#and we’d do four corners for all of them

[curlysswirlywirly]

BASTARD

he does far too much for someone with such a low tolerance for social stimuli. he’s sort of like barbie in the way he does everything. genuinely everything. there’s not a single task aboard the polar tang that doesn’t somehow route through his desk, his schedule, or his hands. diagnostics, maintenance orders, medicine prep, tactical navigation, research updates, peacekeeping because someone’s always screaming at someone else. it’s a ridiculous list. he spends all day being indispensable. he’s elbows-deep in blood and tendon by noon, you’re surprised the ship doesn’t just take on his facial features out of sheer association.

his time isn’t really his. it belongs to the sea, the plan, the heart-shaped room that’s been scrupulously sterilized five times already and smells like antiseptic and cut gauze. there are exactly four hours of unsupervised downtime in a day and he spends two of them organizing pillboxes.

there’s always a folder tucked under his arm, a diagram half-sketched on the edge of his palm, something muttered under his breath that ends with “idiots, all of them.” some days, he’s up at six and doesn’t stop moving until the deck lights cut out. he exists with the precision of a time bomb and the temperament of a drowned cat. caffeine dependency, permanent eye bags, hands so steady they could slice atoms, he’s brilliant, he's efficient, he’s irreplaceable.

he’s also, unfortunately, the laziest bastard on earth once the sun drops.

by the time he’s finished being surgeon, captain, savior, and cynic, it’s nighttime. which is supposed to be yours. but from the moment the clock reads 8:00pm, he’s horizontal. you know the routine by now. he comes in at night without ceremony. the door creaks and his boots are off, discarding his shirt somewhere inappropriate. he grunts instead of greeting you. and from the second he drops into bed flat on his back, arms spread in a saintlike sprawl, he’s immovable.

you’re in one of his shirts. no pants. trying to get him to spoon you. or kiss you. or make out. or breathe near your collarbone with intention. anything at all that might suggest desire beyond mere existence. but no. he’s flopped.

“you said we’d watch that thing tonight,” you complain, nudging him with your toe. “we are watching,” he mumbles. “your eyes are closed.”

“multitasking.” you pull his sleeve. he doesn’t move. “law.”

“hnn.”

“law.”

“…what.”

you straddle him at 8:17 p.m. he groans once, mostly out of habit, then adjusts so your weight sits perfectly against his ribs. one of his hands rises automatically to hold your thigh. “do you want me to get on top?” you ask. “i’m already horizontal,” he replies, eyes closed. “i noticed.”

“then what’re you waiting for?”

his body belongs to the mattress. you’ve tried reasoning. you’ve tried bribery. you’ve even tried guilt-tripping, reminding him how neglected you are, how you ache for attention, how you’ve worn the robe, the one that only stays tied for fifteen minutes max, because you miss him. he doesn’t even crack an eye open. just flutters his fingers weakly in your direction and mumbles, “you’re free to use me.”

use you? his eyes are shut. his arms are behind his head. a small, obnoxious smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth. “you’re not even looking,” you accuse. “i’ve seen you before.”

“law.”

“very hot.”

you pinch his side. he grunts but doesn’t retaliate. “i thought we were gonna do something tonight,” you say, which is stupid, because clearly you are. but the spirit of romance demands more than just your bare thighs on top of him while he impersonates a corpse. he peeks one eye open, sighs dramatically, and says, “you are doing something.” you stare down at him, fuming.

he takes it as an invitation and very casually places his hands on your waist, draws small, lazy circles into your skin with his thumbs. “…’m helping,” he murmurs. “you’re not helping.”

“i’m moral support.”

“you’re using me,” you accuse, face pressed into his collar.

“never.”

“you’re warm and lazy and you’re using me.”

“you climbed on me.”

“i had to. or you’d just lie here til morning.”

he doesn’t argue that. just hums, sleepy and content, cheek pressed to your forehead now. one of his earrings tickles your temple when he shifts. “you can still do all the work from there, you know,” he says after a long pause. “i will not.”

“hm.” you thump his chest. he doesn’t even flinch. eventually your fingers start tracing the tattoos on his arm. you like the one on his knuckles best, have for a while now. sometimes you press your lips there while he’s half-asleep and doesn’t notice. sometimes he does and doesn’t say anything. you exhale, crouch forward. tug the comforter out from beneath his back so you can properly sit. he doesn’t help. at all. he lifts one lazy hand and taps your hip. “you look good from this angle.”

“this is the angle you see me in ninety percent of the time.”

“then it’s clearly the best one.” he grins with his eyes still shut. smug. useless. beautiful. you prod his side with a finger. “you’re not gonna even lift your head?”

“it’s heavy,” he says, not sorry at all. “i did seven appendectomies today. and killer’s allergic to penicillin now, apparently.”

“not my problem.”

“exactly. now ride me and be quiet.”

you throw a pillow in his face. he eats it with a sleepy huff and no resistance. he lets you tug his pants down, lets you press kisses to his throat, lets you leave faint lines along his chest with your nails, but doesn’t lift so much as a finger in retaliation. it’s infuriating. and also hot. which you’ll never tell him. “you’re getting away with this because you work hard,” you mutter, easing against him. “thank you for your generosity.”

“you owe me foot rubs tomorrow.”

“if i survive the night.” he kisses you slow and warm. his hands eventually find your waist and stay there, just to feel you. he’s not the kind of man who asks for softness and he certainly doesn’t demand intimacy. but when you offer it so freely, when you crawl over him after a long day and hold him and validate his exhaustion, he’s not stupid enough to turn it down.

you grind your hips once, right where his belt meets the lowest button of his pants and he twitches. he’s not the only bastard in the relationship.

“mm,” you hum. “i think you’re getting spoiled. he finally opens his eyes. “you’re the one lying on me.”

“and you’re letting me.”

“because you’re manipulative,” he mutters. you smile sweetly. “and yet, so beloved.”

when you press a kiss just below his jaw, you feel the way his spine arches slightly. nothing drastic, just enough to tell you that, yes, he could flip you onto your back if he wanted to. but he won’t. he’s stubborn and prideful and overheated and enjoying the cruelty of it all. so you sit up, slowly, like you’re stretching. deliberately remove yourself from his chest. he watches you rise with zero grace and full interest. now you’re straddling his hips but not touching him. hands behind your back. posture too perfect. you say, “goodnight.” he blinks. “good what.”

“you’re tired, right? captain?” his eye twitches. “don’t play with me.” you lean forward, lips ghosting over his. then stop. say nothing. stay right there, barely-there breath and all. his hands come up, start to grab your waist then freeze. he narrows his eyes. “you’re baiting me.”

“you can dish it out all day,” you murmur, “but can’t take it, huh?” he mutters your name. you kiss the corner of his mouth not his lips and leave it at that. “sleep well,” you say, slipping off him in a slow glide. when you’re curled up under the sheet, facing away, you hear the soft thud of his fist hitting the mattress once. he’s sweating. he’s pissed. he won’t do anything about it. serves him right.

[steviescrystals]

being one of two liberals in a government class full of raging conservatives my senior year of high school was character development

[oneoftheextras]

lockjaw | j.t

masterlist | tip for the author?

paring: hybrid puppy!jayce talis x f!reader

request: after a recent breakup you find yourself adopting a hybrid to keep you company, but he's more feral than you can handle

series warnings: 18+, hybrid jayce (ears and tail), slight a/b/o traits (could argue alpha jayce), eventual smut, protective jayce, size difference

words: 2.7k

chapter warnings: a lot of exposition, but trust me

chapter notes: first time writing a hybrid, let me know how i did, this will be multi-chaptered

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord

When your friend had suggested you get a pet, this is not what you imagined. 

A cat or dog perhaps, even a fish would've made more sense, this whole thing started with you coming into the shelter asking for just that.

You’d asked about their cats or even their smaller dogs, but they’d all either been adopted or were reserved by potential owners.

“Have you considered a hybrid?” Those five words, and your inquisitive “A hybrid?” Is what landed you in this situation.

The lady excitedly lead you through a few different doors until you were in a room that overlooked a large spacious area.

“There’s so many of them,” you muttered to yourself, but it was clearly loud enough for her to hear you.

“Not many people want a hybrid, they prefer a traditional cat or dog,” her tone was melancholic, and a pang of guilt hit your chest. That was exactly what you’d done.

“Chances are the majority of these guys will spend their whole lives here,” she sighed sadly.

A high pitched yelp interrupted her train of thought as she perked up to see who the culprit was. It seemed to be a pink haired girl, her matching feline ears were pressed back against her head whilst another hybrid had their hand raised into a fist.

“Jinx no!” Your guide leaned over the small balcony to scold her. All the hybrid’s snapped their attention to where her voice was, but the blue-eared one slowly lowered her fist and skulked off to another corner; content that the conflict was over the rest of the room relaxed and continued what they were doing previously.

However, one pair of eyes remained on the balcony.

You couldn’t place it at first, but then you spotted him. His eyes were so piercing that you quickly avoided eye contact.

“Who’s the one on their own?” You asked quietly as if he could hear you. The vet leaned into you and the excitement was radiating off of her.

“That’s Jayce, our chocolate Labrador hybrid,” she paused for you to ask questions, but continued quickly anyway.

“He’s been with us for about 3 months, he was completely feral when we found him. He’d been abandoned by his previous owner when he was a puppy and was surviving on his own for so long,” her voice lost its usual joyful lint the more she spoke.

“When he arrived he was practically uncontrollable, we thought we’d have to separate him from the others entirely,” she paused as she realised her voice was getting louder, “But he bonded well with one of our felines, Viktor his name was, but he was adopted quite quickly-“.

The entire time she was talking your eyes kept darting back to who she was talking about.

He was sat in a chair with with his leg on his knee, away from everyone else, his annoyed gaze continuously on the balcony as if he knew he was being spoken about.

“-We encouraged them to adopt the two of them as a pair, but they didn’t want a canine, so he stayed with us. Unfortunately, some of his feral habits returned but he mostly keeps to himself now,” she finally finished her monologue.

You furrowed your eyebrows with empathy and glanced towards her, "He's lonely, like me," you commented and put your elbows on the railing to rest your chin on your palms, overlooking the space again.

His eyes were still on the two of you, you could feel it.

"Do you want to meet them?" the vet asked a little too swiftly.

The thought bounced around in your mind for a moment, contemplating if you should even entertain this idea; but as you looked around the room you felt your heart ache for them.

You sighed as a sign of conceding to the idea, "Yeah, why not?" you pushed yourself up off of the balcony and turned to the vet, waiting for her to start moving.

The smile on her face was one of relief and joy. It was clear that not many people were jumping at the opportunity to adopt a hybrid, let alone even entertain seeing them.

It didn't take long to get to the 'sanctuary' door - that's what she called the main communal area for them - she swiped her key card and the door beeped open.

For some reason your heartbeat increase slightly as you stepped over the threshold and into the room.

"Hello everyone!" she said in a slightly elevated voice, not loud enough to be shouting but loud enough for it to carry throughout the room. "We have guest today, she's very nice so don't worry," she warned them.

Although the atmosphere didn't feel hostile, it didn't feel welcoming either. The majority of them observed you from a distance.

There were so many questions you had, but you didn't know where to start.

"If we take a seat over here we can let them come to us," she lead you to a sofa in the middle of the room, but as you sat down she moved away to a cabinet to retrieve a big folder.

The time you were alone was minimal but a spike of anxiety went through you, some of the hybrids moved closer to observe you but never close enough to speak to any of them individually.

The vet returned and sat next to you on the sofa, placing the big folder onto the table, "We have all the information on the residents in here," she didn't open it but left it for you, if you felt inclined.

It didn't take long for the blue haired feline from before to bound over and sit next to the vet, "Hello sweetie," the vet said as the feline put her head on her shoulder and started playing with her hair.

"This is-" she started, but this time you interrupted, "Jinx?".

Both the vet and Jinx looked up at you when you spoke, "Yes! She's quite the troublemaker, especially with her sister Vi," she pointed at the pink-haired feline that was being bapped earlier.

"I see," you spoke slowly as you opened the folder to their joint page. 'Must be adopted together', it read in bold under their photos.

"As they're actually siblings, we can't have them separated, it wouldn't be healthy," she explained as she started to tighten one of Jinx's braids.

It reminded you of her story from before and you instinctively raised your head from the folder to where the Labrador hybrid was sitting before, he was still staring at you.

"What type of space are you working with?" you were thankful she was asking you questions, you felt completely out of your depth.

Your eyelids fluttered in surprise, he must be territorial, you thought.

"Just a one-bed apartment," you eventually answered. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the vet lean back to glace at Jayce and her lips curled into a smile again.

"Ah," the noise of disappointment, "That's not a lot of space for play, if you were to adopt it would need to be someone more relaxed,".

She leaned forward and started flipping through the folder, unclipping certain pages and laying them in front of you.

"Unfortunately, they're all a little rambunctious here, but these are who I'd recommend," she'd placed two folders on the table.

"Caitlyn', and 'Ekko", she said aloud even though their names were written down in front of you - Jinx stuck her tongue out and made a 'Bleh' noise when she said Caitlyn.

You spent some time reading their files, they seemed nice enough, two felines; but the whole time you were reading your mind kept drifting back to the one who's eyes you could feel in the side of your head.

"What about-" you started, pausing for a moment to reconsider if you actually wanted to suggest this, but before you could get the courage to complete the sentence the vet interjected with a surprised "Jayce?!".

You glanced up from the pages to ask her how she knew what you were going to say, when you realised there was a large figure basking you in his shadow.

Immediately, your heart started beating quickly again and a nervous rush went through you. "Oh, hello," your voice shook as you spoke.

Now that he was closer you could see that his eyes were a golden yellow, which complemented his chocolatey brown hair pretty well. His nose twitched as if he was also rethinking his approach, or he was catching your scent.

"Jayce, this is..." the vet started the introduction and waited for you to say your name out loud for him, which you did.

His eyebrow raised slightly as he seemed to look you over; from your shoes to the top of your head.

Before, it felt like you couldn't make eye contact with him, but now you were struggling to look away. There was a sadness in his eyes that you recognised all too well, he was lonely too.

Unsure of how to manage the situation, you stuck your hand out for him to shake. He studied your hand silently and without movement, you were starting to think you should put your hand down when he slowly took it.

His hands were large, much bigger than your own and very warm. Although he didn't move his hand, he held a gentle grip on yours and watched where they connected.

"Nice to meet you, Jayce," you tried to say as softly as possible and timidly shook his hand up and down. His brown ears twitched slightly at the mention of his name.

After a few long seconds he let go of your hand and with a quick exhale he walked away.

You blinked a few times and lowered your hand, "Did I do something wrong?" you asked the vet, she chuckled to herself "Not at all, I'm actually surprised he showed any interest at all, he normally never moves from his spot,".

"Oh," was all you could say.

After some time, the vet stood and gestured for you to do the same, leading you towards the exit, "We should leave them to it, we try not to overstimulate them with new people too often,".

Once you were out in the halls again, you asked "Why's his hair so long?". Whilst it wasn't an unmanageable length, it was certainly dishevelled and outgrown.

"He doesn't really let people near him, let alone people with scissors and a razor," she laughed, "Like I said, he still has some feral tendencies, nothing that we're concerned about but it does mean he's a bit scruffy sometimes." she explained.

You nodded slowly to show your understanding. Whilst you felt yourself being drawn towards Jayce, the more you heard about his behaviours the more you were thinking that you weren't cut out to have a hybrid.

"I don't think I’m capable of looking after someone like him," you confessed even though it physically hurt your chest to say.

The vet chuckled again, "When it comes to hybrids, they look after themselves. All you really need to do is feed them, give them a home and attention when they want it.".

She picked up the folder again and flipped through the files, "I know it might seem overwhelming, but we don't just let anyone adopt our hybrids, there's a vetting process to it," she said as she handed you another file.

"What about my apartment? It's only one bedroom, and he's quite..." you didn't know what word to settle on, "Large,".

She nodded at your concern, "Ordinarily, I'd say it was an issue, but for a canine like Jayce, he just needs companionship and intellectual stimulation.".

You took in her words, you were hoping she would agree and tell you that it wasn't possible, that it wasn't meant to be. Then you could let this go and move onto something less demanding.

"Take this home, have a read and see how you feel. If you're still interested we can set up another meeting," you took the file from her and held it close to your chest.

Over the next couple of days, that's exactly what you did.

You read the file over and over, it felt like every detail was engrained into your brain, along with those piercing yellow eyes that were so full of sadness.

He was like you. As much as you hated to admit it, he was your reflection.

"Hello?" you spoke into you phone, the voice on the other end greeted you and asked you to verify your name, which you did.

"How can I help you today?" the receptionist was characteristically bubbly, "I'd like to set up a meeting, please?" you asked hesitantly.

The line was quiet, save for the tapping of her fingers on the keys, "Of course, is that for Jayce?" she eventually said and you felt a bolt of excitement charge through you.

"Yes, please," you confirmed. A few more details were exchanged and the meeting was set, "Perfect, we'll see you tomorrow at 1pm!".

The evening went by too quickly and too slowly at the same time.

Luckily, you worked from home so you were able to be fairly flexible with your availability, despite your morning being relatively unproductive.

Instead of doing your job, you'd spent the first three hours of your shift researching canine hybrids; their needs, requirements and any medical issues.

You'd only just started researching about feral hybrids before you realised the time, 12:30.

When you arrived he was sat in the same chair as before, but this time he wore a black tunic with the sleeves rolled up.

If not for the fluffy ears and tail, you'd think he was a business man or politician of some sort.

As you approached him - with the vet in tow - he stood.

It took you by surprise and your steps faltered. He blinked a few times and his eyebrows softened slightly for a second, before putting his hand out the same way you had a couple days prior.

A soft smile came across your lips as you tentatively took his hand and shook it, he’d copied your gesture to make you comfortable. His touch felt familiar, as if he was someone you’d known for years.

Despite the gentle nature he was showing you, his eyes still bore into you like he was trying to figure out if you were a threat or not.

When he eventually let go of your hand, he sat down and his eyes looked between you and the chair opposite him. He wanted you to sit as well.

You glanced at the soft armchair behind you and side stepped until you were in front of it; before you lowered yourself down, you turned your head back to Jayce to check this is what he wanted.

When there was no change in his demeanour, you plonked yourself into the soft cushions less than gracefully, it was a lot lower and bouncier than you’d anticipated.

“He got this out when he heard you were coming today,” the vet said from behind you, honestly you’d forgotten he was there.

You’d somehow failed to notice that on the table in between the two of you was a chess set, set up and ready for a game.

“I’m sure you’ve already read his file, but Jayce here is very intelligent, he loves these types of games,” the man sounded so proud.

Meanwhile, Jayce stared at him with a displeased facial expression, like he was waiting for him to stop talking.

“I’ll leave you to it, but I’ll be over here if you need me,” the man gave you a small wave as he moved to the other side of the room.

This was the first time you and Jayce were somewhat alone, there was a spark of excitement as well as nervousness.

You just hoped he liked you.

[lambiconic]

simon's finally got that date with the barista

if you havent, can i interest you in reading the first six: simon , gaz , johnny , price , the aftermath , the confrontation

(18+ you being angry at simon gets him the tiniest bit excited)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

After cleaning up the coffee beans you’d spilled on the floor in anger, you finally felt calm enough to try to talk things out with the four men.

Unfortunately, while you’d been crashing out in the back room they had leaving behind just a test message:

“This is Simon. Talk later.”

Despite your previous anger you couldn’t help but smile, its really cute that he somehow texts exactly how he speaks. 

…

The men spent the better part of a week debating (honestly arguing) over how to even bring up the idea of… sharing you.

Though.. the longer they talked about it, the worse it sounded. Not because they didn’t want you. God, they did. So badly. 

But, well, asking the same woman they’d all but cornered in her place of work and interrogated like you’d been married for 20 years with 3 children if she’d be open to dating all of them?

“Feels a bit... predatory, yeah?” Price had said at one point, frowning as he paced with uncharacteristic nervousness. 

“We already ganged up on her once,” Gaz muttered. “Now we’re coming back to say ‘erm actually we’d like to take turns, thanks’? Bit dodgy.”

“We could ease her into it!” Johnny proposed, “One date each. Give her time to realize we’re all *cough* mostly me *cough* amazing.”

 “So your plan is emotional whiplash in four acts??”

Simon, of course, offered nothing besides something about how if you laughed them out of that café, not a single word would leave his lips for weeks on end. Still, none of them backed down.

They just had to figure out how to say “Would you consider going out with all of us?” without sounding like a cult.

Easy. Right?

They came to the conclusion that Johnny was right, they needed to take you out. Try to woo you! Hopefully, that would make up for their ambush as well.

But who would go first? 

Johnny concluded that because he was the only one who had actually asked you out on a date, he should be first!

But, no no, Price should go first! He was the most mature! You need a sexy, mature, older man to lead you into this.

Gaz didn’t care, he was convinced you’d fall for him the fastest no matter where he stood in line.

And Simon— wait where the hell is Simon?

Simon wasted no time slipping out of the room. He had somewhere to be. 

And, like clockwork, Simon showed up at noon on Tuesday. He didn’t say much, just leaned against the counter like always, watching you work in silence. But this time, you were silent too.

Not the calm, flirty kind that matched his silent he was used to. No. You were giving him the silent treatment.

And he definitely deserved it. And he kind of liked it.

Your narrowed eyes. The dramatic scoff when he handed you a full $50 bill for a tip instead of his usual $10. The way you didn’t even try to mask your irritation with your usual sweet smile.

It wasn’t your customer service charm… it was all you, properly pissed off.

And strangely? That made him feel closer to you. At least this meant he still mattered enough to you to be met with something real. 

And there was something about that slight look of disgust in your eyes that had heat pooling low in his stomach and him forced to drop a hand to his crotch in hopes no one could see his growing… problem.

“Can I…” he started quietly, just as you slid the cup across the counter. 

Unfortunately for him, you turned right back around. He cleared his throat, his eyes locked on your back. “Y/N..?”

You didn’t stop what you were doing., offering a dry little ‘hm?”

He swallowed hard. “Can I… can I take you out?”

There was a pause. Then, slowly, you glared at him over your shoulder. “Pardon?”

He blinked. Panic hit (and there was that warm feeling in his groin again). Then, like it was rehearsed, he reached behind his back and held something out.

A wildflower. Well, a weed. Obviously tugged from the sidewalk out front, roots still dirty. But somehow, in his trembling hands, it looked about as pretty as the large bouquets Johnny kept offering you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

His voice was tight, and you noticed now how his fingers were shaking. Like he was expecting you to laugh in his face. “I… we can do whatever you’d like. If you’ll give me a chance.”

The weed was already wilting in his hand but he kept it cradled in his palm like it was worth his weight in gold. 

His head stayed bowed, jaw clenched, and the other hand curled into a fist behind his back, nails digging into his palm to keep from shaking.

After what felt like an eternity he saw your hand reaching out and carefully taking the small flower from his palm. “When are you free?”

His head shot up, eyes wide as they locked with yours. “I–I’ll have to check! I can text you. Just… I will text you.”

He continued to ramble, promising again and again that you'd hear from him as he stumbled backwards toward the door, his now-cold coffee clutched in hand.

He’d done it. He asked you out. He’s going on a date. With you.

Outside, he let out a breathless laugh and gave himself a small, victorious pat on the back, his thumb brushing over his name on the cup. His small personal treasure. A symbol of this joyous moment.

But then he paused.

Squinted.

“She spelled my name wrong..”

You may have an attitude problem.

…

Simon was a pretty blunt texter, you’d learned. He also started every single text message by stating it was him.

‘This is Simon. Would you like to go for dinner?’

‘This is Simon. I’ll send a list of restaurants. Pick what interests you.’

‘This is Simon. Don’t look at any prices. Leave your wallet at home.’

‘This is Simon. Eight sound good?’

‘This is Simon. Leaving out now. Excited to see you. Leave your wallet at home.’

‘This is Simon. At the entrance.’

You watched him for a couple seconds from your car, partially to feel out the situation and partially because you drove over in flip flops and needed to switch to heels.

Simon looked.. Nervous. A side of him you’d seen a lot of in the past few weeks but now it was at an all time high. It was like he didn’t know where to put his hands.

He tugged at his collar, checked his watch, ran his fingers through his slicked back blonde locks over and over. 

He seemed to perk up like a dog as he saw you approach, his jaw slack and his hands now suddenly folded in front of him. “Y/N.. you look—you look…you are—”

“Hi..” You interrupt as you come to a stop in front of him, “Were you out here long?”

“No! He said, quickly offering you a hand. “Been here for two minutes at the most..” 

He opened the door for you, his hand on the small of your back. “You’ll like it here..”

Once seated, Simon stared at the menu blankly, sneaking glances at you every few seconds.

“You good?” you asked, raising your eyes from your own menu. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, setting the menu down. “Just… tryin’ to figure out how to talk to you. I really like you. We all do.”

“We..?” You repeat, non committedly as you run your finger over the menu.

“Yknow.. Johnny, Gaz–suppose you call him Kyle, and uhh Price–John..” He stutters out. “We all really like you.”

You didn’t look up right away. Instead, you let the silence stretch just long enough for Simon to start shifting in his seat. His fingers tapped nervously against the edge of the table, like he was bracing for you to stand and walk out. He always seems prepared for the worst around you.

Finally, you looked up from menu. “You all talk about this together?”

He nodded slowly. “Not at first, per our.. ambush. But… yeah. Eventually. It wasn’t exactly avoidable.”

You let out a quiet breath, straightening in your chair. “So what is this, then? A group interview?”

He snorted, caught off guard, and the tension in his shoulders eased. “More like… an application process.”

“And you’re the first brave soul to show up?”

“Might not be the brave one. Might just be the most desperate.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That supposed to impress me?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “But I was hoping this would.”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small, setting it gently in front of you on the table.

A little wildflower. This one wasn’t wilted. Still clumsy, still a little dirt clinging to the roots, but fresher. Something he clearly went out and searched for.

You stared at it for a moment before your lips stretched out into a grin so wide your cheeks started to hurt. “Oh.. you are ridiculous.”

He smiled. “Yeah. But you haven’t told me no.”

You reached out, taking the flower. “…What night are the others taking me out?”

Simon grinned. “I’ll let ‘em know you asked.”

[thevibraniumveterans]

I have THOUGHTS about… ahem… the “Thunderbolts*”…

SPOILER ALERT!!!

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT…

LAST WARNING!

I’ve just watched the film this evening and I have so many thoughts off the top of my head and in no particular order

Valentina, you SCHEMING little shit, I KNEW something was up! That was insane.

Movie was big on mental health, for sure.

I previously thought we’d see Bucky going up against himself, but I was wrong; why would he ever need to do that? The MCU was his process and we’ve been watching him absolutely go through it.

And speaking of going through it, Bob and his room reminded me of Moon Knight, what with the abusive parents and whatnot, him being in the safest room he can be in, surrounded by toys.

And speaking of rooms. Yelena’s scenes around the Red Room situations, oof, that must’ve been really hard on her, that she could not change anything, that it would keep happening.

The whole you-don’t-have-to-do-this-alone aspect of the film was so well made, and that one scene near the end, the group hug, heartwarming. Very emotional scene. Loved it.

Very nearly upstaged by the previous scenes where Bucky, Walker, Ava, Yelena, and Alexei stopped that stone slab from hitting the ground, saving civilians

Alexei was hilarious throughout the whole movie, awesome at that

HOLY SHIT THE NEW AVENGERS??? I’ll get back to that in a bit but OMG.

The thing about Bob punching his own dark reflection and almost becoming what he feared the most was just… so so well done, that even when he was being mocked, he found the strength to get up and fight back, inspiring the others to get up and fight back too, and fight back together

Taskmaster? Yeah, we knew she was toast within the first 20 minutes but not how, now we know that Val had sent Taskmaster to kill Walker to kill Yelena to kill Ghost

That was one hell of an introduction though

And speaking of introductions, I gotta say something about the post-credits scene. First off, those new outfits are really cool; Walker getting a beret?? BUCKY GETTING A NEW OUTFIT AND A STAR OVER HIS RIGHT ARM?? I love that it’s navy blue now. AND THE FANTASTIC FOUR SHIP?? We know F4 is right around the corner this summer; I’m guessing that in the mid- and/or post-credits scene(s) of that movie we’ll have the F4 interact with the New Avengers before DOOMSDAY

And speaking of the New Avengers! That was Val’s whole setup! She had to get all shady and morally grey and villainy-like, trying to get her potential Avengers members to kill each other in some kind of wretched test to see how’d they fare against each other.

And oh right, BUCKY SAID SAM ISN’T HAPPY about the New Avengers; remember in CABNW Sam said that Ross told him to form a new team? What kind of beef is Val having with whoever is the president now? I mean it’s not like Bucky put together a team, it was just convenient that four of them were in the same car. But think about it, in the Doomsday lineup video, Anthony Mackie was third and Sebastian fourth, so the fact that they’re really high up on the roster and right next to each other tells me that Sam may be mad an Avengers team has been formed and there was nothing he could do about it

And like, it’s 2027 in the MCU now, right? The movie ends like 14 months later so now it’s freakin’ 2028 in the MCU now.

Bob is a cool person, I think, Sentry was the midpoint between Bob and the Void, and Bob doesn’t want to become the Sentry due to how he’d also become the Void - this avoidance is kinda like how Banner didn’t want to become Hulk but then reconciled. I like Bob’s dynamic with Yelena.

The whole metaphor of walking into the void is like choosing to confront your shame, your darkness, the things you think you don’t deserve sympathy for, but then again the whole point of Yelena, Bucky, Walker, and Ava coming together to group hug Bob was just so good.

It’s hilarious that Val didn’t just go “I’m putting together a team”, she went “Imma send these misfits to kill each other, send my latest project to kill them, ALL IN THE GUISE OF HOPING THEY ALL TEAM THE EFF UP but I can’t tell anyone that until the events I put into motion cause them to save the city and become the heroes I always knew they were” and honestly? What the hell, Valentina?! 🤣 You played them, you played us, well effing done, loved it, 15/10 no notes.

Bucky with the good hair! 🤩

Oh and the mid-credits artwork referencing famous historical promo, the Yelena “We can do it” poster referencing the WWII Rosie the Riveter propaganda, the team shot referencing the “Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima” photo

And part of the artwork also being in-universe headlines of people not exactly loving the New Avengers

And the classic Avengers theme song as the undercurrent for the main theme of this movie!

I may have other points but I’ll save them for later, I think??

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: “She’s My Girl”

Pairing: Reader x Azzi Fudd

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

Warnings: Stalking behavior (non-graphic), protective themes, minor language, fluff, suggestive teasing, team chaos, comfort, mutual affection, found family vibes.

Summary: What started as a fake kiss to escape a stalker turned into real feels real quick.

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @shikaizer

I wasn’t even supposed to go out tonight.

One of my girls had been begging all week, swearing up and down that we needed to hit the club to blow off steam before finals started. I wasn’t about that life most weekends—I preferred takeout and crime docs—but after they cornered me at lunch and promised to buy my drinks, I caved. Now here I was, halfway buzzed in a packed New Haven club, swaying under pulsing neon lights with my curls sticking to the back of my neck.

“I need water,” I told my friend Simone, who was in her own world dancing on some 6’5 guy in a Yale hoodie. She waved me off without even turning around.

Typical.

I pushed my way through sweaty bodies, making my way toward the bar tucked near the bathrooms. The music thumped hard enough to rattle my ribs, the bass vibrating under my boots. I spotted the bar—and that’s when my stomach dropped.

He was there.

Him.

The same guy who’d been watching me on campus for the past week. First in the library. Then outside my dorm. Outside my dance studio I teaches at. Once, I caught him following me down Whitney Ave when I grabbed breakfast early before class. I never had proof, never had a name—just that creepy gut feeling you know not to ignore.

And now here he was.

At my club.

In my space.

And the worst part? He was smiling at me like we were old friends.

“Nope,” I muttered, turning fast on my heel.

He saw me. “Hey! Hey, it’s you!”

Shit.

I moved quickly toward the bathrooms, hoping to disappear into the crowd or slip into a stall and regroup. That’s when I saw them—four tall, athletic girls dressed like they owned the room, laughter ringing loud even over the music.

UConn’s women’s basketball team.

Even a casual sports fan at UConn knew them—Jana’s soft now fallen curls bouncing as she sipped her drink, KK talking with her hands, Ice leaning against the wall in head-to-toe black, and Azzi, glowing under the lights like she didn’t even try.

I didn’t know them personally. Never had a reason to. But desperation makes you brave.

I ducked toward them, praying I didn’t look too much like a mess.

“Hey—uh—Azzi, right?” I rushed out, heart thudding as I caught her attention. She blinked at me in surprise, then smiled politely.

“Yeah?” she said, straightening up.

I glanced over my shoulder. He was pushing through the crowd now, looking for me. I didn’t have time to explain everything.

“Can you pretend to know me? Like—really know me?”

Azzi’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“Guy following me. Been doing it on and off for a week. He’s here. He saw me. Please, I don’t want him to follow me out.”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She passed her drink to Ice without a word, then stepped forward and looped her arm around my waist like it was second nature.

“Say less,” she whispered. “Go with it.”

And just like that, she leaned in and kissed me.

Not a wild kiss. Not sloppy. Just confident and direct, like we’d done this a dozen times before. Her hand found the side of my face, thumb brushing gently under my jaw. I couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out against her lips—but I kissed her back, heart hammering in my chest like I was in a damn movie.

I felt him behind me before I even saw him.

He stopped cold.

“Yo,” he said, voice hard. “What the hell is this?”

Azzi pulled away just enough to look at him, but her arm stayed firm around me.

“She’s my girl,” she said, loud enough to be heard. “You got a problem with that?”

He looked between us. His face twisted, not in disbelief—but anger. The kind of anger that made my blood run cold.

“We go to school together,” he said, stepping forward.

“Cool,” KK said sharply, stepping up beside Azzi. “So does half this damn club. Keep it moving.”

He looked like he wanted to argue. But when Jana and Ice flanked the other side, suddenly looking very not casual, he thought better of it.

“I was just being friendly,” he muttered, backing up.

“Keep that energy far away from her,” Ice snapped. “Next time you follow a girl, you might catch more than a cold stare.”

He hesitated, then disappeared back into the crowd.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. My knees felt shaky.

Azzi still had her arm around me.

“You okay?” she asked, voice soft now. “He gone?”

I nodded, though I still felt dizzy. “Y-Yeah. I think so. Thank you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing,” she said gently. “I’m just glad we were close enough.”

KK looked between us and smirked. “Y’all are cute. That was a hell of a kiss.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”

“I mean, if y’all ain’t actually dating, you’re missing out,” Ice added, sipping her drink like it was tea.

I flushed so hard I probably glowed under the club lights.

“I’m not—like—we’ve never even met before,” I stammered. “I go to UConn, yeah, but I’ve never—”

“Well, we’ve met now,” Azzi said, smiling at me. “And I’m not letting you walk back alone. Come sit with us. You good with that?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, a little dazed. “Yeah, I’m good with that.”

We spent the rest of the night in a corner booth with her teammates. They kept things light, made jokes, even got me to laugh. Azzi never left my side—not once. Anytime I shifted or flinched when someone bumped into me, her hand found my thigh or the small of my back.

By the time we said our goodnights and she walked me outside to wait for my Uber, I was more smitten than scared.

“I owe you one,” I said softly. “For everything.”

Azzi looked at me, her curls pulled back now, sweat lining her brow from the heat inside.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said. “But…I wouldn’t be mad if you texted me sometime.”

My eyes widened. “Wait—you want my number?”

“I already kissed you,” she said, teasing. “Least I could do is take you out properly.”

We exchanged numbers. My Uber pulled up. I didn’t want to leave.

She opened the door for me, helping me in like a true gentleman. Before I shut it, she leaned in one more time, kissed my cheek, and said:

“Text me when you get back to your dorm, alright?”

I nodded, heart full.

Later That Night:

[1:43 AM - Azzi Fudd]

Did you make it back okay?

[1:44 AM - You]

Yeah. Locked in, safe. Thank you again, Azzi. For everything.

P.S. You’re a really good fake girlfriend.

[1:45 AM - Azzi Fudd]

Who said I was faking?

It had been twelve days since Azzi kissed me in the middle of that club and scared off the creeper who’d been lurking around campus. Twelve days since she texted me, “Who said I was faking?”

And now here I was, standing in front of the mirror in my dorm room, reapplying my lip gloss for the fifth time while my roommate gassed me up in the background.

“Okay but lowkey, you look like someone’s girl tonight,” Simone said, flopped across her bed in leggings and a bonnet.

“That’s because I am someone’s girl,” I said, half-joking—half not.

My phone buzzed.

[AZZI]

I’m here. Parking was war, but I survived.

[YOU]

You deserve a trophy. I’ll be down in 2.

I grabbed my tote and took one last look in the mirror. Gloss on point. Hair soft and fluffy. Nerves going crazy.

Our first official date.

She’d asked me out two days after the club. Said she wanted to see me somewhere that didn’t involve neon lights and a threat to my safety. I agreed without hesitation.

Dinner was cute—quiet spot near Wooster Square. We shared pasta and she let me steal fries off her plate without a fight. She asked about my major, my favorite shows, my plans after college. I asked about her team, her goals, what she likes to do when she’s not sinking three-pointers like it’s nothing.

She reached for my hand halfway through dessert. I didn’t let go.

After that, things picked up.

We started texting constantly. FaceTiming almost every night. I had her saved as “Pretty Girl” in my phone. She changed mine to “My Baby” and posted a screenshot of our messages on her private story. Ice, KK, and Jana found out within hours.

That led to this:

Group Chat: “UConn Bucket Babes”

[KK]:

AZZI.

Who is “my baby” and why does she look familiar??

[Ice]:

Don’t play dumb. That’s club girl.

[Jana]:

I like her. She was polite. Soft hands. Pretty earrings.

[You]:

…hi?

[KK]:

OH WE GOT A NEW MEMBER??

[Azzi]:

Y’all behave.

[Ice]:

No promises.

[KK]:

Drop her @ tho. I gotta do a background check.

Azzi sent a selfie of us eating bagels on the hill outside the gym the next morning, captioned: “Y’all don’t need her @. She’s mine.”

They melted. I did too.

A few days later I’d just finished dance class and was headed toward the practice facility where they now used it in their free time just cause.

I shot her a quick FaceTime as I walked.

“Hey,” she answered, cheeks puffed as she munched on a protein bar. “You on your way?”

“Yup. Just low-key regret teaching a new dance.”

“I’ll be at the door in two, to let you in?”

“Good, cause I’m close and my legs hurt.”

I turned the corner—only to feel that same drop in my stomach I’d felt two weeks ago.

Him.

Standing by the bike rack near the facility. Like he was waiting. Again.

I froze for half a second, then shifted my phone so Azzi could see his face without being obvious.

“Babe?” I said loud enough, hoping he’d hear.

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Is that—?”

“Yup.”

“I’m outside. Don’t say a word. I got it.”

The guy took a step toward me. “Hey! Been a minute. You ghosted me.”

I tightened my grip on the ball. “Wasn’t hard to do.”

He laughed like we were sharing an inside joke. “Come on. Don’t be like that. I just wanna talk.”

“You can talk from back there,” I said, taking a step back.

“Oh, don’t act like that. That girl—what’s her name? Zizi?—she’s not even your real girl. I saw that little stunt.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to. Because right then, the front doors to the facility slammed open.

And out walked Azzi.

Followed by KK, Ice, Jana, and even Paige —hair up, face ready for war.

Azzi walked up to me, brushed past the guy like he was air, and wrapped her arm around my waist.

“You good?” she whispered.

“Wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch.”

Azzi nodded, kissed the side of my head, then turned back to him.

“You got a lot of nerve showing up again.”

He opened his mouth. “I’m just—”

“No,” she said, stepping forward now. “You’re just creeping. You’ve been stalking her. Lurking. Showing up on campus. And now, outside our gym? You’re done.”

Ice crossed her arms. “She’s not interested. Wasn’t interested then, not interested now. So either walk your ass off this property or get real familiar with UConn security.”

“I didn’t do anything—”

“Yet,” KK said darkly, stepping closer with her jaw tight. “And we’re not gonna wait until you do.”

“You need help,” Jana said, arms crossed and voice sharp, quiet and firm like the calm before a storm. “And a restraining order is looking real cute right about now.”

Ice didn’t even blink. “Matter fact, I got screenshots. Security footage. Want me to pull timestamps from when you showed up on campus last week? Keep playing.”

His cocky expression wavered, but he still had the audacity to open his mouth again. “Man, y’all are blowing this out of—”

“Nah,” Azzi snapped, her voice low and ice-cold, deadly serious now as she stepped between us fully. “You think this is a game? You think following her around, showing up at her gym, her dorm, the club… that’s normal?”

The way she said her made something twist in my chest.

“You’re lucky this is all you’re getting. Because if you try this again?” Azzi tilted her head slightly, her lips curling in a humorless smile. “I will personally make sure your face is posted on every safety board on campus and you’re banned from any event near her. Try me.”

He looked like he wanted to argue again—but five tall, pissed-off D1 basketball players staring him down was a different kind of pressure. The silence between them was charged. His ego was folding fast under the heat of it.

He muttered something under his breath and turned to leave, fast.

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I let it out.

Azzi turned to me immediately, eyes scanning mine. “You okay? He touch you?”

“No,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended. “He didn’t get the chance.”

“Damn right,” KK muttered beside us, already texting someone.

Just then, another familiar voice called out from behind me.

Paige had just exited the gym, a towel around her neck, eyebrows raised. “The hell just happened?”

Ice filled her in quickly.

Paige blinked, then clapped a hand on my shoulder like a big sister. “Welcome to the squad. You’ve got official bodyguards now.”

Azzi walked me to my dorm and ended up staying over.

I hadn’t planned it. I swear I hadn’t. We just got to talking and ordered takeout, and then she kicked off her sneakers, curled up with me on the couch, and started quoting lines from Love & Basketball while we picked a movie on my little flatscreen.

“So, you just got all this sauce and don’t even play anymore?” she teased, watching me with soft eyes as I dipped a fry into my milkshake.

“I got moves,” I said confidently. “You just haven’t seen them yet.”

Azzi smirked, leaned closer. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Just then, my dorm-mate—my childhood best friend—shuffled out of her room in a bonnet and Nike slides.

She blinked, looked between us on the couch, then grabbed an and tender fry straight from my plate.

“I’m heading to the gym,” she mumbled mid-chew. “Gonna see my man. Y’all got the place tonight.”

She dipped the tender in some of the ranch and some of the extra sauce the tenders were coated in, takes and bite and looks at me with mischief im her eyes.

I stared at her. “Did you just—?”

“Yes. I did. Y’all were too busy making heart eyes. Enjoy your little date night. Don’t get crumbs in the couch.”

She threw a wink over her shoulder, eating the rest of the tender in her hand, and was gone.

Azzi leaned into my side, laughing. “She’s iconic.”

“I’m gonna pretend I ate all my food next time.”

Azzi grinned. “You’re lucky I’m full or I’d be stealing bites too.”

I smiled, looking at her hand intertwined with mine.

“Stay over?” I asked softly, almost shy.

Azzi just nodded, pulling the blanket over both of us. “Always.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[larrylimericks]

19Oct24

No matter how mad the word made us, It always held hope — a “hiatus.”

I’m sad for so many reasons — the fundamental sadness of death, and at such a young age; having to process the mortality of someone so extraordinary it seems they should transcend a fate as ordinary as dying; aching for his family and friends; angry that he had to navigate such a cruel world, one that continues to disrespect him in death. Yes, Liam was damaged and in turn damaged others; he had demons to face and amends to make — I like to think he would have, given a chance. His talent was so immense, and there was so much more to come. I believe he would have found a way to redemption, and then had such a beautiful renaissance.

The joy of being a 1D fan has always been policed and mocked. We’ve so frequently been laughed at, dismissed for the intensity of our love for the band. And now, the world wants to do the same with our grief, questioning its legitimacy, trivializing our feelings. But this loss is real. And this grief is valid.

And the grief of losing Liam is compounded by the grief of losing so much else. He wasn’t just a celebrity. They weren’t just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years — no matter how old we were when we found them. So many of us are the people we are in part because of the people they are. Were. We’ve lost a beloved one, we’ve lost innocence, we’ve lost inspiration, we’ve lost a piece of our foundation.

We’ve lost hope.

It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a “hiatus.” It felt dishonest — like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldn’t they just say it was over? That being a boy band has a built-in shelf life, and it was time to explore solo careers. But now I understand the kindness in that word. For hope springs eternal, and it didn’t matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And “hiatus” wasn’t just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liam’s. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.

It’s been a remarkable gift to watch each one find his own path and his own voice. But when they announced a hiatus in 2015, they planted a seed of hope that someday we’d see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again — the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it would’ve been a one-off thing for charity or a special anniversary. Maybe it would be in their 50s when the allure of easy money from a reunion tour was too tempting to resist. But surely, eventually, 1D would reunite in some capacity. I was excited to see how their once frenetic energy and youthful antics would meld with the mature solo artists they’ve become.

That hope sustained us through 18 months and eventually eight years, but now the hiatus is over. I would have happily clowned for every remaining day of my life than know this new certainty brought by the finality of Liam’s death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe we’ll see three or four out of five come together to honor him — and what a poignant testament it will be that Liam was what could bring them together. Or maybe it will never feel right to them to take the stage without him, and that, too, will make all the sense in the world.

I wish I had an uplifting ending for this post. I don’t. I wake up and my first thought is “Liam isn’t here anymore,” and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.

I haven’t been able to listen to their music yet. It’s a cruel trick that the thing that always brought comfort is now a trigger for grief. But I hope that will soon change. That, at some point, I’ll put on WMYB, get choked up at “You’re insecure” and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but aren’t ready to be heard yet: “This is not the end, this is not the end” … “We can live forever.”

❯❯❯❯

[seijorhi]

Gorge

Monster Geto Suguru x female reader

tw: blood and gore, hard vore (not reader), implied non con, mentions of breeding, yandere-ish as always

Fairy & Rhi’s Big Bad Valentines Event ~ Here there be monsters

Days of silence, waiting, calling fruitlessly into the vast nothing that surrounds you, and the sudden crackle on the other end of the radio sends your heart leaping to your throat. 

“Mayday, mayday, this is the S.S. Sarugami, requesting emergency assistance. I repeat, this is S.S. Sarugami, requesting emergency assistance, we’ve taken heavy damage with multiple fatalities, requesting emergency assistance, do you read me?”

Please.

You don’t so much as breathe, fingers poised over the transponder as you wait. They might not pick up the signal, they might not care enough to stop and help. It could be pirates, unfriendlies. Scavengers or reavers. You’d close your eyes and pray if it hadn’t been made perfectly clear that any higher power turned their back to your plight a long, long time ago. 

“Don’t you feel the teeniest bit of guilt?” a smooth purr snakes through your head.

You don’t bother hiding the shiver that trickles down your spine like ice. “No,” you snip. It’s somewhere between a truth and a lie. You don’t relish what you’ll be unleashing on them if they arrive to offer the aid you begged for, but if it gets you out of here, away from him–

Self preservation will always win out.

You’re not a bad person for this. They wouldn’t come if they knew. They wouldn’t help you.

“No?” Amused. Always fucking amused. You bite your tongue so hard you taste blood. The near soundless shudder, breathy and excited, that reverberates through the cabin wrenches at you like a knife. 

Seconds crawl past, and then–

“Copy, Sarugami, this is the Admiral Fleet, I.C. Justice Prime. Report.” A flare of panic sparks at the identification, the brash, no-nonsense tone at the other end of the transponder. The Admiral Fleet isn’t your first choice here, they’re assholes of the highest order, bound by the code and, some might say, a little too eager to sniff out violations and injustices they can throw the book at. 

If one of them escapes, if they report you–

“You think I’d leave one alive? My, such little faith in me, I thought we’d dispelled such notions.”

Ignoring It, you say to Justice Prime, “We were attacked by reavers four days past with heavy casualties. The Captain and his command are dead. The med-team is dead. Our core was disabled and stripped and our life support systems are running low. Requesting emergency assistance, please.”

More lies, sprinkled in truth. Reavers would’ve left by now. Reavers aren’t nearly as dangerous as the threat you’re luring them to. Your hands tremble, heart trilling like a hummingbird and sweat beads at your temple. From the corner of your eye, you spy a flash of dark hair and pale skin, an all too familiar aroma of thick, smoky incense washing over you.

Lie, lie, lie. 

You squeeze your eyes close and breathe deep, fighting the urge not to flinch when something too cold, too soft, too formless to pass for human pets at your cheek. Like you’re a pet. A pretty doll. “I think I like this side of you. Vicious, bloodthirsty little mate,” It croons.

“… Copy, Sarugami. We’ll send a boarding party to assess the situation and advise next steps.”

No promises of help, but you suppose that’s too much to expect from the likes of the Admiral Fleet. It doesn’t matter. Once the airlock opens, none of that will matter. “Copy.”

The moment your finger leaves the transponder, you swing into action. You shoulder the blaster (almost drained) and the backpack (stuffed with as many rations and water packs as you could carry) and bolt from the control board out onto the main deck. There’s no telltale hiss of slithering behind you, no artificial footfalls sounding at your heels. It’s following you, though. Even if you weren’t trying to escape, It never strays far, firm in the belief of Its possession. 

Navigating through the ship isn’t as easy as you imagined, your pace unwieldy and slow with the extra weight on your back, but you can’t afford to stop or be seen. They’ll be suspicious when you aren’t there to greet them, but so long as they venture in – and don’t catch you slipping past behind them – it’ll be okay.

You just have to get past them before It starts eating or– 

Well, that’s the only option. Get on the Prime and convince them to shut the airlock and leave. 

“Such a lovely little mate, bringing me feast after feast. When you fail, will you finally accept that this is inevitable?”

The visage in the corner of your eyes flickers, pulsing, warping, too much of a substance in a container too small, and the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You push forward, ducking out of sight, the back routes, the underbelly of the ship. Your breath comes in and ragged pants and your legs shake, more from the growing sense of dread twisting you up in knots than exertion.

“I’ll take the I.C Justice Prime,” It whispers in your head, far too sure of itself. “I’ll make a nest there to breed you in, keep you full and content. Such a good mate. Such a perfect, perfect monkey for me.”

Self-righteous assholes though the Admiral Fleet may be, you’re condemning them. Part of you knows it, even as It slips away from behind you, spilling from the tall, dark haired facade it adopts to soothe your nerves. Growing, black and slick, tendrils writhing, it slips through the grate like oil and forms itself on the other side.

“There’s other humans,” you hiss under your breath. “You can find another pet, I’m getting out of here.”

“None like you.”

The screams start before you resurface on deck. Your timing is off. There’s yelling and burst after burst of blaster fire, the sickening wrenching of limbs being ripped from bodies. Justice Prime sent seven soldiers and a single medic, and they’re being torn apart. Consumed in bloody chunks, still alive. Still screaming. 

Run, you think, skittering to your feet when they slip through a puddle, warm blood coating your hands, up your wrists and forearms, your knees. It’s everywhere, horrible trails of it leaking across the floor. Run. Run. Run, and for fuck’s sake don’t look back. 

“I shall have to reward you for this. Both my appetites sated, how you spoil me.”

Tears well in your eyes, shoulders shaking, heaving with the force of the sobs you choke back. The airlock is mere feet away – you’ve come too far to turn back. You cannot just submit to this, to It. 

There’s a difference, though, between the crew of the S.S. Sarugami and the I.C. Justice Prime. Your crew were explorers, scientists. Your best friend was a botanist studying alien flora, her wife a cartographer. They were taken unawares. The Prime are soldiers, first and foremost. Comms suddenly cut out on a suspicious mayday call, and they don’t wait to see if it’s a jammed frequency or miscommunication.

When you stumble through the airlock, the muzzles of six blasters greets you.

“We have to go!” you cry out, throwing your blood slicked hands up in front of you to show you’re not a threat, begging them to just listen. “Please, we have to go now!”

You feel It before you see It, the cold chill at your back. 

In one cruel sweep, It rips the blasters from their grips, sending them clattering uselessly to the wall. “I’m sorry,” you gasp, though it’s more a plea for forgiveness as you watch their eyes widen in terror, taking in the monstrous creature behind you. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t watch, sweet mate. I know how this sort of thing upsets you.”

But closing your eyes doesn’t stop the screams, or the warm, wet spray of blood that drips down through your hair from the toothy maw above.

[sh4nksslvt]

When Love Grows Quiet

Four different loves — each unraveling in its own way, where silence cuts deeper than swords and love isn't always enough to stay.

shanks x reader | zoro x reader | law x reader | mihawk x reader | ONE SHOT tags: angst, sfw, heartbreak, emotional neglect, falling out of love, hurt/no comfort, isolation, miscommunication a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing word count: 2.5k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

The bar was loud, filled with the buzz of half-drunken laughter, tankards slamming against tables, and music that you once loved but now loathed. You sat in the farthest corner, away from the warmth of the crowd, clutching a half-empty glass of something you didn’t order. The ice was melting fast — like the slow disintegration of what used to be your heart.

Shanks was at the center of it all.

Again.

He always was.

“Another round!” he bellowed, raising his cup high in the air as the Red-Haired Pirates cheered. The crew adored him. They should — he was charismatic, fierce, warm, and generous with his attention.

Just not with you. Not anymore.

Your gaze lingered on him. His hair, a fiery halo in the dim light, his grin — that same one that once made you feel like the most important person in the world — now belonged to everyone else.

He didn’t even notice you when you walked in.

“Y/N, there you are!” Lucky Roux called from across the bar, waving at you with his usual cheer. “C’mon, join us!”

Shanks looked over his shoulder, eyes falling on you for a split second. There was recognition — maybe even guilt — but it was gone too fast. He raised his cup in your direction. No words. No movement. Just a lazy toast.

You forced a smile, then looked away.

You’d been with him for two years. It had started with stolen moments under stars, whispered promises between waves. “When this is all over, I’ll settle down. With you,” he’d say, voice dipped in warmth, hand on your cheek. You believed him.

But it never ended. And you stopped asking.

There were always more islands to visit, more allies to meet, more enemies to fight, and more nights he stumbled back to the ship reeking of rum and adrenaline, too tired to remember your name.

You stayed because you loved him.

Or maybe you stayed because you were afraid of what your life would look like without him in it.

But tonight felt different.

You pushed your glass aside and stood, your legs numb from sitting too long. You crossed the room, weaving through sailors and crewmates until you reached him.

“Shanks.”

He looked at you, surprised. Like he hadn’t expected you to speak first.

“Can we talk?”

His smile faltered. “Now? Can it wait? We’re just—”

“No,” you said, quieter, firmer. “It really can’t.”

He followed you outside without protest. The night air was cool, the moonlight bathing the ship in pale light.

You turned to him. “Do you remember what you promised me?”

He blinked. “Which one?”

You almost laughed. “That says everything, doesn’t it?”

“Y/N…”

“You told me we’d settle. That you’d come back for me. That I wasn’t just another stop along your journey. Do you even realize how long I’ve been waiting?”

“I know,” he muttered. “But it’s complicated.”

“No. It’s not. Not really. You just never made space for me.” Your voice trembled. “I don’t need riches or islands. I don’t even need peace. I just needed to know I mattered.”

He took a step forward. “You do matter.”

“Do I?” You looked up at him. “When was the last time you asked how I felt? When was the last time you chose me over adventure? Over your crew? Over another drink?”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

You continued, softer now, each word heavy. “I used to believe I was lucky to be loved by you. But now I realize… maybe I was just convenient. Someone to come back to when the world wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, jaw clenched.

“Neither is loving someone who only loves you when it suits them.”

A silence settled. Heavy. Final.

He looked away. “What are you saying?”

You took a shaky breath. “I’m leaving.”

His eyes snapped to yours. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I have to. Because if I don’t now, I never will.” You paused. “I loved you so much, Shanks. But I’m tired of waiting for you to love me back in the way I deserve.”

You turned before he could say more, before the tears spilled.

The crew watched you go. No one stopped you. Maybe they knew too.

Shanks didn’t follow.

Maybe he couldn’t.

Maybe deep down, he knew you were already gone.

And this time, no promise would bring you back.

ZORO

The clatter of blades in the training room echoed through the ship like thunder.

Again.

You stood outside the door, hand hovering just above the wood, listening. Zoro had been in there since sunrise. The sun was beginning to set.

You pressed your palm flat against the door. It was warm.

He didn’t hear you. He never did when he was training.

You opened the door anyway.

He stood in the center, shirtless, sweat clinging to his skin, his chest rising and falling with exertion. His swords were laid neatly on the rack nearby, save for the one still in his hand — his favorite. Wado Ichimonji. His first love.

You didn’t speak right away.

He noticed you after a few seconds, green hair clinging to his face. “Oh. Hey.”

“That all you’ve got for me?” you asked, arms crossed.

He shrugged. “Been training.”

“You were supposed to meet me. Two hours ago.”

Zoro blinked. “Shit. Was that today?”

A beat passed. You tried not to let the disappointment crack through your voice. “Yeah. It was today.”

It wasn’t the first time.

Zoro wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t dismissive in the way that most would notice. He was just… focused. Sharpened, like his blades, honed only for one goal: to become the strongest swordsman in the world.

And you had once admired that. Loved it, even.

But lately, it felt like you were always chasing his shadow, always making room for his dreams, even if it meant shrinking your own.

You walked into the room, picking up the cloth he used to wipe his sweat, tossing it to him. “You forgot again.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, running it over his forehead.

“I know,” you whispered.

And maybe that’s what hurt the most.

The days blurred.

Dinner conversations turned into one-sided stories from you. Nights became silent, save for the occasional grunt as Zoro collapsed into bed, already half asleep. You missed the way he used to fall asleep beside you — not just near you — like you were a harbor in his storm. Now, he drifted in and out like a ghost, always just beyond reach.

You finally snapped one quiet night.

“Zoro, do you even love me?”

He looked up from cleaning his blade, brow furrowed. “What kind of question is that?”

You sat on the bed, fingers twisting in your lap. “One I keep asking myself.”

He stood up, face unreadable. “Of course I love you.”

“Then why don’t I feel it?”

The silence that followed was thick. Not awkward — just empty. Like a room without furniture.

“I’m doing this for us,” he finally said. “Everything. My training. My dream.”

“No, you’re doing it for you. And that’s okay, Zoro.” Your voice broke. “But stop pretending I’m part of that dream when I’m just an afterthought.”

“That’s not fair,” he said.

“I used to think that too,” you whispered. “But you keep showing me otherwise.”

The next morning, you packed.

Not everything — just what you needed. You didn’t want to make a scene.

When you turned to leave, he was there. Leaning against the doorframe, arms folded.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, voice rough with sleep and disbelief.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He stared for a long time. “Why now?”

“Because if I stay, I’ll start hating you. And I don’t want to hate you.”

Zoro opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He took a step forward. “Don’t I get a chance to fix it?”

“You’ve had a hundred chances,” you said, gently. “I gave you all of them.”

He looked down, the tension in his body visible.

You moved past him. He didn’t stop you.

Not physically.

But god, you wished he would.

You heard the sound of blades again as you walked down the corridor, echoing from the training room.

Zoro was already back at it.

Maybe it was easier for him to fight with steel than with words.

And maybe that’s why you couldn’t stay — because you needed someone who could choose you the way you kept choosing him.

Even if it broke your heart.

LAW

The Polar Tang was quiet at night.

Most of the crew had gone to sleep, their laughter faded into distant echoes through the metal halls. You sat alone in the infirmary, the light above flickering in tired pulses, casting shadows across the empty bed beside you.

It used to be your place. Your shared space.

Now it was just another cold room.

The door slid open with a mechanical hiss. Law stepped inside, coat trailing, his presence commanding — but not unkind. His face was the same as always. Calm. Collected. Impenetrable.

You didn’t turn to greet him.

“You’re still awake,” he said, voice low.

“So are you.”

He paused. “Long day.”

“Every day is a long day with you.”

That made him pause longer than usual. You saw it — the subtle twitch of his hand, the way his gaze lingered on you before shifting to the medical charts on the wall, as if reading them gave him a reason not to face you.

You finally stood, arms crossed. “You didn’t even ask how I’m doing.”

“You’re not injured,” he replied, like that explained everything.

You laughed bitterly. “You think that’s all that matters?”

He looked at you now. Really looked.

“You’re not bleeding,” he said, “so I assumed you were fine.”

“And that’s the problem, Law,” you snapped, “you only know how to fix things you can see. But what about everything else?”

He was always distant. He didn’t mean to be — it was just how he survived. You knew that going in. Law was brilliant, brave, and wounded in ways most couldn’t see. He didn’t wear his pain on his sleeve; he buried it deep, under layers of strategy and silence.

You once thought love could bring him peace.

Instead, it made you feel invisible.

He sat on the edge of the bed, removing his gloves with surgical precision. “If you’re upset, just say it.”

“I’m always saying it,” you said. “I say it in every look you don’t return, every time you walk out without a word. I’m screaming it, Law, and you don’t hear me.”

His brow furrowed. “I’m trying.”

“No, you’re managing. There’s a difference.”

You took a step forward, throat tight. “Do you even want me here?”

He didn’t answer.

Not for a long time.

When he did, it was quiet. “I don’t know what I’d be without you.”

“That’s not the same as wanting me.”

You turned away, swallowing the burn behind your eyes. “I need more than this. I need to be seen. Heard. Held.”

“I’m not good at that.”

“I know,” you whispered. “And I’ve been patient. God, I’ve been so patient.”

He stood. “Then what do you want from me?”

You turned back to him, tears finally slipping down your cheek.

“I want to stop being the person waiting for you to feel something.”

There were so many things he could have said. So many things he didn’t.

No promises. No pleas. Just silence.

You left the room, footsteps echoing down the corridor. He didn’t follow. You didn’t expect him to.

Law wasn’t cruel. He was just… unreachable.

And you couldn’t keep drowning in his silence.

Later that night, he stood in the infirmary, alone, looking at the chair where you always sat.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t break.

But he whispered your name once — as if it would echo back.

It didn’t.

MIHAWK

Perched on the windowsill of Kuraigana Island's cold, stone castle, you watched the sun slip beneath the horizon. Even the sunset here felt distant — as if the colors were afraid to bloom fully, like the love you once thought lived within these walls.

Behind you, the quiet hum of Mihawk’s sword being cleaned was the only sound.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

You’d once thought the silence between you was peaceful — now it felt suffocating.

When you first arrived, you mistook his quiet for serenity. Mihawk was a man of discipline, of stillness, and you found comfort in his control. He didn’t make empty promises, didn’t raise his voice, didn’t falter. It made you feel safe.

Until the days stretched long and the silence became unbearable.

You would speak to him at dinner, only to be met with the clink of cutlery. You would try to initiate conversation, only to find him more engrossed in wine than words.

You once thought you were an oasis for his loneliness.

Now you realized you were just another presence he tolerated.

“You haven’t looked at me once today,” you said finally, staring out at the orange light dying over the sea.

Mihawk paused, the cloth in his hand stilling on Yoru’s blade. “I saw you this morning.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

No response.

You stood slowly, turning to face him. He was sitting in that grand, throne-like chair by the fireplace. His posture was perfect. Controlled. Remote.

“Do you even care that I’m unhappy?”

“I care,” he replied after a beat. “But unhappiness is inevitable.”

You blinked. “That’s your answer?”

“I do not pretend to be something I’m not,” he said, voice even. “You knew who I was when you came here.”

“I knew who you seemed to be,” you said sharply. “But I thought — I hoped — that underneath all of this control, you might want to be known. That you might let me in.”

“I have let you in.”

“To your house. Not your heart.”

The air crackled.

Mihawk stood, moving with quiet authority. “I do not offer affection like others. I offer stability. Loyalty.”

“I never wanted gifts. Or flattery. I just wanted to feel chosen.” You laughed, bitter. “But all I’ve felt is... tolerated. Like I’m just another item in your collection of things that don’t rust or change.”

He said nothing.

You stepped closer. “You haven’t said you love me. Not once.”

“I do not speak lightly,” he said, almost offended.

“I’m not asking for flowery words. I’m asking for anything that tells me you feel something when you look at me.”

He stared at you — intense, golden eyes sharp as any blade.

“I would not have allowed you to stay if I did not value you.”

A pause. And then your voice, quiet, almost broken:

“That’s not love, Mihawk. That’s possession.”

The silence that followed was vast.

And it said everything.

You turned away, heading for the door.

“You’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

“You may find no comfort in the world beyond this place.”

“Maybe not,” you whispered. “But at least I’ll feel something.”

He did not follow. He did not stop you.

And that hurt worse than any goodbye.

Later, long after you’d gone, Mihawk stood alone in the great hall, Yoru resting silently on the stone altar. A storm gathered beyond the window, wind rushing over the sea like a howl.

He did not weep.

But he looked at the spot where your chair had been pulled out, slightly askew — and he didn’t move it back.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine telling Luffy about why you don’t like Shanks…

“Why are you always so upset with Shanks?” Luffy wondered.

You brushed the young boys damp curls and twirled a finger around each strand to define the shape.

“He and I used to travel the seas, you know? We fought sea beasts and all kinds of pirates together.”

Luffy leaned forward. “Really? Was it cool?”

“Very cool and dangerous.” You reminded him with a small hair ruffle to set him back on the chair properly. “We were caught in an ambush and I was injured. Shanks brought me home, promising that we’d set off again after I was healed.”

Luffy grew excited. Maybe if Shanks came for you, he could also be taken along for the journey.

“Are you healed? Do you know when he’ll take you?” He asked.

You frowned and replied rather bitterly. “I was healed up over four years ago.”

Shanks had the audacity to pay a visit these last few months and spend time with Luffy while pretending like nothing had happened. It infuriated you and Luffy clearly caught wind of it.

There was a knock at the door. Your eyes darted up to see Makino standing there with a smile for Luffy.

“The ship has made port.” She told the boy.

Luffy jumped off the seat and ran for the exit. “Sorry Y/n, I have to go!”

You sighed at his speed hoping that he’d be careful on his way to the docks.

Makino looked at you while you put the chair away. “Are you coming as well?” She asked and when you didn’t reply she continued. “He’s been asking for you.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “Tell him I-”

“I’m not telling him you drowned again. You’ll have to face him one way or another.” Makino said and then left to resume her duties at the bar.

Honestly, you’d rather not seek out the pirate who abandoned you. Let him have his fun. Yes, you couldn’t avoid him forever but you could reduce the hours in his presence.

And so that’s what you set out to do, you walked wherever the straw hat wasn’t. If he was at Party’s Bar, you were at home. If he was at the docks, you were by the furthest windmill.

You last saw the red-haired pirate downing a bottle of booze at the bar with his little curly haired shadow on the chair beside him. While they were busy, you decided to rearrange the furniture in your home finally able to tend to things that had been long neglected thanks to Luffy always running in and out of trouble.

Fixated on stacking books by the corner of the front room, you missed the soft padding of footsteps coming to a halt by the open door.

“I heard you ‘drowned’.” A voice said, sending chills down your spine. “Imagine my surprise when Luffy told me that you did his hair this morning.”

Shanks mused at you as he stood by the threshold of your door.

Damn, when did he leave the bar? You rolled your eyes and then turned around to place a blanket into a wooden drawer near to where he stood.

“Odd.” You hummed. “I thought you would have welcomed a lie? Aren’t you filled with them or is that only when they’re directed at me?”

Shanks stepped into the room and took your hand to stop you from walking to the next task. He knew exactly what you were referring to. For months you both had avoided the topic by the way you dodged him but this was finally the opening he needed to clear the air.

“I never lied. I fully intended to come back here in three months. But each danger I faced, every terror that sailed into our path and all I could see was the risk of losing you.”

You scoffed at him. Captain Shanks of the Red-haired Pirates was scared? You were surprised his nose hadn’t grown.

Not wanting to talk further, you attempted to leave the house entirely when the man who stole your heart caught you once more.

“Hey,” Shanks took the reins and guided you to the wall, gently bracing you against it. He was tired of the anger of the anger in your eyes, only wanting you to see him like you once did. His hands settled in their rightful place on your waist.

“There are very few things that I am afraid of - but from that list, the fear of losing you is at the very top.”

As you stared in his warm eyes, you were reminded of a saying he often said aboard calmer seas and private moments.

Shanks gazed back at your face, the one he was deprived of seeing each day. He brought one hand to rest against your chest and raised your own to sit above his own. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours in a delicate kiss before pulling away gently.

“I’m not a selfish man by nature.” He whispered. “But for your life and your love, I can be.”

~ More imagines here ~

[demie90s]

Nah We Cousins

Phoenix Mercury x Rookie!Reader x Rookie!OC (Aaliyah Gardener)

MASTERLIST | MORE

Genre: Tension, chaos, dominance, found family aftermath

Warnings: Fistfight, blood, strong language

Vibe: You fought and won. And everyone knows it.

Word Count~ 1k

How It Started

Big-name scouts lined the sideline, clipboards out, heads down, pretending not to watch every move we made. A few reps from the Mercury were there. One from the Wings. Even some overseas coaches who didn’t speak much English but understood talent.

Everyone was calm. Then there’s us.

Me and Aaliyah. Matching energy. Matching egos. The only two names anyone was really there to see.

We didn’t speak. But everybody felt it.

They paired us on opposite teams. Dumb move. We’d been getting into it all week—eye-rolls, little bumps, passive-aggressive comments in group drills.

The assistant coach tried to be slick with it. “Let’s see some full-court man defense. Keep it clean.”

The ball tipped. Five minutes later, it was on.

She fouled me on a rebound—elbow in the back, no call. I pushed off hard, got the layup, and stared her down all the way back down court.

“You always been soft,” I muttered, jogging beside her.

She laughed. “You always been loud.”

She hit me with a screen so hard my soul damn near left my body. I bounced back up and shoved her in the chest. She shoved back.

And that’s when it happened. No words. No buildup. Just fists. Right there, in front of half the damn WNBA scouting department, we faded.

I swung first—caught her jaw. She hit back. Grabbed my jersey. We slammed into the bench. I slipped, kicked her shin. She locked my arm, flipped me over onto the floor.

The gym lost it.

Coaches yelling. Players frozen. One scout dropped his iPad. A camera guy ducked behind a cooler. We were rolling on the floor, swinging like grown men in a back alley.

“You wanna play with me?” I yelled, trying to pin her.

“I BEEN playing with you,” she snapped, flipping me and driving a knee into my thigh.

It took four people to break us up. Two of them had clipboards. We were dragged to opposite corners like boxers between rounds. Breathing hard. Lip busted. Sweat dripping. I spit into the trash. Aaliyah wiped her eye.

And then, at the same time, we both said: “I’m good.”

We stood up. Walked toward each other again. Coach looked ready to faint. But instead of swinging, we dapped up. Firm. Quick. No apologies.

“GG,” I said.

“Always,” she nodded.

Then we sat side by side on the bleachers, legs stretched out, shoulder to shoulder like we didn’t just throw hands in front of every top-tier basketball rep in North America.

“You hungry?” she asked, scrolling through her phone.

I nodded. “You still like that spot with the fried shrimp and the cornbread?”

She grinned. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The gym was silent.

One of the Wings reps whispered, “They fought like pit bulls…and now they wanna get lunch?”

The Mercury scout just said, “We need that. Fights and all.”

And from that day forward our reputations were set.

Untouchable. Too skilled to ignore. Too wild to separate.

Because yeah—maybe we fade. Maybe we fight in front of scouts, teammates, and cameras. But we always ride together. Always recover.

Because that’s what cousins do. And nobody wants smoke with both of us.

————

How It’s Going

Everybody always asks how two girls who fight this much still claim best friends.

Easy.

We’re cousins. Not by blood, but by bond. The type of bond that forms when you’ve been hooping together since middle school and both happen to be certified demons on the court. I’m Y/N—6’0, top pick, “let’s go” in human form. Aaliyah’s 6’2, strategic, smooth with it. I bark. She bites. And if you see us in a game? Mind your business.

We got drafted a week apart—me to Phoenix, her to Dallas. And ever since, everybody’s been waiting for us to either drop a mixtape…or kill each other.

Spoiler: we don’t kill each other. We fight, sure. On sight. But it’s love. Fade and forgive. That’s the code. And today? Today was one of those days.

It was supposed to be a calm joint press session. Phoenix x Dallas. Just the teams, coaches, a few PR people, and the camera crew. Some neutral outdoor space in the back of the hotel, sun out, mics set up, everybody half-asleep sipping smoothies and talking “brand identity.”

And then Aaliyah looked at me. Didn’t say a word. Just cocked her head and raised one eyebrow.

Oh.

So that’s what we on. I stood up slow, cracked my knuckles, and dropped my phone on the bench.

BG muttered, “Oh nah.”

Lexi blinked. “Wait are they—”

Too late. We rushed each other on the concrete. No announcements. No warmup. Just violence.

She swung first—classic jab to the chest. I ducked, wrapped her waist, and took her down like we was at WrestleMania. She flipped me. I elbowed her. She punched me in the thigh. I bit her wrist. We were rolling, slamming, talking shit under our breath like two uncles at a cookout who been holding this in for years.

“She kicked her in the shin,” someone gasped.

“Is that blood?” someone else whispered.

The cameras were still rolling. Coach tried to say something, but even he knew better. BG just backed up with her hands in the air.

“I told y’all,” she said, sipping her water. “That’s between them.”

Aaliyah slammed me into a recycling bin. I pulled her by her ponytail and shoved her into a folding chair. We broke the mic stand. She got a scratch on her face. I had gravel in my elbow. Grown men on both staffs didn’t know what to do.

Then—silence. Both of us breathing heavy, sitting on opposite curbs like we just finished a boxing match.

She spat into the grass. “You good?”

I wiped my lip. “Yeah. GG.”

We stood up, brushed the dirt off, and dapped up. Tight grip. Head nod. Done. Then I sat down next to her like we ain’t just fight in front of two franchises and a live camera crew.

“So anyway—you seen that movie? The one with the kids running away? And they gotta hitchhike or whatever?”

Aaliyah blinked, already pulling out her phone. “You talkin’ about the one with the lil white boy and the bus driver?”

“Yes! That one. You gotta see it.”

Coach looked like he was gonna cry. “Do you two even care how that looked?!”

I blinked. “Like what?”

Aaliyah shrugged. “It’s family business.”

One of the PR girls whispered, “…are we still doing the interviews?”

BG answered for her. “Hell no. Y’all need to reset the chairs.” Meanwhile, me and Aaliyah were already halfway into a bag of chips, arguing over which episode to start on Netflix.

Because that’s just what we do. We throw hands. Shake hands. Watch TV. Don’t mess with us though. Because if we ever fight you?

We Tag Teaming.

———

Next. And totally Not Cause I forgot Where this was going.

By the time we stepped on the court, everybody knew what was about to happen.

Phoenix versus Dallas. Me in the Mercury jersey, Aaliyah across from me in that blue and green Wings fit, bouncing the ball like she wasn’t already planning to violate me for fun. The crowd was loud, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t just a game. It was a long overdue 1v1 that just so happened to be wrapped inside a televised WNBA matchup.

She looked across the court and smiled—not sweet, not nice. That “you ready to get your ass beat?” smile she always gives me when she’s about to start something.

I smiled back, bounced on my toes, and cracked my neck. I wasn’t just ready. I’d been waiting.

From the opening tip, we locked in on each other like no one else existed. Plays were called, offenses were run, coaches shouted from the sidelines, and we both ignored every bit of it. I didn’t even hear Coach. All I saw was her—6’2, smooth footwork, locked in on me like a sniper. And me? I was in that zone. Wild. Explosive. Let’s go.

She got the first bucket, snatching a lazy pass out of the air and going coast to coast with a behind-the-back finish off the glass. The crowd roared. I clapped once and nodded, like, “Okay. Cute.”

Next possession, I called iso. Didn’t even pass half court before pointing at her.

“Come here.”

She grinned and jogged up, waving everyone else away. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”

I dropped her off with a stepback crossover so nasty she hit the stutter, then drained a three in her face. The gym exploded.

That’s how it went—back and forth, blow for blow. Elbows, body contact, snatching rebounds straight out each other’s hands. Every time I scored, she answered. Every time she clowned me with a move, I clowned back harder. We weren’t even talking to teammates. They knew to clear out and let it happen. This wasn’t team basketball anymore. This was personal.

On the bench, BG just shook her head and leaned back like she was watching a street fight. “Nah. This ain’t even about the game anymore. This family business.”

Meanwhile, the fans were out of their minds. Clips started going viral mid-game. Commentators couldn’t keep up. One of them said, “We’re witnessing the most intense 1v1 matchup inside a team game I’ve ever seen.”

The other one laughed. “This isn’t a rivalry. This is a ritual.”

We were guarding each other full-court like it was a damn championship. There were scratches. There were bruises. She fouled me twice—I didn’t care. I pushed her mid-jumper—she smiled.

Fourth quarter hit and the score was tied, but we were too deep into our battle to care.

She came down the court with the ball, and I clapped twice, crouched into position. “Do something with it.”

She drove right, spun left, bumped me in the chest and rose for a jumper. I jumped with her, full hand in her face—and she still hit it.

Next play, I called for the rock. Clock winding down. I hit her with a hesitation that got her leaning, exploded left, and pulled up from deep—splash. We both stood at half court afterward, breathing hard, staring each other down.

We were drenched in sweat. Bruised. Smirking.

She stepped forward first. “You still slow.”

I wiped my mouth. “You still trash.”

We dapped up. Both teams were rattled. Coaches looked confused. PR teams were already whispering about trade opportunities. Fans were chanting “WE WANT BOTH” like it was a hostage negotiation.

BG just stood near the scorer’s table shaking her head. “No way they play like that against each other and still wanna ride home together.”

After the game, we walked off the court together. Didn’t even shower first. Just grabbed a couple orange slices, sat in the tunnel, and pulled out our phones.

“You seen that movie yet?” I asked, kicking my legs out.

“Hell yeah. Shit was sad.” We both laughed.

Because for all the madness, the slams, the smack talk, and the bruises, at the end of the day, we weren’t rivals. We weren’t enemies. We weren’t even just teammates in spirit. We were cousins.

And that meant no matter what the scoreboard said, no matter who got the last bucket, it was always love. Right after the fade.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog

[reijisteacup]

Hiiya!! This is gonna be a WILD request and I sincerely apologize for this and feel free to ignore ts if ur uncomfortable! But I was wondering how the diaboys would react to their S/O randomly coming up to them in a random Tuesday afternoon and said "Yk I love you so much that I wanna find a way to impregnate you with quadruplets like a male seahorse💗😈... " Saying that with the most MISCHIEVOUS smirk and then running off laughing like a maniac that just got out of the psych ward. Ik this a whole 360 from my last request and honestly I didn't even think you'd actually do my request so tysm for that🥲💔 honestly I'm just rlly craving some crack rn 💔💔😞😞

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki: "Huh…?" He literally lifts his head off the couch for the first time in an hour. You’re halfway down the hall, cackling, and he’s still trying to decide if he dreamt it. “…Did she just…? The hell?” Ten minutes later he texts you:

“Seahorses can’t smoke, you know. Not that I’d let you ride me that long anyway. You’d pass out.” You come back, and he’s already unbuckling his belt. “Let’s see if you’re ready for quadruplets, psycho.”

Reiji Sakamaki: Glass shatters. He was holding a priceless antique teacup when you said that and bolted. “IMPREGNATE ME WITH—?? QUADRUPLETS?! WHAT IN THE NAME OF SCIENTIFIC ACCURACY—!!” He’s storming through the halls, blushing furiously. “YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THIS ROOM UNTIL YOU EXPLAIN WHERE THE SEAHORSE CAME FROM—!”

Next day, he lectures you for 43 minutes about marine biology and reproductive roles in aquatic life while red in the face. Also starts planning a potion that could theoretically make it happen. You should be afraid.

Laito Sakamaki: Falls to his knees, clutching his chest in agony and ecstasy. “Bitch-chan~! That’s the most unhinged thing anyone’s ever said to me and I think I’m in love all over again!” He chases you like it’s a love game. “Let’s make it happen, nya~ I’ll grow a pouch and everything if it means you’ll love me four times more~”

Starts calling himself “Daddy Seahorse” in public. You regret everything. You also don’t regret anything.

Kanato Sakamaki: Screams. “WHAAAAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?!” Teddy gets launched. He stomps his feet like a toddler possessed. “That’s DISGUSTING!!” You come back trying not to laugh, and he’s still standing in the same spot, twitching. “You want to do… weird, FISH things to me?! NO. I’M NOT A MARINE ANIMAL. I’M A PRINCE.”

But secretly? He later whispers to Teddy, “Do you think… we’d have cute babies?”

Ayato Sakamaki: “HUH?!” His brain shuts down. He freezes mid-bite of takoyaki, chopsticks in the air. “WAIT—WHY SEAHORSE?! YOU WANNA PUT BABIES IN ME?! AREN’T I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT TO YOU?!” He storms after you yelling, “ORE-SAMA AIN’T GONNA POP OUT QUADRUPLETS. MY HIPS AREN’T MADE FOR THAT.”

Later though… “Wait. If I had kids that looked like me… that’d be kinda awesome.”

Subaru Sakamaki: Wall gets punched immediately. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?!” He’s bright red, furious, and weirdly flustered. He doesn’t chase you. He just stands there vibrating with rage and confusion. “…Tch. You’re insane. You know that?”

Later on, he corners you in your room and snarls: “If you’re gonna say stuff like that… you better be ready to take responsibility. I don’t do quadruplets.” Spoiler: He’s down for it. And it shows.

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami: He blinks. Once. Twice. “…That’s not biologically feasible.” He walks after you slowly, calmly, like a boss in a horror game. You’re laughing down the hallway and he’s already planning a punishment. “Do you understand what you’ve just said to me? That is not only impractical, it’s ludicrous.”

Pauses. Lowers voice. “…Still, if you want my seed that badly, Livestock… perhaps we should skip to practice.”

Kou Mukami: “WHAAAT?! Baa~ka!” Starts laughing so hard he drops his phone. “Do you know what that would do to my body?! I’m a star! I can’t get stretch marks~!”

But then he gets serious. Grabs you by the face. “Say it again. But slower. And with the lights off. While we’re in bed.” He tweets about it. You’re trending under #SeahorseKink.

Yuma Mukami: Snorts so hard he chokes on his own spit. “HAAAH?! YA WANNA WHAT?!” He’s cackling while chasing you through the garden, yelling, “YOU WANNA PLANT SEEDS IN ME?! I’M THE GARDENER HERE, DAMMIT.”

Eventually tackles you into the flowers and pants, “You’re insane… I love it.” You probably make out. There’s dirt. It’s hot.

Azusa Mukami: Pauses mid-cut. “I… don’t understand… but… I like the way you said it…” You sprint away, and he just tilts his head slowly. “If you… want to do that to me… then… okay… just tell me… where it hurts the most…”

Later, he cuddles you from behind and whispers, “If I… grow a pouch… will you… kiss it?”

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami: Silence. He turns slowly from his scroll. “You wish to… impregnate me?” You’re already halfway down the corridor, screaming-laughing. He follows like a shadow. “You will explain yourself. Now.”

Days later, he finds a sketch you made of him as a male seahorse with four baby Carlas. He doesn’t speak to you for a week. But he keeps the sketch.

Shin Tsukinami: Freaks the hell out. “QUAD-WHAT?! I’M NOT A DAMN SEA CREATURE!!” He runs after you, screaming, “YOU WANNA DO WHAT TO ME?! WHO PUT THAT IDEA IN YOUR HEAD?!”

But after yelling… he slams his hands on either side of you against the wall. “You think you could handle four of me in you instead? Huh?” He’s red-faced. Panting. Suddenly very interested. You broke him and awakened something.

[rizzlesregal13]

Step One: Say No to Pets! Step Two: Welcome Home Señor Scratchy!

***Agatha x Reader 💜 When Nicki & Ella are desperate for a pet, one extremely cute (and very judgy) rabbit joins the Harkness family.***

What’s the one thing about parenthood no one warns you about, I hear you ask? 

LEGO.

Tiny, malevolent blocks, engineered for maximum foot pain and perfectly camouflaged against hardwood floors.

I’m halfway down the stairs carrying a heavy basket of laundry—dirty laundry, which somehow, always feels heavier than clean—when my bare foot narrowly avoids one brick, only to slam directly into a second.

“Oh you mother fudger…” I hiss through clenched teeth, as I stumble forward. The basket tips, a sock threatens to make a break for it, but by some miracle…maybe actual magic… I manage to stay upright avoiding a full-blown tumble that would likely have resulted in me landing in a heap on the hallway floor.

I’m glaring murderously at the offending blue plastic when I hear them.

Tiny, high-pitched, scheming voices.

You promised, Mommy,” Ella’s voice piped up, tiny but firm with that unshakable four-year-old conviction.

“I did no such thing, darling,” Agatha replied, tone as dry as the Sahara. “I said we’d think about it. That’s practically a parental euphemism for never.”

I pause just before the living room doorway. Not because I’m eavesdropping… I totally am, but because I know this tone. I know her tone. It’s the one she uses when she’s being particularly patient with the kids. Or particularly devious. The line between the two is virtually invisible.

“…but why can’t we have a pet?” Nicki asks, his voice halfway between pleading and logic. “All my friends have one.”

Ella’s chiming in before Nicki even finishes. “I want a kitten, Mommy. A tiny one with big eyes, and a busy tail.”

I peek around the corner, laundry basket still cradled in my arms, threatening to topple with every shift. There she is, our daughter, sitting cross legged on the rug, back straight like she’s presenting her case to a court of law. Her little hands flying about for emphasis as she speaks.

Agatha sits behind her, legs tucked neatly to the side, not a flicker of magic in sight. Just her fingers, slender, precise, and uncharacteristically gentle, moving steadily through Ella’s dark hair, twisting it into a braid with the kind of patience she reserves exclusively for this tiny human who has her utterly bewitched in ways no magic ever could.

Agatha glances up at me for the briefest moment. Just enough time to flash that sideways smirk; the one that says, are you hearing this? and also yes, I’m encouraging it and no, I’m not sorry.

I sigh, loudly, and finally step into the room, setting the basket down with a thud that makes Nicki jump.

“We’ve talked about this,” I say, aiming my words mostly at Ella but with a warning glance toward Agatha, too. “You know I’m allergic to cats.”

Ella turns to me with the most devastating pout I’ve seen since the last time she couldn’t find her favourite stuffed animal.

“But you wouldn’t have to touch it,” she says, as if that solves everything.

Nicki jumps in, sensing his moment. “What about a dog then?”

“Dogs require a lot of care,” Agatha says, not missing a beat. “Walks twice a day, Grooming. Training. Pick-up-their-poop-in-a-bag kind of care. Are you two going to do that?”

Nicki and Ella exchange a quick glance, the kind that siblings somehow telepathically learn to do.

It means: we’re lying but let’s go with it.

“Yes,” they say in unison. Nicki even adding a “Totally” and Ella a “Every day… forever”

It’s cute. It’s bold. It’s complete fiction.

I snort and drop onto the sofa.

“You two can’t even remember to put your cereal bowls in the sink.”

“We can now,” Nicki promises, which is both touching and entirely unconvincing.

Agatha raises an eyebrow, looking at me. Her lips twitching in the way that means she’s enjoying this far too much.

“What about a goldfish?” I offer helpfully. “Low maintenance. Won’t trigger my allergies…”

Ella makes a face like I just offered her a wet sock. “That’s boring, Mama.”

“And it doesn’t even do anything,” Nicki adds. “It just… swims.”

“That’s sort of the point,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “No fur. No barking. No dead mice on my pillow. Just peaceful swimming.”

They ignore me completely.

“A lizard?” Nicki says.

“A hamster” Ella counters.

“A snake!”

“A spider!”

“Like hell that one is happening!” I snap, a little too quickly.

Agatha lets out a soft laugh through her nose, as her fingers continue to braid.

“Oh, you walked right into that one.”

“Spiders,” I say, pointing at both of them, “are where I draw the line. Eight legs? Too many. Too fast. Too… just, no!.”

“But they eat flies,” Nicki says innocently.

“So do frogs,” I shoot back. “But I’m not about to let you bring a swamp home.”

“I knew you’d draw the line somewhere,” Agatha says under her breath, her voice low and smug with amusement, just for me. She doesn’t even need to look up from Ella’s braid to land the hit, but she does, of course. Just a flick of her blue eyes, a curl of her lip, and bam… my insides do that annoying flippy thing.

Even after all these years and two children, she still manages to make me feel like I’m about to spontaneously combust with one look.

I give her the kind of glare that has no real heat behind it. She knows. She always knows.

Meanwhile, the kids are still listing off creatures like they’re conjuring Noah’s Ark, but with more questionable judgment and fewer rules.

“A parrot!”

“A guinea pig”

“A turtle!”

“Oooh! A pigmy goat!”

Finally, Agatha claps her hands together, making Nicki and Ella jump.

“Alright,” she says. “New rule. If you both go upstairs and clean your rooms… properly, no stuffing things into the closet and calling it ‘tidy’, then maybe, we’ll go to the pet store.”

Cue the stampede.

Nicki’s halfway up the stairs before Agatha finishes the sentence, and Ella’s already shouting “I’m gonna need a box!” for reasons I just know, I don’t want to understand. I listen as doors slam and the sound of frantic cleaning erupts upstairs like a domestic hurricane.

I look at Agatha. “You’re seriously considering this?”

She shrugs. “Depends on what’s at the store. Maybe a rabbit. Maybe a two-headed snake.”

I raise a brow. “You love messing with me”.

Her lips curl into that familiar, wicked grin.

“Of course I do. It’s the cornerstone of our marriage.”

I shake my head, but I’m already smiling.

“Remind me why I married you again?”

Agatha leans in, her voice low and silky soft, all teasing warmth. “Because I make life interesting… And... because I look good in leather.

I roll my eyes, though my heart’s already doing that annoying fluttering thing it does when she turns the charm up to eleven. 

“You do look good in leather.”

“Mm.” She smirks. “I know.”

She rises from the floor with her usual grace before dropping down beside me on the sofa.

Closer than close.

Her thigh brushing mine, her perfume curling around me like a spell I never want broken. She leans in, slow and deliberate, her lips barely ghosting over mine, but just enough to set every nerve in my body on high alert. Her blue eyes flick up to meet mine, daring me to close the distance. To give in.

I’m about to…

When from upstairs, there’s a loud crash, followed by the unmistakable sound of something tumbling, a brief moment of silence, and then Nicki yelling, “I’M OKAY!” in that way that means he is definitely not okay, but doesn’t want us to check.

Agatha doesn’t even flinch. She sighs like a woman preparing to surrender to fate, which, in a way, she is.

“And just like that,” she says, dramatically, “our peaceful moment dies a noisy death.”

I laugh and lean my head against her shoulder, breathing her in. “Enjoy the quiet while it lasts. In an hour’s time, we’ll probably be driving home with a one-eyed chinchilla or a guinea pig named… I don’t know. Little Wigglebutt.”

Agatha hums thoughtfully, her fingers tracing lazy, slow circles on my knee like she’s painting some ancient sigil there. “Little Wigglebutt would be a lovely name for a familiar.”

I groan, half-amused, half-resigned.

“That wasn’t meant to be encouragement… The kids just want a nice, normal pet. No familiars, no magic.”

She pulls a face like I just suggested we live without indoor plumbing.

“Define ‘normal,’” she says, already deeply unimpressed.

“You know. Something that doesn’t glow. Or talk. Or vanish into thin air."

Agatha scoffs. “So, a disappointment, then.”

“A hamster,” I say pointedly, “is not a disappointment. It is a small, manageable creature that fits in a cage."

“But if the hamster happens to be a little… special, who are we to stifle its potential?”

I squint at her. “Define special.”

She grins, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

And somehow, I know… I just know… we’re going to walk into that pet store and come out with something absolutely ridiculous.

                                ***

The second we step into Westview’s "Pet Emporium", I immediately begin questioning every decision that’s led me to this moment. 

Who knew it was so big in here? Endless aisles of glass tanks and cages, the smell of sawdust, hay, and something that was once alive and now very likely isn’t hangs in the air. As well as the unmistakable sound of a parrot somewhere in the distance yelling something that should definitely not be repeated by a bird.

Ella darts off to a cage near the wall, gasping with wonder. “Mommy look! A rat! He has whiskers!” Her voice is pure delight and zero hesitation.

Nicki veers in the opposite direction, heading straight for the Reptiles sign. I glance at Agatha, prepared to launch into a speech about boundaries, appropriate pet sizes, and definitely no tarantulas, but she’s not looking at them.

She’s looking at me.

And then she’s tugging gently on my hand, lacing her fingers through mine as she pulls me deeper into the store. Her grip warm, steady, and just a bit dangerous.

“You’re up to something,” I murmur.

“I’m always up to something,” she replies, smiling over her shoulder. “Try to keep up.”

We round the corner into a quieter aisle, away from the chatter of other customers and the vague croaking of something amphibious. And that’s when she stops...

In front of a glass enclosure, simple and unassuming, sits a small rabbit… white with soft brown and black spots dappling it's ears and back. He’s got this sleepy, self-important look about him, like he’s judging the world but doing it politely.

Agatha crouches slightly, her expression softening in that rare way it does when something genuinely surprises her.

“He’s got attitude,” she murmurs.

The rabbit looks up at her.

Then, like he knows exactly what he’s doing, he hops closer to the glass and sits, perfectly still, one back leg twitching ever so slightly.

She glances back at me, and I already know. She’s decided. Jesus, we’re getting a rabbit.

“Kids!” she calls, her voice echoing just enough to send them skidding around the corner in under ten seconds.

Ella gasps. “He’s so FLUFFY!”

Nicki drops into a squat, staring through the glass. “He looks like he knows kung fu.”

The rabbit thumps one leg and then pauses, as if catching himself mid-showoff. I swear, he makes eye contact with me. Like he knows.

“What should we name him?” Agatha says casually, too casually.

Ella bounces on the balls of her feet. “Cottonball?”

Nicki scrunches his nose. “No, that’s stupid, it needs to be something cooler.”

Agatha tilts her head thoughtfully, eyes still fixed on the rabbit. “What about… Señor Scratchy?”

The kids lose their minds.

“Yes!”

“Perfect!”

“He’s definitely a Señor!”

I blink. One second, we were browsing. Now we’re naming, celebrating… and practically drawing up a birth certificate.

I shake my head slowly, mouth open just enough to express the internal how the hell has this happened that’s currently blaring in my brain. This was supposed to be a “just looking” trip. A stall tactic. A test of responsibility.

And now?

I look down at the rabbit. He’s watching me through the glass. Not in that vague, uninterested pet-store way… oh no. He’s really looking at me. Like he knows. Like he saw straight through the sarcasm and resistance and picked me anyway.

His little nose twitches once. Then he sits taller.

I narrow my eyes at him. “We are not bonding.”

His whiskers twitch like sure we’re not.

The next thing I know, we’re outside. The sky’s gone soft and overcast, and I’m standing at the back of our car, loading in a ridiculous amount of hay, bedding, food pellets, chew toys, a rabbit-sized water dispenser, and something called a “burrow blankie.”

A freaking burrow blankie…

I sigh, rearranging the stack of items so the bag of treats doesn’t crush the box of pine shavings.

This is what my life has come too…

In the backseat, nestled in a pristine white carry box between Ella and Nicki, sits Señor Scratchy himself; regal, composed, and completely unbothered by the chaos around him, like he’s always known he would be chauffeured away from a pet store by a loving, if mildly bewildered magical family.

Ella is softly singing a made-up song, something about bunnies, stars and jellybeans, her voice gentle and oddly on pitch. Nicki, bless his heart, is reading his comic book aloud to the rabbit, as he explains plot points like “this guy’s a good guy, but he made some bad choices.”

And there sits Señor Scratchy, thumping once, not out of fear… just to let us know he’s listening.

Agatha slips into the passenger seat beside me, the door closing with a solid thunk. She lets out a content sigh, tossing her sunglasses onto the dashboard like this is just another perfectly executed scheme.

Which knowing her, it probably is.

Without a word, she rests her hand gently on my thigh… warm, smooth, and annoyingly smug in its casual claim. Her thumb strokes slow circles through the denim of my jeans, a silent told you so wrapped in touch.

I glance over at her. “You planned this.”

She smiles without looking at me, her blue eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“I nudged the universe.”

I snort. “You nudged it off a cliff.”

Her smirk deepens. “And it landed in a soft pile of hay with a bunny named Señor Scratchy. You’re welcome.”

I shake my head, turning the key in the ignition.

“You know,” I murmur, eyes on the road, “if that rabbit starts levitating or speaking Latin, you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

Agatha leans closer, lips brushing my ear. “If he starts speaking Latin, I’m training him to do your morning affirmations.”

I groan.

She laughs.

And Señor Scratchy thumps once, as if to say: Good luck, Harkness’. You’re mine now.

                                 ***

Later that night, the house is finally, quiet.

The kids are asleep, both of them spark out in their respective beds, sprawled in tangled piles of sheets and stuffed animals. Nicki zonked out mid-sentence while telling Señor Scratchy about the superhero rabbit team he was going to invent. Whilst, Ella had tried to sneak the rabbit into her bed and got as far as pulling a blanket halfway over the carrier before giving in to sleep, her tiny fingers still curled around the edge.

And Señor Scratchy?

He’s not just surviving. He’s thriving.

He’s made himself at home with an unsettling speed, like he’s lived here his whole rabbit life. His new indoor enclosure is set up in the basement…just for nighttime and quiet hours… complete with cozy bedding, food, a small plush carrot he's already flung with great force across the cage, and one spell I’m told is just to keep the temperature stable. I’m keeping an eye on that.

His outside hutch is on order. Agatha picked one that looked like a rustic French cottage and cost more than our first sofa.

And now, he’s curled contentedly in her lap like a tiny smug prince, his back leg twitching now and then, his eyes half-closed as she runs her fingers through the soft fur behind his ears.

Agatha is reclined across the couch, long legs stretched out, her bare feet resting on my lap. I absently rub my thumb across the top of her right one, slow, easy strokes. It’s quiet, but it’s us quiet. 

“He’s smug,” I say, watching the rabbit twitch his nose with absolute self-assurance. 

“No, actually, his judgy and I don’t trust him.”

“He’s perfect,” Agatha murmurs, eyes still on him. “He’s dignified.”

My hand slows on her foot. “You mean you used magic.”

She grins, all teeth and mischief, but there’s a softness underneath. “Nope. That one was all him.”

I tilt my head, studying her. “You’re telling me a regular, non-enchanted rabbit took one look at our family and thought, ‘Yes, this semi-responsible, unhinged bunch is exactly where I should be?’”

She shrugs, utterly unapologetic. “Maybe he’s a little unhinged too.”

I squeeze her foot affectionately, and she moves it off my lap, scooting closer with that deliberate slowness she knows drives me mad. With one hand, she gently lifts Señor Scratchy and sets him on the cushion beside her, like he’s some kind of tiny, furry chaperone.

Then she leans in and kisses me.

It’s soft at first. Familiar. Warm. But then her fingers curl into the hem of my shirt, and it deepens… her lips brushing mine just enough to send my pulse tripping over itself. God, she drives me crazy. But she’s my crazy.

I reach for her jumper, curling my fingers in the navy fabric, pulling her closer with a breathless little laugh… and that’s when we hear it.

Thump.

Agatha jerks back with a startled noise, somewhere between a yelp and a moan, as Señor Scratchy leaps back into her lap, thumping dramatically before settling into a loaf, looking very pleased with himself.

I blink, stare at the rabbit, then up at Agatha, then back to the smug little fluffball.

“Look, buddy,” I say, pointing at him like I’m negotiating with a very entitled roommate, “let’s get one thing straight…”

He stares at me.

Unblinking.

Judgy.

I lower my voice. “You may have claimed the kids, the blanket, and the best spot on the sofa, but when it comes to her?” I glance sideways at Agatha, who is biting back a laugh. “She was mine first...so you can back off with."

Señor Scratchy lifts one paw.

And thumps.

Once.

Agatha laughs, reaching for her glass of wine on the coffee table with a smirk.

“He accepts your terms.”

I narrow my eyes at the rabbit. “I’m watching you, Señor.”

He blinks slowly, utterly unimpressed.

Agatha leans her head on my shoulder, still laughing.

“You know he’s going to end up sleeping on our bed at some point, right?”

I groan. “This was supposed to be a normal pet.”

She kisses my neck, all honey and sin. “There’s nothing normal about us, love.”

And honestly?

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Also on AO3 - Writtenwhiledreaming 💜 (Fourth chapter of No! You Can’t Hex A Four-Year-Old).

[silverflqmes]

your writing is my everything omg...you say you're quite new to the ff7 fandom, but you're so insane at writing the characters, its amazing. AHEM ANYWAYS <3 I was wondering if you could write some sephiroth x reader (who's love language is physical touch, and is quite energetic, and loud. However, more soft-spoken and gentle with him.) Knocking on his door at 3am only to find him awake, and it turns in to a cuddling session 💗

໒⦂ 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐍.

notes. anskwjsdj anon, that’s so sweet to hear🥺 i swear i’m new, really!😭 i got into it back in february so it hasn’t been very long.. but i appreciate your words, they’re very reassuring since i doubt my portrayals a lot :’) i hope this post is to your liking!<3

genre. fluff + comfort

sephiroth x gn!reader.

shinra was ever quiet into the late evening as you tiptoed down the corridor of suites, careful not to stumble or make a ruckus. after all, normal people were asleep around this hour, even if you weren’t one of them.

but.. neither was your boyfriend, apparently, and you were about to make that his problem.

reaching the end of the hall, a soft breath spilled from your lips as you raised your fist to gently knock, grinning brightly. “sephirothhh.. it’s meeeee, your beloved y/n!” you sang as quiet as can be, suppressing a giggle before adding in a whispered yell, “open up before i freeze my ass off!”

it was a known fact that he, like his other peers, was graced with enhanced senses. which included hearing — among many other qualities to detect your presence, of course.

that being said, sephiroth had to be aware of your arrival, and by the pattern of footfalls echoing behind the door, it seemed he was!

liquid mercury framing a pale, ethereal face emerged through the crack of the doorframe, lips pulled into the tiniest of smiles. “apologies, i wasn’t aware i would be receiving company at this hour.” he finally spoke, sidestepping as an unvoiced invitation. “to what do i owe the pleasure of your lovely presence?”

with a quick kiss to his cheek, you threw your arms around him after twisting the lock, humming softly. “well, i must confess that i was suffering of boredom, lingering caffeine and a horrid lack of sephitonin.. so i decided to do something about that!”

a soft peck was placed on the flat of your temple in return, a noise of amusement following. “sephitonin, you say? and a lack of it? my, that sounds terrible, it simply won’t do.” sephiroth murmured back, cradling your body close to his by the hips. “what is your solution, if i might inquire?” there were several things that came to mind, but somehow you always had a way of going beyond his assumptions.

this was no exception. “a kiss for every minute that we have been apart sounds promising.. or a cuddle session until dawn, that sounds very appealing too.. then again, a goodnight’s rest on your thighs sounds lovely as well.. is ‘all the above’ an option here?”

a chuckle tumbled from his rosewood appendages, eyes crinkling at the corners. “hm.. just for you,” he paused, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. “i’d be willing to allow all of your suggestions. however, dawn is not far off.” the general warned, tracing his thumb over your warm skin. “we’d better get started.”

leaning into his cold, yet soothing hand, you allowed yourself to enjoy his touch for only a moment before letting out a tiny gasp. “you are so right. i should have infiltrated your apartment much sooner.” you concluded, pulling away to slip your fingers through the crevices of his pale ones. “it seems we have four hours at best and many, many kisses in dire need of compensation.. think you can handle this job, SOLDIER?”

though he knew the answer already, sephiroth fed into the silly act and made a contemplative sound, tapping a finger on his chin. “it will be a great feat, but i would not be a SOLDIER first if i could not accomplish this for my beloved.” he answered finally, smiling at the way you beamed up at him. did you always have to be so adorable?

“great! then it’s settled,” you giggled, tugging him forward. “to the bedroom we go!”

and to the bedroom you both went, laughter echoing all the way to the threshold where you fell back onto the collection of pillows with a bright grin.

the feline eyed male was quick to fill the spot beside you, pulling your body into the shape of his own as his nose buried into the crook of your neck.

kisses were peppered in his wake, snickers eliciting from your lips at the moonlight colored strands brushing over the curve of your cheek. it was utter bliss, being in his arms as you were, the signature rose and vanilla clinging to the air surrounding you both. somehow it was more prominent than normal; perhaps he had washed his hair after arriving home. either way, the scent put you at complete ease, as always.

“comfortable?” velvet cut through the silence, a gentle murmur against your ear.

you couldn’t help your giddiness at his affections, smiling like a teenager in love as you nuzzled against him. “incredibly, i’m about to have the best sleep ever.”

bemused, sephiroth shifted to tuck your head underneath his chin, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. “truly? well, i’m happy that i can provide you with such. i’ll certainly be sleeping nicely tonight as well.” a slumber devoid of the usual nightmares? with his beloved? he’d take it any day, no matter the timeframe in which you ask.

“good,” you muttered back, pressing your lips to his collarbone as your legs tangled with his own. “i want you to rest well too, i know it’s been harder as of late.. so i, y’know, wanna accommodate as best as i can.”

for a moment he fell quiet, though his arms- they spoke volumes of gratitude when they tightened just slightly around your form.

eventually, he found his voice again. “thank you, my love.”

notes. kinda short but i offer you a dose of sephitonin🤲 i’ve been adjusting to uni life so i haven’t been able to get to requests but i will do my best to gradually put out! just bear with me until then pls!🥺🫶

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 11. Glimpse of the Past

Time for Dahlia and her squad to make the dreaded walk to meet the dragons waiting to bond them. Anything could happen.

Set Pre Fourth Wing/Books

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

We’d done it. Every single one of us had made it up the Gauntlet. One of the few squads in our year to do so. And most importantly I had beaten Dain. Something I knew he was not pleased about when he had asked my time when he had reached the top. Sadly I had not gotten the fastest time, but I’d beaten him and that was all that mattered to me.

”This scares me more than climbing that Gauntlet.” Liz says ahead of me as she eyes the dragons ahead lining the edge of clearing were moments away from walking.

”If it makes you feel any better you’re not the only one.” I say back as I eye them as well.

So far I can only see some Red’s and Green’s. Not a single Blue in sight just yet. Which honestly didn’t surprise me. But I was secretly hoping I would see at least one. Just one Blue dragon. Just one to give me hope of finding one in four days time.

Austin turns and stares at me confused. She had clearly fallen into the category of assuming I would be fine walking into a canyon full of Dragons. “Why are you scared? Didn’t you grow up around Dragons?”

I tear my eyes from the Dragons lining the walls and meet her eyes. “Only a fool wouldn’t be terrified of walking in there. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about growing up around Dragon’s is always keep your guard up and be prepared for anything.”

She clearly senses a double meaning to my words, maybe even hearing the slight hint of pain in my voice as she purses her lips and nods. I can tell she wants to know more, but she’s smart enough to note this is not the place for it.

”Alright Third Squad, into formation,” Our section leader Kai calls out as he waves us forward.

We all step forward, forming a single line just like the squads before us had. Clearly it was a formation that gave us the best chance of survival. Our group ends up at the back of the line, with Bodhi bringing up the rear.

”I’m sure Xaden has gone over this. But it is a straight walk down the meadow, where you will keep at least seven feet apart should a dragon decide one of you are not worthy.” He adds as he walks down our line.

In front of me I watch Liz’s back go rigid at his words. Yes Xaden had told us, but he’d definitely had more tact behind his words than Kai did.

”You’ll be fine,” I whisper in her ear, watching as her shoulders relax again at my words.

I was not letting him get to us. We we’re going to get through this.

”Once you get to the end, wait for the rest of your squad before turning and walking back down in a single line again. If I see one of you approach a dragon… Well lets just say I won’t be seeing you again. Any questions?”

Kai scans the line, waiting to see if any of us have a question. When he’s satisfied none of us are going to ask anything he waves us forward to the next rider, as we round the corner the familiar face of Damon comes into view.

”I’m sure Kai gave you a rundown of what to do. Just do exactly what he says and you’ll be fine.” He tells us as the group before us returns from their walk. I can’t help but notice they are down a few members of their squad, their faces grim as they pass us.

”Oh and make sure you talk to each other. It helps the dragons get a feel for what you’re like, and it helps take away the nerves.” He says as he holds out his arm for us to walk forward.

As we walk up the dirt path, I scan the dragons around us, careful to not make any eye contact with them. A lot of the dragon colours didn’t like it, and I wasn’t becoming victim to their fire because I’d stupidly looked them in the eye. If it wasn’t for the fact I knew they were real, I’d almost think they were statues. As we step into the clearing I’m immediately hit with the smell of sulphur, and as I cast my gaze to my right there is a very fresh pile of ash that’s the cause of the strong odour. Most likely one of the cadets from the group before us.

”I know they said there were fewer dragons this year, but theres still so many.” Liz says in awe as her eyes scan the canyon.

”Wait till we bond a dragon and you see the entire quadrant in formation.” I tell her, her head whipping around to meet mine with an excited look on her face.

Two months ago if I’d said that she would have been terrified, now she wanted to jump head on into anything, Austin included. Seems I was rubbing off on them.

”They’re all just watching us. Can’t they fucking do something?” A cadet called Eddie yelled from the front of the group.

He was one of the more rebelious ones in our squad. Always pushing the limit. And he was clearly here for the glory of being called a Dragon Rider. I never wished death upon anyone, but part of me wanted him to get what was coming to him. He had no respect for the role or for the dragons we we’re going to hopefully bond in the coming days.

”Be careful what you say. No dragon is going to want to bond someone with an attitude like that?” Bodhi calls out from behind me, a few muffled laughs coming from the line.

Eddie stops, whirling around to make eye contact with Bodhi. “And no ones going to bond a marked one like you. So shut your mouth.”

Bodhi opens his mouth to respond, but I’m quicker to bite back as I cut him off. “At the rate you’re going you aren’t making it out of this clearing alive. So change your attitude or keep your mouth shut.”

Eddie turns his attention to me, his eyes hardening as they meet mine. I was the only one in our squad he hadn’t made a comment about to tried to come at. And it was clear why. I’d seen him sucking up to Dain a few times. In his eyes, if he was in our good books, it would bode well for him in terms of moving up the ranks. Sadly being in my good books wasn’t going to do him any good. I watch as he lets out a huff of air before turning and continuing his walk up the clearing.

”Part of me hopes you’re right.” Bodhi mutters behind me as the line starts to move again.

We pass group after group, each of them eyeing us off, getting a sense for who we are. As we pass a group of Green’s, I catch one of them immediately pivoting their attention to Bodhi. I hear him gasp, his shadow moving quickly as he averts his gaze from its eyes. The dragon’s head pivots to follow him as we pass.

”Looks like you might get your Green after all.” I call back to him, secretly hoping the interest it had shown was good.

”I hope so. They did seem interested in me.” He says in agreeance.

”It did!” Liz says excitedely.

”Yeah, it barely looked at any of us once it saw you.” Austin adds.

I knew if I turned my head I would see a shit eating grin on his face, and the thought brought my own smile to my face.

We make it to the end, turning to face the clearing we’d just walked up. All the dragons eyeing us again. It reminded me of a creepy book I’d read once where the eyes and heads of statues would follow you when you weren’t looking. I’d barely turned thirteen at the time and had kept a keen eye on any statues I was around for a few weeks after.

”I vote you go first Aetos, seeing as you seem to know how to act around dragon’s and know what they want. Why don’t you show us how its done?” Eddie challenges as steps forward from the group.

Everyone’s eyes jump between us, eager to see if I would rise to Eddie’s challenge. But something told me he was up to something. There was a glint in his eyes. And the last time I’d been challenged to do something around a dragon it had not gone well.

I roll my eyes at him but step forward. “Fine, I’ll lead if you’re too scared to do it now.”

I barely catch the grimace on his face before I turn and start walking back down the path. A few seconds later I feel him take his place behind me. And somehow I know he’s not keeping the allotted seven feet advised by the senior riders. He was definitely up to something, and with the situation we we’re in my heart rate was picking up. My palms becoming sweaty as I scan the path ahead. No this was not going to be a repeat of that day. I was going to walk out of here fine.

”Hey, keep your distance Eddie.” Bodhi calls out from the back of the group as we pass the halfway mark.

”Just staying close so I can learn from the expert in our squad. I mean her dad is a dragon rider after all, she grew up around them. And from the comment she made before she clearly knows how to act around them. I need to learn from the best.” He mocks from behind me causing my back to go rigid as his breath fans across my neck. He was way too close.

”Back up Eddie.” I warn.

”Or what? You going to fight me in front of a dragon? You going to break that precious codex we all follow and piss of your dad? I don’t think so.” His voiced laced with anger. I’d clearly pissed him off earlier.

I continue my walk down the middle, increasing my pace to try get some distance from him. I barely get a few steps between us before his hand grasps my upper arm as he spins me around to face him. I’m quick to react, my hands rising up to meet his chest as I go to push myself away. As my hands meet the centre of his chest and push myself away, the ground shakes beneath me, the rest of our squad gasping in shock before walking away from Eddie.

I watch as his eyes turn cold with fear. His face draining of any colour as he looks above me. I catch a glimpse of orange igniting in his eyes before the heat rushes over my head. A heat I am all to familiar with. A heat that haunts me years later in my sleep. A heat that consumes Eddie in a ball of fire, leaving nothing but a pile of ash and the smell of sulphur lingering in the air. I look up and meet the terrified eyes of my squad who are all looking up at something behind me.

All I can hear is my heart thundering loudly in my chest as I turn on my heel to see what stand’s behind me. I keep my head down, not daring to meet the eye of what’s behind me. As I turn the first thing I see are the massive talons that could easily be the size of me. As my eyes move up, my breath catches in my throat.

Sapphire. Sapphire scales.

I can’t stop myself as my head whips up to take in what’s behind me. This was easily the biggest dragon in the clearing, and probably one of the biggest I had ever seen. And easily one of the more ruthless dragons I had seen. His horns far larger and bigger than the others, his head decorated with vicious looking spikes. And a pair of orange eyes that almost looked like they were glowing and we’re looking right at me. A pair of orange eyes I had seen before.

I couldn’t help but be drawn to a blue one down the back. Blue dragons had always been my favourite.

The dragon nods, freaking nods at me before bending its legs and launching into the air. An eerie silence falls over the clearing in the wake of the Blue Dragon leaving, all of us staring where it once stood.

“Did she make eye contact with it?”

”If she did she’d be dead.”

”She definitely did.”

”And did it nod at her?”

The whispers of my squad meet my ears as I come back to reality after what’s just happened. I had looked that dragon in the eye and it had indeed nodded at me. Despite still being a decent way into the clearing, surrounded by dragons, I do the thing I really shouldn’t do. I run. My feet pushing me to get out of that clearing as fast as I can as Bodhi calls my name behind me.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94

[donnetellotheturtle]

Dinner

Tw: Implied abuse, panic attacks, and nightmares

Eddie groaned as he was shocked. Usually, he and volt did that but the inanimate part of the bar really had it out for him today.

“Live Wire!”

Volts excited voice made him turn his head to his current partner. They were stunning, really, eyes that drew him in and kindness no one should have for his grumpy ass.

They planted a kiss on his cheek before he could even turn around to properly greet them.

“Ed. You have those dark eyes again.” They said, just a hint of concern through the playfulness. He turned, about to give his usual quip when he saw the look on their face.

It was subtle. Volt no doubt noticed, but was probably brushed off.

But their eyes flicked down to their phone, as if awaiting a message. They posture was ever so slightly tense, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Whats wrong?” Eddie didn’t like beating around the bush with them. They never did with him. Volt immediately understood, standing beside him.

“You’ve been tense since you walked in, love.” Volt grabbed their hand, gently placing a kiss on it.

They didn’t blush like usual, instead pulling their hand out of Volts grasp and grabbing their phone, silently handing it over.

Volt grabbed it, confused, but understanding once the two saw the message.

“Your father and I would love to come over for dinner. We’d love to meet the boyfriend you’ve spoken so highly of! Is tonight alright? We’ll bring the food!”

It was from their mom. Volt and Eddie looked at them.

“Boyfriend, singular?” Eddie deadpanned.

“I know, I know! I was going to tell her but my families kinda…old fashioned.”

“And I bet you didn’t tell them about us being objects around our house, did you?”

“Theyd think im crazy! Well, more than they already do. What do I do? Tell her no?”

Skylar cleared her throat. All three looked over to see her standing in the corner, that kind smile on her face as usual.

“I may have a temporary solution to your conundrum. Its going to strain my suspension though. So you wont be able to use me for a day.”

“Okay? What is it?” They asked.

“I can temporarily make Eddie and Volt humans…as one person.”

The boys looked at each other. Both of them found this unappealing. Their partner grabbed both of their hands.

“You don’t have to do anything. We can just say no! Its not that big of a deal.”

Eddie and Volt looked at each other, they were both thinking the same thing.

“We’ll do it.” They said at the same time.

“But-“

“Live wire.” Volt said gently. “It’s important to you. So its important to us. We can deal like a bit of uncomfortableness for a couple hours. Can you?”

They blushed, then nodded, hugging them both tightly.

“Thank you.” They whispered.

A couple hours later, the four stood in the kitchen, Eddie leaning against the table, and volt rubbing circles into his partners back by the stove. Although they had switched their normal jeans and tee shirt for a more business casual look, they also looked like they were about to have a nervous breakdown.

“So how does this work?” They asked Skylar.

She smiled. “Glad you asked! First of all, Volt and Eddie are going to take each other’s hands. And just like when you awakened them, you’ll shoot my beams at them. When its finished, youll be one human for about…6 hours.”

“more than enough time.” The twos partner said.

“Whenever youre done just get my attention and I can undo this.”

The boys nodded. Volt planted a kiss to his loves temple before going and grabbing Eddies hand.

They sighed, and started the process.

It didn’t hurt, really. But felt like being forced into a scratchy trench coat.

They both looked at their hands.

One pair of hands.

This was uncomfortably familiar.

“Are you okay?” Volt asked. Eddie heard it coming out of his own mouth.

“im fine. You?”

Their partner watched the two in one body. They looked like both eddie and volt. Volts long hair but with eddies dark shade, the same scars. Volts jacket overtop eddies usual shirt. They spoke to each other as if they were still in two different bodies.

That made them feel better. They weren’t loosing one of them to the other.

“Boys?”

The fusion looked at them.

“Yes live wire?”

That was definitely Volt. They chuckled.

“what should I call you in this form?”

They thought for a second.

“Wyatt. For the time being. Like wattage?”

They giggled lightly. “Love the pun, Volt.”

“How’d you know it was me, live wire?”

They blushed, giggling as they slowly removed the dateviators. They looked surprised that it actually worked. They tucked it away in one of the cabints, out of sight.

“This is really weird but…thank you for doing this. It means the world.”

The doorbell rang.

“Uh can you stay in the kitchen until I bring my family in? I just want a chance to ease them in before I blow them away.”

He-they kissed their head. They blushed as the doorbell rang again. They smiled nervously and ran to get it.

Volt could hear Eddies thoughts. They weren’t racing like his, but they were nervous.

“Ed?” He reached out.

“Do you think they’ll like us?” Eddie asked softly.

“Who doesn’t, darling?”

“Im serious, Volt…”

“Uh, Wyatt?”

They looked up at their partner who looked like they might faint. Volt made the body smile, and stand. Eddie stayed towards the back for now.

“These are my parents.”

A man and a woman, the man tall but more of a twig and the woman middle height but clearly someone who liked to work out, smiled at him.

“Just shake their hands. Don’t be weird.” Eddie said.

Volt ignored it, shaking their fathers hand, as their mother was currently holding a crockpot in both hands. “A pleasure, sir and madam. Ive heard many good things about you both.”

The boys could sense Dorian lurking. Though he couldn’t be in this room in particular, he seemed to know something they didn’t. They both thought it was strange, feeling the presence of other object but not seeing or hearing them. They ignored it for now, focusing on the task at hand. Getting through this dinner.

“Why arent you a charmer?” Their partners father grinned, sitting down as his wife and child began getting out plates and silverware. Eddie moved the body to help, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “Slow down there, young man. The ladies can take care of this part.”

Rage bubbled in both boys. Not only for the obvious sexism but also for the misgendering. Though it didn’t seem like their partner cared. Maybe they were used to it. Still, Eddie and volt agreed not to make a scene.

Yet.

"Now tell me, how did you end up with my baby? I want to know the full story!”

They suddenly swooped in before Volt could even get a word out of the mouth.

“We met at a bar. His bar, actually. Heres your food.” They put plates down in front of both of them. The boys wanted so desperately to help their partner, to comfort them. Was this normal? Them walking on eggshells? Ignoring obvious things?

“A business owner? Im one too, you know? Or I was…”

“Honey.” His wife sat down. “We’re here to learn about Wyatt and our daughter.”

There, both boys saw it. That little frown in their partner. That twitch in their eye as they sat next to them. They hated being called that. Though this was explaining a lot about them.

The lights flickered.

“Eddie.” Volt hissed internally.

“Just a flicker.”

Eddie moved the hands and squeezed theirs under the table. A little tension left both their bodies. The lights calmed and steadied. Lux was going to be pissed at them later.

“So you run a bar?”

“Owner, operator and manager. Also doing the small fixes around it.”

“Whats its name? wed love to come visit?” Their mom asked.

“Oh uh. Its more my part of town, you know…”

The boys could see what they were implying. The gay part. Though, it was their part of town more than their parents would ever know.

“Oh don’t be modest honey! If it got you out of the house for once in what, two months?”

“mom.”

“Im just saying you could stand to see some sun!”

They visibly shut down at that, squeezing their boys hand. They knew how scared they were of going outside right now. Not that they were the most outdoorsy person before the dateviators but, the threats from their former boss, the fear of being caught and killed, if not tortured by the government. Eddie and Volt had stayed up with them all night before, holding them through their panic attacks and nightmares. It was an honor, but they saw how much the responsibility of the dateviators weighed on them. The bar and the areas around the house were the closest things to them being able to get out right now.

“Ma’am, I think they do just fine from here.” Eddie said, keeping the tone consistent.

“Well, yes but do you do anything outside? You know ive been talking to the neighbors they said they havent seen you outside in months!”

They didn’t say anything, picking at their food for a long moment. “…I guess.”

“Honey theres more than these walls!”

The lights flickered again.

“You should really get that fixed.” Their father piped up through a mouthful of food. “Its pretty annoying.”

“Eddie!”

“They don’t know how hard its been for them!”

“I know. But they need us to be calm right now.”

Volt could swear he heard Eddie growl in their shared mind. Wasn’t he supposed to be the protector here?

He took a deep breath. “That may be, but we have plenty of mutual friends. And they’re a regular at the bar. We love their company.”

Eddie squeezed their hand. They smiled just a bit.

“that’s so sweet!” Their mother said. “When do we get to meet them too?”

“meet them?” they asked quietly. “I…don’t know if theyd have time for that…our friends are so busy…holly works five jobs alone.”

“That’s very unhealthy!”

They chuckled, happy that the attention was off them for a moment. “I think she’d get bored if she had to stand still for a couple minutes. That’s not a bad thing, though. And Rebel is loud and doesn’t like anyone.”

“They like you, live wire.”

They blushed lightly.

“That is a very cute nickname!” their mother said.

The boys noticed that their father had stopped engaging, instead choosing to scroll through his phone. Eddie wanted to roll the bodies eyes but Volt physically stopped him.

“Where did it come from?” she asked.

“oh. Theyre just electrifying.”

They blushed deeper, hiding their smile behind their hand. At least theyd cheered up slightly.

“So are you.” They smirked.

That smirk made the lights flicker in a whole new way. The boys felt the hot blush on their cheeks. They looked away like nothing happened.

“Mom, help me clean?”

“Of course, dear.”

It was only 9 but it felt like midnight.

The glasses slipped back onto their face and Skylar smiled at Volt and eddie.

“Ready to go back?”

“Hell yes.” Both said at the same time.

They suddenly felt themselves be disconnected, bodies their own again. Volt stretched out while eddie slouched.

Their partner pulled them into a tight group hug.

“Ah…much better.” They mumbled, sighing contently.

“You and me both, live wire.” Eddie said, kissing the top of their head.

“A lot about you has been explained.” Volt said bluntly, earning a snort from them.

“No kidding. Ive been through so much therapy. Thank you for doing that but I will never ask you to do that again. I like you both so much better like this. Where I can see and feel you both.”

Volt smiled, and swept his partner off their feet with a grin.

“Us too, darling.”

“Now I think we all deserve a big cuddle…your bed or ours?”

They sighed contently in Volts arms, snuggling, but reaching out one hand, taking Eddies in theirs.

“Yours. Take me home, boys.”