peeked out just where the logo was.

Keeva darted between it and his face and slowly broke into a smirk. It took him a few moments to realize what was going on.

“Hm. Bet we will,” she hummed and let him simmer in the moment before pointing at his pocket. “Saw the two plus one ad on the way. Good deal.”

Now it was his turn to look at her as if she dropped boiling water on the top of his head.

“What’s that face for, pretty boy?” she mused as she got up from the stool and started packing up the record. “I’m glad you’re responsible, Stoney. The world has way too many fathers.”

Then, she patted his chest and snaked around him to get to the counter. She handed the album to the teen, along with a few cents for the listening booth.

“Ta, Mickey. Have a good one,” she mumbled and looked back at Stone, waving at him to come with her. He had to take a deep breath before following her outside.

Do you feel uncomfortable enough, you idiot?

When they stepped out, Keeva hooked her arm in his and huddled closer to Stone before setting off.

The silence was overwhelming for him.

“You hungry? I’ll make pancakes when we get home,” he chimed in. If his tone came out awkward, Keeva knew better than to comment on it. She just gasped.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, no?” he repeated with a chuckle.

“That will erase any progress you’ve made in charming me so far,” she explained, shaking her head. Stone gasped as well.

“Oh, no.”

“They tasted like a trampled chunk of a tyre last time,” she muttered and scrunched her nose.

“They might be delicious today, you’ll never know unless you try ‘em,” he giggled. Keeva poked his side.

“You think your skills have evolved?”

“Only one way to find out,” he shrugged.

“Alright. I will trust you but only because you have that fancy first-aid course certificate on the shelf,” she said with a barely straight face before breaking into a cackle. “Christ, you’re such a nerd.”

Stone huffed.

“At least I don’t have a replica of that stone from Dark Crystal next to my bed. You know, like someone,” he softly pushed her and she staggered.

“It’s a crystal, not a stone. Not everything is about you, stoner.”

Keeva didn’t plan to cause another wave of silence. He shrugged.

Yeah. It’s not.

“You slept well?” she said after a few minutes of walking, carefully tugging at his arm. “I heard you tossing and turning all night.”

Stone shuddered and closed his eyes for a second, hoping that she wouldn’t notice.

Fuck, how do you even word that?

‘Yep, had a nightmare where all my friends were dead junkies. Your playing woke me up so I climbed up to stare at you through the gap in your curtains like a creep. Yeah, and I saw your nipples. Cranked off to it later, too. Oh, and the song was beautiful, by the way.’

“Yeah. I guess I had a bad dream or something,” he replied, content that he managed to keep his voice from shaking.

Keeva nudged him again and her eyebrows knitted into a worried frown.

“Hey, stranger,” she said sweetly. “You know that you can tell me anything, right?”

Stone couldn’t help but scoff.

I can’t even tell that shit to myself.

“Okay, tone the therapist act way down, sweetheart,” he nudged her back. He immediately felt bad for being crass, because Keeva just shook her head and mumbled a barely audible apology.

“Thanks,” he added into the deafening silence. “I’m fine. Really, I’m fine. Fine.”

“One more time and I’ll believe you,” she squinted at him. Stone snorted.

“I’m fine.”

“Sounds like you’re fine,” she shrugged and squeezed his arm. He sharply exhaled.

Do it, coward. Stay uncomfortable.

“I heard you play last night, it was really pretty.”

She hiccuped and he could see her cheeks flooded with red again, even in the dim night.

“Oh shit, did I wake you up? Stoney, I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m such an idiot -” she rambled, but he interrupted her.

“No, no. I woke up on my own.”

Bullshitting your way through life - revolutionary.

“I’ll try to be more quiet next time, sorry,” she lamented.

“No, it’s okay, Baby. I barely heard you. In fact, you better turn that shit up or I’ll have to crawl up there,” he raised his index finger and poked her cheek.

Keeva’s embarrassment was quickly put on hold as she spotted a moment to take a jab at him.

“What, to peep at me through the keyhole, you perv?” she snickered.

Shit.

“You don’t have a keyhole,” Stone deadpanned.

“Irrelevant. Any hole of mine is a pay-per-view affair, pal.”

He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry.

“You can put a little piggy bank on the stairs. I’ll make sure to throw in a few coins before I come up next time.”

Oh, fuck. Oh, no. Oh fuck, oh no.

Keeva looked at him with a triumphant grin.

“I knew it.”

No the fuck you didn’t.

“I knew you were an A-grade freak under that careless punky coat of yours,” she added, tugging at his denim jacket. Stone couldn’t hold back a shaky exhale.

Oof.

When they walked a couple of feet without a word, she cleared her throat.

“This is usually the point where you’re expected to laugh at the punchline.”

“Have you ever considered that you just might not be funny enough?” Stone shot back, rubbing his nose.

Nailed it.

“Not funny enough to you? No,” Keeva shrugged and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I forgot,” she grunted after a while. “Looks like you’re not the only one with a sieve for a brain, so that’s a good thing for you.”

“You really never fail to be a ray of sunshine,” he scoffed, jumping when she let out a loud gasp and squeezed him even closer.

“Oh! Hot and annoying?”

“Exactly,” he said with a wide smile and enjoyed the view as she closed her mouth and started blushing again.

“He was really good about it. Regan, you know,” Stone said as another few moments passed. “Understanding. He wished us luck and said that he hopes we’ll still get to play together sometime. He wanted to let you know that he’s alright so you wouldn’t worry, but you weren’t home.”

Keeva nodded. Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, but he knew that she wouldn’t let it go until she talked to Regan face to face.

Stone hesitated to continue. His throat burned as he tried to push down the tequila shots he’d had. This day was making him sick.

Leave it to Stone. Perfect.

“And, uh, he asked if he can stop by tomorrow night, wanted to talk about Andy. Something’s up with him again.”

“Oh.”

The cold facade that suddenly hardened her features was somewhat familiar to him.

Oh, don’t you learn this from me. Don’t learn anything from me, actually.

“I’m sure it’s just something silly. Might be about that new girl of his, don’t worry,” he tried to save the situation, but she just scoffed.

“Yeah - girl problems or smack problems? Pick your poison.”

Keeva’s frigid tone sent chills down Stone’s spine as he opened the door of The OK Hotel for her. Before he could say anything to soothe her, she put on a brave face and gave him an unassuming smirk.

He hadn’t noticed that a few feet behind him, Betty was waiting at the bar, having a beer.

She wildly waved at them.

“Well, lookit here,” Keeva mused and waved back. “It’s Mel’s friend. The one you didn’t fuck yet, too, how convenient.”

When Stone turned around and didn’t say anything, she knowingly chuckled.

“That’s my cue. Have fun, Stoney. And make it quick, I beg you. I’m not gonna wait in front of the bathrooms for an hour like last time.”

You’re not gonna what?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he questioned with raised eyebrows.

“I needed to wash my hands but you were too busy fucking someone’s brains out in there,” she nonchalantly shrugged as Stone froze.

He recovered pretty quickly, though. At least that’s what he thought.

“They didn’t teach you how to knock?” he shot back, harshly knocking on Keeva’s forehead.

“They did,” she shrugged again and then broke into a sly grin. “You were audibly enjoying yourself, though. What kind of a friend would I be to spoil a good time for you?”

Oh, don’t do this to me.

“Or I could’ve been having a terrible time and you failed to save me,” he tried to wiggle out of it with his best silver-tongued tone, but Keeva didn’t budge.

In fact, she laughed in his face.

“I’m not a stupid child, Stoney. Just a mentally ill virgin,” she said and gave him a moment to laugh. When he didn’t and continued to blankly stare at her, she delivered another blow.

“Plus, it’s encouraging to know you’re not always being a sarcastic prick. Never expected to hear such nice words leave your mouth.”

Stone wanted to speak. He wanted to shoot her down with some stupid acidic remark, give her a disarming smirk and drown in the deliciously victorious feeling of seeing her flustered, but his mind was blank.

Numb.

He just allowed her to pat the condom-stuffed pocket and snicker as she was leaving.

“And I kinda liked all those sighs of yours - you know, from afar. Makes you more human.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

#90s music #grunge fanfiction #mother love bone #pearl jam #pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #pearl jam imagine #stone gossard fanfic #stone gossard fanfiction #stone gossard x oc #band fic #stone gossard

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years

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Worth More Than You Know (Black Clover)

Heyo! A request by the lovely 🌙 anon, here at last! :D Thank you so much for giving me the chance to write Yunleo once again! (And thank you so much for the kind words, I appreciate it!)

Because the request itself contained spoilers, I’m going to add it at the end :D I hope you like it friend!

Spoilers for The Royal Knights Exam (Chapters 112-133/ Episodes 73-87 of the Manga/Anime!)

When things didn’t go the way Leopold planned, he handles it in two ways.

The first way is to train like crazy and improve. A magic move failed? Put more hours into improving his flame. He wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, defensive enough? Train his muscles harder and stronger to support his actions next time. Had a bad day and is in a mental funk? Even more training- nothing in particular, but it gets his mind off the problem for at least a while.

The other way he handles it comes after he’s exhausted himself with training. This is where Yuno found him now.

“Hey…are you alright?” He asked softly as he walked up to the brooding redhead. Leopold tended to hide in the oddest of places when things went wrong. He would fade out for hours- only reappearing when he’d gotten over it or his physical needs like hunger outweighed his defeat. Today, he was hiding under a large bridge, back against the support structure. “I brought you some food.”

Leopold didn’t answer, head against his knees and body slumped. Yuno felt his heart twinge with guilt. The results of the Royal Knights Exam had passed, and Leopold failed to make the cut. Yuno was successful in getting in, but it felt bittersweet seeing his boyfriend this way. They both knew it was out of their hands who got picked, but it didn’t make the ordeal any better.

“I’ll leave it here.” Yuno placed the wrapped up plate of food beside Leopold’s heels, standing to go. “I should-”

“Wait.” Leopold’s hand reached out, gently wrapping around Yuno’s wrist. “Please. Stay?”

Yuno sat down without a second thought.

A silence passed, neither boy knowing what to say. Leopold’s hand was warm against his wrist, his thumb brushing the pulse point back and forth like a slow metronome. Finally, it was Yuno who broke first. “I’m sorry, Leopold.”

“Huh? Why?” The redhead looked up, eyes wide with surprise. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But the Royal Knights Exam…I got in and you didn’t.” The words felt harsh in Yuno’s soft voice, making him flinch. “I know you wanted to be on the mission…”

“You don’t need to apologize for that. I’m happy for you, really.” Leopold smiled, leaning up and kissing his boyfriend’s cheek. “You were absolutely incredible out there.”

“So were you.” Yuno relaxed some, smiling back. “You were like a blazing star.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t blaze quite enough.” Leopold sighed and leaned into Yuno, resting his head against his shoulder. “If only I moved a second faster.”

“A second late today is a minute earlier tomorrow.” Yuno mused, enclosing their hands so he could give him a comforting squeeze. “That’s what Sister Lily always told us when things went out of hand. Next time you’ll do better.”

“But what if next time a second is too late?” Leopold argued. “I mean- look what happened to Fuegoleon-”

“That wasn’t your fault.” Yuno cut in.

“You don’t know that.” Leopold snapped before taking a breath. “I’m sorry. You're right- I know it’s not my fault but…I just feel so weak compared to them, you know? Like; my brother and my sister are incredible. They’re captains, they save lives, they’re true Vermillions. They’ve paved a road from the flames of their will, and I can’t even get the fire started for mine.” He shook his head, voice growing soft. “If I can’t even pass an exam, how am I to ever catch up with them, you know?”

Yuno chewed on his lip in thought, letting everything sink in as he searched for the right words to say. “I’m not…the best at words. Nor am I the best to give you advice on this kind of thing. But if there is one thing I know, it’s that you don’t need to worry about catching up with them.” When Leopold raised an eyebrow, he carried on. “When I was a kid, I was a big cry baby. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself and got stressed out easily. It was so bad that I couldn’t do anything when an old drunk took something precious of mine.

“And then there was Asta. He was loud and determined- he always knew exactly how to handle the things I couldn’t, and when that mean old man took my precious thing, Asta got it back for me, even when he was nearly beaten to death. He was like a superhero then.” A soft smile touched his lips at the memory. “In a way, he still is.

“Even with all that though, there were days when things got really frustrating. I still couldn’t do the stuff he could, and I felt so far away from him. It took a long time, but eventually I got there. Eventually, I was strong enough to stand by Asta’s side, and I did it my own way. I’m sure he thinks the same thing.

“The point is- just because you aren’t where you want to be right now, it doesn’t mean you’re weak. You’re just at a wall, and eventually you’ll find a way to get over it. You're strong, really strong. And you're determined, and incredibly talented. You’ll catch up to them in time, so don’t let this one exam determine your worth.”

Leopold was quiet as he listened, taking it all in. When he spoke, his voice sounded a tad heavy. “Heh, when’d you get to be so good at making me feel better?”

“Found a manual on it.” Yuno replied.

Leopold laughed, the sound gentle and warm. When he turned his gaze to Yuno properly, his eyes were misty. “Thank you. Really. I..I needed to hear that.”

Yuno smiled softly, leaning in and pressing another kiss to his temple.

Just then, his stomach growled.

“Heh, guess my appetite is back. Is the food still warm?” Leopold asked, turning to the plate Yuno brought.

~~~

“That was amazing. Sister Rapual doesn’t cook all that often, but when she does, it’s delicious.” Leopold sighed dreamily against Yuno’s lap, his head resting on his thigh as the other ran his fingers along his spine. “Especially her Apple Crumble. What did you think?”

“It truly is tasty. Though I think Sister Lily’s potato pancakes were better.” In all fairness, he hasn’t had them in awhile, but if Yuno was anything, it was loyal.

“You and your potatoes. Though those Hage ones she sent you were pretty tasty.” Leopold shifted some when Yuno’s fingers trailed close to his ribs. “Did you guys ask for them on your birthday? You and Asta.”

“Sometimes. Well, a lot of the time. Ingredients for cake are hard to come by.” There was no bitterness in Yuno’s voice, only fond memories upon waking up with Asta excitedly telling him Sister Lily made a feast. “I think it turned out for the better- I don’t really like sweets.”

“I think you’re the first person I've met who doesn’t.” Leopold squirmed when the fingers grazed his ribs again, a small smile pulling on his lips. “Such an odd character, you are.”

“Says the guy who declares rivals like Wizard cards.” Yuno teased, properly tickling him this time. Leopold huffed out a laugh, but didn’t make any moves to get up. “If I’m odd, you’re whatever’s beyond that.”

“Ehehehe! I dhoohohn’t think thehehere’s anything beyohohond oohohohdd!” Leopold pressed his face into Yuno’s thigh, squirming a little here and there. “Yoohohhohou’re the ohohohohohoddehehehehest person Iihiihihve ehehehehver met!”

“Sure I am.” Yuno rolled his eyes fondly, continuing his gentle scratches while the redhead giggled below him. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to sass me right now given the vulnerable position you're in. It’s like you're asking me to tickle you.”

“Mahahahhahaybe I ahahahaham.” Leopold boldly declared, earning a surprised but amused look from the other. “So thehehehheere!”

“Your funeral.” Yuno replied simply, his hand stretching completely out for full access along Leopold’s side. Despite his words though, the tickles never grew intense, staying gentle as he vibrated his hand along his side. Leopold tried to muffle a squeak when said fingers inched towards his armpits, though his attempts were all in vain. Every stretch of the other’s hand earned a whisper of a laugh, further reddening the smaller boy’s cheeks and increasing his smile.

“Take back calling me odd? Or am I gonna have to get serious?” Yuno asked, letting his hand rest on the edge of Leopold’s upper ribs. “What’s it going to be?”

Leopold remained stubbornly silent, brows furrowed as he dared a pouty glare up at his boyfriend. Even so, Yuno could feel his heart racing, the same way it always did when he was presented a challenge.

“I’m not scared of you! Bring it on!”

Yuno laughed, eyes bright. “Alright then.”

This time, he didn’t hold back.

~~~

“Eh…hehe…yohohohu’re mehehehan.” Leopold gasped out, lying on his side as he giggled weakly.

“I gave you the chance to take it back.” Yuno lightly nudged him, easing back against the stony wall behind them. “Stubborn as ever.”

Leopold huffed before shuffling over, leaning into Yuno’s shoulder once more. When he looked up at him, his eyes were no longer sad. “You love it.”

“I do. You feel better?” Yuno asked, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah…yeah, I do.” Leopold nodded, sitting up with newfound determination. “I’m gonna do better next time. When the Kingdom sees me again, I’ll have a whole new spell mastered!” He hopped to his feet then, running to the opening of the bridge. Taking a breath, he yelled out to the sky.

“YOU HERE THAT WORLD? YOU MIGHT HAVE PUT ME DOWN NOW, BUT I’LL GET THERE! BE READY!” The fire mage turned back to Yuno, grinning brighter than the sun. “How was that, did I sound cool?”

Yuno’s laughing was all the answer he got. Leopold took it in stride.

I hope this was good!

#black clover #yuno #leopold vermillion #tickle #tickle fic #light angst #lots of comfort for our flame mage #black clover spoilers #black clover manga spoilers #yunleo my beloved #fluff and comfort

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toxicnorn · 1 year

Text

i didn't really do this for the sake of nostalgia but i was looking through some past blogs and internet IDs of mine

i'm a very different person from who i was when i originally joined tumblr. i approach writing in a very different way. my opinions on a lot of things have changed a lot. i really cannot give two shits about most discourse nowadays that i used to have opinions on.

when it comes to creative work, i had a lot more energy and confidence, but this was a double-edged sword because for a long period of time, i was single-handedly focused on rp as a distraction from some real heavy shit irl and my fandom stuff wasn't necessarily healthy for me. this is something i've struggled with on and off over the years because i tend to latch really hard to fiction and characters when things are bad. i wrote some really good sentences though and some good characters. i keep trying to recreate the same feelings by recycling characters, but they're different each time because nostalgia's a false thing and you can't just make the same thing twice but different and expect it to be the same.

my latest attempts at fic and rp are trying to come from a different source, which i think is healthier in the long run.

i was like super depressed from 2014-2018 and then the election pummeled me into a different funk for two years, which was better in some ways but worse in others. around 2019, i was finally able to move out of my parents' house for some time. it wasn't very far but it did help me clear my head a bit.

then 2020 happened. i moved back in with my parents for a few months and it was kind of awful, but then i moved back and things were actually better on my end for a bit, but i was still very weird and squirrelish.

2021 happened somewhere along those lines and i don't remember most of 2021 because it was a hell year of going to doctor's appointments until the very end of it. i moved across the country in 2022 to be with my gf (hey bb love you very much if you are reading this) and for the first time maybe ever, i feel like i'm in a pretty good place. i know that there is a still a lot of work ahead of me to figure out How to Be A Person 101 and get over my hangups but i'm really happy.

anyway, when your creative output has been based entirely on distracting yourself from blue moods up until now, it's a bit wild trying to readjust your brain to go "hey, actually, it's okay to like things just to like them, you can fuel yourself with other emotions, having characters that live in your head is not cringe or something." i'm having fun though, even if i can't manage the output that i'd like to.

this isn't me gloomyposting btw. i think if anything, it's the opposite because things are pretty okay. i might have issues that creatively frustrate me and i might have flaws i'm trying to work on and of course learning How To Social is always an ongoing effort and we aren't even getting into the ongoing saga of Getting My Bran To Work On Medication (on one hand, it's been great because i have the least amount of anxiety than i have ever had in my life; on the other hand, my brain feels like it's two feet out of reach more days than i'd like it to and i'm really frustrated by the fact that i cannot make the connections between thoughts and actions, like my brain just stutters before comprehending that ii should do very basic actions), but all in all, things are great and i'm excited for the future.

there are a lot of people i've lost track of that vanished off tumblr after 2018. i realized a small handful of people were assholes. some of the people i used to know seem to have fallen off the fact of the internet entirely and i doubt i'll ever learn what happened to them. at least one of my very early internet friends died, klim. i don't really know what happened to most of the people i knew in those days when i was on gaia online but i hope that they're doing well. i was a very different person when i was on that site but i was also 16, so of course i was.

anyway, i talk different now. i communicate differently. my internet voice has changed. i used to use random caps for everything. i don't capitalize shit anymore and you can't make me.

i don't really want to get back into the mindsets of me of years prior, but i do want to be able to tap into that well of creative potential because it seemed like i had so much energy for writing, for talking about writing, for sharing and brainstorming and thinking. i know that i am a person capable of writing a novella in the same of a few weeks so i want to regain that.

but i want to have more fun with it this time. i want it to belong to me and not belong to various plagues and maladies. i think deep down, there is a part of me that misses being nine and thinking i had invented fanfiction and talking about my zelda fic with all my friends without a hint of self-consciousness, but, like, with less 1999 going on because the 90s normalized a lot of shit that's not great.

anyway i don't really know where i'm going with this, so i am going to rotate characters in my mind before i go to bed

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star-anise · 3 years

Text

I'm up around 3am, thinking about incels and tradwives. (Note: If these are movements you're a fan of, or if you just want to fight with me generally, I will block you if you annoy me, and even if you behave there's a $20 fee if you expect me to actually reply to you in any way.)

This got started because of Khadija Mbowe's and F.D Signifier's videos about Black patriarchy, which has led me to pick up bell hooks' 2004 book The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love.

The thing that hooks says that really knocked my socks off in a "how dare you notice that" way is that a lot of people, men and women alike, are angry not just because of the male violence they've experienced, but because of the lack of male love they've experienced.

Which like, part of being human means that being seen and cared about is pretty viscerally equated with survival in our brains. We want it, we need it, we suffer when it isn't there. To be seen and genuinely loved by the people in our lives matters, so we are always affected when there's someone important to us who doesn't seem to see us, to love us, to care about our wellbeing, or to be proud of our accomplishments. It matters to be disregarded, rejected, or shamed by someone we want to love us.

But no power in the world can compel another person to give a shit about you—a truth most of us spend our lives frantically suppressing because being unloved is terrifying, so we work at being better, more attractive, smarter, more accomplished, more charming, sexier, or to be brutally honest, more lovable. But when we do experience a lack of love, a lot of us take that anger and decide to opt for second best. If we can't be loved, we can at least be powerful. Power can take a lot of forms, but because the lack of male love often goes hand-in-hand with violence, people who face it generally want, at the very least, to not be hurt anymore.

But there's another element in play. Patriarchal gender roles divide behaviours and skills in a very particular way: Boys and men are expected to use power to dominate, and girls and women are supposed to use emotions to tend and nurture. Anyone who fails to perform those roles gets harshly punished. Terrence Real talks about how this leaves men with very limited knowledge of their own emotional needs or how to communicate them to other people, and Paul Kivel talks about how boys are taught that this is women's work—that if they are masculine enough, they will attract a woman who will make sure that they feel loved and cared about. How a great deal of men's anger towards women is the feeling that women are witholding this essential service, or failing to fully handle men's emotions (which is pretty damn common, since humans aren't telepaths so it's basically impossible to reach inside someone's head and change their emotions for them).

So hooks notes that women are just as likely to uphold patriarchal gender roles as men, and one element of that is women's anger when men are emotionally vulnerable. Men who confess to their partners that they feel lost and ashamed and unworthy of love are doing exactly what women keep saying we want men to do, but the reaction many women have is a kind of incredulous frustration—"You want me to handle all this? Fuck no, I'm busy!"

Part of that reaction is that in patriarchal gender roles, it is a woman's literal job to completely soothe and manage her male partner's emotions—to diligently praise him, make him feel more accomplished, and to reassure him of her ongoing love and admiration in all things. And that is a lot of work that is quite likely not to succeed because it's really hard to talk someone out of a self-hating funk. (There's also an element of just plain sexism. Even without the implied demand for help, some women just think men's vulnerability is pathetic or laughable.)

The feminist response to this that hooks, Real, and Kivel advocate for is to spread the load a little more evenly; to work to reduce the violence with which gender roles are policed, to allow men to be soft and emotional, but in the process, give them the emotional skills to handle the shame and dread we all feel sometimes about not being lovable or or worthy, and empower them to form many different emotionally fulfilling relationships.

So the thing about incels is, they tend to be obsessed with finding a woman who will make them feel worthy, sexy, accomplished, admirable, and dominant, like a "real man". The prospect of getting a woman is the single potential oasis of love and support in an incredibly bleak desert landscape in which a romantic partnership is the only possible source men are permitted to seek love and care from. A man who hasn't gotten a girl is a pathetic loser whose life is meaningless.

What that entire worldview takes for granted is how the desert became a desert in the first place. How boys learn to fear the violence and rejection that comes from stepping out of their gender role by being emotionally vulnerable or by emotionally nurturing somebody else; how emotional knowledge and expression are punished by a system that says men should always seek to dominate. The desire for a female partner rests on a bedrock of learned fear and contempt for the idea that men can or even should have the kind of emotionally close and supportive friendships among themselves that women tend to have with each other.

Incels are the fucking allegory of the long spoons in action. They gather in huge numbers to discuss their pain, frustration, and disappointment about their difficulty attaining a relationship that provides emotional fulfillment, but it's impossible for them to try to seek or offer that kind of relationship with the many many people right there also looking for love, because violating the gender rules means inviting violence and ostracism. Affection and mutual esteem between men is super gay and doesn't count, especially when it's provided because of a mutual vulnerability instead of admiration for achievement. So it's incredibly hard for incels to in any way break out of the mental cage that says the way to be loved is to be as masculine, as stoic and unemotional and successful and admirable and dominant as possible. And because being dominant tends to require people to be better than, incels spend a lot of time criticizing each other for failing to be masculine enough, and therefore not worthy of love.

Meanwhile... tradwives.

If you're into men, the dream of being truly loved by a man who will take care of you and make your life materially better is fucking amazing stuff. That's just... that's just The Dream, okay? The romance industry's extreme popularity decade after decade will tell you what bell hooks also notes: Women who are into men want to be loved by men SO MUCH.

So it really seems to me that the basic appeal of being a tradwife is managing to be submissive enough to get the men they love to genuinely show up and fully commit to loving them. If conflict in relationships happen because men feel threatened in their masculinity or not fully loved by their wives, then gosh darnit, these women will plaster themselves over the cracks to make sure there are absolutely no problems. That will earn them a relationship where they are truly loved and appreciated.

(It's a trap. I hate to say it, but we're not a telepathic species, and you will never manage to be good enough to actually change what someone else feels. No matter how hard you submit, your husband will still feel moments of doubt and fear and inadequacy, because he's human and we're built like that. It's the cross we have to bear as a species. And it does not go well at all if both of you are used, in those moments, for blaming you for whatever you "did" to "make" him feel that way.)

#long post #staranise original #feminist discourse

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flowertot-s · 3 years

Note

*surprise shawty!!*

How would Cove help take care of a sick MC? Or just an MC who’s feeling down in one way or another? Please and thank you ♥️♥️♥️

its been a minute whoopsie daisies, gonna try and get back into the swing of writing for like the fifth time in six months lmao

cove comfort headcanons inbound for my fave

cove is awkward and clunky just. in general, we know this

its a little hard for him to immediately know how to comfort you cause he doesn’t have great instincts or intuition when it comes to that kind of thing

and so he may accidentally cause more harm than good in times like these (case in point; the talks moment from step 3 if you ask him to leave you alone for a while)

his style of comfort depends entirely on the situation but can be split into three main situations: you’re sick, you’re depressed, and you’re having an argument

sick comfort:

personal nurse cove incoming

lets be real here he has no idea what the hell he’s doing

will absolutely freak out and be dramatic over it when its not even a big deal

tbh he’s probably more worried than you are right now

if you’re cold/flu sick he’ll bring you blankets, soup, hot/cold compresses, anything your little heart desires, he also will absolutely kiss and cuddle you despite your warnings that he’ll catch whatever you have

he insists he’s just built different

spoiler alert he’s not and now HE’S the one who needs comfort

if you’re sick in the stomach, throwing up, nauseous, hungover, or you have some kind food poisoning he won’t even hesitate to hold your hair back while you puke into the toilet

he’s surprisingly not an empathetic vomiter so he won’t even flinch while cleaning up puke, what a man

he’ll brush your hair to make you feel less gross and will be at your beck and call for absolutely anything and everything

will INSIST that you eat like he’s a nursemaid or some shit, no matter how hard you try to argue (and hey, if you chuck it all back up you get to say “i told you so”)

overall, mediocre nurse but a very good teddy bear 9.5/10

depressed comfort:

cove doesn’t really. Get how to comfort someone who’s depressed

i don’t see him as the kind of person to struggle with this kind of thing and so he doesn’t necessarily really know how to comfort you right off the bat

may or may not do something absolutely stupid and upset you even more but please forgive him, he’s trying his best and has nothing but good intentions

if you want your space he’ll give it to you but he’ll always send you messages just to check up on you, may even just sit outside your door or in another room till you want to see him

if you want him to comfort you he absolutely will, but if you don’t want him to talk please say so or else he’ll jabber your ear off (very good for if you want to distract yourself though)

you won’t even have to lift a finger, he’s doing whatever you need him to do before you can even ask

he’s more of an Acts Of Service love language kind of guy in my head, he’s more about showing that he loves you through his actions rather than his words (cove suffers chronic Foot-in-Mouth disorder) and so he’s usually showing that he cares about you through his actions while you’re in a funk

overall, he’s not great at dealing with this at first but once he gets the hang of it he’s a natural

argument comfort:

this one is. a little complicated

cove tends to kind of shut down during arguments and so it can kind of come across like he’s being dismissive of you or trying to ignore what you have to say

he’s not trying to come across that way, but unfortunately he never knows how to deal with these kinds of situations and so instead of fighting or fleeing, he just straight up freezes

he might accidentally lash out but it’s not because he’s mad, he’s just stressed out and anxious at this whole sitch

he doesn’t deal with arguments very well because of his parent’s track record but is determined to do better by you

after the yelling stops it can go one of two ways;

1. you try to make up with him and talk it through, which cove definitely prefers over option 2. he’ll be as physically affectionate as you’re comfortable with and is constantly reassuring you that he hears you and that your feelings are valid

2. you can’t reach a resolution and don’t want to sleep in the same bed as him. this absolutely breaks his heart but he does understand why. if you lock yourself in the bedroom he’ll sleep outside like a dog until you decide you want to start talking again. overall, he’s not happy about it but he’s respectful of your boundaries and receptive to what you need in the moment

damn i could defs write some more headcanons abt cove and arguments if u want em lmao

#it’s been so long since i’ve used these tags oml #good to be back besties #our life #our life beginnings & always #ol:ba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #saf writes #headcanons

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kaz11283 · 3 years

Text

Of Course I'm Here

Characters: Come on you know by now how this goes (Loki x you) (Team x you, platonic)

Warnings: None. And really if you ever see anything that I might need to able as a warning please let me know... I'm the person who forgets there are people out there that get offened by the word F*** if that is an exapmle of anything.

Summary: Mid battle and the avengers keep looking for an answer as to why the God of Lies hasnt showed up yet. Of course you have no idea but at least he proves them all wrong.

ANNOUNCEMENT TIME: hey guys Im back, I know it hasnt been long but I also know I havent been posting every single day like I was, i got into a weird little funk where I didnt want to do anything, I was just feeling completly drained, and I felt bad because I have my little and I didnt even want to play with her because I have just been so TIRED, but I'm feeling better. Work has been kicking my ass here lately and ive been working over 50 hours a week so ive literally been coming in, eatting / feeding the little, getting us ready for bed, and crashing as soon as she falls asleep. But im here now. I will probably be more active on weekends than during the week because I have more time to spend working on stuff but I will be posting also during the week just not daily. At least until after state comes. Thank you so much for the reblogs, likes, comments, follows, and messages please keep them coming! If you would like to be tagged please ask or message, and requests are open. Love you guys so much! 💚💚💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

~~~~~

"Y/N, BACK UP I NEED BACK UP! EYES IN THE SKY!" Tony yelled from above, you and Clint stood back to back on a roof top shooting as many bad guys as you could. Clint took aim at another carrier, shooting at the engine causing the entire thing to blow up raining debris and hot metal around you.

"Damnit Clint! Farther away make sure they are farther away!" You yelled popping him on the head with an arrow before aiming it at the thing that was chasing Tony.

"Where is lover boy at? You.sent him the location right?" Nat asked into the com.

"Yes I sent him the location, no I dont know where hes at." You mocked.

"Did you send him the right location?" Sam asked.

"One time, one dam-"

"Language!" Steve chimed in causing everyone to groan. Gun shots where ringing all around you and you could here metal on metal paired with Hulk screams coming from another building over.

"Language." You mocked muting your com son that no one but Clint heard you. "I am a 26 year old woman, I think I'm old enough to cuss if I want." You drew back your bow and sent another arrow flying into another goon that had Nat trapped aginst a wall. She shot you a thumbs up before running off. You hit unmute on your com.

"Jesus, 26? Baby, you sure you don't need to be at a babysitter instead of on a building killing things?" He laughed.

"Dont worry Hawk, when we get done here I've already booked you a nice nursing home to be put into." You put your bow around you and stood on the edge of the building. "I need a better view." You looked round, the top of a taller building caught you eye. "There Hawk, we can cover a better radius from up there, get closer to the action."

"DOES ANYONE KNOW WHEN THE GODS ARE GOING TO BE HERE? WE NEED MORE HELP WERE GETTING TIRED AND OUT NUMBERED!" Tony came over the coms screaming.

"How do we get up there? Or do I even wanna know?" Hawk came to examin where you were talking about.

"Im jumping, you cant tell me that someone wont catch me." You shrug.

"GODS WHERE ARE TH- Y/N DONT YOU DARE JUMP!" Tony stopped and hovered right were you was standing.

"Then take us over there. We need higher ground, we cant cover everyone from down here." You crossed your arms.

"Where are the gods at y/n?" He asked again

"I. Dont. Know. Jesus you guys act like I'm suppose to be there keeper!" A simultaneous you are came from everone through the com causing you to roll your eyes. "Hes gonna be here I swear it! Now take me to the building or I jump. 1.....2....-" Tony grabbed you by the collar of your jacket and flew you to the building.

God these things were everywhere and you were starting to run out of arrows. After shooting another ship and causing it to blow you heard what was unmistakably pounding on the roof top door leading to where you currently was at.

"I have some univited guests about to join my party. Anyone available for some assistance?" You yanked out the two emerald green and silver daggars that your boyfriend had given you not long after you had started dating after throwing your bow around you.

"Buy some time kid, I'm on ground level right now but I can try to get up there as fast as possible." Bucky called over the com.

"Buy some time? Ok. I can do this. I work better from afar but a little hand to hand never hurt anyone, just easier to get stabbed this way." The first of the things busted through the door running straight at you. You jerked out of the way missing his staff by just a few inches. Quickly turning you flipped the dagger like Loki had showed you and stabbed him in his side causing him to fall to the ground before the next one tried to impale you.

"I have two daggers and they have freaking staffs! Back up! WHERE THE HELL AR-" you were interupted by static in the air and a bright light. The bitfrost had just opened up leaving to gods standing in front of you and taking out the remainder ofnthe bad guys. "HES HERE! I TOLD YOU GUYS THEY WERE COMING AND THEY'RE HERE." You pulled two extra coms from you pocket and gave them to Thor and Loki.

"Always a pleasure to battle beside you Lady y/n." Thor smiled takkng the com and putting it in his ear before taking off again.

Loki sauntered over to you and put his arm around you waist, you put the com in his ear as he rolled his eyes. He leaned down and gave you a quick kiss.

"You got a new outfit." You smiled at him. God the way he looked in his battle clothe always did something to you, the horned helment was a plus.

"You like it." He smirked down at you pulling you closer.

"Your wearing your horns to." You reached up and brushed a peice if hair behind his ear.

"STOP. STOP NOW. WE CAN HEAR EVERYTHING AND ITS GROSS." Tony yelled causing you both to roll your eyes.

"Quick run down, bad guys everywhere, no end in sight, and I'm out of arrows pretty sure Hawk is too." Loki waved his hand over your quiver making more arrows appear.

"I see you had to use your daggers. I am sorry for not being here. Are you hurt anywhere?" He asked stepping away from you to examin you.

"Small cut on the side, nothing I havent dealt with before, Ill be fine. You go make sure Hawk is fully stocked up and help the others. I got a birds eye view of you right here." I leaned in kissing him one more time before smiling at him and pushing him away. He kissed his two finger before placimg them over his heart and you did the same, "always." You both said before he disappered.

You could hear Thor laughing at the chaos going on and Steve trying to direct the god of thunder on what to do. You had learned earlier to just let him do his own thing and he would be fine. Tony was still trying to micromanage everything when you heard Loki mumble something in an old language and his com cut out. You had figured it wouldnt have stayed on to long though but at least you had tried. It had calmed down up on your end so you decided to finally go back down to where Clint was at shooting an arrow with heavy duty rope you glided back down next to him to watch what was going on.

"Hello, earth to y/n." He snapped his fingers in front of your face. You had been to busy staring at Loki and that damn helmet. "I dont even understand why were friends." He rolled his eyes propping up on the ledge watching as the rest of the team secured the last of the bad guys.

"Because we both shoot arrows, because we are both the best in the team, or because we both know we are the best looking one on the team so we have to stick together." You laughed jumping up so you could sit on the ledge.

"The birds can come out of their nest now." Bucky called over the coms causing you both to sigh.

When you and Clint had reached the bottom you walked over to Thor theowing your arms around the big goof ball.

"You are amazing during battle as always." He beemed patting you on the shoulder.

"As always? Thor youve only fought with her twice." Steve said beside you.

"I had a week off. Went to Asguard, spent time with the boys. Someone had to keep them in line." You shrugged like it was no big deal.

"She was amazing!" Thor went on telling the story of the fight you had all gotten into.

"Mothers been asking about you by the way dear. Wants to know if you've decided to come stay for a while." Loki leaned down and whispered in your ear.

"I think I'm leaning toward a yes. I can't stand being away from you, you had been gone forever this time." You reached for his hand as you both walked to the quinjet.

"I was making arrangements to have our room redone. I figured you would come with me." He gave you a knowing smirk as he reached up to take off his helmet.

"Leave the horns on. I have a suprise for you when we get home." You pulled his hand away from his head and smacked his butt.

"You are a little minx." He laughed chasing you into the jet while the rest of the team groaned and rolled their eyes.

"Even if you wasnt moving i would be kicking your ass out! I am so sick of the PDA between you two." Tony hollared after you.

"Leave them alone Tony, they are courting. Im just glad my brother is happy and not trying to stab me." Thor clapped Tony on the back.

~~~~~

Tag List:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

#loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #loki avengers #loki daily #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #lokilaufeyson #loki one shot #loki (marvel)#loki imagine #loki masterlist #loki and thor

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shoutogepi · 4 years

Text

Playing “Strip Twister” with His Crush

with Bakugou Katsuki

genre : [ ✘ (NSFW!) ]

hc prompt : how would he react while playing strip twister with you?

author’s note : i’m so sorry i abandoned my prompt party & left y’all hangin :’( i’ve been in a weird writing funk lately so i apologize if this is rough <3

obviously bakugou doesn’t know how he got roped into playing this.

at first he violently denied the possibility of playing. the second the word “strip” came out of kaminari’s mouth, bakugou bristled like a cat. his eyes did that wild, half-moon look as he shot up in anger, immediately growling out that he would not take part in such a game.

kirishima had instantly countered with a “you ashamed of your body bro?” and bakugou had nearly burst into flames. he was half a step toward the redhead when kaminari asked if you would be playing.

which turned out to be a very cutely hesitant “sure”.

and just like that, the explosive blonde had found himself grumbling, his arms crossed and positioned in an faux-uninterested stance as kaminari lists out the rules. not that he’s paying attention to him anyway. no, his vermillion eyes are trained on the side of your face.

god, you look so pretty in that skirt. the possibility of getting to peek underneath the garment makes the blood under his skin turn hot, and he tears his gaze away from you, turning to glare at kaminari. your eyes are on the electric boy currently explaining the perviest version of the rules bakugou has ever heard, and he hates that a cold trickle of jealousy oozes into his veins as he frowns at your undivided attention.

he chances another glance at you to find your eyes on his own body, and he hates it even more how he can’t look away from you. you’re magnetic, radiating like a goddess. you’re fierce in an unexpected kind of way, and it makes his throat dry and his heart thump like a stupid cartoon.

the game begins and everyone is standing eagerly at the corners of the mat. bakugou tried to be a respectable one person away from you but it was mina who was at your side, and the pink-haired girl immediately winked at bakugou and slipped to the other side of the mat. her absence left an awkward hole between the two of you, and bakugou stumbled forward dopily when kirishima nudged him aside.

“right foot red” is called first, and as if it were some unspoken rule, everyone blocked off all the spots near bakugou’s feet except for the one right next to yours.

it carries on like this when “left hand yellow” and “right hand green” are called. but eventually the group’s teamwork proves successful, and you swear as you slide off the mat with a groan— you’re the first one to strip.

bakugou’s heart leaps into his throat when your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, and his eyes dart across the newly exposed skin on your stomach.

he tries so hard to tear his gaze from your chest. and yet his red orbs are glued to your black satin bra— lace curling underneath and kissing the middle of your ribs with a tiny ribbon in the middle to tie it all together. what a wonderful present. oh, how he’d love to unwrap that— unwrap you.

the entire room erupts into laughter when bakugou’s hand slips, and he crashes face-first into the twister mat.

bakugou growls in anger and embarrassment, and he rips the shirt from his shoulders almost viciously, revealing his sculpted chest and rippling abs. he wonders if you’re looking at him— if you can’t take your eyes away from him.

he smirks when he feels the heat of your stare on his skin, roving over his physique like a wave caressing the shore.

sero tumbles next, and he takes off his pants. kirishima shreds his shirt, as does mina. denki somehow has all his clothes on. apparently it is not his first time playing.

it’s nearing the end of the current game, and only bakugou and you are still upright on the mat.

bakugou, ever the competitive one, refuses to give up. he bites his tongue as he watches you twist to reach the next spot, the smooth skin of your exposed side brushing against his jean-clad thigh. the action has a fucsia flush spreading across his cheeks, and he thanks god that you’re facing away from him so you can’t see his expression.

what the explosive blonde fails to realize is that, by staying in the game for this long, he’s inadvertently forcing you to strip even further.

it dawns on him when you finally sink onto the ground in defeat, a long whine sliding from your throat.

when you move to take off a sock, denki is quick to berate you, instantly exclaiming that socks have to stay on when playing twister— had you even listened to him explain the rules?

bakugou’s jaw drops when your thumbs reluctantly dip under the top of your skirt. the most uncomfortable, timid expression he’s ever seen is plastered to your face, and for a moment he wonders what your panties look like underneath that little skirt. he obviously wants to find out.

and yet he finds himself slapping your hands away from your waist. kaminari groans as the other three share a knowing smirk. but bakugou doesn’t see any of them extras anyway. his eyes are on you.

his breath is definitely stuck midway in his lungs as he unbuckles his belt, and he holds your gaze til his pants hit the floor around his ankles. he’s wearing black boxer-briefs, extremely thankful for his bland choice of underwear this morning.

for the rest of the night, bakugou keeps his eyes away from you. little do you know, it’s because he doesn’t want to chance popping a boner— there’s no way he could hide it in this situation and that would be straight up mortifying.

when the night is finally over, bakugou grumbles as he retires to his dorm. he blushes as he sits on his bed, letting his head fall into his hands. while tonight didn’t go as smoothly as he’d hoped, he did get to see your naked chest and feel your skin on his.

after he’s brushed his teeth— albeit a bit more viciously than usual— he’s laying back onto his sheets, closing his eyes and laying his palm against his ribs. his hand is right over the spot your own had grazed, and he gulps as he recalls how his skin had nearly sizzled under your touch.

he nearly toppled off the bed when a knock on the door disrupts him— his hand tearing away from his skin as he opens his eyes. he lets out a breath at the sight of the blank, dark ceiling. the image he had in his mind was much more enticing.

but the image he’s greeted with when he opens his door is even better.

you’re standing there looking at him, in a little pair of sleep shorts and a baggy t-shirt. you look like you’re ready for bed. and you look absolutely dreamy.

“i just wanted to say thank you,” you choke out, hands behind your back.

a blonde eyebrow rises above his red eyes. “what for, dopey?” on the inside he’s groaning at his response. why does he always have to be such a dick?

“for taking your pants off,” you say, and bakugou bites back a laugh as your eyes widen and you let out a shocked noise. “i mean— for doing that— for me.”

bakugou chuckles and leans against the doorframe. he likes to tease you; he finds you especially cute when you’re flustered, and extra points if he’s the cause. “it’s fine, dumbass. don’t mention it.”

after sharing a stare with him you lean toward him, your tongue poking out to roll over your lip. he watches the pink muscle with sharp eyes, and you smirk.

“i’m glad i didn’t have to take my skirt off earlier in front of everyone,” you say, and bakugou’s gaze instantly jumps to yours again.

his throat dries, mouth opening slightly as his jaw slackens. where the hell are you going with this? he has an idea, but he can’t really believe you’d actually be going there.

“but i did kind of… want to take my skirt off for one person in particular.”

jesus christ. you are going there.

“really now,” bakugou tries to feign ignorance, even if his voice comes out sounding a little bit more gravely than usual. “and who could that person be?”

glancing over your shoulder both ways, your lips curl into a smirk as you look at him. “it’s a secret, do you mind if i tell you in private?”

bakugou pulls you inside his room in one easy swoop, hands already sliding down your hips to grab at your shorts. he’s frenzied, confidence oozing out of his pores with as much ease as nitroglycerin from his quirk. there’s a glint in his eyes and a wicked grin on his lips as he shoves you down, your knees buckling round the corner of the mattress.

“how ‘bout you show me instead?”

this is a long ass hc omg. also i am aware this isn’t usually how hc’s are written but i can’t write them normally so this is what you get lol. once again sorry these are taking me so long <3

➥ masterlist

➥ prompt party masterlist

#SPPEvent #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut #mha smut #bnha smut

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peppusae · 3 years

Text

[semi eita] ambivalence ch. 3 (nsfw)

note: this fanfic has multiple chapters, so please look forward to more!

ambivalence: semi eita x reader (ft. tendou satori x reader)

genre: smut

word count: 2k+ words

ambivalence

ch 3: all night

It’s a bit embarrassing to meet eyes with both Semi Eita and Tendou Satori after that night.

Tendou keeps his promise: You can see that he is dying to ask you what happened, but he remembers his promise and does not ask you anything about Yamagata’s frat party.

And you’re glad, because the sober version of you has already felt like that while remembering all the shameless things you’ve told Semi to do.

It’s even worse because it looks like Semi has the intention of being friends with you; he actually gives you a smile when you pass by each other during changing lecture halls, or when he finds you sitting with your friends at campus while he’s going back to his dorm.

The one time he caught you on your own by your locker, he had come to say hello to you, and you dropped your 589-page textbook onto your foot, almost coughed up your lung, and then blasted away to the library, too embarrassed to even respond back.

No wonder Satori looks so worried each time he looks at me… It looks like Semi hasn’t told him anything, and he is worried sick about finding out what was wrong with me.

It’s a good thing the week that followed was so jam-packed. You had 3 assignments back to back, and working on it during every minute besides your lecture hours meant that the week passed by in absolutely no time.

It’s a Saturday evening, and your usual Saturday evenings were ordering in food with Tendou, and the mad crazy adrenaline you two synergized together forcing you two to have sex - and these were the best kind, because it was during occasions like those when Tendou was his roughest - impatient and slamming into you with all his might so that he can fill you up before you’re food arrived.

Today, you’re laying in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to a little funk and soul while you wait for your meal to arrive.

It’s a bit sad to eat your food on your own, so you watch old re-runs of your favourite show while you eat.

Halfway into the second episode, you’re interrupted by a call - from a number you don’t even recognize.

Usually, you would ignore unidentified numbers, but you remember that you one of your lecturers would call to - very annoyingly - give unnecessary feedback on everyone’s reports.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God. I’d have killed Satori if he gave me the wrong number.”

It’s weird because it’s crazy how Semi could recognize your voice instantly when all you said was a simple hello.

And It’s even weirder that you recognize Semi’s voice, too - Not when most of the speaking he did was in a very groggy, whiny drunk voice.

Hearing him now, his voice is much deeper than you recalled it to be, and your hands start to shake.

“Semi?!”

“That’s me. I asked for your number. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

It’s a bit odd that he would choose you out of everyone he knows and is acquainted with, so when you ask what you can do for him, you can hear a loud sigh from his side of the line.

“Not over the phone, though. Do you know my dorm number?”

Semi Eita is hot. You aren’t going to deny that. You remember everything he’d done and how good his tongue felt as he fingered you as if his life depended on it. The thoughts are embarrassing and it never leaves your head while you finish up the rest of your food, not forgetting to brush your teeth and put your hair up into a bun before you take out your keys and head outside.

Shiratorizawa Academy houses it’s university branch students in dorms divided into two wings of the building. The girls reside in the right wing, and the boys in the left. The academy is actually quite lax about rules, despite this separation; the only rule is that the students were not allowed in the rooms of opposite gender students after dinner at 9 pm.

The gays and lesbians win, for that rule . You think to yourself, finding it a little humorous while you take the lift for the fifth floor. Semi had sent you a text with his dorm room number, and you walk into the hallway, passing by the doors and finally coming across room 514.

Semi opens the door when you give a knock, and he welcomes you in while he gives a little hesitant smile.

No words are exchanged while you enter the room that looks like an exact replica of yours. Honestly, there isn’t much one can do to make their room that much different from another person’s. Because all of the rooms house only one student, the rooms are just big enough to fit a bed, a small cupboard, and a study desk. There’s only so much one can do to decorate.

The bedspreads are neat, and his desk is filled with various textbooks and notebooks, but otherwise, the cramped room is quite clean, for a guy’s place. You glance at Semi, feeling a little awkward all of a sudden, remembering how you avoided him so hard for the week, but you’ve come instantly when he asked for a favour.

“So? What did you wanna ask?”

Semi takes a moment to look at you while he closes the door. The way he takes a step closer to you makes you flinch, eyes going wide and taking a step back instinctively.

“What-”

“Why do you keep avoiding me?”

“Semi, what-”

Your sentence is interrupted when he takes two more steps towards you, and your move back till your back hits the door with a loud smack.

“I’m… not…”

“I didn’t make you go home that night so that you’d avoid me. I just didn’t want to do anything to you while you couldn’t even tell my face from someone else’s.”

“I wasn’t that drunk…” You fib instantly.

“Did you not like it?”

Your jaw drops open. For a moment his upset expression shifts to a little sad one, and it makes your heart race because that was the complete opposite of what your mind was reeling about.

“No! I liked it!” You end up blurting out. “God, I’ve been thinking about you literally every night since.”

While you want to smash your face against the wall in embarrassment, Semi responds with a little blink, tilting his head to the side.

“Then act like it.”

Those are the last words you hear before you feel his body against you, and Semi kisses you in an urgency that makes you moan as soon as you feel his tongue on your lips.

“The way you act in public and the way you do when I touch you are worlds apart.” Semi states in between kisses, his fingers rubbing circles on your skin from underneath your shirt.You’ve never felt so cornered and so embarrassed, your face heating up already because even the way Semi kisses is you insane, like he wishes you to devour you while he has you pinned against the wall.

“Please…”

“Lock the door.” He says, moving away, and as fast as you open your eyes, they shut right away when he begins to kiss your neck. Your entire body is shaking by now, legs feeling so wobbly as you try to keep your little whimpering sounds as quiet as possible and reach a hand out towards the door. Your hands are shaking like crazy while you lock the door, and Semi does not waste a single second, taking a step away from your neck - which instantly makes you frown - and asks you to strip.

You take a few seconds to get over the high.

“What?!”

“I’ve been really, really patient for long enough.” He says, taking your hand and leading you to the bed where you sit down, legs still feeling way too wobbly to keep standing. “So strip.”

The way he runs a hand through his hair is so hot, and you’ve always known that he was really, really good-looking, but it’s the first time you’re actually attracted to him, so your hands are shaking a lot while you unbutton your shirt, undoing your bra and standing up to take off your pants. Semi cups your face, kissing your lips once again and you lose focus a bit while you try to take off your panties.

“Please, please, please. ”

Semi softly makes you sit down, still not breaking the kiss and you can hear him unbuckling his belt, the sound of his jeans dropping down making you feel wetter than you already are. You slowly open your eyes, watching the way his eyes look a little hazy and half closed, biting at his bottom lip while he peels off your panties and throws them away.

He leans in, and you move back, lips meeting once again feeling his tongue once again in your mouth while he gets on the bed, slowly leading you to the head. When you rest your head on one of your pillows, you aren’t able to open your eyes because you can feel two fingers sliding inside you without warning.

That makes you gasp, the sound of his fingers going in and out of your cunt so loud that you find yourself turning red in embarrassment. You open your eyes, barely able to see the way Semi watches your every move, and eyes going a little wide when you grab hold of chunks of his hair from the pleasure.

Instead of adding more fingers, Semi bends down, tongue slowly swirling around your clit and making you arch your back.

You could swear your brain short-circuited for a moment when he softly sucks on your clit right as he inserts two fingers inside your cunt, curling them inside and making your legs come closer together at how different it feels, like he knew your body so well to be curling in right at the place that makes you see white.

When you pull at his hair and moan once again with shaky legs, Semi rubs his lips on your clit, and you’ve never ever felt this way, so much that you come right away, all over Semi’s fingers.

Your head reels, and you open your eyes, wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but Semi...

Semi is surprisingly, agonizingly slow in his actions - much more so than Tendou.

And not just that, but Semi is mad stubborn.

You learn this from the way he glances at you with his face smeared with your juices - and then plunges another two fingers inside you again.

“S-Semi!”

“You finally called my name.”

“S-Semi, don’t-”

“What? I thought someone like you would want another orgasm right away?”

Your eyes go wide at what he said, and before you could say another word, he licks inside your cunt again, his agonizing rubs on your clit making your stomach form yet another knot right away, your legs shaking much, much more than it did the first time.

You feel so good, but you’re so embarrassed that you try to close your legs, calling his name - But Semi holds both your legs tight and apart, tongue never leaving your clit for a single second, pressing kisses and sucking so softly that your legs shake like crazy.

You don't realize just how much he had you under his control, until you come all over his face yet again, your entire body shaking while you have your eyes shut tight at the electrical feeling you’re experiencing.

“[Name]. How do you feel?”

You finally open your eyes while you try to catch your breath, and Semi is hovering over you now, pecking your lips softly before he slowly lies beside you. You extend an arm to the side, and Semi raises an eyebrow, saying nothing but coming closer to you, burying his face into your chest.

“I will never get enough of that, oh my God.” You mumble, wrapping your arm around Semi’s neck, feeling his hot breath on your chest. You think you hear him chuckle, you think you even heard the rustling of clothes, and you think you also heard the door close, but you can’t recall anything while you slip from the little line between consciousness and sleep.

---

#semi #semi eita #semi eita smut #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu setters

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starringthesturniolos · 3 months

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bite me (part 2)- matt sturniolo

part one, part two

summary- matt has always hated your guts, but everything changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains- vampire!matt x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (not in this part), themes of death, dark themes, high school au! (18 yrs old)

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

your pov:

i woke up with a massive headache, my chest heaving. the first thing i think of is matt.

what the fuck, why is he on my mind on a saturday morning.

i shudder at my own actions and throw my covers over my head as a phantom chill runs down my spine.“cant stay in bed forever” i sigh to myself, while throwing the covers off my body almost immediately after putting them back on. I march to my closet and change into my favorite running shorts. as soon as i step foot out of my house, i start to jog, the melodic tempo lulling me out of my morning funk. my peace is disrupted tho because out the corner of my eye, i see my neighbor walk out his house into his driveway. his eyes bore into mine before they rake up and down my body. my heart beat picks up slightly, and it’s not from the exercise.

my neighbor, kit, has been weirdly obsessed with me ever since he and his girlfriend broke up. about a week ago, i caught him snooping around our house at night, trying to get a peek into my room. after that i’ve been trying to avoid crossing paths, and i wasn’t planning on crossing them today. its fine, hes probably taking out the trash, i think, desperately trying to reassure myself. i speed up from a light jog to a full on sprint because i know that once hes out my sight, i will feel more comfortable. i sigh in relief when i round the corner to the next street in my subdivision, happy that i got away from him.

slap slap slap

his feet pound against the ground as he sprints to catch up with me. i whirl around once i hear the footsteps, and lock eyes with him. the accidental eye contact was enough to spur him to go even faster than his long legs were taking him before. my heart to drops and i turn back around, running on pure adrenaline and fear.

“Y/n, stop running and come talk to me!” kit yells angrily but i’m running far too hard to form a proper sentence. even if i wanted to respond to him i wouldn’t have the breath to do so.

“STOP PLAYING HARD TO GET. YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME Y/N. COME HERE AND ADMIT IT” he screams even louder. my head starts to pound and my mind reels trying to come up with a plan. i can’t run forever. i gather the little breath i have in me to muster up a scream in hopes someone will come help me, only for the air to be knocked out of me. i ran straight into something, no,

someone.

“get. the fuck. away from her.” the mystery man growls.

kit takes one look at him and slowly backs away in fear. “who the hell are you?” out of curiosity, i look up to see who i’ve run into and freeze.

matt?

no it can’t be. it looks just like him but his eyes are dark red, and dark black veins swirl under his pale skin like they have a mind of their own. “who are you?” i cringe as i repeat the same question kit did moments before, both our tones lacking a single ounce of courage. fear was all consuming as we stared at the monster in front us.

“you know who i am, y/n. get behind me. now. im gonna deal with him” he says gruffly while looking behind me at kit. kit whimpers at the sight of matts deadly stare.

i ignore what matt says, opting to look him up and down instead in a manner that screams “what the fuck is wrong with you”. but then, i try to think rationally for a moment, this is still matt after all. he may not like me but hes not gonna hurt me. right?

“what happened to you, matt?”i question breathlessly.

“you.” matt deadpans in a voice much deeper than his normal one, taking a step closer to me. he reaches his hand out to grab me. to take me.

“y/n get away from him!!” kit interjects and pulls me too him in hopes of trying to help me get away from matt. and for once, i’m actually glad kits here.

wrong move.

matt is in front of me in a flash. he snarles as he pushes kit with bone crushing force. his body goes flying, hitting a pole a couple of yards away with a loud thud, knocked out on impact. i shriek, terror filling my veins. as if sensing my strong distress, matt turns to me slowly. his arms out in front of him, in what is supposed to be a peaceful gesture.

hard to be comforting when your veins are as dark as your tattoos.

“y/n, we need to talk” the stranger, deeper version of matts voice says.

why can’t i move. im frozen in time as he takes slow steps towards me.

“you need to come with me, y/n.” he breathes out, his dark red eyes wide and crazed. he takes another step closer. my legs feel like jelly but i finally manage to take one step back. whatever matt is, it can’t be human. humans can’t throw each other several yards. their veins aren’t as black as midnight, and their eyes sure as hell don’t change to a deep red on command. so what does he, no, it, want from me.

“w- why do i need to come with you? ”

“because you’re mine” he growls, finally deciding to close the gap between us, faster than my eyes can process. he bends down and run his nose along the hot spot on my neck. he inhales deeply and moans in relief his black veins disappearing. i scream and try to push him off but its useless. he grabs my arm in a vice grip and pure horror spreads through my body for what feels like the 100th time today. i try to let out another scream but no sound comes out. my vision clouds and my head is spinning. then everything is black.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@fratbrochrisgf

@mattslolita

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut

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palbabor-writes · 4 years

Text

Quarter-Century

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mild heavy petting, but this is pretty tame, oh & lots of fluff, likely enough to kill someone, so watch out for that, k?

What’s with him today? It’s just another day. After all, birthdays don’t matter when you’re this old, right? It’s not like he’s a kid. He doesn’t need a party, doesn’t really want one either. Besides, you’ve likely got something planned, you always do.

Words: 3754

Notes: if i call this a drabble are y’all gonna get mad at me?

Quarter-Century quar·ter-cen·tu·ry /ˈkwôrdər/ - /ˈsen(t)SH(ə)rē/ noun a period of 25 years

Twenty-five.

It’s always spoken about like it’s some kind of milestone. Eh, it’s just another year, Kiyoomi thinks, tugging his sweaty shirt off of his back and walking toward the MSBY team dressing room, there’s nothing special about it.

He’d woken up at 5:25, taken his first shower, kissed your sleeping form absentmindedly on the cheek before he left the bedroom, and jogged the three miles to the training facility.

He’d worked on his digs, on his jump float, and looked over the drills. The team had two practice games and had huddled up for the review at the end, the same as always. As Kiyoomi made his way out of the locker room Atsumu and Bokuto had both clapped him on the back, joking about the fleeting joys of ‘youth,’ and congratulating him on his performance on the court before they all went their separate ways, each gliding along their own trajectory.

No, there’s nothing special about birthdays.

You’re not back from work when he gets home, so Kiyoomi pads around the empty apartment, flitting from room to room, disjointedly flipping on lights and switching them back off seconds later. It’s like he can’t make up his mind. Should he take a nap? He could sleep off these uncharacteristic and frustrating jitters that keep coursing through him. No, he reconsiders naps just make him groggy and irritable. What else?

He’s showered twice today, there’s no need for another, and it looks like you’d cleaned up the living room and kitchen before you’d left for the day, so there’s nothing for him to clean either. Ugh, what’s with this restlessness?

There are old matches that he can watch, already primed and loaded onto his laptop, but it’s charging in the bedroom, likely tucked under some of your leaflets and various heapings of paperwork. It’d be a pain to move everything.

Eh, he could start a puzzle, maybe flip through some channels, see what’s on TV, and there’s that book that you’d told him he should check out, he’s weeks behind on starting that, but it’s in the bedroom too, and–

Damn it. It feels like he’s stuck in some kind of loop.

He flops down on the couch, tipping his dark head back, obsidian curls fanning around his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling. What’s with him today? It’s just another day. After all, birthdays don’t matter when you’re this old, right? It’s not like he’s a kid. He doesn’t need a party, doesn’t really want one either. Besides, you’ve likely got something planned, you always do. He smiles at that thought, running his hands through his hair and letting out a deep exhale. It’ll be alright, he reasons, you’ll get back and he’ll shake himself out of this funk, and then maybe he can–

The sudden scrape of the lock turning makes him jump, and he pops his head up just as you step through the door, a smattering of canvas bags tucked under your coiled hands. You spot him as you tap the door closed, a broad grin lighting up your face. “Hey there!” you call out, stepping toward the kitchen to deposit your purchases. “Did you just get home? Practice go okay?”

“It went well,” Kiyoomi replies, hunching forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That reminds me, the next match is this weekend, you still planning on going?”

“Yeah!” you confirm, tucking a few things into the fridge before you pace over to his seated figure. “It’s right before the playoffs start, so it’ll likely be one of the last ones I can get a good seat to. Once you guys get in those end of season bouts it gets...Hey, you sure you’re alright? You look a little, I don’t know, downcast?” You kneel in front of him, your hands reaching, stroking gently over his hair and down his jaw.

“I’m fine. Feel a little...off...is all. Happens.”

“Off?” you question, bright eyes finally catching his onyx. “Well, we can’t have that. Not today!”

“Hmph, it’s just a Saturday,” Kiyoomi huffs, catching your wrists and lowering your hands from his face.

“Yes,” you continue, watching as he distractedly toys with your hands, trailing his thumbs over your fingers and flipping your palms this way and that within his hold. “It’s also a Saturday where I’ve played the role of good– no great, girlfriend and got us some tickets! Surprise!”

“Tickets?” he echoes, his head cocking to the side as he lifts his gaze back to yours. “To what? If it’s some kinda concert, not to be an ass, but I don’t really want to go to a–”

“Really?” you deadpan, arching an eyebrow at his morose expression. “You think, after two years of dating, that I’d take you to a concert? You? Kiyoomi Sakusa, the man who is pretty much allergic to crowds, who completely dipped out of a shoe store once because there were five people in the ‘athletic wear’ section, who abhors the mere thought of tight spaces and groups of twenty or more, thought that I, his loving partner, decided to put some some color into his living nightmares, and on his birthday no less, by bringing him to a concert?”

Kiyoomi clicks his tongue and exhales a tight laugh. “When you put it that way, no. But on the off chance that you did, and you’re trying to bluff your way out of the situation by over elaborating your reasons for not bringing me, well…I’m gonna have to decline the gift.”

You narrow your eyes at his impassive face and purse your lips. “And to think, I was gonna come over here and give you a kiss and everything.”

“You’ll still give me one,” Kiyoomi smarts, a coquettish smirk lifting his lips when you openly scoff at him. “So, out with it, what are the tickets to?”

“Oh? Now you wanna know? Suddenly you’re curious. Well you can hold on to that buddy, cuz’ I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Why should I?”

“It’s my birthday,” he intones simply, broad palms already sliding up your arms, pulling you closer. You smell nice, Kiyoomi thinks, lips barely missing your own as you twist playfully away from him.

“Pfft, what happened to ‘it’s just a Saturday?’” you tease, following his insistent tugs, one knee pressing down into the cushions of the couch as you lower yourself over his lap.

“Changed my mind,” Kiyoomi states, finally catching you and caressing his lips sinfully against yours. “I’m allowed to do that,” he continues, sucking a rasp from you as he drags his sharp teeth across the plush swell of your lower lip. “Mmm, you might have gotten a little distracted, so let me repeat my question: what are the tickets to?”

He is genuinely interested; he wants to know what you’ve planned for the two of you, but his hands have already started that downward journey, long digits stroking over the curves that flow down your side, cupping and pulling just the way you like. Your knees lift when he buries his fingertips into the flesh of your upper thighs and you sigh, breath warm against his flushed cheeks.

Actually, this is fine. After all, he’s good at this. He’s had plenty of time to learn you, to practice, and he loves that he knows just what to do to make you quake between his heated palms. But when he jerks you closer, your lips slip from his and you’re careful to brace yourself away, momentarily safe from his distracting caresses.

“Baseball,” you pant, hands resting over the hard plane of his pectorals.

“Huh?” he queries, heavy brows furrowing, wholly distracted by the rise and fall of your uneven breaths and the gentle twitch of your spread legs against his hips.

“A baseball game. I got us tickets to a baseball game.”

“It’s smaller than what I was picturing,” Kiyoomi says, adjusting the placement of his mask before looking down at you. “And what are you gonna do with that bag? Can you even take that in here?”

You laugh at his question, hoisting the thick strap of your insulated pack higher on your shoulder. “It’s the Yomiuri Giants, they’re part of the minor league so it’s a smaller stadium and don’t worry, they let you bring coolers and snacks in.”

“Eh? Snacks? Don’t they have concessions? Seems counter-productive if they let you bring your own food. How are they supposed to make money? Atsumu said that half of our vendors make a good deal of their revenue from their booths during the playoffs and the regular season. So I don’t see how that’s practical. What do you have in there, anyway? It looks heavy. Oh. Did you want me to carry it?”

“I’m not sure which one of those I should answer first,” you grin, dodging his extended hand and stepping forward. “Come on, I think we can head in now.”

The seats are located in the shade of the upper deck, right behind the third base, giving you both a perfect bird's-eye view of the action that will take place down on the field below. True to your word, the ticket inspectors had let you and your pack pass through without a word of protest, and as he flipped down his plastic seat, you carefully tucked the thick canvas between the two of you.

“What’s in it?” he asked again, peering over your shoulder as you unzipped the long teeth and reached into the dark depths, hands searching for something.

“You’ll see,” you promise, leaning back once you found your prize, a small bottle of hand sanitizer. You pop the lid up and nod for his palms, carefully pressing some of the clear antiseptic onto his hands. “Game should start soon,” you inform, repeating the cleaning process yourself before closing the top and tossing the bottle back into the bag. “And I wanna make sure you’re set before I head down to the concession stands.”

“So it’s food,” he determines, slipping his mask off of his face, tucking it under his chin, an appreciative smile winding its way up his lips.

“Of course it is! You think I’d leave you to languish for 9 innings while I sit beside you, gorging myself on the delicious food they sell at the concessions, which you refuse to eat? Alas, not even I am that cruel. Nah, I brought something that I hope you’ll like.”

“I’ll like it,” Kiyoomi replies, resting his muscled shoulder against yours, watching as you arrange a few clear sets of Tupperware in your hands, lifting them evenly out of the bag.

“Careful,” you jab, tossing him a mischievous grin. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Kiyoomi shrugs. “It’s from you; I’ll like it.”

Your hands still after his declaration and you twist your head back to him, eyes wide, searching his placid expression. “Okay,” you laugh, setting the Tupperware aside, fully turning to him and wrapping an arm around his neck, your other hand cupping his cheek, pulling him down to your seeking lips. “That was too much. There some sort of class you stoic types take? How to make others swoon in five lessons, or less?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, prying your hands from him. “It’s true. No need to make a big deal about it. You put a lot of effort into today, and I...I just think that...I mean...thanks,” he finishes lamely, dark eyes balefully avoiding yours. You chuckle again and reward him with another peck to his cheek.

“So cute.”

“Stop it,” he grumbles, a faint blush staining his cheeks. “Weren’t you gonna show me something? Better hurry. After all, there’s still time for me to mess it up.”

“What does that mean?” you puzzle, pulling away.

“I dunno. I always say the wrong shit. You know that.”

“Well,” you ponder, tapping a finger against your chin. “We’re at a baseball game, so, in the spirit of the sport, why don’t I give you three strikes?”

“Just three? I mean, wow, that’s so generous of you.”

You flash him a quick glare, tutting your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Oooh, swing and a miss. Strike one!”

He’s just about to give you some retort when you press two of the containers into his hands. The heat of the plastic feels nice against his calloused palms, and he can see the fresh steam that surrounds the food that’s waiting inside. “Onigiri?” he questions, popping the lid, mouth watering at the sight of all of that pristine rice. Damn, when did you have time to make these?

“Homemade onigiri with pickled plums,” you inform him, a gleeful smile lighting up your face, pleased that he’s already reaching for one, a look of genuine happiness falling over his usually impassive expression.

“You remembered,” he murmurs, picking up the carefully shaped ball and lifting it to his lips. He bites into the fluffy rice, fastidiously letting the flavors fall over his tongue and across his pallet. It’s perfect, he thinks as he chews, just the right amount of pickled savoriness and clean, delicate grains. Damn, when did you do all of this?

You let him finish the first onigiri before you pass him a can of beer. It’s chilled, likely sitting toward the bottom of the bag, and he flicks a stray chip of ice off of the rim. A sealed can of beer, a carefully packed meal. Is there anything you haven’t thought of?

He’s just about to turn, to tell you that...well, he’s not sure what exactly. Maybe it is something about how lucky he is. How he’s somehow stumbled into something so sublime, so wonderful, as you, and how he should tell you that more, when you stand.

“I’m going to hop down to the food stands. Inning should open up any minute. I’m glad this is an off season game, we’ve pretty much got this whole deck to ourselves! Be right back, ‘kay?”

He nods, eyes lingering on your hands, your smile, your eyes, just everything that he can see that’s you, but he doesn’t speak. He can’t. What’s he gonna say? Don’t go? Stay here. He’ll go down.

He’ll do whatever you want; anything for you, anything.

You tilt your head at his stony, almost stricken expression, but you don’t comment on it, content with tucking one of his stray curls behind his ear before you spring up the steps, stepping away from his overwhelmed and utterly entranced form.

Damn.

He’s scrolling through his phone when the 1st inning ends, thumb whisking over the lists of required paperwork, the $50 dollar notarial fee, the Kon-in Todoke, mentally counting up the required signatures, the necessary witnesses. This is crazy, he thinks, skimming over the U.S. Embassy & Consulate regulations on the ‘Affidavit of Competency to Marry’ in Japan, he hasn’t even talked with you about this, but he’s honestly never felt more sure of anything in his life.

Right as he flips to a secondary tab, one that holds a few jewelry stores and ideas about ‘how to pop the question,’ he catches sight of you. You slide down the row of empty seats, your hands filled with various snacks and a tall glass of foaming beer.

“Sorry! Wasn’t expecting to take that long, I completely missed the 1st inning! Good thing no one scored. Hopefully things will liven up with the 2nd and 3rd innings.” You settle in beside him, setting your beer against the cold concrete before jostling your popcorn and hot dog to your opposite hand, eyes peering over the brightly lit field.

Kiyoomi bites back his grin and switches his phone off, obscuring the glittering pixels of diamonds and his future plans from view and tucks his device into his jacket pocket. You turn to look at him, your eyes narrowing and brow arching at his poorly controlled attempts to hide his giddiness.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he replies, slinging a long arm around your shoulders, tugging you close and planting a quick kiss against your temple.

“Liar,” you accuse, leaning back, eyes following the sharp angles of his handsome face.

“What made you pick baseball? You feeling homesick or something?”

“Hmph, no! I just...hmm, how to put this. I figured it’d be nice to take you to a game that’s not volleyball. One that we can just watch. There’s no need to worry about analyzing anyone’s performance, or your own here…you can just relax.”

Kiyoomi cocks his head at you, a few errant curls falling over his brow. “Do I do that when we go to a volleyball game?”

You nearly choke on your beer. “Mmm...koff...do you do that? Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, obsidian eyes watching you closely. Wait, is he a pain to go to a game with?

“Kiyoomi?”

“Hmm.”

“I wasn’t about to take you to a volleyball game for your birthday. That’d be like you taking me back to the office and asking me to celebrate with you in the staff break room. I mean, I know you love the sport, but it’s your job. It’s what you do all day. Besides, the last time we went to a match I don’t think you said more than five words to me and you were constantly writing down the plays on your phone. I–Oh! That’s not a bad thing, not at all! It makes sense,” you amend, catching sight of his abruptly ashen expression.

“It’s just...you’re good...no good doesn’t cut it...you’re amazing at what you do. You’ve got that hunger that all the sports documentaries I’ve ever watched talk about and you’re constantly looking to improve. It’s impressive, really! But...I just thought this might be a change of pace. Something that we could both go to, could watch, with no additional stakes. Who cares who wins? I mean, I want the home team to, obviously, but we can leave here when it’s over and just take memories, not more worries or challenges. And definitely not any notes. Sorry, that prolly’ sounds so rude, but I really want you to relax today. You more than deserve it.”

“It’s perfect,” Kiyoomi confirms, finally leaning back against the strong plastic of his seat, pulling you closer, bringing his knee toward your thigh, pressing until he can feel the heat of you past the material of his jeans. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” you laugh. “It’s the least I could do. If you’re happy, then I’m happy! Oh! Speaking of, you gotta try this beer! It’s so good!”

He looks skeptically down at the plastic glass that’s still clutched between your fingers. “No. I’m not drinking out of that cup.”

“Kiyoomi,” you begin, fixing him with a hard stare. “You know we live together, right? If I pick anything up from this, then, and I hate to tell you this, but you’ll get it too, eventually.”

With a scoffed exhale and a curl of his lip he leans away from you, nose wrinkling distastefully at your threat.

“Come on,” you taunt, shaking the cup playfully in your hand, “You won’t regret it!”

“No.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun, you know that?”

“Never heard that before,” he laughs, coiling himself toward you, his arm around your back, squeezing you closer, holding on as tight as he can.

It’s dark when the two of you get back home, but you won’t let him flip on the overhead lights, not yet. “Just wait, gimme a sec. There’s one more thing I wanna do...why don’t you go sit on the couch. I’ll turn on the lamp and be right back, promise.”

Obediently, he perches on the edge of the cushions and waits.

He can hear you as you move around the kitchen, and he feels like he can still feel the warmth of your skin under his fingertips. Throughout the game, on the cab ride home, as he stood behind you in the darkened hallway, waiting for you to unlock the door, he’d kept his hands on you. It was like you were some kind of magnet and he couldn’t help but be tugged forward by your irresistible pull.

“Hey! Close your eyes!” you call, feet soft against the wood as you pad back to him. He shakes his head at your request, a faint smile pulling at his lips, but he obliges you. How can he not? “No peeking,” you warn, and he it’s like he can almost feel you again as you come to stand in front of him once more. “Alright…I think that’s good. Now...open them!”

The space in front of him is bathed in a soft glow, with whisking yellows and gentle oranges dancing, flickering across your arms. The light from the candle illuminates your face, catching against your eyes and making them shine, and he’s honestly not sure if he’s breathing anymore.

“I know it’s not much,” you justify, cupping your fingers around the delicate flame and lifting the cupcake toward him. “But I learned my lesson last year. Got you that huge cake and the leftovers languished in the fridge for almost a week. And you know what they say, less is more, right?”

Without thinking, his hands race forward, gripping your waist and pulling you closer. “Woah,” you exhale, a laugh bubbling from your lips. “Careful! I don’t wanna catch you on fire. Some birthday that would be. Come on, time’s a’wasting birthday boy, blow it out and make a wish!”

He’d lied earlier.

When he’d thought that there was nothing special about birthdays. There is something special about this birthday and, for the first time, he knows just what he’s going to wish for.

It’s easy to blow out the light. It’s a little harder to protect the cupcake from his downward tug, his hands insistent, firm, but somehow you safely tuck it behind you and twist back to him, fingers lacing into his onyx curls.

“What did you wish for?” you ask, settling yourself across his lap.

“Can’t tell you yet,” Kiyoomi answers honestly, lips already seeking yours.

“Huh? You’re not supposed to tell me at all!”

“Too bad,” he intones, silencing any further retorts with the heady persuasion of his caresses and wandering touch. “I’m gonna tell you soon. Now let me enjoy you.”

notes: hbd! shoutout to @albinoburrito for her excellent edits and suggestions :*

#hbd sakusa 🧁#sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #hq!!#hq #hq imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x you #kiyoomi x y/n #drabble #sort of???#whatever #it's a drabble

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slasherbastard · 3 years

Note

Recently came across your blog and really enjoy your writing! If you're not too swamped with requests, could I get a match up please?

[Time to bare my soul to the amazing match-maker!]

★ He/Him pronouns. Gay.

★ Appearance: Petite (153cm, less than 95lbs). Dark brown eyes and hair. Has a fondness of wearing red wigs from my collection of cosplay wigs. Pale with a number of scars. (Despises the sun and extreme heat.) Wardrobe is a mix of goth, 80s vibe, and fashion disaster. Huge variety of footwear to choose from. (e.g. Combat boots? Thigh-high boots? Watermelon sandals?)

★ Personality: Introvert. Observes and will adjust how to interact with others based on that observation. Shy, polite, and quiet around unfamiliar people, but becomes more relaxed and playful once you get to know me. Not a very PDA person. Tries to be helpful, patient, and understanding. Loyal, caring, and protective of loved ones.

Can be a bit stubborn and hotheaded. If someone crosses me or hurts someone I care for I become livid and vengeful. Apparently I go extra hard during my daily work-out routine when I'm pissed off? Not bothered by gore.

OCD tendencies. (Can't.Stop.Washing.My.Hands. A certain item gets bumped out of place? Freak-out and waste time readjusting the item. Breakdown in tears if I can't get it at the exact angle it was before it was moved).

★ Hobbies: Sewing, cooking/baking, photography, drawing, writing, hunting down and collecting various things that pique my interest. Tea cups? Yeah. Hefty music library. Figurines/action figures/dolls/plushies? Over 1000. Then there's the odds and ends such as preserved insects and spiders 🕷️ , a vial of blood, or a bottle of teeth.

★ Love language: Cooking and baking for people. 🍰

A/N: I’m finally out of my writing funk and going through all the matchups that have been collecting dust forever, sorry guys!

Finally, I have paired you with

Asa Emory!

(gif credit: hourglassheven)

Introverts unite! You and Asa are perfect match. You don't have to be nervous about meeting Asa's friends since he doesn't really have any. Asa does prefer to be alone a lot at first so you may barely get to see him outside of his office except for when he either takes breaks or decides to sleep in your shared bed instead of his office chair - no Asa, it's not comfy, sleep in an actual bed and stop complaining about your bad back. You're both very observant people. It may not always seem like it, but Asa pays as much attention to your needs as you do to his. He knows that you want to spend more time with him but his work takes up a lot of his time, he's also glad that you understand that and he does try to get through his work just so he can spend more time other than his 10 minute breaks with you.

In case you were still unaware, you're Asa's favourite person so he wants to know everything about you. He's not too familiar with cosplaying and isn't too opposed to the idea (he would probably let you put a wig on him ONCE, going for a full costume plus makeup is reaching but hey, he might?) since he knows that you enjoy it. Asa is a very supportive boyfriend, sure, he may be busy 200% of the time with work and his "side hustle" but he tries to make time for you even if it's just to read a piece of writing you did or to try a dish you cooked. Asa doesn't worry too much about what you wear but he has some favourites that he subtly urges you to wear more - he’ll leave out a pair of shoes or a shirt that he likes on you and if you don’t end up wearing it then he’ll just steal it and keep it somewhere in his office so that he still has a “part” of you with him while he works (jeez, Asa. It’s not like I’m dead).

Asa tries to find ways to help you with your OCD tendencies. He's a very patient man and although he isn't a professional when it comes to people's feelings, he will still try to help and make you feel better - he kills people for a living, he's not going to let you feel judged. He's guilty of "experimenting" with you a bit on this, he won't purposefully disrupt things that could set off your OCD but he tries to see what he can do to lessen the chances of stressing you out. Asa would become more wary of what he does around the house, making sure that anything he touches remains in the state it was previously in, just in case. Also your temper doesn't bother him, if anything it's interesting to him. Don't get him wrong, Asa loves how loyal you are but it's so amusing watching you go from being really shy and quiet around strangers to grilling them and getting so mad at them just for disrespecting you or someone you care about. Asa definitely teases you about it afterwards every time when you were a little more calmed down, he thinks you're really cute.

Asa is The Collector, and even though his collection mostly consists of people he does like to feed into your collection. Although stealing isn't really his style, if he sees something you'd like (maybe a figurine you'd been complaining about wanting for months that's sold out everywhere or even something that looked like something you'd like) while he's out looking for his next experiment then he'll bring it back for you - what? It's not like they're going to be needing it anymore. He also gifts you insects preserved in frames or resin that remind him of you (mostly jewel beetles and flame skimmers since they're both so colourful and interesting) - the framed ones even have creative labels that have to do with you or even inside jokes between the two of you, he has even offered to teach you how to preserve your own creatures when he's not too busy. He’s relieved that you’re not bothered by gore - well, not bothered enough to let him enjoy his work without worrying that you’ll rat him out to the cops, at least.

#slasherbastard matchups #it's about time i posted something #slasher #horror #writing #asa emory #the collector #the collector 2009 #the collection #the collection 2009 #slasher fandom #i forgot how good it felt to write again lmao #i swear if theres any spelling mistakes in here

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veorlian · 4 years

Text

honey tongue

The stories will tell you that falling in love with your best friend is as easy as breathing, that it's the height of romance. Varric Tethras had written far too many stories to believe that crock of nonsense.

my submissions for @hightown-funk are up!! here’s the first one <3

read it on ao3 here

The Hanged Man was legendary for two things: bar fights, and ale that was at least 50% vinegar. There were also the suspiciously sticky floors, the rooms you could rent by the hour, and enterprising individuals keen on relieving you of all that burdensome coin you had on you. It was what people had come to expect. The barkeep had offered a higher-quality ale once, and the regulars had stormed out in protest. And Maker have mercy if they ever decide to clean the place up a bit. There’d be riots in the streets.

Well. More riots than usual, at least.

Marian Hawke spent most evenings in the Hanged Man. The petty crime and general chaos faded into the periphery as she played Wicked Grace with her friends. It was replaced with a different kind of petty crime and chaos, but at least this was hers.

And speaking of chaos, at the moment Varric was regaling the crowd with the tale of their most recent trip to the Bone Pit. There was a rough semi-circle of regulars standing around Varric, with the kind of slack-jawed, wide-eyed expressions that normally accompanied one of his particularly tall tales.

He was in fine form. Marian had never quite figured out how he could look so laid back and engaged at the same time. She’d tried it once. Carver had just said that she looked constipated. Varric made it look easy. He made most things look easy.

“And then Hawke raised her sword and leaped through the air, landing on the dragon’s back, killing it in a single blow—”

“It was already mostly dead,” Garrett called. Marian flipped him off. A few of the stragglers towards the back of Varric’s audience turned to face the two of them.

“It was not,” Marian tossed back.

“Was too."

Marian rolled her eyes at her brother and leaned forward on the pitted table.

“Hey Varric, tell them about the part where I did a sick back-flip off of the dragon—”

“And fell on your ass—” Garrett interrupted. More of Varric’s audience turned now, their eyes bouncing back and forth between the twins like a tennis match.

“And landed perfectly and took a little bow,” Marian finished, pointedly ignoring Garrett. She kept her eyes fixed on Varric’s face, and the wry little twist of his lips.

“Of course! How could I forget,” he said, his eyes dancing. “As she struck the killing blow, the dragon came crashing down to the ground. Hawke gracefully leapt off of its back, landing neatly on the ground.”

“I can’t believe this,” Garrett complained. Varric continued to regale the audience with tales of the twins’ exploits. Marian patted Garrett on the arm in a way expertly calculated to be both patronizing and comforting.

“Sorry little brother, it’s just not very dramatic when you wave your fancy baton around,” Marian replied. “Doesn’t have the same impact as a bigass sword.”

“Last I checked, fireball has a hell of an impact,” Garrett shot back.

“Potato, potahto,” Marian said dismissively.

“There’s only one way to settle this,” he said. He rolled up his sleeves and set an elbow down on the table, his hand open. Marian smiled crookedly and did the same. Varric lost his audience again, as they formed a loose circle around the table. There was the clink of coin changing hands, and an exaggerated sigh and eye roll from Carver.

“My money’s on Hawke,” Isabela called.

“Which one?” Garrett and Marian asked in unison.

“Whichever one wins,” Isabela said cheerfully.

“I’m not sure that’s how that works,” Merrill murmured anxiously. Isabela waved her away airily and tossed a few coins on the table.

“Have you seen how ripped I am? Of course I’m gonna win,” Garrett said. Marian snorted and shook her head.

“Bigass sword. Fancy baton,” she said. She gripped Garrett’s hand, and the arm wrestling began. It was evenly matched, as most things were with the twins. But not for nothing did Marian swing around a giant hunk of metal nearly the same height as herself.

She slammed Garrett’s hand down into the table, grinning widely.

“Best two out of three,” he said immediately. She laughed and shook her head.

“You lost fair and square,” she said cheerfully. Garrett flipped her off and went to refill his drink. Marian glanced up to find Varric making his way over to the table, settling in his customary spot at her side.

“You couldn’t wait until I was done?” Varric asked agreeably. Marian shrugged nonchalantly.

“Not my fault your admirers couldn’t resist the lure of my rippling muscles,” she said. “You’ll just need to make me sound even cooler. What if I had a sword for a hand?”

“No good,” Varric replied, shaking his head, “it’d interfere too much with the romance scenes.”

“Varric, I’m not exactly seeing a lot of that kind of action at the moment,” Marian said dryly. “Let me have a giant sword for a hand. It’d be cool as hell.”

“C’mon Hawke, a romance plot is always more compelling. Why not ask the pirate?” he said, gesturing to Isabela. Isabela caught the motion and winked broadly at them. “I can see it now; a daring love story, set against the backdrop of a ship tossed at sea. Readers love that stuff.” Marian snorted derisively and shook her head.

“I’ve got enough going on trying to stop this city from going to hell,” she complained. There was a deep ache in her chest that she couldn’t quite place. Fortunately, she didn’t have to think about it for very long, because Garrett arrived back at the table, his arms full of terrible beer.

“How come I never get the big dramatic retellings?” he griped.

“Because you keep heckling me,” Varric said dryly. “Plus, you’re not as good-looking.”

Marian’s heart stuttered and fully came to a stop. She ducked her head to hide the blush that threatened to set her face on fire. What the hell…?

“Nonsense, I’m the prettiest person in Kirkwall,” Garrett said primly.

“C’mon, we all know that’s Merrill,” Marian said, swallowing down her embarrassment. A crooked grin spread across her face. “At least, that’s what Carver always says.”

“Hey—” Carver began.

The ensuing chaos and overlapping voices covered up the weird and alarming thoughts floating through Marian’s head.

Plus, you’re not as good-looking.

Did Varric think she was good-looking?

Andraste’s sacred knickers, did that actually matter to her? Marian tossed back her drink in one go and stumbled to the bar to grab another.

Somewhere between the witching hours of 2am and 4am, the others traipsed out. Now, Marian was good at traipsing. She’d elevated it from a science to an art. She could traipse with the best of them. But when 4am rolled around, she didn’t.

It was a weekly ritual at this point, and it happened more often now that she was in that stuffy old mansion. Such a big place, but it felt like the walls were constantly creeping in on her. More than a few hours there and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

And so.

“Varric, don’t make me walk all the way back to Hightown,” she would groan, and he would chuckle that warm chuckle that brought the blood rushing to her ears. Probably just the alcohol, she always thought.

“Alright, you can stay just this once,” he would say, and she would flash him a crooked grin.

“You’re my favourite.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, serrah,” he’d say. She’d generally waggle her eyebrows at him suggestively, and they’d both laugh.

She didn’t remember when the flirting had started. A few minutes after they’d met, she figured. It was just a part of them, both of them. An easy way to keep everyone at arm’s reach. If they both agreed that it didn’t mean anything, then there was no harm no foul.

After all, it’s not like anything was ever going to come of it. Varric was happily married to a crossbow, and he’d repeatedly told her that he wasn’t into humans. So that was that. Marian was perfectly happy being Varric’s best friend and partner-in-crime.

And if she couldn’t sleep these days without hearing the gentle scritching of his quill on parchment, well, no one needed to know that. … Varric Tethras was a storyteller, most comfortable staying unobtrusively on the sidelines of a tale. It was safest that way really. Fewer people shooting at you, for one.

He couldn’t remember when it had started, becoming a part of Hawke’s story. He hadn’t been, at first. He’d been a plot device, a quest-giver just tagging along.

“You won’t even notice I’m here,” he’d told her. Varric Tethras: such a gifted liar that sometimes he almost convinced himself.

It had shifted by inches, their friendship. They’d gotten along almost instantly, like they’d just been waiting for the other to come along. So it was natural for them to spend most of their time together. And then it was natural for her to sleep on his couch when she was too drunk to walk home. His palatial suite at the Hanged Man was her palatial suite. That was all perfectly natural and normal and fine.

Until it wasn’t.

He couldn’t fall asleep these days until he heard her snoring (she and Dog seemed to be in a competition for who could be the loudest. On occasion it shook the dilapidated rafters).

She’d slipped into his life as easy as breathing. Easier, in some ways. So many little rituals. Like putting extra jokes into his manuscripts, just for her.

“Hey Hawke, you think you could give this a read for me?” he asked. She glanced up from where she was lounging on one of his chairs. She arched an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“Am I going to blush?” she asked. He chuckled and shook his head.

“I just want to make sure that I’ve got the character right,” he replied.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” she said cheerfully, already on her feet and moving to lean over his shoulder. She rested an elbow on top of his head, like he was an armrest. He cleared his throat pointedly.

“Problem, serah Tethras?” she asked innocently.

“Hands off the merchandise,” he said easily. She leaned down to meet his eyes, her haphazardly cut bangs flopping in her face.

“I think you’ll find it’s my elbow on the merchandise. Very different part of the body,” she pointed out. To prove her point, she shifted her arm and rested her hand on his shoulder instead. He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile off of his face.

“Just read the damn passage,” he said. She shrugged and turned her attention to the page. She hadn’t moved her hand, and the warmth slowly seeped into him. He realized with a start that he was leaning into her touch. What the hell?

The smell of cinnamon and honey drifted through the room. Not that that was unusual either. It clung to every part of the room. Even his trademark leather coat smelled permanently of cinnamon and honey, from that tea she drank at all hours of the day and night.

He missed it, when it wasn’t there.

He knew she’d gotten to the unflattering description of the Knight-Captain when she began to laugh. He thought her laugh was the best thing he’d ever heard. It wasn’t graceful by any means, caught somewhere between a cackle and a snort. But she laughed with her full body, like it was the funniest thing she’d heard in her life. Joyful, reckless abandon.

It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Oh.

With Hawke’s hand digging into his shoulder, her laughter ringing in his ears, the smell of cinnamon and honey on the air, Varric Tethras realized that he was in love.

Shit. … The stories will have you believe that revelations of love are dramatic, that they’re accompanied by flights of angels or some other shit like that. Marian Hawke had heard too many love stories to believe in them anymore.

She was sprawled along the couch leafing through Varric’s latest draft of The Tale of the Champion. She liked to leave little notes and doodles in the margins. It drove Varric’s editor up the wall. She heard Varric’s familiar footfalls coming up the stairs.

“Hey, you forgot to mention the bit where I single-handedly took down a chimera,” she called, not looking up. Varric hummed noncommittally in response. She glanced up from the page to study him. He was swaying slightly on his feet, eyes a little unfocused as he leaned against the doorframe.

“You okay?” she asked. “Merchant’s Guild crap?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face and he shook his head, running a hand through his graying hair.

“No, it’s not that,” he said. Marian’s eyebrows knitted together, and she shifted on the couch to make room for him. When he didn’t move, she pointedly patted the space next to her. When he still didn’t move, she made her way across the room to meet him.

“Then what is it, Varric? Crossbow troubles?” she asked. He looked away and his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Marian, I—” Record scratch, freeze frame. Varric never called her Marian. Never anything than Hawke, actually. He’d never even given her a nickname, like he had all the others. She was just Hawke.

“Didn’t realize you knew my name,” she managed. Another faint smile, only barely reaching his eyes. It was gone as soon as it came.

“Shit, I’m not good at this kind of thing,” he said. The smell of cheap ale and whiskey clung to him like a second skin.

“What kind of thing? You’re freaking me out, Varric.”

His warm amber eyes turned up to meet hers. Carefully, seemingly giving her every opportunity to move away, he reached up a hand on her face. Distantly, she realized he must be standing on his tip-toes. She might have laughed, if he hadn’t gently tugged her face down towards him.

His lips were softer than she’d imagined they’d be. His calloused hands tangled in her short hair, bringing her closer. She could taste the faint touch of alcohol on his tongue as her mouth slanted over his.

She looped an arm around his waist and easily lifted him up into the air.

“Hawke, put me down,” he said indignantly. She laughed breathlessly against his mouth.

“My shoulders were getting sore from bending over,” she said. She wound her free hand through his hair and tugged him back to kiss her again. She realized suddenly that she would be quite happy staying right here, like this, for the rest of her life. Well, maybe with a stool. She was strong, but Varric was sturdy. He’d probably whack her on the arm if she told him that though.

She set Varric down on the table, standing between his legs and bringing both hands up to cup his face.

“Better?” she whispered. He grumbled something indistinct and unflattering that was abruptly cut off as she began to trail kisses down to his neck.

“Would you believe that I’ve wanted to do this for years?” he rasped. Hawke stilled. And then, she began to laugh, resting her forehead against Varric’s.

“Well, there’s no call to be rude,” he said. She pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, still chuckling.

“I have as well,” she said at last.

“Ah,” Varric managed. And then, “So, what now?”

“You in a rush, Tethras?” Marian asked. She gently tipped his chin up to face her. “Seems to me we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“So we do,” he said, and he kissed her again.

#this was such a joy to write #da2 #hawke #varric tethras #varric x hawke #hightown funk

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sinceileftyoublog · 3 years

Text

Georgia Anne Muldrow Interview: Rhythm Is A Form of Gravity

Photo by Antoinette A. Brock

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“The people keep you fresh. They keep you on your toes,” Georgia Anne Muldrow told me over the phone last month. The prolific L.A. musician, whose output ranges from experimental hip-hop to neo soul to jazz and everything in between, is releasing her fifth record in four years on Friday, and the third overall in her beats series. VWETO III (FORESEEN + Epistrophik Peach Sound) follows last year’s Mama, You Can Bet! (released under the name Jyoti), 2019′s collaboration with Dudley Perkins and VWETO II, and 2018′s acclaimed, Grammy-nominated Overload. Unlike any of the previous albums, it was put together with some “calls to action” in mind.

Thought some of the songs were around for longer, VWETO III as an entity was made last year, “over a course of time where things were changing in terms of different recording techniques I was trying,” said Muldrow, harking back to techniques and inspirations from her early years of music making. The record was also, obviously, formed during a global pandemic that caused folks to lock down, and Muldrow is conscious to giving listeners opportunities to reach out on her very active Instagram account. Each of the album’s singles have been paired with those aforementioned calls to action. “Unforgettable”, which combines 80′s-sounding synths with 90′s G-funk, calls for vocalists to submit performances to go along with Muldrow’s vocals on the song. “Mufaro’s Garden”, inspired by an illustrated folktale book called Mufaro's Beautiful Daughters, asks for visual artist submissions. On the day of the album’s release, Muldrow will ask for dance submissions to “Slow Drag”, a throwback Hammond-guitar-piano ditty named after the juke joint dance of the same name. Next month, it’ll be “Action Groove”, with calls for turntable scratch ‘n’ sampling remixes from DJs. And it’s not just the singles that exemplify Muldrow’s desire to connect with listeners on a granular level. Many of the songs on VWETO III refer to or are inspired by specific eras, from the Afrofuturist jazz of “Afro AF” to the genre tribute “Boom Bap Is My Homegirl”. That the titles are clearly referential, too, like “Old Jack Swing” or “Synthmania Rock”, shows that Muldrow’s not winking and nodding or trying to fool us, earnestly inviting us to dive in.

Moreover, VWETO III is coinciding with what Muldrow’s calling the Teacherie, classes she’s trying to develop to spread knowledge of what she��s learned throughout her own career, everything from philosophy to instrumental-specific classes. Right now, from her saved Instagram story called “Teacherie!,” you can take an assessment to fill out what you’re interested in. “It helps me to see what skill levels people have and what they want to learn in the class,” Muldrow said. “I seek to continue to stay open enough to make relevant music and have relevant things to share with people.” Overall, Muldrow is the type of artist that uses online platforms the way they’d be used in an ideal world. Her use of NFTs, too, is noble; the album art by Cape Town-based Breeze Yoko is being auctioned off, with 50% of proceeds going to prison abolitionist organization Critical Resistance. Even when the offline world returns--Muldrow’s slated to play Pitchfork Music Festival on Saturday, September 11th--Muldrow’s created a blueprint for navigating an increasingly isolating digital world, by seeking out real connections.

Below, read my conversation with Muldrow, edited for length and clarity, as she discusses making the record, being inspired by African rhythms, the influence of Digital Underground, and why her work logically extends into prison abolition. You can also catch her tomorrow on Bandcamp Live at 8 PM CST.

Since I Left You: Why did you decide this was a good time to revisit your beats album series?

Georgia Anne Muldrow: The people love it, you know? I always like to post beats on Instagram and share my poetry or state of mind of what’s going on in the world according to my people, and provide a place of joy and uplift. The voice of the people kind of determined what songs were on there. There are some songs that nobody’s ever heard. Different ideas, something a little bit more energized.

Something for the people. It’s really great that I have direct contact with them. Some of the songs are things I like to try based on the vibes I get from their feedback. It’s great; it’s a beautiful thing for me. I’ve gone through phases where critics love me, but the voice of the people that really support your work is really cool to hear. It’s like a little focus group. I just like sharing my music with folks because it’s my way of contributing love energy to the world in a direct, immediate way.

SILY: A lot of folks are still staying home and needing that connection. You’re connecting with them but also providing a platform for them to connect with each other.

GAM: Yes. I’m way into that and seek to be expanding that in an even more literal sense with my classroom project [Teacherie], like a live webinar sort of thing, that enables folks to speak amongst themselves. A more extended form of what I do on social media. An intimate look at what’s really going on in music. They can see where my emotions end and the music begins and try to make things seamless within their own music. Teach what I’ve picked up along the way, because I won’t be here forever. Spreading the love but the knowledge, too, with the music that I share. There’s a certain quality that you can achieve if you have patience.

SILY: Did you always know you wanted to do these calls for action, like for vocalists on “Unforgettable”? And how did you decide which tracks you wanted to do them for?

GAM: It’s definitely my way of trying to promote some sort of hip hop jam in lieu of the isolation that folks are weathering...I’m really inspired by the early age of hip hop where everyone had different dances. They brought their art books to the hip hop jams. The jackets with the art on it, the MCs rapping. The breakdancing, the DJs. All of the different things in place for it to be complete. That’s part of what got me hooked on production. One night years ago, [when I first played] my stuff, and folks started to dance, it got me hooked--to make somebody move. Somebody can rap over this, somebody can dance to this or draw to this. That’s the reason for the calls to action. Opening up a hip hop jam all over the world. I hope it gains some momentum. That would be nice, for more people to put themselves out there. But I do understand we live in different times right now and people are trying to get by. I still have to post some of the artists from “Mufaro’s Garden” and these rap videos from “Unforgettable”.

SILY: You’re giving people an opportunity, even if they’re just trying to get through the day, to take a break or have a beneficial creative exercise.

GAM: Yeah. Being creative together, and togetherness. The thinking that the songs aren’t complete without dance. Lyrics are a certain kind of fulfillment of music. But the movement of the body is another one. [It] goes back to gravity. Drummers harness the power of gravity and manipulate it so things can fall at a certain time. Same thing with dance--[dancers] don’t manipulate gravity, but interact with it and create an interdependence with it. When somebody’s dancing, they come back down to the ground, and you could let that go and let gravity guide what your dance looks like. Rhythm is a form of gravity--a form of gravity engaging with life. I feel like movement is the fulfillment of all the arts. I just seek to do my part.

SILY: You mentioned being inspired by a specific early era in hip hop, and there’s a lot on here inspired by genre or era-specific trends, like the G-funk in “Unforgettable” and “Boom Bap Is My Homegirl”.

GAM: [Boom bap] is one of the things that I specialize in. It’s a home base for me. In my experience, it’s a very African point of access. A lot of the boom bap rhythms are straight from Africa. Most of them are. Off the shores of West Africa. I heard so many of them, from The Gambia, Senegal, Mali. Over there, you hear so much of it. I want to be part of that. At the same time, I might wake up and make a free jazz record. I don’t feel like a traditionalist; I just want to preserve the culture of Black music from this hemisphere. I love traditional ideas, but it’s not like I’m gonna do this one idea for the sake of staying in a lane. There’s no place that Black music hasn’t influenced, molded, shaped, nurtured.

SILY: When was the last time you were able to perform in Africa?

GAM: I believe it might have been 2017. These years have started to run together. I don’t mind it, though. Keeps me young. [laughs]

VWETO III cover art by Breeze Yoko

SILY: How did the songs on here with vocals come together, whether the ones with your singing or the ones with featured artists? Did the words or beats/melodies come first?

GAM: The beats came first except for “Shana’s Back”. Shana Jensen is my sister; she’s the mother of my niece. Every time she’d come over and I had an idea to compose songs around her, they’d end up being huge songs. She’d be like, “Bye!” [laughs] I guess she wanted something a little more understated. I’d always end up doing big Motown sounds. There’s a song on The Blackhouse called “Shana’s Groove”. It’s a like a reoccurring situation and character. It’s kind of funny at this point.

The other ones, like “Unforgettable”, I’m very much matching the vibe, the punk-funk aesthetic. Sometimes a little hook just pushes it over the edge and gets them into the mindset I was in when thinking about it. Other songs like “Love Call” I just wanted to sound like it was in an arena. Arena rock, funk, Digital Underground-inspired, all the way.

SILY: Are you a big Digital Underground fan?

GAM: I think it shows in a lot of the music I make. I don’t think I can hide it. This record has so many examples of that. I love Shock G so much. He was so bad, as a thinker, a philosopher, a community builder, artist, pianist, maestro. The “Love Call” groove, “Unforgettable”, “[Old] Jack Swing”, you can hear it. I was raised with that kind of music in my head as a child. Unashamed to be funky and make a groove have extra grease on it. That’s what distinguished our sound from other region’s sounds. Getting greasy. While still doing the boom bap and all that other stuff. For me, it was always a goal to represent where I’m from in my music in a non-traditional way. Bringing what I love about the West Coast to whatever I was working on.

Shock G lives in all of us. He brought so many different vibes. A rhythmic pocket that breathes. Somewhat right under "Atomic Dog”. It keeps you moving. It has a breath of life in it. I’m so thankful to have lived in an era where I could hear and experience his work.

SILY: How did “Ayun Vegas” come together?

GAM: Ayun is my little brother. I think I’ve known him since 2014 or ‘15. He’s quite a talent. I love his style. He’s from [New] Jersey. I love his sense of rhythmic dynamic. His use of metaphor, double entendre. I feel like he’s really a gifted poet. He can do all types of different things. He’s an amazing MC--he just released a project with Jacob Rochester called Slaps & Hugs. I’m gonna lean towards people who are creative themselves and insert themselves into everything they do.

Ayun is very secure in being different. He came out to Vegas, and I had this song. Usually, when I play leftfield stuff, MCs want that beat they can crush and not feel challenged by. This song is really old. I feel like it was made in 2016. I feel like that was the first time when somebody was willing to rap on an idea that was out of the ordinary. It’s not just in your face. It’s something different, but I want you to rap for your life on this. Something more like a movie score, where you find your character. He did it! He didn’t leave one beat behind.

He’s rhythmically gifted and quite the poet. He almost went into pro football but he chose music. He’s a very enterprising brother, doing all types of apparel. He was working in the visual artist community, in the videographer community. Any time I can showcase what it is that he got to share, I’m there. He’s not afraid to speak the truth. This verse is impressionistic. It’s like somebody is taking a really big brush and making a beautiful image, strong-arming it. It’s dope. I love it.

We did another song together on the Overload album, but it didn’t make the cut. The Japanese version of Overload has a song called “What Can We Do Now”, and it has Ambrose Akinmusire, Ayun, and me. I’d love for that to be heard stateside, because it’s definitely about what’s happening over here.

SILY: Why did you choose to have the proceeds for this record go to Critical Resistance?

GAM: I’ve always wanted my music to be a tool for the motion of people. It doesn’t stop with dance and rapping and singing and drawing. It begins with that. Where it ends up, the movement of people coming into their powers, truths that in order to have a more humane society, we are going to have to throw some of this bullshit away. The spoils of enslavement. We’ve got to get rid of those spoils so we can get to a more realistic place of folks being cognizant of the activities that they take a part in. Jails ain’t gonna help people feel like they’re part of the community. They cage people and endanger their lives and run the risk of ruining somebody’s mental, emotional, and spiritual state even if they did commit the crime they’re in there for.

There’s a sense that all crime is committed from a place of fear. Many crimes people are locked up for is just folks trying to find a way. I don’t see how more fear is going to rehabilitate. The idea that punishment leads to enlightenment. People in the public school system are taught about some of the baddest people that ever lived--mass murders. But they’re not the type of people held accountable. They’re who brought over the imprisonment systems from their failed nations.

I don’t believe in reform at all. Critical Resistance seeks to abolish prisons as we know them. I love that their resolve is so sure and bold.

Photo by Antoinette A. Brock

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