#well not exactly but I don’t want to have to back out and retype this but that was the spirit of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bestiesenpai · 4 years

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youtuber Sukuna

I beg you to read the shitposts I made about this, they are delicious. You don’t have to of course but...if you loved me you would :) s/n = screen name, and I hope you chuckle at Sukunas screen name

Content warning: uhmhm lowkey incel shit(mean internet comments and whatnot)

part two --- part 3

Name: Sukuna. Age: 25. Height: 6 foot 5 inches. Occupation: toxic Youtuber, fitness trainer and hot guy.

Sukuna wasn’t exactly known for being kind. He wasn’t nice to others, rarely having anything good to say about anyone, and he’d made a successful Youtube career out of it. First starting as a fitness trainer at his gym, through encouragement from his clients and the notion of a quick cash grab, he started Youtube.

He didn’t care about it and that reflected in the quality of his videos and editing. He didn’t have consistent uploads, just filming and posting videos whenever he wanted, analytics be fucked. But somehow, that worked out for him, and he quickly found himself with over two million subscribers just frothing at the mouth for his next video.

And those subscribers were some of the worst people. Sukuna didn’t care about fostering a safe space online for others, not in the slightest. His comment sections were atrocious, both on his Youtube and his Instagram. It was full of toxic men one-upping each other constantly and dragging on each other for not being able to work out as much as Sukuna did.

Sukuna was a large part of why his fanbase were so toxic. He himself often made bad comments about others, whether fellow creators or people that happened to appear in the backgrounds of his videos, and on more than one occasion he’d been ‘cancelled’. None of that mattered though, all he cared about was shitting on other people and making money.

Sometimes he played video games and posted it, but not too often. Sukuna often stated he wasn’t so much of a fucking lonely loser that he’d play video games all the time, and so the gaming videos he did post were few and far between. He played angry shooter games and GTA, mindless button clicking he could get lost in for a few hours for a video.

Laying in bed one night after uploading his most recent video, one where he rages at 12 year olds on GTA online, Sukuna was just scrolling through his phone mindlessly. After he uploads video game content, like clockwork, he gets recommendations for gaming channels. He only watches a few of them, mostly leaving mean comments saying what losers they are, but one catches his eye.

He’s never been recommended this kind of video before. The thumbnail is light and bright with some pink aesthetic lights in the back. But the most enticing thing is the person in the middle, cute pink cat ear headphones on and a bright smile.

“Let’s see…” Sukuna mumbles to himself, mindlessly clicking the video. He hasn’t even read the title, he only clicked it because they were cute, and here he is nearly blinded by the bright setup they have.

“Hi everyone, it’s (Y/N) here and I’m really excited today! We’re going to be playing this new game I found!” Sukuna is immediately enraptured by the sound of your voice, watching how your face changes as you talk. His eyes drift off to the decor behind you, cute plushies and healthy plants, and some twinkling fairy lights. There’s books as well, and your chair is one of those ergonomic gamer chairs he has as well but in pink.

Sukuna watches the video dumbly, totally in the dark about whatever you’re doing, but loving it all the same. All he knows is that he likes the sound of your voice, and when you laugh and smile at a funny part in the game, it makes a light flush come to his cheeks.

It only takes one video for Sukuna to spiral into more of your content. He watches a video on your gaming setup, and he’s surprised that so much technology can come in pink. He watches a video on how you edit, a few of you cooking in your kitchen, and even a few vlog videos.

He quickly subscribes to your channel, and when you plug your social media, he immediately goes there. Pulling up your Instagram, he stares at your profile picture and almost audibly coos at you for being cute.

Your profile is just as cute as your videos are and Sukuna barely remembers to follow you before he’s going through your whole feed, liking every picture he sees. Sometimes he leaves comments, only one word though, ‘cute’. He’s never liked something so outright cute before, it wasn’t who he was and it definitely didn’t fit with his brand.

Falling asleep after following you on every platform, Sukuna wakes up thinking about you as well. And he also wakes up to hundreds of comments from all his accounts, bombarding him with questions and screenshots from last night.

‘SUKUNA WHY WOULD YOU LIKE THIS SHIT?!’

‘OMG Sukuna liked (Y/N)s posts!!’

‘Sukuna is so gross and toxic, you better stay away from (Y/N)!’

‘SUKUNA YOU GAY NOW’

‘EW why the fuck do you like this bitch?’

There were hundreds of comments that he waded through. Most were from his fans, expressing disgust at how many photos of yours he’d liked and wondering why he, Sukuna, most heterosexual alpha male on the planet, would like a pretty in pink Youtuber who had bubbly intros and whined when their animal crossing villagers wanted to move away.

Other comments were from your fans, some in awe that he would like you considering how much he said he hated overly cute things. Other fans expressed concern, worried what this might mean for their favorite Youtuber. Did Sukuna want to cause problems, potentially hurting you? He did have a reputation of bullying others, so this wasn’t far fetched.

Checking your Instagram, you didn’t make any comment about it. There wasn’t any update or anything, but on his end he was being tagged in endless Twitter threads with screenshots of him liking your posts and commenting under them.

“For fucks sake.” He grunted, clenching his phone in his hands. The amount of notifications he was getting were starting to upset him and he nearly threw his phone to get them to stop.

Ignoring his phone for the rest of the day, Sukuna went to the gym like he always did and trained with his clients. Some of them brought it up to him, asking him if he had a mind break last night and forgot what he was doing. Sending them harsh glares, Sukuna refused to talk about it.

“Oh my fucking god.” Sukuna nearly wailed when he got home, finally checking his phone. His name and yours had begun trending, and the hashtag #protect(Y/N) was also. Muttering angrily under his breath, Sukuna turned on Instagram live.

“Okay what the fuck!” He shouted, seeing the live become instantly flooded with people all screaming about you and him. “You’re all fucking annoying, you know that?” Glaring harshly at the camera, he read some of the comments that went by.

‘WHY’D YOU LIKE (Y/N)S POSTS FROM 2017’

‘Are you two secretly dating??’

‘COLLAB!’

“Who gives a shit why I liked their stuff, you’re a fucking weirdo for keeping track of me. And we aren’t secretly dating, dipshits.” Rolling his eyes, Sukuna scoffed as more comments came in begging for a collaboration. “And think about it you morons, why would we collab? Our shit is too fucking different, what would we even film about?”

Sukuna stayed on Instagram live for nearly an hour answering questions asking about you. Every time he had to answer that you weren’t secretly dating, he got a little more annoyed. Not at the comments themselves but at the fact that it was true; you didn’t even know he existed.

Ending the live in a huff, Sukuna didn’t feel any better than before, and it was made even worse by the fact that everything he said was being relayed to Twitter, and you were tagged in every tweet.

“These idiots!” Staring at his phone, Sukuna couldn’t believe what he was seeing. On your Instagram stories, you’d posted a q&a for your followers, and nearly all of the comments were about Sukuna.

“Hi everyone! No, me and Sukuna aren’t dating!” You said, laughing a little to ease how uncomfortable you were. “To be honest, I’ve never even heard of him before! As you know, my content is very...different from his, so our circles don’t exactly intersect. But I’m always happy to have new followers and potential friends!”

“Fuck me.” Sukuna groaned, cringing at how uncomfortable you looked having to address the sudden onslaught of questions. For once he wished he’d actually given a shit about his online presence, so that maybe one day your circles could intersect. He knew he scared you, he scared a lot of people, and this was just proof.

“Uh, Sukuna if you see this, hi it’s nice to meet you!” You said in the next slide, puffing out your cheeks and waving cutely at the camera. It made Sukuna blush, and he hated it. “Thank you for following me and liking my content! I was very surprised that you found me!”

“Of course I did, idiot, you’re fucking cute.” He muttered under his breath.

“I know a lot of people are asking for us to do a video together and I know our content is really different, so don’t feel pressured to respond or anything, but the offer is open! If you’d like, we can collab on something.”

“On what?” He asked like you were there.

“I cook sometimes, and I know you cook too! Maybe we can make a cooking video? You can teach me how to make healthy food or something!” Sukuna could tell a fake laugh when he heard one, and you definitely had one right now. “Anyways, thank you! Bye Sukuna!” But hearing you say his name cutely like that made him not care.

He nearly responded right away, accepting the collab offer now that you’d spoken about it, but he didn’t want to seem desperate. He watched through the rest of your Instagram stories, going back and replaying the parts where you talked about him over and over and his heart clenched every time when you said his name.

In the dead of night, Sukuna DM’s you after watching your latest video and leaving the simple comment ‘check your DM’s’.

“Fuck, what should I say?” He’s suddenly stumped as he looks at the keyboard. Typing and retyping a message, in the end all he can say is hi. He doesn’t expect a reply, ever, but when he gets a vibration on his phone two seconds later he jumps to read it.

(S/N): hi Sukuna! :)

(cursedgod): hey

Real fucking smart, repeating what he just said.

(S/N): is there something you wanted to talk to me about?

(S/N): I hope you haven’t been annoyed at all the notifications you’ve been getting!

(cursedgod): No it’s okay

(cursedgod): we can collab if you want

Good Sukuna, good. Play it cool, don’t let them know that your fingers are actually trembling because you’re nervous.

(S/N): do you want to?? I don’t want to pressure you! I know we’re pretty different haha

(cursedgod): yeah, let's do it. Cooking?

(S/N): sure!

Looking around his home, he was suddenly assaulted with the fact that he didn’t have any furniture. He barely had a proper bedroom, just a mattress on a bare frame and a dresser. His lounge room was the same with his computer setup in one corner and then nothing else. There was only a couch, a mounted TV and a fold out table and chairs for his dining room.

(cursedgod): I know a studio kitchen we can use, I’ll send you the address

Thank god he’d done promo work for a brand in a studio one day, otherwise he’d be fucked.

(S/N): awesome! I’m free next Saturday!

And just like that, it was a date. Well, a meeting. Sukuna knew it wasn’t a date, but his heart still thumped like it was one. Confirming the time, he ended the conversation with a curt goodbye and obsessed about it throughout the night.

When the day to meet you came, Sukuna nearly ran late trying to pick out his clothes. He’d never cared about looking good or presenting himself well in front of others, whatever version of him he turned up in was what they got. But for you, he wanted to try a little harder.

Waiting outside the studio space, Sukuna rubbed his hands together nervously. You’d messaged a day or two ago offering to put the video on your channel since it probably wouldn’t fit his aesthetic, so he didn’t have to bring his shitty camera equipment.

“S-sukuna?” Snapping his head up, Sukunas mouth fell open looking at your curious face a few feet away, an Uber driving off behind you. You were even cuter in person, just his fucking luck. How was he expected to act like a normal person when his recent obsession was here looking better than he could have imagined.

“Hi.” What comes out is a grunt, not the smooth word he’d hoped. He can see you eyeing him up, taking in all the thick and corded muscles of his body. It made his chest puff out a little, he worked hard for this physique and to have you so openly looking at him made him happy.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Sticking your hand out, you smiled politely at him.

“Same.” Shaking your hand with a firm grip, Sukuna could feel the difference in your palms. Yours was soft and nicely moisturized and he had callouses everywhere and a few cuts and scrapes.

Opening the door for you, Sukuna led you to the studio space he’d rented out. It was a clean and modern kitchen, not unlike his own, but it had appliances and looked actually lived in. Helping you set up a few camera angles, Sukuna felt a pang of nerves hit him in the stomach.

“Sukuna, can we take a picture together?” You asked before starting, and Sukunas brow furrowed deeply. Why would you want to take a picture with him? His expression must have scared you, because you quickly backtracked. “F-for promo for this video, on Instagram and stuff!”

“Sure.” God, did he feel bad or what. He shouldn’t have made that face at you, now you wouldn’t look him in the eye. Crouching down to get the right angle for you, Sukuna watched you pick a cute animal filter.

“Just do what I do.” Throwing up a peace sign, you cutely tilted your head from side to side and smiled. Sukuna tried to do the same but he looked awkward, and most of all he was blushing pretty bad.

You snapped a multitude of pictures, some at different angles and some with different filters, and in all of them Sukuna was blushing at least a little. He managed to smile more as it went on, even laughing at one of the filters.

“Thanks! I’m going to post these really quick and then we can get started!” Giving him a brief smile, you turned back to your phone and set about editing some of the pictures. Looking over your shoulder, Sukuna could see that he looked like a blushing high schooler meeting their idol for the first time and not a grown man.

Once the photos were posted and you tagged him in everything, it was time to start. Setting up your marks on the floor, you took a generous drink of water and cleared your throat.

“Are you ready for the intro? I’ll start it and introduce you, okay?” You’d actually prepared a script for yourself, and showed Sukuna as well.

“Okay.” Stepping in front of the camera, Sukuna bristled at feeling you so close to him. Your arm brushed his casually as you were fixing your shirt, and Sukuna was glad he’d worn his most expensive cologne for this.

“Hi everyone, welcome to today's video! As you know, I’m (Y/N), and today we have a special guest today!” Throwing your arms in the air, you motioned to Sukuna.

“Hi.” He nodded, barely cracking a smile. He could feel you looking at him like you wanted to say something, but he didn’t look.

“So, many people have been asking for us to do a collaboration and it’s finally here!” Clapping your hands lightly, you rocked on your heels and nudged his shoulder with yours. “Do you want to tell them what we’ll be doing today?”

“Uh-” The playful nudge you’d given him was enough to make Sukuna short circuit. “I-I-” He suddenly couldn’t remember how to speak. “Rice?”

“Let’s try that again.” You laughed. “Do you want to tell them what we’ll be doing today?” This time, you didn’t nudge him with your shoulder.

“We’re gonna…” the words were on the tip of his tongue, they wanted to come out and be spoken but he couldn’t do it.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Nodding reassuringly, you took a deep breath in and out, and Sukuna shakily copied. “One more try?” When he looked at you, Sukuna expected to see a hint of annoyance in your face, but there was none. You were just smiling softly at him, waiting for his answer.

“Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll get it next time.” Stepping away from the camera, Sukuna took a drink of water and cleared his throat. Cracking the bones in his neck, he took a deep breath and came back. “Let’s do it.” No more fucking embarrassments.

“Do you want to tell them what we’ll be doing today?” You asked for the third time, slightly swaying your body side to side this time.

“We’re gonna make katsudon today.” Finally, the words he wanted to say came out.

“That’s right! As you can see, Sukuna is really fit!” You immediately hopped in, giving his arm a brief squeeze. “And he knows how to make a ton of healthy meals!”

“Mhmm.”

“So I asked if he could help teach me, and all of you at home, how to make it!” Smiling at the camera, you waited a few seconds before relaxing and turning it off. “Did you like that? We can refilm it if you want.”

“No, it’s okay.” Running a hand through his hair, he pointed to the bag of rice he’d brought. “Let’s get started on this shit.”

Taking fifteen minutes to film the two of you filling up the rice cooker, when it was over, you set about getting aesthetic shots of the other ingredients. Sukuna tried to seem casual off to the side on his phone, but he was really watching you.

Getting started on chopping the ingredients, Sukuna somehow managed to say the things he was supposed to without stuttering too badly. He was amazed that you could make the things he was doing sound so interesting, your narration as you held the camera and tried to do things yourself was impressive to the man that barely knew anything about cameras.

“Sukuna, I need help cutting the meat.” You whined, tapping the meat on the cutting board with a knife. “I don’t remember how you showed me.”

“Here.” Without thinking, Sukuan grabbed your hand with the knife in it and moved it for you. “You just have to move your wrist more, it’s not that hard.” Doing it a few times, when Sukuna felt your chest expand with air against his, that’s when he realized how close the two of you were. “S-sorry.” Immediately jumping back, he stared at the floor.

“Thanks!” Giving him a smile, you kept at it.

“I’ll fry the meat.” Stepping in as soon as you were done, Sukuna already had the hot oil ready. He was eager to cook and do something with his hands instead of - what he felt like - was awkwardly watching you off to the side.

“Okay!” Grabbing the camera, you focused on the pan. “You’re really good at this, Sukuna!”

“T-thanks.” Staring directly at the pan, Sukuna didn’t look away. Even with the hot oil popping up from the pan a few times and burning his fingers, he didn’t flinch at all.

“Ow!” But you did. Your hand had gotten too close, and when Sukuna flipped the meat, some of the oil had gotten on your hand.

“Shit.” Abandoning the pan, Sukuna was ready to drag you over to the sink for some cool water.

“I-it’s okay, it was only a little.” Shaking your stinging hand, you point to the food. “But I think the meat might burn.”

“Shit!”

Narrowly avoiding disaster with the meat, when it came time to cook the eggs, you made a joke about how you liked your eggs in the morning and Sukuna burnt them almost immediately. While not an overtly sexual comment, the implications of the words still affected him.

Somehow, he managed to make the dish come together and while his plated dish didn’t come out the best, yours looked at least halfway decent with overcooked meat and burnt eggs. The only things not messed up were the rice and vegetables, and even then Sukuna was surprised.

“We did it everyone, we made katsudon!” Holding up the bowls, you smiled big and nudged Sukunas shoulder again. “You saw we had a few mishaps along the way, but that’s okay, that’s what made it fun.”

“Yeah, it was fun.” Sukuna chuckled. Despite him being more nervous than he’d ever thought possible, he had fun cooking alongside you.

“Sukuna, will you try mine? I made it super pretty and everything.” Holding your dish up to him, Sukuna wasn’t expecting you to do that. Now he felt bad that his looked so ugly and like a teenaged boy made it; he almost said no.

Eating yours though, somehow it tasted better than he was expecting. It must have been how you prepared it, and the fact that you cared so much about the presentation. Eating it in silence, he let you eat in peace as well for a few minutes and compliment the food to the camera.

“Alright, that’s the end of the video!” Putting your bowl down, you turned to Sukuna. “I had so much fun today, thanks for filming this with me.” Now was his chance to make everything better. Putting his bowl down and bolstering himself with confidence, Sukuna threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you close to him.

“Thank you (Y/N), I really did enjoy today. I hope we can film again soon!” He squeezed your shoulder and smiled really big at not only you but the camera as well. He knew he was blushing, he knew that even the tip of his nose was a nice rosy shade, but he didn’t care. If people teased him for it, then so be it. But he wanted you to know how he truly felt.

“R-really? You want to?” You asked, looking up at Sukuna from your place smooshed against his body.

“Really.”

“Aww, well you heard it here first everyone! Sukuna wants to shoot another video with me!” Clapping your hands a few times, you waved at the camera. “Okay, bye everyone!”

“Bye.” Sukuna waved too, waiting a few seconds before letting you go and turning off the camera.

“Sukuna, did you really mean it? You want to film another video with me?” You were in utter disbelief. All this time, he’d just seemed very standoffish, if not a little awkward around you. You were happy to film this video with him, he had way more followers than you and it would help boost both your channels, and to hear him say that just made it even better.

“Yeah, I was serious.” Sukuna spoke around stuffing his mouth with the food he still had left. He was more hungry than he thought, the nerves doing a good job of twisting his stomach during the video. Now that it’s over, he can finally relax.

“That makes me really happy.” Eating the rest of your food as well, you leant against the counter. “This is gonna sound kind of mean, but I was really scared to film with you today. I thought you were going to be really mean.”

“Shit, you did?” He grimaced, letting out a sigh. “Sorry I had you worried.” He could already imagine the comments you would get from his fans.

“It’s okay! You’re actually way nicer in person, I was surprised!”

“That’s good.”

“And you’re really buff, you have muscles in places I didn’t even know were possible!” You laughed bashfully at that comment, and avoided looking at him when he stared at you in shock. “I couldn’t help but notice…”

Were you checking him out? Had you been checking him out this whole time and he didn’t even realize? He had seen you eyeing him up when you first met, but were you looking at him like that at other times as well? Now he’d really have to watch your video to see if it was true.

“Thanks, it’s my job.” Could he have said that any lamer? “My job outside of all this, I mean. I’m a trainer at this fancy gym downtown.”

“Oh, I’ve seen some of your videos at your gym! I know which one you’re talking about.”

“You do? You’ve seen my videos?” If he wasn’t surprised before, he was now.

“Yeah, you know I had to do a little research beforehand.” You nodded, beginning to clean up the dishes around you. “And I know you’ve already watched almost all of my videos, so it only seemed fair.”

Did you have to bring that up? Now Sukuna was embarrassed again.

“Y-yeah, I did.” Clearing his throat, Sukuna helped gather the dishes. He took up washing them, another task he could do to get his mind off you. As you took down the camera equipment, he nearly broke several dishes and utensils from scrubbing too hard.

“I’ll call you an Uber.” He said when all was said and done and you were back at the front of the building.

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

“No, I want to.” Quickly calling you a ride, Sukuna fiddled with his phone a little more. “Uh, could I- could I-” His voice kept leaving him, and he had to cough a few times. “Can I get your number? I really liked your camera shit and I want to improve mine.” Okay, it wasn’t a total lie. He did like your setup and wanted to make his just as good, but he really wanted your number to potentially talk to you more about things outside of Youtube.

“Sure! Go ahead and type it in.” You were quick to give him your phone, a cute pink phone case on the back of it. Typing it in, he can’t help but notice the little devil emoji you add by his name. He wants to ask, but your ride is already pulling up.

“Bye!” Setting all your camera gear inside the car, you turn and wave goodbye.

“See ya.” Just as you’re about to close the car door, Sukuna gets a burst of confidence. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Okay!” And off you go. Sukuna watches the car drive off until he can’t see it anymore. He takes his time getting to his own place, eagerly awaiting your message with every step. But even when you do message him, all he can do is send a thumbs up back and nothing else.

It’s about two and a half days after that that you text him again, letting him know you’re done editing and that you’re going to post the video soon. It wasn’t a very long video to begin with, so the editing was simple enough. Sukuna replied with what appeared to be a lackluster ‘can’t wait’, but on the inside he was shaking. He’d already screenshot all the pictures the two of you took together and added them to a folder.

“Here we go.” As soon as the video went live, Sukuna watched it. He was mortified as soon as it started at the blush so evident on his cheeks, and how it stayed throughout the whole thing. He groaned at the part where he helped you cut up the meat, he almost wishes you’d cut it out. Every little detail that made him embarrassed was there, every little nuance of his actions you’d managed to capture and make it cute.

(Y/N): How do you like it??

You texted him after twenty minutes, eager to hear his thoughts.

(Sukuna): it’s good, good editing and stuff

(Y/N): yay! I’m going to read comments in a few hours, you should too! I bet people will be really shocked!

(Sukuna): yeah no doubt

Oh, he was definitely going to read the comments. Whereas you were going to wait for a fair few to come in before commenting, Sukuna frequently refreshed the page and read the new ones as they came in. You were right, a lot of people were surprised, but he also saw a lot of his fans as well.

‘Ew Sukuna really cooked for that bitch? They can’t do it themselves?’

‘Yeah, why do they have to rely on him? Useless as fuck lol’

‘Sukuna only did this to get laid, (Y/N) looks like an easy fuck’

All of those comments, and many more, made his blood boil. Usually, he wouldn’t care at all about the comments, letting them fester in his comment section and spiral out of control. But for you, it was different.

‘Fuck off and die you pieces of shit. Leave (Y/N) alone or say it to my fucking face’

Sukuna sent that message, along with a variety of other threats, to all the people that insulted you. He didn’t care that this wasn’t his channel and that you would deal with it in whatever way you wanted to. He needed to defend you against the unwanted audience he’d brought you.

Luckily, after seeing Sukunas messages, all of his fans backed off. They knew how serious he was about his threats and there were many rumors that he actually did go and beat people up who said things he didn’t like. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of his torment.

With Sukunas name attached to the video and his heavy presence in the comment section, the video easily went viral. It was easily the most viewed video on your channel, getting on the trending pages of several different platforms.

(Sukuna): hey

It’s nearly a week after the first video that Sukuna messages you, and the hype is still going strong, and your follower count grows greatly from it.

(Y/N): hi! What’s up?

(Sukuna): do you want to film a video for my channel now? We can play a game, I have a few

(Y/N): sure that sounds fun!

Oh how wrong you were. The game Sukuna chose was a scary game, a shooter game with scary zombies and a lot of possible jumpscares. He doesn’t tell you either, so on the night of filming - he insisted on it being nighttime to get the full scary effect - you were caught off guard.

“I don’t know about this.” You whined once you saw the title. The two of you were video calling alongside playing the game together, and Sukuna’s eyes flicked to your figure on the screen.

“It’ll be okay, I’ll carry you, don’t worry.” He had started filming as soon as he’d set up the game, and you were filming yourself as well for him.

“You promise it won’t be too scary?”

“If it’s too scary just close your eyes and I’ll protect you.” Smiling softly at you, he started up the game. The beginning was fine, just a quick introduction to the game, but as soon as things started to get moving, you were scared.

“Sukuna a zombie is eating me!” You screamed, frantically pushing buttons in an attempt to get it off.

“It’s okay!” He quickly got rid of it, and made sure to stay close to your character as the story progressed.

“(Y/N) stay by me, there’s about to be a whole lot of them.”

“Close your eyes there’s about to be a jump scare here.”

“Don’t worry about getting that item, I’ll grab it for you!”

Sukuna nearly forgot he was being filmed, saying sweet things to you to help encourage you and make sure you weren’t overwhelmed. There were many parts where you screamed in fright and Sukuna was there to coo at you and tell you it was okay. He made sure that your character never died, making sure to keep you close until the end of the game.

“Sukuna, that was so hard!” Squishing your cheeks in your hands, you looked at him through your phone.

“It was fun though, wasn’t it? I had fun with you.” Completely abandoning the game, he stared down at his phone with a soft smile on his face.

“Yeah, when there weren’t so many zombies.” You stuck your tongue out at him, and it made him laugh. Leaning his head into his hand, Sukuna grinned when you yawned.

“Aw, are you tired? Better go to sleep soon.” His voice dropped to a lower volume, like you were right next to him.

“I will.” You yawned again and it made Sukuna yawn as well.

“Get off the phone and go to bed, you’re making me tired too.”

“Fine.” Whining out the word, you waved sleepily. “Goodnight Sukuna, I’ll send you the video files in the morning, okay?”

“Night.” Waving back, Sukuna waited until you hung up to turn his stuff off as well.

In the morning, Sukuna was ready to edit. What usually took him a week to edit out of laziness, he took only a day to edit this video with you together. Rewatching the footage, he nearly gagged at seeing how soft his face got when he looked at you, and most of those parts were left in because he couldn’t stand to watch them and fix them.

(Sukuna): videos up

The next day, he messaged you. Once again Sukuna patrolled the comments, swiftly deleting any that said even a hint of a bad thing about you. There was less this time, what with Sukuna adding a warning at the beginning of the video threatening anyone that talked down at you.

This video, like the first, went viral. But for a much different reason. Since Sukuna was emotionally unable to deal with how sappy he was and edit those parts out, everyone got to see how soft he was for you. If the comments weren’t mean, they were screaming about how you and Sukuna must be dating now, because why else would he look at you and talk to you like that?

And much to Sukuna’s dismay, there were also fancam edits of you two together. Any clippable moment of him being sweet on you in the videos you’d made together along with the photos you’d posted on Instagram were edited together and posted on Twitter. You both were tagged in every single one, making sure Sukuna saw all the videos of you and him together. He saved all of them too, delighting in the way you looked with him with all those pretty filters.

By the end of the day, people were trying to put a ship name together for the two of you and he’s seen you repost a few fancams with cute messages of thanks as well. Seeing you receptive to the fans screaming about the two of you made him happy, even if he was still too nervous to text you about anything outside of Youtube.

As more comments came in, people on Twitter were begging him to do a vlog with you. You had quite a few on your channel, going to cafes or filming what your day or week was like. Sukuna had watched them all and was jealous of every single person that appeared alongside you.

(Y/N): hey I’m doing a live on Instagram if you want to join me! I know people really like us together lol it’ll be great for views

(Sukuna): sure

Did you want him to join now? He’d just gotten out of the shower and thrown on a pair of sweats, he wasn’t exactly decent. But he didn’t want to waste time getting ready only for you to end the live.

“Hi Sukuna!” You smiled and waved when he appeared on the screen.

“Hey.” He waved back, not caring about the angle he was holding the camera in. He saw hearts begin to fill up the screen and comments started to fly by, almost all in caps about the fact he was shirtless talking to you.

“Guys, don’t be weird! Who cares that Sukuna is shirtless?” You tried to stop them, but it was clear you were flustered as well. You weren’t looking at him, peeking at him through the screen a few times.

“God you’re all thirsty as fuck.” Sukuna finally looked at himself on the screen. He was shirtless and in bed, hair slightly damp and tousled on his pillow. Reading a few comments, he shot up. “Of course I’m wearing pants, you nasty fuck!” Storming out of bed, he stood in front of the only mirror in his house that wasn’t in the bathroom and turned the camera around. “See, look!”

“Oh.” Gasping softly, you were glad Sukuna didn’t notice you screenshot the live. Clad in only gray sweatpants, Sukuna’s freshly cleaned skin gleamed in the light of his bedroom and every single muscle and edge of his body was on display.

“There, told you I wasn’t fucking naked.” Rolling his eyes, he flopped back down on the bed. None of the comments had gotten any better, all of them talking about how hot he was and how you were so lucky to know him in real life.

“L-let's talk about something else.” You stammered, not showing your face on camera for a few minutes. Sukuna laughed at the comments teasing you for being embarrassed, agreeing with some of them under his breath.

“So, what the fuck are you all doing here?” Sukuna posed the question at the chat, but at you as well.

“Well before you came everyone was talking about you...and you know how everyone has been begging for us to vlog?” You started off slowly, peeking an eye at his face.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to call you to ask how you felt about that?” How he felt? Why did you want to know?

“You couldn’t have texted me that?” That wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to say, but it made you chuckle, so it was okay.

“No! I wanted to ask so everyone could know!”

“I don’t mind it.” If you wanted to vlog with him, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“So…” Worrying your lip, you looked off camera for a few seconds before looking directly at Sukuna. “Would you like to be in a vlog with me, at a cafe? It’s outside the city, kind of far, but we can rent a car or-”

“Yes.” Sukuna interrupted, nodding his head quickly. “I’ll come. We don’t have to rent a car, I’ll drive.”

“Really?” The comments were just as shocked as you were. Sukuna never filmed anywhere but his home and the gym, this would be a monumental occasion.

“Did you want me to say no?”

“No!” You screamed immediately, nearly dropping your phone. “I just- I wasn’t expecting you to say yes!”

“Well I did.” Sukuna bit his lip, running a hand through his hair and flexing his arm. “So I guess it’s a date, huh?” His normal asshole confidence was back now that you were appearing through a screen and not right next to him. A surprised sound came from the back of your throat, and you nearly dropped the phone again.

“Y-yeah! A date!” It felt good to have you flustered for once and not Sukuna. Laughing heartily at you, Sukuna smirked at the comments.

“Was that all you wanted to ask me or was there something more?”

“No, that was it!”

“Alright.” Licking his lip and letting his tongue hang out of his mouth a little, Sukuna watched you bite your lip as well. “Well I’m gonna go, I got stuff to do, but I’ll text you later (Y/N).” Dropping his voice as he said goodbye, Sukuna left the livestream.

“Holy fuck.” As soon as his phone was off, Sukuna let out a breath he’d been holding in. His heart was pounding hard despite how confident he was in his actions. Flirting was nothing new to him, but with you it felt different and like he’d never done it before in his life.

He watched the rest of your livestream while he finished getting ready for bed, laughing at the comments still teasing you about getting flustered with him. The notifications for Twitter were going off as well, and he knew for sure that there were new fancams for him to check out later.

(Y/N): Sukuna!! You’re so embarrassing!

Texting him after your stream, your cheeks were still burning at the memory.

(Sukuna): hey, you said it would be good for views and it was

(Y/N): I know…

(Y/N): did you really mean it, about coming with me?

(Sukuna): of course. If I didn’t want to I would have said no

(Y/N): that’s good lol!

There was a lull in conversation, and Sukuna nearly fell asleep waiting for you to either text him again or for him to figure out what to say next.

(Y/N): so, a date huh? Are you going to bring me flowers?

Now he was awake. He didn’t expect you to bring that up again, and his eyes flew open. Sukuna’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, mind going blank on what to say.

(Y/N): lol just kidding! I know you only said that for the stream! I’ll text you later about the details, I’m about to knock out

(Y/N): goodnight :)

Well shit. Now he definitely wanted it to be a date.

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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hollowsart · 3 years

Note

OH MY GOD I THINK TUMBLR DELETED MY ASK BEFORE I COULD SEND SO IM RETYPING IT :( BUT THANK YOU FOR THE OVERVIEW ITS VERY HELPFUL. using he/him pronouns for eldritch spamton but feel free to correct me. buckle up

oookay first up: how does he feel things? does he feel directly from his body or is it mainly from the tendril stuff? by extension, would his feeling then be extra vague (like touching things with an oven mitt)? or, would it be perfectly functional; the tentacle stuff is extra sensitive? like how fingertips can discern textures and things better than other parts of a body. if this makes sense

which leads into my next question: what exactly is he controlling? does he control the body, the wiggly insides, both, neither? you mentioned the tentacles seemed to have a mind of their own, but he manages to mostly keep them under control. i understand that they also react to his emotions/unconscious wants (from a post long ago)?

does he have any different disposition compared to regular spamton? i don’t really know what im expecting; he just looks sort of grumpy in some situations.

also: is he waterproof!!! i imagine if you put him in a big pool, he would turn into an funny octopus-esque shape. my thoughts are very normal

OK this version is a little shorter but i still brain-dumped like the world was ending. i know some of this might be up to interpretation but now that i can express my ideas to you confidently!!! yeaaaaaaa. & also i’m okay with this ask being public if you think it’s worth sharing. thank you for your consideration

He/Him for Spamton, yes!

And for your questions:

[under a cut due to length!]

====

First off, though:

They're called Tendrils!

Tentacles are what octopi and squid have, suction cups and all. Spamton's tendrils do not have that. They're black (purple/blueish tint visible only by light) and sleek/smooth all over with twisty little tapered endings. That's why the little Eldritch Spamling I have is called 'Tendril' since that's what he is essentially!

Feelings:

A bit difficult for me to answer (like, I can't give you any explanation as to how it works and all as I have no idea how to MAKE that work.), but he can feel with the tendrils and with the body. You put your hands on his face and he'll melt at the gentle touch. He'll flinch and reel back in his tendrils if he felt you touch it and he wasn't aware that it has wriggled out to see you.

The tendrils are definitely capable of sensing and feeling. Only some are more specialized for different tasks. like the one in his mouth having high dexterity and being able to sense different tastes and all like a tongue. Most other tendrils have a low to medium level of dexterity, think like picking stuff up with your feet.

He can still open jars and hold objects with them. but he leaves the writing and painting and whatever else to his actual hands tho. makes it a lot easier to work with and accomplish things that way. plus, he's more comfortable and familiar with using his hands like he used to rather than trying to rely on the tendrils.

Controlling:

He controls the body and the tendrils. Just like how an octopi's arms have a "mind of their own" his tendrils often move on their own sometimes too, though it's in a similar sense to his heart (which just like my regular Spamton, is separate from his soul). The heart and tendrils tend to react to his emotions, betraying how he wishes to be seen. After all, you don't wanna be seen as needy and clingy when you're so touch starved, right? it feels embarrassing.

Subconsciously they'll try to seek out comfort, something to keep him grounded. When he's asleep they'll relax and if he feels comfortable and safe they'll relax enough that his body may.. slip apart. meaning.. his arms may droop and.. well. Slide off onto the floor. He takes a bit of time in the morning to essentially pull himself back together again. cracking his joints and all to make sure it's all there and how it should be again.

Disposition:

I mean. He's pretty much the same as any.

Desperate, touch starved, got the same amount of energy/enthusiasm, but also a bit closed off and reserved/cautious when it comes to other people.

It'd take him awhile to get used to people actually having feelings for him. if you're outgoing and very forward about your feelings and make your intentions clear, he'll pretty much start overheating and even blue screen like an overclocked computer in response. He doesn't take to easily to such responses, especially considering how he looks. He hates how he looks, uncomfortable and self conscious about his own body. It's been essentially mutilated from the organic Addison body that it used to be, to.. well.. This horrific doll body, a mockery of what he used to be.

(+the tendrils inside for Eldritch, regular Spam is the same but without the tendrils)

Looking grouchy is just kinda his default appearance? It's how the doll-ness of his current body looks. Can't really be helped. He used to look a lot sweeter and more welcoming(?) as an Addison! [seen here] Of course, he was lacking in confidence and all pre-Big Shot era. Whatever he picked up from the Big Shot days has stuck in a corrupt sort of way in his current self.

Anyways, if he found an interest in you, he'd ease himself into returning the feelings. Going all out to try and impress and all. He's not too great at it, but he is trying his best!! He will do whatever he can to try and impress!

Waterproof:

Oh yeah, he can handle water! Just gotta be careful with the water quality, if it's muddy or very dirty? that's gonna be a bit of a problem when it comes to cleaning himself off. As well, just gotta be careful with the cloth, it can be stained and probably already has a bit of discoloring, he does is best to try and keep himself clean (difficult to do when you're living in a dump and diving in trash to make a living).

Just needs time to dry out the cloth part of his stomach. the rest of his body can just be dabbed dry with a rag/towel just like us, but he does need to shake his body a bit like a dog to try and get rid of the extra water that may have gotten inside him. If he had a blow-dryer he could probably dry himself off a bit quicker that way, but usually he just uses the times he can bathe like a special spa day, taking as much time as he wants to scrub himself clean. He takes pride in his appearance to some degree, something he's kept since his Big Shot days.

#//long post #eldritch spamton #spamton #spamton headcanon #I THINK THIS IS EVERYTHING ANSWERED?#I cannot think of anything else to say that isn't just a rewording of what I've already said ksjdfhksdfh #making this public cuz I like to info dump sometimes and also I think some people would be interested to know more about my thoughts on him

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freckleslikestars · 3 years

Text

Aeque principaliter

Set in my Emily lives universe because we all have one. Emily asks pertinent questions about human anatomy.

1860 words, read here on AO3

‘Mommy?’

‘Yes, Baby?’ Scully asked distractedly as she reread the same line over and over in her case report, trying to figure out a better way to phrase it so that she didn’t make Mulder sound committable. She’d come home from their latest case a day earlier than him to pick Emily up from her mother’s and his flight was due in about an hour and a half. Home. She smiled at the thought, There hadn’t been anything official, but Mulder had gradually been moving his stuff into her apartment until his fish tank appeared in the hallway outside the bedrooms the other week, and his apartment, now empty but for his worn furniture, had not had its rental agreement renewed.

Emily looked up from where she sat at her small desk beside Scully’s, the one she sat at to colour whilst her mom worked, ‘why do you have boobies and Mulder doesn’t?’

She tilted her head, retyped the sentence, and turned to her daughter’s wide, innocent eyes. ‘I... well, Baby, I have breasts because I’m female, and Mulder doesn’t because he’s male.’

That seemed to satisfy her for about ten seconds. ‘But why?’

Scully took a final glance at her screen before saving her report and turning it off. She stood and lifted Emily up, carrying her to the sofa and settling her on her lap. ‘Well, when a woman has a baby, the baby needs milk to drink because they can’t eat food yet. But they can’t drink the milk that you and I drink because it makes their tummy hurt, so their mommy has breasts to make special milk for them.’

Her little brow furrowed, thumb sneaking into her mouth before Scully extricated it again, ‘did my other mommy make me special milk?’

A sigh, soft hair tucked behind little ears, ‘I don’t think so, Baby.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, do you remember why you came to live with me?’

‘Because you’re my real mommy. Did you give me your special milk when I was a baby, then?’

‘No. I’m sorry, Baby. One day, when you’re older, I’ll tell you the whole story.’

‘Did you not want me?’

‘Oh, Emily,’ she buried her face in strawberry-smelling hair, hid her tears from her daughter, ‘you were taken from me before I even knew about you. I didn’t...I didn’t get a chance to want you before they took you, but if I did I’d want you as much as I want you now, okay? More than anything. And don’t you ever let anyone tell you different, okay? I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ she snuggled further into Scully’s warmth, seemingly content in the silence of the apartment for a good three minutes. ‘Mommy?’

‘Yes, Baby?’

‘Are you going to have another baby and give them your special milk?’

That...wasn’t exactly what Scully had expected from her daughter. Since their weekend at the beach four months before, Mulder had respected her wishes to not talk about the possibility of going back to trying with the IVF until she felt ready to bring it up with Emily. Now Emily had brought the subject up on her own, she wasn’t sure she could dodge it anymore. ‘Well,’ she hesitated, ‘that depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On lots of things. It depends on if I can even have another baby, which I might not be able to-‘

‘Why?’

‘Because some men hurt me when they took you away from me, and it means that I might not be able to have another baby.’

‘They hurt you?’

‘They did. But it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore.’

‘What else?’

Scully smiled, her daughter’s analytical mind so much like her own, ‘it depends on if Mulder wants another baby-‘

‘He does, I bet he does because he loves you.’

‘Maybe so. We also have to figure out where a baby would sleep – we don’t really have much room here for another baby so we’d have to think about finding a new home maybe. And it depends on our work. A baby takes a lot of time and energy to grow and look after, and between Mulder and me we’d have to take a lot of time off of work.’

‘Huh...’ Emily frowned, ‘but then you could spend more time with me and the new baby and Grandma so that’s good, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is. There is one more thing it depends on.’

Emily looked up at her, wide eyes waiting, ‘what?’

‘You. You’re my baby, Emily, and in the end, Mulder and I think you should have a say. We want you to have a voice and if you don’t want us to have another baby, that’s okay and we understand that and love you just the same, but if you do want a baby brother or sister, we’ll do what we can to make that happen. But it’s something I think you need to think about and ask us any questions you want to.’

‘Hmm,’ she pursed her little lips, fiddling with Scully’s cross that matched her own, ‘I don’t have any questions.’

‘That’s okay. You can ask us anything whenever you think of it.’

‘No, I don’t have any questions because I know I want you to have another baby.’

‘Yeah?’ she brushed her daughter’s fine hair out of her eyes, ‘why?’

‘Because I think someone should drink your special milk otherwise it will be wasted.’

Scully laughed, ‘that’s not really how it works Baby. But that’s very thoughtful of you.’

‘I still think you should have another baby.’

‘Okay. How about I talk about it with Mulder.’

‘Uh-huh,’ she gave her mother one final squeeze then squirmed off of her lap, wandering back to her little desk and sitting down, ‘when will Mulder be home?’

‘In about an hour. Shall we go pick him up from the airport?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay. Five more minutes, then coat on in that case.’

~~~

Other than two drivers with signs dangling by their side, Scully, with Emily perched on her hip, was the only one waiting to welcome someone. Emily was dozing, in and out of sleep, the head of her stuffed giraffe gravitating towards her mouth until Scully removed it, only for it to end up being chewed again five minutes later. It was well past her bedtime, and she’d be difficult tomorrow, but tomorrow was Saturday and after a case, Saturdays always meant lazy pyjama and movie days anyway these days.

The sounds of the sleepy airport filtered around them, staticky Tannoy announcements and the hiss of sliding doors, the occasional squeak of a suitcase wheel on the linoleum, lulling Scully into a comforting sense of security. She spent half her life in airports; their liminal space had become something she could quite easily slip into without much trouble.

One weary businessman trickled in after another, Emily’s head lifting off her shoulder as they both craned to watch for a familiar spike of hair and crooked nose and wild smile.

And there he was, his face brightening at his welcome party as Emily struggled to free herself from her mother’s embrace, running full pelt at him and throwing herself into his arms.

He was clutching her to his chest, smelling her soft hair, when she cried out, as if only just remembering, ‘Mulder Mulder Mulder, you and Mommy are going to have a baby!’

It took him a moment to process what she had said before his eyes opened and he stared at Scully. The stream of men in dull suits that had been funnelling around them turned to glance at him, though he didn’t notice. Scully had been walking to him at a slower pace than Emily had run, though she was now less than a yard away.

‘I didn’t expect her to say that,’ she cringed apologetically.

‘Scully, wha-‘

‘I’m not pregnant,’ she interrupted before he could even ask.

‘Oh. Okay. I’m...I’ve missed something, haven’t I?’

She chuckled and nodded, ‘yeah. Come on, I’ll tell you when we get home and someone is in bed.’

~~~

‘She down?’

‘Yeah. Two more books later.’

‘Hmm, she gets that from you, you know?’ Mulder said, pulling her close as she burrowed into the covers next to him.

‘I’m not sure where else she’s got to get things from,’ Scully shrugged.

‘That’s true. So...Miss Not-Pregnant? What was that all about at the airport.’

Scully sighed, ‘we were discussing breasts.’

‘Well, what else is there to discuss in the world, really?’

‘Exactly. No, she was asking about why I have them and you don’t. So, I explained breast milk, and we got onto the topic of babies. She was the one who brought babies up, actually.’

‘And I take from her announcement at the airport that she’s not got a problem with the idea of a sibling.’

‘Apparently, she’s worried that if we don’t have another baby my breasts will go to waste.’

Mulder - scandalised - gasped, ‘I would never let that happen.’

She laughed quietly, nodding, ‘I know, but uh, I wasn’t planning on explaining that to her today. So, we talked about the considerations we’d need to think about. Talked about work and homes and what each of us wants. She reckons you want a baby with me because you love me.’

He hugged her closer, ‘that is one perceptive kid, Scully.’

‘I told her it might not happen, but I’m not sure how much of that she actually took on board.’

‘We could always adopt again? I mean, it won’t be the same as with Emily, but if you want another baby and Emily wants a little brother or sister, and we can’t...y’know, then I think adoption’s a good path to go down.’

‘Hmm. Even more to consider then. I think you’d need to start the process of officially adopting Emily. And...adoption agencies prefer to see married couples.’

‘Is that something you want?’

She thought for a moment, interlacing her fingers with his, ‘I don’t know. I mean, yes, of course, but also...the bureau won’t look upon it kindly, and the X-files are already-‘

‘I know. But...we don’t have to tell anyone. Not if we don’t want to. It’s...it’s a big decision. And- I mean, it��s still early days. Realistically speaking, in this relationship. I mean... it’s been, what? Four months?’

‘Mulder, I’m not sure the time matters with us. We’ve been together nearly six years.’

‘It’s not something we have to think about now.’

‘No.’

‘We could, however, start thinking about that baby,’ his hand started drifting down her stomach, playing with the waistband of her pyjama pants before slipping under.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Could start getting some practice in, even.’

She twisted her head around, hand reaching to brush his cheek, a sad pain lacing her voice, ‘you know natural conception’s never going to be possible with me, don’t you, Mulder?’

He nodded, pressing a kiss to her palm, her wrist, her fingers, ‘I know. Doesn’t mean we can’t still practice. Just in case.’

She laughed as he caught one of her fingers with his teeth, eyes flashing wildly, ‘Mulder, Emily’s in the next room.’

‘Then you’ll just have to be quiet then, won’t you?’

Tagging @today-in-fic

#my writing #emily lives #happy family #fluffy #txf #xf fanfic #msr #x files

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

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petals42 · 4 years

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Hi! I was in Grand Central Terminal recently and when I saw a stall in the dining concourse called Hale and Hearty (it looks like they sell mostly soups and salads) my first thought was of your wonderful au's. Dont know if this is exactly your jam but I thought it might be interesting!

Derek’s phone buzzes two months after he’s left Beacon Hills. Well, let’s be honest, it’s buzzed before then because Cora has his number and also there’s those damn telemarketers these days and also Deaton has checked in and Lydia once and Derek never meant to do a dramatic “disappear into the wilderness and never talk to anyone again” so there have been buzzes. The ones from Deaton and Lydia and even the Beacon Hills library bring pressure and anxiety and a sort of nameless terror so he doesn’t enjoy them but he always answers the buzzes. He has to. He knows that.

And this particular buzz makes him look down and read Stiles’ name.

His heart sort of lurches but he doesn’t hesitate to open it.

It’s a text. A picture of what looks like a stall in an underground mall--Grand Central if he’s not mistaken (and he’s not, he did live in New York for years)-- with bold, proud lettering declaring it “Hale and Hearty”.

A moment later, another text: Is this you?

And then another: lol. soups. knew you were a big softy.

And then cause its Stiles: your tomato is not very good. do better.

Derek rolls his eyes. That’s obviously not my business, Stiles.

Not for long. You’re gonna go under if you can’t even get tomato soup right.

Derek changes the subject. Sometimes with Stiles, that’s the only way. What are you doing in New York?

Visiting colleges. Big fun. TTYL. Fix your soup.

Derek doesn’t bother responding, but he doesn’t feel bad about it. Stiles had all but said it was okay and the knot in his stomach eases and... okay, that wasn’t that bad. He can do that.

*^*^*^

The texts continue.

A few days later and it’s some kind of taxi service called Hale When You Need Us that frankly doesn’t make any sense. Stiles complains to him that the cabdriver hadn’t even wanted to chat at all and he thought that was part of the experience. Derek texts back that he was pretty sure Stiles had gotten into a fake cab that was supposed to kidnap him until he annoyed them so much.

Then there’s a few weeks later from a place in Vermont called Snow, Ice, and Hale Sporting Goods. Stiles claims that his prices are ridiculous. Derek texts back that you gotta pay for quality. Stiles says that’s easy to say when you are a secret millionaire. For some reason Derek laughs at his phone instead of getting offended.

There’s silence as, presumably, school starts up again and Derek doesn’t have any real urge to break the silence, to text first, but he smiles when mid-October he gets a picture of Scott in front of a sign of a store called Hale Mary that apparently sells religious statues? He asks if the misspelling was on purpose or had a deeper meaning and Stiles replies that they hadn’t really had time to stop since they were tracking a hag of some sort but--

Don’t worry, Stiles texts a moment later. Everyone safe, no stress, we’re fine.

Stop worrying.

Go have a drink

You can buy it from Hales&Ales.com. They deliver.

Derek frowns even as his shoulders relax. Werewolves can’t get drunk, Stiles.

Like you aren’t brewing that will some strong stuff. Probably why you started it in the first place.

“Idiot,” Derek mutters. He doesn’t feel pressure to text back but he does anyway.

They keep it up. Old as Hale (an antique store). Fighting Tooth and Hale (a boxing gym). Hale No Longer (a tanning salon?).

Is there a point to this? Derek finally texts after Stiles sends a picture of a sweatshirt declaring itself to be Hale University in a deep Yale blue that Derek is honestly concerned he had custom made.

Just trying to figure out what you’ve been up to.

For the first time since Stiles started texting, Derek feels a wave of pressure behind his eyes. He doesn’t... he doesn’t know what he’s been up to either. He’s...

He’s been travelling and spending time with Cora and reading and hiking and wandering and fishing, oddly enough, and he doesn’t really know how to say any of that.

So he doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t respond. Even when the pressure gets to him and he stops and types and retypes a dozen different responses a dozen different times. It’s stressful and embarrassing and--

Wait, wait. I got it, Stiles texts six days later.

The last text is like the first. A picture of a big sign of a store called Hale to the King: Toilets and Bathrooms accompanied by no less than eleven crying-laughing emojis.

I hate you. Derek texts and he somehow knows Stiles is still just laughing his ass off at him and he suddenly very much wants to hear that sound and so before he can think about it, he hits the call button.

Stiles picks up on the first ring.

#sterek #teen wolf #my fic #fanfiction #sterek fanfiction #so ive decided to go through old prompts #this is from 8 months ago #feel free to send new ones #though warning i am obviously rusty af #but i've got a little bit of time so #why not!#fallingupdownsideways

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Note

can I request a hc with “I told you not to fall in love with me.” for akaashi? I enjoyed the sleepover writing so much!!! also,, can you turn it into an angst to fluff bc,,I cry easily and maybe a timeskip with the relationship? thank u 👁👅👁

Akaashi x reader - scenario

prompt: “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

a/n: i legit retyped this whole thing 3 times with different story lines each time lmao. no idea why i couldn’t decide on something ahh. i’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you were anticipating (couldn’t turn it into a hc, had to do a scenario,) but this is how i interpreted it! thank you so much for reading and requesting!! <3333 kind of an angst to fluff situation

warnings: suggests nsfw in the beginning

wc: 1710

---

A mistake.

It was a huge, thoughtless mistake.

I mean, what did you think would happen?

That one night with Akaashi would be easy to forget? That, after liking him for months, you would just stop caring? That your touch starved body would immediately go back to normal after having his hands all over you?

You still feel the ghost of his fingertips trailing over your skin… and you shiver.

“Don’t go falling in love with me.” He’d murmured, jokingly, his words followed by a light chuckle.

You just joined him with a short, breathy laugh in response, splayed out on his bed, exhausted.

Oh, the irony.

---

It’s morning after, and a golden glow stirs you out of your sleep. The soreness in your legs and the unfamiliar scent of someone else’s home overwhelms your senses. You’re still in his bed, your body still intertwined with Akaashi’s. His eyebrows are furrowed, his breathing is steady. He’s still in a deep sleep.

So pretty… you think as you study his features.

It’s what you’ve wanted… just not under the right circumstance. Even though you know it’s probably a bad idea, you decide to not leave right away.

Instead, you resolve to fix breakfast for the two of you. Under the best of circumstances, you’ll chat. Maybe laugh a little?

Slipping out of his sheets, you carefully pull on a white tee shirt and shorts, making your way out of the room, try not to knock into anything.

The kitchen, now visible in the early morning daylight, is neat and tidy, nothing out of place. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s efficient and it’s just so… him.

As you’re making pancakes and bacon (you found ingredients in the pantry and bacon in the fridge,) you hear soft footsteps.

“What... are you doing here?” He questions sleepily. The confusion is apparent on his face… he’d clearly expected you to run off right when you woke up.

“Oh, sorry… I just thought I’d make you breakfast. There’s coffee brewing right now.” You speak quietly, not wanting to reveal your embarrassment.

Ah, that’s right… you weren’t supposed to be here. You overstepped an unspoken boundary.

He just hums, taking a seat at his kitchen table right across from where you’re cooking. He’d had his assumptions about you… he knew you had liked him in the past, but he hadn’t predicted the possibility of you staying throughout the morning. His foresight ended when last night began.

A mistake, now, on his part.

And he grew steadily more uncomfortable.

It’s not that he doesn’t want you around… but he hadn’t planned on you knowing him. He had boundaries for a reason. Standards and space to keep people away from him.

A habit he’d developed subconsciously throughout the years to protect himself.

Yet, you were still here. In his kitchen, at his house, with his number… making breakfast for him.

All this after a long night of exploration. Body-to-body contact. Physical interaction with someone, admittedly very beautiful, that he hasn’t had in a long time.

It’s too close for comfort.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure we’re on the same page right now…” He starts.

You turn around, realizing the conversation you’re about to have… isn’t going to be very fun.

“Y/n, I told you I’m not used to these things. Don’t get me wrong… you’re kind for making me breakfast and I genuinely enjoyed last night… but I didn’t sign up for a relationship.” He states bluntly, trying to combat the creeping feeling of guilt in his stomach.

There’s something else there too, but he can’t quite figure out what the emotion is.

Your eyes are getting a little teary, but you manage to hold back any tears of embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry… I just, I don’t know, I thought maybe you would see me differently? I, uhm… I really like you. A lot.” You try to compose yourself, but your hands become shaky so you grab onto the countertop.

“I told you not to fall in love with me.” He reminds you of his playful words from last night, but it sounds far more serious this time. “I don’t know what you were expecting from me, but I’m not interested in this continuing.” He tries to reason, noticing the redness appearing slowly on your face.

“I hate to break it to you, Akaashi, but that’s not exactly how emotions work. For most people at least.” You crack a small smile, but it won’t fool Akaashi… and it’s definitely not fooling you.

And a tear betrays you, slipping down your cheek to the tip of your chin, onto the floor below.

Once one leaves your eye, the others decide to follow. Your dove-white shirt now wet and covered in tear stains.

How humiliating. Thinking that something as stupid as sleeping with Akaashi would produce some semblance of feelings in him. That somehow you would be adequate enough for him in one night that he could see some relationship with you in the future.

Yes, it was a huge mistake.

On both sides.

So you head home, leaving him in the wake of your emotions and him stuck in his thoughts, processing why he’d allowed this to happen.

The room feels empty without you in it.

Why is that? And why does he feel so bad about it? He didn’t do anything wrong. Or did he?

Why does he want to call you right now? Why does he suddenly need to explain himself? He has no reason to. You never asked him to…

He buries his head in his hands for a few minutes then decides on a shower. That should wash away whatever pit he’s feeling in his stomach right now.

But the feeling lingers.

And it chooses to nag at him for months, with no end in sight.

---

Time passed and college is more or less overtaking your life. The end of the semester leaves you overwhelmed and burnt out. So yeah, you’re contemplating, once again, why you went to college in the first place.

However, without the distraction of school, you probably would still be ruminating on last semester’s heartbreaker of an issue.

The workload allowed you to let go of any hope for Akaashi returning feeling or reaching out.

Numbing something isn’t always the best way to get rid of your feelings, but you can’t help but think they wouldn’t have gone away without some mental diversion.

Your expectations were too high and it was best for you to burn that bridge. Or whatever was left to burn anyway.

But fate likes to play cruel tricks and you seem to be its target for the day.

As you leave your dorm, a wave of familiarity washes over you.

That smell… that cologne. It’s a sharp slap to the face.

You finally make it out of the thick, painful realization that Akaashi isn’t going to be a part of your life anymore… and your mind draws you right back in.

But it isn’t just the cologne. No.

The familiar features, physical and vocal, decided to rejoin you as well.

The universe had the audacity to place him on the walkway up to your dorm room.

You attempt to slink past him, turning your face hoping that he hadn’t already seen you, but you simply aren’t fast enough.

“It’s been a while, y/n.” He states.

Your heart drops and you slowly turn around, body stiff.

“Why are you here?” It sounds more like an accusation than a question. Oops.

“Well, maybe it’s because we go to the same school?” He chuckles, but straightens himself up.

“Yeah… well I’ve gotta run. I’m late for, um, things.” You reply, trying to get yourself out of an increasingly awkward situation.

Akaashi takes a step forward and gently, but firmly, grasps your jacket’s sleeve.

“Hold on.” He orders, then softens the command with a, “Please.”

“I actually came here to- ehem, apologize.” He looks you straight in the eye.

He seems genuine, his hurt translating through his eyes.

“You didn’t deserve what I did to you.” He admits, “I knew you’d liked me… and I- I was selfish.”

He reads your face, noting the look of exhausted grief in your expression.

In a way, he had used you. He knew you felt something for him… and inadvertently took advantage of it. Not wanting strings attached, not caring (in the moment) that it might hurt you, and not communicating his intentions.

“A friend of yours finally told me where you lived, so I ran over here to let you know that I am, truly, so sorry.”

Your eyes are misty again… why am I like this.

You give a gentle smile, trying to ease the tension in the air.

“Akaashi, it’s okay. It was a mistake. Things like this happen all the time.” You do your best to console the boy, the one who’s still gripping your jacket. Even though it’s really you who needs a hug right now.

“I’m gonna head-on, but I hope you feel better, okay? Don’t go overthinking things.” You tease, gently. It’s the best you can do.

But he doesn’t let go.

“I want to talk with you.” He states, this time with a tone of interest, not pleading. Asking.

“What do you mean?” You ask, genuinely confused. You feel yourself getting warm and it’s not the layers you’re wearing.

His unoccupied hand makes its way to the back of his head. “Like… on a date. Or just out somewhere.”

The directness shocks you. Why now? Why not then? Should you even trus-

“I understand if you don’t trust me. You’re right… that night was a mistake. But you aren’t.”

He’s flushed, but it’s crystal clear that he’s being honest. He let’s go of your jacket.

“I think I can trust you, y/n. I want to make it up to you… get to know you better. For the right reasons.”

You contemplate it, making him wait for a moment, allowing several, long seconds to pass.

Yes, he caused pain.

But there are two pieces to any problem. Person A and person B.

You’ve been given second chances all your life… from jobs, to relational mistakes, to breakups. Forgiveness is one of the most powerful forces.

And you figure person B could use a second chance.

“Then let’s start slow.” You decide and reach out a hand with a mischievous glint in your eyes, letting your humor shine through for a moment.

“Hi, I’m y/n.”

He reaches his own hand out to yours, but instead of shaking it, intertwines his fingers with yours, in a sense, sealing the deal.

“Hi, y/n, I’m Akaashi.” He reintroduces himself with a small, but glowing smile.

#haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #akaashi keiji #akaashi haikyuu #akaashi scenarios #akaashi oneshot #akaashi x reader #akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi angst #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #hq #hq scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #sneezefiction

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isabellitah · 4 years

Text

This side blog is officially two months old i think and i just wanna say- tysm for 100+ followers! 🥺🤍🤍 have some drabbles bc most of my drafts are either 5% or 80% done- there is no in between. It’s a lil late bc I had to retype over half bc tumblr glITCHED and i had to start over i-

TUA

in which they're reminded why you're the baby

“In my defense, I was left unattended.” you stood there in front of your siblings, looking much like a child caught by her parents with her hand in the cookie jar after bedtime.

Allison sighed, honestly- it’s as though you’re not even your age, “Eightie, you burned down the kitchen...”

“Exactly, because I was le-”

“For the third time today.”

"But Allisooooon-"

Five looked up before sighing out loud then facing you, "I'll go back in time but- this is the last time today, got it, Eightie?"

"...okay..." you pouted.

Klaus sauntered up to you and draped his arm around your shoulder, "awwie don't be sad, Tee,"

"Yeah, don't be sad- why'd you burn down the kitchen tho?" asked Ben as he looked between you and their still burning kitchen- the fire was slowly spreading towards the dining table.

"I didn't mean to!"

Diego snickered.

Allison elbowed him.

He groaned, glared at Allison before turning back to you, "chill, Princess- how’d you burn down the kitchen this time?"

You mumbled something.

Luther looked at his other siblings before asking,"huh? A little louder please."

"... I was trying to make you guys brownies."

"..."

"I left the spoon in the mug while melting chocolate in the microwave and it just went kapoosh."

i- they facepalmed while you continued pouting.

And you wonder why you’re the baby.

in which Klaus spreads his word

Allison is a good person.

Allison is friendly.

Allison is patient.

Allison wants to choke most of her siblings-

“Accept the good in your life,” Allison was brought back to reality at hearing something that made sense escape her usually high brother’s lips,

She blinked before slowly nodding, “that’s actually great advice, Kl-”

“Accept me- I’m a fucking delight.”

Fucking hell- she should’ve known.

Ben looked at Klaus before asking, “is that what you told your cult?”

“For the last time, Benny- it wasn’t a cult!”

“Yes it wa-”

And the cycle started all over again.

in which the youngest three + Klaus have a chat

All four of you were scattered across the library- having just finished interrupting Ben’s ‘me’ time.

“C’mon Vanya! Lemme set you up with someone- I promise she isn’t that bad.”

Ben looked at him bewildered, “that bad? Just how bad is she then?”

Klaus shrugged his shoulders, “well-”

“Klaus, thank you but reallym I don’t need anyone right now. I have you guys.”

“AWWW WE LOVE YOU TOO, VANNY!” you exclaimed as you glompes onto your sister, and she laughed while righting your positions and wrapping her arm around your waist.

“And besides- I have the sex appeal of a math book.”

...

Did she just-

Klaus snickered, “I don’t know about you, Vanya, but I’ve never met anyone that opened a math book and didn’t say ‘fuck me’.”

...

Did Klaus just-

But then again...

“... You know he’s not wrong.”

Great now Ben’s looking at you bewildered.

“Don’t listen to them, Vanya.”

in which Diego fails to use his half of his braincell

Diego and Five were fighting- again.

And this time it was just you there like-

Where is everybody? 😩

“Can you at least try to look at things from my perspective?” Five’s teeth gritted as he slowly but surely lost his patience at the sheer hardheadedness his brother continues to display. Honestly- was it so hard to understand that just because his girlfriend was in the commission, doesn’t mean that they’re all good guys?

Diego snorted and rolled his eyes before snarkily saying, “oh of course, how rude of me,” and proceeds to crouch down.

Well shit-

“I will fucking end you.” said Five before kicking Diego in the uhh... no-no zone.

Lila’s not gonna be happy about that.

#tua #the umbrella academy #hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #number eight

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highonchocolate · 4 years

Text

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 15

First Previous Next Ao3

“Spots off.” She muttered, face mashed into the soft mattress. Maybe if I just stay like this, I'll eventually sink low enough to become one with my bed. She thought, steadfastly ignoring the disapproval she felt radiating from her Kwami.

Stretching, her fingers fumbled for the switch on the lamp before she flicked it, filling the room with soft light.

Adrien's words looped through her mind.

Your leaving made Lila that much more comfortable with hanging off me!

Your leav一

Shut! Up! Shut up! It's not true. It's not my fault. It's not. It's not! She screamed, trying to drown out the dark voice in her mind repeating Adrien's words back to her again and again.

“Ugh, Tikki.” She groaned, words muffled by her pillow. “That was a disaster!”

She rolled into her back and stared at the dark ceiling, brain not comprehending her surroundings. Her mind was whirling with her body white一hot with embarrassment and anger.

“Ugh! I don't know why一He never hinted一I didn't know that he was feeling this way!” She waved her arms angrily above her face, trying to explain as she stumbled over her words.

“I don't know, Tikki,” she sighed, running a hand down her face.

“I guess I never realized exactly how much he's been through.” She looked down guiltily at the quiet, shameful admission. Becoming one with the bed sounds pretty appealing right now.

“I always assumed he was fine, he was always so happy, always joking around, how did I not see it?”

“Marinette, I think the both of you need to talk some things out.” Tikki told her, not bothering to mince their words. “You'd both been dancing around the deeper implications of your reveal ever since it happened last year, and it was bound to blow up in your faces after a while.”

“Honestly,” they confide, “I was expecting it to happen much sooner.”

“Tikki!” Marinette snapped, pushing herself into a sitting position and crossing her legs.

“Right, sorry.” They sobered up, flying forward to hover in front of her face. She locked eyes with them, her sad blue stare rising to meet that wise, ancient gaze.

“This lack of communication, and the unspoken words that lie between you will only serve to push you two farther apart. You are two halves of one whole, yin and yang, balance incarnate. As soulmates, it is your duty to support each other. The weaker your bond, the weaker you are inside.” Their eyes burned with intensity, asking her, begging her, to understand.

Marinette dropped her head into her palms, looking through her fingers at the soft red duvet beneath her. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. A white hot ball of anger tightened on her chest at the words of the Kwami. God, she was just so tired.

“Tired of what, Marinette?” Tikki asked. She must have spoken out loud, then.

At the question, she felt the tightly compressed ball of anger squeeze tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until一

She snapped.

“I'm so fucking tired of everything!” She lifted her head to glare at the ceiling, voice breaking as she struggled to reign in her tears.

“Tired of all the responsibility, the pressure, from everyone! From you! All anyone expects from me is perfection! God forbid I screw up, or I'll have all of you on my case! And let's not forget that I never asked for any of this in the first place!” She wiped furiously at her damp cheeks, batting away the warm paws reaching out to brush her cheeks.

“Don't touch me!”

She stood up in anger, face twisted with fury and sadness. “The only reason I'm here is because some old man decided that since I pulled him out of the middle of the road, I had to be a hero!”

She suddenly collapsed onto the floor as though the fight had been drained out of her, pressing her forehead to the smooth wood as her body shook with quiet sobs.

“I can't deal with all this pressure, Tikki,” she whispered, her hushed confession loud in the silent room. “All the一all the expectations...I just can't.”

“Oh Marinette…” Tikki cuddled close, humming comfortingly. “I'm sorry if I made it seem like a pressure or an expectation. But you do need to talk. And you both need to apologize. You said a lot of hurtful things一”

“Me?!” She interrupted, bolting upright onto her knees to stare incredulously at the Kwami. “Tikki! Why me?! You heard what he said! He said that since I left, Lila decided to feel him up more! How is that my fault?!”

“一to each other.” They finished, fixing her with an unimpressed look. “Wait to hear what I have to say before you jump to conclusions.”

She sat back on her heels, feeling chastised.

“And that isn't your fault. He was angry, you both were, so you lashed out at each other. Anger can make you especially cruel and vicious. Boo一hoo the poor rich baby didn't get some hugs from Daddy? Marinette, that was too far. Just like how him blaming you for Lila's actions was also uncalled for. He’s been through a lot, as have you. You both need to work this out.”

“I know.” She felt tears prick at her eyes again. Her anger had vanished, leaving a knot of guilt and shame in its wake. It was an ugly feeling, and she hated her situation so much in that moment.

Oh Adrien, what have we become?

“I know,” she repeated, glancing over at her friend. “We need to fix this, fix our relationship.”

Sighing, she flopped back into her bed. “But I hate being the bigger person.”

Tikki laughed quietly, flying over to her nightstand and coming back with her phone clutched in their paws. Marinette let out a small oof as they dropped it on her stomach.

“Text him.” They told her sternly, crossing their paws.

“I'm getting to it!” She retorted, opening up her phone. As she clicked on her messaging app, a notification popped up.

Adrien

Message [Now]

She clicked on it with some trepidation, opening up their chat.

Adrien

Hey [Sent 6:56 AM]

Hesitating, she glanced at Tikki, who nodded encouragingly. Her phone pinged again, and she turned her gaze to the screen.

You

Hey [Sent 6:56 AM]

Adrien

Im sorry for what I said [Sent 6:57 AM]

You

Im sorry for what I said too [Sent 6:57 AM]

She paused, considering the best way to word her thoughts.

You

Tikki thinks we should talk [Sent 6:57 AM]

(Adrien is typing…)

Adrien

Do you? [Sent 6:57 AM]

She inhaled sharply at the question, mulling it over in her head. Did she really want to talk about it?

Nodding to herself, she typed out her reply.

You

Yes [Sent 6:58 AM]

Adrien

Over the phone or in person? [Sent 6:58 AM]

She tapped out a reply, deleted it, and then retyped it.

You

Phone is easiest [Sent 6:58 AM]

Adrien

Okay [Sent 6:58 AM]

When? [Sent 6:58 AM]

You

Not right now [Sent 6:58 AM]

It's pretty early over here [Sent 6:59 AM]

Maybe in a few hours? [Sent 6:59AM]

Adrien

Okay [Sent 7:00 AM]

As if on cue, her alarm started blaring. With a sigh, she turned it off, pushing herself off the bed and making her way into the bathroom on tired limbs to start the day.

一一一

After the portal had closed in a flare of blue, Adrien had swore loudly and kicked the wall in front of him. Cursing at the new pain flaring from his foot, he transformed and returned to the Agreste Mansion, immediately turning and collapsing onto his bed. Staring at the ceiling, he’d let their argument from earlier loop through his head.

一don't have time to deal with your little temper tantrums!一

一stop acting like you're a saint一

一pull-down chart of my schedule一

一count on one hand一

一get over yourself!一

一you left一

一take all the hits for you!一

一can't deal with this right now一

His ears had felt like they had been stuffed with cotton; he heard nothing but static. He saw his vision blur, felt something warm trail down both cheeks. He vaguely registered that his chest was heaving as he gasped for breath, but it all seemed insignificant compared to what he had done barely thirty minutes ago.

What have you done What have you done What have you done一

He heard a faint, panicked voice calling his name, sounding as though it came from far, far away. He latched onto the sound, using it to pull himself back to full consciousness.

“一Kid? Kid? Adrien!” Plagg hovered in front of him, whiskers twitching agitatedly.

“Plagg?” He had rasped, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Yeah kid, what’s wrong?”

“I think I messed up, Plagg,” his voice broke on another sob, and he brought his shaking palms to his face to wipe away the tears staining his face.

“Kid…” The Kwami had looked pained, flying over at his admission to rub their head against his in comfort.

“Adrien…”

They paused, trying to phrase their words properly.

“What happened back there wasn’t just your fault. Both you and Pigtails were angry at each other, and at what has been happening, and it all erupted. Like Mount Vesuvius, way back when.”

It was a lame joke, and a terrible analogy, but it coaxed a hoarse laugh out of the teenager’s hunched form.

“I just...I feel really bad Plagg, but I also don’t regret telling her some of that stuff.” He confessed, looking down at his lap.

“Okay…” They said slowly, “You said you don’t regret telling Pigtails some things. What do you regret telling her?”

At the question, leaf green eyes had once again filled with sparkling tears, rolling down his cheeks with trails of silver. “I一I said that Lila harassing me was her fault! But it’s not! It’s nobody’s fault but Lila’s! How could I have just said that to her, Plagg?” He asked desperately, looking sadly up at the Kwami.

“Aw, kid, sometimes when you’re mad, you say things you don’t mean just so that you can hurt the other person. You feel ugly and mean, and you take it out on them.” Plagg gazed at him solemnly, trying to convey their thoughts.

“...When did you get so wise, Plagg?” Adrien had asked, a sad smile playing across his face.

“Kid, I was always wise,” they retorted, smirking at him. “My wisdom just chooses to show itself every century or so.”

‘Well, what does your infinitely wise self think I should do, then?” Adrien asked, falling backwards onto the bed with a sigh.

“Apologize.” Plagg said bluntly, nodding towards his phone where it lay on his desk. “She said a lot of cruel things to you, but sometimes it’s best to forgive.”

“I guess.” He had sighed, sliding off the bed to grab his phone. Unlocking it, he smiled down at his wallpaper, a selfie of the five of them in the park, before opening up his messaging app. He clicked on Marinette’s contact and then froze, fingers stilling over the lit screen. What do I say?

Plagg curled up on his shoulder in silent support, nuzzling him softly.

You

Hey [Sent 12:56 PM]

He looked over at Plagg, eyes wide. “I just sent it. And it was the stupidest text ever.”

“Did you apologize?” They asked, looking at his phone screen.

“No!” He had yelled, sounding panicked.

“Quick, say you’re sorry!” The Kwami urged, nudging him insistently.

As he began typing, his phone vibrated with a notification.

Marinette

Hey [Sent 12:56 PM]

“Apologize!’ They hissed as he fumbled for the send button.

“I’m trying to send it!”

“Let me proofread it!”

“Get off, Plagg!”

You

I'm sorry for what I said [Sent 12:57 PM]

Marinette

I'm sorry for what I said too [Sent 12:57 PM]

(Marinette is typing…)

She said she’s sorry too!”

“I’m right here kid, I can see it myself.” The Kwami had responded drily. “Now ask her about that conversation.”

“Calm down, I will!” He said, typing out a question.

“Oh wait hold on, she already asked.”

Marinette

Tikki thinks we should talk [Sent 12:57 PM]

He read the text, feeling his doubt rising. He didn’t care if Tikki wanted to talk he did, he wanted to know what she thought! Did she not want to? Is that why she said only Tikki wanted them to talk?!

You

Do you? [Sent 12:57 PM]

(Marinette is typing…)

Marinette

Yes [Sent 12:58 PM]

He exhaled in relief, his shoulders loosening.

You

Okay [Sent 12:58 PM]

When? [Sent 12:58 PM]

Marinette

Not right now [Sent 12:58 PM]

It's pretty early over here [Sent 12:59 PM]

Maybe in a few hours? [Sent 12:59 PM]

You

Okay [Sent 1:00 PM]

Adrien sighed and shut off his phone, glancing at the time as he plugged it into the charger. 12:17 AM. It had been eleven hours since their conversation, and Marinette still hadn’t called. Logically, he knew that there was a time difference, and that it was around six in the evening for Marinette, but that didn’t keep him from getting antsy. With another glance at the clock, he clicked play on the next episode of Avatar, settling in to watch as Zuko and Sokka infiltrated the Boiling Rock.

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #adrien agreste #chloe bourgeois #luka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #lila rossi #alya cesaire #salt

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connorswhisk · 4 years

Text

melodrama (oh how fast the evening passes)

a continuation of a previous fic containing lots of harlivy angst

also on my ao3

Ivy wakes up alone and hungover. This isn’t usually out of the norm for her - except that last night, she hadn’t been alone, and as she blinks the bleariness out of her eyes and winces away from the pale grey light filtering through her windows, she wonders when Harley left.

Because of course Harley had left - Ivy had known, from the first knock on her door, that she would. Harley likes to call herself independent, likes to think of herself as ruler of her own fate, but she isn’t. Not really. Anyone can see that.

Ivy knows exactly where Harley is right now, and it makes her stomach churn (though that could just be the vodka talking (but it probably, definitely isn’t, not when it comes to Harley)).

She pushes herself to her feet reluctantly and shuffles over to the kitchen to fix herself a prairie oyster, trying to piece together the previous night’s events as she does.

Ivy rummages through her cabinets, pulling out Worcestershire sauce - we drank (obviously) - sriracha - Joker was fighting Batman, otherwise she wouldn’t have come - vinegar - we slept together, I know that, but - to the counter, for salt and pepper - but - to the fridge for one of her three remaining eggs (she’ll have to go shopping soon) - but I -

She mixes her ingredients together and wonders, hazily, what the fuck she said to Harley last night, exactly.

A quick throw back of her head, and the oyster slips down her throat easily - she grimaces, smacks her lips, waits for her thoughts to clear - and as the murk in her brain dissipates, the glass falls to the floor, where it shatters into fifty fragmented pieces.

She remembers.

“Oh…fuck,” Ivy curses, at her stupidity, at the glass, at Harley, at everything. She swallows roughly and rests her forehead in the palm of her hand.

Dumbass, she thinks.

She’d told Harley the one thing she swore to herself she’d never voice out loud. She’d told Harley that she loved her. Like an idiot. She’d downed too much liquor, let her tongue get too loose, and ruined everything.

But…Harley had still slept with her, anyway. Ivy can’t be sure if that really means anything or not.

Regardless, she has to right this wrong. Harley left a while ago, and she’s almost certainly with the Joker now, but Ivy can still fix this. She can.

Or, she can at least try to.

After sweeping up the glass shards, she hunts around for her phone for five straight minutes before finding it wedged in between the couch cushions, dust and grime coating its screen. She sighs, scrubs at it half-heartedly with the blanket she’d slept under (the blanket Harley had slept under with her, cradled in her arms, if only for a few hours), and is about to hit the Call button on Harley’s contact, when she hesitates.

Harley’s probably glued to Joker’s side at the moment, and won’t be able to pick up Ivy’s call. And even if Ivy left a voicemail, there’d be almost no chance of Harley getting to listen to it - not with the Clown Prince of Crime constantly leering over her shoulder, holding the leash he has on her tight and grinning like the fucked-up bastard he is.

So Ivy opts for a text message, instead, typing and retyping and hitting the backspace key until she has something that’s hopefully not completely terrible and awkward:

Me: Hey, Harls. IDK if you remember much about last night, but I just wanted to apologize for anything I might have said to you. Drunk me is such a mess, LOL. But anyway. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. Just wanted to let you know. Haha.

She hits send before she can think twice, immediately cringes (“Haha?” What the fuck is wrong with you, Isley?), and makes herself put her phone down so she isn’t staring at the screen, waiting for a reply for hours.

Ivy busies herself with watering her plants and shaking off the last remaining strains of her hangover, trying to keep her mind occupied with other things, but always seeming to return to Harley, despite her best efforts. She knows Harley won’t hate her for her drunken confession - but it’s a little nerve-wracking, and a little anxiety-inducing, and a little heartbreaking, too. What with the way things are.

It’s not that Ivy’s expecting Harley to stop talking to her; but it’s not that she’s expecting her to say I love you, too, either.

No matter how much she’d like that, it won’t happen.

Three hours later, while Ivy is dully flipping through the channels and forcing herself away from the memories of the night before, her cell phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of her, and her heart leaps to her throat.

Ivy swallows, mutes the TV, and opens her messages before she starts worrying too much about it.

Harls: hey ivy!! nah, i don’t really remember SHIT from last night, lmfaooo. guess i went a little too hard on the vodka as usual. so if u said anythin freaky to me, here’s your free pass to pretend it never happened! lol.

Harls: lmk if you’ve got another gig planned, btw. mistah j’s gonna hit the wayne charity ball next week and he wants me to stay back and fend off any motherfuckers who try and attack while he’s gone. you could come over if u wanted, give me some company? i’d sure appreciate it, pammy. anyway, had fun last night. hope to see you again soon!! ❤️❤️🖤🖤

Ivy swallows a second time, but this time, there’s a lump lodged in her throat that just won’t go down, and she can’t bring herself to write back.

It’s about what she’d predicted Harley would say; but that doesn’t make it sting any less. Ivy can tell she’s bluffing, can tell that she remembers - being a misanthrope has its perks, and Ivy can read people like nobody’s business, even over text - and she knows Harley so well, anyway, knows her more than anyone else, has let her do things to her that no one else has, and no one else ever could, and Ivy knows -

Ivy knows better.

And it doesn’t matter. It won’t matter. Not until Harley leaves the man holding her back and pulling her strings. Ivy does what she can to help her out, but…

Sometimes, Ivy thinks that Harley might never go through with it.

And that…that scares her.

Ivy throws her phone across the couch, pulls her legs up to her chest, and pretends that she can’t feel the way her eyes burn harshly and her chest aches, deep and to the core.

And it doesn’t work at all.

#my writing #my post #harlivy #dc #harley quinn #poison ivy #harlivy fanfiction #fandom: dc #pairing: harlivy

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anonil88 · 4 years

Text

Generation ep.2 and ep. 3 liveblog/thoughts

I deleted my entries live blog of episode 2 and episode 3 by accident and i don't feel like retyping it but I will say a few things.

Scissoring and Poison ivy, WHAT?

Warning spoilers below.

I kind still don't know how to feel about this show at all. Some of the writing is good, some of the writing is really really stale. The beginning scene of the bathroom pregnancy is not that funny to me. It is more annoying than anything because just calling an emt is much more logical.

Ariana annoys me and I can sense its from her dad's coddling of her behavior BUT what the heck is wrong with sis. The other two in her friend trio, Naomi and Delilah, also very unlikable and Delilah's dialogue is some of the roughest parts of the script in terms of flow etc. But all three characters need some serious reality checks or social awareness for the things they say. Delilah preaches inclusivity and justice but is bestfriends with a known homophobe and mean person. That's odd because shes def not a wallflower in that group and has her own life outside of it. Hence her current pregnancy. Naomi is just a typical teen little sister to Nathan but outting her brother and some of her other comments show exactly why she keeps the other two girls as close friends.

I did say in the deleted liveblog that it never ceases to amuse me that 24/25 year olds can still have a baby face. I'm 24 and the amount of times, pre pandemic, I've been asked how my junior or senior year of highschool is going?

Nathan royally screwed his sisters wedding weekend up on multiple levels but he has a crush on a guy, Chester, who doesn't see him in that way.

I really don't want to see Chester flaunt himself all over this guidance counselor. The counselor could loose his job even if he doesn't reciprocate the actions because he was in the room with how Chester acts up in the promo. Not only that but why do some 17 year olds talk to adults, who have put up clear boundaries, like those boundaries are non-existent. I know people who did it when I was 17 and I've seen the tiktok and Twitter comments, some kids need to relax and take some steps back.

Also the comments in episode 3 that the straight guys made to him in the locker room:

HBO normalizing all bodies on screen is a needed change on TV. No more full frontals are only for women and must be for the obvious male gaze. Just people are naked sometimes in certain environments and its not meant to be sexualized just that bodies exist and should be celebrated in all the forms human bodies come in.

Greta deserves more screentime but I liked her outfit a lot in episode 3. Her and Riley do seem to like eachother but, Riley is a little out of touch. She is focused on herself which as a young person that isn't always a bad thing. But, I want to see Greta flourish and blossom a bit more outside of that friendship with Chester and Riley.

Speaking of friendships I like Riley and Chester becoming friends because they fit well as characters to be in the same friend group.

Underwater gays, even though this time it is life saving and not romantic, is one of my favorite scene parallels because they always shot pretty and i can't swim.

#genera+ion hbo #genera+ion #generation #generation hbo #hbo #liveblog #justice smith #lgbtq history #lgbt film #lgbt

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blueluneacy · 5 years

Text

Lessons in Law

Alright boys, it’s finally here. The first place raffle fic for @chaoticstupidsworld ! I had so much fun writing this, So I hope you all really enjoy it. This was definitely a fic made with a lot of love on my part, but I never would’ve done it without her amazing idea and the support of my friends. So thank you all for supporting me!

This is a Dio Brando/Reader, Modern Lawyer Au! It’s extremely nsfw.

Word Count: 3.4k words

Warnings are: cunniligus, fingering, degradation, slurs (sl/t), coming inside, employee boss relationships, power dynamic, slight dub con? I have no idea, but we’re putting that there too just in case.

You grumbled as you looked over the paperwork for the fourth time, trying to figure out what exactly you did wrong. Mr. Brando never told you what mistakes you made when you had made one, he expected you to figure it out for yourself, telling you it would be a learning experience. It took every fiber of your willpower to not yell back at your boss at his arrogance.

You had recently started working at the infamous Brando law firm, hoping to gain experience in your own legal studies. Your professor, though advising you that Dio Brando was known to be rather harsh, the internship would look incredible once you graduated from law school. So you toiled on, going through the paperwork, trying your best not to grumble. You should be grateful you were working for someone so prestigious. Yet all you could feel was your growing contempt for the man.

Dio in the courtroom was a wonder to behold, you knew that much. You sat in on one of his trials before taking on the internship, hoping to get more of a feel for the defense attorney. He took on most any case, so long as it paid enough, and was infamous for getting off people who probably were guilty on things like technicalities or simply his quick wit and talent for poking holes in the prosecutor’s case. Not to mention, you had quickly realized that Dio Brando was quite a beautiful man. While you knew that if you took the internship, you would need to be professional, it was hard not to see how attractive Dio was. Tall, broad shouldered, with that gorgeous blonde hair that he let grow perhaps a bit too long to be professional in a courtroom. He had these red eyes that pierced through anyone who he set eyes on, and a pretty face to match. He often accented his looks with makeup, which some interpreted as vanity, but at the time, you couldn’t help but be entranced.

If only you could see through that pretty face at the time. During your work, you quickly realized that Dio Brando was quite an arrogant, hard to please man. Ever the perfectionist, he was quick to get rid of anyone who displeased him. One of his clerks told you once that she was shocked that you even got the job, as apparently on the day of your interview, you had a tag sticking out from your top. That’s how particular Dio was about the image of his firm, and the people who worked for him.

And here you were, working to figure out your mistake, hoping that it was simply a minor error, and that you wouldn’t have to retype everything. You had taken keen to simply typing up your work, as Dio once made a comment that your handwriting was too dreadful for any sort of professional document. At the time, you were too terrified of him to even talk back. Over your job, you had quickly grown tired of Dio’s constant criticism of your work. You were supposed to be learning from him. Instead, he expected you to simply know what you did wrong and correct it, and it did nothing but piss you off. When you realized your mistake, you huffed. You know, if Dio told you what you had done wrong, it only would have taken ten minutes. Instead you had spent an hour looking over papers. Surely you’d get yelled at for taking too long once you turned in the papers. You grit your teeth as moved to your laptop, editing your document and printing it out. You sighed, checking it over one last time before slipping it into your folder, standing up and smoothing down your skirt. You were a bit sick of all this dressy clothing you had to wear for this internship, but Dio insisted on it. You supposed it was fine, after all, he wore a suit every day to the office as well. Even if the suits were a bit… eccentric at times.

You clacked down the hall, wondering if there was ever going to be a day where you would get used to wearing high heels, and stopped at the end. Dio’s office was the last one at the end of the hall. How ominous. It felt just as foreboding at Dio meant it to be, you supposed. You took a deep breath, knocking on the door three times in rapid succession. It was a formal way of knocking, you had learned. You didn’t realize there were rules to knocking on a door.

“Enter.” The stern voice of your boss called out, and you took another deep breath before opening the door, holding the folder close to your chest.

“Mr. Brando. I’ve fixed my error in the report and brought it like you asked.” You tried your best to speak cooly, but you seemed to have trouble with actual volume when you did. It wasn’t your fault, you were trying to be respectful to a man that by all accounts was practically a monster. Sauve, sure, but it was all a facade. You had learned that all too well. Dio just looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“That was faster than expected.” He reached out to take the folder, which you quickly handed over. You wanted so badly to run off and leave, get to the next item on your list so you didn’t have to stand there while Dio looked over your paperwork, thumbing through with judgemental eyes. You watched him closely, hoping that maybe you could pinpoint what part of the document he was judging. No such luck. He carefully read through, before snapping the folder shut, dropping it on the table.

“Do it again.” Dio told you, and you just gasped. This was hours of work at this point, and you were growing sick of this superior attitude Dio had. You just looked at him, shocked.

“W-What?! What’s wrong with it, what did I do?!” You asked, trying your best to hold back the rising anger in your stomach. Dio just put on a small smile, the tone in his voice reminding you of how one would chide a small child.

“Now, (y/n), if I told you what you did wrong, then how would-” He began, but you had had enough. He always did that when you asked what you did wrong. He would reply “If I told you, then how would you learn?” It did nothing but piss you off, make you want to rip your hair out of your head.

“No! Just tell me, tell me what I did wrong! I’m sick of this, do you know how much time we’re wasting?! I could’ve gotten ten of these done if you just told me where I’m going wrong!” You yelled, not realizing how much you raised your voice until you finished speaking. You covered your mouth, shocked at your disrespect, but you didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. Dio looked at you with an intrigued expression at the fire in your voice, standing up and over towards you. You swallowed, stumbling back until you fell into one of the chairs on the other side of Dio’s desk. He leaned close, and you could smell the expensive cologne he was wearing. Dio dressed well, you could admit that much, and his clothing at this angle with you below him only extenuated his muscles. God, did he work out? This guy was massive.

“You know, I could fire you just for that. You’re nothing but a second rate student, but I decided to take you under my wing. It seems I’ve been too soft on you, you’re being nothing but ungrateful.” Dio’s voice was low, practically ringing in your ears as you gulped, gritting your teeth. You couldn’t just cower at this, could you? No, if you did, you’d spend the rest of this internship as Dio’s mouse, letting him toy with you and degrade your work until you finally broke. You swallowed, looking up at the man.

“I think you’re just a shit teacher.” You told him, looking right into Dio’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow, and god, he was far too close to you than what could be considered professional. He took your chin into his hand, humming slightly.

“Perhaps you’re right. I haven’t really been teaching you personally. I’ll have to amend that.” Wait, did Dio actually… Take your criticism seriously? You were shocked at first, but the smirk on Dio’s face seemed to tell a different story, something you couldn’t quite place. You gulped, trying to look away, but your head was kept in place, forced to look him in the eye. It was so much harder than before.

“W-What do you mean…?” You asked, unable to hide the shaking in your voice from your embarrassment. Dio leaned in, and god, you felt his breath on your ear. You felt a shudder go down your spine, and you prayed to god that Dio didn’t notice.

“What do you think it means, my dear?” He purred, and god, that British accent of his was so smooth, leaving you to gulp as his free hand toyed with the hem of your collar. You had a very good idea of what he meant, that’s for sure. You squirmed a bit, unsure of what to do. This was not in the legal manuals you read, definitely not.

“M.. Mr. Brando… This is highly inappropriate, I-” You were cut off by your own squeak and Dio’s hand travelled lower, over your chest. He chuckled a bit at your reaction, staring at you as if you were no more than a piece of meat, primed for Dio to devour.

“Oh, no need to act so coy, my dear.” Dio chuckled, finding your embarrassment all the more amusing. He leaned in, breathing in deeply before speaking.

“I remember how your eyes practically undressed me while you were watching me in court. You were hoping something like this would happen, weren’t you?” Dio practically growled into your ear. You gasped, looking away. There’s no way he could’ve noticed, right? He was just messing with you, pretending he knew things that he didn’t in order to get a confession out of you. He knew how to form questions. It was just a shame that he was absolutely right, and your face was bright red.

“I.. I d-don’t what you’re talking about-” You let out a soft moan as Dio leaned down to suck on your skin, leaving a mark.

“It’s not good to lie, dear (y/n). Such a slutty thing, lusting after your own boss. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Dio just grinned into your neck as a hand reached under your shirt, toying with you through your bra. You gulped, biting your lip to try and hold back your embarrassing sounds, pressing your thighs together as if it would stop how wet you were becoming due to his ministrations.

“Mr. Brando… We, Someone could catch us, p-please…” You made a last ditch effort to save a shred of dignity, only for Dio to purr.

“This room is hard to listen in to, for privacy’s sake. So as long as you’re quiet, no one will know.” He told you as he lifted you up. You squeaked as he held up, pressing your back down onto his desk as he pulled the zipper on your skirt, smiling as he saw you had soaked through your underwear.

“My my… Someone’s excited, aren’t we?” He teased and he ran his hand along your thigh, using the other to toy with the hem of your underwear. You bit your lip a Dio began to slip them off, cooing at the sight of you.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I think I’d rather savor the taste of this before we continue.” You looked at Dio to ask what he meant, before feeling exactly his intent as his tongue swiped over your slick folds. You moaned out, reaching to grab Dio’s hair. He chuckled a bit, giving a few kitten licks before truly pushing his tongue inside of you, taking in your moans as if they were the great symphony. He toyed with your insides a bit, thrusting his tongue in and out of you, before pulling out and reaching to give a harsh suck on your clit. You whined and bucked up into Dio’s mouth, only feeling that coil in your belly start to tighten as you chased pleasure. Dio just chuckled, moving to hold down your hips.

“Look how needy you are for me… Delicious little thing, you’re just aching for me, aren’t you?” He teased, pushing a finger inside of you to help stretch you out as his tongue toyed with your clit. You moaned, nodding incessantly as Dio did as he pleased.

“God, pleeeeease! Please, I need it!” You whined out, trying to buck your hips as Dio added another finger, scissoring them to prepare you to take him. He just chuckled as you moaned, your pleading becoming more delirious as you begged for him to pound you into this desk. He pulled his fingers from you and you groaned, bucking up your hips in an attempt to reobtain the lost friction, only to find nothingness. Dio just chuckled, forcing his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck. If you do a good job, maybe I’ll be gracious enough to let you cum on my cock.” Dio practically growled. You felt a shiver go down your spine as you wrapped your lips around his fingers, doing your best to clean them off. You looked up at Dio, trying your best to look pleading. God, just a while ago you would’ve scoffed at the idea of ever being below the man like this. Sure, maybe the idea had popped in your head a few times during some late nights, but you always considered Dio too full of himself for such a thing to ever happen. Now look at you. Needy, begging, and ready to jump at any command. And the look in Dio’s eyes made it very clear that he relished in it.

When he finally pulled out his fingers, he smiled at the way you practically whimpered, biting your lip as you watched Dio pull away, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers to reveal his hard cock. You stared in awe for a moment. It was big, maybe a little too big, but you couldn’t help but drool a little at the sight. Dio easily lined up, nudging against your entrance, leaving you to shudder with need.

“Beg. Beg for me to fuck you.” Dio commanded. You looked away, embarrassed. You swallowed before you started.

“P… Please, Dio. Please fuck me, I need it, need you so bad. You’re the only man who can fulfill me, please.” You begged. Dio just raised an eyebrow, pushing in slowly. You groaned, grabbing onto the edge of the desk. You gasped at the stretch, feeling Dio press up against your womb as he finally bottomed out. He was quieter than you had imagined, only letting out a small gasp as he pushed in.

“That was good, but… You can do better. Come on, let me hear how much you need it. Or I won’t move.” Dio ordered, a cocky smirk on his face. You grumbled, almost shocked at how composed he could be while his dick was literally inside you. Still, you obliged.

“P-Please, please fuck me, I need it! Need it, need you to fuck me and cum inside of me, need you to fill me up! God, need you to fuck me, Sir!” You hadn’t intended for that last word to slip out, and when you heard it come from your mouth, you looked up with wide eyes, as if you hoped Dio maybe wouldn’t have caught it. It was a foolish hope. Dio just broke out in a small laugh, pulling back slowly. You whined, expecting him to be pulling out, before he slammed back into you. You let out a broken moan, your eyes rolling back in your head as he hit your g-spot.

“Hmm, that’s much better. It seems you’re finally starting to learn.” He growled, sounding a bit more animalistic than anything you had ever seen the normally composed lawyer speak out. He grabbed onto your hips bruisingly tight, beginning to fuck you hard and fast. Dio was insatiable, bending over you and gasping for breath as he listened to you moan and let out broken praises. He relished in the way you begged for him, the way your body clenched around him, trying to bring him deeper inside of you as you let out sounds for him.

“God, yes, please Dio, fuck me! Fuck me harder, please!” You moaned out, Dio practically snarling as his mouth moved to your neck, sucking and biting the skin in hopes of causing you bruises, marking you as his.

“That’s Sir to you, slut. Be grateful that you even are getting this.” He gave a harsher bite as a warning, leaving you to moan and gasp in return.

“S-Sorry, Sir! Please, thank you! Thank you for fucking me, feels so goooood~!” You cried out, wrapping your arms around Dio and grabbing onto the back of his shirt. You were almost sure that you were loud enough for the whole office to hear you, but at this point, you didn’t care. You felt yourself getting closer, closer, and all you could think about was how good it would feel to cum all over Dio’s cock, to feel him fill you up. Dio could feel himself getting close too, groaning as he dug his nails into your hips.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He grunted out, trying his best to stave himself from holding your hips down and forcing his cum into the deepest parts of you.

“Inside me, Sir! Please, it’ll be okay! Just fill me up!” You begged, trying to pull Dio as close as you to you. Dio just growled, pounding into you as hard as you could and you wailed out, clenching down on Dio as if trying to milk him for all he’s worth. He pounded into you one, two, three more times, before he let out a groan of his own, pressing himself into you as deep as he could. You moaned at the warmth you felt inside of you, the two of you staying like that and panting for a bit. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against Dio’s lips, slowly releasing your grip on Dio’s shirt, trying to crane your neck to inspect your wrinkles. Ever the dutiful employee.

Dio slowly pulled out, leaving you to whine. This was going to be a bitch to clean up. Dio just smiled, adjusting your shirt.

“Looks like most people have already left for the day. However, you still have a report to redo. I expect you to finish it before you leave here.” Dio told you as he put himself away, already moving to get back to his own unfinished paperwork. You gasped, moving to stand up and face him, even though your legs were still like jelly.

“What?! Come on, that’s hours of work, just tell me what I did wrong.” You begged, but Dio just smiled as he turned back to you. He grabbed your chin, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip almost tenderly, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

“Now, my dear (y/n). If I were to tell you your mistake, how would you learn?” Dio chided as he always did, before letting you go, moving to sit back down at his desk.

“Now, go on, try again. If it’s good, perhaps I’ll… Reward you kindly.” He relished in the way your face burned as you heard him speak, eyes tearing over you as you started to redress with him still dripping out of you. Even after something like that, he was still an asshole. As you walked out of the office, you were grateful that the office was indeed almost empty, and the people still there didn’t comment on your crooked shirt or messy hair.

You really did hate working for Dio Brando. That much was obvious. He was arrogant, domineering, and felt like he was entitled to anything and everything. And yet, you continued to work for him, continued with this stupid paperwork. You couldn’t help it.

The mention of a reward was just too alluring to you.

#dio x reader #dio brando x reader #dio/reader #dio brando/reader #lawyer au #jjba imagines #jjba x reader #jjba/reader #NOT SFW #writing #My writing #mine

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