#but also I trained all my cats to come when i whistle and my current one

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Lil (@the-lil-exorcist) SUMMARY: Lil brings Luna to Monty's farm for some free range time, and the pair get to talking about ghosts. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

—

Lil pulled up to the farm excitedly hoping that Luna was going to have fun. She knew as soon as she took in the creature that she was going to need places to roam, and while Lil didn’t mind having the big cat following her - other people did especially when there was fire involved. Luckily Luna seemed to at least lower the frequency of that temperament. Still, when she had remembered the guy who said he had a barn and kittens for sale she had reached out hoping that he might let her roam for a little bit. 

“Monty?” Lil said waving to the other with a question after getting out of the car.  “Hi - I’m Lil, and the girl here is Luna. She used to live on a farm I think so she’d love to run around here for a bit.” She still had Luna leashed to her, the cat’s eyes going back and forth from the man to the fields behind him. To her credit she didn’t immediately bolt sitting next to Lil. She wasn’t as trained as Blue was - it wasn’t in her temperament at all, but she seemed to have become attached to the Exorcist. 

“It’s nice to finally meet ya. How’s mama cat?” Lil said eventually with a smile. 

—

Wow. That was… a big cat, Monty thought as he waved back to Lil, trotting down the porch steps to join her on the dirt road that looped around in front of the main homestead on the farm. “Wow, Luna—you are a pretty thing!” He smiled, his attention jumping up to find Lil as she asked about his own cat. “Ah! She is good. Happy to have some of the kits back, I think. My friend who took a couple of them had to go out of town for a while, so I have them all inside.” He thumbed over his shoulder at the house behind him, giving her a shrug. “Well, happy, but also exhausted. They really do run her ragged,” he laughed. 

His gaze fell back down to the cat that’d been brought along, and he gave a small shake of his head before turning to gesture vaguely at the expanse of pastures available to her. “All yours, little lady. Mm… you do not worry about her taking off, then? She must be well-trained.”

—

Lil chuckled, petting Luna’s head, “See Luna? You are a pretty thing. I keep telling you that.”  The creature hadn’t trusted her fully at first, but she’d slowly worked on it. Mostly with treats and time. She ought to have gotten more angry when she burned things, but well Lil couldn’t seem to do that. Her and Auggie ran her life most of the time when she wasn’t doing the rest of her work. 

“Oh that’s nice! I’m glad they get a little bit of time together,” Lil said with a smile. “I can’t say I didn’t do that to my mom when I was a kid either.” Leaning down to let Luna’s leash go she waited for a moment to see if she had figured out. 

“You can go on girl, I’ll whistle when you need to come back. Don’t worry I’ll stay where you can see me,” She said softly as she realized Luna was hesitating her eyes flickering between Lil and the pastures. There was a moment before she seemed to understand and moved to go to the pasture. 

Smiling for a moment Lil laughed and nodded, “Yeah she’ll come back when I whistle. I wouldn’t say she’s well trained, but she seems to want to heard me specifically all the time. If you wait about ten minutes she’ll probably come see what I’m doing. I really appreciate this though. My house’s land isn’t very big being in town, and I can tell she wanted to run around. I go to the park and that stuff sometimes, but her being as big as she is freaks people out.” 

—

“Didn’t we all,” Monty agreed, knowing full well he’d never been the troublemaker among his siblings. That’d been reserved for his five older brothers. Watching the cat go, he had to wonder if it was… special. It had to be, right? Being as big as it was. “Still! Impressive. I was not under the impression that cats could be trained—maybe I need to work on some commands with the little ones…” He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s no problem. I understand her need for wide open spaces better than most!” He motioned with his head for Lil to follow him toward the fence that Luna had ducked under, leaning against it to watch the cat leap about the space. Montezuma, the catoblepas that kept a watchful eye on the herd of cattle, eyed the cat warily before lifting his massive head to stare at Monty. The cowboy waved toward him, clearly unperturbed by the new presence, and that seemed enough for the monstrous, poison-breathing beast. He lowered his head back to the snowy ground, rooting around for any weeds that’d survived the cold snap. 

Knowing that his guardian was in full view of Lil, Monty looked over at her with raised brows. “So, ah… exactly what kind of cat is Luna? She’s very unique, I take it?”

—

Lil chuckled thinking back to her mom for a moment with a warmness that she often didn’t lately. It hurt to think about her most of the time, but hopefully that wouldn’t be forever. At the idea she shrugged. “She was a working cat at a farm when I rescued her from the goo. So I wouldn’t be surprised if you could.” 

Lil moved to watch Luna as she moved around carefully watching the cat. She was a good girl, but at the end of the day her species was still prone to breathing fire when angry. Lil didn’t mind it - something about it seemed fitting to her in any case but she didn’t want her hurting well animals she couldn’t quite pick out yet. She was never really one to learn more about the supernatural then she had too, but she also knew that they had to be different then normal. “Yeah she loves being outside. Good thing too I’m usually outside with her. Just on a leash obviously.” At the question Lil nodded, figuring the other must know about supernatural creatures seeing his own. “She’s uh - well not quite a cat I guess. I just call her that when people ask because it’s easier that way.  They are called Ovinniks, that’s why she likes farms so much. Not super common but not very dangerous.” After all, Lil did keep her fed and mostly happy. She also seemed to get attached to her well enough that she was happy with the attention. “I am hoping to get more land one day though, so she can run around more. I like animals.” That was something she wasn’t quite sure she should share but did anyway. A secret hope that if she really got to settle here that she might get to do. 

—

“Ov… ovinniks,” Monty repeated, trying to commit it to memory. “Not very dangerous, ah?” The man smiled—clearly he wasn’t bothered by the notion that the cat-like creature had the capacity to be dangerous. Didn’t most things? Even the mundane livestock on his farm could hurt someone if they really wanted to, but he did give a nod in Montezuma’s direction before speaking again. “That hombre over there exhales poison. Not always, I don’t think… maybe just when he feels threatened. I can imagine that Luna must be sort of similar in that way.” He nodded at the following statement, figuring it was probably pretty obvious that he also liked animals. “You should, if you can! I had a lot of help getting this land, I could ask my good friend if he knows of any available lots? He is probably the only reason I have this place now. I, like you, wanted something… permanent. Something where I could raise the animals I wanted. I have been working with them all my life, but had never been more than a paid hand.” He laughed at himself for rambling, shaking his head. “Ah, all of this is to say, it can be done. I think you and Luna will find a place that is perfect for you both.”

__

“You got it,” Lil said, nodding and chuckling. “Noted. I’ll make sure not to threaten him. Yeah she can breath fire when she’s upset or annoyed. She’s a good girl though.” She had come to help her with Jonas after all. Thinking about the idea she stretched a little thinking about it. “Yeah maybe in a few years when I got my feet under me again. My brother and I have been on the road for the last ten years or so, so it’s not something I ever thought of or figured out how to do. It’d be nice though. I’d like to do a rescue if I could.” It felt wrong to want something more then what she had been doing. Afterall, she was an exorcist - nothing more and nothing less. Still, she couldn’t really be one forever could she? She wasn’t even thirty yet and her body was already wearing down from the number of rituals. Maybe she could at least slow down after all the dust settled. 

She just had to bury that Astra asshole and then she could start taking it easier. 

“ I appreciate you telling me. I think that would be nice and Luna would love it. Not easy, but nice.” After all, labor was labor and Lil knew that. Still, it would be nice to have another type of adventure. “Was it hard to get the land? With the type of animals you’re keeping? Don’t know what kind of regulations you’d have adhere too.” 

—

“A rescue would be a great idea,” Monty agreed. “I understand the need to wait, though. It took me about three years to get this place, and two more to get it running. It is quite the undertaking.” The question of whether or not it had been hard was a… complex one. He scratched the back of his head, thinking on it for a few moments. 

“Well… getting the land itself was not too hard, no. No one else wanted it because of the pit beyond those hills, but I certainly wouldn’t have known what to do if I hadn’t had Alan there to help. And Daisy, another friend of mine, she wanted to help build the farm up. Between the two of them, it was not so bad. As for regulations, ah… that’s definitely more of a Daisy question,” he laughed. “I’m sure there are plenty, but she keeps track of those kinds of things. She knows how scattered I can be.” His eyes tracked the ovinnik for a few moments, watching her streaking up and down the pasture along the fence. It looked like… what had Alex called it? Zoomies? Yeah, that. “What is it that you do now? For work, I mean.”

—

Lil nodded thinking about how she rarely had time for much more than what she was already doing. She hoped she didn’t look it, but she did feel exhausted most of the time. “Eventually I think I could do it. Probably not as well as you have with this place,” she said looking at Monty with a smile and then back to the field. 

Lil hummed in agreement thinking that the pit did make it more dangerous. She laughed at the idea of needing to ask someone else and said softly, “ Yeah I get that. I wouldn’t have gotten my license if someone hadn’t let me know that I could. He was pretty nice about it too.” Luna looked excited finally realizing she could run and wasn’t as concerned as keeping Lil in her sightline, trusting that the woman would stay. At the question she responded, “I work at a bakery as the cashier. I’m also an exorcist.” She very rarely hid that, and if the other knew about supernatural creatures he would probably know about ghosts. “I don’t really get paid for the exorcist thing though, I feel bad doing that.”

—

“An exorcist?” Monty hadn’t realized such a thing existed, truth told… though he should’ve been able to see ghosts, he never had. Hell, he’d not even known they were real until he met some of the other undead that worked on the farm. Even Daisy hadn’t seen more than one in her unlife, and had ultimately thought it to be a fluke. But there were some people, he knew, who could see them in droves. 

He did not envy that ability. 

“So people really do have to have them… ah…” He searched for the word in English, letting his gaze wander to the sky. “Banished? I do not… think that is the word I mean, but. How ornery must a ghost be for someone like you to intervene, I wonder?”

—

“Yup, I know I don’t look like one.” Lil said, chuckling. After all more depictions of exorcists made them look like a monolith usually like that Constantine guy. While Lil had met exorcists like that - well her own sister was a demonologist and was usually in soft pastel dresses. She could also bench press most people, but regardless. “But yes, I am.”

At the question she pondered what to say. “Banishment is right. Essentially, most ghosts are fine. They just need a little extra time over here and most mediums who know how too can help guide a spirit over to - well whatever you think the other side is. It is - a bad thing to exorcize a spirit that isn’t a poltergeist - which is a corrupted being. At that point, the only way to stop them causing pain and misery is to banish them.” She didn’t comment on why it was a bad thing, that it was destroying a soul - something that even a murder couldn’t rightly do. She also didn’t comment on the fact she had done it. 

“So, pretty badly ornery I guess,” Lil said with a chuckle. “In most places in the world, you’d only need an exorcist once every five years if that. Wicked’s Rest is just full of ghosts it seems.” 

—

“Are the ones around here… from here? Or can ghosts travel?” The idea of the spirits of the family Monty had died to protect and then killed and eaten himself following him all across the continent was not one that he particularly liked. He’d been told by his undead staff that the farm was not overrun with ghosts, but there were a number of them that milled around the Death Pit that wasn’t far from them. He’d never thought before to ask about any of the ghosts in particular, to see if he… knew any of them. Maybe it had been subconscious at the time, trying to keep as much distance between himself and his past as possible. 

But there’d been others in more recent times that had died because of his lack of control, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were around, too. Where they’d died, or here… and if someone like Lil was capable of communicating with them, then who knew how many others were also capable? Were ghosts the reckoning of some supernatural people that had killed in their past? The thought made him anxious.

—

Lil considered it for a moment. “Ghosts can travel technically, but mostly they don’t. I mean most of us don’t wander that much either you know? Most people don’t become them, and usually the ones that do are here because they aren’t at peace - usually you stick close to where you were.” 

It wasn’t black and white, and it wasn’t like Lil spent a lot of time wondering why people became or didn’t become ghosts. It got way too psychological - or hell philosophical for her. The point always led her to the same conclusions - if you tried to find reason in death the only real one there was that it was inevitable. Anything else was just speculation. 

“Why, did you guys get some ghosts around here? I can try and get them to wander off if you want,” Lil said jokingly but honestly. She liked Monty, and was grateful he’d let her let Luna run around. 

—

Most people don’t become them. That was a relief, at least. Monty lapsed into a rather deep moment of thought, shaking his head as the young woman asked her question in earnest. “Hm? Oh… well, apparently. I have never seen any, but I have never tried to see any. There are people that work for me that have said there are ghosts that come from the Death Pit.” He pointed off toward the south—you couldn’t quite see it from here, but the pit was just beyond the downward slope of the horizon. “If they were going to be coming from anywhere, I suppose that place would make sense.” He looked over at Lil, giving her a shrug. “I’ve never had any trouble with them, myself. If you can help them get… unstuck, sure. But they have not been a bother. Not… badly ornery.” He smiled sadly, wondering if when he died, if he died, would there even be a soul left to remain trapped on earth? Either way it was a morbid thought that he didn’t take pleasure in entertaining. 

—

“Ah yeah,” Lil confirmed. She didn’t go near the death pit often - even if she couldn’t hear the ghosts didn’t mean they couldn’t overwhelm her after all - but she knew there were a ton there. “It would make sense that they would come from over there.” Her eyes focused over to where he pointed and she nodded. “Nah - most ghosts just need a little time.  I wouldn’t be helpful to them really. If they need help - well they got a habit of finding me anyway. Still, if you ever get one that needs something here - just let me know. I can get them sorted.” 

Lil’s eyes move towards Luna again watching her running through the field and for a moment it felt nice that there wasn’t anything more to do. “It’s nice out here - wouldn’t want anyone to feel bad in these parts. So yeah, just let me know.” 

— The cowboy nodded in response to the offer, hoping that they would never need Lil’s assistance since it sounded like she only intervened when things got out of hand. Still, the offer was kind. “I will keep you in mind, amiga.” He turned his attention to Luna, the bizarre—but cute!—creature that was having a grand old time out in the open pasture, and felt his heart warm in spite of its dead stillness. “You and your Luna are welcome here whenever you like. The hands will know your face, you won’t be bothered if you want to bring her again to play. Perhaps next time the dogs will run with her, sí? I think they’d like that.” Monty smiled back at his new friend, leaning his arms on the fence in front of them. “Welcome to our strange little family, Miss Ballard.”

#. thread ; #. with ; lilian ballard #. la luna libre ;

[rubin-therubix-loverofblorbos]

THE GANG'S ALL HERE {WARNING: PICREW 😦}

Julius Demain Pidieu but what his voice sounds like to me. Sadly, he looks five months old because the picrew I am obsessed with had no wrinkles🥺. He no longer looks like a sweet sphinx cat😭

APRICOT UN'AUTRE PIDIEU IN THE HOUSE. SHE HAS NO CONTENT DESPITE BEING JULES'S CANONICAL DAUGHT- oh. Jules has no content. Like father like daughter 😞.

THIS AUSTRALIAN IS HAVING GAY SEX WITH JULES. {Argent Étolie Chevalier is an OC} {He has like fifteen piercings but I forgor 🤡}

Mommy? sorry. Mommy? sorry. Mommy? sorry. Mo- {Dolores Toujours Pideu, Apricot's cool lesbian albino trans aunt that is going to kill me with her beauty}

Callahan Cyra Jumanah is Dolores's sweetheart, and I AM ALSO GOING CRAZY OVER HER. POWER COUPLE ULTIMATE EDITION. { Some people think she's faking her condition -chronic pain in her left leg and fatigue- because she can walk [with a cane]} {She has to hold Dolly back}

LET'S GIVE IT UP FOR MASC GENDERFLUID PEOPLE WOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOO {Coquille Bleue Pidieu is the eldest sibling of the three and can sense colors, shapes, and shadows despite being legally blind.}

WE ARE OUTGUNNED, OUTMANNED. OUTNUMBERED, OUTPLANNED- {Captain Héraklès Alcides Puissant-Redevance of the RCM is an old family friend}

WHERE THE HOOD WHERE THE HOOD WHERE THE HOOD AT-{Amoureux Perdue Du'Passe, Jules's former work partner and spouse. Sadly, he was killed on the force a few weeks after Apricot died of brain cancer. It was not a good year for Mr Pidieu.}

W. what if. Jeannie-Marie but when she was young. She was able to work around the giant black ink stain on her yellow dress by finding a thick but comfy sweater. She's one of those people who cannot fucking feel heat so she's alright. {PRETTY WONMAN😳🤤 WITH COCK?????? AMAZING 💯💫⭐🔥🌟✨⚡🎉🎊❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍♥️💘💝💖💗💓💞💕💌💟❣️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥💋🫂🫀👁️👅👁️👀👍👏👌🤌🤙🤝🤜🤛🙏}

Look, Young Renė was a little cinnamon roll. He could make the most "Fuck dem kids" person into preschool teacher worthy in less than an hour. But y'know, kindness sometimes drowns in hate and PTSD. Although, current Renė MIGHT not make you want to throw a fucking grenade at him if you're at the "Okay, you can put your hand on my wrist BUT THAT'S IT." stage. Zero people are currently at that stage because J-M isn't part of the lore anymore. Also, yeah Renė's trans. trans people can be inconsiderate assholes, we're not sparkles and rainbows. I mean, Look at me. I might not be inconsiderate but I CAN be an ass-of-the-hole.

Lieutenant Leo hey uh what's that say? K. WHAT. KITSURAGI??? OH MY FUCKING GOD. W H A T? {<-My brain in the process of making this guy up.} {LOOK IT'S KIM'S HALF [?] SEOLITE DAD!} {Btw despite the resting bitch face he's a nerdy sweetheart that loves cars. y'know like his son. I'm going to cry.}

Cecelia Davenport/Kitsuragi, Kim's fuckin' MILF of a mom. She and Leo LOVED to match. I'm welling up again. Btw she wasn't fully finished because it was three fucking AM when I made her so. 😔.

I feel like Gaston was a little fuckboy in his teens. I mean, he was still polite though and that lead to conversations like: "So uh [Lip bite} What're you doin' later? OH, FUCK you're grandma's recovering from cancer???? That's amazing! I hope she gets better soon! I can buy some flowers for her if it would cheer her up a bit! Have a good day!" Then Renė comes up and is like "Dude. You fucking sweetheart. Stop acting like a charity and get some goddamn pussy."

DORA THE DIVORCE EMPLOYER- {Not to be omni but oh my god. oh fuck. golly gee. I wolf whistle while my eyes pop comically out of their sockets and I spontaneously combust then pour a giant bucket of water over myself and steam rises from my ears like a train} {She's not actually in this AU but I love her and felt like making her}

Elizabeth is the type of girl to try and look professional but still go all out. She finally got out of the gardener's clothes and is slaying hard. Now, speaking of har-

Made Marie without her hijab because I'm a feral fucking animal and I legit couldn't imagine her hair correctly without reference and ALSO

REMADE YOUNG RENÉ BECAUSE I HATE THE FIRST ONE. Also I hate that you can't color the facial hair because it looks like his hair is dyed when he's just like that.

LOOK, IT'S LILLIANOVICH! What the FUCK would this bitch wear when he was a kid? Just made some shit up bro. Also, I like to think he uses reading glasses even though he has pretty good eyes overall.

THERE WE GO

LINK: X

#oh no they're hot #rubin report #disco elysium #send help #sillyposting #jules pidieu #picrew #picreations #dora ingerlund #elizabeth beaufort

[mwagneto]

cats are actually amazing and relatively easy to train pets with an endless amount of love to give you guys just don't have what it takes to be patient and respectful with an animal that isn't an obedient dog

#if i have to see one more person (man) say they hate cats coz they're mean and #independent im gonna scream #yes?? not everyone listens to you????? sorry?????????? #but also I trained all my cats to come when i whistle and my current one #learned to stand on two legs and boop her bowl with her nose before eating #the only reason i didnt teach them to sit is bc it's literally pointless #but point is it's not hard!!!! cat haters are just assholes!!!!!!!! #am i lowkey hyperfixating on cats rn yes what about it #i just missed my kitty so much im so happy to be home w her #she ASKED to sit on my lap while I'm sitting in a chair i 😭😭😭 #she's literally never done that before and this is the third time she ever sat on #my lap while i was somewhere other than the floor or the bed #cries #she's just shy and not very social bc she was treated terribly #but in like a year she went from not even purring and hiding under something any #time I brought her out to This #im so Happy it's so good to see her be more relaxed im aaaaaaaa #i feel like that 4chan guy who got shrimps #barking #animals #cats

[sammygvfslut]

i like you a latte | s. kiszka

Summary: Words cannot espresso how much you mean to Sammy Kiszka.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Hey besties!!! this is my first ever sam fic, and i really hope you guys enjoy it! it’s super cheesy so beware of some tooth-rotting fluff ahead. any and all feedback is appreciated <3

Loud chattering and the sounds of espresso machines hissing and whistling filled the cafe. Every few seconds or so when a new customer walked in, a soft ringing above the door rang. Glancing at the clock, you sighed as it read 7am. Way too early for your liking. You wished to be back in bed under the covers with your cat Joey snuggling. Plus, the cold weather made it even harder for you to get out of bed every morning. Damn you, winter.

“Good morning.” A voice said suddenly, startling you as you slightly jumped. “Whoops, didn’t mean to scare you there for a sec.”

Turning around at the voice, your heart fluttered and a smile pulled at the corners of your lips. “G-Good morning, Sam! Nope, didn’t scare me at all. I was just uh...focusing very hard and you caught me off guard.”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest, his own lips curving and flashing that beautiful grin. God, he made you melt. You took a quick chance to admire his appearance for the day, luscious brown locks pulled back into a low bun with a few stray pieces framing his face, and he wore a slightly oversized brown grandpa looking sweater. He exuded true fall energy today and all you wanted to do was snuggle with him watching a movie while sipping on hot chocolate. “Right. Focusing on what exactly? Staring at the register?”  

“S-Sure. Yes, the register.” Totally not him instead. “Um, I realized it turned off right now and my mind blanked to turn it back on.”

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder as he laughed, his touch leaving a wave of goosebumps to rise out of your skin. “You’re so cute. I’ll leave you to that then, but if you need help trying to get the register to turn back on again, let me know.” And with that, he sent you a wink and turned on his heel away to start on the customers orders.

Alright, alright. So maybe early shifts weren’t as bad as you thought thanks to your insanely charming co-worker. Sam and you had been working together for the past year, and almost instantly you started falling for him. He welcomed you with open arms and he was a great help when it came to your training. Your co-workers were nice too, but Sam took that extra step in making sure you were comfortable with what you were doing. If you made a mistake and were freaking out about it, he somehow knew the way to calm you down. He was too precious and good for this cruel world. And most of all, out of your league too.

With his dashing looks and amazing personality, you just knew there was no way he’d ever feel the same about you. Except, any time you’d voice that thought to any of your friends at work, they’d tell you you’re crazy and that he likes you too. Apparently they caught on to the signs more than you did, which wasn’t a shocker considering that you’d have no clue if a guy was interested in you unless he blatantly confessed. So, trying to figure out hints was completely pointless for you.

“Uh oh, she’s deep in thought,” one of your friends/co-workers, Danny, teased. He also happened to be Sam’s best friend, and current band mate since the pair are in a band with Sam’s older twin brothers. “I bet I can guess what, or who you were thinking about.”

“Don’t even say it,” you warned with a finger, “He’s literally four feet away from us—”

“So?” Danny rolled her eyes with his arms folded. “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel? Come on, it’s been almost a year now. What’s the worst that can happen if you confess?”

“He can hear me.” You stared blankly at him, shaking your head. “Absolutely not though, Danny. I will not embarrass myself from the humiliation I’d have to face from his rejection.”

Danny groaned frustratedly, placing his hands on both your shoulders and shaking them. “You’re so hopeless! Y/N, how many times do the guys and I have to tell you he likes you too!” He raised his voice a little louder than necessary which accidentally caught the attention of almost everyone in the cafe. Sam included unfortunately. Danny’s eyes widened, silently cursing under his breath. “Carry on, everyone.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Danny wasn’t lying when he mentioned about the guys agreeing that Sam likes you too. Every time you came over Josh’s apartment and Sam was there he’d find any little excuse to have his arm around you or teasing you constantly. You’d shake it off that he was just treating you like a friend would, but of course the guys would disagree with you.

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Danny told you sternly, “But for now, and don’t make it obvious, but Sam’s looking at you.” A mischievous grin spread across his face as he winked and stepped to the next register before greeting a new customer and taking their order.

Heart pounding out of your chest, you slowly looked over your shoulder in Sam’s direction. You saw his head quickly turn and finish off the drink in front of him. Your cheeks burned at this and tried taking deep, slow breaths to calm yourself down. Didn’t work much, but as a new customer waved and told you their order, your breathing turned back to normal.

On the other end of the counter, Sam was currently freaking the hell out from what he heard a few minutes ago between you and Danny. He didn’t mean to, but he also wasn’t that far from either of you. Plus, Danny wasn’t the best at keeping his voice low. He had a strong feeling he knew you were talking about him, and for that reason alone he overflowed the cup he was pouring into and made a mess. He cursed under his breath and wiped his hands on his apron, shaking his head.

You caught sight of this and rushed to his side, grabbing a cloth from under the sink and started wiping the sticky counter. Sam was certain his cheeks were tomato red from his embarrassment, making a complete fool of himself for not paying attention to what he was doing. More so focusing on your conversation and your damn smile from earlier. You weren’t the only one here with a crush.

“T-Thanks, Y/N.” Sam chuckled nervously, throwing the cup in the trash and tossing the drink pitcher he held in the sink. “I’m normally not this much of a dumbass.”

“I’m not too sure about that one, Kiszka.” You teased lightly with a grin. “It happens, don’t worry,” you assured. “I’m just glad it was cold tea you spilled and not steaming coffee. I’d hate for you to get a third degree burn. That happened to me once, don’t recommend it.”

“Didn’t I drive you to the hospital for that?” he asked. “I think that might’ve happened a few months ago.”

Your eyes widened at the memory. “Oh shit, you’re right. God, I’m still so sorry I had to drag you into that.”

Sam shook his head, lips curving and cheeks no longer flushed. “For the hundredth time, stop apologizing about that, Y/N. You know you can count on me for anything, so of course I didn’t mind driving you to the hospital. I remember even blasting some ABBA on the way over there so you’d have something else to focus on instead of the pain you endured.”

You smiled at the memory. “Didn’t we also go out for ice cream afterwards?”

He nodded, lightly rubbing his arm. “Yeah, it was a lot of fun. I mean, I always have fun when I’m with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his last few words, blinking slowly. “O-Oh.”

Oh? That’s all you have to say? Nice one, Y/N.

Sam’s heart dropped. Fuck. Maybe you weren’t talking about him after all. Maybe it was Danny or one of his brothers that you had a crush on and he was mistaken about it. He wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole right about now. Being anywhere but here sounded splendid to him.

“Y-Y/N, I—“

“Ihavefunwhenimwithyoutoo,” you muttered all too quickly, and poor Sam barely even understood what you said. He didn’t have the chance to ask you to repeat yourself because you quickly walked away to the back and he was left with a tug at his chest, frowning.

Within the next few days after Sam’s tea spill, literally, things between you and him became...awkward. Something went off in him to become even more clumsy than normal and forget everything he’s ever known when you’re near him. He’d get flustered, stuttering a lot, messing up orders, dropping dishes, and nearly tripping all the time. He hated it so much and wished he could just muster up the courage and apologize for being such an idiot and confess his feelings to you. Even during your hangouts with the guys, Sam and you wouldn’t interact as much and honestly you were well aware you were being super childish and immature about the situation. Sam did too, and he needed to snap the fuck out of it.

The next few days at work Sam would ignore Danny’s little side comments about his immaturity and continued working in silence. For the rest of his shift he didn’t talk much to anyone other than the customers. He wanted to talk to you when he had the chance, but then he’d quickly back out and walk the opposite direction.

He couldn’t figure out why it was so futile for him to just grow a sack and tell you he likes you. He’d never gone through this struggle before. Then again, as cheesy as it sounded, the other girls he’d asked out in the past couldn’t compare to you. Never in a million years, and maybe he was too afraid that he didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you.

Nearing closing that same day, it was only you, Sam, and Danny. The flow of customers died down and not many people came in towards the end of the night which you were grateful for. It finally gave you the chance to relax a bit and start cleaning things up ahead of time so you wouldn’t have to stay after. Joey and a nice warm bath were waiting for you at home.

While Sam decided on working the register and you and Danny would clean, he grabbed your arm and led you into the back.

“What are you two still doing not dating each other or talking?! It’s been way too long now, Y/N. And since it’s only us three tonight, you have no other choice. Come on, I know you can’t take this any longer, and he can’t either. I can take over the register for a bit while you and him talk.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating his offering. As incredibly thankful as you were for his help, you were also scared shitless of the possible outcome. Perhaps it was finally time though that you say fuck it and say what you needed to. You couldn’t go on for any longer to keep your feelings bottled up inside. Maybe, just maybe he might feel the same way, and by God you hoped that would be the case.

Inhaling, you nodded slowly and made your way back to where you were. Your eyes searched for Sam and saw he was busy making a drink, except there was no one else here besides you, him and Danny. It could’ve been a drink for him, so you shrugged this off and went towards the sink to start washing the dishes.

A few moments later, Sam cleared his throat from behind you. “H-Hey Y/N, so um, I know the créme brûlée latte is your favorite, and I thought I’d make you one. You seemed really stressed and busy today and I wanted to try to cheer you up. I hope that’s okay.”

Your heart swelled at his generosity and your cheeks burned as you felt his gaze burning into you, his palms soaking from nervousness. “Sam, you didn’t have to do that for me.”

He shrugged casually, a small smile on his lips and his cheeks tinted a light pink. “It’s okay, I wanted to. And I uh, tried my best on the art. Hope you like it.”

Raising a brow, your gaze dropped on your cup and your eyes widened as you saw what he was referring to. A small coffee cup with the words I like you a latte around it.

“It’s true,” Sam chewed on his bottom lip while running his fingers through his hair. “I really like you Y/N, and I’m so sorry for acting like such an idiot these last few days around you. I don’t know what came over me, and I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you much either.”

Setting your cup on the counter, you took a step closer to him and cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb softly against his soft skin. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Sam. I’m sorry for not talking to you too, as well as for making a fool of myself. I tend to do that around someone I like.”

Finally, the realization dawned on Sam as a wide grin pulled at his lips. “Glad we’re on the same boat.”

“I-Is it alright if I kiss you?” he asked shyly, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you.

You giggled. “You don’t even have to ask, loverboy.” You playfully rolled your eyes and cupped his other cheek before connecting his lips with yours.

A smirk pulled at Danny’s lips as he glanced at the two of you, shaking his head. Josh and Jake owed him $20 now. 

It was about damn time that Sam and you finally espresso’d your love for each other. 

tagging these lovely folks bc they helped inspired me and their work is amazing <3 @godlygreta​ / @flowervanfleet​ / @dharma-divine​

#sam kiszka imagine #sam kiszka x reader #greta van fic #greta van fleet #sam kiszka

[pillage-and-lute]

Eskel is a Fanboy (Part 2, Electric Boogaloo)

This is a second part of this. Which in turn was inspired by this.

Please note, this is less funny and a little deeper than the first part, despite the title. Discussions of FEELINGS, hardcore, but also the trials. Brief mention of hypothermia.

Read it here on Ao3

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Geralt arrived late that year. Vesemir had been pacing the corridors, a worry line between his brows, for the last week. The snows were getting worse and worse and innocent snowflakes joined other completely harmless snowflakes until a very un-harmless amount of snow had piled on the track and the passes. 

Lambert, alongside Aiden (another reason for the creases on Vesemir’s brow) lounged in the great hall, completely unconcerned. 

“He’s stayed later and later every year,” Lambert said, lazily. “He keeps lingering with that bard of his. Why should this year be any different?” His eyes were half closed as Aiden played idly with his hair.

“If he doesn’t get here in the next two days he’ll be too late,” Vesemir snapped.

“I recognize I’m the outsider, here,” Aiden said. “But I don’t always winter with my troupe, and Lambert occasionally spends winters away...”

Eskel shook his head. The constant bickering was impacting his reading and he’d long ago marked his place in his book and set it aside. “Not Geralt,” he said with certainty. “He always winters at home.”

Aiden levelled a chilly, yellow gaze. “You love him.”

“He’s my brother in arms.”

“He’s special to you.”

Eskel wanted to growl and snap, but Aiden wasn’t saying it in a malicious way. There was no threat or accusation in his words. If there had been it would have been pure hypocrisy, what with the way Lambert currently lay in his lap. Eskel had spent a week pretending not to see the pairs’ furtive kisses.

“He is special to me,” Eskel said at last. “I found him, after his second trial, was given special allowance to be away from training to help him. Whatever happened, with the mutagens, he was deaf and blind for nearly two weeks. And had as much strength as a kitten.”

Vesemir’s pacing gained a sharper edge. “I wish I’d killed the mage that called for that second trial.” He said. Lambert and Eskel made eye contact, they were familiar with the self loathing in Vesemir’s voice. Lambert was angry at the world and his whole situation, but they had all forgiven Vesemir years ago. There was no choice but to mend bridges with a pack so small. Still, they rarely talked about it.

“You killed the mage that called for his third,” Eskel said, quietly.

Aiden’s head jerked up. He’d been a witcher, albeit a different school. He knew the trials, he knew the pain, but three trials... “They tried...?”

Eskel nodded his confirmation. “Geralt survived, and the mages who ran the trials wanted to see how many he could take.”

“So I split his throat on my knife,” Vesemir said. There was no satisfaction in his tone, but just an empty statement of action.

“I didn’t know it was you that killed the mage,” Lambert said. “I just knew one had been killed for the suggestion. I heard they made the witcher drink hemlock as punishment.” There was a warmer light of respect in Lambert’s eyes than usually shone there.

“They did,” Vesemir said. “It didn’t kill me.”

That was it for conversation that night, but Eskel went to bed thinking about Aiden’s words. 

He’s special to you. 

Geralt was special to him. There was an understanding, something gentle and kind between them. Geralt and Eskel lived their separate lives and had lovers and adventures. But for three months of the year they had each other.

Eskel had sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with him. He never gave his heart to anyone. Sex meant nothing and love didn’t happen, and he could only love Geralt for three months at a time. 

Except that wasn’t true at all, because of course Eskel loved Geralt all the time. It was only a softer kind of love than he read about in poetry. He didn’t need fiery passion and desperate declarations of love. He had a steady love for Geralt, as sure as the beating of his heart. It was as good a love story as any, but now Geralt had his bard and a tiny, hidden part of Eskel whispered “If Only.”

If only he and Geralt could lounge like Aiden and Lambert, to pet each others’ hair and share small kisses in the corners. If only Eskel really had Geralt for those three months. He had no doubt that the feelings were mutual, but something in their lives had been built apart, and it would take something powerful to shape them anew.

The next evening brought a blizzard. And Geralt.

It took both Aiden and Lambert to shut the door behind Geralt with the way the wind blew in around him. It curled and flickered shards of ice through the air that melted in the heat of the hall, dampening Geralt’s old, black cloak. Which he was holding around himself like a cocoon. Vesemir took Geralts cloak for him, which revealed what he’d been holding. 

Huddled against Geralt, nose red and face pale, was a young man in a blue cloak. 

Geralt bundled him in front of the fire without a word, pulling away the damp cloak and hanging it to dry. Vesemir brought blankets as Geralt pried the instrument case from the man’s hands.

A lute case.

Eskel’s pulse picked up. This was obviously the bard. This was Jaskier, Oxenfurt’s most prodigious poet. He’d studied with Rumi and Alighieri and Li Bai. In just a few years he’d reformed witchers’ reputations. They’d all been treated better these past few years. More money, less tar and feathers. Eskel went to sit beside Jaskier to beg him for stories but Geralt met his gaze, smiled softly, and shook his head.

Eskel restrained himself. Jaskier was clearly staving off shock from the cold, as well as hypothermia. Instead of doing what he really wanted to do (lay himself prone at Jaskier’s feet and worship his skill with words) he put on a kettle for tea. 

Aiden and Lambert make eye contact with each other, nod to Geralt, and leave. Vesemir also makes a tactful retreat. This time was just for Eskel and Geralt. And the bard shivering on a pile of cushions next to the fire. 

“He had a hard time on the Killer,” Geralt said, quietly.

“It’s called the Killer for a reason.”

“He begged me to come, I told him it would be too dangerous,” Geralt whispered. “He followed me and I couldn’t make him leave, that’s why I was late.”

“Vesemir’s been worried,” Eskel said, staring at the fire. He sat on the cushions, beside the bard, without taking his eyes from the coals. Geralt sat on the other side of Jaskier, rubbing carefully over the bard’s chilly hands, pulling off the woolen mittens and gently warming each knuckle.

“I had to go slower for him,” Geralt said. Between the two of them, the bard seemed mostly asleep. His eyelashes flickered on his cheeks, struggling to stay open.

“You can sleep,” Eskel whispered. “You’ll wake up, you’re cold but not in danger.” He took the other chilly hand. “Just sleep.”

Blue eyes slipped closed and Eskel took the kettle off the fire so it didn’t whistle. 

“He was so desperate to be here, he wanted to see the Keep,” Geralt said. “And I wanted him to come. To meet you.”

“I did make you promise I’d get to meet him,” Eskel said, sitting back down and resting a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “I think I’ve read everything he’s ever written.”

“That’s not why I wanted him to meet you,” Geralt said.

Eskel’s breath caught. They were talking about it, sort of. “I know,” he said.

The bard curled up a little, like a nautilus shell. Geralt lay down on the cushions behind him and Eskel made himself comfortable. Sleep and warmth and the smell of the pine fire lulled him slowly to sleep. Just as he was drifting off, Jaskier reached out in his sleep and placed one hand, less chilly than it was, on Eskel’s arm. It stayed there until the morning.

“So True Love’s Waste wasn’t inspired by a person?” Eskel asked over breakfast, mouth full of porridge. 

Jaskier shook his head, gulping down hot tea. “No, I was out on a bender with some friends and we saw this washerwoman’s cat trying to catch a soap bubble, right?”

Eskel nodded, entranced.

“It was so totally focused on catching this soap bubble, it’s eyes were all wide and determined, like all it wanted was the bubble, but when it caught the bubble...”

“It popped,” Eskel laughed. “And you wrote a poem that has been deemed the best love poem of the last hundred years about it.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Art is more trite and derivative than people think.”

Eskel reached out and touched Jaskier’s wrist, looking into those heavily-lashed eyes. “Your work could never be called trite, or derivative.”

Behind Jaskier, Eskel saw something flash in Geralt’s eyes, and he stood from the table, clearing his plate, but then Jaskier was telling a story about Rumi, his former professor, and Eskel’s attention was diverted.

The next week passed in peace, for the most part. Repairs to the keep were ongoing, but halted when the snow was heavy. Vesemir kept them training and the library, neglected by all but Eskel, kept Jaskier busy. At mealtimes and in the evenings Eskel and Jaskier chatted about art and music and life on the Path. But Geralt was subdued, something tired and sad gleaming in his golden eyes. He wouldn’t talk about it, and he fled when Eskel tried.

It hurt, that Geralt suddenly wouldn’t talk to him, but Eskel knew the white wolf better than anyone, so he cornered him in the training yard one afternoon and pinned him down.

“Talk. To. Me,” he panted, grinding Geralt’s shoulders into the flagstones.

“Nothing to say,” Geralt grunted.

“Bullshit.”

“Nothing!”

“You keep hiding! It’s not nothing!”

Geralt kicked his feet up, flipping them both over and freeing himself. He stood over Eskel who was still laying on the ground. “You can have him,” he said, beginning to walk away.

Eskel snagged his ankle, bringing his idiot wolf down to the ground without remorse. “You’re stupid.”

“I’m not, he adores you. You have so much in common, it makes sense.”

Eskel remembered the conversation of the year before. Please don’t take my bard.

“I’m not taking your lover boy from you,” he snapped.

“He’s not my lover boy.”

“He would be if you would only ask him.”

“He deserves better.”

“He wants you.”

“He wants you,” Geralt howled. “He looks at you like you got out a ladder and personally nailed the moon to the sky. Every time you talk he hangs on your words.”

“He looks at you the same way,” Eskel said, quietly. “And I...” He paused. This was so close to the thing they never talked about.

“You don’t look at me that way,” Geralt whispered.

“But I feel it all the same.”

The admission rang in the empty training yard, despite it being barely a whisper.

“I want you to have him, to be with him, because the two of you are made for eachother. It was obvious to me before you’d even met. I just wish,” Geralt stopped, his voice growing tight. 

“What do you wish?”

“I just hate that it hurts so much. I love you both, I do, so so much, and all I want is you two happy, and you’ll be happy together, but I just wish it didn’t cut me out.”

Eskel rolled over and bumped his forehead to Geralt’s. There were tear tracks in the dirt there. “It doesn’t have to. That’s a silly rule and you made it up for yourself. I love you both and he loves us both, so you can have us both.”

Geralt sat up, bringing Eskel with him, then pulled him into a kiss that burned. It was a simple press of their lips together but Eskel felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Oh,” came a quiet voice from the nearby doorway. Jaskier was standing there, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “I’ll just--”

“Stay,” Eskel said, chuckling. He pulled Jaskier down to sit on the flagstones with them. “I think Geralt has something he wants to tell you.”

Geralt looked nervous. He swallowed a couple times, eyes darting over Jaskier’s face. “I...” He said. “Um, what Eskel means is that... um, I”

“Oh you great big oaf,” Eskel said. “Jaskier, he loves you, he’s absolutely mad about you. He just can’t say it because he loves me too and it’s taken him the better part of a century to tell me.”

Jaskier beamed, his blush growing. “And you?” he said.

“I’m not sure I love you yet,” Eskel said. “But I think I will.”

“I think I will too,” Jaskier said, then he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to Eskel’s lips, off center, so it brushed his scar and part of his cheek too. Then he kissed Geralt the same way. 

“Aiden’s going to be so pissed that he lost the bet,” Jaskier said, as if he hadn’t just rocked both witchers’ worlds with a mere kiss. “He bet Lambert you wouldn’t figure it out until next week.”

“You knew,” Eskel said, touching the tips of his fingers to where his face was still tingling from the kiss.

“They way Geralt talks about you, well...” Jaskier said, smiling at Geralt. “And then the way you talk about him,” he smiled at Eskel. “And the way you both look at me, I knew. I just wasn’t sure you knew.” His smile shifted into something bashful and a little insecure. It was an odd look on his normally confident face. “And it seemed too much to assume you both would really want me, I’m not all,” he gestured at his shoulders and arms, obviously comparing their builds.

Eskel couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “We don’t care about that,” he said, carding his hand through Jaskier’s hair and revelling in the way the bard leaned into his touch. “I’ve seen Geralt with a face full of pimples, and I mean full, and that was back when he was calling himself Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde. It isn’t about looks.” He trailed his eyes across Jaskier. “And even if it was we wouldn’t find you wanting.”

“He’s right,” Geralt said, pressing a little kiss right behind Jaskier’s ear. “We find nothing about you wanting.”

“You both are going to leave me wanting if you’re not careful,” Jaskier whined, borderline laciviously. He leaned back against Geralt and pulled Eskel closer, kissing Eskel’s cheek chastely in spite of his words. When he turned to kiss Geralt’s cheek too Eskel nuzzled closer, feeling Geralt’s arms pull him into the pair of them.

“You have to promise to write me into your poetry, after all this,” he said.

Jaskier laughed, head tilting back and eyes crinkling at the corners. “As if I haven’t already,” he whispered. 

Three months later the great bard Jaskier debuted his latest poetry anthology. Silver and Steel was praised by academics across the continent, although the line about being eaten alive was highly debated. Jaskier’s sudden penchant for high collars might have answered the questions, but he wasn’t about to give away the secret. 

#jaskel #geralt x jaskier x eskel #this is stupid but happy #less funny than the first bit #but more cute #the witcher #jaskier is a famous bard #eskel is his fanboy #geralt loves them both very much

[the-darklings]

“ you’re my person. you’ll always be the one i go to. ” Jean + Clara/V 🥺

prompt: “you’re my person. you’ll always be the one i go to.”

pairing: jean x v (coa verse)

wc: 2.3k+ (aka I don't have an off button when it's them regardless of setting/verse)

notes: so while I'm obsessed with jeara in npfh verse, something about exploring them in coa where jean is almost a rogue figure in v's life and is near entirely removed from the overall dramas of her life is just so... (makes a vague, distressed sound). guess i'm just a sucker for "no matter what, life keeps drawing us back together" energy, also I just love their antagonistic, sexually charged banter : )

It’s the soft cocking of a gun behind you that alerts you to someone’s presence at your back.

It’s a split second, a whirlwind of gripping your own weapon, but it’s all too slow. Far too slow, John and Cassian and the Elder would have reprimanded you. Disappointing after years of work and training you’ve done. Sloppy at best, life-threatening at worst.

For priding yourself on speed as your greatest physical weapon, you simply react too slow. It’s not because your instincts are dull anymore — no, if anything, after the dessert you’re an even sharper version of yourself.

But there’s is a singular hole in your instinctive wall. One person who — unfailingly, and irritatingly — seems to slip behind every single one of your guards. More of a snake than you are. More deadly, more deceptively charming and coy.

"Well, well — look who the cat dragged in."

Jean’s voice is still silk. With the gentle roll of his accent, the ice in his eyes shifts and morphs — cracking at the sight of you; always, a match and a fuse — when you level your pistol on his face. Unflinching. A slight, indulgent twitch of his mouth greets your clinical action. He appears so infuriatingly unconcerned to have a fully loaded weapon trailed on him you have to bite back a snarl. Arrogant bastard.

But you’ve seen what his mouth is capable of. He would no doubt make an innuendo if you brought up the said mouth but he’s stopped entire gunfights with his wit and tongue alone in the past. Has stood beside you plenty of times, trying to weasel you both out of serious trouble.

You have a habit of running into each other every time the other needs backup the most. Neither of you would ever admit to needing one another but you’ve served each other’s self-interests plenty of times.

"What are you doing here?" you demand.

The Frenchman doesn’t move, dragging his stare over your body with curious, probing intensity. It’s near lazy, bordering on sexual perusal and instinctively your skin warms under the examination. Prick.

"Lovely to see you too, chérie,” he greets, his voice honey yet always just tantalisingly teasing the idea of more. He’s learned to present himself as the devil’s biggest temptation long ago; a temptation very few resist. His arm finally lowers with those words, followed by a click of safety coming back on but you’re not so quick to follow his lead. “You look positively alive," he adds, a touch sardonic.

Your lips twitch. "Sorry to disappoint."

Last time he saw a mess, not an assassin.

His broad frame is clad in a stitch-to-stitch perfect tailored suit. Dark and sleek. Not dark enough to be outright black but an odd, shimmering material that indeed reminds you of a devil in disguise. Prowling around and passing around favours and information but at a price — always a price, and never one you want to pay in the long run.

"Hm, yes,” he hums thoughtfully, a melody of rumbling deepness that is his voice settling in your gut as he draws closer. Strolling forward without a care in the world, as if you don’t have your pistol still raised. Still aimed at him. Your finger on the trigger. As if there isn’t a pinch to your features; a warning, venomous gleam in your eyes. “While you disappearing is no novelty. You disappearing for seven months to a point even I can't locate you certainly is."

With the sheer vastness of his web of information, you can only imagine how profoundly irritating he found it. Jean doesn’t like losing. Doesn’t like not being in control, in the know. Never has. Others dance to his tune. Losing is a language he doesn’t speak. If there is no way to get his way, he makes one. He cares little for the collateral damage left behind. His ruthlessness alone has always put you at odds though he’s always been quick to point out how hypocritical you are for your wry comments. How every enemy of yours has oftentimes been left spluttering on their own blood, robbed of life or a future.

You burn everything, chérie, he told you once, years ago now, to destroy so thoroughly is a curious talent for one so invested in life and greenery to have.

"I'm touched by the concern," you say eventually, your expression still sour and your mouth curved downwards.

Jean’s face creases at that, an eyebrow quirking, and lips stretching further back. That stupid little dimple in his left cheek appears again, and it’s a rare sight — one to always makes you wonder if this is genuine amusement or just another mask he wears.

"Actually I needed you to kill someone for me, vipère,” he rebukes, dismissive of your notations of sentimentality. A small sound whistles past his teeth, his eyes narrowing down on you when he halts in front of you, his chest bumping into the muzzle of the gun. The pearly white of his dress shirt cuts for a bleak contrast to your sleek, black pistol. “Your sneaky ways have proven to be... most useful."

His voice lowers, dripping towards a lulling, beguiling thing. He slants his head lower, near blending into the shadows of the room where you were searching for more information about your current mark just moments prior.

"Yeah, right," you huff, unimpressed.

"Does it surprise you?” he wonders curiously, his cologne tickling your nose when he slants even closer, still towering over you. And you know his cologne — so damn well, you know it in your marrow — know how it smells when it’s faded and muted. When you nudge your nose against the juncture of his throat, burying yourself in him. Greedy or not, you always stole his warmth. And for some reason he always permitted it. Perhaps he found some begrudging amusement in moments of lingering contact and intimacy between you. For a man who might as well be carved from ice, he knows exactly how to make you burn. “The idea that I think you're my person? A trustworthy contact? You'll always be the one I go to."

Your arm lowers at long last, making you peer up at him from under your lashes. Consider him. Jean’s mouth rests slightly agape, his breaths slowing, slowing, slowing — matching yours, you realise suddenly, ignoring the pinprick of desire at the base of your neck. His proximity chips at your guard and you lean closer too. Alone in this dark room, alone in this world, two solitary figures occasionally passing by each other. In these rare instances of proximity, it’s easy to forget your loneliness. Easy to pretend you’re one and the same.

Your fingers slither up his chest and towards his neck. To kiss him you would have to stretch your limbs and muscles. This you know intimately. If only because you know exactly how his body fits against yours. And what an odd thought it is — to know that where there is fear and unease with others, there’s only need to be closer with him. Every cell in your body seems to hum at the mental image; eager to agree, eager to indulge. The idea of sampling more of him, tangling yourself further in the spider’s web is too tempting. Too enticing. Jean inclines into you. Your escape, hideaway, so dissimilar to how the dessert felt. Like a gilded cage. A makebelieve. With him though it feels…

Your breaths mingle, intertwining, neither of you breaking the eye contact first. He doesn’t allow you a single inhale without devouring every micro quiver of your lips.

"Nice try,” you exhale knowingly before your mouths can touch, leaning back with a saccharine grin. Your fingertips tease over the heated skin of his neck despite the broken spell. It thrills you, the tension of strong tendons you feel there, pulled tauter by your prodding. “Now why are you really here?"

For a single instance, you think Jean will continue his pretence, his unending fictitious act. Mock you further with yet another agreeable mask he shows everyone else. But a flicker, and then his charm melts into something more cunning, crueller, yet somehow — impossibly — even hungrier and darker than before. He’s still too close, too physically there; next to you, in you, like a splinter you can’t get out. Or want to.

Unravelling of a facade packaged in a span of a second, a heartbeat.

"I need him alive, V."

His voice drips from honey to dark velvet. Teasing, seductive promise. Jean’s fingers drag against the curve of your jaw as he speaks, his touch inveigling but you’ve danced this dance before. He should know better than to expect easy prey by now.

"And I need him dead,” you snip back, cupping his cheek in return, scraping your fingers against the dark stubble against his jaw with an innocent tilt of your head. Sometimes you hate it — the way he’s able to rip out something darker in you, more chillingly untamed. Jean is a paradox, a tempest blowing against the ruleset. So often being beside him makes you recklessly want to do the same. “So if you're after something, I suggest you work quicker, Jean."

There’s a split second in which you think he might flip on you the way he’s done on so many others. A warm, inviting smile — all charisma and magnetism, toothy and wide — seconds before he plants a bullet in your body. You’ve seen him do it so many times in the past your head spins. In part from wondering if he will give you one last kiss before he pulls the trigger, or if he really believes you will not take him down with you if he attempts it.

"If I get the information I need by sunrise, have dinner with me tomorrow."

His thumb nudges against the curve of your bottom lip. Rough yet gentle, sensuous yet treacherous. He’s so used to getting his way you want to refuse him out of principle alone if nothing else. It’s rather enjoyable — in a dark, cruel way — to deny him, to see how many masks he can flip through until only his own face remains. You've yet to see such a day.

"There's a distinct lack of a question mark in that statement," you note coolly.

The tension between you sits like a physical weight. Overbearing and thick; you glimpse all the things he’s doing to you inside his mind already. His fingers digging into your hips, hoisting you into his strong arms. A hiss of searing breath against your ear, teeth against your neck, animalistic, skin against skin. Sweat and filth and passion. You’ve healed during your stay at the dessert. He can see it in you. A part of you has transformed, shed your old, torn skin — he’s certainly coaxed and encouraged this change in you prior. It had become a particular interest of his once John departed.

Bury your past, vipère, it doesn’t serve you anymore.

Glaciers of his gaze thaw and spark into a sapphire flame the longer you gaze at one another, hungry and wanting. Jean’s angular, virile features tighten with restraint but he doesn’t crack, a faint grin still lingering in place.

"I'm not going to grovel at your feet, vipère,” he says, his words ringing deeper and sultry, near gravelly. A knife’s edge, really, razor-sharp against your fragile pulse. His fingers trace the contours of your parted mouth, and you sense his breath when he nudges close. The scent of tobacco and red wine still lingers on his own lips muddying your honed senses. “It's not in my nature to do so. If I want something, I go for it."

And for some reason it’s him — him you lean into, him you don’t shun or snarl at when he touches you. So intimately. Painting you with his hands anew — bloody hands of a murderous man, a liar and a cheat.

Your lashes flutter. "And here I thought you liked games."

"Only the ones I win,” he breathes hotly, his teeth gleaming, a wolf’s jaws open for devouring. His large palm slips to cup your face, bracing against your cheek, steadying you. Your mouths are almost touching, almost kissing, almost biting. “And you... are... most certainly a game I'm happy to play every time, ma vipère.”

The last part — wanton and just a touch possessive, throaty with a heavier accent — scrapes against the shell of your ear. Hot, wet exhales of oxygen skitter against the curve of your neck and it leaves you shuddering against him. Jean grins into your skin at the small victory, his mouth flitting over your beating pulse in reward. Once, twice. He’s not touching you further, and you grind your jaw to prevent yourself from touching him in return.

Always the game of who will give in first.

When he realises you’re not about to hand him his victory as he no doubt hoped you would, he pulls back, a flash of teeth visible in the darkness. Lights from the street outside illuminate his handsome features when he moves back. His eyes drink in your form, from head to toe, his thumb swiping over his own mouth slowly. It coils your stomach when you realise it’s the same hand he touched your mouth with.

An indirect kiss to taste you. Despite your controlled expression, you feel that distant kiss as if he were smearing your mouth with his until your edges blurred with his.

“Dinner will be at 8 pm sharp. Don't be late,” he instructs, low and smooth, his voice still scratchy with hunger. He pivots to go but pauses midturn, glancing at you over his shoulder while his hand slips into his slacks. “Oh, and do wear red. You always look so fetching in that colour. And it looks ever-so pretty on my bedroom floor."

#original writing #spilled prose #original prose #oc x reader #oc writing #writing #s: almost love #c: jean #head empty - only they!!! #ngl kinda proud of how this one turned out so hope you enjoy anon!!!

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 12/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

Fort Worth is not the city that Boston is, but it’s working it’s way up.  It’s bustling and busy and the first time he’d taken Jesse and Jimmy with him, Mulder had feared he may lose the brothers to the excitement of it all.  He was pleased to find out the pair were more like him and preferred a slower pace and less crowds.  He doesn’t have to worry about them gambling or picking fights or looking for any other kind of trouble.

The demonstration they give and the training they provide to the postal service is a success.  The horses are installed in their new home and position as a delivery team and Mulder will be bringing eight horses back to the ranch to train as a set of two teams.  He celebrates the job well done by giving Jesse and Jimmy an early bonus and sending the two off to do some sightseeing.  Deciding he’d like to do a bit of shopping himself, he sets out from their hotel to the city center.

For the last few weeks, Mulder has been making a mental list of the things he’d like to get for Katherine.  He doesn’t care if she protests, he has a mind to spoil her, and she’ll just have to get accustomed to being spoiled.  His first stop is a book shop where he inquires after the most current science journals and texts.  While browsing the bookshelves, he also finds a copy of The Taming of the Shrew and purchases it for a laugh.

The next stop he makes is to a rather impressive three-story building called The Martin-Brown Co.  It advertises clothing, dry goods, and other notions, which is exactly what he’s after.  He buys ten yards of a wool fabric dyed a shade of blue that reminds him of her eyes, two pairs of boots using a template he secretly traced of Katherine’s shoes for size, several pairs of stockings, a new shawl, an overcoat, and the valise he promised.  Everything is to be wrapped and sent to his hotel.

The last stop he makes is to a jeweler.  He would give Katherine his mother’s ring, were it not for the fact that it currently resides in a safe deposit box in Boston.  Even if it were in his possession, he has a feeling that Katherine would consider it too lavish and perhaps she would be right.  Though beautifully made with several square-cut diamonds, a working ranch would not be the best place to wear such a ring.

He wants to get something to symbolize the marriage though, not just for her, but for himself.  A simple gold band is easy enough to find for his own finger, but it’s tougher to pick just the right ring for his wife.  A very nice salesman assists him in trying to find the perfect piece.

“I want it to be nice,” he tells the associate.  “She’d probably like something plain, but I still think it should at least have a stone in it.  I also don’t want her to fret over it getting in the way of the household chores.”

“I think I can help you with that,” the man says.  He pulls out a tray of nice-looking bands, diamonds of various shapes and sizes twinkling from all of them, but still none of them seem quite right.

He looks through four trays of rings and has it narrowed between a gold band with a row of very small diamonds and pearls or a silver band with three one carat diamonds, when another ring catches his eye.

“What’s that stone?” he asks the clerk.

“That’s a sapphire.  Would you like to see it?”

“Yes.”

The man takes the ring of the tray and hands it to Mulder.  He inspects it carefully.  It’s a gold band with three stones inset in a row of small squares, like patchwork almost.  The middle stone is the sapphire, flanked on either side by two diamonds.  

“What do you call this design?” Mulder asks.

“In the middle where the sapphire sits is called a pinched square mount.  On either side of that is what’s called a diamond mount on a geometric plaque.  On the shoulder here you’ll see there’s criss-cross etching.”

“I think this might be the one.”

“An excellent choice.”

“Let me just...let me just look at them one last time and give me a minute to consider.”

“Take your time, Sir.”

Mulder puts the ring down and looks over the trays again, focusing on the three main contenders.  He has doubts about the three diamonds and so just looks to the sapphire and the diamonds and pearls.

“What is this?” he asks, pointing to a different ring that he seems to have missed in his earlier inspection, focused as he was on finding the perfect stone.  “Are those hands?  Holding a heart?”

“Yes, Sir.  It’s a claddagh ring.  It’s Irish.”

“Irish?”

“Yes, I can’t say I know the origins, but you’ll note the inside is stamped with what this type of ring is meant to symbolize.”

Mulder turns the ring around to read the inscription.  “Love.  Friendship.  Loyalty.”

“We have this one as well, if that doesn’t suit you.”  The clerk pulls out yet another tray and the same design of the ring Mulder is holding is etched into the interior of the band with loops around the band that look like infinity rings.

Mulder is torn.  He’s leaning towards the sapphire because the stone is gorgeous, but this claddagh ring seems more suitable, even if it’s not as elegant or flashy.  He’s not the one that will be wearing the ring though, Katherine is.  And he tries to think about it from her perspective.  He could probably buy three or four of these claddagh rings for the same price as the sapphire, but the value of the simpler ring feels immeasurably greater.

“That’s the one I want,” Mulder tells the clerk, nodding to the etched silver claddagh ring the man is holding.

“Very well.”

“And the gold band as well.  What type of boxes do you have?”

“Right this way.”

Mulder follows the clerk to the other side of the store where there is a case of boxes on display.  He selects a black box, oval-shaped, made of leather.  There’s a small gold latch at the front and a gilded border on the top of the case.  The interior is standard velvet and satin.

After Mulder leaves the jewelry store he heads back to the hotel.  The desk clerk informs him his packages have arrived and been taken to his room.  He closes himself in the room and looks at the items that are neatly placed onto his bed.  He takes the ring box out of his pocket and opens it up to look at it.

Diana comes to mind.  All these items he’s purchased would seem paltry to her.  He was always happy to lavish her back when they were courting, but she was never satisfied.  There was no such thing as too much for Diana and nothing was ever good enough.  Katherine is different and he needs to remember that.  He fears that Katherine will see all of this and be cross with him.  The perfect simplicity of the ring in his hand makes him realize that there is more to loving someone than purchasing trinkets.

Money is no object to him.  The ranch does well, but it’s not the source of his income, it’s the source of his joy and passion.  He doesn’t know with absolute certainty, but from what he does know of her, he feels that Katherine gets her joy from learning new things and from stimulating conversation.  Out of all the items packaged up on his bed, what she will probably be the most grateful for are the four issues of a magazine called Science: An Illustrated Journal and one called The Popular Science Monthly.

The ring and the books aside, he tells himself that the items he’s purchased are practical.  He hasn’t gotten anything she can’t use and what wouldn’t be considered unnecessary, but that’s not really the point.  

Well, he isn’t going to take the items back, so he packs each one up into the new valise and thinks that maybe it’s a good thing that at the very least, everything fits nicely into the travel bag.  He keeps her ring in his pocket though, along with the little pouch that holds his band.  He doesn’t want to wear his quite yet.  Not until she can put it on his finger for him.

↭

Katherine is setting out items onto the table in the kitchen to make a pie.  Mulder and Jesse and Jimmy are due back the next day and she’d like to have something nice to welcome them home with.  She’s just sat down to start peeling apples when she hears Queenie bark.

Over the last month, she’s grown accustomed to the sounds of the ranch, and in particular, the way that Queenie herds her flock of sheep.  Her bark is usually quick and no-nonsense.  This bark that she hears now raises the hairs at the back of her neck.  This bark is more like a snarl.  A warning.

Katherine jumps up from the table and hurries to the back door.  She sees Queenie by the pens, crouched low and backing away from something slowly.  The dog growls and snaps as she lunges forward and then retreats again.  Initially, Katherine can’t spot the threat, but then she sees it, black as midnight and sleek, slinking around the side of the corner pen with caution, but without hesitation.  She’s heard there were panthers in these parts, but never seen one.

Melvin is running from the bunkhouse, waving his arms and hollering.  Richard is behind him with a pistol.  She doesn’t spot Trevor, but now is the time that he’s usually watering the animals so he must be out there somewhere, trapped where he is.

“My God,” Katherine whispers before turning and running to the other side of the dogtrot.

There are four rifles hung on pegs in the middle of the wall and a cartridge belt hanging alongside them.  Mulder had told her before not to touch the firearms.  They’re always loaded, he’d said, just in case.  Leave them be.  Of course, he probably assumed she had no idea how to use one.  She grabs the cartridge belt and swings it over her left shoulder and then pulls down one of the rifles and holds it crosswise against her stomach and pointed to the ground as she runs back to the door, cocking the lever as she goes.

Without much thought beyond eliminating the threat, Katherine stands positioned in the doorway, a good fifty to sixty yards from the pens.  Melvin is whistling and hooting, trying to get the enormous cat’s attention.  All the animals are agitated.  The goats and sheep are bleating and the hogs are grunting.  The chicks are fluttering in the coop and clucking like crazy.

“Stay back!” Melvin yells at her.

“Don’t move,” she yells back, raising the butt of the rifle to her shoulder.  She cocks her head and closes her right eye, lining the cat up in her sights.  She’s not in a good position to shoot to kill, but she can definitely incapacitate if she aims right.

She has to do it quick.  The panther is stalking Queenie quietly, not at all threatened by the barking dog.  It’s not close enough to lunge, but it’s getting there.  “God, help me,” Katherine mutters, and then cocks the hammer and squeezes the trigger.  The recoil causes the butt to slam into her shoulder, as anticipated.  She winces, but doesn’t take her eyes off the panther.  It screams seconds after the discharge, baring its teeth as one of its front arms collapses.  She hit it in the shoulder, just as she’d aimed to.

There’s no time to waste.  She reaches up and grabs a cartridge off the belt over her shoulder and shoves it into the ejection port.  It’s cocked and reloaded in under ten seconds, but it feels like eternity.  The panther is now on the defensive, limping backwards and screeching as Queenie barks and takes small lunges towards it.  A frothy and red saliva starts to drip from its mouth.

Katherine keeps the rifle at her shoulder and the panther in her sights as she steps sideways to get behind Queenie.  She prays as she moves that the dog keeps its distance and she prays that the panther doesn’t charge forward with a surge of adrenaline.  Worst case scenario, she shoots the dog before the panther.  Best case scenario, she only has to kill one living creature today.

Queenie snaps viscously at the injured panther and it hisses in response.  As it raises its head and bares its teeth, Katherine fires once more, hitting it in the jugular.  The panther goes down without a whimper.  Queenie is still barking and snapping as Katherine lowers the gun.  She walks to the dog and pulls her back by the scruff to hold her in place.

Melvin comes running.  He’s puffing and sweating by the time he reaches her and grabs hold of Queenie as well as the dog twists and yelps to be set free.  Richard walks to the panther and crouches low over it, inspecting it from all angles.

“Where’s Trevor?” Katherine asks.

“I ain’t seen him.”

“Trevor!” Katherine calls.

“Go on,” Melvin says.  “I got Queenie.”

Katherine stands and scans the pens.  The animals are still agitated, running to and fro and loudly voicing their anxiety.  She spots Trevor crouched low behind the hog trough, trembling.  She sets the rifle up against the fence and climbs over into the hog pen and kneels down beside Trevor.  It’s obvious he’s wet himself and she puts a hand on his back to soothe him.

“It’s alright,” she tells him.  “It’s over.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” he tells her.  His voice is shaking right along with the rest of him.

“You did exactly as you were supposed to do, you kept yourself safe.”

“I saw him come down from that hill back yonder and I tried hollerin’, but nothing came out.  And then Queenie started kicking up a fuss and all I could think was that I got to hide.”

“You did good, Trevor.  Queenie’s worked up, but she’s alright.  Who knows what that panther would’ve done if it had spotted you.”

“You shot ‘em.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

“My father taught me, when I was small.”

“I ain’t ever had a father.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“You wasn’t scared?”

“I was terribly scared.”

“But, you didn’t look scared.”

“I had the advantage of being near to the rifles, knowing they were loaded, and knowing how to shoot.  If I had been in your position, I would have done exactly as you did.”

“My hands don’t want to seem to quit shakin’.”

“That’s alright, it’ll stop soon enough.  Let’s get you up and you run on to the bunkhouse and clean yourself up, alright?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You bring your clothes on over to the laundry basket when you’re done and I’ll get a load done tonight.”

“Sorry to be so much trouble.”

“No trouble at all, sweetheart.”

Katherine helps Trevor stand and keeps a hand on his back.  He’s taller than her by about half a foot, but he seems small in this moment.  He is careful climbing the fence, still weak with fear.  She climbs over after him and takes up the rifle.  The cartridge belt is laying in the dirt.  She hadn’t noticed it had slipped from her shoulder.  She picks that up as well and waits until Trevor has started to weave his way to the bunkhouse to go over to where Melvin and Richard are hovering over the dead panther.

“I put Queenie up in the barn and give her some hamburger,” Melvin says.  “She’ll calm herself in due time.”

“When this story gets told,” Katherine says, trying to sound as serious and authoritative as she can.  “I’d like you to please do me a favor and make it very clear that Trevor was trapped where he was.  I know how boys are and the last thing Trevor needs is to be shamed for being afraid of a panther.”

“I’ll see to it,” Melvin says.

“We best get rid of the carcass before any scavengers come sniffing around,” Richard says.

“I’m going to see about the pie I was fixing.”  She turns to walk away and then stops.  “I take no pride or glory in killing that panther.  I did what had to be done.”

“You done good,” Melvin tells her.  

Katherine nods and returns to the house.  She dusts off the cartridge belt and hangs it back on the nail beside the rifles.  She loads a cartridge into the chamber, leaves it half-cocked, and puts it back in its place.  

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 12 #MSR #AU

[peppersonironi]

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter Three

Wooo! Chapter Two (not including the prologue) is up now for my @dukethomasbigbang fic! Today's art is by @a-sketchy-character and you can find the glorious piece HERE

thx again to my betas @queerbutstillhere & @theycallme-ook

Today has a special thanks to @batgirls-appreciation who dropped out as a beta, but this chapter couldn't exist without her!

Summary:

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave. But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

Read on Ao3

Duke frowned down at his empty pad of paper, trying to brainstorm. It had been a mere twelve hours since the failed Rick Roll (though, the Rick Roll itself wasn’t a fail. Duke would be daydreaming about the chaos for years to come), and the day shift bat was itching for a way to make up for it.

Alas, the creative juices were not flowing that day. Duke had tried everything - taking a walk, training, meditation, writer’s sprint, and even resorting to watching prank compilations on YouTube. But nothing worked. So, he found himself watching the target Bat - Bruce - in his “natural habitat.”

Also known as the living room, mid lecture.

“But I don’t know what I did!” Tim pleaded desperately, trying to convey to Bruce his confusion.

Bruce shook his head. “No, you do, Tim. Dick told me you all will appeal to my affection to get out of the consequences for your actions -” wow, Duke remembered Dick using that exact tactic just yesterday, and it worked - “So I will not allow you to shirk the punishment.”

Tim groaned. “This is tyranny! I’m an emancipated minor, I don’t need to deal with this.”

“Actually, yes you do. You will be doing chores for Alfred for the next two weeks, and you aren’t allowed to run off to Mount Justice.”

“Then at least tell me what I did wrong!” Tim cried, throwing his hands up in the air. Bruce rubbed his temples, then glanced briefly at Duke.

“You know what you did, and how it affected those around you. And you’re grounded because of it. No room for arguments. Now go work on the sprinklers, Alfred has mentioned they’ve been finicky.”

Tim scoffed and stalked out, soon after followed by Bruce.

Duke considered relocating as well - he couldn’t very well observe Bruce if said wild furry wasn’t present. But something about that conversation that sent a light shiver up Duke’s spine, some small spark of inspiration.

An idea began to form in his mind, and Duke smiled slowly.

*****

“For all Bruce’s waxing poetic on the merits of high tech stuff, this pipe organization is seriously ancient,” Duke muttered under his breath as he glanced from the blueprints he had secured to the mess of pipes and spigots and nozzles in front of him.

Though to be fair, this wasn’t the Batcave. Duke was in the basement of Wayne Manor - yes, he was just as surprised to find they actually had one of those that wasn’t dedicated to the dark and mystique training of Gotham’s Protectors. And impromptu Mario Kart challenges, because as Tim had once told Duke “We all know that’s the real reason Bruce got a giant computer setup.”

Duke cursed softly under his breath when he dropped a wrench that began to clang around in the messy cage of metal. He set the blueprints aside atop the gallons of paint he had chosen, and reached around and down to get the wrench. When he came back up, he found himself face to face with his sister Cassandra.

Oh shit, Duke thought, as he tried to figure out how to cover for what he was doing in the plumbing of the Manor.

Cass squinted at him and, not for the first time, Duke felt like he was an onion trapped beneath her gaze, slowly being peeled back layer by layer till the young woman before him knew every little detail about him. Every thought or plan he ever had.

Duke began to sweat, unable to keep his panic under wraps. Cass was scarier than Bruce, that was just a fact.

Cass tilted her head a fraction of an inch, and Duke thought he was a dead man. But, much to his relief and confusion, Cass shrugged and turned. She walked lightheartedly out of the basement and to the stairs, whistling tunelessly as she went.

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave.

But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

*****

As all members of the Wayne family knew, the Library was one of the best places, period. Aside from the living room which was always a mess of pillows, bean bags, inflatable dinosaurs, spare semi-automatic weaponry and knives, the Library was the most personal room in the expansive home that was the Manor. Sure, it was cleaner and home to fewer surprise nerf gun fights, but It still had an air of warmth about it. It was the place that they would go to to rest after a difficult patrol. Where you could find Jason reading some book in a corner, Tim busy with WE work at the large table, Damian trying to teach Alfred the Cat and Titus to read picture books, Cass and Steph trying to be subtle about making out (though to be fair that was only half the time, other times Cass was working on reading with Steph helpfully giving her guidance). Dick would always be trying to decide what to read and but he would never actually succeed, Bruce would sit in his tall armchair in the corner overlooking every small detail of his children with a not-quick-smile-but-pretty-darn-close on his face.

Duke himself also had his own spot that he would work on writing poetry, or just surf Tumblr. It was a window seat at the far side of the library which was technically big enough for three people, but Duke had a strict policy that it was his and his alone and no he totally wasn’t bullied by Cass that one time to snuggle. Why on Earth would you ever consider such a thing?

It was in this spot now that Duke was situated, though he was not alone. Titus - yes, Damian’s dog - was draped across his lap. Now, Duke didn’t mean to steal his little brother’s pets, but it just happened. Titus was in need of snuggles or belly rubs when Damian was away with Jon or on patrol at night, and Duke just happened to be the only one that said canine could bully into granting him.

Thankfully, like all bats were, Duke was a multi-tasker. He wasn’t put off by having to scratch a dog behind the ears whilst simultaneously checking the twelve blinking dots on his laptop screen that represented his family members.

Duke stared intensely at the diagram of the Manor as all the dots slowed down and finally stayed in their predetermined positions. Huh, Tim was right. Stalking family members did pay off!

The dots suddenly stopped blinking, and Duke snapped out of his self congratulations. It was go time . He switched windows, then quickly pulled out his phone and pressed a button.

There were several screams that echoed throughout the ancient halls, those screams spoke of terror and surprise, and passed along the message that something was very, very wrong in the world. The status quo had been broken, and there was no returning from this.

Duke smirked down at his computer, where a dozen different squares displayed camera footage of the real time happenings of the Manor. Said footage was showing several members of Duke’s family drenched in paint. The same paint that Duke had meticulously divided and poured into the ceiling sprinkling system that the Manor had for some totally-not-plot-related reason. The same paint which had been primed and ready to be sprayed out of the spigots coating each bat with the perfectly calculated, even layer.

The paint had just finished being deployed, and yet several people were for some reason trying to fight it off like it was an attacker. Duke noticed that the swinging of bo staffs, AK-47’s and katanas were altogether unsuccessful. Honestly, the people who were standing completely still in shock, or who were trying to shake off the paint were having much better luck.

But then everyone finally realised that they weren’t being sprayed anymore, and a collective sigh spread out across the Manor. The onslaught was done, and they could finally gather together and grab the pitchforks to hunt down the responsible party.

It was then that the glitter was deployed.

The chaos immediately multiplied tenfold, and the screams sounded up again. The air was filled with the sparkly dust that was way too thin to swat away. (No, Duke totally didn’t spend extra time researching to find the world’s finest glitter)

Duke was outright laughing at this point, so hard that he almost fell off the window seat. Titus barked suddenly, and Duke sobered enough to get back upright and watch the finishing up of the chaos. He had to admit, this felt wonderful. If he had to describe his current state of thrill in two words, he would have admitted that he felt altogether too close to the Hellmo Meme.

Unfortunately, Duke was not Stephanie, and ran out of glitter eventually. The vents stopped blasting the film of fairy dust, and the bats were given a reprieve.

Though the break was short lived, as just then, Bruce’s loud bellow sounded throughout the giant house.

“ALL OF YOU GET IN HERE!”

Duke chuckled as he scooched Titus over and set his laptop to the side so he could get up. This was all working perfectly! He’d arrive at Bruce's interrogation completely free from all paint or glitter, which would immediately prove his guilt. And if that didn’t work, then he supposed he could outright confess. But that wasn’t the point of this. The point was for Bruce to come to the conclusion on his own.

He walked down the hall, completely carefree. So happy and confident in his own abilities that he never even noticed that Cassandra’s paint or glitter didn’t go off. That she wasn’t even present where the tracker he had subtly placed on her earlier that day said she was.

*****

Duke hummed to himself as he skipped along the carpet, past the antique vases and random finger paintings, past the drawing rooms and bathrooms, and towards Bruce. All was quiet.

Though that began to trouble Duke, as he got closer to one of the rooms which was very special. It was where Cass had been situated, playing with Selina’s cat Isis, for the past hour. Now, Cassandra was quiet, sure. But not that quiet. And besides, wouldn’t the cat be screeching right about now? Cass didn’t seem like the person to give a nerve hit to an animal just because it was being loud ( cough Jason cough ).

He slowly entered the room and looked around, but was surprised to find it completely empty. Not just of girl and cat, but of paint and glitter too.

“You were mistaken.”

Duke whirled around to find Cass sitting in an armchair, wrapped in shadows, and stroking Isis in a manner not altogether different from that of an Evil Mastermind™.

“Uh…” Duke replied, “about what?”

Cass smirked, and Duke felt a shiver run up his spine. “Actions have consequences. ”

Duke frowned. Wait, what? He glanced around again, trying to figure out what Cass meant. On a surface level he understood, but there was something about the way Cass was eyeing him that told him something else was up.

The only thing he could find that was out of the ordinary, however, was the camera he had placed just yesterday. Huh, now that he thought about it, he was at just the right angle to see it. Which meant he was in direct view of the camera itself. Pretty darn to close to where he had been planning Cass would stand, actually.

Then a faint spitting noise came from above him.

Oh.

*****

Duke trudged forlornly into the room where the rest of the bats - except Cassandra, who had disappeared after the glitter had deployed onto Duke - had gathered. He was one of the last to arrive, muttering curses under his breath, so all eyes were on him as he opened the door and joined them.

Though that also meant that Duke could see them. He had to admit, that as disappointed as he was, it was still hard to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Boy, he had done a great job with color coordination, hadn’t he?

Bruce was front and center, covered in a dark gray paint which had the sheen of yellow glitter. Dick had black paint completely covering him (much more than Duke planned. Did Dick roll in the stuff?) along with blue glitter. Jason had both red paint and glitter on him. Tim had started off with a lighter colored paint - this time red - and then the look was finished by black glitter. Damian looked like a small Christmas tree in his green paint and red glitter. Harper had blue paint then covered in purple glitter, both of which were the exact shades of her hair. Duke wasn’t a monster ; he knew how to match colors.

The cousins - both honorary and actually - had also been present. Bette had been appropriately targeted with a flaming orange and gold combination. Kate had black paint and, instead of red, Duke had picked a rainbow glitter for her. From the slight glint in her eye, Duke supposed he had chosen correctly. Jean-Paul had been doused in yellow paint and red glitter, and he honestly looked like a very large and human shaped version of his sword. Luke was covered in silver paint and an electric blue glitter.

Bruce, however, didn’t give Duke a second glance, covered in yellow paint and black glitter (which had been meant for Cass, but honestly, it fit Duke quite well), though he was.

“Good, now we just have to wait for Steph,” Tim remarked, rolling his eyes.

Duke frowned. “What about Cass? She’s here too.”

Everyone gave Duke a weird look. “Uh, no she isn’t. She’s been hanging out with Selina and Babs all weekend.”

“Then your intel is wrong,” Duke countered. “She was just here! I planned on her being here!”

The silence in the room was palpable. Before, where there had been bickering and accusations, the quiet had taken over. Everyone stared at Duke with suspicion in their eyes.

Finally, Duke thought, sighing in relief.

Bruce opened his mouth about to question Duke’s statement when the doors to the room banged open.

“What’s up, Bitches? The Waffle Queen has arrived and looks as fabulous as ever!”

Duke stared, completely amazed that she actually seemed to like the purple on purple combo Duke had picked for her. Oh, yeah, now that he thought about it made perfect sense that Steph was the only one to like this.

“Wow, whoever did this really got my colors right!" Steph continued as she waltzed in and posed in front of everyone, her hip cocked and arm thrown up dramatically.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, and he began to growl at her. “This is not funny.”

Steph pouted. “What do you mean? I sure think it is!”

Oh boy, she didn’t notice she was digging her own grave, did she? From the looks of the other bats, they shared Duke’s sentiment.

“Stephanie Brown, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Stephanie smirked. “Yup! I look way better than you, you old fur- hey wait! Are you blaming me ?!”

Bruce glared even harder, and Stephanie started to protest, claiming that she was but an innocent victim of these pain-filled proceedings! It was not her fault! Nor was it her fault that she happened to get colors that she liked better than everyone else.

Bruce refused to hear what she said, and told her to go get changed. “You will be cleaning up this whole mess, and no patrolling until it’s done.”

Bruce turned and stalked out, and Steph was left speechless - for once - in the hall. She backed away, seeing the angry stares from the others. The only one who didn’t seem mad at her, was Duke himself. He opened his eyes wide, conveying pity. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed silently.

Instead of being reassuring, however, Steph squinted in suspicion. Oh shit, that probably hadn’t been the best move.

Just moments after Steph left, Jason threw up his hands. “Okay, who wants to have a water gun fight to clean off?”

There were several cheers of assent, but Duke quickly made his own escape at that time. He honestly wasn’t in the mood to get splashed in the face with water. Now was not the time for fun, as the failed prank still hung over him.

Now was the time for plotting.

*****

“Okay, but why on earth do you have a fully functioning sprinkler system in every room?”

“Yeah, Bruce, even for you that’s paranoid! What caused you to think that was necessary?”

“You.”

#duke thomas #duke thomas big bang #batfam #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #dtbb21 #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #kate kane #jean paul valley #luke fox #bette kane

[mimicteruyo]

The Little Teahouse Around the Corner

[Touhou Ship Week Day 7: Free day. KomaEiki + AkyuSuzu, 2.7k, crack/fluff]

---

If described very charitably, the construction before Eiki and Komachi could have been called a teahouse, exactly as the bamboo plank above the entrance claimed it was. More accurately, it was simply a large tent lit with red lanterns, standing conspicuously close to the Human Village.

"At least it's open?" Komachi eyed the obviously wet paint on the sign, then peered within. "I figured that at this hour, we'd have a choice between grilled lamprey and nothing this close to the village."

"Indeed." Eiki followed Komachi's example. There were certainly plenty of people within, each with a beverage in front of them, but the overall mood in the tent was quietly puzzled. Besides chairs and tables, there was also what looked bafflingly like an oden cart. "Something about this seems wrong."

"No worries, Sis! It ain't anything weird! We're runnin' a perfectly nice temp teahouse!"

They straightened up in unison. The speaker was a calico cat perched on a stool just barely to the side of the tent's entrance, grinning at them. "Lookin' for a cosy place to chat? We've got ya covered!"

Komachi grinned back. "Mike Goutokuji, right? Don't tell me this is your shop."

"It ain't. I'm just workin' here for a bit." Mike's tail swayed gently from side to side as she talked, its many-coloured fur catching the light of the lanterns. "I'm a barker! Which I know sounds really weird since I'm a cat an' all, but I can do the job. For a few days, anyway. Steady work doin' the same thing over an' over again ain't really my thing."

Komachi chuckled. "I know that feel— er."

Eiki chose to ignore the aborted remark. In any case, Mike's plans made it sound as though she was doing precisely what she supposed to do. Losing interest in things and loafing around were some of the chief goals in a cat's life, after all.

"Anyway," Mike curled up her palm. She beckoned three times. "Welcome to the Juniper Teahouse."

The next moment, Eiki found herself within the tent with no memory of stepping inside.

She halted, blinking in the sudden light. There were half a dozen customers within, humans and youkai alike, nursing teacups and expressions ranging from vexed to serene. Although there were multiple chairs for each table, every single customer was solitary. What had looked like an oden cart from the outside was precisely that; no-one appeared to man it, although the occasional bang and tuneful whistle from within it told her that someone was indeed there, just beyond sight.

"Komachi," she began, more puzzled than troubled even as she clutched the Rod of Remorse closer to her chest. "We should keep our eyes—"

It was at that moment that she became aware of a distinct lack of Komachi by her side. Only Mike was there, waving her legs in the air and looking very pleased with herself.

Eiki spun around. "Komachi?"

No answer. No sight of Komachi, either.

Standing by the entrance feeling foolish wasn't going to do anyone much good. Ignoring the slow blink Mike was giving her, Eiki stepped back outside.

And collided with an invisible barrier with enough force to momentarily bounce her off her feet. She staggered back in surprise.

Mike gave her an apologetic wince. "Sorry, Sis." Her tail swished low as Eiki studied her forehead for bumps. "After I've invited ya in, ya've gotta stay a while."

"Is this your ability?" Eiki prodded at the barrier with the Rod of Remorse. It proved as solid and unyielding as a ten-foot block of ice. "What happened to Komachi?"

"She'll be fine," said a familiar voice behind Eiki. "At least, she will be according to what Mike told me. You'll be a better judge of whether it's true or not."

Eiki turned to see a slightly less familiar face smiling at her close to the back of the tent and responded in kind. "I didn't notice you before. May I join you?"

Hieda no Akyuu assented with a nod. She waited for Eiki to take the seat opposite of her before continuing. "I hope you've been well. This present situation expected, of course."

Eiki crossed her hands on the table. "I would say so. The situation in Hell remains both confusing and volatile, but that's to be expected. Has your work progressed well?"

Akyuu took a careful sip from her cup. "It has, thank you. I've kept comfortably busy. And Kosuzu..." Akyuu's smile, which bore a distinct resemblance to that of her previous incarnation, brightened and then immediately dimmed. "I hope you don't mind my saying this, but I expected her to sit where you sit now." Her smile grew more rueful still. "Especially since she's the one who wished to come here."

"Has this establishment..." Eiki gestured at their surroundings and discovered that she couldn't call them that without correcting herself. "...Tent been here for long?"

"It appeared yesterday. As for me, I have been here for ten minutes. Mike informed me that it takes at least an hour for her invitations to be considered fulfilled."

"That's longer than I had hoped." Eiki frowned at the innocuous-looking exit and Mike, who was currently occupied with a moth circling the lantern nearest to the entrance before turning her attention back to Akyuu. "Can you tell me precisely what's going on in this place?"

"I can explain that!" a muddled but cheery voice called from the bottom of the oden cart.

---

Komachi had walked merrily along for several minutes, taking in the twilight air and seeing if she could get her breath to fog up in the lingering cold from the past winter, when she realised she had at no point decided to take an evening stroll. Moreover, she was now alone, something which was the exact opposite of her plans for the night.

She halted in the middle of the path and turned to look over her shoulder. The greenness of the teahouse tent blended into the evening behind her, but she could still see it when she squinted. Distance of course meant little to her: she could be back there nearly as soon as she decided upon it.

But first, it was best to figure what had happened. It was likely nothing serious: the situation had the feel of a fairy prank to it. Still, the fact that she couldn't actually remember what had passed rubbed her the wrong way.

"Alright..." She adjusted her scythe to rest more comfortably on her shoulder. "What happened here?"

So, there was the weird teahouse, and Mike, who did strike Komachi as bit of a prankster, but who had seemed earnest enough inviting them in. Had Mike addressed her invitation to Lady Eiki alone? No, Komachi was sure it had been extended to them both.

She recalled her only previous encounter with Mike, on a lazy afternoon not that long ago when she had wandered into Gensokyo and struck up a conversation with the cat upon meeting her on the road. Mike had mentioned arriving in Gensokyo not that long ago, having only recently left behind the temple she had been born at, and that due to circumstances she had done so before she had completed her training as a maneki—

"Damn."

At the moment of realisation, Komachi became aware of of running footsteps rapidly approaching her, just in time not to be entirely surprised by someone small but fast-moving crashing into her.

"Ow!" The person who had collided with her tottered back, holding a hand to her nose. Even in the dying light and with half her face covered, she was obviously Kosuzu Motoori. "I'm sorry! I just..."

Kosuzu trailed off. Her eyes travelled first up to Komachi's face, then to the blade of her scythe. She took a startled step back.

Komachi grinned. "No need to fret. You're not dying tonight."

Kosuzu relaxed quickly in that quietly alarming way of humans who made of habit of traipsing too close to the border of the mundane and the supernatural. As her shock drained away, it was replaced by an almost mournful expression, so out of place it was almost comical.

"What's the matter?" Komachi almost began walking to see if Kosuzu would follow, but she had a funny feeling it would only result in Kosuzu crashing into her again. "It's not wise for you to run alone on a dark night like this. Did someone refuse to return your favourite book?"

Kosuzu fidgeted with her sleeves. "No, nothing like that." For a moment, she looked hesitant to speak, but once she did, the words spilled out of her in a tumble. "Actually, it's our anniversary today."

"Whose?"

Kosuzu's cheeks flushed pink. "Mine and Akyuu's."

"Really?" Komachi couldn't help but chuckle. "That's a funny coincidence."

"What is?"

"Never mind." Komachi relaxed her stance. "Let's see if I can guess what happened. Since it was your anniversary, you decided to go out to celebrate."

"That's right."

"And you happened upon a new, strange teahouse."

"Exactly!" Kosuzu halted her eager nodding to blink. "How did you know?"

"Because it sounds like we're in the same figurative boat."

"Oh." Kosuzu smiled weakly. "I suppose that's better than a literal boat. Um, I mean..."

Komachi laughed. "That'll be another day." Before Kosuzu could become too unsettled, she nudged her head towards the road behind them. "Come on. Let's go find our dates."

---

"Here you go." Suika Ibuki slammed the teacup onto the table with enough force to make half the liquid within leap into the air. Miraculously, not only were both the table and cup undamaged, but the drink returned into the cup without so much as a single drop spilling. She winked. "I'd say it's on the house, but I'm guessing you'd take that for a bribe."

Eiki took the cup gingerly. Seeing its contents in the air had already made it obvious it was filled with anything but tea, but the scent confirmed it. "Is this sake?"

"Well, yeah."

"The sign outside said you're running a teahouse."

"Yeah, yeah. Is there a law saying you can't serve sake in a teahouse?"

Eiki had to concede the point. "Not in Gensokyo, no."

"See? Try it. It's good." Suika turned towards Akyuu. "Care for a refill?"

As Akyuu murmured a demurral, Eiki took a sip from her drink. It was indeed rather good, but that was beside the real matter at hand. She looked up. "Suika—"

Suika had already left the table. Eiki watched her stalk around the tent, grinning as she went, gathering empty cups and refilling others with seemingly no input from the patrons.

"So where was I?" She returned and cheerfully pulled out the remaining seat for herself. If she was discomfited by any lingering memories of the less than auspicious circumstances during which she had last encountered Eiki, she showed no signs of it, instead beaming with the brightness shared by the very innocent and inveterate liars. "A story of some kind?"

"You were about to explain why we can't leave."

"Yeah, that's right. So this teahouse is just a bit of fun. I'll get going as soon as Reimu finds out I've set up shop this close to the village." Suika grinned. "Actually, I think I'll wait for her to show up. It's more fun that way."

Akyuu offered her a polite smile. Eiki pushed her cup aside. "And then you hired Mike?"

"That's right." Suika took Eiki's cup and downed it in a single long swig before continuing. "Of course, I don't really need her to gather customers. I can use my foregathering ability to bring people over just fine. But it feels more like a proper teahouse with an employee, doesn't it?"

"A floor might have a similar effect," commented Akyuu dryly.

"Anyway, since Mike can only invite one person in at a time, I decided to gather people into the area so that even if only half of them got in we'd still have plenty of customers. It worked really well, too. Until people tried to leave. I tried making the people disperse once they got stuck, obviously, but for some reason it only worked on those who hadn't been invited in at all. I'm guessing our abilities got entangled in some mysterious way."

Eiki nodded. "I see."

"Anyway, you don't have to worry. Everyone gets to leave eventually. Even the person stuck for the longest managed to walk out after two hours."

Akyuu set her cup down. "At least one of us may not have to wait for that long." She raised her voice. "Mike?"

Mike, who was no longer paying attention to the moth and was instead swinging her leg back and forth, jerked her head upwards. "What's up, Sis?"

"Can you step out for a moment?"

"Sure." Mike dove out. "Now what?"

Akyuu stood up and nodded at Suika. "Thank you for your hospitality." She gestured at Eiki to join her at the tent's entrance and waited until they were both there before speaking again. "Mike, can you attempt to invite us outside?"

"Oh, I see." Eiki smiled as she grasped Akyuu's intent. "Even if the invitation can only work on one of us, it still means one of us will be free to go."

"I hope you're the one invited out." Akyuu's smile was thin but sincere. "Unnerving as it is being this close to multiple youkai, I have made my peace with waiting here. After all, by remaining in one place I have better odds of re-uniting with—"

"Akyuu!"

They turned to look outside. Kosuzu hovered right behind Mike, bopping her head around in an effort to see past her. Behind her, calm but still curious, stood Komachi. Upon noticing Eiki, she gave her a cheery little wave.

Akyuu's smile immediately warmed to the point where its brightness was a match to the lanterns. "Everything is fine, Kosuzu. It's only a small supernatural obstacle."

Kosuzu gave a distracted nod, then turned towards Mike, looking almost ready to put hands on the cat. "Please invite us in!"

Mike's eyes darted from Komachi and Kosuzu to Akyuu and Eiki and then back. She frowned. "Kay, how about we try somethin' like this?"

She positioned herself in the tent's entrance, one foot in, one foot out. Before anyone could do anything to stop her, she beckoned with both hands. "Welcome!"

The next thing Eiki knew, she had collided with something unyielding but relatively soft.

"Oof." Komachi staggered back, then reached out to steady Eiki. She grinned. "At this rate I'm going to be qualified to work as a roadblock."

Back on her feet, Eiki looked around. She was outside again, with Komachi's hands on her arms and the tent securely behind. "Who knows how far I would have walked if you hadn't stopped me. Thank you for catching me."

"Did you ever doubt I wouldn't?"

Eiki smiled back at her. "No. I didn't."

They looked back. Within the tent, Kosuzu was clinging to Akyuu's arm, speaking rapidly but too quietly for any discernible words to make it outside the tent. Mike was watching them from her perch, smiling with self-satisfaction.

"Well, that worked out great." Suika came to the entrance, beaming as though Mike's success was hers as well. "Must be fate." She winked. "And don't worry about paying. The drink was on the house after all."

Given that most of the drink remained in the house, Eiki found little cause to complain. "Thank you." She frowned. "Don't invite more people in until you have understood what causes this. Consider—"

"Yeah, sure." Suika made a sweeping wave. "Have a good night!"

She retreated back into the tent. Only Mike remained near the entrance, still pleased with herself.

"That didn't exactly work out, huh?" said Komachi, smiling all the while.

"Yes, I suppose it didn't." Eiki watched Akyuu and Kosuzu retake the table Akyuu had previously occupied, smiling at each other all as though they were the only two people in the world. "But it doesn't seem to have done any harm, either. Should we consider the grilled lamprey stand?"

"Funny. I was just thinking I was in the mood for some fried fish." Komachi let go to adjust her scythe, which had nearly fallen from her shoulder in the collision, then held out her hand. "How about we go see what else fate has in store for us tonight?"

And so they did, continuing down the road together, filled with newfound appreciation for the beauty of spring nights.

#thshipweek #komaeiki #akyusuzu #mimic fics #i'm really burnt out at this point so apologies for the inevitable typos #and any other issues lol #i hope you enjoy the story all the same!

[angstyaches]

Roommate’s Girl

This is a jump back in time for Payton and Autumn, back when she was dating Donnacha! It takes place about a year and a half before the hunger fic/”modern day” (if such a thing even exists in my fics anymore).

It’s very long and disgustingly self-indulgent because, well, it’s my blog and I’ll do what I like. 

CW: stomach ache caused by stress, brief nausea, not much comfort, teasing objectification, brief nude moment (but no details are given), anxiety, having a crush, guilt. Donnacha (sort of) genders Payton by calling them a “dude” (Payton is he/they and is fine with most masculine terms). ALSO, it has a sad/inconclusive ending, but don’t worry, everything works out!

 ___

Over the past week or so, Lucy and Payton had made a habit of play-flirting any time there was a moment of silence between them. Payton walked past while Lucy happened to be sitting at the kitchen table? A wolf whistle. Lucy carried the printer all the way from from the cupboard to the table? Oh, Lucy, you’re ever so strong. Payton had a feeling it would die out pretty soon, but they were enjoying it while it lasted. Their self-esteem had been low lately - for reasons they’d rather not focus on - and joking around with Lucy was starting to have a positive effect.

So when they were standing, dripping wet, in the bathroom without their towel, and heard soft footsteps come through the hallway, Payton thought opportunity had come knocking. Donnacha was not light-footed at all, and Henry always made a point of sighing and huffing the entire way through the flat when he first got home, so that meant the person in the hallway must have been Lucy.

Payton stopped short of rubbing their hands together with devious intent, but then remembered they were alone, with no one watching, so they rubbed them together anyway. They crept across the tiles and cracked open the door slightly, careful to duck behind it in case Lucy caught them at an unfortunate viewing angle.

“Wife?” they called gently through the opening. “Wifey darling, could you and that cute little ass of yours grab my towel from the chair?”

There was a beat of silence that shook Payton’s confidence somewhat. They held their breath for a moment, finally hearing footsteps coming closer to the door. A grin crept across their face, though part of them was wondering why Lucy hadn’t made some snarky response yet.

“Here,” a soft voice said. A voice that was not Lucy’s.

A smooth hand touched Payton’s, just before they felt the rough towel fabric against their palm. Payton yanked it through the gap in the door, feeling the colour drain from their face as quickly as their stomach dropped.

“Autumn?” they croaked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh!” Payton shut the door, heart thumping as they pressed their back against the wood. Their reflection stared back at them from the bathroom mirror, stricken with horror.  “Autumn, I’m – oh my god. I’m so sorry, I thought you were Lucy!”

“No worries, Payton,” Autumn said sincerely from behind the door. “Donnacha’s running late so I let myself in. Sorry to scare you.”

Payton pressed the towel against their face and let out a voiceless scream. They wished the towel would swallow them and then drop to the floor, empty. It took their mind a full ten seconds to calm itself down enough to process Autumn’s apology.

Their lips shook as they parted them to reply, “You – you didn’t...”

It was a little late. There was only silence behind the door. Autumn must have gone back to wherever she’d been when Payton had starting yelling nonsense throughout the flat.

Payton quickly got dry and pulled on the tracksuit pants and t-shirt they’d brought into the bathroom with them. Damn, if they’d known Autumn was going to show up, they would have picked something nicer to wear. They would have planned to do something with their hair. Maybe they had time to stop by their room for a spritz of something that smelled good?

There was a dull thump in the pit of Payton’s stomach, which didn’t so much cut off their train of thought as smash it into oblivion. No, they thought, no, no, no, you’re not supposed to think things like that. Don’t think things like that about Donnacha’s girlfriend.

They scrubbed at their hair in the mirror, trying to introduce some volume while it was dripping wet. The weird feeling in their belly didn’t dissipate, and they rubbed at it gently for a moment before headed for the door.

The smell of coffee and baked goods lingered in the tiny hallway between the bathroom and the kitchen-living room. Payton couldn’t see her yet, but they could feel Autumn’s presence on the other side of the wall as they crept up to the door and laid their head against the doorframe.

She was wearing a dark blue blouse and black pinafore, legs crossed as she read from a well-thumbed script printed on A4 paper and stapled together. She was also sipping on something in a to-go cup. Her eyes flicked up at the movement in the doorway, her cheeks dimpling with a smile.

“Hey, Payton.” Autumn’s voice was quiet and painfully kind, like she’d lowered it to try to coax a cat to come to her. They weren’t exactly close friends, but wasn’t as though the two of them were complete strangers either. They were certainly too close for her smile to be this polite.

“Hi,” Payton mumbled, too nervous to even step into the room, yet knowing it would be weird to duck back out again.

Autumn sat forward on the sofa and scooped up another paper cup that she’d left waiting on the floor by her feet. “I brought donuts and coffee for me and Donnacha, but his latte’s going to be cold by the time he gets here.” She extended the spare cup towards Payton. “You want it?”

No, they thought, no, say no.

But her hazel eyes and freckles were far too endearing, meaning that Payton couldn’t help smiling back at her, despite the nerves and embarrassment.

“I’d love to. It.” What?! Payton rubbed at the still-damp back of their neck. “I’d – I’d love to, um, join you.”

Another tight smile crossed Autumn’s face as Payton took the cup from her and sat at the far end of the couch, putting as much space between them as possible, without making it seem too weird. Hopefully. Then again, couldn’t this already be classified as weird? Payton certainly felt weird, particularly in the pit of their stomach, where it seemed an entire swarm of butterflies had decided to move in.

“Hey, um…” Payton cleared their throat and jabbed a thumb in the direction of the bathroom door. “That – that thing I said before, it was a joke.”

Autumn blinked, giving another flash of that polite, nervous smile.

“Yeah, it’s a – a private joke kind of thing. Lucy’s been teasing me all week, and I thought I’d – I was joking.”

“It’s okay, Payton,” Autumn said, though her cheeks seemed to flush at the subject of the conversation. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

But I do, Payton thought miserably, sinking back into the sofa cushions, because I want you to know I’m not attracted to her.

In place of those words, Payton just mumbled another apology and took a couple of long, focused mouthfuls of the latte. It had cooled to the perfect temperature for gulping down, which was bad news for any insects still trying to flutter about in their belly and muddle up their thoughts. Payton tried to picture them getting drowned and washed away, leaving them in peace.

They inhaled deeply through their nose and focused on eliminating the buzzing nerves, when a whiff of something unusual made them look down at the box of donuts next to Autumn. Could the smell have been from them? It was sweet, but – but it wasn’t just sweet; it was light, and bordered on floral. It smelled like taking a walk after rainfall during early spring. It smelled like waking up with a smile on your face. It smelled like…

Payton gulped when they realised it wasn’t the donuts they were smelling. The butterflies made one last attempt at turning their stomach over as they glanced shyly at Autumn, who was most definitely the source of the beautiful smell. She was already the source of all of the radiance in the room, so why not this too?

No, no, no. This was Autumn. Donnacha’s girlfriend. Everything about this was wrong; indulging these thoughts, these feelings, even for a second, was wrong.

Payton sank further into the sofa curtains, staring past the paper cup they were holding in their lap. Their stomach was beginning to ache, no longer full of butterflies, but full of stone-cold guilt.

“No work today?” Autumn asked lightly.

“I – no. No – no rehearsals?” Payton asked, nodding to the script in her lap. They wished they could think of the name of the play she was currently part of, but their brain seemed to have slowed down to a crawling pace.

“Not until this afternoon.” Autumn ran a hand over her hair and glanced down at the paper. “God, you know, I’m really nervous about this one. I’ve got so many long lines. I need all the practice I can get.”

Payton could barely sit still, both from the discomfort in their stomach and the frustration of seeing Autumn’s confidence deflate. Had Payton done that? Had they reminded her of something she’d been trying not to think about?

“I’ll listen to you practice, if you want.”

Autumn’s eyes widened. “Wait, really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Love to.” Payton felt a little breathless as Autumn leaned over to put her coffee cup away and settled into a more comfortable position on the couch. They quickly relaxed just as Autumn did, watching her melt away into the role even as she sat here in the living room on a dull Saturday morning. She could have gone on for hours, and Payton could have just watched her lips forming the words.

She stopped after a while, and Payton snapped out of it, butterflies making a momentary comeback at the soft, watchful way she was looking at them.

“What?” they half-laughed.

“You’re so good,” she said.

Payton blinked, and the fluttery feeling intensified. They barely managed to find their voice. “At – at listening and being quiet?”

“Oh – well, yes.” Autumn rolled her eyes and laughed. “But what I meant was that it’s really nice of you to help me out.”

“No, really, I – I enjoy listening to you. You’re incredible.” Reddening at their own words, Payton rubbed a hand across their own stomach, subconsciously working at the achy spot that had, for a moment, been filled with warmth and excitement. “And, I mean, I had to make it up to you, after mixing you up with Lucy earlier.”

“Hey! We moved past that, remember?” Autumn laughed, tugging at the end of her skirt. “I probably shouldn’t be letting myself in when Donnacha isn’t here, anyway. It’s kind of weird, I suppose.”

Payton shifted, turning onto their side to face her a little more. “Um… no, you don’t have to feel bad about letting yourself in. I’m just an idiot and didn’t think.”

Autumn laughed and reached across to smack Payton’s knee. She did it so gently too, as though she was somehow afraid of hurting them with the playful gesture. Payton wanted to grab hold of her hand before it could slip away across the sofa again.

“You’re not an idiot, okay?” she said. “So stop that.”

Yeah, please stop it, they pleaded with themselves, leaning over to rest their latte on the floor. Their stomach was hurting too much to keep drinking it. They were starting to feel hot too, impossibly uncomfortable and nervous. As they leaned into the sofa cushions again, they held their forehead in their hands for a moment. This was so, so bad.

Autumn was undoing the lid of the donut box, distracted long enough not to notice Payton cradling their head. “You want first pick, before Donnacha gets here?”

Payton sighed weakly, barely hearing the question as they shifted yet again, so that one leg was slightly curled across the sofa and the side of the head was nuzzled against the cushions. They slipped one arm around themself, subtly trying to cradle their stomach.

Autumn looked up from peering at the donuts, holding the box closer to Payton. A whole host of smells overpowered the soft, warming Autumn smell, and the flurry of colours made Payton’s vision blur a little. There was a vague hollow pang that reminded them that they hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, and that they should be hungry, but the feeling just didn’t stick.

“Cookies-and-cream is your favourite, right?” Autumn asked, pointing to the single cream-frosted, cookie-crumb adorned donut in the corner of the box.

She was right, and the fact – and everything else – made Payton ache all over. They shook their head at the box, heart sinking as Autumn took it back with a sagging expression.

“You were right, that is my favourite. Sorry,” Payton said weakly, gaze dropping to the sofa cushion that marked out the space between their bodies, which wasn’t all that much. “I’m just not hungry right now.”

Autumn closed the box and stowed it next to her feet, her attention snagged by the drop in Payton’s voice. “Are you okay?”

Resolve weakened all too easily by her concerned eyes and gentle voice, Payton tried to smile but ended up curling their lip in discomfort. Amidst a mixture of the pain, and a fresh wave of tearfulness, their voice came out sounding small, and a little bit like a pout.

“I’ve just got, like, a stomach ache.”

Autumn’s eyes dropped down towards Payton’s waist, where their arms were folded loosely around their belly. “Oh. I’m sorry, I – I wouldn’t have kept you here listening to me, if I’d known you weren’t feeling well…”

“No, no, it’s okay, it started after I first sat down,” Payton said quickly, more and more heat building in his neck. They nodded towards their paper cup on the floor. “Maybe the milk was bad or something.”

“I drank it too though, and I feel fine.” Autumn’s gentle features were clenched in worry as she leaned forward, grasping for the cup that Payton had abandoned. “Are you lactose intolerant or anything?”

“Mmm, I don’t really know,” Payton mumbled, though they knew for sure that they weren’t. With all of the cheese-drenched pasta and flat whites they consumed weekly, they’d have figured it out by now if they were intolerant to dairy.

Autumn sniffed at the contents of Payton’s cup, frowned inconclusively, and placed it next to her own empty one.

Payton parted their lips to say something reassuring – they weren’t quite sure what yet – but closed them again when Autumn’s hand returned to their side of the sofa, rubbing gently against the outside of their arm. The motion made Payton’s hair lift, starting with where she was touching and then sweeping over their entire body.

“Can I do anything to help?” Autumn asked, and Payton wondered if there was something deeper than just sympathy in her hazel-green eyes as she waited for an answer.

Hold me and don’t let go?

“I’ll be fine,” they grimaced, not sure if they were trying to convince Autumn or themself. There was a twist of jealousy and guilt and sadness in their gut that made them wriggle in their seat again, part of them hoping Autumn’s hand would be shaken off in the process. They couldn’t quite bring themself to ask her to stop touching them, because it felt good, but it also felt intimate, and they wanted to lean into it, lean into her, let her make everything better –

A low groan made Payton shift a hand over the middle of their stomach. The clenched organ rolled around, churning the milky coffee and making their mouth water with nausea for a moment, before everything settled with yet another gurgle. They gingerly rubbed their tummy back and forth, hyper-aware of Autumn’s eyes watching them do it.

“I’m going to feel so bad if I’ve poisoned you,” she said, half-laughing even though the sound was forced and brittle. She was already feeling bad; that much was clear. It was probably why she was being so nice, why it felt as though she cared so much.

Payton knew the smart thing to do was to bite their tongue and leave things as they were, but the words were on the tip of their tongue and their heart felt so lonely, holding onto words that only it knew to be true.

“A-actually, Autumn, I – I’ve been feeling…”

The click of the front door and the jangling of keys falling into the bowl made Payton’s heart seize up and their insides quiver. Autumn felt the urgency too, and seemed to remember where she was and what she was doing. She sank back a little, towards the opposite side of the couch, hand slipping off Payton’s arm.

“Hey!” Donnacha called out, poking his head around the door and kicking off his runners in the hallway. “Finally made it. Sorry about that.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Autumn ran her hand over her hair as she observed her boyfriend. “How was practice?”

“Great, but I’m really fucking sore.” Donnacha rolled his neck as he came into the living area. “I think only donuts and cuddles can cure me at this rate.”

Autumn giggled as Donnacha sank down on the couch between her and Payton, leaning his weight into her as she curled her arms around him. Donnacha hummed in response and turned his head to place a quiet kiss on her forehead. Payton knew they shouldn’t be watching this intently, both because it was weird and it hurt. Autumn was Donnacha’s girlfriend, had always been his girlfriend for as long as Payton knew her, so why was seeing them casually show each other affection so fucking painful now? The way her eyes closed when he kissed her was beautiful, yet to Payton, it felt like a punch to an already-aching gut.

Payton blinked and looked away as Donnacha looked at them, shifting into a more relaxed position where just one of Autumn’s arms was looped around him.

“Everything okay, P?” Donnacha asked.

“Yep,” Payton chirped.

Autumn threw them a confused look before turning to Donnacha again. “Actually, Payton’s not really feeling well. We just had lattes, so we were wondering if they’re lactose intolerant.”

“What?” The look on Donnacha’s face made Payton’s heart drop, letting them know that they were about to get hung out to dry. “Come on, haven’t you seen this dude destroy a quattro-cheese pizza? If Payton had lactose intolerance, they’d have died on a toilet somewhere a long time ago.”

“Thanks, man,” Payton sighed, absentmindedly running their fingers back and forth across their stomach as it was hit with a deep, dull ache.

“Huh, okay,” Autumn said, skimming over the toilet comment, much to Payton’s relief. “Well, I hope it’s not a bug or something like that.”

“Yeah, hope not.” Now that Donnacha had cracked his joke, he leaned forward on his knees, peering at Payton with something closer to concern than teasing. Payton’s skin crawled under the scrutiny, the sympathy they definitely didn’t deserve. Would he be looking at them that way if he knew what had been going through Payton’s mind just a few minutes ago?

“Hey, is something bothering you?” Donnacha asked. “Is it like that time when you were interviewing for jobs?”

Donnacha nodded towards the bedrooms, frowning a little harder as his eyes saddened. Autumn tilted her head and sat forward too, watching Donnacha with curiosity.

“You were curled up on your bed all day, remember? You said you were feeling sick to your stomach over the interviews,” Donnacha went on, though for the sake of Payton’s memory or Autumn’s ignorance, who could tell? “We didn’t know you very well then, but me and Henry were worried about you.”

“You were? You… god, you remember that?” Payton felt the guilt writhing a little deeper in their belly. Tears pricked the backs of their eyes, tears that hopefully wouldn’t fall until they were alone. Or not at all, if it could be helped. Why, why did Donnacha have to be such a nice person on top of everything else? Why did he have to be a sweet boyfriend and a thoughtful friend?

“Oh. Payton,” Autumn sighed, looking up at them with so much sympathy it almost made them break. “If something’s bothering you, you can always talk to us. You know that, right?”

Us. Meaning me and Donnacha. Donnacha and I. The happy, beautiful couple, of which Payton was not a part.

Payton couldn’t contain the whimper that escaped from deep in their chest. They leaned forward on their knees and rubbed their hands against their face. It was like having an out-of-body experience, seeing themself having this dramatic reaction through another pair of eyes. The panic was making them feel reckless, irrational, stifled.

“Hey,” Donnacha said, and Payton felt his hand on their shoulder. “P, what is it?”

“I can’t.” Payton flinched at the sharpness in their own voice, which made Donnacha take his hand back. Payton stood up from the couch, just about managing to hold in a wince as their stomach muscles cramped from the sudden movement.

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t talk about it with you guys.” Cold sweat tingled all along Payton’s hairline as they heard the words you guys emphasised in their own sentence. They cleared their throat. “I mean, I – I can’t talk about it. It’s…”

On the couch, Autumn laid the side of her head against Donnacha’s shoulder as she peered up at Payton, that same emotion lingering in her eyes again. The emotion was probably just sympathy, but it seemed like so much more, if you were looking for it. And although they hated themself for doing so, Payton was looking for more.

Payton swallowed, shuddering at a queasy roll in their stomach, and pushed themself up from the sofa. Their hand hovered over their gut as they tried to bury the panic. “I’ll be fine, I’m – I’m sorting it out. You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

Donnacha sighed lightly. “You sure?”

Payton nodded, allowing their hand to press a little harder against the ache in their belly, palm working gently at the tightness. They felt absolutely awful. “Um, I think I’m gonna go lie down. See if that helps…”

They didn’t see how Autumn or Donnacha reacted to that, because they lowered their gaze and walked to the hallway like that. It probably looked rude and weird, but seeing the closeness between the two of them just hurt too much, and Payton was already on the verge of breaking down. Or maybe throwing up. They didn’t want to find out which.

“Payton,” a soft voice said just before Payton got to their bedroom door.

They turned and breathed in the smell of Autumn’s hair just before she wrapped them in a hug, her arms looping around their waist. The two of them had only ever hugged once before, when Donnacha had first introduced them, and neither had known what to do or say. This felt very different though. Payton could tell they were being hugged by Autumn on purpose, and they quite liked how that felt.

Payton rested their chin against her shoulder and hugged her back. Their stomachs pressed together as they embraced, and the knots in Payton’s loosened and tightened again repeatedly, torn between relief and longing.

“Let us know if you need anything, okay?” Autumn whispered, and the longing won out at another mention of us, of Autumn and Donnacha as a unit.

“Thanks,” Payton choked out, pulling away from her with a swirl of nausea.

She gave a sad smile before turning back towards the living area, her swishy, shoulder-length brown hair disappearing from view. Payton blew out a deep breath they hadn’t realised they’d been holding, and slinked into their bedroom.

The bed was still unmade from last night, so they crawled back in with minimum effort, flipping onto their back and working a hand in slow circles over their stomach. Now that they were alone in silence, they could hear their own belly quietly gurgling and rumbling away, protesting all the tension. Payton closed their eyes as they filled with bitter tears, hoping to fall asleep before overhearing any voices or movement from the living room.

#lucyverse #stomach ache fic #stomach ache #stress #stress stomach ache #angst #pining #crush #stomach kink #no emeto fic #OC Payton #Autumn #Donnacha

[kaiwritess]

Hi! Can I request a scenario where Oikawa’s ex which he left for volleyball then became a volleyball prodigy (Top one of the aces of Japan for Women’s volleyball) also who which he still loves, came to Seijoh for a practice match against their girls volleyball team whose ace is Oikawa’s current “fling” and won. During the game, Toru didn’t realize that his attention wasn’t on his “fling” but it’s on his ex making his “fling” jealous. Sorry if its random and weird, I LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW!

hi nonnie!! this is an awesome request. hopefully you dont mind, but i changed it up a bit. like instead of it being a practice match, it’s the finals of the spring tournament. thought it would give some more tension, ykwim? also, let’s pretend that y/n is a member of fukurodani. also, i wrote this so that oikawa BELIEVED y/n was trying to make him jealous, but in reality, y/n was only doing it for herself and her teammates. Y/n moved on from oikawa, and she learned her worth. She became a QUEEN (not that she wasn’t before)

Your Loss || Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You’re versing Aoba Johsai’s team for the finals. But. did you really get over your ex?

Warnings: none; just a sprinkle of angst in the end

“Volleyball is my priority. You’re not.”

That was the last thing Oikawa said to you months ago before he left. You remember those words as if it happened yesterday. In the beginning, you were obviously heartbroken. Was the time you spent with him only one-sided? Did he ever love me?

All of those questions used to cloud your mind. It had even distracted you from the sport you love. Fortunately, you had a strong support system. Your friends were there for you. They got you through a difficult time.

Albert Einstein once said, “In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.” Who knew that the pent up anger and frustration led you to become the second-best ace in Japan? Not only that, but you were the team captain. Now here you are, standing on the volleyball court, waiting to verse your ex’s school. This was the first time since your breakup that you were going to compete against Aoba Johsai. 

“Hey, Y/N,” a familiar voice snapped you out of your train of thought.

You smile after seeing who the voice belonged to. “Oh hey, Akaashi. Glad you could cheer us on. We all really appreciate the school spirit,” you said, motioning to the crowded bleachers.

“It’s nothing, really. Bokuto is already riling up the crowd,” he chuckled. “You know how he can be.”

Laughing alongside him, you heard your coach yell for a team huddle.

“Guess I have to go now. Wish me luck.”

Before you could walk away, you felt Akaashi’s hand grab your arm. You turned to him with wide eyes. “Oh?”

Akaashi took a deep breath. “I feel like you should know this. You know #4 on the opposite team? I think she’s their ace and captain. Anyways, Oikawa’s having a fling with her, so I think he might be coming to cheer her on. Don’t let him and #4 get to you. Good luck, Y/N.”

You stood there frozen in shock. A wave of emotions came crashing down on you. Questions like How long have they been together? Does Oikawa really like her?, and What happened to volleyball being his priority? clouded your mine. Great. Now your nerves got ten times worse.

“Thanks for telling me, “ you almost sounded sarcastic. “I have to go now. Enjoy the game.” Akaashi watched you walk towards your team. He gulped. This was either the best or worst mistake he ever made.

You didn’t listen to what the coaches were saying in the team huddle. The only thing on your mind was your goal to defeat Aoba Johsai. Demolish them to the point where the audience pities them. The team noticed your odd silence but were too nervous to say anything about it. Usually, you were the one who got the team hyped. So when they saw how quiet their captain was, it made them concerned. Ignoring all the stares, you walked up to the referee, ready to see who serves first. Most importantly, you were ready to face #4.

A brunette was walking towards you with the jersey saying #4. 

“Let’s have a good game,” you heard the ref say.

You clenched your jaw as you shook her hand. #4 leaned closer to you, only to whisper, 

“Heard you were Oikawa’s ex. He’s up on the left side of the stands cheering for me. Sucks that you're missing out on all the cute cheers he made for Aoba Johsai.”

By now, veins were popping out of your neck. Your face was bright red and you shook her hand as tight as you could.

“Let’s have a good game,” you said, dropping her hand while smiling passive-aggressively.

---

Set 1: Aoba Johsai- 20, Fukurodani- 25.

Set 2: 25 || 23

Set 3: 27 || 25

Set 4: 17 || 25

Set 5: 23 || 24

--

It was the match point of the last set. Your coach had called a time out as a way to let the team regain some of their energy. Everyone reached their physical limits. Now, it was only a battle of mental strength. You looked back to your teammates and saw them panting and crouching down. Sweat dropped from your forehead and trickled down to your neck. Surprisingly, you didn’t hear or see Oikawa even once during the match. Though, you never got the chance to even look at the crowd. There were far too many people. Perhaps #4 was lying about him showing up? No, that couldn’t be. It was the finals. Oikawa would never miss this. Your eyes trailed up to the stands, scanning for a face that was remotely similar to his. 

“No, no, no, no.” you shook your head. “We are not doing this. Come on. We have a game to win,” you scolded yourself. With one last, desperate look at the crowd, your jaw dropped. 

There he was, talking to who it seems to be Iwaizumi. 

He was staring directly at you.

“Oh my gosh,” the whistle blew, signaling the end of time out. “Curiosity did kill the cat.”

It was your turn to serve. The ball was thrown towards you, and you almost let it slip out of your hands. Your palms felt more sweaty than usual.

“Nice serve!” a teammate called out.

Taking a deep breath, you began to do your pre-serving routine. Once the whistle blew again, you got ready to serve. Right when you were about to hit the ball, a voice was heard.

“LET’S GO Y/N!!”

It threw you off so much, to the point where the ball hit the net. You turned your head around, trying to find the source of the cheer.

It was him.

It was Oikawa Tooru.

Turning back, you looked to see who was serving next.

Oh boy. It was #4.

To be honest, you were quite impressed by her serves. Although they weren’t as exact and deadly as Oikawa’s, it was still very good. It was almost as if he taught her.

If it weren’t for your teammate calling #4’s serve out, you surely would have tried to receive it. Thank goodness you didn’t. The score was now 24 || 25. Fukurodani was at match point again. 

“Nice serve! Let’s make it count!!” you yelled back at the teammate who was serving.

The serve was so strong, that even though Seijou received it, it went over to Fukurodani’s side, making it a free ball. This was your chance.

“Chance ball!” the libero announced.

“GIVE IT TO ME!” you called out as loud as you could.

It was as if time began to slow down. The loud cheers were muted. The pass was perfect. The set was perfect. Everything was perfect.

The next few moments went by faster than the speed of sound. Was it because you were in the ‘zone’? The impact of the ball left a red mark on your hand. You found yourself being hugged and jumped on by your teammates.

We won.

--

After packing all your gear, you began to walk out of the gym. A gold medal hung proudly from your neck. But before you could walk out, you saw #4 and Oikawa arguing with each other. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was about, but it surely wasn’t good. #4 turned to you and made dead eye contact. She walked towards you, and Oikawa was still standing there with his arms crossed.

“Good game. I underestimated you,” she held her hand out for you to shake.

“I guess you learned a lesson to never underestimate your opponents,” you shook her hand.

“I will beat you next time,” a small grin could be seen on both of your faces. “Oh, and by the way, you see Oikawa over there? Trust me when I say this, but he is not over you.”

The grin disappeared from your face. #4 walked away, leaving him and you standing awkwardly close to each other. 

You were going to walk away from him, but before you could do so, he called out for you.

“Y/N,” he looked more nervous than usual.

“If I were you, I would be going back to #4.”

He sighed. “She and I are done.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” you raised an eyebrow.

Oikawa’s face turned red. “Look. I just wanted to tell you something.”

“I’m all ears.”

“You played great. You surely got my attention towards you,” he smirked.

“Excuse me?”

“You played this hard to get me jealous… right?”

“You’re joking,” you scoffed.

Realizing the mistake Oikawa made, he tried to recover.

“Anyways, that’s beside the point. The point is, I was wondering if you would want to go to the local cafe together? Maybe catch up on some stuff,”

You looked at him, appalled by the words he said.

“You’re joking, right?”

“...no?”

“You don’t know how much you hurt me, Oikawa. If you did, then you wouldn’t be approaching me like this. Maybe uh, I don’t know, give me an apology?”

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry Oikawa. I really am. But volleyball is my priority. You’re not.”

After finishing your sentence, you pushed past him, walking towards the exit. You weren’t going to let someone who hurt you try to get with you again. You learned from your past mistakes.

Oikawa watched you walk away in shock.

You’re the one that got away.

Thanks for reading!

-Kai

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu blog #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu drabbles #incorrect haikyuu quotes #haikyuu blurbs #aoba johsai #seijou #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa toru #oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa tōru #oikawa scenarios #oikawa headcanons #oikawa blurbs #oikawa imagines #oikawa tooru imagines #oikawa tooru scenarios #oikawa tooru blurbs #oikawa toru imagines #oikawa toru scenarios #oikawa toru blurbs

[romewritingshop]

Say you won’t let go

Fandom: Choices, Perfect Match

Relationship: Damien Nazario X F!MC (Name: Peach Park)

Warnings: Slight talk of smut, fluff, vomit, graphic death, alcohol drinking

Word Count Total: 2797

A/N: I’ve been in an emotional mood and so I was listening to Markiplier’s cover of ‘Say you won’t let go’. The song makes me so emotional and I thought Damien and Peach needed it. So I wrote this fic and posted it. I’d recommend listening to the instrumental or the lyrical version while reading. Instead of posting a sneak peek, I thought I could post the whole fic so here it is.

Markiplier Cover - Say you won’t let go

Instrumental Say you won’t let go

CHOICES MASTERLIST

Tagged: @ravenpuff02​ @ephemeralsunsets​

A low jazz voice hummed in the air of his office as Damien examined the evidence for his current case. This stalker was impressive in covering their tracks and Damien was struggling to connect the strings of graphic art and threatening love letters. His office was strewn with red tape and papers, almost as if his evidence board had come to life. Nadia Park’s case was proving to be his biggest challenge yet. He ran his hand through his hair and stood away from his desk, trying to see the case from a different angle.

A knock rang on the door as Damien grunted and opened the door, only to see the familiar dark hair that faded into light curls. The person turned to Damien and he held his breath in his neck. It was his client’s cousin, Peach Park, dressed in a fitted light pink button shirt that seemed to make her stature taller than she actually was. Accompanied with a bright orange pleated skirt that made her legs glow. She certainly looked amazing and different, she was usually dressed down in a t-shirt and jeans or a denim dress.

It was a welcome change and Damien gave a brisk nod to let Peach in. He assumed she wanted to see the progress of his case and he had no qualms about it. The client has a right after all, he glanced back through the door and noticed Nadia Park wasn’t there. He furrowed his eyebrows and turned between Peach and the empty hallway. Damien closed the door and took in Peach and realised that her face had more of a shine as usual. He felt a little hot under the collar but the window was closed. He had never been alone with Peach and no matter how many times he thought about it, he hadn’t believed it would happen. Until now that is.

“Hello Miss Park, what brings you to my office tonight?”

Deep down he hoped she came for him but a man can only dream. Remaining professional with her helped dampen his desire and need to know her more.

“How many times have I told you to call me Peach? If you don’t call me Peach, then I’ll start calling you, Mr. Nazario.”

As much as Damien would love to be called that, it also reminded him of how much older he was as he rubbed the back of his neck. He could never get over saying her name, he’d often repeat it to himself in the dead of night. He could never understand the power she had over him as he gave her a small smile.

“Sorry, Peach.”

“That’s better.”

“So do you want the run-down for what I’ve got so far?”

Damien went around her to grab a list of potential suspects when he felt her hand on his wrist. Damien almost audibly gasped at her sudden contact as he took in her slim fingers around his wrist.

“Actually Damien, I’m here for something else.”

Damien felt his heart rate increase steadily as his brain ran through different scenarios, some good but mostly bad. She probably doesn’t want Damien on the case anymore; she found out about Beitan; she doesn’t need him anymore. He must have gotten lost in his head as he felt a shake against his wrist. Damien escaped his mental hell to see Peach in front of him, a soft comforting smile. Her eyes were a cave full of life and wonders and Damien could feel himself getting lost in them.

“I wanted to ask if you were free to have a drink with me?”

Damien blinked as he slowly took in her words. A drink? With him? Was he dreaming? He hoped not as he repeated the words.

“A drink?”

A soft laugh came out as Peach smiled.

“Yes, a drink.”

He wasn’t meant to say that aloud as he felt his cheeks and ears heat up at her words. She had the softest sweetest laugh that reminded Damien of wind chimes blowing in the wind. He never felt like this with Alana and it really riled him up in the core of his soul. She took her wrist away to straighten her skirt and Damien was close to begging her to bring her touch back but he held back. It wouldn’t seem professional as she went on.

“You’ve been working so hard for my cousin, I thought I’d offer you a drink as a way to say thanks. And to probably give you a break from looking at photos all day.” His heart warmed at the fact that she was concerned for him. It was a redeeming quality of hers as she gave him one of her sweet smiles. “It’s on me the drink.”

Damien would’ve gladly given her his soul, even before she asked. Damien smiled and took Peach up on her offer, grabbing his jacket and keys and locking his office door.

Several hours later, Damien and Peach swayed from side to side, trudging up the steps to her apartment. The both of them giggling about the moving wallpaper and the rainbow cats. Damien could not remember anything as Peach reached into her clutch, pulling out her apartment key. She missed the keyhole three times and only managed to get it in with Damien’s help, They pushed the door open and stumbled in, Peach blindly tapped the walls for the switch. With pure luck she found them as she turned to Damien with a finger to her lips.

“Sh! You’re going to wake up Nadia!”

“Nadia doesn’t live with you!”

“I know! You’re going to wake her up!”

“Okay.”

The both of them wobbled against each other and just about reached the living room, Damien plopped himself on the sofa and Peach followed, falling face first onto Damien’s lap.

“Ah! My cojones!”

“What’s that?”

“My drawers!”

They giggled at the word and took a moment to breath. There was a comfortable silence as Damien ran his hands through her hair. It was coarse but she purred at the slow contact, he smiled in his drunken haze. It has been a while since he was in such a happy state as he glanced down at her but Peach had a slight grimace on her face. Her stomach grumbled as she pushed herself up to face him.

“I’m gonna vomit.”

Damien registered the word vomit and slowly got up, helping her stand and taking her to the bathroom. He could feel the alcohol muddling his brain as he just about opened the bathroom door. She dropped away from him and brought her face close to the toilet seat. Sounds of bile splashed against the water as Damien dropped to his knees beside her and grabbed her hair into a pony, with one hand. The other rubbed her back in an upwards motion to help her get the vomit out and Damien watched her hair. 

He had seen worse things in his life but he’d take the sight of her vomiting over anything else. He cooed at her softly and once the groans of pain lowered, he grabbed some toilet roll for Peach to clean her mouth. After emptying her stomach, Peach took the tissue to clean her face and lifted her head to look back at Damien. He felt all the alcohol in his system flush as she threw him a loving smile that he felt she only gave to intimate lovers. She murmured a soft thank you that had Damien heart pump harder, she was sitting back and she brought her head close to his sternum. Damien placed a tentative hand on her arm as he hummed at the close contact. He shouldn’t take advantage of her like this but he wanted to indulge in his deep fantasy. He felt her lips brush against his button shirt as she spoke.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?”

Damien felt his heart melt at her sweet request. Many times a night he had dreamed about staying in Peach’s house, in her bed but he looked down at her drunken state. She wasn’t in the right state of mind and she was only a client. She was a client’s relative and Damien knew it would be overstepping boundaries. As much as he deeply wanted to, he knew he couldn’t so he shook his head softly.

“I think that you should get some rest.”

~~~~~~

Damien heard the train whistle of his kettle go off as he put away his newspaper and grabbed two coffee mugs, placing the filter paper on top and the beans. He poured the green coloured kettle into the mugs and got rid of the filter papers, letting the mugs sit and stew with the rich caffeine. He glanced at his bedroom door, hoping Peach wouldn’t get up and ruin his surprise but the door hadn’t moved. He grabbed the two mugs and walked out of the kitchen and straight into his bedroom, a warm smile grew on his face.

Peach was still asleep soundly as her curves heaved up and down slowly. The comforter was off her body and her body was spread into a misshapen starfish. Damien shook his head as Peach often loved spreading her body out and popping her behind into the air. He could never understand how she was able to sleep in that position but she looked adorable. Her mint green shorts had ridden up to show the zebra stripes of stretch marks on her back thigh and the bumpy surface. He went around the bed to his side, placing the coffee mugs on his bedside drawer and leaning on his arm to take a better look at Peach.

He brought his hand to the edge of her shorts and pulled it down slightly so Peach wouldn’t complain about her shorts riding up. She loved the way they felt but they often caused more harm than good as Damien smiled to himself about the complaints she’s made. Her navy blue camisole brought more prominence in her love handles and sleeping on her front, pushed her breasts together. She looked utterly stunning in the morning, it is because it was the first raw thing that Damien would see. He was so glad she was his.

As if sensing something, Peach forced her eyes open to see her love, Damien leaning beside her. A full chest of dark curls on display and dark horn rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. There was a slight softness near his stomach yet he still looked built and lean in the many years before they were together. His grey sweatpants hung low on his waist and that sweet trail of hair disappeared into the waistband of the pants. The both of them took in the other with unashamed, unjudging eyes as they gave a soft greeting to one another.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Damien brought his lips to press a short kiss to the brow of her hair and reach behind him to present her with her mug of coffee. It had a picture of Damien on it and she was able to wake up even more. She pushed herself up slightly snuggled into Damien’s side, kissing his collarbone and wrapping her hands around the mug.

“Just what I need.”

“I know.”

She took a deep sip and exhaled blissfully, letting the warm coffee seep into her blood and liven her soul. Damien too took a sip of his coffee and purred with content at the sweet warmth.

“This is amazing.”

“Isn’t it?”

Damien curved his eyebrow up as if suggesting he was amazing. Peach rolled her eyes and took another sip.

“I meant the coffee.”

“What about the company?”

“Could be better.” Damien pinched the side of her waist as she yelped excitedly, before she nestled further. “It’s perfect. you’re perfect.”

“That I am.”

A few minutes later, they both had finished their coffee as Damien took his and her cup to place on the bedside table. He had a cheshire smile on his face as he brought his hand to her shoulder for her to lay down, he held himself over her as a few strands of hair drooped down. Peach smiled and brought her hands to his cheek, taking in the slightly overgrown beard.

“Now we’ve got a few minutes before the morning really starts.”

“What are you going to do about it, Nazario?”

“I’m going to have my way with you.”

“Think you can be quick about it, old man?”

Damien smirked as he slotted himself in between Peach’s legs as the hair on her legs tickled Damien’s waist. Damien loved Peach’s body hair, the way it would brush against the back of his thighs when she’d wrap her legs around his waist, it would send chills through his body. Peach is really his. Before he could lean in to kiss her, the door opened and small footsteps thumped in the room. Followed by high pitched squeals, tiny bodies jumped on the bed, latching onto Damien and Peach.

Small round faces and bright eyes as a boy and girl jumped with unbelievable hyperness. Damien and Peach’s kids: Sofía and Gael. Both were seven and six years of age, they had Damien’s looks but Peach’s excitable personality. Damien rolled off of Peach and sat up on the bed, taking his daughter into his arms and Peach took Gael into hers. Damien turned to Peach and raised an eyebrow at her, as if blaming her for their kids interrupting their moment.

She rolled her eyes and brought Gael close, kissing his forehead and cheeks. He repeated many ‘I love yous’ and ‘Mummys’ while Sofía watched her dad with curiosity. She had her excitable moments but at this current moment, she was just like her dad. Perceptive and clever as she spoke up in spanish.

“Papa, qué hacías?” Dad, what were you doing?

Damien glanced nervously from his daughter to Peach, who watched the both of them with amusement.

“Nada, Princesa.” Nothing, Princess.

Peach stood up from the bed and arched her back, stretching the knots made in her sleep. She got both her kids to go out the room and told them to get dressed so that they could go to school. Damien watched his love care so deeply and once the kids went to the other room, Peach stood in the doorway of their bedroom. Their kids are the best thing that has ever happened to him and he could never dream about anyone else. Damien got up to Peach and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to his chest.

“I wanna dance with you right now.” Peach laughed her sweet laugh as she swayed along with Damien. “I love you and I wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old.”

“I think that’s already starting to happen. I can see a little grey in your beard.”

At that she rubbed her palm over his cheek, fingers brushing against his lip. Damien opened his mouth and took a bite at her finger before placing a soft kiss and nuzzling his head into her shoulder. She was the one for him, her soft smile and bright eyes gave light to Damien’s life. He was so glad to bare his soul to her.

~~~~~~

“NO!”

It was too late as Damien pushed against the restraining hold of Hayden. Harley had Peach in his grasp and he pressed his fingers deep in her neck, a loud crunch of bones echoed in the room. They were back at EROS and just as they were about to break free and blow the facility up, Cecile had activated the hive mind control which took over the minds of all the matches. Hayden included. Damien felt his heart smash to pieces and time moved slowly, as Peach’s round body fell to the ground. There were no emotions for Damien to express the scene in front of him as he stared at Peach. Her bright hue was gone and replaced by a grey sickening colour and death claimed her bright lively soul. The love of his life was gone right before him, he closed his eyes to purge the uncomfortable thoughts of Peach.

~~~~~~

Damien opened his eyes to see himself in a clear tiled room, not the EROS facility or at home with Peach. Soon he heard the loud taps of heels and found the devil in front him. A smartly dressed woman with piercing green eyes and angry red hair: Cecile Contreras. She looked down at Damien with a sickening smile and turned her face forward to the screen behind Damien.

“Response is good. Up the dosage and add twenty milligrams of delysid. You’re doing very good, Damien. We’re close to creating the perfect match.”

#Damien #damien nazario #damien nazario x mc #damien x mc #Damien Elvis Nazario #perfect match #choices fanfiction #choices perfect match #choices fic #choices #damien nazario x fmc

[spottedlekkudancer]

Lady of the Stars Part One - Contact

@paytonita @tranquility-or-chaos @inumorph 

THIS IS A SW/Witcher CROSSOVER. 

Geralt x Jedi!Reader

2.8K words

Originally planed on having 2 or 3 parts to this story but apparently I have diarrhea of the mouth and moved the plot too slow. So get ready to be strapped in for at least 4 if not 5 self indulgent parts. And feel free to send me all the questions you like. 

Warnings: Adult language, mentions of death, violence, and other adult themes.

By whim or by destiny light catches your attention though fluttering lashes. It kisses your cheek with warmth and the subtleness of a gentle dawn. After a moment the fog of sleep sheds from your brain. You adjust. The orange glow crackles at your nose and you realize that you are in more peril than the lingering caress of your dreams led you to believe. The pilot’s dash in front of you is consumed with flame.

“Crinking Hell! Dol'bfai!” You smack the Weequay to your right in an attempt to get his attention, but your hand meets nothing but the padding of your co-pilot’s chair. Heart dropping to your gut you look about the cockpit of your HWK-290. The leathery skinned man was in a broken bloody heap on the floor behind you. You might have felt bad if he wasn’t such E-chu-ta each and every day. If fact you couldn’t help but scold him mentally for not wearing his seat straps. “So much for ‘the experienced never falter’ line, Chuggnut.” You grunted, ejecting yourself from your own buckles to take care of the more pressing matter. 

You leaned over the Weequay smuggler’s body to get to the extinguishing hose and with a little effort you salvaged what was left of your controls. Outside your ship was another wreck all together. Fires were smoldering at every corner of your limited view from inside. You had half a mind to run out immediately, but thought better of it. If your ship was going to blow up it would have done so already you told yourself in a comforting manner. Sending your droids for damage control was the safer option on foreign planets. However, you couldn’t stay put forever. The damages weren’t going to evaluate themselves, moreover, the body of your partner needed to be dragged out before he started to stink. By the looks of things the atmosphere had to be breathable. Most planets with such green life gave off suitable levels of oxygen for humans. Whatever the case, you would have to risk it; your employer refused to provided vacuum suits or travel tanks. Too costly.

You were use to the miserly ways of the former pirate leader Hondo Ohnaka. You had been working with his smuggling cover company for half a decade now: ever since you ran from the Jedi training academy, or rather, Ben Solo. You didn’t know Solo to be a liar, in fact he had treated you like a little sister for all the years you had grown together, but when he told you and the others how Luke had turned on him you were too confused to chose between the two of them. Luke was your master, and Ben your friend. The force whispered something to you then. A soft encouragement to leave everything. You chose to listen; to not pick sides at all, and made a new life for yourself under an identity the Weequay stole for you. 

Once free of your hot metal cage it was clear that things were not as horrible as you imagined. You were safe from any fuel combustion’s or reactor leaks. The two DUM-series pit droids were clumsily scurrying about trying to put out the fire that was inching ever closer to your turret. It was also evident from the back that only one of Pathfinder’s two hyper-drive systems had taken on some heavy laser canon damage. Looked like the shielding component was scored too, but that wasn’t a necessity for getting back in the air.

“The kriff happen?” you weren’t fully talking to anyone, not even yourself. You had a vague memory of being cornered by Absolution, a First Order R-SD, and their TIE fighters on your way to a high bye delivery. But how, moreover where, you crash landed was still a mystery. You tapped the remote on your wrist. A projection fizzed in and out of view with vertical blue static. You must have knocked it out of order in the crash. Now you had no way of knowing what planet you were on or what it’s population consisted of.

“O-T!” The droid with the painted yellow stripe above his singular oculus ambled in your direction. “Once you get this mess under controls see if our Nav is still in tact. The job is a sham but we might be able to at least back track to base. I’ll go scout out the area for any nearby scarp yards. We aren’t getting off this durkload of a planet in this condition, that’s for damn sure.” O-T nodded and whistled a question in response. “Don’t know. Com link is out and I’m not able to check for life forms. If anything happens just lock yourselves in the ship 'til I get back.” You didn’t wait for the little droid to argue with you more as he usually would. It wasn’t likely you would be getting an extraction from Ohnaka Transport Solutions this close to First Order territory anyway. You were on your own.

You traveled 500 paces from your ship in each cardinal direction before you came to something of interest. Flowing SE to S was a small river bed. With noting more than a seemingly endless forest as your surrounding it was your best bet to finding civilization. For another hour you saunter down the unbeaten path until you felt night approaching. There was already little light beneath the canopy and you didn’t have the eyes of a cat, so with your wits and strength still about you you turned back. The rusted roof of your Corellian light freighter would have to suffice for the night.

The cacophonous sounds of shrieking and the boisterous gargling of goose like honks was your first indication that something was awry near your ship. The closer you got the more defining the racket became. Whatever the creature was, and you were sure it was some kind of animal, had to have a massive pair of lungs on it. 

With much disappointment you found your analysis to be correct. Thought the brush you could see some kind giant blue feathered lizard-bird striking at your dead co-pilot’s flesh. You cursed yourself for not burring the poor man right away, and true to your command your pit droids had barricaded them selves inside your transport. 

“Mother of …” You sighed to yourself. Your Jedi teachings told you to let the beast be, however, just hiding behind a tree all night while it desecrated the Weequay’s body didn’t feel right to you. Regardless you held yourself back from attacking the thing. It was just trying to survive after all, and if you didn’t have to get into a fight you didn’t want to. You were already stranded. Adding injury to that would not be wise. 

When morning came the feathered brute had not yet left; roosting atop your ship like it had always belonged there. 

Well if the giant critter wanted it, he could have it. In your groggy state you had little patience and didn’t want to be bothered with defending what you didn’t currently posses. You had everything you needed: canteen, provisions in your belt pouch, republic credits, and of course your trusty light-saber. Once you got what you wanted from the scrap shop you would deal with the overgrown pidgin.

“You’re alive.”

The voice of your pursuer was clear. This wasn’t part of your imagination. The force had bonded you and Solo again. “Careful Ren, you almost sound relived.”

Kylo scoffed. “Surprised is more likely." 

You stood and turned around. Were there was once endless forest now stood the masked Dark Jedi you both dreaded and longed to see. "How is it you keep your standards for me so low when I’ve evaded your every move." 

"I wouldn’t call narrowly escaping with your life an 'evasion’.” Gloved hands ringed rightly around themselves. Anger or worry built like a tumultuous storm inside of him: you couldn’t tell which. “How did you manage that Jump?”

“Jump?” The query slipped though your lips too quickly.

“Don’t remember? Maybe your not as well of as you look” Kylo straightened with pride. You were sure he was gloating to himself on his small victory. “My Knights had you cornered at the edge of a nebula. With no larger ship close enough to tractor you in I gave the order to immobilize you.”

“Why not just kill me?" 

It was an abrupt interruption that went unanswered. Kylo waited for you to calm yourself before continuing. Even now as a villainous "dark lord” he was patient with you. “We took out your Hyperdrive, Y/N. That jump should have been impossible.”

It was coming back to you now. You had prosperously led the TIEs to the cloud of gas and dust. You planed to enter into it blind and use the force as your guide. You figured the lot you were running from wouldn’t dare try to fallow. Instead your ship started to shake and spark as it tried desperately to hold against the onslaught. You panicked. You didn’t even complete the calculations before you pushed your freighter to enter hyperspace. You could have died. You could have been thrust into a star or another mass and exploded into dust.

Your stomach tightened. Dol'bfai was dead because of your rash behavior. He was in the middle of un-tethering a knot in his seat straps when you made that decision. You pulled out of it almost immediately, giving your best attempt at the “skipping” the other smuggler pilots did so often, but it was too late. You were entering the atmosphere of another moon or planet. There was not time to pull up, and you crashed.

If Kylo saw the tear you shed just then he didn’t bother to comment on it. “If you were with those goons of yours you could have planned better for that. You know as well as your father that every standard HAWK series come with two hyperdrives." 

You could have sworn you heard Kylo curse from beneath his helmet. His breathing was expeditious and heavy now; you cold feel his fury swarming in the force around you. 

"Cookie points to you if you are able to find me this time Ren. Even I don’t know where I am.” You teased rather lightheartedly.

This only pushed his buttons more. He gestured to you pointedly. “Oh don’t worry about that. I’ll bring you in myself if I have to.”

And with that your force connection faded. The experience left you feeling diminished and torn. Your past kept endangering the people around you. With a heaving breath and shaking knees you looked ahead to the southern half of the forest. You could dwell on these events all day if you’d like, but it would just be a waist of time. You needed to set your pity party aside and focus on getting off this planet before he really did find you. 

~~~ Two days had passed and you thanked the force that not one of them brought you any sign of the First Order. Your only gripe was that the town you had found proved your worst nightmares had come true. This planet was primitive. The citizens here weren’t even literate, moreover, building any sort of machinery. You were shit out of luck, money, and a plan.

  Was this punishment? You thought it might be far more often than you would like to admit. The force had never led you so astray before. What kind of design could it have for you now?

Your credits weren’t worth anything here but one tavern keeper in this shit stained town you did take a fancy to your Heart of Beskar necklace. You debated for a long while if you should give it to him in exchange for a few hot meals and a bed. It was the only thing you had to remember your birth family of after all. But after a particularly stormy night you didn’t have choice any longer. Not unless you wanted to freeze to death. It was hard to let go, but not as hard as it was each day that passed knowing your parents let you be raised by a stranger. 

Sure becoming a Jedi was a noble cause to enlist your child into, but unlike so many of your piers you did not ever go back home to your parents. Ben and the others always got to see their loved ones for a few weeks every so often, and yet you were kept locked away on the training camp with Luke year round. When asked Luke assured you that your parents were still alive; he even gave you their names and home planet. Even now after having found their old home and poppers grave you didn’t understand.

So to the inn keep you gifted your father’s old armor piece, and two nights stay was what he offered you in return. Not a fair trade by any means, however, how exactly were you supposed to explain the galactic value of Beskar to these simple people? 

A man dressed in bright colors played a 15 stringed instrument in the corner of the tavern. He was merry and boisterous; entertaining at the vary least. You pitied that the crowd this morning was not taking well to him. Half of them were hung over, the other half looked mean and dirty enough to scare a Dewback.

The Musician caught you staring at him. A smile brighter than the three suns of Helioss graced his features. You cringed internally and returned his gesture with a timid one of your own. Silently you prayed he wouldn’t goat you into some volunteer sing-song delights so publicly.  

The Man’s strut was so vaunt it had every patron staring at him as he made his way though the tables to presumably talk to you. You shrunk a little in your seat, not wanting this kind of attention. You had already drawn enough as it was with how oddly you were dressed; you didn’t need any more. He plopped down opposite you at the table. 

“So! How come the only person in this shit stick interested in my song is a pretty young woman like you?” He gave you almost no room to think of an answer before continuing his self serenade. “If it’s my corky charm or boyish good looks please don’t keep me waiting in sufferance to hear those sweet words leave your lips.” The line could have been considered smooth to some, however, the awkward and eager demeanor he carried was a little too much. You could see how it was putting off the rest of the room. 

The only response you had to offer was a perplexed smile. 

He rested his chin in the palm of his upturned hand. “Come on!” He whined enthusiastically. “Care to comment on the quality of my performance? I do love getting reviews from the public.”

You sighed though your nose and fiddled with the food in front of your. “Yes, well… I suppose we all yearn for validation. Don’t we?”

It was the bard’s turn to bewildered. He sat up stat tall in his bench now, brows furrowed, taking a briefer moment to ponder. “What’s your name?”

Your head tilted. “Where I’m from it’s rude to ask for someone’s name without offering your own first.” It was a plane way of throwing his question back at him; you weren’t looking to get overly acquainted with anyone if you could avoid it.  

“Oh!” He was beaming excitedly again. “Where is it you are from?!" 

You gave him an unblinking stare for what felt like a medium sized eternity. Clearly he was not accustom to taking non verbal ques. You decided to just give in to his delicate personality. "Florrum.”

“Ahh.” He nodded in a knowing matter. “Beautiful country.”

“Right.” He was pulling Bantha wool over your eyes in an attempt to impress you. It was arguably charming. 

“Where is that exactly? From here I mean.” The bard laughed nervously as he knocked his head playfully. “I get so turned around while mindlessly fallowing my muse on his travels.”

“Your Muse?” It was time to change the subject. 

“Oh hohoho! He is a man of Destiny, Heroics, and Heart Brake.” The man practically jumped out of his seat and with one leg propped up onto the bench he swung his instrument back front side. “Shall I play you a song about him?”

Head half in your hands you nodded. Your bashful nature told you you would regret this, but you didn’t have the heart to say no. 

He was taking his first heaving breath before starting to strum when another interrupted the musician, yanking him back by the shoulder. “Jaskier. We’re leaving.” The new man was hulking and clad in black studded leathers, with eyes of gold. He wasn’t old, but his hair was as silver as his blades. A striking appearance. Perhaps humans weren’t the only sentient species on this forsaken planet.

#star wars #starwars #star wars fanfiction #star wars ask #Star Wars Drabble #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #reader insert #reader #ben solo #ben x reader #the witcher #witcher netflix #jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #crossover #starwars x the witcher #My writing #please kill me #lady of the stars #pt1 #lots

[bluebirdwrites]

james potter x reader where james and reader were close friends but he eventually focused all his attention on lily so they drifted? and maybe the reader got seriously hurt or something and he realizes just how much he loves the reader? angst with happy ending if that’s okay!

as easy as breathing; jp

warnings; swearing and violence, you have been warnED!

author’s note; i hope you like what i’ve written from your request anon, because i really enjoyed writing this hehe! by the way, requests are open! and I am multi fandom too, so check out my blog maybe (; have a nice day!

summary; in which, being friends with james potter is as easy as breathing. but then he ignores everyone and everything in favour of a girl who doesn’t return his affections. and he’s not there when it matters most.

Only eleven and you’re happy. Hogwarts, a happy place. A place of many choices and a place of mystery. Standing on the platform is daunting- you won’t see your parents for months. This will be the longest you will go without your mother’s caring words and your fathers affinity for mischief.

Committing the smell of your mother’s perfume and taking your fathers sweatshirt, you begin to push your luggage toward the train. You briefly thank whoever loads your trunk before letting a large black and white tom cat slither into your arms.

Absentmindedly scratching behind the cats ears, you tentatively begin to check for an empty carriage. Fining one almost instantly, the door is closed behind you with a muffled click. Sighing, you sink into the seats of the carriage cuddling your fathers sweatshirt to your chest and breathe deeply.

Time to be a big kid now. Just like mummy said.

The final whistle for the train blows as you rise towards the window from your seat letting the cat walk in figure eights around your legs. Finding your parents, you wave hanging half out the window until you can no longer see them in the crowd of magical parents also farewelling their children.

Going to your seat again, you run your fingers through your cats fur. The cat— Splodge — lets its hair stand on end as it jumps up and onto your lap. Hissing at a certain part of the room, the cat flicks it’s tail whilst looking at the door.

Not even half a minute later comes a knocking on he door. It is neither timid nor aggressive, only justly confident.

“Come in,” your voice travels through the still currently closed door, voice friendly. Once the door is open, a boy with unruly ink coloured hair prances through the now open door.

Taking a moment to study him, he looks young. All freckles, askew black frames and molten molasses eyes that make his happy smile seem only all the brighter.

Probably a first year. Possibly a new friend?

“James Potter, how do you do? Can I sit in here? You look like a nice person,” he is endearing, especially when he tilts his head as if he is second guessing himself.

“Sure thing Potter, you can call me Anderson until we’re on a nickname basis,” he only laughs. Sweet and childishly gleeful. Already, his presence is as easy as breathing.

And that is that.

Now in fourth year, you can say that it’s been fun— apart from James ignoring you, and everyone else frankly. Choosing to to follow his willy in the direction of Lily Evans. But whatever— Having been friends with Sirius and Remus and Peter as well was everything that you could have hoped for. When the hat had declared ‘Gryffindor’ after a minutes deliberation you had been confused- at first. You now understand as you face down the angry Sytherins you understand your own stubbornness and unwillingness to back down after what they had called you.

Being muggleborn could be challenging with all of the blood purist fanatics running around. At least you weren’t the product of multiple different variations of incest throughout generations only to be born a purblood with an uncle dad.

But still. Being called a mudblood of all things hurt. It ached and stung and left the bitter taste of bile— that kept getting stronger— on the tip of your tongue the longer your were angry.

“Poor Ickle Mudblood. All alone,” the group of snakes slither closer, closing you in on all sides watching as you plant your feet and grit your teeth.

Good Godric, this is pathetic.

They close in around you from all sides muttering spells that send you flying. It hadn’t even been 10 minutes and fighting back was very hard being out numbered and all.

Where were the prefects. Where were the marauders? Where was James?

They wouldn’t come. Not whilst you were in this abandoned corridor. Not whilst it was a Hogsmeade weekend. Not whilst James Potter was obsessing over Lily Evans. Sure- she was lovely. And beautiful and intelligent and just better than you.

The spells kept becoming more painful as the chanting of manky mudblood rebounded off of the walls and into your ears.

You tried to be strong. You tried to fight back and be brave. You tried to stop the tears stinging your eyes and fight back the scream clawing at the back of your throat; but it felt good to release it. To let them make you black, blue and purple all over.

When they’d finally stopped- when you thought that they’d finally stopped, you just couldn’t help it. The words tumbled out and you couldn’t take them back.

“That the best you got you bloody pureblooded pricks?” They all prickle and one of the snakes step forward— Lestrange it looks like— and kick your side.

Something just broke

“Well then,” he breathes pointing his wand at you, skin pulled tight over his skull into a sickeningly mocking grin. “Why don’t I show you exactly what I am capable of then?”

His grin, startlingly white against the shallow grey of his skin, turns into a snarl as he almost seems to seethe the next word. It is so hateful it burns your nerve endings and forces your toes to curl.

“Crucio.” And then everything is red. The curse, the pain and their laughter. It is fired thrice more and held for ten minutes or more before you hear shouting. And then it stops and you feel bodies beside you and more voices shouting counter spells and knock back jinxes.

“Anderson,” It’s Sirius speaking time you now, worried sounding Sirius. “We’re here now. Peter’s gone off t’get Minnie. And then they’ll really get it. S’okay now yeah?”

You can only nod and open your eyes staring into the stormy grey of your friend above. Gently gripping his hand you look and see Remus in front of you acting as a a shield between them and you.

You lick some of the blood off of your lips, “Where’s James, Sirius?” His nostrils flare angrily as if he was angry, and his eyes visibly darkened and he pulled you closer to him.

“Not here apparently,” you can see him getting angrier, and you know what usually comes next. ”Probably with Evans.”

You can feel yourself realising something then, that you’ll never ever measure up to Lily Evans. Squeezing his hand you can only give him a look as if to say later.

Later comes in the form of the infirmary. Of sitting there over the next day and hearing of five Slytherins being expelled and one being sent off to Azkaban after using an unforgivable curse.

Peter, Sirius and Moony all stay with you. Comforting you whilst you cry and holding your hand when you have spasms and phantom pains from the lingering crucio curse.

James doesn’t come until he hears about a Gryffindor being attacked by a group of Slytherins. He doesn’t put two and two together until he walks in the hospital room and seeing his friends in and around a hospital bed.

You are the first to see him and your face contorts into something angry. Peter is the next to notice, and he shields you with a rigid posture before facing James head on with the nastiest glare he’s ever seen.

Moony is next. He is less angry but more disappointed. He barely looks at James before he clenches his fist and holds your hand, seeming to give it a squeeze.

James is blessed with foot and mouth disease and even now he can’t seem to help himself, “Alright Anderson? You look pretty manky over there.”

Your eyes glaze over and you flinch. You curl in on yourself and three lions fold in around you blocking James from your sight and making sure that you’re okay. James doesn’t notice.

Sirius’ reaction is the most explosive. The chair he sat in is now hard against the wall, being forced back on the tile at how quickly he had stood up. His eyes are like a thunderstorm as he walks towards James with purpose. Rarely do they argue but when they do it’s a shit storm to fix.

“Tell me James,” he strides closer so he is directly in James’ personal space, nose to nose and straightening to his full height. “Where the bloody hell have you been whilst our friend needed you? And don’t you dare say what I think you are.”

James clears his throat only beginning to recognise how much shit he’s in, but not really putting a speed bump between his mouth and his brain.

“I was with Evans. I reckon I’m close to breaking though to her mate!” He laughs, only succeeding at making Sirius go red in the cheeks and Moony and Peter shuffling closer to you. “Why? Where were you?”

This time something rare happens and then something rarer. First, Remus let’s loose what sounds like a growl as his expression turns bitter and angry. He looks every bit ready to wage a warpath, but he grips your hand tight knowing that you need him there with you. And then Peter’s on his feet, hands shaking and on a warpath towards James.

Sirius looks like he’s about to do something by how taught the muscles in his shoulders are. But it’s Peter that acts. It’s quietly mischievous Peter Pettigrew that marches towards James Potter and gives him a shiner. Not Sirius Black. Not Remus Lupin. Not even you, It’s Peter Pettigrew to lose himself in his anger and have Sirius grip his shoulder shocked and proud.

“You know what James! You know exactly bloody what we were doing and you think you have the right to ignore us all- for weeks! And then prance in here and ask? Fuck it, you should know why!” All of you are shocked as he appears to calm down and walk to your side with an awkward little smile.

You’re angry. Deservedly so you think, but you also know that whilst that anger feels right now, in the land of tomorrow or next week it will not.

“Can I talk to James alone? If it makes you boys feel better you can wait outside, but I think we both need to talk and then you can all say whatever you want to eachother,” you look them all in the eye making sure that they all take you seriously. “Please.”

Now alone with James you let him walk over until he stops in front of the chair Moony’d occupied not even thirty seconds earlier, tentatively sitting to face you head on. His cheek had already began to swell from Peter’s earlier hit.

“So,” you move your jaw side to side until it clicks with a popping sound. “Whilst i was writhing on the floor because of the Cruciatus Curse, you were chasing Evans around? And cancelling plans constantly to chase after Lily Evans? Don’t I just feel Important Jamsie.”

His face looks constipated as he mulls over your words and your expression. He wants to make it up to you, make things right. He wants to make things better than before, he wants to make himself forget Lily Evans and drown himself in you.

His hand finds yours, tender and strong. “Look, I- I know I’ve been shit these past few months. Chasing after a girl I know that probably won’t ever come round, and I’ve got no excuse. Is there absolutely any way I can make it up to you?”

He’s looking at you, all warm and gooey. He flows over you like the eye of a hurricane, the calm in the middle of a disaster. In an instant he’s pulling you to him and gravitating around you. In an instant his face is the softest you’ve ever seen it, despite the blooming blotch of purple on one side of his face.

It’s a spur of the moment thing for both of you, you say it on accident really. You weren’t thinking outside of now and he wasn’t thinking at all. “Kiss me,” swallowing your nerves isn’t hard this time, after all it is a spur of the moment thing. “Kiss me here because there’s always been more to us then just friends Potter, and I think you know just as well as I do how badly I want you to kiss me.”

And he’s kissing you, fingers in your hair and thumbs on the apples of your cheeks as he crashes over you like an ocean. Your hands are at his bale and his cheek running delicate hands over his skin.

I love you, I love you, I love you. You can’t say that out loud but it is a mantra in your head as he breaths life to you through a kiss. Your foreheads rest together, and you sit with him. Being with him, friend or more is still as easy as breathing. And you hope that you can one day he can know how much you love him, and how you need him more than oxygen.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader imagine #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #marauders #the marauders #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #marauders era #marauders x you #marauders x redaer imagine #marauders x y/n #james potter x redaer #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter x reader imagine #james potter x you #james potter x you imagine #james potter x y/n imagine #james potter fluff #james potter angst #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #platonic #platonic!sirius black x reader #platonic! remus lupin x reader

[florianwirtz]

Tears - Anyone You’d Like

Warning: strong language

"Will we see us again? I really had a good time with you."

You blinked a few times confusedly before you answered the question with a plastered smile on your face.

"Of course, I'm texting you whenever I'm free, see you soon." You even had the decency to look back and wave until you ran to the bus stop, a sour expression on your face.

Another failed tinder date later, you found yourself at your best friend's couch with a glass of wine in your hand. Luckily, he always had an open ear for you whenever your day didn't go the way you wanted.

"He really spent the whole date talking about how fucking awesome he apparently is and managed to make everything about him. I swear I was that close to spilling the wine over the table so he could shut the fuck up for once."

Frustration was taking over you which made you finish your half-full glass in one go and your best friend only chuckled slightly while observing you silently. He never grew tired of listening to your failed date stories because the way you were able to retell stories and spilling all your emotions was just so hilarious.

“I told you these tinder dates will lead to nothing. You should give one of my teammates a chance, they're all lovely, I promise!” He suggested after you were finished with ranting and you only rolled your eyes at him.

“While I appreciate your lousy attempts of playing matchmaker, I already told you I don't want to date a footballer, I don't think I could handle being second choice to a freaking ball!” A short laugh escaped your mouth which made him laugh too, but you saw that he wasn't really listening anymore as he was busy scrolling through his socials.

To avoid awkward silence, you pretended to do the same as a sudden wave of sadness hit you. Because of course, he didn't understand why you were still accepting all these tinder dates when you were fully aware that this is definitely not the platform to find the love of your life. How could he know that you refused to go on dates with one of his teammates because you couldn't help but compare every single footballer to him.

Something deep inside you still somehow hoped that you'd end up with him. So you used these dates as a distraction, an excuse that you haven't found the right one yet.

And just as you thought about how naive and stupid your feelings were, the reason you felt silly went down the stairs.

"Hi you two! [Y/N], I didn't know you were coming!" She gave you her sweetest smile and you couldn't help but smile back. The hug she gave you felt warm and genuine and once again you just knew that she was the right one for him. How could you hate her when she never badmouthed you once for always showing up at your friend's house because you wanted to feel his presence near you.

Not even the miserable feeling in your stomach when she bent down to him and kissed his cheek softly which made both put their happiest faces on could tell you that you shouldn't be happy for them.

"Hi! Yes, but I was about to go, it's late." You answered her politely, ignoring the pang in your chest when you realised that they only had eyes for each other.

"Really? Let me drive you home then, it's late and you had a drink." She didn't even give you time to refuse and went searching for her car keys, leaving you and her boyfriend alone again.

"Thanks for having me and sorry for always barging in, she probably doesn't like it and I try not to do it so often anymore." You chuckled while holding him in your arms. Nothing made you feel more secure than being able to share physical contact with him while smelling his signature perfume.

"Stop saying that, you are always welcome. She knows how important you are to me. Have a safe ride home." He lightly brushed your cheek which made your whole body tremble and never were you happier than now that you could blame the burning shade of your face on the wine you had consumed.

You knew it was only a gesture of a trusted friend, yet it was all you could think about the whole ride home. Which is why you barely paid attention to what she talked about but she didn't seem to mind as she cluelessly continued talking. Only when she mentioned his name, you suddenly came back to reality.

"You ordered that cake for his birthday next week, right?"

"Yes, of course, the carrot cake from the bakery located in the neighbourhood he came from. It's gonna be delivered to your house on his day, it's all planned." You explained to her and saw her smiling while paying attention to the street.

"He's so lucky to have you, the amount of effort you put in his birthday is so heartwarming. I'm going to make sure he does the same for you."

She said it with such reassurance, for a moment, you weren't sure if you were able to hold this fake happy facade any longer. Because you still couldn't believe that she found all these sweet words for you when you were nothing but horrible to her by secretly wanting her boyfriend all to yourself. You were lucky that it was dark outside so she never noticed how a few tears escaped from your eyes. 

And the pain in your heart returned but this time not because of jealousy but because you realised how awful of a human being you are by not being able to let go of a dead crush.

A few days later you were invited to one of his games and it wasn't just any game but the decisive game of which team was going to the cup final.

Of course, you wore his name and number on your back but it didn't feel any special as he always had gifted you his kits whenever a new season started, it was a tradition since he went professional and for you as a football fan a great collector’s item.

She was also here and you were both twinning as she wore the same kit as you, only that hers was a man size, probably stolen from him. You even posted a pic on social media together, capturing it with “game day x” and expressions for the support of his team.

His family always managed to be present which was a rather rare occasion as they lived far away from his current residence. However, you knew from childhood days that they were always the proudest whenever they saw him play. And of course, they loved her, she was the perfect girlfriend anyone could ask for and she already told you that his family already made her feel like she was one of them. Life could be so perfect if you’d only see him as your best friend.

The game couldn't be any closer as both teams were equally strong, chances missed and converted from both sides and in the last 10 minutes, the scoreline showed was 1-1.

Both of you were nervously trembling, the tension whenever the opponent had the ball was unbearable and it seemed like it was going to extra time. But then a player of his team saw an opportunity and sprinted as his life depended on it, making the opponent's defenders look like fools. Finally, in front of the goal, he was crossing to his teammate who smashed the ball into the net with a beautiful header.

The crowd erupted, you and she in the family lounge hold each other tightly, screaming with joy and pride with the others in the room joining as well. And the few minutes of extra time after the deciding goal felt like an eternity, you and she never let go of each other's hands, too afraid that the opponent could turn this game around, but his team fought back until the liberating final whistle was heard.

You saw his team celebrating with each other, grinning like a Cheshire cat and also finding yourself in her arms again.

“I'm so proud of him, you have no idea.” She squeaked excitedly and you agreed with her, hugging her even tighter.

Finally, after all the post celebrations and interviews he came up to the family lounge, the people in this room applauding him with immense pride when they spotted their golden boy and he was greeting one after another.

Then he made his way to you and you just ran up to him and hugged him wordlessly, burying your head in his shoulder.

“You were fucking awesome there. You gonna win this trophy for sure now.”

“God, you are amazing. My supporter even when I accidentally smashed your mom’s vases back then. Thank you.”

You could feel your heartbeat so fast, you even thought you might pass out in a moment. This moment just felt too intense to end but it wasn't long until he slowly let go of you and you snapped back to reality.

And the ugly feeling of rejection came back when you saw him running up to her, kissing her passionately on the mouth and leaving a few other kisses on her face. They whispered sweet nothings to each other inaudible for everyone else and never noticing how they were lost in their own bubble. You stood on the side, no one noticing how you hold back a few tears in the back as they were busy in taking pictures of the two lovebirds.

Then his birthday came up. He still had training on this day but his coach assured him that there was no training the day after so he decided to celebrate in the evening after training.

So you found yourself in his house, helping his girlfriend to organise the party they had planned.

"Can I ask you something?" She suddenly asked you as you were in the process of decorating the table.

"Uh sure." Unsure what to expect, you both stopped arranging the glasses on the table as she sat down on the sofa, pointing to the place next to her.

"Do you think him and I are a good match?"

To say you were flabbergasted by her question would be an underestimation as you looked at her utterly aghast. What was she implying?

"What do you mean? Of course, you are?! You and he are perfect for each other and I bet you could ask anyone and they'd say the same."

She hesitated a bit before she answered, visibly uncertain about your statement.

"People on Instagram beg to differ."

She referred to the pictures he posted after the game he won. It contained a series of pictures including his family, you and her. "Finals! Always grateful for all of them supporting me."

You hadn't had a look at the comments before, but most of them were either about her or you. How you and he would be a much better fit, that you and he seemed to have more chemistry, simply based on two photos he had posted.

"Don't listen to them, sweetie. They don't see what we see every day and we know that you belong together." Comfortingly you put your hand on her shoulder while her expression still remained doubtful.

"But you still know him better than I ever will. After all, it was you who told me what he likes and how we should organise the party. It feels that after all these years, I still don't seem to know him like you do."

Unwilling to accept her self-doubt, you forcefully shook your head.

"It doesn't matter how well I know him. You are still his and his only. And while he loves me a lot, he loves me differently. He will always love you more."

How you managed to say this without bursting out into tears was beyond your understanding. Maybe if you told yourself this often enough, you'll start to accept it and maybe you were finally at the point where you should be able to move on.

However, when she gratefully took you in her arms, thanking you for trying to build her up, the relief in her voice obvious, you could feel your eyes watering. Because you knew she wouldn't even take a look at you if she knew what kind of feelings you were hiding.

The conversation was long over and forgotten when one of his mates finally brought him home, his house full of guests singing happy birthday to him as he entered the living room.

Obviously, he was left speechless at the number of people who had come to the party. He was even more surprised when he found out that it was you and her who organised all of it and immediately, he embraced you both at the same time, whispering "thank you my favourite girls".

Everyone was having a good time and even you could temporarily forget about your problems for a while. It was also an opportunity to get to know his teammates and you were positively surprised as most of them weren't too bad of a company.

It was all going well for you until he was asking for everyone's attention. No one really knew what was going on but he managed to make everyone surround him and his girlfriend, visibly wanting to announce something.

"First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for coming and making this day special. I feel extremely grateful that I know people like you who care so much about me."

Everyone in this room applauded him but stopping soon as he gave a signal that he wasn't finished talking.

As the applause died down, he took both hands of his girlfriend in his and looked her deeply in the eyes.

"I also wanna say special thanks to my girlfriend who always stuck by my side no matter what we've been through. I don't think I could ask for anyone better than you."

Suddenly he went down on his knee, everyone in this room holding their breath, knowing exactly what was coming while she held both of her hands in front of her mouth as he pulled out a box with a shiny ring out of his pocket.

"So I wanted to ask you if you would give me the honour and let me make you my wife?"

And she was now crying tears of joy, nodding with her head so much as if she had never been more sure of a decision.

Finally, the ring was on her finger and the people around the couple who were holding each other happily began to film and cheer with loud noise, celebrating and congratulating the couple in front of them.

You, on the other hand, stood like a brick wall at your place, not moving one bit as you still needed time to process what had happened a few minutes before.

Luckily for you, everyone's attention was given to the couple as no one noticed how you discreetly made your way out of the room.

You barely managed to reach the toilet and lock it up as you immediately fell down on your knees and finally, you let all the tears you had held back all the time streaming down your face.

You knew you should've expected it, you knew there never had been a chance in the first place, yet you couldn't help but feel heartbroken and alone. Because now he had made his definitive decision, he intended to spend the rest of his life with her.

And maybe this was your final call to ultimately move on from a love that was never meant to be, to finally let go of a person who was never yours in the first place.

Eventually, the tears stopped pouring and you took your time to sit on the floor for a few minutes, trying to regain your composure. Your make up was ruined by crying so you tried your best to make yourself look normal as much as possible. Right now, no one was supposed to notice your pain, later when you were home by yourself, you had enough time to let your true emotions show.

Carefully, you sneaked out of the bathroom and by the looks of it, no one had noticed your disappearance or breakdown. So you approached him with your brightest smile who was still surrounded by other people congratulating him. "My best friend is growing up and I can't believe he didn't tell me! Congrats on popping the question!" You took him in your arms as he hugged you happily back.

This time you broke the hug before you could feel anything more than you should.

Of course, he immediately noticed your face which was still red from the tears you had cried, making him look at you with a concerned face.

"Did you cry? Is everything alright?"

It wasn't easy to lie directly into his face as you still felt like you could burst out in tears at any minute but for his sake, you continued smiling.

"Of course I did, because I was so happy for you, idiot!" Playfully you smacked him on the shoulder and laughed which immediately infected him too.

"God, I'm so glad to have you."

And for some reason, his words didn't seem to affect you as much as they used to, you no longer felt like your heart could explode at any minute. Maybe these tears you had cried before were the first step of letting him go. Maybe these tears were necessary to get you through the process. Maybe when you saw him with her the next time, you will already have your happiness back.

Tell me who you imagined this with!

#football imagine #football imagines #julian brandt imagine #ben chilwell imagine #trent alexander arnold imagine #james maddison imagine #kylian mbappe imagine #harry winks imagine #dele imagine #eric dier imagine #jadon sancho imagine #paulo dybala imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagine #tyrone mings imagine

[yamayamawrites]

Switched - Part 2

A/N: Hi everyone! I’m so thankful for the wonderful reception to the first part of my fic, Switched! I released part 2 on AO3 (find it here) a few days ago, and I’ve been meaning to upload it here, so here’s part 2! Once again, @amit-crabcrab is wholly responsible for the amazing concept and even better fanart that inspired this fic. Hope you enjoy!!

Waking up in Tsukkishima’s body was no less jarring than it was the day before. Kageyama had been hoping, praying that maybe the entire thing was a nightmare, but when he woke up and couldn’t see five feet in front of him, a scowl formed on his face and he nearly slammed his hands onto the glasses on the bedside table.

He grabbed for Tsukki’s phone and sent a quick text to Tsukkageyama only to be startled half to death when not even a minute later Tsukkageyama pushed the bedroom door open. “My—I mean, your—mom let me in,” he said with a shrug, dropping a bag at the door and closing the door behind him.

“Do you remember that shrine visit?” Kageyama blurted. Tsukkageyama raised an eyebrow at him.

“That was over a month ago. I thought of that, too,” Tsukkageyama admitted. “But I don’t think it’s that.”

“Well that’s the only thing that makes any sense in my mind,” Kageyama replied with a defeated shrug. “But whatever.”

“Can you please put some actual clothes on?” Tsukkageyama said in a mock-disgusted tone. “I’m sitting here looking at myself shirtless and it’s kind of uncomfortable.”

Kageyama stuck out his tongue, but he obliged, throwing his legs off the side of the bed and standing. He still wasn’t used to this new lanky height and found himself stumbling a bit with his first few steps. I probably look like a toddler, he thought with a grimace, but Tsukkageyama didn’t comment. He threw on some clothes for the day, somehow not even minding that Tsukkageyama was watching, because after all it was his body, not Kageyama’s.

“So, you and Hinata,” Tsukkageyama whistled as Kageyama flopped back down onto the bed. “Can’t say I didn’t see it coming.”

“Shut up,” Kageyama growled back. “You and Yamaguchi are together too.”

“We have been for almost a year,” Tsukkageyama responded, idly picking at Kageyama’s pristine fingernails. “Pretty much everyone knows.”

“Is that why you freaked out so much when I said that last night on the phone?” Kageyama sneered, watching himself—Tsukkageyama—become flustered once again. Even though Tsukki wasn’t in his own body, it still felt strange to see him this nervous and jumpy. Kageyama thought that despite the cool demeanor Tsukkageyama wore, he really was terrified of their current situation.

“Okay, so maybe not everyone knows. I’d like you to keep it a secret,” Tsukkageyama refused to look over at Kageyama as he spoke.

“Ditto,” Kageyama replied. “Hinata and I haven’t really decided what we are yet, and we wanted to wait until we did to tell anyone…” Kageyama felt backed into a corner. The last person he ever wanted to figure out about his and Hinata’s relationship was, in fact, Tsukkishima, but now he couldn’t help but tell Tsukkageyama the details of their relationship in order for Tsukkageyama to not screw it up.

This whole situation was a hot mess, and Kageyama honestly had no idea how to deal with it. Based on the furrowed brows and scowl on Tsukkageyama’s face, he also had no idea how to deal with the fact that they had switched bodies. After all, this wasn’t really something one could Google and find a WikiHow article on how to reverse a body-switch.

“Where are we going today?” Kageyama asked finally, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between them.

“Well, I told Yamaguchi it would be a surprise,” Tsukkageyama replied with all the vigor of Tsukki. “We could go anywhere.”

“How about a movie?”

“Yamaguchi doesn’t like movie dates. He likes to talk.”

Kageyama scowled. Hinata also didn’t like movie dates because he’d gotten kicked out of so many theaters for making sound effects where he thought they should be in movies. Kageyama had to remind the boy multiple times that when characters kiss, it doesn’t make the “SMOOCHY” sound that Hinata always emphasized.

“Dinner?” Tsukkageyama suggested. “I mean, it’s not ideal, but—”

Kageyama’s phone rang. Tsukkageyama picked it up and immediately groaned. “It’s Shrimpy,” he grumbled.

“Well, answer it!”

“He calls you too damn much.”

“Answer the phone!”

Somehow Kageyama didn’t even have to ask for Tsukkageyama to put the phone on speaker mode. He really just wanted to hear Hinata’s voice, the way he talked to him and only him. It sounded sappy, but that was because it was, and Kageyama didn’t mind being sappy when it came to that little ball of sunshine.

“Ka-ge-ya-ma!” Hinata sang into the phone. “Are we hanging out today?”

“Yes,” Tsukkageyama groaned. Kageyama sent him a warning glare.

“Okay, because there’s this super cool festival happening right now! It’s kind of small but there’s food carts and a few games and stuff—”

“Okay.”

“Gwaah!”

“That’s not a real word.”

Kageyama sent Tsukkageyama a warning kick to the side. Both of them flinched.

“I’m on my way to your house now!”

“Wait – Hinata,” Tsukkageyama suddenly had a look of panic on his face.

“Yes?”

“I’ll…meet you there. I’m not home right now.”

“Where could Kageyama be at such an early hour?” Hinata hummed on the other side of the phone, and Kageyama really wanted to grab the phone from Tsukkageyama’s hand and tell him everything, tell him how they switched bodies and how much he missed Hinata—but Tsukkageyama had just mumbled a “you’ll see” into the phone and hung up.

“Here’s the plan,” Tsukkageyama spoke sternly to Kageyama now. “We’re going to go shopping. You’re going to tell me what Shrimpy likes, and I’m going to tell you what Yamaguchi likes. We’re going to suck it up and play good boyfriends, and after that we’ll deal with…this situation.” He gestured between the two of them.

“Right.” Kageyama wasn’t used to Tsukkageyama taking charge like this. The only time Tsukki had ever taken charge like this was during a match, when he was timing out blocks, and even then he simply said “ready, and”. There was never an explicit plan laid out like he’d just done. He watched Tsukkageyama fidget – something that Kageyama had never seen Tsukki do – and knew that Yamaguchi must be special to him, for him to be this worried about everything.

That’s not to say Kageyama wasn’t worried, because he was. But his and Hinata’s relationship was new, and while Kageyama would love to have kissed Hinata the night before and not Yamaguchi, he knew that Tsukki and Yamaguchi were practically inseparable, and that this must be hell for Tsukkageyama.

Did he actually feel bad for that asshole?

He didn’t have long to dwell on whether or not the feeling in his chest was frustration that he couldn’t see Hinata or frustration that Tsukkageyama couldn’t spend time with Yamaguchi. Tsukkageyama pushed himself up off the bed and grabbed his bag. “Let’s go,” he said without looking back at Kageyama.

***

Shopping with Tsukkageyama, as much as Kageyama hated to admit it, was kind of fun. Tsukkageyama had a habit of mumbling comments about other shoppers, saying things like “she really wore that out in public?” and “he looks like he doesn’t know how to use a hairbrush.” Kageyama would snicker behind his hand, admittedly practicing to play the role of Tsukkishima later during their double date.

As they idly walked around the store, looking for things to get each other’s boyfriends, they devised a plan. Kageyama had to pick Yamaguchi up, so Kageyama would text Tsukkageyama when they were on their way to the festival. Tsukkageyama and Hinata would buy lunch at a nearby stand and sit at a table in clear sight from the direction that Kageyama and Yamaguchi would be coming from. Once Hinata spotted Kageyama (Tsukkishima) and Yamaguchi, there was not doubt in either of their minds that Hinata would wave them over, and the group would – like magic – be on a double date.

That was the hope, anyways, as Kageyama picked out a small crow stuffed animal and gave it to Tsukkageyama. “Hinata loves stuffed animals,” he mumbled, cheeks turning somewhat pink. He hated the feeling of not getting the stuffed animal for Hinata himself; even since before they were dating, Kageyama treated Hinata to stuffed animals for special occasions. One time, he even found a calico cat plushie to commemorate a training camp with Nekoma.

Tsukkageyama didn’t say anything about Kageyama’s blushing. Instead, he led Kageyama to the flowers aisle. “Yamaguchi really likes flowers and gardening, so, um…just pick some.” Tsukkageyama wore the same frustrated blush Kageyama did as Kageyama tried to decide between two bouquets. Finally, he settled for one with orange and white lilies. The two paid for their respective gifts, and Tsukkageyama gave Kageyama directions to Yamaguchi’s house.

When they parted ways, Kageyama felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. This was really happening, and so much could go wrong in the span of a single day that he felt like his heart might beat out of his chest. He followed Tsukkageyama’s directions carefully (he’d sent them in a text while making fun of Kageyama’s short-term memory) and made it to Yamaguchi’s house much faster than he’d made it home the night before with Tsukkageyama’s directions. He wondered vaguely if Tsukkageyama had been messing with him the night before. Probably, he concluded.

He sent Tsukkageyama a text that he’d made it to Yamaguchi’s house. Just before Kageyama called to say he was outside, Yamaguchi swung open the door, smiling sweetly. “Hey, Tsukki,” he chirped, then looked down and saw the bouquet Kageyama had so carefully carried all the way here. “Oh! Are those for me?”

“Who else would they be for?” Kageyama asked in the most Tsukki tone he could muster; it must have worked, because Yamaguchi giggled and grabbed the bouquet, then planted a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll go put these in water, then we can go. Where are we going, anyways?”

“You’ll see.”

Somehow, Kageyama felt much more relaxed on their walk to the festival than he had felt the day before. This time he listened to Yamaguchi rattle on, and maybe had he listened the day before he could have gathered just how much Yamaguchi loved to garden; he talked endlessly about the status of a few vegetable plants he was growing, as well as some sunflowers that he said reminded him of Hinata, then laughed. Kageyama smiled at this, thinking once again of Hinata as they turned a corner and headed toward the festival.

“Oh, Tsukki, you said you didn’t like festivals!” Yamaguchi’s face lit up.

“It’s not always about me,” Kageyama responded. He found it easy to act like Tsukki when it was just him and Yamaguchi; he didn’t have a grumpy face that made things like this sound cranky when he said  them to Hinata. He decided maybe the best idea for the night was to act like Yamaguchi was Hinata—

But that wouldn’t be happening, he decided, when they saw Hinata and Tsukkageyama sitting together. Hinata had the crow plushie stuffed under his arm, and he wore the absolute cutest summer outfit. Nothing could top the real Hinata, he decided quickly.

As if on cue, Hinata stood and waved the second he saw Yamaguchi and Kageyama (Tsukki). Tsukkageyama turned around and – was that a smile? Yamaguchi waved to the two with a shy smile, then looked up at Kageyama. “Tsukki, did you know they’d be here?”

“N-no,” Kageyama replied. Maybe he wasn’t entirely used to acting like Tsukkishima.

“Yamaguchi, Tsukkishima! Over here!”

When they sat, Yamaguchi let his knees bump against Kageyama’s under the table. Kageyama wondered if this was similar to the nervous tick Hinata had; whenever Hinata was unsure of himself, he would tap his fingers in a certain pattern on Kageyama’s shoulder, palm, whatever was closest. And, if Kageyama was able, he’d get Hinata out of that situation. Again, something they’d been doing long before they started dating.

“What are you guys doing here?” Tsukkageyama asked, trying his best to sound like actual Kageyama.

“Tsukki brought me here,” Yamaguchi replied with a smile over at Kageyama. “We’re on a—”

“Friend date!” Hinata piped up quickly, his cheeks and ears red with embarrassment. “Yup, us too! Right, Kageyama?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Tsukkageyama nodded. His eyes were trained on Kageyama with a look of subtle horror in his eyes as both of them came to the realization that either they would have to admit they were dating, or they would continue in this unsettling atmosphere.

“How’s your face?” Hinata asked Kageyama, sneering a bit. “Kageyama got you good, didn’t he?”

“Oh—um, it’s fine,” Kageyama struggled, being put under the spotlight far too quickly. “I deserved it.”

That shocked everyone at the table, including Tsukkageyama, who made a quick sputtering noise and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry I did that,” he said finally, and it sounded much too sincere to be coming from either Tsukki or Kageyama.

Kageyama waved it off after the momentary shock and the group instead shifted to discussing some television show that Hinata and Yamaguchi both enjoyed. Hinata was trying to explain the plot to Tsukkageyama while Yamaguchi argued about how the two main characters were obviously in love to Kageyama. Both of them looked at each other from the corners of their eyes, completely confused because neither one of them had seen a single episode of the show.

It became harder and harder for Kageyama to watch Hinata mindlessly drum his fingers on Tsukkageyama’s hand. That should be me, he thought stubbornly, and he didn’t even notice how hard he was glaring until Yamaguchi nudged him with his knee under the table. “Is something wrong?” Yamaguchi asked in a hushed tone, moving his face a bit closer to Kageyama’s.

“N-no, it’s nothing,” Kageyama flushed a bit and felt somewhat guilty. No matter how much he despised Tsukkishima, he’d never want to do something to jeopardize his relationship with Yamaguchi.

“Well, you look angrier than usual. We can go do something else, if you want—”

“Yamaguchi and I are going to go play some games,” Kageyama announced in as bored of a tone as he could muster. Hinata and Tsukkageyama looked over at him, almost quizzically, but soon Kageyama and Yamaguchi were on their feet and heading towards the game stalls.

“I want to play something too, Ka-ge-ya-ma!” Hinata sang in that same way he’d done multiple times already. Tsukkageyama wondered what it would sound like if Yamaguchi said his name in a singsong way like that. He concluded after a moment that it would sound terrible; he liked the nickname Tsukki all too much.

“Bet I can beat you at the ring toss,” Tsukkageyama decided the most Kageyama-like thing to do would be to induce competition.

“Oh, you’re on!” Hinata laughed, a bright and sunny laugh that reminded him of the way Yamaguchi laughed when it was just the two of them. He sighed and glanced around, catching sight of Yamaguchi playing some sort of rubber duck fishing game with Kageyama, their shoulders bumping. Both of them wore wide smiles.

Tsukkageyama had never taken Yamaguchi to a festival, despite knowing just how much his boyfriend enjoyed the people and the food and the sights. He’d never wanted to put himself willingly into that close of proximity with people for fear that they’d somehow read Tsukki’s mind and know that he was gay, and that he was dating his childhood friend. He wasn’t ashamed of Yamaguchi; he was afraid of admitting to anyone (himself, mostly) that he liked men. He loved Yamaguchi with all of his heart, and he wanted to protect Yamaguchi with his life, but still he found it exceedingly difficult to take Yamaguchi on dates where someone else might figure that out.

Hinata and Tsukkageyama bounded towards the ring toss stall, which was just a few stalls down from where Kageyama and Yamaguchi were. Kageyama stood close to Yamaguchi, and every once in a while Yamaguchi would lean up against him and smile up at him like he was the only person there. Tsukkageyama’s heart clutched and he forced himself to look away. He had gotten used to that look being special, being just for him; but he supposed that meant Kageyama was doing a good job playing the part of him, and that should be a good thing, right? Why did he feel so hurt?

“Hey, Kageyama,” Hinata tugged on Tsukkageyama’s sleeve. Some of his mannerisms secretly made Tsukkageyama wonder if maybe Kageyama was just into petite girls and he couldn’t get a girlfriend with his scary face, so he settled for the next best thing.

“What?” Tsukkageyama snapped back, but judging by the look on Hinata’s face, Kageyama didn’t bark at him like that when they were alone. “Sorry,” he added.

“It’s fine. You just seem a little tenser than usual. Did you not want to spend time with Tsukkishima and Yamaguchi? Because I’m sorry, I spoke without thinking—”

“It’s alright,” Tsukkageyama said quickly.

“Do you think they’re dating?” Hinata followed up in a genuinely thoughtful tone. “I mean, they’re always so close. And Yamaguchi told me one time that Tsukkishima comes and spends the night a lot.”

“That doesn’t automatically mean they’re dating,” Tsukkageyama responded, trying to hide the fear and frustration in his tone.

“Well, yeah, but…” Hinata smiled up at him. “That’s how we got together, isn’t it?”

“I-I guess?” It was genuinely a question; Tsukkageyama had no idea how they got together.

Hinata laughed at the look of confusion on his face and turned his attention to the ring toss game. “Either way, they look happy together. I hope they’re happy.”

That sent Tsukkageyama’s head swirling. What did Hinata mean? Was that supposed to be some sort of joke? Tsukkishima had never taken the time to care about the Shrimp’s happiness before all of this, and up until this point, he hadn’t been planning on caring about it after. How come Hinata cared if he was happy or not? He never paid any attention to Hinata’s happiness, and he was sure Hinata had to know that.

Tsukkageyama must have zoned out, because he was brought back into reality with a swift kick to the back. He winced, and just a few stalls down he saw Kageyama wince, too, then scowl over at Tsukkageyama as if he was the one who had just kicked them in the back. “Earth to Kageyama,” Hinata giggled. “What’s up?”

“It’s nothing,” Tsukkageyama plastered a frown onto his face that he hoped looked similar to Kageyama’s. It must not have been quite right, because Hinata giggled even more.

“Are you sure? You look constipated.”

“Why do you care about m—Tsukkishima’s happiness?” he finally spat. He had to know.

“Oh,” Hinata shrugged. “He’s my teammate. He may be mean and all, but I still care about him. Because if he’s happy he plays volleyball better!” Hinata accentuated this with a pump of his fist to the air. “Besides, if he plays volleyball better, then it’s a real competition of who’s the best middle blocker!”

Tsukkageyama wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t that. He laughed, then, something he rarely did in his own body. Hinata watched him with a look of confusion. “Why’s that funny?”

“Because it all comes down to volleyball, like always,” Tsukkageyama sighed after he calmed down.

“Well, volleyball is my favorite thing. And that means you’re also my favorite thing by extension,” Hinata nudged into Tsukkageyama playfully, and Tsukkageyama’s face flushed. Yamaguchi said things like this to him, but they were rare and always followed up by a million apologies. However, Hinata was unapologetic and smiling, and he kind of liked that. Tsukkageyama didn’t know how Kageyama responded to these types of things, though, so he just smiled and tossed the rest of his rings at the bottles, missing every single one.

***

The four of them gathered again at a table for dinner. Yamaguchi carried a large chibi flower stuffed animal under his arm that Kageyama must have won for him, and Hinata and Tsukkageyama both had a variety of small, cheap plushies. The conversation flowed much better than it had earlier that day, and Kageyama hated to admit it, but Yamaguchi and Tsukki (inside Kageyama’s body or not) were quite fun to spend time with. He knew Hinata must have been having the same thoughts, because as Tsukkageyama and Hinata parted ways, Hinata exclaimed that “We should do this again soon!” as they walked away.

Once they were gone, Yamaguchi sidled up closer to Kageyama. “I think they’re dating,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” Kageyama mumbled, not entirely processing that wait, Yamaguchi had figured it out. His face flushed when he did have that realization.

“Well, it makes sense,” Yamaguchi shrugged. “They spend like, all their free time together.”

“I guess it does make some sense.” Kageyama inwardly panicked. Were they really that obvious? Did the whole team already know? He had to remind himself how surprised Tsukkageyama had been when he found out, despite having already guessed it.

“Do you want to spend the night? My parents aren’t home.”

Now, Kageyama would do a lot of things to keep them from getting found out—kissing, cuddling, hugging…but he would not lose his virginity to Yamaguchi. “S-sorry, I’ve got some homework to do. Maybe later this week?” He hoped in his suggestion that their bodies would switch back later that week.

“Oh. Yeah,” Yamaguchi plastered a smile on his face. Kageyama could immediately tell he’d upset the boy; he knew the look of a fake-smile all too well from the many times Hinata tried not to act offended when Kageyama said he had to go home after hours of after-school practice.

“I really am sorry,” Kageyama insisted. “Can I walk you home?”

“Yeah, sure.”

***

It had been a few days now that Kageyama and Tsukkishima were trapped in each other’s bodies. The two were getting antsy to find a solution, but so far their only lead they had was the shrine visit from over a month ago. After some feverish Googling, Kageyama and Tsukkageyama found the American film Freaky Friday, which may have been of some help if the two had gone to a cheap Chinese restaurant and gotten strange fortune cookies.

Kageyama had to quadruple check with Tsukkageyama that that didn’t happen. Each time, Tsukkageyama had to remind Kageyama that they didn’t go out to eat with each other. Like, ever.

Their acting slowly improved during volleyball practices to the point that they were acting mostly like themselves again on the court. Tsukkageyama even attempted a freak quick pass, which went well for the most part, except Hinata had to hit it with his left hand. Everyone in the club seemed to be off their trail.

Except for Suga.

Suga waited in the clubroom until Tsukkageyama and Kageyama were the last ones, idly fumbling with his gym bag. Before they could leave, he cleared his throat and put a smile on his face. “Hey, you two,” he chirped, “how about you take a seat?”

The two glanced at each other and swallowed thickly. Neither one of them had the guts to dash out the door and run forever from Suga, so they accepted their defeat and sat on the bench together, heads hung. “Now,” Suga began, “I might not be the smartest person on the team, but there’s a reason I’m called the most observant.”

Shit, Kageyama thought.

“You two are playing some sort of weird game,” Suga still wore his intimidating smile. “You’re acting like each other. Why?”

He doesn’t know, Tsukkageyama thought.

“We switched bodies—”

“We’re practicing for a play—”

The two spoke at the same time, then looked at each other in confusion. Suga shook his head. “I can’t understand you with both of you talking at once. One at a time, please.”

“We’re…practicing for a play?”

“Right! A play!”

Suga laughed out loud at this. “Yeah, right. You don’t have time for that,” he waved his hand dismissively. “What was that other thing?”

Kageyama looked at Tsukkageyama nervously. Both of them looked up finally, completely defeated. “We switched bodies,” they said together.

Suga laughed even harder at this – that is, until he noticed that neither of the boys in front of him were laughing. His laughter slowly died. “You…you are joking, right?”

“Sadly, no,” Tsukkageyama replied. “It’s been like this since last Friday.”

“Is that why—”

“Tsukkishima punched me in the face,” Kageyama replied, and Suga was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Tsukkishima had just referred to himself in the third person – no, that was Kageyama, not Tsukkishima.

“Jesus,” he sighed. “I thought you were just playing some stupid prank or something…”

“I wish,” they responded at the same time.

“Quit doing that!” Suga cried. “You’re freaking me out now.”

“Do you know how to help?” Kageyama asked desperately.

Suga tapped his chin in thought. “Have you seen the movie Freaky Friday?” he asked finally.

“We didn’t eat any Chinese food,” Tsukkageyama replied bluntly.

“Well, that’s not exactly what I mean. In the movie, the mom and the daughter don’t switch back until they do something nice for each other and see each other’s points of view. Have you tried that?”

“I’d rather smack our heads together,” Tsukkageyama droned.

“They do that in the movie too,” Kageyama noted. The two seemed all too eager to do that, and Suga had to throw himself between them to keep them from throwing their heads together.

“Bad plan,” Suga huffed as he separated the two. “Okay, we’ll keep this our little secret. Let’s have lunch together again today and we can try to figure it out.”

“Hinata will be upset if I bail again,” Tsukkageyama replied. Kageyama glanced over at him, shocked; some time after their visit to the festival, Tsukkageyama had started caring more about Hinata. He even stopped referring to him as Shrimpy to Kageyama.

“Well then maybe we can try after practice. Tsukki—Kageyama, is that okay with you?” Suga asked.

“I usually walk Yamaguchi home,” he replied, rubbing his neck. Suga groaned.

“This might be a little harder than we thought.”

***

They ended up settling for meeting at Suga’s apartment later that evening. Neither Tsukkageyama nor Kageyama commented on the fact that Suga lived alone; they both supposed they knew next to nothing about their upperclassman. By the time Kageyama arrived after walking Yamaguchi home, Tsukkageyama was already sitting on the floor across from Suga, drinking tea from a colorful mug.

Suga greeted Kageyama with a warm smile and a cup of tea for himself. “Tsukkishima and I were just trying to think of some things that might work,” he said as he led Kageyama into the apartment.

Despite how uncomfortable the atmosphere should have felt, the group spent a great deal of time laughing and joking with each other. It was especially strange when Suga heard Tsukkishima full on laugh the first time; of course, that voice had come from Kageyama, but Tsukkageyama was laughing, too.

They brainstormed for a good, long while, not even bothering about the time despite it being a school night. The best option they could come up with was to see one another’s point of view, like they did in that movie Freaky Friday, but slamming heads together was kept as a back-up option.

The group was startled from their brainstorming session when there was another knock at the door. “Shit,” Suga breathed, still wearing a smile as he pushed himself up and walked to the door. Kageyama and Tsukkageyama heard a muffled noise, then a yelp, then a door slam. “Wrong address!” Suga said quickly as he came back into the room, but neither of them bought it.

A little bit later, they said their good-byes and thanked Suga for everything. He waved them away, saying how he always enjoyed extra company. Tsukkageyama and Kageyama passed by Daichi in the hallway, who was seemingly trying to hide behind a fake plant. It only dawned on Kageyama as he was walking to Tsukkishima’s house what Daichi had been there for, but he tried to shake the thought away and imagined that maybe Daichi was just there to…study. Yeah, study. At around midnight on a school night. Of course.

That evening left him much to think about besides Daichi and Suga’s…study session. He wondered what it meant to see things from Tsukkishima’s point of view. He supposed seeing out of Tsukkishima’s eyes was the ultimate view of his point of view, but obviously that wasn’t the answer. Plus, he was getting antsy. Not being able to set to Hinata was eating away at him, and he felt like he might explode in a heap of jealousy soon if he watched Tsukkageyama set even one more poorly-received toss to Hinata.

#kagehina #tsukkiyama #haikyuu!! #volleyball #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #tsukkishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #switched!au