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touchmycoat · 1 year

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Qijiuyuan handmaiden au? 👀👀👀 Is there anything from the au you'd be willing to share? Bc that concept sounds Amazing!

oh boy. It's YQY as Count Fujiwara, SJ as Hideko, and SY as Sook-hee. I long to make it historically accurate and relevant to the Japanese colonial occupation of Taiwan.

But thank you so very much for prompting me to dig up my forgotten draft:

Yue Qingyuan kissed him once, against the rough buildings of the Old City. The names and ingredients of construction materials weren’t within the category of things that Shen Yuan knew, but what he did know was the scrape of sharp brick through that hole against the spine of his shirt. That kiss made his back bleed—and he didn’t even know until the next morning.

But that was years ago. Shen Yuan didn’t make a point of counting Yue Qingyuan’s visits either, so that kiss existed like a hazy liquor dream. Not in manifestation, but in its displacement in time. It was simultaneously years ago and just yesterday evening.

So Shen Yuan was taking care to not stare at Yue Qingyuan’s lips when the man was talking. He stared down at the baby in his arms instead, burping the sniffling thing.

“—Lord Yue, seventh son of a royal political family with genuine Japanese blood—”

Qi-jie sourced most of the infants they took in, but this one in his arms had been Shen Yuan’s own find. The mother had been in terrible pain and on the brink of death, but Shen Yuan liked to think he’d given that woman some peace in her last moments. She’d handed the baby over willingly enough with that achingly solemn nod that Shen Yuan had done his best to return.

“—uncle to marry her himself.”

“Disgusting bastard.”

“The Lord arrives just in time to seduce the Lady Qiu, we elope, put her in an asylum, and you all get ten percent of her inheritance.”

A classic Qi Qingqi brow rose.

“Seems kind of harsh for you, Shixiong.”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes went bleak and flinty.

“You all know there’s someone I’m looking for. This will give me the means.”

“Besides,” Qi Qingqi agreed, always the first to question but also first to reaffirm her allegiance, “who’s to say she won’t like living in the asylum better?”

A-Luo, Shen Yuan thought, eyes going warm as the baby suckled the tip of his finger into his little mouth. His baby was so well-behaved that Shen Yuan had not needed to dip it in rice wine beforehand. Mu Qingfang, who sometimes cringed after idly scratching his upper lip, was less lucky, and had made multiple sad proclamations that if they didn’t get out of this line of business soon, he’d never stop smelling like a fermentation pot.

“Whoever takes the risk with me gets twenty percent plus whatever jewelry we secret out.”

“Is,” Mu Qingfang said, incredulous, “the job so difficult as to warrant that level of compensation?”

“To my knowledge, the Lady—” An opaque pause. “—is not so easy going.”

“So no matter how easy Yue-shixiong is to fall in love with…”

Yue Qingyuan offered Qi Qingqi’s smirk a noncommittal smile, and Mu Qingfang ducked his head to hide a grin.

“So how about it, A-Yuan?”

Shen Yuan gave A-Luo a sweet, lingering kiss on the forehead before handing the baby to Liu Qingge, who was, as always, scowling beside him. A-Luo immediately began to fuss.

“Shen Yuan,” Liu Qingge snapped. Shen Yuan thumbed a streak of coal from his cheek. “I can’t go with you. It’s an unnecessary risk.”

“It’s expedient.” With a side glance at Yue Qingyuan’s steady, yet vaguely ashamed gaze, he added, “But I’ll take twenty-five percent once we’re done. And a passport.”

“A-Yuan has big travel plans for after?” Yue Qingyuan asked, eyes rainbowing.

“Liu-shidi promised to take me away,” Shen Yuan teased. The coal from the steamship had gotten even Liu Qingge’s ears black, but Shen Yuan knew from his dear friend’s expression that the ear tips had gone red underneath.

Gritting his teeth, Liu Qingge hoisted A-Luo more firmly in his arm. A-Luo’s sniffling turned into a reedy, heart-wrenching cry.

“I’ll take care of your baby,” Liu Qingge vowed.

“Which makes him our baby now.” Shen Yuan reached up to untangle the cloth strap binding his hair. He strolled across the room past his martial siblings’ furrowed brows until he stood in front of Yue Qingyuan.

“So this is to be my debut grift.” His smile was quiet but genuine. “Do I get a crowning ceremony?”

“Of course,” Yue Qingyuan replied faintly, hands settling on Shen Yuan’s shoulders to turn him around. With his back to Yue Qingyuan, Shen Yuan felt large hands brush out the curls his hair before twisting it up into a high bun.

Yue Qingyuan leaned forward to take the dark green crown Mu Qingfang fetched and now offered—the one their Master left to Shen Yuan before her execution. His jawline felt sharp as it skidded past Shen Yuan’s cheek, and his breath on Shen Yuan’s neck felt like a secret.

“You get a new character too,” Qi Qingqi reminded. “You want to do the honors, Shixiong?”

Yue Qingyuan’s lips parted, but no words came out. His attention was fixed like a knifepoint to Shen Yuan’s back.

“Yue-shixiong?”

Something had gone bad, but whatever it was, there was too much sun outside and too much future on the horizon for Shen Yuan to get dirty with it right now. He could figure it out later; Yue Qingyuan would tell him if he needed to know.

So Shen Yuan turned around, his hair up and spine newly bared.

“How about autumn?” he asked Yue Qingyuan, who was always so inscrutable in his grief. Shen Yuan figured he must be missing their Master something fierce. “To commemorate the event.”

“Qingqiu,” left Yue Qingyuan’s lips, and across the room, A-Luo babbled an agreement. Shen Yuan—now Shen Qingqiu—didn’t smile, but he did close his eyes to let that name sink in.

Shen, his family name, a symbol of those who’d birthed and lost him.

Qing, his Master’s name, a proclamation of teachings learned from these poor-rotted streets.

Qiu, his new master’s name, and the object of his first (and hopefully last) con.

Somewhere in that name he was presumed to exist.

On Shen Yuan’s very first night in the Qiu Manor, Lady Qiu woke up screaming. Shen Yuan came stumbling out of his closet-bed and threw himself across the hall into his Lady’s bedroom, ready to step between her and any sword-wielding assailant.

He found Lady Qiu thrashing in bed, caught in the throes of a nightmare and her expensive silken sheets. After a moment, Shen Yuan threw himself in the way of danger—he caught Lady Qiu’s wrist before she slammed it into the headboard and pinned the Lady once to the bed with a firm shake.

“Lady Qiu! Please wake up, you’re having a nightmare!”

“Xiao Jiu!” Lady Qiu screamed, face screwed up like a wailing baby’s. Her skin was red and splotchy where Shen Yuan could see under the moonlight. “Help me, Xiao Jiu!”

The weight of Shen Yuan’s thumb on Lady’s Qiu’s delicate wrist turned sympathetic.

“I’m not Xiao Jiu, I’m Qingqiu. I’m going to be your servant starting from today. I’m Qingqiu.”

Lady Qiu’s eyes shot open, glistening like congealed blood in the dark.

“You’re not Xiao Jiu?”

“I’m not.” Seeing that Lady Qiu was settling down, Shen Yuan quickly let go and pulled back to stand up straight. “But where would Xiao Jiu be? Can I go get him for my Lady?”

On the bed, Lady Qiu was silent for a while. Though Shen Yuan couldn’t see her face, her legs were akimbo above the sheets, and her knees looked as delicate as eggshells. Shen Yuan longed to bundle her back up and tuck her safely away.

“No,” came the Lady’s voice, suddenly cold with grief. “You can’t. There is no Xiao Jiu, Xiao Jiu is dead. You. Get a light on.”

Shen Yuan struck a match and lit the gas lamp on the bedside table. The bottom half of Lady Qiu’s face was hidden under her comforter, and her lashes fluttered once in Shen Yuan’s direction.

“You’re…” she murmured, those eggshell knees of hers kicking again. Her nightgown, Shen Yuan noted, had slipped up to her thighs, and only a corner of the comforter was pulled over her stomach, leaving her chest heaving under one thin layer of satin.

“Everybody’s dead,” Lady Qiu told him. The firelight scorched such vivid shadows across her pupils as black as cooling lava. “I’m so alone. Qingqiu, are you here to comfort me?”

Why a male servant? Qi Qingqi had asked while they were going over the details to the job, shapely brows scrunched up in a piercing frown. Shouldn’t a fancy lady be in want of a handmaiden?

There are, Yue Qingyuan and answered haltingly, reasons. You’ll just have to trust me. Her last servant was also a local boy.

Shen Yuan felt something in his stomach go tight at the sight of the Lady Qiu so exposed and vulnerable on the bed like this. And when her hand stretched out, palm open in need, Shen Yuan couldn’t help himself anymore.

He exhaled in passion and leaned back over the bed. He freed the comforter from its useless twist around Lady Qiu’s body in one succinct pull and rolled the Lady up all soft and warm in it.

Then he sat down at the very edge of the bed, resting a hand on Lady Qiu’s now-protected shoulder.

“I’m here to comfort you,” Shen Yuan promised. “I’m here to give you everything you need. My lady is not alone anymore. Qingqiu will take care of you.”

“—qiu…”

Shen Yuan shushed her murmurs softly, patting the Lady’s shoulder in a slow, pulsing rhythm.

“Can I sing you a song?” he whispered.

He counted five sleepy beats before the Lady, almost imperceptibly, nodded.

A black, black sky

it’s about to rain

Grandpa grabs a hoe to dig up taro

He digs and digs

digs and digs…

#plot stockpile #asks #the twist of course is that the real QHT is dead #and QJL's one of the classic sister complex nutjobs who attic-wifes SJ #and makes SJ dress up and perform as QHT #young and helpless SJ went along with it and thought it might actually be a way to squirrel away money and such #but as time went on realized she was never getting out #oh this is also trans!SJ #she does the readings she is made this sex object #and finally YQY comes and finds her and promises to save her #but they need a sacrificial lamb #they need a 'Shen Jiu' to frame for kidnapping the lady #and that's SY

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happyandticklish · 2 years

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Goosebumps

Notes: An idea I had based off this headcannon I read somewhere about Mike kissing the spot that Will always goes to grab whenever he can feel Vecna. Anyways, I love Byler, so here’s them being happy because they deserve it~

Summary: The Mind Flayer’s gone, but the memories of him aren’t. Luckily, Mike finds a solution.

Goosebumps. Prickling over his skin and sending his hairs standing to attention, awaiting the threat they were sure was there. It was a familiar sensation; one he had felt a great many times before. He knew it was different now. The gate was closed, he was home, his friends were safe, and there was a draft, a particularly cold one.

Still. Almost off instinct he felt his arm raising, his hand coming to clasp the back of his neck. He rubbed his fingers against his skin, trying to brush away the cold, and with it the memories that wouldn’t stop plaguing him.

“Will?”

He startled, nails digging into his skin by accident. The others were still occupied by the movie, fully engrossed either in it, or in each other, in Lucas and Max’s case. Mike, however, was staring at him, frowning. He noticed his hand, and Will didn’t miss the way he tensed on the couch.

“Is it…” he trailed off, the rest of his sentence assumed. He tossed a glance over at El, curled up against the couch—utterly content within her own world. “Should we…”

Will shook his head quickly. “No, no, it’s nothing. Just cold. Feels too similar, y’know?”

Mike couldn’t know, but he nodded anyway, which Will appreciated all the same. “Yeah. I think things like that don’t ever disappear. Those feelings, I mean.” He shifted on the couch, hanging off the edge to be closer to Will. He lowered his voice to a whisper, shielding their conversation from curious and concerned ears. “Sometimes I think I still hear it, at night. Those noises it made. It reminds me of our family dog, when dad had to put him down. Pained and angry and scared all at once.”

He paused, a grim silence following the statement that he quickly shook off, if not for his sake, then for Will’s. “But it’s dead. We killed it. No more Demogorgon, no more Mind Flayer, no more weird demodogs sneaking into our back fence and cuddling up to our friends.”

He was clearly trying for a laugh and he got one, but it was halfhearted; Will was finding it harder and harder to muster up the real thing nowadays.

“I know.” Will shrugged, staring at the screen and pointedly not at Mike. “But we can’t be sure. There’s always something, every year, that tears our lives apart and puts us all at risk. So who knows, maybe it’s just the cold, or maybe it’s some new creature from the Upside Down here to kill us, and I’m being stupid by not saying anything.” He chuckled, shaking his head at himself. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ruin movie night or anyth—”

He broke off with a start as warm fingers curled around his neck this time, different fingers—Mike’s fingers, specifically. They were sweaty from being curled up earlier, and stuck to Will’s skin, so that Mike twitched them every once in a while, to loosen them. For a moment, Will didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe.

“Well?”

Will swallowed, his mouth suddenly incredibly dry. “Uh, w-well what?”

“It’s warm now, right?” Mike prompted, not picking up on how Will had transformed into a living statue within the course of the past three seconds. “If it was the Mind Flayer, you would still feel the cold, even with my hand.”

It was rare that Mike made a point that made sense, and Will blinked, realizing he was right. The goosebumps were definitely still there, more than ever, but if anything, he felt feverish now, an embarrassed heat spreading through him. Definitely not cold though. “That’s… huh. I didn’t think of that.”

“I mean, I kind of just thought of the idea now,” Mike admitted, grinning sheepishly and sending a flurry of emotions spiraling through Will with just that one gesture. “But I figured it was worth a shot. But that proves my point. No Mind Flayer to be found. Just regular old Will Byers.”

“Ah. Right. Disappointing, I’m sure.”

“Nah.” Mike’s fingers moved again, probably on accident, and Will’s breath caught in his throat. “I think I like the old Will better anyway, no matter how cool it was that you had a sick monster inside you.”

There was a brief moment afterwards, no longer than a couple seconds, where they stayed like that, Mike’s hand still there, still touching. It was possible that was the first moment Will had realized. He had known before on some level, through glances that strayed for too long and the new excitement that would whizz through him like a drug whenever they’d have a campaign together, but he’d never put a name to it before.

And then Max laughed hard at something onscreen, and El called for Mike to look, and Mike’s attention was gone as soon as it came, along with his hand.

Will tried to pay attention if only to get his mind on something else, but he couldn’t help reaching up and grabbing his neck once more. He tried to mimic the feeling of Mike’s hand, but it wasn’t the same. His fingers didn’t feel like they had electricity running beneath them.

Will had assumed that was it. A one-off assurance in the moment, nothing more, nothing less. So when Will was eating lunch on the courtyard one brutal November afternoon, he wasn’t expecting Mike’s hand to cover his, reaching over almost before Will could even reach for his neck. He nearly dropped his sandwich and received several weird looks from the others, to which he stuttered out some half-assed explanation that they didn’t believe but didn’t care enough about to inquire further. Mike’s hand was already gone, curled around one of the shitty juice boxes the cafeteria handed out every day.

After that, it became their thing. It was quick, nothing touches, just long enough to put Will’s fears to rest, but it was long enough to feel… well, he wasn’t sure quite what it felt like, but it was something, and that in and of itself was enough to set Will on edge. The following summer was like being on a roller coaster, lurching higher and higher until Will felt like surely gravity would swoop in and claim him, and yet despite that, the drop never came. Endless anticipation with no outlet.

Will couldn’t decide whether he wanted the ride to end or not

Eventually the meaning behind the touching strayed a bit, and Mike started doing it more casually, using the cold as an excuse even if Will hadn’t said anything. Will even started to get the feeling that maybe Mike was doing it because he wanted to, but he didn’t want to assume anything, especially a theory as crazy as that.

“Stay still.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not. You keep fidgeting and it’s distracting.”

Maybe he was, but in Will’s defense, it really wasn’t his fault. He huffed, shrugging his shoulders up a bit. “Your hand. It tickles, s’all.”

“Oh.” Not pulling away. “I didn’t realize. Sorry.”

Will made a noncommittal gesture with his hand, settling back against his bedframe and pulling the book closer to him. Theoretically, they were supposed to be catching up with the summer homework Mrs. Benson had assigned that they’d been putting off for months now. Realistically, they had barely moved past the first page.

He tried, really, but it was hopeless. Mike’s fingers had turned to fidgeting in their boredom, and unfortunately their location meant that Will was their victim. He was sure Mike didn’t mean to, but his nails kept brushing over his nape, tapping near the side of his neck, bumping against his ear once which cause Will’s head to come jerking down in quick defense. His lips were screwed together in a tight-lipped smile as he reread the same sentence over and over.

Eventually Mike pulled his hand away when Joyce called them down for dinner, and Will tried to ignore the pit of disappointment in his stomach when he did.

Will couldn’t be sure, but after that he noticed that Mike’s fingers always seemed to curl against his neck when he grabbed it. A light tease, not enough to make him laugh, but enough to spark the beginnings of mirth in his eyes as he jerked away.

It started to happen so often that Will had to remind himself about El, about how Mike was completely, totally, disgustingly at times, in love with her. And Will was okay with that. All that mattered in the end was that his friends were happy. This thing, whatever it was, could be enough. It had to be.

At least that’s what he used to think before their perfect summer fell apart. Before the Mind Flayer returned, before they all almost died again, before El lost her powers and they moved to that stupid little town forever away.

During that year he spent endless nights sitting awake in bed, thinking about that simple touch and how easy it had seemed then. He had taken it for granted that Mike would be there, so he hadn’t bothered to try for anything more. As he sat there, unthinkingly rubbing his neck, he wondered if maybe he should have.

And then there was Vecna, and government agents, and everything else that came in and destroyed their life all over again.

Only this time, Will decided he was done waiting, done being a coward, done feeding himself a million white lies about the maybe one day’s, and did something about it.

He thought back on years of watching, of looking at those perfect lips; watching Mike’s tongue sweep nervously across them when he talked, wondering how it would feel if Will did the same thing.

As it turned out, they were just as soft as he’d imagined.

“You remember this?”

A familiar hand curving around his skin. Will glanced up to see Mike, gently playing with the ends of his hair, the heel of his palm resting against that familiar spot. He barely resisted a shiver, his nerves coming alight as they remembered the acts in this particular play. They were curled up in his bed, where seconds before Will had been making a solid effort to steal any remaining oxygen Mike had left with his mouth. That was most of what they did nowadays. Kissing. Will remembered judging El and Mike for that years ago, thinking that surely they must have gotten bored of it after a while. Now though, it had been a little over a month and Will wasn’t sure how anyone could ever get tired of this.

“Oh yeah,” Will said, trying for casual and failing miserably. “It’s been so long; I’d almost forgotten about it."

A blatant lie, but Mike didn’t need to know that. He was distracted anyways, nails tapping out an imaginary tune against his skin. Will inhaled sharply, his shoulders scrunching up almost imperceptibly.

“I was lying, you know. About the reason.”

“O-Oh?”

“I mean, not in the beginning,” Mike amended thoughtfully. “I thought it might help, you know, distract you from your own thoughts? And it did. At least I think, anyway. But the reason why I kept doing it might have been…” A quick glance up, then down—nervous. “For more personal reasons.”

The thought that Mike had had a crush on him as well had never before crossed Will’s mind. He knew Mike liked him now, but he had always assumed that it had been one-sided all those years.

He tried to cover up the momentary lapse between his response with sarcasm. “Are you saying the Mike Wheeler had a crush on ‘zombie boy’?” He wiggled his fingers menacingly with a grimace as he said it and Mike laughed, a flush coloring his cheeks. Will was still getting used to that part—usually he was the one getting flustered, not the other way around. Mike momentarily stopped his tune to knock the back of his head in a light reprimand.

“Hey. You’re not zombie boy anymore. You never were.”

“Oh yeah?” Will quirked a brow, smirking up at him to make the flush brighten significantly. Teasing Mike was a foreign concept, but he was quickly growing an obsession. “What am I then, huh?”

“A dork,” Mike said, poking his side pointedly. Will jerked back, the smirk becoming scrambled and helpless with that one action. “But yeah. Maybe I might have had a bit of a crush on you. A small one. Tiny, really.”

“Right, of course.”

“And maybe part of the reason I did it so much,” Mike plowed forward, not giving Will the satisfaction of reacting. “Is because I always wanted to do this instead.”

A sudden tug on his arm had Will falling back into Mike’s lap with a yelp as arms wrapped around him, effectively trapping him—not that he was particularly inclined to escape in the first place. He barely had time to question him before lips were pressing against the back of his neck instead and sending all of Will’s nerves on high alert at once. Immediately, he squirmed forward, his shoulders jerking up in protest.

“Mike, wait—!”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I just—” he broke off, his grinning widening when Mike’s words sent vibrations scattering over his skin. Instinct was screaming at him to shove Mike’s face away, but with Mike’s arms trapping his hands, that wasn’t much of an option. “Just hold on a second—shit!”

“What?” He sounded concerned, which was both sweet and slightly embarrassing considering the circumstances. “What’s wrong?”

Will went to protest again, but all that came out was a strangled giggle that he tried to disguise as a cough at the last minute. Fortunately, the sound did cause Mike to lean back in surprise, but Will’s relief was short-lived after the words that came out of Mike’s mouth next.

“Oh right, you were super ticklish here, right?”

The implication sent butterflies swooping through Will’s stomach and he cringed, grateful for the position if only so Mike couldn’t see the look on his face. “I wouldn’t say super ticklish.”

“You totally were,” Mike protested, entirely unaware of the effect his words were having on Will. “I mean, I didn’t notice at first, but then I realized how much you squirmed whenever I did this.” Nails skittered over his neck again and a bubble of laughter slipped out of Will as he tried to duck away from his hands. The movement was clumsy and unpracticed, but it hardly mattered with how over sensitized the spot was with all Mike's earlier teasing. “See? I’m hardly even touching you man!”

“Yeah, whatever, just—MihiHIKE!”

“Especially here, apparently.”

Will squirmed half-heartedly in his arms as Mike continued to flutter fingers over the spot by his ear. It tickled, and he needed him to stop, mostly because that was the only way Will could shut off the flood of giggles escaping him at an embarrassing rate. He wasn’t a stranger to being tickled, or even being tickled by Mike, but that was before Mike knew he liked him—or more importantly he knew Mike liked him back. He didn’t want to seem like a dork in front of his boyfriend by falling apart over a bit of tickling, but he couldn’t help it. When did Mike’s nails get so long?

“Stohohop, ohohokay, ohohokay!”

“Okay what?” Mike’s breath hit the shell of his ears as he spoke which wasn’t helping matters. “You’re not making any sense here Will.”

Will would have hit him if he could reach, but instead he resorted to wrapping his arms around himself to try to squash down any remaining butterflies that were making this worse than it needed to me. His cheeks burned from blushing, and he couldn’t help the way shudders coursed down his spine every time Mike brushed over a particularly sensitive spot.

And yet despite everything, he couldn’t deny that there was a part of him, bigger than he wanted to admit, that was having fun. Maybe it was the teasing that scrambled his brain or the way Mike’s fingers seemed to have a map of his nerve endings. It was nice. Embarrassing and unbearable and wholly unfair, but nice.

Then Mike’s hands traveled further down and suddenly Will found his ability to function lacking as he let out a sound that could only be described as a squawk, sliding down in his grip desperately.

“Mike, wait, Mihihihike!” His words were a mess of shrieks and giggles and he was going to lose his mind soon if Mike didn’t stop. He had managed to worm his hands under his arms and was wiggling his fingers in a manner that was stupidly effective. “Waitwaitwait, plehehehease!”

“How are you still this ticklish?” Mike said, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. “I thought you’d have grown out of it by now.”

“T-Thahat’s not how ihit wohoHORKS—shit!”

Will lurched forward when Mike’s hands shot down suddenly, latching onto his hips. Bolts of sensation shot through him like a lightning bolt and he scrambled to reach down and shove him off. Unfortunately, Will had never been the biggest contender in terms of strength, and the tickling was sapping his muscles of any energy they might have had, rendering him utterly useless.

Mike continued to knead his fingers into his hips as he talked, as if Will wasn’t dying under his touch. “So that’s still effective then. You know, I haven’t actually tickled you in a while, I wonder if all your other spots are still the same.”

Will shook his head uselessly, curling up with a snort when Mike grabbed onto the bone. It was like his hips had some hive mind connection with the rest of his nerves, one squeeze scattering outwards until his whole body felt fuzzy and tingly. “T-Thehehey’re stihihill thehehe sahahahame j-just—hohohold ohohon!”

“I’m afraid there’s no time for holding on, Will the Wise, not when there’s exploring to be done!”

“Mike—”

“Are you still as ticklish on your knees as you used to be?”

“Dohohon’t you dahare, ohoho my g-gohOD!”

Over the next several minutes, the two discovered how Will’s knees were just as bad as when they were younger, if not more so, and probably would have spent many more minutes on it had sheer desperation not taken hold and wedged Will’s foot into Mike’s side as he rolled away to safety. He glared at him, but there wasn’t any heat behind the gesture.

“You’re so annoying.”

“You like that I’m annoying.”

“That’s debatable.”

Will’s stomach ached from laughing, but it was the good kind of ache, a leftover buzz of happiness hanging over him.

After that, the tradition returned fully, and Mike seemed to find an excuse to scribble fingers over his neck daily, regardless how inane the reason. Will pretended to be annoyed, rolling his eyes and batting his hands away whenever he tried, but in truth he didn’t mind as much as he claimed. Sometimes there were even moments where he’d find himself reaching for his neck in the hopes that Mike might notice and do something about it.

Which he usually did.

Extensively.

The goosebumps were definitely back, but this time, it was for much different reasons.

#tickle fic #byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #tickling #fanfiction

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oddaodd · 4 years

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· Delightful Misty Dream ·

Summary: Tommy joins the reader in the bathtub after a stressful day.

Author’s note: This had been in my drafts for a while and today i just felt like finally finishing it so yay for me! I hope you like it and have the loveliest of days ❤️

Warnings: Smut.

She became aware of her tongue pressing against the roof of her mouth as she removed her makeup late one Friday evening. Just a tiny hint of the day’s toll on her. She was so tired and glad the day was over and all she wanted was a warm bath.

She began prepping her bathtub and once the water was at just the perfect temperature she stepped in and let the warm water submerge her. As she laid there in her tiny paradise, memories of the day behind her flooded her mind.

It had been a difficult day, an annoying one. A day in which nothing had gone according to plan. Since Tommy got complaints of some nuns beating children at one of the orphanages he funded, Y/n volunteered to go and make sure things changed. After having sacked some nuns who wouldn’t depart with their old ways, Y/n was left with a staff of about ten nuns who gave her the side eye. Then she had to sit through and excruciating breakfast with a pompous aristocrat, who very subtly but constantly threw nasty innuendos at her relationship with Thomas Shelby. Y/n sat there with a polite smile tolerating all his bullshit just so he could sign the check he had promised to the Grace Shelby Institute.

A soft knock brought her back to her bathtub.

Her husband entered the misty bathroom and began getting rid of his clothes. Her eyes following his every move.

“Mind if I join you? “He asked as he tossed away his shirt.

Y/n shook her head no with a smile and moved away from the edge of the tub as he discarded his trousers and underwear before finally stepping into the bathtub behind her.

“Bad day?” He asked

“Those fucking nuns make me want to commit murder” Y/n sighed closing her eyes leaning back on Tommy’s warm chest as his arms snaked around her waist and stopped right under her breasts clasping his hands together.

Tommy rested his head on her wet shoulder. She felt his breathing tickle on her clavicles and felt the tension starting to evaporate from her body.

“Im so glad you’re here now” she said softly

Tommy hummed and pressed a kiss to her shoulder “I’m glad I’m here now” a kiss to her neck. His hands started traveling down her slippery skin to her hips, one stayed there and the other one traveled to her inner thigh teasing her with soft caresses. It wasn’t hard to figure where his mind was at.

She sighed in bliss when Tommy’s fingers finally wandered to where she wanted them the most, sending shivers along her legs. He planted another kiss to her neck and sucked softly on her skin. A tiny mark ,testament of his love appeared there a few moments later.

She pressed herself closer to his body, almost wanting to completely sink into him as his experienced fingers began toying with her clit just the way she liked it. How she could get lost with his fingers. She felt his hard member pressing against her lower back making her insides squirm in expectation.

“Tommy...” she sighed, relishing at the feeling of his skin on hers.

“I bet you were thinking about this all day long, haven’t you?” He whispered dangerously low to her ear. “Have been thinking of me?”

“Yes” she admitted wantonly.

“You are so wet, love” he whispered as his index finger traveled through her folds. Her wetness evident despite the water surrounding them.

“Fuck me, please”She pleaded in a heartbeat with a lewd sigh.

“Come then” he complied.

In a swift movement she turned around and hovered over Tommy’s waist teasingly rubbing herself against his length. She enjoyed the feeling of anticipation and her desire increased a 100 times more. Tommy looked at her with an intensity like no other, a hint of tenderness hidden behind the desire in his blue eyes as she teased him.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Tommy guided her down his cock by the waist and they both drew wanton breaths as he filled her. It was just what she needed. He gave her a few moments to adjust to his size before his hands prompted her to move.

Eager to comply, She began bouncing on his cock and moaned loudly as Tommy’s mouth found her right breast. His tongue teasing her nipple before softly dragging his teeth against it.

Her fingers pulled at his hair and his grip on her waist became harsher. His mouth moved up to her neck before claiming her lips possessively his tongue wandering into her mouth making Y/n speed up her pace.

The water of the tub began spilling out into the tiles at their passionate movements as their needy moans mingled with the mist in the room creating a lust filled atmosphere

Her grip went from Tommy’s hair to his shoulders giving her more support as her movements turned harsher. She felt her nails digging into his skin and looked at his face questioning if it was too much but all she could read from his it was that he didn’t want her to stop.

She felt her stress completely fade away as her climax approached at a steady pace and she could tell Tommy’s was just as close from the look on his face. Their breathings, pleas and praises became more urgent and shallow and after a few more thrusts the inevitable arrived. Something like electricity shot through her body and she rode her orgasm, Tommy’s eyes never leaving her contorting expression.He came inside her a few seconds later .

She fell limp against his chest and his arms automatically wrapped around her keeping her close as their breathings steadied some.

A sudden wave of emotion hit y/n as she laid there against her husband. She wouldn’t know what to name it, but it was there, weighing down on her chest. Maybe it was just the day behind her or maybe it was just plain Old existential dread.

Whatever it was, it prompted her to pull away and cup his face so his eyes were on her. She wanted to keep feeling him, all of him.

“What?” Tommy asked as he looked into her tumultuous eyes.

She bit her lip “Tell me you love me”

She didn’t know what made her request this love declaration, but she knew she needed to hear it as much as she needed to breathe.

His mouth curved into a tender smirk at her request.

“I love you” he spoke honestly before leaning close to her and pressing his lips against hers. Y/n melted into his lips and sank into his warmth ready to put the day behind her.

@writeroutoftime @captivatedbycillianmurphy @nyotamalfoy @peakyxtommy

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opheliawillowbrook · 3 years

Text

How the Cookie Crumbles

To say his brothers fought would be an understatement: They warred. That. That was the better word. However, it was Dick who was the peacemaker among them. The mediator extraordinaire, translating all his brothers’ woes and misunderstandings into less doom-pending transgressions. But to say this unofficial, yet very necessary part he played was tasking was yet another understatement of unspeakable proportions. It was a FUCKING LOT.

“I swear to God, Drake. You and Brown are a special kind of stupid.”

“Shut up, Damian! It’s a good idea!” Tim grumbled in reply.

“Yeah! You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first!”

Dick’s face fell upon hearing the argument and considered turning the other way, but he’d learned the hard way that his lack of interference could result in bloodshed. Damian did have a history of stabbing Tim, and Robin had an impressive body count, according to Jason. I’d better make sure he doesn’t add two more.

“Well, fuck me and my entire life,” Dick droned in frustration. “What are you three bitching about now?”

“Damian keeps saying our idea is stupid,” Stephanie tattled.

“Yeah!” Tim added with crossed arms. “He says we lack the fortitude for good ideas!”

“You do!” the current robin exclaimed.

“Damian?”

The youngest batboy rolled his eyes and reasoned, “Listen, I know these two brain donors barely have two brain cells to rub between them—”

“That’s not the only thing they rub!” Jason called from the other room.

Damian again rolled his eyes in contempt and continued, “And I’ve accepted, as a member of this family, that everyone gets to act a little stupid from time to time. However, as much as I would like to respect their commitment to their shared stupidity, I feel as if they are abusing the privilege and it needs to stop before one of them gets hurt.”

“Wow, he actually cares,” Jason added from still in another room.

“Have you been sitting there listening the whole time?” Dick asked, near facepalm.

“Affirmative,” Jason confirmed, entering from the hall.

“And you did nothing to stop them fighting?”

“It’s funnier this way.”

“Do I always have to be the responsible one?”

“Affirmative,” all four said with little thought.

“Okay then,” Dick sighed with reluctance. “Damian, I know you find it hard to accept the choices of others, but you need to understand that free choice and expression is about accepting that others may not make the same choices as you, and that’s okay. It’s the same as you choosing not to take my dating advice and ask Raven out because you’re afraid of rejection—”

“Shut up, Grayson! This isn’t about me!!!” Damian spat.

“Damian has the hots for Raven?” Jason teased. “You have good taste, Mighty Mouse. She got a great—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Todd!” Dick and Damian ordered in unison.

“I was gonna say personality,” Jason droned. “Get your minds out of the gutter. I mean for fuck’ sake.”

“Sure you were,” Tim replied with a glower.

“Yeah Tim, cause you never stare at her tits while you talk to her,” Jason added, throwing him doubly under the bus.

“Dude, are you trying to get me killed?” Tim said, shooting an elbow into his brother’s ribs as Damian and Stephanie both glared. Spurring Dick into a further mood for murder.

“My point being is, just because you don’t like other peoples’ ideas, doesn’t mean they’re stupid.”

“Tell them the idea, guys!” Jason urged, stirring the pot.

Stephanie and Tim looked at each other and nodded, as though they’d discovered the holy grail itself. “We’re gonna write a series of YA novels and sell them on the web!” Steph sang optimistically.

“Yeah, it’s a huge and diverse market,” Tim added.

“And with established characters, we’ll make a killing.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “That sounds like fanfiction?”

“It sounds like utter bullshit,” Damian sneered, not single fuck given.

“It’s not bullshit,” Tim snapped. “YA novels make up a huge portion of the market. People love those things.”

“Then name one YA novel that has sold more than a manga in the last 10 years?”

Tim shrugged. “I can’t think of one at the top of my head, but there they definitely exist and sell.”

“Yeah, so does my fanfiction based on this family,” Jason added under his breath.

“What?” Everyone asked.

“Nothing. Continue.”

“So anyway, I told Damian it’s a foolproof plan.”

Dick rolled his eyes with a bit of doubt, but who was he to judge or discourage their creativity. I mean, he dropped out of college after all? “I’m not saying I believe it’s bulletproof, because frankly, nothing is. But I’m curious why you would consider telling Damian? I mean, he hates most things.”

“And Drake. I hate Drake.”

“We’re all very aware, Dami,” Dick drawled in annoyance. “But yeah, why would you tell him anything important to you? Especially that?”

“Well, we kinda needed a loan. I knew Bruce would undoubtedly say no and, well, Damian has money.”

“Because I make good business decisions.”

“I don’t know why I thought of asking you?”

“You didn’t, Jason told you to,” Stephanie confessed, recalling an earlier conversation.

“Jason, really?” Dick tsked.

“Hey, Damian does make good business decisions. Who do you think cleans and invests money? It’s certainly not Alfred.”

“Because Alfred would have nothing to do with your blood money, Jason. And Damian, I’m very disappointed in you!”

“Grayson, I don’t know what high horse you are riding on today, but you better come off it. Father told me if I wanted money, that I needed to earn it and that I should get a job. So I got one.”

“Laundering money for Red Hood’s criminal Enterprise is not a job!”

“Actually it is. Mighty Mouse made us an LLC and everything. I own several Wash & Folds, all legitimate! Thanks to Hell Spawn here! I’m actually considering making him a partner.”

“So will your LLC fund our YA Novels?”

“Oh fuck no!”

“Come on, Jay! We have a solid business plan,” Stephanie pleased.

“You’re business plan is a bunch of meaningless numbers written on the back of a napkin and poorly illustrated versions of us,” Damian said, holding up the napkin in question.

“Okay, so it’s not the final draft, but we’re working on it!” Tim said pointedly.

“Yeah, as tempting as this all sounds, I didn’t make my money making half baked business decisions,” Jason reasoned

“No, you made it by taking over Gotham’s drug trade,” Dick clarified with disapproval.

“Which was a solid business decision.”

“Why do I even talk to you?”

“I don’t know why I talk to any of you,” Damian scowled, arms crossed, grateful there was no shared genetics between him and his adoptive kin. “I don’t understand what father saw in any of you.

“I can’t answer that,” Jason replied. “However, I can tell you, from personal experience, what he saw in your mom.”

“Do you wanna die, Todd?”

“Do you wanna not have a job?” Jason wanted. “Also, been there done that. But hey, if I died twice then I’d have buffy status so don’t threaten me with a good time, kid.”

“On that note, I’m leaving,” Damian grimaced. “I have to meet Raven, anyway.”

“Oh,” Dick sang. “You have a date!”

“It’s not a date.”

“Bet you wish it was a date,” Stephanie teased. “Y’know, if you just stopped acting like a dick all the time, I bet she’d go out with you.”

“Shut up, Brown.”

“Oh no,” Dick smiled. “I know it’s hard to believe, but he’s nice to Raven.”

“Hey keep that shit up,” Jason added. “If you’re nice to her, she’d be nice to you!”

“I hate all of you,” Damian proclaimed and stormed away.

“Fuck you too! See you at work Monday! Jason called, earning a tiger middle finger.

“He might be an asshole, but he’s a good kid,” Jason nodded with a sense of pride, causing to Dick to silently scoff. “Still needs to get laid though.”

“Bruce is gonna be so pissed when he finds out you pulled Dami into your bullshit.”

“You’re using Raven’s pet name for him now?” Jason mocked. “And fucker’s gonna have to prove it first; there’s a reason I hired ‘Dami’ for that job.”

“Dude, fuck you; dig your grave,” Dick lamented. “And don’t come at me with one of your tired ass death jokes, they’re getting old.”

“Suit yourself,” the Outlaw glowered as silence set in.

“So Dick,” Tim dared sheepishly. “You, um, wanna invest in--”

“Absolutely not,” the elder hero replied.

Leaving Jason to chuckle. “And that’s the way the cookie crumbled.”

If you enjoyed that feel free to leave me kudos 👉 here on Ao3 lol. If you have any remdom prompts send them my way; maybe I’ll feel inspired 😘

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bireggiemantle · 2 years

Note

can you please write a betty and tabitha friends fanfic where betty does something nice for tabitha?

This is an old prompt, but I've been digging through my drafts/ask box recently to try and finish up some old requests before starting on new ones, n bc of when I started this, this ficlet takes place post s5 and pre s6, with betty and tabitha cleaning up pops after the explosion.

"Thanks again for doing this." Tabitha says. "It means a lot to me that you'd help clean this place up."

Betty shrugs. "It's not like I had anything better to do. And Riverdale needs Pop's. It hasn't been the same here without it."

She stops sweeping for a moment, pausing to turn around and meet Tabitha's eyes.

"You know, back in high school, I thought this place was gonna shut down. Archie's dad got shot here and the diner was blacklisted before the end of the day."

"I didn't know about that. I don't think my granddad's ever mentioned it." Tabitha says, coming to a halt as well. She leans her back against the booth opposite Betty, her broom still resting between her palms.

"It was bad." Betty continues. "'Death Diner', that's what they were calling it. My own mom didn't want to eat here anymore."

Her gaze slips away from Tabitha's, settling on the counter beside her. She places a finger along the edge of it, tracing a thin line through the dust before stopping to wipe her hand clean.

"We had to do this fundraiser to save the place." She smirks, the barest hint of a laugh in her smile. "The Vixens were involved and everything. It was big, at least, by Riverdale standards."

"Oh, wow."

"I know." Betty says, rubbing her fingers together and watching the dust fall back down around her. "My point is that I think this place'll be okay. It's made it once before, and probably several times before then too. It's gonna take more than a bomb to make Pop's leave Riverdale."

"Damn straight." Tabitha says, before laughing. "Especially when it's got a team of badass ladies working to keep the business afloat."

"Team... Bettabitha?" she offers, and Betty cringes.

"We'll workshop it. Nicknames were always more Veronica's thing than mine, anyways."

She picks up her broom again and resumes where she left off, humming gently to a tune Tabitha recognizes just vaguely enough that she can hum along to the chorus.

The diner might still look like a mess, but it's only temporary, and Tabitha thinks she'll be able to sleep a little easier tonight knowing there are people who want to fix this place just as much as she does.

#asks #mine #betty cooper #tabitha tate

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fizzingwizard · 2 years

Text

Taichi Yagami Week Day 2 Prompt: Friends

(Some bad language)

After practice the soccer team files into the locker room. Taichi wastes no time stripping down to his boxers and pouring the contents of his water bottle over his head. He shakes his whole body like a dog, droplets flying everywhere.

The door opens, and there’s Yamato. Between the deft application of hair gel and the mere fact that he’s the only one in the room fully dressed, he couldn’t look more out of place. As he walks in, his nose wrinkles. It’s subtle, but prissy.

“It stinks like old socks in here,” he complains.

“Yeah, well, you try smelling like a rose after running around in the heat for hours,” Taichi shrugs without sympathy. He wipes his chest down with a towel.

“How do you stand it without wearing a clothespin on your nose?”

“Maybe I don’t have sensitive nostrils like you.”

“Geez. If I spend any longer in here I’ll need a shower,” Yamato mutters, and then thrusts a thin envelope in Taichi’s hand. “That’s your guest pass for Saturday night. Don’t be late, I will lock you out.”

After turning the envelope around (it looks the same on both sides, but he feels like an inspection is in order), Taichi puts it in his bag. “Ooh, a guest pass. Looks like I’m getting the VIP treatment.”

“Yeah,” Yamato says dryly. “Get pumped for leftover pizza and all-you-can-drink tap water. Plus free entertainment in the form of Akira and Tsukasa’s endless bitching.”

“If there's one thing I've learned from literally every teen movie ever, it's that garage bands are meant to fight among themselves. Means you’re edgy and have incredible emotional depth.”

“Sure - if you're referring to the depths of my annoyance."

“Hmm, I know. As your groupie, I’ll drown them out by screaming at the top of my lungs. If that doesn’t work, I’ll flash them!”

“You know, Taichi,” Yamato says with a grin, “at this point, I might even let you try.” Then, with a wave, he heads back into the hall. Even the way he opens the door is fluid, more purposeful than Taichi’s wide, brash swing.

Once he’s gone, Taichi becomes aware of the dead silence in the room just as it reaches a crescendo.

“What?” he asks.

No one answers. His teammates go back to showering and stretching, and conversation soon picks up again, light and easy, mostly centered on the upcoming game. Taichi joins in, enthusiastically debating strategy with other senior players. He’s team captain for a reason, after all.

The door opens again, this time with a timid push which goes unnoticed. So does the even quieter, “Um, Taichi-san?” that follows. A few minutes go by before anyone picks up on the intrusion, and when they do, it’s not even because they noticed the speaker, but because a draft slips in through the crack in the doorway.

Startled when all eyes fall on him, Koushirou starts to let the door fall closed.

“Hey, what’s up?” Taichi strides over before he can escape. Although Koushirou shot up several centimeters recently, Taichi still towers over him, a fact made even more stark by the way Koushirou hunches his shoulders as the athletes continue to stare.

“Um… sorry to interrupt, Taichi-san, but there’s a situation.”

“No problem. What kind of situation?”

Koushirou’s dark, clever eyes shift back and forth. “In the computer room,” he explains, and raises his thick brow meaningfully.

“Oh, gotcha,” says Taichi. A situation in the computer room can only mean one thing. “Do I have time to put on a shirt?”

“Yes, I think so. Meet you there?”

“Yup.”

Koushirou nods. Then, with one more awkward glance at the crowd, he ducks away and closes the door with a snap.

As soon as he’s gone, Taichi leaps to his locker and digs for a fresh shirt. As he’s pulling it over his head, he realizes the room’s gone completely quiet. Again.

He shoves his collar down. “No one knows how to start a conversation without me, huh?” he snips.

People finally look away, and Taichi finishes dressing as fast as he can.

“It’s odd, is all,” says Sakamoto, who plays defense.

“What’s odd?” Taichi asks, fumbling with a button.

Sakamoto shares a look with Tsubo (midfield). “Just how you’re friends with so many random people.”

“Random?”

“Well, Ishida’s a band geek,” says Tsubo.

“Kind of preppy too,” nods Sakamoto.

“Wannabe-punk prep.”

Taichi bites back a laugh at this appraisal. “So?” (Wannabe-punk prep! He is going to have so much fun teasing Yamato later).

“And Izumi is in the computer club. What does he need you for? You’re already in a club. Not to mention, he’s an underclassman.”

“So?” Taichi repeats, frowning at them in impatience. “What about it?”

“They’re - they’re just not who people expect the captain of the soccer team to hang out with,” Tsubo blurts out, and Sakamoto nods harder. He’s like a bobble head doll. “What about that gangly guy with the glasses? He’s a major prep. I bet he’s got a trust fund. And there’s those girls…” His lip curls as he pronounces “girls,” and Taichi wonders when they regressed to middle school social order. “Takenouchi’s one thing, but Tachikawa - she’s pretty but she’s weird, you know?”

“The type you make out with in the stairwell, but never invite to a karaoke party,” adds Sakamoto.

“She is pretty weird,” Taichi agrees (not point in denying the obvious). Inside he’s begun to simmer. “But I don’t get what the problem is. They’re my friends. Why can’t I hang out with them?”

“You can,” Sakamoto hurries to reply, “it just looks strange. Like, how can you be a real team player, if you’ve got loyalties in so many different areas?”

Taichi’s mouth falls open. Loyalty? They want to pin him on loyalty? “I’m here for every practice,” he says, throat tight. “I’m at every game. We go out to eat as a team - we’ve even held study sessions together. Even with all that, I’m ‘not a real team player’ just because I spend time with other people too?”

Neither of his teammates can come up with a response to this. They shuffle around, silent and exasperating. It’s clear as crystal that they don’t have an argument, but are convinced they’re right anyway. Taichi’s disbelief expands and expands until it pops, and his arm quakes with nervous excitement as he throws his bag over his shoulder.

If they only knew what they were making light of!

But it’s not their fault they don’t. Tsubo and Sakamoto are just regular guys. It’s not their fault Taichi can’t find the words to express what it’s like to sleep back-to-back with a stranger for months on end. To depend on them for your wants and needs, and be depended on in turn.

To argue and squabble until all the pent-up anger and frustration reaches a fever pitch, and you’re hit with the realization that no one else knows you so very well.

To notice how simple familiarity with another person feels a lot like love, even if they’re sometimes annoying.

To know you’d die for them.

“Listen, I like you guys, but they were my friends before you were,” Taichi tells his teammates. “So you’d better get used to that.”

He could try to explain. Give them the afternoon special on why cliques are bad and having friends with different interests is good. He always knows who to call if he’s stuck on a problem in his homework, or needs a favor in the middle of the night, or just someone to pal around town with.

He could, but he doesn’t. They’re his friends. They don’t need to be justified.

Sakamoto and Tsubo seem cowed enough anyway. Taichi’s got a rep for being the easy-going sort, except on the field - except when it matters. This matters.

Just before exiting the locker room, Taichi pauses. “By the way,” he says with a sly smirk. “Since we were discussing strategy: Mimi-chan slays at karaoke. Maybe try inviting her to the next party - if you ever want to win, that is.”

Then he saunters off to the computer room, where his friends are.

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

(author's note: I tend to think Taichi's probably decently well-liked by people. Not popular, but one of those people in school that everyone seems to know somehow. I don't think he's the type to clique up, but cliques are soooo common and make friendships so hairy. I always admired people who moved between pods of friends with ease - in high school especially there always seemed to be this sense of disloyalty just because you spent time with someone else's pod. It's a mix of jealousy, insecurity, and bids for control. I'd like to say I never experience it as an adult... but, as the song goes, high school never ends...)

#taichi yagami week #digimon #taichi yagami #fizz writes

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sugako · 3 years

Text

sweetness

osamu xf!baker!reader sum: your unrequited crush on the man you sell to is weighing heavily on you until one little party later it isn’t an issue cw: 18+ minors dni, a lil fluff, a lil angst (reader is sad bc they don't think samu feels the same), mentions of drinking/alcohol/party (no one is drunk during), kinda confessions, first time with each other, nipple play, oral (receiving) wc: 3.5k a/n: hi !! uhh i have had this is drafts for months bc i struggled to post it and idk why,, it's def a little longer than usual and little more plot-heavy(ish) but i hope you all enjoy pussy king samu <3

It felt as though you were admiring him from a distance even when he was standing right beside you.

The afternoon that the owner of Onigiri Miya had called up your small bakery to partner with his business you had been overjoyed. Honestly, you were still happy, it was just tinged by something deeper or different now. You were certainly still happy to sell your goods through the business, but your feelings had really gotten the better of you.

The day, actually the moment you met Osamu you told yourself to get over the petty crush you had developed within minutes of meeting him. His big, tall frame made you feel as though he could wrap his arms around you and everything would be okay. His pretty, steely eyes and soft features relaxed you, made you feel at home.

A week later you were groaning into your pillow when he texted a simple, polite compliment about your baked goods. Desperately, you hoped that the fuzzy feeling would melt away any day now.

Every single time you had to see him again and again to drop off your bi-weekly delivery, the feelings didn’t fade. If anything they grew stronger. The quick, comfortable banter you shared made your chest fill with molten gold that always seemed to harden into a tough little peach pit, strangling the words from your throat whenever you got back into your car.

A month later you were crying to yourself at 2 AM about how you couldn’t get over him even though you hadn’t even been close to a relationship. It was impossible. How were you supposed to get closure from someone you were merely business partners with.

You cursed the way your heart sped up when you got a new text from him. Over and over again you had to remind yourself that it was purely business.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Hi, do you want to swing by tomorrow? Lunch is on me

Fingers swiped over the keyboard, groaning as you asked what you should bring for the restock, not realizing it had been two weeks already.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Everything is selling fast, but I won’t need anything for a bit, just wanted to chat not about business

Without hesitation you agreed. Even if you were sure he didn’t feel the same, it wouldn’t hurt to keep up a personal relationship with a business. The fact that he had texted you deep into the night without prompt didn’t make it into your busy mind.

Those two little texts were how you found yourself taking a deep breath outside the Onigiri Miya a little after the lunch rush. You stepped into the nearly empty building, immediately greeted by Osamu’s soft, low voice.

“I have to run to the back, but I put a plate for you out.” He calls, disappearing just as the door closes behind you.

It’s painful to admit how your heart swells at the gesture. Your favorite onigiri of his is neatly plated in front of a corner seat at the bar. The two other people on the opposite side of the store are quietly chatting, paying no mind while you settle into your seat. Before you can take a bite he’s bustling back in.

“Sorry ‘bout that, got a call.” He says, leaning over the counter in front of you. The way his broad chest is squished by his shoulders.

“No worries.” You say just before biting into the food. He snatches one of the rice balls from your plate, but your mouth is too full and you’re too grateful to protest. “So,” you begin after you swallow, “what did you want to talk about?”

You can’t tell whether the air is thick with awkward tension or if it’s just you.

“I mean, obviously not business.” As you speak, a strangled, little chuckled forces its way out of the back of your throat, but you take another bite of food before it gets out of hand.

He’s silent for a moment, slowly chewing his food. Maybe savoring it or maybe thinking, you can’t quite tell which.

“Can you take nights off from the bakery? I remember you saying ya do a lot of baking and prepping at night.” His expression is impossible to read and you want to tell him that this is, at least for you, business talk, but you hold back and simply answer the question.

“Well, yeah, if I needed to. Uh, why?” You catch how his shoulders tense and lower, his eyes shifting across the windows in the front. Unfortunately, his own anxiety does very little to quell any of your own.

“My brother is having a party and I’m… obligated to go, but I won’t know many people there, they’ll all be his teammates, so I was wondering if you would like to go with me? If you don’t have a… I mean, if you don’t have any plans.” His expression remains still, but there’s a small flush in his cheeks that you catch on immediately. Something in your heart softens with hope.

“You’re twin volleyball brother?” You ask, biting back a smile. “Also, you’ll have to tell me what time the party is and then I’ll let you know if I have plans, but I’m probably free.”

The flush deepens as he recognizes his mistake and slowly blinks, shaking his head. “Yes, ‘Tsumu, the volleyball brother. And the party is next Friday. Around nine.”

Within the limited time you’d spent with him he’d told you about his brother and his old friends. Confidence growing, but not quite steady, you uneasily treaded into your next words.

“Yeah, I’m not working next Friday actually, so that sounds good. Should I text you for the address or…?”

“Meet me here, I can take you. Best to take the train, but it’ll be easier if we go together.”

Deep in the center of the city, standing close enough to smell the soft fragrance of cologne, you still weren’t sure how easily you had ended up here at the house party filled with strangers hosted by your customer’s pro athlete brother. It was a little much to think about if you took too much pause. Before you could slip into your own brain too much your cheek smushed into the thick muscle of Osamu’s solid back that had suddenly stopped moving, and as you sputtered out an apology the door swung open without him even knocking.

“Hey! Did you really not a-” The blonde mirror image of the man standing directly in front of you eats whatever words are about to spill out of his mouth when he notices you peeking out from beside Osamu. Realizing how ridiculously childish you must look tucked away behind him, you clear your throat and step out so you’re by his side instead.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You say politely, extending a hand for him to shake. Atsumu’s eyes flit between you and his brother, not bothering to hide a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” He finally says when he takes your hand. Out of sheer embarrassment or maybe anxiety, you feel pricks of heat chase out to your fingertips. The sensation is only compounded by Osamu’s feather-light touch that grazes the small of your back as he tries to lead you past his brother.

“Really,” you start, with a sly little smile, “he’s told me about you’re very impressive-”

“Okay.” Osamu says a little too sharply. He’s glad you’re at ease, but less glad that you’ve immediately taken to lightly teasing him with his brother. “Let’s head in.” The warm breath of his whisper jolts through you and you find yourself nodding, letting his touch lead you.

Just as the door is closing behind you and the excruciating reverb of the music seeps into your ears, you barely catch what Atsumu mumbles before he slips into the crowd of people. “Maybe you’ll finally show her how much ya like her.”

Osamu doesn’t respond, and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear him, but the way his fingers dig into your back tells you otherwise. You simply pretend that you heard nothing, pointing to the drink dispensers lined up on the kitchen counter across the room. After a quick drink of the sweet, burning mystery drink and after Atsumu started to keep his distance - too busy hounding his one teammate with the dark curls whose name you couldn’t quite remember - things went smoothly.

Time passed quickly, helped on by the dozens of new people you were introduced to. The small talk and repetitive questions had you mentally winded, but Osamu’s constant touch whether on your elbow or back or shoulder grounded you. Instead of feeling your heart race as it usually did when he was near, you only felt calm.

It all came crashing down sometime deep into the night when most of the guests had headed home and those left over passed out, scattered everywhere about the house. Well, everywhere aside from the neat guest bedroom tucked away toward the back that Osamu had pulled you back to when the last man (who had drunkenly tried teaching you how to say ‘volleyball’ in Portuguese) had finally passed out.

The single drink you had gulped down hours ago was long gone from your system, but even without it you still found it easy to speak with him, even as his arms inconspicuously wrapped around your torso and brought you down to lie beside him on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment while the two of you remained in short silence, a thought came to your head, another thing you want to tell him or ask him. You’re not sure which because in the next moment, when you whip your head to face him, he does the same.

If you had been any closer your faces would’ve smashed together. Any farther away and you wouldn’t be brushing lips. Just as soon as the touch begins, it ends with you scrambling away, stopped from falling off the bed by his strong arm wrapping around and pulling you back to his chest. The silence thickens with every second that neither of you speak, but he thankfully breaks it within the minute.

The words fumble around the front of your mouth like your mouth is numb. “I’m so sorry that-!”

“Well, that wasn’t really a proper kiss.” He says plainly, a smile barely etching its way onto the corner of his lips.

“N-no, it was not.” You whisper. It doesn’t quite feel real when he kisses you for real, and for a second you’re worried you’ve deluded yourself. You sigh into his firm touch, finally releasing the tension in your chest and letting your own lightly trembling hands trace up the space between your chests to settle against his. His body is softer than you had thought it would feel, somehow so much more comforting and homey than you could have imagined.

After an endless moment, his mouth strains against yours as he forces himself to pull away with a little huff. Your eyes find his, bright and hopeful, and still a little bit surprised. Between all your personal longing and resignation that he didn’t feel the same, you hadn’t noticed the way he smiled more when you were nearby, the little blush that dusted his cheeks when you complimented his cooking that first time, and so much more.

“Wanted to do that for a long time.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and letting his heavy eyes close. Hiding your grin in his chest, you nod, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling in closer. When your knee glides against his thigh in an attempt to get more comfortable and flush to him, he clears his throat. “We should get changed if we’re going to sleep here. I have extra clothes in the dresser.”

“Okay.” You nod slightly, not wanting to move just yet. He seems to be with you because, despite his own words, he remains exactly in place with his grip just as tight as ever around your waist. “...Samu?” You finally ask, pulling back far enough to look up at him.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “then kiss me again.” The crooked, giddy smile you’re giving him seems to tense him up even more.

He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes darkening as they flicker across the planes of your face. “I wanna, but I don’t want to push this unless you feel the same.”

If your tired heart could vibrate any harder it would probably be bursting out of your chest.

“Well, I feel that we should kiss again,” you press a peck to his cheek hoping it’ll steady your next vulnerable words, “because I’ve thought about you a lot, and I really like this.” You emphasize your words by glancing down at the negative space between your bodies and running your hand up the built expanse of his shoulders.

Humming, he cradles the back of your head, gracefully moving to straddle you and ghost his lips over yours. “In that case, tell me when to stop.” The hot breathy fan of air from his whisper barely hits your cheeks before he’s pressing a deep kiss against your lips.

You slot together like perfect puzzle pieces, limbs finding the just the right spots to fit into. Mouths move desperately, passionately and without thinking your fingers start dancing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the hot skin beneath. With a tempered groan, he uncouples his lips from yours, kissing along your jaw and quickly moving to trace down your neck. The kitten nips and licks against your collarbone send electricity through your bones, forcing you to flex into him, hips awkwardly jutting forward for something more.

“You… you, ah, are so perfect.” You pant, eyes blinking wide open when the calloused tips of his fingers roughly trail under your shirt, up your sides, stopping just short of your chest to flip your shirt up.

Groaning so quietly you barely hear him, he buries himself between your breasts and sighs against your skin. “Yer even more beautiful up close and without all this,” he pauses for the briefest moment to undo your bra and lift it over your head with the shirt, “extra stuff on.”

Scoffing out a short giggle, you relax back, watching how his eyes drink you in as though they’ve been starved. “By extra stuff you mea-!” The quip is promptly cut off by the feeling of his mouth latching around one breast, the other being tended to by his opposite hand. Not a moment later he pulls away, smiling as you let out a pitchy whine.

“Yer pretty mouthy when yer comfortable, huh?” He mumbles, lips ghosting over your nipple while the one in his hand continues to be teased.

“N-no,” you rush to disagree. Judging by the eye roll he gives you, he doesn’t seem to believe you, but he doesn’t say anything more, simply bringing his attention back to your chest.

The way his suckles tiny, bright purple marks into your skin sends heat pooling into your stomach, hips noticeably grinding up against him now. As the seconds drag on, he doesn’t seem interested in anything other than your tits, enamored with the way they feel in his hand and mouth. It’s almost too much, and you feel your stomach tightening with every moment the teasing continues.

“Samu,” you whine softly, “samu, please, can’t s’too much, really need…” The words are jumbled and garbled. You can’t quite sort your brain to come up with anything coherent, distracted by the wet pooling in your underwear and the weight of his body crowding over yours.

“Sensitive tits?” He coos with a sharp glint in his eyes, gears obviously moving in his head for the future. “That’s okay,” he continues while pressing a soft kiss to each of your breasts, “What do you really need?”

“Need you to touch me.”

For a second, his mouth opens but he doesn’t speak. You fear he’s going to tease you, make you explain in lewd detail how bad you need him and where you want him to touch you, but he doesn’t. He simply nods, truthfully too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of your body and too impatient to feel you for the first time to drag this out.

“Good girl, I’m gonna take these off.” He starts, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear to take them off together. Without hesitation, his eyes travel between your legs. “Such a pretty, little cunt.” He hums already squeezing in between your thighs. Obviously distracted, he peppers little kissed up the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, still caught up staring at your soaking mess.

“Samu, please…” You whine. While you know he isn’t purposefully teasing, well you don’t know but you don’t think at least, it’s just as frustrating. Your knees lock around his thick shoulders, pulling him closer to your heat.

“Okay, okay, pretty girl.” He grumbles, lapping right at the crook of your thigh and hip. There’s a split second of tense silence wherein he carefully spread your lips admiring the glisten of your slick under the dim light of the lamp. Your entire body is tense with anticipation, legs shaking as they struggled to spread around his wide frame.

And just like that quiet moment is over - he laps you up so desperately and greedily you’re twitching under his grasp, clawing at the wrinkled bed sheets below you for anything to ground you. He doesn’t stop when he shifts your legs over his shoulders and wraps his hands around the bottom of your tummy to keep your jostling hips in place.

When you finally look back down to grab his hand, keeping a vice grip around his fingers, you also glance down for the first time. His dark, hazy eyes meet yours and you completely relax at last.

The feeling doesn’t last long, not when he pushes his tongue into your tight, unprepared hole, slurping all he can get and pushing in as far as he can go. Osamu’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation, your cum dribbling down his chin and coating up to his nose that keeps brushing against your throbbing clit.

With a solid, squelching pop he tears away from you. “Taste so good,” he heaves, lips coming back even as he’s speaking, ghosting over you. He buries himself in your cunt again, this time focusing solely on your clit, cycling through different motions until he finds the one that makes your hips strain under his sturdy hold.

“Feel so good!” You sigh. “Please, please wanna cum.”

Smirking against you, he takes the hand you’re not clinging to back under your thigh and props it against your ass, slowly teasing a finger in. Absolutely gushing now, it slips in easily. You can feel his smile grow again for a moment before he refocuses on your clit, motions speeding up and increasing the pressure with which he worked. It’s impossible to not shudder under him now, especially with one arm only holding you down.

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum.” He murmurs, easily hooking a second finger into you, pumping and curling them in time with his tongue. As he feels you flutter and cream he can’t help but rut into the mattress, cock swelling from the taste of you. The pressure inside is too much and your want to let go is pushing you closer and closer, although it’s his mouth and fingers that really push you forward.

“C-cu-!” The words get trapped in your throat, overtaken by a hushed moan you struggle to bite back, trying - but very much failing - to be mindful of all the half-sleeping people strewn through the house. He slowly brings you down, fingers winding down and tongue lapping up your swollen clit while you convulse at his touch in time with the fluttering of your cunt.

At last, you have to drag him off, needily tugging up on his hands until he lets go. You try to pull him in to kiss, but he hesitates, his strength far outweighing your weak, blissful one and he hovers above you. There’s no reason to ask because almost immediately his fingers that were inside of you, absolutely drenched, come up to his mouth so he can make a show of sucking them dry for you.

“Taste even better than the stuff you make.” He sighs, letting you drag him down to your face. You can smell and taste yourself so strongly on his damp lips, it clouds your already hazy senses.

“Hmm,” you manage out, when he rests his entire body weight against yours, lips pressed into the side of your head. It’s only when you go to shift that you feel him pressing so incredibly hard and flush to you exposed skin through his soft pants, that you perk up. “Samu,” you begin brushing your fingers through his soft, dark hair, “can I...wanna help you.”

“Mhmm,” he nestles against your neck, kissing over the spots he left behind earlier, “in a minute, pretty girl, we have a lot of time ahead of us.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu smut #miya osamu smut #osamu miya smut #hq smut

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geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde · 4 years

Text

My Wildest Dreams

Howdy Howdy! This is my fourth (of five) prompts for my 500 follower raffle (and it’s taken me so long to write it I’m at 600, sorry)

This is for the oh so talented @julek for the pairing Geraskifer and the trope truth potions! I hope you like it!!

Shout out to @selectivegeekwithstandards who was my sounding board and helped me fix what was a verifiable disaster of a first draft <3 <3

Jaskier wouldn’t go so far as to say that he was annoyed at the way Geralt and Yennefer were behaving but it certainly was exhausting.

The sorceress had met up with him and Geralt two towns back and had been travelling with them since. It wasn’t uncommon for the three of them to travel together, Yennefer popping in and out of their lives as she saw fit. But this time was different for some reason. Normally she would arrive and her and Geralt would disappear to fuck like bunnies for a while while Jaskier yearned from afar. This time, however, they’d had a hushed conversation and then… that was it.

And they had kept having those conversations, sending furtive looks toward Jaskier each time. The bard decided to pretend like he didn’t notice but honestly it was getting a bit too weird. Normally when Yennefer was travelling with them, Jaskier spent the entire time pining, wishing they were paying him attention… inviting him into Yennefer’s impressive tent for… whatever it was they did.

Jaskier sighed as he noticed the look Geralt sent him from the other side of the room. Geralt didn’t normally sneak looks at him or, if he did, he was normally sneakier about it. They were in an herbalist’s shop, Geralt and Yennefer having both needed ingredients, so Jaskier was just wandering around and looking at the various things and keeping his hands to himself.

Jaskier suddenly noticed something strange on the highest shelf of jars in the shop.

The jar was smaller than all the others and it wasn’t labelled either. It was filled with a brilliant purple powder that shimmered in the low candlelight.

“It’s not for sale.”

Jaskier jumped, not having heard the old herbalist walk up behind him. He cleared his throat, “What is it?”

The herbalist ignored his question. “Are you with them?” the man gestured to where Geralt and Yennefer had their heads close together and were muttering to each other.

“Yes.”

The man hummed thoughtfully, eyeing Jaskier, “You can have it.”

“What?” The man had pointed at the small jar when he said it but he had also just said it wasn’t for sale.

The man grabbed the jar off the shelf and held it out to Jaskier, “It’ll solve your problem.”

“What problem?” Jaskier asked as he reached out and took the jar, staring curiously at the contents.

The man nodded toward Geralt and Yennefer, “With those two. Just add a spoonful with their wine, they won’t taste a thing.”

Right, yes. Just mix a strange substance in their drinks. That’ll work brilliantly. “And what exactly is it supposed to do.”

“It will make them tell the truth.”

Well… that would certainly be a nice change. But still...

“I can’t pay for this.”

The man waved a hand, “I told you, it isn’t for sale. And trust me, it will help.”

Jaskier pocketed the powder hesitantly and watched the herbalist cross the shop to where Yennefer was inspecting a bundle of herbs.

How strange. But the truth would be nice. He needed to know what was going on, why the two were being so secretive.

No. He couldn’t.

It took another week travelling with Geralt and Yennefer’s weird behavior before Jaskier put any actual consideration into using the powder. The pair had just kept on with their whispers and their staring, making Jaskier uncomfortable at every turn. Honestly, he had listed after the couple for years but now he was getting rather put off just looking at them.

Desperate times and that...

Jaskier waltzed through the door to the inn room they were all sharing, three mugs of wine in hand.

“I need you two to tell me the truth,” Jaskier declared, standing just inside the doorway of their room. It was time for him to put his foot down and get the answers he needed.

“What are you talking about?” Yennefer asked sharply. She was frozen, loose herbs held in one hand, lingering over where she had been bundling them over the table.

“You two,” Jaskier gestured at them, sloshing wine in the mugs he was still carrying, “have been keeping something from me for weeks and I am sick of it.”

Geralt opened his mouth but Jaskier shushed him, “No, listen. I need the truth. Either you tell me now or, if that’s too difficult, you drink these.”

Geralt grunted, “What would drinking wine have to do with anything?” The witcher had set down the dagger he had been examining in favor of staring at Jaskier, directing his full attention at the bard.

“The drinks are drugged,” Jaskier responded matter-of-factly. “A truth potion. So, if you don’t think you can be honest with me without help, you can drink this. Otherwise, I’m leaving, and I don’t want to see either of you again.”

The silence in the room was stifling and suddenly Jaskier was horrified. What if he was being too forceful? What if they just… left?

Yennefer and Geralt shared a meaningful look before finally Geralt stood up and walked over to Jaskier, taking the mugs of wine from him. He handed one to Yennefer silently before taking a drink from his own.

Geralt looked back to Jaskier, “You’re right, you deserve the truth.”

Yennefer stared at the wine in her hand for a moment and Jaskier suddenly felt incredibly nervous. What if this was something he didn’t want to know after all?

Finally, Yennefer took a long drink and hummed slightly, “You are right, Jaskier.”

“Do you feel any different?” He asked hesitantly.

Yennefer shook her head, “No, we’ll need to finish the drinks for it to work properly. And I think I would like to wait until then to have this conversation. It won’t be easy for me.”

“Okay,” Jaskier responded quietly, sitting on one of the beds in the room as he worked on his own wine, waiting for… something to happen.

Geralt and Yennefer had both returned to their previous tasks, both absentmindedly sipping at the wine.

There was a knock at the door.

Jaskier hurried to open it and accept the three plates of food, “I hope everyone’s hungry” he said brightly.

“Always am. Never get enough to eat.” Geralt said, reaching out to take a plate from Jaskier.

Geralt’s brow furrowed suddenly as Jaskier looked at him curiously. He had long suspected that the witcher needed more food, but he had never said so. Jaskier set the second plate across the table where Yennefer was sitting, “and for the lady”.

She simply nodded in thanks, a small smile on her face.

Jaskier sat upon the bed again, digging into his plate. “So,” he started in between bites, “do either of you have anything you would like to tell me?”

“I enjoy your company.” Yennefer said suddenly, her face reddening.

Jaskier was taken aback, “You… what?”

“Enjoy your company.” The sorceress was staring at Jaskier with emotion shining in her eyes that Jaskier never thought he would see. Not directed at him.

Jaskier looked at Geralt, unsure of how to respond. Geralt’s lips were pressed together tightly, his brow furrowed, “Is… something wrong, Geralt?”

“I…” Geralt hesitated, “am sorry if we made you uncomfortable.” The witcher didn’t apologize easily, always saying rubbish about not having feelings, so the statement meant a lot, particularly under the circumstances.

Jaskier nodded, feeling bad he’d given the two the ultimatum, but glad he would get answers now, “I just couldn’t handle the weird tension and the whispering and the looks anymore.”

Yennefer sighed, “We were talking about you.”

“Why were you talking about me?” Jaskier suspected as much with the looks but he couldn’t think of a reason they would be talking about him.

“Because we’re both in love with you.” Geralt responded quietly, his eyes downcast.

Jaskier was certain his heart stopped, “Ahhh… that doesn’t sound right.” They couldn’t possibly have feelings for him, not more than a fond friendship. It didn’t make sense.

“Well, we can’t lie thanks to you.” Yennefer said, staring Jaskier dead in the eye. The earnest look on her face left Jaskier breathless.

He nodded, breaking the eye contact, “Right. Sorry about that. I was just at my wits end.”

“We really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Yennefer said, her voice softer this time, drawing Jaskier’s gaze back to hers.

“Do you… mean it, though? That you both love me?” Jaskier couldn’t remember ever feeling more vulnerable.

“Yes.” Geralt said simply.

Yennefer nodded, “Yes. We do. We just weren’t sure what to do about it.”

“Well… telling me would have been preferable. Not acting like… you were plotting against me would have also been a good alternative.”

Geralt stood and walked to where Jaskier was sitting, kneeling on the ground in front of him, “We… were worried you didn’t feel the same.”

Jaskier set his plate aside and rested a hand on Geralt’s face. He took a deep breath, tears pooling in his eyes, “Geralt, I’ve been in love with you for a decade. And Yennefer, I care about you. I do. And I’m not opposed to… trying for more. With both of you. If you’ll have me?”

Yennefer stood slowly, walking across the room to sit beside Jaskier, setting a gentle hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and reaching out to hold one of Geralt’s hands with her other. “We would be honored to call you ours,” she said, placing a gentle kiss on Jaskier’s cheek.

Jaskier beamed, tears finally spilling over. Geralt reached up and wiped them away with a tender caress.

Jaskier stood quickly and cleared his throat, “I’ll be right back.”

Geralt frowned from his position on the floor, “Where are you going?”

Jaskier laughed lightly and smiled back at the witcher, his heart fluttering madly with how happy he was, “I’m going to get you another plate of food.”

Yennefer chuckled, “That’s a good idea. We’ll be waiting for you.” She leaned back on the bed and smirked at Jaskier.

Jaskier knew in that moment he was living out his wildest dreams and he couldn’t be more thrilled.

Check out my masterlist!

Tag list: @stinastar @feraljaskier @bastardofmothman @hailhailsatan @moonysourenza @its-onions @elliestormfound @dapandapod @geraskier-trashh @jaskierswolf @fontegagrilledcheese @negativenuggetz @veritasrose @feral-jaskier @kozkaboi @kueble @selectivegeekwithstandards

#500 follower raffle #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #fanfiction #geraskifer #geraskefer #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #ot3 #love declarations #truth potions

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mcheang · 4 years

Note

Mlb prompt: What if Adrien finds out the scarf was Marinette's & so had no reason to give Gabe the benefit of doubt? If he just snapped & started to push back, threatening to go to the media, & really doing so when Gabe thinks he's bluffing? Since Gabe thinks locking him in an empty room for a few weeks without phone, pc or games etc. would make him back down, he doesn't take it seriously. But Adrien has Plagg, so he escapes. Cue media shitstorm. Even worse if this is after "muse Lila", so Gabe also gets accused of either being a pedo, not taking sexual harassment (Lila towards Adrien) seriously, using his son as a bargaining chip or all of it. I just wonder what it would be like if magazines & newspapers going "protect sunshine!" mode exposed both Lila & Gabriel as Hawkmoth, and if by that time Adrien were DONE, & so felt way less heartbreak.

Teenage rebellion

Post party Crasher draft

As Adrien opens up his presents at his party, he comes across the standard pen gift from his father. He is surprised and disappointed.

Luka asks what is wrong. Adrien admits he hoped his father would have given him something more meaningful than a pen. At least the scarf was warmer than cold metal.

Adrien even gets the scarf out but while the boys look angry and upset, Luka identifies the scarf as Marinette’s, having spotted her signature.

Adrien: he commissioned Marinette to make me a scarf? I’m not sure how to feel about that.

Nino exhaled. “Dude, no. Marinette made that scarf for you. It was her birthday present to you.”

Adrien stilled.

Nino: your dad stole her gift and presented it as his own. Marinette didn’t want to tell you because you looked so happy.

Kim: yeah, we got that. But I still say we should have exposed the old man from the start if he wasn’t even going to improve his gifts.

Adrien is noticeably upset by this. The boys soon try to cheer him up again.

When Gabriel returns home, he coldly confronts Adrien for having an unauthorithized party, calling it a betrayal of trust.

Adrien: Hmm, then what do you call stealing someone else’s gift to pass off as your own?

Gabriel: I have no idea what you are talking about.

Adrien: grounded? Fine. Leaving me alone on my birthday? Sad, but also fine. Lying to me while lecturing me on trust? Priceless! (I totally copied this from W.i.t.c.h. H is for Hunted)

Adrien storms off, leaving Gabriel confused. Nathalie nervously tells Gabriel the truth. Ouch...ok so his son does have some right to be angry at him. But it’s not like he forgot his birthday date!

So Adrien is grounded without use of any technology. So what? He can just sneak out as always.

It’s bad enough that his father was distant, that he denied him the rights of a birthday party or friends, but to be a hypocrite and hurt his friends, that was unforgivable.

Gabriel no longer deserved any respect.

Just in case, Adrien asked Plagg to destroy any surveillance footage in his room. He then transforms and sneaks out to have fun with friends. No more screen Adrien. Now, they were getting the real boy.

Everyone was delighted. But Marinette worried about Gabriel until Adrien promised Marinette he had it all under control.

Oh, and did I mention he also invited Wayhem. The latter was obviously outraged when he learned what Gabriel has done to his idol/friend.

He wants Adrien to rebel. Marinette warily reminds them that Gabriel can still take Adrien out of school.

Wayhem: not if he wants to face media backlash once Adrien’s fans hear of his treatment.

Indeed, Gabriel’s hands are tied when Adrien launches this ultimatum, either give him freedom, or the spotlight will be shone on Gabriel’s parental abilities.

Gabriel hires Lila to persuade Adrien to behave or get his friends to back off. But the gang just dislike Adrien’s father and Adrien just dislikes her, so even she fails when the others just stare at her in disbelief for suggesting they give Gabriel a second chance.

Ivan: he’ll get his second chance when he earns it. Trust has to be earned.

Gabriel wants to make his wish so this can all be erased. So Lila proceeds with the expel Marinette plan.

Adrien sees Lila at a photo shoot and grows suspicious. He cuts a deal with Lila; either she gets Marinette back or he becomes her enemy.

Knowing that Adrien was serious about turning his fans against his father, Lila knew he would also set them on her easily.

She got Marinette back. But like hell Adrien was going to play nice with the liar.

He reported to Wayhem and his friends how Lila was his father’s muse and she really needs to learn personal space.

The guys are horrified she would side with Gabriel just to become a model.

Chat Noir also visits the principal to investigate the expulsion thoroughly. The footage clearly shows Lila framing Marinette.

Damocles triés to defend Lila because of her disease but Chat uses his star power to appeal to The Owl, saying the truth must be revealed for justice to fully prevail.

As a result, the principal exposes Lila’s disease for the whole school to hear, fully clearing Marinette of all suspicion.

Now this clearly exposes Lila as a liar, and her classmates turn on her, refusing to believe in such a phony disease.

Not to mention that Lila’s debut as a model has quite a bad reception. Thank you Wayhem!

When confronted, Lila finally throws Gabriel under the bus and admits he hired her to separate Adrien from his friends. While she is still despicable, she makes it clear the origin of her plans was all Gabriel.

That’s it. Adrien no longer has a father.

Wayhem and Adrien accuse Gabriel of bad parenting online. It creates a public scandal.

Adrien is confined to the house to prevent contact with anyone else, but this gives him time to go digging into his father’s office to retrieve his contract and payslips. Plagg is tasked to look for any incriminating evidence. So he just floats around, making a mess of things, and accidentally activates the hidden elevator while looking for hidden floor panels.

Boom, they discover the butterflies and Emilie.

Adrien tells Ladybug as Chat Noir.

Gabriel and Nathalie are arrested, but he also returns Lila’s betrayal by admitting she was a willing accomplice.

Adrien watches this stonefaced. When asked how he feels about seeing his neglectful parent taken away, brought to justice by his own son, Adrien responds, “A father is supposed to care for his son. All Gabriel has done was provide for me materially. But this does not excuse his crimes for neglect, hurting my friends, or even trying to manipulate me emotionally by blaming me for his akumatization into the Collector. As far as I am concerned, my father died a long time ago. I don’t know this man anymore.”

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #Lila salt #Gabriel salt #ml salt fic #Lila karma #gabriel karma #lila busted #lila is exposed #lila gets exposed #post party Crasher #Gabriel is exposed #Gabriel gets exposed #Adrien disowns Gabriel #rebellious adrien

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rmg91 · 3 years

Text

Zoe Week; Day 6-A Night Off

AKA Comfort Zoe Night

So, this was the first prompt I actually wrote cause it spoke the most to me (the fluffy potential) but then the muses decided to be difficult and I struggled with it until like 2 days before Zoe Week began. I also wound up scrapping my partial first draft and re-writing the first bit to be slightly based off some wonderful Teny art because I realized it could still fic with my idea! (Gotta love great art that inspires) (The art in question is those wonderful pics of Zoe and Douxie as he meets her after a shift at Hextech and then precedes to be a little shit) Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one and hopefully it doesn’t end too abruptly, like I said the muses wanted to be difficult with this one.

AO3

~*~*~*~*~*~

The night was clear and cool, something that would usually bring calm to the pink haired witch as she walked home from another busy day at Hex-Tech but not tonight. The day had been absolutely brutal. First she'd had the early shift, which was never fun, then she'd been assigned to the bar for almost the entirety of her shift which meant dealing with all sorts of customers. The irritable, the entitled, the ones that just wouldn't listen, it had almost driven her insane by the time her lunch break arrived. It was only after slurping down a cup of noodles and sending a curse heavy text on how crappy her day had been so far to Douxie that she got the wonderful news that she had to work a double shift. She was so going to curse Dave the next time she saw him, she always got his shifts whenever he didn't come in. And of course that extra shift came with, you guessed it, more bar duty! So Zoe had dealt with double the awful customers! Including two absolute Karen's. Why her managers kept putting her in the front when her talents lay better with the tech itself, she'd never understand.

At least she was finally off for the weekend...

Coming around the last corner before her apartment building, she spied her longtime partner and lover, Hisirdoux, leaning against the chain-link fence, waiting for her. She paused for a moment, taking in the rare relaxed air around him and admiring his bare biceps for a moment before sighing, knowing why he was waiting for her. And usually she'd be ready to go hunt Niffins and take on whatever else they might encounter on a Friday night, especially after the day she had, but she was too beat to do anything more. So shifting her bag in her grip, she made her way closer to the wizard, not looking forward to canceling their plans.

“Ah! The fair lady approaches!” He exclaimed, noticing her first with a smirk before his face soften, “Rough day, Love?”

“Uuugg!! You have no idea!!” She groaned, knowing her text had said as much but now she could rant in person about just how bad it actually was. Stopping next to him, she ran her fingers through her hair before rubbing at her temples, trying to push down the migraine that had been brewing since two o'clock, “Not only did fuckin' Dave not come in, we had two, Two, Karen's come in! I was almost certain we'd have a third but thankfully her husband calmed her down. Of course then that entitled Spanish teacher had to come in, again, who, of course, I had to deal with! Not to mention all the other sorts that came in today... And! Because the universe's law apparently decided to hate me today, someone calls right before closing!” She groaned again, feeling annoyed anew rather than relieved after her rant. “Anyway, as much as I'd like to go Niffin hunting, I'm just too beat-!”

Distracted as she was with her rant, the hedge-witch hadn't noticed Douxie's arm sneaking around her before he wrapped it around her shoulder and laid a kiss on her head. He hummed into her hair, nuzzling her softly, “I'm so sorry your day sucked, Darling.”

“Yeah, well...” Zoe felt her cheeks heat up, sinking into the hug he started to give her and feeling most of the fight leave her suddenly. You'd think after almost five hundred years of being together romantically this sap wouldn't cause such a reaction but you'd be wrong. “It's over now, I guess...And I have the weekend off thankfully.”

“That you do~” Douxie sang into her ear before suddenly rubbing his hand over her head vigorously and messing up her hair, “And I'm sure you'll feel much better after a good nights sleep!!”

“Aaarrgggg!!!” Zoe cried out in surprise and anger, “Hisirdoux!!” She pushed him away, glaring at his grin before marching away, “Jerk! Why do I like you again?!”

“Because without me and Arch your life would be dreadfully boring~?”

She huffed and flattened down her hair, “Hardly.” She then glared over her shoulder, “You are so sleeping on the couch tonight, or better yet, your own apartment when you get done.” She honestly wondered why she put up with his antics.

Douxie merely laughed some more, catching up to her and wrapping his arm around her waist, “Actually, Love, I've decided we're all taking the night off.” When she looked up at him with a disbelieving look he responded, “Really! Wards are already in place around town, so if there's any trouble, Arch and I can go take care of it but otherwise...” The wizard shrugged, “We're all off for the night and you have a little surprise waiting for you~”

“A surprise? Really?” She glared up at him, still annoyed, “I doubt whatever it is will make up for that stunt you just did...”

“I think it will~!” He sang.

Zoe huffed and crossed her arms, muttering a 'whatever' and allowing him to escort her to her apartment building and up to her home. Entering, she dropped her bag and kicked her shoes off by the door, striding over to where Archie was laying on the back of the couch and greeting the familiar with a chin scratch. Glancing around she saw nothing out of the ordinary with the exception that her sink was now empty of the few dishes she'd left there. If that was her so called 'surprise' than it was going to take a lot more than him doing her dishes for her to calm down from that surprise noogie. Lifting an eyebrow at the wizard, silently asking just what exactly he had planned, she watched him grin again before he offered up his arm to her.

“Come with me, Milady~ Your surprise awaits~”

Looking back down at Archie, the black cat merely stretched and stated, “I've been sworn to secrecy.”

Right, of course. Rolling her eyes, the pink hair witch allowed Douxie to guide her down her own hallway, stopping in front of the bathroom. Usually she could sniff out an idea on what he liked to surprise her with but tonight between her exhaustion and the fact that she was still a little annoyed with him, made her question just what he could've set up in the bathroom of all things.

Grinning down at her, Douxie gently pushed the door open and snapped his fingers. A dozen candles lit with the small pulse of magic, illuminating the simple space with a soft orange light and revealing the steaming, bubble filled bath. The light aura of blue magic indicated a warming spell, keeping it the perfect temperature for when she got home. Zoe let out a soft breath, feeling most of her annoyance leave, and leaned against him, letting him wrap his arms around her and nuzzle the top of her head. Trust this wonderful sap to fix her up something like this after she'd rough day at work. Sometimes Zoe wondered just what she did to have someone like Hisirdoux Casperan in her life but she certainly wasn't going to be ungrateful about it. She was even willing to let the whole noogie thing go...mostly.

“I want you to know I don't completely forgive you for that stunt outside but this...is a nice surprise.” She could even make out the light scents of tangerine and patchouli wafting from some of the candles. “And you can't always get away with something like that either.”

He chuckled low, placing a soft kiss on her head, “Of course, Love~” He carefully stepped back, bowing in an exaggerated manner as he gestured to the bathroom, “Now, do please enjoy, Milady, and once you're are done a meal will be ready for you.”

She snorted, “You can't cook.”

He clicked a pair of finger guns at her, “No but I can work an oven!” He then left her to her own devices with a final grin.

Zoe rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly. Gods he was a dork.

~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later found Zoe happily relaxing in her bath, feeling better after the day she'd had, eyes closed as she listened the soft tunes playing from her small radio. She had to hand it to Douxie, he had thought of everything when setting all this up. The candles were the right amount of light, the radio was already set to play and the bath was filled with her favorite brand of bubble bath. There had even been a rolled up towel for behind her head as she leaned back in the tub. Humming along softly to the music, Zoe only wished for one last thing to make this perfect.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door opened slowly just enough to allow a wine glass surrounded by blue magic to float in. Laughing lightly, she grabbed it out of the air, taking a sip before calling out, “Thank you but you could've given me it in person.”

“A gentleman never intrudes on a lady.” Was her response before she was left alone again to enjoy her bath.

~*~*~*~

Zoe eventually emerged, having stayed long enough for her fingers to prune slightly and for the water to grow cold, plus her stomach kept protesting the lack of food. So she made her way into the living room wrapped in one of Douxie's old bad shirts and a hoodie she had stolen, breathing in the scent of a freshly cooked frozen pizza. She was passed a plate with two large slices of her favorite kind, three meat with extra mushrooms, and had her glass refilled before being pointed over to go recline on the couch. Shaking her head, she followed the silent order and sat down, digging in before her boys were settled. Archie was passed a plate of salmon and sardines before Douxie joined her, his own plate balanced in a hand.

“So, what does the lady wish to watch tonight?” He asked, reaching for the remote and flipping through channels.

“Hmm...” The pinkette hummed, tucking her knees under her before taking a large bite of her pizza, “Don't really care. Just find something we can zone out to or make fun of.”

“As you wish~”

“Oh gods, no! Do not put that movie on!” She exclaimed, “I will kick you out if you do!”

Douxie laughed, almost spilling his dinner, “Very well! Not in the mood for it tonight.” He continued to chuckle as he flipped through more choices before settling on another horribly inaccurate film of a time they've lived through.

Later, once food was eaten and their movie had changed to something else, Zoe was snuggled against Douxie's side, on the verge of sleep. Archie was a ball of purring warmth on her lap and Douxie kept running soothing circles on her arm as she listened to his heartbeat. The witch was once again grateful to have these two in her life, not knowing just where she'd be without them. They made the bad days better. Wither it was helping her with a sprained ankle from running from goblins, helping her fight of a demon hellbent on kidnapping all the girls in a village or having to deal with crappy customers all day, they were always there beside her. Even if Douxie loved to take cheep shots that ultimately pissed her off even more. Zoe knew she'd always forgive him. And so, full, relaxed and loved, she fell asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Aaahhh, Zoe loves her dork~ And gotta love cheesy endings lol! Hope you enjoyed and aahh!! Zoe week is almost over!

#ZoeAppreciationWeek #Zoe Week #Zoe #Douxie #Zouxie #Archie #ToA #Tales of Arcadia #Tales of Arcadia Wizards #Wizards #Fanfiction #Fluff

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stacispratt · 3 years

Text

glorious fire

big thank u to @coffeebucko without whomst this fic would not exist <3 thank u for chatting with me about stacijacob & also putting your eyeballs on the first draft of this thing!! without further ado here’s jacob asking how staci would kill him as foreplay

also posted on ao3!

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“When you fantasize about escaping,” Jacob says, as he looks up from his Chosens' reports to rest his eyes on Pratt's rigid form, “how do you do it?”

Pratt, sitting on Jacob's bed, in the middle of scribbling notes on his clipboard, only locks up stares at him. His eyes are wide, knuckles white, like he can’t believe Jacob is even asking— he thinks it’s a loyalty test. It’s as plain as day on his face. He stays quiet, manages to slip the pen into the top of the clipboard despite shaky hands. He's thinking up the perfect response, the perfect string of words to please Jacob, to make him secure in Pratt's loyalty. His fear.

That's not what he's looking for. Jacob’s not fucking stupid. No man in his right mind would think Pratt is loyal to him or Eden's Gate.

Silence sinks between them. The air sucks out of the room like a thunderstorm is about to break out, localized to just Jacob's bedroom, until Pratt looks like he might start to hyperventilate.

But Jacob Seed doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t ask again.

Instead, he sighs long and deep, and leans back in his chair. Looks back down to his records, though he doesn't read them. “When we were kids—Joseph, John, and me—we had some foster parents who worked us like dogs on their farm. Wouldn’t let us in the house, made us sleep in the barn." He taps his pen. "Beat us, too. Was doin’ my best to take the brunt of it, but one day I saw some bruises on John, even though he was just a damn baby.” Jacob pauses, glances over to Pratt, gauges his reaction. He's blank as stone, though there's something twitching in the corner of his mouth. Jacob hums once and sets his papers down. “So I burned the fucking barn down.”

He fixes his eyes decidedly on Pratt now, gaze hard and focused. Pratt's watching him back, like maybe he understands. Like maybe he knows better who Jacob is. What makes him tick, that— that what makes Jacob tick makes him tick, too.

“So, Peaches,” he says. “What barn are you burning?”

Pratt swallows so loud it clicks. Then he says, “I'd kill you while I shave your throat,” and Jacob smiles. He's not looking at Jacob anymore, he's staring at the floor— maybe the bloodstain on the unfinished concrete from when Jacob gave him the cut that now traces down the line of his cheek. His hands stay behind his back obediently, but his shoulders flex like maybe he's fiddling with his fingers. Weak, but Jacob can let it slide, so long as Pratt keeps outlining his escape plan. "And after– after you bleed out I'd disguise myself as a Chosen and escape."

Pratt's eyes fuzz out as he recalls his escape plan. It's not his realistic one, not a real plan. Jacob has seen him eye the weekly truck deliveries, sneak glances at the rotating guard schedule. Good. He's not stupid enough to tell Jacob his real plan. Just his favorite fantasy.

Jacob brings his hand to his face and rubs his mouth. "After. After I bleed out." He doesn't take his eyes off Pratt as his eyes rise from the floor to Jacob's face— first his finger perched on his lips, then to his eyes. He looks frightened, but not in the way he was at first. He doesn't look frightened of Jacob himself. More like he's frightened of his own thoughts, his own desires.

The thought has delight curling in Jacob's stomach.

"Yes," Pratt husks. "Yes, I have things to… to say."

An honest to God smile pulls up the corner of his mouth. Jacob is careful to cover it with his hand. "Like what?"

After a moment, Pratt says, "I guess you'll have to find out," his muscles tense like he's ready to bolt.

Jacob's smile widens into a grin. He fucking laughs. "Guess I will, Peaches," he croons, as he taps his finger to his lips, just once. "When you get the guts to dig in the knife, I guess I will." He hesitates, smile fading, then prompts, "Show me how you'd do it."

Pratt's jaw closes so tightly the muscle visibly flexes. Controlling himself, his gut reaction, but right after he does, he pries his mouth open and chokes out, "How I'd—?"

"Kill me," Jacob finishes for him, as he stands and comes around his desk. His arms fall to his sides, while Pratt's come up to his chest defensively. Jacob only hums and tugs his desk's metal chair into the center of the room. Over the old blood stain. "Come here."

He waits until Pratt steps forward to sit, then unsheathes his hunting knife from its holster on his thigh and offers it over his shoulder without looking.

Pratt hesitates for a heartbeat, then all at once swipes the knife from Jacob and presses it near instantly to his throat. Not hard, though— he'll need to press harder to kill Jacob.

But he never will.

Of course he won't. Jacob knows Pratt, and he won't. He'll never kill Jacob. He doesn't have it in him.

That's why he's never done it before when shaving Jacob. That's why he didn't do it in front of the Deputy. That's why he won't do it now. That's why it's only something Pratt thinks about late at night, lying on the dirt in a cage outside, when nightmares keep him awake.

Pratt takes a shuddering breath. Jacob tips his chin up in offering. He pulls the knife in toward him, and there's just enough bite to tell Jacob that Pratt actually managed to nick him. Warmth trickles down through the stubble on his throat and settles in the dip of his collarbone.

Jacob clucks. "Not a bad spot, if you'd actually make the slice." He grabs hold of Pratt's wrist and yanks the blade up his throat— hard enough that he can feel the skin go red and irritated, with blood vessels burst just under his first layer of skin. Pratt's hand trembles under his, flutters around the knife handle. "But you won't have any time to whine and cry at me if you get my artery. You'd have to cut…" he trails off for a moment while he guides Pratt's hand through the killing motion, glides the knife oh-so-gently across his vulnerable throat. "Just here if you want time to watch the light leave my eyes, Peaches."

Pratt's breath hitches audibly. Jacob adds, "Would even leave me the air to give you a little conversation, if you like." When there's no response, Jacob drops his hand to his lap and prompts, "Your turn, Pratt. Make the fucking cut."

Pratt still doesn't speak. Jacob insists, "Escape. Don't you want to? Don't you want to crawl to the Whitetails, beg and plead them to help you now that you've killed the Big Bad Wolf?"

The knife rocks against his throat as Pratt readjusts his grip. There's more pressure against his skin for just a moment, almost enough to make him bleed again, and then Pratt lifts the blade away from him, drops it to the floor, and steps back.

Jacob lets Pratt feel the silence for a few heartbeats. Then he stands, retrieves his knife, and straightens his back to look at Pratt. He doesn't smile this time, just steps forward to Pratt's figure, still as stone, and gently pinches his jaw between his thumb and first two fingers.

He doesn't speak until Pratt's damp eyes rise to meet his.

"You understand, don't you?" he murmurs. "You're a smart boy." Pratt nods, jerky as if he's controlled by broken machinery. Jacob strokes his jaw with the tip of his pointer finger. "Good. You're mine. And nobody else in this county— no Whitetail, no Hope County Cougar, no piece of their Resistance— is ever going to take care of you the way I do."

They breathe together for a few moments. Pratt's eyes have fallen shut, though tears still glisten at the corners and along his lashes. Jacob thinks absently how he wants to make Pratt cry until there's no more tears left in him— until there's no horror left worse than anything he's already felt.

"There's nothing for you out there," Jacob says. Promises. Reassures. "There's only me."

Pratt doesn't say a word, but Jacob hears him all the same:

Only you.

Jacob lingers. Strokes his thumb over Pratt's lip.

Pratt opens his eyes at the sensation, stares up with those wide brown eyes— Jacob exhales softly and sinks down to press their lips together. Slides his thumb out of the way just in time, drags the corner of Pratt's mouth down as he slots their lips together. Pratt's breath shakes out of him. Jacob swallows it up.

"Staci," he murmurs, and clenches his hands on Pratt's hip and the back of his neck when he shudders in response. Jacob holds him steady, no longer kissing him, though their lips still brush. He doesn't move. He waits for Pratt.

Who takes one more halted, shivery breath, then steps abruptly back from Jacob. He dips his head to escape Jacob's hold on his neck, then just stands there, three feet from him. Jacob hums. Runs his hand over his beard and rubs his knuckle into his chin. "Staci," he repeats, and it instantly draws Pratt's eyes to his— Jacob's never used his first name until now, and it's having just the effect Jacob hoped it would. He holds his gaze and doesn't move closer. Lets Pratt keep his distance. "We're all we can rely on. That's why we cull the herd. That's why we need to train them."

Pratt stares at him. Jacob can see the cogs turning in his mind. Can see him grinding up the we, trying to process it. Make it digestible.

"Together," Jacob adds, without looking away. After a moment, he steps forward, pats Pratt's cheek, then steps to the door and twists the handle. "Bring me a report on the Bliss supplies by ten. See you tonight, Peaches."

Alone in Jacob's bedroom, Staci brushes his middle finger over the developing scar on his right cheek. He follows it down to his mouth, and presses his first knuckle to his lips.

Staci, Jacob says in his mind, Together.

#stacijacob #fc5 #staci pratt #jacob seed #my fic #had tons of fun writing this ngl i missed them so so much

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joeyjoeylee · 3 years

Note

Hey :) can't wait for the final chapter of "both sides of the law"... do you know when do you plan to release it?

( No pressure 😬 )

Hi Anon, this is really nice, thank you! I'm back on my usual bullshit re: angst over word count yada yada yada substantially complete but edit! needed! blah blah, etc. Best case scenario with the holiday weekend I'd say Monday but more realistic scenario (lol) later next week! (Completely pessimistic scenario - I'll tinker with it forever, finger hovering over but never actually pushing the post button.)

In penance for blowing yet another deadline and because I have missed tags for the last couple WIPs tag games - I'm gonna kill two birds with one stone AND also include a snippet (but under a thingie for mild spoilers/sheer ridiculous length).

“Who’d the judge appoint to represent Eddie?” he asked, concentrating on spearing a piece of fish with the end of his chopstick. These little fuckers were so slippery sometimes.

“One of the best litigators in Detroit, even if his practice isn’t primarily criminal,” Gretchen answered, after a pause.

He looked up and made an impatient keep going motion with his chopstick when she paused again. Gretchen actually had the nerve to wince at that as though he was flinging rice all over her pristine oak desk.

She didn’t say anything. Just kept regarding him thoughtfully, in a way he recognized was her trying to figure out the best way to proceed – to try to manage him.

Finally, she closed her eyes for a long moment in resignation, put-upon and martyred, as if this all was just going to be so so very difficult.

“Eugene Katz,” she said at last.

For a second, Rio couldn’t place the name or why Gretchen would say it with such a long-suffering sigh, like she was bracing herself for a reaction from him that was going to be nothing but unreasonable.

Then.

Eugene…Katz?

Katz?

Professor Fucking Katz?

He dropped his chopsticks with a clatter, earning him another wince, and sat back in his seat incredulous.

“You ain’t actually being serious right now, Gretch –” he began, scowling, but she cut him off immediately.

“I know, I know, you had him at school – me too, by the way – and you think he is quote ‘crazy’ unquote, but the fact remains that he’s been litigating almost as long as we’ve been alive. Yes, his practice is predominantly family law but you can’t run a small litigation firm for 30 years without doing your fair share of criminal and personal injury work too.”

He was still shaking his head no. Violently. No. No.

Gretchen narrowed her eyes at him. Then she steepled her fingers together and sat back in her own chair to do battle.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she mocked, pointedly, “I thought we had agreed these kinds of decisions were my department? No?”

Rio ground his teeth. She was right and he hated that.

He’d learned to defer to Gretchen’s expertise and counsel on issues like this. She was the one over at the courthouse every other day, the one who was vice-chair of the Criminal Law section of the Wayne County Bar Association, the one with all the connections with the criminal defense bar, not to mention the prosecutors, the bailiffs, the sheriff’s deputies.

Still, it annoyed the shit out of him to concede to her on this, especially since Gretchen knew exactly how he felt about that lunatic. So even though he already knew he was probably going to end up agreeing, he still made her work for it.

“Yeah?” he lounged back even further in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach, “well, convince me then, Counselor. Lay out your case.”

Gretchen sighed dramatically. Then started to tick off the reasons one by one on her manicured fingers.

“First, it’s not like this is going to difficult for him, the prosecution’s case is mostly circumstantial and it’s just a simple possession charge, a felony, yes, but the most baby felony of felonies,” she held up her index finger for Reason 1, “next, your unreasonable prejudices notwithstanding,” she dropped her index finger and held up her middle finger – Reason 2 – then held it aloft alone for just a beat too long until he snorted, “we wouldn’t be able to find anyone better connected. His ex-law partner from back in the day is Judge Cuccinelli and Judge Berry worked as his associate 20 years ago – they’re both on the bench over there now. And he’s taught at least half the rest of the judges on that court at one time or another, either at school or in continuing legal education classes.”

Rio rolled his eyes. All that all of that proved, in his opinion, was the very sad state of the Wayne County judiciary.

“And Reason 3 – the most important one – juries love him.”

He sighed and shook his head again, but without the heat from before.

“Rio, Eddie’ll be fine, trust me. And it’s not like I’m not going to be involved,” Gretchen’s tone had switched to sweet and conciliatory now that she sensed victory in her grasp, “I’m drafting up a joint defense agreement to be couriered over to his office. We can share thoughts and strategies and still maintain the appearance of separation between our respective clients.”

He knew he’d lost by then but he had to get one last dig in.

“You sure he can handle the workload, Gretch? Ain’t gonna drop dead before we get to trial? He gotta be 100 years old by now.”

It was Gretchen’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Exaggerate much? He can’t be more than 65 or so, and from what I’ve seen in court, still well in possession of all his mental faculties.”

That was a very low bar in his opinion, but he let it go.

Gretchen tilted her head, then leaned forward and put both elbows on her desk.

“Besides,” she said, and it seemed to him that suddenly she was watching him intently, “he won’t be handling it alone. He’s hired a new associate.”

Rio picked his chopsticks and bent back over to concentrate on wrangling his sushi again. He had already exhausted what little interest he’d ever had in talking about Professor Katz.

He expected Gretchen to keep on with her nagging and lecturing and low-key gloating about getting her way.

But there was only silence.

He looked back up to find her watching him still, her chin now resting on one hand.

She looked expectant.

“I bet you’ll never guess who it is,” Gretchen prompted. Her voice sounded a little odd to him. Almost gentle somehow?

Rio shrugged. That was a good bet on her part. It wasn’t like he gave a shit any which way, other than the passing thought of God help the poor little bastard who was going to be working for that lunatic.

Gretchen still didn’t say nothing. Just kept regarding him thoughtfully.

Damn, she could be so dramatic.

“Well, I’m definitely dyin’ of suspense over here now, Gretch,” he told her sarcastically, “so tell me – who?”

She was watching him so carefully, with such laser focus, that the second before she said the name, he knew who it was going to be and he almost, just almost, had time to brace himself before –

“Beth Boland.”

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peaxhcringe · 4 years

Text

A School Reunion

A/n: This was requested by @cutiekawa, but my dumbass accidentally answered it privately instead of saving it to my draft so I kinda...lost the ask...but thankfully I saved the prompt (sorta) in google docs. I really hope you like it Val, and I made sure to make it longer due to the long wait so enjoy! (also thank you for being so patient)

Tags/Warnings: Fingering, hair pulling, slight choking

Words Count: 2k

Prompts used: #19 from NSFW and #10 from Angst for Iwaizumi

This post is a part of my 200 follower event and my request for it are currently open.

*Smut under the cut*

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

Right now you were supposed to be on a lovely date to celebrate your one year anniversary with your boyfriend Iwaizumi, but instead, you stood in the old Seijoh gym leaning against a table watching as everyone met for a school reunion. You didn’t mind meeting the team again, you used to be the manager for them back in high school, that’s actually how you two had met, but you didn’t want to spend your night in a stuffy gym filled with a bunch of random people.

“Y/n!” “What’s up!”

Your eyes shifted from the bright red punch you held in your hand to see 2 of your old friends walking up to, two large smiles on their faces. You felt a bit awkward wearing an f/c dress while almost everyone else, besides your boyfriend, was dressed in casual clothing. With a sigh, you smiled, removing a hand from the clear cup and waving it at the two women walking up to you.

“Hey,” You greet sweetly, letting your hand wrap back around the cup

“So how have you and Iwaizumi been?” One of the girls asks, turning her gaze from you to the punch bowl behind you

“Pretty good, today’s our 3 years anniversary” You answer, lifting your cup to lips before mumbling out “and we are supposed to be on a date”

Your eyes wavered up towards Iwaizumi, watching as he talked to Oikawa about god knows what, a soft laugh rumbling through your chest as you watch Iwaizumi lift up a hand and smack the back of Oikawa’s head and whine leaving Oikawa’s mouth as he looked up at him.

“How’s the sex life?”

The question leaves your face pale and your eyes wide, the drink that was once in your mouth is now back in your cup and some of it on your dress as you stare at the floor.

“Yeah, is he better than your ex?” The other girl chimes in

“E-Excuse me?” You stutter, your head turning towards the two men that stood side by side, both of them laughing as you stare at them in awe

Both Iwaizumi and Oikawa both run over to you as you cough, the surprise of the question making you choke a bit on your drink.

“You okay Y/n?” Iwaizumi asks, his hand finding its way onto your shoulder

You nod, before coughing a few more times before finally standing up straight up again, the laugh of the two women still rising in your ear. You glare at the both of them as you grab a couple of napkins from the table and wipe off the top of your dress that got drenched from the drink.

“For your information my sex life is none of you business” You reply, tossing the wet napkins into the trash can next to you, and brushing off your dress

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen as you speak, a soft pink tint crossing his face as he looks from you to the two women standing next to you, both of them trying their best to not laugh their asses off.

“Ah, so the ex was better,” One of the girls says, a smirk on her face as she glances to Iwaizumi, who had quite the shocked looked on his face

You roll your eyes as your turn from her and toss your cup into the trash, already wanting this conversation to be over.

“Yeah totally” You answer sarcastically, everyone around knowing it was a joke, other than Iwaizumi who was now staring at you, a dark look in his eyes as you began to move away from the table

The car ride home was silent, the music not even breaking the hint of tension the grew in the car the longer the both of you remain in it. Your hands laid in your lap, fingers fiddling with each other as street lights buzzed passed by you. It felt like hours before you made it home, a smile growing on your face as you stepped out of the car and went into your shared apartment, the sweet smell of the vanilla filling your nose from the candle you had lit earlier. The room feels quiet, save for the soft clatter of the shoes being placed near the doorway, your eyes focused on the tile floor in front of you. The sharp slam of the door closing behind you making you jump, your head turning to look towards Iwaizumi, but not before one of his large hands place themselves in your hair

“Get on your knees”

His breath is warm against the back of your neck, his voice rumbling against you back as he pulls you just a bit closer.

“W-We’re in the f-foyer” You reply, glancing at the man behind you

“Now”

You gulp, briefly nodding, before slowly lowering yourself on the hard floor, the titles just slightly digging into your skin. Your heart began beating in your chest as you heard his footsteps move behind you before his frame towered over you. The hand in your hair pulling your head back so you could look up at him. His eyes were dark, no longer the soft brown, a scroll written on his face as he stared down at you.

“Now,” Iwaizumi began, his hand moved further into your hair, taking a large chunk and pulling harshly, your head getting thrown back for the force.

A soft whine left your lips as you looked up at him, one of your hands shooting up to his arm, gripping his forearm tightly as he clutched your hair tighter, pulling your head further back as he stood up from his crouched position.

“Say it to my face”

His words made your already warm face turn hot, embarrassment flowing through you as you looked up at him. The words you had spoken to your friend earlier was only a joke, nothing to be taken seriously, but it seemed like Iwaizumi didn’t get that hint.

“H-Hajime” You spoke breathlessly, the air in the room feeling thick and hot as the two of stared at each other

A smirk crosses his face as you speak, his empty hand moving from the spot on his hip to your throat resting his hand against it as he leans forward. Another whine escaped your mouth as Iwaizumi knelt down in front of you, his hand on your throat tightening its grip as he pulled you closer, your nose brushing against his. His soft lips placed a gentle kiss at the corner of your lips, before moving down to your jaw, trailing kisses further down to your collarbone.

“H-Haji-”

“Say it” He spoke against your throat, cutting you off

Your hand gripped his shirt, pulling him closer as a moan left your lips, your body burning to be touched.

“Come on, don’t be shy, you didn’t mind saying it in front of everyone”

Your eyes closed as his warm breath blew against you, your skin feeling as if it was on fire. The grip on shirt tightened as he slowly loosened his grip on your hair, his hand falling from your head down to chest, letting his fingers move carefully over your breast and down to the hem of your dress. His calloused fingers running against the soft skin of your thigh, before moving underneath your dress, the hem now barely covering the front of your underwear. A gasp left your mouth when one of his fingers pressed on the growing wet spot, your hips grinding against his hand.

“Look at that,” Iwaizumi spoke, his words vibrating against your shoulder as he pulled your underwear to the side “you’re already so nice and wet for me and all I’ve done is put you on your knees”

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest as he inserted a finger in your cunt, a quiet moan leaving your lips as he slowly pumped it in and out of you. Iwaizumi watched his finger, a smirk on his face as he watched your wetness stick to his finger, before adding a second.

“H-Hajime”

Your hand shot down holding onto his wrist, not tight enough to stop any movement, but just enough to ground yourself. Your hips ground against his hand as he slowly curled his fingers, the tips hitting that perfect spot. Your skin felt on the fire, the tight fabric of dress feeling so suffocating every time he curled his fingers oh so perfectly. Your mind felt hazy as a knot began to form in your stomach, his thumb finding its way to clit, pressing against the sensitive bud as he continued to pump his fingers.

“I-I’m close” You breathed out, your body leaning forward as your lips connected with his collarbone, placing soft kisses along the skin

Iwaizumi quickened his pace, the palm his hand perfectly hit your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your grip on both his shirt and wrist tightened as moans began to flow past your lips, vibrating against his neck, soft groans leaving his mouth. A chuckle rumbled through his chest before his movements stopped abruptly, a sharp whine tumbling out of your lips as you tried to move against him.

“Say it” Iwaiumi began, his breath tickling your ear “to my face”

His lips pressed a kiss to the lobe of your ear, before his hand around your neck tightened, pulling your face out of his neck, your eyes meeting his.

“H-Hajime...please” You begged, your hips trying to move against his hand trying to feel any sort of relief, the knot in your stomach slowly fading

You watch as he chuckles, a smile growing on his face as he watches you move against him.

“Come on sweetheart, just say it” Iwaizumi spoke, his fingers slowly moving out of your dripping cunt “Just tell me what you told everyone else”

A groan left your mouth as you begin to feel the emptiness, your hands gripping his shirt tightly. The last shred of dignity you had did not allow you to say the words to him, they weren’t that bad, but the embarrassment filled you as you thought about them. His fingers finally dipped out of your cunt, the knot almost gone as his now wet fingers found their way to your face, his hand gripping your cheek as you looked up at him, teary-eyed.

“M-My ex i-is bet-better than y-you”

A dark laugh filled your ears as his hand left your throat, his other hand leaving your cheeks as he began to stand up. You whine, your hands trying to hold onto his shirt only for Iwaizumi to gently push your hands off.

“Good girl” Iwaizumi spoke, a smile on his face as he stood up, his eyes staring down at you

He took in your pitiful face, tears lingering in your eyes, and flushed cheeks as your thighs pressed together tightly, trying to get some type of friction. Your hands rested in your lap, trying your best to not just take care of yourself since it was made clear Iwaizumi wasn’t going to help you.

“3 minutes, on the bed, and naked” He spoke clearly, his body turning from you as he walked towards the kitchen, his footsteps disappearing further into the house

A sigh of relief left your mouth as you quickly stood up, your legs almost giving out from the numbness of resting on them for so long. You dusted your legs off before finally stepping out of the foyer, your feet feeling the soft plush of the carpet underneath you as you make your way upstairs. As you enter your room you check the time, 1 minute, your hands were quick to unzip the f/c dress letting it fall softly against the floor before you laid yourself on the large mattress. Your body froze as you heard Iwaizumi’s heavy footsteps make their way up the stairs, your heart racing as his figure stepped into the door. As he stepped in he spoke 3 simple words, sending your body into a frenzy,

“On your knees”

#haikyuu smut #iwaizumi smut #peaxhcringe 200 event #beth answers ✍️#iwaizumi x reader #beth's moots 🥰#beth requests✨#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #Iwaizumi Haijime #iwaizumi hcs

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basically-i-write-shit · 3 years

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“No no, I’m not interested in your friends. I want you. Give yourself over, and they’ll be safe.” annnnd... have you written Osamu x Yama at all yet? UshiYama, if you aren't feeling OsaYama. Omegaverse, if you like?

ahhhh I got an osayama prompt before I watched season 4 and then my drafts glitched and deleted before I could actually write it ;-;

Mafia prompts

One of the perks of having an onigiri shop as a front for your brother’s gang is the fact that no one knows it’s a front- which means, occasionally, when a member of a rival gang comes in, Osamu gets free intel. No one suspects the poor overworked cook/waiter to be listening in on your business.

It’s not honest work, but it sure is fun. And this way, Osamu doesn’t have to directly get his hands dirty. His brothers’ men do all the hard stuff. Which gives Osamu the time to flirt with the pretty omegas that come through and not have to worry about telling them what his job is- his job is here, at his shop. Being a good cook is always a hit with omegas. However, as of late a certain omega has been coming in that fulfils more than just his instinctual needs.

The bell at the door rings, but Osamu already knows without looking who’s there- the sweet, enticing scent of candied fruit and raw pastry dough reaches Osamu’s nose before he even turns around.

“Welcome back, Yamaguchi-kun. The usual?”

“Ah, not the boys’ order today, actually. Just me.” Yamaguchi says with a shy smile, sliding into one of the hightops nearest the window peering into the kitchen. He smooths down his skirt as he sits, fidgeting with his phone as Osamu turns back to the kitchen, smiling at him through the window.

“The boys already eat tonight?”

‘The boys,’ being Yamaguchi’s ‘roommates,’ usually ordered from Onigiri Miya every now and again, and Yamaguchi always came to grab it. They’d been doing this for nearly 8 months, and in that time it’s become glaringly obvious that Yamaguchi was in some way involved with one of ‘Tsumu’s rivals, the Karasuno Crows. How involved was still somewhat a mystery, because sometimes he came in covered in bruises and cuts and other times just fine, almost always well-dressed and never once acting secretive; in fact, Yamaguchi is always quite open with Osamu and talks with him like an old friend every time he comes to visit. He tells Osamu about his ‘boys,’ Kei, Tobio, and Shouyou, and asks about the shop. Talks about work and the weather, and nosy neighborhood aunties who always want to know how he got such a dark bruise, and “thank you so much for not asking, Osamu-san, I just don’t know if I’ll ever be okay talking about it so openly.”

“Yes, that, and I’m also going straight back to work after I eat. It’s a...rush season, for my job, and we’re pretty understaffed at the moment so I’ve been there all day working.”

“My my, all day? It’s almost 9:00 Yamaguchi-kun. When will ya be goin’ home for the night?”

“Ah, probably around midnight or so...The poor guys, they’ve been in the same boat as me- I haven’t seen them in what feels like ages,” Yamaguchi says, pouting, and Osamu chuckles as he rounds the corner with Yamaguchi’s usual order. He sets it on the table before sliding into the chair across from Yamaguchi; he leans against his palms, smiling when Yamaguchi cocks his head to the side, confused. “You don’t have anything to do around the shop? You close soon, don’t you?”

“I mean, I suppose I do, but I can spare a few minutes t’ chat with my favorite customer while he eats,” Osamu teases ever-so-slightly, and he grins wider when Yamaguchi’s cheeks turn pink. It’s true that it’s a bit odd, him doing this, since he’s almost always kept their conversation distanced between a counter or the kitchen window, but he’s feeling a bit adventurous tonight. And Something tells him this is a good idea. Maybe it’s the faint scent of pre-heat on an already stressed Yamaguchi, or maybe it’s just the fact that he looks almost delectable in that short little skirt, but Osamu wants to be close to him. “Is that all that bad?”

“N- Not at all, I just didn’t want to keep you,” Yamaguchi says gently. “How was it, today?”

“Ah. not too busy but it's a Sunday, so not a lot of people are goin’ out.”

“Must be pretty boring sitting here all day every day, huh?”

“No, not really,” Osamu hums, watching as Yamaguchi begins to dig in, looking very much like a starving prisoner with how quickly he devours the first onigiri. “I suppose some days get repetitive, but there’s never a dull day here.”

And that’s the truth. The shop doesn’t get a lot of traffic, so Atsumu or one of his men are usually hanging around- or stumbling in the kitchen, mortally wounded and needing a desperate healing from a barely-first aid certified Osamu.

“Sorry, still sounds pretty boring to me- if I’m not moving all the time, I get pretty antsy.” Yamaguchi says, still stuffing his mouth. Osamu laughs.

“I can tell. Ya’d probably be bored if ya were a housewife or somethin’,”

“Oh, definitely.” Yamaguchi says. He finishes his meal, hopping down from the hightop with a little puff of his skirt. He slaps money on the table, collecting his things. “Thank you for the meal, Osamu-san, but I need to get back to work. I’ll see you around.”

And, call him stupid, but something tells Osamu not to let him go alone. “W- Wait! Why won’t I walk ya back to yer office?”

Yamaguchi seems to hesitate, his brows furrowing as he searches Osamu’s face.

“...Don’t you have to be at the shop?”

“It’s almost close, and one of the waiters is still here- I’d hate to let an omega walk alone so late, even if I know he c’n talk himself.” Osamu insists, throwing one of his signature smirks Yamaguchi’s way, and he can see the omega’s resolve melting. Yamaguchi sighs.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. It’s not far from here, actually,” Yamaguchi says, turning towards the door. Osamu scrambles to follow, throwing his apron over the back counter and shouting to the back that he’s taking a smoke break, despite the fact that he hasn’t smoked a day in his life and Aran wouldn’t care either way where he went-

Osamu makes conversation with Yamaguchi as they walk, the dim streetlights illuminating Yamaguchi’s curves, and in the near darkness his scent sticks out above all else, distracting Osamu ever the slightest. He doesn’t even notice they’re in the middle of Karasuno territory, even though he should’ve figured they would be, since Yamaguchi works for Karasuno. It isn’t until he’s yawning, stretching his arm over his head, that he realizes he’s maybe made a bad decision-

“Osamu-san, is that a tattoo? I wanna see,” Yamaguchi says, and suddenly there’s a hand on his arm, holding it in place as another hand lifts the sleeve of his teeshirt to get a better look at the logo printed on Osamu’s shoulder. Osamu freezes, his eyes widening, and the only thought in his mind is, “Oh god, Tsumu’s gonna kill me.”

“I- uh- it is, but it’s-”

“...Your shop, it’s a front, isn’t it, Osamu-san?” Yamaguchi asks, his voice low, and his grip tightens impossibly on Osamu’s forearm. Osamu tries to wrench his arm away, to grab Yamaguchi by the hair and drag him off before he can make a fuss, but it’s useless. Yamaguchi is deceptively strong for an omega. “Answer me, Osamu-san. Your shop, it’s a front, yeah? You have gang members hang around, and launder money from your shop?”

“I- I don’t know what yer talking about, Yamaguchi-kun.”

“Right, right...” Yamaguchi murmurs, reaching behind him, and Osamu’s heart hammers in his chest when he sees Yamaguchi pull out a pistol. “Y’know, Samu, I don’t like liars. I thought we had a little thing going...”

“W- We did?”

“Of course. We’ve been flirting ever since I first came in, didn’t you get the hints?.,Hmph, no matter now. You’re not telling me the truth, and that hurts my feelings, Samu. I’m sure my boys would tell you how much I hate being lied to, though I don’t think now you’ll get to meet them.”

The tip of the gun slides up Osamu’s chest, up his neck, and Osamu shivers. There’s a reason he works in the shop and doesn’t do any of the dirty work- and this is the exact reason he doesn’t. Fear makes people do some crazy things, and Osamu’s pretty damn scared right now.

Even still, he won’t sell out his brother. “I’m not gonna tell ya shit about what does or doesn’t happen at my shop. What I do is perfectly legal.”

“But what your brother, Miya Atsumu, does isn’t. Isn’t that right?”

Osamu gulps, shuddering when he feels the cool metal of the pistol press against his adam’s apple. “I don’t know what yer talkin’ about. Leave him out of this, leave- leave everyone out of this-”

“No no, I’m not interested in your friends,” Yamaguchi says, laughing, and Osamu’s mouth falls shut with an audible click. Yamaguchi leans forward, catching Osamu’s chin in his free hand, the other still holding the gun to the junction of his chin and neck. “I want you. Give yourself over, and they’ll be safe.”

Osamu swallows again, his breath thick and shuddering. He can’t believe this is happening. He’s being overpowered and threatened by an omega. What the hell. But he thinks back to Atsumu, and the empire he’s building, and he can’t let that be ruined, can’t let their cover be blown, and so he nods.

“...Fine. You have me. But I can’t stay forever, I have a shop to run.”

Yamaguchi grins. “We’ll work something out.”

#haikyuu!!#osayama #yamaguchi tadashi #miya osamu #osamu miya #tadashi yamaguchi #omegaverse #mafia au #alpha/beta/omega #alpha/beta/omegaverse #alpha!osamu #omega!yamaguchi #omegaverse dynamics

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