#still ya know my deal: hate directed at me = a drawing of these two

[windydrawallday]

When you've had enough of your partner's antics so, you decide to take matters into your own hands... or lips? Whatever.

[beccascribbles]

can you please do an omegaverse fic with inarizaki having an omega manager that goes into heat during a game and she tries to leave but some guys from another team stop her and harass her but the bois pull up and protect her <3

a/n - right, just a warning, i’m a big atsumu simp and this became abundantly clear to me when i was writing this... it’s less inarizaki and more miya twins (with the addition of kita). whoops

warnings - harassment (unwanted touching, sexual implications)

In hindsight, leaving the house without packing heat suppressants, or at least being aware of your own condition, was reckless of you. It wasn't your fault you had woken up late and had to rush to ensure you looked presentable by the time the twins came by to collect you. Though you would have loved to make the twins late (considering it was their fault - they didn’t have to get you hooked on a new TV show and leave the call midway through the season finale), you weren’t so keen on having any of Kita’s disappointment directed towards you. Therefore, when the twins arrived, Atsumu with a wide smirk at your slightly dishevelled self, you settled on directing a swift punch to their stomachs as revenge.

“Ouch,” whined Atsumu, rubbing his stomach with a pout. “What was that for, stupid?”

“Obviously she’s pissed off that we let her stay up late,” Osamu grumbled, also rubbing his stomach, though, instead of a pout, his lips were tugged downwards in a frown. “Although I don’t see how her terrible sleep schedule is our problem.”

“Don’t get me hooked on a new show next time,” you muttered, looping an arm through Osamu’s and beginning to pull him down the road. In your other hand, you held a cool bag with some snacks for the team. The only reason you had grabbed Osamu with your free arm was to prevent him from peeking into the bag. If he had hands free to look, he had hands free to eat the food within. Atsumu was less likely to eat the food, though that didn’t stop him from unzipping the bag and peeking inside.

“Oh, tasty!” he exclaimed, zipping up the bag and making eye contact with Osamu, whose head had turned in his direction once the words left his mouth. He was clearly pleading with his twin to reveal what was in the bag. Atsumu simply stuck his tongue out. “Why don’t ya use your nose to figure it out? You always boast about having a better sense of smell than me anyway.”

“Because I do,” snapped back Osamu, quickly becoming irritated, muscles tensing as he prepared himself to leap towards his twin. Your arm tightened around his, and you shot him a look, eyes holding a warning. With care, you let your scent wind through the air around the three of you, the twin alphas calming at the subtle shift in the air.

Atsumu looped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, the bag you were carrying bumping awkwardly against his legs in the process. This action almost caused your arm to slip from Osamu’s, but he quickly tightened his hold. Atsumu was not going to pull you away from him. Almost in sync, they both turned towards you, noses nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You let out a slightly frustrated sigh, but let them continue scenting you. After all, when they were able to do this, they were at their calmest, and you still had a long bus journey ahead of you where keeping arguments to a minimum was preferable.

When you began to approach the school gates, you pulled out of their grasp, walking ahead of them. You began to walk faster, shooting a look over your shoulder to see the pair of them watching you with confused expressions. It was when you finally broke into a sprint, hefting the bag holding the food at a weird angle, that they realised what you had in mind. Letting out a laugh, Atsumu took off after you; Osamu quickly followed. If you had managed to get a bigger head start, you might have won. However, on this occasion, both twins pulled ahead of you, darting around a bewildered Kita and launching forward to touch the bus with their fingers.

“I won!” they declared in unison, an argument breaking out between them that you tuned out in favour of focusing your attention on Kita. Aran had already walked over to the twins, grabbing them by the backs of their jackets and hauling them away. It was this sudden movement that jerked them from their argument.

“Hey,” you greeted, giving Kita a weary smile as he reached forward to take the food from you. Together, you walked towards the bus. Kita, having arrived ridiculously early, had already packed away everything that the team would need. The only thing not within the bus was most of the team, their individual athletic bags, and whatever you had brought with you. You climbed in, reaching up to place the bag on the overhang above you. Once you had finished, you turned to face Kita. “I think we’re going to win for sure. I did some research on this team and they’ve put forward a series of underwhelming performances in official games, as well as practice matches. They’re no match for Inarizaki, especially with our captain ready to step in if the second years on court get too excited or lazy.”

The latter comment was directed towards Suna, whose head poked up from behind a seat near the back of the bus. He raised his middle finger up in response before refocusing on the phone he was holding in his other hand. You yelled over at him, “Good morning to you too.”

“Whatever, y/n,” he sighed, looking up at you once again. “Just sit down somewhere, preferably a place where the two idiots can argue over who gets to sit next to you.”

You just rolled your eyes, taking the seat you were planning on claiming originally. Kita stood in the aisle, giving you a small smile. “I’m glad you’re confident we’re going to win, especially with all the practice everybody has been putting in.”

“I know,” you grinned. While continuing with the conversation, you motioned towards the seat beside you, indicating for Kita to take it. You’d rather sit next to Kita than have to deal with the twins for the journey anyway. “Everybody has been putting in so much more effort. I swear I’ve had to physically drag Atsumu out of the gym most days.”

“He just doesn’t listen,” sighed Kita, resting his head against the headrest. “I keep telling him practicing too much is bad for his health. He even got a fever because he was practicing too hard.”

“He’s stupid like that,” you shrugged, a yawn cutting through whatever you were about to say next.

“You better be talkin’ about Samu,” interrupted Atsumu, taking the seat in front of you and turning around to face you. Osamu collapsed into the seat beside him, flicking him in the forehead.

“She was obviously talking about you, dumbass,” he quipped.

Osamu turned to you for confirmation, only to see your head resting against the captain’s shoulder. He questioned, “y/n?”

“Of course she’s asleep,” laughed Atsumu, nudging Osamu with his shoulder, previous comment forgotten in favour of teasing you. “She can’t take the late nights.”

“Keep it down,” Kita said, adjusting your head so that it was rested against him more comfortably. In response, you moved closer to him, an arm sliding around his waist to hug him as you mumbled something incoherent in your sleep. A furious blush spread along his cheeks, and he ducked his head to hide from the twins. Luckily, their attention was fixed elsewhere, on a video Suna had sent to Osamu, too lazy to get up to walk down the coach to show him. Kita let out a sigh, dropping his head to rest atop of yours. He chided, not that you could hear him in your slumber, “You should really try to sleep earlier.”

It was fortunate for you that you slept for most of the journey. You missed Osamu moaning about being hungry, and then proceeding to search up pictures of food to drool over. Consequently, you also missed Atsumu hitting his twin and being scolded by Kita, something that always made you laugh. However, Suna had got up to draw on your face, which would have been an unfortunate consequence. Luckily, it was only to shuffle back to his seat sheepishly, the sight of Kita beside you a deterrent.

“You had to fall asleep on Kita,” grumbled Suna, walking along beside you as you entered the gymnasium. You trailed behind the rest of the team, your footsteps unusually sluggish. You blamed it on your late night. “Why couldn’t you have fallen asleep on Atsumu? He would’ve let me draw on your face.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad you didn’t,” you responded, transferring the food bag to your other hand. The weight, though it wasn’t abnormally heavy, was beginning to make your arm ache. In fact, your whole body ached. Eyebrows furrowed, you continued switching the bag from hand to hand. It made no difference. You still ached.

“You look constipated,” observed Suna, though he took the food from your grip. You gave him a thankful smile, which he waved off. “I’m not being nice. I just don’t like walking beside someone with such a stupid expression on their face.”

“I didn’t ask you to walk beside me,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. They still ached, even without the bag. All you wanted to do was collapse on the bench at the sidelines.

“It’s not my fault you decided to walk so slowly today,” replied Suna, glancing over at you briefly. Something about you was off, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was probably a consequence of your late night, but even when you had stayed up late before, you were never this sluggish. Usually, you walked at the front beside Kita, or with the coaches. It was rare for you to be at the back unless you wanted to annoy him, which evidently was not the case this time. “I didn’t voluntarily choose to accompany you.”

“Leave me then,” you snapped, eyes narrowing in a glare, your scent suddenly spiking. He let out a grumble, releasing some of his pheromones in the air to soothe you. Suna hated being on omega duty, one of the reasons why he was glad you usually opted to walk at the front.

“You know I can’t just leave you,” he sighed, placing a hand on the small of your back to urge you forward. “The sooner we get to the gym, the sooner you can leave me and sit on the bench.”

That caused you to perk up somewhat, which also had the effect of pulling your scent back to its’ ordinary level. Your scent may have regulated, but the ache in your body persisted, each movement making you fight back a wince. It was with gritted teeth that you sat on the bench, and pulled your clipboard towards you. Suna gave you one last assessing look before beginning to warm up.

Your gaze was unfocused as you stared down at the words you had written on the page. They swam in front of your gaze, coming apart and then joining again in dizzying confusion. As you stared, you found your mind wandering, nose twitching as you found yourself seeking out any scent that felt comforting, felt familiar. Your head snapped up from the clipboard, falling on a pile of discarded jackets. From the pile, and wafting towards you in the air, was Atsumu’s rich scent that made you recall moments where you were held in his arms and shielded from the rain, Osamu’s that brought forward memories of laughing in the kitchen and collaborating on random food creations, and Kita’s that filled you with comfort, reminding you of his quite support.

Before you could process what you were doing, you were moving towards the pile, hand clutching the first jacket you found. You buried your nose into the material, breathing in Atsumu’s scent, a soft whine escaping your lips. Your own team, too engrossed in warming up, missed the sound. It did, however, attract the attention of the team on the other side of the net.

You were unaware of the sudden, and unwanted, attention, shrugging off your jacket and pulling on Atsumu’s. You turned your head into the collar, taking in a deep breath. Though the scent satisfied you emotionally, the joy at being wrapped in Atsumu’s scent, caused you to release your own pheromones, made you feel slightly dizzy. A sudden spiking heat rushed through you, and a quiet ‘shit’ slipped from your lips. Hurriedly, you began to head towards the exit, keeping your head ducked and trying desperately to stop sending pulse after pulse of pheromones into the gym. You figured that, once you were safely in the confines of the bus, you could send a message to one of the coaches, apologising for having to leave and explaining that your heat had suddenly started.

A large hand wrapped around your wrist, causing you to come to a jolting stop. The owner of the hand yanked you back into his chest and you let out a surprised squeak. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him as he let out a pleased hum. His nose ran along the scent gland at your neck, making you stiffen suddenly. Fear made you kick out, knocking against one of his teammates who was standing beside him.

“Get off me,” you panted, weakly thrashing in his grip, a sharp and bitter scent escaping from you. Across the gym, Atsumu and Osamu’s heads snapped in your direction. “Just want to leave. Need to leave.”

Twin growls ripped through the gym, sending shivers down the spines of many people in attendance, including the male currently holding you. All you could feel was relief. He looked over his shoulder, making eye contact with the furious twins. Their fury had caught the attention of the rest of Inarizaki, who all suddenly stood to attention.

“No need to be aggressive,” chuckled the male, though he made no move to release you. “I was just going to take care of this omega.”

“Like fuck ya are,” spat Atsumu, lunging forward and grabbing the male by the back of his shirt. His eyes were dark, expression twisted as another growl ripped from his throat.

“Get the fuck away from her,” growled Osamu, who had taken the distraction Atsumu provided to step in front of the male. The rest of his teammates had wisely backed off. One who had been about to pull Atsumu away had been stopped by Kita, his grip tight as he had pulled the man away by his shoulder. Despite the warning, the male’s arm remained around you. Despite Atsumu at his back and Osmau at his front, he had the nerve to push his nose against your scent gland and breathe you in deeply. A nervous whimper escaped your mouth, all Osamu and Atsumu needed for any last bit of restraint they had to evaporate. He muttered darkly, “I gave you a warning.”

Osamu’s hand curled around the male’s wrist, yanking it upwards harshly and twisting. His other arm went to catch you, pulling you away as Atsumu finally snapped. His arm wrapped around the male’s throat, his muscles prominent as he tightened his grip, crushing his windpipe. It was clear Osamu was frustrated too, eager to leap at the male. Yet, you were beside him, looking up at him with fear, and his first instinct was to protect you. He pulled his gaze away from the scene in front of him, scanning the gym until he finally found Kita. Kita was already walking towards you, anger prominent in the lines of his body. He took you from Osamu, letting you wrap your legs around his waist and snuggle your head into the crook of his neck as he held you. Kita left Osamu with a nod, giving permission the other man had not needed, but appreciated, to attack the male who had harassed you. He would let the coaches break it apart. Right now, you were his concern.

Kita walked from the gym, heading towards the bus. It was fortunate he was always prepared. Though he was certain you would be responsible enough to bring your own, he had packed heat suppressors in the buses emergency kit just in case. You let out a soft whine, hands curling into the material of his shirt.

“Atsumu… Osamu… Are they okay?” you questioned, needing to know. Kita let out a comforting purr, coupled with a release of soothing pheromones. The scent wafted around you, easing your racing heart, though it did little to cut through the haze of your heat.

“They’re fine,” he reassured, hand rubbing a soothing circle into your back before he placed you gently on a seat in the bus. You wrapped your arms around yourself, nose immediately pressing against the inside collar of the jacket, breathing in Atsumu’s scent deeply.

“Want the twins,” you whimpered. It was normal for you to want to be close to them. You had been with them since you were born, the three of you inseparable as soon as you were able to toddle. It was their scents that made up the majority of your nest, with the occasional addition of something Kita or Suna or another member of the team had scented.

Kita ignored your comment in favour of grabbing the heat suppressants from the bag. He turned towards you, grabbing a water bottle from where the spares were kept. Deciding it might be better for you, more peaceful and less painful, he also decided to include a sleeping pill. Kita handed them to you. “Have these. It’s heat suppressants and a sleeping pill.”

He watched as you took the medicine, carding his fingers through your hair affectionately. He gave your fingers a reassuring squeeze, “I’ll be back, along with the twins, when the match is finished.”

You nodded, barely registering his words as you let sleep overtake you.

When you woke up, strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you against a chest. You snuggled into the warmth, letting the distinct scent of Atsumu wash over you. Fingers stroked your hand softly, tracing its shape before sliding between your own. Your hand was lifted up, soft lips pressed against it before a face nuzzled into your palm. Sleepily, you looked up, blinking up at the twins. Even in your half-awake state, you could see the slight bruising that peppered their skin. Despite it being two-against-one, the male had landed a few solid hits before the coaches got involved.

“You’re awake,” cheered Atsumu, brushing a kiss to the top of your head as his fingers ran up and down your back, sliding beneath his jacket and your t-shirt to rest against your bare skin. Osamu gave a small cheer as well, a warm smile overtaking his features as he gazed down at you. That warm smile didn’t stop him from scolding you, something you were expecting from Kita and not him.

“And an idiot for not realising you were starting your heat,” he said, reaching over to give your hair an affection ruffle.

“We always know when our ruts are so you should know when your heats are,” chimed in Atsumu, ignoring the weak punch to his chest that you gave him with the hand not being held in Osamu’s.

“That’s because I always remind you,” you grumbled in response, though your anger was short-lived. The pheromones they were pumping out were so distracting any emotion but bliss was hard to feel, let alone hold onto.

“Considering how long you’ve known each other,” said Suna, deciding to add his two pence to the conversation, “I would’ve thought you two dumbasses would know what her pre-heat symptoms are.”

“You’re her friend too,” protested Atsumu, the only thing stopping him from engaging in a fall-blown argument was you in his lap. “Maybe you should have realised.”

“I did realise,” smirked Suna. In a quieter voice, he continued, “I just thought she was tired.”

“Can you all shut up?” snapped Aran, to which Kita was quick to agree, explaining that you would appreciate the peace and quiet.

That put a stop to any argument that could have broken out, both of the twins refocusing on you. Osamu resumed lazily playing with your fingers, while Atsumu nuzzled into your neck, rubbing his face against your scent gland. You let out a content sigh, finding comfort in their touch and the scents of the team wafting around you.

[floating-mid-air]

The Princess of all Saiyans

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 Masterlist

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Hey Everyone! It's been a while. My life's been kind of hectic the past couple of months. Long story short: I Graduated from Highschool this year, so I was busy with everything having to do with that. Then my summer job sadly prevented me from writing as well. And then I started College, which was a big change for me. For now, there are no more chapters in my life opening or closing. Now I'm finally in a place where I feel comfortable continuing this book again. I could've honestly been writing during all of this chaos. But I wouldn't have been pleased with the quality of my writing. I'm really excited to get back into the swing of things. I don't think this chapter panned out the way I originally planned, but I'm still happy with it. As always, I hope you enjoy it. And if you have any comments or concerns, feel free to let me know. My inbox is always open!

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Chapter 11

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You've been walking for quite some time now, and the experience has been excruciating. You haven't been in this much pain since you and Raditz were on planet Telia, ten-something years ago. Those damn underlings were able to get a good sneak attack on you. Though you can't say, you let them get away scot-free. You made sure to make their entire dreadful race pay for that injury. You and Raditz had covered up that incident, much like you're doing with your current injury.

"So---" You can hear Goku talking to Krillin from just slightly left of you. "Did you guys find the senzu beans?" Wow, Kakarot may be the least subtle creature you've ever encountered.

"Ya." Krillin chuckles. "All four of us were in pretty rough shape." Goku glances at you with a worried look on his face. You glare at him as Raditz eyes the two of you skeptically. He knows something's off between the two of you. Maybe something serious did happen while you and his brother were trapped together. 

A bit more time has passed, and you've been trying your best to keep up with the others. But it isn't as easy as you thought. You're now trailing behind the rest of them, with Raditz turning back to look at you every so often. The largest Saiyan slows down to catch up with your slower pace, now walking beside you.

He turns to you, whispering in a low tone. "Something's off." Raditz can no longer stay silent about his concerns. First, it was the strange vibes between you and Kakarot. And now it's your out-of-character demeanor making him uneasy.

"About what?"

"You. Typically you walk beside your brother, and when he doesn't let you, you make sure you're always only a few paces behind. But right now, you couldn't be more content to trail everyone. Plus, you're far too confident to not be in the very front." Raditz has been around far too long for your liking. Damn him. He knows you far too well, and you hate him for it.

You roll your eyes at him. "So this conclusion of yours is based on the way I'm walking? I'm tired. When I fought, Burter, that physically drained me. And then I got trapped in a ditch with your moronic brother, that mentally drained me. I'm exhausted, Raditz." 

"It's not just the way you're walking. It's your mannerisms as well." He points at your side. "Your hand hasn't moved from your side from the moment I first saw you."

"God, Raditz." You scoff. "Stop overanalyzing everything."

"Getting defensive now? That's your M.O whenever you're hiding something." He looks back and forth between your face and your hand that has remained glued to your side. The gears in the older Saiyan's head slowly but surely turning. " Y/N, are you hurt?" 

"No." You snap your eyes shut, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to suppress a wince of pain. "I'm fine."

He tilts his head at you. "Y/N, I know you claim otherwise, but I'm not stupid. I know you're in pain."

You chuckle softly in a self-pitying way. "Am I that easy to read?"

Raditz shakes his head, smiling to himself. "No, I've just known you for a long time now." He returns to his serious demeanor, his gaze returning to the area of your wound. "How bad is it?"

"I barely feel it at all. Though, climbing out of that ditch must have reopened the cut."

Raditz snickers. "You're a bad liar."

"That's strange. I've been told in the past that I'm quite good at lying."

A smirk spreads across Raditz's lips. "Well, you apparently aren't when I'm involved."

The larger Saiyan glances at the back of your brother's head. You respond with a glare, firmly pulling on a large chunk of his hair. You know what Raditz wants to do, and it's not happening. "Don't even think about it."

"I-I think we should tell him Y/N."

"No." You let go of his hair, tapping his chest with extreme force. "You're going to keep your big mouth shut. Vegeta will freak out. You know how irrational he gets."

Raditz decides to let you have your way--- for now. The man can't help but wonder why you're so stubborn, but then again, his nature isn't much different from yours.

With every minute that passes, your condition only seems to worsen. Your eyes even start to droop. "Y/N?" Raditz turns to you, his features beginning to fill with worry. He places one of his large hands on your forehead. You're burning up. "You have a fever. Your wound must be infected."

"No." You shake your head in disagreement, almost like a child. As your mental state becomes more and more delirious. 

"Vegeta!" Raditz shouts, gaining your brother's attention.

"Fuck you, Raditz! You're such a blabbermouth!" You shout at the larger Saiyan in front of you.

"What's wrong this time? Is my sister trying to pull you into another one of her elaborate schemes?"

"Y/N's hurt--- bad." Vegeta's eyes widen, and not even a millisecond later, he rushes to your side. "She has a fever. I think her cut is infected."

"Where is it?" He crosses his arms at you, noticing your hand placed firmly on your side. He moves your hand out of the way with ease, lifting your armor. "How did this happen?"

"Burter nicked me during our fight. It's no big deal."

"No big deal? It's infected, you stupid woman!" He turns his attention to Kakarot. "Did you know about this?"

You snicker. "Oh ya, Vegeta. I get hurt, and the first person I run to tell is Kakarot." Vegeta's fists clench at your sarcastic remark, turning his fit of rage back at you.

"You know, in certain situations, you're more prone to infections. And a planet like Namek checks all of the boxes! You know you need to be more careful. Damn our mother and her faulty genetics!" Sadly that's a trait you had inherited from your mother. On most planets, you'd be fine, and injuring yourself would be no big deal. But Namek has specific conditions that result in you being more vulnerable. 

"Raditz, pick her up." Raditz picks you up, giving you a piggyback ride. You wrap your arms around his neck, giving yourself better balance. Vegeta glances up at you. He looks even madder than usual. "With the condition, you're in, you will not be fighting. You will stay away from Jeice, and you won't even enter the same proximity as Ginyu. Do you understand me?"

"But--"

"No!" His voice booms, gaining the attention of every creature for miles. "I'm not kidding around. Do you understand me?"

You bite your lip, tilting your head downwards, avoiding your brother's gaze like the plague. "Yes, Vegeta." Vegeta returns to the front of the group, his mood sourer than ever.

As Raditz begins to walk, he starts talking to you again. "Are you mad at me?" You don't verbally respond. Instead, you claw into his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. "Fuck. I'll take that as a yes."

"You're a tattletale."

Raditz chuckles. "No wonder why Vegeta babies you. You'll thank me for this later, you stubborn woman. And I've kept your secrets before, handfuls of them, actually. Like what happened on planet Telia----" Raditz realized the grave mistake he had just made, mentioning that incident in the presence of the very being you worked so hard to hide it from.

You slap the older Saiyan upside the head as Vegeta turns backward, a scowl plastered on his face. "What happened on plant Telia?" It was a rhetorical question, mocking both you and Raditz. "Oh, the three of us will be discussing this in length later. Because it sounds to me like you both lied to me on that initial report." You and Raditz gulp, you've heard that tone from your brother millions of times now, and it has never once become any less terrifying. 

"Oh, lighten up, Geta." You groan. "That was like, what? Around thirteen years ago?"

"The amount of time that has passed matters very little to me. As I said before, this is a discussion for later."

A few more hours have passed, which honestly feels like days at this point. And considering Namek's strange day cycle, it very well could've been. "How much farther?" Your question was clearly directed at Vegeta. And at this point, you're not even sure he has any idea where you're headed either.

"I don't know why you're the one complaining." Raditz huffs.  "You're not the one doing all of the walking! And if you ask him that one more time, I'm going to drop you." Ok so maybe, that wasn't the first time you've asked that question today. Or the second, or third, you're very bored. 

"Man Raditz." You roll your eyes, which are barely open at this point. "You sure complain--- a lot."

"You were just complaining." The long-haired Saiyan grumbles. 

"No, I simply asked Vegeta a question. There's a difference Raditz. I know it's hard for your feeble mind to understand." When you're sick, you tend to act, oh what's the word? Bitcher than normal. And that's saying a lot.

Raditz clenches his jaw. "Vegeta. I need a break from your sister."

"That's how I felt ninety percent of the time I was stuck in a room with you, Nappa, and Cado. And you didn't see me running to wine to Frieza about it."

Before Raditz can retort, your brother interjects. "That's enough! From both of you!"

Krillin, Gohan, and Goku have identical bewildered expressions on their faces. Krillin turns to Vegeta, lowering his voice to a whisper. He doesn't want to be the next victim of your wrath. "Do they always fight like this?" The human finds this perplexing. Back on Earth, the pair seemed inseparable. They appeared to be the Saiyan equivalent of what on Earth would be considered best friends.

Vegeta lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Yes, but typically it's more playful in nature. When my sister is sick, she becomes even brattier than usual."

Vegeta's warning to both of you seems to have fallen on dead ears. Because your quarrel has not ceased, in fact, it has only elevated. "I will drop you, you royal brat!"

"I dare you to you second-class runt. I could still kick your ass even in my delirious state. I wouldn't even have to try very hard."

"I'm considering----"

Before Raditz can even get three words out, your bickering is once again interrupted, and not by the person you may think. "Enough!" Gohan shouts. You honestly forgot the others were here for a moment."If you two keep fighting like this, you're going to get all of us killed!" You and Raditz stare at the boy in shock. It's been a long time since the two of you have been yelled at by a child. The last time being when you were children yourselves. Vegeta hasn't changed much since childhood. He's been bossing you around and shouting at you since you were children, but I'm sure that's not very surprising. 

"Ya, and I can take Y/N---- if you need a break." Goku rubs the back of his neck, chuckling sheepishly. "Not that I want to hold Y/N or anything."

"No." You rapidly shake your head. "Raditz, I'm sorry. I'll be good now--- I promise."

A wicked grin spreads across Raditz's lips right before he grabs your hands with his larger ones. He loosens your grip around his neck, moving your body with ease, scooping you up into his arms. Every step Raditz takes toward Goku seems even more antagonizing slower than the last. Until he's standing directly in front of his younger brother. He elevates his arms slightly, dropping you right in front of an unsuspecting Goku.

Lucky for you, Goku has sharp reflexes. That allows the Saiyan to catch you easily. Raditz look's his brother dead in the eyes, his typical arrogant grin still on his lips. "She's your problem now, Kakarot." Raditz gazes downward to look at you. "Stop pouting. Maybe next time, you'll be nicer to good old Raditz."

A low growl echoes in the back of your throat as you glare daggers at the Saiyan standing before you. "Ya, or maybe next time, I'll rip out your tail and strangle you with it!" The only thing that's stopping you from lunging at Raditz is Goku's firm grip holding you in place.

Rather than arguing that the entire group has become accustomed to, the whole area has become dead silent. You're no longer pouting. Instead, you are glaring at the man who continues to carry you bridal style. You've never liked being held like this. It makes you feel weak like you have no control over your own body.

What makes you even more irritated, Is how Goku reacts to your death stare. He just grins at you. Does he just never get angry? What kind of Saiyan is he? It fills you with so much anger that someone as dopey as Kakarot has Saiyan blood flowing through his veins. 

You clench your fists. You just wanna punch Kakarot so badly. He just has such a punchable face. If you could take away his cheery personality, he'd actually be quite attractive. Wait--- what the hell are you thinking? Kakarot is stupid and way too friendly for you to ever think of him in that way.

 You move your fist up, finally giving in to your urges, attempting to punch the man holding you. Probably not your wisest moment, but your brain isn't functioning normally right now. Goku catches your hand with ease. His reflexes are unreal, or maybe this fever has you more sluggish than you believed. You'd prefer to think that it's the second option. He chuckles to himself. He's still not upset. What the hell is wrong with him? "Come on, Y/N. You gotta be quicker than that." He's challenging you. How Saiyan like of him. You seem to always be able to find specks of Saiyan nature in the cheerful man. And those are the aspects you actually like about him. 

Your eyes begin to once again feel heavy as your eyes droop shut, just before you fall asleep in the arms of your enemy. 

Twenty-Something Years Ago:

You're sitting on your bed, sitting crisscrossed, a book laying open on your lap. Since your father is currently off-planet, you can read all you want. You're enamored with your newest book. It's all about a topic referred to as diplomacy. It's fascinating and has many concepts that are entirely foreign to you, yet at the same time, some of these ideas are also familiar. 

As you read, your door slams open, but you pay the interruption almost no attention, not even bothering to look up from your book. Honestly, the unwelcome intrusion has you more angered than anything else. "God, Vegeta." You roll your eyes. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Something's not right. When Vegeta usually bursts into your room, he's automatically shouting at you.

Out of pure curiosity, you look up from your book. However, standing at your door, you don't find Vegeta. A boy with a very similar appearance but with a much smaller stature stands in your door frame. He's out of breath, desperately huffing for air. "Tarble?" You furrow your brows at your brother, launching off your bed to get closer to him. "What's wrong?" You have this sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your twin has never behaved in such a manner before. 

"Captain--- Captain Ginyu is here." Tarble is shaking, his eyes watering slightly.

You scowl ever so slightly. "But Ginyu's not scheduled to be on planet Vegeta any time soon." 

"It's--- It's a surprise visit. What do we do, Y/N?"

You contemplate for a moment before your features fill with alarm. "Tarble? Where's Vegeta?"

His lip quivers as he looks down at the floor. "He's with Captain Ginyu."

"Damn it." You mutter under your breath. Diplomacy is a skill you need right now. And Vegeta doesn't have a single quality that a diplomat possesses. Your elder brother is more likely to unnecessarily provoke the Captain, putting your entire race in hot water with the Frieza Force. 

You rush over to your bedside table, rummaging through the drawer. Once you have your scouter in your hand, you run back over to your brother. "Stay in here, and use this to channel our father. Let him know what's going on." You push past your twin, about to leave, before Tarble's voice calls out to you.

"Wait, Y/N!" You turn back to look at him. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go stop our older brother from doing something stupid. Everything will be fine, I promise. Just calm down and do as I said." And with that, you take off, praying that Vegeta hasn't already done something rash.

As you sprint down the halls of the palace, you run face-first into the torso of a large body. "Princess?"

You look up at the bald Saiyan, the one who's supposed to be at your brother's side at all times. Since the future king of planet Vegeta needs to be protected. "Nappa, Where is my brother?"

The imbecile scratches the back of his neck, contemplating much longer for your liking. "I'm not sure. I haven't seen the runt in quite some time. You should probably ask Vegeta." 

You scowl at the Saiyan. "Not Tarble, you fool! I'm asking you where Vegeta is!"

"Oh, Why didn't you just say so?" It's taking every ounce of restraint you have in your body to not viciously attack Nappa. "He's just outside of the palace." 

You run through Nappa, intentionally knocking the large Saiayn onto the floor. His stupidity lost you precious time. It was quite an amusing sight, though. A mere child, being able to take down one of your father's best warriors. 

You arrive outside of the palace, your eyes landing on your target. This is the first time you've ever seen Captain Ginyu. Sure, you've heard stories of the purple man. And much like your people, Ginyu is just as bloodthirsty and just as ruthless. Much to your surprise, the Captain doesn't have an army behind him. This was just before the Ginyu Force had formed. All Ginyu was at this point in time was a captain of one of Frieza's many armies. 

You walk over to them, now standing at your brother's side. "Captain Ginyu." You speak with your hands, an exaggerated smile appearing on your lips. "To what do we owe the honor?"

The man looks down at you, clearly analyzing you with his scouter. "Well, if this isn't a surprise. I think this is the first time I've had the pleasure of meeting you, Y/N." Ginyu extends his large hand out to you, causing Vegeta to feel a great deal of alarm. Your brother's body has gone tense with an apprehensive look on his face. But when your older brother looks over to you, there isn't even a glint of fear in your eyes. You're calm, almost as if one of Lord Frieza's deadliest warriors was not standing before you. You accept the Captain's hand, presenting him with a short but polite handshake. "Your father doesn't like showing you off much, does he?" 

You chuckle softly. "My father likes to hold his cards close to his chest. I'm sure a man like yourself is quite similar." Sucking up to Ginyu is not your favorite pastime, but it needs to be done. And every Saiyan on this planet knows your big brother is far too prideful to do it himself.

Ginyu looks between you and Vegeta carefully. For someone so highly regarded by Frieza, he sure isn't subtle. He's trying to read your facial expressions. Unfortunately for him, your father has raised you both much better than that. A poker face to you feels more natural than a genuine expression. "Speaking of your father, where is he right now?"

"He's of---"

You quickly cut Vegeta off. "He's in a meeting. That's why our father sent me out. He wanted you to know he sends his regards, but his hands are tied at the moment. He will be here at soon as possible. I hope my brother and I can suffice your needs in the meantime."

Captain Ginyu eyes you skeptically, tilting his head at you ever so slightly. "That sounds serious. I hope it's nothing too pressing."

"Of course not. It's nothing my father can't handle."

You're about to continue your schmoozing, but you're stopped by Vegeta aggressively yanking on your arm. "We need to talk-- in private."

You grimace at your brother's words. He just always has to make everything that much more difficult for you. You turn back to Ginyu, offering the man a cheerful smile. "Will you excuse us for a moment? We'll be right back."

Vegeta drags you around a corner, concealing you both from Ginyu's prying eyes. "What do you think you're doing?" He huffs at you in a whisper. "I had everything under control."

You snicker, crossing your arms. "You were just about to tell Ginyu that our father was off-planet. It sounds to me like I got here just in time to prevent you from making a grave mistake."

"I don't see why that matters."

"And that's the issue, Vegeta. Now we don't have time for this. Let's go." You turn back around, walking back over to Ginyu, Vegeta trailing not far behind. "I'd like to apologize for my brother's rudeness, Captain Ginyu." You shake your head but with a slight smirk across your lips. "All Saiyan men are the same, and my brother is no exception. They're incredibly thickheaded and quite savage. I'm convinced they don't even realize what brutes they are." You watch your brother ball his hands up into fists from beside you. It fills you with an immense feeling of joy knowing you're getting under Vegeta's skin for once. You turn back to Ginyu, plastering that disingenuous grin on your face. "Now, how about we give you a tour of our wonderful planet?"  

You and Vegeta have shown Ginyu around almost the entirety of your planet, and you must admit you're beginning to grow worried. Luckily you've managed to hold off any more questions about your father's whereabouts by charming him with various facts about planet Vegeta. But to be honest, you're not sure how much longer you can hold up this charade for. You've exhausted pretty much every idea that you've been able to come up with.

"Captain Ginyu!" Your father's brash voice invades your ears as you turn around to finally see the man you've been anxiously waiting for. You've never seen your father walk in such an urgent manner, and it's pretty funny watching your twin struggling to keep up with your father's pace. 

Your father places himself between you and Vegeta, ruffling your hair affectionately. You look up at him. "How'd your meeting go?"

Your father meets your gaze, catching onto your deception almost immediately. "It went very well. Thank you both for keeping Captain Ginyu company in my absence, but I think I can handle it from here." He directs his attention back onto Captain Ginyu. "Now, how about we discuss you're abrupt arrival somewhere more private."

The two men exit your field of view, leaving the three of you alone. Tarble, in his typical fashion, glues himself to your side. "What the hell was that?" Vegeta spits out with venom. "Where was your pride? You were basically groveling at his feet."

You furrow your brows at him. "I was doing what needed to be done. And if you think our father isn't currently doing the same thing, you're a bigger fool than I thought."

"I know our father is being more agreeable with him, but not at the cost of his pride."

"It's always about pride with you." You step closer to Vegeta, closing the distance between you. "Your pride today would have cost the loss of countless lives today, Vegeta."

"Then so be it. If there are Saiayn's that inadequate on our planet, we should probably just exterminate them now. It'll save us the hassle later on."

You snicker, shaking your head at Vegeta. "Some King you'll be." You turn to your twin. "Let's go, Tarble. I have no desire to be near our foolish brother right now."

The conversation between Captain Ginyu and your father was brief. It was a very anticlimactic ending to the naked eye. The briefness of this encounter only set off more alarm bells in King Vegeta's head. It was clear to the man that Ginyu's excuse for being on his planet was bullshit. He's just not quite sure what the captain's intentions were, but he sure as hell is going to find out.

As soon as Ginyu left planet Vegeta, he promptly set course for his next destination. He's headed straight to Lord Frieza to report his findings, and he's eager to do so.

 Ginyu arrives on the planet in record time, heading straight for the throne room. Ginyu kneels before Frieza, waiting for his boss to speak. "Captain Ginyu. You're sure back early. I trust you were able to gather enough information on the young prince."

Captain Ginyu nods enthusiastically. "Of course, Lord Frieza. The Price was exactly the same as the previous data we collected on him. He's powerful and quite intelligent for a Saiyan. Though, he did inherit that nasty temper from his father."

Frieza sighs. "How disappointing."

"But I did discover something that you may find interesting, Lord Frieza."

Frieza tilts his head at the man. He can't help but feel intrigued. "Go on." It's not that easy for him to find an advantage over those monkeys, so he'll take any information Ginyu can give him, no matter how minuscule. 

"Y/N--- King Vegeta's daughter piqued my interest greatly. She's not even close to as strong as her brother, but she's remarkably clever. She's very good with words, she knows how to manipulate people. I'd say she might even be better than King Vegeta himself."

"Now, that is fascinating. Good work, Ginyu. I'll look into the Princess's abilities more in-depth later. You're excused."

-

This is just something I felt the need to clarify: So in this chapter's flashback, Vegeta is around three, and Y/N and Tarble are about two. In my head, I picture children on planet Vegeta behaving like miniature adults. My idea is once they leave their chambers (the tanks they are raised in to get their basic Saiyan instincts under control), their minds are fully grown, but their physical growth is quite delayed. That's why they curse and stuff. I have a minuscule window of time to squash in all of my plot ideas. So this was the best way to do so.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Pepsi Raspberry

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x Reader/you

Warnings: There's a fight and Reader's ex left her with some issues, but nothing super traumatic. Frankie is super cute (and a little needy). I just threw this together on a slow day at work, apologies in advance for errors.

Summary: You fight with Frankie. That's it that's the plot.

A/N: This was honestly supposed to be a piece about feminism and female independence in a relationship but I can't be trusted around Frankie, he totally bippity-boppity-booped me into forgivance. Dickhead. Also I struggled for two and a half hours with the title and that's why it's shit. I hate titles.

Words: 2,416

A loud noise wakes you up, your heart missing a beat. For a moment, you're completely still in bed, scared out of your mind. That was definitely the sound of the front door opening and closing, and someone crashing into a chair. You're as stiff as a board, your first thought being that this is it, this is how you'll die, by the hand of a home invader who's probably going to assault you first and then kill you, or maybe kidnap you and do god knows what to you…

You hear cursing and as you recognize the voice you also realize that if someone wanted to break in, they'd probably at least try to be stealthy about it.

"Frankie?" You mean for it to be a call but it's just a breathless whimper. You wet your lips, finding your mouth too dry.

Heavy, staggering footsteps bring the unknown visitor to the bedroom door and you reach out to turn on your bedside lamp. Blinking blearily towards the soft light is indeed Frankie, a sheepish smile on his face.

"The hell are you doing?" Your fright-induced stiffness leaving your body, you sit up in bed and glare at your boyfriend who was supposed to sleep at his own place tonight after his night out with the boys. His eyes are unfocused and his face shiny, and it's clearly been a good night. You glance at the nightstand, where the red light diodes of the clock tell you that the time is barely three am.

“Sorry, baby. Did I wake ya? There was… there was a chair in the entry. Did you move a chair? There never was a chair there before. Stubbed my toe.”

He limps over to the bed, trying to look as sober as possible while unbuttoning his shirt – “trying” being the operative word, as he’s clearly lost control of his fine motoric skills. He ends up pulling the flannel over his head, but it gets stuck, and he topples over his side of the bed. You draw back a little, wrinkling your nose. He smells of stale beer and cigarettes and moreover: he was supposed to go home. You had both agreed that you'd spend Saturday night apart for once, him catching up with his friends, you with yours, and he'd go home where he could spend Sunday nursing his hangover while you got some cleaning done in your apartment.

“What you are doing here?” you demand again, anger replacing fear. “Can I send you to the shower or will you drown?”

“I’m not a good swimmer,” Frankie acknowledges ruefully as he clumsily rolls over in bed and attempts the next step of getting undressed: undoing his fly and getting his tight jeans off. “Here, baby, gimme a hand, you’re so good at this…” “You deal with it yourself,” you say sternly, in no mood to help. The whole idea of spending one night apart was to get a good night’s sleep – something you rarely get in the same bed as Frankie as both of you are usually too voracious for each other to think about sleep – and for you not to have to worry about a hung-over boyfriend the following morning. On top of that, you’re furious with him for scaring the shit out of you by stumbling in at three in the morning. You almost regret giving him a key but then again: if he didn’t have one it could have been even worse, he could have gone full on Stanley Kowalski outside your window.

“Ah, baby, c’mon… Don’t be like that. Help an old man out.”

Frankie tilts his head up and looks at you with imploring eyes, upside down from you. Half of him is hanging outside the bed and the rest is slipping off, and he looks like he might fall asleep any second. You might as well help him before he goes limp and ends up on the floor.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter and crawl over to his side of the bed before climbing out. As you bend over to pick up his legs and lift them onto the mattress, Frankie manages to slap your ass.

“Baby. Hey, baby. Let’s have sex.”

“Not gonna happen.”

You unzip his jeans and yank them down carelessly, pulling Frankie down the bed in the process.

“Whoa, wild thing,” he murmurs thickly, his eyes falling shut. “Careful of the joystick, you don’ wanna damage that or you won’ be able to fly anymore…”

You don’t bother with an answer, he’s not going to remember it anyway. You help him off with the t-shirt as well and when you’re about to tuck him in, he grabs you by your wrist with a move much quicker than you had thought him capable of in his state. He pulls you down over him, the other hand squeezing your ass.

“Sex,” he mumbles. “Love you, baby, and I wanna be in you fo’eva.”

You try to avoid the smelly, wet kisses that he keeps pressing to your neck and shoulder. While you can appreciate him being horny for you in any situation, you’re still mad about him being here at all.

“You need sleep and I want it,” you tell him as you squirm out of his hold. Returning to your side of bed, you ignore the puppy eyes look he gives you as you turn off the lights.

“Not sleepy,” Frankie protests weakly before he’s out cold. He starts to snore loudly and you sigh in exasperation.

You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.

You barely sleep for the remainder of the night and when you finally give up and get out of bed, you're in a pissy mood. Not even two cups of coffee and the fancy bread rolls you bought at the bakery yesterday to treat yourself this Sunday morning make you feel better. You down a painkiller to combat the beginnings of the headache you feel creeping up on you before starting on your chore list. The clearing of the closets in the hall is the first task and you get to it, trying to find some satisfaction in the fact that you're getting your things in order.

As the hours pass by, you do your best to work around the tasks on your list that would generate noise, such as vacuuming. You may be pissed at Frankie but you're decent enough to let him sleep for a little while longer. However, you finally face the fact that if you're to get everything done in time for you to actually enjoy the rest of your day off and open that novel you've been dying to read, you're going to have to start the vacuum cleaer. If Frankie wanted to sleep until three pm he should have gone home.

When you turn off the vacuum cleaner, you hear Frankie groan in the bedroom.

“Babe?”

You're not really in the mood to talk to him but you go check on him, just in case he needs help to get to the bathroom. Nursing his hangover is the last thing you want to do today but you also don't want to clean up vomit.

He looks like a wreck with his hair standing out in every direction where it's not plastered to his skull, puffy eyes, and pale face.

“Morning.” Your tone is short but he doesn't seem to notice. He grunts and rubs his forehead with one hand, the other reaching out of bed towards you.

“C'mere. I wanna cuddle.”

“You smell,” you shake your head. “Get up already, I want to change the sheets.”

He groans again and retracts his arm, draping it over his forehead.

“One more minute. Or hour. It's so early and my head is killing me.”

“Not my problem, Frankie.”

Frowning, he looks at you, clearly bothered by the sunlight washing the room in light. You don't offer any explanations.

“Is there coffee?” he asks eventually.

“No.”

“Can you make some?”

“Make it yourself.”

He blinks at you, surprised.

“What's wrong, baby?”

You go to the other side of the bed, grab the pillow and start to take off the pillowcase.

“Just get out of bed. I have shit to do.”

Frankie sits up slowly, his head clearly bothering him when he moves from a horizontal recline to a vertical seat. He takes a moment, eyes closed and hand on his bare, soft stomach, before looking up at you.

“What's up with you?”

There's a hint of accusation in his voice and that does it for you. You slam down the pillow onto the bed and cross your arms in front of your chest as you glare at him.

“You scared the shit out of me last night, Frankie! I thought I was being burglared!”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you,” he mumbles, his apology meaning nothing to you because you can clearly see that he doesn't understand the terror you felt last night.

“We agreed that we'd spend the night apart, what the hell did you come here for and ruin my sleep and my morning?” you demand, raising your voice a little despite yourself. Frankie hates yelling. “Did you think I'd take care of you, tip-toe around you all day, serve you coffee in bed and junk food on the couch while you get to feel sorry for drinking too much?”

“What, no, what are you – “ Frankie seems utterly confused, the state of him most likely partly to blame. “Can you please keep your voice down?”

You pull at the duvet, stuck partly underneath him. “Move.”

“Jesus...” he mutters as he slowly gets out of bed. He stands still for a moment as if to recalibrate as he adjusts his boxers, before sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom. You strip the bed and as soon as Frankie's out of the bathroom and heading into the kitchen, you take the sheets to the washing-machine and start it. And just because you're feeling like a bitch, you throw Frankie's clothes out of the bedroom, letting them land on the floor, before vacuuming.

When you're stowing away the vacuum cleaner into the cleaning closet, Frankie confronts you. He's now dressed but that doesn't help his half-dead appearance.

“Why are you being like this?” He's still struggling to understand you. It's typical Frankie: he always tries to talk about things, bring clarity into every issue.

“Like what? What am I like?"” You're being a brat, you know, but you have no desire to be an adult right now. Frankie really doesn't seem to understand: the frown seems permanently etched into his face and he looks so different from his usual soft, easy-going self.

“Mean. You're being mean!” The last word comes out harshly and you can tell Frankie's losing his customary cool.

“So when I have plans to spend a day apart from you and be my own person, I'm being mean?” you spit. He looks at you like you're suddenly speaking in a foreign language.

“What are you even talking about?” The exasperation is plain to see, and it somehow makes you even angrier.

“This isn't your mama's bed and breakfast that you can just check into whenever you feel like it, Frankie!”

“Fuck,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can't deal with this right now.” He pulls out his phone. “I'm getting an Uber.”

“Good!” you quip. “Fuck off home, like you should've done at three in the fucking morning!”

Without waiting for a reply, you stomp into the bedroom and slam the door. A few seconds later, you hear the front door slam as well.

[+++]

Sorry I showed up unannounced in the middle of the night. I just missed you. Didn’t want to go home and sleep without you. Call me, okay? I Love you.

You stare at the text message and feel bad, no, not bad: really fucking awful. It took you a few hours to calm down; hours that you spent playing angry music while finishing your list of chores. Afterwards, you didn’t feel that satisfying sense of accomplishment you usually experience after a good cleaning. Your head still hurt, so you went to your newly made bed which smelled fresh and nice even with the spread on top. You slept until late afternoon and woke up by the beep signaling the text.

You’re conflicted. The fact that he missed you is so sweet but there’s something about the statement that annoys you. He’s a grown-ass man, for chrissakes, and he should be able to be without his girlfriend for one single fucking night. And then guilting you into calling him with I-love-you’s and his fragile feelings? Fuck that noise.

And still. You know what Frankie’s like: physical, devoted, kind. He’s not like anyone you’ve ever been with. Not like your last boyfriend, who would pull shit like this all the time: show up at your place at all hours of the day (or night) whenever he wanted something from you. Sex. Comfort. Sympathy. Who would text and call you all the time when you were out with friends because he couldn’t find his way to the fridge without your help.

Reluctantly, you hit the speed dial button to Frankie, and he picks up almost immediately, saying your name with barely contained urgency.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“Hi. You okay?” Such a Frankie thing to do, make sure you’re okay after a fight where, technically, he’s the injured party.

“Not really. You?”

“I’ve had worse.”

“You mean the hangover or this morning?”

You hear the smile in his voice. “Both, but I meant the hangover.”

You exhale in an amused little sniff.

“I’m sorry, Frankie. Do you… wanna come over?”

“I’d love to. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Neither have I. I’ll pick something up. Burgers from that place you like?”

Your stomach rumbles at the mention of burgers but you’re more concerned with the sudden tears that rise in your eyes. Oh, Frankie.

“That would be great,” you manage, wiping at your eyes. Get a fucking grip!

“Parmesan fries?” he queries, but all he gets from you is a sob. “Baby?”

“I love you,” you sniffle. “You’re the best.”

“Aww, babe. I love you, too.”

You draw a deep breath to calm down, a little embarrassed at your emotional outburst. It’s not like you, but it’s been a weird day.

“You still there?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Pepsi Raspberry for you?”

You start crying.

[detectivejigsawpines]

Just a Normal Day

A short drabble about sea grunks having an average adventure, written in honor of their birthday.

Even before they got attacked by the Cthulhu beast, it had been a pretty average morning on the sea for the Pines twins.

Wake up at the crack of dawn (Ford) or closer to late morning (Stan); eat breakfast; reset the spell to ward off the vengeful leprechauns who might still be after them for stealing their treasure in case they’d figured out they were chasing a decoy trail by now; do a little late morning fishing, while keeping an eye out for that golden fish Stan was sure he’d seen swimming under their boat last week, and which he was hoping laid golden fish eggs or something; finally notice what time it was (Stan) and head inside to make lunch.

Just another normal day.

Stan was examining their supplies, trying to decide if it was worth breaking out some of the canned hamburger meat and throwing together sloppy Joes instead of making them eat fish again, when he was knocked skiwampus by the boat being yanked to a halt; as he struggled to regain his balance by grabbing onto the table, a vicious, blood-curdling roar came rumbling through the air from outside.

Stan sighed, and wondered if the kraken was back. In one swift motion he grabbed the spare harpoon they had hanging over the door, and stepped out to see if Ford needed help dealing with it.

It wasn’t the kraken.

It still looked like some kinda big octopus monster, though, with a mass of writhing tentacles where its face should be, and a bulbous head in the back just like an octopus body. The rest of it, at least as far as the torso, was kinda like a human’s but a little bigger (about the size of a baby whale), with slimy-looking green-brown skin and a pair of big, wrinkled, wet wings sticking out of its back. Whatever this thing was, it had grabbed onto the back of their boat, and was looming menacingly over Ford as Stan stepped outside.

“...and you are now my prisoners!” he bellowed, as his piercing golden eyes landed on Stan. “Surrender your weapons now, puny mortals, and I might be merciful!!!!”

“Yeesh, did we trespass on his territory or something?” Stan asked, leaning on the harpoon.

Ford shrugged with one shoulder, since he was trying to write in his journal at the same time. “He didn’t really say; he just jumped onboard and started threatening me.”

“Huh.” Stan looked up at the beast. “You the lord of this part of the ocean or whatever?”

The beast blinked-which looked pretty weird, his eyelids went sideways instead of up and down like humans-before nodding vigorously. “Yes! I am the lord of this part of the ocean, and you must surrender to me now, or else suffer my wrath!!!!” He slammed a fist down against the side of the boat, making it rock up and down so hard he had to scrabble to keep his balance. Stan coughed into his fist to hold back a snicker.

Ford tilted his head. “I could have sworn this was still the primary territory of the Manatee-Merfolk Alliance. Are you sure you haven’t made some kind of mistake?”

“What part of prisoners did you not understand?!” the beast demanded, spreading out his wings and shaking them as his tentacles writhed angrily. “Give up your weapons, now-all of them!!!!”

“...You sure you want that? It’s kind of gonna take awhile-”

“NOW, or I crush your boat in my mighty fist!!!!”

Stan glanced at Ford, who rolled his eyes and nodded. With a small sigh, they began disarming themselves.

********

...A minute passed and they were still at it.

Ford’s pile of weapons was almost as tall as he was, mostly consisting of long-range weapons like guns, but with a few vials of poisons and some handcuffs thrown into the mix.

Stan’s pile was more proportionate, but the number of places that weapons were produced from (including a smoke bomb that he’d somehow managed to keep tucked under his beanie) was frighteningly impressive.

The monster watched their progress with increasingly wide eyes; finally, as Stan produced another set of brass knuckles out of a secret pocket sewn onto the inside of his coat, he spluttered, “...Where were you keeping those?”

Stan just grinned shamelessly. “Trust me, sunshine, you don’t wanna know.”

“Okay, I think that’s everything,” Ford said at last, indicating the pile of weaponry.

“Yeah, well, I’m still workin’, gimme a minute.” Stan produced a switchblade, and tossed it onto his pile. Then, in a brief sleight of hand, he snatched another one from the pile and pretended to draw it out of his coat to toss it on next. “Hey, tentacles-face-ya think you could bring us back by Wednesday? We got a Zoom appointment ta keep, and our niece and nephew hate it when we’re late.” Another sleight of hand allowed him to scoop up another weapon.

“That’s not how this-now see here!” The monster drew himself up to his full height, nearly falling backwards off the boat. “You guys-you puny mortals are my prisoners! And as such, you need to understand that this is not a joking matter! I could squash you both like sea slugs if I wished! I’m all-powerful, an eons-old abomination whose very name would send you into madness if spoken aloud! So you better start quaking in fear and begging for mercy like proper captives!!!!”

Stan looked at Ford. “Sounds like we’re his first.” He looked back at the monster. “You’re doin’ great, buddy-good job on the whole threatening schtick.” He offered a thumbs-up, while using the other hand to snag another weapon that he pretended to produce from another hiding spot.

Ford winked at him, and looked back at their ‘captor.’ “Is this some sort of coming-of-age ritual for your species?” He produced his journal again, pen poised. “Very clever move, by the way, threatening our boat to get us to disarm ourselves. In the future, though, I would suggest that you try taking one of us hostage first, in order to create maximum-”

“STOP IT!”

The monster abruptly started pounding his fists against the side of the boat, nearly tipping it over before instead pitching him all the way onto the deck. “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO-I’M YOUR-IT’S NOT FAIR-!”

It took Stan a moment to realize that the angry noises leaving his mouth (?) were accompanied by the sound of frustrated sobs.

He hissed through his teeth, and shot Ford a guilty look.

“...Oh boy. Looks like we got a little one here.”

********

Stan crossed the boat and crouched down in front of the weeping monster, putting a hand on his back and rubbing the spot right between his wings.

“Deep breaths, in and out. You’re not gonna get anything done like this, so just take a bit ta calm down, okay?”

The monster hiccuped and coughed, shrinking in on himself in a way that was painfully familiar to both of them.

Ford knelt down at his other side. “Maybe if you tell us why this is so important to you, we can provide some assistance?”

The monster shook his head and buried his head in his arms. “I just wanted-hic-to show my friends I could catch the Pines twins all by myself,” he croaked.

The two old men looked at each other in a mixture of surprise and slight alarm. “...You know who we are?”

That was finally enough to get him to sit up, wiping his eyes with his tentacles. “You kidding? Every creature of the seas knows who you are! You’re the guys who beat up krakens and steal gold from leprechauns and then you and your boat vanish without a trace! You’re the coolest cryptids ever!”

It took both of them a moment to digest that. By the time they did, though, they were grinning in equal delight.

“We’re cryptids?!” Ford asked, eyes practically brimming over with overjoyed tears.

“Yeah! And people at school were sayin’ you’re just a myth, but I knew you were real cuz my uncle saw your ship up in the Arctic last winter, and I was gonna capture you and bring you to class to show everyone how wrong they were and then I’d be famous and they’d stop calling me a weird runt all the time!” After a second his wings drooped, and he stared miserably down at the deck. “...Guess it was pretty dumb of me to think I could catch you all by myself.”

Stan put a hand on his shoulder. “...Kid...as much as we wanna help, we can’t just be your prisoners. We got our own lives ta get back to.”

“Plus, neither of us is able to breathe underwater,” Ford added.

The monster sighed, and pulled a strip of kelp from around his neck, turning one of the leaves until it was facing him. He squirted a stream of black ink from one of his tentacles, and dipped the tip of another one into the ink and used it to trace something that looked like a bunch of gobbledygook to Stan onto the leaf. “Humans...don’t...breathe...underwater.”

Awww...he’s a super nerd, just like Ford and Dipper!

That gave Stan an idea.

“Hey.” He nudged the monster. “What about a picture of us instead? Along with genuine proof of a close encounter?”

The monster’s head jerked up. “A picture?! Like with one of those weird magic boxes you humans carry around sometimes?!”

“That’s the one.” Stan grinned. He looked at Ford and jerked his head towards the cabin; his brother took the hint and headed for it, returning with an antique Polaroid camera that Ford had been experimenting on, but still took good pictures.

The monster’s tentacles began writhing around his face like they’d come to life, and he let out a high-pitched squeal of excitement.

“This is the greatest day of my life!!!!”

********

It took a bit of staging and directing and trying out different angles, but eventually they produced a set of photos that appeared to be of an eldritch abomination in training being attacked by, and bravely fighting off, the ferocious monster hunter Pines twins (hopefully nobody would think to ask how and why the monster had managed to get these pictures taken).

Then, while Stan took them into the cabin and soaked them in a special substance Ford had invented that would render them waterproof, Ford sat on the prow next to the young cryptid enthusiast and offered tips on future hunting adventures, comparing notes with him on some of the creatures they’d both seen. He also (with permission) took a few samples from the monster, including a long strip of skin (“Make it look like a wound I got in the fight! Man, this is gonna be so cool, Yog-Sothoth is gonna eat his heart out! Possibly literally!”) and some of the ink from his tentacles.

When Stan came back with the photos, he also handed over one of his spare brass knuckles that had lost a corner. “Have another souvenir, kid.”

The monster’s tentacles lashed out and wrapped around their faces in what felt like a really weird version of a hug before pulling away, leaving them covered in some of the slimy stuff they were coated in.

“Thank you so much! I really really hope the leprechauns don’t catch you-if they come this way I’ll make sure to eat some of them so they won’t!” He waved at them joyfully as he dived back into the ocean and disappeared.

********

After a moment Stan wiped his face on his coat sleeve.

“...Well, that happened.”

He turned away and began gathering up his weapons.

“Such a strange mixture of childlike innocence and barbarity,” Ford mused as he pulled out a jar and gathered the slime into it for yet another sample. “His culture must be fascinating-I almost wish he would have taken us with him so I could have seen it.”

“You would’ve drowned before you could gather any data.”

“...You don’t know that.”

“He literally didn’t know that humans can’t breathe underwater, Sixer. Not gonna happen.”

He ignored Ford’s sulking and kept cleaning, while musing to himself over the possible monetary opportunities being a couple of cryptids could bring...

[ahkaahshi]

a parenting moment [miya atsumu x reader]

pairing: miya atsumu x fem reader

genre: fluff

warning(s): none

word count: 2.3k

overview: when yours and atsumu’s five-year-old daughter gets into trouble at school, it’s up to him to practice his good parenting skills

note: though this is a reader insert story, it focuses more on atsumu’s relationship with his daughter and sheds some light on how I think he would be as a dad :) also I wrote this months ago and am just now posting lol hope you enjoy

Atsumu’s features settle into a look of discontentment as his honey colored eyes scan his young daughter’s short figure, taking note of her dirtied shoes and the slightly disheveled appearance of the French braids he’d woven into her dark hair that morning. Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead and letting out a small sigh, he asks, “What happened, girly?”

She turns her (e/c) gaze towards the polished wooden flooring of the large gym and mutters, “I got in a fight at school and they made Mommy pick me up.”

Instead of towering over her, as he had inadvertently been doing before, Atsumu kneels down in front of her and places his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, look at me, (daughter’s name),” he requests, making her tilt her chin up the smallest amount so her eyes can meet his. When their gazes connect, he purses his lips before saying, “We’ll talk about it when we get home, ‘kay? Right now, Daddy’s gotta practice, so jus’ sit tight with Coach Foster for a bit ‘n hang out.”

She nods slowly and Atsumu lifts her light blue backpack off of her shoulders to carry it with him over to the bench beside the court where his team is currently running through serve-receive drills. The head coach gives him a small nod of acknowledgement and a promise that he’ll protect her from any rogue volleyballs as she takes a seat.

Knowing that his daughter’s safety is in good hands and that she’s occupied--since she had pulled out a notebook from her backpack to doodle and write in--gives Atsumu a sliver of comfort as he returns to his practice. It takes himself some time to get his thoughts off of her, however, given the situation.

Minutes earlier, you had appeared at the gym with (daughter’s name) and offered a brief explanation of the matter at hand. You’d had to pick her up from school after receiving a call that she’d gotten into trouble, but, because of your own responsibilities at work, you’d had to drop her off with your husband. According to what the teachers had explained, she had gotten into a physical altercation with another student that had ended in tears, screaming, a few scrapes, and a dropped popsicle--your daughter’s, unfortunately.

(Daughter’s name) was a well-behaved, studious girl--though she did have a bit of a wild, energetic streak in her, thanks to Atsumu--so to hear that she’d been involved in a fight was understandably shocking to both of you. Sure, she enjoyed roughhousing with her dad and her uncle, but you’d been adamant about reiterating that real fighting was not allowed.

Atsumu hated seeing his daughter so distressed. It broke his heart. Usually, she was upbeat and full of life, but, now, she looks so defeated and ashamed. In an attempt to cheer her up in any way he can, he enlists the help of Bokuto and Hinata to tell her funny stories during each water break; and while they provide her some temporary relief, the cloud of sadness casting a shadow over her still lingers.

Though she holds onto his hand and clings to his side during the commute back home, she’s unnaturally quiet, and goes straight to her room upon returning to the house. He decides it best to leave her alone for a bit, but he can’t ignore how quiet the house feels without the sound of her favorite show blaring from the television in the living room. To busy himself for some time while you’re at work and she’s in her room, Atsumu sets himself to whipping up a snack after he’s taken a shower, and icing his aching joints.

After preparing some onigiri that looks rather sloppy compared to that his brother always serves, Atsumu shuffles down the hallway towards his daughter’s room. Her door is open, so he can see her sitting on her bed with a selection of colored pencils strewn across the comforter, and one in her hand that she’s using to color in a project she has to complete for class.

“Hey, girly,” he greets her and stands in the doorway, “Wanna eat some onigiri with me?”

She doesn’t respond verbally, but nods her head without lifting it to look over at him. So, he walks into her room and plops down on the bed beside her, setting the plate down in front of him. Before he can even get so far as to offer her one of his homemade creations, he hears her sniffle loudly.

Turning his honey-colored gaze to her brings him to the realization that she's stopped coloring and, instead, has her hands pressed against her face as her body shakes with quiet sobs. His paternal instincts to protect and comfort her immediately kick in, and he pushes the plate aside so he can sling an arm around her shoulder to pull her closer to him.

“Hey, hey, li’l princess, what’s goin’ on?” he murmurs.

She leans closer to him but keeps her hands over her face. “It wasn’t my fault, Daddy,” she whimpers softly, the sound of her strained voice nearly shattering her father’s heart, “There’s a really, really mean girl in my class. She always pulls my hair, a-and takes my markers, and cuts in line so she gets the last orange popsicle--and that’s my favorite flavor--and... I hate her!”

Atsumu grabs a tissue to dab at the tears spilling down her cheeks once he gently moves her hands away from her face. He’s silent for a moment as the previous sadness he felt at his daughter’s suffering morphs into anger upon hearing that she was being bullied. “Didja hit ‘er 'cause she was bein’ mean?”

She nods and cries, “S-She pushed me during recess ‘nd I got mad and pushed her back,” before finally lifting her head to gaze up at him with watery, (e/c) eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, Daddy! I-I was just scared she was gonna hurt me!”

Wrapping both of his arms around her small frame, Atsumu brings her face to his chest and holds her tightly in his embrace in an attempt to comfort her. “It’s alright, (daughter’s name). Mommy ‘nd I will make sure this gets fixed, ‘kay?” The grip she has on the back of his t-shirt tightens slightly as she presses her face into his shoulder. One of his hands rubs her back to calm her down while the other smooths down any stray hairs sticking up from her head.

After a few minutes of crying, whimpering, and venting, she’s finally relaxed enough to let her dad lead her into the living room so they can sit and watch a few episodes of her favorite show together while snacking on onigiri.

“Hey,” he calls out to her, making her tear her wide-eyed gaze away from the television screen, “I know me, Mommy, ‘n Uncle ‘Samu always say that fightin’ ain’t the right way ta go about things, but I’m proud of ya for stickin’ up for yourself, girly.”

A small smile sprouts across her lips that’s made even cuter by the fact that her cheeks are puffing out from the amount of rice she has in her mouth. The sight makes him chuckle and ruffle her hair.

“But don’t go tellin’ Mommy I said that. Instead, use yer words, find one of the teachers, ‘n let ‘em deal with whoever’s givin’ ya trouble, alright?”

When she’s finished chewing her food, she replies, “M’kay.”

“Mind tellin’ me what started the fight in the first place?” he asks, one of his thick eyebrows raising in curiosity.

She twiddles her thumbs and slowly directs her gaze back to the television. “She made me drop my popsicle when she pushed me.”

“And it was your favorite flavor, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah...”

With a hearty laugh, he comments, “Man, you really are yer mom’s daughter, ya know that? She don’t mess around when food’s involved.”

The sounds of his daughter's giggles ripple through the air, sending waves of warmth over him as he continues telling her stories about all the times he’d dealt with you getting on his case about food or treat-related issues. He made sure to include an anecdote about a time when you’d nearly knocked him over after he’d jokingly swiped your candy bar during lunch in high school. 

Needless to say, he never did it again out of the fear that Osamu wouldn't let him live it down if he got destroyed by a high school girl over food. However, the passion and unrelenting desire he’d seen in your eyes that day had made him absolutely sure that you were the one for him.

By the time you step into the house a few hours later, your daughter--being the mature, young girl she was--has moved her schoolwork from her bedroom to the living room table to do her assignments while her dad snoozes on the couch. Upon noticing that she’s in a better mood than she had been when you’d dropped her off at the gym with Atsumu, your heart lifts slightly.

“Hey, honey,” you greet her as you slide off your shoes and set your purse down on a table in the entryway, “What’re you up to?”

She holds up a piece of paper with colored markings on it that vaguely resemble Atsumu’s tall figure holding what you assume to be a volleyball, along with a few, familiar faces in the background. “I have to draw a picture of what you and Daddy do at work to show my teacher.”

You smile at her and plant a kiss atop her head before commenting, “Looks good so far. You drew Bokuto-san’s hair perfectly.” She chuckles and quickly returns to her masterpiece, since your compliment seems to spur her to keep creating. “I’m gonna talk to Daddy, real quick, okay? I wanna see how you draw Omi-san’s hair when we’re done.”

With that said and your daughter on a mission to produce her version of the prickly, outside hitter on Atsumu’s team, you rouse your husband from his nap so the two of you can head into your room to talk about the situation. Once out of earshot, he explains what your daughter had told him and the two of you work together to devise a plan and time to speak with her teacher about the true story. Amazingly enough, this entire exchange occurrs without your usual, good-natured--but sometimes cumbersome--squabbling.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” you call out to him, reaching for his hand and wrapping your fingers around it gingerly. 

He had been on his way to the bedroom door so he could head to the kitchen and start making dinner while you showered, but he stops in his tracks and turns to face you once more. When your eyes meet, your heart skips a beat, like always.

Taking a deep breath, you tell him, “Even though we may argue from time to time about parenting, and you sometimes let her have just a tad too much sugar before conveniently deciding to take a nap so you don’t have to deal with her going berserk, there's nobody else in the world that I’d rather share a kid with than you. She loves you so much, and so do I.”

His unoccupied hand finds your waist to pull you closer to him, and he leans down towards you to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. As per usual, the tender moment you shared doesn’t last long, since he always has something smart to say. “What’s gotcha all sentimental, (f/n)? Does seein’ me doin’ fatherly things give ya the hots for me, or somethin’?”

“Oh, yeah, sleeping on the couch while our self-starter of a child does homework by herself is so fatherly.”

He frowns. “I had a long practice. Bein’ a professional athlete is hard work, baby.”

 With a sardonic smile on your face, you mention, “Working a nine-to-five is pretty tiring too, baby.”

“Fair,” he groans and slides his arms around your back, “But, seriously, what’s got you feelin’ all in love with me, huh?”

You snicker at his tone and the mischievous look on his face as you brush his golden hair away from his eyes before letting your hands come to rest on his cheeks. “It’s just that when I picked (daughter’s name) up from school today, she was all sad and mopey. Yet, when I come home after dropping her off with you, she’s all smiles and rainbows again. It just reminds me of how good you are to her and it makes me happy that she has you as a father.”

A genuine smile rather than a sly one appears on his lips, and you press your own against them to give him a few, affectionate kisses.

“You know I’d do anything for my favorite, li’l girl, (f/n). She’s only as good of a kid as she is 'cause of you, anyway.”

Your lips form a giddy grin, as if he’s a high school crush who’s just delivered the sweetest of compliments to you, and you allow him to pull you closer so he can shower you with more kisses. “I love you, baby,” you murmur as you plant another peck on his cheek.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

There’s a short moment of silence as he pulls you into a tight hug that seems to wash away all the stress that you didn't even realize had been building up within you at the day you’ve had. His breath fans across the tender skin of your neck when he nestles his face there and allows his hands to roam up and down your back. However, after the two of you release each other, you notice a sneaky smile playing at his lips that oftentimes makes you wary.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna go see (daughter’s name)’s rendition of Omi-Omi?”

Chuckling and following him out of the bedroom, you agree, “Wouldn’t miss it.”

masterlist ⭐︎ treat me to a coffee!

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @krynnza, @yamagucji​, @tendo-sxtori, @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou, @ichorizaki, @dominikmagnus​

atsumu: @pretty-setters, @misora-msby, @why-aminot-dead, @lotsoffandomrecs, @tsumue, @heyhinata

[shortprince-cos]

More Truths Than Dares

Summary: After "The Double Closet Incident" as Patton so calls it, Patton and Janus have a talk at their friends' sleepover.

Ship: Moceit (Patton x Janus)

Warnings: Smoking, claustrophobia mention, truth or dare. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

Note: This is a direct sequel to "In A Closet"! You can read this without reading that, but it'll probably be confusing!

{Previous}

{Masterlist} (I KNOW I NEED TO FIX IT BUT IM A PROCRASTINATOR FIGHT ME)

~~~~~

"Oh, I didn't know he was invited."

All Patton had done was walk in the door. He hadn't even said hi, or hugged Roman yet, he just walked in the door, and Janus was already on his back for just existing in his presence.

It was going to be a long night.

"Yes? He's my best friend, you know!" Roman defended as he brought Patton to sit on the couch with him and Logan.

"Wow, rude." Logan said.

Roman made a series of offended noises. "You're my boyfriend! So obviously Patton is my best friend!"

As the two quickly dissolved into playful banter, Patton stood to go put his overnight bag in Roman's room, hearing Janus whisper something to Remus and Virgil as he walked by.

Just ignore it, he thought, not really in the mood to argue today. Especially not after what Patton had dubbed ‘The Double Closet Incident’.

It was disastrous. Not only did Patton get locked in a closet with Janus, who has claustrophobia, he discovered that he may have a thing for men. Who knew?

Roman. Roman probably knew, especially after he had adopted Patton into their little friend group. And if being gay was a contest, Roman would be the judge.

But...it was normal to feel that way, right? It wasn't weird to feel embarrassed when someone got up in your personal space, was it? It wasn't abnormal to blush when someone said kind words to you, or odd to imagine yourself in different scenarios with someone you saw on a daily basis and they were-

Wait, what was he doing again?

Patton sighed as he set down his bag by Roman's bed. Those were thoughts for another day. He was supposed to be having fun at his best friend's sleepover, after all!

Patton put on a happy face and went back to the living room to join the others, finding that Roman and Remus were wrestling over something, Logan and Janus were debating, and Virgil was scrolling on his phone. Yep, it was going to be a long night.

---

After breaking up Roman and Remus' tussle, watching a couple of movies, and other various shenanigans, Remus decided to gather everyone up in his room to play truth or dare.

If Patton learned anything from watching the others' turns, it was to always choose truth when Remus picks you.

"Double D, Truth or Dare?" Remus asked excitedly, even though he already knew what Janus would say.

"Dare."

Remus grinned like a shark. "I dare you and Patton to stay in my closet for one hour together."

Both Janus and Patton went pale.

"I...lied. I meant truth." Janus quickly said, hoping that Remus would let up.

"Nope! Too late! Now, you and Patton have to get in there, have hate sex or something, and come out in an hour!"

"Uh- we can't!" Patton exclaimed suddenly, and then all eyes were on him.

"What, are you afraid of the dark or something?" Remus teased.

"Um- no- well, kinda- but no. I- uh- have claustrophobia."

Janus looked shocked, to say the least. Thankfully, everyone was still looking at Patton.

"Yeah, small spaces are absolute torture to be in, and I would prefer it if none of us did stuff that involves small spaces, because then I'll worry about them!" Patton rambled quickly, trying to get all attention on him.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Ugh, fine. But you guys still need to do something together."

Patton blushed a bit, and Janus sighed, looking relieved.

Eventually, Remus gave up, and just dared Janus to eat shaving cream.

The rest of the night went smoother, and Patton ended up telling a lot of weird secrets, but not very important ones.

Eventually, everyone was asleep in either Roman's room, or Remus' room. Everyone except Patton, who couldn't get his brain to turn off.

Patton reluctantly got out of his sleeping bag, and made his way to the front door, maybe some fresh air would clear his mind.

Turns out, he wasn't the only one who had that idea, because as he stepped outside, he found the one and only Janus on the porch, smoking a cigarette.

Before Patton could turn back around, Janus saw him, and nodded his head in acknowledgment. Well, no going back now.

Patton silently sat down in the wooden rocking chair next to where Janus was standing, staring off into space a little before speaking up.

"You-you know that smoking is bad for you, right?"

Janus' lips curled up in a small smile as he chuckled. "I'm aware. Don't worry your pretty head, I only do it when I'm stressed."

Patton decided to ignore the way being called pretty by Janus felt and focused on the other part of that statement. "What are you stressed about?"

Janus blew out a puff of smoke, and suddenly Patton was very distracted by his lips.

"You. You're...different than how I thought you'd be." Janus said solemnly, drawing in another breath.

"Is...is that a bad thing?" Patton asked quietly, looking down to the floor.

Janus glanced at Patton with an indecipherable look on his face. "To be honest? I don't know. On one hand, you're actually a decent person."

"Thank you?"

"And on the other," Janus continued. "I've treated you like s**t for no reason other than spite."

"...It's okay-"

"It's not." Janus interrupted.

They sat in silence for awhile, trying to figure out if the other still wanted them here or not.

"Why did you think I was a bad person?" Patton asked quietly.

Janus huffed. "It's complicated."

"I mean...we got all night."

"...true." Janus sighed. "I think it's because ‘nice’ people don't usually want anything to do with me, and when they do, it's usually for the wrong reasons." He explained. "So when you started talking to me...I don't know, you reminded me of all the wrong people."

Patton's heart broke. He reminded Janus of some probably terrible memories, and had probably been hurting him just by being around him! No wonder Janus frowned whenever Patton walked in a room!

"Janus, I'm so so sorry, I never knew-"

"What are you sorry for?"

"I- That I remind you of some terrible people in your life-"

"Patton," Janus rest a hand on Patton's shoulder, making him blush. "You don't have any control over who you remind me of. Please, don't apologize for that."

"Well- then you can't apologize for being reminded of those people either!" Patton argued.

"I didn't say that, I said I was sorry for treating you terribly!"

"Well, then, I guess you're forgiven!" Patton retorted.

Janus looked at him in shock, as if Patton had just said a bunch of profanities, before quickly looking back to stare off into the distance again. His cheeks were red, but Patton convinced himself that he was probably cold out here.

"You're...too forgiving." Janus mumbled softly, as if he was talking to himself.

"I think that's a good thing." Patton replied.

Janus huffed. "...Thank you." He said, looking at Patton with a small smile on his face. "For everything."

Patton blushed. "Y-Yeah. No problem."

Janus looked at him with a disagreeing look on his face, but let it go.

They settled into comfortable silence as Janus threw his cigarette away and Patton almost fell asleep.

The second time Patton had to force his head up, Janus huffed.

"You should probably get to sleep."

As if on cue, Patton yawned. "So should you." He said sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

Janus chuckled. "Fine. I'll go back to bed if you do."

"Okay, fine. You have a deal."

Janus had that stupid, self-satisfied smirk on his face that he usually wore that made Patton feel fuzzy inside.

"Good," He smirked. "See you in the morning."

"Yeah. See ya."

Janus ventured into the house, Patton following a few moments later.

Patton felt like he was getting into dangerous territory with Janus, but instead of feeling concerned, he felt more excited than ever.

~~~~~

Hi guys!!!! Its been awhile! So, this is an au that ive fallen in love with, so i wanna keep writing for it! If you guys have any name ideas, send em my way please!

General Taglist: @resident-crow-goth @macademmia @theantisocialghost @foreverfangirlalways @emo--nightmaree @moxy--sanders101 @quinnthequeer @gattonero17 @trashno0dles @tranquil-space-ninja @chaotic-murder-muffin @lugooble @sander-crossing @princess-rosie @sleepyysoot @hi-its-tutty @lookingforaplacetosleep @sarcasmremovedsoul @corkeecoderyt @drarrymalecsolangelo @private-snippers @girl-who-reads @emy-loves-you @reptilian-with-scallions

Ask to be added or removed!

Reblogs are appreciated!💖

[boxofbadaddiction]

Crazy Bitch

Song Inspired

George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Swearing.

Note: First full smut piece. So the writing's pretty bad.

[Y/N] was always known to have a hot temper, and for being quick to the draw when it came to hexes or defensive charms, against anyone who poked her in the wrong way. At face value she was the perfect example of a Slytherin. Dangerously ambitious and just a stone cold bitch. Though not many people got the chance to find out that was far from the truth. She had built very high, very strong walls around herself from a young age to keep herself from ever being hurt and as such developed a rather fierce reputation. Given which meant there weren't many people daring enough to cross her.

Of course the Weasley Twins, however, weren't like other people. They saw her as a direct challenge on their mischief making abilities. At least they did in the beginning. I mean...a Slytherin with a reputation of being untouchable? They're just begging to be pranked. But now, the boys tended to avoid pranking her after learning the hard way that her idea of payback was not an equally elaborate prank or perhaps a stern lecture but more rather...painful.

On two separate occasions Fred had found himself, stunned, flying backwards through the air. George was a tad more fortunate but still had a fair share of hexes thrown his way. Safe to say they definitely learnt their lesson. After 5 failed attempts, which landed themselves some rather ugly bruises, they agreed the hassle just wasn't worth it and gave [Y/N] quite a wide birth where they could.

George recalled the last prank they had played on [Y/N]. One which left her with bright maroon hair. [Y/N] confronted the laughing boys that day and had let her wand do most of the talking for her. She had began by shouting at them to get some steam off her chest.

"Oi, mind the accusations [Y/L/N], what makes you think it was us?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Because no one else in this school is stupid enough to pull a prank on me. I thought we'd settled this boys. Don't. Provoke me."

Fred let out a haughty laugh as if to challenge the angry Witch infront of him.

"Dunno, you look well enough provoked to me. Never thought I'd see the day someone would have brighter hair than us, eh Georgie" he elbowed his brothers arm playfully as they both began to laugh.

[Y/N]s hand twitched toward her wand and it was enough for George to know the time for jokes was over and that things were indeed about to get very messy. He cleared his throat before speaking, "it was just a joke [Y/N/N], it'll wear off in an hour or so...hopefully"

The look she shot him at his words were enough for him to back down, bowing his head slightly. He knew better than his brother who, had evidently, opted to poke the bear that bit further.

"Come off it, won't ya? If you ask me it's an improvement" he jested, flicking her hair slightly with his hand.

Bad idea. [Y/N]s wand was drawn and, before anyone could register what happened, Fred was promptly flying down the length of the corridor. Georges eyes followed his brother, drawing his own wand and raising it as he turned back to the furious slytherin in front of him.

"Expelliarmus!" she bellowed and Georges wand flew into her grasp.

She began advancing on him slowly, his own wand raised at his chest as she starred directly into his eyes. George backed up, soon finding himself pressed firmly against the castle wall. She walked toward him until their chests were just about flush. His wand stabbing into him, not enough to hurt but enough for it to sting, and he knew there'd definitely be a mark left when this was over. He flattened his head to the wall as she slid the wand up slowly till it was pointed into the crook of his neck. George swallowed thickly and cast his eyes down to meet hers. She was smiling, wickedly, he would never admit it but this was sort of a really big turn on. A gorgeous and confident Witch putting him in his place? To George there was nothing hotter. His mind got lost as his eyes searched her face and slowly ventured down her neck, then to the slight cleavage protruding from her blouse, visible only due to his great height advantage. He swallowed again as he watched her chest heaving lightly while she drew slow, long breaths to steady her heartbeat. It wasn't till she spoke he realised just how long he hadn't been paying attention to the dull stab on his throat.

"I'm warning you. Prank me again and I promise you..." she paused as she moved his wand swiftly down from his throat so it was prodding directly into his groin, he gave a small grunt and pushed his head back with tightly closed lips to try avoid the not so gentle pain she just inflicted, her eyes never left his face as she continued to speak.

"You'll lose more than just your wand next time. Are we clear?" She gave a quick glance down and smiled back at him sweetly. He nodded repeatedly. Forcing the wand slightly harder into his crotch she spoke again "I said. Are we clear!?"

Grunting George spoke fast "Yep. Yes, absolutely, painfully clear."

Retracting the wand from it's owners flesh she smiled and whispered "good."

With that she stepped back from him, George let out a hard breath he had been holding. She raised her arm to his eye level and dropped the wand she'd disarmed in front of him. He fumbled over air for a moment in an attempt to catch it. He turned to see her striding past Fred as he returned rubbing the back of his head and lower back with a confused and hurt look.

"What's the deal? I get flown half way cross the castle but you just about get wanked off?" His brother chuckled "What'd she say?" They both watched as she disappeared round the far corner at the end of the hall.

"She threatened to take off my balls if we prank her again." Fred laughed at this

"Well, Georgie boy, there's worse ways to go. At least she's hot." He shrugged and clapped his brothers back as he began to walk the opposite direction to where [Y/N] had strided away. George mumbled a faint "mmm" in response, his eyes still cast after her as he rubbed the place on his neck where his wand had been jabbed. After a few long seconds and a call from his twin he finally turned to leave.

Things didn't get better from that point on. Although the boys had admit defeat and stopped trying to prank her, there was still a resounding amount of tension between the three. [Y/N] and George most of all. It seemed that whenever the two of you were within eye sight of each other it was inevitable they were going to fight. Near every time they saw one another they wound up screaming.

So, all in all given the mutual hate/hate relationship with one another, it was safe to say that George was beyond shocked to find himself currently, and yet again, pulled tight between her thighs on a desk in an empty classroom frantically clawing at the various layers of clothing separating their bodies from one another. Lips locked in a heated and deep kiss that left both gasping for air. He was tearing at the buttons of her shirt as she fumbled with the clasp of his belt and jean zipper.

This had become a somewhat regular occurrence between them. They both hated each other but whenever they were alone neither could restrain themself.

If they were to run into one another past curfew, there was always somewhere to hide and fuck one anothers brains out. Caught alone in a hall between classes, they'd suddenly find themselves clumsily shoved into a hidden passage or cupboard pashing intensely or otherwise involved in some other not suitable for school activities.

By this point they had probably snogged in every closet of the castle, and fucked in just as many empty rooms.

It hadn't been easy of course, for George especially, having to lie to his brother was something he always hated to do. So when he asked where the scratches on his neck and shoulders came from things would suddenly become uncomfortably awkward between the two. For a few minutes anyway, until Fred eventually would drop the subject.

He could only imagine the questions [Y/N] was being bombarded with when people noticed the countless hickies littering her skin. Questions he knew were being asked due to the circling rumours he'd heard of the marks. He could never help himself. Leaving love bites over her soft skin was one of his favourite things to do in the moment. He'd be sure to leave a few fresh ones again tonight.

As his belt came loose he shimmied his jeans down the rest of the way, stepping out of the bunched material. The sound of his pants hitting the floor excited [Y/N] further, wrapping her legs tight around his waist in anticipation, she rolled her hips into his seeking friction. This pulled a deep groan from George as he threw the girls shirt aside haphazardly, lips still locked with the others.

Breaking the kiss only to pull his sweater over his head, while he removed her tights. He snaked an arm around the girls lower back and pulled her flush against him as his other found it's way into her [Y/H/L] hair to bring their lips back to his once again. She reached eagerly for his buldge and palmed him gently a few times, over the thin material, before sliding a hand below the band of his boxers. Taking a firm grip to his member he moaned and detached her legs from around him completely. Bringing the hand he had placed on her lower back to pull off her lace underwear. Gasping as the cold air struck her aching core, and the cold desk top hit her bare ass she immediately threw her legs over him again but this time the grip in her thighs around his waist was notably tighter. The hand that'd been supporting herself on quickly came to grip Georges shoulders. He used his free hand to finally remove his boxers completely and she lined him up with her soaking entrance. Both moaning as his tip made contact. Unable to wait any longer [Y/N] looked into Georges eyes, breaking their needy kiss once again, seeking premission to continue. He nodded as he buried his head into her neck and she brought him in by her legs. Unable to restrain the whine that left her lips as she adjust to his size.

Chest heaving against his, [Y/N] moaned his name and bucked her hips to let him know she were ready. With a deep growl from his throat and a final kiss to the nape of the neck he began to thrust, at first slowly, but both knew by now how the other liked it and so soon he was fucking her with as much force as he could. Pressed tight against one another she were scratching for grip on his shoulders as he pulled her into him with both hands on her lower back. [Y/N] was fighting with all her strength to stop herself moaning too loud. He was lightly biting at the skin of her chest to keep from doing the same.

[Y/N]s mind wandered for a moment to what would happen if a teacher were to walk by. They'd stop abruptly at the sound of soft moans and gasps coming from the meant to be empty room, mixed with the rhythmic beat of the old desks legs being rocked off the floor with every hard thrust from George's hips.

Suddenly she were snapped back from her thoughts by a tightness in her abdomen and the feeling of Georges strong hand reaching up to wrap around her neck.

He pushed her down so her back was flat against the cold wooden desk top, grip on the throat tightening. [Y/N] knew he was getting close. That was his go to finishing move. He'd choke her against the surface of, whatever, they were having sex against and use his free hand to stroke her sensitive clit as his speed violently increased. As he pounded into her, her mouth opened in a silent plead for release. His breathing was rapid and he could be heard grunting with every thrust as he tried desperately to hold on until she came first.

Then for the first time, in a long time, George did something new. Lifting one of her legs over his shoulder as he fucked her. She had to bite her lip to stop from screaming now, but any attempts to remain quiet were futile against the loud moans escaping her dry mouth as he pounded directly into her g-spot. Feeling his hands grip loosen around her throat and travel to the baseline of her hair, George pulled their faces towards one anothers. Placing a rough kiss to her lips he leant to speak in her ear, whispering in a husky voice "scream if you need to, just let it go." They'd never spoken much during these encounters and his new position coupled with his coaxing tone got her heart racing faster, chest beginning to heave. "George..." she whined into him and tightly shut her eyes, he chuckled at the pleading "I know." His finger on her clit began to press down and circle faster, and her breath began to falter and shudder under his touch. Head falling forward into the crook of his neck "George!" She moaned loudly this time nearly shouting. "Look at me." He comanded, pressing his forehead to hers. She tried to obey but the pleasure was too much, it caused her head to drop again.

He clasped her jaw in his hand that had been pulling on the hair at the back of the scalp, forcing her to stay at eye level with him. "I'm not going to last much longer, so it's bloody well time you fucking cum." he growled.

[Y/N]s toes began to curl and she bit her lip "fuck" she breathed. Another loud moan leaving her lips, tightening around him as her orgasm approached. Unable to stop the sounds issuing from her own mouth now. With one final hard thrust from his hips she screamed. There wasn't a doubt in their minds that, had there been a teacher or prefect in the corridor outside they'd be promptly storming toward the room.

Feeling her unravel beneath him George let himself come undone. Letting go to step back, giving a few final tugs on his cock, he'd readied himself to cum when suddenly his movements were cut off by [Y/N] jumping down to his feet and taking him whole in her mouth. Running tongue over his swollen tip and right down to his thick base, she could taste herself on him. Gently grazing teeth over his sensitive skin it didn't take much and he came hot and heavy into her mouth. Gripping a handful of her [Y/H/L + C] hair as he did so.

Licking lips as she stood and she pulled her body close to kiss him deeply. Only stopping when she felt him shudder slightly from poorly restrained laughter. [Y/N] looked up at him with furrowed brows to which he smiled brightly.

"Fuck...you're a crazy bitch." The girl looked at him sternly as if to ask 'seriously?'.

"Am I now?" She asked trying to hide a smile, given the circumstances it was a little difficult to remain angry at him - after all he does look fucking gorgeous after sex.

"Yeah, you are." He grabbed her and pulled their sweaty bodies flush together once more. Slowly he traced his fingers up across her bra strap, along the vein in her neck to behind her ear, "but you fuck so good, think I'm on top of it." He kissed sweetly.

"We really need to go" [Y/N] mumbled into his lips and swiftly turned away from him to begin getting changed. He huffed and frowned at the abrupt break in closeness but lightened when he recalled the past events.

"True. I guess, even though the whole castle heard you having mind blowing sex, I don't think the staff on patrol will appreciate catching us half naked" he joked pulling on his jeans and stuffing his underwear in his pocket. Throwing his jumper at him she ran her fingers through her hair and made to leave when a whistle from behind made her turn.

George was leaning against the tainted desk with his arms folded and a grin on his face. She raised an eyebrow at him impatiently which only caused his smile to widen as he raised one hand to show a pair of lacey pink panties dangling from his forefinger. "Can't forget these, love."

She snatched them from him and left with a scowl like nothing in their relationship had changed. George couldn't contain his smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets and slowly left the room heading for his dormitory, laughing to himself he commented "Crazy bitch".

[apocalypseornaw]

Always be yours (Pt 2/2)

Warnings? Demon! Dean, mentions of cheating, sex, killing and lots of cursing

You sat just outside of the armory flat on the cool tile floor with your eyes closed. You couldn't bare to walk through that door. It had been weeks since that night you spent wrapped in Dean's arms. You told Sam you'd seen Dean, that he had sought you out. You didn't tell him everything that had happened or that Dean knew what had happened between the two of you.

You weren't praying for the simple fact that you knew with the exception of Cas no one was listening that would care. Sam had left to get the blessed blood after carting Dean inside the bunker. You'd stayed out of sight the entire time. Now you had to face Dean and watch him go through what you knew would be an excruciating process to flush the demon out of him.

"Are you ok?" Sam's voice drew you out of your thoughts. You opened your eyes to see him standing about a foot away from you "Just trying to get my head on right Sam" he nodded with a sympathetic smile "You know you don't have to go in there yet. This is gonna take a while" "I can't do that Sam. I can't turn away, he wouldn't do it to me if positions were reversed nor would he do it to you"

He held his good hand out but you shook your head and climbed to your feet "Let's do this"

--------

You took a deep breath as you watched Sam splash holy water and repeat the Latin that would concentrate the ground for the process to work. Dean hadn't looked your way yet and you weren't sure if you were relieved or hurt. 

You watched Sam draw up the blood in a syringe. Dean eyed it as well finally meeting your eyes before saying "Sammy you know I hate shots" Sam shrugged "I hate demons" you flinched when Dean snarled at Sam before Sam splashed holy water on him and injected the blood into his arm right below the mark.

Dean's eyes never left yours, a groan of pain leaving him before he shook it off. "Look Dean there's a lot more doses to go. You could make it a lot easier on yourself" Sam told him then turned to walk off. He stopped where you were glued to the floor staring at Dean. "Are you ok?" 

Dean spoke up "Oh Y/N's fine alone with me black eyes and all. Isn't that right sweetheart?" A flicker of a smile flashed across his face and your stomach flipped. Sam looked between the two of you visibly confused before Dean smirked "Oh she didn't get around to that Sammy? Yeah me and her had a damn good time in Colorado"

"Y/N?" Sam's voice wasn't accusatory just simply asking. You stared past him at Dean "Yeah I fucked him that night Sam" "A few times" Dean added and you felt your face warm from embarrassment. "Come on" Sam grabbed your arm to pull you from the room and you heard a slight growl from Dean before the two of you made it out into the hallway.

-------

"You didn't tell me you had sex with him" Sam's voice was barely a whisper. You followed him down the hall to the kitchen "Didn't exactly know how to throw that into casual conversation" 

You sat down at the table holding your head in your hands. Sam walked to the fridge then sat a bottle of water down in front of you "It's understandable Y/N. You love him" you slowly raised your eyes and he nearly choked on the water in his mouth "How did he find out?" You shrugged "Crowley somehow? I guess"

You normally didn't hear Sam curse a whole lot but the string of words that fell from his mouth would've made a sailor blush. "Shit you shouldn't be here then" you shook your head "I'm not fucking leaving you alone with him Sam. He won't hurt me, there's still something inside of him stopping that whether it's the Cain and Collette thing. You on the other hand, our real Dean he'd never forgive himself if he did something to you. The least I owe you both is staying through whatever happens next"

He reached across the table and gently grabbed your hand and gave it a light squeeze "You're still my best friend, you know that. We'll get him back and deal with the fall out of everything that happened" you swallowed hard then said "If we get him back Sam, I'm leaving. I know Dean...seeing me and you in close quarters he won't handle it well and I won't be what tears you two apart" "and if he doesn't want you to leave?" He asked in almost a whisper and you laughed sadly "Then miracles really do happen"

-------

The second dose you didn't go in for and there were no words exchanged between Sam and Dean. You stood in the hallway listening to Dean in pain and fought everything inside of you that screamed to run to his side.

------

The third dose you walked in behind Sam. Dean met your eyes "For all you know he's killing me sweetheart" "Or you're screwing with him and me" you replied trying to not let your heart get in the way of your brain.

"Besides the lore didn't say anything about an exception to the cure" Sam added and Dean scoffed "The lore..hunters...men of letters. What a load of crap it all is" when you nor Sam said anything in return he tilted his head at Sam "Oh you got nothing?"

You shook your head at Sam trying to remind him that this was the demon part talking not Dean. You were relieved when he said "What do you want me to debate you? This isn't even the real you I'm talking to" Dean turned towards you "Y/N did I feel real enough to you? Hell come here and give me a kiss baby" you turned and walked out without a word and heard him laugh before turning back to Sam.

--------

You tried to call Cas but he didn't answer so after a moment you walked back into the room. You heard Dean say "Crowley told me all about it. So let me ask which one of us is really a monster?"

You walked further into the room and cut your eyes at Sam "What's he mean? What did you do?" You knew both you and Sam had went to different extremes to find Dean but there were a few weeks you barely saw each other. "Oh she doesn't know..man that's rich"

"You two were trying to get a twenty on me and Crowley from any direction you could but Crowley didn't want to be found and no one showed when Sammy summoned so he found a way" you looked from one brother to the other "Sam?" He was looking at Dean who half smirked "Oh he would've liked to have gotten there before the deal went down but he didn't really care about poor ol Lester..did ya Sammy?"

It didn't take a lot to put together what you'd missed. "Oh Sam" Dean chuckled darkly "Yeah I killed Lester myself and his wife married that tattooed guy" "I never meant" Sam started but Dean cut him off "Who cares what you meant? That line between us and what we hunt ain't so clear is it? Wow you might actually be worse than me. I mean you found a guy at his lowest, used him and then it cost him his life and his soul. Nice work and Y/N here fucked us both so what does that say about her?"

You felt like you'd been slapped in the face when Dean threw those words at you. Sam injected another syringe of blood into Dean's neck and you tried with everything you had to not let yourself break before walking out the room. You could hear Dean asking Sam if he or you had the stomach to do what would be needed should the cure not work and felt your knees weaken at the mere thought.

-----

Sam found you in the map room staring blankly at the screen. "Hey, that's not really him" you raised your face and knew he saw the streaks of tears when you said "Isn't it?" You pushed away from the table when he took a step towards you and shook your head "I just need a minute" 

You walked past him to the room you'd been sleeping in. You sat down on the edge of the bed and looked over to the photo of you, Dean and Sam at Bobby's place that was leaned against the lamp next to the letter Dean had left that night. 

You knew all that was happening had been a possibility and the truth was any amount of heartbreak was worth getting Dean's eyes back permanently green. If that night was the last you got in his arms you'd be grateful for it if he just survived this cure.

-------

You wiped your tears and headed back to the armory. The moment you got to the doorway your heart dropped "SAM" you screamed running in to Dean's side. You stepped closer than you should've but his head was dropped down and you couldn't tell if he was breathing. "Baby, please wake up Dean. Come back to us please" you slapped his cheeks lightly and heard Sam come running in behind you "Is he ok?"

"Yeah if drowning in your own sweat while your blood boils is ok" Dean answered slowly opening his eyes and you hadn't realized just how close you were to him until that moment. "He could stop this darling. You know I'd never hurt you. Just make him stop" you quickly stepped away from him and shook your head "No. We want the real Dean back"

You knew Sam was drawing up another dose but Dean leveled you with his gaze "You think the real Dean is gonna be so forgiving? I mean at least I screwed strangers you on the other hand, my baby brother? That's low Y/N. I would've preferred you fucking Cas" 

"Well if you hate me at least you'll be human to do so" you replied then walked out hoping he didn't see the way your hands shook.

------

One minute you were walking back to the armory after making sure the outer door was unlocked for Cas then the next Sam was pulling you into a side hallway holding his hand over your mouth. "He's out" he mouthed and your eyes widened.

"What's the plan?" You whispered once he moved his hand. "C'MON SAMMY. DON'T YOU WANNA HANG OUT WITH YOUR BIG BROTHER" rang through the quiet air and you flinched. "We need to lock it down. Keys are in the map room" you nodded then pointed "I'll go left and make some noise for him to follow. You go right"

"Y/N..be careful" you half smiled "You too"

--------

You ran down the hall towards the bedrooms making sure to let your feet fall heavy. "Dean?" You called out hoping he'd come after you and not Sam. Sure enough you felt the air shift a half second before your back was shoved against a wall "Hey there beautiful. Where's Sammy?" He had one arm across your chest holding you in place while the other held a hammer.

Your eyes flicked towards it and he smiled "It's not for you. If I wanted to nail you there's better ways" you groaned at the fact that even murderous Demonic Dean had to make bad jokes. "I don't know" he nodded and moved forward catching your lips in a bruising kiss "I believe you but I don't need you getting in the way" 

You weren't sure what he meant until he shoved you roughly into a storage room and shut the door. "DEAN GOD DAMMIT DON'T DO THIS!" you pounded against the door and heard the key turn in the handle "Just calm down baby" was the last thing you heard before his footsteps disappeared down the hall.

-------

Painfully long minutes passed before the door slowly opened. You half expected it to be Dean covered in Sam's blood but let out a breath of relief when you saw it was Cas and flung yourself into his arms hugging him "Thank god" you muttered squeezing the angel who returned the hug fully. "Dean didn't hurt you, did he?" You shook your head "Just locked me in here so I wouldn't get in the way"

He grabbed your arm "Come on. Sam's fine but there's only two more doses to give Dean" you let Cas pull you to the armory trying to ignore the growing knot in your stomach.

--------

You stood between Sam and Cas while Dean slowly woke up. He looked between the three of you "You look worried" you nodded to Sam who splashed the Holy water onto Dean. He didn't even flinch "Welcome home Dean" Sam said with a relieved smile.

-------

You were sitting on the counter in the kitchen nursing a beer. You'd seen Sam when he got back with Dean's food and had told Cas goodbye before he left but you still couldn't face Dean. What he said had stuck with you. He may have cheated as well but it was with strangers and as a demon. You had slept with his brother of all people. You wouldn't want to be with you either.

-------

Hours passed. You saw Sam head to bed and slowly headed towards your own room. You stopped in front of Dean's door and almost knocked but thought better of it. The moment you went to step away though the door opened and you heard his voice "Y/N?" You turned around with a small smile "I just wanted to check on you" he nodded then glanced back into his room "You haven't been sleeping in here have you?"

You shook your head "I couldn't" you didn't know what else to say. Every time you'd tried to sleep in the bed you shared with him you'd ended up crying yourself to sleep. "Do you want to? I mean fuck I don't have a right to ask but will you just lay down with me? Let me hold you." You couldn't believe your ears but your mouth moved faster than your brain it seemed "Are you sure?"

He gave you a smirk that was a ghost of his usual one "I started the day as a demon and tried to kill my brother but you're asking me if I'm sure" you held your hand out and when he took it walked into the room pulling him behind you.

------

He shut the door then pulled you behind him to the bed. He sat down on the side of it and pulled you between his legs. You stood there with your hands on his shoulders just enjoying knowing you had your Dean back even if he decided he no longer wanted to be yours. "Are you scared of me Y/N?" He asked and that shocked you more than anything "What? No" he glanced down at his lap then raised his eyes to you playfully "You could be closer" 

You kicked your boots off then climbed onto his lap effectively straddling him. "I've missed you and not just the sex, this" he whispered burying his face in your neck. "Do you still love me?" You asked and he drew back to look you in the face "Yeah Sweetheart I still love you. Can you ever forgive me for everything I did?" "Are you still mine?" You asked and he kissed your neck lightly "I'll always be yours even if you don't want me"

You smiled and felt tears trying to sting your eyes "I've only ever wanted you Dean" he noticed the tears glistening in your eyes and gently wiped them away "Those women didn't mean anything. The mark and being a demon..it fucked me up and i didn't want to risk hurting you. I stayed away as long as I could but when Crowley told me that you and Sam.." he trailed off but his hands tightened around your waist. "It didn't mean anything to us but helping to keep each other sane and alive. I was hurt and lost and so was he…" Dean cut you off with a kiss and you melted into his touch.

When he pulled away he pushed your hair back out of your face "Can we call this a new start?" His hands had slid under your shirt and you felt his fingertips trailing across your bare skin. "Please" you all but whispered pulling him into another kiss. 

Tags: @akshi8278

[belle-keys]

I Love Matthew Fairchild aka Incoherent Thoughts about Chain of Iron (2021) by Cassandra Clare

I made one of these rant-rave reviews for SJM's book so check it out if you want, no pressure tho lmao.

Aight so I finished Chain of Iron last night and OMG I HAVE TO YELL like I loved it sooo much like yooo, I have a lot to say. I know the book is new so... beware for spoilers plebs.

Also context: I been reading the Shadowhunter books since I was 12 and I'm 19 now *insert dead emoji face* so yeah, I'm just so happy rn with where the Chronicles have come and the fact that they’re still ongoing *insert uwu face*. I remember when in like 2014-2015 or something when Cassandra Clare teased that Will and Tessa's kids' generation was gonna get a trilogy set in Edwardian London, loosely based on Great Expectations, and holy hell? I think that was perhaps one of the best days of my life considering how much I adore The Infernal Devices (that trilogy really changed the way I see YA literature... don't ask cus I won't shut up about it) (also yes I read TMI and loved it too but there's a “generation gap” between TMI and the other Shadowhunter books stylistically so don't ask me about that either cus I also won't shut up).

Anyway, shoo from here if you want a critical essay on Chain of Iron. I'm not providing that, this is just me raving here for the fun.

Listen... I want the bulk of this to just be two main things: The Matthew Situation, and then all the literary and judeo-christian meta aspects of it.

BUT I ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE SO FRICK LET'S JUST START WITH THE OBVIOUS SHIT LIKE THE PLOT AND WHATEVER

Okay, the plot and writing and shit, let's get that out of the way:

The WHOLE Jack-the-Ripper-esque ambiance was just sooooo good man wow like I did not expect the book to take this cold turn but it worked so well. There was such a contrast between Jamie and Cordelia's warm little house and then the cold winter and the stabbings and shit and it felt like a nice little callback to the actual Ripper phenomenon that preceded them and a nod to the Whitechapel Fiend story from Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy.

Bitch OFC that whole thing with Wayland was a set-up like nawww that was too easy to spot and I get why Cordelia feels like shit about it.

Dawg Lucie was just the Among Us imposter here in that my girl was just venting and sneaking around with dead people and I was like nooooo girl run, don't deal with Fade this is a set-up THINK ABOUT JULES LUCIE THAT'S LIKE YO GREAT-GRANDSON *sobs* but yeah anyway my girl has death powers she gonna kill some bitches next book.

You see that confrontation between Lilith and Belial? MASTERPIECE DIALOGUE like this was the point within which I was just like "yo is this the book of Genesis or a YA Fantasy novel" like when Lilith said "I may have been cast out but I did not fall" like??????????????????? I YELLED she did not have to END Belial like that. What a bad bitch.

More on Lilith and Belial... "You, who brought nations into darkness? Shall I finally be able to tell the infernal realms you have gone mad, lost even the image of the Creator." HAHAHHAHAHA SHE SAID "YO BELIAL GO GET SOME THERAPY AND GET OFF MY ASS" LIKE??????

Ughhhh yasss Clare has improved writing diverse characters in this book compared to in The Dark Artifices in my opinion... I'm not gonna expand on it cus ain't nobody got time for that but like, I enjoyed how she wove Persian poetry and tales into the story and the way in which she writes Cordelia and Alistair. They're not caricatures of Persian people but rather multi-faceted beings who also happen to be Persian and I appreciate that. Also, Alistair and Thomas and Anna and Ariadne were just so fun and interesting to read as coupbles but also as individuals. She really higlighted diversity in a very natural manner. All I need is a hijabi character and I’ll die a happy woman lmao.

The level of META man like the references to Classics and art (I swear, she might have compared Matthew to angels out of Caravaggio AND Rosetti AND Boticelli paintings and I Am Living For It) and just all the quotes from holy books and shit omg I love it here like you really feel catapulted into the time period, she draws reference to external art and philosophy so well and I feel like she upped the notch on it in this book (didn’t know that was possible but it was the prose is BEAUTIFUL, archaic, but not pretentiously so). No, like the characters live in their OWN worlds of literature and art and history in the way we are living in THEIRS. They quote Wilde and Milton while we'll quote Clare. It's awesome.

This is an unusually structuralist take even from me but: I like the way the milieu social of the book, i.e., the high society Edwardian circles and their values, have a direct influence on the plot. James and Cordelia got married because society’s values essentially forced them to, not a demon. Cordelia abandons Jamie at the end of Iron because her shame as a woman in society and fear for her reputation made her, not a demon. Thomas and Alistair can't be together solely because of how Alistair tarnished the reputation of the Fairchilds and Lightwoods by using the horror of infidelity against them. Issues relating to marriage, gender roles, etc, stemming DIRECTLY from the time period rule the sequence of events to the same degree as the epic fantasy aspects (demons, Princes of Hell, the lore itself) do and I LOVE that dear God above.

OKAY THE GOOD SHIT LET US TALK ABOUT CHARACTERS AND SHIPS (N.B. but imma discuss Matthew and the Fairstairs situation separately below this portion):

Alistair's redemption arc: No, cus Alistair's redemption arc is honestly amazing. He really did change and it's not like his betterment as a person was linked to any one heroic deed but rather he simply decided he wanted to be better especially for his family and he decided to become a proper protective son, a caring brother, and an amiable friend. He fully owned up to his Malfoy tendencies and apologized without expecting forgiveness. He shows how he cares in the little ways and omg it's so sweet and tender. I really do want him to love himself now and be embraced by Matthew especially and the rest of the Thieves.

Dawg Lucie and Jesse are so funny to me like it's so hilarious how this girl fell in love with a whole ass ghost that no one else knows about like HHAHA. Are Lucie and Jesse my ult ship ever? Nah, but it's nothing to do with Clare, it's just that their relationship happened pretty quick and feels quite like something epicly romantic that Lucie herself would write. I just like slow burn and friends-to-lovers the most from Clare. To be honest part of me just wanted Lucie to not have a romantic arc all together but like, it's all good, I'm not complaining.

Okay Grace- like yooooooooooo I never hated her yunno. She has been abused and isolated all her life. It's not that she is a bad person, but rather that she does not know what being a person even entails. Can't even say she's a “doll” of a person cus she's never even been pampered like one by her family. I really started understanding her motivations since when they gave us her half-childhood with Jesse. I want better for her but cmon can she REALLY be saved???

GRACE X CHRISTOPHER *pretends to be shocked*... Okay, sometime in the middle of the Dark Artifices series some big brain put together a very thorough family tree of the families and like, it clearly showed that Grace and Christopher got married so like, lmfaooooo, I knew this was coming one way or another, but the journey to this ship is more important than the destination. Like in a way Christopher is such a cute baby lamb that it makes sense he'd end up being immune to her Grace-ness when he's just a cute little Einstein boiii. Like this is just so funny to me cus he's so oblivious to social conventions while she makes the milieu social her entire life so OFC it's gonna work. Like, this is such a worlds-colliding trope like just Give It To Me.

James and Grace - aw mannn Jamie just had me fricking wanting to hit a wall every two seconds cus like yooooooo every single time I think he and Cordelia are gonna stop being emotionally-constipated spouses, Jamie says some kinda shit like "omg me and Daisy are just friends uwu" like DO I NEED TO HIT YOU?????????? See I can't blame him for not slamming the door on Grace's face even tho he totes should- Jamie is so cerebral and kind that even if Grace wasn't using the enchantment on him, I think he would always be soft for her even if it isn't in a romantic way. There's just so much miscommunication cus like he said "Thank God" when she broke off the engagement with Charles and lowkey embraced her but it also wasn't his fault cus it wasn't even romantic BUT OFC IT LOOKED HORRIBLE TO CORDELIA like James literally never told the woman at least once that he loved her so OFC she thought she was back to square one with him dear God above what a mess. Not his fault, but she DID set down one rule for him: don’t cheat with Grace. And yeah even tho he hasn’t properly cheated, it must FEEL horrible to her cus she’s just been enduring the pain of their unrequeted love for so long :((

See imma just say it but if Cordelia thought that James didn't love Grace then she def would have confessed to him about her feelings right but like James, on the other hand, was delaying his own romantic confession cus he was BEING EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED and I can't even say the bracelet was solely to blame cus like my boi was just being so difficult omg I believe he should be lightly spanked by his three parents aka Will, Tessa and Jem *cries*.

Cordelia is such a MOM like she's so mature and stable and her self-preservation instinct? OFF THE CHARTS I love this woman like James definitely treated her well as a hubby but like I JUST WANTED HER TO HAVE CLOSURE ABOUT SOMETHING and boy oh boy she did get that closure she got it good but not from the person she expected in the LEAST *hehe* *pelican screeching*... like Lucie was being sus with the whole ghost business and James was being just, quite a case, dealing with Grace and Belial right and I don't blame them at all for their secrecy and shit but her FATHER DIED and her friends were hiding a lot from her so in a way she turned to Alistair for help but he could only do so much cus of his own pain (she couldn't even talk to her mom cus she's pregnant and she doesn't wanna stress her right) and then there was this emotional block between her and Jamie, Lucie was often absent and conspiring with the dead... the last person remaining was HIM (imma discuss this soon), but yeah my heart just went OUT to her cus she's tryna save herself and her family and she just doesn't know what to do. That's why I love the way her mom told her to stop holding herself back for others and live her own life. Like Cordelia grew on me so much cus in Gold she undoubtedly was a strange Elizabeth Bennet-wallflower hybrid and I... do not usually get attached to wallflowers but in Iron I feel like I finally understood that she was just tryna be unproblematic and self-preserving all along and nottt put her family and friends in a tough situation.... she reminds me of my mom personality-wise so yeah I’m totally rooting for her now that her *situation* in the past seems clearer.

Anna, Thomas and Matthew are such a SQUAD lmfaooooo like united in their gayness they'd be so unstoppable.

Will and Tessa are the most in-love of all the in-loves in this story and I respect that so much.

I lost a year to my life every time the romance between James and Cordelia got cockblocked. Like they were MARRIED and I thought they were gonna at least sleep next to each other at least once BUT NO James couldn't take a hint omg I'm actually gonna eat my fist and sob (but in retrospect, I think this serves a bigger purpose in terms of the narrative structure i.e. the interruption of all the spicy James and Cordelia action serves a bigger purpose which I think brings me to my next section, *exhale*)

Welcome to the Matthew Fairchild Enthusiast Club (this section is me talking out loud; it makes no sense):

bitch.

LISTEN TO ME LISTEN WELL I LOVE THIS BOY SO MUCH IMMA SCREAM I REALLY AM GONNA SCREAM MY FIST IS LITERALLY IN MY MOUTH *BACKFLIPS OFF THE ROOF WITH LANA DEL REY PLAYING*

Okay like where to BEGIN I think the Shadowhunter boy who I'm most attracted to is Julian while the one I love the most is Will but I think I see myself in Matthew the most. Like ever since that first story where the Thieves all met at the Academy then got expelled, I think that I just KNEW Matthew was destined to be epic. Plus the whole Wilde obsession? I’m no libertine myself but I just love his chaos and passion for life.

NO CUS HE'S SO WITTY AND SWEET AND EPIC AND YET SO SECRETIVE AND DEAR GOD ABOVE AHHHHH WILL HE SURPASS JULIAN FOR ME??? Ion even know but this is just sodjsgdwsdygyegydgef

Hear me out but I said after finishing Gold last March that I wanted this book to be Matthew's healing arc right so halfway into the book when I realized that we weren't getting all that good healing arcing I was confused just cus I thought it seemed natural to address all of his alcohol issues and sadness by now. LITTLE DID I KNOW CASSIE WAS SETTING UP A WHOLE OTHER ARC WITH HIM THAT I WOULD HAVE NEVER GUESSED WTH.

At first I thought Matthew didn't have feelings for anyone at all, and if he DID develop feelings unexpectedly, I fricking thought that maybe he's catching feelings for James, if anyone??? I mean, I did have some suspicions about Matthew from the get-go: like he's so secretive and as readers we think we know everything there is to know about him since we were all privy to the truth potion incident in his short story right BUT NO I GOT PLAYED AND I DESERVE IT SO BADDDDDD.

Listen I hadn't shipped him and Cordelia simply because I never thought it in the realm of possibility but it MAKES SENSE as a ship... think about it: he never says what he feels, he flirts with her like he does with EVERYONE, he is kind to her in the way he is with EVERYONE. Really, Matthew is shippable with everyone, doesn’t matter if they’re taken cus that’s just what his Matthewnes allows for ya feel. There is such a beautiful irony that CORDELIA herself did not see this coming. Even the little teasers and hints in Gold have only NOW started making sense to me likejhss. I just felt like the hints in book 1 did not indicate to me that Matthew really harbored real romantic feelings for Daisy. I thought he was upset that James and Cordelia were being fakes, not a developing CRUSH on the woman fgs.

Not to mention that you usually sense a ship building when the emotional connection or sexual tension between the characters is made clearer but to me their FRIENDSHIP grew right but it didn’t feel like Cordelia was thought that she liked him or he liked her so that means me and Cordelia are clowns *together* 😤

Okay I was lowkey having SUSPICIONS but I immediately shut them down right... like firstly when he took her to the White Horse in his car and she went OFF and OFF and off about how she felt free for the first time? I thought Cassie was just tryna develop Cordelia's self-liberation arc through Matthew there. Heck, I didn't even think ANYTHING of it when Matthew confession to Cordelia about the "truth potion" incident at all cus I was like they're FRIENDS??? BUT now it's adding up now...

See when they were at the inn place and he was telling her that she doesn't in the least seem like a 100 year-old married woman? I was like hmmmm he's so sweet but why did Cassie phrase it like that like??? When Cordelia later reiterated that she thought Matthew's flirting was “meaningless”?? I was like hmmm kinda SUS tho. And then when he and James had their fight over the way Jamie kissed Grace like again I thought he was just like? ion know? mad at James for it but I didn't think he was in LOVE with Cordelia??? So I immediately put aside my slight suspicions. The probability that he had a crush on James at that point seemed more likely to me.

BUT THEN it started hitting me that every time Matthew drank, even before he explained his issue with the truth potion, that Cordelia would note it, she would worry about him, she would think of her father which seemed so poetic to me, history repeating itself and all that but this time you can FIX it??? Yeah, but again I didn't think the L WORD would be involved man???

Now imma sound like a delulu shipper here but it just makes sense they would develop feelings logically- reason being that it definitely is possible based on the way Cassie set up the story, like there's a combination of little “friend things” that can turn this into a proper ship: Matthew rescues Cordelia in the ballroom when Grace captures James' attention in Gold. Cordelia sees her father in Matthew all the time but knows now she has a chance to be there for him in the way she couldn't have been there for Elias (classic “history repeats itself” trope, she doesn't want Matthew drinking in Paris like dhshghdfhdhch). Cordelia tastes freedom for the first time when driving with Matthew. Matthew caught James and Cordelia making out in the room and was pissed but not even HE properly knew why then??? Umm, when she thinks James is forreal cheating with Grace on her she subconsciously goes to Matthew??? I also found it funny just how every intimate marital moment between her and James got interrupted somehow. Like, it's as if the narrative is just a living force REFUSING to let James and Cordelia as a ship be consecrated. Heck, every time Matthew is scantily clothed Cordelia notes it. LITTLE CRUMBS I TELL YOU LITTLE CRUMBS.

I tell you when Cordelia showed up to Matthew's flat I thought they were gonna f*ck as friends but I got SOMETHING EVEN BETTER SOMEHOW

THEY ARE GOING TO PARIS LA BELLE EPOQUE PARIS THE PARIS OF DREAMS AND ART LIKE??? FRICKKKKK I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AT ALLLL MAN? I deadass thought the story would be restrained to the UK but like it MAKES SENSE the trope subversion MAKES SENSE.

“In Paris, with you, I will not need to forget.” SHITTRGEGGGDG

BUT CORDELIA LOVES JAMES TOO LIKE I CAN'T DENY THAT... where are we GOING with this like Matthew wouldn't lie about his feelings and yet Cassie wouldn't give us Matthew and Cordelia crumbs to only end it in the next book immediately for her to just ditch him for James. I mean she was clearly holding back on fleshing out James and Cordelia as a ship for this but to WHAT END??? Daisy feels wild and free with Matthew and she feels warm at home warm with James. I can’t advocate for the sinking of ANY ship here.

Imma say what we're all thinking: Is she gonna give us a Will x Jem x Tessa type situation where Cordelia gets both of them cus I'm not strong enough for this but I also think it'd be really funny if James gets a surprise bi awakening in the next books and then we get POLY even tho this would never happen, it’s actually impossible, because of the whole parabatai thing.

Listen I ship Cordelia and Matthew much more than Cordelia and James, not that I dislike James in any way tho. It's just: Matthew is so unrestrained and she's so composed. They seem like an unlikely pair so it makes sense that they hit harder for me. James and Cordelia have such similar personalities but I ALSO don't ship James with Grace at all so like?? Poly would be... ideal... but it can’t happen especially cus they are fricking parabatai... a Will-Jem-Tessa situation seems more likely but mannnn ion know what to expect. I just want FAIRSTAIRS to have their moment in Paris. I mean James and Matthew clearly don't abhor each other for this.

Take everything I say with several grains of salt, take everything I say with the whole Dead Sea actually, cus I damn well know that Matthew is so flirty and whatnot that I’d have shipped him with anyone in their little circle but now that she set him up with Cordelia it all feels so right?? I have wanted this man in a good relationship since he walked onto the page in Nothing But Shadows so-

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I can't believe Cassia duped me like this omg, Matthew is gonna have his healing arc in Paris with Cordelia by his side like- THIS IS ALL I HAVE WANTED AND SO MUCH MORE. Question to yall btw: are you all as surpised at Fairstairs as me or did yall see it coming all along like smart people? Am I a lone clown? 🥺

BRUH okay criticisms of CC?:

Lmfao a part of me feels like I GOTTA say something bad about CC or the book but honestly I have no objective complaints about it as of now. Am I saying that it’s the PEAK of Young Adult literature and Urban Fantasy? I mean, I make no such claims tbh. I’m not here to be critical when I read as a hobby and when CC’s writing makes me happy regardless of how flawed some people see it.

Okay what next?

So like I’m excited for the adult high fantasy she’s releasing in the fall and whatever other works she might be releasing outside of Chain of Gold within the Chronicles.

As for TLH itself? Man I’m just VIBING like I suspect I will reread Chain of Iron soon and maybe one of the anthologies just because I am happy that this series actually happened after me waiting like 6 years for it when it was just a concept: a Dickensian retelling filled with poetry and culture and history and the conventions I so loved in TID at age 12. This is all I been wanting tbh. I’m just enjoying watching this series come to fruition for it to inspire and transform me in some way. I feel like in a way my coming-of-age aligns with that of these specific characters yet I ALSO feel like I raised Jamie since infancy. Wack.

MATTHEW AND CORDELIA IN FRANCE LA BELLE EPOQUE TO BE EXACT IMMA CRY I DID NOT SEE THIS COMING AND AHHHHHH. ALSO WILL AND JAMIE GOING TO CORNWALL TO GET LUCIE AND MAYBE BOND I LOVE WILL. HE WAS ONE OF MY DILF AWAKENINGS AT AGE 12 AND NOW HE’S HERE AGAIN IMMA CRY. I WANNA SEE MATTHEW GET HAPPY. AHHH.

Ending with a fun quote: “In the wise words of someone or other, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Maurice.” 😉

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

❧ part of Jan’s Halloween Circus 

❧ about: atsumu hates ghosts, but free food and the company of his friends leads him to the angel inn where he meets a journalist who is seeking more than a cheap thrill. 

❧ prompts: Anybody else notice the small child staring at us & wait! its too dangerous to go alone, take this! *puts my hand in yours*

❧ pairing: Atsumu x F!reader 

❧ wc: 2.7k

❧ triggers: anxiety, mentions of death and murder, a touch of dark humor, ghost children. 

❧ A/N: I hope you guys like this! I had so much fun writing it. I edited this twice but if I missed anything pls ignore. MWAH. 

The Angel Inn was not merely famous for their delectable burger, no – its name had been splattered across dozens of newspapers for a reason far more dreadful. In 1954, a tragedy occurred on the property, drawing the attention of locals and foreigners alike. On the morning of October 31st four lifeless bodies were discovered by the unsuspecting housekeeper. She was sent to the room after the neighboring occupants complained of a nauseating smell to the front desk. 

After initiating an investigation, the authorities ruled that it was a triple homicide and suicide. The Angel Inn remained closed for months to allow the authorities 24-hour access to the crime scene, and when it was time to reopen, they opted to covert the establishment into a restaurant instead. 

During the renovation the owner had received various complaints from the contracted party, who claimed that something was amiss. There were reported sightings of a little pale boy, along with concerns about flickering lights and screeches that would ring through the narrow hallways. Soon the haunting of the Angel Inn was assigned the status of town gossip, alluring ghost hunters and disbelievers alike to the newly opened restaurant. Though, fearful of a potential lawsuit, the owner of the property elected to lock each of the bedrooms – whether it was to keep the humans out or the ghosts in was questionable. Yet, she hoped either way it would save her from enduring another investigation.

When your boss originally assigned you the story for the Halloween edition of the magazine, not a single protest left your mouth. Instead, the sound of excitement crawling up your throat had to be swallowed, to spare your manager from a potential earache. Not only would your dinner be covered, you were being paid to explore a haunted motel, something you would have agreed to do if your boss had simply asked. Ghost stories had always captured your interest as a child, partially due to the fact your grandmother was a self-proclaimed psychic.

Was it bad that communicating with a ghost was on your list of life goals?

Maybe you should aim higher, but the possibility of encountering a ghost child had electricity surging throughout your nerves. It was going to be perfect.  

When four vouchers were allocated to the Ace of the MSBY Black Jackals for dinner at the Angel Inn, he naturally decided to invite his closest team-mates. Hinata agreed immediately, oblivious to the reputation of the property. Sakusa declined the invite promptly, until he noticed the colour drain from the setter’s face. The panic flaring in Atsumu’s eyes and the strained smile tugging at the corners of his mouth indicated that at minimum, the dinner would be interesting. He could sacrifice peace for one evening if it meant watching his friend tremor the entire time.

“Tsum Tsum, don’t worry! If any ghosts come, I’ll protect us. I am the Ace after-all.” A teasing laugh rose from Bokuto’s chest as he snuck an arm around the setter’s shoulder. The blonde responded with a low grunt, mumbling something inaudible. Ghosts were not his thing, and he failed to understand how they could be anyone’s thing.

But alas, on October 30th, the setter found himself sat at the Angel Inn with his three team-mates. Earlier in the day, he attempted to bribe his brother to colour his hair and attend on his behalf. While Osamu was certainly tempted – it was food after-all, he was unwilling to colour his hair to match his brothers. Blonde was a colour that suited only a subsection of society, and he was not fortunate enough to be granted permission into that branch. And so, he left his older brother to fend for himself.

Nothing could distract Atsumu from the supposed danger that loomed over him, his senses were sensitive to every noise that vibrated within the confines of the establishment. For most of the night, the setter found himself observing every creak, sneeze or laugh, to ensure that its source was not supernatural. However, the anxiety gripping his heart had released its hold when the sound of a melodic laugh touched his ears. It took him a few seconds to discover the source of the laughter, and when he connected it to you, eagerness brought him to his feet.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you possessed now?” Sakusa raised an eyebrow at the blonde as a small simper formed on his mouth. He had read that the weakest one in the room is the most likely to fall victim to possession, and so it made sense if Atsumu was their first target.

“I’m gonna go talk to that pretty girl.” With his fingers adjusting the collar of his shirt, a flirtatious expression adorned his features, washing away any hint of gloom that was once present. While Bokuto and Hinata strived to detect who their friend was referring to, Sakusa clicked his tongue in artificial distaste.

“Did it ever occur to you, that maybe she is a ghost?” The humour laced into the inquiry could not be successfully disguised by the outsider hitter’s pretentious attitude. It was clear to them all that it was his attempt at a joke. 

“Shut up, Omi!” Before stepping away from the table, the blonde administered a glare at his friend. There was no way you were a ghost… Right?

When Atsumu was close enough to catch a glimpse of your face, any concerns on the status of your existence were banished. Although, he was not particularly enthusiastic when he spotted the notebook situated in front of you. Reporters were usually far too intrusive and insensitive for his liking. Yet he still found himself claiming the empty stool beside you.

“Whatcha got there?” Shifting his gaze to the sheet filled with scribbles, his breath caught in his throat at the title. The Haunting of The Angel Inn.

It took you a second to comprehend that the question was aimed at your work. The last thing you anticipated was for someone to seek you out during your little investigation today. Dressed in ordinary business attire, it was surprising that someone of his calibre would consider sparing you a second look, yet alone a conversation.

“Hm? Oh, I’m writing an article.” Despite instructing yourself to not stare, your y/e/c irises refused to leave the stranger’s face. There was something familiar about him – was he a model? As you racked through your mind for an answer to the question of his identity, you blinked in slow intervals.  

“About the hauntings?” When his attention traveled from the notebook to you, it finally clicked. Miya Atsumu – pro volleyball player. The realization tempted you to pound your forehead with the edge of your palm.

“Yeah, I’m a journalist. Star here was just telling me about her experience with Haru.” His question about your work returned your mind to the task at hand. Gesturing towards the bartender with the pen nestled between two fingers, a soft laugh was exhaled. Right. You were on a mission tonight to gain an audience with the ghosts of Angel Inn.

“Haru?” Atsumu narrowed his brows, the smile on his lips slipping away into a frown. Who was Haru?

“The ghost kid who haunts this place?” Adjusting yourself on the seat, excitement sparkled in your eyes. It was at this point that Atsumu realized that you were the polar opposite of him – you were seeking a paranormal experience, whereas he simply wanted a burger.

“Well shit. Didn’t know he had a name.” The setter propped an elbow onto the wooden counter, directing artificial laughter to leave his lips.

“They call him that because he apparently looks like the child who was murdered here.” A knowing wiggle was given to your eyebrows. While he may have sought to disguise his discomfort with the topic, it quickly dawned on you that MSBY’s setter was afraid of ghosts.

“Right. So lemme get this straight, you came here willingly? You want to see a ghost?” His eyelids fell into a quizzical slit. He knew the answers to those questions, and still was foolish enough to vocalize them.

“Yeah. I think it would be fun.”

And there it was. Confirmation that you were less than sane.

“Not if they try to kill ya.” There was a bitter edge to his comment, earning him a puzzled titter.

“I doubt a four-year-old ghost is going to kill me.” A shake to your head accompanied the reassurance. His anxieties were rooted in foolish assumptions, but you found the pout on his lips to be oddly adorable. “But if you’re scared, you can sit with me and I promise if a ghost comes, I’ll do all the talking.” An eyelid was then dipped into a wink, which prompted the blonde to break into a laugh.

“Yer the second person to offer to protect me.” Embarrassment flooded his stomach with bees, instead of butterflies. Yet he refused to lower this façade, with laughter continuing to drip from his mouth.  

“Hey, we all have our fears. You can protect me if a spider appears. Deal?” The arrangement prompted you to offer out your pinky to solidify the verbal contract.

“Yah. Okay. Deal.”  Atsumu curled his pinky around yours, and the smallest touch had calmed the insects inside of him. Maybe you weren’t that bad, even if you were a little crazy.

“I’m l/n, f/n, by the way.”

“I’m Miya, Atsumu.”

The following hour contained various conversations, ranging from past paranormal experiences to locker-room gossip. Atsumu munched away at the plate of appetizers while you supplied him with stories of your childhood. He was beginning to piece together why you were so keen on communicating with the ghostly residences of the Angel Inn. You were halfway through another story when his attention drifted onto a figure in the corridor behind you.

“Err. L/n. Did ya notice the small child staring at us? Please tell me ya see it too.” It was never his intention to lock stares with the almost transparent being that was beckoning him over. The poor male choked on the fry in his mouth, and then dove for a glass of water.

“Hm? Where?!” Spinning around on the seat, you attempted to attain a visual of what had frightened the blonde. To your disappointment, there was no sign of a young child. “I think it ran away. I’m gonna follow it.” The announcement of your plans was followed by a little fist pump in the air. If Haru wanted a playmate, you were certainly available.

“Yer gonna follow the ghost child? Can we talk about this?” After administering a cough to clear his throat, the setter prepared his best impression of a puppy-dog, hoping it would convince you to abandon your endeavours.

“You don’t have to come with me, Miya. I’ll meet you back here when I’m done.” With laughter dancing up your throat, you settled onto your feet then presented a bright beam in the setter’s direction. Atsumu was appreciative of your efforts to reassure him, though he would refuse to allow you to leave without him.

“No. It’s too dangerous to go alone, take this.” Before you could question what he was referring to, the male intertwined his fingers with yours then casted his gaze aside shyly. “Alright. Now ya can go.”

“That was kinda corny and kinda cute. I’ll accept it.” The inside of your cheek was bit as you pushed to conceal the happiness the action brought you. For someone who was notorious for being a ‘bad boy’, he was ridiculously sweet. The circumstances surely called for an eerie chill to fill your bones, and yet warmth engulphed every inch of your skin.

The quest to find Haru was unsuccessful on the lower level. It was only when you proceeded up the staircase did you hear a strange giggle from one of the hallways. It appeared that you had accepted a game of hide and seek with the dead. When you tugged on Atsumu’s hand to indicate that you desired to follow the noise, a low whine vibrated inside of his throat.

“This is exactly what a couple does in those horror films before they get killed. Haven’t ya learned anything from Hollywood?” Despite his warnings and the anxiety swarming his insides, he trailed behind you closely, refusing to release your hand.

“Shh, Miya.” To drown out the laughter threatening to depart, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. The sound of varied giggles increased in volume until you reached room 204. What was strange about the guestroom was that the door was cracked open. Based on your research, each of the hotel rooms were said to be double locked. What made the circumstances significantly worse was that 204 was the room where the murders occurred… Not that you planned on sharing any of this information with the blonde male shivering behind you.

“L/n, I am begging ya.” He applied a bit of pressure against your hand, and regretted his decision to accompany you when he knew what was lurking behind the barrier would not be pleasant.

“Just a little peek, and we can go.”

You should have retreated when tiny needles prickled your palm as you ushered open the door, but you were far too stubborn to leave yet. And nothing could prepare you for the horrific sight that awaited you. In the center of the room stood a four-year-old boy with blood splattered across his face and a single hole penetrating his chest. His injured state did not stop the apparition from smiling ear to ear, and frankly that only added an additional layer of horror. Beside you Atsumu blinked wide eyes, unsure how to react to what had melted into view.

“No. Nope. No. We’re done here.” Releasing your hand, the setter scooped you into his arms, then began down the hallway before rushing down the stairs. He continued to utter his denial to the situation and refused to stop until reaching the parking lot outside.

“Miya!” Maybe it was his reaction that prompted laughter to erupt from inside you, or maybe you were terrible at handling distress. But you could not contain the melody that brought your chest to rise and fall, even after he returned you to your feet.

“We are not goin’ back in there. No.” The setter raked his fingers through his hair roughly, struggling to regain his composure. Did he really just see that? More importantly, why didn’t you listen to his warnings? And why were you laughing?! “How aren’t ya scared?!”

“I express my fear through laughter?” Your shoulders were pushed into a shrug as you delivered him a sheepish smile. Disbelief led the setter to lift a finger in your direction, communicating that he required a minute to accept this explanation.

“How about I get my things, then you and I go can grab some hot chocolate for your nerves.” Seconds after the suggestion was posed, you took his hand that was extended forward, cupping it with both of your palms. This was certainly not how you expected the evening to unfold. How could you have known that you would meet someone so fascinating and sweet as Atsumu while writing an article on a haunted motel? But you were glad you did. Not only did you secure details to an incredible story, you also thoroughly enjoyed yourself. It had been a while since you laughed this much – you missed it.

“Yah fine. Jus’ don’t bring back any uninvited guests with ya.” A dramatic sigh was blow out by the male to illustrate his exhaustion. If he saw another spirit today, he doubted his fragile little heart would survive.  

“Oh, you mean like Haru?” Allowing your hands to drop to your side, you retreated a step away from him, prior to lowering an eyelid into a mischievous wink. The mention of the spirit’s name brought Atsumu to grimace. “I’m joking. I’ll see if his sister is available instead.”

“L/n! Stop!” 

The whining of your name had never sounded more endearing, and for the first time this evening, you accepted that maybe just maybe...you weren’t the sanest.

Taglist: @newfriendjen @haikyuufairy @bringmelily @4fterh0urs @shegrewupwithoutafather @chocolaterumble @aquariarose @tsukkismamagucci @yourstarvic​ 

[radiant-flutterbun]

Mason’s Brightside Part 2

   Part 1

“No Mason, weird dreams are not a symptom of the herb I gave you last night,” Alaria sighed “If you had listened to me you would know the opposite is true.”

    “No dreams is a symptom?”

    “Yes and so are dehydration headaches so make sure you drink lots of water.”

Alaria shooed Mason outside of the healing den and he nearly crashed into Corkscrew, a spiral.

    “Watch where you’re going!” Corkscrew snarled.

    Mason ignored him and went to get something to drink, his mind however was still thinking about that dream. He’d never been a vivid dreamer. Something about it was so unnatural.

    Evan came up to him later in the day and he described the dream to him.

    “Weird right?”

    “Yeah but sometimes a dream is just a dream. Don’t read too much into it.”

    “But it felt so real!”

    “You sure it’s not… Ya know your mind playing tricks on you?”

    Mason glared at Evan “It wasn’t that.”

    “Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to imply…” Evan coughed “Maybe you’re just not used to a good night’s sleep is all.”

    Mason thought about that for a moment “That… Ok yeah that I can believe.”

    The next night he was given the same herb from Alaria and he found himself right back at the Emperor’s Wake.

    “Good to see you again Mason,” It was the tundra. They were sitting beside him, so close that Mason could feel their fur on him “Are you on your way?”

    “I-” Mason began and then he snarled “What are you doing in my head?”

    The tundra looked back at him calmly, “You can thank our local dreamwalker for that.”

    “Dreamwalker…?”

    “You’ll be waking soon. I don’t have time to explain. Please come here to the Emperor’s Wake. I’ll explain everything. It’ll be much easier in person, I promise.”

    Mason was about to speak when he found himself awake, sunlight danced across his room. 

    He began to pack his things. It didn’t take long. Being formerly dead, he didn’t have any personal belongings from his world. All he had were just a few art supplies Flare had been kind enough to give him, a simple dagger, a water canister, a few snacks and a blanket. Everything fit neatly in a bag he wrapped over his shoulder.

    He trotted down the stairs from his room and into the clan lobby. He made his way to the main exit when Evan found him.

    “Where are you going?” He asked, seeing the bag.

    Mason sighed “The Emperor’s Wake.”

    “What? Isn’t that where that monster is?”

    “Yep.”

    “And you want to go there?!”

    “Correct.”

    “Why?”

    “Because that’s where the dragons in my dreams told me to go.”

    “So you’re just going to listen to random dream dragons now?”

    “See this is why I was trying to avoid you.”

    Evan looked hurt “You were planning on leaving without telling me?”

    “Because I knew this would happen! I knew you wouldn’t understand! Listen, I've been here before. I know that whoever these dragons are, they're not going to get out of my head until I do what they want me to do.”

    “Hey no offense Mason but the last time you listened to some... thing in your mind you ended up hurting a kid.”

    Mason snarled “He wasn’t just a kid. Don’t oversimplify what Muerto is.”

    “I’m just saying, if you knew that was Match speaking to you, would you still have done the things you did?”

    “Yes. Match is just another self centered god, but at least me listening to him, capturing Muerto, weakening him. Getting him to spill his dirty little secrets. At least that did something! You would have rotted away to nothing and we would have all been trapped in that horrible place until we died. I got the gods’ attention. I changed things!”

    Evan took a deep breath “Ok. Yeah you’re right. But I also don’t have to like what we had to do to get where we are now. Maybe this time we can take some time to think about what we’re getting into before we have to hurt anyone?”

    “We? You want to come with me?”

    “I don’t like the idea of being near that monster, but I hate the idea of letting you go alone even more.”

***

    Mason waited for Evan to pack his things. Like him, it wasn’t much so they were off on their journey soon enough. Evan felt bad leaving without a word so he took the time to leave a note for Nike.

    The two took off and soared over the Sunbeam Ruins in the direction of the area now known as the Emperor’s Wake. Mason had a map with him to help him keep track of their journey. As he flapped his wings he noted how natural flight felt to him. It was strange to him how quickly he picked up the skill. His original body was not one designed for flight and never in a million years would he have guessed he’d eventually become a dragon. Sepulchral had taught him to fly after he had entered the Dragon Planet. Sepulchral was a good teacher, and unlike all of the other Selcouth creatures that were brought to Sornieth, Sepulchral actually had wings back in their world, making him uniquely experienced with flight. But even with such an excellent teacher, Mason felt like he shouldn’t have picked up the skill quite so quickly. It only made it more frustrating that relearning to draw was not as natural to him.

    “Sorry about planning to take off without you,” Mason said after a few miles of silence.

    “Hey, it's cool. No big deal,” Evan responded.

    “What were you going to tell me the other day, by the way? I didn’t mean to brush you off like that. Sorry again.”

    “Oh that?” Evan laughed nervously “That was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

    Mason glanced at his friend “Alright…” He thought about pushing the subject, but decided to let it go.

    The two flew in silence until it got dark. They camped out in a secluded pine forest for the night and took off again when it was morning. 

    Their flight was uneventful until they flew over a patch of land that was scarred in an unusual way. Most of the Sunbeam Ruins were filled with rolling fields of grass and green pine trees dotted with ruins from a forgotten era. But this patch of land was blackened and dead. It was not burned like a fire found it, rather it looked like a perfect circle of the land just shriveled up and died. Below structures that were not ancient ruins were crushed and destroyed like a tornado ran through the community.

    “What do you suppose happened down there?” Evan asked.

    Mason shook his head “Nothing good probably. Let's keep moving.”

    It wasn’t long before the land began to look more like what Mason saw in his dreams. There were tell-tale signs of destruction, but not quite like the shriveled dead land they had just passed. Mason searched the ground below him and nearly stopped mid flight. There on top of a hill covered in ruins was the same rugged tundra that had spoken to him.

    Mason landed beside them with a thud and Evan landed more gracefully beside him.

    “You!” Mason snarled.

    The tundra smiled and waved “Mason! So good to see you in person. And oh look! You brought a friend.”

    “Why were you in my head? How do you know who I am? What do you want with me?”

    “Holy shit,” Evan was ignoring the tundra and instead his eyes were fixed on the horizon “It’s real.”

    Mason heard a roar and looked up. There in the distance was the rampaging beast, the Emperor Luminax. It was even more horrible than it was in his dreams.

    “Terrifying isn’t it?” The tundra asked, following Mason’s gaze.

    “It’s just… Hard to believe it’s real.”

    “I know. Seeing your first Emperor… It makes you wonder what’s real and what’s fake. But that thing is real alright. It’s destroying lives and the gods are doing nothing about it.”

    Mason snorted “Yeah that sounds about right.”

    “Ah, don’t like gods do you?” The tiny bug dragon from Mason’s dream landed on top of the tundra’s head “I knew this one would fit in well!”

    Mason peeled his eyes away from the undead creature in the distance “Ok, no more talking until you two explain why you were in my head.”

    “Ah that would be Karyu’s doing,” The tundra addressed the bug sitting on their head.

    “How dare you!” Mason lunged forward to swat the bug, but they quickly flew away. Mason ended up hitting the large tundra’s antlers instead. Mason’s hand stung and the tundra glared at him.

    “Maybe instead of threatening my friend, you could sit down and listen.” The tundra shoved Mason to the ground. Mason tried to get back up, but stopped when the tundra gave him another glare.

    Karyu flew back onto the tundra’s head and pointed at Mason “That one tortured a kid god, so I guess I shouldn’t really be too surprised. Still, he has use here.”

    Mason’s eyes widened “How did you-”

    “My name is Perryn,” The tundra cut Mason off and smiled “I’m an Emperor hunter, and my friend Karyu here is a dream walker.”

    “And demigod!” Once again Karyu took off from their perch on Perryn’s head. They circled in the air and as they landed they began to transform. Before Mason’s eyes the little bug dragon grew in size. They spun so fast it forced Mason to blink and with that one blink a new creature was standing where the bug disappeared. Its body was unmistakably human to Mason, but it still had some of the bug features of its dragon form. Antennae sprung up from Karyu’s head and insectoid wings from their back. They wore a long robe and their long purple hair touched the ground. They were still small, Perryn towered over them and so would have Mason if he had been standing, but they were no longer squishable. 

    “My mother is the goddess of dreams for this world, and lucky me, I’ve inherited some of her powers,” Karyu walked up to Mason and poked his snout. He snapped at their fingers “You have the most fascinating dreams out of everyones’ I’ve walked through. So many memories are mixed with yours. Some juicy ones too!”

    “No. You didn’t.”

    “It’s just a shame that lately you haven't been dreaming much. I’m guessing insomnia? Well that’s no good for me or my pals here at The Guild of Osiris! I was afraid if your sleeping patterns continued I would have lost contact with you! And that would have been a real bummer.”

    “Which is why Karyu had to bring me into the picture,” Perryn said “We needed you to come here before they lost contact with you and they thought you would listen to me and not them.”

    “And I was fucking right!” Karyu grinned and then leaned close to Mason and whispered “I just thought Perryn would be more your type. I’m gorgeous, I know, but I’m taken.”

    Mason just stared at Karyu. He opened his mouth and then closed it like a fish out of water.

    “Yes. Karyu was right!” Peryn shouted and then coughed “And now you’re here like we were hoping. Karyu has seen a lot of things about you from their dream walking ,which I know may be awkward and invasive-”

    “You don’t think?” Mason found his voice for a moment.

    “But Karyu has a knack for finding those who are perfect for helping our cause. Mason, is life uncertain to you? Maybe you’ll make a good Emperor Hunter.”

[bookcoversalt]

Have you noticed the latest edition of Charlie Bowater can only draw one (1) face? She did The Princess Will Save You and Cast In Firelight both YA Fantasy set to be released this year. And they are how you say... the same fucking cover

Ah yes so you saw the same tweet I did

I know I literally just posted that we cannot outlaw book covers from looking like each other, but ! Oof!

The only thing that softens the blow here is that Charlie has improved at representing nonwhite features such that characters look like POC rather than tan white people, although,, that bar was low. Anybody remember the ACOTAR coloring book.

(Would you have guessed that 2/3 of these people are nonwhite? Or even that they’re supposed to be three different men? I guess all the men in Prythian have the same haircut?)

But that minor victory is mostly lost in the quagmires of the fact that Charlie’s style is to give everyone instagram face:

I wouldn’t even call this “Sameface” necessarily: that implies limitation, that an artist is only capable of drawing a single facial structure competently. Bowater is incredibly technically talented, she just chooses to give everyone catlike fae eyes and the cheekbones of a starving nymph. (My previous post on this here.)

But I don’t really blame her for that, or for these hilariously identical, nearly devoid of personality covers. Artists are allowed to do whatever they want. Artists who make art for covers are being art directed by designers and marketing teams who bear responsibility for how the finished pieces turn out.

No, this is our fault, as a community and an industry and..... society, kind of, for valuing character portraits that are “pretty” (“pretty” being an extremely loaded, culturally subjective concept) over art that actually Says Something About The Story. Bowater’s style happens to dovetail perfectly with what we currently collectively find pretty, and so we’ve put her art on a pedestal at the cost of everything else art can or should do for our stories.

And this is understandable: in contemporary western culture, pretty is a value unto itself. Seeing our characters portrayed as pretty denotes them as special, as smart, as powerful. It’s almost impossible to de-program ourselves from that reaction. There are approximately five kajillion studies on how beautiful people are at personal and professional advantages; how they’re perceived to be happier, healthier, more successful, and how those perceptions can translate into realities. (Nevermind how thinness and whiteness enter that equation, see above note about “pretty”.) I would love to see more “average” or weird- looking characters abound (and be accurately visually represented) in the YA/ Genre lit sphere, but for now... everyone is pretty.

Which sometimes means everyone is pretty boring.

But that’s just the specific, "What’s the deal with Bowater’s success in book circles and her style and all the sameiness” part of this equation. What if we backed up and asked: why character art at all? Beyond a question of “pretty”-ness (and general obvious Artistic Quality), why do we gravitate towards it, what's the purpose of it, how does it fall flat in a general sense, and how can it be utilized more effectively?

This is something I think about all the time. I follow writers on social media (because..... I am a writer on social media, regrettably), and we have an enormous collective boner for character art. “Getting fanart [of the characters]” is one of the achievement pinnacles constantly cited when people get or want to get published. Commissioning character art is something we reward ourselves with, or save up for (WHICH IS GOOD AND CORRECT. FREE ART IS GREAT BUT DO NOT SOLICIT IT. PAY YOUR ARTISTS). And like???? Same????? We love our stories because we’re invested in our characters. Most humans, even prose writers, are visual creatures to some extent, and no matter how happy we are with our text-based art, it’s exciting to see our creations exist in that form. So we turn that art into promo material and we advocate for it on our covers-- because it’s so meaningful to us! It goes with the story perfectly!! Look at my dumb beautiful children!!!!!

But on an emotional level, it’s hard to grasp that it only means something to us. Particularly when you take into account the aforementioned vast landscape of beautiful visual blandness of many characters (in the YA/ genre lit sphere, that’s pretty much all I’m ever talking about), character art can be like baby photos. If you know the baby, if that baby is your new niece or your friend’s kid, if you’ve held them and their parent texts you updates when they do cute shit, you’re probably excited to see that baby photo. But unless it’s exceptionally cute, a random stranger’s baby photo isn’t likely to invoke an emotional reaction other than “this is why I don’t get on facebook.”

Seeing art of characters they don’t know might intrigue a reader, but especially if the characters or art are unremarkable-looking, it’s doing a hell of a lot more for the people who already have an emotional attachment to that character than anybody else. And that’s fine. Art for a small, invested audience is incredibly rewarding. But like the parent who cannot see why you don’t think their baby is THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BABY IN THE WORLD???? I think we have trouble divesting our emotional reaction to character art from its actual marketing value, which.... is often pretty minimal. This is my hill to die on #143:

Character portraits, even beautiful ones, are meaningless as a marketing tool without additional context or imagery. 

I love character art! I’m not saying it should not exist or that it’s worthless! Even art that appeals to only the one single person who made it has value and the right to exist. And part of this conversation is how important for POC to see themselves on covers, whether illustrations or stock imagery, particularly in YA/kidlit. I’m not saying character portrait covers are “bad”. 

I am saying that I have seen dozens and dozens of sets of character art for characters who look interchangeable, and it has never driven me to preorder a book. (Also one character portrait for a high-profile 2019 debut that was clearly just a painting of Amanda Seyfriend. You know the one. There’s nothing wrong with faceclaims but lmfao, girl,,,,)

I’m sure that’s not true for everyone! I am incredibly picky about art. It’s my job. There’s nothing wrong with your card deck of cell-shaded boys of ambiguous age and ethnicity who all have the same button nose and smirk if it Sparks Joy for you.

But if your goal is not only to delight yourself, but to sell books, it’s in your best interest to remember that art, like writing, is a form of communication. The publishing industry runs on pitches: querys, blurbs, proposals, self-promo tweets. What if we applied that logic to our visuals? How can we utilize our character design and art to communicate as much about our stories as possible, in the most enticing way?

Social media has already driven the embrace of this concept in a very general sense. Authors are now supposed to have ~ aesthetics. “Picspams” or graphics, modular collages that function as mini moodboards, are commonplace. But the labor intensity and relative scarcity of character art visible in bookish circles, even on covers, means that application of marketing sensibility to it is less intuitive than throwing together a pinterest board.

Since we were talking about it earlier, WICKED SAINTS, as a case study of a recent “successful” fantasy YA debut, arguably owed a lot of its early social media momentum to fanart.

(Early fanart by @warickaart)

The most frequently drawn character, Malachiasz, has long hair, claws, and distinctive face tattoos. WS has a strong aesthetic in general, but those features clearly marked his fanart as him in a way even someone unfamiliar with the book could clearly track across different styles. Different interpretations of his tattoos from different artists even became a point of interest.

(Art by Jaria Rambaran, also super early days of WS Being A Thing)

Aside from distinctiveness, it's a clear visual representation of his history as a cult member, his monstrous powers, and the story’s dark, medieval tone. The above image is also a great example of character interaction, something missing from straightforward portraits, that communicates a dynamic. Character dynamics draw people into stories: enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, childhood rivals, platonic life partners, love triangles, devoted siblings, exes who still carry the flame-- there’s a reason we codify these into tropes, and integrate that language and shared knowledge into our marketing. For another example in that vein, I really love this art by @MabyMin, commissioned by Gina Chen:

The wrist grip! The fancy outfits! These are two nobles who hate each other and want to bone and I am sold. 

In terms of true portraits, the best recent example I can think of is the set @NicoleDeal did for Roshani Chokshi’s GILDED WOLVES (I believe as a preorder incentive of some kind?): 

They showcase settings, props, and poses that all communicate the characters’ interests, skills, and personality, as well as the glamorous, elaborate aesthetic of the overall story. Even elements in the gold borders change, alluding to other plot points and symbology.

For painterly accuracy in character portraits on covers, I love SPIN THE DAWN. The heroine looks like a beautiful badass, yes, but the thoughtful, detailed rendering of every element, soft textures, and dynamic, fluid composition form a really cohesive, stunning illustration that presents an intriguing collection of story elements.

The devil isn’t always in the details, though: stark, moody, highly stylized or graphic art with an emphasis on textural contrast and bold color and shape rather than representational accuracy can communicate a lot (emotionally and tonally) while pretty much foregoing realism.

The new Lunar Chronicles covers are actually the best examples I found of this (Trying to stay within the realm of existing bookish art rather than branch into All Art Of Human Figures Forever):

Taking cues from styles more typical of the comics and video game industries.  (Games and comics, as visual mediums, are sources of incredible character art and I highly recommend following artists in those industries if you want to See More Cool Art On Your Timeline.)

TL;DR: Character art and design, as a marketing tool (even an incidental one) should be as unique to your story and your characters as possible, and tell us about the story in ways that make us want to read it. I tried to give examples because there are so many ways to do this, and so many different kinds of art, and I could give many more! But I’m bored now. So to circle all the way back:

These are not just bad because they look like each other, although that is embarrassing and illuminating. These are bad covers (although,,,,, PRINCESS is the far worse offender, at least FIRELIGHT suggests a thoughtful cultural analogue) because a desire for Pretty Character Art overrode the basic cover function to tell us about the story. We get no sense of who these people are, what their relationships are, what these books are about beyond the most general genre, or why we might care. The expressions are vague, the characters generic-looking, the compositions uninteresting and the colors failing to be indicative of anything in particular. 

They’re somebody else’s baby pictures.

(And yes, that’s the CRUEL PRINCE font on PRINCESS. I better not have to do a roundup post but it’s on thin fucking ice.)

[shadowsfascination]

Shadamy Swordland | Ch 2 | Sacred Arts

“I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth on the count of three, but you’re not to make a sound! We wouldn’t want to draw any attention to us, now do we, lass?”” The stranger now held a dagger dangerously close to her throat. Amy felt the cold steel against her skin and didn’t dare exhale too deep, terrified it’d cut into her flesh. Unable to nod in agreement, she could only widen her eyes in good hopes the other understood. “One… Two… Three.” She felt the gloved fingers slide away from her now dry mouth. Automatically she gasped and panicked, the sharp lines of the dagger pressing into her throat with every shallow breath. “Good girl. Now, let’s have a chat.” The other said, stepping in to face her, still holding the dagger in place. Amy looked up in astonishment to a creature with a sensual vibe over her. Their manner of speech aligned with the smug grin on her face. She wore a dark coat with fabric that seemed to hug her body in a way that barely left anything to the imagination, her sharp shaped wings the only thing uncurved about her physique. How could she have missed her when she scanned the place? “Then talk!” Amy snarled.

She tried to keep her voice down. The woman pulled back the hood of her coat onto her shoulders, revealing her white skin and big ears. Her lips were full and her two sharp canine tooths drew Amy’s attention.

“Why so rushy? Oh, that’s right! You have to get back to your dorm in time so they won’t notice you’re gone. Imagine all the rumours you’d cause!”

“If you’re so worried about my reputation, you could let me go, you know?”

The bat suppressed her tendency to mockingly laugh in her face and shifted the dagger to her slightly press into Amy’s muzzle.

“You’re too naïve. Ah, where are my manners?! I haven’t introduced myself to you yet.”

“I’ve been wondering about your manners as well.” Amy angrily hissed at her.

“You don’t want to go down that road with me, dear.” Her voice turned dark and serious. “On the topic of manners: it is wildly indecent that a member from a low-rank family such as yourself is in a romantic relationship with a high-ranked knight, who happens to be your trainer as well.”

A cocktail of frustration, fear and disgust roared inside her, sending tremors to her limbs. If she weren’t tied up, she’d teach this woman a lesson.

“…And quite a passionate one I must say.” The bat lowered her eyelids and locked eyes with her, clearly trying to get under her skin. Amy felt her cheeks redden in both embarrassment and anger, feeling exposed and violated by how much this stranger knew about her and Shadow. “H-how much do you know?”

“More than enough to offer you a deal.” “Let’s hear it.” Amy said unwillingly. She added scepticism to the tone in her voice.

“Rouge!”

Shadow rushed in without warning and knocked her over with force, taking both of the females by surprise. He pushed the bat down, one of his hands clenched around her neck, the other pointing out his magnificent sword at her. She struggled to escape his hold and failed, but still managed to cock a smile, unnerving Shadow and Amy.

“So, you’re coming to save the day after all, my lord.” ‘They seem to know each other,’ Amy quietly muttered to herself. “Cut it out!” Shadow yelled angrily. He increased his grip on her. “Are you hurt?” Shadow asked his student. She shook her head at him, never been more relieved to see him. His courtesy towards her sent a rush of adrenaline to her chest. She watched how he confidently moved to master his opponent with his muscular arms. Amy loved how strong and masculine he was, but was suddenly alarmed when she saw this ‘Rouge’-woman seriously struggle to breathe.

“H-hear me out, Shadow!”

“You’re unreliable and corrupt to the core! Give me one reason why I would listen to you!”

A series of coughs and grated voice followed from her almost clenched shut throat in attempt to get him to listen to her. They turned into background sounds when his girlfriend called him to order, afraid he’d push it too far. The grip on her neck reduced at once, grasping both of her wrists instead now. Shadow then lost his balance when she suddenly disappeared underneath him and he tumbled unto the floor. That darn bat with her endless number of spells!

“My, my. It seems you have forgotten how well I know my ways around the sacred arts there, knight.”

Rising to already to lash at her again, he was dumbfounded when he turned around. His girl gasped and let out a high-pitched squeak, seeing how the dagger of the woman lightly scratched her neck. He sighed and lowered his sword. “Put it in the sheathe!” Rouge ordered. Reluctantly he obeyed.

How things could become this ugly in so little time?

“Talk.” He sneered at her, crossing his arms.

“Here’s the deal: you two are going to help me out. I’ve had enough of being an outcast! My clan is on the edge of perishing. There’s not enough food, we’re poor and being used as a doormat, looked down upon and being abused way too long now!”

“How is that our problem?” “I’ll tell you: It became your problem the minute your self-discipline failed you and ya couldn’t keep your hands of this one here.”

Shadow’s eyes narrowed, disgusted by the way she portrayed him, but didn’t bother to go against it. “But of course, that all depends on how determined you are on keeping this a secret, Shadow.”

“That’s dirty! You are just loving this, aren’t you?” “You think you know me so well! I wished I wouldn’t have to do this, but I have no choice. I have to find the gemstone!” “It’s always been about luxury and prestige with you. If you’d ask me, you got what you deserved.” “Well, I am in fact not asking you, so keep your rude opinion to yourself. This isn’t about jewellery! I’m at the point where I can’t even feed my children properly anymore!”

His eyes widened in shock. He didn't know that she had kids now. “If I had simply asked for your assistance, you would’ve for sure rejected my request- that is IF you even were to hear me out in the first place. There’s no other way for me to get what I want but to blackmail you. Am I wrong?” Rouge’s bright blue orbs glistered even more brightly through the tears that filled her eyes. Amy couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for her. “Probably not.” He scratched the squills on his head in discomfort. “There’s someone who can help me and my clan to get out of this horrible situation. I need to bring him the infamous turquoise gemstone for his plans to work and the two of you are going to help me, seeing how you’re able to perform special skills and all…”

Shadow seemed to understand what she was talking about.

“What gemstone?”

“Oh, you haven’t told her? This ought to be even more interesting than I thought.”

“The special skill I performed earlier is only a sacred art spell. It’s no big deal.” Amy stated in confusion.  She did not understand what was so special about it.

“And what do you think is the source of the power allowing you to do so?” “I haven’t given it much thought actually.”

“Well then, I’ll assume you are familiar with the legend of the gemstone that was used by greedy men with a thirst of power to let destruction befall our realm in the past. The one they tell you scary tales about in kindergarten, the one which’s tremendous power is a great taboo and the use of it a violation of the law.”

Amy nodded. “That’s the one.”

“That makes no sense! It’s supposed to be sealed away in a faraway kingdom. There’s no way that could be the source of power providing us the magic of the sacred arts.”

“That’s what they want you to believe.” She pointed in the direction of the academy. “Wherever that blasted stone is located, its’ range of power has an enormous scale. Its’ influence reaches our realm, providing a mysterious power, a power all the sacred arts are based on. In fact, you’re not that different from me, a dark mage.” …

“Especially him. He seems to know his way around spells I can’t even decode, let alone perform.” “Nonsense! Shadow would never use dark magic!” “It is in fact true, Amy.” Shadow heaved a sigh. He grunted and let out a soft curse under his breath, shifting his gaze away from Amy when he saw the painful look on her face. This was not the way he wanted her to find out about this.

“And you didn’t bother to tell me?!”

“I didn’t exactly have the time, now did I? Tonight’s the first time I have ever performed a sacred art spell around you. It’s complicated…”

“I’m listening…” “As much as I’d love to listen to the two of you argue, the sun is about to rise. Once your secret is out, you’ll be useless to me,” Rouge interfered. Shadow and Amy shared a glance, silently admitting they did not have a choice but to help her. He unfolded his arms and held out his hand to the bat.

“Wonderful! We’ll meet again here tonight an hour past curfew. Don’t be late.”

Shadow ignored her, hating to be ordered around by anyone but Amy and long wishing for this nightmare to be over. He walked up to Amy and untied her to rub her sore hands, only shifting his gaze up to hers once. She kept eyeing him in a mad way and he knew that look on her face meant trouble for him. “Now warp her back to her dorm so she’ll be back in time, will ya?” “Just because we’ll be working together does NOT mean you are to interfere in our relationship. Stay out of it!” “Heh!” the bat cocked a self-complacent smile. “Relationship…Who would’ve thought?” She nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders in disbelief and closely walked past them to the ladder, briefly touching Amy’s shoulder. “You’re his weak spot, lass. The only one I could ever find,” Rouge whispered.

The bat spread her wings and flew off into the distance leaving a beaten, chagrined Shadow behind with an upset Amy. Shadows hopes on a calm, peaceful day evaporated like snow on a sunny day when he realized he yet had to spend the day practicing swordfights with her. Reading someone wasn’t one of his qualities, but her offended mood was so evidently present, there was no doubt he misunderstood this time. She brushed off the dust and straw, dressing herself in her cloak. Arms crossed and boldly making him catch her gaze before she left, she made him a wordless promise: she would not go easy on him.

Fire and torments, this is not happening!

_______________________________________

< Previous chapter: read here.

> Next chapter: read here.

________________________________________

My head’s been feeling a little fuzzy over the last few days. I have no idea if this is a good follow-up to the oneshot right now xD Let me know your thoughts and whether you would like a third chapter(: I have written the draft for that already.  Send me a PM for typo’s, ideas or feedback if you will. I am an amateuristic writer and English is not my native langauge^^’ LOL.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Angsty idea I thought of? Lambert/reader- they get into a big fight, shit has been building up and they both just snap... it gets so big and both of them say pretty crappy stuff. Reader cries which they never do? Lambert doesn't know how to deal with fear properly? he is scared that he'll lose reader from this fight? making him even meaner? Reader kicks Lambert out? Some people find out they (reader) is with Lambert? And they kidnap them? And Lambert finds out and GOES apeshit? What happens?? 🦎

A/N: 🦎anon you’re amazing and these little prompt things are amazing<3

Warnings: arguing, domestic arguing, Lambert being an asshole, reader being an asshole, graphic death, angst

***

“Lambert, all I am asking is that you just meet my parents-,”

“I already said no, Y/N. Fucking hell, leave me alone about it.” 

The witcher sat across from you at the kitchen table in your home. He was polishing his swords, trying his best to ignore you while you did your damnedest to talk him into meeting your parents. 

You rubbed your brow, propping your arm up against the table to rest your head in your hand. 

“Lambert-,”

He sighed heavily, cutting you off, sending you a brief glare. 

“We’ve been together for four years. You need to meet my family.”

Sure in those four years he had come and gone as he pleased. His guild made it hard for him to stay in one place, but he made it one of his priorities to see you at least every few months. He missed you and feared that you’d forget about him if he stayed away for too long. 

“The hell I do.” He mumbled. “There’s no point in doing that, Y/N.”

“Why? Why do you think there’s no point in you meeting my family?” You looked across the table at him. Anger and frustration bubbled in your veins. The stubborn bastard liked to put up a fight with everything you asked of him. 

Lambert knew what he had to do. He had to push you away just enough to get you to stop asking him to meet your parents. He had to keep you at a distance in order to keep you. His mind told him that the second he became too close to you, you’d decide to run from him, leaving the witcher stranded and heartbroken. 

“‘Cause there ain’t no point if I don’t see myself being here forever.” His eyes flickered up to meet your gaze.

Your lips parted and your chest tightened. 

“Where-Where is this coming from?” You whispered, brows drawing together. 

“Bug, don’t get like that.” Lambert shook his head, dropping his gaze back to the sword in his lap so he didn’t have to witness your teary eyes. Crying was something you didn’t care to do, something you did your best to stay away from. In the years he’d known you, you only cried two times, those both being when Lambert nearly died in a hunt. 

“Don’t get like what, Lambert?” Your teeth were locked together so tightly that your jaw hurt. “Don’t be upset because the man I’ve given the last four years of my life to doesn’t think of me anymore than a whore with a home she’s opened up for you?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed yet again. 

“Bug, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what the hell did you mean, Lambert?”

“I don’t have to do this.” He shook his head, standing to his feet. 

Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest, your throat dry and your eyes welled with tears as you watched the witcher you love sheath his swords and throw them across his back. 

“You’re just-You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I am.” He didn’t care to glance in your direction, to see the look on your face that matched your trembling voice. 

“Good.” You stood up, your knuckles pressed against the wood of the table. “Fucking coward is what you are, Lambert! You run from anything that might resemble commitment!”

“Keep saying shit you know nothing about, Y/N.” He moved across the room to go to the bedroom where his bag was. 

“I know enough to know a fucking coward when I see one!”

“You’re just a bitch.” He shook his head, gathering his belongings roughly. “Who the hell wants a fucking witcher to meet their parents? Huh?” 

He looked up at you. You stood in the doorway of your room, chewing nervously on your bottom lip as you watched him prepare to leave. 

“Someone stupid enough to think a witcher is worth her time.” You whispered. 

He held your gaze for a few moments, not believing he just heard what you said. 

“I knew it. I knew you were just like everyone fucking else.”

“I’ve given you a home for the last four years, Lambert! I’m not asking you to kill yourself for me! I’m asking that you meet my parents! They think I’m insane for being with you but I wanted to prove them wrong!” 

You stepped aside so that he could exit the room. He made sure not to brush up against you or even touch you. 

“I wanted to show them the man I love-,”

“Show me off like some gods damned prize, huh? The witcher you tried to domesticate like some feral dog!”

“Lambert-,”

“That’s all I am to you, right?” He turned just before reaching the front door to face you. “Some fucking lost dog you found and decided to take home?”

You said nothing to him, your lips pressed together in a tight line. 

“I’m not the kinda guy you take to meet your parents, sweetheart.” 

The pet name was cold and made your stomach twist into knots. There was no endearment behind it, not warmth that left your skin tingling. 

“I’m definitely not the guy you fall in love with either.”

“I used to think otherwise.” You said, crossing your arms tightly around yourself. 

He paused for a moment, fiery yellow eyes locking with yours. 

“Then I guess that was your fault, wasn’t it?” His words were cold and emotionless. He’d detached from the situation the second you started raising your voice. 

“I-I just asked a simple thing of you, Lambert. You don’t have to get so shitty about it.”

“I’m the one being shitty when you’re over there trying to make things happen that could never be. Y/N, I’m just being realistic here. There’s nothing good that could come out of me meeting your parents.”

“You aren’t being realistic. You’re trying to get out of a situation where you feel that you’d be trapped-,”

“Yeah, cause I feel like I’m trapped when I’m around you!” He cut you off, shaking his head. “I fucking feel like I can’t breathe when I’m around you, Y/N! I can’t think straight! I can’t–Shit! You make me forget everything! Forget my training, forget what I am!” 

“That’s what being in love feels like.”

He shook his head, running his hand over his face.

“Then I don’t want it.”

Something in your chest burned. 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“You’d be stupid as shit not to believe me.”

“Are you ending this? Ending what we’ve built?”

“Don’t get all sentimental, bug. It’s really not your forte.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Fuck you, Lambert. You’re a fucking dick.”

“You’ve known that since we met, Y/N! Don’t be so surprised now.”

You turned your back to him, your voice catching in your throat. 

“You know me meeting your parents is a shitty idea. Why would you keep pressing me about it?”

“Because they know I’ve been courting a witcher!” You spun around to face him, jabbing your index finger against your chest. “They don’t believe that you are capable of love but I wanted to prove them wrong.”

“They’re right, ya know.”

“I don’t believe that.” You stubbornly shook your head. 

“Then you’re a whole lot more stupid than I thought.”

“Get the hell out of my home, Lambert.” You demanded, though your voice had weakened and any evidence of anger had fizzled out into an ache in your chest. 

“Gladly.” He pulled the door open and slammed it shut behind himself. 

You put your hand over your mouth to choke back a sob. You couldn’t wrap your head around what just happened. 

***

Lambert wasn’t too sure where he was going to go but he knew he couldn’t go back to you even though that’s all he wanted to do. He wanted to apologize for being such a bastard and for making you cry and saying all that he did. 

It had been a few hours since he left your home. He went into town to the tavern, wanting to give you time to cool off before he slipped back into your bed. If he was lucky, you wouldn’t ask to discuss what happened, to talk things through. When you argued, that’s always what you did. You told him that talking would heal the wounds caused by your arguments. However, the both of you had never had such an explosive and toxic argument. He had never become so cold and cruel that you cried because of him. 

Lambert silently wondered if you thought that the wounds from this could be healed.

After another hour and a half of wallowing in his thoughts at the tavern with an ale in his hand, he decided he needed to suck it up and go back to you.

He walked all the way back to your house, holding the reins to his horse as he guided the stallion through the rain. 

After putting his horse in the stables with your other animals, he went to the cottage. There was no light coming from anywhere in the house. Hesitantly, he pushed the front door open. He hated how it didn’t have a lock but locks were expensive. Unbeknownst to you, he’d been saving up to have on put on the door to your home so that he felt a little more comfort in your safety while he was gone. 

“Bug?” He called, closing the door behind himself. “Hey, bug? It’s…. It’s me.”

He put his satchel and his swords down by the door in case you weren’t ready to welcome him back into your home. 

There was no response to his calling, no shuffling coming from your bedroom that would let him know you had heard him. 

“Y/N?” His boots were heavy but quiet as he made his way down the hall. He could almost hear your voice scolding him for wearing those dirty boots in the house. 

Worry began to set in when he didn’t hear your heart beating. Even if you were sleeping, he’d still hear you. 

“Y/N? Come on, this isn’t funny.” Lambert pushed the door to your room open and looked around. Your bed was empty. The fur blankets and quilts that kept you warm in the winter were thrown on to the floor. It appeared as though someone had ripped the blankets off of you while you slept. 

The worry that had been storming his gut instantly turned to concern and fear. 

Who had gotten to you while he was absent from your home to protect you? Where were you? Were you hurt? Were you even still alive? 

Lambert pushed every swarming and invading thought away. He needed to focus on finding you and the only way to do that was to track you like he would one of the monsters he killed. 

He moved across the room, yellow eyes carefully inspecting every single inch of the room. On the linens on the edge of your bed, there were a few red spots of blood. It wasn’t yours from the scent. He could smell something dirty and musky, like a pig that did nothing but roll around in mud. But the pig scent wasn’t the only scent that didn’t belong in the room. There were three other similar stenches, ones that made Lambert’s sensitive nose burn. 

“Four.” He thought out loud. That was how many came into your home to attack you. That’s how many pulled you so violently away from your bed. That’s how many he would kill. 

He followed the four stenches. Your soft and sweet smell was difficult to pull out from the other odors so he had to follow the four assailants.

He stepped out of the hallway and into the main room. Now that he was paying attention, he was able to see that someone had been rummaging through the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen. Doors were left open and some things were pulled out and thrown to the floor. 

Lambert moved towards the front door, his eyes gazing down at the dirt path that went from your house to the main road. The path was muddy now thanks to the steady rain, which had also washed away any scent of those bastards. 

Luckily, there were boot prints in the mud. They only lasted a short time before they stepped off of the path and cut through the grass. Whoever it was had made their way around the back of your house. 

Once he was at the back corner of your quaint home, the tracks disappeared. Lambert ran a hand over his face, fighting the urge to go into town and start fighting everyone until he found the answers he wanted. He didn’t need to have a mob to deal with on top of your disappearance. 

His mind was going a million miles a second, and yet he couldn’t settle on one thought. He couldn’t make his mind work. His thoughts were too clouded by the thought of what those assailants could’ve been doing to you while he was having drinks at the tavern. 

Finally, Lambert pulled himself together. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, using his witcher senses to listen for things that were masked by the steady rain.

One of the horses in the barn was snorting, digging their hoof into the dirt. In the woods behind your home was a creek. A fawn was knelt down at the edge of the creek. 

“You bitch!” A voice echoed through the woods, loud enough to not be silenced by the rain. 

“Get your hands off of me!” Your voice made the witcher’s heart beat faster. You were distressed, in danger. 

Lambert opened his eyes and turned in the direction the noise came from. He locked his jaw, fingers curling into tight fists as the familiar burn of anger seared through his veins. 

He went into the cottage to retrieve his steel sword before venturing out into the dark. 

***

You could see nothing, your eyes covered with a blindfold. Your hands were bound behind your wrists. You rested on your knees, chest rising and falling heavily with every trembling breath you took. Your cheek stung from the hit you received for lashing out and trying to escape. You only succeeded in headbutting one of the men before you were pushed down onto your knees and smacked. 

“She’s pretty, ain’t she?” A voice spoke, hoarse and raspy.

“She fucks with a witcher, Anton.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun with her.”

“We didn’t take her to fuck around with her. We took her to get back at that witcher.” A third voice spoke. 

You had heard them talk on and off about Lambert. 

“If-If that is your-your intentions, then harming me will do nothing.” You hiccuped, shaking your head. “He doesn’t-I’m nothing-nothing to him.”

“You can’t fool us, lass.” One of them knelt down in front of you. You could feel his presence, massive and reeking of poor hygiene. A rough hand grabbed your chin and turned your head how he pleased. “Saw him with you in town the other day at the market.”

“He’s left.” You said, tears wetting the blindfold. “He-He left me. He isn’t coming back.”

You were trembling with fear, sobbing at the thought of Lambert not coming back. If he didn’t, then who knew what these men would do with you. You, however, knew the witcher wasn’t going to come back. You’d pissed him off well enough to make him leave. 

“Then I suppose we don’t have to worry about the bastard mutant showing up to save his little damsel in distress.”

You fell silent, hanging your head as you tried to get a hold of yourself. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth, just like what you taught Lambert for whenever he was angry and needed to take control of himself. 

Deep breath in. Soft breath out. Deep breath in. Soft breath out. Deep breath in.

The revolting sound of a blade slicing through something made you jolt. 

The men began to panic, hurrying around in search of weapons. There was a shrill cry, the sound of someone being stabbed, and then a body hit the ground. 

A hand took hold of your hair in angry fistfuls, a cold balde pressed to your throat. 

“Step any closer, mutant, and I’ll slice her neck clear open.” 

“La-Lambert?” You whispered, your voice trembling. Mutant. It must be a witcher. Your witcher. 

“Right here, bug.” His voice was calm and quiet but you could hear him just fine. 

“What you’re gonna do is put that sword down and get down on your knees.” The man holding you hostage said. 

Any other day, Lambert would refuse and take his chance fighting the bastard. But this bastard had a knife to your throat and one wrong move could result in your death. Lambert wasn’t willing to chance that. 

He tossed his weapon to the ground and got down on his knees. 

“Lambert-,”

“Shh, bug.” He cut you off, keeping his voice calm and even. He didn’t want to scare you anymore than you already were. He could see you shaking from where he was a few yards away and he could hear your heart frantically beating. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

The man let you go with a rough shove. He moved carefully around what had once been a fire in the middle of their makeshift camp they’d set up just behind your house. 

Lambert’s eyes stayed on you. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and tell you how sorry he was for being such a dick. He wanted to wipe those tears as rare as a golden dragon from your flushed cheeks and kiss your temple.

The man walked behind Lambert, foolishly thinking he’d successfully slaughter the witcher. However, Lambert had a plan. The second the man was within grabbing distance, Lambert moved like lightning, grabbing the man’s arm and jerking him down to the ground right in front of him. One arm secured itself around the front of the man’s throat while Lambert’s opposite hand held the back of his head. With one swift motion, he snapped the man’s neck. The sickening crack seemed to echo off of the trees. 

Everything was silent to you. You weren’t sure what was happening. The trickling rain disrupted your hearing and your eyes were still covered. 

Someone kneeled down behind you. Your lips parted and your brows drew together, fearing it was one of the assailants. The ropes holding your wrists together were sliced with one clean cut. Still fearing for your life, you made no efforts to move. Not yet. You’d do so when you felt the time was right. 

Whoever it was moved around to be in front of you. The blindfold was pulled off of your head and tossed aside. The second you saw Lambert, you threw yourself into his arms, burying your nose in his chest. 

“Lambert.” You choked on his name, fisting the material of his tunic. 

“M’so sorry, bug.” He mumbled, cradling your head to his chest. He held you tightly, never wanting to let you go. His arms were safe. They promised no harm and offered what little comfort he was able to provide. “For everything.”

You pulled your head from his chest so that you could look into his eyes. Your hands gripped his muscular biceps, fearing that if you let him go then he’d slip away into the night. 

“I-I was so- I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I was stupid to leave.”

“I shouldn’t have- I was pushing you and pushing you and-and when you said no, I wouldn’t take that for an answer. I-I’m sorry, Lambert. I’m so sorry.” 

Your words were all strung together having come out so quickly and so desperately. You knew he didn’t like to listen so you wanted to get it all out at once. 

“Bug, it’s okay.” He assured you, leaning forward to plant a rare kiss on your forehead. “It’s colder than shit out here. Let’s go home before my balls freeze off.”

You nodded your head, allowing him to help you to your feet. 

Home. He said home. Hopefully that meant he’d be staying when you arrived back at your cottage.

***

The two of you changed out of your wet clothes in silence. You didn’t know what to say, what to tell him. You weren’t sure how to express what you felt for him without scaring him away. He was a flighty man. Sometimes anything remotely close to tender intimacy was enough to have him slipping from your touch. 

You messed with your fingers as you ventured out to the main room where he was. He was leaning against the table, fists pressed against the dark oak. His head hung as he focused on his breathing. You could see his shoulders rise and fall with every breath. 

“Lambert?” You cautiously said his name. 

“Give me a minute, bug.” His teeth were clenched together tightly. “I still…. I’m fighting off the….” He trailed off, unsure of what to say. He was still angry, full of rage that anyone would dare to put their hands on you simply because you were with him. 

You knew when he was angry and furious. His broad shoulders trembled just slightly and hands were clenched into fists so tight you feared he’d somehow break his hand. 

Taking your chance, you crossed the room to be closer to him. You placed your hand tentatively on the small of his back, then pressed a kiss against his bicep. 

Feeling you so close to him, taking in your scent, he let out a breath, dismissing all of his anger and allowing it to fizzle out. He turned his head just as you were resting your cheek against his arm. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I know you wanna talk.” He spoke quietly. “But not tonight, please. Just let me…. Let me hold you for tonight.”

You agreed, nodding your head and wrapped arms around his neck. His arms closed around you, pulling you deeper into his chest. 

“Love you, bug.” His words were so quiet you almost didn’t hear him but his breath tickled your hair.

Taglist: @riviawitch3r @notyouraveragemochii @dev1lbella @rosyghosty @merendis @lalalalemonade11 @wayward-dream @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @tshuuls @havenoffandoms @queen-sands @crazzyter @katiejmac @bucky-did-nothing-wrong @jennylovelyheart @whitewolfandthefox @itsallyouhavegotinsideyourhead @hm-fck @mactho @msgeorgiarae @tragicmisfits @randomzxx @alwayshave-faith @rahdaleigh @lizliz3107 @turtlefordestiel @d14n4ol @asix122747483 @minervalavender @agniavateira @hina-chans-stuff @dressed-up-heartbreak @persephonehemingway @bitterstar88 @scarlettwitcher @ayamenimthiriel @romancebibliophilia @jessevans @xoxoarts @jocelynscloset @soulslaststand @grumgoblin @thefishmongersdaughterwrites @silverkitten547 @rebel4fandom 

[lilfellasblog]

Truly *Nothing* Is Spookier Than Self-Care

Summary: Janus absolutely despises being accepted by Thomas and the Light Sides. He can’t help but notice how they very much do not put themselves first. He decides to change that.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience. This story comes from this ask by @foreverfangirlingalways! Thank you so much for the inspiration and the wonderful prompt! I hope I did it justice!

TW: very light angst, like almost no angst. Small amounts of stress and mild flailing to adapt when the plan doesn't go perfectly.

Word count: 2648

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Although Janus was grateful to be accepted by his Host, an aspect of such that he absolutely loved was seeing just how dysfunctional the Light Sides were in their self-care. They certainly had a great deal of work to do, but they held themselves to such high standards, they seemed to constantly move around every waking moment. Janus had been attempting to get the Light Sides more focused on taking care of themselves throughout the day, but the key word here is attempting. They’d thank him for his suggestion and promise they’d do it later.

Janus wondered why he was the one stuck with Deceit as a name.

It was now time for more drastic measures that he hoped wouldn’t land him with a giant frog again. He knew he’d have to go one at a time if he wanted any chance of success, so he decided to target each Side according to the level of concern he had for them. Naturally, this meant Roman would be his first vict- *cough* recipient.

He found Roman precisely where he’d expect him: inside his en suite gym, hair damp with perspiration.

“In the gym again? Don’t you have anything else to do with your spare time?” Janus asked innocently.

Roman started and placed the weight he’d been lifting on the ground. “Greetings Janus! And I do, there’s just always room for improvement!”

Hm, direct won’t work with him in this. Interesting. “I was wondering if you might help me with a sewing project, although I see you’re busy.”

Roman grabbed a nearby towel to wipe his face. “I’m never too busy to assist a Side in need! What is it you’d like my assistance on?”

Janus hummed. “I was hoping to experiment with a few costume ideas for Halloween. I think a pirate might be suitable for me.”

Roman grinned, excitement beginning to shine in his eyes. “Indeed! Allow me a few minutes to wash up, I’ll join you!” He waved his hand. “You’ll find two sewing stations in my room!” He pranced off to the bathroom without another word.

“Don’t take too long!” Janus called after him, hoping he wouldn’t have to wait much longer than an hour for the prince to get his appearance in order.

He only had to wait a half hour before Roman joined him in the room, hair still slightly damp. Janus internally cheered when Roman didn’t have his ridiculously complicated prince uniform on, instead wearing a red sweater with pumpkins stitched on.

“Roman, would you mind trying on the clothes once I’ve finished them? We have similar body types, although you’re more muscular, and my current outfit is simply a bear to get on and off.”

Roman blinked in surprise. “I… I suppose I could, are you certain you want me to do that?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, yes.”

After another moment of prolonged shock, Roman pulled himself together and struck a pose, exaggerated grin on his face. “Well far be it from a prince to forsake a Side in their hour of need!”

Janus smiled, relieved. “Wonderful.” He summoned his nearly-completed pirate costume: tight black pants, calf-high boots, and a billowy shirt with a deep V-neck. “I’m just about to finish these, would you mind taking a look at the seams on the outside of the leg and in the armpit of the shirt? I want to make sure I’ve pinned those in a way that won’t pull.”

Roman and Janus discussed the different options they had for stitching, and once they’d decided Janus had Roman put in the stitching for the pants while he finished stitching the shirt. Janus was pleased that Roman had decided to go for a more complex stitch; he knew the Side enjoyed getting absorbed in a task, and that he enjoyed sewing. Sure enough, after an hour, he looked over and saw Roman’s irises sparkling in red and gold, tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth. 4 hours later, and they’d both finished.

Janus stretched, watching Roman bounce slightly in his seat from excitement. “Well Roman, we did good work. Would you try these on?”

Roman hesitated, then forced himself to smile, Janus watching him carefully. “Certainly! Are you sure you don’t want to?”

“I am, I’d hate to keep getting in and out of my outfit, especially if changes need to be made.”

Roman inhaled deeply and took the clothes, holding them carefully. “I shall not dilly-dally then! I shall return soon!”

Janus plastered a wide smile on his face. “Wonderful!”

That was another thing, the sheer amount of smiling the Light Sides did and how he found himself going along with it. It made his face hurt at time from the sheer amount of smiling.

Roman emerged, posture stiff and forced but proud. Janus raised both eyebrows.

“Roman, you look wonderful! Stand in front of the mirror, won’t you?”

The prince shuffled over, eyes darting between himself and the ground.

Janus appraised the Side before him, and was relieved he wouldn’t have to lie about a single thing. “Goodness Roman, you like incredible! The skin-tight pants look wonderful on your legs, and the shirt highlights your figure! I must say, I’m quite jealous. I’ve been also considering going as a bard this year, why don’t you just take this costume? I shows off all of your muscles and your broad shoulders especially!”

Roman looked at him, surprised. “Are you certain? You’ve spent so long on this, I couldn’t possibly-”

“I am, I’ll enjoy knowing you’re enjoying something I made. Come now, Thomas is tired, and it’s best to look in the distance to prevent eye strain. Would you like to watch some Disney movies?”

Roman frowned and looked back towards where his en suite gym was. “I really should be getting back to a workout…”

“Nonsense, you’ve been working out so much, and you’ve been working hard in other areas. You’ll be more productive after some rest.”

Janus let out a breath when Roman shrugged and summoned a large television. He got some beanbags and snacks for them, and Janus watched as Roman slowly relaxed and got engrossed in the movies, eagerly agreeing to watch one after the other. Once dinner rolled around, Janus suggested a famILY movie night, which got Patton on board, which meant everyone would attend. Roman had changed back into his pumpkin sweater, and Janus was the last one awake, pleased to see the other Sides asleep, surrounded by snacks and illuminated by the glow of the television. He sank out to his room, and planned his next intervention.

/////

Janus waited a week so as to not draw any suspicion to himself, and found Patton in the kitchen. He was typing furiously on a tablet, Thomas currently working through whether or not he should use his celebrity status to get ahead in line so he could get back to editing a new video faster so he could get that out to his fans so he could-

He pulled his mind back from Patton’s, reeling slightly.

You need this more than I thought.

Janus backed up a bit, then walked more heavily to announce his presence to Patton. Patton looked up at him happily.

“Heya Janus! What can I do ya for?”

Janus smiled easily, the cheerful Side great at lifting moods. “I see you’re in the middle of something, but once you get a moment, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me bake something? It’s a skill I’d like to acquire.”

Patton lit up. “Well sure!! Give me just a few minutes and I’ll be right with you!”

Janus set a tea kettle to boil and put a mint tea bag in Patton’s mug and a black tea bag in his own. Just as Patton sighed and set the tablet on the table, the kettle went off and Janus poured the water before Patton could do it. He didn’t miss how Patton rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck.

He gently set the mug of tea in front of Patton. Patton lifted and smelled it, closing his eyes.

“Mmmmmm, mint, my favorite!”

“Oh really? Lucky guess, I suppose.”

Patton looked up at him knowingly. “You’re good at guessing,” he teased.

“Thank you for noticing. I’ve noticed that Thomas’ Sides have been quite busy lately. Do you think a chocolate beet cake would go over well?”

“Do I?!” Patton asked, eyes shining and the edges of his irises glowing light blue.

Patton donned plastic gloves and got to work peeling and grating the beets, while Janus combined the wet and dry ingredients in separate bowls. He asked Patton for reassurance on occasion, despite being confident in his abilities. He let Patton take over once it was time to combine everything and put it in the oven.

Patton tapped his finger against his chin. “Hmmmmm… what kind of frosting should we do? I’m thinking either buttercream or ganache, what do you think?”

Janus shrugged. “Why not just store-bought frosting? It seems easier.”

Patton looked at him incredulously. “For a beet cake?! Oh no, we may as well make something while it’s baking!”

Shitshitshitshitshitshit- Janus frantically thought back to the brief research he’d done on cakes.

“How about ganache? I’ve always been intrigued about that.”

“Sure!” Patton chirped. Janus let out a breath as Patton bounded over to the fridge to grab heavy cream. Patton showed Janus how to make ganache, and Janus was surprised and relieved at how simple it was.

As the cake cooked and the ganache cooled, Janus and Patton chatted amicably, Janus asking questions about something Patton would bring up and watching Patton’s eyes become bluer and bluer as he kept talking. The oven pinged, and Janus convinced Patton that a game of cards was in order while they let the cake cool. One game led to five, and by then it was time to gently reheat the ganache and pour it over the cake.

Patton jumped when he realized the time. “Oh gosh!! I’m so sorry, I don’t have dinner planned! I can-”

“Don’t worry about it Patton,” Janus interrupted. “I actually have a recipe I’ve been meaning to try out if you don’t mind relinquishing the kitchen?”

Patton smiled nervously. “Do you want any help?”

I might have to adjust my plan. “No, but I would like some pleasant company. You’re on your feet so much, it’s good to soak them.” He summoned a bucket filled with warm water and a bag of lavender-scented epsom salts. “I won’t be long.”

Patton poured some of the epsom salts into the bucket of water and groaned and whimpered at the relaxing sensation on his feet. Janus turned and allowed himself a small smile, then cooked up some 4-ingredient Italian chicken breasts from a recipe he’d found online, along with some roasted veggies and some pasta aglio e olio on the side. He set the table when Patton had his eyes closed in pleasure, then got everything served and helped Patton massage and dry his feet.

After dinner, in which everyone complimented the cooking, Patton declared he would go to bed a little early tonight, so Janus sent him upstairs with some chamomile tea. He cleaned the kitchen, and felt rather accomplished.

Roman and Patton are taken care of, thank God. He chuckled to himself. Up next, two for the price of one!

/////

Janus stood in front of Logan’s closed door, holding a pencil and large pad of paper, uncharacteristically nervous.

I’ve been able to fool Roman and Patton, but Logan is smart. He may see through this.

He knocked on the door, uncertain of his success.

Logan answered the door, every hair and fiber of clothing in order. “Hello Janus.”

Oh dear Lord in Heaven, this man needs to relax. Janus put on his best smile. “Hello Logan. I’ve become rather fascinated with the constellation Serpens and was wondering if you’d help me chart it and some stars and constellations around it? I’m afraid this is out of my area of expertise and I know this happens to be a field you’re familiar with.”

Logan looked at him skeptically. “You want to chart the stars with me,” he deadpanned. “You have no ulterior motives?”

“None whatsoever,” Janus said.

Logan looked over Janus’ shoulder at the wall, upset.

He knows you lied, salvage this! Janus sighed, pushing it a little. “Truth be told, Logan, I would like to get to know you more, and although I truly am interested in learning more about the constellation of the snake, spending time with you was my ultimate goal.”

Logan looked surprised, a faint blush on his cheekbones. “Oh. I suppose… that would be satisfactory.”

Janus leaned on all of his acting abilities to look relaxed. “Excellent. Would your room suffice?”

“It would.”

Janus laid his pad of paper and pencil on the floor where Logan indicated, and timed his next move while Logan was looking over his books.

“Say, Logan, you and Virgil seem to enjoy each other’s company, shall we ask him to join us?”

Logan stopped flipping through the thick tome currently in his hand long enough to raise his arm in a summon. Virgil rose up and grabbed his head.

“God L, how are you guys not constantly dizzy?” Virgil jumped when he saw Janus. “Oh! Hey, what’s up guys?” Janus made sure to hide his endearment for the anxious Side when he saw Virgil cringe

“Janus would like assistance mapping the constellation Serpens and the surrounding night sky. He suggested you accompany us,” Logan explained without raising his eyes from his book.

Virgil looked between Janus and Logan. “Just like… hang out?”

Janus decided to step in. “Yes. I noticed you seem to enjoy the company of others, but aren’t always interested in participating.”

Virgil offered a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess… that’s chill. Mind if I just listen to music and stuff?”

“Not at all,” Janus and Logan said at the same time.

Virgil snorted, then flopped on the bed, put in an earbud, and started up his phone.

One down, one to go.

Logan sat in front of Janus, irises already dark blue.

Two down, it seems.

Janus listened intently as Logan spoke at length about Serpens, and then about related constellations, and then about related galaxies and stars, with Janus asking questions along the way. They charted out Serpens and filled the large piece of paper with other stars and constellations, and even Virgil would chime in every now and again.

Janus definitely didn’t almost get emotional when he saw how relaxed the two normally-tense Sides were.

When Patton knocked on Logan’s door for dinner, Virgil swore.

“Shit! Did I miss something? Did Thomas need me?! Fuck, I-”

“Relax, Virgil,” Janus soothed. “I kept an eye on things, Thomas is just fine. See for yourself.”

Virgil’s eyes grew distant for several long moments before refocused. He blew out a breath.

“Okay, whew,” he sent a grateful look towards Janus. “Thanks man.”

Janus waved. “Not a problem. Let’s not keep Patton waiting.”

Janus followed the two Sides downstairs, feeling victorious at how relaxed their shoulders were. Virgil was even walking with proper posture!

Dinner was a relaxed affair, the Sides content and laughing easily. Remus was chattering on about one thing one moment and another the next, with Logan offering feedback and Virgil changing the topic for Patton’s sake. Janus ate, not admitting how nice it felt to be included in famILY mealtime. It took him til nearly the end of dinner to realize no one was watching him out of the corner of their eye.

They trust me, he realized.

By the end of the night, he stretched out on his bed, pulling his heated blanket up to his neck.

What a waste of time. Totally not worth it, he thought to himself as he planned his next meeting with Roman.