#to be able to run one of these tournaments. i sure as hell know i couldn't and I'm not stupid enough to run one about animatronics either

[bokutosbiceps]

KENGAN ASHURA: any characters you’d like with a s/o who has a business and is a business person who’s part of the Kengan tournaments but they have another fighter.

ohma, raian, gaolang, agito (separately) x CEO!s/o

warnings: cursing, death threats, violence

a/n: i didn’t do any kengan omega characters since it clearly says kengan ashura even though i love my boi koga 🥺anyways, i hope you enjoy !! oh, also, i used gn pronouns for the reader (when necessary) since it seemed like that’s what you wanted in your request :3

tokita ohma would be incredibly jealous. like extremely jealous. he doesn’t understand why you’d ask someone else to be your company’s fighter when you’re literally dating him. he is always around whenever you’re strategizing with your fighter + he’ll make little quips like “i’d knock em out faster” or “i could beat the shit outta you so easily”. whenever you’re not around, he’ll make death threats toward your fighter to try to get them to back out so he could take his rightful place as your fighter. you have to set some very serious + clear boundaries w ohma so he can chill out. you’d have to explain that the main reason you don’t want him as your fighter is because you don’t wanna subject him to injury just for your benefit, even though he’s told you many times that he’d gladly go to battle, and die, for you. i could see him becoming fast friends w your fighter if they’re competent + laid back. he’s still jealous that you didn’t choose him, though. he has kind of pure intentions…but we all know the bastard just wants to fucking fight + even better, fight for you.

kure raian is going to be so fucking petty about it. he immediately starts bitching + whining to you. when that doesn’t work, he will seriously try to scare the shit out of the fighter you chose. i honestly don’t see him stopping at killing your fighter. if that happens, you realize you pretty much have to let raian be your fighter or else. if he decides against killing your fighter, he’ll make their life a living hell. and yours. he is around you + your fighter ever waking moment you spend together. first, he makes sure nothing fishy is going on. two, he makes sure that your fighter knows that they’re dead w a single wrong move or loss. your fighter might end up running away out of fear for their own life. raian will probably end up becoming your fighter one way or another. it’s completely unavoidable.

gaolang wongsawat likes that you’re strong willed + doesn’t really mind that you didn’t choose him to be your fighter. you guys keep your relationship + goalang’s job v separate, so he truly has no problem with this. he will, however, do a little bit of training w your fighter for both his + your benefit. it’s nice to have someone to spar w him since they’re always around but he also wants to make sure that they’re a competent fighter. he trains them super well + he helps your fighter bring you massive success. he wouldn’t hold back while fighting in a real match, though. sorry, but he’s going to put your fighter in the ground + not even feel bad about it. in the back of his mind, that’s kinda what you deserve for not choosing him to be your fighter. you know he’s more than capable. but again, he likes that about you. you make your decisions for yourself + he’s ready to stand behind whatever decision you make.

kanoh agito is surprisingly okay with it. he trusts your judgment + while he knows he’s stronger than 99.9% of the world, he lets you make your own decisions. plus, he knows he’s legally obligated to fight for metsudo so he wouldn’t be able to fight for you. that doesn’t mean he won’t help tho. he’ll even offer to spar with your fighter to make sure they’re actually strong enough to bring in success for you. you appreciate his help + he does everything he can (inside of his contract w metsudo) to make sure that you will be successful w this fighter. he’s also v aware of the fact that you may have a fighter who’s not him for official kengan matches, but your true protector will always be him. he wouldn’t entrust that job to anyone else as long as he’s alive. not ever.

[duckymcdoorknob]

TALL ASS GIF WHAT THE FUCK !!!!!

This duck is out of her funk and ready to rock and roll

Pls forgive if the events aren’t chronological; I have not been in this arc for literally 50 episodes 😭

Wake Up Call

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Ships: None! Kurama and Yusuke

Warnings: Tickles, small amount of foot tks, LIGHT SPOILERS FOR DARK TOURNAMENT ARC! Episodes 26-30 ish.

Prompt: The team gets scarce time to rest, so Yusuke has a bad habit of falling asleep in places he really shouldn’t…

Tags: @giggly-squiggily the queen herself for helping me out of a slump! @mystwrites My fellow YYH fan🛐 @chrimsss bc I tag you in everything :)) (ily)

Ever since Yusuke woke up, he wished with every step that he could go back to sleep. Sure, he was totally spent and straight-up passed out because of overusing his energy—hell, he STILL didn’t know how to control himself—but nothing beat the sweet dreams that followed him into that wonderful “nap” he was able to have.

Now? Hah, as if.

Every single day, it was “Fight these two teams back-to-back today!” or “Oh, Urameshi, I’ll take the tough one!” (As if he’d let his friend put his life on the line like that when he could do so himself!) or “Foolish humans, of course I know how to play cards.”

As if not sleeping till well into the early morning wasn’t enough, the boy was on a strict morning routine—courtesy of Genkai. He was to wake at five A.M. and go for a run, (which he didn’t much mind; he was “born on a treadmill,” as he claimed.) Then, it was endurance, power, and dodge training. Shortly after, he would have a quick breakfast with his friends, and then the fights began promptly at 8:00 on the dot.

To be honest, Yusuke was absolutely dog-tired, and there was no way he would survive the evening before “bedtime.”

It was a rare night for Team Urameshi to have downtime. Having just defeated Team Mashou, the four were having a wonderfully solemn evening. Kuwabara was very determined to teach Hiei to play Daifugo, Kurama and Botan were telling stories to Keiko and Shizuru, and Yusuke was on the couch spectating “the card game.”

In reality, the only thing that Yusuke was spectating was the inside of his eyelids.

The spirit detective blinked in and out of reality as his teammates’ voices began to warble in his ears. Despite Kuwabara’s incessant yelling, Kurama’s gentle tone was just enough to help drown out the cacophony behind him.

Trying his best to sound fully alert, Yusuke slurred out a sentence. “Yanno, ‘Rama, youshuld stard a pogcazt. You hav a ni’ voice.” (You know, Kurama, you should start a podcast. You have a nice voice.)

The redhead’s attention was beheld at the mention of his name, and he quickly turned towards the couch. “A podcast you say?” Excusing himself, the youkai stepped toward his team members, finding Yusuke curled up on the couch, blinking slowly.

Lifting the boy’s ankles momentarily so to not disturb him, Kurama opted to sit next to Yusuke, placing them atop of his lap. “So, what’s happening with them?”

“Ku-‘bara teachin’ Hiei *yawn* Daif’go.” (Kuwabara is teaching Hiei Daifugo.)

“I see,” Kurama hummed, absentmindedly stroking one of the spirit detective’s ankles with his thumb. “How do you think it’s going?”

There was a silence.

Well, as silent as it could be with Hiei and Kuwabara bickering.

“Yusuke?”

When the youkai turned to his right, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. The boy was absolutely passed out on the couch, seemingly fallen asleep from the comforting touch. His hair was slightly disheveled, his shirt had ridden up to reveal his stomach a bit as well.

“Yusuke, you shouldn’t fall asleep here; you’ll wake up sore tomorrow,” Kurama hummed, patting the top of the boy’s socked foot. “Wake up, child.”

Another silent response from the teenager elicited a sigh from the redhead. His attention was grabbed by a yelp from Kuwabara, having just been jabbed in the stomach by a disgruntled Hiei.

That’s it! But was Yusuke even-?

Only one way to find out…

With a bout of curiosity, Kurama scooted his hand from the spirit detective’s ankle down to his foot. He used two fingers to lightly swipe downward, eyes never leaving the sleeping figure on the other end of the couch. “Yusuke, wake up.”

Kurama was met with a light jerk backwards and a curl of the boy’s toes. ‘How precious’ he thought as he repeated the action. ‘So he is ticklish…’

“Come on now, it’s time to go to sleep in your bed,” the youkai murmured, using all five fingers to go in with more fervor. “Come on…”

Yusuke sighed out a groan, turning over onto his stomach atop of Kurama’s lap. “S’eepy,” he mumbled. He snuggled into the pillow, slumping downward as he exhaled comfortably.

‘It’s almost as if he wants me to tickle him. He’s just flipped himself completely defenseless.’

“Honestly, Yusuke, you cannot expect me to simply leave you alone now. I swear you’ve much to learn,” the redhead reported as he once again started to spider his fingers on the boy’s feet.

Giggly exhales escaped the spirit detective while both of his legs shot upward in the air out of defense. Kurama chuckled and stood up. “Thank you for setting me free from my prison. Now then, up with you now.”

A small groan answered his request, eliciting an eyeroll from the youkai. The boy put his legs back on the couch and snuggled in deeper. The fox demon sighed deeply, kneeling down toward Yusuke’s head.

“Yusuke…” he hummed in annoyance. Kurama’s hand gently brushed the hairs away from the spirit detective’s forehead. His hand came to rest on the boy’s cheek, his thumb gently stroking it. “Come on now… you don’t really want to sleep on this couch, do you? It doesn’t even have seats with fabric. Do you know just how filthy leather can get?”

Kurama was merely met with a relaxed sigh and a smile of comfort—which he should’ve expected after giving such soothing touches to his face.

“Alright, fine. You wish to do things the hard way, then I shall do them the hard way. I am giving you one last chance to stand up and sleep, then I will resort to drastic measures.”

The youkai relaxed a bit when he saw Yusuke open his eyes. With bleary, heavy eyes, the boy glared at the redhead while he stuck his tongue out. Afterward, he immediately shut his eyes and hid his face in the pillow once more.

“Alright, fine,” Kurama said impatiently, “if you’re going to be so difficult, then I shall too be difficult.” And with that, the fox demon shifted downward and began to trace ticklish shapes into the boy’s back and shoulders. “If you don’t wake up, then I shall make you.”

The gentlest giggling broke Kuwabara and Hiei from their argument, turning their attention toward the couch.

“Come on, Yusuke, surely you can just listen and avoid losing your dignity,” Kurama reported.

“Nohohoho,” Yusuke whined as he squirmed.

“Oh! He speaks; good morning! Are you going to listen to me now?”

Hiei and Kuwabara—for the first time that either can recall—looked menacingly at one another, excited to view the endeavor. They watched their friend frantically shake his head “no.” Whether it was in response to Kurama’s question or his ticklish touch, neither knew the answer for sure.

“Kurahahamahahaha,” Yusuke whined, scrunching up a bit as the tickling fingers were dangerously close to his neck. “Nohohoho. Nohohoho tihihihickles!”

“Oh yes, if I must. I must “tickles” if it means it’ll get you to bed sooner. Maybe I need a new spot, hmm?” With these teasing words, the youkai’s hands shot down to Yusuke’s sides and begun to squeeze.

Feet kick rapidly as a very high-octaved squeak escaped the boy “shihihihit!” He whined. “Kurahahamahaha! Nohohohoho!”

The redhead simply smiled innocently at him. The commotion had gained the attention of Botan, Keiko, and Shizuru, who all had stopped to listen in on the event unfolding.

“Do you concede?”

“Nehehehev-hehehahahaha! Plehehehehease!” the spirit detective whined.

“Hmm. I must get creative it seems…” the youkai mused, quickly shooting his hands up to worm under Yusuke’s arms. He had been hugging the pillow for a while, leaving himself totally vulnerable. “How about here?”

An extremely manly yelp escaped his lips as the spirit detective clamped his arms down. He managed to trap Kurama’s assaulting fingers! Just… much lower… between his underarms and ribs… oh no…

“Dahahahammihihihit! Nohohoho! Kura-ahahaha! Shihihit- agh! Nohohohohoho! Nonononohohohoho!”

Yusuke’s feet rapidly kicked up and down as his laughter grew in volume. As if he didn’t get everyone’s attention before, he was destined to now.

“Well?” Kurama asked, completely unfazed by the boy’s reaction.

“Kurahaha- Kurahahahama! Nohohoho! Lehehet mehehe sleheheheep!”

“I suppose you leave me with no choice now, child. My apologies for exploiting your weaknesses in this way.”

What the hell was that stupid fox talking about? Why wasn’t he going to just let him sleep on the couch? What was so wrong with it anyways? Sure, there’s probably piss and blood and all sorts of fun things on the seats but-

Yusuke’s chain of thought completely halted when he felt forefingers and thumbs pinching at his hipbones. Eyes squeezing shut, the boy squealed into the pillow, shaking his head frantically. “NONONONO PLEHEHEHEHEASE! KURAHAH- FUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOU! NOHOHOHO! SHITSHITSHIT YOHOHOHOU BIHIHIHITCH! PFFFAHAHAHA!”

“Quite the mouth on you, Yusuke. If my morals serve me right, I do believe that a punishment is in order,” the redhead hummed with a close-eyed smile, squeezing with more fervor.

The spirit detective’s voice escaped him, and only squeaky responses came as he squirmed relentlessly. “NOHOHOHO! KURAHAHAHAMAHAHA! IHIHIM- HEHEHEHAHAHAHA! IHIHIHIM SOHOHOHORRY! IHIHILL- *snort* OHOHOHO MY GOHOHOHOD- FUHUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF!”

“What was that?”

“IHIHIHI’LL SLEHEHEHEHEEP! IHIHIH’LL SLEHEHEHEEP! *snort* OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! *snort* STAHAHAHAP!”

With a small grunt of admiration, the youkai ceased his “torturous” attack, allowing the boy to catch his breath. Finally looking up at the room, he blinked a few times when he noticed the rest of their friends staring at the two of them with dopey grins—minus Hiei—on their faces. “Oh my… it seems you’ve gained quite an audience, Yusuke.”

A high-pitched sound of disapproval left him as the spirit detective yawned. Flipping back over onto his back, Yusuke huffed and sunk into the couch. It wasn’t long before his eyes were fluttered closed once more.

The fox demon sighed when he looked back down at the boy. “Perhaps it’d be best to take the path of least resistance,” he murmured as he carefully slid his arms underneath Yusuke’s neck and knees, quickly placing him into a secure hold. “I shall be taking this one to bed, and hopefully I will be back within a few minutes. In the event I do not return, I shall see you all in the morning.”

After nodding to everyone to bid them adieu, Kurama trudged out of the room, looking down fondly at the teenager in his arms—who had absentmindedly turned toward the fox demon’s body and cuddled up. The redhead sighed with a warm smile, whispering:

“Atop of everything else, must I now be your mother too, Yusuke?”

Kurama helped Yusuke down onto the bed, carefully pulling his socks off and removing his jacket. He placed the two items neatly on the nightstand before kneeling by the boy’s bedside to brush the hair away from his eyes once more. “I suppose I should get back out there… hm?”

Expecting no response, Kurama blinked harshly in shock over a drowsy message. “You don’t have to… go back… you can *yawn* you can stay… in here.”

Another fond smile found its way to the fox demon’s lips. “Alright, move over,” he hummed as he slid his shoes off, taking a book out of his pocket. He sat down on the bed next to Yusuke, and opened up to where he had left off. Every so often, he felt the boy shifting next to him.

“You may rest against me; I don’t mind one bit.”

The sleepy spirit detective smiled as he scooched closer to the youkai, placing his head on Kurama’s lap. The redhead reached down to gently run his fingers against Yusuke’s head and through his hair, grinning tenderly at how differently he acted behind closed doors.

“After all you’ve endured, you’re still just a child… aren’t you…?”

Yusuke could only hum sleepily as the youkai covered him with a blanket.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[airlocksandaviaries]

TOP GUN 86: FENCING ACADEMY AU

Bear with me. Hear me out. LET ME FINISH. Your local Top Gun obsessed fencer is here to give you Thoughts. Also fencing is always homoerotic so do with that what you will.

The flyboys are all in a fencing club/academy, one where they all have silly nicknames to put on their fencing jacket patches. The coach is Viper. Usually the coach is the only one with a silly nickname but it started one day and he allowed it. They all show up every other night to train and be silly together. But they're still in a class being taught by Viper and they're all trying to make it in the San Diego City Tournaments.

Maverick: He's a foil fencer, which is the most difficult sword form to consistently fence in. Points are scored by stabbing. It has the smallest valid target area and right of way is very strict (when two people hit at the same time, whoever gets the point is based on who had control of the action. This makes it very strategic). It's the form everyone starts out in. Maverick mastered it ages ago and everyone has been urging him to move up to something like Saber or Epee, which would be easier with his skill and would match his chaotic style. But he wouldn't listen and stay in foil for the challenge of it (and to annoy everyone with his unhinged tactics). He is a skilled fencer but will toy with you for a while before actually closing in for the win bc he likes to play.

Goose: He's the well-rounded guy. He mastered foil, epee, and saber. He liked them all but liked epee most of all (like foil, but with a larger target area and less strategy). He fences in foil most of the time, so that he and Maverick can fence together. They goof off all the time, and have secret handshakes when they finish their bouts together instead of just normal shaking hands. They talk and banter throughout every one of their bouts. Everyone assumes this means they're inexperienced, but when someone else fences one of them, they realize how skilled they both are.

Iceman: Also a foil guy, because he is in love with the precision and technique required. He has also tried the other sword forms, and fences Saber with Slider all the time, but he likes foil the most of all. He has the most precise and efficient style and will beat anyone almost instantly. He has found very few people who are able to beat him or even get a point against him in foil. He loves fencing the newbies and showing them no mercy.

Slider: Saber fencer, for sure. Yeah he tried foil and epee. Yeah he's decent at them. But nothing compares to running full speed at your opponent and whacking the hell out of them (sabers score points by slashing and everywhere is valid target area). Despite the love for the chaos he's actually a very refined and efficient saberist. He'll dash in and out and go for the top of your helmet.

Charlie: Instructor who works for the club. She barely fences bouts because she refuses to fence her students (no this is not a euphemism back off) but will teach all the newbies the techniques. She knows all the technical knowledge on all the forms and will ref all of the club members' and students' bouts for them (reffing is when you watch and judge who got what point). She gets along with all the students and members and is genuinely just an amazing person to see at the club every evening.

Viper: Coach. Only his friends and the instructors call him viper. He needs to be addressed as Coach at all times. He is incredibly strict and will tell everyone exactly what they did wrong, mercilessly. He normally sits in his office after training the new students but every once in a while he will come out to ref a bout and give a complete dressing down to whichever unlucky club member is goofing off and slipping technique. He keeps everyone on their toes but is a really good coach and will, if you're lucky, tell you he's proud of how far you've come.

Yes I based these on myself and others from my club whom I know and love.

LMK IF YOU GUYS WANT A PART TWO WHERE I TALK ABOUT BOUTS AND DYNAMICS AND SHIPPING 👀

THANK YOU TO @calkale FOR LISTENING TO MY UNHINGED RANTS

[thomasschabot]

bet all i have on that furrowed brow

jakob chychrun x fem!oc

isobel has a workplace crush and healthy dose of loneliness that jakob is more than willing to cure

word count: 3.1k

warnings: mentions of spending the holidays alone, cursing, partial nudity, alcohol consumption

a/n: for @wyattjohnston 🩷 thank you so much for putting together yet another incredibly successful event, and for giving me the best gift of all - getting to write for you! i hope you enjoy x (we're just pretending hockey works like american football and the sens have a bye week over christmas okay? okay!) many wonderful thanks to @matthewtkachuk for singing my praises via text and fluffing up my ego

The string of days between Christmas and New Years always feels like purgatory. One holiday bleeds slowly into the next, and there’s a general consensus no one knows what day it is or how long it’s been since they ate something moderately healthy. For most it’s time well spent with family and friends, but for Isobel it’s a sentence to near solitary confinement. She has no family remotely close, few friends, and is much too stubborn to take up her co-workers’ invitations to join them on holiday getaways to ski chalets or sandy beaches. Isobel refuses to be more of an inconvenience than she already feels like she is, but it isn’t necessarily best for her mental health.

She spends as much time as possible at work, researching rising social media trends to present to the team and making sure all paperwork is up-to-date. The team will be able to start with their best foot forward in the new year, something Isobel is extremely proud of, and it keeps her going into the office even when she’d much prefer to stay in bed and wallow in the intense loneliness she feels. There isn’t a pressure to produce new deliverables, which is a slight stress relief. The analytics department isn’t needed as much with the bye week and most of the incoming reports can be run by Isobel alone. A number of years ago the NHL implemented bye weeks in addition to the all-star break, which allows each team to not have scheduled games during the regular season. This year Ottawa got lucky, with their break over the Christmas holidays, and players and support staff alike took the opportunity to get the hell out of the snowy capital.

As far as Isobel’s aware, very few members of the Senators organization stayed in the area. From social media she could see co-workers posting from almost every continent, enjoying all the world has to offer. Many roster players were in tropical destinations, hungry to get away from the ice and snow that ruled much of their daily lives. Claude Giroux has taken his family to the Caribbean and posts a rare snapshot of his young boys enjoying the water. Brady, ever the gracious captain, has taken what seems like half the team home with him to St. Louis in order to cheer on his sister’s university tournament being hosted in the same city. Only Jakob’s whereabouts are unknown, his absence from her life palpable, but Isobel’s sure he isn’t in Ottawa. Why would he be? There are a thousand different people and places vying for his attention, and one of them was sure to be the lucky winner. 

It’s her most guarded secret, the fact that Isobel has an almost debilitating crush on who is technically a co-worker, but she’s also sure everyone has figured it out, even Jakob himself. Working with professional athletes means there’s a serious lack of personal boundaries, and one’s private life isn’t exactly private, no matter how well guarded they may be. The boys Isobel works with will stop at nothing short of blackmail to get information out of her, even if it’s only ever used for in-house teasing. No one has said anything yet, which she’s incredibly grateful for, but Isobel can’t help but think it’s the main topic of conversation when she’s not around. 

The suburbs of Ottawa are desolate as Isobel winds through the streets to the Canadian Tire Centre. No car is on the road except her own, and there is only one in the parking lot when she pulls in. Badge in hand, Isobel treks up the steps and pulls open the large door at the back of the arena, one that isn’t used by anyone except members of the organization. Jamie, one of the building’s security guards, is face down in a book — it must have been his sedan parked beside her own sensible compact SUV. 

“Isobel Walker,” he says, surprised to see another person. The offices were open upon a technicality in contracts that is now grandfathered in, but it’s likely Jamie hasn’t seen anyone since he started his shift.  “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be getting ready with friends? The New Year's festivities start in a few hours.”

Isobel shakes her head. “Just wanted to square away a few things before the weekend. Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do. It’s just me this year.”

The attentive man doesn’t miss the sad downturn in her voice, or the longing for companionship in Isobel’s eyes. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get invited somewhere.” Jamie sounds resolute in the statement, but she knows it must be easy for him to think when once his shift is over he’ll return home to a wife and kids. When Isobel is done putting in work there’ll be no one waiting at home. 

The elevator dings then, signalling its availability to deliver a human to the floor where the data and analytics department is located. Isobel waves goodbye in an almost timid fashion, insisting she’ll take good care of herself and promising to at least look into doing something. Nothing will come of it, this she’s sure of, but a small white lie has never hurt anyone. In fact, Isobel deals almost exclusively in little white lies, whether it be to scouts who want to hear a specific player is doing bad so they feel less guilty about not advising the general manager to draft them or to teammates when they ask what she’s doing on the weekends. Telling Jamie one more won’t cause the world to fall apart. Isobel is sure of it.

Her cubicle is tucked just inside the glass doors that shelter the front office from the rest of the floor, but Isobel doesn't head there. Instead, she tiptoes through the space until the corkboard of Senators and their individual season stats is right in front of her. The photo of Jakob immediately catches her attention — not an official headshot but instead a picture from the charity gala last season — and Isobel notices it’s a cropped version of one she has on her desk. In the photo he’s posing with the analytics staff, goofy smile plastered on his face as he stands three people from Isobel. She also remembers that in the photo she’s not looking at the camera, but at him. Eventually she forces herself to stop looking at the gorgeous specimen that is Jakob Chychrun and accomplish what she intended to do. Taking one last look, Isobel places a distant memory that their eyes had locked seconds after the camera’s shutter went off. 

⭑⭒⭑

It’s long past sunset when Isobel returns home, and there’s no sense trying to scramble downtown to an overcrowded bar. She hadn’t been planning on it anyways despite what she told the only person she’s interacted with in a week. Things at the office didn’t take long to complete, despite the frequent distraction of Jakob’s gorgeous portrait in the background, but Isobel couldn’t bring herself to return to her empty home. Since the conversation with Jamie in the lobby she’s been dreading the silence that would greet her when the door rocked on its hinges. Instead of immediately returning home, Isobel drives eastward towards more connected areas of the city and marvels at the tourists in town to ring in the new year surrounded by history. Each street sign passed amalgamated into a mushed series in her brain, and once she could no longer tell what was real or imaginary Isobel turned and headed for home. 

As expected, the modest craftsman house Isobel occupies is dark and silent and lonely, as well as a million other words she can’t think of to encapsulate how isolated she feels. If she had been thinking clearly Isobel would have picked up take out on the drive back, but she wasn't in a completely sound frame of mind, therefore being resigned to heating up three day old broccoli pasta and drinking room temperature beer. She can’t even be bothered to change into comfortable clothing, instead throwing her blouse and slacks over the back of a dining room chair seconds before crashing onto the worn leather sofa inherited from a college roommate nearly a decade ago but that she can’t seem to get rid of. 

The television turns on at the press of a button, and Isobel briefly watches the sports highlights for updates on potential trade targets before deciding she’s done more than enough work for the day and switching to a New Years special. This one seems to be taking place in New York, a place she’s never been nor cared for, but at the moment Isobel would give anything to be there amongst the suffocating crowd. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so earth-shatteringly alone. 

Hours pass by and more beers are consumed, but Isobel can’t seem to reach the buzz she’s so desperately chasing. The performances and countdowns meld together but if questioned there wouldn’t be a detail missing from her recollection. No one could do that inebriated, further proving that getting drunk isn’t in the cards for her tonight. A chill settles over the room and Isobel struggles to wrangle a throw blanket free from its perch on the back of the couch. Though comfortable, sitting in only undergarments doesn’t provide much protection against the drafty windows she should call a repairman about. Some pop star, whom she doesn't particularly care about, is thanking fans for helping them reach a milestone this past calendar year and she zone out. Nothing and everything floats through Isobel’s brain all at once, swimming in circles and causing a beautiful confusion. 

The dull thud of a fist against the front door shakes Isobel from her stupor and possible slumber. Panic encroaches and her sharp survival instincts set in — the baseball bat normally kept in the corner of the living room grabbed and work clothes are haphazardly tossed over frame. The person on the other side of the wood slab is the last person she’s expecting to see, and the fact he’s standing there with a sheepish smile is astounding. Jakob Chychrun is on her doorstep, shifting his weight between the balls of his feet and carrying a large bottle of expensive champagne and a bag of garlic bread. 

“Hi.”

“Can I help you, Jakob?” she asks, but immediately backpedals when she realizes how ill-tempered the tone of the words made her seem. “I just wasn’t expecting any visitors and am wholly unprepared.”

He smiles even more, as though Isobel can actually solve a problem he’s been faced with, and gestures to the objects in his hands like it’s obvious. “Jamie mentioned you were spending the evening alone when I went into the rink this afternoon, and I had no plans, so I thought we could watch the dumb special programs and drown our sorrows in alcohol.”

The answer is so Jakob, so perfect and friendly and warm, Isobel can’t help but return his grin. “I told him I’d look into going out. What are you doing in the city?”

“I wanted a relaxing week.”

Isobel arches her eyebrow. “The beach isn’t relaxing?”

“Not as much as staying at home.”

“Oh.”

Jakob doesn’t skip a beat in bringing conversation back to his original proposition. “Well sweetheart, what do you say?”

All the air leaves her lungs at the pet name, but she manages to nod semi-enthusiastically and move to the side. Jakob slips off his shoes while Isobel closes the door and treads into the living space carefully, inspecting-without-inspecting the decor. She quickly plays the role of gracious hostess, getting her handsome guest a crystal flute and asking if he’d like anything to eat. Jakob declines, saying he had leftovers before coming over, and urges her to sit down and ‘stop fluttering around like a hummingbird’. She obliges, turning to face him and tucking her legs underneath her center of gravity.

Jakob rakes his eyes over Isobel, once, then a second time, before coughing rather aggressively. It rings through the quiet like a gunshot and nearly makes her jump. Unsure of what could have caused such a reaction, she looks down to find the previously hastily buttoned shirt has shifted, revealing a rather large patch of red lace that hints at what’s underneath. Surely that can’t be the reason the normally suave man across from her is a blushing mess?

He respectfully looks away while she adjusts, and Isobel finishes quickly before placing a tentative hand on her shoulder to let her know everything is back to normal. She’s desperate to dissuade any awkwardness. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Jakob laughs, but it comes out a little strangled. “Happens to the best of us. Well not me, in that exact way, but I’ve been caught in my fair share of wardrobe malfunctions.”

Isobel focuses extremely hard on not thinking about what that means, and unsure of where to go from the moment that was somehow vulnerable and impersonal at the same time, she reaches across Jakon to grab the bottle of champagne and doesn't even bother getting a glass. The cool liquid does wonders to soothe the fire in her insides, exacerbated by the fact that Jakob came to her, wanted to spend time with her. Some alcohol misses Isobel’s mouth, dribbles down her chin, but before she can even lift the bottle from her lips it’s being wiped away. 

It’s Jakob, she realizes, stroking his thumb across her skin tenderly and making sure there isn’t an opportunity for the champagne to stain the silk button up that she can never remember to take to the dry cleaners. Clouds immediately form in her mind and Isobel closes her eyes — this has to be a dream. An incredibly elaborate fantasy. Under no circumstance is Jakob Chychrun sitting on her couch staring at her with longing and centimetres away from her lips. She must have fallen asleep, and her dreams are vivid due to the beer. 

“Iso, sweetheart, hey,” Jakob says barely above a whisper, eyebrow furrowed with concern and the slightest bit of amusement. “You alright?”

Her eyelids flutter open, a bit heavy from all the alcohol she’s consumed, but her gaze is met with his blue eyes so close to her own and his fingers fiddling with the hem of her pants. Apparently this is in fact real life, and while Isobel had been trying to convince herself otherwise she’d missed Jakob inching closer and resting his forehead against her own. 

“Yeah,” she sputters, nearly choking on air for the second time that evening. “I drank a bit before you got here and I think it’s all catching up to me.”

Jakob smiles softly, like he already confirmed this, and it’s then she clues in to the fact there are four empty beer bottles on the coffee table. “Are you drunk?”

Laughter trickles from her lips. “I wish,” Isobel confesses, “It would make the loneliness a lot easier to ignore.”

Again, Jakob smiles like he understands. It’s a bit surreal, the way the two of them are so similar, but Isobel can’t help but enjoy learning about him  through these small glances. If she could keep her cool around the man for longer periods than the handful of minutes long interaction they’d shared, Isobel is almost sure they’d be friends, but the universe is cruel and unyielding. She’s destined to never know Jakob all that well, watching from the sidelines as he jokes with Brady and Tim, marvelling at his beauty and resigning herself to the fact he’ll never be yours. 

“Can I kiss you?”

The question steals every ounce of air from Isobel’s lungs. Jakob is looking at her intently, studying her features for clues or transgressions he unknowingly committed. She’s never been good at keeping her emotions steeled away, and Isobel knows everything is splayed on her face for him to decipher if he wants to. The most prominent one is shock. Isobel is beyond surprised he’s asking the one thing that’s been on the tip of her tongue  and whispering in her mind for years. 

“Are —” she struggles to find the words she wants to say. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

It’s Jakob’s turn to laugh. It’s a beautiful sound, his deep rumbles as he nods his head, and Isobel does her best to imprint it to memory. If this is the last time she’ll ever hear it she wants to give herself the best shot at remembering. 

“Pretty damn sure, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to do it since I joined the team.”

Isobel is now beyond shocked. “You’ve wanted to kiss me for three years?”

Jakob smiles in a way that allows it to reach his eyes. Beautiful, Isobel thinks, but doesn’t allow herself much time to focus on it, too eager to catch his next words. “Four if you count the time I got lost when Arizona was the visiting team and you held the door for me to get back to the locker rooms. You were wearing a black turtleneck that made your eyes look even more angelic than normal. I didn’t know that at the time, of course, but I did know I wanted to kiss you senseless.”

“Fuck me, you never thought to say anything when I was so clearly pining after you?” she whispers, emboldened and growing more confident under the confession and moving even closer until her lips are so close to Jakob’s she can feel the breath he inhales. 

It takes a moment, but Isobel gains the courage to tilt her head slightly upwards and slot her lips against Jakob’s. Time stops with the flourish of a cheesy romance novel, though she can’t find it in her to groan internally even if she would under normal circumstances. Nothing about what’s happening is normal, however. Kissing Jakob is perfect in ways Isobel could never accurately describe — all plump lips and gentle touches and whispered sweet nothings. She never wants it to end, but eventually he pulls back. 

He doesn’t stray far, just tucks her into his side with a hint of possession if Isobel squints , and cards his fingers through the matted ends of her hair. Jakob seems to have quite an affinity for the strands, allowing them to keep his attention while Isobel processes the fact that the man she’s been secretly in love with for years has also been in love with her for just as long.

“You know,” she says breathlessly, still in a surreal state from the kiss, “Maybe ringing in the new year won’t be so lonely after all.” 

Jakob giggles in the same warm and gleeful way that made Isobel fall in love with him all those years ago. “I hope not.”

The pair of them spend the remaining hours of the night eating, drinking, and talking about what the future holds. When the television program begins the countdown Jakob looks at Isobel with a gleam in his eyes, and waits until the ball drops to kiss her into the next year.

⭑⭒⭑

enjoy this fic? give it a reblog :)

[zhounauts]

one hit is all it takes ; k.gyuvin

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CHAPTER 1 ! hit and run

word count ! 482 words

masterlist next

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were never a competitive person.

Well - you were never competitive, until your team somehow managed to completely bulldoze its way through the brackets of your gym class’ handball tournament. Next thing you knew, your team was in the finals; and now here you were, running around the court at ungodly speeds trying to get the ball.

"ANDDDD THE BLUE TEAM HAS THE BALL! I REPEAT, THE BLUE TEAM IS IN POSSESSION!" Junhyeon, the self-appointed commentator, yells. You watch as Haruto, on the opposite team, holds the ball in his hands, desperately trying to find an open teammate. He chucks it towards Keita, but just as quickly as the ball had left his hand, your teammate Seunghwan had intercepted it.

"OH SEUNGHWAN! HE’S GOT THE BALL! RED HAS THE BALL! GENTS AND LADIES THEY’RE CURRENTLY AT A TIE. WILL RED BE ABLE TO BREAK IT?" Junhyeon screams, causing the students on the side to erupt in cheers. You run across the court as Seunghwan carefully steps forwards, and then you see it. An opening. 

"OH, AND WHERE IS Y/N GOING? WOAH SHE’S MOVING FAST! LOOK AT HER GO!"

"SEUNGHWAN! OVER HERE!" you scream, sprinting towards blue’s net. Seunghwan’s eyes meet yours and he passes the ball to you. You locked in on the ball. Here it comes, you think to yourself. Your hands reach up, and you jump. "SHE’S GOT THE BALL! SHE’S GOT THE BALL! LETS GO Y/N!!" 

The world seemed to be moving at 0.25x speed as you put all your strength into the shot. You could feel the pressure from the audience and from your teammates. This one shot meant everything.

Everything. 

.

.

.

The ball sails through the air and makes its way exactly to Red’s net. Your aim was impeccable. There was no way it wouldn’t be in; victory was yours. But just as the ball was about to sail through the net, their goalie, Gyuvin, dove to block it and —

 SMACK! 

"OH SHIT.”

. 

.

.

The whole gym pauses as Gyuvin lay sprawled out on the floor. You continue to stand in your spot dumbly as his team moves to surround him and make sure he’s ok. The gym is loud again, with people screaming, trying to get closer to the court to see the damage you had inflicted on the boy.

“EVERYBODY CALM DOWN I DO NOT BELIEVE HE IS DEAD—” Junhyeon comments unhelpfully as the P.E. teacher dashes across the court to where Gyuvin lies. You watch the chaos unfold in front of you and start to freak out. Why? Because Gyuvin was, well, The Kim Gyuvin. 

Yeah, it was cringy as hell to refer to him as that but he was popular. He had fans who’d soon be plotting your murder, and was part of the popular boy friend group. So you did what any reasonable person would do. You ran away!!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

TAGLIST ! @yeolaegi

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*・゜゜・．*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n let me know your thoughts! i write a lot but don't usually post it or anything so lemme know what you guys think + what to improve.

+ if ur a grammar person i deeply sincerely apologize for the back and forth between past and present tense. my proofreader mentioned it as well 😞💪

[sereinegemini]

Two Dark Princes ₊⋆ ☾

— Chapter VII

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader x Theodore Nott

Word Count: 879

Summary: Two years after Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord during the Triwizard Tournament, Hogwarts and most of the Wizarding World has returned to normal. But, F/n’s mundane life is flipped upside down after she learns that two of her best friends, Draco and Theo, are secretly in love with her. When this knowledge begins to affect her relationships, she is faced with difficult decisions, each one laced with promised heartache and the potential to awaken an unexpected darkness

Warnings: hostility, blood, a wee bit spooky

Hogwarts

Sunday, May 4, 1997

True darkness engulfed you. You could feel it shifting and swirling on some unknown wind. No light penetrated the empty space, but when you held out your hand you were able to see it. The black air slithered around your fingers like water. As far as you could tell nothing but you existed in this space.

“F/n?” a voice asked from all around you. It had a dreamlike element to it, almost like all at once it was there and not. And it was warm, reminding you of–

“Cedric?” you called back, frantically spinning and searching the void for any sign of another being. Your head was swimming. What was this place?

“I’ve missed you so much, my sunshine. You have no idea how lost I am without you.” Knuckles grazed your cheek gingerly, and you flinched at the phantom touch. No one was there.

“Ced, where…where are we? Where are you?” You couldn’t settle the rising panic in your voice.

“I’m right here, F/n.” Frustrated, hot breath washed over your face. You should have been able to see him. He was right there, dammit. But your vision remained blank, and if you hadn’t just seen your own hand you’d be positive your eyes were closed. He gripped your shoulders, nails biting into your skin enough for a whimper to escape you. “I’m tired of these games, F/n.”

“You’re hurting me. Ced, that hurts!” you cried. You moved to rip his arms away from you, but your hands met nothing but empty air.

He only clenched harder, roughly shaking you back and forth. “Why did you do it? Why did you throw away our love—our future—for them? They’re nothing. They’re filthy Slytherin snobs. We were going to have a future together, F/n. A family. Why did you ruin it? Why did you ruin it? Why did you–” Suddenly, an intense wind billowed past, gone as quick as it came. Cedric gone with it.

Left shaken and panting, you ran your fingertips along the pain burning in your shoulders. They came back wet. Confident you knew what the substance was, you licked it. Copper. Blood.

“Like what you taste?” a smug voice asked from behind you. Whirling around, you were met with exactly what you expected: nothing.

“Not particularly,” you whispered, your skin prickling alongside his presence as he circled you.

Stopping behind you, Theo roved his mouth over your ear. “That’s a shame, I’ve always sort of enjoyed it. It can be...comforting.” He pushed a finger against the small cuts, making you wince. You felt him lift it to his own mouth, a pleasured groan following. Then, his hand on your jaw, he forced your face towards him and brought his lips to yours. His tongue slithered between your teeth and spread the metallic taste into your mouth. Grimacing, you tripped over your feet as you broke away.

“What’s the matter, F/n? I thought that’s what drew you to us. The wickedness dwelling underneath. The Death Eaters our fathers raised us to be.”

“Isn’t that why you destroyed your perfect life for us? You know deep down a part of you is just like those little boys we’re trying desperately not to be,” Draco whispered against your hair, pulling your back against his chest.

Your chin was gripped with dreadful strength. “But you can only love one of us, L/n. So go on, who is it? Hm? It sure as hell isn’t that dumb Hufflepuff.” Theo’s dark chuckle made your veins run cold. “You destroyed that boy’s heart in the most admirable way. It would have been more merciful for you to rip it clean out and wear it on a chain around your neck.”

“Shut up.” You willed the tears in your eyes not to spill.

“Oh? Are you not proud of the way you wrecked poor Cedric Diggory? I hear he’s been awfully careless with his wand lately. Poor bloke is bound to blow himself up.”

“I said shut up!” you shrieked. 

The words continued to echo seconds after you sensed Draco disappear into thin air. You were left standing face to face with a red-eyed creature. It resembled a man and had its boney fingers pressed bruisingly into your jaw. He had replaced Theo, and in your sinking gut you knew exactly who this was despite never having seen him.

Lord Voldemort gave you a rotten-toothed grin. “I’ve been looking a long time for you, girl.”

Gasping awake, you laid completely still out of fear while you took in your surroundings. You were in the Astronomy Tower, rain from a storm pelting the floor mere feet from where you lay. Beside you, Theo was snoring softly, completely unaware of you or the nightmare previously tormenting you. Quills, parchments, and textbooks littered the floor where you’d spent most of the night studying. Final exams would begin next month and now was the time Professors encouraged students to start revisiting the material.

Lightning flashed across the moody sky, and the last thing on your mind was passing your finals. Because there was no doubt in your bones that nightmare wasn’t just some bad dream. Voldemort had been in your mind. And he wanted you for something.

« Chapter Six || Masterlist || Chapter Eight »

Be notified of future chapters!

[dompler]

what she says: i like pete white

what she means: there is so much lore casually dropped about pete white we aren't talking about. there is so much fucking untouched lore with him. who was he in between his college days and hosting quizboys? billy became notorious after the shit white pulled on that day on quizboys, yet any time pete is seen by other characters (especially people that would know of him, like augustus st. cloud) he's ALWAYS referred to as "that albino" or some variant. is that his divine punishment for being so self-driven, the "ever popular pete white" who barely made a scratch in the history of television? what about the deleted scene where he's doing coke at the bar rusty's bar Before going to Put On His Makeup Before Quizboys. that alone could imply his eagerness and impulsivity to just ditch EVERYTHING to go do whatever the fuck across the country with billy, how he was able to mix up a quiz tournament with a dog fight; he's admitted to "pissing away [his] savings on blow" before they left, and they sure as hell didn't get much farther than where billy left pete if you see where conjectural is run from. that and him willingly sitting out in the sun after all of that, pete "my body hates the sun on a molecular level" white, going through withdrawal and dealing with the guilt of having fucked over his one true friend, LITERALLY dying in the sun. and do not even get me started on how albinos are just treated like fancy pets to the rest of the cast. what the fuck.

[simp999]

A New Home Ch. 19

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.4k

A/N: Died for a bit, my bad

A/N 2: Leo gets a fanboy?!!!

Back to the start! Previous Next

“What?!”

You hadn’t planned on joining the tournament, not wanting to mess with any major battles. Wouldn’t this make the number of teams uneven? What happens if your teammates give it their all, and you get really far in the tournament, to the point that you make it up against a major team? And surely you can’t half-ass it, or else your teammates would be quite disappointed. Damn it, Leo!

“Yeah! We’ve been aiming to get stronger, and what better way than to have a chance at battling lots of strong players, right?”

“You’re not wrong, but…”

“It’s not like you were busy, you don’t have any other friends.”

Wow, thanks Tasha, how nice of you. 

She’s not wrong though, and there’s no backing down now. You take a deep breath in, and do a couple of little stretches before the match.

“So, any words of encouragement, boss?”

“I dunno, kick ass I guess.”  You mumble unenthusiastically.

You look around at your teammates, and you’re sure that if you were in an anime you’d be able to see a comical sweatdrop on each of their temples. You sigh, and explain.

“There’s not much to add, you guys have already improved significantly since we started training together. Hell, Skull barely had any improvement tips for Tasha.” 

You double-check your ink tank, making sure it’s hooked up correctly, 

“Just do what we do, and don’t overthink anything. You guys are hella skilled, and I believe in you.”

…That came out a lot sweeter than you were hoping. It’s all true, though, you are extremely proud of how far they’re come.

Leo shouts out in excitement, Milo offers you a big smile, and you can see the way Tasha’s cheeks move up under her mask before going back to inspecting her weapon. There’s about one minute until you guys have to super-jump to your spawn point, so you take the opportunity to say one last thing.

“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you guys since you all have common sense, but just be sure to have respect for our opponents.”

The battle is set on inkblot art academy and it doesn’t take long for Leo to rush in and splat multiple opponents. Milo focuses on inking the ground while you run support right behind Leo, splatting an opponent that had ninja squid. Tasha’s already on the center pillar, being the last line of defense and not allowing anyone by. After inking all of the nearby areas, you retreat to the left side of the stage, covering that escape route. Milo does the same for the right side, inking that path with his Heavy Splatling. Leo stays on the front lines, basically spawn-camping the opponents. You almost feel bad, but these are the preliminaries, so you shouldn’t have expected too much competition. At least you weren’t all the way in their spawn. The timer hits two seconds, and your teammates are quick to save up enough ink for one last sub-weapon. You’ve taught them well.

The music dies down, and both teams look over at the big screen to see the score. It’s obvious who won, but it was always good to make sure. A win, 73.06% to 19.4%. Ouch. Their teammates are kind and respectful about it, wishing your team luck and offering you a handshake. You’re appreciative that they have good sportsmanship, that seems to be rare at your rank. You thank them for the battle, and your team heads to the main area of the tower to see what teams have entered and by how much they won. You already know that there are some big-shot players, but you want to see how much the main teams won by. Gloves’s battle was a decent match, he won by about 12%. The yellow-green team seemed to be doing much better than how they were doing when they started teaming up, winning by 30%. The S4’s score was unsurprising, getting a couple fewer points than your recent score.

Your team leaves Deca Tower, and can barely move with how crowded the front is. Milo gently grabs your hand as well as Leo’s so that the two of you don’t get lost (And probably for comfort, too). He’s not too worried about Tasha, with her height towering over most inklings, along with the fact that she’s fine in crowds. Well, anxiety-wise, at least.

You guys almost make it out of the crowd, but a shout of your name interrupts you.

“This way!” He’s waving his hands around excitedly, despite having seen you just a few minutes earlier. Goggles is quick to hug you when you come over, and you stand there like a brick, unmoving for a second before slowly cradling one arm around him awkwardly. 

You spot a character that’s new to the story. There’s a smile on his face, and he’s got - supposedly - the freshest gear in town.

‘He should be fun to be around.’

He fixes his gear, almost in a comical way, before introducing himself.

“Yo! The name’s Gloves! I saw the beginning of your battle, and I can bet that you’re gonna do great in the tourney!”

He looks over at Leo, pointing right at his face with an exaggerated swing of his arm.

“And you! You’re super fresh! You’re quick to attack, and you can hold your ground well with those dualies. You’ve got some crazy agility, props to you, dude!”

You see the way Leo’s eyes light right up, it seems he’s not used to having fans. 

‘If we keep battling like this, that’s sure to change.’

You let the two dorks chat for a bit until you’re cut off by an announcement over the loudspeakers;

["The battle to be king of the square has begun!”]

A smirk begins to form on your face. Game on. There’s no going back now. The rules are explained, and some notable players are pointed out. Gloves is the first, and you waddle to hide behind Milo since Gloves was right beside you a minute earlier and you didn’t want all the attention on you. Next they point out Rider, you’re surprised you didn’t spot him earlier - he’s not that far away from where you’re standing. He looks around and meets your eyes, the both of your giving eachother a nod that says no going easy on eachother, and no hard feelings. Next up is Skull, and you spot Avi behind him, who shoots you a wink(?), you couldn’t quite tell, but his lopsided smile along with the way his head tilted to the side made you assume that that was the case.

“Hey, doesn’t Goggles pants Rider and Skull right about now?” You quickly survey the area, and indeed, Goggles is happily making his way over to the pair. Before he can do anything, you smoothly tug him backward by the back of his jacket. He still says the line he was supposed to say, so it seems that your little intervention didn’t change the story. Rider didn’t notice Goggles there at first, only looking behind him when he made his presence known. Rider sees the way your hand is just now letting go of the back of his jacket. He also sees the way Goggles’ arms drop from in front of him to his sides, as if he was reaching out for something. Rider gives to a nod of thanks, now realizing that Goggles was up to his regular shenanigans and that you may have just saved him from a really awkward situation.

Skull is none the wiser, and only looks at you. Just.. starring. You know that he’s just acknowledging your presence, but at least give a nod or something!

Your thoughts are interrupted by the final notable player being announced. There’s no doubt that there should be boss music playing when you look up to the stage and see an Inkling standing with his arms crossed. He’s standing above everyone, the only thing higher up than him being his ego.

‘Things sure are about to get interesting. Can’t wait to see an entirely new level of skill~.’

Next Part

May.28.23

[inventors-fair]

Ba-sick Designs

Burgeoning Frontier by @reaperfromtheabyss

Ooh, a classic Serra Avenger land. Honestly? Power level wise, I think this is pretty good. It’s obviously better in slower formats, but then again so is Temple of the False God, and no one is calling for that to be banned. I’m not sure if I want this to have a regular “T: Add C” ability just so it’s not a completely dead draw? I know I would just glance over an opening hand with this and two other lands, and only realize my mistake after keeping. Anyways, the name is pretty evocative, that of a developing frontier town that needs a bit of time to really get up and going, but I really think you could have slammed this one into a home run with some flavor text giving me a specific example. Maybe this is on the vaunted Wild West plane? Or maybe it’s the folks of Eldraine expanding into the wilds? Who knows? I want to, that’s for sure.

Cliffside Arboretum by @hypexion

This is probably the simplest land on the podium this week, and it’s that simplicity I love. Conditional duals are hard to design, especially since most of the “balanced” design space is taken up already. However, in a simple, clean ability, you made a dual that actively gets better when your land base gets worse. I’m a huge fan of that, since it’s definitely not designed for high power tournament play, but is the perfect thing for little Timmy to slot in his new Gruul deck. It’s not overly punishing either which is nice, but it’s great in your opening hand, and still good if you’re running mostly basics or fetchlands. I don’t have much else to comment- other than the fact that a cliffside arboretum sounds fantastic and makes me wish that we could commission artists for this silly little contest.

Thirsting Jungle by @nine-effing-hells

Conversely, this one is probably the most complex land in the top 6, but again deserves that position because of how smoothly everything fits. This land carries some super interesting tension between when you want to play it- turn 1, so you have an untapped triome for the rest of the game? Or forgo the early color fixing and hold onto it until you have some sac fodder, in order to turn this into an absolute beast that dodges most forms of removal? It asks you to make some hard decisions but rewards you for them both, which is what I love seeing in a design. I was going to comment on the lack of haste, before realizing it enters tapped, so that’s irrelevant. All in all, it’s an awesome card, and a manland that weirdly wants to push more aggro than control, which is awesome.

And that's that! I'm on vacation this week, but hopefully will be able to get the commentary to you good folks sometime soon.

Ciao!

~judge @naban-dean-of-irritation

[casspurrjoybell-25]

Cold as Ice - Chapter 3 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Landon Reilly

I needed to change my running route or else I was going to end up on my ass every day.

Wren looked down at me with a smug expression, his mouth quirking up ever so slightly in amusement.

I glared up at him and pushed myself up from the ground.

"You're doing this on purpose now?" I spat.

"Perhaps," he said.

Who fucking says that?

"I know who you are, you know," I told him.

"I don't think we've met," he replied, feigning ignorance. I could practically feel my eye twitching in annoyance.

This guy was infuriating.

"Cut the shit," I snapped, pointing a finger at him.

"I know you know who I am and I know who you are now."

"I figured you would," he replied with a shrug, showing off his nonchalance.

"How long did it take for you to figure it out?"

Longer than I would ever admit to him.

He looked enough like Fox that I should have known instantly.

Wren smirked when I didn't say anything.

"You don't have to tell me. Your non-answer is an answer in itself."

"What the hell are you even talking about?"

"You not answering is telling me that you're too embarrassed to tell me how long it took you," Wren said, the smirk staying on his face.

"And now I know that for sure, since I'm having to spell this out for you."

I wanted to run at him and punch him in the face, my anger coming at me in waves.

That was what the Landon of a few months ago would have done but not this one.

Not the one that was a shell of who he once was or the one who knew his old anger was always misplaced.

That didn't stop me from clenching my fists at my sides, my fingernails digging into my skin.

Wren seemed determined to push my buttons and showing him that it was working was only going to make him do it even more.

"You knew who I was the whole time," I said it as a statement because I knew it was true.

He wouldn't have been so smug if it wasn't.

"The whole time?" he asked.

"I didn't think about you at all since we first saw each other but, yes, I knew when I saw you. I thought that much was obvious," he continued.

"Is that what you were doing? Thinking about me all weekend, trying to place where you knew me from? I'm flattered, Lance."

I grimaced.

"Lance?"

"That's what you're hung up on? And not the thinking about me all weekend thing? So it must be true."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.

"No, it's not. You look a lot like Fox."

"Right and you've punched his face a few times so it's a hard face to forget," Wren replied, the smirk dropping, though he still looked entirely at ease like this conversation bored him.

I didn't want him to see the remorse I felt.

I already felt dumber than him with the way he spoke and the way he looked at me, I didn't want him to see how truly weak and broken I was.

God knows what he would do with that.

"I can't talk anymore, Lance, I have things to do," Wren said after stunning me into silence.

"I think you should maybe stop getting in my way so you stop ending up on your ass and we don't have to have these conversations anymore."

He jogged away before I could formulate a response and I took off running the other way to blow off some steam.

He had simultaneously infuriated me and made me feel like shit.

If I kept running into him, I would be faced with that again and again, thinking about the harm I had caused and the damage I had done.

I was still so far from even being able to confront all that without feeling like throwing up.

That was why I wished I could have gone to school somewhere further away, where there was absolutely no chance of seeing anyone I knew but after what had happened at The Masters Tournament, where I started a bench-clearing brawl and ruined my team's season, barely any schools wanted me.

Providence College only offered me a spot because Micah's dad had pull there and he put in a word for me.

It was my only option and it was too close to home for me.

I'd have to play against guys from my old team and against Fox and Elijah, all of which probably had it out for me.

I would have to face them all once the season started in a little over a month and Wren was just a giant wake up call that it was coming.

I jogged back around to where I was going before bumping into Wren and entered a coffee shop near by.

As I was waiting in line, the bell on the door sounded and when I turned to look, there stood Wren.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Are you following me?"

"Are you following me?" he asked.

"I come here every day and I've never seen you here."

He walked up to stand behind me in line.

I pressed my lips together in a line, holding back from snapping at him.

"Trust me, Lance, if I wanted to follow you, I'd be way more discrete about it," Wren added, motioning for me to move up in the line.

"Can you stop calling me that?" I snapped as I turned to face away from him.

"I would if it didn't get you so riled up."

His face was set into a wicked, teasing smile when I turned back to glare at him.

It was a smile that looked like it was used to lure you in and turn on you when you least expected it.

It was evil and conniving, horrible but alluring.

His face was one you would see in a dream turned nightmare, something you thought was friendly and turned out it was not.

"Better turn around," Wren said in quiet, smooth voice.

"It's your turn, Lance."

I immediately turned around and walked up to the counter with the waiting cashier.

I ordered my drink and heard a snort from Wren as I did.

All I could do was ignore him.

He only acted like that because he wanted a reaction out of me and he was starting to see how easy it was to get one.

People like him thrived off of that.

You let them see even the smallest piece of you and they'll take advantage of it.

After I paid for my drink, I moved off to the side while I waited for it.

While I had been in this coffee place before, it wasn't a frequent spot for me.

Now that I knew Wren was a regular here, it definitely wouldn't become one.

"You know, if you're going to infiltrate my coffee place, you could at least order something good off their menu," Wren said after placing his order and coming to stand with me.

"They have a lot of good drinks and you ordered a hot coffee with oat milk and no sugar, like, what the fuck?"

I didn't say anything, I didn't even look at him as he stood next to me.

All those specialty coffees and drinks confused me, not that I'd ever admit that to him and I wasn't really used to coffee ordering anyway.

When I lived with my parents, my dad only ever let me have black coffee.

I only started getting oat milk because that was how Micah ordered his so I tried it one day, that was the extent of my coffee drinking.

For my dad, coffee in the morning was a means for energy, to wake me up in the early morning.

It wasn't to be enjoyed or had at any other time of day.

[banditcoyote]

Wrangled and Tangled

Sasuga stood by the sink washing the last of the dishes from tonights meal. She smiled softly to herself as her tail flicked behind her, happy about the sets of cups and plates she had picked out, feeling domesticated and settled looking over the two sets of dishes her and her lover had shared, something about them in the drying rack felt almost romantic to her. But maybe it was just the way the sunset was showing so pink and purple over the water that was making her feel that way, the cool summer breeze blowing in from the open Lanai. She hummed to herself a little as she dried her hand and reached for the first plate, ready to dry them herself, when the dish cloth was plucked out of her hands swiftly.

“Let me take care of that.” Simon said perching himself onto the counter and starting to dry one of their plates.

“All the left overs put away?” she asked leaning against the counters and bringing her wine to her lips.

“Most of them.” he said with a nod. “Except for the second helping I couldn’t resist, which is now residing in my stomach.”  

She laughed lightly, brushing her hair back behind her ear “Well I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She said with a nod, moving to cozy up to him just a little bit, her eyes full of warmth, and maybe a bit of mischief. “Maybe we can enjoy some other things when you’re done putting those dishes away.” She said with a curl to her lips.

Simon returned the smile and took a moment to lean down to kiss her easily, drawing back with a little hum. “I can think of some things for sure.” He added. “But before we get too distracted.” He placed the clean plate down on the counter and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small ring box and placing it on the counter next to her hand. “Happy Anniversary.”

Sasuga froze at the sight of the small velvet box and her large eyes went wide, slowly looking up into Simon’s face, searching for the meaning.

Simon at once realizing what she might have thought smiled and blushed. “I know we’ve talked about it, but this is just a promise ring.”  Sasuga let go of the breath she was holding with some relief. He picked the box up and opened it. “See?” inside was a thing gold band with a small rose quartz crystal cut into the shape of a heart that side horizontal to the finger. He reached for her left hand and slid it on to her ring finger kissing it into place. “I love you Sasuga, I know that this might not be perfect, but I wanted you to know how much you mean to me.” Sasuga looked to the ring on her finger, feeling tears pull at the corner of her eyes. He hopped down from the counter “Oh no….is it too much? I know we said we weren’t going to do anything, that dinner was enough but-“

She shook her head “Don’t be stupid.” She said choking back her emotions. “I love it. I love you….Thank you.” She looked at the ring again before reaching up to tug on one of his horns pulling him down into a kiss. “Forget the dishes….come on.” She said, her tail already snaking up around his waist to guide him toward their bedroom.

Coyote woke up with a start, staring up into the dark ceiling above him. He contemplated for a moment what that dream could have meant, and his jaw tightened in his face. Did Sasuga sleep with Simon while he was away, it was the only rule he had given. Or maybe that had made the whole thing more enticing for the two of them. Still, why would Sasuga end up with Simon, he had the feeling he was absent, that house not looking familiar to him in the slightest. He closed his eyes again, almost willing it to come back to him, but some of the finer details were already fading from his memory, and all he remembered was the way the pair looked longingly at each other before they kissed. He gave a little growl and pushed himself up quickly to throw on some jeans and a shirt.

“Coyote?” Shishi asked lifting his head from where he was curled up on one of the pillows. “Where are you going?” he asked rubbing one of his eyes sleepily.

“I’m heading back to the Makai” he told Shishi as he pulled his shirt down over his torso.

The imp eyed the view appreciatively before his senses snapped back to him. “Should I be worried?” he asked knowing of Coyote’s sometimes prophetic dreams, and he wondered if he had some type of vision of Sasuga’s fights. “Do you want me to come with you?”

Coyote shook his head. “No. No. It’s nothing like that it’s….” only he wasn’t entirely sure he could begin to really understand it himself. He shook his head “Sasuga’s fine. I just need to see her. I only had that one other show at the end of the week anyway, stay here, I’ll go tell Russell to pack everything up and head on home. You’ll be fine finding a flight right? I mean, stay the night, don’t leave on my account.”

Shishi laughed “Oh it was that kind of dream was it?” he grinned. “Okay, Well, tell her I said hello and get back safely.” He said as he yawned and laid back down to sleep. “I’m sure Kurama and Gatlin will be happy to have me home, if they haven’t torn each other apart yet…”

Coyote slapped on his cowboy hat and grabbed a jacket though he felt his skin burning. “And you remember what we said about this right?” he asked as he headed toward the door.

“My lips are sealed.” Shishi murmured. “Not a word to anyone”

“Especially to Sasuga.” He confirmed hand on the door.

“Especially Sasuga.” Shishi promised “She’d probably be more upset with me than you anyway” and waved him off.

Coyote found himself easily at his ring manager’s trailer, pounding on the door. He felt bad to be waking Russell up like this but he knew he couldn’t just disappear in the middle of the night and leave Shishi to explain for  him, things looked weird enough having him around. Russell answered the door, looking as if he was still blinking back sleep. “Coyote, everything alright?” he asked looking around.

“No…Um no, there was a fire back at the ranch.” He said lying on his feet. Thinking easily of the fire at Thom’s he could use as a cover even if the time line wouldn’t match up. He figured it would never get back to Russell anyways. The manager looked concerned. “It’s nothing big, a small one thank god, no one hurt, but I really should get out there, I know we only have the exhibit at the end of the week so I was just going to head home now. Would that be too much of a pain for ya’ll to handle?”

Russell cleared the sleep from his eyes with his hand “Yeah, yeah I can handle it no problem. Take care, hope it’s as small as you say.” He said and headed back to his bed.

Coyote made one more stop, saying farewell to Poncho in his trailer, before he headed towards the nearest portal in the woods, which was still pretty far, and Coyote had to be careful no one saw him as he slipped into the woods and transformed, having to sprint as fast as he could to reach the portal before daylight. He was glad he had the foresight to try and keep his motorcycle as close to him as possible, as the only other way he could have gotten there was to fly back home and then race to her, and he wasn’t sure he could stand being on a plane the way he was feeling.  All cooped up without being able to run or move, or do anything. It would have been torture, not like the past few weeks hadn’t been. The time away from Sasuga had been harder than he’d like to admit, and he already knew he would never plan on being away from her like this again. All the time away from her he had felt like pulling his skin off. He had helped Thom around her house before he left, and at the rodeo he did more of the manual work than anyone really wanted him to. He ran Poncho as often as he felt he could without causing the poor animal too much strain, and then would run laps as fast as he could as long as he could well into the night. But it was never enough, the women that tried to greet him as soon as he stepped out of the rodeo corral still enticed him to the point he had to nearly run back to his RV. All that hair, perfume, and how the hell where they making such good bras now adays? Though he was sure that some of breasts out there weren’t only held up by a bra but maybe some type of surgery, that didn’t sway him away any. Then the fact that in some of the more populous areas there were actual demon women in the crowds, and those he really had to avoid. He was sure they’d sense something about him, and he was doing his best to be incognito. Luckily his prior years of fooling around with plenty of the women at these things rarely had any of his crew spotting him being social, so now that he was hiding out on his own it went unnoticed. Coyote tried to run himself ragged, exercise, the rodeo, his variety of plants and a few sex toys paired unironically with the body pillow he had snuck on board, none of it had done the exact trick. Which had then led him to call Shishi. It had been a long shot, but it didn’t take much convincing getting him to come out to see him in secret, even if he was a bit miffed at having to mostly stay hidden at the events. Coyote let him have the pass into where the wives or girlfriend’s normally sat, and he posed in his refinery during the events when it fancied him. It had helped tire him out, but he still hadn’t been getting enoug

He thought he could remain out here for the full month, and they had gotten so close, it was almost silly to run now. But after the dream with her and Simon he just couldn’t deny the ache he felt for his mate any longer and he had to find his way back to her. Dawn was just about to break as he reached the portal and he wasted no time heading through it and heading towards where he had hidden his bike. He felt like a dog that had gotten a scent, and he wasn’t going to rest until he got to her. **** Four days later still hours from dawn, Coyote stashed the bike behind the hotel, barely taking care to hide it, and stumbled into the lobby. He had all the faith in the world that Sasuga was still in the tournament, and held the most hope that meant she was still in the hotel room that he had the key stashed for. He limped into the lobby where the clerk paled at the site of him. “Sir….” He said rushing around the desk and towards him. “Do you need a medic?” he asked looking him over.

Coyote didn’t waste the energy to speak to him and only shook his head as he stumbled forward before catching his balance again. He knew what he looked like, but wasn’t stopped as it was clear the clerk in his pristine uniform was afraid to touch him at all.

“Is there someone I can call?” he said walking along side him as Coyote shuffled to the elevator, bracing himself against the lobby wall and causing a smear of blood to press into the wall paper.

Coyote considered it for a moment, but shook his head again. If Sasuga was still in the tournament this late in the game there was a chance she was injured as well, and he wanted her to save her strength for fighting. He’d be okay. He just needed a shower, some stitches, and her.

The clerk did not follow him into the elevator, being the main hotel for the tournament he was surely not the only injured guest they received, and he retreated back to their desk, probably to call for maintenance to clean up whatever other mess Coyote had left behind him. He leaned against the wall as it started it’s ascension toward the upper floors, again leaving a smear of dirt and blood where his shoulder braced himself. A few droplets of blood dripping from somewhere onto the floor. It seemed to take forever for the elevator to reach it’s destination, the doors pausing once as a couple was about to get on, but after seeing him let him go on without a question. Coyote almost passed out, unsure if it was from blood loss or exhaustion, but the dinging and wooshing of the doors riled him, and he staggered out into the hallway. Knowing he was so close to Sasuga spurred him on, and he was relieved to find that the card key still worked. He let himself into the hotel room, finding it dark and quiet and he did his best to move with stealth into the bathroom. He passed the bed and spotted Sasuga sleeping peacefully by herself, he was grateful for this because with the rage that was still somewhat in his veins if he had found Simon with her he might have taken a regrettable action. In that moment iat took everything in him to not simply cover her with himself, though with how dirty he was he knew it would only concern her more. There was blood in his mouth and under his fingernails, matting his hair down and sticking to his hat. Better to clean himself up first, and he shut the bathroom door behind him before turning on the light.

He did his best not to look at himself in the mirror, but finding it a necessity to assess some of the damage. If he had made it this far like this it couldn’t have been too bad. Still he was in rough shape. Not only was his face cut, bruised, and swollen, but he had also lost enough weight that he appeared gaunt under the torn and dirty clothes he wore. He slowly undressed, assessing each wound, fresh bruises forming on top of old ones, some cuts that were still bleeding every time he moved, gashes that would no doubt need to be closed up. He hissed as some of the clothing stuck to him where blood had dried, let his effects fall to the floor, his gun empty and tucked back in his holster, and stepped into the shower letting the water strike at his feet until it was warm enough to step into. He braced himself against the wall, letting it flow over his hair and down his back, feeling the sense of relief start to fill him as well. He had made it, he was close to resting, and he was close to his mate, that was all he could ask for right now.

[adultish-momma]

Bonus Scene: Pay the Price

Yuu is not going to fall into the trap of doing the work without the title and the benefits thank you very much.

Warnings: The whole thing is just dialogue. I didn't write a single thing that wasn't being spoken out loud. It's mainly two separate conversations between two characters, but there are like, five 'speech bubbles' at the very end that is four distinct speakers, so feel free to ask me for clarification on who is speaking if you get confused!

A/n: While not fully on the "slander-Crowley" bandwagon (thank you weird complicated relationship with management/direct authority figures), no one is safe from Yuu's wrath. So let's cook some carrion.

P.S. If you want to place this in a timeline, the first conversation happens right after the beginning of Book 2, and the last conversation would be occurring soon into the interim of Book 2 and Book 3

"Crowley, I'm going to say this in the most polite and respectful way I can, but what the hell?"

"Language! Such aggression against your poor Headmage! Whatever have I done to deserve this treatment from my own student?"

"Did you or did you not just get out of another housewarden meeting?"

"Why yes, the meeting was actually quite productive for once. We were able to clear up some final details on an upcoming inter-dorm tournament. All because of my gracious guidance of course."

"An inter-dorm... Crowley, how many times do I need to tell you to invite me to Dormleader meetings? There is a student registered under my care, I have to know things! Like an inter-dorm tournament!"

"Yes yes yes, I'll remember next time, for I am oh so caring about my poor students' desires and needs. But would you look at that, I must be getting back to work, busy busy, running a school full of such unruly - I mean! Such energetic young men. Run along now Prefect, shoo, shoo"

--------

"Ah Headmaster, welcome back!"

"What- Wh- Prefect just what is the meaning of this?!"

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just updating my schedule with all of the Dormleader meetings you have planned for the rest of the semester. Oh! I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty to make a copy of last meeting's notes as well, since I was already here and all."

"Prefect, this is completely out of bounds. I let you get away with a lot, for I am ever so gracious, but breaking into my office to steal confidential information is beyond crossing the line. The Prefect of Ramshackle you may be, but you are not a housewarden. You do not have the same level of access, nor the same privileges that they receive. You would do well to remember this."

"Mmm. Is that so? Well, alright, message heard loud and clear. I'll be going now, good luck with all that paperwork."

"Paper- Prefect what is this stack of papers you're leaving behind!? This is nearly as tall as my beak is long!"

"Oh, all that? That's all the paperwork every dorm has to have completed for the school. Stuff like budgets and activity proposals and student reports. There's some extra in this stack since Ramshackle is being re-established, so some of this is things like drafts of the dorm code of conduct and mock-ups of uniforms for the Ramshackle students. At least 20 pages are just the building inspection "this absolutely needs to be fixed" checklist."

"And why have you decided to leave your paperwork behind on my desk?"

"Because that's all paperwork for the dorm leader to fill out. And I'm not a dorm leader. So when a dorm has no house warden or vice house warden, that dorm's assigned staff member takes on the duties of house warden until a student replacement can be assigned as the new dorm leader. And seeing as you're Night Raven's esteemed HeadMage, I'm sure you're well aware of the fact that you are the assigned staff member for Ramshackle dorm."

"O-of course I knew that. And as the esteemed HeadMage of this institution, I am much too busy to be doing so much paperwork for only one dorm. I would love to help my poor magicless student, for my heart is filled with such sorrow thinking about your tragic situation. But I am afraid that if I take on the house warden paperwork for Ramshackle, on top of all the ever-so-important duties I have as HeadMage of Night Raven College, I will never be able to search for a way to send you home Prefect."

"Are you trying to blackmail me into doing the work of a dorm leader, but receiving none of the benefits that come with that title?"

"Why I would never do such an outrageous thing! Me, blackmail a student? Why, I was just lamenting over how terrible your situation already is, and how much potential it has to get even worse."

"Speaking of my situation, I bet it would make such an interesting story to the news outlets and reporters throughout Twisted Wonderland. The magicless student from another dimension, brought here against their will, started as a janitor and is now the top student in their grade at the revered Night Raven College for the Arcane Arts. What an underdog story. Personally, I think Professor Ambrose at RSA will enjoy hearing about just how generous you've been to poor pitiful me."

"Yuu, are you blackmailing me?"

"Dire, do you want me to do the Ramshackle paperwork?"

...

...

"What exactly is it that you want?"

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

"Oh! Prefect, I didn't expect to see you here. Crowley hasn't arrived yet if you were looking for him. But you'll have to make it quick, for we should be trying to start our House Warden meeting fairly soon after he gets here."

"Oh thank you Riddle, but I'm here for the meeting."

"Oi, Herbivore, your ears are working, right? House Warden meeting. As in, not for cubs like you. So move along, before that crazy crow comes. Can't get a moment of peace if he sees his 'precious Prefect'"

"Ah well you see, the thing is-"

"Amazing! I see everyone is here and ready for the meeting to start. First order of business. I'd like you all to meet Yuu, the new Ramshackle House Warden."

[whatsnewalycat]

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 17: Run Away With Me

Word Count: 5k+

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags / CW: swearing, cheating/infidelity, smoking, smut, meeting extended family, alcohol use, let's talk about Lorraine, abandonment issues, panic attack, fluff, impact play, pain play, use of daddy in sexual context, oral sex (F receiving), PIV sex, karaoke, no Dan in this chapter hell yeah

Chapter Summary: Our heroes go on an overnight trip to San Antonio to attend a family get-together, then go out and sing karaoke.

Notes: Chapter title from "Run Away With Me" by Carly Rae Jepsen. I feel like this is one of my favorite chapters, but I also think that every week so WHO KNOWS. I just think they're cute. Alrighty, shall we?

[ First Chapter ] [ Previous Chapter ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ AO3 ]

Hilton Palacio del Rio, San Antonio, TX July 18, 1998

Out of all of the situations you’ve put yourself in these past few weeks, this is, by far, the most reckless. Which is saying something. Not only did you disobey Dan’s specific orders not to go to a party (although, frankly, he can go fuck himself), but you went to a party with your lover. And not only did you go to a party with your lover, but he introduced you as his girlfriend to his family. Exacerbating circumstances include (but are not limited to): staying the night with him in a hotel, drinking all day in the hot sun, and displaying affection very publicly.

It’s like the stars aligned for it to happen. Dan had a softball tournament 100 miles away all weekend and wouldn’t be back until Sunday night. Javi was already planning on going to his cousin’s house in San Antonio for a party, and asked if you wanted to come with him. When you told him yes, he called around and got a hotel room for the night, then came over to watch you freak out about what to wear for a half an hour. You were finally satisfied with a red slip dress adorned with a white floral pattern.

“See, it coordinates with your outfit because you’re wearing a white shirt,” you told him while applying red lipstick in the vanity mirror.

He smiled and shook his head, eyes glued to your ass, “Whatever you say, cariño.”

On the ride out, he tried his best to prepare you for what was to come. Being that you have 36 first cousins, you were raised in the world of chaotic family gatherings. However, you haven’t seen your extended family in years, and, thus, are out-of-practice.

“Now, you don’t have to drink everything they try to give you. Because they will try to liquor you up to extract information,” he ran his hand over his face and sighed, taking his eyes off the road, glancing down at your hand, “You should take off your engagement ring.”

“Oh, sure. I never think about it, sorry,” heat rose to your face as you took it off, dropping it into your wallet for safekeeping.

“I don’t know what would be worse: everyone finding out you’re engaged to another man or everyone thinking we’re engaged,” he chuckled.

A pain radiated through your chest as you winced and mumbled, “Yeah, because being engaged to me would be horrible.”

“Fuck, that’s not- I didn’t mean it like that. I- I mean my family would jump all over you with a million questions,” he stumbled, shifting in his seat, “I don’t think that… that would be horrible. I, um, I hope that some day I’ll be able-“

“You don’t… have to tell me that, Javi, it’s fine. I get it,” you smiled weakly and lit a cigarette, rolled the window down. An awkward silence settled until you sighed, “Besides, being engaged to me isn’t that great. I heard I’m kind of a slut.”

“Well that’s perfect, I love sluts,” he grinned over at you boyishly.

You laughed and rolled your eyes at him, “I love you.”

As soon as you opened the door to hop out of Javi’s truck, you knew this was going to be a wild day. The music playing in the backyard could be heard a half a block away. You brushed off your dress and shook your hands out nervously before he strode over to embrace you and whisper, “Try not to worry, baby, they don’t bite,” into your hair before kissing you, transferring a tint of red lipstick onto his lips.

You laughed, “Red is a good color on you,” before helping him wipe it off.

The rumblings of conversation grew louder with every step up to the house. The moment he swung the door open, time started to blur. A blur of faces, names, foods, drinks, questions, comments. More than once you were compared to Lorraine; you still didn’t know what to make of that. Apparently, that’s the only girlfriend he has introduced to his family in the past 15 years. You ate so much food you thought you would fucking explode, but wished you could have somehow eaten more because it was so delicious. Javi’s cousins offered you a few drinks, which you graciously accepted, not heeding his warning, because you figured the alcohol would counteract the anxiety.

As predicted, his cousins Jose and Ricardo did try to divulge information once you had a few drinks under your belt. Javi went to go to the bathroom while you were sitting at a table, tapping your foot to the music, just looking around, observing people. The duo sat down at the table, then Jose asked how you met his cousin.

“Well,” you squinted and tilted your head, then leaned forward towards him, “We actually met a few years ago here in San Antonio. He um-” a loud laugh flew out of your mouth, “I was out with my roommate, and they went home together, ditching me at the club.”

“No shit?” Jose laughed, throwing his head back, “What an idiot.”

“We ended up talking and watching the movie IT after she went to bed. And then we got to talk more and, um, stuff when he came to visit her again,” you nodded, looking away when heat rose to your face at the implication of and, um, stuff in that sentence.

“I swear, I remember this happening,” Ricardo told you, his warm brown eyes sparkling, animated face expressing freely as he talked, “He stayed with me for a few days while he was back from Columbia. He went home with some chicks while he was here, you know how he is- er, was. But I remember this time because he came back at 5am, waking me up, telling me about ‘I watched the killer clown movie with this girl’ like, what the fuck dude let me go back to sleep?”

“That is me, I am that girl!” you smiled from ear-to-ear, pointing to yourself.

“Look, he wouldn’t want me to tell you this, but,” Ricardo leaned in to spill the tea as Jose started laughing at his brother’s antics, “When he came back after seeing you the second time, he was talking about ‘I think I found her’, like ‘I didn’t even feel this connection with Lorraine, it was fucking crazy’ and I just tried to tell him that he needs to get some sleep, man.”

You laughed and your face hurt from smiling so big, “He’s never told me that before, that’s so sweet.” Instead of basking in the after glow of the saccherine story, you feel something ugly gnawing at your brain. It's that fucking name again. After looking around to make sure Javi isn’t nearby, you inquired, “So… what's the deal with Lorraine?”

The mood immediately shifted from playful secret telling to something markedly more serious. They looked at each other, then Ricardo sat back and shook his head as if to say I’m not touching this one. Jose leaned forward, “What has he told you?”

“That it was a relationship that didn’t work out,” you responded with a shrug, then took a swig of beer.

“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” Ricardo howled, shaking his head, “That fucking guy.”

“They were engaged,” Jose explained, ignoring his brother.

“Oh, shit, really?” your eyes widened.

He was fucking engaged? Why would he hide that from me?

“Yeah… yeah. He uhh… he left her at the alter,” Jose grimaced.

There it is, that’s why.

“Oh fuck,” your eyes widened through a nervous giggle, “That is… horrifying.”

“What is?” Javi questioned as he pulled out the chair on the beside you and sat down, leaning in towards the conversation.

“You guys want to do a shot?” Ricardo offered, changing the subject promptly.

“Fuck yes,” you slapped the table, “Let’s do it.”

I’m going to save all my worrying about the Lorraine thing for later. Maybe never. Maybe I can just forget I ever knew.

Trying to avoid turning into a complete shit show and embarrassing yourself, you tapered off your drinking after this. You wanted to toe the line between socially lubricated and drunk, but started stumbling into drunk territory. When the sun started to go down, you and Javi bid everyone farewell so you could go check into the hotel. You received goodbye hugs from at least a dozen people who told you that they were happy to have met you, and they’d see you again. You were tense during the drive to the hotel, which you tried to keep under wraps as long as possible.

As long as possible just happens to be until he swings the door to your room opens. You know that you have to talk about it or you’re going to fucking detonate. It feels like you’ve been lied to, or at least misled, and the weight of that knowledge is pressing down on your chest, growing stronger every time you turn the words over in your head:

He was engaged. He left her at the altar. He abandoned the fuck out of her. Is that what he’ll do to me?

“What do you wanna do tonight?” he asks as he sinks down into the bed next to you. You swallow hard and take a deep breath.

“Ok, first thing I need to do, actually, is umm… talk to you about something... so it will stop eating away at me,” you stammer, biting down on your cheek as you look to him.

He looks alarmed as his brow furrows and he sits up on his elbow, waiting for you to continue.

“Tell me… more about Lorraine,” you request as you search his face for clues. His eyebrows raise and eyes widen as he scratches his neck, obviously trying to figure out what to tell you. Trying to figure out what you know.

“We were together for years. We were… engaged,” he sighs, looking down at his hands, then back up to meet your eyes, “I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t… right. It wasn’t real. I backed out.”

You continue to bore your eyes into him, making him squirm.

“Fuck, ok,” he groans, “I didn’t show to the wedding. Turned around on my way there. Got the fuck out.”

His words hang in the air like a cloud of noxious gas. You get lightheaded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you breathe, drawing your eyebrows together as your shoulders slump.

He shakes his head, exhaling in exasperation before admitting, “I didn’t want you to know about that part of me. It’s ugly.”

Doesn’t he know I’ll love every ugly part of him?

“Yeah… yeah, I get that. It’s literally my worst fear,” you swallow hard, “Is… is that going to happen with me one day where you just… can’t? And disappear without warning? Will you decide this isn’t real?” You tear up at the thought. He doesn’t respond right away, just stares, mouth agape. Long enough for you to think that maybe you shouldn’t have brought this up. Long enough for you to think that you shouldn’t have even asked his cousins about Lorraine. Long enough to think that he must trying to figure out how to tell you yes. Once those thoughts start, it’s like a floodgate has been opened.

Of course he will disappear on you too, why wouldn’t he? Especially now that you’re confronting him about something. Now that you’re upset about something.

His tendrils are in my heart, if he rips them out I will die.

Panic spreads through your body like venom, burning your veins. You stand up out of bed and start pacing, flapping your hands back and forth frantically. The sobs start to rise in your chest but you try to shove them back down. You walk over to the dresser to dig in your purse for your cigarettes.

Javi jumps up and cups your face, bringing your eyes to his as he furrows his brow, “Hey, hey, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“I- I- I- I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry. It’s none of my fucking business. I shouldn’t have tried to talk about this and ruin our night. I’m always fucking ruining things like this. Fucking crying all the time, fuck. So fucking selfish. I’m sorry, Javi,” you ramble through the fat salty tears rolling down your face.

His face drops and he pulls you into a bear hug, then kisses the top of your head and mumbles, “Don’t apologize, there’s nothing to apologize for. I’m not upset with you at all, cariño.”

You let your emotions run free as you bury your face in his chest, sobbing all of your racing thoughts into his shirt, “You don’t want me, Javi, I’m fucking crazy. Do you see this? This is me. Do you see me? This is who I don't want anyone to know. I’m broken. I’m so fucking broken. I always have been. Just- just get it over with and leave me, it’s ok. At least I’ll know, it helps if I know, I can prepare-“

“Hey hey hey heyheyhey-“ he shushes you and cups your cheeks again, stroking the tears away from your eyes with his thumbs. His lips press against your forehead, then your nose, your cheek, other cheek, your chin, your lips. He whispers, “You ruined nothing. Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not leaving you-“

“You will, though, you will -“ you cry. Panic has fully hijacked your brain.

“Hey, I need you to look at me,” he tells you sternly, forehead pressing against yours. You nod, then look up into his eyes, chest heaving between the two of you. The connection starts to calm you down. He whispers again now, “Take a deep breath in through your nose, out through you mouth,” you follow the instruction, releasing tension on the exhale, “Good, that’s good. Keep doing that. Now… You didn’t do anything wrong. I love you. I swear on my mother’s grave I will not disappear.”

Your body shudders with a sob, “Ok.”

“Ok. Come lay down with me, baby,” he pulls you towards the bed. You sniffle and nod, following him, then settle into a fetal position on your side and concentrate on breathing. He lays down next to you and plays with your hair as you work through your terror.

After a few minutes, he takes a deep breath and speaks softly, “I'm sorry for not telling you about Lorraine. This is real. Me and you. I don’t know what it is, but it just feels… right with you. When I’m with you, I don’t want the time to end. I love you,” he rolls over on his side to face your back, words kissing the nape of your neck, “Even when I knew you before. I know it sounds like bullshit, but I swear to god… after I met you, almost every night while falling asleep, I would think of the beautiful woman I met in San Antonio who- who watched movies with me and made me smile and,” he cautiously envelops one of your hands in his. You roll over to face him. Once he realizes you’re allowing him to keep your hand in his, a soft smile dances across his face, and he strokes your palm with his thumb.

He continues with shaky breath, “She held my hand in one of the darkest times of my life. I would think about how being with her felt… like that’s how it’s supposed to be. I felt I could talk to her about anything. How the sex was fucking incredible, as if we were made for each other,” he gulps and waits a beat before whispering, “I would think about how badly I fucked up by letting her go.”

Hands lay intertwined between your bodies as he waits for you to say something. It’s so quiet you can faintly hear your heart pounding in your chest. All those nights laying in bed, restless and lonely, longing for the connection you felt with this fucking guy, feeling pathetic, wondering if he even remembered you. And he did the same thing.

“I thought about you all the time, too,” you whimper. He squeezes your hand and the corners of your mouth turn upward, “I didn’t know it was like that for you, too. When I saw you again and you didn’t recognize me… I was devastated. I felt like… such a fucking loser.”

He sighs and licks his lips thoughtfully, then meets your gaze, “When I was in Columbia, it changed me. I don’t remember a lot of details from that time. I was just... surviving. I- I couldn’t recognize your face when I saw you in Laredo. I just knew I was drawn to you. Even after you screamed at me in the middle of a fucking parking lot,” he smiles and you burst out laughing at the memory. He continues, “But as soon as I heard your laugh, it clicked. You’re her.”

The way he says her makes heat pool in your stomach. Her. Like you’re Aphrodite herself. A goddess, the answer to a prayer. You’re breathless as the butterflies are roused and start flittering around your chest.

He brings your wrist to his mouth, parting his lips to kiss the knotted scar tissue. A reminder that he loves every part of you. Even the parts you find so revolting that you’ve spent countless hours trying to decide if they’re worth fixing, or everyone’s better off if you scrap the whole project.

You reclaim your wrist from his grasp to run your fingers through his hair. To trace the wrinkles on his face, the shape of his lips, the arch of his nose. His face softens at your touch. In just a whisper, you tell him that you love him.

The response comes in the form of a kiss, delicate at first. But it’s like when sharks taste blood and go on a feeding frenzy. You taste his saliva and need to fucking devour, arching into him as his mouth responds with the same ferocity. He wastes no time blindly yanking your dress down so he can grab handfuls of your bare tits so hard you gasp into his mouth.

“Is that too hard?” he asks, already a panting mess.

“No, no I fucking love it, baby.” you mewl breathlessly as you push yourself closer.

“Fuck,” he groans as he squeezes even harder, watching you, eyes hot on your skin, as you moan and bite your lip. It’s pain, but it makes you feel fucking electric, tugging at something so satisfying in you. After so many blue, wretched, draining feelings hurting you from the inside… you want the red, bruising, stinging feelings on the outside. To reach some kind of equilibrium. Balance the scales.

A hand slips up the hem of your dress and rips your underwear off, then rubs up and down your slit. He moans, “Fuck, baby girl you’re so wet for me,” when he feels the slick spilling out of your aching, needy cunt. You whine and nod frantically as you thrust into his hand and start to grind against it. He tightens his vice grip on your tit, making you shudder, then he releases, “I want you face down ass up.”

“I want you to get undressed,” you huff in response.

He grins and raises an eyebrow, “Your wish is my command, princess.”

This brings a wide smile to your face as you watch him unbutton his white shirt, still wet with your tears, mascara and red lipstick smeared on it.

I must look like a fucking dream right now if that’s what his shirt looks like.

You pull the dress over your head, throwing it on the floor, then prop yourself up on your elbows, ass in the air facing him. One split second after you hear his pants hit the floor, his mouth is on you, lapping your juices up. You groan, “Fuck yes, Javi,” and tilt your pussy towards him as far as you can. He starts rolling his tongue on your clit, sending you sputtering. The fire is stoked inside you, swirling around.

He pulls back from eating your pussy to slap his hand to your ass cheek, literally making you growl, “Fuck yes, daddy, keep slapping my ass I fucking love it.” He complies, smacking until you’re sure your ass is beet red. The entire concept of humanity flies out of your brain. Each lash pulls a guttural moan from your lips. He grunts and curses, watching as your cunt floods more and more.

“Holy fuck, eat my pussy again, baby, please-“

“Please daddy,” he corrects, pulling all contact off of your body.

“P- please daddy please eat my pussy,” you whimper desperately, arching back.

“Ooooh fuck baby girl,” he coos, running his fingers through your swollen lips, covering them in your slick. His tongue returns to your clit, flicking the sensitive nub, as he sinks two fingers inside you and starts to fuck you. This causes you to dissolve into a whimpering, blithering mess. The fire in your center grows wider and wider.

“Keep- keep going daddy I’m going to cum yes yesyesyes just like- that it’s fucking perfect oh-“ your mouth holds the o shape as an you convulse around his fingers, still pumping into you. You try to clamp your legs shut with no avail. He holds you there, spread open so he can work you through the orgasm. He pulls his fingers out and runs his tongue between your lips to your opening, lapping at your cum, moaning into your cunt as you writhe and whimper.

Once satisfied, he climbs on top of you, taking hold of your face to wrench it towards him, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You reach behind and clutch his hair, pulling his face closer, licking and kissing indiscriminately. You even lick his fucking mustache, even though it feels rough against your tongue.

“I want you so bad,” he rasps, grabbing at your waist.

“Then fucking take me, Javi,” you growl, pushing your ass against him as you start to grind against his throbbing cock, “Make me fucking cum again, please, daddy.”

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispers, “get on your knees.”

As he returns to the end of the bed, you slide back onto your knees, presenting yourself to him. His fingers dig into your hips, lighting your body up with goosebumps, and sinks his cock inside you. He chokes out, “H- holy shit, baby girl, your pussy is fucking perfect.”

He drags it out, and in your state of delirium, you whimper, “Its just for you, Javi, it’s yours- nobody else can have me.”

He starts driving into you, languid and deep, taking time to bury his fat cock in your cunt as far as it can go with each thrust. It feels like every nerve ending inside you is lighting up. Javi croaks, “Fuck yes, you’re all mine, cariño,” and starts fucking you faster, snapping his hips into yours, hitting something with just the right pressure and pace.

It’s at this point you start reduce from a human into puddle, choking out moans as his cock fills you over and over again. He groans and pulls out of you to flip you over, then starts rutting into you with such speed and force, it rips a sob from your throat. He pants, “Look at me.”

When you meet his gaze, your eyebrows draw together, there’s a tangible connection between the two of you. Love pools in your center, hedonistic as it swells, making your ears ring and your legs tremble. Your foreheads press together and the whimpers you’re panting out become gasping breaths as another wave of ecstasy crashes down onto you, swallowing you whole. He cups your face and steals sloppy, frantic kisses from you when his hips stutter and he finds his release.

The kisses slow to a trickle of delicate pecks as you both start to regain humanity, sweating and gasping for air. He tumbles sideways and sprawls out next to you.

“Jesus Christ, Javi,” you pant, casting a glance his way.

“What?” he laughs while grabbing blindly for his cigarettes and ashtray.

You shake your head, unable to get rid of the dopey smile plastered on your face, “I think that’s the hardest I’ve ever cum in my life.”

He has an equally dopey smile as he rolls onto his side and lights two cigarettes, handing you one. On the exhale, he mumbles, "Fucking love magic."

You smoke in silence for a minute or two, regaining your composure and resting heart rate.

“What now?” he asks eventually.

“Ok, well, I was thinking… I’ve really been wanting to do karaoke,” you tell him, observing his reaction.

Yes? No? Maybe?

“Karaoke?” he groans with the faintest hint of interest glimmering just below the surface.

I’ll take that as a maybe.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll get drunk before we take the plunge,” you slap his chest playfully, then bite your lip and jump up, puffing on your cigarette as you float over to the bathroom mirror. The person in the reflection has mascara bleeding down her cheeks and smeared around her eyes, lipstick gone, skin and hair drenched in sweat.

“Fine,” he smiles, peering over at you through the bathroom door.

You look at him in the reflection and scoff, “First of all, don’t act like you’re not a little excited. Second of all, how could you fuck me when I look like this? I’m a mess.”

He grinds his cigarette out in the ash tray and makes his way behind you, wrapping his arms around your bare belly as his lips press against your shoulder. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he mutters, “You’re fucking beautiful.” It’s so sincere it makes your stomach flip, smile stretching across your face. He lays a kiss on your temple then inquires with a slap on your ass, “You wanna hop in shower with me?”

—

Four.

It takes four drinks before the two of you have enough gusto to put your names on the docket for karaoke. You agree to keep your songs a secret from each other. In the meantime, you people-watch, joke around, and talk about music. He asks what your favorite musical artist is, to which you reply it’s impossible to pick one, to which he replies, “That’s absolute bullshit.”

“It’s not, there’s so much good music! I can’t choose!” you throw your hands up defensively.

“Fine, give me 3,” he slaps his hand on the bar top. You’re both a little boozy, needing the liquid courage to do the dang thing, so the conversation is growing rowdier by the minute.

“FINE,” you snarl like a brat, earning a cheeky smile from him, “Let’s see… Hole, Violent Femmes, and…” you shake around the options in your head until you decide, “ABBA.”

“I can respect those choices,” he nods, takes a long sip from his drink, then adds, “Prince and Johnny Cash are the big ones for me.”

You smile from ear-to-ear and lean your head onto his shoulder a little, “I love that. Both very worthy artists.”

“So what song did you pick?” he asks with a sly smirk, then lays a kiss on your forehead.

“Javier FERDINAND Peña you know I can’t tell you. For shame,” you gasp theatrically, then sit up straight to take a drink.

Your name comes over the speakers and it’s your time to shine.

It is… terrifying. And so fun . You sing “Me and Bobby McGee” by Janis Joplin. Javi stands close to the stage with an unshakeable smile on his face, cheering you on and swaying his hips. When the song is over, he howls WOOO so loud your face turns hot as you walk off stage.

Javi sings “Kiss” by Prince. He dances in place and points at you while singing in his falsetto voice, almost hitting the highest notes. Which is, honestly, shocking and impressive, considering how deep his voice is. While watching, you dance and sing along, face hurting from smiling. And there’s not one single doubt in your body that you are hopelessly, irretrievably, relentlessly fucking in love with him.

On the drunken amble back to the hotel from the karaoke bar, you’re in love with the world, too. You stop in this 24 hour diner to get some greasy food before going to bed.

“Do you ever, like, just stop and think about how fucking beautiful this earth is? How amazing humans are?” you ask him loudly, “I don’t know if it’s because I’m drunk, or because I’m in love, or because this is the best cheeseburger I’ve ever had in my life, but its like… I’m so happy, Javi.”

He giggles at your introspection, “I am too.”

“My best friend is coming down this week, do you want to meet her?”

“Claudia? Fuck yeah, I’d love to meet her. What day does she come in?”

“Wednesday. Maybe we can go out to the bar or something.”

He nods as he takes a bite of his cheeseburger. It’s quiet for a moment as your mind wanders from all of the lovely things in the world, into real life.

“You know what sucks? I just know when I go home, it’s going to be hell. I hate it there,” you frown, picking at the french fries on your plate, “I want to run away with you. I hate him.”

“Running away doesn’t work long term, trust me,” he dismisses the comment immediately, then reaches over to grab some of your fries and shove them into his mouth, “The chickens always come home to roost.”

“That’s not the saying,” you scoff, “It’s the rooster always comes home to the chicken.”

Laughter bubbles out of him, “You’re so wrong right now, I don’t know where to start.”

“Kiss my ass, Peña,” you shoot back, so loud that a fellow customer turns and glares at you.

He keeps laughing, then looks up at you with sparkling eyes, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a fucking brat when you’re drunk?”

You hum, “Once or twice.”

“I like it,” he coos.

“Good,” you wink.

“You’re getting better at that,” he grins, “Alright let’s go.”

[ Next Chapter ]

[thatonerandomchick1]

That Mouth and a Quick Taste

Hello! This is the second part in the That Mouth Series, I hope you like it!

The Kyoto Exchange Event was put on pause after we were ambushed by the unregistered special grade curses. Fushiguro was injured during the fight and was now resting after being treated by Shoko. 

I knocked on Nobara’s door. “Kugisaki I have an idea. I’m going to go check on Fushiguro. Shoko texted me and told me he should be waking up soon.”

“Figures you want to check on Fushiguro. I could care less. Who would want to see an even more grumpy and brooding Fushiguro,” Nobara asks while getting dressed to leave.

“He got hit with that special grade’s technique, so I just want to make sure he’s okay. Is that so bad?” My eyes follow her around the dorm room. I love how she’s literally getting dressed but saying she doesn’t want to go. 

“Yeah sure,” she chided walking straight past me and out the door.

“For someone who didn’t want to see him, you sure did beat me out the room Nobara.”  As we walked down the hall and out of the dorms, we came to meet  itadori.

“Yuji what are you doing here?”

“Nobara texted me just now saying you were going to see Fushiguro, so I ran as quick as I could to come with you,” Yuji sheepishly explained.

“You ran all the way here? And that fast?” You knew Itadori could run but damn! Maybe he should have took up Olympic training instead of Sorcery.

“Yeah, but to tell you the truth I was already running from someone,” he mentions under his breath.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Nobara stated.  “Let’s just go.”

After a brief walk, we arrived to see a wild Fushiguro in his natural habitat. 

Sulking in bed.

“Oi… Don’t get to excited to see us. You might pop a blood vessel,” teases  Nobara.

You lightly push her away, “Oh leave him alone! You know how he is.”

“Fushiguro!” 

Yuji all but runs over to greet his brooding friend. “Would you keep it down, my head hurts,” Megumi chides.. a small smile appearing on his face.

What a softie.

“We figured you were hungry so we ordered some pizza. It should arrive any minute,” Nobara explains with a small smirk on her face to which Fushiguro causally wipes from her face with his next statement. 

“Pizza? Really? That’s the first thing you think of to bring me to eat?”

Kugisaki, not one to ever let someone to have the last word, “Well I didn’t have to think at all. See just ungrateful!” She threw her arms up dramatically and looked at you for justification. You just shook my head. 

“Technically, you didn’t think about food, Yuji did,” you replied.

“Figures.”

Oh hush Fushiguro! You should be glad that I am even here. My presence is a present. Kiss my ass,” Nobara joked.

Unable to keep it together, we all laughed at Nobara and her shenanigans. Gotta love her.

Shortly after, the pizza arrived, we all sat and talked regarding our current situation: The botched Kyoto exchange event.

“Can you believe that they are continuing the exchange event,” Kugisaki stated annoyed. 

“Nobody but Gojo! Over here spewing mess like they’re kids they should be able to enjoy the pleasures of youth,” you replied as you recalled a piece of your conversation with the man-child before his meeting with the higher ups. 

“He needs to take us on a vacation.”

“Right?!”

“Correct.”

“And should,” you added. 

“Who do you think we’ll have to fight tomorrow?” asked Yuji. 

“I don’t know, but what do know is that it can’t be good messing around with Gojo. We might as well be in a  holiday bake off tournament or  something outrageous to that effect.” 

“You’re probably right. Just give him raw sugar.. you’ll win,” Megumi adds.

“I wish they’ll cancel it all together. I mean you’re still hurt Megumi, Nobara got knocked the hell out , and Yuji was barely removed from Kyoto high’s most wanted,” You say nonchalantly.

“First of all it was a sneak attack…,” defended Nobara.

“Still counts.”

“Shut up itadori! Who’s side are you on anyway?”

 You laughed and went to reach for the last slice of pizza. 

However, at the same time, Yuji was as well.

You both make eye contact and a intense staring match ensues.

“Itadori…. I love you ,but I’m gonna eat this last slice.”

Itadori places one hand on his chest and feigns a hurt expression as he says your name. “I’m touched but not enough for you to have the last slice.”

“You gonna let him talk to you like that?” Megumi instigates. That little trouble maker.

“No, but I do know how we can settle this. Rick paper scissors,” you reply.

“No!! I always lose.”

“And your point?”

“He’s right! He does always lose at that game,” Nobara defends.

“Ok! Okay! Let’s play thumb war,” You suggested in defeat.

“Deal,” itadori agrees as he puts his hand out to grab yours. You grasp his hand in yours ready to begin the children’s game.

“I’m all for girl power y/n, but Yuji’s hand all but swallows yours.”

“Don’t do me Nobara!   And thanks for the support,” you yell sarcastically.

The epic thumb battle commences and it honestly carries out for too long. It was just a never ending cycle of Yuji trying to manhandle your thumb, and you almost snatching your hand away only for him to pull it back. You used your pinky finger to tickle his palm in a attempt to through him off his game, when you felt something warm and wet touch your palm.

“Ewww! What the hell Yuji?” You scream as he pinned your thumb.

“I win!”

You immediately pull your hand back when he lets go. You look down at his hand only to see a mouth smirking back at you.

“Tasty.”

Realizing what had occurred, Yuji began to apologize profusely. “I’m so sorry… y/n are you ok?”

You were more shocked than anything. “Yuji I’m really gonna beat your ass.”

“What! It wasn’t me!”

“Gross itadori,” Fushiguro states.

“Yeah, that’s pretty nasty. Sukuna just licked her hand. He doesn’t even know where your hand has been and he’s licking it like that,” add Nobara.

“I’ll lick much more if this brat let’s me out.”

Before Yuji could say anything, you shove the last slice of pizza into Sukuna’s mouth.

“Eat it and weep you horny ass curse.”

“Hey that was my slice,” whined Itadori.

“You still got it, didn’t you?” You bite back.

“I’m truly sorry y/n. He gets a little excited when you’re around.”

“That’s a little worrisome, but I trust you itadori.” You couldn’t really blame the poor guy. It wasn’t his fault that a old ass curse decided to taunt you consistently. Now, it was time to do some taunting of your own. If Sukuna wanted petty, he’d get petty. 

“First my ass, now hand. My, my, does Sukuna have a little crush?” You tease the spirit.

“Don’t tease him! That’s not a good idea.”

“Oh come on Fushiguro! What’s the worse that could happen?” Nobara adds.

Sukuna does not reply. Even after all the teasing and berating you and Nobara do. The conversation moves on and gets interrupted by Todo who ends up chasing Itadori off.

Later that night, Sukuna’s thinking about how you and the red haired brat berated him today.

He gets mad but calms down when he recollects on how adorable you looked. The smile on your face. The sparkle in your eye.

He grins maliciously and licks his lips in an attempt savor your taste.

He must have you, he thinks.

And have you he will.

[volleychumps]

« Progressive Rivalry

Omg I love your blog 🥺 could I get a scenario or one shot with iwaizumi or Sakusa (or honestly any character you’d like!) where u run into each other at every tournament and it started out as a bitter rivalry but then they got rly worried bc u got hurt and they’re like “why do I care!?” Does that make sense? Ahaha 😅

~ just why do you keep running into the guy you hate most, especially when he equally hates your guts as well?

format: One-Shot 

genre: fluff

- includes: Iwaizumi Hajime

Warning(s): swearing, slight mention of blood, enemies to lovers trope 

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

“Oh look, my best friend’s here.” 

“Fuck off.” 

A sarcastic grin tickles your lips as you place a hand over your chest, pouting mock-affectionately as the dark haired spiker wipes at his sweaty neck with a damp towel. You adjust the gym bag on your arm as the rest of your team begins to warm up, already used to this turn of events. 

“Aw, Iwa! You always manage to warm my cold, dead heart. If you have a crush on me, just say so. Are you some kind of stalker?” 

“Hah? A stalker? You wish.”  Iwaizumi stands as the red-headed one and popular brunette behind him stifle their amused laughter into their fists. “Who would like looking at your ugly mug all day?” 

The spiker’s failed attempt to intimidate you with his height had your smile widening in challenge, the insult not hurting a bit.  In fact, you lean a little closer, fake sniffing as if he had genuinely hurt your feelings. 

“Yep. I definitely want this temperamental six year old in the body of a seventeen year old to show an ounce of interest in me. How’d you know?” 

“How can I not show interest in things that perturb me?” 

“So you are interested.” You wink. “Don’t hurt your pretty little head over using words that are too complicated for your brain.” You lean around him to shoot a sweet smile to his teammates, ignoring the flash of irritation across Iwa’s face. 

“Issei, Oikawa, Hiro!” You flash a thumbs up, your pretty smile almost blinding. “You guys were cool.” 

“Y/N-chan~ you’re such an angel!” 

“Angel my ass.” 

“Oh. You’re still here.” Your voice falls dejected as Iwaizumi gains an irk mark on his forehead. Glancing back at your team, you smile and wave at the other three. “Gotta go warm up, cheer for me!” 

“Good luck!” Matsukawa calls after you, merely grinning when Iwaizumi shoots him an irritated stare. 

“Not gonna wish the love of your life a good game?” Hanamaki questions, already beginning to walk off while smirking into his water bottle as his dark-haired friend merely scoffs. The teasing from his trio of “friends”  wasn’t anything new. 

“I don’t think that thing is capable of loving.”

“Yeah yeah, you love her, we get it.” 

Iwaizumi groaned inwardly, sitting down tiredly on the bleachers to rest up as your team littered your side of the net. His jaw clenched when you offered him a lazy wave, kneeling slightly in your position as a libero. 

There were many things Iwaizumi had could say about your character or even the irritating smile on your lips at his blatant annoyance, but he couldn’t deny how well your team mixed. Oikawa whistled lowly as Hanamaki absently mentions to Matsukawa about how the other team hardly stood a chance. 

Iwaizumi blinks, feeling a pit of annoyance in his gut as the boys in the stands whistled at every save you made, the pit deepening even further at the smile you cast in their direction. 

“You’ll get frown marks Iwa-Chan!” 

“Shut the hell-” 

“Oh shit! Y/N!” 

Iwaizumi’s head whips back in the direction of your match at the sound of Hanamaki’s exclamation just in time for the collision. 

And then his breath caught in his breath so abruptly he almost choked. 

You clutched your ankle, teeth biting so deep into your lip so hard Iwa swore he could see a bead of blood as you withheld an obvious wail of pain. Your teammate knelt by your side with a hand clamped over her mouth in shock, Iwa being able to make out from your teammates’ panic that someone had accidentally shoved you so hard to the side you swore you heard your ankle snap in an attempt to stabilize yourself. 

“Y/N-chan!” 

“Is she okay?” 

But Iwa wasn’t listening, all distaste for you seeming to drown out of his system as he wondered, 

wondered why the hell he cared so much about the girl who tried her hardest to get under his skin. Your witty retorts, your wide grin, the softness of your irises, and the pang in his chest every time you jokingly bumped your shoulder against his in passing- 

that same girl who’s cheeks were now shining with spilled tears causing him to rise to his feet. 

“Oi Iwaizumi, where are you going?” 

He didn’t spare a glance to your teammates as they silently made way for the wide-shouldered spiker, dark eyes assessing the damage as he bent down, swooping you up into his arms as if you hadn’t weighed a thing. He ignored the stares and wolf whistles from his team as he hurried out of the gym and in the direction of the infirmary towards the specialists who were trained for these events, heart tugging at the sound of your whimpers. 

“I’ve had dreams about this.” You mumble, eyes clenched shut as tears built up on your closed eyelids, arms wrapping around his neck tighter as you buried your face in his neck. “Please be hot, that’s all I’m asking for.”

“You’re still joking at a time like this?” Iwa’s voice cracks at the proximity, wondering why on earth his chest was pounding in his ears as your eyes shot open. Immediately, you begin to squirm, your face heating up as Iwaizumi continues his hurried stride, barely sparing you a glance. 

“You’re taking me?” 

“No.”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me!” 

Iwaizumi leans his head in the opposite direction, away from the volume of your voice, but he couldn’t stop the slight tilt of amusement on the right side of his lips as you seemed distracted by the obvious pain in your ankle. Mission successful. 

He ignores your protests to set you down, frowning at your claims to wanting anyone else to have taken you. Even the brunette one.

“See, now that’s just plain insulting.” Iwa’s eyes narrow at you as he finally sets you down on one of the cots, about to walk off to find the doctor before a hand weakly tugs at the bottom of his jersey. 

“....I think they’ll come soon. Can you...just stay? Just until they come?” 

Iwaizumi blinked. Then blinked again. 

Iwaizumi clears his throat, recovering from his shock before pulling up a stool and grabbing a nearby first aid kit. He tilted your chin up with his fingers, his gentle touch causing your cheeks to flare up as your eyes took on a vulnerable edge. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” It was genuine curiosity, anything to alleviate the strange heaviness in his chest when he acknowledged that fact that you despised him so.

Your eyes widen at the sudden attack, wincing a little as the cotton pad dabs at your lips, soaked in alcohol. “Why do you?” 

“I don’t hate you.”

“Oh-” 

“I just think you’re annoying as hell.” 

“Well I think that not a single thought goes on behind those pretty eyes.” 

“So you think my eyes are pretty?” 

The silence is heavy as you shake your head no quickly, causing Iwa to click his tongue and scold you to stay still as he keeps his eyes trained on your-

oh god he’s looking at your lips. 

“Yes.” You’re almost whispering, shyly avoiding his widened gaze as you lean away from him.

He stumbles over his words at your direct response, unprepared for the way in which you lean a little further back, eyes nervous and not at all the sarcastic gleam he knows as he swallows back the lump in his throat. 

“Well,” and then his hand is cupping the side of your face as he tugs you closer, confusion swirling in his head as his heart surges him forward, practically mumbling against your lips in a daze before he could stop himself. 

“I think you’re prettier.” 

He wanted to smirk at how he could practically see smoke puff out of your head. 

“Even if you hate me?” 

“I’m honestly not sure I ever did.” 

The distance is closed by you, a hand coming up to run your fingers through his dark locks as his thumb strokes your cheek, lips moving feverishly together as you attempt to pull back-

If he let you go, would you go back to hating one another? 

only for him to kiss you back even harder as if he was satiating some sort of hunger, a smile growing on your lips before a shot of pain shoots through your leg, bringing you back to reality as you whine against his lips. Iwaizumi gasps, ignoring your giggles and assuring words that you’re fine, carefully laying you down on your back while elevating your ankle. 

“Y/N.” 

“First name basis? Look at us skipping all the necessary steps.” you tug your hair out of it’s knot, attempting to redo it with a hair tie between your lips as the pain in your ankle falls to a dull throb. 

“What did....are we...?”

“Does the Iwaizumi Hajime want to know if we’re a thing or not?” Your smile has his cheeks flushing, stare becoming irritated. 

“Oi. Nevermi-” 

“Yes, idiot. Now run along and fetch my things, will you?” 

He rolls his eyes at your playful wink, ensuring your injured ankle was positioned properly before beginning to exit the infirmary-

“And Iwa?”

“What is it, doll?” 

Your chest leaps at the nickname, Iwaizumi beginning to smirk at the change in expression on your face before you clear your throat. 

“Thank you.” 

It was one of the most sincere things you had ever said to him. 

Your unexpected boyfriend kissed you on the lips a second time after a few strides, any confusion within him seeming nonexistent as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The way you gazed up at him had his chest doing somersaults, wondering if you were both just denying the attraction you felt towards one another before fate took its turn. 

“Nah, I should be thanking you.” 

“For what?” 

“Hurting your ankle-” 

“Get out.” 

Iwa’s feeling like an idiot with the lilt to his lips when the door slides shut and something hits the door where his head would have been, the slight smile fading back to his usual scowl at the sight before him. 

His three friends had identical grins on their faces, Matsukawa holding a #1 fan balloon and Hanamaki decked out in merch from your school. He narrows his eyes at the bouquet of flowers tucked behind Oikawa’s back. All obviously from the themed store of the tournament. 

Guess he didn’t need to worry about whether or not you would enjoy his idiotic friends’ company. 

“So you're whipped. Didn’t see that one coming.” 

“Whatever.”

“Iwa, where are you going?” 

“...to go get her things.” 

“You so love her.” 

“Shut the hell up and don’t enter her room until I get back.”

It was only when the dark-haired spiker turned the corner, looking behind and in front of him before his back hits a nearby wall as he attempts to calm his heartbeat, swearing he had never felt such a wild surge of energy through his veins as his lips tingled with the taste of you. He sighs, touching the hair tie that he stole from you when he kissed you a second time from within his pocket, wondering just when his hatred melted into the exact opposite. 

He was so whipped.

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

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Hi all! How are you lovelies doing? I’m going to be on here more often, thank you for 9k and your patience with me has helped me so much! This was one of my requests that I wanted to use to slide back into the swing of things, so I hope you enjoyed! <3

[blissfulparker]

Wipeout⇔ Surfer!Dad!tom

Parings: surfer!dad!tom x surfer!reader

Summary; You and Tom spend your whole relationship in the water. Surfing under the summer sun and competing in summers biggest surf competition. To a surpise, you and Tom take on the biggest challenge nature could throw at you. A baby.

Wc: 9k

Warnings: mentions of insecurities durning pregnancy, fluff

A/n: I know this isn’t a birthday themed fic for Toms b-day but I hope you all enjoy! My little spin on a summer fic with dad!tom 🥰

June.

The summer breeze rose goosebumps to your skin. Your hands coming up to rub your arms as the water was only a bit colder today.

it was summer, the best part of the year when you lived with a beach in your backyard. Spending your whole life surfing you now prepared for the summer tournament that happened only weeks away from now. Surfers, fans, media come in from nearly all over the world just to compete.

To feel a wave under their boards and the adrenaline that rushes through your blood when you finally get on top. The same competition that lead you to Tom, Tom who was now your boyfriend of two years. At first, you laughed at the boy.

Pale, shy—yet so cocky and from London of all places. The most water they got is from the sky. You wanted to laugh with your friends for how confident he was acting, little rain boy wanted to have a chance in the big ocean and he did. To your shock, he scored better than you and scored to be in the top 10. Your laughs stopped after competition and maybe it was the slight momentary enemy thing or it was that deep blue bikini that made him find you after the games and get you out for a drink.

That drink was truly a shared basket of fish and chips as you talked more and more about each other. Pale, rainy London boy ended up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

“You wiped out twice!” He sits atop his board and your hands rub over your face.

“Maybe because I’m distracted!” You splash water in his direction. His toned abs always tanner during g this year and it was hard for the both of you to control yourself. “I’m just tired, stressed.” You shrugged it off truthfully.

“You fell asleep at 8:00 last night, grandma.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Competition stress.” You point to him and he shrugs. If he’s honest, within the two years he’s known you, two years he’s loved and wondered where you had been all his life, he knew your stress. When you were stressed you oftentimes took long showers or wrote in your journal for hours on end but this time your stress was sleeping early/in late and a few times he’s caught you throwing up. All under the name of stress.

He didn’t push anything though, reminding you that he is there and you could tell him anything. But nonetheless, he left you be and just kissed your cheek and told you everything was okay.

“Race you to shore and whoever gets back inside first gets the leftover chicken from last night!” He starts to swim and you quickly flatten yourself on your board.

“What are we like five?” You call out but still push yourself to go faster. Pushing yourself to race him to shore.

Even though Toms board was definitely double his size, he still beat you into the house, already washed off and reheating the leftovers for lunch. After a morning swim you always had lunch before you went off to work where you would teach little kids how to surf. No matter what, you were always around the water.

“So I was checking the competition list this week, checking to see if there’s anyone new…” he trails off on a story. The two of you share the chicken and fries before you suddenly get a disgusted taste in your mouth. The chicken suddenly becomes sour in your mouth but you force yourself to swallow, Tom notices the change and he stops everything to make sure you’re okay.

“Darling, what is it?” He has a worried look but you shake your head.

“Nothing—it’s nothing. I-I just think this part of my chicken was a bit undercooked and it grossed me out. It’s nothing.” You smiled at him and he waited a second before continuing his story.

But that wasn’t the end of it, the next bite even more sour and this time you drop your fork and open the trash can to spit it out. The spitting then followed by spitting up all of your breakfast and lunch. Tom quickly coming to move any stray hair and rubbing your back as he tried to not throw up himself.

When you were done, he quickly closed the trash can lid and got you into the bathroom where he assembled the toothbrush for you.

“Peaches, I know that you told me not to worry but this is the third time this week.” He folded his arms as he leans against the wall.

“I’m fine.” You say through a mouth filled with toothpaste. Spitting into the sink and rinsing your mouth while also splashing some water over your face. When you look back up, just a bit, your eyes flicker to the untouched box of tampons.

One week late wasn’t so bad, one week late was just some built up stress and every women had been a week or two late before. But before tom can take notice in your distraction, you turn around to him who hands you a towel.

“But you’re not fine.” He argues a bit gently, not wanting to offend you.

“Tom, in school I would throw up during exam seasons all the time. It’s just stress okay? Better than losing hair or breaking out I guess.” You try and joke with him but he doesn’t exactly laugh. Just stares at you worried and you push back a few of his curls.

“Hey, look at me,” you tell him and his eyes meet yours. “I’m fine, seriously! Just a bit of stress and nothing the ocean water and you can’t fix.” You kiss his cheek and he finally smiles.

“Can you go see a doctor? For yourself and if not for yourself then for me, I want you to do good at competition and you know they won’t let you compete if you are sick in anyway.” He rubs up and down your sides and you sigh. Hating the doctors but you agree.

“Okay, okay. I’ll make an appointment but they will just tell me I just have butterflies.” You tell him and that’s when he grows a smirk.

“Aw, babe, I didn’t know after all these years I still gave you butterflies!” He teased and you rolled your eyes playfully nudging your body against him. Both leaving the bathroom, your eyes flicker over to the untouched box to tampons that just taunt you one last time before tom shuts the bathroom door. It was possible, you just didn’t want it to be possible just yet.

-

“I should’ve canceled, I should be there!” Tom speaks through the phone. You sat in an empty, cold doctors office waiting for blood results to get back.

Despite Toms over worrying, everything was fine. They couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you and agreed when you mentioned how it was just anxiety and nerves. Yet they still had to run a blood test to make sure it wasn’t anything they missed and couldn’t see with the naked eye.

Meanwhile tom had to be the most dramatic person out there. You always told him if he was not a surfer he would be an actor. It was impressive how every single night before bed he had a new condition to diagnose you with. Some so severe and outrageous you had to remind him that this wasn’t 1600s England and that you didn’t have the plague. That things were just from stress and if it was a stomach bug then let it run through.

Yet he would rant to you nearly every single night about how he’s always loved you and hated that this was the way to go. Always with that you would smack him with a pillow and tell him to go to sleep and with that he would kiss your cheek and hold you tight as he fell asleep.

“Tom, it’s fine. Seriously! They said they couldn’t find anything wrong, you’d be wasting your time to come here. The most you’d get out of this visit is maybe a sticker. Does Tommy want his girlfriend to bring him back a sticker?” You used a baby voice and you could practically hear him going red.

With a scoff he replies, “Ugh, no. What am I like five?” He pauses for a moment. “But what kind do they have? Were you able to check?” He asked in more of a quiet voice and you laugh.

“No clue. But the nurse told me the best thing I could do is just drink some tea and rest. Maybe they have some spiderman stickers or Sofia the first stickers.” You fiddle with the loose thread on your pants. Ending with a joke to calm both yours and Tom's nerves.

With a smirk, Tom Says, “you’ve been drinking some British tea for awhile—“ he jokes and you quickly cut him off.

“Tom!” You say and as if it was a sign, the nurse comes back in with a clipboard and a gentle smile. “Hey, I’ll call you back, the nurse has my results.”

“Wait! Before you go, ask them to check for tapeworms—“ before he could finish you hung up.

“He’s just dramatic.” You laughed a bit and the nurse laughed along before taking a seat across from you. She clicks her pen which makes you nervous for some reason.

“So your blood came back fine, everything is okay. I just have a few little things such as are you on any birth control?” She asked and you shook your head.

“Oh no, um...haven’t been for a while. But my boyfriend and I use protection and we’re safe. We only used planB once and that was a year ago.” You tell her but she looks up at you. Nodding as she purses her lips.

“Condoms only go so far sweetheart. We just have to ask patients who we find to be with a child incase of any birth control so we can remove it immediately, the birth control, I mean, remove that immediately.” With child. You were with a child. Pregnant. Your heart nearly falls out of your chest and the nurse says a few more things but they don’t register.

“Y-You mean there’s a baby inside of me?” You don’t know what color you look right now but you would assume pale, or green with the feeling of vomiting and this time not from slightly uncooked raw leftover chicken.

“Yup, about one month along it looks! We still will want to run more tests and…” she talks more and more but you don’t listen. Your brain foggy, you don’t know if you’re going to pass out or throw up or shit everywhere from how nervous you were. Hell, even all three seemed like an option as she talked. “So I’ll leave you to tell the important news?” She asked. This was apart of her regular day to day, she probably had hundreds of girls like you come in. Clueless and thinking of a stomach bug and then finding out they are pregnant.

“Y-Yeah.” You try to form a smile.

“Perfect, just meet me up at the desk whenever you’re ready. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you are feeling queasy and of course, help yourself to as many waters in the mini fridge in our waiting room. Congratulations!” She says before she turns out and all you hear is the door click shut. The white noise of the light and the taps of your fingernails against the cool metal bed.

You know it was professional and sweet of her to allow you space to call your significant other but you only stare at Tom's contact. Staring at the word ‘Tommy’ with almost all the heart emojis and his contact pictures of him with the biggest smile.

You have no guts to tell him right in the moment, but rather get off of the paper coated bed and grab your things to leave. Setting up a new appointment with your doctor to see more into the baby. Pregnant, with child, before competition. You and Tom were going to have a faimily.

July.

Tom still hadn’t known the news. It had only been a week but the guilt still ate you alive.

You didn’t want to worry or stress him. You yourself still tried to wrap your brain around it. A baby, every breath you took, every bite of food you ate, every drink you swallowed and every step you took there was a baby you shared it with.

You think about how every time tom had wrapped his arms around your waist this week he gently touched over the baby. Kissing your lying lips, you hated yourself for it.

As for competition, your mind nearly forgot. Still getting in the waters everyday with Tom but this time a bit more cautious. Everytime Tom worried for you, you quickly would cover his worry up with either a joke or kisses.

As for the throwing up, morning sickness was something that came in and out. You started hating the smell of bacon tom cooked in the morning but just waved it off. He noticed your decline in caffeine and beers and wines but you just told him the best athletes only had what’s best for their body before performing.

Tom believed all of it. Every single white lie you told—even though you hated yourself for telling them— believed them.

“How ya feeling?” Toms lips met your forehead as you cuddled up on the couch today. Extra tired and almost positive the baby was screaming at you for rest. You cuddled a bowl of popcorn and a water bottle.

“Mmh, just fine.” You give him a smile as his lips come down to meet yours.

Stealing some popcorn from the bowl, he heads over to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

“I’m thinking we do shrimp tonight?” He looked over and you made a face.

“Ew, no.” You shake your head and he gives a furrowed brow look.

“What? You love shrimp!” He responds and you feel yourself growing hot. Hiding deeper in the Blanket and not wanting to show your face.

“Well, I’m just not in the mood for it tonight.” That was another thing, lots and lots of emotions. Luckily Tom had plenty of emotions to match.

“Okay...tuna?” He offers and you shook your head. “Steak?” Once again and no. “Chicken?” No. “Okay, love, you’ve gotta help me out. I know you’re not feeling well but I’m helpless in here.” He says and your eyes start to water. He notices and immediately comes over.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he comes in front of the couch and crouches down to you. “What’s wrong?” He stroked your cheek and you shook your head.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” You sniffle. “Seriously, I’ll help you. I’m thinking pasta.” You smiled and he did too.

“Yeah that’s not too bad.”

And so you two made and ate dinner completely normally. No tears from you, no sickness from you. Tom only talked about the waves out today and how much you would’ve loved it. Now you two spent time washing up.

“You think that one girl with red hair will be there like last year? She was so annoying.” You laughed as you got excited again for competition. Tom grew tense as you mentioned it. You noticed that. How he didn’t talk much about competition anymore. It went from the only thing you two talked about to now nothing. You knew how excited he was, the both of you were but suddenly it was like that excitement was put in a box to rest.

“Yeah...she was.” He kinda laughed but then just washed harder at the dish.

“Everything okay? You’ve kinda stopped talking about competition.” You put down your plate and that's when he took a deep breath.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He tells you, pressing his lips into a lying smile that you knew.

“Baby, you can tell me anything you know. I’m always here for—“ and with that, he cut you off and told you the words you hated to hear.

“I-I took you out of the competition,” Tom sighed, dropping the dish rag on the counter in defeat. He watches as your face goes from annoyed to shock. Anger builds behind the eyes he find peace in. “It was wrong me me to do so—“

“damn right it was wrong of you to do so!” You slam your hand on the counter. “W-why would you?”

“You were sick! You were so sick for so long and what was I going to let you do? just make yourself worse—“

“it was the stress! I told you it was the—“

The built up ignored tension between you both finally caused him to snap.

“Is your period being late stress too?” His words caused the room to be silent. You take a sharp breath as you stare at him with anger but not at him anymore, at the fear of your new life.

“I’m just late, it’s normal for a woman like me to be rhis stressed and late...” you trailed off and this time he had the red face.

“Bullshit. What happened at that doctors appointment.” He demanded. You didn’t say a word at first which only angered him more. “Damnit (y/n)—“

“I’m pregnant.” You finally cry out and he knew his thoughts could be true, he knew they had to be but the moment those words left your mouth his whole body froze. He went pale with fear and shock, his hand no longer gripping the counter out of anger but out of support in case he passes out. The tears that left your eyes were uncontrollable as you let out a sob, the first sob that snapped tom back into reality.

He didn’t think twice, his arms supportively wrap around you as he tells you sweet nothings to try and calm you and himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He mumbled into your hair. You swallowed hard as you pulled back, your face wet with tears and you sniffled. His thumbs come up to wipe away each tear and each trace of mascara.

“Because I wanted to be normal still! I wanted to compete, I wanted to surf! I can’t surf anymore tom, i'm going to be a mom and I won’t have time for surfing.” You sob more and he only pulls you back into his grasp.

“I’m so selfish and stupid to even think to compete but I just want to n-not—“ you can’t even spit it out anymore.

“Who said you can’t surf when you’re a mom?” He moved back to hold your face. You didn’t look at him, he wasn’t going to force you to either. This was your decisions right now, he just wanted to listen.

“When you’re a woman and a mother, everything is for your child. You will have time to surf because you’re a dad but no one wants a mom to do anything but take care of their kid and I’ll love this baby so much, I will, but don’t want to lose myself. I’m young, you’re young and you’re about to be the next big thing.” You punch his shoulder playfully trying to lighten things up. “I—i-W-we’ll—“ you start again and he shakes his head.

“Don’t even say it. Sweetheart, you’re having a baby, our baby. I will make sure you still surf, when it’s safe, Of course. I-I don’t even have the words right now, my heart is racing, feel it.” He placed your hand over his chest to feel his pounding heart. “You will be (y/n) Holland, the infamous surfer that beat Tom Holland twice last year and you will be the mother to our kid. Their badass mom.” He cracks a smile as his hand goes to your stomach.

A shared moment where he only touches the stomach as he learns about it. You look at him softly and he looks at you as if you were the entire world. As if he was a little kid at sea world for the first time, he looks at you with beauty and hope and a hint of thankfulness

“For a minute,” you speak again. “I thought you were completely calm about this.” You chuckle and he shakes his head.

“No, I actually think I’m going to throw up.” He held his breath for a moment before he moved to the trash can and emptied his worried stomach.

This time it was you rubbing his back and wiping his mouth. Maybe you wanted to roll your eyes at the Irony but you just knew he loved you.

Holland. He used the last name Holland on you for the first time you’d ever heard it. He said it so confidently as if you two were already married. Holland. You can get use to that.

-

Day of competition

there was this sort of shock in everyone’s face as they watched you walk in shorts and a tee. Joining the crowds of people instead of getting ready for the waves of water.

This year was no wetsuit with your board, slathering sunscreen on your face as you got ready but rather taking a seat in that sand just like everyone else. Carrying a baby no one knew about except you and Tom and a few friends and family.

Your body was warm with nerves, hundreds of cameras here usually captured the sea, interviewing the surfers afterwards. Although it was not like Hollywood, there was no TMZ or dailymail, but there was enough interest and news casters to tilt their heads for why they infamous (y/n) (y/l/n)—soon to be (y/n) Holland—took a seat with the friends and family. Cheering on from the sand.

“Hey.” Z snaps you out of your constant looking around, how your eyes never focused on one thing.

“Ease up a bit, babes, no one even knows.” She knew, you knew you had to explain to her when you were sitting out. Just as Tom explained to his brothers and the two of you both would explain to his mother after competition. For he knew the women would get so excited she would explode

“Right.” Was all you said as you started clapping with the rest of the crowd when the games begun. It would be a moment for them to get to tom, they always let the younger ones go first, you and Tom were in that fine middle where you had to wait just for the middle of the games.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” Z asked with a hint of excitement to her voice. She kept it quite enough to where it was just you.

“I’m okay with either.” You didn’t ever care much for gender, although a girl would be nice to balance out the male testosterone you’re always around. “A girl would be nice though.” You smile at Z.

She gives a smile back, leans back on the towel as she soaks up the sun. “And Tom?” She asked and you shrugged.

He had talked about almost everything but a boy or girl, when you asked if he cared he told you,

“as long as they have two arms, two legs, a torso, a head, comes out of me with no trouble, then it’s a perfect surfing buddy.” You quote him exactly, smiling at his words from a few nights ago.

When he found out, his hands never left your stomach, even though you reminded him the baby was only the size of a grape. That well...it was just a bunch of cells forming up in the moment that couldn’t exactly kick for it had legs the size of your pinky nail. He still waited, he waited and waited, you didn’t even know what he was waiting for at one point for he would pause between his words at the baby or when he asked you a question he looked down at your stomach as if they would reply for you or before you.

“I know hes nervous as hell, but he’s so excited, I know it. The other day Harrison told me he cried when he told him. Tom, crying.” Z laughed a bit and you did too.

“If you think I’m the emotional one...turn on coco or inside out and see what happens to that man.” You chuckled as you turned your head back to the waters to watch tom with a smile on his face blow a kiss in your direction before getting on his board. Paddling out to the sea you watch him get ready to take the first wave, the crowd goes wild and your hand rests over your stomach.

This time, next year, you would sit on these sands with a smaller version of the two of you.

August.

Being early in your pregnancy but far enough to show was not as glamorous as people made it be.

Your shorts no longer fit, shirts started to get loose at the top and tight at the bottom and for the love of heaven you slept so much. Tom liked the idea of endless naps, somedays you wondered if he was the pregnant one instead of you. As he slouched around, ate just as many snacks as you and started to even complain about some of the same things you did.

Maybe it was the impact your moods had on him or the fact he stopped drinking caffeine since you no longer could have it and he didn’t know what his life was before morning coffee was with you. He was almost the same as you were durning the pregnancy.

“What are you doing?” Putting on a bikini for the first time since you told Tom. For the first time in about a month. You didn’t like the fit much anymore, the bloation you constantly had and the extra weight you now carried in your thighs, arms and breasts made you insecure. The top that used to fit perfect now had you grunting to tie. But you had to wear what you had to wear to get you in the water.

“I’m coming with you to the beach.” You say innocently and he shakes his head.

“You’re not picking up a board, you know that. Besides, the waters have been rough lately, there’s that storm coming in and one hard wave can hit you and I don’t want that to happen.” He exaggerates and you look at him with a dead stare.

“Tom, I haven’t touched the water in over a month, I’m pretty sure my skin cells are changing because of it.” You exaggerate as well and he comes up to you.

“Well, I’m not letting you in the water. It’s too dangerous.” He was serious, at first you thought he was just being dramatic, he was still going to let you swim but he was 100% serious.

“Tom, you’re kidding.” You scoff a bit and he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry darling, I know a lot is happening—“ he starts and you move back.

“The doctor said I am healthy enough to be physically active and I—“ before you could finish he cut you off.

“The doctor said you could do some squats, leg workouts, lift a 5lb weight, that was the type of exercise he said. The waters are too dangerous, please don’t argue with me.” He pleads but your emotions get the best of you. Anger starting to build and your body heating up.

Tom had learnt one thing so far; don’t upset the pregnant women and that’s exactly what he did.

“You’re telling me to not argue with you when you are the one holding me hostage in my own home? God, Tom, I have a life still too! A month ago you said you understood what it was going to take and now you’re treating me the way I specifically asked not to! I’m getting in the water, I haven’t been in the water for months it feels like and that’s all I know—“ your rant continues but Tom isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s looking at your side view in the mirror.

Your bump is showing, the bump he swore he could kinda feel but not see was now showing. Almost like it grew overnight.

“Fuck, Tom! Look at me while I’m—“ you start to yell again but he steps closer.

“Look.” He stares at the mirror and comes closer to your bump.

“Oh my…” you see exactly what he’s seeing. The small curve outwards that is your swollen stomach. Your bump.

“May I?” He asked and your mood went from angry to overfilled with happiness. Your eyes starting to tear ss you nodded.

“Tom, it’s your child too, you can touch.” You told him and he did. Your hand even went to your stomach as you rubbed over the bump that was barely forming.

“It’s like it happened overnight.” He laughed a bit and you did too.

“I swear it wasn’t there last night when I got out of the shower. I swear.” You let a few tears fall and he peppers soft kisses.

“I’m sorry.” He gently stroked at the stomach and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry too. I know you just want what’s best for us but I’m just…” you sniffle some more not being able to finish.

“I know baby, I know.” He gets up and wraps his arms around your back. Pulling you in for a hug for you to cry on his chest. So emotional over everything but he was right there. Right there with you.

“We can call the doctor about you surfing, we can call him right now if you want. But I just can’t lose you.” He gives a smile and you nod as your lips meet with his.

“C-can you order the chicken from the place I like?” You finally regain your composure and he nods.

“Of course, anything else?” He looks down at the stomach and you shake your head.

“No, not for now.” You smile down at the small bump forming. “Wait!” You stop him as he’s leaving to grab the phone. He turns to face a guilty looking you, “and mozzarella sticks.” You rub your stomach and he nods. With a faint smile he goes,

“always.” As that was your constant craving. Leaving you in the room for a moment and coming back to see you dressed back ins sweats and a tee shirt, Tom smiled and gladly cuddled up next to you, rubbing and talking to the bump about the future. Maybe you couldn’t surf, but you had Tom right by your side.

December.

Christmas cookies and sweetly salted popcorn occupied your side as you spent a snowy Christmas in London. No beach, no blazing sun even during the day, Tom took you home where you were now five months pregnant.

Heavily showing and to even think you wanted to go surfing months ago was laughable. You hated getting up to shower somedays for it was too much work.

“Darling, Angel, my pretty girl,” Tom sat next to you nervous with his next words. “I know you’re pregnant but there are only so many Christmas cookies.” He told you and you smacked his shoulder.

“Thomas, she’s pregnant! She’s allowed as many cookies as she wants besides there are more in the oven but pregnant women gets first pick as she is carrying my grandchild.” His mom immediately came to your defense. Taking so much good care of you while you were here, Tom doesn’t even think he got this much affection as a sick child.

“I wasn’t saying it’s a bad thing for her to eat cookies, I just want one!” Tom defended himself and you handed him a cookie and you felt your baby kick.

“See? They don't even want you stealing our cookies. I’m eating for two, I’m eating for your baby. You eat a lot by the way! Remember that summer you went through the whole fridge in a week? Yeah, now I’m eating for a tiny version of that! And myself! It’s hard out here for me and what did you do huh? Take two minutes!” You snatched the cookie back from him and rubbed your stomach. His brothers stifled a laugh and Tom grew red in embarrassment.

“I last longer than two minutes.” He says is a mumble.

Rolling your eyes, You rested your head on Toms shoulder and moved his hand over to the kicking stomach. “She says thank you.” You smile as you take a bite from the cookie.

“A she?” His mom perks up and the rest of the family does.

It was a mistake, you and Tom had a battle of the sexes. It seemed as if you didn’t want to know the gender right before your winter holiday. Or really the gender at all. The gender was available for you guys now but you both didn’t see it as a big deal. The baby’s room would be filled with ocean themed toys and a gentle blue wall Anyways. And besides, whatever they decide to be they would make the perfect surfing buddy. Although it was still fun to think of, You thought a girl and Tom swore a boy.

“No, mum, we still don’t know I promise. (Y/n) is just messing around.” He swore and the family relaxed again.

“He’s right, I am just joking. Tom is probably right with his assumption, thinking it may be a boy. With all this moving and eating, just like Tom.” You poke his cheek and Tom again flusters in embarrassment.

“Hey, I have a fast metabolism.” He told you and you kissed his temple.

“I know baby, I’m just teasing you. My man knows how to stay fit and sexy.” You playfully rub his stomach and suddenly the stifled laughs from the boys turn into disgusted noises.

There was everything to indicate a boy, well, mostly just a gut feeling. Tom's mother described her pregnancy with Tom to you and it was nearly the same. A baby boy, you could see that. You would need another fridge and a lot more paper towels assuming the babe will be like Tom and eat yet spill everything. You liked the idea of a boy. Plus, Tom had been playing a stupid game where he asked the baby questions making it kick for an answer. When Tom asked if it was a boy or girl, it kicked the moment he said boy.

The ding of the kitchen timer went off, more cookies fresh out of the oven and Tom was quick to jump up.

“Let me help m’lady up.” He grabs your hands and you grunt as you stand up. You walk with Tom at your side and once you are alone eating more cookies in the kitchen your hand rubs over your stomach as you feel the baby kick in excitement.

“Off the topic of gender, I think they miss the ocean. They kick so much just when I sit in the bath like they are having fun in the water.” You mention water and you feel a kick. They couldn’t understand, but they could hear and a smile rose to yours and Tom's face.

“Then they’re just like their mama.” He leans in and kisses your cheek.

“Who knows, maybe once we get back I’ll get in the—“ before you can finish your sentence about surfing, a sharp kick to your bladder causes you to hunch over with a pained face. Tom worried as he held you panicked but you got back up with a deep breath.

“Nevermind, little one didn’t like that idea.” You hold onto his arms tightly.

“Everything okay? Just a bladder kick?” He panicked and you just nodded.

“Yup.” Your face scrunches up again. “Just the bladder.” You suddenly have the urge to pee. “Now shoo, I’ve got to pee.” You tell him and he looks at you in confusion.

“You just peed like—“ you give him a look making him think about how he’s finishing his sentence. “Right, my darling.” He moved out of your way to let you go. Snatching one more cookie from the tray, he smiled as he thought how next year at this exact time, you would be holding a little baby.

April.

One week. You were one week late and as any normal pregnant woman would be resting in bed and rubbing over her swollen belly and anticipating the child’s arrival. Although that was not what you were doing.

Against Tom's wishes, you went back to work to see the kids start up their surfing lessons. Although there would be no swimming for you, no waves for you just yet, seeing the kids happy to be there was something that sparked joy to your heart always. Helped ease your nerves and turn them into excitement.

“Mrs. (Y/l/n)-Holland, look what I learnt how to do!” One of the kids calls out. You had a smile for not only did they call you by both yours and Tom's name, but that they had always been excited to show you new things.

“That was amazing Ryder!” You clapped at the boy who did a handstand. He had a big smile with teeth missing. Your hand went over your stomach again, an aching pain that was noting but a false labor.

The doctor said it was fine. Women always experienced this right before birth and just take a deep breath but don’t waste your time rushing to the hospital just for them to send you home.

It was normal to be late and that you had a stressful year so it was okay. The doctor mentioned that you still felt contractions which meant you were close. But when it was Tom, every slight indicator of pain you felt meant a freak out where he rushed around the house to get the baby bag and try and get you in the car when in reality, you just had to pee. 

“T-That’s really cool.” You wince and the boys face goes from excitement to worry. Within the luck, Tom comes jogging from the parking lot with lunch for the two of you. Hoping to get in the water with the kids and keep an eye on you.

“Hey Angel.” He kissed your cheek but noticed your pain. “Everything okay?” He panicked and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, Ryder here was just showing me how he can do a handstand now—“ you can’t even finish as the pain was strong.

“(Y/n)?” Tom needed to be calm, your face scrunched up as you held your swollen stomach. “Darling, Angel, pretty girl, look at me.” He used all the pet names you liked and you looked up at him with worry in your eyes. “I think it’s time for us to meet the little one.” He nods with a trying smile and you feel an even sharper pain.

“Mmh, I can’t do this.” You breath heavily as you hold onto the stomach. “Yes you can, if you can surf a wave that is 12 feet with no wipeout then you can birth our baby.” He promised and also got the little boy who was so excited to show you his new moves a moment ago to run and get another adult.

“Tom, I-I can’t.” You felt yourself tearing up and he shakes his head. Your heart pounding and mind swarming with worried.

“You can, you will. You are the strongest women I—“ before he can start his motivational speech you cry out in pain.

“Get me in the goddamn car!” You cry and he nods and gets you up before anything worse. He rushes to the hospital as quick as he can, holding your hand and trying to not crash as you hold your stomach and scream.

When he gets to the hospital, he’s still in a wetsuit. They take immediate action into getting you into a room where you are laying with your legs up waiting for a doctor. Holding Tom's hand as you cry.

“Uh sir?” The doctor walks in and looks at the man in the wetsuit. “We’re going to have to ask you to put on scrubs...helps prevent any ourside clothing germs getting on the baby...are you wearing anything under that?” She asked and he immediately started unzipping.

“Jesus tom, not here, she wants you to get changed in the bathroom.” You shake your head as you run your hands over your face. In pain but want to laugh at your worried boyfriend for how he was acting in the moment.

“Right! Right!” He quickly changes from the wetsuit into the scrubs. The doctors look at him funny but let it go as you’re clearly in pain and needing the baby to be out.

“You got this love, you’re doing so good—“ he starts again but you don’t even want to hear it.

“was this really worth two minutes! I’m getting my fucking tubes tied!” You scream at him and he flushes a deep shade of red as one of the nurses giggles.

After one more big push you heard the sound of a cry filled the room. For just a second, all the pain you felt went away as you see the body of your baby, baby boy. You both were right, a beautiful little boy.

“A boy.” Tom breathes out in awe.

“Dad you wanna come cut the cord?” He looked at you for approval and you nodded. He cut the cord with shaky hands, couldn’t focus for the life of him as he just stared at the boy. You only got to hold him for a second before he’s taken off to a bath. Tom following them before they bring him back in a bundle of blankets.

“Oh my…” you hold the beautiful boy. His little lips open just a bit to make a sound while his eyes flutter to adjust to the light. “Look at him tom.” You feel yourself cry and Tom does too.

“Wow, look at you.” He touched the boy's cheek who immediately tried to take the finger into his mouth. “You did that.” He tells you as the two of you admire it.

“We did that.” You tell him and he smiles a bit. “Although yeah, it was mostly me.” The boy stares hard at Tom, Tom who was still in just swim trunks and scrubs.

“Hey, I ate a lot with you during this pregnancy. Even had my own morning sickness.” He teased and you only laughed.

The room going silent for a moment. Hearing the little cooes of your boy as you held him. Toms finger tracing over his cheek when you finally spoke, “Caspian.”

Tom had mentioned how he liked the name for a boy, more than once. It had connections to the water and to Europe so the child would have a bit of both. You had to admit to yourself that you liked it but just wanted to stick with a more casual name. But looking at how he looked at you the moment you said that name, you knew it was the one.

“Caspian?” He repeated and you nodded.

“Caspian Holland.” You told.

He smiled as he kissed your forehead. “Holland? Just that?” He asked as well and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah just like that.” You smiled. A perfect moment in the perfect situation was interrupted by a small nurse who held a tee shirt.

“Uh sir?” The nurse looked at the two of you and both of your attentions were caught. “So unfortunately we have to ask you to wear a shirt, we got one from the lost and found for you hoping that it would fit.” The shirt read “I’m not as fun as mom” and Tom's face dropped. A proud smirk rises to your face as you look at Tom who’s flared his nostrils just a bit to show his embarrassment.

“Yeah Tom, put on the shirt.” You encouraged and he looked at you. His eyes telling you that you’re going to regret that but you can’t wait 15 years into the future to tell your son.

Sighing as he took the shirt from the poor nurse and sat back down on the chair in a huff.

“You’re never letting me live this one down are you?” Shaking your head you look back down at the boy,

“no, I don’t think we will.” You brought your dry cracked lips down to the boys forehead, you had no water within the past hour and screaming with crying seemed to make you as dead as possible. “Caspian. Caspian Holland.” He whispers again. “Thank you.” He looked at you and you furrowed your brows.

“For everything.” After months of no surfing, months of pain and aches, instead of saying anything back you looked at him and said

“sushi.” Was all you said and he furrowed his brows.

“W-what?” He questioned.

“I need sushi, please.” You sigh and he smiled. Months of being unable to eat any fish that was all you wanted in the moment.

“One California roll coming up.” He kissed your cheek and then the boy's cheek. Calling in the nurse, sending for a California roll and tuna.

Caspian was sleeping soundly in Tom's arms while you ate and rested. Everything was worth it, from the moment he stepped on a plane one summer to Hawaii he knew it was worth it for he found a family in the end.

June.

Once again the sand was squishing under your toes. Feeling each and every grain as you held your baby boy tightly bundled in blankets against your chest as you walked out to the beach. He was freshly bathed, you and Tom took turns. You were so eager the moment you were cleared to get back in the water after birth that the day the doctor cleared you for physical activity, you did it.

But tonight wasn’t you getting in the water, it was you greeting Tom and telling him to come back inside.

“Dinner is done.” You call out to him as he jogs back to the two of you. The baby boy cooing as he sees the ocean and his fathers dripping wet figure coming towards them.

“Hey, look who’s out.” He immediately leans in and kisses all over the pretty baby boy's face. “My sweet boy is so fresh and clean.”

You and Tom had argued about who he had looked more like,You or Tom. he had Tom's nose for sure and his big brown eyes that you knew were going to be trouble. If you had a hard time saying no to Tom when he batted his lashes and gave a glossy look, it was going to be impossible to say no to your beautiful boy.

“He just took a bath. But it wasn’t the ocean.” You smiled and Tom pressed a kiss to your face too.

“Mmh, did you?” He looks at the boy who was yawning in his mother’s arms. “Want to swim a bit?” He asked and you shook your head.

After birth, Tom did a lot of the work. He loved it too. He claimed you needed rest, in which you did, but you would often find him just sitting in the nursery staring at the baby boy. Telling him stories to sleep and kissing his face. He would let you surf, bathe, sleep, all while he took care of your beloved boy.

“No, I’m so tired I think if I use my legs any longer they will snap.” You give a pout and Tom immediately kisses it away.

Tom started to gather his stuff, the beach towel and the bag he normally carried and the moment he started to pack up your baby boy let out a wail.

Within the two months of his birth, you were able to identify each cry. When he was hungry it was more of a gurgle, when he was sleepy it was more strained and forced, when he craved touch it was a whimper sounding cry and then there was this. He was simply upset something did not go his way. May you or Tom stepped away for a moment, the bottle gone too early, but now it was his father packing up his stuff that makes him scream a cry that makes heads turn.

“What’s the matter bubs?” Tom pouts as he sets the stuff down and comes over to him.

Once the stuff is set down the cries settle just a bit, settle enough until tom takes him out of your arms and presses him up against his body.

Still wet from the surf, you both think the baby liked it. While Tom occupied little Caspian, you picked up the towels and his bag for him and once again the boy let out a wail cry which made you and Tom furrow your brows.

“I-I don’t know what it is. I-I changed him and I bathed him and he was perfectly fine and—“ you start to panic and as you panic you drop the stuff which calms his cries. Tom immediately took notice and grew a smile that made his heart flutter in his chest.

“(Y/n),” he stops you and you look up at him with a worried look as if you’ve done something wrong. “He wants to stay. He wants to stay on the beach.” Tom says in a calm voice and the boy was now only cooing in Tom's arms. He bounced gently but mostly cooed as his daddy smiled at him.

“H-He knows we’re leaving the beach.” You sigh and come over to the boys. Petting your sons head as he relaxes in his fathers arms.

“Like I’ve always said, just like his mama.” Tom smiled up at you and you caught his lips for a kiss. “Well…” you rub your hands on your thigh, wiping off the sand you got stuck all over your hands. “Since Caspian always gets his way, I better bring dinner out here.” You smile as you poke at the sweet boys face and Tom moves and has a serious face.

“(Y/n), no, you can’t just whip out your boob in front of—OW! I’m kidding!” You smacked his arm for the stupid comment he made that at first had you worried.

“I hate you. I’m bringing out the dinner.” You start to walk off and he smiles.

“You love us!” He shouts back.

“Just Caspian! You? Not much you. remember...you’re not as fun as mom!” You call out to him, sending him a wink and he wants to say something back but he holds his tounge.

Looking down at the baby boy he says, “when I teach you how to surf I need you to beat mums ass a few times while you’re out there. Just for her little comments.” Tom spoke to the boy and he cooes. “Atta boy.” With that he plots down on the sand towel.

Setting caspian down on the towel for just a moment so he can strip from his wetsuit and be closer to him. You come back out balancing the plates of food for you and Tom as you seat next to them and eat. Leaning your head on Toms shoulder and kissing at it.

You never knew that one competition, one amateur British boy and one shared basket of fish and chips could lead you to the best moments of your life. Could lead you to the best family you’ve ever had.

Please leave feedback! It helps me grow as a writer and lets me know what more you want to see!

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