#I mean this could be common knowledge but I honestly have never gotten in touch with coding and stuff

[glendover]

I had to sort back the books from the technical section and there were books about Python programming (python code??? Coding??? Idk bro I’m just here to sort back the books not to know what they are all about) but all I could think about was the lovely Matt iteration who doesn’t know he’s a Matt

[lightlycareless]

I’m sorry if this is a weird question. It’s totally cool if you just delete this if it is but when faced with another guy bothering Y/N, would he be the type to punch a guy out, intimidate them, or talk out of it(y’know that suave way of staking claim so to speak) :3

Hello anon!!!

Ah yes, the ask I thought I hallucinated by some strange reason 🤣 like, I believed I already posted the answer to this but I didn't???

Either way, this gave me the perfect opportunity to do a bit of angst :) a little "Naoya and Y/N realize being together isn't all rainbows"

warnings: highschool au, kind of. slight mentions of violence. you really worry for naoya. he has yet a lot to learn about being a good boyfriend. it's the early stages of the relationship.

Enjoy!

Honestly, this moment… is something everyone around you awaited.

I mean, Naoya is brash, stubborn, rude, selfish, nobody gets along with him, doesn't have that many friends, so on and so forth.

Thus, it was only natural that he'd eventually rub someone the wrong way…

Or be rubbed the wrong way.

Your boyfriend, as stated, was a threat by himself, but when you were added into the mix, it's like all his foul traits doubled. Not to you, of course not, never to the only other person he considered worthy of him.

But towards those foolish enough to think they still had a chance with you after making his claim. To defy the heir of the Zen'in is to have a death wish—wasn’t that common knowledge by now?!

Yet, to those ignorant of this fact, he is nothing but patient enough to remind.

“—Naoya!”

It happened all so quickly. One moment you were being pestered by a faceless student, insisting you’d leave your boyfriend for someone better, a bit more grounded, implying himself to be that person…

And the other, you were crying, heart thundering and hands trembling as the horrifying sight of Naoya beating that same guy unfolded before you.

The fight did not go without retaliation of course, your instigator never intending to take your boyfriend’s punches without retaliation, which lead you to shriek when a particular sharp blow landed against Naoya’s left side of his face, prompting you to run to their side and do all in your power to separate them—

To no avail.

“Stop it, Naoya!” You cried, helplessly trying to get them away from one another; but you never could compare to his strength. Less when he was determined to continue so. “Please! St—stop! You're— you're going to— you’re going to kill him!”

“What is going on??” Nanami exclaims. It wasn't his intention to get near the commotion, always one to avoid trouble whenever possible, but upon hearing your frightened voice, he ran as fast as possible to your aid. “Y/N!”

“Ken—Kento—! You— You have to stop them!” You wailed, frantically tugging at this arm and evoking a sense of urgency. “They're going to—they’re going to kill each other if you don’t!”

The ones that ultimately manage to separate the two are Suguru and Satoru, just before the teachers stepped in, but not enough to prevent them from being reprimanded by them, taking them to the principal’s office to discuss their rightful punishment—regardless of who provoked who.

“After my family sues you, you're fucking dead!”

“Ha! Do you not know who I am?! I'd like to see you try!” Naoya guffaws.

“Stop it already!” Yaga exclaimed “You're already knees deep in trouble, the last thing you both need is to be expelled!”

Ultimately, the threat of being away from you is enough to keep Naoya willing. One would think that he'd worry more about his family and the issue this small disturbance would bring, but truth is that he's gotten out of worse predicaments: him getting into an altercation with a nobody is not something that would prevent the elders, or him, from sleeping.

Though your prolonged silence, the cold judgment imposed by your piercing eyes, and the subtle annoyance displayed in your touch would; feeling tiny for the first time in his life before you, even when you were so attentively tending to his wounds once dismissed.

“Why are you so quiet, princess? Don’t tell me I scared ya’?” Naoya begins, cutting through the awkward silence settling between the two with a teasing tone he hopes would make light of the situation—make you forget of the blood curling screams you let out when he was entangled with that irrelevant kid who’d more likely disappear tomorrow, and move on…

But oh, how wrong he’d be to choose that path. Make fun of your poor heart.

“What? Thought I wouldn’t win? You know me better than—”

“Is this what it is to you? A joke?” You sternly state, stopping tending his wounds and subsequently quieting Naoya up.

“A joke?” Naoya repeats. “A joke would be him thinking he could win against—"

“Seriously, Naoya?! Is that all you have to say?!” You cry, beginning to crack. “Why must you always take it a competitive thing??”

“Ah, so what was I supposed to do? Let him beat me??” Naoya countered.

“There you go again, taking my words out of context! I didn’t even say that!” you whined.

“Well, it’s not like you’ve given me much to work on, princess.” He scowls. “Why are you even so angry? If anything, I should be the one upset because I got hurt for you, and this is the thanks I get!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?!” you gasp, offended as tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. “Was I the one that wanted this—this fight to happen? Did I tell you I wanted to see you get hurt?!”

“It’s kind of expected, don’t you think?” He states, making your eyes go wide. “We’re sorcerers, we’re bound to get hurt—if you didn’t want that then maybe you should’ve considered a different career—

Or a different boyfriend.”

“Is that—is that what you’re going to go with?” you firmly ask, as if giving him one last time to reconsider his words…

Which he did after you set aside the first aid kit, standing up with all intentions of leaving the room that he realized how gravely he’d messed up, quicky to grab your arm and pull you back to him; and though the wounds of his fight made it hurt, more so since you struggled against him, he did not relent.

“Wait, Y/N, please—That came out wrong, I didn’t mean—”

“And what did you mean, Naoya?” you say, with a trembling voice that made his heart sting even more. He’s just gotten out of one altercation to walk right into another one—how delightful. “If it isn’t to mock me for worrying?!”

“No, I wasn’t.” Naoya says, tightening his hold on you, as much as he could anyways. He just… he just didn’t want you to leave, not like this. Not when he needed you the most. “I would never!”

You don’t respond, there wasn’t much to say when his words didn’t match his actions.

“…I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“But you did.” You responded, and now he was able to hear the tears that had begun to slide down your cheeks. “You… you got into that awful fight instead of letting him go and almost got yourself expelled—no, worse! Killed!”

“But it didn’t happen, you know? You… you called for help, and we stopped!”

“Because you wouldn’t listen!” You wept, turning around and taking a good look at his face. Naoya wishes you hadn’t, however, because seeing you cry just broke his heart into a million pieces. “Neither of you!”

“Y/N—”

“You were like… like an animal out there.” You added. “Nothing seemed to snap you out of trance, and I—I got so scared—!”

“I didn’t mean to scare you either.”

“Does it even matter? You said so yourself, this is what sorcerers are supposed to do.”

“No, you know what I meant—”

“No. I don’t. I really don’t know what you meant.”

…

…

…

“I did this to protect you.” Naoya quietly adds. “I just… got so angry seeing you being bothered by that idiot, that I… I needed to do something. I needed to get him away from you!”

“…Why can’t you understand this isn’t what I wanted?” You sniffle. “I didn’t want you to get hurt, no matter the reason why.”

“I know, I know you didn’t—”

“Then… why did you do it? What made you so angry, enough to beat him up and risk your career?”

The thought of being undeserving of you. Naoya concluded. Because his words had unwittingly struck a nerve, a thought he’s tried his hardest to push deep within the confines of his mind, but until he makes amends with himself, he’ll never be able to escape that fear.

The notion that perhaps there is someone better out there for you… and that person isn’t himself.

And after the way he’s made you cry, such bitter tears… perhaps that was the truth.

“I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.” Naoya quietly concludes, making your eyes widen once more. “So I will never hurt you again.”

“Naoya, that’s—that’s not what I want!” you gasp, heart clenching at the prospect of him leaving you. “Not at all!”

“What good of a boyfriend could I be if I all I do ends up hurting you?”

“And you think that leaving me wouldn’t do just that??” you fret. “That living a life without you won’t make me miserable?!”

“It seems I already do…”

“N—No! I don’t—I don’t want that! I—I can’t allow it!” you sob, immediately wrapping your arms around him. “I just got you… I don’t want to lo—lose you…!”

Now with tears in his eyes, Naoya tightly embraces you, pulling you as close as possible as he reassures your fears away.

“Princess…” Naoya breathes, cupping your face and making you look to him. “It’ll take a whole lot for me to ever leave you. Probably the end of the world—but you’ll never lose me, ever.”

“You don’t—you don’t know how awful it felt to not be able to do anything!” you confess. “I… I tried to get him off you but I—I couldn’t do it—I couldn’t protect you!”

“No, no, Y/N—That’s my job. I’m supposed to protect you, not the other way around.”

“But you—what about you? What if you need me? What am I supposed to do?”

“Leave all the heavy lifting to me, and you…” Naoya smiles, intertwining his hands with yours. “You can patch me up after, eh? Heal me up.”

“Nao—Naoya.” You sniffle, lips trembling as tears continued to flood your face. “Promise me you—promise me you’ll always be careful… please.”

“I promise.” He says, taking your hands to his lips and gently kissing your knuckles. “Though I doubt someone as talented as me might need to make such promises—it’s a given.”

“Don’t be silly…” you murmur, he chuckles. “As long as you’re a sorcerer, I’ll always worry…”

“Good thing I have my mochi to take care of me, hm? Have me in her thoughts while I’m away.” Naoya smiles.

“You better not come back too roughed up, then. Or I—Or I won’t be able to help much…”

“Not that I need much, your kisses are sufficient enough to make me feel much—ah, shit, princess?!” Naoya gasps, startled by the stinging sensation of the alcohol-soaked cotton pressed against his skin. “Should’ve given me a warning, at least!”

“I thought you only needed my kisses?” You gently tease, he frowns. “Sorry, I just needed to clean you up before you do anything else, you started bleeding again.”

“…Fine, I guess.” Naoya pouts, hissing whenever feeling the alcohol against his wounds.

“What will happen with… him, by the way?”

“I don’t know, he’s getting expelled I guess.” Naoya shrugs. “I’ll make it happen if not.”

“Naoya…”

“What? He was bothering you—think I’m going to let that slide? No one annoys my princess outside of me.”

“… Thank you, for protecting me, really.” You eventually murmur, putting away everything once done. You then lean forward, placing a chaste kiss over his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, little mochi.” Naoya smiles, kissing you once more. “My sweet damsel in distress, are you going to nurse me until I’m all better?”

“Don’t call me that—and do I have another choice?”

He snickers. “I guess not, but you wouldn’t want it any other way, would you?”

You smile.

“No, I guess not.”

…

…

…

“I wouldn’t mind if you dressed up as a nurse too, you know? Heard it helps for a faster recovery.”

“Don’t push it…

…

…

…

here, at least.”

Naoya smirks. Maybe he should get a bit roughed up once in a while.

Yes he'd beat up someone for you, naturally. let's not forget his go-to solution in grave situations is killing someone lol.

Anyways, I hope you liked this little something!! It's kind of refreshing to write the Naoya that has yet to learn how to approach you; like, I know I tend to write him perfect in certain aspects, but he was once a... brat, I guess haha. He doesn't know how to treat people, less the one he loves! We're bound to see more of this flawed Naoya very early in the relationship and I LOVE IT hehehe. I wonder what other stumbles I can write...?

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!!

[gojoho]

PATIENCE

• pairing; au!ryomen sukuna x reader

• premise; you were different than the rest, and with a simple touch the devil makes peace with his boredom for the taste of your skin.

• words; 2,798

• note & warning; every time i proofread what my demon chose to write at three in the morning i cry. why am i like this? honestly, i had so much trouble with sukuna it's amazing that i found a ground to make this on. anyway...unprotected sex ( wrap it up or pack it up ), dirty language, ownership, creampie-breeding kink? i never know which one it is, these mfs just never pullout. enjoy i suppose?

Sukuna was accustomed to the cults that proudly proclaimed him as their leader, or better yet, The Chosen. False disciples to his name, many of which tried to justify their treacherous lives in comparison to his glory. A pathetic bunch he wasted little time over, not one of them much of a rivalry towards that of a king. Though your blood was far too innocent, even for a ruthlessly being as himself, he would not take on such a burdened responsibility. Having been blamed for far less, he wouldn’t live this one down. Feasibly the only reason death escaped you.

Obsession, fascination, none of which seemed that far from one another with him, nor did it matter. At any capacity mortals were tedious, their petty materialistic need; gold this, that, and whatnot. Maybe he was just bored, but then he wouldn’t be giving you much credit, would he? He was quite patient for his tetchy personality, letting you grow accustomed to his territory, where you’d spend the rest of your days. A cub seeing the pride lands for the first time.

“Follow the rules, and you’ll do just fine little cub.” You never shied from his touch, letting him indulge your soft skin, squeezing, nipping, kissing every and anywhere he pleased. But your worth was still up for question thus far, what did you bring that the others couldn’t.

“Open.” You would sit between his legs, knees bent to his divinity abiding every command. Allowing his salty fingers against your tongue, their cleanliness unbeknownst to everyone except him, but it only made you suck on them more. “So eager for me to ruin you.”

That made two of you, but he wouldn’t, not just yet.

He kept you, his precious new pet, close. Allowing your scent to fill his bed, swarm his clothes, and plague him with a hunger driven by an appetite that was you. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust you, he didn’t trust anyone, but he did trust your behavior. The way you managed to curl up against him at night, your soft snores fanning his back, no matter how much space there was in his bed. How you followed behind him everywhere he went, involuntarily making things less...irritating. Yet your consistency didn’t extend towards the others. Vicious and vengeful, they’d see to it that he’d fall by any means necessary. Even if it meant going through you or letting it be by your own hand.

“Cub,” he’d call you over, legs wide and waiting. You’d mount him facing forward, shamelessly letting your body unwind against his touch.

Fingers working the robes from your frame with ease, instant access to the skin beneath. All while his lips worked around your neck, touching up his handiwork of pink and purple blotches around it. The product of every session. Before he’d break you off, truly make you his, preparation was in order. It’s started with your chest, his hold over your bosom, the small mouthes in each hand working their peaks. Swirling sucking nibbling away at their tenderness until you’d grind against his bulge. Drenching him with your arousal. Clothes only got in his way, he’d have you roam around naked if he pleased but that was sight met only for his eyes, and his alone. Your robes, makeshift Sukuna hand-me-downs, was a barrier between the world and what was his.

After all, it was his touch that made you a mess. ”You're already so wet for me, little cub. Maybe I'll fuck you tonight. Maybe.”

He moved a hand to your heat, parted your folds with two slender fingers while the other hand still devoured your nipple. Sukuna was greedy, common knowledge to anyone who came across the curse, but with a hunger driven by your flesh, he was more insatiable than ever. It wouldn't be long until you were writhing in his lap, every bit of noise coming from your lips. Crying out as he worked your orgasm with his fingers plunged deep in your depths and the tongue on his palm lapping at your clit feverishly.

”Kuna,” you'd mewl, with arms stretched up to his face. The only person still alive to say it let alone give him a nickname.

The rules were simple;

Speak when spoken too

Eye contact

No kissing

A cruel rule that reminded you what the relationship was. He wasn't your lover or anything to you. You belonged to him and he'd use you however he saw fit. If that meant raw dogging you, believe he'd fuck you silly.

Simple, but still difficult nonetheless. He watched your face upturn in admiration, eyes flickering between his and his lips with each whimper. You wanted to kiss him, have his tongue so far down your throat until you choked. Sukuna knew all too well the look you gave him and smirked pressing his fingers deeper, taking your wanton ones to hold his cheek into his mouth. The closet you've gotten to a kiss, but soon your eyes would wander to mess that was your body, watching him unravel your seams, the first orgasm shuddered throughout you.

The first time he had his way, you'd barely made it past one orgasm from his fingers. Now it was six, with at most his fingers and three mouths. He wondered if you’d handle his cock if thrown into the mix. With that thought alone his mind wandered, you handled his hands well but the mystery behind your lips made him twitch just thinking about it. A pretty face with such a content expression, so grateful he granted you a full mouth. Could you handle all of him? If you could, he would've taken what was already his, turned you inside out, and left your body useless to any other being but him.

He deprived himself of a release, letting it build along his thighs and boil at the deepest parts of his body. You were going to take it all from him, feed his hunger while he quenched yours. Truly teaching you what it meant to belong to Ryomen Sukuna, The Great King of Curses.

Each session left you craving more, made your hips sink further against his moving in pure need. Sukuna let you wallow in your tension, desire unkempt and rowdy beneath his nose. You were conflicted between the logic prancing your mind and the hunger of your heat. Where the thought of him feeding you more than just a few fingers made it throb for a release, to be relieved from the fear that kept it empty and unfulfilled.

You'd missed the comfort his presence brought to the bed when pressing matters stole his attention, without it sleep was surreal. Eluding your conscience till he would come back late into the morning, exhaustion settling through the afternoon if he allowed you to. Until one afternoon where he’d prepare to set off again, another village another reign of terror, Sukuna almost missed the tiny grasp at his robes. The few steps he took towards to the exit fell short by his other end.

”Please,” you'd whisper out pleading for him to stay with a mere word.

For a minute, with his sudden stride and grip over your jaw, you think it's enough. That the way he searched your eyes with his bright red pair, you thought you’d convince him. ”If you expect me to abandon my duties for that cunt of yours, you’re going to have to try harder than that little cub.”

His lips ghosted yours, taunting that separate ache from the rest of your body. Practically testing you to see if you’d break one of his rules; screaming to go ahead, kiss him.

”Well then?” he cooed, lips nearly there but your silence only irritated him. Did he spoil you too much, indeed give you too much credit and mistaken you for something you weren't—

”Please Kuna, I need you.”

”Cute…” He smirked, thumb slipping between the two of you teasing your bottom lip. ”No.”

It was a lie if he said he wouldn't turn you around right there and give in to the temptation. Fill your womb with what felt like decades' worth of his cum. Staining his sheets and your insides. Sukuna already knew you needed him, it was because of that need, that the light in your eyes settled to a palpable glow. Later completely gone by the time of his return.

Sukuna never thought to imagine you upset, not with the way you clung to him. Never did he think it would upset him as much as it did. You slept far from his end of the bed, shielding your body from his touch with the linen. The nerve of you, but he knew it was only a matter of time until he’d have you in his lap again.

Wrong.

Too much time had passed since he denied you of your request, too much time since he’s touched you, too much time since you’ve touched him.

“Cub” he called, but for the first time, he was met with hesitance.

You sat on his lap, back to his chest as per usual, but without your usual excitement. Nothing he couldn’t fix, and like always he started with your chest, getting you to flood over his crotch. By then Sukuna would’ve gotten at least a whimper but you remain uncharacteristically quiet to his touch, jabbing at his ego. Come to find out you’d bitten your lip, holding off from letting him hear just how good he was making you feel.

“Brat,” he hissed with the teeth in his hand nibbling at nothing but your clit but even then the most he got was a huff. “Fine, if that’s how you want to play this game.”

It didn’t take much to lift you up from his chair, face planting you straight into the bed. You yelp at the sudden grip over your waist as it hauls your bottom half into to air. This was far from what he planned, but he’d be a fool to let you carry on with your childish ways.

There was no protest with the way he positioned himself to his knees behind you, shedding himself of his robes, setting his cock free into the late-night air. You would never shy away from looking at him naked, curious of every black line, where they connected and didn’t connect. Still, only catching brief glimpses of him, but now that it was there before you—just one taste, that was enough right? It would make any man happy to hide his cock in a pretty mouth like yours, burying it far beneath your throat, hell it made Sukuna weigh his options but he was beyond horny and irritated.  

He gifts himself a few strokes, over your cunt, introducing it to its owner. Coating himself in the mix of his salvia and your arousal before pushing the tip past the slick gates of his personal Eden. He sunk into your bowels just past the tip before meeting the resistance of your walls. There was no distinction as to whether you’d been too tight or that he was too big, just that it made him want more. A snug fit, one in which he yearned to destroy, leaving you walls irreversibly stretched.

Your arms flailed around, desperate to find anything to grip onto but Sukuna didn’t give you much of a chance before introducing the rest of his inches to your heat.

“Fuck,” you whined. A squeak of unbearable amazement that all of him was inside you. “Wait.”

He was going to bury himself down to the hilt, each time, fuck you till you were a simpleton. It was always his intention to do so, but your impatience got the best of him.

”Quiet, ” he growled spreading your ass to see himself encased by your insides. Surprisingly you swallowed him whole, but he was sure if you kept squirming away it’d be even more painful. ”This is what you wanted, wasn't it? My cock in this slutty hole of yours.”

”Kuna please.”

”Please Kuna, I need you—is that not what you said?”

”Yes…but fuck—”

”Well now you got me, so keep fucking still and take it.” He shooed your pleading palm from his view and adjusted himself. The movement drove him deeper and you mewled beneath him like a feral feline.

A draft followed behind his pelvis as he pulled out only about halfway, your pussy gripping him as he did. He didn’t trust you wouldn’t squirm again and anchored your hips to his grip. Snapping into you once more, stretching more than his previous thrust.

Sukuna took pride in the size of his cock, in the way it left room for only one, only him. You were going to split in two, or at least it felt like it; he was so big, out of place, but just big. Though that was merely the calm before the storm, with no confirmation let alone sign to warn you, he moved again. Starting off with a strong rhythm that rocked the entire bed. He didn’t do slow, his adjective was to punish, ruin, destroy exactly why you were to be prepared.

With a guttural groan, you felt his cock work, biting against the linens as it drilled in and out of your slickness, squelching all around it.

“Listen to that,” he cooed. “Telling me to wait when your pussy sounds like this. I’m going to fill you up so well. Is that what you want kitten?”

Kitten…

An upgrade from little cub you suppose. The harder he goes, the louder both ends of your body get. Wanted was putting it loosely, it was something, if not the only thing, you needed. Yet it’s still not enough, and so Sukuna stops, leaving you lost to the pleasure he provided. Still full with his cock you moan, pleading for him to continue, eyes barely open and lips pierced by your top teeth. “You know the rules. Speak.”

Bucking against him, desperate for any friction, you whined. “Kuna.”

“Whining gets you nowhere,” He said teasing you with slow strokes in time with your desperate hips. “Answer. The. Question.”

“Yes, ” You were begging for it, the high fading from the mind a little too quickly. ”I need it, all of it.”

Now that you stroked his pride, it was only fair he’d returned the favor. Fleeing from their post against your chest, Sukuna’s hands reach up to your throat. Pulling you up to your own knees, squeeze gently. Pumping into your dripping cunt faster, harder, deeper. Strumming at the chords of your orgasm with each lewd noise he pulled with his cock. Saliva dribbling from your chin.

“Look at you,” he grunted, his own pleasure catching up to him. “Drooling from both ends.”

“Sukuna.”

He leaned into your hands, giving permission for them to tug at his roots, while he nuzzled his nose over your cheek, taking in every crude scent. “Hmm, fucking perfect.”

A compliment if he’d ever given you one, his irritation fleeing from his body and the only thing he can think about is just how good it felt to finally be inside you. The ache of his cock finally being milked.  His hand traveled down your body, caressed every curve, every nipple until they settled on your hips.

”Get down, and open up for me.” he ordered quietly, letting his pace falter before getting an obedient ’hmm’

Anything for Sukuna, anything that brought on your orgasm. You arched forward and parted your knees wider, sighing from his hand over your ass again. Kneading and pulling each cheek apart. Picking up the pace again, he wanted to see his cock twitch inside you. See how your body would react. Sukuna wanted to see the mess he made of your hole.

You let a series of colorful curses fly, it was hard to say anything with the explosion inside you, the heat itching just beneath your skin as the adrenaline spiked and rocked you into oblivion.

“Sukuna,” you managed to say but he already knew, feeling the coiling contraction refusing to let him go. A deadly grip that sucked his orgasm through.

The visible veins around his cock, throbbing beneath the thin layer of skin. Slightly moving as the rest of his length spasmed violently against the confines of your flutters. ”Fuck, look at you go, milking me dry.”

His cum wasn't as fluid as it was thick, weeks of pent up lust oozing from your folds. But it meant nothing more but for Sukuna to click his tongue and thrust forward gently a few more times. Fucking it all back into you. Your body twitched ”Oi, shape up, I've only just begun. Besides, I want to try that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You were going to ruin him, as he was you.

[bakugohoex]

I honestly can't remember if I asked for #7 with Zeke...but seeing the prompt and the blurb I must ask you please do fluff #7 with Zeke. 😭💗

“you, you’re fucking home to me, okay?”

pairing: zeke yeager x female reader

cw: language, fluff, kissing, slight crying

word count: 1500+

a/n: i never realised how hard it was to write for zeke, anyway thank you to the person who resent the ask, means a lot after tumblr became a dick

summary: in which after an argument with zeke regarding his excessive jealousy and protectiveness over you, he finally reveals his true motives

1k event masterlist

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

The breath of hot ashy smoke hit the air, the stray cigarette across his two fingers as he let his hand fall to his side. He watched carefully, every movement you made speaking to Reiner and Porco with the same look of admiration you had given to him hours prior. He took another drag of his cigarette, putting it out on the balcony as he went to get you away from the two blonds.

“Y/n.” His voice was filled with power and authority, he disregarded the two boys looking at you. “With me.”

It was almost a beckoning as if you were some servant girl ready for his command and will. “I’ll see you both.” You waved goodbye to the two men following the other blond, he grasped your wrist almost dragging you away. “Zeke, woah, calm down.” His grip tightened against your wrist before pushing you into his office.

He let go of your wrist watching at how you rubbed the sore feeling, “have fun?” He questioned leaning against his desk, he eyed you up and down, the military uniform around your body, with the band around your left arm. He waited for a response as you gave a confused look.

“What are you on about now, Zeke?” You muttered crossing your arms.

He repeated, “did you have fun with them?”

“Why do you care?” You glared at his overprotectiveness; it had become a common occurrence for him to call you away whenever you were around the two other blonds, but it had become excessive.

Zeke leant against the bookshelf, staring at you as he brought out another cigarette. Bringing it to his lips and lightning it right in front of you, he took a long drag, watching as the smoke hit the rest of the room.

The first time you had met Zeke had been when the two of you were teenagers, at the tender age of 18, Zeke had already gained the beast titan and you had joined the military for other reasons. A friendship had occurred from the boy who would sneak out of meetings for a cigarette and the girl who had her breaks conveniently when meetings occurred.

“Want one?” His tender baby face had made you swoon, he was perfect in every way, to the way he spoke, to the way he held the cigarette. You shrugged, stopping and sitting beside the boy. He passed the cigarette that had been in his mouth, lightening it in yours as you took a drag, “first time?”

“Was it that obvious?” You laugh holding it between your two fingers.

He gives a chuckle, staring at you taking another drag, “I have a sixth sense, that tells me when pretty girls have been tainted.”

“So what? I wasn't trained before.” You ask.

“I guess, it means that I tainted you now.” He smirked before hearing the shout of a man calling for him. “That’s me, nice to meet you…”

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You answered his pause.

He smiled happily, having been walking backwards to still face you, “nice to meet you Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Wait? What’s your name?” You shouted as he continued to tread backwards not wanting to be shouted at anymore by a superior.

“Zeke Yeager, you better not go forgetting it, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes chuckling at how the officer began berating the boy who gave a shrug, waving a goodbye at you.

It may have been your first encounter with the boy, but over the years of meeting the other Warriors. The knowledge of Paradis and Zeke’s past, you knew it all and he had gotten protective of the girl he had known for almost a decade now. Maybe it was love out of jealousy which seemed to be the obvious reason between your friends, or maybe he just didn't want anybody stealing you away. You didn’t know and didn’t care, waiting for his reply from your question after another overprotective action.

“They aren’t good for you.”

“Bullshit Zeke, tell me why you act like this now?” You tried to have authority, tried to bring about the same power he brought out, but at the sound of your dominance he laughed.

“Come on, doll, you’re gonna have to try harder to get it out of me, than that.” He took another long drag watching your lip twitch in anger. The feeling of riling you up intoxicated him, how could he not fall in love with that look of anger.

“Don’t be an ass.” You remarked back, walking up to the man and taking the cigarette from his mouth. Taking a long drag yourself as you blow the smoke to the side, you could taste his saliva already around the cigarette, but as you popped it back in his mouth. You felt your anger go down a bit.

He couldn't lie and say he wasn't turned on by your actions, the way you were so close to him yet seemed so far from him. “If you’re not going to give me an answer, I promised Reiner I’d help him with something.”

Just as you were about to leave the room, he grabbed your wrist once more, his grip soft and loose. If you tried, you’d be able to easily get out of it, but you stood faced away from him. Waiting for his next action, “you’re so fucking dense.”

“Me? Dense?” You repeated, “maybe if you didn’t try to hide your feelings through stupid remarks and commands, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Zeke was taken aback by how easily you countered in, but he wasn’t letting himself lose to you, “I don’t fucking do that, you’re just stupid.”

“You do realise everybody knows that you’re a jealous prick, that every time you call me it's when I'm around another guy, way to be a subtle asshole.” He had let go of your wrist as you seethed at him in anger.

“I don’t get jealous, who have I got to be jealous of? It's not like every time I see you with a guy, I think you’re going to leave me, you mean nothing to me.” He shouted back, taking another long drag of his cigarette.

You contemplated his words, thinking of what he had just said, “I mean nothing to you?”

Zeke acknowledged his words, staring at you, your lip quivering at his words. “Y/n, wait, I didn’t…” Before he could continue you faced him with a look of sadness.

“If I mean nothing to you, leave me alone.” You were about to leave again; this time Zeke had finally given up on hiding his feelings for you. How could he not love you; how could he not care for someone like you.

In an instant he pushed the door back, his arms on your sides as you faced him. Tears welling up, he moved his thumb to caress your cheek, wiping away your tears, “I’m sorry, I do care about you.”

You don’t speak, not bothering to face him, his ashy breath hits your cheek, waiting for him to continue, “I shouldn’t have said that I like you, I love you even, in all these years, it’s always been you.”

He moves your face to meet his own, his face only a mere inch from you. He had confessed his love so easily, but your silence and lack of tears gave mixed signals. “Me?” Was all you could stifle out.

“You, you’re fucking home to me, okay?” He whispered his mouth lingering just across your own.

“Okay.” You answered, feeling his other hand lean against the door whilst the one caressing your cheek moved to cup your face allowing your lips to touch.

His lips meshed between your own, ask still lingering between both your mouths, you didn't care though. His soft grip on your cheek contrasted the kiss, the sloppy tongue actions, your hands in his blonde hair, the feeling of his beard rub against your skin as he kept on kissing you. He pushed you up against the wall, the gap between your bodies becoming non-existent. His tongue lingered in your mouth as you both went to part, biting your bottom lip to hear your soft moans again. He never expected to have confessed so easily to you and have you in this position.

His body almost crushing you onto the wall, your legs in between his own. He stared at you with his piercing grey eyes meeting your own, it pooled with love and comfort. “I love you too Zeke.”

He gave a soft kiss to your forehead, staying in the position for a while. Waiting for you both to catch your breath and acknowledge that you two could have something with his remaining years.

You saw the clock to the side, a worry erupting from your face, “fuck, I have a meeting with Porco.”

Zeke remained encasing you, disregarding your words, “I think you’ve forgotten who you belong to, doll.”

“Maybe you should tell me again.” You flirted back as you both went in for another kiss.

It had been much softer, with Zeke’s hand moving to your side, holding you in place as he almost smiled through the kiss. “All mine.” He spoke through it giving you another soft kiss afterwards, you were finally all his.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac @dai-tsukki-desu @fandomsinthegalaxies @crimsonbows-and-arrows @admin-in-residence @otterlockholmes @gabrann

[natsu-chan-17]

Um hi there. I've never been one to be on social media and post, but I thought I'd finally try to share some fluff canons I had. I honestly wont post often and quality probably wont be the best but this is for my own sake😅

So heres a Sero headcanon to get this train rolling😊

Warnings:none just some awkward cuties in love

This will be Y/n x Sero (gender neutral)

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

The high pitched sound of silence was all you could hear as you stared at the ceiling in the dead of night. You had randomly woken up from your deep slumber and couldnt go back to sleep no matter how hard you tried.

Your eyes were still stinging from sleep so you decided against going on your phone and begrudgingly woke up to grab a cup of water.

You quietly sped through the dark halls out of fear of a possible viking hiding within the pitch black hall chasing you while wielding his axe. Finally making it to the kitchen, you noticed the lights were already on.

Sero had had the same thought as you and was checking out the fridge for a drink.

"Hey, whatcha doing up so late?"you questioned him.

"I could ask the same of you," he said with the same cute crooked smile as always before gulping down a bottle of water.

"I cant sleep," you said miserably, "and you?"

"Same, my head feels hella buzzy from the coffee I drank at dinner," he said with a boyish grin. "Definitely a bad idea on my part."

"Hmm I see," you said quietly more to yourself before hesitantly asking, "hey um since we're both up, you wanna maybe head to the roof? I was thinking of stargazing a bit after grabbing a snack."

"Yeah, that sounds pretty cool, you need anything from the kitchen?"

"Nah, guess I'm not really hungry anymore," you said as your stomach started attacking you with butterflies out of nervousness. "Let's grab a couple pillows before we go though," you suggested.

"Sure thing," he said before taking all the ones you had grabbed from the couch in the common room to carry them for you. "Oh you didnt need to-"

"Nah dont worry about it, a gentleman must always be of assistance right," he said while grinning back at you as he made his way to the elevator.

"Oh well...thanks then," you responded softly, touched at his kind gesture.

Sero had been the goofy, boy-next-door type of friend that you had had a crush on since you joined class 1A. The idea of stargazing together was already making your heart squeeze, but his chivalry was just about leaving your heart at death's door.

The ride up felt awkward since you were too nervous to think of anything to say. Stumbling over your words was all you could do to prevent the stale silence in the space from continuing.

The two of you exited the elevator at long last looking for a nice spot to sit since you had reached the rooftop. Sero had started a conversation that you could finally talk about normally, making you feel better. You laid out pillows and a blanket and sat down gazing up at the view of the clear night sky.

"Did Denki ask you the same weird question about belt straps," Sero said with a small smile protruding from the corner of his lips, before lying down on the blanket next to you.

"Yeah what was up with that? His mind is definitely cursed," you answered laughing.

The night continued with small conversations that led to deeper discussions about the stars and how they aligned.

Sero was surprisingly knowledgable on the placements of the stars and the two of you went back and forth talking about the meaning of the constellations.

At some point you sat up from the pillow you were lying on, a bit too excited about one constellation that Sero had pointed out.

He looked up at you as you stared back down at him rambling on, until you realized how close you had gotten to him from accidentally shifting around pointing out a stunning Ursa Major, and your speech slowed to a stop. He was staring intensely at you, adoring how excited you had gotten, and you decided to be brave and look back.

His eyes were beautiful specially under the stars; a deep black pupil shimmering with the light of the moon.

Unconsciously, you moved your head closer to get a better view of his radiant eyes. Sero had done the same and was now leaning on his elbows to bring his face closer to yours.

Your eyes gazed down to his lips before finally connecting your own. Your heart was beating full force from the soft plush feeling of his lips against yours.

The kiss was short but sweet like a simple peck and when you pulled away, you swore your face was on fire from embarrassment. Sero had a small grin as he looked back at you, just a tint of red dusted on his cheeks.

"I-" you started before the world started shaking because your hand had slipped from the floor. You hit your cheek against the cold pavement, just missing the pillow that would have been your salvation.

Sero bit back a laugh as he checked if you were okay.

"Is this my sign that you're uh falling for me," he said before giggling.

You were basically dead from all the embarrassment and just hid your face in the pillow lying next to you.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding,"Sero said still laughing, "but...um I think it may be the other way around I guess."

"Huh? Wh-what does that mean?" you asked finally emerging from the pillow.

"It means I like you okay, I have for a while," Sero said bashfully with a red blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Wait wait wait what??" you said stunned, "are you serious? Cuz I've always liked you too. You're not joking right"

"No dummy, I wouldn't joke about that, I'm uh....really glad you like me too," Sero admitted as his eyes drifted to the floor, too embarrassed to look you in the eyes.

"Yip!" you squeaked out by accident. "Um sooo would you wanna hang out on the roof another time?" you said slowly, hesitantly, afraid of possible rejection.

"Sure, anytime you need me just call," he said with his ever shining grin.

"I'll do that:)"

Thanks again for reading, hope it was somewhat okay for my first one. I'm a major Sero simp so I'm hoping to attract my fellow simps too😌

[twstdreams]

A Bouquet to Share: Flower Foraging

CYOA: Chronic Hanahaki AU

Length: 2K | ao3 link

Warnings: fluff, mentions of flu/cold

next

You’re waiting in front of the mirror for your turn to pass, behind the infamous first years. No one in NRC isn’t aware of the prefect and their friends, mostly how they perpetually get themselves in all sorts of trouble. 

“Hey, wasn’t the prefect going to be in our group?” Jack asks

“Oh, they couldn’t make it because they got sick,” Deuce answers. There’s a pause as the unasked question lingers in the air. If they’re just suffering from a passing virus or if it’s that illness.

“With a normal cold,” Ace clarifies, “Grim’s been complaining about having to take care of them.”

You think you’ve heard ten different iterations of this conversation before. Some with Octa A-kun, another with a Pomefiore duo, the same rumours and inquiries always start flying when winter is broken by spring’s warm touch. Everyone wants to know who has hanahaki and chronic sufferers are always the first suspect. People attempt to deduce who’s sick because of pollen or because of the flowers blooming in their lungs. It’s not a lethal disease with modern magic and technology, but you swear enough drama follows it to make up for the lack of imminent doom.

“Hand!” the ghost before you demands once you’re at the front of the line. You offer the back of your hand and immediately a rose is stamped on it, proof that you’re a student who has access to the Great Seven botanical gardens. Then you step through the mirror and are greeted by the site of a massive glass structure. You’re excited to explore the grounds. Each area is its own biome with unique flora and fauna which flourish in that environment. Personally, you’re hoping to see the aquatics section for fun, but you need to ensure that you complete your assignment first.

“Meet each other in the tropical region in two hours!” you text to Jamil and he responds with an affirmation. You two had already agreed to this prior to the project. Most people are wandering the gardens with their partner, but you know Jamil has his hands full with Kalim. You just hope Jamil will actually get to appreciate a couple flowers too.

Officially, the headmaster says this is a field trip for all grades because botany is useful in several fields of magic. You think it’s because a massive amount of students visiting from a prestigious school gets him some sort of discount, but those aren’t thoughts you voice out loud. Not that you care, the Great Seven Botanical gardens hosts some unique and deadly plants, even more so than the poisonous flowers allowed to bloom on campus. You can't choose a lot of them for your assignment but nothing is stopping you from visiting them if you have extra time. Plus, activities amongst different classes aren’t that common, let alone those in various years. If you’re lucky, you might see Malleus amongst the flowers.

You’ve only met Malleus at night, on late walks while perhaps avoiding a guard or two. The daffodils at the entrance remind you of your first meeting with Malleus. But you can’t recall clearly, was there only one daffodil at the spot where you met or several?

-

Staying up late the night before to cram for a test, only to crash and take a nap afterwards completely messed up your sleep schedule. No amount of staring at your ceiling was going to make you drowsy. Besides, you want to explore the campus and check out some night-blooming flowers. You spotted several during the day but hadn’t gotten the chance to see them underneath the moonlight. 

You slip out of your dorm to enjoy the slight breeze and fresh air entering your lungs. Exploring the campus at night feels a little liminal. Not to say that it was silent, some nocturnal familiars scurry around, a ghost or two floating, and more than a couple of students here and there creating background noise. But it's interesting to see a campus normally overflowing with life morph into something restful and quiet. The closer you get to the Ramshackle dorm, the more this effect becomes more pronounced.

You spot plenty of random vegetation growing on the lawns of the dorm. You’d be willing to bet a week’s worth of lunches that dorm hasn’t had real maintenance for at least a decade. Horrid for the prefect living there, you really do feel bad for them, but lots of fun for your midnight flower foraging trip. Your phone battery is dying fast with the flashlight so you test out a new spell you’ve recently learned. You murmur the incantation and a ball of light forms in the palm of your hand. You try to extend it so it acts as a familiar but the light begins to flicker so you’re stuck with having it illuminate the area around your hand. A little testing, a failure or two, and you’re able to create a soft light to guide you. Your hand is nothing but a glorified flashlight, but you can see your surroundings so it’s not a total fail. Unfortunately, what you thought was some pretty evening primrose is actually daffodils.

“How odd. You’re not one of the Ramshackle inhabitants,” a voice notes. You’re certain a ghost has come to lecture you, but you let out a gasp when you realize a living being is behind you.

“I’m, uh, yeah I don’t live here,” you admit, “Just wanted some fresh air. I couldn’t sleep.” You were honestly hoping to avoid all dorm leaders, you know some don’t take kindly to students leaving their dorm after hours, and you think some greater force must be laughing at you because somehow you’ve stumbled upon the most mysterious and powerful one.

“And you came to this abandoned building to do that?” His voice is even. You’re not sure if there’s an accusation laced in his statement or if his regal airs just make him always seem confident and a bit unfriendly.

“I thought it’d be cool to see the night-blooming flowers too,” you add, “There’s supposed to be some evening primrose and moonflowers beneath a gargoyle but I can’t figure out which one it is.” 

“I can introduce you to the correct gargoyle,” Malleus comments. Your head, which is frantically processing information and doing its best to be logical, tells you that’s probably a social cue to ask him to show you where the gargoyle is. Your mind, however, is still trying to comprehend how the heck you ended up meeting the Malleus Draconia on a weedy lawn.

“I am part of the gargoyle appreciation society,” he continues but the way his lips were pressed into a thin line indicates that you’ve spent a little too long coming up with a response.

“Oh! That’s impressive,”—now isn’t a good time to admit you didn’t know that club existed—“if you don’t mind, then I’d really appreciate it!” He nods once in acknowledgement and you begin trailing after the dragon fae. 

“Do you know about each of the gargoyles?” you ask; you ought to express interest in his passions when he’s doing you a favour. You’re not sure what to expect, but it was most definitely not an encyclopedic infodump about Ramshackle’s gargoyles.

“This is the first gargoyle, located on the entrance to the east building. Are you able to see it?” Before you had a chance to answer, Malleus casts a spell of light that creates fake fireflies which illuminate your surroundings. 

“Now I can. It kind of looks like a crow,” you answer. The gargoyle is easy to see but you think Malleus’ elegant magic is more beautiful. Your lightbulb of a hand is almost embarrassing and you quickly stop the spell.

“It is a crow, which is extremely rare for a gargoyle. This is the only one I’ve ever seen. Its quality means it must have been made by a famous craftsman. It looks like it could take flight at any moment.” He goes on about the history of the gargoyles here; you’ve never really been interested in them but the way Malleus talks about them with such excitement makes you engaged. It’s the way that extensive knowledge is intertwined with informed hypotheses while the excitement in his tone never leaves. Hearing Malleus talk about something he loves feels enchanting and endearing. His bubbling enthusiasm is cute.

“This is the gargoyle with the evening primrose and moonflowers,” Malleus announces. Once he finishes his little spiel about its history, you begin to take pictures of the flowers. You want to ask if you can take a picture of him; there’s something so odd about this experience that you want a picture to prove it is real. However, the fresh air has awaken your brain cells and they let you know that perhaps asking someone you just met for a photo in the dead of night is not the best idea. But well, Malleus has been pretty accommodating so you decide to ask for another favour.

“If you don’t mind, could you teach me that light spell?” you inquire. The surprise is evident in his expression and you wonder if you’re being too selfish.

“Is that so? You want me to help you with your spell? Interesting,” he comments and honestly, the pause makes you so nervous you regret ever opening your mouth, “Very well. Show me what you can do.” Even though you're the one who asked, you're a little surprised that the Malleus Draconia has agreed to some impromptu tutoring.

“I can summon a light but I’m having trouble making it steady after it stops making contact with my body,” you explain while taking out your wand. You murmur the incantation and a soft light envelopes your hand while illuminating your surroundings. As the light starts to float away, its shape begins to morph and looks like a blob of light which never stays a consistent shape, akin to a lava lamp. 

“You have enough magic to power the spell. The changing shape suggests that you’re having trouble imagining the outcome,” Malleus sumrises, “Why don’t you try mimicking the shape of mine?” Malleus adjusts the shape of his firefly lights into simple spheres. Unfortunately, it does not go so smoothly for you. First the light looks like a balloon, then it shrinks to the size of a marble, but when you have it at a reasonable size then the edges of the ball begin to quiver.

“I’m sorry it’s taking me so long,” you mutter. Sure, you don’t expect to be on the same level as someone as infamous as the Diasomnia dorm leader, but this feels embarrassing.

“You aren’t expected to master everything at the beginning. Don’t be shy,” he reassures. His comforting words encourage you to calm down. You take in a deep breath and start again. The light transforms into a uniform sphere—your own little sun for this corner of the world the two of you are tucked away in.

“I did it!” you exclaim, “It’s all thanks to your advice!” You toss the light between your hands before extending it to float beside Malleus’.

“You already completed the basics. I only offered some advice,” he gently protests but a smile remains on his face all the same.

“What’s the incantation to change its colour again?” you ask, and Malleus says it aloud for you to repeat. You alter your spell, dying it in your favourite colour, then allow it to dance in the sky. His luminescent green light merges with yours, and the spells twine with each other.

-

Since then you’ve taken to late-night walks for exercise and hopes of meeting Malleus. You haven’t exactly been charming—

“Are you here to admire gargoyles?” Malleus inquires when the two of you meet in the dead of night yet again.

“No, but I can,” you offer. Admitting to the ruler of the valley of thorns that you have been wandering around at night to see him again because you’re very intrigued and a little enamoured is not ideal. Luckily Malleus never questions your intent.

— but the two of you are on friendly terms now. So far no flowers were blooming in your lungs, but you’d be lying if you said a crush wasn’t taking root in your heart. But before you could linger on any hypothetical flowers, you have to pick an actual flower for your assignment! As a second year, you will have to grow whichever flower you pick back at school. 

Which flower will you choose? Vote here

White and pink carnations

Crimson astilbe (feather flowers)

Purple snapdragons

Orange tiger lilies

[fangirlovestuff]

Hi first of all I love your works and it's so great, can i ask for male reader? If i can, Ari Levinson X Male Reader, After a long day work at the Resort, Ari and reader decided to had a Cuddling night with each other and talk about their relationship (some beautiful memories , etc) and then led into Ari Proposing to reader, and Ari forget the ring so instead he gave reader a necklace, And then Continue cuddles and kiss until they both fell asleep (reader sleep on ari chest while ari holding him tight). Just Pure FLUFFINESS. Lots of love for you ❤️

Forever

a/n - Hey lovely people! at last, a fic! this goes out to @evansphnx12 - thank you so much for the amazing request<3 this is my first time writing for Ari and I love him🥺 lots of love for you too, i’m so sorry it took so long and i hope you like it!! very slight proofreading on this one, sorry in advance if there are any mistakes! also, in the story, Ari calls reader a nickname in hebrew, and it’s in a male form (like, you would say it differently if you wanted to adress a female), which i thought was a nice touch:) Enjoy!<3

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: none:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Ari stepped into your room, both exhausted. Ari let out a tired sigh as he plopped down on the bed, motioning for you to join him. You gladly did, laying down facing him. He clutched your hand in his, bringing your joint palms up to his lips and kissing your knuckles, slowly lowering it back.

"Hey," you said, your voice soft.

"Hi," Ari smiled, his eyelids slightly droopy yet his eyes still twinkling in the adoring look you've come to know and love.

"God, this was a long day," you sighed.

"Yeah, but I got to spend it with you," Ari caressed your cheek with his hand.

"What's gotten you so sappy?" you giggled.

"Well… you probably don't really remember this but today two years ago was the day I met you."

"Really?" you propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him, amazed he remembered. You and Ari took quite a few months to admit your feelings, and you've now been dating for some time over a year, and you didn't remember the date you met, just the date of your anniversary, the date of your first date, which you told Ari, "I didn't remember," you chuckled. "I only remember the date of our first date."

"God, that seems so long ago," Ari chuckled in response. "But it's one of my favorite memories."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had just gotten out of the shower when you saw Ari's text. "Be down in five", it read. You smiled, quickly getting dressed and going down to the lobby, where Ari was waiting for you.

Sure, you had doubts about this. Plenty of them. Going on a date with your coworker was never the safest decision. But the nerves in your stomach quelled and turned into butterflies, fluttering around in you stomach at the sight of him, long jeans and polo t-shirt fitting snugly over his biceps, a slight smile playing over his lips.

"Hey," you greeted him when you got closer.

"Hey," he smiled. You started walking out of the resort, and without even thinking about it, you turned towards the parking lot, assuming you were driving somewhere.

"Wait, uh- this way," Ari said, pointing in the other direction, the direction of the beach.

"Oh, okay," you smiled, a little unsure. You walked in companionable silence, the sound of the waves crashing filling the space between you. Tentatively, you reached your hand out, and you kept in a relieved breath when Ari took it in his.

"I, um," Ari started. He looked around for something, smiling slightly when he found it and pulling your joint hands, leading you towards the rocks. He took out a picnic basket from behind one of the rocks, wiping a bit of sand from it before sitting down on the rock. Wordlessly, you sat down next to him.

"I just thought we should stay close by," Ari said. "So, I got this from the kitchen," he gestured at the food inside the picnic basket.

"It looks great," you said sheepishly.

You ate in silence, watching the bright moon reflect onto the calm black sea. Upon feeling Ari's eyes on you, you turned your head to meet his gaze, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Did you ever want a moon?" he asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean…"

"The moon is what causes the tide. It controls the height of the sea, keeps it in check. So the tides are high when they need to be and low when they need to be. This shiny rock in the sky soothes the water," he chuckled. "I always feel like my tides are too high," he added in a whisper.

"I do want a moon then," you smiled. "So I could give it to you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yeah, it's one of my favorites as well," you chuckled, your hand resting on his bearded jaw as you reminisced. "Huh. I never thought you'd remember the day we met. It's not like it was such a good one," you smiled.

"Well, that's true. But that doesn't mean it wasn't special. I mean, after all that's when I met you," Ari smiled back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was hitting you with a ferocious heat you still weren't quite used to. You shielded your eyes with your hand and got out of the car, looking at the agents that were there to greet you. There were only two of them outside, the rest probably in the resort, and you weren't really given much information about any of them. Hell, you weren't even that sure what your own mission was, besides "helping".

"Good morning," you nodded at them and introduced yourself.

"Nice to meet you," the girl said and shook your hand.

"Agent," the guy said, extending his hand as well.

As you walked into the resort, they started showing you around a little bit. “And this is the-” the girl started, when suddenly her phone rang. She answered it and by the expression on her face, you could tell something was wrong.

“Ari,” she motioned at the man, and clearly he got what she meant because he grabbed your arm and started walking. At least now you knew his name was Ari.

After many twists and turns, he got to the door he was looking for. Honestly, if he wasn’t leading you to it you wouldn’t have noticed its existence, which - as became clear when he opened in to reveal a tiny storage closet - was well intended.

“Get in,” he said, his gruff voice urgent. You did as he said, and then he got in after you, closing the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“They’re coming to search the resort. They can’t see you yet, you don’t look like you belong here.” He eyed you up and down, as if to confirm his statement.

“Well, does it matter? I mean, isn’t this supposed to be a resort for tourists?”

“Of course it matters. You’re not supposed to be a tourist. We either had to hide you now or hide you every single time they came, because if you’d look like a tourist they’d expect you gone in a matter of days. If someone who isn’t staff stays too long, they could get suspicious,” he explained. 

He seemed impatient to you, like he was explaining something that was common knowledge. It made you want to roll your eyes in exasperation, but you contained the urge, knowing you should at least try to leave a good impression on your first day on the job.

“Makes sense,” you nodded instead.

You looked at Ari as he reached into his back pocket for his phone, checking it for updates. Now that you were locked in a very small supply closet with him, you noticed how… huge the man was, for the lack of a better word. His broad frame filled so much of the space you were almost bashful, feeling like he might reprimand you at any moment. His presence loomed over you, and if you weren’t a trained agent you’re pretty sure you would’ve cowered from him.

You spent about 20 minutes in there, staying silent the whole time. Sometime in the middle you heard voices from outside and tensed up, feeling him do the same beside you, but they faded after a few seconds. You let out a silent sigh of relief. It was pretty dark, so you couldn’t see Ari’s reaction. 

But you could see enough of him, it the time you were in there, to realize he was hot, and you were very screwed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah yes,” you smiled, “the fateful supply closet.” 

 Ari laughed. “Yeah, the fateful supply closet,” he echoed your words. “You know, we spent… what, twenty minutes in there? twenty five?” You nodded to affirm him and he continued. “It felt like forever. Being cooped up in such a small space was… overwhelming. At the time I didn’t really understand why,”  he smiled and you returned it.

“Well, I see your fateful supply closet and I raise you the time you first called me ‘ahoov sheli’,” you grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good morning sunshine,” you smiled as you opened the curtains, waking Ari up from his sleep.

“Good morning, moonbeam,” he laughed. You plopped back down on the bed next to him.

“Do you still need a moon?” you asked, cupping his face in your hand.

“Not really. I have you, ahoov sheli,” he smiled.

“What?” 

“Hebrew for ‘my love’. If you don’t like it, I-”

“No,” you cut him off with a smile, “I love it, ahoov sheli. Just like I love you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I always loved that nickname,” you giggled. You looked at Ari, who had a far-off look in his eyes. “Penny for your thoughts?” you asked with a smile.

“Marry me,” he blurted out.

You stared at each other for a moment, the silence between you charged with the question, which seemed to echo in your mind a thousand times before he spoke.

“You know what, i didn’t really think about it until right now, but screw it,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Why shouldn’t I ask? I love you. You are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me, ahoov sheli. There isn’t, and there won’t be, anyone else for me. You’re my person, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. No takebacks,” he smiled.

“I love you,” you said softly, tears shimmering in your eyes. “And I would love to marry you.”

Slowly, Ari reached out and cupped your cheek, bringing you closer until your lips met in a tender kiss. His soft lips moved against yours, your tongues meeting in a languid dance while your hand tangled in his hair, fingers weaving between his smooth locks.

“I don’t have a ring,” he admitted with an uncharacteristically timid smile, “but here,” he reached and took his necklace from his neck. Gently, he reached and put it around yours, his hand caressing your collarbone before pulling away to take hold of your hand.

“This will do for now,” he smiled and you nodded in agreement, beaming. “But that doesn’t change what it stands for - i’m yours, forever,”  he pulled your hand up and kissed your knuckle.

You were tired, being after a long day of work, but you felt so giddy at his words, at his promise, that you felt like you could jump up and down. Instead, you kissed him once more before you pulled away, unable to stifle your yawn. 

“Let’s go to sleep,” he chuckled, and pulled you close into his arms. Your head was resting against his chest, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep, your excitement wearing off as you drifted into a peaceful slumber in the arms of the love of your life.

Your life was unpredictable, you knew that, even more so as you were an agent. Even so, if someone had told you before you got here that you would find your person, your love, you would’ve probably laughed. But you did.

And there’s nowhere else you’d wanna be more than right here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hope you liked it! feedback is super appreciated<3 also, the next thing i’m gonna work on is probably the next part or rumor has it, but no guarantees as to when i’ll post it because life is absolutely kicking my ass, which is why i’m not posting as much in general:)

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[ramblinganthropologist]

MER Week Day 4: Mass Effect + Mass Effect Andromeda

Summary: 2179. What should have been a normal shore leave on the Citadel leaves Alistair and Bo Peep Shepard in a place they’ve never been before: teachers. What can these battle hardened biotics teach young Kitty and Dick... and why do they look so damn familiar?

---

“Well… we’re here. What do you want to do?”

“How about anything other than getting shot at?”

Now that was something Alistair could agree on as he stretched out as far as he could. His body was still sore from the last mission, the lack of sleep, and the ride to the Citadel. Honestly, he was amazed his bones weren’t cracking to bits as he walked along, taking in the artificial sunshine of the space station. Given what he had just been through, it was a true surprise he was still one piece.

Well, maybe that was to be expecting. After all, he and Bo were N7. They were supposed to be tough.

“Could always head to the Tea Cozy, unless you wanted to save that until tomorrow.” He threaded his arms behind his head as he walked, definitely not the picture of a military officer by any means. “Or we could check out the hamsters at Citadel Critters.”

Above his head, Bo rolled her eyes. “Last time I was there, you forgot I existed when you got too deep into discussions on how fucked up the breeding lines at the gift shop are.”

“Well, they are. I don’t know what they think they’re trying to pull…” His voice trailed off. Bo was giving him that look. “Right… specialist knowledge, general application. I’ll stop now.”

She gave him a nod. “That a boy. Honestly, I could go for chicken nuggets that come from a fryer instead of a microwave. It’s been too long since we’ve had real food.”

Real food sounded great right then, especially if it involved a milkshake. Just thinking about them made Alistair’s stomach growl. Judging from the noises coming from his sister, he wasn’t alone in the assessment. Easy enough – lunch it was. Lucky for them, they weren’t too far from one of their other favorite spots.

A few moments later, and the pair were seated by one of the many fountains that dotted the Citadel, their food spread out in front of them. For most people, it would have been a lot. For them, not so much. When it came down to it, they both just needed to eat way more food to keep their biotic systems operating at peak capacity. There was a term for it, and Alistair knew it, but he wasn’t thinking like a medic then. Instead, he was cradling a large paper cup happily, the sleeves of his jacket insulating his hands as he poked in the straw into the bright green concoction.

Nothing like Citadel Burger’s Shamrock Shake. Was he being a bad Irishman that he loved them? Probably, but it wasn’t like he was born in Ireland – that was his parent’s problem, and they were dead, so they really didn’t have anything to say on the matter. Until they managed it, he was content to put a hurting on the milkshake as he started to nibble on the straw.

“You’re supposed to use that to drink, you know.” Bo snickered as she started on her first order of nuggets. The first dip of the day was barbeque sauce, or at least it smelled that way. “You look like Fluffytail like that.”

He would’ve stuck out his tongue, but that would’ve been messy. Instead, he just kept drinking his milkshake and swinging his foot that didn’t quite touch the ground. What could he say, the benches were designed for aliens, and he wasn’t exactly designed for playing basketball. It was something he had… mostly… come to accept.

Mostly.

“I won’t bite through this one.” He leaned back to watch the crowd in front of them. Then downside of Alliance life was being absolutely surrounded by humans. Even back on Mindoir, there had been aliens around, even if they had been far less numerous than the space station. It was why he liked coming to the Citadel – it helped remind him they were part of a community. Of course, that community wasn’t all that fond of humans yet, but they were getting there.

Speaking of community… off the distance, Alistair watched a C-SEC agent picked up the pace. He looked rather upset about something, but it wasn’t clear what. Or, rather, it wasn’t until the blast of light knocked them into a bush.

“What the fuck.” Bo shot him a glance as she got up, bringing her nuggets with her. “Was that?”

She didn’t need to finish the sentence – Alistair had felt it too. It was the telltale tingle of human powered biotics, as if their amps were ringing out in response to the activity. More than that, it was uncontrolled as hell. That left only a few options – someone who was clearly about to melt down, or they were a kid who had no idea what they were doing. Neither were circumstances he trusted a C-SEC agent to handle, and from the looks of things he wasn’t alone. So, he picked up his milkshake and followed behind his sister as they headed over.

The officer, a young turian with blue face paint, was groaning in the bush. His armor was a bit scuffed, but he hadn’t sustained any permanent damage. He wasn’t alone either – in front of the bush, a teenager was laying spread eagle, dazed and confused.

“Human cannonball’s a classic… so who launched them?” Alistair glanced from human to turian. Neither looked badly hurt, but they probably had some scrapes that medigel could fix. “Bo, want to go?”

But she was already gone before he could finish the statement, heading off in the direction of a nearby park. That left him alone, shaking his head as he activated his medigel dispenser. Lucky for him, he had just refilled it before getting off the ship.

Medigel – never leave home without it.

“Alright, so who wants medigel?” He glanced towards the turian, who was already starting to come to. “How about you, Officer- “

The turian stood up, wincing a little. “Vakarian. I’m fine, just a little rattled. Some human kids…”

His voice trailed off. One of the human kids was still groaning at his feet, clearly the loser in the fight between the species. Honestly, they were kind of pathetic, laying there in a lump, half hidden by an oversized sweatshirt that was clearly a few sizes too large.

Boy, was that a reminder of his teenage years…

“I think they need this more than you.” Alistair knelt down to assess the patient. “Hey, are you able to focus?”

Green eyes slowly focused on him – good, no concussion. While he was shit at gauging ages, they couldn’t have been older than 17. More than that, the metal jutting out of the back of their neck was new. Most kids that weren’t him got that at puberty and spent time after that practicing so they didn’t blow shit up. Clearly, someone was still in the blowing shit up phase.

So… he’d put them 16 at best.

“Y-yeah…” they groaned, holding their head. “Where…”

Officer Vakarian filled that in for him. “In the Presidium. You know you’re not supposed to use biotics here, Dick.”

He looked around, towards where Bo had run off. “Did Kitty cause it this time?”

Dick and Kitty… well, Alistair was in no position to judge anyone’s names Still, at least the officer knew his would-be patient. That would make getting them back on their feet easier, especially if he had access to their emergency contacts.

He wasn’t really used to using those while people were still alive… so this was going to be a new one for him.

Dick shook his head, and then instantly seemed to regret it as he started to groan. “Maybe? It’s kind of a blur, Officer Vakarian…”

He looked up at Alistair, frowning. “Was it that bad you brought the EMTs in?”

Alistair chuckled as he waved his hand. “Don’t worry, I’m just a passerby. I can fix up your scrapes, though. It doesn’t look like you’ve got a concussion. Still getting used to your biotics, I see.”

He offered his hand, and the boy took it. Much to his quiet relief, Dick was still shorter than him. It was a little petty, but the marine took his small victories when he got them. Besides, the boy would outgrow him in a year or so. They always did.

Maybe he had been kidding about being mostly ok with his height… he was only human.

“Yeah… I got my amp six months ago.” Dick touched the back of his neck, frowning. “How’d you know?”

Before Alistair could answer, his attention was drawn by a flash of pink. Bo had returned, and at her side was another teenager. This one shared Dick’s face and green eyes, but the hair was blue and there was a bandage over their nose. At least they didn’t seem too put off by his sister, though the sight of Officer Vakarian caused them to blanche.

Ah. He knew an instigator when he saw one. Somebody was busted.

“We were totally not in the common area, Officer Vakarian, I swear.” Who he assumed was Kitty held up her scraped hands – yep, those were going to need medigel. “Dick and I were just…”

The turian shook his head. “Just using your biotics outside of a registered practice zone. That’s the third time this week. I left you off the last time, but now I’m going to have to call your parents on this one.”

The two teenagers winced at the thought, and Alistair felt a pang of sympathy. While he hadn’t been as young as them when he’d first gotten his amp, he remembered the early jitters of new biotics and the need to get them working. Of course, he had never launched a C-SEC agent into a bush, but… well, hormones and biotics were tricky.

“What if my sister and I talked to them about it?”

All eyes were suddenly on him – the hopeful gaze of the two would-be criminals, the mildly confused glance of the turian agent, and his sister, looking amused by this. Talk about a tough room to work. At least sweat didn’t bead on his forehead. Maybe he was getting used to public speaking.

And maybe the hanar would get into rodeo. No way he was ever talking in front of people…

“And… what would that do?” Officer Vakarian cocked his head to the side. Most people would take that as instigating, but there wasn’t the tone to his voice. Instead, he sounded curious. Maybe he wanted to see how this would play out.

Smart man – maybe he’d be the lucky one to make it to retirement.

Bo was the one who answered for him. She motioned to her neck, allowing the metal to catch the light. Unlike the two teenagers’, her amp had seen some action. It was scuffed and starting to look a little dull. His probably wasn’t much better, but it wasn’t like he could see it. After all, it was on the back of his fucking head.

“We’re biotics who got past the unintentional blow shit up phase.”

Emphasis in her case on unintentional.

Alistair nodded though, keeping his eye on the turian all the while. “Plus, I think two N7 level marines could give these two a worthy lecture. No need to get their parents in on this, Officer. You’ve probably got a hundred more important things to do, right?”

Nothing like giving someone an out and reminding them of the work piling up to get them off your case. He could practically see the gears churning underneath the face plates and face paint. Just a few more seconds of contemplation…

Officer Vakarian sighed and shook his head. “Try to keep an eye on your sister, Dick. I’ll let you both off with a warning this time since these two are going to vouch for you.”

The twins visibly relaxed at this. Not long after, the turian departed – probably to go write a parking ticket or mess up someone else’s day. This left Alistair and Bo in a weird quasi state of loco parentis that definitely made him sweat a little as he eyed the two teenagers in front of him.

Maybe he should’ve thought this one out better.

“Well, I’m getting back to our food before the Keepers clean it up.” Bo glanced over her shoulders at their new friends. “Follow me if you don’t want to get arrested, squirts.”

Back to the food it was then. Much to Alistair’s relief, the Keepers had left it alone. Of course, that didn’t matter much – there were mild injuries to be treated. More importantly, he realized he was getting a rather dirty look from Kitty as she glanced over at him.

Was it something he said?

At least Dick didn’t seem to mind as he settled into the bench. “Thanks for saving us… I don’t think you said your name.”

“Alistair, and that’s my sister Bo.” She nodded her head at his introduction. “Not a problem. Who wants the medigel first?”

Kitty shot him another dirty look as she tugged at her brother’s sleeve. “Thanks for the save, but not int- “

Contact with her scraped palms was enough to make her hiss. Alistair shook his head as he motioned for her to come over. She fought it briefly, but soon she was seated across from him, holding out her hands as he applied the medigel. Maybe in a few years she would be a proper badass like Bo, but she still had a ways to go. Still, not bad for a 16-year-old, especially one so new to biotics. There was hope for her yet.

“Best to clean these up before they get infected. Biotics mess with heal rates and germs can get trapped underneath the skin.” He motioned to Bo. “Ask her if you don’t believe me.”

Next to him, his sister bristled. “That was ONE time…”

And once was enough for him.

“Yeah, whatever, thanks.” Kitty pulled her healed hands away, almost as if she was burned. “Can we go now? I get enough N7 bullshit at home, I don’t need it from two randos on shore leave.”

She sent him a withering glance. “Especially not from the boy scout over here.”

Well, wasn’t someone a fucking delight…

“Kitty, they’re just being nice…” Dick frowned as he turned towards the pair. “Sorry… we uh… don’t really get along with our dad. He’s N7 too.”

Huh. Now that Alistair was getting a good look at them, something did strike him as vaguely familiar. It wasn’t exact, but he’d sworn he’d seen those eyes somewhere before, it just was hard to put his finger on it. Maybe it had been someone he had been in training with? It was going to drive him nuts… damn name was on the tip of his tongue.

“Most of them are bastards except for me and the boy scout.” Bo, always the fountain of truth. “What’s his name? Maybe we kicked his ass for you once or twice during training.”

At the mention of her father’s ass being kicked, Kitty brightened. “God, I hope so. He’s such an ass… but his name’s Alec Ryder.”

…

Oh, fuck.

Alistair felt his eye twitch as he looked from one teen to the next. He could see it now, in the defiant set of Kitty’s jaw and the pointed accuracy of Dick’s gaze. Normally, he saw those features combined and set into the face of an old man he wanted to blast into a fucking wall. Maybe the outright lack of assholeism was enough to make him temporarily forget the face of the man he hated more than anyone else.

Who the hell had taste bad enough to marry Alec Ryder, and where could he send his condolences?

“That asshole is your dad?” Bo snorted. “Al, I think you just found someone to beat you in the shittiest father competition.”

Oh, how he wanted to agree… but was it wrong to badmouth a father in front of his children like this?

Dick must’ve been a mind reader, because he smiled awkwardly. “It’s ok if you don’t like him, we think he’s an asshole too.”

“Oh, thank God…” Alistair sighed in relief. “I didn’t want to talk badly about him in front of you if you liked him.”

So sue him, he didn’t exactly put much stock in father-child relationships. After all, his fucking sucked. Judging from the looks on the twins’ faces, they knew exactly how he felt. And how could they not – they had Alec fucking Ryder for a father. The man was a blowhard douchebag on a good day; Alistair didn’t even want to think of what he might be like at home. His poor wife…

Nah, he was definitely divorced. No way anyone stayed married to that man for long.

“Well, at least we know other Alliance people hate him. Guess that means we’re not crazy.” Kitty seemed visibly cheered by this as she grabbed for one of Alistair’s fries – he let her; she was a growing biotic. “So, what about that little lecture you were planning? Can we skip it if we promise never to do it again and don’t cross our fingers this time?”

At that, Alistair shook his head. “No, we do need to talk about that. You got lucky this time because your strike was off. Full force could’ve really hurt Officer Vakarian or your brother.”

Dick’s head picked up very slightly at that – and as the pieces fell into place, his heart went out to him. Kitty on the other hand just looked mildly annoyed at the assessment of her aim as she stole some more fries. Lucky for him, he’d gotten extra.

“I didn’t even dent his armor…”

Bo snorted. “Not with a strike that weak. If you really want to put some force into it, you need to generate a little spin before you strike. It makes it hit harder.”

“It does?”

Oh, no. He could see where this one was going… best to nip it in the bud before Officer Vakarian got launched out the airlock with their next practice attempt.

“You need better control before you attempt something like that.” He sipped absent-mindedly at his milkshake. “And better separation of your attack styles. That felt like a half warp, half singularity to me. I would focus on getting each move down first.”

It was an argument that often fell on deaf ears, especially if they belonged to teenagers. He could just tell from the look on Kitty’s face that the kind of practice he was suggesting would bore her to tears. On the bright side, at least her brother looked interested. Dick actually had his omni-tool out and was honest-to-God taking notes.

Kid like that was an ego boost and a half… talk about having a favorite.

“That works fine for defense, but if you’re interested in front line assault, you need power. Sometimes it come down to who can hit harder.” Bo cracked her knuckles for emphasis. “I’d start lifting weights honestly.”

He shot her a look over his milkshake. “You’re going to turn them into berserkers, Bo.”

“What, it’s a valid strategy. You teach yours your way, I’ll handle mine.” Bo motioned for Kitty to get closer. “Now… the key to a good smack…”

Alistair was left groaning as he gave up – he knew a lost cause when he saw one. At least there would always be a future for them in destruction. On the bright side, he still had an attentive pupil, eager for more information. He could work with that.

“Well, since they’ve decided to go blunt force, we could discuss defensive maneuvers…”

“Sure, sounds good!”

Music to his ears… now, where to start?

---

“Thanks, Bo! I’ll let you know how the weightlifting goes!”

Kitty’s voice carried over the Presidium as she and her brother waved goodbye. Apparently, it was time for them to go home for dinner. This left their two impromptu instructors standing by the fountain, watching them go.

They were good kids, if a little green.

“Kid’s going to be killer when she gets older.” Bo chuckled, clearly pleased. “How about yours? We got another brick wall in the making?”

Alistair nodded as he worked to clean up their trash. “Dick has promise if he works on controlling his barriers. The new amps are great for fine motor skills. I can’t wait to see what they come up with as their hormone levels even out.”

With any luck, he wouldn’t see either of them in the Alliance anytime soon. As much as he appreciated them helping to keep his brain for overheating, the last thing he wanted was for a young biotic to think their only option was the military. Things were getting better now, or at least better than they had been when he was their age. Maybe with luck, they’d avoid it altogether.

That was at least his hope for them.

“Kitty said she’s going to send me some vids when she makes progress. She’ll probably slide the string bean in there too.” The sight of the clock in the nearby square caused Bo to wince. “Shit, it’s really that late? We were talking to those kids for two hours…”

No wonder his throat hurt so much…

“Guess we just got excited.” The pair started walking back to where they were staying, plans still on their mind for tomorrow. “Though, hard to believe they’re Alec Ryder’s kids.”

Bo snorted at that. “Yeah, they’re actually hu- “

She stopped, and then started to snicker. “Damn… can’t believe I didn’t pick that up until now.”

Alistair cocked his eyebrow as he watched his sister chuckle. If there was a joke, he wasn’t getting it. Of course, maybe he was just tired from the explanations. Either way, it be nice if she let him in sometime.

“What?”

“Their names are Dick and Kitty Ryder.” Another snicker. “Dick Ryder, come on…”

…

“Come on, Al, you know you’d have gone there too if you were in his shoes. Don’t hate cause the kid picked a better name than you did.”

He wasn’t hating… he was appreciating the balls it took to run with the joke all the way to legal documents. There was a difference.

“I would’ve gone with Knight or Ghost personally, but we all know my opinions on riding dick.” It was a miracle he kept a straight face at that.

“He had to, you already got Kitty Ryder. Gotta complete the set after all.”

Bo was grinning like the cat that ate the canary, and honestly, he wasn’t doing much better if the shake of his shoulders was anything to go by. At least he managed to keep walking, though a thousand jokes were still bubbling up with every step he took. He pushed them down – didn’t want to overdo it after all.

“Come on, let’s get back before we find some more biotic children to mentor. I want to watch Forensic Files VI tonight.”

“Ugh, you always want to watch Forensic Files…”

What, it was like the only thing available in like every system. So sue him.

Still, Alistair got a good feeling about the future as he walked with Bo by his side. If the new generation of biotics were like the pair in the park, maybe things would turn out better. Hell, maybe one day he’d hear about the Ryder twins making their own history.

Of course, that was for another day.  At the moment, he had more pressing matters in mind – like beating Bo back so he could wrestle away control of the remote for a few hours. That was a fight he was willing to go to the death on.

Ah, nothing like shore leave. Why wasn’t it always this enlightening?

[ms-a-z-u-l]

The Alley (Dabi x Reader)

Summary- You meet Dabi in an alley on a regular basis until he tells you that seeing each other will no longer be possible. The only question left is: why?

Categories- Angst, romance if you squint 

Warnings- Only cursing 

****************************************

A/N: This one was actually already here but I accidentally deleted it. Also, for some reason Tumblr is not showing my posts with the tags and I have no idea how to fix that :,) I’m still uploading in the case some day it does and for those who can see it, thank you for reading! 

***************************************

“Go back, squirt”

“Why?”

With a sigh, Dabi turned around to look at you. You had barely gotten to your recent go-to place: a secluded alley, sure to keep away any lingering and curious eyes that could see you meeting with a villain nonetheless. Since the particular day you happened to be innocent bait (that’s what they thought you were) in order to rile up the new heroes, recently graduated from U.A with the respective names Shoto and Deku (they have been around the news a lot lately along with a certain explosion hero you couldn’t quite remember his name). Their plan ended up going wrong, nonetheless. As soon as the one grabbing you got distracted, you gave him in the shin as well as harsh bite to the arm and sprinted out of there.

However, you ended up stumbling into someone, and because luck was not on your side that day, it was not a hero but one of the villains at the site. You put up your decent fight and insults you could give (he particularly remembers the one regarding how he never learned how to use a stapler) and the name of “Charcoal” you gave him throughout that day.

Regardless, after the commotion ended and everyone escaped, you were let go by him in an alleyway without saying a word. It was odd. He didn’t say a word, but looking at his eyes, you could tell he might’ve wanted to say something, so out of curiosity you kept coming back to that alley in hopes he would be there.

And now here you were. You stopped counting the times you met in that place, it was a silent agreement when to meet that overtime you could just look at his eyes and know when he’ll be there. Today was different, though, today he was more serious and hadn’t thrown any half ass comment your way that made you tick. He hadn’t made eye contact and had his back toward you.

When he had finally looked at you though, you saw it. It was something seen usually in his eyes, but it was there. Resignation, but for what it was the question.

“I won’t come here anymore, so you should stop coming here too, maybe even pretend like none of this happened”  

You silently stared for a moment before opening your mouth, “But why? Did something happen? Did I do something? If you’re beginning to take my picking at you seriously, I’ll stop really, no worries” you said hurriedly trying to make sense why he wouldn’t want to see you anymore. However, you stopped talking when you saw his face harden as jumbles of words came out of your mouth. “It’s not any of that, stop babbling” he sighed again and continues, “It’s no use doing this. You sneaking in here just to talk to me, I don’t see the case anymore, besides you know it’s dangerous associating with me. You’re wasting your time and I’m wasting mine coming all the way here just to indulge you in conversations that can be forgotten as soon as we both go our separate ways.” With that, he started walking away. But of course, being you we’re talking about, you wouldn’t have that half-assed information that sounded like a way to get you to go away.

“I won’t take that shitty excuse from you. You never looked like you hated it and besides, if you were just wasting your time, then you would have never come in the first place when I first looked for you here, or the next or the next and all the times you came” you started grabbing onto his sleeve, pulling him to at least look at you, show any sign he was listening. Suddenly, you flinched. You started feeling a burning in your hand, and it was getting painfully hotter. When it got unbearable in a matter of seconds, you tried to quickly pull away, but Dabi grabbed you by the wrist and faced you. He had a cold expression, as if wanting to truly frighten you and drive you away. “I don’t give a damn what you thought all of this was. Just accept I got bored and tired of doing this and entertaining you. It’s not my fault you started getting any ideas and believe this could be one of those beautiful disgusting friendships you see on shows. This is real life, doll, and it disappoints you so bad that eventually you get tired of the shit that it pulls you to.”  

All you could do was stare in shock. You didn’t want to believe any words that came out of his mouth. It couldn’t be right, he wouldn’t have stuck around for so long, he wouldn’t have actually shown even the tiniest trace of genuine interest to what you both talked about and the mirth toward your antics. It was simply unacceptable, he was actually a part you began to look forward too. And now he himself wanted to take it away. “Then I don’t care either” you said confidently, however he misunderstood. “Good, this is easier on me now, see ya never I guess-“

“I don’t care what you said. Because i don’t believe it. Even if you say you got tired and bored, I’ll still come the next day, and the day after that one, until you really get tired of it and disappear completely. And if its about me being in danger, well if was that situation that got us to meet, so I don’t care either” you stopped talking with eyes closed, but a felt a presence. Slowly, you lifted your head and he was right there with an honestly unreadable expression.

“Um, ahh- well what I mean exactly is that I don’t believe your bullshit and I still want to stick around here and see you as weird as it may sound, don’ttakeittheotherwayplease-” among your nervous muttering and gradually fast talking, he lifted both of his hand. You didn’t flinch, to his surprise (he didn’t show it however) but rather waited for his next move. It wasn’t a harsh gesture, far from it, it was gentle. He was really cupping your cheeks and caressing the skin, his eyes finally changing, the only way to know how he felt cause he would damn himself if he said the feelings he held, whatever they may be.

“ You’re impossible.. and irritating.. and sarcastic as hell”

You huffed and rolled your eyes lightheartedly, “I got the point, as if you’re all roses and charm”

He lightly chuckled and continued, “If something happens, I only want you to remember the times we were here. Not a bloodied corse in the pavement, because let’s be honest here, this life I’m leading here only ends there, and I don’t want you getting involved in that and end up hurting you along the way, that’s why I want to stop it now, stop seeing me and getting more damn attached, is no good sticking with me-“

“But-“

“No, you listen to me, doll. You’re gonna go back home, go to sleep, and the next day when you wake up you go about your day as always and after you get out of your last class, go home and repeat, simple as that”

At this, your tears started to fall and you choked out, “No, no, I cant do that, you can’t ask me that!” You shook your head repeatedly, “Please, Dabi, don’t ask that of me, I can’t just up and leave and pretend you were never there. I know I don’t say it but I care about you”

“Doll, doll, hey look at me, common, you’re not hiding that pretty face from me are you” he said, squishing your cheeks.

“Dabii!” You exclaimed, not in the mood for any flattery.

“Ok, ok I’ll stop, but look at me” raising your head, and grabbing onto his arms, you waited for him to keep talking. “I’m not doing this it of malice as unbelievable as it may sound. I’m doing this cause, now that we’re letting it all out here, fuck it, I care about you too, and the least I want is getting you into a world that will only let you know of suffering. For the same reason that I care about you, Y/N, is why I want you to go back and have a nice life, and that means is gonna have to be without me.”

After a moment, heard you in a small voice, “But for me, a nice life means you’re in it”

As cliche as it sounded, your words actually touched Dabi. He knew it was dumb, considering what he wanted to do was to let you go, but you just so damn persistent, and he figured it might do for a proper goodbye. Witch that, he leaned down and left a single peek in your right cheek. It lingered more than he wanted to, but it was the first and last time he could feel you like that. All you could was blink out of shock. His lips were not soft like you read in books, they were rough, but somehow the fact that it was him made you care less about those ideal descriptions. Before fully pulling away, you heard him whispered, “Maybe in another life we get, doll”

................................

You couldn’t change his mind, is what you learned the next day waking up in your room. Both of you stayed siting in that alley talking for the last time until you fell asleep.

You knew you couldn’t change his mind when the next days he made good on his promise of not showing up at all.

Eventually, you did what he asked, going about the day with the exception of going to that secluded alley. You made few friends along the way who managed to distract you from time to time after lectures, hang outs at any place they stumbled upon. After an invite to a cafe, you said your goodbyes to them  and started walking home. Somehow, it felt odd. You thought it was your mind, but you kept feeling a certain way. You started looking around but saw nothing. Just when you gave up and started looking down, you saw a figure in the building across form the cafe, with widened eyes, you could see it, the coat slightly flowing behind him.

With a newfound small smile, you started walking again, witch the newfound knowledge that he never really left.

“Yeah, I guess we can meet each other in another alley, you asshole”

[kaistarus]

Will You Social Distance With Me?

Pairing: Bakugou X Reader

Words: 2K

Summary: Quarantine and social distancing is hard, especially when you’re in high school and one of the only nights you look forward to is cancelled. You’ve given up any hope, but... maybe prom night can still be saved

Notes: This is for all you people that have gotten anything cancelled because of the coronavirus. My college graduation was cancelled, so we’re in this hell hole together :(

“I’m literally dying,” Mina’s face took up a majority your laptop screen as she whined dramatically. Her pink locks were pulled back by a silky hairband for the mudmask smeared across her face. Even in a global pandemic, skin care was her priority. “I’m losing my mind.”

“Wrong usage of literally.” Bakugou popped up front-and-center. He chewed a mechanical pencil as he focused on something off screen, likely doing the assigned online homework you were pretending didn’t exist.

“Okay, fun police.” You smirked. He sneered at his monitor and even though he couldn’t target the look, you knew it was for you.

“Whatever, you know what I mean.” Mina waved him off, falling back into her sea of fluffy pillows. “I haven’t had face-to-face interactions with anyone not my family in weeks. I’ll go insane before quarantine is over.”

“You should buy animal crossing,” Kirishima’s smiling face filled your screen as he held up a Nintendo switch. “I’ve never avoided my problems so easily.”

“Your grades are shit.” Bakugou said.

“Were they good before?” You tilted your head, looking at Kirishima’s videochat box as he focused at his lap where you assumed his Switch laid.

“Absolutely not,” Kirishima smirked. “But now I have Crimson Riot Land to disassociate on.” You weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but your interest had been peaked.

“Hey, where’s Kami?” Mina made a show of tapping her wrist. “He’s late.”

Which was weird. Kaminari was either scheduling their videochats or the first one in the call whining when someone was 30 seconds late. That’s what happens when you’re the most extroverted person in a group during a global pandemic.

“He’s on a date with that Tinder boy.” Sero stated as if it was common knowledge.  He laid flat on his stomach toward his laptop surrounded by homework he’d held off till last minute. You tried desperately to forget about the mound of your own homework lying nearby.

Your jaw went slack in surprise and Mina exaggeratedly gasped. Even Bakugou paused writing and looked up at the screen confused.

“Where? Why?” Mina gripped her laptop monitor and began shaking it aggressively. “How?”

“McDonalds parking lot. He’s trying to make up for Prom getting cancelled.” Sero tapped his temple with his pencil’s eraser as he thought. “They’re staying in their cars with their windows cracked to avoid the virus.”

“That’s… romantic?” You said uncertainly.

“It’s fucking stupid.” Bakugou snorted, leaning against his hand. You stuck your tongue out and he made a mocking face.

“I forgot tonight was supposed to be Prom night.” Kirishima leaned back on his hands thoughtfully. You wished you could say the same. You looked over to the calendar hanging to your left beside your bed that had today’s date circled in red sharpie.

“How could Prom King forget?” Sero smirked, placing one of his books atop his head and leaning into crossed arms. Clearly, he’d given up hopes of productivity.

“I wouldn’t have won.”

“Literally everyone loves you Kiri. You were the only person people wanted to vote for.” You said. An unconvinced smile spread across his face and your heart dropped that he didn’t get to experience that love or recognition. He really deserved that moment.

“I’m just pissed I spent hundreds of dollars on a dress I don’t even get to wear.” Mina crossed her arms. “I would’ve looked so damn good.”

You looked at your own closet where your dress hung uselessly in its plastic store-bought bag to never be touched. You were sure there was someone you could give it to who would make some use of it in the future, but that just wasn’t the same.

“Who fucking cares. It’s all a waste of money,” Bakugou said uninterested.

“It’s not a waste.” You said offended, but he just rolled his eyes at you.

You knew Bakugou felt that way, but it still hurt hearing him say it. Perhaps it was because you had the pathetic fantasy that you could have asked him to go and he’d have said yes. Or because you picked out a crimson red dress specifically because you knew that was his favorite color. Or maybe even it was because you’d been in love with the idiot since freshman year history class and filled your head that this night would’ve been the night everything changed.

It didn’t matter anymore. The night was gone, and so were your chances with Bakugou. You’d just have to accept things for how they are. Your friendship wasn’t bad after all. You’d take late night videochats over no Bakugou any day.

“It’s a monumental moment of our high school careers!” Mina threw her hands up. “We go through four years of hell for one night of fun and the chance at a coming of age romance scene.”

“That’s stupid.” Bakugou stated. “Who honestly cares about that shit?”

You furrowed your brow. It was almost too easy to get worked up when you were talking at your laptop. That and being cooped up in your house for weeks probably made your emotions ten times stronger than usual. “Maybe I do.”

He blinked confused. “What?”

“Maybe I was hoping for a stupid teenage promposal and awkward slow dancing and cute stupid lovey confessions at a waste of fucking money dance.”

Mina looked all too amused at Bakugou’s stunned expression. Sero’s eyes were flickering around his screen while Kirishima’s head was directly downward to avoid confrontation. You felt your face reddening as the seconds passed.

“I didn’t… you aren’t…” Bakugou furrowed his brow and looked more and more stoic as moments passed. You quickly began regretting your comment. Just because you had been looking forward to prom doesn’t mean you had to force your excitement on to others.

“Bakugou… I didn’t mean to—”

“I gotta go.” He logged off the chat and you felt your stomach knot. You hadn’t meant to offend him. You shouldn’t have gotten upset that he ruined your stupid fantasies.

“I should apologize.” You muttered.

“Don’t bother,” Mina waved your comment off. “He’ll walk it off. Let’s watch a Netflix movie.”

The boys agreed and you exited the chat to pull Netflix up in a separate tab. Although the others were vocal throughout whatever movie Mina and Sero had argued over, you were absentmindedly zoning out at the dress hanging in the corner of your room. You really hoped you hadn’t ruined your friendship with Bakugou over something as stupid as a school dance. Even if you had been looking forward to it for such a long time, it wasn’t fair to take out your frustrations on him.

When the movie ended you contributed as little as you could their discussion about what you’d watched and helped schedule the next big online hangout that weekend. When everyone logged out you took a deep breath and stared at the mound of texts and worksheets lying on the nightstand beside you. Reluctantly, you realized it was probably time you stopped avoiding the coursework you’d been assigned.

Thankfully, the moment you opened your Algebra text your phone vibrated on the mattress beside you. A sign that you were meant to procrastinate work one night longer. You slammed the book shut happily and grabbed your phone.

Bakagou: Look out your window

               You read the message over several times before wrapping yourself in your comforter and crawling out of bed to your second-story window. When you pulled back the curtain to peer through the glass your jaw went slack, and your phone fell from your limp hand.

               Beneath your window was Bakugou, standing in your yard holding a poster with ‘PROM’ written in black sharpie in one hand and a handful off daisies in the other, clumps of dirt still attached to the roots. He was dressed in a charcoal button-up and dark slacks, and his hair that had been a wild mess just hours ago was now tame. You stared confused for several long moments before hurriedly undoing the windows lock and pushing it open.

               “What are you doing?” You shouted.

               Even from the second story you could see his face turning red as he answered. “The fuck does it look like I’m asking you to prom!” He waved the half-assed poster around as if you somehow missed it.

               “I know,” you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t fight the grin taking over your face. “But we don’t have prom.”

               “It’s supposed to be symbolic.” His grip on the poster tightened to the point you could see it crinkling near his hand.

               “I thought Prom was a waste of time?” You leaned lazily into the palm of your hand as he narrowed his eyes at you.

               “It is, but apparently it matters to you so…” His scrunched up his nose and kicked at the ground. “Are you going with me or not?”

               You started to chuckle. “Yes. Obviously, I’ll go with you.”

               He looked almost relieved at your answer. “Thank fuck.”

               You smiled fondly at Bakugou who stretched his arms above his head before a frown overtook your face. “This is so stupid.”

               His eyes widened briefly. “Well, I didn’t have a lot of fucking time. I know the poster is ass and the flowers are from my yard, but it’s not like I can give them to you anyway so—”

               “No.” You waved your arms frantically in front of you. “No, you’re amazing.” You clarified and a small smile appeared on his face causing your heartrate to quicken. “I’m mean this.” You gestured toward the sky. “It just wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.”

               “How was it supposed to go?”

               You felt your face flush. You stumbled over your words before deciding that he drove all the way here and if that wasn’t a sign you were meant to have a fairy tale prom night you didn’t know what was. “Well, first off you wouldn’t have to stay in my yard like this.”

               “That does make it a little difficult.”

               You nodded your head. “I’d be wearing my way too expensive dress. We’d get to take awkward photos and slow dance together and…” It was taking all of you not to turn away from his intense gaze. You urged yourself to continue. To finally say what’s been on your heart for years. “I’d probably tell you that I’ve been stupidly in love with you since Freshman year.”

               You gripped the windowsill tightly to keep your nerves to a minimum, but the cocky smirk Bakugou gave you did bad things for your health.

               “If we weren’t in a pandemic...” You added. “That’s probably how it could have theoretically happened.”

               He nodded his head and chuckled. “And, theoretically, I’d probably respond by saying something stupid like I’ve liked you for a while too. Maybe I’d try kissing you if you’d let me.”

               You smiled so wide your cheeks began hurting. “Well, hypothetically speaking, if that had happened, I probably would’ve let you.”

               “Yeah?” Bakugou smirked.

               You nodded.

               You both smiled at each other and Bakugou ran a hand through his hair. You’d give anything to sprint downstairs and out your front door to tackle this boy in a hug right now. Every nerve in your body was screaming at you to kiss him and the fact that you couldn’t was driving you insane.

               “Well, theoretically, if I were to ask you on a date. What would your answer be?” Bakugou raised an eyebrow in your direction.

               “I’d say McDonald’s parking lot next Monday?”

               He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going on a date at a McDonald’s parking lot.”

               You pushed out your lips in a pout and crossed your arms. “No fun.”

               “Is that a yes?”

               “Obviously it’s a yes.” You rolled your eyes. How could he ever think you’d say no. Especially after tonight. “I’m just upset it’ll take so long.”

               “We talk every day.”

               “Not the same.”

               He rolled his eyes, but a smile dusted his lips. “I waited this long. What’s a little quarantine gonna do?”

               You weren’t sure your face could get any redder, but after that comment you were sure you had invented a new shade. He left that night resting a bouquet of garden flowers in your yard and a promise to see you in the distant future. You watched him drive off down your street, staring long after his car had disappeared. You rested your head against the windowsill, wrapped your blankets tightly around yourself, and continued to smile until the muscles in your cheeks ached.

               Somehow, your prom night turned out better than you could have imagined.

[goldencursive]

Chapter Two: 1965 words

Title: bro, will you be my bro forever, bro?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Kaminari Denki/Sero Hanta, Kaminari Denki & Sero Hanta

Characters: Kaminari Denki, Sero Hanta, Uraraka Ochako, Ashido Mina, Hagakure Tooru, Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki

Additional Tags: BNHA Rarepair Week 2021, Fake/Pretend Relationship, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Humor, or At Least an Attempt at Humor, Carnival, Meet the Family, a wedding wheeee, its not kamisero's lol, POV Kaminari Denki, POV Sero Hanta, POV Alternating, Mutual Pining

Summary:

alternatively titled: five times denki and hanta pretend to boyfriends and one time they actually are

“Brooooo, look at that!” Eijirou’s excited voice calls from ahead. The Bakusquad were hanging out at the fair during a rare day of relaxation. Most of the other members of their class are scattered around the fairgrounds somewhere, but right now, the five of them - minus Kyouka, who’s on a date with Yaomomo - are standing in front of a small contest stage.

“Wow,” Hanta remarks. “That is a giant Pikachu plushie.” Denki gapes at it. It’s in a sitting position, arms out, face beaming. It’s as big as he is. He wants it.

“I want it,” Denki announces out loud. “It looks so soft and cute and huggable. Can you imagine the cuddles you could get out of it?”

The Pikachu is sitting close enough to the front of the stage that they could touch it if they want to. Well, if they had really long arms. Like, arms twice as long as their legs, while holding one of those claw grabber thingys.

Okay, maybe they can’t touch it, but still. They can see it close up in its full, fluffy glory.

“Hey, you guys admiring our Pikachu plushie?” A bubbly girl with bright green hair pops up from behind it. “You can win it from our contest! Couples only, starts in an hour. I can give you a sign up sheet if you want it.”

Denki turns to Hanta immediately, because he might not have a boyfriend, but he does have a best friend who he’s totally not crushing on what do you mean and who owes him so many favors for charging his phone. “Hanta, bro, please. I have never wanted anything more in my life.”

Mina snickers and drapes her arm around him. “Didn’t you say that last week about the cake Sato made?”

“His cakes are like heaven and angel tears rolled up in the burrito of the gods, okay? Don’t judge me, Kiri said the same thing.” Denki crosses his arms, pouting. “Anyways, I have never wanted anything more in my life, Hanta, please help me.”

Katsuki smacks Denki in the back of the head (but nowhere near as hard as he would have in first year because they’re totally friends now, no matter how much he likes to deny it). “Idiot, you didn’t even see what kind of fucking contest it is. Don’t just jump into it without being prepared.”

“Says you,” Mina snickers.

“Oi, you wanna die?!”

“I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me,” she answers playfully, ducking behind Eijirou.

While Eijirou tries to defuse the Bakubomb, Denki turns to the sign next to the Pikachu. “How well do you know your partner?” he reads. “Hey, that doesn’t sound too hard! We know each other pretty well, I think,” he says, turning to Hanta. Although he’s not sure the kind of information he knows, like how Hanta still sleep with a blanket his mom made

“I mean, it’ll be fun,” shrugs the taller boy. “I’m down.”

Denki cheers, and accepts a sheet from the girl. “Let’s gooooo.”

<><><><><>

An hour later, they’re sitting across from each other with a whiteboard in their hands. The three couples sit at tables arranged in a row with the two hosts in front of them and the prize Pikachu on a raised pedestal behind them.

“All right, let’s get started!” cries the bubbly girl from earlier. “I’m Hina and this is Yumi.” She gestures to the pink haired girl beside her, who cheerfully waves to the crowd gathered in front of the stage. “This is our ‘How Well Do You Know Your Partner’ contest for couples. It’s a lot harder than you’d think! We host this every day at the same time, so if you wanna participate but missed out today, you can always come back tomorrow! Now, can we get some introductions from our couples? We’ll start with you two,” she says, gesturing to the couple on the right of Denki and Hanta, a shy looking boy and brown haired girl.

They wave to the audience, introducing themselves as Yui and Haruto. “We’ve been together for over a year now, so I’m certain we’ll win!” the girl, Yui, says, smiling.

“All right, long term relationships are the best for this kind of contest! How about you guys?” Hina continues, gesturing to Denki and Hanta.

“What up, people? I’m Denki, and this is Hanta, my best bro and the love of my life.” Denki gives Hanta a dopey smile that’s not hard to fake because it’s not fake, and playfully bats his eyelashes, making Hanta crack up.

“Bro, stop, you’re going to make me blush in front of all these people,” Hanta says between snickers.

“What a lovely relationship! We love the ones where you can play around with your partners,” Hina says with a grin. “Now, what about the last couple?”

“I’m Ayaka and my girlfriend is Sora,” grins a girl with hair red enough to rival Eijirou’s. “We’re just here for the Pikachu!” Her girlfriend smacks her arm for being so blunt, but Ayaka’s grin doesn’t falter.

“That’s right! Our lovely prize, a giant stuffed Pikachu plushie, will be in the possession of whoever wins our contest! Now, our rules.” Hina looks over to her partner, who smoothly jumps in.

“The rules are simple: we’ll ask twelve questions of varying difficulties. Each of our contestants have a different color based on the seat they sit in, red or blue. We’ll direct our questions to either color. For example, if we ask Blue what Red’s favorite color is, Blue will write their guess on their board, while Red writes the correct answer on theirs. You’ll have thirty seconds to answer the question. Everybody got it?” She looks back at the contestants, who all nod back at her.

“Then let’s get started!” smiles Hina. “First question: what is Blue’s favorite food?”

Okay, blue, that’s Hanta. Denki looks down at his whiteboard, thinking. The first two things that pop to mind are oranges and soy bean flavored food. But which does he like better? Can he write down both? Is that allowed?

“Ten seconds!” Yumi calls. Ok, no time to agonize over it. Denki quickly scribbles ‘soy bean flavored stuff’ down. Hanta drinks soy bean milk all the time and hardly ever steals Denki’s orange juice, unlike SOME people who shall remain unnamed (cough *mina* cough cough). “Time’s up! Please flip your boards around to show the audience!”

Denki cranes neck to see what Hanta wrote. “Hey, we wrote the same answer word for word,” he says, grinning at Hanta. “High five!”

“Looks like everybody got this question right! Congratulations!” says Yumi. Hina makes a show of adding points to a large whiteboard bearing their names. “Next question: when is Red’s birthday?”

Denki writes a neat “July 29th” on his board, smiling as he remembers the first time they told each other their birthdays. Denki had been so excited to find out that their birthdays were only a month apart.

“All right, another easy point for everybody,” cheers Hina. “Keep it up! The next question: what is Blue’s favorite hobby?”

Favorite hobby, huh? Well, they don’t really have time for any serious hobbies outside of hero-ing, but Denki remembers oohing and aahing with Mina and Eijirou over the beautifully hand-woven rugs and tapestries all over Hanta’s room. His family owns a crafts shop, and Hanta had gotten into weaving that way, saying it was fun playing with the patterns he could create and good stress relief as well. So, weaving then.

“Let’s check out your answers,” Yumi says, calling the time. “Hm, looks like Yui and Haruto are the only ones missing this question.” Yui, sitting in the blue seat, frowns at her boyfriend for getting it wrong, but softens when he murmurs something back.

“I’m surprised you remember I like to weave,” Hanta says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Denki snorts. “Your room is covered in the stuff. It’s kinda hard to forget.”

The next few questions go by without a hitch for Denki and Hanta. “Hey, we’re doing pretty good,” Hanta says. “We’re the only ones who have a perfect score right now.”

“Heck yeah, that Pikachu’s gonna be mine,” grins Denki. He’s honestly kind of surprised that they were the ones with the perfect streak, even though they weren’t even dating. But he can’t deny the burst of satisfaction that comes with getting each question right, and further cementing their brohood.

“Okay, we’re getting into the last few questions now. Who was Red’s first kiss?” Hina asks deviously.

Aw, shucks, this might actually throw their score off. Denki’s not sure if he’s ever told Hanta who his first kiss was since the guy wasn’t really anybody special. Actually, Denki kinda feels bad for forgetting the dude’s name as he scribbles down “a boy in middle school.” When the timer runs out, Hanta’s board only has a question mark on it, and he smiles sheepishly at Denki.

“Sorry for not knowing,” he says.

“Nah, dude, you couldn’t have known since I never told you,” Denki says, brushing it off. “But, hey, we still have the lead!” he continues, beaming. Hanta returns his smile with a wider one. Honestly, Denki could get drunk off Hanta’s smile, sweet and goofy and always there, like the way All Might’s always smiling, but softer and infinitely cuter.

Get a grip, Denki, he scolds himself. He’s definitely going to notice if you keep staring at him. So he looks towards the two hosts and gets ready to answer the next question.

“What is Red’s weirdest fear?”

Huh. It would be an easy point if the question were biggest fear since it’s common knowledge that Denki hates spiders as much as Katsuki loves swearing, but weirdest fear? Denki has lots of fears, ranging from insects to angry pomeranians (thanks katsuki) to forgetting his homework to Midoriya with no sleep (you’d understand if you saw it). And it has to be one that Hanta knows, so what about...sand foxes.

Okay, listen, Denki knows next to nothing about sand foxes, but he does know that their faces are NOT NATURAL and CREEP HIM OUT, so DON’T laugh at him. Seriously, the first Denki saw one, he couldn’t stop thinking about that face for hours. It still haunts him to this day. And it's definitely a weird fear that Denki complains to Hanta about all the time.

“Alright, let’s see your answers!” Looking around, Denki sees that only he and Hanta got this question.

“Dude, we’re totally gonna win,” Denki whisper-shouts excitedly, leaning into the table. “Look at how far we are compared to everyone else!”

It comes as no surprise, then, that they do end up winning. The contestants line up in front of tables. “Hey, that was a great game! In third place, unfortunately, is Yui and Haruto, with six points.” Kinda strange, that the couple has been together for over a year and they have the lowest score, Denki muses. Meh. Worked out in his favor. “Second place, we have Sora and Ayaka, with eight points. And finally, our winners, Denki and Hanta, with eleven points!”

Denki whoops, turning to give Hanta a high five. The other two couples walk off the stage while Yumi and Hina hand over their prize. “I know this Pikachu is huge and kind of hard to carry, so you can leave it here until you’re ready to leave,” Hina tells them.

“Promise we won’t let anyone steal it,” Yumi adds, winking.

“Nah, I think we have to go now,” Hanta says, shaking his head. They say goodbye to the two ladies and rejoin their waiting friends, carrying the heavier-than-expected plush between them.

“Bro, it’s even bigger up close!” Eijirou raves.

“And it’s so fluffy I’m going to die!” squeals Mina. She strokes it reverently. “Denki, you have to bring it to our next Bakusquad sleepover.”

Denki laughs. “You know it!”

<>

one thing that i couldn't find a proper place to add in: i promise denki's not being inconsiderate in assuming the pikachu all for himself! they had a convo abt it while they were waiting for the contest to start

part one | part three

[violetwolfraven]

eek also this is a lot but ikeshot for 7, 14, 26, 33, 39 or 43?

Angst in general.

Nightmares.

You have a scar and I asked about it and it’s really angsty.

I thought I lost you and you need to be more careful you dumbass.

and

You fought me (verbally or physically) and I am s h o o k.

*cracks knuckes* aight then.

I haven’t written ikeshot yet! This’ll be my first time figuring out how I wanna portray their dynamic, so we’ll see how it goes.

I’m gonna do all of them except 33 cause that one doesn’t really work with the idea I have but I can combine all the others.

...

This wasn’t the first time Ike had stayed the night in Brooklyn, but it was the first he’d been woken up by a jolt.

It had taken him months to get this far, the point where he was sharing a bed with a Brooklyn boy, where he was pretty sure he was in love with said Brooklyn boy, where he was even welcome in Brooklyn after dark.

It had been a long and confusing road, starting a couple weeks after they won the strike.

See, Mike did this thing with his lover where they were super paranoid about getting caught. And yeah, that was good for safety, when courting a boy could get you killed or arrested, but Mike and Jojo took it to a whole new level, almost never even sitting on the same side of a room while outside the Lodging House.

And as much as Ike liked that his brother was keeping safe, this was also really fucking annoying, because it meant he had to deal with the pining.

So, he’d asked to tag along to Sheepshead with Race for a day, figuring a day of alone time with his boy might tone down Mike’s annoyingness a little. And Race occasionally took a partner to Brooklyn with him, anyway. He hadn’t done it in a while, but nothing bad had happened before.

And besides, since the strike, inter-borough relations had been better than ever out of a proud kind of solidarity. No big deal, right?

Wrong. They’d split up for maximum efficiency, and barely an hour later Ike was getting dragged away from the entrance to the races he was staking out and into an alley across the street, by which time he was getting thrown against a wall before he even got a look at who was dragging him.

Then he’d looked up, already raising his fists, and seen probably the tallest boy in New York.

Ike had remembered seeing him at the rally, this kid about his age who usually stuck pretty close to Spot Conlon, and he’d made the mistake of lowering his guard.

“Hey! I remember you! You’s Brooklyn’s second, right? What was your name again? Uh... Heat?”

This kid smirked, “Hotshot.”

Then he’d punched Ike in the face.

It was hard enough that Ike was knocked to the ground, but he was on his feet again in an instant, raising his fists again.

“I’m Ike,” he panted, “And I’m here—“

He’d been cut off by having to dodge another punch, trying to throw one of his own, but only getting kneed in the stomach after Hotshot blocked it.

Still, he’d raised his fists again, coughing as he tried to ignore the urge to curl in on himself.

“Don’t know when to give up, do ya?”

Ike smiled, still gasping for breath, “Nope! Don’t mean we have to fight, though.”

Hotshot just punched him again, “You’re on the wrong side of the bridge, Manhattan boy.”

“And that’s grounds enough to soak someone?”

“Hey!”

At that point, Hotshot froze, turning to see Race running into the alley.

“He’s with me, Hotshot! Jeez!”

“Well, he didn’t say—“

“Ya didn’t give me a chance to,” Ike interrupted.

Race had helped Ike up, glaring at the Brooklyn boy despite how Hotshot was much taller and stronger.

“I ain’t gonna tell on you, but kid, you need to learn to think before ya start swingin’. If Spot asks about me, I’m sellin’ with Albert today.”

Race had helped Ike get home, then actually gone to sell with Albert, but on the way back, he’d answered Ike’s questions, about how someone that young and hotheaded could help lead the biggest borough in New York.

“Hotshot’s young, you’re right. He’s your age, actually—14. And yeah, he’s defensive. But I’s known him a while, and there’s more to him than that. The short version is that he’s either a good friend or a bad enemy. Once ya got his loyalty, ya got it forever. That’s why he’s Brooklyn’s second. He’s one of the few Spot actually trusts.”

With that description combined with the way Ike had honestly never met anyone who punched that hard, he was just a little intrigued. Maybe it wasn’t smart, but he’d went back to Brooklyn a week later, not selling this time, but just looking for that one Brooklyn boy.

He’d found him, selling at Coney. And Brooklyn boys usually didn’t sell with partners, so Ike hadn’t had trouble sneaking up on him.

“Hey.”

That was the only warning he gave before putting a hand on Hotshot’s shoulder to spin him around and punch him in the face.

Hotshot had wheeled back, raising his own fist.

“You got ‘bout four hits on me for no reason—I thinks I deserve one free shot!”

Slowly, Hotshot had lowered his hand, still glaring at him, but not as much.

“Fair is fair. Now go back to Manhattan.”

Ike was going to, honestly, but then figured, ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’ and didn’t.

“So, how often do ya beat up kids from other boroughs without askin’ for their story?”

“Are you completely fearless, or just stupid?”

“Both, probably. Ya gonna answer the question, or punch my daylights out?”

“I ain’t decided yet.”

“Well, while you’re decidin’, I heard you’re close with Spot Conlon. What’s he really like? Is he always that scary, or is it just an act?”

For the next several weeks, it was like that. It was Ike coming over, finding Hotshot wherever he was, and annoying the hell out of him.

And Hotshot always said he was going to punch him, but he never did. Slowly, he started actually answering Ike’s questions, at least a few of them, and asking a few in return. Ike wouldn’t necessarily call them friends, but they definitely knew each other better, now.

“One of these days, I’m actually gonna punch ya,” Hotshot grumbled once, when Ike asked a question a little too personal.

“Every time ya say that, I believe you less,” Ike said cheerfully, “Anyway, I’s heard Brooklyn’s got great sunrises. Is that true?”

Hotshot actually smiled a little, “I dunno if it’s any better than Manhattan, but yeah, we’s gotten some pretty nice ones over here.”

It took a couple months, but Ike started figuring out that by even talking to him, Hotshot was letting down his guard, little by little. He let it down a bit more as he started letting Ike touch him, allowing a handshake when they met up, or a punch in the shoulder in a friendly way.

Once he realized how much Hotshot was trusting him by doing those little things, Ike realized that against his better judgement, he trusted him, too. He liked spending time with Hotshot, probably too much.

Definitely too much, with how he was stupid enough to walk through a November rainstorm months after they met just to see him.

By the time he got to Brooklyn, he was freezing, wet, and disoriented enough that he’d ended up passing out in front of a random store, just so the awning would keep the rain off.

He’d woken up in the Brooklyn Lodging House in the middle of the night, with Hotshot holding him in a bed.

Actually, he’d kind of jolted awake, and apparently woken up Hotshot with him as the Brooklyn boy whispered an explanation to him.

“Hildy found ya damn near frozen. By the time she got ya back here, you were almost dead and needed body heat bad.”

“Oh,” Ike whispered back, almost too terrified to move or even speak.

“That’s all ya got to say, you idiot?” Hotshot hissed, clearly angry as his arm around Ike’s waist tightened, “What were you thinkin’, walkin’ here in a storm?”

Ike was still pretty confused, and for once, he couldn’t even think of something to say.

Then Hotshot sighed, “I thought you were gonna die.”

Oh. So that was what this was about. He wasn’t angry—not at Ike, really, at least.

Ike had finally let himself relax against the taller boy’s chest, enjoying how warm Hotshot actually was.

“Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Hotshot had exhaled kind of sharply, and Ike was praying to a god he didn’t believe in that he wasn’t misreading things, but he’d rolled over so he was facing Brooklyn’s second, their faces barely inches apart, though it was so dark that Ike couldn’t really see him.

Beyond that, he hadn’t wanted to make the first move, mostly out of fear. In Manhattan, it was pretty common knowledge that many of them liked the same sex, but Brooklyn was different. It was less of a family and more of almost a gang. Ike wasn’t sure how Hotshot would react if he did anything.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to do anything, because yes, Ike liked boys, and he’d made peace with that, but being with one made it dangerous. Mike wasn’t the only was who was terrified of getting caught, for good reason.

Then Hotshot’s hand had come up to touch a scar on the side of Ike’s face. One he guessed he’d probably never noticed before because their faces had never been this close.

It had been from a pretty bad wound, but was so faded that it looked minor now, because he’d gotten it so long ago.

“I didn’t give you this, did I?”

Ike shook his head, “No. I’ve had that scar since I was 8.”

“How’d ya get a scar so bad it still shows now when you were 8?”

Ike had taken a deep breath, forced down panic over events he’d rather forget, and decided to tell him the truth.

“My brother and me,” he whispered, “Our parents died when we were really young. So’s we got brought up by our mom’s sister and her lover... her lover who was... also a woman.”

Ike paused there, waiting for Hotshot’s reaction.

There really wasn’t one, and he’d felt a bit of relief at that.

“They was good at bein’ subtle,” Ike continued, “So nobody suspected anythin’ for a long while. But then when me and Mike were 8... some bad people figured it out and... and those men came in the night and set the house on fire. I guess we’s lucky to have made it out at all—our aunts weren’t that lucky—but...”

His voice trailed off. Ike didn’t like admitting that he wasn’t this happy-go-lucky kid all the time. He hadn’t told anyone about this, ever. Mike had told Jack, years ago, to explain why they had bad days sometimes, but Ike had never been able to talk about it.

He’d felt Hotshot take a deep breath, and then the other boy had pulled him closer, right against his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination when, later, once Ike was halfway into a dream, he thought he might have felt a kiss being pressed to his hair.

Ike had known right there that something had changed between them, and though Mike gave him hell for staying out all night the next morning, he couldn’t say it wasn’t worth it.

He didn’t know if they were... what, did you call it courting? He didn’t know if what they were doing had a label or if spending a significant amount of their free time together qualified as being together.

But, after that first night, Ike did spend the night in Brooklyn a few more times, sharing a bed with Hotshot under the excuse that he’d lost track of time the Brooklyn Lodging House didn’t have one to spare. In reality, he stayed over because sharing a bed, sharing warmth with Brooklyn’s second... it was nice. It was somehow different from crawling in with Mike if nightmares got bad or huddling on the fire escape with Crutchie and Jack if he didn’t make enough to pay for his bed one night.

Sharing a bed with Hotshot was comforting even when nothing was actually wrong. It was safe and warm and it made Ike feel all fuzzy inside and...

Not that he knew how to say it, not that he could say it, but Ike was pretty sure this was what falling in love felt like.

It was scary, but he didn’t want to stop falling.

Of course, he wasn’t planning on telling Hotshot how he felt. Not unless the other boy made the first move. Or unless they decided to get drunk for some reason. Or if it happened to come up in conversation.

Okay... maybe Ike really wanted to tell him, but he just didn’t know how to go about it.

Well, he’d been sitting on this for a long while already, so Ike still really didn’t know when he was going to tell him, but he still felt the need to follow when he felt Hotshot jolt awake, just before rolling out of bed and leaving the room.

“Hotshot?”

Ike followed him out onto the fire escape, finding the taller boy staring down over the edge, a death grip on the railing.

“Hotshot, are you okay?”

Ike moved to stand next to him, making sure it was clear and visible what he was doing as he put a hand over Hotshot’s on the railing.

For a few seconds, he didn’t react. He didn’t even give a sign that he’d heard or even felt Ike touching him.

Then, slowly, he let go of the railing, flipping his hand over so he could intertwine their fingers.

Hotshot exhaled shakily, most of the tension leaving his frame. Ike took that as a sign that it was okay to lean his head against his shoulder.

“Ya gonna tell me what this is about?”

For a minute, he thought he wasn’t going to.

Then Hotshot took a wavering breath and spoke, still staring over the edge of the fire escape.

“Ya once asked how many kids I’s beat up for no reason,” he said quietly, “I don’t know. I get in fights a lot. I get angry and... and usually, Spot tells me where to aim it, but it ain’t always enough. I always have more and if I don’t put it somewhere, it’ll just build till I... till I explode.”

Ike nodded. He understood. He already knew this about Hotshot. He’d figured out that anger was his drive a long time ago.

“I... I learned that from my folks.”

Ike froze. In all their conversations over the last few months, Hotshot had never shared any personal information beyond the fact that he saw Spot as an older brother.

“They’d get angry,” Hotshot said shakily, “And when they’d explode, they’d...”

His voice faltered, and Ike touched his arm with his free hand, trying to ground him. He could read between the lines and though it made him angry and sad as hell, he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

“I... I got myself out when I was 12,” he mumbled, “Finally just couldn’t take it anymore and ran like hell—ended up here. And I know it’s been a couple years, now, but... but I still go back there some nights, when I’m sleepin’.”

His voice was shaking a little, by the end of that, and Ike tugged on his arm gently so he could turn Hotshot to face him.

He wasn’t sure he was going to allow it, but to his relief, Hotshot hugged him back, leaning down to bury his face in Ike’s shoulder.

“You’re here,” Ike whispered, “They can’t hurt ya here, Hotshot. You’re safe.”

Hotshot wasn’t crying, but he was shaking a little in the cold. It was winter, for crying out loud. Winter at night. And though the Brooklyn kids did wear sleeves like reasonable people in winter, most of them didn’t sleep in their shirts.

“Can we take this inside?” Ike asked, knowing that he was cold, even being a little more dressed for the weather than Hotshot was.

The taller boy nodded shakily and they went inside, curling up together in that bunk, the closeness for comfort as much as warmth.

Feeling brave for a minute, Ike leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the Hotshot’s forehead.

Hotshot went rigid, but the expression on his face was pure surprise, not any kind of disgust, and he didn’t pull away.

Ike offered him a small smile before rolling over, so as not to push things.

He definitely wasn’t complaining when Hotshot pulled him against his chest to sleep for the rest of the night.

[avatoh]

Lassiter downloads a dating app and Shawn decides to catfish him. What happens when the fake psychic gets too close and Lassiter catches onto his scheme?

Read on A03 or below

Happy Psych Movie 2 week!

Lassiter stared emptily at his phone screen, wondering if he was making the right decision. He was never really the kind of man to put himself out there, not like this anyway. But honestly, he was getting incredibly lonely at this point of his life. Being the person that he was, he, of course, had his qualms about online dating. To put his photo out there, his name, his location...well, this was almost out of the question for him.

But, with some minor changes to his personal information, like his name, his location, and some artful photos that concealed his identity, he found himself completing a profile on an online dating site, a semi-popular phone-based dating app to be more specific.

To his surprise, he got a few messages when he opened the app up a few days later, checking it for the first time since creating his profile. A lot of the messages were simple one word greetings, some were weird, while others were just asking him semi-personal questions regarding his profile and his height, with questionable emojis tacked on to the end.

Was dating really this simple now?

“Hello.” He had messaged back a few people after extensively combing through their profiles. So far, so good. This wasn’t so bad! Maybe he should have done this sooner.

Unfortunately for him and his odd and demanding work hours, about four months after downloading his dating app Lassiter’s phone went completely dry.

Since downloading the app though, he’d gone on six separate in-person dates in total and out of those six dates, two of them had warranted second dates and he’d gotten two goodnight kisses from both of them. He’d eventually slept with one of them, but after that, he never heard from them again as they were only in town for business and traveled a lot.

In short, it had now been a month since Lassiter had last had a date and he’d only gotten a one night stand out of four months of effort.

Lassiter heard a familiar ring chime on his phone at a crime scene, one day. He pulled out his phone on instinct to check the dating app and potential new messages and…

Spencer!

Oh no, Shawn had caught him on the app, recognizing the sound of the ring too, somehow. Lassiter hadn’t realized what he had done in front of everyone until he saw Shawn’s head perk up in his peripheral vision...

They made eye contact.

Lassiter could have sworn Shawn gave him a head nod of acknowledgment before he managed to fumble his phone back into his pocket. How embarrassing! At least Spencer had the decency not to say anything out loud, for once. But the man knew. He definitely knew what that app was and he knew that he was desperate and lonely enough to make a profile on it! God! This was not good.

Hopefully that was the end of that!

“Yo, dude,” Shawn whispered at the crime scene to his best friend in the world, Burton Guster. “Check it out! Lassiter’s using a dating app!”

“What? For real!?” Gus asked.

“Yeah,” Shawn whispered back. “Just saw him on it right now!” The knowledge made him feel like a giggling school-boy finding out the Chemistry teacher was dating the English teacher.

“Wonder if that app thing is working for him?” Gus smiled, amusedly, touching his thumb to his nose.

“Working for him? A man like Lassie on a dating app...” Shawn mused. “Yeah, I mean, he’s a pretty good-looking man. Bet it sure is.”

“But his personality-” Gus interrupted.

“Ehhh. You’re right, but it's not that bad once you kinda get to know him,” Shawn vocalized.

“No. It is.You’re just saying that because you like him.”

“First of all, Gus, I didn’t say anything like that. I simply made a questioning sound with my throat, indicating my wavering thought. Second of all, the man had a wife for God’s sake. Someone out there liked him enough to not only date but marry him. He can’t be that bad.”

“Well, ‘first of all,’ Shawn, yes, the noise that you made with your throat meant that you do like him and you were disagreeing with my statement because you feel the opposite of what I said. That was a positive sound, Shawn. And ‘second of all,’ he got divorced and hasn’t had a steady date since.”

“That’s because if he dated me, he’d never want to date again!”

“So why don’t you try now? He’s clearly looking for somebody.”

“Eh,” Shawn said in a saddened tone.

“What?”

“I’ve already asked him out before and he shot me down. Didn’t take me seriously.”

“It’s because of the ways you've asked him,” Gus said blatantly. “You gotta ask him for real!”

“Like...for real, for real?” Shawn squeaked.

“Yeah,” Gus answered. “That’s generally how these things work, Shawn!”

“What are you two talking about,” came Vick’s voice. The case that they were called on was pretty important, it seemed. There was no time to talk about Lassiter and his dating app habits. Both Shawn and Gus turned towards one another and shrugged.

“Just talking about the case, Chief.”

“Get to it then, boys.”

“Yes, Chief!”

Later that day, when Shawn got back to his place, he plugged in his phone in the charger next to his bed and closed his eyes. His fantastic memory allowed him to recall the exact details of what he had seen on Lassiter’s cell phone screen. He really hadn’t tried to remember those details, they just came into his mind as he was falling asleep. Shawn groaned and flipped onto his side. Sleep was now out of the question now; he was curious and intrigued.

Shawn perfectly remembered Lassiter’s online dating profile. Age, height, and location were all a bit off from the truth, but that was to be expected. Pretty interesting. Before he knew it, the dating app Lassiter had used was now downloaded on Shawn’s phone. Shawn wanted to snoop...he really really wanted to. For the time being, he set the app aside and cycled through his normal apps to keep his mind occupied. There was no wrong-doing in downloading an app. Shawn quit before he was further tempted and turned on the T.V and decided watching re-runs of Friends was a better use of his time than holding temptation in his hands.

After a long week at work, Lassiter walked into his home and took a hot shower, then laid down in his bed, relaxing for the first time all day. It was now when he finally allowed himself to look at his notifications on his phone. There were a few emails, a few software updates, and a few notifications from apps.

It had now been a few days since Lassiter had opened his app at the scene of a crime in front of Shawn. About seven messages had built up on his dating profile and he hadn’t checked due to the case he had been working on. It had consumed him. Some of the profiles that he had messaged him looked promising. Just as he was about to log-off the app, he got a new message from an attractive-looking woman: Esther.

Esther: Hey there. I see you're online rn too. Did you just get off work? :)

Her profile checked out and she seemed nice. She was older than most of the women who messaged him: around his own age, in fact. She wore a pant-suit in one of her profile photos and a nice smile. She must have just gotten off work like he had. He messaged her back.

Lassiter: Yes. Got off 2 hours ago. What about you?

Esther: I got off about an hour ago. Today was a long day.

Lassiter decided to thumb through Esther’s profile more extensively now. His consensus was that she was a rather interesting woman and it seemed that he may have seen her somewhere before but he couldn’t quite place it. It seemed that she worked for a company as an executive. She was 4 years younger than him. They had quite a few things in common and she seemed rather okay at face value. This was somebody he’d like to get to know better. He decided to talk to her more to see if there was a potential good match in the making.

Sometime after Shawn had downloaded the app, and made a profile. He really hadn’t wanted to, but he did. His curiosity got the best of him. He created a fake profile in the name of Esther to browse and look for Lassiter in the app. He used photos from an old girlfriend of his who he was still friendly with after he explained that it was for a case. Surprisingly, she had given him permission to use her pictures. Lying already. Yes, this was getting off to a great start.

After setting up the profile, he had to actively look through hundreds of profiles for Lassiter which made him feel really, really creepy. So he stopped and put his phone away.

Esther was a nice woman, she really was, and he really liked her but his cop instincts were kicking in. Something seemed off. She just...seemed too perfect and a little too tailored to him and his tastes, so to speak. She absolutely couldn’t be real. He wished it wasn’t that way, but he was almost certain he was being played.

He wasn’t being paranoid, it was actually far from it. There were subtle, subtle hints that “Esther” knew he was. The person was careful, but they were also too proud and self confident. It was only two little details that they slipped up on: that’s it. They commented about his phone being in the drawer on his work desk. He locked it away there on occasion.

Lassiter: Sorry I was busy. At work atm.

Esther: Forgot your phone in your desk?

Keyword IN. On the desk would have been more normal, not a lot of people had a drawer to put their phone in.

That was the huge red flag. The other red flag and what seemed strange was that on two occasions he saw Shawn on his phone at the same time he was receiving messages from Esther. He was across the station but he swore he heard the ding from the dating app on one occasion. Shawn cursed when he received a pretty bold response and then they caught eyes in a half glare from across the way. On another day, Esther knew the color of his shoes he was currently wearing, all of which was very peculiar.

Three days passed and Shawn had since then he had begun thumbing through profiles and finally stumbled upon Lassiter’s. He knew it was his by the icon he saw for a split second on the detective's phone.

He didn’t know what compelled him but he happened to open the app once more late at night and found himself looking at Lassiter’s profile after mindlessly flipping through the app again. There was little green light indicating that Lassiter was online was on the corner of the profile. Now was his chance. Gus was talking to a woman at the bar they were at and he felt lonely. Now was his opportunity. It was only going to be one quick message. Lassiter probably wouldn’t reply anyway. Besides, he was bored. He didn’t expect a reply, anyway.

About two minutes later he got a reply. Huh. That wasn’t what he was expecting. They ended up talking all night.

Yes. Esther was most definitely fake. To make matters worse, Lassiter was 95% sure that Shawn was the man behind Esther. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. The conversations had already gotten deep and real and involved: all the things that normally didn’t happen when he talked to someone online. He’d admitted to things to Esther and “Esther” confessed some things to him as well and some of those things didn't exactly fit her backstory but could easily fit Shawn Spencer’s...

Talking to Lassiter had become a bit of a habit for a whole week. They had just started talking about meeting up in real life now, which was obviously a problem. There were always vague excuses on his end and sometimes even on Lassiter’s due to business and scheduling conflicts, which was strange. It was probably subconscious. Shawn was about ready to end this whole charade once and for all, but sometimes it seemed that Lassiter just liked talking to him as “Esther”, so much so that he didn’t want to stop. They were getting along and the companionship was great.

Shawn was really questioning why he was still doing this though. Sometimes when he replied back pretending to be someone else he just felt plain nasty and dirty: like the liar that he was. What exactly was he gaining from keeping this up? He could stop anytime he wanted. He should stop. Why were they still talking? He had investigated him enough. What else was the point of continuing these conversations? Well, it’s not like he had anything better to do, anyway, right? And, besides, talking to Lassiter was nice.

Early on into his “investigation” he had already gotten one of the main answers from Lasstier that he was seeking.

Esther: Hey, on the little quiz match thing that we can take on here, it says you’re both interested in women and men?

Shawn really, really had always been curious if he even had a chance with Lassiter and this was the answer he had been waiting for. Hopefully Lassiter wasn’t so computer inept that he had chosen “looking men and women”on accident. His heart raced as he saw Lassiter typing.

It took him awhile to respond, but when he did, Lassiter replied:

Is that going to be a problem for you?

“Not at all,” he typed back. I’m actually bi as well.

I’m pan, but ok.

Shawn’s heart beat quickly in his chest. What. What the hell was happening here? He heard from Lassie’s mouth itself that there might be a chance for them to be together. Lassie was pansexual? Oh my God! He, for years, had been hoping with all his might that Lassiter wasn’t straight. He wasn’t! Oh my God, he wasn’t!? He suspected as much but he’s never really seen Lassiter interested in people other than the few women he chased after on a few occasions. I haven’t dated too many women tho, you know... he said, as Esther.

That’s fine.

Shawn wanted to know more about his dating history but Lassiter wasn’t budging. He could feel him shrinking back a little, so he stopped.

Yes, “Esther” was most definitely Shawn Spencer. For a day or two, he was actually very very convinced somebody was stalking or after him. He realized “Esther” had to be someone within the department who had close access to him on the daily. Lassiter regularly checked the SBPD as well as his desk for bugs, but he checked again. No dice. He then reviewed security cameras in the office. There was only one recurring common threat to him: Shawn.

To finally confirm his seemingly impossible theory, he kept on messaging Shawn while they were in the same room together. Shawn kept on checking his phone. He eventually stopped when Lassiter got too bold but thanks to the use of the office security cameras, when he was in a different room Lassiter messaged him again and watched Shawn pull out his phone and open a familiar looking app. Even with the pixels barely visible, he knew all evidence pointed to Shawn.

What the Hell.

What was he playing at? Lassiter felt sick to his stomach and betrayed. He didn’t know what the hell to do about this or how to confront Shawn directly.

For three days he ignored Esther. On the fourth day, he launched his attack plan while Shawn was sitting with O’Hara on a lunch break. Shawn, Guster, O’Hara, and himself, were all at a restaurant together and Lassiter had excused himself to the restroom as he walked away. He couldn’t wait to see Shawn’s reactions and see him get caught in the act:

Lassiter: Sorry it’s been awhile. It’s been busy at work

Esther: It’s okay. I’ve been busy as well. How are you?

Lassiter: Good. Hey I was wondering. I’m free tomorrow. Can we meet up soon?

It took “her” a while to respond and she said no. Across the room, Lassiter could see Shawn’s fingers typing away but couldn’t see any facial reaction from him.

Lassiter: Then when?

Esther: I don;t know.

Lassiter: That’s fine. Thank you for the chats, but I don’t think this is going to work out if we can’t meet. It was nice knowing you.

The 5% chance that this wasn’t Shawn, that was “Esther’s” last chance right there. He was done with this and this game and done with Shawn’s shenanigans. He was about to walk over to Shawn to expose him when his phone dinged on his way back to the table. He glanced at his phone before he approached the booth.

I’m busy tomorrow, but I’m free Sunday.

What? What the hell?! This wasn’t supposed to happen. Esther wasn’t real. How could Shawn be taking this so far? He had practically caught him red-handed! Perhaps even Shawn knew it. Maybe he was calling his bluff. He had to think quickly. He couldn’t let Shawn win! This was ridiculous!

Lassiter: Ok, let’s meet at the cafe by the movie theatre

Esther: Okay. What time is good for you? I’m free all day.

Lassiter: 5

Esther: 5pm at the cafe?

Lassiter: Yes

Esther: Okay that’s fine :)

Lassiter eyed Shawn with his steely gaze as he sat down in the booth. Shawn gave him a little smile as he continued typing at his keyboard, probably to nobody.

Oh, what had he gotten himself into?

Shit! Shit! Shit! Yeah. Shawn had just made a date with Lassiter and was pretty sure that he was onto him. What the hell was he going to do? The man was sitting across from him staring him down as he pretended to type on his phone to someone and was attempting not to scream. He had until Sunday to figure that out. For now, he had to focus on pretending that everything was okay at this lunch.

Sunday came and Lassiter didn’t even bother dressing up for his date. 5 o’clock was arriving quickly and he drove to the proposed meeting spot and sat at one of the outside tables as he sipped at a coffee, starting exactly at 5 pm. When he was done drinking, he was planning on leaving. He wondered what Shawn was going to do to get out of this one.

To his surprise, at 5:02, Esther, the girl from the profile picture, showed up to the cafe and Lassiter’s mouth gaped wide open.

Shawn’s ex, the one the one he had gotten the photos from, had agreed to go on a date with Lassiter as he contacted her again and asked for this “one last favor” She laughed as he explained the whole situation he was in and had always been a fun person to date and was fully on board, thinking that it would be fun. Shawn had confessed to his ex that he had a crush on Lassiter and she sympathized with him saying she’d do her best to let him down gently.

The coffee date had gone...well but she wasn’t who he had been expecting. He sincerely was expecting Shawn or even just nobody to show up. Her words when she spoke were different, they didn’t click with one another like they had online.

Monday, the next time Lassiter saw Shawn, he pulled the man aside. “We need to talk.”

“What?” Shawn said.

“You know what you did!”

Shawn, playing dumb as usual, denied it. “What?”

“I think you know, “Esther,” Lassiter emphasized.

Shawn stared at him with a deadpan expression.

“I don’t know how you did it. How you got “her” to come to the coffee shop. But it’s you. It’s your words. Your phone number that’s registered to the account, I know it’s you, Shawn.”

“If you knew I was Esther , and I’m not saying I was, then why would you say the stuff you were saying?” Shawn stepped closer. “It was intimate, personal…”

“I-” Never did Lassiter think that Shawn would admit to something like this and take responsibility for his actions. He was growing as a person. He really did like him but he didn’t seem the most emotionally and financially secure person. But...he had just admitted to this little game, something like this was big for him. Perhaps…

“Of course the things you were saying…”

“Yes-” Lassiter inquired.

“One could say that you were really charming, really engaging, and surprisingly open.” Shawn moved closer towards him and his cheeks were getting red. “You really liked this woman, huh?”

“That person, yes, they were rather interesting.”

Shawn took a deep breath, Lassiter was...complimenting him. He was openly complimenting him. He felt his heart swell with giddy emotion. This, he really hadn’t suspected this from Lassiter. He was still just walking into a trap. After all this time, after all this pinning, it seemed too easy to admit these things. “Of course,” Shawn started to say with a movement of his hand towards his head. Two fingers on his temple. “My visions wont allow me to see anymore of what happened between you two. But I could tell that you really liked her.”

V I S I O N S!? Lassiter’s mood did a 180 and his eyes crinkled in anger. “I think we’re done here.”

This was his chance. But he was a coward as much as he was a liar. He had made the wrong decision. “Wait-” Shawn called after him.

“We’re done here,” Lassiter repeated again.

Oh no.

Lassiter left the stationhouse early to cool off. It was very unfortunate that Shawn had let him down like that again. They could have been so much together. Shawn…. Shawn was just a child. He could never date a child, a liar like him. Shawn, the fake psychic. He had some growing up to do before he could even consider him as a partner. He never took responsibility, and that was his main character flaw. He was disappointed in himself and disappointed in Spencer. This would never work.

Shawn, who didn’t have Lassiter’s actual phone number, created a new profile on the dating app. This time, as Shawn Spencer. He found Lassiter’s profile again and started typing out a long, heartfelt msg explaining his con, about his ex who was involved, how he had a crush on him, how he wasn't even psychic and the whole shebang.

Leave it to him to fuck things up as usual. He quietly deleted his long and wordy message and re-typed simply the words sorry, his thumb hovering over the send button...

A03

[beastlywritings]

Beginnings

Pairing: Eskel/OC (Lae’elan) AFAB NB (but gender doesn’t come into it until later)

Summary: Eskel comes across a shapeshifter (Or she comes across him) and they make nice. 

Rating for this chapter: PG-13 for sexual innuendo and suggested sexual acts, as well as talk of masturbation

TW (this chapter): stalking (kind of), manipulation, injuring another on purpose, mention of dissociation and the feeling of it, mentions of orphanage, mention of lost love, selfconsciousness about scars and appearance, gratuitous use of italics for thoughts

AN: Unbeta-ed. If you wanna beta just ask lol (help me). If you wanna gimme some concrit, I’d be grateful; this is my first time posting fic in years and I’m rusty as hell. Gonna be a long fic.

This chapter is mostly just intro to Lan, who is quite literally me if my kintype was a reality. She comes with much of my baggage and personality.

From her perch in the tree opposite the witcher, the apparent chickadee watched the man as he went about building his fire, placing each branch and split wood neatly and setting it ablaze with a quick hand motion. She’d followed him all day, in various forms, from the moment she’d spotted his cat-like amber eyes across the market. A witcher could have access to information she didn’t. A chance to finally find out what she was. Following him had been easy for her. No one expects a quiet but friendly dog, a flighty squirrel, or a singing songbird of malice, not even a witcher; and no one expects all those creatures to be one and the same. And, she knew from past experience, her powers only set off their medallions if she touched them while shifting. So reconnaissance? Recon was child’s play. 

She worked through the questions that mattered. 

What school is he from? Cats and vipers were dangerous, both schools cut-throat havens, less likely to help a sentient magical creature and more likely to kill first and ask questions later at the first signs of non-human traits. Wolves and griffins tended to be more code-bound and willing to listen. Her eyes narrowed in on his chest. She was in luck-- a wolf medallion peeked out of the collar of his open gambeson, laying on the cream of his shirt. I won’t even have to bother with proper manners, she thought to herself, remembering the last time she’d dealt with a witcher from the school of the griffin. 

What’s his personality; which method would work best to get what she wanted? She knew that Kaer Morhen had been sacked, had heard rumors of who and when, even out in the wilderness. But surely some books had survived. She hadn’t been successful in gaining entry to the keep proper in her youth, but this could be her second chance. What sequence of events would more likely get her invited to Kaer Morhen and access to the library there? 

The man seemed soft spoken; his voice could easily be a booming baritone, but he kept his voice quiet and calm to not spook the women in the town square. He was kind and friendly and polite, even smiling and saying ‘thank you,’ when he bought supplies in the open market. He tried to be as non-threatening as possible, as well, trying to make himself less of an obstruction in the throngs of people in town and pulling his large arms to himself instead of letting them hang loosely by his sides. He’d even stooped to help a woman pick up her fallen goods, though it had gotten him a scowl and a barked ‘hands off!’ Perhaps a spot of friendliness to warm him up to her, break down the walls that no doubt he had constructed over the years, then switch to some seduction. 

Her eyes roamed over him, eyeing up the deep facial scars, the bit of white tooth visible where the scar tissue pulled (adorable); to his strong forearms of corded muscle, bare to the elbow with veins snaking along his golden skin; up to his silky, dark hair that ruffled in the breeze; and finally to the crotch of his pants, where there were little red bows keeping a codpiece in place. Seducing him,  she thought to herself with a purr, poofing up her feathers and preening them some, would be no hardship. A handsome lay and the knowledge she’d been seeking since she was young? No better deal would ever come her way. Just keep the long game in mind, Lae’elan, and this could be it. Finally feeling she had enough information and having made up her mind, Lae’elan fluttered down to land quietly among the leaf litter behind the tree the witcher sat propped up against, her tiny feet making a bit of a ruckus. Muscles popping and bones creaking, she shifted into her true form. Or, well, most of it. She’d need to know him a bit better before she deigned to show him her wings. She pulled clothes out of the ether of her pocket dimension and over her head with less than half a thought. Vulpine legs peeked out beneath a woad-blue dress, as did her long succubus-like tail. Before she’d even taken a full step to the side, she heard the witcher reaching for his swords and decided she’d best show herself before he put one of them through her. Just because it wouldn’t kill her didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

“That spot taken?” Lae’elan asked as she rounded the tree, her hands visible in the air beside her head, one clawed finger pointing to the space on the other side of the fire. There was indeed a sword leveled at her, a cross witcher standing at the other end. She hadn’t even registered the sounds of him getting up. Looking down at the sword, she found he got more interesting. Steel. He assumed human or common beast. Huh.

“How did you-!” His eyes darted around behind her for a flash second. 

“Sneak up? Shapeshifter. I was a bird a few minutes ago,” she said breezily, even pointing to the branch she’d been perched upon. Smartly, he did not look. Well trained. Eyeing the blade poised at her neck, she continued, “Could you put the blade away from my neck? Don’t need you to put it away, just… preferably not immediately pointed at my jugular would be lovely,” She smiled kindly. 

He eyed her warily, but lowered the blade a fraction. This close she realized his eyes were actually just a shade or two deeper than her own. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. He seemed to not hate what he saw because the sword lowered another few inches. 

“Just want to sit, maybe chat.”

His eyes narrowed warily and his gaze wandered over her. The horns atop her head, the long ears, her golden eyes, sharp canid-like teeth, fingers ending in curved claws instead of human fingernails. The gears working in his head, trying to make sense of what she was, were visible in his expression. Wouldn’t we all like to know, she thought. 

“Why?” he asked, finally.

“Why wha-at?” 

“Why chat,” he buried the tip of his sword in the dirt, acquiescing, and sat. She stepped around the fire and settled herself on the other side.

“Why does anyone chat?” She asked, but quickly followed, “Because it’s exceedingly rare to find someone I can be myself around in these times. Humans can be decent conversation, but they tend to be sticklers for shoes,” she looked to her feet-- her paws-- and wiggled her toes, “and too often make remarks I’m not fond of. Same ones you no doubt prefer not to hear as well.” He just looked at her over the fire. 

“I’ll be honest, I’ve spent half my day following you today, trying to figure out if you were safe or not,”

“And you’ve decided…?”

“That you’re safe enough,” she chuckled. She’d get a proper conversation out of him yet. 

“Oh?”

“Never known a wolf to attack on sight,” she nodded to his medallion, “and you were kind and gracious to each person I saw you interact with,” she continued. Waiting for a response, but not wanting to push, she looked into the fire and drew her legs to the side, leaning her weight on one hip.

“I would have noticed if a single bird had followed me all day,” he grunted. That wasn’t quite what she expected as a reply, but it showed intelligence and caution. 

“A dog, two birds, and a squirrel” she replied.

“What?”

“I was a dog in the market, a sparrow in the town square, a squirrel on your way out of town and into the forest, and a chickadee for the past hour,” she looked to his eyes to gauge his reaction, “I’m no spring chicken. Reconnaissance is important to my staying alive, let alone having fulfilling conversations.” He paused after that, seemingly looking at the fire, but she knew that he was watching her in the edge of his vision. He was chewing over the fact that she had so many forms. Not many things could change into even three forms, let alone potentially the five he’d have been able to spot today. 

“And what, little stalker, do you propose we talk about?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on the tree. She ignored the jab. 

“Pretty much anything other than children-” she spotted the minute twitch of his eye, “Whatever you want to talk about, really, as long as I can keep my tail out,” she flicked her hairless, red-black tail for emphasis, “Gets itchy if I’m in this form for long without it,” 

“Don’t know of any kind of shapeshifter that can do that many forms in such a short period,” he squinted at her. She tried to hide that that made her crestfallen. His eyes darting around her face said she hadn’t done a very good job. Just because he doesn’t know off the top of his head doesn’t mean the library doesn’t have something, she reminded herself. Sighing, she replied honestly,

“Other than me, neither have I,”

“What are you?” he asked, not unkindly, losing the wary, almost clinical tone he’d had. Of course honesty would be what got him. She should have predicted that. 

“I’ve no idea,” she answered, a bit quietly, surprising herself at the admission. He scratched his scar absentmindedly. Lae’elan wondered if it was terribly itchy or if his scratching was just a nervous tic.

“Don’t know, or won’t tell?”

“Don’t know. Honestly. Earliest memory is at a temple of Melitele for children, the office specifically, but the sisters told me I’d been left on the front stoop in the night,” Again, she was spilling truths freely. If it gets you closer to him, what’s it matter? Gets you closer to that library? He raised his eyebrows, but shrugged. 

“And you can just…”

“If I can figure out how it works, or might work, I can turn into it,”

“And that’s your face?” She rolled her eyes at the question. 

“Not a doppler. Here, I’ll prove it,” she said, sitting up straighter so she could reach around the fire, hand out loosely, palm towards the ground. As if she were a maiden offering her hand to a suitor to kiss. Nodding to his sword in its sheath at his side, she continued “Touch your silver to my hand,” When he didn’t do it immediately, she nudged her hand forward again and tilted her head to the sword, looking him dead in the eye, urging him to just do it. He tilted his head curiously, but unsheathed it. Moving slowly, he placed the flat of the blade on her hand without hesitation. There was, as she knew there would be, no sizzling of flesh. Just cool metal on a dainty, pale hand. Slowly, he turned the blade so that the edge sat atop her hand, but not enough pressure to cut. He piqued one eyebrow in askance. Lae’elan sighed, but nodded, and he immediately made a shallow slice. Her nose wrinkled a bit at the sting, but nothing happened. No hissing of melting doppler flesh. He wiped the blood off the blade onto his pants and replaced it in its sheath. 

“I can do faces, but to do so makes me… uneasy. Like an out of body experience, but the bad kind a human might have as a poor reaction to some drug. Ah, there’s a word for it…” she trailed off before licking at the cut on her hand to get rid of the blood and watching the sliced flesh knit itself back together. 

“Dissociation?” the witcher filled in before she had to think much. He eyed her hand curiously. 

“That’s it exactly!” she nodded, “Most I ever change is my nose. Other than, you know, making myself look human,” she circled her face with a finger, drawing attention to the obvious non-human features. He snorted at the obvious gesture. She huffed a chuckle back.

“Eskel,” he said, suddenly.

“Hm?”

“My name. I’m Eskel,”

“Oh!” she said, pleased, “Lae’elan,” she stuck out a hand to shake. He gently took the hand in his and shook it once. His hands are so much bigger than mine, she thought briefly before-

“Odd name. It’s not a-”

“It’s a bastardized attempt at a human making up an elven name. The sisters thought I was an elf,” she said, flicking one of her long ears, “They were shorter then, and I hadn’t grown a tail or horns or paws or wings at that point. Those didn’t come till later,”

“You looked-? Wait. Wings?” He looked at her shoulder, as if trying to see if he had missed something on her back. He was tilting his head to the side again, like a puppy. Melitele it’s more endearing every time he does it. 

“I have wings as well, but I don’t show those off until I really trust someone,” she explained, looking around the tiny clearing, “Besides, it’s a wee bit cramped for them to stretch out here.” The witcher-- Eskel, she corrected herself-- looked about the patch of dirt.

“They must be quite big, then,” 

“Big, unwieldy, and very sensitive to curious hands if you get my meaning.” He made an ‘ah, I see’ face and seemed a tad embarrassed. She wondered if the old tales of witchers not being able to blush was true, and if it wasn’t, would he be blushing now? Ah shit, maybe we do need to be less crass with this one afterall, she scolded herself. 

“But enough about what I can and can’t do, Eskel,” she laughed, and found she rather liked the sound of his name on her tongue, “Surely there’s something more interesting to talk about. Witcher like you must have some good stories or unique interests to talk about,”

“What are you, my brother’s bard?” He griped, smiling ever so slightly. The shapeshifter just raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah, my brother’s the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.” Another blank stare. 

“The famous witcher? The bard Jaskier, his songs, they’re all about him?”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” she began, “I.. don’t come out into human society very often, and when I do I tend to stay away from the more gossipy crowds. I’m afraid I have no idea who or what you’re talking about,”

“Oh,” he looked a bit startled at the fact she was so out of the loop, but the look melded into a bit of bashfulness, “Well then I suppose I feel a bit honored to have been your choice of companion, then,” he said, smiling lightly before gathering his thoughts.

“My brother, Geralt, has bright white hair and is known for not staying out of the affairs of men as we’re meant to. He met a bard, that’s Jaskier, who latched on to Geralt’s pantleg and became rather famous as his barker. Has an entire song cycle about Geralt,” and, mumbling quieter than a human could hear, “You’d think that it wouldn’t take Ger 20 bloody years to figure out the kid is as in love with him as he Jaskier.” She couldn’t help but snort loudly, surprised at the comment. Eskel’s eyes shot up to her. She flicked her ear again. 

“You’ll have to remember I’m not human. Ears are big for a reason. I can likely hear better than even you,” she laughed again, “20 years?”

“Longer, 20 years of pining before they finally got their heads out of their asses and realized,” 

“Fuck, even I’m not that bad. Longest I’ve lasted is two years before giving in,”

“Yeah, well. It’s different when you're a witcher,” he said, mood souring.

“Oh?”

“We live a long time. You watch everyone around you grow old, die, their kids die. Even if you decide watching them die is worth it, being with a witcher is sure death, whether it comes from exposure to the elements, a monster getting them, or a vindictive witcher-hater,” 

“It’s not worth the experience of love? Of companionship?”

“They’ve decided it is,” he said, poking the fire with a stick, “Others? Me? I’m not so sure,”

They sat in silence for a minute, Lae’elan watching him as he moodily poked the sticks around.

“Eskel, how old do you think I am,” She asked, curious. He looked up sharply before looking her up and down. 

“20… 30?” she scratched his scar again, “I have trouble telling with humans,” She laughed softly, thinking of times long, long gone. 

“Try somewhere around 250, my dear,” she smiled and looked him in the eye, her own head tilting to the side now. If she didn’t impart anything on him but this, it might be worth it anyway, “And I have to agree with your brother and his bard. It’s worth it. Even if it kills a part of you when they go, it’s worth it.” He stared into her eyes for a minute, looking for something. 

“I’m… sorry,” he said quietly, turning his head to look at the ground to the side of the fire. 

“It’s ok. 80 years does a lot of healing,” her smile was sad, but brightening as she took up his idle mantle and poked the fire with a stick, prodding to move a bit that had fallen so that the fire could breathe better. 

“250?” he asked, looking her over again, “Really?”

“Somewhere between that and 260, I’d guess. Some bits get hazy on the years what with being a hermit for years at a time, and, well, I don’t know how old I was when I turned up at that orphanage,” she shrugged, “Apparently I looked to be about three, but when I ran away four years later, when I should have been 7, I looked closer to 11. My aging’s rather fucked up. So… my age is a mystery just like the fucking rest of me.” Her stomach chose that moment to growl lightly.

“I’ll go-”

“You can check those snares I saw you set up,” she cut in, rising to her feet and stretching her arms above her, “But I can catch my own food,” 

“I wouldn’t… I mean I didn’t-” He began. She chuckled. 

“I know you wouldn’t try to poison me or assume I can’t hunt for myself, Eskel, I just enjoy catching my own meals too much to let someone else.” With that, she shifted, her bones snapping into new forms, her russet hair turning into pale cream and brown fur, until a wolf wrestled its way out of her dress. She took off like a shot into the undergrowth, but not before noting Eskel’s discomfort at the sight. Have to unpack that later, she thought as she bounded in the direction she’d heard a deer about half an hour ago. 

Taglist: @its--fandom--darling

[mxsinistir]

May I request a Good Omens Gabriel x Human! Reader please?

Pairing: Gabriel x [y/n]

Warnings: n/a besides the fact that the bad writing ™ becomes worse writing ™ towards the end bc it’s 2 am while I’m writing this. 

Summary: Freelance London Photographer [y/n] is friends with the bookshop owner Aziraphale, and happens to be sitting in one day when a mysterious stranger enters to have a meeting with her friend. Suspicious, this artist is ready to find out as much as she can about the man. 

Word Count: 2390

(tried to keep this gender-neutral but tell me if I screwed this up anywhere bc I probably did)

Hope you enjoy!

***

The first time you met him was whenever you were inside A.Z. Fell & Co., discussing a book you’d just read and returned (since you were aware he despised the permanent purchasing of his collection) over two cups of hot chocolate.

The moment he entered, you were intrigued. You turned your head to watch him saunter in, and some part of you screamed deafeningly that whatever he was, he did not belong here. That was saying something since unusual people were not uncommon in the little London bookshop. You’d known Aziraphale’s eccentric friend Crowley for quite some time now. 

“Aziraphale,” His voice was hearty, one you should have taken comfort in hearing. But in addition to his picture-perfect, incredibly fake smile, it set your nerves on end. “May I have a word?” Part of you decided this was your chance to run from the off-setting visitor, but that would leave your friend alone with him.

“Hi, I’m [Y/n],” You shoved a hand into space between you, “I don’t believe we’ve met before.” He looked you up and down, your eyes unwavering until he met your stare. His eyes - your stomach flipped, oh god his eyes - bore into yours, and you nearly recoiled when you noticed the color. A glassy purple with no signs of contacts. Just unexplainably rich violet that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck. 

“Gabriel,” He said, shaking your hand with a grip that was just a little too strong. You were too proud to coddle your sore hand, though. “I need a moment with Aziraphale.”

“Sorry, can’t,” You couldn’t leave Aziraphale with him! What if something happened? You’d picked up that Aziraphale had been involved with some sketchy people before, and what if this guy happened to be a well-dressed gang member? Well . . . well dressed wasn’t exactly the way to put it. You didn’t know what look Gabriel was going for, but it just added to his overall wrongness. 

Besides, Aziraphale and Crowley had always remarked on your excellent intuition. Warning Aziraphale about bad customers, giving Crowley advice on problems he hadn’t explicitly explained, knowing that both your friends were thinking at a given time - and at this time, Aziraphale felt very, very anxious about Gabriel waltzing into his shop.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” He half-snarled, his fake smile faltering. 

“My bike got stolen earlier,” You explained, casually turning to drink the rest of your cocoa before it went cold. You also needed something to hide your growing smile. “I told the police to drop it off here when they found it.”“Are you sure you didn’t miss them during your chat?” He said, “I swore I saw a bike parked in the front.” You stepped past him, putting your nose against Aziraphale’s window. Sure enough, a blue bike was leaned against the glass pane. 

“Well, silly me - Guess they just left it and had better things to do.” You laughed, turning back to smile at Aziraphale and Gabriel. “See you later, Zira!”

You walked outside, planning on walking home. You weren’t going to take some random bike from in front of the bookshop just because some guy had snapped and made it appear for you.

You didn’t own a bike. 

***

The next morning, before you even had the chance to ask questions about the purple-eyed man, Crowley had come into your studio, mentioning that he was bored, due to Aziraphale’s sudden occupation with work. Aziraphale had never been truly busy since you’d known him. 

“Crowley, do you know a Gabriel?” You asked, not looking up from the photo you were currently editing the lighting of, trying to decide if you could amend the conflict between the clashing color palettes. If anything, Crowley just hoped that you were too occupied with your work to even notice that you opened your mouth to ask the question. A few seconds ticked by, and then you stared up at the redhead. 

“Yeah, I know him.” He said under his breath, “He’s a friend of Aziraphale’s. Definitely not a friend fo mine. I’d keep your distance.” 

“What does he do?” Even without being able to see his eyes through the glasses, you sensed the panic in them as he proceeded to mumble out an answer. 

“Paperwork,” He steadied himself, easing into the lie now. “Some company Aziraphale used to work for. I think he’s kind of a jerk, but he and Zira go way back, so I don’t intrude.” 

“Funny, I thought the bookshop had been family owned for a hundred years?” 

“Part-time job, maybe?” Crowley stammered out. You just rolled your eyes.

“Is Aziraphale in . . . is he in any danger with this guy?”“What? No, no, [Y/n], you’re just being paranoid.” You weren’t so sure. You’d never heard Crowley so nervous about the subject of someone, and you’d certainly never heard of him willing staying out of Aziraphale’s affairs. It was common knowledge that he was the nosiest man in London, especially when it came to his friends. “Seriously, Just stay out of his way and it should be fine.” He had a certain voice he used when he wanted you to believe things were fine, even if they weren’t.

“I’ll just ask Aziraphale since apparently, you won’t explain.” That little taunt was usually enough to make Crowley spill everything. Not for this, apparently. “He listens to you, Crowley. Just make sure he doesn’t get hurt.” 

Just because he didn’t say the promise doesn’t mean she didn’t see him make it.

***

The second time you saw Gabriel wasn’t at the bookshop, but on a bench in St. James’ Park. You were currently looking over some pictures you’d taken of the vibrant area, the photographs dotted with jogging passersby and fluffy ducks that reminded you of Aziraphale. You stood up to walk by, snapping a few more when your camera focused in on a not-quite-familiar face.

“Gabriel,” You said, curiously approaching the benched man. “Fancy seeing you here,”

“[Y/n], is it? Aziraphale’s . . . acquaintance.” Who the hell used the word acquaintance anymore? You thought. “Is there something you need?”

“Just came to clear my eyes - I’ve been staring at this one picture I took for Aziraphale last week.” You briefly explained how one of the customers had split their coffee on one of Aziraphale’s old wall paintings, which he had sat on the table to clean the walls behind it. He had been furious, and though you knew you couldn’t possibly replace the expertly preserved painting - ruined by only human clumsiness - you’d offered to gift a photograph to him. Though he was obviously still disgruntled over the lost air, he did say that even something modern would eventually become history. You’d gotten to work. “I’m supposed to bring it to him this evening.”

“I was planning to speak with him this evening as well, actually.” The man remarked.

“Well, if you wanted, you could com toe hang out at my studio for a while.” You had a feeling that no matter what, this man would try to keep up appearances. Meaning he would accept your offer, even if only not to appear rude. Thanks to some information you’d gotten out of Crowley, you now knew that you wouldn’t be in any real danger as a human inviting him to your studio. He, on the other hand, wouldn’t be expecting the onslaught of questions you had for him. 

“That sounds great,” He said with clenched teeth, and so you just smiled and packed up your laptop and camera equipment, making sure to walk beside him all the way back to your flat. 

The square footage wasn’t much - you were honestly surprised you could manage to fit two people inside at once. Beyond that, every inch of the place was stacked high with frames and camera equipment and printed portraits. Your bed was usually just the couch by the window, and even then, you more often than not just fell asleep at your work desk, head draped over crossed arms. 

“I’m gonna be a little bit - I’ve gotta play with some finishing touches, and then I’ve got to print it.” You explained - Aziraphale had given you a faux-gold 18 x 21 frame, nearly identical to the one bordering the ruined painting. “You can sit on the couch if you still want to hang out. You okay with music?” You asked casually, bringing him a glass of water. You may be suspicious of him, but your mother had always stressed the importance of hospitality. 

“Do you like music?” He thought for a moment, staring blankly before nodding as if he’d been assessing whether or not it was the correct response to say so. “Queen?” He looked even more confused but nodded again. You synced your Spotify to a small speaker and set it to shuffle, sliding into your chair as We Are the Champions began to play. You snuck a glance over at Gabriel while mouthing the words and concluded he was possibly the only person in the world who didn’t know the lyrics. If anything, that just confirmed your suspicions of the man. 

Gabriel, on the other hand, was just as confused by you as you were by him. When you’d first met, he hadn’t known how to react to you. You’d stood up to him with no background knowledge, purely because you thought he had ill intentions towards your friend. Humans were always willing to throw themselves at things for no reason, but you were different - you had a reason, and that reason was nothing more than intuition to protect those you care about. 

And now, you’d carelessly brought him into your apartment - if he could even call it that. It was a glorified storage closet, filled to the brim with art and junk and beauty. He’d never been exposed to such a mess; heaven would have never tolerated it. He couldn’t even imagine that Hell was this chaotically organized. 

He could barely focus on that. How could he anymore, when there was you to look at? Smiling truly and losing yourself in the music blaring, snapping your fingers with bad timing, singing the guitar riffs, and constantly standing up just to pace around while mouthing the lyrics. 

You walked around him more than a few times, asking him random questions while leaning far back to see what your photo looked like from afar. He eventually saw that it was of an eggshell white duck in St. James, curiously floating alongside a dark goose that had landed in the waters. He could have scoffed at the symbolism, wondering if you understood the irony of it all yourself. 

Gabriel had never seen so much life in one plac.e It radiated from you, from your camera, from your fingers. It felt raw and unexplainably human, and not in the way that disgusted him with its mediocrity. There was nothing mediocre about you. You oozed with some sort of high that no angel could ever dream of finding themselves on. Angels were too flawless for something as uncontained as the day-to-day life you lead.

During the middle of one of your lyrical outbursts, you glanced over at Gabriel. He was drinking tea now, staring out into London from your window, sunbeams casting over his dusty hair and stunning eyes. Without a word, you pulled your camera in front of you and stepped towards him, snapping photos of him a quick succession. He whipped around at the sound, just quick enough to see you smiling. 

“Stay where you are - the lighting’s amazing.” You said, steadily walking closer to the man. He truly was a vision in an element like this. You leaned back to observe the picture he’d found himself in. “Do you think you could give me one with your wings?” 

And just like that, you watched the Archangel Gabriel freeze to the core as you shuttered a few more photographs. 

“Come on, everyone knows Aziraphale isn’t human.” And of course, there was no way Crowley could keep a secret like that once he was sufficiently drunk. “And besides, humans don’t usually make this pretty of muses.” 

He unfurled his wings gently, being careful not to knock over anything. All three pairs appeared in pristine, white condition, though when the window light scattered them, they reflected a spectrum of glistening violet. 

He nearly asked to confirm that you were human, though he knew the answer. No one but a human could accomplish this - a demon nor an angel could live in such harmonious chaos with their own little world, dancing to the raw beauty of it all and flourishing in the flaws you did not perceive as such. 

Gabriel had never felt love - a sort of ‘love for all humanity’, of course, but not the thrumming in his heart he felt now, looking at you in your element, high on the artistry of what you saw in him. On what no one else had ever seen in him. 

“I could have a photoshoot with you, you know.” You said, looking at your camera screen. “You look great on camera.” 

“There’s still a few hours before I need to meet with Aziraphale,” He lied - he was two hours behind schedule, not that that mattered. “He’d told me about this bakery beside his bookshop that he apparently adores.” He didn’t even like food. It didn’t matter - he figured you would. 

“Am I being asked out by the Archangel Gabriel?”“That’s strong wording-”“I’m famished,” You smiled, and as you walked over to your computer, he expected you to print and frame your imperfect perfection. Instead, you just saved the photo and eased your computer shut. “I can make something here, though. I don’t want to leave. Does the Archangel Gabriel want to watch a movie?”

He was about to make a snarky comment about your sarcastically calling him that, but he paused as you did the unexpected. You settled down on your couch right next to him and smiled. That was enough for him to decide that his meeting with Aziraphale could wait till morning. To hell with Heaven questioning him - him of all people - being off schedule. He would deal with that in time.

Right now, all that mattered was that he was sharing in on an artist’s high, and he wasn’t ever coming off.

[kytcordell]

Why Do I Create?

Compulsion

I cannot stop creating.

In fact, I’ve tried--multiple times. There have been so many occasions on which the frustration and self-loathing associated with creative pursuits was psychologically crippling to the point where I did try and stop. But I never stopped inventing stories in my mind. I never stopped creating characters. I never stopped following artists I liked, basking in distant envy at the skills I believed I could never attain.

It has taken me a lifetime to really distill the true reason behind why I create. As much I would like to say that I’ve “always just loved drawing and expressing myself,” this simply wouldn’t be true nor an accurate representation of the relationship I have with art. At this point, I’m not sure if the word “passion” or “love” quite captures why I create. I would describe it more as a feverish need--a compulsion. I actually don’t even quite see myself as the “owner” of my works or ideas, but rather, as the vessel which serves them. Every ounce effort I put toward creative endeavors is a means of honing myself into a more suitable vehicle for delivering ideas into being.

For most of my life, I had an extremely pathological and maladaptive sense of self that resulted from nearly 26 years of physical and psychological abuse. It took me a long time to even recognize that what happened to me was in fact abuse. I used to shy away from the word because it seemed too self-pitying and dramatic. It still sometimes feels that way, despite the fact I objectively know that if anyone (let alone a parent) ever pulled a knife on me now, I would call the police without a second thought.

I won’t go too much into the details of what happened because it isn’t really worth delving into. But I was essentially raised as if I were an investment fund and not a person. My entire purpose was to be useful so my mother could stop having responsibilities of any kind. I was not raised with own personal well-being and future stability in mind. This meant that a non-lucrative career was unacceptable. My art was ever only appreciated in the context of bragging rights or winning awards. This of course, manifested in my relationship with creative pursuits.

Narcissism

My adolescent motivations for drawing were fueled mostly by pure, unadulterated narcissism.

I drew semi-seriously throughout high school. By that, I mean I quickly figured out what kinds of skills were considered impressive for that age group and did well at shows and competitions. I wanted to feel superior and adored at any cost, and while I embodied the external talking points of “being humble, always learning, etc.” deep down, I clung to the idea that I was better than everyone else. I couldn’t handle critique emotionally, despite acting receptive. I was completely consumed by the idea of being some kind of perfect, “talented” golden child.

I managed to get very good at copying photos and rendering, while neglecting all the skills that contribute to being able to design characters or draw from imagination. I didn’t really pursue art with any real level of personalized focus. I just liked feeling like I was better than people and knew more than the other kids. Honestly, every single aspect of my life revolved around this mentality.

I held onto the idea of “being good” as a trophy because that was the only mode of thought that my psyche could accept. It was easier to embrace narcissism and even just accept being a shallow social climber than to face the far more harrowing truth:

That I was afraid I’d never have the skills to manifest my ideas.

In fact, I talked myself into believing for ages that I didn’t care that much about my ideas. They would never amount to anything. And having self-indulgent, non-utilitarian attachments to my stories and OCs felt like a weakness. I needed to rationalize my own shortcomings with a guise of indifference.

Revererence

I stopped drawing for about seven years after high school. And even during high school, I didn’t do anything that remotely resembles the kind of ‘grind’ that I’ve put myself through the last 2.5 years. Frankly, I’m amazed I got as far as I did even with being a human copy machine that produced lifeless 1:1 images of candles. With each year I passed, I grew increasingly uncomfortable with the fact I always knew deep down--I just wasn’t that good. I mean, I was pretty good for a guy in high school. But my holistic sense of composition, invention, and execution was near non-existent. I went through a few attempts of returning to art, only to be so overwhelmed with my own incompetence that I would just go back to the “I don’t care that much about art” script I had gotten so good at conning myself into.

It was not until I had a complete mental breakdown due to my psychotic cunt of a mother threatening my safety and sanity that my long-con finally broke. I had a moment where I just accepted that I had no fundamentals, my skills were trash, and most of all--I was not okay with them being trash. From that point, I started desperately seeking out resources and practicing to improve. Receiving criticism (while I really appreciated it objectively) was psychologically devastating to me. Every single imperfection was a reminder of “lost time” and the years I had spent lying to myself.

It wasn’t until I discovered Loomis, Hampton, Draw-a-Box, Proko, and many other reputable art resources that I managed to start hitting the pavement and making the kind of gains I wanted. I drew sometimes for 12-16 hours a day even while I was homeless and living on a friend’s couch due to having to flee my home at the time.  Through all of this, I shed all my notions of “being talented” or needing to delude myself into feeling like I was good. No, I was dogshit and I needed to do something about. I think the biggest hurdle people face when trying to get good at anything is accepting that they are bad. You cannot improve until you fully and wholeheartedly accept that you have problems that need fixing.

I went from approaching things from a place of narcissism to a place of reverence. A lot of what instilled this change in me was observing people that I admire. Those that are highly competent (in any craft) tend to be realistic and humble about their shortcomings. The very process of attaining mastery forces you to realize that there is an infinite scale of improvement. This isn’t to say that people who are good can’t also get full of themselves. But at least among the individuals I gravitate towards, there is a general sense of reverence and genuine modesty. On the other hand, people who are mediocre frequently have very large egos. Unfortunately, there is a lot egotistical, irrational, whiny-bitch anti-progress behavior that is prevalent in art circles. I realized just how cancerous conceit and ego could be. It had destroyed my progress for years and I was watching complete hacks insist they were gods atop mount stupid. It was truly the Dunning-Krueger effect in action.

Many of the people I encountered in the art community early on were pretty mediocre and had a terrible sense of fundamentals. Again, this would be fine if they didn’t insist on acting like experts on the topic. (Plenty of people draw for fun and don’t care about being good and there is nothing wrong with purely pursuing something for leisure.) However, I unfortunately ran into quite a few extremely petty people had no idea of how to actually get good at anything, and were annoyed at the fact I had prioritized working on fundamentals. People that I engaged in good faith soon attempted to derail conversations and questions I had about technique and improvement. Crabs in a bucket bullshit, really.

Anyone knows me also knows that I have no tolerance for bullshit or “UwU bitches” making “it’s my style” excuses for being technically incompetent. (Which isn’t to say accuracy is always more important than style, but using “style” or “aesthetic” as an excuse for a lack of skill or competence is extremely common among mediocre artists). Likewise, I also encountered people who manifested narcissism in the opposite direction. The opposite of the “it’s muh style” camp were people who endlessly liked to talk about theoretical technical knowledge. Sometimes they were good at one skillset or another, but generally lack any kind of concept or actual artistic vision. It was like they had lost sight of expression goals in favor of shit talking and dropping advanced art vocabulary.

I realized that no amount of shit-talk, posturing, or external validation was going to make me good at art. I always knew that, but watching people descend into the abyss of self-sabotage just reminded me what was at stake. I would rather never “feel” like I was superior than run the risk of delusional overconfidence. Likewise, I broke out of the trap of thinking technical skill could somehow compensate for a lack of good ideas or artistic vision. Nothing matters more than the clarity of expression, and skill is but a conduit for said expression. I would rather feel eternally small and striving for a forlorn dream than run the risk of being 10 years down the road cranking out trashy, vapid content while thinking I’m some kind of omnipotent art god.

I draw because I cannot stop. It’s like being touched by fire that you cannot quell or erase. I work to improve because I want to depict my stories and characters with the finesse, nuance, and artistry that I admire in so many others. I truly feel there is no point in pursuing art seriously if you do not have a voice, a “vision” for why you create. Looking back, the motivation that kept me going through the hardest struggles was the desire to succeed in communicating my stories and concepts. I am but an acolyte eternally striving for even a brief glimpse of an ephemeral muse.