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lumosinlove · 3 years

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Vaincre

part iv

October

We fell in love in October

That's why, I love fall

Looking at the stars

Admiring from afar

Hey everyone, welcome to Puck Drop Podcast. Today’s hot topic—well, it’s still the Lions. Here’s what I think. That Black Lupin two-tap was fantastic. Right, Mike?

It was, it was.

But here’s the thing—I think that’s going to make a lot of people okay with Lupin being, well, let’s be real, I might call it fast tracked to the NHL.

Fast tracked, Henry? I don’t know, the kid had all the qualifications.

Fine, fine, but I do gotta say…if Lupin doesn’t play well…what’s gonna happen then? With Coach Weasley, with Black, with the organization. I just think we’re on a slippery slope here—

“Jesus Christ, Pots,” Finn shouted. “Take my fucking eye out, why don’t you!”

James looked uneasily at the golf club in his hands. “Sorry. Wow, sorry.”

Logan just clicked his tongue. “I thought we were allowed to play golf because it isn’t dangerous.”

“That is why,” Finn said, and pointed at James. “Until this untamed, grass-bouncing, metal-swinging—”

“All right, all right,” Sirius chuckled.

“We’re drawing eyes, boys,” Remus said from his golf cart. He had his feet up on the seat and an iced tea in his hands.

Logan glanced at the party ahead of them. “Harzy, am I gonna have to buy some lady a cheeseburger from the clubhouse again?”

Finn just held up his hands in surrender.

“You know,” Leo said once Logan joined him in the cart they were sharing.

“Ouais, mon soleil?”

Leo smiled, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses, then tapped his palm. “Didn’t think I’d ever find a golf glove attractive, and yet there Harzy stands.”

“Plaid pants and all,” Logan nodded.

“Those’re checkered, baby.”

Logan looked again. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Want to ditch and get a cheeseburger?”

Leo laughed. “Why did we come if we don’t play?”

Logan smiled, flipping his hat backwards and starting the engine. “To watch Harzy and Cap get competitive and James lose.”

Leo shook his head, then leaned back in his seat. “Loops, clubhouse, burgers.”

“Oh, thank God,” Remus said. “Bye, Black.”

Sirius raised his club. “Don’t you want to watch me win?”

“I am convinced this game can’t be won,” Remus said, and followed Logan and Leo’s cart in his own.

“The real win,” Remus said, squirting mustard onto his burger. “Would have been not getting up at seven in the morning to trip over sprinklers.”

“Preach,” Leo nodded. “Hey, what are you and Cap thinking for Halloween?”

Remus chewed thoughtfully. “Haven’t really started thinking yet. You?”

Logan snorted, stealing the mustard. “Knutty’s obsessed.”

“What?” Leo said. “I was a lonely rookie last year! Now I’m a…” he glanced around. “Non-rookie.”

Logan’s heart pulled at the correction. He nudged his knee against Leo’s beneath the table and felt Leo nudge back. Remus seemed to catch the brief silence.

“Watch Sirius make me dress up as the Stanley Cup,” he said.

Logan laughed. “Non, you’ve never won it, you can’t touch it. He’ll be the Cup, you’ll be him.”

Remus wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’m with Lo. He’s too superstitious,” Leo said. “No way.”

Remus gestured between them. “Three Musketeers?”

“Finn and Leo with a sword,” Logan said skeptically.

“What?” Leo smirked, resting a chin on his palm. “You don’t trust me with a sword?”

Logan snorted, pushing his palm into Leo’s cheek.

The doors to the club house restaurant sprung open.

“Victory is mine!” Finn shouted, and actually spun on his heel in a complete circle. “Victory is mine.”

Sirius slouched dejectedly into their booth beside Remus.

“Sorry, baby,” Remus laughed.

“Apparently he drinks from the keg of glory,” James sighed.

“It’s a quote,” Leo laughed.

“Muffins,” Finn grinned. “Bagels. Actually, burgers will do.”

Logan watched as Finn reached over and grabbed a fry from Leo’s plate and a bite of Logan’s burger. It was something they had started doing a lot—a public closeness they could always get away with. Finn unstrapped his golf glove slowly and close to Sirius’ face, who slapped it away.

“You’re not going to dress up as the Stanley Cup, are you?” Remus asked, turning his plate so his fries were in Sirius’ reach.

Sirius took his hat off to push his hair back before replacing it again and grabbing a fry. “Quoi?”

Remus looked at Leo and shrugged.

“Harz, do you trust me with a sword?” Leo asked Finn.

Finn smiled, dropping his voice low and flashing that crooked smile Logan had always fallen for. “You know I do.”

Logan just sent his eyes towards the sky, but his chest warmed at the smitten look Leo got, too, and he hailed a waiter for more food.

“Damn,” Finn said as their front door shut behind them. “Who said it was a good idea to go golfing in October? What do you say I mix us up some nice whiskey-warming manhattans?” He tossed his keys down and wrapped Logan up, arms around his waist and pressed a quick and hard kiss to his mouth. “Extra cherries for you, mon cherry.”

“Chéri,” Logan corrected, but he smiled into Finn’s next kiss, which was much gentler.

“Please,” Leo said, flopping down onto the couch. “That was the longest day of my life.”

“I can make it up to you with the longest night of your life,” Finn said, resting a cheek on Logan’s head. “Or we can.”

Leo smiled and stretched a little sleepily, pointing his toes. “I’ll take my whiskey first.”

Finn snorted and tweaked Leo’s socked feet. “You got it.”

Logan slid into a seat at their countertop. “Remember those ones at that bar you found in, where, were we visiting my family in Canada?”

Finn, reaching into the bar cupboard he kept meticulously organized, let out a whiskey. “I’d give that bartender anything she wants for that recipe.”

Logan sent Leo raised eyebrows, who snorted and looked back.

“Oh, would you now, O’Hara?” Leo laughed.

Finn looked up from scooping ice from the freezer. “Almost anything. Although, she was beautiful. Reminded me of this girl I dated for a second in college. Remember Hannah, Lo?”

“Oh, I remember Hannah,” Logan grumbled, and Finn kissed his fingers before reaching cross the counter to press them to Logan’s forehead. Logan just smiled—and he could smile about it now, sometimes—and patted the stool beside him with a look at Leo.

Leo pulled himself up with big eyes. “My crush wants me to sit next to him.”

Logan took out his phone with a playful glare. “You’re both sarcastic today.”

“It’s the golf,” Leo said dryly and slid into the seat next to Logan. “And you’re sweet.”

“I just like it when we all sit together,” Logan shrugged.

Leo laughed, hooking his feet around the legs of Logan’s stool to pull him closer. “How is someone so lovingly grumpy?”

“Please,” Finn said, stirring their drink. “Look at him. He uses it to get affection.”

Logan just smiled and reached for one of the crackers Finn put out before holding it up to pop into Leo’s mouth.

Finn sighed as he poured their drinks. “All right, I know golf’s not your thing. Thanks for coming with me, though.”

“Believe me,” Leo said. “It was worth it, you cocky golf glove.”

Finn snorted.

“Plaid,” Logan nodded.

“Checkered,” Leo amended.

“Ouais. Same thing.”

“No,” Finn said, looking up from their drinks, and Logan grinned, wrapping his arms around Leo’s waist.

“Non?” he asked.

Finn just slid their glasses towards them. “You’re fucking with me, Tremblay. Now, cheers to…”

Leo raised his glass, the other hand playing with the hem of Logan’s shirt. “Ring ceremony in a few days.”

Logan eyed the syrupy cherries at the bottom of his drink. Finn had given him two. He took a sip and let the thick sugar settle over his tongue.

“Can we display ours?” Finn asked, leaning his elbows on the counter. “All three in a row. I like that.”

Leo winced. “So many diamonds.”

“Why are you flinching at that?” Logan laughed.

“I don’t know, it feels flashy?” Leo took another sip.

Logan just pressed his nose against Leo’s jaw. “We deserve it.”

Leo smiled and turned into it, accepting a soft kiss.

“Jesus, Harz, how much syrup did you put in his drink?” Leo said, but gave Logan another quick peck.

“Probably not enough,” Finn laughed, and came around the counter. “I need to sit, my golf muscles hurt.”

“Right, those big things,” Leo said.

Finn just gave his own butt a tap and fell into their oversized couch. Even with all the space, they all still ended up pushed up against each other in one corner. Logan loved that more than he’d ever said out loud.

“Sweatshirt,” he said, and dropped another kiss to Leo’s cheek, took another sip of his drink and padded out of the room. He let his belt clink to the floor along with his pants and yanked his polo shirt over his head. His necklace got caught briefly in one of the buttons. He turned when two hands pressed to his hips from behind.

Leo pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then the top notch of his spine. “Want one of mine?”

Logan leaned back against him. “Ouais, thanks.”

But Leo didn’t move right away, just wrapped Logan up tighter. He pressed his nose into Logan’s neck and inhaled. Logan reached back and up, scratching at the hair that curled against Leo’s neck.

“Can I ask something?” Leo said, words muffled by his skin.

Logan stayed where Leo obviously wanted him, fingers kneading the back of his neck gently.

“Do you think coach is gonna start me?”

“In the opener?” Logan asked, and Leo hummed.

“Kasey thinks so,” he said. “Because it’s Bruins and I play okay against them.”

“You kill against them,” Logan said, and Leo finally pulled back with a last squeeze to Logan’s hip. He was quiet as he found the sweatshirt he knew Logan liked, and tossed it to him.

“Leo,” Logan prompted after he’d pulled it over his head.

“I know, I know,” Leo said, and smiled, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, I love the way you say my name.”

“And you call me the subject changer,” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I just don’t think he will,” Leo said, crossing his arms as they walked back out to the living room. “I mean, I wish. I hope.”

Finn was sprawled out across the couch. He’d brought Leo and Logan’s glasses over and Logan took another sip of the warm whiskey before curling against one of Finn’s sides, Leo stretching his legs into Finn’s lap.

“What’s happening?” Finn asked, thumb rubbing against Leo’s ankle, knowing they got sore.

“Just thinking about the season,” Leo said. “Kasey said he thinks I’ll start. I can’t imagine why.”

Finn frowned. “Well, if Kasey was gonna be gone, he’d be gone. With the thigh, with the crazy off-season. I mean, the League’s shifting around there’s no doubt about that. I think it’s calming down now, though.”

Logan curled closer to Finn, reaching out for Leo’s foot, too, tracing the shape of the nike logo across the top of his sock.

“And Kase’s the starter,” Finn said. “That’s what the organization knows, that’s what the city knows. I…I say this with all the love for your skill, baby, but I’d be surprised if it isn’t Kasey.”

Leo nodded. “No, don’t worry, that’s what I think, too. I just…”

He trailed off and Logan gave his ankle a tug, making him sit up.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Is this about bench time?” Finn asked.

Leo groaned. “I feel like such a fucking whiner saying it.”

“You can say literally anything to us,” Logan said, then smiled. “Leo.”

Leo just flopped his cheek against Finn’s chest.

“Maybe you’ll feel a little better once we get our rings,” Finn laughed, fingers running through Leo’s hair. “I know I will. I feel like…” Finn hesitated. “I don’t know. Every time I think about our ring, and our Cup days…I feel like I’ll never play the same again.”

Logan made an affirmative sound. “Yeah.”

“Really?” Leo mumbled.

“Nervous,” Logan nodded. “It all feels different. I thought it was Loops for a bit, but…Harzy, you’re right, I think it’s the Cup. I feel…I want it all over again, but it feels impossible.”

“I also…” Finn hesitated, stroking his hands through Leo’s hair a few more times, watching the blond curls slip through his fingers. “I loved our summer so much. I feel sort of guilty but…I miss it.”

Leo let out a soft laugh. “Thank God, me, too.”

“We get more of those,” Logan said, and it felt a little defensive.

“I feel selfish,” Finn said thoughtfully. “I have everything I want, and I want it again.”

“That’s not selfish,” Leo replied. “I think…I think that’s just human.”

Logan thought of the picture in Finn’s pocket and Harvard parties. He thought of long nights on the road, laughing with Leo over their sundaes. Logan had both wanted that over and over, but it had felt a little like poking himself with the tip of a knife over and over, too. He closed his eyes and let himself listen to them talk. Finn was agreeing, and then Leo was laughing. They ordered dinner for delivery, the Greek place down the street, and then sat in each other’s silence. Logan could tell Leo was still thinking about the season, watching the city lights out the window with Logan’s head in his lap. Logan stared up at him, at his blue eyes, dark in the dim light. His jaw would twitch every once in a while, a muscle clenched. Finn had a book open, slouched at the other end of the sofa.

Leo probably wouldn’t sleep well tonight, but sometimes Logan looked forward to their time in the dark together. Ankles tangled, eyes closed but knowing the other one was awake. They’d talk sleepily about the next day, until Logan decided enough was enough and he’d pull Leo against his chest, tucking the taller blond’s head beneath his chin for once.

Leo would hum contently. “What did I do before you, hm?”

Logan would smile. He used to listen to Leo toss and turn from one bed over, and now there was this. He loved that like air, too.

“Hey, rookie! Hold the door?”

Cole turned to see Thomas and his crutches, which seemed familiar now from him always sitting on the bench during practice. He was flanked by two people who could only be his parents.

His mother hit him lightly on the shoulder, laughing. “He’s got a name, Tom.”

“Hey, man, of course,” Cole said and looked down at Katie, who was holding his hand. “Gotta switch hands, okay?”

“No, I can do it,” Katie said, and flattened her back against the door. “Does it hurt all the time, Talkie?”

Thomas smiled down at her. “No, not all the time.” Thomas looked up and sent Cole one of his bright smiles. “Thanks. Sick tat, by the way. I don’t think I’ve said, but I’ve thought it.”

Cole’s hand instinctively went to his collarbone as he let the door to Olivander’s Hotel swing shut behind them. “Thanks. It’s my number.” He huffed out a laugh. “I mean, obviously.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting one,” Thomas said, and wedged a crutch under his arm and tapped the center of his chest. “Not sure where, but I like the chest as a place to start.”

Cole smiled, nodding. “I—me too. Yeah, maybe we could…like, go together, or something. I was reading some stuff about the best places, and also Nado was telling me. Well, trying to tell me.”

Thomas laughed. “Kuny kept interrupting?”

Cole laughed, too, nodding. “In Russian, though.”

“That sounds like Kuns,” Thomas said. “And yeah, man, I’d love to. Do you have any ideas?”

Cole shrugged as he and Thomas showed their IDs, the Dumais’ and Walkers chatting behind them. “Hopefully something about Lord Stanley one day, but right now…maybe something for my mom.”

Thomas nodded. “She coming today?”

Cole nodded, not able to help his smile, turning his phone over in his pocket. “Her flight was delayed but she shouldn’t miss anything.”

They walked through the lobby, joining much of the team that was already there. The large round tables reminded Cole of a wedding, and the stage was set with a podium for speeches with the numerous ring boxes behind.

“Cole!” came a familiar voice, and Cole spun around to find his mother walking through the double-doors, as if talking about her had made her appear. He wished he had that power. Blake Reyes was in her usual bright colors, her dark hair slicked up into a bun that let her tight curls spill over her forehead like bouncing bangs.

“Be right back,” Cole said, and Thomas nodded, tapping his shin with his crutch.

“Mom,” Cole grinned, and wrapped her up tight. He’d been taller than her for years, but it still felt strange. The soft curves of her were familiar, though. “You made it. Okay flight?”

“Yeah, yeah, read my book,” she said, and pulled back to look around. “This place is nice. How are you, baby?”

“Olivander’s Hotel,” Cole said. “Apparently different places were fighting to have the ring ceremony. I’m fine.” He shrugged. “Feels kind of weird being here.”

“Maybe you’ll be getting one of those rings next year, hm?” she smiled.

“Maybe,” Cole laughed, and then, more timidly, asked, “Dad?”

Blake’s expression tightened, eyes sad. “No, sweetheart. I…I’m sorry. He’s…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Cole gave a short shake of his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” she sighed. “But it’s…”

“Come on,” Cole said. “I’ll introduce you to Dumo and Celeste.”

His mother grinned. “Oh, my shy boy is growing up.”

“Shh,” Cole laughed. “Don’t say that to Sirius Black.”

“Say what to Sirius Black?”

Sirius strode beside him, hand in hand with Remus. It was Remus who had spoken, and grinned now, and Cole flushed at the good-natured chirp. Sirius just offered a shy hand to his mother.

Cole had a wave of surreality wash over him for what felt like the thousandth time as he watched his mother say call me Blake to Sirius Black, who he’d had on his wall for God’s sake.

It happened all anew once they were ushered into the ballroom for the presentation of the Stanley Cup champion rings. The team and management had been called up one by one, but they opened their boxes together. Cole wouldn’t get one, but he leaned over to see Finn’s, whose mother seemed to love his own, their heads bent close together, giggling. The ring was square in shape, too big to be worn on any practical day, and covered in small diamonds, some stones colored red and black to make the Lion. The golden band was engraved with name, number, year, and, of course, champion. The word took the air out of the room.

Finn blew out a shaky, awed breath, and Cole watched him look up, something like tears in his eyes. When he followed his gaze, Cole found him looking at Logan. It made sense, and made Cole even happier for the team. Finn and Logan had probably been dreaming of this since their college days together. Cole looked back at Finn to ask him about it, when Finn mouthed something that, to Cole, looked very much like the words love you.

Cole blinked, but Finn was leaning his chair back on two legs, then, whistling two notes that got Leo’s attention. Leo, who was crying—an act that made him look even more like his dad, sitting beside him and crying, too—let out a wet laugh and wiggled his fingers at Finn which he had put the heavy ring on.

“One day, huh, Cole?”

Cole looked at Mr. O’Hara, who was smiling kindly at him.

“Oh, yes,” his mother answered for him. “One day.”

One day. Cole wanted to believe it.

Well, folks, here we are. We here in the studio welcome you to The Lions pre-game show. Dean, opening thoughts?

Well, we’re up against the Bruins, who had a phenomenal season last year. And, of course, we’ll see some fun rivalries tonight. Marchand has never been a Gryffindor favorite.

Is he anyone’s?

Ha, all right, there, Lee, all right. The real point is we’ll have a full stadium, and this game is ready to set the tone for the season. I’m ready, Lee, are you?

Oh, you bet.

Sirius found Remus sitting with Layla, legs swinging slightly from his perch on the PT bench. Worry tweaked through him at first, until he realized that they were laughing together.

Sirius knocked lightly on the door. “Hi.”

Layla looked up, still mid-laugh. “Oh, hey, Cap, come on in.”

“Just wondering where you went,” Sirius said, leaning beside Remus.

Remus shrugged, looking around the room. “I don’t know, this is where I spent every other pre-game. Felt right, I guess. I was coming back soon.” He knocked their shoulders together playfully. “You left your stretches to come find me?”

Layla made a cooing noise as she opened the door. “Gotta get this to Kasey, be right back.”

Remus’ expression morphed into one of concern. “Is it the—”

Layla put up a hand to stop him. She pointed to herself. “PT,” then to Remus. “Winger.”

Remus looked sheepish. “Right. Sorry.”

Sirius sent her a smile, but looked back to Remus. Remus pulled him in closer, allowing Sirius to be boxed in by his thighs.

“It’s a big night,” Sirius said, and pressed a light kiss to his mouth. “A good night. I wanted to be by your side.”

“Bruins,” Remus whistled lowly. “Let’s take ‘em.”

Sirius laughed, squeezing his hips. “I thought you were going say you’re worried.”

“What, about an original six team?” Remus laughed. “We’re the Lions.”

“Coach might put us out there together again,” Sirius said. “After pre-season.”

Remus ran his hands through Sirius’ hair. “My mind-reader.”

Sirius smiled, leaning forward to nip gently at Remus’ lower lip. “What am I thinking now?”

“That this is not your office, lovebirds,” Lars’ voice came. Sirius turned to look, only to see that he wore his usual strangely soft-stony expression. “I believe that’d be the front of the net for you, Black.”

Remus laughed, sliding from the table. “Sorry, man, we’ll get out of your way.”

Lars just looked down at a chart he held. “Black, stay a minute?”

Sirius paused, glancing down at Remus. “Uh, sure.”

Remus sent him a quick smile and slipped out the door.

“What’s up?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms.

Lars folded the pages of the clipboard back and set it on the counter. “I was trying to get you earlier, but it says there that you utilize the sports psychologist.”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah. Heather’s been a big help to me.”

Lars nodded. “I’m not here to violate any confidentiality, I just need to know if you’re still with her regularly. This chart stops a few months before Lupin left. Is that correct?”

Sirius tilted his head. “Why do you…”

“If something happens, I like to know who is familiar with her and who is not, that way I can know who I can help and in what way. Mental health is just as important as physical health.”

That made Sirius relax a little. “Not as regularly, no.”

“Great, thank you,” Lars nodded.

Sirius offered a slight smile as he slipped out the door. Lars was direct and to the point in a way that often came with a new job. It reminded Sirius of Remus’ first days with the organization, trying to be as professional as possible. It was true, he hadn’t seen Heather over the summer at all, nor too much once their Cup run had begun. He smiled a little when he realized that he missed her.

Remus was strapping his pads over his bare chest when Sirius entered the locker room. He raised an eyebrow, and Sirius flashed him a thumbs up. James was talking to Thomas as he laced up his skates, Thomas gesturing with his crutches.

Sirius, finished with his routines with his eyes passing around the room. He found himself nervous in a way he hadn’t been for a few years now. The season after a Cup win was always strange for any team. He felt the old sting of you did it once, do it again. They way he used to feel about goals—about any good thing. That it only mattered if he could repeat.

He blinked against the onslaught, it brought heat to his cheeks.

You did it once, do it again.

“Hey,” James’ voice cut through, his hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

Sirius looked over at him, panic beginning to tickle his throat. He took a slow breath through it. “Quoi?”

James dangled his phone by two fingers like an enticing treat. “Want to see Harry pictures?”

Sirius’ mouth lifted. He scooted over a little in his stall, leaning in. He put his hand over James’ and squeezed. “Yeah. Ouais, please, I do.”

They made it through four before James looked over at him, contents replacing his glasses for the game.

“You’re good,” James said. “We’re all here.”

Sirius could only smile back.

Remus pushed away the nerves and let the crowd wash over him as, side by side with Cole, they took their first laps around Hogwarts stadium. It was their home opener.

Remus had only dreamed of this.

“Pretty perfect,” Cole shouted over the noise, and they grinned at each other before each shooting a puck into the empty net.

Before the game could begin, they would hoist the banner for their Cup win into the rafters to accompany the two others, won in 1941 and 1970. Hogwarts dimmed its lights, Remus stood between Sirius and Pascal, keeping his muscles warm, and a video began to play on the big screen.

“You know,” Pascal’s voice filled the stadium, much to the delight of the fans. His kind face appeared on the screen in an interview chair, the Lions’ logo out of focus in the background. He shrugged a broad shoulder and scratched a hand idly through they graying scruff on his cheek. “I wait for this all my life, and then I want more,” He let out a short laugh. “I’m the old guy, non? I love to succeed with my friends, my family.”

Logan was next, green eyes shy and watchful. Looking at him, you’d never guess at the fire beneath.

“It’s…” he began, and shifted in the way he did in front of the cameras. “It means more because of our team. We were lucky that it’s mostly the same guys this year.” A smile, a glimpse of fire. “Let’s do it again.”

The stadium roared and continued to do as Sirius appeared next. They’d filmed it a few days after all of the celebrations had ended, hoping to catch everyone before they left for vacation.

“It was everything to be asked to wear the C,” Sirius said. “And this team…I’ve changed a lot with them. Each and every one of them deserves this more than anything.”

“Proud Captain!” Finn’s voice could be heard off-camera, and then Remus heard his own laugh. He hadn’t even known he was going to be a Lion at this point.

Sirius shrugged. “Ouais? Yes, yes, of course.”

James, glasses winking in the camera’s lights, talked about his family, and then the banner was being raised to the cheers of the stadium, fans pounding on the glass. Remus spared one glance to the Bruins, who had to sit silently on their bench through it all, but just smiled.

He wanted a Cup. He wanted it on the ice this time.

The national anthem played, and Remus felt Sirius’ presence close to his back, even while he watched Finn drape his usual hand over Logan’s shoulder.

“Mon Loup,” Sirius whispered.

Remus turned his head slightly.

“Love you.”

Remus smiled. The words were just breath, most likely Sirius wanting the moment to be private, to avoid the camera reading his lips. Remus turned fully around as the lights came up, just before Sirius was due to jump the boards for a face off.

“Love you,” he said, and Sirius grinned.

Bergeron won the first and carried it easily up towards Kasey, only for Olli to intercept his pass. Sirius caught it on his stick, shot it to James—

Coach called his number, along with Jackson’s and Evgeni’s.

Remus hopped the boards and the whistle blew.

“Too many men!” the ref shouted with his crossed arms.

Remus blinked, coming to a stop. He looked back towards the bench, where he was being motioned back.

“Eh, confused there, Lupin?” Marchand called, which got him a hard shove in the back from Evgeni.

“You confused,” Evgeni said in his deep voice, and the whistle blew to re-set.

Remus tried not to blush as he skated to line up for the face-off, but he was surprised. He’d looked, hadn’t he? He hadn’t misheard? It was a bad change, that was all.

Evgeni won it, but Remus flubbed his pass and Pastrnak scooped it up the ice and scored an early goal in Kasey’s glove.

Remus closed his eyes briefly, then flashed them open, hoping the camera hadn’t caught it. Hockey was fast.

Remus took a slow breath as Coach called him off the ice as quickly as he had been put on. As he slid onto the bench he felt Arthur give him a hard, encouraging thump on the back. That still wasn’t how he wanted to open his season, his career as a Lion.

“Loops.”

Remus looked up and accepted the helmet bump from Finn.

“I’m good,” Remus said. “Little startled, I guess. I’m fine.”

But he played three more shifts in the first.

The locker room was normal, buzzed off of the adrenaline, and Remus sat down in his stall, trying to ignore the way James and Sirius were dripping with sweat and he wasn’t. He sent Sirius a smile but otherwise kept his head down, not really wanting to talk. He remembered this from college. Everyone called him levelheaded, but he was as bad as Sirius was when it came to emotions on the ice—even if he hoped he hid it well.

“Yo.”

Thomas eased himself down into his stall beside Remus with a grunt, and propped his crutches beside him.

“Hey,” Remus said, then, unable to help himself—it was Thomas, after all—asked, “Did it all look as bad from the box?”

“Re, it’s your first shift of your first NHL game,” Thomas said, slinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders. “The big lights get everyone. Even Remus Lupin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remus said, running a towel over his face. “I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. He glanced towards Sirius, but he wasn’t looking at him, determinedly re-tying his skates and still talking to James. Remus didn’t want to say he’d expected some comfort, but he didn’t much like the the silence, either.

Thomas clapped him on the back. “Worry just makes it worse, yeah?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, my specialty.” He smiled. “I’ll be fine. It’s just one game. Thanks, T.”

Remus rose as they were called back out onto the ice, pushing his helmet back on and lingering a bit to take his place just in front of Sirius. He watched as Sirius hyped his team up, cracking jokes and tapping sticks. The perfect captain. Remus reached him with a strange feeling. It wasn’t until Sirius’ eyes found his that he realized he felt like he’d let Sirius down. He blinked, startled, heart beating quicker with the added nerves of not wanting to feel that way.

Sirius just smiled, softer, his smile saved only for Remus, and pressed their foreheads together.

“Love you,” Sirius whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Remus blurted, and that hadn’t been what he meant to say.

Sirius’ expression immediately morphed into one of concern. “Re, non…” he glanced at the staff lingering about.

Remus didn’t want to talk about it here, not where people could hear.

“Love you,” he said, and ducked through the tunnel.

Remus was ready for October to be over. He tried to breathe through it—this happened sometimes, slumps were part of hockey—but the timing couldn’t have been worse.

Marlene tried to keep him away from the worst of the press, and Remus tried not to look, but she couldn’t stop what reporters he did do media with from asking the hard questions. How did he feel about his performance? Or, the even worse occasional one—how did he think Sirius felt about it?

If someone asked Sirius that, he went back to his unreadable, stony expression and gave them nothing. Remus only wished he had such a poker face.

“Re,” Sirius called from the bedroom. “Almost ready?”

Remus took a breath and tried to push thoughts of hockey away, laughing a little at himself in the mirror.

“If you are.”

“Really really not ready,” Sirius laughed and entered their closet. He let out a groan. “I knew I was going to find this hot.”

“I am not,” Remus said. “Jeez, it’s ridiculous.” He turned this way and that, looking at his swede, fringed pants, cowboy boots, and wide brimmed hat. “The vest, too. Now you on the other hand…”

Sirius sent Remus a sheepish smile and looked down at his Captain America costume. “I was going for irony.”

“Nothing ironic about Canada’s ass.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he was blushing as the doorbell rang downstairs.

Remus turned away from his reflection and looped his arms around Sirius’ neck for a hard kiss. “Show time, Captain.”

“Oh my god,” Remus heard Finn say over the kids’ halloween movie and the chatter from the kitchen as he swung the front door wide to his and Sirius’ house. “Oh my god, what is it with the PTs and the ref outfits? Remus, come look.”

Remus arrived in the entrance hall to Layla narrowing her eyes playfully—indeed dressed in an oversized referee shirt and cute, flared black jeans.

“We don’t get all the days off you guys do. Maybe its a lack of free time. Not to mention—” she rubbed her fingers together.

Finn laughed. “All right, point taken.”

“Come on in, Layla,” Remus said. “Ignore him.”

“Okay, cowboy,” Layla said, looking Remus up and down. “Damn.”

“Nothing for me?” Finn said, and spun in a slow, cocky circle, the black and yellow stripes of his costume, and his antennae bouncing.

Layla snorted, shaking her head. “What the hell are you?”

Finn looked offended. “I’m a bumble-bee. And Leo's the beekeeper, and Lo’s honey. Can’t miss him, he’s got a big, round foam honey jar on.”

“Ah,” Layla laughed. “Of course.”

“Come on,” Remus said. “I’ll get you a drink.”

Layla whistled as she followed him into the kitchen. “This house is huge.”

“Sirius bought it without a clue of what he wanted,” Remus said. “I’ve been trying to warm it up a bit.”

“It’s working,” Layla said, looking at the pictures that lined the walls. She pointed to the one of Sirius kissing Remus with the Cup. “God, I love this.”

Remus smiled, the memory flooding him with warmth. “Me, too.”

“Ooh,” Natalie, leaning back against Kasey’s chest, raised her glass to Remus. “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”

Remus fixed her with a wry look. “Are you going to say that every time I walk into a room?”

Natalie, sparkling in her finger-curls and 1920’s flapper dress, flashed a smile. “Yes.”

“She starts talking in an old Hollywood voice every time she sees me, so,” Kasey, looking broad in his old-fashioned suit, shrugged. “She’s not lying.”

Layla laughed. “I mean, I would, too, if I was dressed like that.”

Natalie grinned and walked over to loop her arm with Layla’s. “Let’s go see what movie the kids are watching now.”

“Yes,” Layla gasped. “Booze and Holloweentown.”

Remus watched the way Kasey looked after Natalie fondly as the girls disappeared.

“All good?” Remus asked, popping himself another beer.

“Hm?” Kasey looked up. “Oh, yeah. Just…looking. She’s leaving soon, for a couple weeks, to go see Alex.”

“That’s sweet. I’m sure he misses her.” Kasey came to lean against the counter beside him with a long sigh. “Sometimes it feels like all we do is miss each other.” He paused, biting his lip. “Do you…do you ever feel like you have everything you’ve ever wanted, but that you’d still change something? Like…like there are multiple versions of your life that include certain things and not others…but you’d still have everything you’d ever want?”

Remus’ smiled a little. “I…I think I’ve lived that. I lost hockey for a bit…but I got Sirius.”

Kasey smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

“Feel lucky you feel that way,” Remus said. “I’m not sure its as common as we think.”

“Speaking of,” Kasey said. “Where’s your everything-you’ve-ever-wanted?”

Remus laughed loudly. “Uh, hmm.” He looked around, not actually sure of the last time he saw Sirius. “I don’t know. You’d think I’d remember the last time I saw those spandex.”

Kasey laughed too. “I’d think so.”

Remus pushed up. “I’ll find him.”

“Let him know dinner’s soon!” Sergei called from the back door. It let cool air in from where he was checking on the ribs, Celeste beside him with a martini, seemingly inspecting his BBQ sauce.

Remus watched Sergei wave her off, claiming it was secret, before turning up the stairs. He thought for a moment before turning towards their bedroom and smiled to himself when he saw the door was clicked open.

“I thought I might find you up here,” Remus said, setting his cup down. He looked around the small room. The shelves were empty of stray photographs now. Remus had hung them up all around the house as a surprise, and Sirius had come home one day to a hallway, living room, and kitchen full of them.

Sirius looked up from where he was sitting on the bed—just where he’d been sitting that night, one year ago. He’d left his shield somewhere—no doubt with Adele—and was turning a beer slowly between his palms.

“Just thinking,” Sirius said, then motioned down at the bed. “Sit with me?”

Remus settled close to him, and Sirius turned to press a gentle kiss to his temple. “How’s the party?”

“Good,” Remus nodded. “Kids are watching a movie. Apparently Nat’s going to visit Alex. God, that’d be hard.”

Sirius hummed in agreement.

“Oh,” Remus laughed, remembering. “Layla showed up dressed as a ref.”

“No,” Sirius grinned. “God. I feel like I opened the door for you yesterday.”

“Mm. Sexy fireman.”

“Oh?” Sirius said, then took Remus’ drink from him and set them down on the floor.

“What?” Remus asked, only for Sirius to flop back on the bed, pulling Remus with him.

“My hat,” Remus said half-heartedly, watching it tumble off the side of the bed.

Sirius just made a noncommittal sound and turned on his side, pressing up on an elbow to lean over Remus. Remus reached up to twirl a strand of his dark hair around his finger. He’d left it loose, curling at his chin.

“Captain Québécois,” Remus said and Sirius just rested a hand against his chest.

“A lot has happened in a year,” he whispered, the room dim around them and the laughter filtering up from downstairs. “Do you ever feel like we’ve known each other forever?”

Sirius had said that before, but Remus loved it just the same.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever, and I’d take one more forever, too,” Remus said.

Sirius leaned down for a quick kiss. “Me too.”

Remus reached into the tight material of Sirius’ costume for his 12 pendant, studying it in the dim light. He’d almost kissed Sirius right in this spot one year ago tonight. He’d felt so confident about it, about loving who he wanted to love, about that person being Sirius. He still felt that way, and he wished he felt the same now, in the rest of his life, on the team.

“Can I say something?” Sirius said.

“Hm?”

“Opening night,” Sirius said. “You said sorry.”

Remus flushed. “I know.”

Sirius cupped a palm against Remus’ cheek. “Re.”

“That’s not—that’s not really what I meant,” Remus said, eyes on the twelve. “We don’t really have to talk about it now, we should probably go back down. Sergei said to tell you that dinner’s almost ready.” Remus tried for a smile. “He won’t share his secret sauce with Celeste.”

Sirius tilted his head, expression flickering as Remus pressed a lingering kiss to Sirius’ mouth and sat up, picking up his drink.

“Should we go down?” Remus said it in one breath, holding out his hand. “Logan’s wearing a giant honeypot and I really need a picture.”

Sirius locked their fingers together, concern still lacing his features even as he smiled. “I’ll sneak one. I’ll hand him Katie. He can never resist her.”

Remus laughed as they walked down the stairs hand in hand. “That’s true.”

Sirius pulled him back with a gentle tug before on the landing before they could rejoin the team.

“We don’t have to talk about it. And I know these games have been rough,” Sirius said, and Remus bit his lip as he looked up at him. “But I’m so proud of you. And I love you.”

Remus couldn’t help but lean back into his chest. I feel like I’m letting you down. The words echoed in his head, but he couldn’t quite force them out. I feel like I’m letting all of you down.

“I’m proud of you, too,” Remus said, and despite his thoughts, his smile was real as Sirius kissed him and led him back to their family.

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ditzydawn11 · 3 years

Text

keep me safe

Neville Longbottom x reader

not requested

warnings: attempted sexual assault

2500 words

THIS STORY HAS MATURE THEMES. My heart goes out to all of the ladies who are a part of the 97%. You are strong, you are beautiful, and you are not alone.

When someone tries to hurt the reader, Neville steps in and protects her like the true Gryffindor he is.

Neville was your best friend in the whole world.

In third year you had asked Professor Sprout to use her greenhouse to cultivate a plant for your own needs. You had a knack for potions and although you couldn’t stand Snape’s constant droning in class, your passion for the subject was unmatched compared to any other of your studies.

You had been trying to create a potion that would allow your pet cat, Socks, to levitate. Ever since you first picked her out in Diagon Alley during your first year she had longingly stared out the window in your dorm admiring the owls flying outside.

Obtaining the magical ingredients was no trouble, Snape often let you come and take what you needed because you were his top student. However, to make it cat safe you needed muggle cat-nip, something Snape definitely did not have on hand.

That’s what led you to the greenhouse on a cold and rainy April morning with your small pot and bag of seeds in hand. You didn’t expect anyone else to occupy the small plant house at 7:00 am on a Tuesday so you didn’t bother to knock. You let yourself in and were startled to see another student with his back towards you tending to some plant.

“Oh, hi!” you squeaked out. Before you could react, the poor boy dropped the empty pot he was holding creating a large crash and shattering the clay everywhere. “Oh I-I-I am so-so sorry. I-I didn’t know anyone w-was here,” he said between frantic breaths as he was focused on trying to pick up the pieces. “Don’t apologize, I should have knocked. Let me help you.” you kindly offered. You bent down onto your knees to his level to help pick up the broken pieces. “Here,” you said handing him a rather large piece that was still intact. Neville looked up to grab the piece from your hand. He was so caught up by his own clumsiness that he didn’t get a proper look at you. He was taken back by your beauty, the way your hair perfectly framed your face, the subtle red tint to your nose and cheeks from the cold, and the way your eyes sparkled in the early morning light. Neville could barely get a sentence out when your hands met exchanging the Terra Cotta. “Uh..thanks,” he said quickly looking back down at the ground.

You stood up and dusted off the front of your skirt. “I’m y/n by the way. Sorry again for startling you,” “Don’t worry about it. Oh um I-I uh I’m Neville.” “It’s nice to meet you, Neville, Sprout is letting me use the greenhouse to grow a plant of mine for a potion. So it looks like we will be seeing more of each other,” you happily stated.

From that moment on you and Neville became the best of friends. Though if you were being completely honest, you longed for more. You had gone out with a couple of guys on small dates over the years and Neville even took Ginny to the Yule Ball but you never really clicked with someone like you did with Neville.

Now you were in your 5th year starting to think about life after Hogwarts. Laying with your head in Neville’s lap under a big tree near the black lake you two discussed your futures and what you think you would do after graduation. “Hey Nev?” you asked interrupting the comfortable silence between the two of you. “Yes y/n?” he responded setting down the book he had been reading. “What do you want to do after we’re done with school?” you asked him while staring up at his face from down below. “I dunno, maybe teaching. I’ve pretty much taught you everything you know about Herbology,” he responded with a chuckle. “Hey!” you gave him a playful smack “though I do suppose I wouldn’t have passed my last exam without you basically teaching me the last chapter.”

“What about you?” the brown-haired boy asked while playing with the ends of your hair. “I think I want to continue my study of potions. I mean imagine developing a potion to finally reverse horrible diseases and terrible curses,” you replied subtly referencing what happened to his parents.

You were the only person Neville had told the story of his parents to. Ever since then you always made an effort to remind him of how proud his parents would be of him. He often doubted his abilities but you how brave and capable he was. You would trust him with your life.

“If anyone can brew those potions it’ll be you,” he said in a quieter tone. “Aww thanks, Nev, I know exactly who I’ll be getting my ingredients from,” you said with a smile. Nightfall was approaching so the two of you made your way back to the castle for dinner. The two of you were an unconventional duo to everyone else but to you, you were best friends and wouldn’t want it any other way.

Later that night you closed your eyes to fall asleep but your mind began to drift. You began to think about Neville which isn’t uncommon seeing that you spend most of your time together but you were thinking about him in a different way.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him like this before but what’s even worse is that part of you wishes it was this way. You had noticed a bit of...tension between the two of you on occasion. Like the time you couldn’t reach the top shelf in the greenhouse so Neville came up directly behind you to get the watering can for you. Or when you grabbed Neville from the library to go and watch Fred and George’s newest prank unfold and you held his hand the whole way there. You so wished that something more could blossom between you two but the last thing you wanted to do was jeopardize your friendship. I mean having Neville as a friend is better than not having him at all. You knew you could spend hours thinking about this so you just decided to roll over and try to get some shut-eye.

A few days later you were supposed to meet Neville in your guy’s usual spot after lunch, in the greenhouse, but he didn’t show. You figured he probably forgot (something he does quite often but you secretly think is absolutely adorable) so you left to go and find him. After searching for a bit you went to check for him in his dorm. Before you knocked you could hear faint sniffling from the other side of the door. You gently knocked and called out “Neville? Is that you? Can I come in?” After a few seconds of quiet the door slowly opened to a teary Neville on the other side. You instantly dropped your bag and gave him the biggest bear hug you could. You broke the hug and asked “Neville what’s wrong? What happened?” “y/n why am I a Gryffindor? I’m so pathetic I can’t even stand up for myself,” he said through his sniffles. “Neville you are far from pathetic. You are the bravest, and most kindhearted, and loyal person I know. That’s why you’re a Gryffindor. Your parents would be so proud of you. I’m so proud of you.” you assured. It turns out that a few Slytherins sabotaged Neville’s potion in Snape’s class so it would explode everywhere. When Neville went to confront them he froze which caused everyone to laugh at him. You continued to hug him until he calmed down but you wished there was some way you could get Neville to believe in himself as you believe in him.

About a week later you found yourself sitting in the courtyard reading your transfiguration textbook for your test tomorrow. You were sitting on a small bench by yourself in a relatively secluded area of the outdoor space. You saw a figure approaching and looked up to see none other than McLaggen, someone who you often complained to Neville about on a regular basis. “So sweetheart, there’s a trip to Hogsmeade coming up and you look like you could use a date,” he said with a sickening smirk. “Bugger of Cormac,” you said as you began to collect your things. “Aww that’s no way to talk to me darling,” he said inching closer to you “you know I don’t like taking no for an answer.” Cormac McLaggen was just about the most disgusting guy at Hogwarts. He had asked out pretty much every girl in the school including yourself on multiple occasions. The answer was always a hard no but he couldn’t seem to get that through his thick skull. “I said I’m not interested now I have to get to class. Goodbye.” you hastily replied while trying to get as far away from the douchebag as you could. Before you could get very far he grabbed you and pinned you up against the stone hedge directly behind you. “What the fuck” you screamed as he began ripping open your uniform blouse and putting his hands on your chest and neck. You fought back as hard as you could but he was just too strong.

What you didn’t see was Neville watching you from afar. He had been sitting with Dean and Seamus when he saw McLaggen make his way over to you. He knew that you would never stoop to that level but it did spark a kind of jealousy in him seeing another boy talk to you that way. When he saw him push you against the wall Neville reacted before he could think and sprinted over to you as fast as he could.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Cormac?” Neville yelled as he pulled the asshole off of his best friend. “Just showing her what a real Gryffindor is like since she seems to spend all her time with you, a pathetic excuse of a wizard,” said Cormac as he began to get closer to Neville who was standing directly in front of you as a shield. “Don’t you ever come near her again? You hear me?” Neville threatened without any hesitancy or fear in his voice. “Yeah right,” McLaggen scoffed as he advanced on Neville. However, before he could do any more damaged Neville punched him straight in the face causing Cormac to fall to the ground.

By this time a small crowd was beginning to form. McGonagall broke through the mess of students “What in the world is going on here?” She looked at the scene in front of her and quickly put together the pieces. “I see, students get to class, I’ll be taking Mr. McLaggen to Dumbledore. We do not tolerate this kind of behavior. Longbottom, I trust that you will make sure Miss y/l/n is alright. Please take her to Madam Pomfrey if she needs anything. Very well.” and she grabbed McLaggen by the arm and made her way back to the castle.

The crowd had dispersed leaving just you and Neville. Neville realized that he hadn’t even checked in on you yet because he was so disoriented from everything that just happened. He quickly spun around to face you. Your mascara was completely smeared, you were sobbing, and your blouse was ripped open leaving your bra and chest exposed. “Can I- can I touch you?” Neville softly asked not wanting to make you uncomfortable in any way. Instead of using your words you just collapsed into Neville letting his arms wrap around you in an effort to keep all the pain and ugly things as far away from you as he could.

You don’t know how long you two stayed like that but Neville pulled away eventually and used his thumb to wipe off some of your smeared black eye makeup and tears. “Here,” he said while pulling off his burgundy Gryffindor sweater and putting it over your head. He saw that you were still exposed and didn’t want anyone seeing you like that. “Do you want to go to Madam Pomfrey?” he softly asked while rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. You shook your head no “can we just go sit by the lake. I don’t want to go back and deal with everyone yet.” “Of course,” he replied.

Neville guided you over to the lake and you two rested under your favorite tree. There were no words exchanged between the two of you. Just comfortable silence and a telepathic-like connection that told you that everything was going to be alright. Neville rubbed soothing circles on your back as you lay your head on his lap. You don’t know how long you two stayed there but you soon realized that you must have fallen asleep because it was nearly dusk and you were in Neville’s arms walking back to the castle.

He carried you back to your common room and up to your dorm. Neville layed you down on your bed and tucked you into the covers. He made his way to the door but stopped when he heard you call out his name. “Hey, Nev? Could you maybe stay? I just don’t want to be alone right now.” “Oh, uh sure,” he said making his way back to you. He didn’t want to make you feel bad for seeming hesitant because honestly, he would love nothing more than to stay with you. However, the last thing he would want to do is to make you uncomfortable or seem like he was taking advantage of you in your time of distress. Plus with his massive crush on you, he gets incredibly nervous any time something remotely intimate or romantic occurs between you two. But he swallowed his nerves and kicked off his shoes to be there for you when you need him most. He would do anything for you. He crawled under the covers and kept a substantial amount of space between you two though honestly, the school-issued dorm beds weren’t that big.

You didn’t say a word but gently turned over so you were facing away from Neville. You scooted closer to him and in a moment of bravery grabbed his hand from the opposite side of the bed and pulled it over you so you two were cuddling. You let out a sigh of relief partly from Neville not pulling away and partly from finally finding some peace from the stress of the day.

“Neville?” you called out. “Yes y/n,” he called back. “Thank you for keeping me safe.” and soon after those few words left your mouth in the still silence of the room, you were asleep.

Neville let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and bravely planted a kiss on the top of your head. Maybe he really was a Gryffindor after all.

#neville x y/n #neville longbottom #neville x reader #neville fluff #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom fic #neville appreciation #hogwarts #harry potter #harry potter fic

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kirietown · 3 years

Text

With a Smile

pairing: all might x f!reader

summary: After all, he deserved to be selfish sometimes— and frankly so did you. It came with the wait, didn’t it?

content: toxic relationship, manipulative reader, 18+, size kink, fwb

[part one] [part two] [ao3]

word count: 4.1K

Even as a teenager, you had known that he was something to admire. He was as charitable as he was handsome (something you heard other girls say). ‘He’s got that look— he’s a classic in the making.’ With a quirk as strong as his, it was always expected that he’d make it into the big leagues. But you didn’t care about that; you loved something else about him that you’d never admit to today. You could focus on the physical, however, or the superficial in place of your real thoughts.

His eyes always shone with a light you only thought you could see in the sky— as cheesy as that sounded (you were never quite the poet). In your days at UA you had simply been an underclassmen to him, just another smiling face that would sputter out a simple ‘h-hello senpai’ with the same schoolgirl nerves that he had probably witnessed at least fifty times a day (or maybe not).

Though that meek attitude shaped into something else as his last weeks at UA were approaching. You were only in the year below him, now seventeen and envious of the wind that got to hug his skin, holding him in time as he leant against the trees and watched as other students jogged, or sparred one another. An ever present smile quirked on his lips with a nostalgic sense of fondness as he admired from a distance.

Always from a distance; never in the centre.

You approached him— that was always your favourite thing to say to the small amount of friends who knew about the two of you (he was never a lady’s man in spite of his charisma). Though you never mentioned the slight tremor in your fingers and the nervous expression on your face as you reached forward and gripped the bottom of his uniform jacket. Though you did always have the inclination to mention the startled expression on his face. Pretty blue eyes widened in confusion, blonde hair windswept with his bangs parted on either side of his face, and finally a slight ‘oh’ shape of his lips.

“Yagi-senpai,” you had said (with a stutter you never mentioned). “There’s a cafe just outside campus, I would like you to take me.”

Is what you told your friends you had said— the truth was irrelevant if it was meant to be kept secret.

You chose to live by that.

“Y-yagi-senpai,” you said softly. “Would you be able to assist me in unstacking chairs for graduation?” A smile replaced his shock as he looked down at your smaller frame before nodding his head enthusiastically.

In spite of how unconventional(ly pathetic) that interaction was, you found yourself growing closer to him over the course of the end of the school year. He still kept a distance however, always brushing off questions about his family or his home life, but frankly you never minded. The fleeting looks and tender eyes were only reserved for you; it didn’t matter that his secrets weren’t for anyone as long as you had his eyes.

It was his graduation day when you finally had his lips.

It was late at night and the two of you had volunteered to take down the decorations and fix up the large training area that had been used for the ceremony. He was still in his cap and gown and you had donned a silk (f/c) dress that went to your knees. Once you two had finished stacking the chairs and rolling up the streamers (which the school insisted could be reused), he slid down to the floor with his back to the wall and a dreamy expression on his face.

“Excited?” You had asked. Your own lips were in a firm line as your eyes met the airy smile etched on his lips.

“America is the land of the free, after all,” he said with a cheerful wink— and for a moment you felt what was possibly the first trickle of resentment you had ever felt for the blonde giant. Still, you bit back your tongue and admired him from afar. You let out a sigh before you moved to stand right in front of him, so close you were between his legs. You remembered how he shuffled awkwardly as if attempting to sit up straight with his back to the wall. But you could only focus on the slight pain in your knees when they bumped against the floor. You seated yourself and straddled his wide hips— his large body proportions causing your thighs to feel strained as you sat. You ignored the blush that coated both your faces as you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned closely— you were careful to watch his expression as if looking for a sign to continue before tentatively planting a shy kiss to his cheek. You sensed his jaw clench, and for a moment you were scared until you felt his arms wrap around your waist and brought you closer.

With hesitance, you pressed your lips against his and found yourself unsure of what to do until you felt his own move against yours. He parted his lips shyly— and it had become apparent that you had taken his first kiss. For a few moments your tongues swirled together with teeth clacking until you both picked up a steady rhythm. His arms wrapped slightly tighter around your waist before he adjusted you on his knee, leaning closer into you. You were the first to pull back, ignoring the string of saliva between the two of you, and moved your head to pepper small wet kisses amongst his jaw before you descended to his neck with a final slow peck.

“I’ll wait for you, Toshinori,” and your friends always swooned when you repeated the words you never said. Their hearts on their sleeves as they gushed on about your boldness and sense of pride. But the truth was after your heated kiss with the muscled male, you had looked him dead in the eyes with a powdered blush and puffy dark lips and said:

“Please , don’t leave me behind.”

Even though you hid those words from the ears of your closest friends, you never did feel shame saying them.

The following four years were kind to you and although you weren’t dating, Toshinori kept in contact with you whilst he studied abroad. You, on the other hand, continued your studies in the medical field rather than choose to work as a sidekick, or try to join an agency. Studies were hectic, but you managed to make acquaintances and even went on a few dates. A part of you wanted to tell Toshinori in a delusional hope that he’d pack his bags and come straight home in a jealous fit— but you were too frightened to say anything in fear of his support; or worse being that he was seeing others too. Though none of your relationships lasted long nor escalated beyond heated kisses, as childish and wishful as it may have sounded; you only wanted Toshi.

It was the day after he came back that you decided to invite him over to your apartment. To say you were shocked was an understatement when you had opened your door to greet the male. He had to dunk down in order to enter— you guessed he was just a few inches over seven feet. You couldn’t help but clench your thighs together at the thought. Other than that, and the way his bangs were styled up, he looked the same. Although his grin seemed to be much wider with what you could describe as permanent smile wrinkles on his cheeks from the way the corners of lips stayed tilted up. For a moment you wished he only smiled at you.

The night was a long one as you both ate a meal you had cooked before you both found yourselves on the couch with a glass of wine in your hand. He, however, insisted on drinking only water for himself much to your amusement.

“As a hero I can’t take the risk of becoming inebriated,” he said with a small laugh, but you weren’t sure about what was so funny.

Other than that, the two of you made small talk as you caught up with one another, the wine gradually loosening you up. It wasn’t enough to make you drunk but just so much so that you inched closer and closer to him without the typical school girl blush he was used to.

“Toshi,” you said softly. Your hand trailed up his torso before moving to wrap his blue tie around your wrist. You pulled him a bit closer to your smaller form. You noticed the way he stilled. “I missed you so much.”

Rather than don the flustered expression that you expected to grace his features, he turned his head away— although you could spot a red blush dusting his face.

“Y/N,” he stated. “I’m sorry.”

Still a bit too confident from the wine, you used his tie to pull yourself closer until you were draped around his side. Your other hand turned his head to look at you in the eyes— (your) lust evident.

“What for?”

“I can never offer you stability, a future or even a family together,” he spoke honestly. “My master had to abandon her own son to protect him from the hero world, and I can’t ever picture having to do the same to you.” You felt sober then. He tightly shut his eyes and you wondered if he anticipated your tears— but they never came.

“I know exactly what I need from you Toshi, it might not be the traditional relationship but I think you should allow yourself to be selfish sometimes, and just indulge.” At the time, you felt as if you weren’t thinking clearly; you were drunken from his presence in a way you always would be.

“Not if the risk comes with your life,” he replied.

Your lips moved to graze his jaw. The muscle clenched in a way that reminded you all too much of a past where Toshi was unafraid of loving you.

“Toshi…” You whispered. “I know the risks— I always knew the risks, I just want to be able to love you in any way I can.” You weren’t sure if you were lying, but you knew you needed him in one way or another. He seemed to understand your point because his face grew impossibly more red at the sound of your sultry voice.

“I… It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, to use you for just my needs and string you along in such a way.” You couldn’t help but release a slight giggle, although forced, at his words before moving to kneel next to him on the coach.

“Now you’re just grasping at straws; I don’t mind being used for your needs.” He furrowed his brows, and for a moment you felt a bit of shame pool in your stomach; he was never used to this lewd side of you. Still, he didn’t seem to share the same amusement you did, and he stood up suddenly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I—“ he paused as if to collect his thoughts before turning to look you in the eye. “I respect you Y/N, and I respect you enough to tell you that you deserve someone who’ll put you first.”

How pathetic would it be of you to tell him you didn’t mind coming in second?

“Leave then,” you said firmly, unable to meet his eyes. Your own were trailed to the half empty wine bottle on the coffee table in front of you. You didn’t even look up when you heard the door of your apartment gently close shut.

You resented him in that moment because you hated feeling pathetic, and you hated the fact that you were a liar.

You wanted to come first for him, and you always have.

It was a week later when he tapped on your window. It was the dead of night but you didn’t care because he was bleeding and in a twist of events you healed him with your quirk— (which allowed you to reverse any injuries obtained within a twenty-four hour time frame). It was cliche, life surely imitating art, but you felt that in a way he was too.

You weren’t one to gloss over details or jump from one point to another, but Toshi always managed to be able to coax out the worst in you even with as bright of a smile as his. Before you knew it, your lips were on his. His hands felt hot as they traced your body through your nightgown. It wasn’t necessarily fiery nor erratically quick paced though you felt yourself heat up from his caresses. He gently pulled down your slip allowing for your breasts to be exposed to the cold night air from the open window. He didn’t seem to mind the chill. Toshinori’s large hands moved to cup your breasts whilst his mouth moved softly against yours, tongues daring to trace each other.

You disconnected your mouth and let a small whine emerge from your throat as Toshinori pinched and pulled your left nipple. Your back was to his firm chest as you remained sprawled on his lap. He paused in his pawing and moved one of his hands to cup your chin up in order to face him, albeit at an awkward angle.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked softly, a slight pant to his voice as his opposite hand moved to rub tender circles around your areola.

Rather than speak, you simply shook your head before softly gripping the hand that held your chin and moved it so that it cupped your sex through your panties. He laughed, and for once you didn’t feel ashamed of your desperation. Your gown was pulled up so that it was wrinkled around your stomach. The material was pushed down your breasts and above your navel. Your legs on either side of his thighs, spread out like a rag doll. He kissed you softly before palming you through your panties whilst his other hand returned to its pulling and kneading. You released a soft moan as his fingers moved the fabric to the side and began to gently rub your slit before he inserted two thick fingers inside your pussy. You always had an admiration for his hands, big, just like everything else about him from his smile to his—

You pushed your ass against him and felt him stir.

“Toshi.. So good… I want you inside… me…” You whined desperately, whilst grinding your backside into his hard cock, hidden underneath his spandex suit. He bucked his hips back causing you to arch forward, just a bit. Toshinori tenderly squeezed your breast and brought you closer to his chest. You could hear the sloshing sounds of your wetness as he quickened his pace. He leant down to kiss your neck as he inserted another finger which coaxed a low moan. Your walls squeezed around his girthy digits, and a grunt emerged from his chest from the sensation. You began to arch your back more as if to match his steady pace as he fucked you with his fingers. But suddenly his other hand had moved to grasp onto your hip and slide you closer as your ass met his erection.

“You’re so beautiful…” he murmured softly. “Divine…” You only ignored his words and continued to pant as his fingers hit that spot inside you, a familiar sensation of a bubble building up in your lower stomach that threatened to burst if he continued his pace and motions. A loud moan ripped as he spread his fingers almost scissor like— you felt yourself getting closer and it was then you clasped your hand around his arm, your fingers shaking as your thighs trembled with his limb continuously sending pleasure to your lower stomach.

“S-Stop…” you whined. “Too much…”

To your irritation, he listened a bit too literally and ceased his movements before hesitantly removing his fingers and coating your thighs in your slick essence.

“You didn’t need to…” You began to say but halted at the shy expression on his face; you smiled before pecking him on the lips. Your hands brushed against his chest and you were suddenly startlingly aware of the fact that you were the only one undressed. With shaky legs, you stood and faced him. Your slip tumbled down and pooled around your feet, and usually you’d be left insecure but the darkness of the room gave you the confidence you needed. You swayed, and walked towards him until you were between his legs and pressed against him. “Maybe just… get undressed, and we can move to,” you paused to trace your fingers down his cheek, “other things.” You pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lip before moving to sit behind him on your bed.

For a few moments he remained seated before he stood up and began to strip off his tight layer of clothing, allowing it to remain a pile by his feet before turning to face you. You tried your best to keep your eyes on his own but couldn’t help but to glance down only to dart your eyes back up again.

He was big.

As if with caution, which he seemed to approach everything with, he crawled closer to you on the bed until you were face to face. Your noses touched in a butterfly kiss. “Are you sure you want me?” He asked, and for a moment you wondered if he was an idiot.

You answered him by wrapping your arms around his neck and met him in a hungry kiss. Your tongue dominated his, though part of you knew he had given you easy control. Though he circled his strong arms around you, as if you were made of glass, before he laid you on your back. His arm moved to hold himself up, whilst the other trailed down to stroke himself. He broke the kiss with a final peck before pushing his head in between the cusp of your shoulder and neck and gave you fumbled kisses. Soon he let out a whine as your hand reached down to wrap around his shaft, you could feel its hard length as you stroked him lazily before moving your hand to his hip, and guided him closer to your core.

With a shallow breath, he edged closer until he was rubbing against your heat. With the aid of his hand he began to push into you. You bit your lip at the pain and gripped his shoulder, not daring to speak knowing that he’d stop if he thought he was hurting you. The pain continued as he fully sheathed himself inside you with a low groan of pleasure. He turned his eyes to look at yours as if for confirmation before you nodded your head and wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

He continued to pace himself as he slowly pulled his hips back and forth, with whines and moans filling the room. Soon pleasure began to build up and you arched your back as his cock swelled inside you, but the slight tinge of pain resided.

“Toshi... Go harder… You feel so good,” you murmured into his ear to which he replied with a sensual roll of his hips. You arched your back in ecstasy which allowed him to take his unoccupied arm and wrap it under the curve of your back.

“I don’t wanna—“ he continued to pace himself as he fucked into you, “— hurt you. Let me love you like this.” A quiet moan vibrated out of his chest as his thrusts got sloppier, his arms moving to gently caress your hips as he slightly kneeled for balance. Your legs only barely managed to hook around his muscled waist as he rocked into you. A shudder went down your spine as you felt his cock convulse suggesting he was near his end— and you were as well in spite of his romantically cautious pace.

His hands squeezed around your hips before he quickly moved them to the headboard as he continued to grind his hips into you with care, a whiny whimper emerged from his throat as you felt his release sputter inside you. Sweat trickled down his skin and his pupils were dilated which brought out the bright blue of his irises. For a moment, you felt that familiar schoolgirl shyness emerge as that tender smile curled around his lips— not the one he gave the press or the public, but the one that he gave to you.

You loved that smile, but a cynical part of you dwelled on the fact that you wanted more— more than you know he’d ever give.

That night you hadn’t noticed the cracks in your headboard from the sheer power of his hands, nor did you pay any mind to the fact that he edged your cunt all night, not finding any sort of release.

Not that he could help it; he was just too soft.

You used to think you loved that about him.

From that day on, he’d come by occasionally (sometimes after weeks apart, or even months) to get ‘fixed up’ which would always result in you under him writhing from the countless waves of pleasure he’d shoot through your aching body. At first it was ecstasy, getting to see his face lose its smile as he shut his eyes and rolled his hips deep into your cunt. But as the years went by you couldn’t help but always want more. In his passions, he always held you as if you’d shatter if he brought even the slightest bit of his strength to the bedroom. (It was always the bedroom, he couldn’t bare to fuck you over a table or a couch). At first you thought it was the gentleman in him, laid with guilt at the fact that he could only indulge with you in secret. But as the years went by, you began to realize you were his escape.

On the television screen, you always watched his fights as they broadcasted. You marvelled at how his smile stayed glued to his face whilst his fists collided with villains and debris. His profession was a violent one, it kept his arms raised and teeth bared all whilst breathing an ‘I am here’ to the world. It was starkly different from how he handled you, gently, not even daring to leave a hickey or bruise on your skin. You supposed that in your apartment, wrapped up in the sheets of your bed, did he ever feel he could be a loving man.

You figured that out a few years after your first time together. You, seated on his lap with his back to your headboard, slowly and deeply, sliding your hips up and bringing them back down onto his hard cock with the aid of his firm hands. His hands had always felt warm, especially as they stroked your hips soothingly whilst his soft moans fanned your collarbone. His face was flushed against your neck as he orgasmed, filling you with his cum, but you didn’t stop grinding your hips. It was then that you felt his tears slide down your skin as he moved his arms to encompass around you, sending yourself over the edge with the realization.

You didn’t overthink it— and frankly, you hoped he hadn’t realized that it was the sound of his snivelling and the thought of his tears cascading down his pretty face that sent you over the edge and made you cum hard on his cock. It was pathetic of the both of you, but the dark side of you loved seeing him act like a bitch.

However, you stayed wrapped in his arm, unmoving, until your hands went to push back his hair and cooed half heartedly (you were still half high off of your release). You never thought you’d see him cry— especially after sex, in fact, you never thought anyone had seen him cry. You felt your walls clench again, a shudder rippling through his chest whilst you warmed his cock with your heat.

“I… Love you,” he sniffled, his arms pulled you tighter to his chest. His blonde head was still buried in your neck, his words flurrying warm air to your chest.

Years ago, you would have blushed and stammered at his confession. But you only held him close, awkwardly, as he was still buried deep inside you. Although flaccid, you could feel his warmth begin to pulse as your muscle tightened.

You didn’t blush, however, because he never did confess, but the three words he did utter (you had learned) were practically synonymous over the course of your relationship.

“I… Am sorry,” he sniffled— and to you; it was the confession you were dying to hear.

Years turned into decades and you would be lying if you said you stayed faithful to him. There was a slight guilt that weighed in on your chest but that didn’t stop you from getting fucked by strangers, and even the odd co-worker or two. It was never stable, and you blamed Toshi for that. Which was likely why you felt pangs of arousal whenever you caught his eye glaring into the love bites left by other men.

That school girl crush died years ago, but you’d be damned if you ever tried to let him go.

#all might x reader #bnha #yandere #kirietownwrites #all might smut #toshinori yagi x reader #boku no hero academia #yandere BNHA

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nazyalenskyism · 3 years

Text

Alone Together

Summary: After observing the same mysterious stranger from afar at party after party, Zoya finds herself swept into a familiar sort of dance, but for the first time in her life she finds herself faced with an equally capable partner. A/N: This fic is based on song, if you send me an ask with a prompt and your guess, I'll write a short fic for whoever gets it right first! This has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time, I really hope you like it! Ao3: Alone Together There he was again, a flash of gold on the edge of the dance floor, a smile as bright as his hair illuminating the room. Keeping an eye on him over the rim of her glass she pondered for a moment, she had been coming to Morozova Foundation events since she was a child, at one point she’d been the belle of the ball, a prodigy touted around by the great entrepreneur himself. ‘ My talented pupil,’ was what he used to boast, well as much as his stoicism would allow. Zoya had once let herself be examined by a ballroom full of strangers, all clamoring for a look at her, trying to see what set her apart. At least until someone shinier had come along, that was. Then she’d been discarded as easily as yesterday’s paper and slowly she’d begun to see what he really was. A master manipulator, he’d played her for the fool she was, taking the only things she ever truly loved.

This stranger had begun making appearances at not just Morozova Foundation events, but at every event with even the slightest connection to the man. Usually this wouldn’t set off her alarm bells, many familiar faces would make the rounds at multiple parties but they were all Morozova’s mother’s age, usually none were as young as her and if they were then they belonged to a big name family. This man had no name she knew of, yet, and the way he worked the room, charmed the guests left and right was in a way not unlike her own. Zoya was entranced by the way he worked each table he sat down at, turning the grumpiest people she had ever encountered into putty in his hands. As intrigued as she was, she wasn’t going to let a pretty boy in a fancy jacket distract her from the task at hand. The man she had been conversing with all night, Mr.Kirigin had come back from a phone call and said nothing as she smiled sweetly, leading him to the quiet hall just outside the main ballroom. Kirigin was supposed to have information as to why Morozova had cancelled his appearance tonight at the last second, and lucky for her, from the second she stepped foot into the ballroom, the fool’s eyes had been transfixed on her.

Zoya pulled him towards an alcove in the wall between two ornate paintings, the gold of their frames reminding her just how gaudy this place was, how rich Kirigin was, he was throwing this party for Morozova’s foundation and money was clearly not an object. Yes, she was here to get information, but she wasn’t opposed to leaving with a little bit of financial compensation for her time either. She leaned back against the wall, watching Kirigin move towards her, fully enthralled by her and she nearly laughed, all men were really the same.

“What a beautiful time tonight has been, Mr.Kirigin.”

“Thank you, it took many endless nights of planning, or so my assistants tell me,” Zoya resisted the urge to smash his toes under her heel, what an ass.

“I would really like to thank whoever made it possible,” she slipped closer to him batting her eyelashes demurely, “I was looking forward to meeting the legendary Morozova too, why wasn’t he in attendance?”

“He said he had urgent business,” Kirigin moved as if to touch her hair, but Zoya grabbed his wrist instinctively.

“Where did he go?” she said abruptly, forgetting herself for a split second, just as someone coughed nearby. This hallway was supposed to be empty.

“I-- I don’t…” Kirigin took a step back, the trance quickly washing away. Shit, she couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” She made her voice honey sweet but the man still shook his head, taking another dazed step back from her when his phone buzzed, as if it fully snapped him out of it. He vanished back into the main ballroom as Zoya cursed to herself, how could she have let him get away so easily, she had been so close.

“Get it together,” she hissed. “Stop making rookie mistakes.”

“Talking to ourselves, are we now?” She whirled on her heel, she’d recognize that lilting voice anywhere, that bastard.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, I’m just admiring the view.”

“That’s the best line you can come up with? How do you get the ladies to fall for that?”

“It works just fine, it doesn’t hurt when it comes from a mouth as pretty as this.”

“Trust me, it’s not pretty.”

“How long did you spend staring at my lips before arriving at that incorrect conclusion?”

Zoya scowled, “I don’t need to stare, I just assume every part of you is as insufferable as your personality.”

“How would you know my personality if I’ve never had the pleasure of talking to you?” He was next to her now, perfectly polished and dashing except for one stubborn strand of curled hair that only added to his boyish looks. She refused to think about how it made him all the more endearing, instantly understanding why all the rich women fawned over him. He was young, handsome, charming, witty and handed out compliments and praise in a way that was so sincere, no one could ever doubt his intentions. She had been watching him, not that she’d admit it but she was no fool, she couldn’t let some stranger waltz in under her nose and steal what she’d worked so hard for.

“I can sense inanities from miles away, and it seems your head is full of them.”

He pulled a face and she thought she’d finally wounded him into leaving her alone but the next thing she knew he was offering her his elbow with a gallant smile, “shall we take a walk?”

The estate was decorated lavishly for the party, not a single thing looked out of place. The gardens were strung with lights, even the tennis courts hadn’t been spared, with large outdoor tents concealing them from the French doors of the ballroom. Neither of them spoke as they made their way to the dancefloor, the guests had all moved back inside, the night being too chilly for their expensive fashions. Zoya let her mind wander as she kept up with the stranger's long strides— she’d refused to take his arm, she didn’t get that intimate until a man was giving her something worth more than a law school’s semester’s tuition. Then of course in the days following, he would never hear from her again. This man was clearly wealthy, though he spent time catering his attention to rich folk he evidently didn’t need it. You could often tell someone’s status based on the way they handled themselves. Most people didn’t practice as much as she had, from age 9 learning to carry herself as a queen would so that no one would ever doubt that she was anything less. The stranger had the posture and pose of a rich man’s son but there was something more to it— a light swagger-- as if he knew something no one else did, but he was perfectly fine being alone in that knowledge. A type of confidence she saw the partygoers try to emulate but something that they never could quite live up to. It was the ease of a man who had learned how to be free but a bird who was trapped in a cage again, desperately trying to get back to the skies.

“Can I have this dance?” The hall was packed, but most people were seated at the moment, only a few couples hurrying to the dancefloor before the next song started. She really didn’t want to dance with him, but she had lost her best chances tonight due to her own impatience and there was nothing left for her here. A woman the stranger had been chattering away with earlier in the night waved them over from a nearby table before she had a chance to respond, however.

“Mr.Lantsov, why haven’t I seen you on the dance floor yet, you said you were an excellent dancer, yet…” she trailed off as she finally noticed Zoya standing next to her precious, Mr.Lantsov, now where did she remember that name from?

“Yes ma’am my partner and I were just on our way there, as long as she agrees to dance?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” The woman glared at Zoya in a way that communicated that this man was the most desirable person at the party and she’d be a fool to turn him down. As stubborn as she was, she did not want to come across as a fool tonight.

“Dancing is a dangerous game, Mr. Lantsov,” she said, her eyes flicking to him to make sure he understood what she was saying. All he did was wink coyly at her before nodding to the woman and leading Zoya to the dancefloor. Fantastic.

“So, Miss…?” he began, taking her hand in his while the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her in close. She tried to repress the slight shudder as his fingers brushed against her exposed back. If she had planned on dancing today she definitely wouldn't have worn a backless dress. Although she couldn’t deny that he was handsome, at least she was dancing with the best looking person in the room… well, second best . She was showstopping and that was why all eyes were on them as she slipped her free hand onto his shoulder, curling against the smooth material of his jacket. Saints, his suit was at least three thousand dollars, his watch at least two thousand, and she didn’t even want to look at his shoes but she knew they probably cost more than her car.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Well, Miss ‘None of my Business’, what brings you here tonight?”

“Ooh, none of your business.”

“Are you having fun?”

“None of your business.”

“Intriguing! Is there anything that is my business?”

“No. Aren’t you tired yet?”

“No,” he grinned roguishly, “I don’t tire that easily.” Zoya turned her face quickly so he didn’t catch the blush colouring her cheeks. Thankfully he just kept talking. “Since you insist on being so mysterious, why don’t you ask me about myself?”

“Okay,” she looked up at him, how was he so tall? Even in her heels she had to look up into his eyes, eyes that were a brilliant emerald green with flecks of bronze. Before she forgot herself, she managed to grind out, “why are you here?”

“My family is expected to attend functions like this.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He let out a laugh as he spun her, gracefully catching her against him before they resumed their steps. They were nearly flush now, she could feel the heat radiating from him as he leaned in, “ let’s say, an old friend usually attends these sorts of things and I’m hoping to run into him.”

Zoya tried to bite back her surprise, could she be thinking of the same person? “And what did the old friend do to you to earn your visits? I’ve seen you at every event I’ve been to this month.”

He paused for a second as if weighing just how much he wanted to reveal to her. Good, at least he seemed to have a brain in that big head of his. “ I’ve been at university for the past few years and I came back once I heard he was planning on taking something of mine.”

“Oh, so not so much a friend, more like an enemy?”

“I don’t have enemies, Miss None of My—“

“Nazyalensky,” she supplied absentmindedly, she wanted to hear more of his story.

“ Nazyalensky… I don’t recall hearing that name before.”

“You probably forgot,” she said hurriedly, “I’m at every party and you’ve only just come back to town.” He didn’t need to know that she had only started using her last name again after her aunt died, hearing people associate her with her aunt’s maiden name had hurt too much. It helped that Morozova had only ever known her with that surname, it helped her disappear into crowds that had once marvelled at her and her skills. She’d stayed away from the social scene for a few years, watching from the outside, learning and perfecting her craft so that she would one day be ready to take him down.

“I remember most names and faces,” he mused, “and I would definitely remember someone as beautiful as you.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, she wasn’t that easy to woo. “I’ve been away from the scene for a while too, I’m also looking for an old friend, but he’s never here.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“You wouldn’t—“

“Trust me, he interrupted, “I would.”

“Morozova,” she blurted out, biting her tongue at how easily she’d let him uncover her secret. She needed to know if that’s who he meant too, and there was something about him that made him seem so sincere.

A shadow passed over his face and Zoya realized he hadn’t been expecting her to say that name. “Funny, he’s my ‘friend’ too.”

“Oh,” she mouthed softly, trying to step back as the music ended, but Mr. Lantsov kept a firm hand on her waist, his other hand slipping up to brush a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

“Perhaps we could speak outside?”

Zoya shook out her head, he may have dazed her for a second but she needed to call the shots again. She took his elbow as he released her tentatively, “lead the way, Mr. Lantsov.”

They had found their way back outside and Nazyalensky had yet to let go of him, her warm fingers pressed into his arm. He was fully aware of what she was doing, she had realized that since they had the same enemy, she could put on an act like she did with the people inside and get the information she needed from him. He admired her skill, most others didn’t get this far on tricks alone which meant that she had to hide something else as well. He also knew that as adept as she was, she hadn’t quite pinned him down yet. For one, he had seen her assess his worth, scanning him and figuring out the price tag of each item, but unfortunately for her, at the moment he was only worth a little more than the clothes on his back. From observing her at the last few events and staying at her side this night he found that he quite enjoyed being in her company. She was quick and clever, not unlike himself, and she knew just how to move, just what to say to get people to give her what she wanted, but as they conversed he found himself believing that she wasn’t putting up as much of a front with him. Perhaps it was a tactic to lower his guard, or maybe he only wanted to think she was being truthful for his own sake. He’d been at this game for a very, very long time and he was beginning to wonder what it would be like to not have to run alone for once.

“What did you think of tonight’s party? Even if you didn’t get exactly what you came for?”

“Maybe I didn’t get what I came for,” she said slowly, turning to face him, “but maybe I found what I needed.” Nikolai had to admit that she was very good at that, and had he been anyone but himself he would’ve gladly thrown himself into the grand fountains if she asked. Unfortunately for her, well maybe both of them, that’s not what he was looking for tonight. He simply smiled at her, taking the second before Nazyalensky spoke again to admire the way the silver moonlight illuminated her dress, creating a shimmering aura around her. She did look even more ethereal in the moonlight and even he was beginning to question his own ability to resist her.

“Well,” she drawled, finger running down his chest, “what do you think?” She looked up at him through thick lashes, the endless blue of her eyes threatening to drown him if he didn’t pull himself away.

Instead, he leaned in further, “I think,” he breathed, “that you’re playing a game I’m used to winning.” A genuine gasp flew from her lips as he grasped her wrist pulling it out from behind his back to reveal his wallet between her fingers.

“Nice try,” he smiled, “but I’m not that easy.”

“Oh yeah?” she scoffed, pulling at his lapel unceremoniously, her ornate sapphire hairpin tumbling into her awaiting palm. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve.”

“I figured,” he pulled a large ruby tie pin from her inside her sleeve, each of them pulled out hidden treasures from the other, stumbling a step back when they realized they were both equally good at their game of choice.

“Have you ever considered a partnership, Nazyalensky?”

“In your dreams, Lantsov,” she leaned in, “you couldn’t keep up with me.” Her lips brushed against his skin with each word, slowly trailing down to the corner of his mouth, “even if you tried.” Turning on her heel, she was gone in a flash of silver leaving him alone in the tennis court, with nothing but the feeling of her lips grazing his skin.

“Hello?” The phone calls had begun a few weeks ago, the morning after he had been marked with red lipstick over his cheeks and a truth stamped over his heart. Nazyalensky’s calls had only been a minute long and every other day at first but now they were sporadic, more than five times a day at all hours of the night. Nikolai tried to ask what she was up to, all he ever wanted was to know more about the alluring woman who wouldn’t leave his mind. But to his dismay, every time he surrendered a story of his own she repaid him with a sentence or two at most, and it was usually about what she’d eaten for breakfast. As much as he enjoyed hearing himself talk he was captivated by the images the calls planted in his head, Nazyalensky soaring down a coastal highway in her convertible, the top down and her hair caught in the everpresent wind that seemed to cocoon her every movement. All he could think about was himself in the passenger seat, her sharp words cutting him before her soft lips healed them with a kiss. He was a mess.

“Are you going tonight?”

“I RSVP’ed but I’m not sure, I heard Morozova won’t be attending.”

“Get your suit pressed,” she snapped, “you’re picking me up at 7 and you better not be late.”

“I’m picking you up, oh however did I get so lucky? But he’s not going to be there tonight, we should spend the evening strategizing instead.”

“First off, there is no, ‘we,’ Lantsov, get that through your big head. Secondly, he will be there tonight.”

“My sources are never wrong, Nazyalensky, if they say he’s not coming--”

“He’ll be there,” she jutted in. “He’ll be there because I’ll be there.”

He froze, an uncomfortable weight setting in his chest. What was that supposed to mean?

“ Seven, Lantsov.”

“Seven,” Nikolai agreed.

The glimmer of streetlights danced against her hair, illuminating the shimmer of Nazyalensky’s vibrant orange dress, the fabric catching her every movement and he swore his heart had stopped when she first stepped out to get into his car. She had been quiet the entire car ride until now, “are you done staring yet?”

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure you weren’t, and I don’t look magnificent tonight,” she replied, tossing her hair over her shoulder, the tension easing between them as they fell into the easy back and forth that had become nearly natural. “Your car isn’t what I was expecting.”

Nikolai raised a brow, “what were you expecting?”

“Something flashy and obnoxious, I don’t know, a Bugatti?”

“If I had a Bugatti do you really think you would’ve found me with your hairpins up my sleeve?”

She cut him a disbelieving glance, “I don’t know what to make of you. You say so much about yourself and yet I feel like I hardly know a thing about you.”

He let out a measured breath, she already knew more than anyone else did, she was wrong about that, yet this tale stuck in his throat unlike all others. “I wanted something with as much character as me,” he began, “after my issues with Morozova, this was one of the few possessions I still owned.”

“What do you mean?”

Nikolai drew in a breath, if he had any hope of understanding what she’d meant on the phone earlier, he had to be willing to show her his hand, as much as the stubborn, lonely part of him protested, he knew he wanted to do this. “My family is wealthy. They have traditional values like the rest of their friends, ideas about passing their dynasty down to their eldest son, that type of thing. Or it was. I’ve always known that the people who rely on my family’s services deserve more than them, they don’t care about helping them, not really. I’ve spent years, since I was a boy trying to be better, trying to make myself into someone who could take care of the legacy properly. It was working, I thought they were going to agree. I went away to university for a few years, tried to help in new ways, from a distance, but when I came back, there was nothing left.” He glanced at Nazyalensky and she only cocked her head at him, waiting for him to continue. He’d never told anyone this story before, and he still wasn’t sure why he was telling her, someone whose name he didn’t even know.

“Morozova, an old consultant slithered his way back into their lives the moment that I left. He knew my older brother wasn’t clever, was easily manipulated, and so that’s what he did. He and my brother turned the favour his way, cheated me out of everything I had fought to earn, and convinced the board that Vasily should get to take over, with Morozova pulling all the strings of course. When I heard word of it, I came back immediately, but it was too late, they had written me out of almost everything. I was left with no money, no power, nothing. All the plans I had came crashing down and now, I know that if I can get rid of Morozova’s influence, my family might see sense.”

They sat in silence until Nazyalensky spoke again, “that’s more… noble than I was expecting.”

“I might look like a feckless rogue but I’d like to think that I possess an endearing quality or two.”

“You seem like you’re anything but feckless, a rogue, however? That seems much more likely.”

He winked, “for you, Nazyalensky, I could be as roguish as they come.”

She turned away quickly but Nikolai didn’t miss the pink flush in her cheeks at his words, grinning to himself. Although he had just revealed his biggest secret, he didn’t find himself particularly regretting it.

They continued in a comfortable silence until a loud ring cut through, a few blocks from their destination. “What’s up, Tamar?” he asked, accepting his friend’s call on the car’s display. Yes it was an old car with character, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t spruced up the technology to his liking.

“He’s not here,” she replied, Nazyalensky’s head snapping towards him at this, her eyes darkening.

“What do you mean? I thought he was supposed to be there?”

“He’s in Italy, he’s not coming.”

Nikolai let out a sigh as his partner’s head fell back against her seat, her fingers curled tightly into her palms. “Thanks, Tamar, I’ll talk to you later.” Another wasted opportunity, and he had believed Nazyalensky when she had insisted on Morozova being there. He knew there would be other chances, but it felt like he was running out of time, that if he didn’t hurry Morozova would find him out and try to finish him for good.

A sharp hiss from Nazyalensky drew his focus to her, and he saw that her unfurling palms were scored with crescent shaped indentations, the result of her nails pressing into skin. As she began to curl her fingers inwards again, his hand shot out, stopping her with the press of his palm against hers. The red light before them allowed him the briefest second to realize what he’d done, pulling his hand back to the wheel. “I—” he began, only to be cut off before he could apologize.

“Morozova, he had this school that he started when he was young, barely older than the students himself. He cultivated talent. Pitted students against one another and chose the best ones-- the ones most useful to him, and would take them under his wing.” She was staring straight out the windshield, her gaze distant, her eyes hollow. “Can you guess what I was?” She let out a humourless laugh. “I was talented and would do anything he asked without hesitation. He used that and when someone who suited his needs better came along, I was thrown aside, as if I’d never mattered. Not just me, it happened to us all. I don’t want to ruin him for my own hurt, but for theirs too.”

Her eyes met his in the front mirror and he nodded at her to continue. They had been driving in circles as they’d shared their stories, and he wasn’t going to stop until he heard the rest of hers.

“The reason I stopped being his favourite was because a new student came along. And whenever she called, he would come. Maybe a small part of me thought that since my name was on the list, he would come tonight. Is that foolish?”

��No,” Nikolai returned with quiet honesty. “It’s not.”

Her eyes seemed troubled as they met his again, but her tone was cool when she spoke. “Zoya. Zoya Nazyalensky.”

“Nikolai. Nikolai Lantsov.”

“Nikolai,” she hummed, pulling out the syllables, as if testing the feeling of his name against her tongue. “ Nikolai .” Saints, he didn’t think that his own name had ever sounded sweeter. “What do we do now, Nikolai?”

“We wait, and we try again. Now that we’re working together we can come up with a better plan and make this work.”

“Okay,” she nodded slowly, “but what about tonight?”

“I could drop you back off at home? There’s not much use going if Morozova isn’t there.”

“I share a too-small apartment with a couple who is disgustingly in love and it’s date night, I think I’d rather not.”

“And I share a too-small houseboat with a set of twins who wake up at 4am to do combat training in the living room.”

“We could keep driving,” she suggested, her voice low, fingers dancing over the dashboard as she awaited his reply.

“We could keep driving,” he agreed, trying to keep his focus on the road as Zoya’s head came to rest gently against his shoulder. Nikolai knew this particular luxury would cost him, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

“Zoya Nazyalensky and Nikolai Lantsov.” His voice was filled with a quality she’d never heard before but found that she quite liked. It was a mixture of indolent arrogance and jauntyness, a rare combination, but she supposed nothing was too out there for Nikolai, the last few months had been filled with him surprising her daily. Whether it was stories of his past, or his friendships or exploits, she found herself listening raptly, as if she couldn’t turn away. And she didn’t want to. His stories painted the world in a way that made her hunger for more. In a way that made her believe, for a few silly seconds, that she could get on his boat and sail away from it all. And then he would drop her off at her apartment and the second she walked through the door, the magic was shattered and she remembered that she existed, not in the textured fantasy world spun by Nikolai’s silver tongue.

With a quick glance at their invitations and a wave, they were making their way to table 2 as instructed. Zoya’s arm was looped lazily through Nikolai’s, but they were both on high alert tonight. They had received personal invites to tonight’s function, and while they were planning a much longer game than springing on Morozova today, they had ultimately decided that their strategy would be to convince Morozova that they didn’t want to strangle him on the spot. Easier said than done, her fingers were itching to wrap around his greasy throat, and they’d only just gotten here.

Whether he would buy it or not was a whole other question, but their plan relied on him being cocky enough to underestimate them or to want to keep his enemies close. Drifting through the crowd, Zoya was able to pick up more than a few of the whispers at tables, each one making her want to roll her eyes a little bit more than the last.

"She’s the girl who locked Nikolai Lantsov down.”

"I heard she blackmailed him into taking her to parties.”

“I heard her parents are forigen millionaires and the Lantsovs who are in crushing debt want to be bailed out.”

“I heard she’s the lost twin to the princess of some country or the other and they need his money to keep up their lifestyle.

“I heard that she knows black magic and seduced him into being devoted to her, that he spends his weekends feeding her grapes like she’s a queen.

Zoya leaned up, her lips brushing his ear, “that’s my favourite one.”

She watched him hold back a laugh, “if you wanted me to feed you grapes, you could’ve just asked.”

“Who cares about grapes, are you or are you not going to fund my jewelry-hungry long-lost twin sister?”

He gave her an incredulous look, “with what money?”

Biting back a smile of her own, they settled at their table, Nikolai’s knee brushing hers as it jounced underneath the table, more whispers flooding over them now.

“Nikolai Lantsov used to ask every single lady to dance with him before the party was over, even the old ones.”

“Nikolai Lantsov used to come over and sit at our table for hours and listen to our stories.”

“Nikolai Lantsov used to be the most eligible bachelor in town before she came around and locked it down.”

“Did you hear that, Lantsov?” she mused, leaning over to adjust his crooked bow tie. “Apparently I’ve locked it down.”

He let out a huff, “apparently?”

Zoya rolled her eyes, tilting his mouth down to hers, smiling at the glint in his eyes as she murmured, “definitely.” Definitely locked it down.”

Nikolai awoke to a hand flopping against his abdomen halfheartedly, what on Earth?

“Come closer,” a tired voice groaned, “what good are you if you can’t warm the bed.”

He shuffled closer, “you’re sure there’s no other reason I’m here?” he questioned.

“No.”

“An interesting way of getting me into bed but who am I to question your methods?” Nikolai teased, grinning at Zoya’s look of annoyance. It was first thing in the morning and he considered himself nothing if not a man of routine, and a part of that sacred routine involved annoying Zoya into affection as soon as she woke up.

“As if I’d ever let you into my bed,” she growled, flipping her back towards him.

“That’s interesting considering how I’m in your bed right now.”

“Oh that can be easily fixed,” she nudged him off the edge of the bed, relishing the groan of impact as he hit the floor.

Nikolai sighed, figuring that he very well couldn’t spend the day lazing in bed with Zoya anyways, as much as he wanted to. He found his clothes flung in opposite sides of the room, putting on a piece at a time until it came to his shoes.

“Have you seen my loafers?”

“You’re so annoying,” Zoya replied, her voice muffled from the pillow she’d thrown over her head in an attempt to drown him out.

“Does that mean you haven’t seen them?”

“Your shoes sound as pretentious as you.”

“That’s not helping,” he muttered, spotting a wagging tail with a familiar looking shoe in his mouth. Nikolai couldn’t believe that this was his life now, half dressed , trying to extract his ridiculously expensive shoes from his girlfriends’ dog’s mouth while she laughed from above.

“Give it back.” The puppy refused to relent, disappearing back under Zoya’s bed, undoubtedly gnawing on Nikolai’s leather shoes even more now that he’d dissented. “Well, I guess I can’t leave now that the dog’s got my shoes.”

“Goodbye Nikolai.”

“Zoya, your dog has fully destroyed my shoes.”

“Oh no,” she groaned, “his taste is as shit as yours.”

“Good thing I keep another pair here,” he sighed, glaring at the dog. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he murmured, kissing a chaste kiss to her hair. This was their routine now, nights spent planning and talking, falling asleep on the sofa, waking up to the cold, Zoya back in her bed, with Nikolai’s arms wrapped around her.

He had already reached the doorway when he heard her speak. “Or,” Zoya’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “You don’t have to leave.”

Nikolai paused, “what are you asking?”

“I’m asking you to stay.”

The words were sweet music to his ears, but he wanted to check she was certain. “Are you sure, Nazyalensky?”

Zoya turned onto her side to face him, her midnight waves cascading over her shoulder, her bronze skin glowing in the lazy late morning light. Nikolai was sure that he must have died and been taken to paradise. How else would he be fortunate enough to have woken up entangled with the sight before him?

“Stop staring and get in,” she grumbled, “before I change my mind.”

Nikolai slipped back into bed, letting out a sigh as the covers enveloped him again. He would much rather spend the day here, like this.

“Get your frozen toes off of mine!” Zoya hissed, cutting through his moment of quiet.

“They’re not that cold,” he groaned, pressing his nose to her cheek as she tried to squirm out of his grip.

“Why is your nose cold too?”

“That’s what you get for hogging the covers.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously, “I don't hog the covers!”

“Of course you don’t,” Nikolai soothed, pulling her to him as she rested her head against his chest. “You’re an equitable bedmate.”

“Damn right.” she huffed, her eyes starting to sink closed already. “I’m the best.”

“How long am I allowed to stay this time?” Nikolai murmured against her hair, unsure if the response would be the same as always, the usual until the morning. Something had changed, and he didn’t want to shatter the precarious nature of today’s agreement, but he had to know.

“How about forever?” Zoya mumbled, half asleep. “Forever.”

Nikolai’s heart had likely come to the conclusion months ago, but it was then that his head caught up. This was it for him, he didn’t think he would ever love again, not after this. Forever sounded like the perfect amount of time.

“Forever,” he agreed, slipping into sleep after her.

#zoyalai #zoyalai fic #my writings #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #kos #king of scars #tgt fic #kos fic

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

The GoT Characters Reacting To You Being an Artist

this was a request, send eons ago, back in ye olden days. probably?

In this preference, you'll be drawing with: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Podrick Payne, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion

NED STARK

He’s the sort to be charmed by something like this, he’s never had a talent for creative pursuits so he appreciates it when he sees it. He likes the devotion you have to it, and the discipline, it’s just another reason to admire you. Ned encourages the hobby, and when he has time he likes to watch your painting or sketching. if you allow it. Ned enjoys your pictures of animals the most, even if they aren’t very good… He thinks they’re cute. If you ever made portraits of the family, he’d absolutely hang them around his office and the sitting rooms at your request.

ROBB STARK

When you were children, Robb used to be terribly impatient, waiting for you to finish sketching and doodling so you both could finally play. You’d make him pose funny so you could have a reference. As he got older, he began to be in awe of your skill as it improved. He still remembers the cute little scribbles you’d make. Now whenever you ask him to sit so you can practice portraits, he blushes under your concentrating stare. He would love to have a portrait of you to take with him on his campaigns, but he’d be too shy to ask directly, so he’d suggest it in the most roundabout ways.

SANSA STARK

She adores watching you work, and the finished product. Sansa enjoys creative pursuits, and although she’s more of a seamstress and embroiderer, you can share experiences and tips with each other. Sometimes she’ll ask you to lightly sketch on fabric so she can embroider over it. As much as she loves your drawings, she blushes whenever you want to draw her, and she can’t imagine being painted. Sitting and being stared at by you is so romantic to her young mind, she can’t focus at all, daydreaming about what it’ll look like when it’s finished. It’s a memory she cherishes for a long time.

JON SNOW

Jon was wondering where you had gone off to at the end of your duties, not that he kept track of that often, it was Ghost that would lead him to wherever you were hiding. He thought it was kind of silly to hide something like this, but then again, you took great pains to get supplies from Mole’s Town. He’s so relaxed when he watches your process, how you so effortlessly transfer things around you to paper. When Jon can, he tries to get charcoal for you to use.

BENJEN STARK

He loves listening to the sound of the charcoal scratching against your sketchbook. He usually hears it when he finds you after his overnight shifts, wanting to see you before he left to sleep. He’ll rest against you and idly watch the picture appear on the paper. Sometimes the sound of that and your breathing is so peaceful, he falls asleep. He likes it when you draw maps for the ranger’s reference because you sketch out the different animals and wildling camps instead of just marking them. It’s cute as hell, and he won’t let anyone insult you for it.

JORY CASSEL

Jory loves your talent as well, he heard people around Winterfell talking about your “charming” paintings and wanted to see for himself. When he was crushing on you and later trying to court you in his own way, he’d bring you art supplies you needed. The fact he paid attention to what you were running low on was flattering. Jory enjoys watching you work, but he’s too embarrassed to sit and pose for anything; he’s relieved if you paint landscapes or animals instead.

EDDISON TOLLETT

He thought it was the oddest thing he’d ever seen, you huddled up in your coat and scarf but no gloves so you could draw the horses or some trees. Well, Sam had his books, and Jon would go off to train, so this was just something you did to keep your sanity on the wall. He liked sitting next to you and observing, making wry comments now and again. Many times he’s joked about you drawing the wall, but a specific section of the wall, because “that’s the prettiest part”. If he can find some charcoal or things to draw on, he’ll keep it without thinking, then remember it weeks later and give it to you with some shyness.

MANCE RAYDER

Mance loves your artistic nature. He’s a musician himself, so he understands the urge to create something, to just let your mind wander and escape in it. You’re sort of an odd inspiration to him; when you both are relaxing in his tent late in the evening, and you’re just sketching something, he feels the urge to get his lute and start experimenting with a new song.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

He doesn’t really get the “point” of it, but he’s still fascinated watching you paint something across a thin, pale piece of leather you made yourself. Tormund will just be right there next to you, up in your business and wanting to see how you do it. He’s more patient in the evening, content to sit across the fire and just watch your hands move. He wonders how you just know how to move them. Sometimes he’ll trace things in the snow with a stick, trying to mimic your shapes and movements, but falling totally short. It just makes him more in awe of you.

YARA GREYJOY

She doesn’t think much of artistic pursuits, it’s just not in the Ironborn culture to care about things like art and prose. Still, she knows skill when she sees it, and she can admit it’s interesting to watch you sketch something, then she comes back an hour later and you’ve made the drawing almost lifelike. She won’t ever want to be drawn, but there’s a look of pride on her face when you show her scenes of her ship and the men working on it. She might even keep one of them.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

Dany thought you were writing in that old journal for the longest time, and she realized you were drawing when you were next to Drogon, capturing a rare moment of the dragon calmly sitting. That’s when she playfully demanded to see it, wanting to see what else you drew of her dragons. Instead she found a sketchbook full of scenery, people, horses, flowers, whatever interested you at the time. When she passed over portraits of herself, she wanted to linger and stare, smiling at how shy you’d get. Once in Meereen, Daenerys sets up a studio for you, hoping you can escape to it when you’re stressed. She ends up visiting it just as often, admiring your half-finished paintings as she tries to calm down.

JORAH MORMONT

Jorah finds it to be a darling hobby, something that fits you perfectly, but he’s still surprised by your skill level. In Essos, that sort of talent is coveted by rich merchants and politicians, but you only do it for yourself. When the khalasar stops to camp for the evening, he’ll make his way to you, hoping you don’t mind him sitting and quietly watching. Whenever you mention drawing Jorah, he’s flattered but shy at the idea. He doesn’t think he’d make a very interesting subject in armor or not, so he directs you to the horses or landscape. Whenever he passes by a market, he looks for paints you might like.

MISSANDEI

She’s highly appreciative of your talent, as she has something of an artistic interest. Missandei isn’t much of one herself, but she appreciates art immensely. She can’t hide her curiosity when she notices you painting and sketching, and she’ll want to wait for you to tell her it’s okay to look. Once you two are closer, she’ll ask about your process, about why you chose this color or that subject, what the art makes you feel. You noticed she prefers your more abstract pieces over the simple still-life or portraits.

GREY WORM

Grey Worm has seen all sorts of grand portraits and sculptures in the houses he was sent to guard over the years. He never had a thought about how they were actually made, even after being freed. It was so new and foreign to him. When he watched you work, he loved seeing how it’d go from a sketch to a painting. You’d show him the different paintings and brush strokes to make it happen, but it was still like magic. When you drew him, it unsettled him at first, seeing a non-moving reflection stare back at him. Eventually Grey Worm shyly asked for a small portrait of yourself that he could carry around. It’s his good luck charm.

TYWIN LANNISTER

Well, there are less than savory hobbies young ladies can have, and painting was certainly an accomplishment to be proud of. He admired your skill from afar, you were clearly talented, and he’s a man who appreciates a craft that’s honed and excelled in. This continued in Casterly Rock, and Tywin had to admit he was proud of the landscapes you did of the keep and the ocean surrounding it. He’d have several of your paintings in fancy frames in his office.

TYRION LANNISTER

During your first meeting, Tyrion noticed the odd markings and colors on your dominant hand, and sometimes they were on your sleeves, too. When he spotted you drawing in a secluded corner days later, it made sense. Tyrion was interested in you so he used art as a way to talk with you, and he was pleasantly surprised when you’d respond, letting him see your sketches and later, some of your paintings. It was like he was invited into a private world, and it made him like you all the more. When you’re a couple, he’s always finding interesting paints from Essos or fine brushes made of ivory and sable hair, and he proudly keeps your paintings in his office.

JAIME LANNISTER

Sometimes he lingered in your chambers after you two were intimate, and inevitably you’d start sketching something. He thought it was amusing, some funny quirk, and always had to joke if you were drawing him. When you’d fall asleep he’d look through the sketchbook, admiring your drawings, trying to deny how much of yourself he could see in them, and how they deepened his feelings for you. It was too risky to carry a portrait, but he ended up stealing one of your drawings before he had to leave for his father’s war. He chose a simple detailed sketch of your favorite flowers; you used them in your perfume and you always had them in your room.

SANDOR CLEGANE

The gruff man dismisses it as “some women’s nonsense”, although he couldn’t recall any women in court who had their noses stuck in sketchbooks as often as you did. He’d see you in the gardens almost every day, drawing something in a book. He didn’t think about it until you two were close, and he was able to sit next to you and see the drawings. Sometimes you drew what was around you, and that made sense, but sometimes you drew things from your head, and he wondered how difficult that was. Sandor would absolutely not want anything drawn of him; it makes him uncomfortable and gives him feelings he’s not ready for when he sees pictures you made of him or Stranger.

BRONN OF BLACKWATER

Bronn doesn’t think much of it. He’s a mercenary, what did you expect? He didn’t tease you, but he did like to be a distraction when you were trying to draw something, curling his arms around your waist and kissing up your neck to get your attention. Often when you knew he was stopping by, you’d engross yourself in a project, just to grin at his frustration as he tried to pull you from it. He’s had some curiosity and looked in your sketchbook before, but that’s it. He’s willing to pose for something, but only if you promise him a reward, since he gets antsy sitting so still, having to look at you but not getting to touch.

PODRICK PAYNE

He really admires your skill, it was something he was always interested in as a boy, but he never had the talent for it. When you’re sketching, Pod wants to look over your shoulder, but that’d be rude, so he just waits, a bundle of nervous energy that Tyrion eventually dismisses. He can’t hide his excitement when you offer to show him the sketchbook, and later your studio, which he enters with such reverence, you’re a little embarrassed. Once Podrick is more comfortable with you, he’ll ask about your process and inspiration.

PETYR BAELISH

He admires your talent like he admires the rest of you, it’s just one more reason to adore you. He found out where your secret drawing spot was, where you’d hide away from the court and spend all morning on your sketchbook. This is where Petyr would “chance” upon you, and your art was a way for him to get you to open up. He was well versed in art himself, so he could discuss techniques and artists with you, and later send you nice gifts like rare paints and fine brushes. If he knew you’d accept, he’d offer to give you a tour of some of the fine paintings and ancient statues that were sadly gathering dust in the Red Keep, paying more attention to your reactions than what you were looking at.

STANNIS BARATHEON

Stannis really has no like or dislike for art, it’s not something he cares to think about. Even with that lack of opinion, he can tell you’re talented and you work hard at what you do. Since you clearly enjoy it so much, eventually he’ll shyly offer you a room in Dragonstone to use as a studio. He may not be the best at describing why he likes your work, or what about it is good (please don’t ask his opinion on a piece), but he’ll make sure you have whatever supplies you desire. He’ll be beyond embarrassed if you ask to draw him, but you can quietly sit in his study and sketch, he’ll be none the wiser.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

Davos finds your skill to be charming, and something worthy of praise, he’s not shy about complimenting you when he notices you painting. He’d never overstep his bounds and ask to see the sketchbook you’re always buried in, but even just listening to your charcoal scratch at the paper is soothing. Several afternoons he’s sat whittling something while you draw something else, both of you exchanging a few words, then sitting in a peaceful silence. He’s always encouraging of your art, even if he doesn’t know any technical terms or what’s considered “great” vs “good”. It looks nice to him, so he enjoys it.

MARGAERY TYRELL

This is just one of many things Margaery appreciates about you; really, there’s nothing more attractive than someone with many talents. Her favorite thing is to watch you paint, specifically, when you’re mixing paints and deciding which color to use. They all look similar to her, and you’re only using a few strokes of some of them! She likes to sit and chat with you while you work, not even minding when you just respond with a “mm” and “oh”. She has a hand mirror that has a small portrait of you in it; she insisted you paint one she could carry around.

BRYNDEN TULLY

He enjoys sitting next to you when he has a chance, watching you work on your sketchbook while you both chat or just enjoy the silence. It’s what drew him to you initially, a pretty girl with her nose tucked in a sketchbook, totally oblivious to the lords trying to get her attention. Unlike those courtiers, he doesn’t pretend to know a damn thing about art. He just loves to see your graceful hands move across the page and how you furrow your brow in concentration. Brynden outright laughs if you want to draw him, insisting there are far prettier subjects around. His younger, more wistful side wishes someone could capture the express you have when you draw, so he could have that picture in his pocket.

EDMURE TULLY

He likes the hobby, it’s just another amazing thing about you, although admittedly he can get impatient when you’re spending a long time on a painting. He gets a funny, flustered feeling when you paint landscapes of Riverrun, or portraits of your children, once you have them. He’ll hang them up proudly in the Great Hall - or his office, if you’d rather have them there, he’s just so proud! Though, he’s a bit shy about sitting for a portrait. Something about your gaze makes him squirm, and he’d much rather have a picture of you or the kids.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

When Brienne watches you sketch something and later paint over it, it almost seems like magic, although she understands the hard work behind it, and your artistic process. She understands it better than most, considering how hard she worked at her swordsmanship. Brienne is so embarrassed if you want her to sit for a portrait, she just can’t do it. However, if she’s fully armored and you’re sketching her training or on her horse… It gives her a pleasant kind of embarrassment. Your portrait looks amazing, a gallant knight in movement, and she’s so happy you see her that way.

RAMSAY SNOW

Oh, he gets so impatient when you’re sketching or painting and he wants you for something… or just wants you. You’ll see him sigh and fidget in your peripheral vision, if he doesn’t just sit in front of you and call your name. You don’t expect him to understand the point of it, although unbeknownst to you, he has some morbid ideas of art. Best not go to that place. You’re surprised by how much he likes drawings of his hounds, he’ll actually sit next to you and watch you work with interest. Granted, it won’t last more than fifteen or twenty minutes, but there’s a strange… comfort in the warmth of him as he leans in, resting his chin on your shoulder.

ROOSE BOLTON

He doesn’t mind how you spend your freetime, although this pursuit is an interesting one. To keep you pleased, he’d learn the different supplies and paints you used and order new ones whenever you needed them. If you liked quiet while you worked, or being outside, or having someone to talk to, he’d arrange that. You’d probably even have a room for a studio in the Dreadfort, many servants agree it’s a cheerful, welcome addition to the place. Once you two had children, Roose would keep a small portrait you painted of them in his office. It’s an oddly sentimental thing for the man to do, but no one would dare comment on it.

OBERYN MARTELL

This is one of many things on his list of reasons to love you. He’s a man who loves art and creativity, especially when the paintings are full of life and color. When he notices you’re sketching or painting, he actually approaches quietly, not wanting to interrupt your concentration (and wanting to see what you’re working on). He’s delighted by portraits you make of him, but personally he loves your landscapes of Dorne. You capture his feelings of his country so well, it makes him a little emotional. He’ll absolutely ask you to draw a small portrait of yourself - as scandalous as you can manage! - so he can always have you with him. He keeps it in a small pocket mirror with the glass taken out.

BERIC DONDARRION

The former knight is very charmed by this, in fact, you might think he’s … attracted to it. He tries not to make it obvious, but you notice how he wistfully gazes at you while you draw. It’s never any big or fancy pieces, just what’s around as you travel with the Brotherhood. When you’re together, he makes no secret about it, looking totally lovesick as he watches how you brush your hair aside and focus on the drawing in front of you. What a silly man. He also likes to cuddle behind you while you work, sometimes resting his head on your back and falling into a doze.

#game of thrones imagine #game of thrones preference #got imagine #got preferences #game of thrones x reader

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lotusthekat · 3 years

Text

Be Wherever (Whoever) You Are

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: G

Relationships: Lars & Rose Quartz, Lars & Steven

Characters: Lars Barriga, Rose Quartz (Pink Diamond), Martha Barriga, Dante Barriga, Steven Quartz Universe; other characters are only mentioned

Summary: “Hm… I don’t think that’s a problem,” the pink-haired lady tells him. “You can always change your name whenever you feel like it.”

The boy looks up, meeting her shining black eyes. “I can?”

Rose grins at him. “You’re always growing and changing… and I think your name is the perfect way to show that, even if no one gets it. It’s what makes you happy. Isn’t that so?”

He’s quiet for maybe a minute, thinking about what she said.

“Yeah… you’re right,” he says, finally.

“So,” Rose speaks up again. “what’s your name?”

At the age of four, Laramie is already pretty lost. That changes when he finds a really beautiful garden one day.

Word count: 2.000

AO3

A/N: I remember way back then when people had the idea of Lars meeting Rose before the events of the show, and although this might contradict canon, I’m all for this concept!

I do hope I wrote Rose well, and I’m still getting in the hang of writing child characters, lmao... well, enjoy anyway!

TRIGGER WARNINGS - implied character death and bullying

Laramie doesn’t like school.

If anything, he’s sure most kids don’t… but his reason isn’t the same as theirs. As far as he’s concerned, they’re not left alone like he is during recess. Or even during class.

Laramie is only four – almost five – and he’s got a corner of his own, near the small woods. The teachers say he’s not allowed, but honestly, they don’t seem to care when he goes there.

That’s how it is. They don’t care about him. His classmates never invite him to join them, and when he does try, they avoid him like the plague. Like he’s got some dirt on his face or something. Or maybe his face is the dirt they don’t like.

And well, that’s how he ended up here. In the woods. They’re not scary like his teachers say; they’re really small. Harmless. It doesn’t take that long for him to find another way out in the opposite direction.

What he finds, though… is a place he’s never seen before.

It’s a huge garden with pink flowers blooming. This place looks so… dreamy. Like some kind of paradise. It’s very pretty.

Laramie is careful with the flowers as he walks in. Is this what his teachers have been hiding? Or have they never thought of going in there, judging only by the woods behind him? Because that’d be dumb.

The boy looks down, the flowers staring back. Laramie looks around, wondering if this garden belongs to anyone… but it doesn’t seem like anyone’s here, and there isn’t a house nearby. So, he sits down, and for some reason that feels really good. This does feel like paradise.

This might be his new little corner. It’s so far from everything, from school, his teachers, the other kids… it’s perfect.

Laramie smiles for maybe the first time in a while (“now Laramie, you should smile more!” He remembers his teacher say, much to his internal annoyance). He doesn’t care about anything at all right now.

… well, before he hears someone coming.

“I see you like my garden.”

Laramie shrieks, turning around and finding… the tallest woman he’s seen. She’s got pink hair, huge curls falling on her shoulders. She’s wearing a long white dress with a star shape in her belly.

“S-Sorry! I didn’t know anyone owned it!” Laramie blurts out. She doesn’t seem annoyed, though.

“It’s okay,” she laughs silently, “it’s nice to have some company.”

Her voice is so… soft. You’d think his mother was sweet like candy, well, this woman manages to beat his own mom in that.

The woman sits next to him, though not that close, which he likes. Laramie just isn’t good at talking to people, least of all a woman so nice and pretty… her presence is as relaxing as the flowery ground under him.

Laramie can’t really help staring. He knows it isn’t polite, but there’s something about her… something different.

When she looks at him back, though, Laramie looks away the fastest he can. He can tell she’s smiling, anyway.

“Where are you from?” She asks.

“O-Oh, um. I’m from… here. I-I mean, Beach City.” Laramie wants to punch himself, stupid, stupid. “And you?”

The woman hums. “I’ve come from very far… far away from this place.”

“How did you get here?”

“Oh, that’s a very long story,” she responds, her smile… falling a little. She soon recovers, “What matters, though… is that I’m here now. I’m home.”

Laramie nods and doesn’t ask about it anymore.

“How did you get your flowers to grow?” He wonders instead.

“What if I told you it’s magic?”

Laramie raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

She nods with a smile. “Would you like to see it?”

“Uh, yeah?” He says like it’s obvious, but not in a rude way, he hopes. She seems to like it, anyway.

She picks up what seems like a bunch of leaves and kisses them, sparkles coming out. Right then, Laramie gasps at the pink flower in her hands.

“Woah! How’d you do that?”

“Magic,” she repeats, amused.

“Cooool…”

She gives him the flower and he admires it. It is different from other flowers, though. In the center of the petals, there’s…

“… a gem?”

The woman hums. “It’s unlike what you’ve seen before, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

“Did you know, I’m still inspired by all the other flowers you’ve got in your home. They’re why I’ve created this place.” She smiles both at the flower and the young boy. “You have a very beautiful home.”

Laramie holds it like it’s a treasure, worth so much that not even money can count. When he looks at the woman again, he does notice the… pink stone in her belly, too.

“What’s that?” He points at it. “Is that where your magic comes from?”

“Yes.” She touches her own belly lovingly. He looks at it, too.

“Wait…” he jumps away in alarm. “Is it moving?!”

The woman laughs. “That’s actually my son!”

“Oh.” Laramie blushes. He scoots closer again. “You’re having a kid?”

“Mm-hmm. He’ll come very soon.”

“That’s, uh, neat.”

She looks at her own belly like she loves her child so much, even before he’s really there. “I can’t wait for him to be born. For him to explore and fall in love with this world like I did…” she speaks, “and for him to make friends with someone as sweet as you.”

“W-What?” Laramie stutters. “Y-You really… mean that?”

She nods again. The woman isn’t messing with him. Every word she says is honest and comes from her heart. Besides his parents, she’s… the only person who’s ever enjoyed being around him.

“Hey, uh… what’s your name?” Laramie asks, realizing he hasn’t before.

“You can call me Rose,” she says. “And what is yours?”

His joy disappears in a second, and he looks away, so she doesn’t see his frown.

“What’s wrong?” Rose wonders, concerned.

Laramie doesn’t really like talking about it. Not even with Mom and Dad… but even if he’s just met Rose, she’s been nothing but nice with him. It’s really the least he could do.

“I don’t… really like my name,” he admits. “It doesn’t feel right.” He scoffs at himself, “Ugh, I know, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh, no, I understand what you mean,” she reassures him. “It doesn’t fit you, right?”

“Yeah.” He sighs, looking at the flower, its petals moving with the breeze. “I can’t really be myself, so I just hide from everyone… but I want to go out there and be me, y’know? And I’m not gonna do that with a name as lame as mine!” He exclaims.

Rose doesn’t interrupt him at all. She listens all the way through, and she knows he has more to say.

“I wish I could change it… but no one would get it,” the boy complains. “No one really gets me, anyway,” he mutters in his breath.

“Hm… I don’t think that’s a problem,” the pink-haired lady tells him. “You can always change your name whenever you feel like it.”

The boy looks up, meeting her shining black eyes. “I can?”

Rose grins at him. “You’re always growing and changing… and I think your name is the perfect way to show that, even if no one gets it. It’s what makes you happy. Isn’t that so?”

He’s quiet for maybe a minute, thinking about what she said.

“Yeah… you’re right,” he says, finally.

“So,” Rose speaks up again. “what’s your name?”

It’s a simple question, but Laramie gets what she means.

He’s never had the gut to really say the answer… but now, now might be just the time he stopped being a coward and dealt with it.

Laramie opens his mouth.

“… ‘Lars’?”

“Yeah, it’s my name now! You can call me Lars from now on!” The boy claims, his stance firm and tough.

Mom and Dad stare at him like he’s hit his head hard and forgot everything. Then his mother giggles affectionately.

“Oh, Laramie, you’re so creative,” she says. “What a great nickname!”

“It’s not a nickname, mom!” Lars protests. “Like, I know you guys have other names, but you want me to call you Mom and Dad. So, I want you to call me Lars!”

“Right, son. Whatever makes you happy,” his dad tells him. Lars can tell he finds it cute, too, which is the opposite of what the boy really wants.

“Now, go take a shower, sweetie,” Mom says. “You seem like you had a pretty big adventure today.”

“Yes, mom,” the boy answers with a sigh, walking to the stairs.

“And please do your homework when you’re done, Laramie!” Dad says from afar.

“It’s Lars, dad!” Lars yells back, quickly rushing to the bathroom.

Yeah, he should’ve expected that. Of course his parents wouldn’t get it… But Lars is a pretty cool name, though.

The boy takes the pink flower from his pocket and puts it on the sink, smiling at it before he gets in the shower.

He doesn’t know why he’s got into this.

Steven wants to take him and Sadie on a vacation, because sure. Why not?

So, they’re inside Steven’s house, which is pretty big. Inside there’s a pretty stony place, probably because of that giant statue. There’s also a platform guarding a big door in there.

“You’ve got a nice house, Steven,” Sadie compliments.

“Thank you,” Steven grins. “Now come on, the warp pad is this way! Get ready to have your jaws dropped!”

Lars sighs, staying behind while Sadie and Steven go ahead. He does look around. If you take away that warp thing and the statue, it’s a pretty standard beach house. It does seem like Steven doesn’t have a bedroom of his own, though…

Once Lars takes a glimpse behind him, he’s… stunned, to say the least.

It’s a pretty big painting on the wall, just above the front door. It’s a portrait of a beautiful pink-haired woman, whose eyes are closed. Her hair and dress flow like she’s floating in clouds, fully at peace.

Lars doesn’t know why, but something about her is…

…

“Hey, Lars, you coming?”

Steven’s loud voice takes him off guard, and Lars tries his best to disguise the feeling, “Uh, yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“Oh, that’s my mom,” Steven tells him, knowing very well he’d been staring at the painting like a creep. “She’s pretty, right?”

“Your mom?” Lars repeats.

He tries to suppress the shame from when he’d insulted Steven’s mother not too long ago. It really seemed like a tough topic to the kid, and while Lars hasn’t verbally apologized, he’s been thoughtful of not disrespecting Steven’s mom again. Lars didn’t know her, after all.

Either way, she does look… divine in that portrait. He remembers Steven saying that she saw beauty in everything, and even in the painting you can probably see that.

It’s… he doesn’t know how to word that. Lars can say, though, that the painting awes him.

“Come on, Lars! We have a vacation to get to!” Steven pulls him out of his thoughts.

The older boy sighs exasperatedly. Lars doesn’t have a choice now, does he?

For once, he follows Steven in that weird “warp pad”, really not sure how the hell they’d get anywhere. But sure, he’ll let Steven do his thing.

Lars does take one last look at the painting, before the three of them are gone in thin air.

After that day, he went back to visit Rose.

But she wasn’t there.

He went there the day after that, and she was still nowhere to be seen. And every other day after that.

He could only wonder where she was. Maybe she travelled? Or moved away from Beach City?

The garden stayed the same, but Lars never saw the woman again. He didn’t even have the chance to really say goodbye to her… or thank her at all.

Regardless, the flowers stayed. In a way, Lars could feel her presence there with him.

The garden became a little home of his own.

#steven universe #lars barriga #rose quartz #steven quartz universe #fanfiction #bullying mention tw #death mention tw

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hendrickfw · 3 years

Text

A ray of hope/LU AU

The end was near. An enormous asteroid, a hundred kilometers wide, was about to impact Earth. The last time it happened was about seven hundred years ago, during the golden years of heroism. A young white duck astronomer wearing a red jacket watched through his telescope, noting the object getting closer to Earth.

-Jet? Please turn off the light and get to sleep.

Jet´s brother, Turbo, was sleeping in a blue pajama. He stood up and walked to his brother.

-I can´t. I´m a witness of a cosmological event never seen before!

-Wait. Space, you mean?

Turbo loved space. He pushed his brother apart and started watching through the telescope. His eyes opened wide at the incredible sight of the rock.

-Guys, someone is trying to sleep here- said Rebel, putting his pillow over his head.

Jet, Turbo, and Rebel were triplets, all brothers of the large Duck family. They lived in Acmetropolis in their uncle´s Nash Duck house. Their mother traveled through all the galaxy, so she rarely was with them. The trio also passed their time with their uncle Ebenezer McDuck.

Rebel went with them after his complaints were unheard. He used some green pajamas. He wasn´t so happy about being out of bed.

-Wow, that´s so cool! You never told me a pink lady was flying over there!- exclaimed Turbo, making Jet curious.

-Pink lady? What are you talking about?

Jet pushed his brother and started watching through the telescope, impressed by the phenomenon before his eyes. A strange pink-dressed woman flying near the asteroid fired some kind of ray to it. The meteor was destroyed, although some debris continued its trajectory to Acmetropolis.

-That´s impossible! That is some abnormal event! How is a woman able to fly? What did she fire? Why...?

-Kids. What are you doing?

Another white duck opened the door. He was Nash, the uncle of the ducklings. He seemed mad after seeing his nephews out of bed late at night.

-Nothing, Uncle Nash- responded the three, hiding the telescope behind them.

-You should be sleeping. Remember that tomorrow we´ll visit your uncle Ebenezer.

-Ok, Uncle Nash- the trio responded again in unison.

The ducklings returned to bed, ready for the next day. Although, the strange event they have just seen got them intrigued.

While they were sleeping, some meteor debris fell to the city with some cosmic energy. Fortunately, it wouldn´t affect any individual. Right?

Acmetropolis University

It was a summer day in the city. The people could feel the heat of the day. There was, at least, one person, or animal, without that kind of problem. He was Tech E. Coyote, a Ph.D. student of the Technology Department of the biggest and most important university in the city.

Tech, as his ancient name suggests, was a coyote with brown fur. His green eyes, concentrated on his latest invention, still showed a wild persona, but also wisdom. He was wearing a lab coat. Despite someone's sound entering into the lab, his concentration didn't leave the device in front of him. Smith Pierce, Tech's professor, entered the lab. The coyote did not hear his presence until he felt someone touch the chair where he was sitting.

“You should rest. We're going to have a meal with the rest of the class at Pizza Fest. You coming?”

“I don't think so, sir. If I want to investigate the astrological phenomenon of the time, I must finish the intercosmic suit.”

Of course, the genius knew about the asteroid in the direction of the planet and wanted to investigate it closely. Very close. Smith, as much as he wanted to convince Tech to get out, knew he wouldn't make it. The professor sighed and walked out.

“If you change your mind, we will be waiting for you. Warner Street corner with Mouse.”

Tech nodded from afar, still adjusting the suit's protection systems. There wasn't much time, as the asteroid would arrive in a few days.

“You know? If you listened to me, I'd introduce you to my friend the roadrunner. Both could complement each other very well in the lab” asked a female voice. Tech had to start paying more attention to his surroundings while he was working.

“The delivery guy? You know I don't trust working with anyone since Casey, Lexi.”

After Smith's departure came Lexi Bunny, a tan fur bunny. She didn't study anything related to science. Instead, she was an athlete. She had been a cheerleader in high school and was now looking to pursue basketball. Despite this, she had taken some physics and engineering courses (specially to learn more about those subjects than his brother) under Tech's mentoring. Since then, they have become good friends, although Tech has had confidence issues.

And that's why Lexi wants to include him in ger close group of friends. In addition to the roadrunner whose name went through Rev, there was his older brother Ace. Rev also claimed to have two friends who would introduce them today. Just the ideal situation to take Tech.

“Today Rev will introduce me and my brother some friends. You should come, it'll be fun.”

“I can't. I have to finish this before I miss the opportunity.”

“Then do it as a favor. Remember the time you...?”

When Lexi pursued an objective, she usually made it. That's what he admired her. Well, he had to admit that, from the few times they'd come out, he'd had more fun than usual. Maybe he'd do the same this time, even though there'd be more people outside of her brother and herself.

“All right, all right. I 'm going. Just help me put some things in store” the most he tried to hide his smile, he just couldn't. He really enjoyed the company of the bunny.

As they both began to pack the objects Tech used, Tech recalled a recent comment from the bunny. That would serve to kill the silence in which they were involved.

“And... are you sure you want to do it?”

“I don't know. It's a big step and, so far, Ace hasn't taken it well.”

“We can postpone it so you can think about it better, discuss it with him and, well, with me. We haven't decided everything.”

“Doesn't it bother you? It's a decision that's yours too.”

“Not at all. I'd rather you be comfortable, specially.”

Lexi felt unsure of the action to take, but at least she was happy to have Tech's support. It was comforting to some extent.

Once they both finished storing everything, they left the University and walked to the city subway, from where they took transportation to downtown. Tech felt somewhat uncomfortable about being in such unhygienic, crowded environments, but at least having Lexi by his side giving him conversation took those thoughts out of his head. Soon they arrived and took to the streets of the metropolis. A short time passed, and they entered the Pizzarriba establishment.

Pizzarriba was a pizza restaurant created in the 21st century, miraculously afloat after losing almost all its establishments to Pizza Fest. Luckily, the original restaurant was still standing. It continued to maintain the same style as in its founding years, specially to attract customers.

Lexi, followed by Tech, walked through the door. It was Tech's first time on the establishment. Lexi quickly ran to one of the tables. Tech recognized her brother, Ace, whose grey fur was unmistakable for the coyote. He wore a jacket and jeans, his typical outfit after finishing his auditions. He was the only one on site, probably saving space for the group. The table was big. How many friends would the roadrunner bring?

- What's up, Doc? Ace asked Tech after hugging and greeting her sister.

-Hi, Ace.

Ace gave room for both of them to sit down. Lexi sat next to him and Tech was left next to her. Before they could start chatting, the three of them heard the door of the restaurant open with an unusual sound of someone talking.

“... a-robot-commissioned-by-my-dad-so-I-had-to-look-for-a-replacement-and-you-know-how-difficult-it-is-to-find-a-modulator-at-the-middle-of-desert-so-I-improvised-putting-together-several-remnants-of-old-inventions-with-something-of-cheese--which-reminds-me-have-you-proven-this-pizza-is-delicious-and-look-there-are-my-friends-hello-Ace-Lexi-and-you-should-be-Tech-is-a-pleasure-Lexi-told-me-a lot-about-you-and-your-inventions-sound-awesome...”

Tech started to feel dizzy. He didn't know what it could be, but it started a little after the roadrunner arrived. By focusing on his problem, he failed to hear the last words of him, at least until Lexi interrupted him.

“Hello Rev. Tech, he is the friend I have told you about.”

Tech tried to return to his posture and reached out to say hello. He didn't expect a loud, quick handshake from the roadrunner. He heard that he continued to speak with the same speed and joviality, which caused the coyote more dizziness. It was nothing to his liking. Rev was the typical roadrunner one could find in the desert, with blue plumage on the body and violet on the tail. He was wearing a sports suit because he probably was used to run a lot. After the introduction, Rev returned with his friends and introduced them.

“He-is-Slam-the-Tasmanian-demon-and-he-is-a-professional-fighter-and-very-good-at-it-I must-admit...”

Slam was a little bigger than the average Tasmanian demon. He was huge in Lexi's opinion, but behind his smile she saw the personality of someone friendly rather than intimidating. They hoped it would, even though Lexi didn't hesitate. Tech failed to understand Slam's growls, but by his raised hand he suspected it was a greeting.

“... and-he-is-Duck-and-between-him-my-brother-Rip-and-I-we-are-best-friends-practically-brothers-or-what-do-you-say?”

The black duck was crossing his arms, without saying a word. Everyone noticed that he looked coldly at Ace, who looked back at him the same way.

“Rev, I didn't know you knew the duck.”

“Umm-yes-why-do-you-know each other?”

"Unfortunately," Duck replied.

"And this got awkward," Tech said louder than he wanted. Slam made sounds agreeing.

The three newcomers sat in front of those who were already there. The large size Slam occupied in the chair explained the size of the reserved table. Lexi was the first to break the tension when she saw Duck's shirt.

“Where did you get that? I've been looking for that shirt for centuries!”

Duck watched his shirt. He changed his expression of discomfort to a smirk. He looked at the bunny pointing at his shirt.

“This shirt? Please, the biggest fans of Duck Dodgers are the only ones who can carry them.”

"I-didn't-know-that-you-were-fan-of-Duck-Dogers-too-Lexi-I-mean-it-is-fantastic-other-thing-that-we-have-in-common.”

“Well, lady, it is your lucky day. I´m the Duck Dodgers fan club leader so I may allow you to join us. Do you know where we are?”

“Please give me something easy. Here was Dodgers' first fight in 2021 during the concert of a famous band of the time.”

“2021? Wasn't he a hero in 2500?” Ace asked, intrigued or her sisters´ knowledge of the character. He knew of her love for the hero, but not how much she had dived into his history.

“Actually, no. It's a common mistake. Duck Dodgers debuted at this restaurant in the 21st century but is best known for his heroics in the 25th century. Besides, it wasn't at a concert by a famous band of the time. The Caballeros were not popular when they played in the incident" corrected Tech. Everyone looked at him and Tech felt uncomfortable. “What? You can't be the only ones interested in superheroes.”

“Told you” bragged Lexi to her brother with a big smirk.

"Sure, I already knew that." Duck bragged too, though everyone distrusted his sincerity.

“Wouldn’t-it-be-amazing-to-have-superpowers-or-what-do-you-think-guys?” Rev asked with his speaking speed. “I-mean-I-already-run-fast-but-I-wouldn´t-be-annoyed-if-I-was-faster-or-which-powers-would-you-guys-like-to-have?”

"Definitely jump higher, be able to reach places I couldn´t." Lexi replied, already knowing the answer.

“Besides the intellect, which I already possess, probably some form of technokinesis. It would be helpful to me when working.” Tech replied, showing off and being honest at the same time.

Slam made incomprehensible sounds to others again, but Rev interpreted them as the ability to eat more.

“I don't want superpowers. With my agility I could kick any thief” said Ace confidently.

“Finally, you share my opinion, Ace. I wouldn't need either. Duck Dodgers never needed. I just need my natural duck strength.” Duck added.

“Where was that strength when you needed my help moving a ladder in the supermarket, Duck?” The others couldn't help but laugh a little bit about the anecdote.

“The ones with wheels to move around, Ace?”

“Nice deduction, Tech.”

"You are despicable..."

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

The afternoon passed quickly and was fun, even for Tech or Duck, who were the most apathic. After eating the pizza and getting to know each other a little better, everyone returned to their homes. Everyone had their own responsibilities to attend.

Rev was the first to get home thanks to his speed, despite being the one who lived the farther away. The roadrunner arrived at his parents' house. Ralph, his father, greeted him immediately, diverting the little attention paid to his son Rip. He asked his favorite son to help him build his new Robo-Amigo as Rip was too "inexperienced" in the robotics area. Without hesitation the roadrunner arrived to the garage, where he began to work.

Slam, after lunch, arrived at the arena where he had a contract to fight. At the moment his fights were against unexperienced players, as his sponsor, Pierre Le Pew, still kept him to fight the great cup champion for later. The demon didn't want to serve just cheap entertainment because he wanted to have fun with the fights, besides being able to have an extra income if it wasn't too much, because the economy wasn't going well lately for him.

Duck came to his apartment, which was extremely messy, with dirty laundry all over the place. It looked like a homeless man lived there. And, honestly, it was near the truth. Despite the ducks´ confident and arrogant behavior, Duck was nothing but a drag on society. Not even that house was his: it was an unpaid hotel room for four months. Duck's life was miserable, and he knew it very well. Only his job of picking up trash from a public pool said it all. Duck threw himself in his bed and looked at a photograph of his adoptive parents, dead at that point. Duck missed them and would do anything to bring them back. It was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Tech returned to college, to the same lab where he spent the rest of the week working. He was already late and had to continue with his armor. He had Lexi's insecurity in mind. The coyote hoped she could solve the problem. But the voice of the roadrunner didn't go out of his mind either. In truth, listening to him speak so much, with that force and speed caused him a terrible headache. He didn't dislike him, on the contrary, they were almost “birds of a feather”, but that voice detail was still there.

Lexi and Ace returned to their apartment. It was humble, the best they could get. With Lexi's scholarship and Ace's salary as a stunt, it was the best they could rent. It was cozy, but Lexi wanted to change. Between the two brothers several discussions had been emerging and Lexi thought the best was to take some time apart. Luckily, she had found support in a coyote, who was willing to share the same roof with her. It was a possible way out.

Ace, meanwhile, was saddened by the constant conflicts with his sister. He understood that she needed her space and was no longer a child, but he was the older brother and their parents had commissioned him to protect her. Was he wrong to want to do his job?

But, despite each other's problems, the same event brought them together. It wasn't their meeting at Pizzarriba. At about 6:30, they all fainted without any apparent explanation. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed and they were taken to the hospital.

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

Some general stuff. This is my AU fanfiction of Loonatics Unleashed where the heroes have some solo adventures before they form the team. This is an awfully done introduction. I don´t really trust my English writing abilities, so please tell me if you find any grammatical mistake. If any hero wants to help me with that part I will not be able of thank you enough.

I finally decided to make it a shared universe with my other fanfiction: Los Tres Caballeros viajan de nuevo. I´m not sure if I´ll use any characters referencing that story because I want to focus on the show cast. For now I just want to put the important pieces on place before starting everything.

And feel free to comment. I´ll try to upload more but, I´m finishing this semester and the exams and essays will take my time. Anyway, for those shippers, I may have some Tech/Lexi at the start but I´ll transition it to Tech/Rev and Danger/Lexi.

I hope you like it and happy weekend to everyone.

#loonatics unleashed #tech e coyote #lexi bunny #ace bunny #rev runner #slam tasmanian #danger duck

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otverzhennyy · 3 years

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Viktor on every Harbingers.

As stated before, Viktor’s loyalty tend to be more to the people of Snezhnaya and the Harbingers than the Tsaritsa, who he sees more as a faceless tradition despite, yes, believing in the cryo archon’s mission. However, when it comes to his daily life, it is actually the Harbingers who possess his devotion.

Viktor is implied to have, at the very least, witnessed the harbingers which I imagine are during Fatui events, speeches and such, and is knowledgeable of both their way of work, their abilities, the personality they present, quirks and what the other Fatui think of them in general. This is a post based on the information we got so far in canon, the Commedia dell’arte and of course liberal interpretations to flesh out Viktor’s relation towards the harbingers, it is HEAVILY subject to change.

This list goes from who Viktor would like to work for the LEAST to the MOST. Viktor admires all Harbingers and see how incredible they are to the Fatui cause, but this is purely him speaking selfishly in terms of working under them.

SCARAMOUCHE Scaramouche is implied by Viktor to be pretty much universally disliked by the Fatui, which is supported by his shown temper. Scaramouche is one to belittle and not respect underlings, even potentially harming them physically through electro, and lead them with fear. Scaramouche throws emotional, gratuitous tantrums.

This is something Viktor cannot respect when strictly speaking of ways to run the chain of commands. This is no way to be a leader, not when you do not have reasons to apply this kind of authority. Scaramouche’s devastating power, however, is no joke, and given that the Tsaritsa has had her own reason to choose him, there is no question that Viktor would answer the man’s call and orders, but would he enjoy his daily working life under such a self-centered man with no respect for the lives he is responsible for but his own ? Not really. He’d sooner ask for a transfer... which is, unfortunately, not really possible within the Fatui, as you are to believe that where you are stationed is where you should be.

PIERRO Pierro’s crazed antics constantly have one question his state of mind, and his chaotic mockery and obvious bitterness are made for a sour association, where one can never really rest as the man is too unpredictable. Underlings unable to guess what his plans are, given he never tell anyone anything.

Pierro doesn’t care what happens when his subordinates are sent on assignments, not caring if they are casualties or not. As someone who values his life, even if he is loyal and swore an oath to the chain of command, Viktor much rather stay alive. The man is... devastating.

SANDRONE Sandrone uses underhanded tricks and manipulates people to get what he wants, hiding behind a face of kindness to the people. Although Viktor is one to recognize the grey areas of politics, which is, politics is everywhere in any social interactions, Sandrone stands out because he is not influencing people’s judgements, he is a hypocrite who takes advantage of commoners when they meet their lowest points.

This, alongside his eerie puppets... is absolutely terrifying. Viktor cannot help but, unlike Scaramouche where he sees the immaturity and lack of professionalism of one man, feel genuine fear... and fascination. The things he could learn from this man, he cannot even start to comprehend.

PULCINELLA Pulcinella is the harbinger in charge of the Fatui’s military and, alternatively, its recruits camp. Viktor would be more than happy to give his body for the nation if needed, even if the battlefield is not his ideal position.

Technically, all Fatui receives a form of military training. The difference with Pulcinella is mainly that the Skirmishers are constantly enhanced through the Fatui technology, modified as their body belongs to the nation. Viktor personally has no interest in being cut open and changed, as he spent a significant amount of time perfecting his form and knowing his own body. Not everyone has the mental fortitude to be more than happy to be pumped with drugged and have their brain reconstructed to be a better martial weapon.

PANTALONE As the one gathering all funds related to Snezhnaya and the Fatui, working for Pantalone is about contributing to the wealth of the nation, an absolute vital part which, however, comes with a ruthless environment. Whereas politics and influence are more subjective, wealth is about cold, hard numbers in an unsure, competitive scene.

Although Viktor is the first one to tell that there is no bad way to gather money and actually admire the length the man goes for the nation’s mission, what is more of a desk job with very little flexibility (the way political debates and diplomatic exchanges do) is bound to bore him out, thinking like his wits could be used elsewhere.

TARTAGLIA When there is need for intimidation, Tartaglia Childe is the one sent by her Lady Tsaritsa. When there is need for muscles on the field, Tartaglia Childe is also the one sent. Although Viktor’s hunting background would technically make his skills appropriate for the task, Viktor is still not one who actually enjoys applying, let’s say, physical matters, especially unconventional ones Tartaglia Childe is sent into : it is not a straightforward army VS army combat. It is something which require finesse... a dangerous game which doesn’t necessarily fit Viktor.

As for the young lord himself, although he is one of the most respectable harbinger, Tartaglia’s impulsiveness and free spirit is known to suddenly put operations into chaos, without him going through the proper channels. This, honestly sounds both thrilling, rewarding and amazing... which is not Viktor’s cup of tea. However, Tartaglia has been proven to be the harbinger who respects underlings the most as individuals, despite his casual attitude giving some rookies the false impression that he is a softie... it just makes getting a disciplinary action from him harder.

SIGNORA La Signora is her majesty’s most direct representative in the manners of political and courtly presence. Although working for Signora is a door to open many opportunities to political events for one’s ascension in their career, Signora knows the game... and plays it dirty. Many threats are given under technically diplomatic moves, and as someone who hates losing time on something else than her goals, she has no olive branch to any subordinate, who are pawns for her to be at her service like a mighty mistress... but her ways are always so bloody efficient, the results speak for her manners. Always ahead of the whole court. A queen in any place she walks in.

Technically, Viktor cannot complain about his position, although he is very disgruntled about being that low in the food chain... and extremely neglected. Sigh. Even if he is one to not bother about a pause to his advancements, Viktor cannot get, at least, the satisfaction of doing something for his home... because he’s not doing anything and he’s denying the fact that he’s been forgotten.

DOTTORE Dottore is the most cerebral and knowledgeable of the harbingers, with actual results and hard work to show. As someone in need of mental stimulation, Viktor cannot help but be mesmerized at the constant studying opportunity, under a man who knows exactly what he is doing, what he wants, and makes it clear.

The practical application of skills and sense of professionalism make Dottore both a harbinger Viktor personally admire greatly and would like to work under : with such talent which shouldn’t, for Viktor, be wasted for a single second, he is no scientist, but would gladly do anything to remotely be useful to him. Dottore is actually one of the three harginers where Viktor’s respect, for various reasons, actually cancel part of the fear he would normally get from a man doing such harsh experiments.

CAPITANO The first time Viktor laid his eyes on Capitano, he’d never forget. For whatever reason the man was in his region, probably some undisclosed assignments, he had never seen a man breathing so much charisma by merely existing. Amidst the men who’d try to appear strong and tall, Capitano didn’t have to be the tallest or largest to be absolutely mesmerizing. A man who commanded authority by presence alone.

He needed to be like him. And this is when a young Viktor decided to join the Fatui, not telling a single word that a single man triggered it all. Viktor doesn’t see himself as someone with particular talent, drive or patience to change the world... but if he could be half the man his idol was, that would be enough... but did he want to be the man, or solely be by his side, even if it meant potentially never working under him ? ... both.

As a recruit, Viktor would always run to the pavilion up the Fatui base to see Capitano entering the premises whenever his arrival was announced, watching from afar, get information on what the man had been up to. The stories of the man’s conquests, exploring uncharted territories while keeping such a solemn expression, an inspiring leader who’d run his affairs with the most unforgiving grip, to the perfection, with every bit of professionalism and no break in his composure.

If Viktor was to work under this man, he wouldn’t care a single bit about the treatment on his person. If he can be the slightest bit not indirectly, but directly useful to such a man, he would gladly serve him with every bit of devotion he has. Travelling at his side with the most powerful assets to the Fatui, each challenge only one exciting puzzle after one another.

If Viktor sees the holy Tsaritsa as the Fatui’s queen, Capitano is his King.

#.otverzhennyy ( headcanon )#insert simp jokes here #this took me waaaay too long and it is SO confusing but I needed t oat least have something done for this

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kiribaku-queen · 4 years

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Home [8/10]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader, Kirishima x reader

Fluff, angst, werewolf!au

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Let me know what your predictions are for the end!

Summary: Being called the beauty of the clan isn’t as nice as it sounds. The beauty of the clan is supposed to exude confidence, power, and well, beauty. You were quite the opposite, only possessing one of those traits. Yet, the older you got, the more you fit into the role you were given. After your brother and all the boys of age come back from their training period, it was time to find a mate. But who will steal your heart? Is it Bakugou, the rising leader of the pack, or is it Kirishima, the personal guard and the strongest in the pack?

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

17 year old Kirishima was ecstatic. It was his first time exploring the clan’s boarders. Usually, teenagers aren’t allowed to help patrol so early, but since Bakugou was going to be the next alpha and Kirishima was supposed to be his personal guard, this was an exception. Bakugou didn’t show it, but everyone could tell that he was just as excited. As they were all in their wolf forms, Kirishima couldn’t help but show how excited he was by his wagging tail. Even if he wanted to stop, he couldn’t. It was annoying Bakugou because his tail kept hitting him so he had to physically hold his tail down with his paw.

Patrolling the boarders was fascinating to Kirishima. He learned where not to cross and what parts were their territory. He learned different scents to look out for and what to do if you do see something. But going over boundaries once wasn’t enough for him. No, he needed to do multiple rounds so that the trail is embedded within his memory. So, he snuck out in the middle of the night to go over the tracks again.

The grass felt good under his paws, the cool, night breeze tickled his muzzle, and the view of the whole clan light up in his eyes. Now he could get used to this every day. All he had to do was train for two years, get a ripped body for all the ladies and he would live his dream out. Kirishima was so immersed and excited that he forgot all the basics that he learned earlier that day. He didn’t even notice or smell two others that were watching and following his every move. While he was too distracted by everything around him, the two mysterious strangers who were way bigger and way stronger than him attacked him from behind. They pounded on his back, making Kirishima unable to react properly. It all happened to fast. By the time that he knew what was going on, it was already too late. They were taking him far… far away. Farther way from the town. Far enough where the lights started to dim out and can no longer be seen. Far enough where even if he screamed, no one could hear him.

He was doomed, he thought. They were either going to cut him up and kill him, even worse eat him! Or they were going to sell his body to a slave trade and his friends and family would never see him again. The two strangers tied his hands behind his back and put a muzzle around his mouth to prevent him from attacking. Not like he could do much to them anyway. He didn’t know how to fight yet. At least not for serious occasions. There was a feeling of nervousness in the pit of his stomach that just would not go away. He was getting anxious and fidgety not knowing what was going to him. The strangers weren’t even talking. Just silently dragging him to wherever they wanted.

It wasn’t longer until Kirishima could spot lights up ahead. Hope started glimmer in his eyes. Perfect, they weren’t taking him somewhere shady or taking him somewhere to kill him. At least, he hoped. They were entering another clan. This clan had a whole different vibe compared to his. His clan was always bright with lights. No matter what time of day it was, buzz and chatter was always happening. Everyone was so friendly with one another and it was almost like the clan never sleeps. This clan was like the opposite. Although there were lights lit, it was very dim. No one was out and about. The aesthetics of this clan was more sophisticated than what he was used to back home. The strangers took him inside this gigantic building, bigger than Bakugou’s house. But how could anything be bigger than Bakugou’s house? His house was the biggest in all of the clan? And to know that someone here has an even more massive house, they must mean business.

The strangers took him to this room and pushed him forward, causing him to fall straight on his face. He was going to feel that in the morning. He got up and rested on his knees. He looked up to see a girl, probably around his age, sitting on a throne-like chair with her legs crossed and a bored expression on her face.

“Kirishima Eijirou?” she questioned. Kirishima cocked his eyebrow in confusion. She knew his name? How? He had never met or seen her in his life. He couldn’t speak due to the muzzle that was still on him. Without saying another word, the girl on the chair gestured with her finger to the two strangers. They went up to him and set him on his feet, taking the muzzle away but still keeping his hands tied together.

“Do I know you?” Kirishima questioned back once the muzzle was taken off.

“No,” she replied curtly. “But I know you. Upcoming personal guard of Bakugou Katsuki, son of the current alpha of your clan.” Shit, how did she know all of that? Before anything could makes sense, she continued. “I have a proposition for you.” Oh, he knows where this is going.

“I will not kill my best friend!” Kirishima screamed determinedly. He’s seen this in movies. The villain kidnaps the one closest to the main character and forces them to kill them or else they would do something horrible like kill their family, torture them or take their loved one! How pitiful. It was a shame that he had to go like this.

“Cute. But that’s not why I called you here,” Kirishima looked even more confused. And not gonna lie, a bit disappointed. Look like he wasn’t going to be a part of a real life movie. “I’m going to marry Bakugou Katsuki and I need your help.”

“Uh sorry to burst your bubble but Katsuki is taken.”

“Hmm,” the girl faked a pout and went to dig for something. She took out a picture of you and then Kirishima was on high alert. “I’m assuming by this? (y/n), was it? Yeah she’s going to get in the way, but that’s where you come into play. And it’s as easy as pie, make her fall in love with you.” When she showed him that picture of you, panic and anger started to rise in him. But when she told him to make you fall in love with him, then he got flustered. What kind of demand was that? Sure he had a bit of a crush on you for like a 12 years but never in a million years would he backstab his friend to get the girl… right? And even if he did, you were head over heels over Bakugou so he didn’t even have a chance. She got sense how hesitant Kiri was by the slow response which ticker her off. Rolling her eyes, she threw your picture aimlessly on the floor.

“Well if you don’t, I’ll just have to kill her myself,” she smirked when Kirishima finally reacted in pure rage. He leaned forward but was pulled back by the same people who kidnapped him and served him a few punches to the face to calm him down.

“You’re going to kill her all for some guy?!” Kirishima yelled even though he was in pain. She laughed out loud, obnoxiously and over the top.

“Aw you don’t get the big picture. See, when I marry Bakugou, I’ll be the alpha’s wife and our two clans will be united. And all I have to do is get rid of him and I will dominate both clans and have all the power!” The brown haired girl laughed and smiled at her own, devilish plan. So no matter what he chose, one of the two people he cares most about is going to get hurt. “Help me and you’ll also get the girl. It’s a win-win situation really. But if you don’t, your precious little love will be dead by sunrise.” she made it seem like it was an obvious choice. She didn’t him much time to answer because she was already beckoning for those two guys to do the deed.

“Wait!” he managed to get out. This was all too much for him. All he wanted was to do his job to protect his people by going over the clan’s boarder but now he had to chose who he wanted to protect: the girl he likes or his best friend. Bros before hoes but it seemed like your life was in more serious danger at the moment. “Fuck…FUCK! Fine, I’ll help you. Just, don’t touch (y/n) alright?” he said, defeated. She smirked, having known she won and her plan was coming along.

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

And so from then on, Kirishima worked on trying to make you fall in love with him. He knew you loved eye candy, no matter who it was. So throughout those two years off at training, he tried his hardest to have the best body at camp. It was easy to work out with a goal in mind but hard because he had to compete with Bakugou. Everything he did, he matched that or tried to one up him. And it never got noticed because Bakugou loved a challenge. It was also common for the two to do everything little thing together cause they were so close. Shredded body? Step 1 complete. Step 2? In progress.

If Kirishima wasn’t in this dilemma, he would still admire you from afar while Bakugou has you all for himself. Of course, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to flirt with you once in a while, but that’s as far as he could go. And if you fell for him on the way, then a plus for him. He wouldn’t intentionally try to steal you away from his best friend. Now this was a different story. Although his feelings towards you never changed, his intentions did. It didn’t feel right at first. But the more and more he purposely tried to make you fall in love with him, the more he wanted.

When you were crying when you first heard about the engagement to Uraraka, he comforted you like a friend. And only as a friend because he didn’t know how to flirt with someone who he had a major crush on. But he knew he couldn’t chicken out because if you were still in the picture by the time Uraraka and Bakugou were to be wed, then she would come after you herself. That’s the last thing that he wants. So he got more bold with his actions.

The first time, it was the promise. He pulled you in for a kiss to seal the deal, but backed off. Push and pull and they will always come running back to you. His heart jumped when you blushed at his actions. Did you really just get flustered with him? His confidence level surged. But he was going to go step by step to not scare you off. So he spent as much time as possible with you. He followed you around and did things together so that you could be comfortable around him. He would touch you here and there so that you could get comfortable with his touch. He sat on your bed and did your laundry so that he could leave his scent wherever you are. When he saw that your reactions were going to become a regular thing, he bumped it up a notch. Staring at you until you noticed and smirking when he got caught. He was told that really got the ladies. He tried it and what do you know? It worked like a charm. You stared at him right back. He got lucky that day too because he had the perfect opportunity for a kiss. He leaned in to kiss you because he knew that you would get flustered. But god, how he really wanted to kiss you. But he had to remember the push and pull method.

As days go on, he was falling for you deeper and deeper each day. Honestly, forget about the deal that he had with Uraraka. It really looked like you were forgetting Bakugou and started having feelings for him. Even if he was treated as a rebound, if it turns something pure then it would have been worth it. Hell, even if there was no deal, he would try to protect you at all costs. At the market, it was pure coincidence that they were there at the same time as Bakugou and Uraraka. Kirishima knew that Uraraka smelled them a mile away and wanted to take this opportunity to mess with them. But he avoided that to protect you.

When he goes to kiss you again in the kitchen, he wasn’t going to take advantage of you like that. He wanted to do this properly and wanted for you to make the first move. Because if his suspicions were right and you were falling for him, you kissing him first would confirm it. He get up boundaries and restrained himself. He was going to make you fall in love with him, with or without this mission.

Back to present day, Kirishima has to sneak out once a week to meet with Uraraka to give her updates on his progress. It was dangerous and risky but if he didn’t comply, Uraraka always manages to threaten something. Not only did he almost get caught a few times by you sneaking out in the middle of the night, but Uraraka wanted to meet at Bakugou’s place. She was too lazy to meet him anywhere else and whatever she says, goes.

“Hes so easy to toy with,” Uraraka is satisfied that her plan is almost complete. “Tell me, have you made her fall in love with you yet?” she raises an eyebrow but Kirishima stands there tall, arms crossed behind his back.

“No,” very blunt and straight to the point. Uraraka knows that Kirishima isn’t very fond of her but who cares? He was hired for a job not to be friends.

“Still? I’ve given you enough time. How much long do I have to wait?” she massaged her temple with one hand. She was running out of patience and was getting more irritable by the second. “Where do you two stand?”

“Just a… just a kiss.” He was shy to admit it to someone who wanted to kill you.

“Well, speed up the process! Our time is coming to a close and you know what will happen if this wedding fails, right?” Kirishima gulped because he knew what was ahead of him if this mission didn’t succeed. You could die. Or Bakugou. Even worse, both of you could. Hell, he could too if he didn’t play his cards right. But it started to feel wrong. He was feeling guilty about forcing you to love him when he knew you were in a difficult position. But it was too late to back out now because they were already too far in.

It was hard sleeping that night. You were confused. You thought you were doing so well without him but then he shows up in your life again, telling you how much he missed you and that he still wanted you? Dumb feelings. You don’t even know what you want anymore.

You woke up feeling groggy. Even if you went to bed early, your mind was up all night. Thinking about the past, the future. What could have been. What would have been if you two were still together. But it broke your heart every time because you knew you couldn’t be together. He was engaged. You would just get in the way of his success and his bright future. There wasn’t a better match for him. Sighing, you finally got out of bed and the first thing in sight was a red rose sitting on your windowsill. You were surprised and all thoughts of Bakugou were gone. Your mind drifted off to Kirishima and the kiss you shared. Did he do this? How sweet of him. You blushed and pulled the rose to your nose to give it a good sniff. A smile grew even wider on your lips. How did he know that roses were your favorite? This didn’t just happen once. It happened day after day after day after day. Every day you woke up in the morning, a new rose would be sitting there, waiting for you. And every morning you would gush at how cute Kirishima was for doing such a romantic gesture. Day after day, your collection of roses was just getting bigger. You didn’t confront Kirishima about it because you knew he would get shy. And you were afraid that if you did, he would stop doing. So you secretly enjoyed it while going about your day like usual.

Kirishima was getting bolder ever since you gave him that little kiss on the lips. He was pulling you in closer and being more handsy but you didn’t stop him this time. You enjoyed it and actually flirted back. He was giving you more attention that ever but at the same time, he looked distracted. Like something was eating at him. But you were sure that was just your imagination. It’s been a long time since you felt comfortable around someone that made you feel like you were on top of the world. Like you were the only person who mattered. And it felt really good to be wanted again.

Your dad needed help with chopping up fire wood so of course, manly Kirishima comes in hand. You were setting out plates for dinner while your mother was finishing up the food and Sero was setting out napkins and utensils. Standing side by side with your brother while setting up the table, Sero nudges you with his elbow.

��Hey,” he whispers. Weird, why was he whispering. It’s only us that are listening. What did he not want people to hear? Pushing your initial thoughts out of the way, you elbowed him back because damn, his elbow poking hurts because of his stupid quirk. “Hey (y/n)! Are you and Kiri… you know,” he was making weird hand motions and you slapped him on the shoulder.

“Stop that. If you’re asking if we are together, no we’re not.” You firmly state.

“Yeah? Well do you like him?”

“Eh? Uhm… Yes? No? Maybe?” you side eyed your brother and he was just nodding his head slowly, a small frown could be seen on his face. “What’s with that look?” you asked, little concerned about that face he was giving you.

“Nothing,” he simply says but you know that’s a lie.

“No, what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” Sero sighs and thinks a bit before speaking.

“Just… make sure you are 100% of your feelings for him before you guys are official, kay?” You tilt your head to the side, confused. “I don’t know! I just don’t want you using Kirishima as a rebound, you know?” he continues.

“I am not using him as a rebound,” you tried to defend yourself but Sero thinks otherwise.

“Not intentionally. But from what I see right now, you kind of are,” he admits and goes to put food on the table. Before you could retaliate or even think about it, Kirishima and your dad burst through the door ready to be fed.

“Who’s ready for food because I’m starving!” your dad erupts, kissing your mom on the cheek and sitting down at the table. Kirishima follows suit, glancing up at you, giving you a charming smile. You smile back. You weren’t using him as a rebound, were you?

Bakugou made it his mission to get you back. After that night, he knew he approached it the wrong way. He was too forward and too aggressive. You didn’t like that. You like romantic things. Things that are seen in TV shows and movies. He was going to do just that.

Every morning, he would tag along with the morning pack to patrol boarders because that would give him an excuse to visit you. But from afar. On the way, he would pick up a rose and lay it on your windowsill while you were still sleeping. Then he would wait in a nearby tree, where he could see your room clearly, to see your reaction when you woke up to a rose waiting for you. He knew he scored the jackpot with that move because the way your face brightened up at the sight of something so romantic told all. So he continued to do that everyday until you physically couldn’t hold any more roses in your room. He was determined to make you his again and do anything to make you gain his trust again.

Tagged: @goodpop9 @superblyspeedydragon @tspice283 @marvelobsessedteen @rosetheshapeshifter @cabbagesquadfam @bnha-iamhere @theartsydoodler @taehyungbbe

#bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou #Kirishima Eijirou #bakugou imagine #kirishima imagine #bnha imagines #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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myfellowcandlesticks · 3 years

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Title: First Love Pairing: Lumiere/Plumette Word count: 739 Warnings: none

@lumiereswig said today is cogsworth + plumette day so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 💕

Plumette is in love.

It’s quite obvious. She hasn't touched her breakfast. She's been putting feathers in her hair. Yesterday Cogsworth caught her leaning against the windowsill, staring at the clouds with her chin resting on her palm. Not that she isn't prone to daydreaming anyway; but when he cleared his throat she jumped and dropped her feather duster, as if caught en flagrant délit.

Yes, there can be no doubt about it; Plumette—dainty, delicate, darling Plumette—is in love.

It's to be expected, really. The girl is seventeen. And God knows there have been enough suitors to marry off an entire village. But until now she'd never shown any sign of reciprocating their feelings, or of harbouring secret ones for someone out of reach. The village boys sometimes come to admire her from afar, but she never seems to notice them.

Cogsworth watches her sit at the harpsichord she's supposed to be dusting, her wig abandoned on the lid. She twirls a dark curl around her finger, giggling to herself and running her feather duster absent-mindedly over the keys.

“You missed a spot,” Cogsworth says by way of greeting.

Plumette turns, gasping, “Oh! Monsieur Cogsworth, you frightened me.”

He sits down next to her at the harpsichord. “My dear girl, you haven't been yourself lately.”

“Au contraire,” she sighs, “I have been more myself than ever before. I have found a part of myself that had been missing. I am born again.”

Cogsworth coughs uncomfortably. This is not his preferred topic of conversation, but it is, he feels, entirely necessary. When Plumette showed up at their doorstep, cold and scared and clutching her little bundle of possessions, she wasn't yet eleven. No one had told her about these things; love and courtship and the birds and bees—although Cogsworth is counting on Mrs. Potts to take care of that one. Still, it's his duty to make sure young Plumette doesn't stumble blindly into a world of which she knows nothing.

“And this—this has to do with a boy, perhaps?” he stammers, fidgeting with his pocket watch.

Plumette blushes but can't suppress the smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Oui.”

Who is it, Cogsworth wants to ask, but he knows that would be prying. A young lady has the right to keep her secrets, after all. But that doesn't mean he can't hand out some much-needed advice.

“Well, whoever it is, I just want you to know that—”

“Oh, Cogsworth!” Plumette interrupts him. “I am so glad you asked! I have been dying to tell someone about him!”

“You don't have to—”

“He is funny, and clever, and handsome, oh so handsome! His eyes are bluer than the sky! When the sun shines in his hair it lights up like fire! And how he makes me laugh!”

“I see, well—wait, did you say his hair is like fire?”

“He can sing, he can dance—there is nothing he cannot do!”

“Blue eyes... singing, dancing... oh goodness no...”

“I've known him for years, he is my best friend, you see, my confidant, but this is the one thing I cannot tell him.”

Her expression changes then, shifting from girlish wonder to deflated sadness. Her hands find the feather duster; she places it on the harpsichord and presses her elbows to the keys, making a discordant noise that echoes through the ballroom.

“The one thing I can never tell him…” she whispers, almost to herself.

Cogsworth sighs, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Cheer up, child. Heartache doesn’t last forever. Perhaps you’ll find he isn’t the one for you after all.”

The last comment carries a note of disapproval, but either Plumette doesn’t notice it or she chooses to ignore it. “He must be. He makes me so happy.”

At that, Cogsworth’s eyes soften. “Why don’t you take the evening off? It seems that wretched footman has once again disappeared—probably pestering Cuisiner in the kitchen, the boy is a menace—I must find him before the master’s supper. You can help me look for him.”

Plumette smiles. “Thank you, Cogsworth!” She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, grabs her wig and feather duster and hurries to the kitchen in search of her beau.

There's no accounting for taste, Cogsworth thinks as he watches her leave. If Lumiere makes her this happy, then it’s true; he must be the one.

{read more batb short stories on ao3 or on my blog}

#my writing #plumette #cogsworth #batb #batb 2017 #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast 2017 #fanfiction

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

Text

More headcanons to help me work through the dreaded writer's block! Hope you guys don't mind it's a bit slow right now, I plan on posting another tonight and hopefully I'll be able to get to some asks once my brain is no longer fried

Dwayne Headcanons

When he was responsible for Laddie, Dwayne would often take him out to the boardwalk whenever Star was busy. Sometimes he’d even choose to take him along even if they were with Star just to hang with the munchkin

If anyone told him he was too short Dwayne would hypnotize them into letting him one. He wasn't exactly worried about the kid being flung from the roller coaster, he could easily catch him if it happened. It felt awesome impressing him at the strength test, just watching him jump up and down as the attendant handed him a giant blue monkey which of course he'd give to Laddie. The boy was such a hyper, sunny child it was hard not to laugh when this spritely eight year old would play a water gun game and yell “this is a load of bullshit” when he lost. Well, he did grow up around four teenage guys, two having the worst language you could imagine. David used the word "fuck" like it was going out of style. At one point some lady in her thirties tried to lecture Laddie about watching his language, to which Dwayne had immediately stepped in after he said “piss off lady”. Again he had to choke back a laugh, pushing the kid behind him before this lady throttled him. To save face Dwayne feigned some half assed “shame on you” to Laddie just so she would piss off, and then ushered him away- for an ice cream sundae. Granted while he couldn’t condone a kid cussing up a storm, he did find it utterly hilarious watching this uppity chick squawk like a hen in outrage.

“Seriously though I don’t know where the hell you learned all that from-”

“Paul taught me.”

“Yeah, well, Paul probably isn’t the best guy to copy, kiddo. "

Chinese food isn’t his favorite, but he knows it’s Markos so he doesn’t complain when they have it at least once a week. Actually, his favorite is probably Hispanic. Many forget much of California was once Mexico, and as such the culture still thrived even into the early 1900s. Santa Carla flourished, and between pick pocketing gigs and heavy labor on the docks, Dwayne could always count on there being fresh tortillas for a few dollars after a long day. Elotes with extra chili powder, huarache, freshly brewed horchata on ice? Utterly delicious! Nothing can compare to freshly made tamales by a sweet abuela in a tiny food truck cooing to you in Spanish. Even he can blush when they pinch his cheeks gushing about what a skinny man he is. Paul and Marko love it as well and will often tag along when Dwayne goes to Mama Rosa’s, although he often has to elbow Paul in the gut because he’ll flirt with the cooks in the back into getting a free taco.

“Ay, Paul, mi angelito querido cielito, you’re skin and bones!”

“Well, I always skip a meal before coming here, abuela. Your cooking is too epic to have anything else in my stomach!”

“Dude, will you stop flirting with that poor woman before you give her a heart attack, you ass?”

Dwayne had a brother many years ago who was lost after being caught in direct sunlight during the great San Francisco earthquake of 1906. Since then on April 18th he holds a small memorial for his brother Jasper, who died pulling the curtains shut to shield them from the sun. Some years David, Paul and Marko will join him, silently drinking to their fallen friend. It's a rare moment of seriousness for these wild boys, sitting beside an altar crudely constructed atop a wooden crate, draped over with the jacket once worn by Jasper that survived the flames. Decorated in worn candles melted by decades of use, a bottle of rum from over eighty years ago still untouched with an empty shot glass beside it caked in dust and cobwebs, worn flowers shriveled into darkened husks, a glass of blood they keep freshly filled with each visit, feathers of birds to help carry him to the sky. Every time he adds something new, a gift from every era. Recently he brought Jasper a Def Leppard vinyl record, propped against a sketch of his brother drawn before his passing by an admirer who had died long ago. Paul left a little toy motorcycle for him, Marko brought an old pocket watch he found at an antique store that bore a striking resemblance to one he had admired long ago, and David brought him a hunting knife

“You would’ve loved hair bands, Jas. Everything’s changed now, its crazy. It sucks you never got a bike of your own,” Dwayne would say, sitting in the dark with only the tender flicker of candles brushing away the dark. Never again would he let the sun take him. It was the darkest, deepest cave in the hotel. And there, Dwayne spoke more than he ever does outside “Horses were cool, but it’s better to have something that doesn’t stop every time it takes a shit, you know?”

Unfortunately Dwayne sucks at video games. It’s not that he doesn’t get it, but he has the worst gamer rage. Now, Dwayne doesn’t often get legitimately mad, but when he’s been playing the same god damn stupid water level for the past hour and a half just to be killed by a squid-! Well, lets just say Paul practically dove to catch the controller before it was chucked at the tv, and cue a dirty look towards Dwayne for nearly smashing his “baby”. He wasn’t about to have him break ANOTHER controller. Yeah that wasn’t the first. At this point he’s content just watching from afar and sometimes back seat gaming when Marko is going the wrong way. He’s not nearly as bad as David who will openly call someone stupid after dying.

Dwayne is definitely the type to nap after a long night. Truthfully he misses when he could just lay out in the sun like a lizard on a hot rock after a long day, it’d feel incredible. Instead he’s resorted to a hot water bottle or a heating pad. Yeah, he loves hot weather. Summertime is his favorite time, just savoring the toasted air blowing in his face on rides over the beaches. Sometimes he’ll try to wake up early to watch the sunset from within the cave, although it’s burnt him on more than one occasion he will still try to get a glimpse. Winter is the worst for him, he hates, absolutely despises the cold. Even though he doesn't technically get cold anymore, everything seems to die away in the winter leaving only twisted branches and grey skies. David may enjoy all that gloomy melancholy but not him.

One wouldn’t assume Dwayne to have much of a sweet tooth. That’s because they’re wrong. While he isn’t into the marshmallow caramel double candy bars deep fried and dipped in chocolate like Marko or Laddie, he has a serious weakness for chocolate. Like, a major weakness. Paul is still searching for his stash, tucked away somewhere secret in the hotel. Any time he thinks he’s close to finding it, Dwayne moves it again.

“Dude, sharing is fucking caring you greedy bastard”

“Get your own candy asshole, why do you think I keep my stash hidden from you guys?”

Now the whole hoity toity fancy chocolate isn’t what appeals to him. He can certainly appreciate a well made chunk of dark chocolate sprinkled with chili powder, but he’ll settle for a cheap bar snatched from a gas station. Most sweets weigh heavy on him, but chocolate is such a unique medium that can be changed into almost anything, appealing to every taste imaginable. Sweet, savory, spicy, bitter, semi-sweet, rich, dense, light. Chocolate cake, chocolate doughnut, hot chocolate, fudge, and of course the traditional candy bar. You make him a mug of Mexican hot chocolate and he is putty in your hands. You couldn’t necessarily bribe him with food. But you could certainly butter him up to suggestions when he’s crunching down on a candy bar. Paul knows this, and at this point Dwayne knows this guy has royally fucked up if he comes up to him with a stack of chocolate bars.

“Heeeeey, Dwayne, buddy, old pal, chum, lookie what I found, all for you man how cool is that?”

“....,” Dwayne glances up from his book at the handful of chocolate and slowly lowers it with a firm sigh. “What the hell did you do now?”

“Wha-Whaaa-? Oh! Okay, wow. Woooow. Offend much? I go out of my way- I mean, can’t a guy just, you know, do something nice for his best friend-?”

“Paul. What. did. you. do?”

“Okay okay, well you see David made me go fill up his stupid bike, and there was this hot chick at the gas station, I mean perfect fuckin ten man, she had the biggest frickin tits- okay anyway! Well, next thing I know the keys are gone, the chick's gone, the fuckin bike- You gotta help me man he’s gonna fucking kill me and dance on my grave!”

Of course Dwayne will help… in exchange for twice the chocolate. Like I said, it won’t always work as a bribe, but it’ll certainly help your cause if you go in with some incentive.

#lost boys 1987 #lost boys imagine #the lost boys #lost boys fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #lost boys #fanfic #80s movies #lost boys dwayne #billy wirth #lost boys vampires #lost boys laddie #vampire fluff #fluff imagine #fluff #lost boys head canon #headcanon

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