#this is my last fic for a while actually I have 0 ideas left for now and I need to claw back my free time for other projects | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

splintered-emotions · 2 years

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I posted 10,596 times in 2022

That's 8,343 more posts than 2021!

51 posts created (0%)

10,545 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/dingdongyouarewrong

@beenovel

@shurisneakers

@merisscatteredbooknook

@blueberryrock

I tagged 3,883 of my posts in 2022

#star wars - 447 posts

#that fanart tho - 395 posts

#marvel - 365 posts

#dsmp - 336 posts

#words - 236 posts

#lotr - 219 posts

#tiktok - 185 posts

#stranger things - 183 posts

#amazing art - 143 posts

#fic rec - 115 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and the admin wouldn’t fucking switch them out of that class despite the toll it was taking on their mental health free time and other class

My Top Posts in 2022:

French Onion, Broccoli Cheddar, and Pho soup :)

French Onion - Who is your favorite author(s)?

there's honestly so many so i'm just gonna name a few:

@jackdaw-kraai with his wonderful Guides

@irndad and the tasm!peter fics

@yellow-feathered-faerie who i really must work on that Mandis fic with eventually

chancecraz on ao3 and their time travel star wars fics

and of course, you

Broccoli Cheddar - What was your inspiration for this wip

this is honestly an odd inspiration but i had an absolutely terrible math teacher last year who used to give the most difficult tests and during winter break, while i was cramming for the 3 tests we had in the three weeks after it, i convinced my mom to rewatch the hobbit with me, and a few days later, at like 1 in the morning, i just started typing up Transported and here we are

Pho - Describe your ideal writing set up

i think i'd have to say like music (probably The Amazing Devil because it makes my brain go brr) playing in the background, my laptop charged and not trying to burst into flames, discord open on the side to share snippets and just talk, and me actually having the time to sit down and write without any interruptions

13 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

Hello! If Lotr/The Hobbit requests are open, I hope it's alright that I request one ;-;

Could you please do something about a Reader who was Merry and Pippin's best friend when they were really little kids but they left Middle Earth somehow. But now that they're adults, she gets back to the Shire and now she's a kickass blacksmith who is still really witty and comforting with them and it's a really sweet and wholesome reunion? You can either do Polyamory or Merry x Reader if that's not your thing. I think Merry would be the most likely to get a crush on a human blacksmith reader with big muscles because he strikes me as the kinda guy who'd like Tomboys

I also have this hilarious idea of, since the Reader is human, Pippin finds out that she became an adult at 18 and he's so jealous because she's officially an adult and he's not lmao. Thanks so so much, I hope you're doing well hun! Keep being awesome!!

okay i finally finished it! this may have taken a slightly different route than you were expecting but i hope you like it regardless!

As I looked upon them for the first time in what seemed like a decade, our time spent together in my childhood and their tweens came rushing back, almost flashing before my eyes. The summers spent stealing from Old Farmer Maggot and hanging out at various hobbit parties that I clearly wasn’t invited to were reminiscent of a much different time.

It had been prior to I had been apprenticed to the only blacksmith near Hobbiton and Merry was forced off to visit some relatives or another for months on end, leaving us with no time to see each other, let alone act upon the last things that we said to each other. Although it sometimes seemed like it had been just yesterday when our relationship began to split from the almost something that it had become, but given the new signs of maturity on his face and the burn scars on my hands, it was clear it had been far longer than either of us expected.

Pippin stood next to his cousin, looking between the two of us as we refused to say anything while we took in the differences in each other’s appearance. I had certainly changed far more than Merry, given the fact that blacksmithing required a lot of strength, far more than I had had last time I had seen either of them. The buff female blacksmith had very little similarities to the teenage girl that had never worked a day in her life.

I suppose if I had known how much muscle I would have to build up to truly become good at making even the simple things that hobbits nearby required, I would have thought twice before deciding on this. But now wasn’t the time to rethink the decisions that I had made for my life. Now, I needed to figure out how to begin a conversation with a figure from my not too distant past.

“So,” I said, not entirely thinking through the rest of my sentence just yet. “Have fun with the Tooks?” Oh fuck that was terrible. I was a fool and I would never speak again.

“Yes.” Thank the Valar, he was just as awkward as I was. “And how is your apprenticeship going?”

I could almost see the wince as he finished speaking. We had to break this ridiculous tension somehow. There had to be some way to talk beyond just standing here awkwardly as Pippin looked on. “I kinda finished that a couple summers ago. My master passed on the shop to me once I was done and left to apparently go adventuring. Imagine a 60 year old man going across Arda in search of adventure. Although I suppose with Bilbo, you don’t really have to.”

He seemed more at ease with this topic, immediately replying, “I’m not convinced he truly went. The Mad Baggins was apparently quite tame before he left the Shire.”

“I don’t believe that. That pipeweed smoking hobbit would have jumped at the chance to do it. Although his stories did speak of some hesitation.”

“A Took could never pass up the chance,” interjected Pippin. “I guarantee that any one of our cousins would enjoy it.”

“But Bilbo isn’t a Took. He’s a Baggins. Baggins never do things like that,” stated Merry.

“I thought he was half Took. So there would have been an equal chance of doing it.” I took a breath before saying, “Either way, I assume you didn’t come here to discuss whether or not BIlbo actually bested Smaug, chiefest and greatest of calamities. What did you need?”

The sudden change in topic seemed to lower the energy in the room, but I could see Lobelia Sackville Baggins coming closer so I needed it to look like I was running a “proper establishment” before she decided to enter. This decision wasn’t driven by a sense of urgency, but rather an urge to escape a lecture before she hands me her frying pan to be fixed again after banging on Bilbo’s door again for an hour.

Pippin started, “Oh! I believe that—”

“Frodo asked us to stop by to inquire after a frying pan that was sent to be mended a few days ago. Would you perhaps have it currently ready?” That was oddly stiff in its phrasing. Did he think I was trying to get him out of the shop? Or did he know that Lobelia, the bane of my existence, was approaching?

“I think it’s back here somewhere. Although I think I need another day to fully work on it.” Okay, this was my chance. I could ask. After years of not seeing him, we could finally have a chance at what we had both wanted. “I needed to take a couple days off for my birthday a week ago and the new responsibilities that have been dumped on me have been ridiculous. They don’t tell you that when you legally become an adult, but anyways, I could meet up with you sometime tomorrow to drop it off. If you wanted to do so of course.”

“Sure, but—”

“You’re an adult?” Pippin asked. “But I’m older than you and I’m still a tween.”

“You’d hate being an adult. You have to do taxes and stuff and you can’t just spend the entire day hanging out with friends.”

“Yes, but it’s about the principle of the matter. I am 5 years older than you and yet I’m not even of age.”

“That’s your loss for being born a hobbit. I however can do adult things and buy a pint without my cousin chaperoning me.”

“Regardless,” Merry interjected. “I believe that I shall be free at around noon tomorrow, so would you like to meet under the party tree?”

“Uh, yes of course. I’ll have it done by tomorrow. As long as Lobelia doesn’t have anything new to bring me.”

“Good then. Well I suppose we shall continue this fruitful discussion tomorrow.” At Pippin’s newly open mouth, he continued, “Alone.”

“Yes. Now shoo. She’s coming in and I don’t want to have to pretend like I’m just a blacksmith in front of you too.”

“We will be back!”

See the full post

21 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

i fucking watched the new doctor strange movie and i'm so close to just rambling about the bits of marvel that i hate and the reasons why

24 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

Can I get “that dance, that they did today? it kinda reminded me of when we…” with a pairing of you choice 🥺?

Also makes sure to eat and drink water 🔫

okay so this ended up being a tasm!peter parker x gn!reader fic because i had an Idea so here. also it's kinda implied desi!reader, but it can really be read any way.

also you better do the same 🔫

the link to the dance which i mention is here

Finals were over. My bed was calling my name as I walked back from the horrid chem exam that had caused far too many all-nighteres in an attempt to memorize all of the ions and their charges as well as the formulas that we had learnt only a couple weeks ago.

But now, I could sleep for as long as I wanted until I had to start packing everything. Which was not until tomorrow because the dorms were supposed to be cleared out by next Friday. That left at least 18 hours that I could use to conk out if I wanted to wake up by about 9am tomorrow.

Unfortunately, or perhaps very fortunately, my plan was thrown away as soon as I saw Peter sitting on the stairs in front of the building, playing on his phone. “Did your ethics final finish up early? I thought you were supposed to be out by 4 at the earliest.”

“Kenobi cancelled it. Something about his nephew getting sick.”

“Well that leaves plenty of time for our must watch movie marathon we had planned a couple weeks ago.”

“Wasn’t that supposed to be during packing? So then if it gets far too cheesy, we could distract ourselves with loading up some of the boxes?”

“Yes, but I found out one of the ones I used to watch with my friends recently came back onto Netflix. And because I couldn’t find it literally anywhere else without having to pay an extravagant amount of money for one movie, we’re going to enjoy the experience of this movie without the need for literally anything else. Other than snacks.”

“Of course we would have snacks. Why was that ever in question?”

“With your appetite, it never should be.”

“Hey, you know that’s because of the spider bite.”

“Like you didn’t come over to my house and eat half of my snacks alongside your own when we were in middle school.”

“Well, sixth period P.E. for all three years causes a person to get a bit hungry after school.”

“And that doesn’t explain the time that we went to Build-A-Bear and you told me you wanted to eat a bear.”

“That was something I told you in confidence and something that I didn’t expect you to almost yell in front of your dorm.”

“Everyone deserves to know that you looked at a Gollum plushie and went, ‘That looks like it would be a good snack.’” “Were you like this before your chem final?” he asked. “Because I could have sworn the person I fell asleep next to was not out to kill me.”

“I was a different person then,” I stated while leading him into the building. “I cannot be expected to treat someone who decided to sit out here in 90 degree heat for 3 hours while I took my final nicely.”

He gasped dramatically, playing it up despite the fact that some of my neighbors were coming out to see what havoc we were causing today. “I have helped you study for countless tests and quizzes and even stayed up with you until 4am last night and this is how I am thanked? I shudder to call myself your boyfriend with such poor treatment.”

The Bridgerton marathon shortly before finals kicked into full swing seemed to have done something to him. But honestly, as long as we didn’t get another complaint regarding our arguments prior to the time that we made it upstairs, it would be fine. “And what do you say to the hours that I spent reviewing vocabulary with you for a final you didn’t even take?”

“I thought I had the final until I went to Kenobi’s room and saw the note posted on his door. And when I went to text you, I saw that your final had already started and decided against trying to distract you.”

“Well you should have distracted me anyways. Why wouldn’t I have wanted a text from you? After all, it wasn’t like that final was particularly important, I would have passed the class either way. Plus, you’re far more important than some stupid chem final that is only vaguely relevant to my degree.”

“I’m sure Windu would agree with that assessment.”

“Windu has a stick up his ass. Which I can finally say in front of other people because I’m finally out of that fucking class.” It still hadn’t entirely hit me that the school year was finally over, but the fact that I could hang out with Peter without needing to study or work on a project was beginning to cement it.

“True. I’m not looking forward to when I have to take him next year for organic.” He took a second before continuing, “Are we ever going to unlock your door or are you planning on watching it out here?”

“Right, that. I barely even noticed that we were here.” Which was surprising, however, this could easily be blamed on the sleep deprivation and the Peter’s distracting presence.

See the full post

27 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

so why is my heart broke?

tasm!peter parker x reader

warnings: angst, cursing (as always), and i think that's it

summary: you almost got hurt because of a fight between Spider-Man and the villain of the week. now Peter's trying to stop it from happening again

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?”

“I can’t keep putting you in danger like this,” Peter said.

“That doesn’t mean you break up with me, you dumbass.” You took a look at his face before continuing. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Of course, I’m serious. I can’t see you get hurt again and again because I’m Spider-Man.”

“I get hurt once because I was somewhere the fight got to, and somehow this is what it results in? No, Peter, I refuse.”

“You can’t refuse,” he states, albeit with some confusion. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“Peter Motherfucker Parker, I refuse to let you break up with me.”

“I refuse to let you refuse to let me break up with you.”

“I wasn’t even involved in the fight before the villain of the week fucking crashed into the cafe I was picking up coffee from. How could this have resulted from you being Spider-Man? If anyone else was fighting them, the same thing would have happened.”

“Everyone who I have loved while being Spider-Man has been hurt by this, and I refuse to let you be a victim of the Parker curse.”

“I will stay right here beside you to show you that there is no such thing. There is simply the fact that I love you Peter Parker, and I will not leave your side.”

“And it is because of that that I can’t let you stay. I can’t see you get hurt.”

“Well this is hurting me. I’m in love with you and you just want me to leave? I can’t Peter. I can’t see you getting banged up on TV and know that I can’t do anything to help. I can’t leave you.”

“But you should.”

“When has that ever decided what I was going to do? What we were going to do? Fuck what I should do,” I exclaimed.

“I can’t lose you. No matter how much this would hurt both of us, it would never compare to the pain of losing you.”

“And the same applies to you. Do you think I would be okay knowing that you had, that you had died out there, fighting an alien or some shit? I can barely handle the idea of breaking up with you and yet you want me to live knowing that you are out there risking your life every day without anyone on your side? No one there to patch you up when you get hurt? No one who knows what you’re going through every time you show up with bruises and cuts?”

“And what would happen to me if you weren’t there because of me? Because I can’t live without knowing that you were safe. No matter how difficult it is to leave you, there’s no option here where you’re safe. There’s never been one as soon as you chose me.”

“And I’m going to keep choosing you. I am always going to choose you, Peter. Despite all the dangers and slightly insane ideas, I love you.”

That seemed to cause the last remaining bits of fight left in him to dissipate. “I love you too. Despite your stubbornness.”

“Hey, I think that it’s warranted right now. You were about to lose the best thing in your life because you got scared of something that wasn’t your fault. Someone had to do something about it,” You retorted.

“I’m glad someone did.”

108 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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chill-mcyt-art-reblogs · 1 year

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2, 6, and 8? :0

2. it's christmas you whos

ah. This fic.

The fic that haunts my dreams and keeps me awake far into the night. My mortal shame. The fic that was supposed to be released last christmas but instead i imploded in on myself like a dying star.

It's your standard It's a Wonderful Life AU. Wilbur starts off as a happy kid with aspirations of being in a band and slowly I beat him down until the only solution left is local not-supposed-to-be-a-guardian-angel Phil who's doing this to get his wings back from his wife to take Wilbur on a fever dream where he gets to witness all of his loved ones in varying degrees of distress.

Something I really like doing for this fic is figuring out where the different people come in and how it all eventually ties together... and how, if Wilbur wasn't there, it would have just fallen apart.

Another favorite part is career farmer Techno who is *constantly* going to war with the local government but only because he can't just dismantle them once.

A short snippet:

There’s a man on the bridge.

It’s an old bridge. Re-done and upgraded a thousand times. New beams. New asphalt. New guardrails. Everything kept up just enough to be called safe, and yet still, in the town’s endeavors of saving the pennies and dimes from repairing the old instead of building the new, they preserved some of the romance of the thing.

In truth, it had been widened to accommodate two lanes, had proper sidewalks installed, along with street lamps. But it still looked out on the same beautiful river it had when it was first built. The forest on either side somehow having remained untouched by progress. The kind of place lovers walk at night. A place where people gaze out of their car windows to see the beauty as it passes too quickly by.

Not tonight though.

6. i was reading that one fic again

this one haunts me less but only because it has no seasonal theme that i missed and also the final chapter is almost done.

This is my fic, "That I Could Fear a Door" over on Ao3 (linked under the cut). And I got the idea reading Silverwing15's "Two Fusiliers" (also linked under the cut). Because we love Philza and Technoblade have an emotional reunion and also Phil's a little messed up.

It's been a fun little project. I hope to finish the final chapter soon. It's angsty, emotional conversations from here on out >:). Phil has not had a good time and between the decades and the brainwashing he's got no idea how to approach Techno. And it doesn't help that Techno's getting pushy and distressed himself.

Actually this fic was supposed to start, like, the day before where it actually starts because I was going to show Wilbur getting whipped for "inciting rebellious thoughts."

Which is exactly what he was doing, actually.

A short snippet:

A happier time. Sure it existed, but it’s gone, gone now. It’s over.

(there was laughter, and warmth, and good things. The burn of sweet whiskey on his tongue and the sound of a crackling fireplace)

(and someone else was there as well)

Someone else-

Technoblade-

Technoblade was there. He was always there.

And then he wasn’t. He wasn’t- wasn’t there.

Just a memory. Just a dream. The smallest figment of old comforts that still manage to haunt him at night. Slowly whittled away at by whips and chains and time, time, time-

He’s gone, it’s all gone.

8. “Lost Voice” Toast AU

basically i saw the distinct lack of ghost!tommy fics and decided that clearly Tubbo needed more torturing than what he's already gone through so I made Tommy accidentally down in Exile and Ghost Tommy, or Toast, wandering around outside L'manburg.

oh and also he just disappears one day because Dream revives him and no there is no explanation giving to Tubbo so I just leave him wondering for a while if Tommy melted because he wouldn't come inside or if he just... doesn't want to see him anymore.

I also considered maybe having post-prison death Toast show up but eh I think it will work better as a sad, short little fic where everyone's got that Big Sad

and I don't actually have a good snippet for this one so :|

#fanfiction ask game answers

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

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Storm Clouds on a Sunny Day

***Oooooo Teen!MC! Thank you for the request @lovevictoire! Now, although I think I'm technically Gen z??? (I could be a millennial. I have no idea). I have like 0 sense of most pop culture and probably won't be able to write that classic gen z chaotic humour properly, so I'm not going to attempt. What I can do is the hurt/comfort aspect of this which I LOVE! So, let's do this. I hope you enjoy it. ((Oh and before I forget *hugs*))***

Summary: MC has always been a happy positive ray of light that brought joy with them wherever they went; at least that's what the brothers and the other exchange students would tell you. But when they suddenly start getting quiet and begin isolating themselves, everyone is concerned.

TW: descriptions of grief.

In the darkness of the Devildom, you were the sun.

Since arriving in the dark, cruel world of the demons, you had reminded them how to smile, how to laugh, how to love. With you around, it was like the brothers had another sibling again. For the other exchange students, you were a breath of fresh amongst all the horror and despair of the Devildom.

In short, everyone had come to love and be incredibly fond of the teenage human that; which is why they noticed instantly when you weren't acting like yourself.

For starters, you had skipped breakfast, which greatly concerned Beel. The friendly giant had to go up and bring you your food afterwards.

He gently knocked on your door with one hand as he held a plate with way too much food on it in the other. "MC? Are you awake? You missed breakfast."

There was a small curse from the other side before he heard some shuffling. The door cracked open to reveal you wrapped in a bundle of blankets. It wasn't until you looked up that Beel got a good look at your face and his stomach dropped.

Your eyes were tinged red with tear tracks stained onto your cheeks. Your bottom lip was still trembling from the effort of not breaking down into sobs. There was not a trace of the sunshine child that you usually were inside of your stormy sad eyes.

Beel's heart broke as you still attempted to give him a small smile and took the plate from him. "Th-Thanks Beel."

He kept a hand on the door to prevent you from closing it. "MC, are you alright? What happened?"

Your eyes widened a little and you quickly wiped at your cheeks. "I-I'm just not feeling that well. Can...Can you tell Lucifer I'm taking a sick day?"

Beel nodded as concern grew stronger and stronger inside of him. "Of course. Whatever you need."

You weren't actually sick, Beel could tell that much. What you were was heartbroken. Something had reached into your soul and shattered it into pieces. He to ask you what it was. He wanted to reassure you that everything would be okay. But instead, he let you close the door and hurried back to his brothers.

His brothers looked at him skeptically as he arrived, noting the lack of a tiny human alongside him. It was Belphie, however, who noticed the distressed look on Beelzebub's face. "Beel, is everything alright? You look upset."

Beel simply shook his head and looked over to Lucifer. "MC has asked me to tell you that they would like to take a sick day."

Everyone was instantly on their feet in worry.

"Sick? What kind of illness? I can get any medicine they might need and look up the quickest way for them to recover." Satan quickly stated as he began to move towards the kitchen.

Belphie nodded and picked up his pillow. "If they're sick, they'll need rest right? I'll go up there and help them sleep better."

Mammon moved to go with Belphie. "I'll come with ya. They'll feel better with if their favourite's there with them."

Belphie growled and shoved Mammon as Levi spoke up. "I-I mean, I doubt they'd want to spend the entire day with me, but at the very least I can provide them with some movies and games for entertainment. In fact, it might be easier if we just, um, m-move them to my room."

Mammon and Belphie were now snapping at Levi rather than each other.

Asmo scrunched up his nose in disgust and put up his hands. "Yeah, no thanks. I love MC, but I'll leave you guys to handle all the snot and vomit thank you very much. Tell them when they're healthy, I'll give them a spa day, just the two of us."

Lucifer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Boys, Beel hadn't even told us what is wrong with them yet," everyone froze and turned to Beelzebub. Lucifer nodded and gestured for him to continue. "As you were saying, Beel."

Beel shifted uncomfortably at the attention. "Right. So, I don't think they're actually sick."

Lucifer rose an eyebrow at this as an air of defence grew around him. "You think they would lie?"

Beel huffed in annoyance and shook his head. "No. I don't think they would. But when they answered the door, they didn't look sick. They looked like they were grieving," everyone breathed in sharply at the statement, but Beel continued. "They honestly looked like they had been crying since midnight. I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't get any sleep at all last night."

Lucifer frowned and finally made a move towards the door. "I, and I alone, will go speak with them. We don't want to overcrowd them. In the meantime, someone please contact Simeon just in case they truly are sick and Beel misinterpreted it," he ignored the several shouts of protest as he walked to your room.

He knocked softly on the door twice before carefully opening the door. "MC? Beelzebub informed me that you aren't feeling-"

Lucifer cut himself off as he saw you hugging your knees to your chest in bed, sobbing your heart out. He quickly made his way over and sat down beside you, gently placing a hand on your back. "MC, what's the matter? I've never seen you this upset before."

You didn't answer. You merely turned towards him and buried your face in his chest as you clung to his shirt. Lucifer quickly wrapped his arms around you and held you tight.

It was almost as if he could feel your sorrow within the sounds of your cries. The way they shuttered and cracked with every inhale and vibrated with pure agony on every exhale. You were trembling violently in his arms in a way that he hadn't felt since-

Since he held his brothers after Lilith's death.

Realization came to him as he glanced over and noticed the lightly crumped picture of you and another human on your side table. His breath caught in his throat and he held you tighter. "Oh MC," he whispered softly. "I am so sorry."

He held you there, letting your tears stain his shirt without a single care. He held you as your sobs softened into sniffles. He held you as your head lolled to the side and you finally gave in to sleep.

Lucifer had been about to fall asleep himself when he noticed the door open. Simeon, Luke and Solomon stood there with equal expressions of concern.

Luke took one look at your tear-stained face before a flicker of fury and angelic protectiveness flashed across his face. He opened his mouth to shout at Lucifer, but was stopped as a hand came over his mouth.

Solomon looked down at him sternly. "They're sleeping, Luke, and clearly in need of it. You don't want to wake them."

Luke huffed and slapped Solomon's hand away before going over to the bed and climbing in beside you and Lucifer.

Simeon pulled out a bag that clinked and clattered from the vials within it. "Satan had said that there was a possibility MC was ill?"

Lucifer sighed and continued to rub circles into your back while Luke gently dried your face with a handkerchief. "Unfortunately it seems the only illness they have is a broken heart." He nodded to the picture on the nightstand. "They appear to have lost someone. Today must be an anniversary of some sort that reminded them of it."

Both Solomon and Simeon's faces softened at the explanation. Simeon put the bag away. "I'm afraid I don't have anything that can help with that."

Solomon nodded. "It's a feeling I believe we are all familiar with," he stood in silent thought before snapping his fingers and grinning. "I know what will cheer them up! Some soup! It most certainly cheers me up whenever I'm upset. I'll go make them a pot right away," he smiled proudly as he left the room, missing the look of horror on everyone else's face.

"Oh my," Simeon began, "I better go supervise and make sure he doesn't accidentally poison them. Luke, do you wish to come?"

He shook his head and hugged you. "I'm not leaving them."

Simeon smiled fondly and glanced up to Lucifer who shrugged. "So long as he doesn't mind being the presence of a demon, I suppose he can stay."

Luke grumbled and continued looking at your hand as he held his up to it and compared sizes. "If they were able to fall asleep around you and you were able to comfort them...maybe you're not so bad."

Simeon raised an eyebrow in shock and laughed a little. "Well there you have it," he looked back to Lucifer. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

He nodded and watched the older angel leave.

@thegrimgrinningghost

Although the day was a rough one for you, there was not a second where you felt alone. There was always someone to hold you, to listen to you, and comfort you when you needed it most.

On days when sadness and despair threatened to cloud over the Devildom's only source of sunshine, the lords of the Devildom and your friends would be there to keep you warm until the sun could shine again.

***I hope you enjoyed this cute little comfort fic! Thanks again for the request @lovevictoire!***

TAGLIST

@henry-and-the-seven-lords

@satans-beloved-riv

@cosmixbun

@sufzku

643 notes · View notes

erensangel444 · 4 years

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i think i’m falling in love

oikawa tōru x reader

the title is inspired by i think by tyler the creator :-)

this fic is oikawa x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions, if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this fic has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

this would be oikawa in his last year(when he was a third-year), for this fic, the reader would also be a third-year!

a/n: i remember when i first started watching haikyū!! i had hated oikawa, and now looking back i don’t know how. he’s a beautifully written character and like actually thinking about it makes me so sad. he tries so hard and just :( i’m gonna start crying about it again.

there’s a lot of fluff in this fic, probably the most i’ve ever written, but there’s also smut cause you know your girl couldn’t resist🙄

warnings: language(most of my fics do contain language), drug usage(just weed, small mention), alcohol consumption, smut; semi-public sex(bathroom at a party), oral(fem and male!receiving), unprotected sex(use of the shitty pull-out method, practice safe sex don’t be a weirdo), dryhumping.

word count: 5.3k

summary: moments in oikawa tōru’s life that helped him come to the conclusion that he was in love with you.

oikawa didn’t think love was a real thing, and he knows that’s cliché, but it’s the truth. did you know that around 40-50% percent of marriages end in divorce? what’s the point in getting married if there’s only half a chance of it lasting? oikawa thought it seemed like too much work.

until he saw you, and then, maybe, he thought it might be worth it to work that hard. maybe he could understand why couples stay together despite the fights, the yelling matches. maybe he could take a stab at love.

or not. he expected you to fawn over him the first time you met, like most girls do(men too!), but you didn’t. in all honesty, you seemed bored while conversing with oikawa. you shattered his newly-born hopes of love...well maybe that’s a little dramatic, but oikawa was always one for the dramatic flair.

from that moment forward, he had deduced that he strongly disliked you, at least he had until that one day in math class. he was struggling, the equations on the pages seeming like an entirely different language. he was huffing out breaths in frustration, roughly erasing the writing his pencil had made.

he was certain he was doomed, there was a test tomorrow and this review made no sense, yet there was a glimmer of hope when he felt that light tap on his shoulder.

he looked up, meeting your eyes, all doe-like, a light blush on your cheeks as you sentence stumbled from your lips, “h-hey um it seemed like you were a little confused, um i-i could help if you’d want,”. oikawa couldn’t do anything but stare up at you, “or- or not! maybe it was rude for me to come over here, sorry-” “no, i could actually use some help,”. oikawa’s response caused a smile to show on your face, and for a split second he dreamt of making you smile like that for the rest of your life.

he brought himself back to reality, remembering his declared disdain towards you, but all of it slowly drifted away as you grabbed a chair from a nearby table, setting it down next to oikawa’s desk and sitting down. “so what’s confusing you?” you asked, your voice soft as you peered up at oikawa.

he couldn’t control the slight blush that rushed to his cheeks, calming himself down before he spoke, “well i’m confused on the variables, and i don’t understand what i’m supposed to do after setting it equal to zero, and it doesn’t help that the professor doesn’t teach for shit,” he whispered the last part, causing you to laugh a little as you grabbed the pencil from his hand.

oikawa shuddered at your laugh, and at the contact of your hand on his, even if it was for a slight moment. there was too much of you stimulating him at once, fuck, what were you doing to him?

“i know he fucking sucks,” you responded, the word slipping out of your mouth seeming so foreign to oikawa, even if he had only talked to you for a couple minutes, but he liked it, nonetheless. “okay so,” you turned oikawa’s paper slightly towards you, “after setting it equal to 0, you have factor the quadratic equation,”. your handwriting looked so neat compared to his, so delicate. he listened intently as you continued writing on the paper, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips.

after explaining it to him, he tried one at your request, the math seeming easier now, no eraser marks littering the page. after checking his answer, you grinned at oikawa, lifting your hand up. oikawa was confused for a moment, smiling after realizing, and softly high-fiving you.

oikawa started to notice you in the hallways after that day in math class. you walked through the halls not necessarily confidently, but giving off an aura of aloofness. it was almost like you thought no one was paying attention to you. ‘how could you think that?’ oikawa thought. he was paying attention, he couldn’t help but to pay attention.

not when you always carried your binder under your left arm, it slipping some times, causing a slightly shocked expression to grace your blank face as you resettled it in your arms. your tote bag slang off of your right shoulder, a light cream color. he always noticed your outfits, different for every day of the week. he always thought they were cute though, fitting for you.

he noted the rings on your fingers, the necklaces you sometimes wore. some days you had on makeup, other days you were bare-face. he thought both were equally beautiful.

after a couple days of passing you in the hall, he finally worked up the courage to wave to you. his hand softly ran through the air, his arm rigid. yet, you didn’t notice him, your eyes taken by something else. the failed greeting embarrassed oikawa immensely, he remembered beating himself up about it for the rest of the day.

when he thought about trying again, he realized he should probably just call your name. which he couldn’t remember. you had met last year, and in his memory, the entire encounter was centered around his ‘dislike’ for you. you also hadn’t told him your name in math class. he racked his brain for any memory, wanting to know the name that fit your pretty face.

in the hallway the next, day he decided he’d just yell out a ‘hey!’, hoping you’d turn to him, which you did. oikawa waved at you, a smile lighting up your face -god he could get used to that- as you waved back. oikawa couldn’t help but feel your smile for the rest of the day.

he had learned your name the next day in math class, the teacher calling on you. ‘y/n’, he almost didn’t catch the teacher say it, but he did, and he was so glad he did. lying in his bed later that night, he let the word fall off his lips, your name quietly echoing throughout his room. he couldn’t imagine calling you anything else, it fit you so well.

a couple of days later(he had waved at you every day since), you were walking in the hall with a friend. more specifically a friend who was a boy. honestly it didn’t matter their gender, oikawa would’ve been jealous either way. why were they making you smile like that, and why was your binder in their arms instead of in it’s usual spot, tucked under your left arm?

he wanted to walk in the halls with you, look down at you smiling at him. he devised a plan that night, running through the scenario in his head before he fell asleep.

the next day, he called out your name as you walked out the door of the math classroom, doing a slight jog to catch up with you. “hey, um i never got to thank you,” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “for that day in math” he explained, as he continued, attempting to push down his nerves. “you really helped me,” this caused you to smile softly, and oikawa couldn’t help but smile back at you. that’s all he wanted, to make you smile.

“of course, no problem,” you had said softly. oikawa offered to walk you to your next class, and you obliged. suddenly it shifted into a daily thing, walking out of math class with you, and oikawa could get used to it.

he learned more about you every day, your favorite movie was pride and prejudice, you loved key lime pie, you had a mini-garden in your backyard, you hated shellfish, you loved painting, you never left the house without chapstick. he found himself adapting to your humor, telling jokes that he knew would make you laugh. he wanted to hear your laugh all the time, he wanted it to echo throughout his brain on a constant loop.

in math class one day, you had pulled lotion out of your bag, popping open the cap, and squirting some into your hand. upon seeing you pull it out of your bag, oikawa walked over to your desk with his hand held out, “can i have some?” his voice was light as he looked down at you, a dollop of lotion in your hand. “yeah!” you said softly, rubbing some of the lotion from your hand onto oikawa’s.

he had just expected you to give him some from the bottle, and he could walk back to his desk, happy with the small encounter. now as he walked back to his desk, he was happy, so happy, but reeling at your touch. he wanted to feel your hand on his again, he longed for it now, knowing now what it felt like. why couldn’t you just give him lotion from the bottle?

oikawa had gathered the courage to ask for your number a couple days later, and to his delight you smiled after telling him that you planned to ask him for his. the idea caused him to smile internally as he wondered if you thought about him as much as he thought about you.

the nights after he had put his number in your phone were spent texting you. he’d send you random tweets that he’d thought you’d like, and videos that reminded you of him -he wouldn’t ever tell you that, though. one night when he had decided to watch pride and prejudice, for no apparent reason, he sent you a picture, to which you replied with a picture of your hand covering your mouth, your eyes lit up. he stared at the picture for a solid five minutes, unable to tear his eyes away.

you looked so pretty, your hair up in a bun, your eyes looking up at the camera. he finally shut off his phone, turning back to the movie, excited to see you the next day.

one night, oikawa texted and asked you if you wanted to facetime. instant regret filled him after sending the text, his search history littered with ‘how to delete imessage’ ‘is there a way to delete message on iphone’. he opened the text app back up, three bubbles popping up on the screen. they disappeared shortly after, oikawa’s regret increasing.

he threw his phone down on the bed, shoving his head into his pillow as he muttered, “fuckin’ stupid, god what am i doi-”, a text message ping interrupting his self-deprecating mumbles. the text from you read, ‘hey, sorry just got out the shower, i was trying to text before but i got a fucking eyelash in my eye LMAO’ oikawa chuckled at your message, a second one popping up below, ‘lemme get dressed rq and then i’ll call u:D’.

oikawa had so many thoughts rushing through his brain. you were in the shower? after rationalizing, he realized he shouldn’t be surprised that you showered, it was just the fact that you were naked in the shower. and if you were getting dressed now, that means you were naked while you texted him.

oikawa attempted to shift his thoughts elsewhere, chastising himself in his head for being a ‘perv’. he didn’t need a boner while he was on a facetime call with you. he thought about how you offered to call him, did you really want to? he had hoped you weren’t just doing this to pity him.

his phone rang, interrupting his slew thoughts, your name flashing against his screen. he fumbled for his phone, his finger hesitating before he hit the green button. “hi,” you said softly. oikawa took in your appearance, a few water droplets still falling from your hair, your eyebrows slightly disheveled, cheeks a light pink. “hey” he responded.

“why’d you wanna facetime?” you asked, oikawa blushing more at your question, ready to respond before you continued. “not that i didn’t want to too, cause i did, i do, i w-was just wondering why you wanted to,” oikawa smiled at the camera before speaking. “well i thought that we really needed to discuss the plot holes in pride and prejudice,”.

oikawa had spent the whole night talking to you, reluctantly hanging up at 4AM.

the nights after that were followed by facetime calls, oikawa’s mom knocking on his door and telling him to quiet down, his laughter too loud. on one call, he had invited you to his volleyball game the next day, and you quickly said that you’d ‘love to go’, oikawa’s smile growing.

surprisingly, he wasn’t nervous. oikawa knew he was good at volleyball, everybody did. he knew that this was a moment where he could show off in front of you. what if he hits the net on a serve though?

okay, so maybe he was a little nervous, but he wouldn’t let his nerves consume him. stepping onto the court, he did his best not to look up at the crowd, not wanting to see your smiling face in the stands. he was set to serve first, the volleyball in his hands a familiar feeling, comforting him.

the power behind his serve was incredible, one of the best one’s he’s hit, he thought to himself. the ball landed right in the corner of the opposing team’s court, before bouncing out of bounds.

a service ace right out the bat. oikawa cheered in his head, his teammates patting him on the back. “are you gonna look for her now or what,” iwaizumi said to him, ever so-bluntly, “looking down at the floor like a pussy,” hajime muttered the last part. “iwa-chan!” oikawa slightly raised his voice, his eyes looking up towards the stands.

you had secured a seat in the front row, and when oikawa noticed your face he couldn’t help but smile. you were grinning down at him, waving like a lunatic, causing him to lightly chuckle. he waved back, the volleyball being handed back to him as he set up for his second serve.

you had waited outside the locker room for him, and when he walked out with iwaizumi and issei, he spotted you leaning against the wall parallel to the locker room door, scrolling through your phone. hearing the door open, you looked up, meeting oikawa’s smiling face.

“hey,” he said softly, his heart doing flips at the fact that you waited for him. you responded softly with a ‘hi’, holding your arms open for a hug. oikawa couldn’t help but grin, his heartbeat growing in pace as he pulled you in for a hug, his arms falling to the small of your back. “did so good,” you said, your voice muffled by his chest.

“thank you,” he smiled at you, “for-for uh coming,” “of course,” you smiled back at him. suddenly an awkward tension had consumed the conversation, both of you peering at the other, than looking away, the silent words behind your looks so obvious. “so i- “i just-”, you both started at the same time. you laughed, oikawa joining in as he motioned for you to go first.

“um, i-i came today because i wanted to, but also cause i wanted to ask you something,” oikawa nodded for you to continue, biting his lip in anticipation. “i feel like i’m not just imaging things here, and i don-don’t want you to think you are either,” you hesitated for a moment, oikawa noticing it before speaking up, “i like you,” he said abruptly. he could feel his blood pumping, feel his heart beating on his chest. you smiled at him, eyes wide, “i-i like you too,”. you both stared at each other in silence, the eye contact easier. “what now?” you said jokingly, oikawa laughing. “wanna go get mcdonald’s?”

the first few weeks with you had been bliss, oikawa thinks that he’s died and floated up to heaven. you’ve gone on small adventures together, late night drives, reveling in the honeymoon-like phase of your new relationship. now, oikawa sits across from you atop the striped picnic blanket. oikawa knew that this past week had been stressful for you with school and some stuff going on with your friends so he decided to surprise you with a picnic.

he got sushi from your favorite place, ordering a wide-spread of different rolls and then picked up two boba drinks before heading to your house. much to your dismay, he wouldn’t tell you where you were going until you could hear the water brushing along the shoreline, oikawa had taken you to the beach.

now, there you sat on the blanket on the sand, sushi laid out in front of you as you took in the beautiful day, a slight breeze brushing past your figures, small clouds in the sky. oikawa grabbed a california roll with his chopsticks, bringing it over to you as you opened for mouth for the food. “so good,” you mumbled mouth full of california roll causing oikawa to chuckle.

“my mom asked about you today,” oikawa noticed the slight hiccup in your breath as he continued, “wants to meet you,” you stayed silent, peering at oikawa. “no pressure, if you don’t want to, i just wanted to let you know,”. you took a sip from you drink before you spoke, “no i want to. just nervous, don’t wanna make a fool of myself,”. oikawa smiled at that, happy that you wanted to make a good impression with his mom. “she’ll love you,” he said softly, blush rushing to your cheeks.

“here you have to try this tuna roll,” you said, the roll between your chopsticks and headed for oikawa’s mouth. “mmm so good,” oikawa said mimicking your response, making a show of the food in his mouth. you laughed before shoving him, “you’re disgusting,”

oikawa had picked you up for dinner at his house, and now here you both were, in his car, in the driveway of his home. he could see you bouncing your leg, your bottom lip taken in by your teeth. “you’re gonna be fine, i promise she’ll love you,” “i hope so,” you said, your voice so quiet.

oikawa racked his brain for a way to help calm your nerves, settling for a kiss. his lips met yours, and you whimpered at the abruptness, but kissed him back. your leg stopped it’s incessant bouncing, and oikawa smiled at you. “alright i’m ready,” you said softly. you reached for the car door, oikawa stopping you with an ‘uh uh uh’, exiting the driver side of the car and running over to the passenger side to open your door.

“my knight in shining armor,” you joked, oikawa grinning at you. the pair of you walked to his front door, hand in hand. oikawa wasn’t nervous, he knew his mom would love you because she knew that he loved you. woah. he loved you. or maybe it was the excitement of the night forcing him to say those words. he pushed the thought away, opening his front door as he yelled out a “i’m home!”

his mom ran over from the kitchen, looking to you and then oikawa and smiling so brightly. “hi!” she said, her voiced laced with excitement as she shuffled over to you, pulling you in for a hug, “i’m a hugger,” you laughed, hugging her back.

“oikawa’s talked about you so much,” “mom!” your smile grew. you took off your shoes, setting them neatly next to the door, oikawa’s mom leading you to the kitchen. it smelled amazing, meat buns sat in a container on the stove, orange chicken in a separate container next to them. white rice was in the steamer, the whole kitchen filled with wonderful smells.

oikawa pulled out a chair for you as you thanked him, sitting down. eventually the food was in front of you, oikawa had made your plate for you, asking if you wanted anything to drink. he began rambling, listing off options, but you opted for water in not wanting to be difficult.

you all sat, oikawa’s mom and you discussing your current course schedule in school as she smiled “oikawa bagged a smart and pretty one, i raised him right,”. you couldn’t help but blush at her words, oikawa smiling at your reaction.

dinner had left your stomach happy, oikawa’s mom giving you another hug when you left and making you promise that you’d be back soon. oikawa ushered you into his car, holding your door open for him. he told his mom you were driving to get icecream from somewhere, and that wasn’t necessarily a lie.

you had gotten the icecream, it’s just that now it sat, forgotten in the passenger seat as you straddled oikawa in the backseat, your mouths moving against each other, your hips grinding on his. “fuck,” oikawa panted against your lips, the friction of your hips grinding on his feeling indescribable.

before you knew it, you were grinding on oikawa’s lap like a woman possessed, set on reaching your high. “tōru,” your voice sounded so soft, oikawa did a double take. he’d only heard his first name slip past your lips one time, and the desperation that came with it this time had his cock straining in his pants even more.

“g-gonna cum!” you yelped, your hips stuttering from the pleasure. oikawa’s hands drifted to your hips, rocking you on his lap, wanting you to reach your high, but also desperate for his own. your whimpers increased in volume as you finally reached your orgasm, your face contorting in pleasure. seeing you come on his lap was all oikawa need to cream his pants, the liquid seeping through the fabric of his boxers and black jeans.

you both panted, catching your breath, your head laying in oikawa’s shoulder. “that was fucking hot,” oikawa remarked, causing you to laugh and remove your head from his shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss.

oikawa had invited you over a couple nights later to watch a movie. you had come over in plaid pajama pants and one of oikawa’s hoodies that you had borrowed last week. you were laid in his bed, snuggling into his figure, Love, Rosie playing on his laptop. As the movie progressed, and the popcorn disappeared from the bowl, you began to slowly drift into sleep, feeling comfort from being so close to oikawa.

as the movie neared it’s end, oikawa could hear your light breaths, looking down at your sleeping figure. drool had slightly started to dribble out of your mouth, your eyes were shut ever so softly, and you looked so peaceful. so angelic, oikawa thought. he wanted to wake up to this, to you for the rest of his life.

‘getting ahead of myself’ oikawa reasoned, pushing away any and all thoughts of the future as he relished in your sleeping features and irked at the funny feeling in his stomach, was it butterflies? it was something, because he felt it whenever he saw you. you turned his brain to mush, made his heart beat faster. oikawa’s love for you was so obvious on a physical level just based on how he reacted to anything and everything you did.

his love for you was obvious, wasn’t it? did you know he loved you? he loves you. ‘i love you’ the words softly fell from his lips, the breaths still falling from your lips as you slept.

your parents were out of town, your mom on a business trip, your dad visiting some friends in the states. you had invited oikawa over to bake some brownies, but somehow baking led to his head now being buried between your thighs.

“oh my-tōru!” you moaned, oikawa’s tongue working magic on your clit. he changed from kitten licks to sucking, moaning into your center, the vibrations making you whimper even more. his fingers plunged in and out of your entrance.

oikawa had transcended from himself, or at least he thought he had. there was no way he was buried between your thighs right now, your pretty moans sounding from above him. there was no way he was holding eye contact with you as he sucked on your clit, admiring the blush accompanying your features.

“gonna cum for me angel?” oikawa wanted you to come so bad, he wanted you to feel good, he wanted to be the one to make you feel good. “yes, yes, yes-please!” oikawa increased the intensity of his tongue lapping at your clit, the pace of his fingers increasing.

one more look down at tōru had you coming, your hands moving to grip his hair as your orgasmed. panting, recovering from your orgasm, oikawa kissed up your body, nipping at your jaw up to your lips, kissing you passionately.

“did so good for me, angel,” oikawa mumbled into your lips. you pulled him in for another kiss, your hand drifting down to the bulge in his pants, palming him through the fabric.

“fuck,” oikawa softly moaned, grinding into your palm. you pushed him over, oikawa laying on the other side of the bed. your hands navigated their way to the hem of his sweatpants, tapping his hip, oikawa lifting up. you tugged the pants down his legs, his boxers along with them.

his cock bounced back to his stomach, hard and leaking precum. oikawa eyed you as your hand drifted to the base of his cock, your tongue licking at the tip, oikawa moaning loudly. he had definitely gone to heaven.

eventually your mouth and hand were moving in tandem on his cock, moans flying freely from oikawa’s lips. “fuck! y/n, god, making me feel so go-ood!”. oikawa thrusted his hips up into your mouth, his hands holding on to your hair. you placed your hands on his thigh letting him thrust into your mouth.

“go-gonna cum!” you moved one hand down to his balls, rolling them in your hand and moaning around his cock. “shit-ah!”, toru’s cum flooded your mouth as his mind went numb from the pleasure. he’d never felt like this, god, you were ruining him.

you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show tōru that you had swallowed all of his cum. “god you’re so fucking dirty,” oikawa said smirking at you, pulling you in for another kiss.

you and oikawa sat in his car, passing the joint between yourselves, staring at the sunset, stealing glances at one another. you inhaled, the joint placed between your lips, the substance filling your lungs.

oikawa couldn’t help but stare at you, “you’re so fucking pretty,” he whispered. “no you’re so fucking pretty,” you smiled at him. “we’re both fucking pretty let’s be honest,” oikawa joked, pulling you in for a kiss.

‘wanna be yours’ by artic monkeys came on shuffle through the speaker’s as you mouthed the lyrics. “i’m hungry” oikawa said plainly, “jack in the box?” you offered, oikawa turning the car into drive. more songs shuffled, oikawa turning up the volume when cupid’s chokehold blasted through the speakers.

he had rolled the windows down, his left hand hanging out the window. he turned towards you, his eyes shifting from the road to your face, singing the lyrics to you, ‘i mean she even cooks me pancakes and alka seltzer when my tummy aches,’ his hand held yours atop the console, his left hand now on the steering wheel. ‘i know i’m young but if i had to choose her or the sun i’d be one nocturnal son of a gun’ your smile grew, staring at oikawa as he pulled into the jack in the box drive-thru.

there were no other cars, oikawa pulling straight up to the machine. “hi could we get two buttery jack meals with curly fries and chocolate milkshakes for both,”, the server read back your order, telling oikawa the total, oikawa saying a curt thank you.

oikawa had pulled into a an empty parking lot, the music shifted to nights by frank ocean, both you and oikawa digging into your food. oikawa looked over at you, seemingly mesmerized by your buttery jack. you looked up at the sound of his laughter, staring at him perplexed before laughing too.

oikawa had dragged you a party that daichi was throwing. you walked in waving at a girl from your history class, oikawa dragging you to the kitchen by your hand. he grabbed two shot glasses, pouring tequila into them. he clinked his glass with yours, throwing the liquid back into his throat

you walked next to oikawa working your way through the mass of sweaty bodies, spotting hajime in the crowd. oikawa patted him on the back, iwaizumi wincing at his heavy-handiness. while oikawa talked with hajime, you whispered letting him know you were gonna go talk to kiyoko, oikawa nodding and giving you a quick kiss. he watched you walk away, your ass looking so good in those pants. his eyes traveled up your figure to your smiling face, his own smile growing.

after talking for a while, oikawa walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing your cheek. “wanna go dance?” you nodded, waving bye to kiyoko, oikawa leading you to the middle of the room. ‘can’t say’ by travis scott. oikawa’s chest pressed against your back, your hands looping around to the back of his neck.

after a few songs played, someone yelled out ‘body shots!’ people shuffling into the kitchen. oikawa pushed through the crowd bringing you to the countertop. he lifted you up to sit on the countertop, people cheering as you laid down. he poured a shot glass of tequila, sprinkling salt over your cleavage, while eyeing it heavily. he placed the lime in your mouth smirking at you.

oikawa shot back the alcohol, wincing at the burn. his tongue lolled out of his mouth, licking the salt on your cleavage, moving to your lips. his body hovered over yours, his lips meeting yours. he sucked the lime from your mouth, pulling away and spitting the lime out before moving down to your lips again, kissing you harshly. louder cheers sounded through the room.

oikawa pulled away as you blushed, grinning nonetheless. you grabbed the tequila pouring another shot and letting the liquid fall down your throat. ‘woo!’ you let out, shaking your head at the burn from the alcohol, dragging oikawa back out to the other room.

somehow, you and oikawa had navigated your way to the bathroom, tōru’s cock deep inside you as your moans accompanied the music playing throughout the house.

“g-gonna cum!” “me too, fuc-ah! come on angel, gotta come now,” oikawa pleaded with you, pushing you over the edge. oikawa pulled out, jerking himself off, and coming on your back.

“god,” he sighed, leaning on the wall next to you. you both grinned at each other, your lips meeting again.

your phone was ringing, tōru was calling. you answered as he said hi, his voice shaky. “are you okay?” you worried, oikawa assuring you everything was fine, “just come outside,”. confused, you threw on some pants and walked downstairs unlocking your front door.

“tōru? are you okay, you look sick,” “i need to tell you something,”. oikawa realizes now that maybe wording it that way was stupid, he could see in your facial expression your heart drop to your stomach. “no! nothing bad,” “oh okay” you sighed softly.

“i-i feel like i should’ve said this earlier, and i wanted t-to i just didn’t know how to,” you nodded at him, grabbing his hand and brushing your thumb along the back of his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

“i love you,” oikawa blurted out. “i love you so fucking much,” he said again. meeting your eyes, oikawa couldn’t help but feel nervous, he was stupid for doing this, he knew it too, yet all those thoughts melted away when he felt your lips on his.

“i love you too,” you said, smiling, your eyes slightly watering. though you and tōru had been dating for a decent amount of time, you both knew the weight those words carried.

tōru felt the weight of those words as they left his lips, and he wanted them to flow past his lips forever. he wanted their weight, he wanted his love to impact you and only you.

fin

yay! i loved writing this fic :D i really hope you guys enjoyed it, sending you so much love<3

#oikawa x y/n #oikawa toru smut #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa fic #oikawa toru imagine #oikawa toru fic #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyū smut #haikyuu!! smut

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

Hear me out: Spider Macaque in the Spider Monkie AU with prompts 14 and 35?

I hear you and oh this was way too much fun... I took a great deal of liberty with exactly how Mac transforms into his Spider Monkie form and who says what and the TIMELINE because I... re-wrote this into a ship fic because of you. I call it ShadowCodingShipping because someone had to name MacaqueSyntax eventually! I guess you could say this is definitely a what-if story more than anything.

Warning for body horror because Mac is slowly turning half spider and that's kinda gross and painful. Also this is hurt/comfort but heavy on the HURT. This does not have a happy ending.

Am I scaring you?/I believe I can be of some help here.

"Am I scaring you?" Macaque asked with a smirk, pain clearly barely held at bay behind it. The monkey demon was a mess, fur tussled and miscolored splotches that hadn't yet grown in properly littered his torso. His torso that had gained a good inch in the last failed attempt at... what they were trying to accomplish. "... are you going to answer me, scientist?"

Syntax did not answer. Whether it was out of fear or knowing that regardless his answer would not make the demon leave him be even he didn't know.

"Queenie calls you Syntax," Macaque continued, moving around the computer to watch him over the screen. "That can't be your name, can it? I didn't give enough of a shit to ask before now. Hey. Hey. Hey. H-"

"No, it is not my birth name," the scientist snapped eventually, watching as Macaque smirked in victory. "Only a complete fool would agree to work with someone as infamous as the Spider Queen and use their legal name as if they were sending an unencrypted message containing confidential information across basic messaging applications without a VPN. What in the world are you trying to accomplish?"

"Ooooo, wordy," Macaque chuckled out as he leaned against the monitor and made it tilt at an awkward angle. "I'm. Bored. Entertain me, scientist, you're the most interesting person in this place. believe it or not."

Syntax raised a brow at the demon, sighing as he continued to type into the computer. "Do you want this to be finished any time soon? Because the more you bother me the longer it will take. I may be able to multitask but humans have limits."

Macaque scowled for a moment before shrugging, failing at hiding a grimace of pain. It must have made the new bones in his spine ache horribly. But he moved easily past Syntax without a word, only whipping his tail against his shoulder as he left.

It didn't hurt at all... he wondered what the point of the gesture even was.

The screaming rang through the entire hideout, Syntax's ears ringing even as he covered them. They'd tried twice more in their attempts at Macaque's twisted idea, Spider Queen slowly seeming to become less and less comfortable with not only their methods but with what they were even doing. It was working, sort of, but not correctly.

The changes were supposed to be immediate, so fast that the pain receptors wouldn't register properly. Not for the comfort of the converted, but so that it would happen so quickly they wouldn't be able to fight it. Less pain, less of a change for your body to try to fight off the transformation. Syntax had insisted on mechanical changes, nano-bots or something of the sort instead of organic growth. Macaque himself had vetoed this, saying something about how it wouldn't make him feel whole again.

This made the changes slow. Too slow, so much so that the mixture was fought off by his immortal monkey biology too quickly for it to take hold the way it was supposed to, requiring Syntax to make it stronger and stronger each time in the hopes it would finally kick in.

Now Macaque laid on the ground, holding his face and screaming so much Syntax feared his vocal cords would give out. The last two treatments had lengthened his torso even more and changed his fur consistency entirely. Once soft and thick black fur was a mixture of that and the coarse purple hair of a spider, not meshing together at all and instead forming an odd pattern on his body. At some points silver had begun to peak through, though if that was supposed to happen or if it was a reaction to the sheer stress of his body undergoing a change that should not be happening he was not sure. Syntax could see the red mark on his face warping, changing into the same purple on his torso around his eyes and moving up on his face as two more eyes grew above the ones he already had. It was fascinating to be sure, and he would have said that it was almost pretty had it not seen the build up of them forming in a fashion he wished to never see in slow build up ever again.

He was a scientist. He was supposed to be impartial to his work above all else, and he had agreed to help of... mostly his own volition. But this... This made him more uncomfortable than he was ready to admit.

"Help him up," Spider Queen said after Macaque collapsed onto the floor, screaming ceased as his body fought off the mixture for the fourth time. She looked... perturbed. Discomforted. "After his last treatment... move on to your idea. We are not doing this again."

She moved out of the room quickly, to fast to even tell her if he would or not, covering the side of her face with her hand to shield her from the sight of the collapse man on the floor. Yes... discomforted indeed.

Syntax didn't have that luxury. And he would not leave Macaque to lay on the floor regardless of orders. But the way he shook and covered his new eyes and the small amount of tears leaking from his normal eyes made a pang of pity shoot through him. He was a scientist... but he was still human.

"I believe I can be of some help here," he said softly, taking off his lab coat and folding it part way before shoving it under Macaque's head and laying the unfolded part over his face. The demon let out a half whimper, clearly bit back as he didn't want to show weakness, but eased ever so slightly as he realized the coat blocked out the light of the lab just as well as his hands had. "It's not a perfect solution, but it gets the job done.

"Th-thought Queenie s-said to help me u-up," Macaque stuttered out, moving his hands to grip the coat instead of his eyes.

"Yes, but that would be a bad idea," Syntax explained, sitting on the floor next to him with a sigh. He pulled his tablet down from a nearby table, there was no point in not getting at least some work done, and began scribbling away with the attached pen. "Your eyes are far too sensitive and with the other changes you have gone through your body will likely collapse again before we could get you to a cot. It's best you remain stationary for the time being until I am able to assess your pain tolerance properly, then I will move you to your quarters."

Macaque didn't say anything, just huffed in reply and seemed to relax. Syntax wondered if he was thankful he wouldn't have to move immediately this time, and he could have sworn he heard something... rumbling.

Maybe it was the machinery behind them.

He felt Macaque's tail hit his side after a while, thumping softly against him... but he didn't push it away.

He wondered if this would change anything at all.

Syntax saw more of Macaque than usual after that. Sometimes he would wander into his lab and just... stay there. Silent as the shadows he liked to hide in. Sometimes he would just watch him work, other times he would bring him plums or mangoes. Syntax never had much of a taste for fruit, not really enjoying any form of sweets, but he would not pass up free food when his stomach rumbled in protest from his long hours. One time Macaque had brought in a book, sat on his desk, and just read it.

That was bizarre, even for him. But Syntax found he didn't exactly mind the company. It was quite... lonely in the lab. He was the only human in the Spider Queen's entourage and her other two companions weren't exactly the best company. Oh, the big guy was nice and all and Syntax even enjoyed his presence well enough. But he would grow bored of the scientist's techno babble and science talk eventually and leave with a nod and a wave goodbye. He was grateful that he seemed to listen, however, even if he wasn't interested in the specifics.

The other one, however, was a pain in his ass. Constantly one upping him, trying to belittle him for being a human, just being an all around annoyance. He tried to act cool and suave but Syntax just found him obnoxious.

Macaque... Macaque stayed, listened even if Syntax ran out of things to talk about. And it was oddly nice. He felt himself growing excited for when the part-spider part-monkey would make his presence known.

He wondered, distantly... if Macaque was starting to mean something to him. To matter, in a way.

The day of the final treatment eventually arrived and Syntax actually dreaded what might happen. This was their last shot to make this work completely, there was a greater than 0% chance that this would cause irreparable damage to the monkey demon if they had to continue farther. But it seemed his worries were unfounded. He was smart, a genius even. He had done his job properly, even if it had taken far too long and was the least beneficial way to accomplish the goal.

Macaque screamed worse than with every other treatment, and understandably do. It would have shocked him if Macaque hadn't since he was growing two new arms.

The Spider Queen had taken her leave shortly after, disgusted by the sight before her. It was Syntax's job to watch as Macaque slowly changed before him, bones and muscle and sinew growing slowly and bit by until finally... finally it was finished.

They had learned from last time, placing a cot on the ground for him to sit on while this happened, and he collapsed onto his back. Two new arms limp against the floor as he shook and twitched and cried cold tears in agony. But it was finished.

Syntax couldn't stop himself. He rushed forward, kneeling beside Macaque's head, watching his eyes and expression for recognition and any sign that he was alright. It had only been two weeks since the last treatment, the time needed for him to recuperate, but in that short time... he had grown oddly fond of the man on the cot. He did not know what he felt for him, not yet, but he knew that he did not dislike him in the slightest.

"Ma-Macaque?" He asked softly after no response for nearly 15 minutes, waiting and watching and finally Macaque's eyes turned to him. "How do you feel?"

Macaque didn't say anything to him at first. Just blinked before a weak chuckle resounded from his throat.

"Whole."

The transformation was a mistake. Syntax had never felt guilt for any of his scientific achievement before, and he did not feel guilt for helping the Spider Queen in her endeavor, bit this? This he felt guilt for.

Macaque was in pain. Constantly. Sometimes it was just a dull ache, other times he almost collapsed as something moved the way it shouldn't and he had to bite back a scream. But there was no taking it back now and Macaque reveled in "feeling whole" again.

Syntax felt a mix of awe and wonder whenever he looked at the demon. He was... handsome, the purples and blacks and silvers of his fur blending together properly now. His eyes brilliant gold and green. And when he wasn't in pain his smile was nice, soft even if he could call it that. He was unsure of how much of it was true, he knew the Six-Eared Macaque to be a trickster. But he hoped some of it was, at least when directed at him.

But when he was in pain his face twisted in a way that made Syntax sick to his stomach to see it each time the agony rang true on his face. But Macaque brushed it off, not seeming to pay it much mind. Not when he had his eyes and arms "back".

The Spider Queen agreed with him, he could tell, but probably not for the same reasons. She seemed frightened of him. Goliath and Huntsman were just scared of him too. They avoided him like he would kill them on sight.

Syntax, despite his guilt, welcomes his presence still. He was not frightened of Macaque in the least. No, he just felt guilt that he was in pain. And he would never not want to help him through that now. The spider monkie had grown attached to him, almost a constant companion at his side. And he had grown fond of him as well.

He learned that Macaque had a flair for the theater. He made shadow puppets when the Spider Queen wasn't watching, though for what purpose and what audience Syntax had not asked. He liked to watch Syntax work, and eventually as he started to rest his head on the human's shoulder he learned the rumbling from the second to last treatment was a purr. He didn't know demons could purr, let alone to speed up recovery from injuries.

But the day of the Lunar New Year was coming and Syntax could tell he had something else... someone else on his mind.

The next day was to be the day. Syntax's last chance to get the new formula and tech right. It almost felt like a repeat of the past treatments but with less screaming. He was worried.

Macaque wasn't, however. He had never been worried, assuring the Spider Queen (sometimes through growls and bared teeth) that it would be done in time. He'd been a success after all. (Syntax said nothing each time.)

They'd never been this close before, but Macaque had eventually dragged the scientist away from his computer for rest. Taken him to his room, sat on the bed with him, and just. Held him. Purring loud and deep and eventually Syntax was lulled into slumber sitting up against the soft-coarse fur of Macaque.

He realized that Macaque mattered to him more than he cared to admit.

Syntax had failed. His formula and tech hadn't worked. They only had one shot left, and there was no time for him to fix his mistakes before the end of the celebration. Macaque had been in too much pain, on the other side of the room, to tell Spider Queen off this time. It was all over...

Until she came. The young woman in white and blue. She'd done something, added an ingredient he had not been able to calculate for, and then...

"Let's give it a spin," Spider Queen had said with a smirk as she turned toward her human scientist... her human guinea pig.

"Wait, no!" Syntax backed up, knowing that it was almost pointless to attempt escape. There was nowhere to run. "I helped you! You need me! Maca-AGH!"

Before the spider monkie could rush to his side the little spider drone had jumped on Syntax, adhering itself to his face before he fell backward over some machinery. It crawled around him, situating itself on his back and digging in it's injectors and

pain agony pain pain something came out of his back pain another painpainhescreamedandscreamed ANOTHER AGONYISTHISWHATMACAQUEFELTPAIN one more

And then it was over. Syntax felt... nothing. No pain. No agony.

No... guilt.

He stood straight, facing forward before kneeling. He knew what he had to do.

"My queen."

Yes. His queen. The Spider Queen.

She was the only one who mattered to him.

He heard his name spoken from the other side of the room but paid it no mind. That voice didn't matter to him.

That wasn't the voice of his queen.

"Syntax?" Macaque called, unable to stand from his spot as his arms throbbed in ghost pain. He had tried to stand before, when the drone had lunged at him, but the pain shot through him for a split second and send him to his knees too quickly.

His screams... his screams made his ears pull back not from the pain of the volume but from fear and something else.

Then Syntax stopped screaming and stood and knelt before the Queen.

"Syntax!"

... he never responded.

Macaque wondered if this is what guilt felt like.

#oops all SAD #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #ship fic #hurt/comfort #six eared macaque #syntax #shadowcodingshipping #fun fact: Shadow Code is when devs include third-party code without approval or any safety validation #considering the way this ship came about here I THINK THAT FITS

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

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What’s your opinion on pre-canon Renruki?

I think that they already had a romantic or almost romantic relationship back in the Academy, maybe even back in Rukongai, and the reason it wasn’t explicit is because firstly it would have spoiled the endgame couples, and secondly it’s a shonen, so it’s implied.

I think they fooled around when they were orphans in Inuzuri. They grew up together, they were always together in their “teenage” years (however adolescence works for souls😅), I think it’s not impossible that they had their first experience, if just their first kiss and make out session, with each other. When they joined the Academy, they spent less time together due to their different courses, and I think Rukia’s sad expression when Renji leaves for the mission in the real world depicts that (along with worry for him, and maybe even jealousy for his achievements compared to hers). By then I think they were quite intimate, they fooled around sometimes (with the little time they had) and knew the other’s and their own feelings, but never said anything like “I love you”, or talked seriously about the depth of their relationship. If they were “just friends”, as some antis like to claim, they wouldn’t have been so heartbroken, have so many regrets and felt so guilty during their separation. And why that separation in the first place? It’s not a matter of class difference, because Rukia did talk to people of inferior status, like her Squad mates. What’s actually forbidden to people from different classes is relationships. If Renruki was just a friendship, there would have been no problem, but their bond was beyond that. Rukia wanted Renji to tell her to stay with him, but his feelings of inferiority and belief that Rukia deserved better (maybe even better than him) prevented him to do it. Their separation doesn’t feel like an end to a friendship to me, it feels like a breakup. They avoided each other because it hurt so much, and they couldn’t bear to have any relationship other than a romantic one, which was impossible once she became a Kuchiki.

After the Soul Society arc, they got back together. They were physically too comfortable around each other to be just friends, like when he basically hugged her to encourage her to go back to Soul Society when Orihime is kidnapped (and maybe he was also comforting her), or when, during the fight with the Fullbringers, he casually placed her head resting on his thigh. By then they were secretly dating, in my opinion. In the last arc they were always together, it’s so easy imagining them as a couple.

What do you think? Is my interpretation far fetched? I’d like to hear your theories about their feelings, when they blossomed, when they confessed, if they had something going on during their Academy years…

Thank you if you decide to answer!🤍

Well, as you say, Bleach is a shounen, and also I don’t think Kubo was particularly interested in including romance in the story, so I don’t think there is a correct or incorrect interpretation. It’s left to the reader to imagine what they like. I don’t think “spoiling the endgame” has anything to do with anything.

I don’t think your interpretation is “too far-fetched,” although I don’t happen to agree with it. There’s very little to go on in canon, people can fill in the gaps in whatever way makes them happy/makes sense to them. I have exactly 0 interest in arguing with people on the internet about stuff like this. I enjoy reading fanfiction that has wildly different interpretations from my own, I generally love to hear a variety of ideas, although I generally prefer the format of a narrative over Tumblr posts (funny, since I do seem to write a lot of them).

Anyway, here are a bunch of opinions. This is way, way too long, so I'm gonna throw it under a cut.

That being said, you have some really amatonormative ideas in there that I do take issue with. Friendships absolutely can be as deep and important as romantic relationships. I categorically reject the idea that a romantic bond is stronger than a friendship one or that acts of physical affection necessarily imply a romantic relationship. I actually have no beef at all with people who want to read Rukia and Renji’s story as a very strong friendship. I do think it was still reasonable for Renji to avoid her during their separation, even if his goal wasn’t romance. He wanted to see her live a better life, and didn’t want to drag her down. Yeah, sure, if he just wanted to be a casual workplace friend, he probably could have joined Squad 13 and seen her once in a while. But, especially in the early days, it would have been a bad look for Rukia to continue socializing with people deeply below her station, and I feel in my heart that Byakuya would have forbidden her from seeing Renji if he found out she was hanging out with someone from her Inuzuri days, even if it was just casual. Yeah, there exist people who say Rukia and Renji are "just friends" for the sake of other preferred ships, but also, like, so what? Who cares? That’s a lot better than making Renji out to be a bad person or trashing his character. To be honest, I am generally happy to read a fanfic that had some other Renji or Rukia pairing if it actually contained some solid Renruki best friend content (I have found a few 369 fics that do this, and maybe also in the little bit of RenIchi content I have read, so, uh, good job, my gays. This is sometimes touched on in ByaRen fics, but usually not as much as I want, althought I also tend to hold these to a high bar, because if I have to deal with Byakuya in my fanfics, they should have to deal with the Rukia-Renji friendship 😂)

Anyway, you asked for my interpretation, so here it is . These are all just, like, my opinions, man:

Life in Inuzuri just really, really, really sucks, and Rukia and Renji both have a lot of trauma and emotional hang-ups from that time. I think they forged a deep emotional connection during this time that was probably a little too codependent to actually be healthy. They had no models of healthy families or relationships. I also think they were incredibly close to Fujimaru, Kosaburou, and Mameji, and that even if they wanted to have a romantic relationship, they wouldn’t have, at the risk of ruining the more important bonds of the larger group.

In my fanfic, in their last days in Inuzuri, I do have them fool around for a brief period. It coincides with the deterioration of the bond with their last surviving friend, leading to his death. I did this for trauma reasons, because that’s how writers are.

“Communication” is probably the most important theme in my writing, and a thing I bring up all the time is that young Rukia and Renji had a thousand ways of communicating survival-based things between each other, and 0 ways of communicating how they felt about each other.

I did a post on this recently, but their whole gang was incredibly powerless in Inuzuri. They lived on the fringes of society and stole scraps to survive. I think that their number one duty to one another was to survive. In the anime, Rukia swears that she will never leave Inuzuri, that she will always stay with her friends. I think the reason she does an about-face is not just because their friends are gone, but because she realizes that she will lose Renji next, and the only way to prevent that is for both of them to get stronger. Neither of them actually wants to become a soul reaper. They do it for each other.

I think that Renji would have remained in Inuzuri and tried to make a life as best they could, but Rukia knew this was futile, and where Rukia goes, Renji follows.

I think they purposely maintained distance at the Academy. Just as in Inuzuri, their primary duty to one another is to survive and thrive. They were rejected and mocked for their low origins, and hanging out together would have made this worse. I think it hurt Rukia that Renji made new friends, but on the other hand, they were exactly the sort of people who would help him get a leg up in the Gotei. Rukia’s Academy days were very painful because she saw Renji succeeding, just as she wanted, but leaving her behind in the process. Conversely, Renji got super focused on doing well, with the idea that he could pull Rukia up behind him, except for the part where he never actually told her that.

I feel like I’m in the minority here, but so much fanfic focuses on Rukia and/or Renji being “wrong” in the scene where he tells her to go to the Kuchiki, but I disagree! Everything they have done is in order to get to a better life! It is Renji’s duty to encourage her to leave him behind. He doesn’t want to be an anchor holding her down. Likewise, Rukia knows that if she doesn’t go, she’s just gonna be a burden on him. Their relationship has always been about each of them surviving separately over having happiness together. Up to now, they’ve always managed to find each other again, although this kinda looks like it might be it for them. Do these kids need to go to therapy? Yes! Did they do anything wrong? No!

I think about this a lot, but even if Rukia had turned down the adoption (which… I’m not actually sure she could have), even the offer would have ruined their relationship. Imagine that Renji asks her to stay, and she does. Maybe they even get together at this point. Every rough patch, every time there’s money troubles, this spectre of “Rukia could have been a Kuchiki” is going to hang over them. In fiction, there is often an idea of sacrifice being a one-time romantic gesture, but in my real life experience, this sort of thing hangs around like an unwanted ghost. I can, in fact, envision a scenario where this is exactly how Aizen manages to get his hooks in Renji, by offering Rukia an unseated spot in Squad 5, even though she “isn’t really good enough to deserve it” and “taking care of them.”

I am really fascinated with Rukia’s crush on Kaien/Miyako. Bold proclamation here, but I think there is something developmentally healthy about young people having crushes on the older people in their lives, provided that said older people treat them with respect and dignity and don’t take advantage of it in any way. Crushes are, by their nature of being unreciprocated, a safe way for young folks to imagine the sort of people and relationships they want to have in their lives. I headcanon Rukia as bisexual, and maybe also a little bit genderfluid, and she had these two extremely cool people in her life, whom she maybe wanted to be and maybe wanted to kiss and maybe to have a marriage like that some day. I… like to think that their role in her life healed some of her trauma before their death caused even more.

Fully into headcanons now, but I like to think that Renji had a parallel experience, with, of all people, Ikkaku and Yumichika. Like him, they came from the ass-end of Rukongai, but they stuck together instead of bowing to the social mores of the Seireitei. It is critical to note that they were able to do this through strength. This is literally not a thing that Renji and Rukia could have done, but at the same time, Renji sees this as the kind of relationship he wants to have with a partner. He doesn’t want to look after Rukia and protect her, he wants to fight back-to-back with her and then make out afterwards. He’s still convinced that he needs to go through the proper class channels to see Rukia again, but without their influence, I don’t think he ever would have been able to say “fuck it” and turn on his captain during the Soul Society Arc.

Meeting Ichigo and dealing with his unreasonable need to protect everyone he cares about, personally, was also a huge blow to Rukia and Renji’s “I cannot allow the other person to take any risks for my sake” hang-up. Ichigo has his own traumas, which are entirely different from Renruki’s, but the one thing he had was growing up in a loving family. (Isshin has his problems, but I feel strongly that he always made his kids feel like his love was unconditional). I’m not saying that making friends with a shounen protagonist is a good replacement for therapy, but it does have healing properties.

Entirely off-topic, but I feel like Ichigo is incredibly selfish in the way of Terry Pratchett’s witches: “All witches are selfish, the Queen had said. But Tiffany’s Third Thoughts said: Then turn selfishness into a weapon! Make all things yours! Make other lives and dreams and hopes yours! Protect them! Save them! Bring them into the sheepfold! Walk the gale for them! Keep away the wolf! My dreams! My brother! My family! My land! My world! How dare you try to take these things, because they are mine!

Where were we? Oh, yeah. I honestly think that it is unknowable when in canon Rukia and Renji confessed. I already covered this pretty thoroughly in this post. I hate the idea that they were secretly dating. Renji worked incredibly hard to get his post and I think that both his job and Byakuya’s respect are very important to him. I do not think he would put either of those things at risk like that, nor would Rukia want him to. I tend to prefer a slow-burn approached, and I honestly think they got together during the 17-mo timeskip at the earliest, and more likely post-canon entirely, although I think them confessing in the Royal Realm is the spiciest possible outcome, so that’s what most of my fanfic cleaves to.

#renruki #did tumblr increase number of characters you can have in an ask?#i was honestly surprised when i opened this one and saw how long it was

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maybankiara · 4 years

Photo

YOU’RE IN MY HEAD

pairing: Footballer!Rafe Cameron x Reader

summary: When he keeps putting you off your position during matches, you decide to take it up with him -- unbeknownst to you, there’s more to Rafe than just wanting to prevent you from being a good football player (and it’s called unresolved sexual tension.)

w/c: 4k

a/n: happy valentine’s day!! @drewstarkey and i have a whole football!obx au (soccer, for you americans) planned that i keep putting off, so here’s a little something loosely inspired by the idea, until that finally arrives. also, in this universe, football is a unisex sport. i’m not a football expert so there may be some inaccuracies. i hope you enjoy both the day and the fic! (and do let me know if this football!fic is what people are interested in.)

masterlist

It’s the half-time of one of the better matches the team has played this season and, of course, Rafe Cameron ruins it by uttering a single sentence: ‘Y/N, you’re swapping positions with Kiara.’

The captain’s orders don’t end here, and he decides to implement some more strategies the team has practiced before, adapting the approach to the heavy-defence strategy that North Carolina is playing tonight. Sarah gives you a sympathetic look and a tap on your hand, but all you can do is shake your head.

This is the third time in a row Rafe has put you on the sidelines, basically. Always swapping with Kiara, whom everybody knows to be a lot fiercer right back than you, or anyone else on the team. Just like you’re better at being in the front, charging for the goal.

When the changes are in place and there’s about five minutes left, Rafe asks if anyone has got questions. Peterkin stays quiet and lets Captain Cameron take over, just like she always does.

You raise your hand, and Rafe calls on you. ‘What the fuck, Rafe? Why are you putting me in the back again?’

His jaw clenches. ‘We need someone firmer on the front.’

‘But you also need a firm defence,’ you argue. ‘You’re not making any sense.’

He stares at you and you hold his gaze, unwavering, feeling his sister stir next to you. On the other end of the locker room, Kiara pulls her jersey down, biting her lip. ‘Y/N’s right—’

‘I know what I’m doing,’ Rafe cuts her off. ‘Now let’s get back on the field.’

You listen to what he says, but not without letting your disagreement with his choice be written all over your face. When you’re headed out, he’s waiting to be the last, and you bump into him as you’re walking out, shoulder to shoulder, torso to torso.

He glares, and you clench your teeth, trailing behind Pope.

Back on the field, time flies. You warm up quickly and it’s back in the game again, only on a different position than where you started. Kiara offers you a sympathetic glance, much like the one Sarah gave you, because everyone is starting to notice that Rafe is treating you differently.

As you run, a little out of the grounds he told you you’d be covering, saving the ball more than a handful of times, you feel his watchful eyes on you. You’re not meant to be playing the right back but you’d rather do your best, even if it means overexerting yourself, just to make sure you don’t lose.

You foul an opposing player and drop to the ground, feeling your ankle get sore; Rafe’s the first to get to your side, helping you up. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’

It’s a free kick, but not a yellow, so you say, ‘Whatever it takes.’

‘Don’t go breaking your legs, Y/N.’

You pull your arm out of his hold, sending a glare his way as you go back to your position. You should keep paying attention to the ball, because it’s about to be kicked, but you can’t help but shout, ‘If you let me play what I’m supposed to play, maybe I’ll listen!’

The game picks up. You dive a few more times, Kiara gets a nasty foul that has her off the pitch for about half a minute, Topper gets a cramp, JJ fouls in the front and gets a yellow, John B and Rafe nearly start a scrap when someone gets Sarah to the ground – but you win.

That should be what’s important, you think as the entire team is hugging and celebrating, but your heart isn’t in the right place.

Playing football is far from fun when you keep being treated like a lesser player than someone else.

Time wears on, the team gets changed, and it’s time for a proper celebration, down at the Wreck. Sarah tries getting your spirits up, even Kiara tries telling you that at least you evaded getting fouled like that, Kelce tells you that you saved his ass, but none of it matters – not when Rafe celebrates as if what he’s doing is right.

Seriously. Three matches. It’s fucking ridiculous at this point.

You approach Rafe without hesitation, but still keep your voice hushed, because you’re not exactly trying to ruin everybody’s happiness with your tension. ‘Can we talk?’

He glances at you as he pulls his jersey over his head – your eyes drop to his lean torso, despite the fact you see it on an almost weekly basis.

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ he says, and takes his shorts off. ‘You were good today, as a right back.’

‘That’s not my— Jesus, do you need to be half naked right now?’

‘What?’ he asks, almost innocently, but the grin betrays him. ‘I’m getting changed. Why are you getting so worked up?’

‘I’m not—’ You pinch the bridge of your nose, letting out an exasperated huff as he takes off his socks, too, and is now wearing literally just boxers. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

He chuckles, dropping down on the bench. You half-wonder what Topper, sitting next to him, must be thinking – and realise that most of the team is taking selfies and chatting in the other end of the locker room. It’s just you and Rafe.

Good.

He looks up at you from the bench, manspreading with his back leaning on the wall. ‘What do you want?’

‘I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m kind of trying to have a serious conversation with you right now.’

‘Yeah, I got that.’

He’s hot. Okay, he’s hot and the reason why you’re so bothered about him being almost naked is because it’s taking your mind off of what you’re wanting to talk about, and giving a different meaning to you being “worked up”.

So you gather all your courage and bring your eyes up to meet his, trying to exude as much fierceness as you can muster. ‘I need you to let me play on my position. I’ve had enough, you can’t keep doing that if you’re not training me to play Kiara’s.’

‘Easy,’ he says, shrugging. ‘Then we’ll train you.’

Your jaw drops. ‘Are you being fucking serious right now?’

Before he gets to answer, JJ calls from the other end that they need to hurry up, if the team wants to make it to the Wreck at a normal time. It breaks whatever moment you and Rafe were sharing and, telling him the conversation isn’t over, you retreat back to your locker. It takes all you’ve got to not let this affect the celebratory mood, because winning 2 - 0 is pretty damn good, and you should take some credit for that. Even if it wasn’t on your position, for half of the match.

It ends up not being so difficult, actually, to not think about what happened. Once you’re back in Kildare and at the Wreck, food and drinks are flowing, and as long as Rafe is out of your earshot and sight, it’s good. He tends to stay away from you most times, anyway.

(Which, okay, you can admit now sometimes bothers you, you’ve had a few drinks.)

It’s not so difficult, until JJ lounges in the chair next to you, beer can in one hand and a donut in another, asks, ‘What’s up with you and Cap’n?’

‘Don’t even get me started,’ you sigh. ‘I don’t know what crawled up his ass.’

‘Language, Y/N.’

‘Fuck off, Maybank.’

The blond just grins, probably happy to see you slightly irritated – but not at him.

He pushes the chair back from swinging into its normal position, resting his elbows on the table. He leans towards you as if he’s about to tell you a secret – even his eyebrows furrow, the ever-present smile shaping into a frown. ‘Seriously, he keeps pushing you in the back. He’s gotta have a reason for that.’

‘Not that I’d know of,’ you admit. You shrug, lightly, despite the actual weight of the subject. ‘I thought we made a good team in the front. He assisted me, I assisted him… It’s been working well.’

JJ nods, pondering. ‘It was the game against New Jersey, right?’

‘The last time I played without the change?’ You play until JJ nods, then sigh, playing with a broken piece hanging off the wooden table. ‘I didn’t even get to play, since that bitch nearly sprained my ankle.’

‘It’s always your ankle,’ JJ says, chuckling.

His thoughts take him to stories of all the injuries you and the rest of team have gotten so far, drawing a couple of your teammates into the conversation. Rafe slips off your mind for the most part, as you laugh along to the ridiculous number of times Kelce has faceplanted while tackled, or to Pope is retelling how he defended the goal by getting the ball in his nuts, which made him fear for his offspring (it was all fun, and makes for a hilarious story).

It’s only when you glance around the table and catch him in conversation with Topper, or James, or Sarah, and his eyes are trained on you for just a moment before they’re gone – as if he wants you to see him, but wants you to question whether it was an accident. You feel yourself growing stiff; when it happens too many times, your mind flashes back to the locker room – you, trying to talk to him; Rafe, half naked, grinning at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He’s conceited. He’s selfish. He’s attractive, with that prep-boy look around him that falls apart when he’s leading the charge on the pitch – when the wisps of blond frame the sharp lines of his face, and he embodies the look of the leader he’s become.

It just sucks that you don’t quite agree with his leadership, and he doesn’t quite agree with you speaking up about it.

Night wears on, and your teammates flock to their beds, one by one. You’re only staying at the Wreck, the local hotel, for a night – tomorrow’s a new day, a new tournament. It would be smart to go to sleep early. Get the energy you need for tomorrow, because tomorrow’s filled with press conferences, which you don’t tend to enjoy.

It would also be smarter to deal with the captain tomorrow morning, when you’re both sober, instead of the buzz running through your veins right now.

By the time it hits midnight, it’s only you, JJ, Pope, Kiara, Rafe, and Topper. Instead of taking the big table at the wreck, the few of you retreated to a secluded one in the corner of the hotel’s dining room. Topper’s beating everyone at cards, but Kiara’s at his neck, and everyone has downed enough drinks for the night to be called quits soon enough; you are starting to sober up, and can already feel the headache looming.

Inadvertently, you glance at Rafe. He’s holding his cards in one hand, spread evenly, long fingers adorned with rings keeping them in place. Across from you, his eyes don’t meet yours, as they look around the table, through everybody’s poker faces – you notice the angle of his cheekbones, the sharpness of his jawline, the unstyled hair having the slightest bit of a messy wave to it. You hate how much attention you pay to the parting of his lips, and the line of his nose, the curve of his eyes; his Adam’s apple bobbing as he taunts Pope across the table, trying to get him to break the cards.

When he turns as if scalded and his eyes meet yours, you don’t avert your gaze.

It might be the alcohol, but the room is starting to feel a little stuffy, a little warm; you’ve never realised how intense his gaze can be. It’s almost as if it’s unguarded, spiked with the few drinks everyone’s had.

You clear your throat, looking at your cards – you’re definitely not going to be the one winning anytime soon. ‘I think I’ll head to bed, soon.’

If anybody notices the fluttering of your voice, they don’t comment on it. Kiara nods, JJ boos you, and Rafe says: ‘We should all probably head to bed if we want to be ready for tomorrow.’

‘Okay, Cap’n,’ says Topper, resting an arm around the blond’s shoulders. ‘You go get your beauty sleep, me and the boys are going to let you know how it went when you wake up in the morning, princess.’

Kiara clears her throat, drawing the attention to herself before quirking an eyebrow at Topper. ‘What’s making you think you’re getting rid of me?’

There’s a collective of ooh’s, and you think about staying, but it wouldn’t be smart. Rafe’s right, you all would be better getting some sleep, but there’s also the fact that you’re pissed at him and you’re drunk enough for that to be making you seem in a bit of a different light.

(You’re still struggling to breathe, a little bit. Hopefully no one has noticed.)

In the end, you bid everyone goodnight, pay your bill, and head for your room. You’re still not feeling well and there’s a water dispenser in the ground hallway, opposite end of where the stairs to the upper floor are. You think about making a cup of tea, but settle for water – water is good.

Cold water should unhaze your mind.

You stay in the hallway, for a little pit – it’s peaceful here. Hallways have meant something to you ever since your team’s career started to take off two years ago. Wherever you go, rooms and places are different, but hallways are nearly always the same. They’re always just transit spaces, connecting point A with point B; it’s not quite a liminal space, but it’s where you feel like nothing can hurt you.

That is, until you’re about to set your foot on the stairs, and you see Rafe walking out of the toilets.

His eyes settle on you at the same moment and both of you freeze; the hallway is quiet, save for the music reaching it from the dining hall. You can almost hear your heart beating.

‘Thought you were going to bed.’

You raise your glass, which you refilled just before embarking for your room. ‘Had to stop for a bit.’

He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Outside of the locker room, outside of the dining hall, he doesn’t seem like the overconfident Rafe you’ve got so much against. He still is the same – it just doesn’t show that much.

‘I meant what I said earlier,’ he says, slowly, as if the words are hard to push out. ‘I think your should train to be right back.’

If you had half a shot more, you would’ve thrown the water into his face. Now, all you do, is say – ‘You’re an asshole, Cameron.’ – and go up the stairs. For a moment there’s nothing, but then there’s rushed footsteps coming up the stairs, and you feel a hand on your wrist, and his voice calling your name.

You don’t turn around instantly. You’re too angry for that – you close your eyes instead, and breathe, before collecting yourself enough to not explode.

He’s still holding your wrist when you turn around, and he’s close enough that you can almost feel the heat radiating off his body; the cologne mixed with the scent of fresh clothes.

‘Please don’t be angry with me.’

You scoff, pulling your hand out of his grip. ‘You’re ruining my life. You know how important this is to me, and you keep— you keep putting me where I don’t belong!’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and he sounds earnest; he sounds the way his face looks – a small frown on his face, lips quivering breathlessly, the wrinkles around his eyes almost pleading with her. ‘I’m just doing what’s best for everybody, Y/N.’

‘I don’t play defence. That’s Kiara’s job, but apparently that’s not good enough for you. You know where I’m good at.’

‘You’re good playing any position.’ He says it quick, as if the words escape from him. He swallows loudly enough that she hears him and takes a step back, shaking his head. ‘Look, you’re one of the best players on the team. That’s why—’

‘Then why don’t you put me where I can be the best?’

‘Y/N, just trust me, okay?’

‘No,’ you say, crossing the distance he created between the two of you until his back’s pressed against the wall, and you’re right in front of him, a finger jabbed into his chest. ‘I want to know why you’re doing this.’

He hesitates; you feel his heart beating faster than you thought possible. ‘We were playing against rough teams. I couldn’t let you get hurt.’

You scoff again, half-laughing as you rub your forehead with the back of your hand. ‘That’s bullshit. Jesus, Rafe, you’re spewing shit.’

‘Look, it’s the truth. I couldn’t take that risk.’

‘But you could take that risk with Kiara.’

‘Yes.’

No hesitation; no wavering. It’s something he must’ve thought through, over and over again, for the answer to be so certain. You’re a little taken aback, and your finger falls from his chest, but the distance is still almost nonexistent.

It’s because I’m good, you tell yourself, that’s why he’s keeping you safe, but it doesn’t ring true. Not when you can smell his cologne and not when his eyes drop to your lips, cheeks flushed.

So you decide to ask why.

He hesitates again, and you feel his shoulder slump as thoughts run through his head. Whatever he settles on, he’s certain, and you can see it. His voice is almost sad when he admits, ‘After the game against New Jersey, I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. I couldn’t lose you on the pitch, because when you weren’t around, it was like I couldn’t get my head straight.’ He pauses, and then: ‘I’m sorry.’

Rafe breathes slowly, carefully, but your heart is racing around your ribcage, threatening to break through. His words echo around your head as you try to make sense of them – make sense of the way he felt like it was more than just a admission of being a good team – make sense of the way he’s looking at you like he’s expecting more than a reaction to the recognition of your worth as a teammate.

There’s a feeling in your chest that you can’t describe. It’s in your throat, in the back of your head, burning through your ears – a thought almost too scary to form, but then it does, and it refuses to leave.

So you swallow the gulp in your throat and ask, ‘Is my being good on the pitch the only reason?’

A beat. ‘No.’

You nod, slowly, as if in a trance. His eyes are gazing into yours with intensity you’ve never felt before – it’s as if he’s asking you to say something, to do something, to show that you understand what he’s saying without saying it.

And you do.

You do.

You nod, and your lips are on his before you get the chance to think this through. His hands are quick to grab your waist as your fingers get tangled in the soft waves of his hair, bodies pressing against one another in a heated rush.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ he mutters, a moment before his lips find your neck, fingers slipping underneath your top, dipping into the skin on your back. You moan, a little too loud, and he laughs against your neck. ‘We really shouldn’t.’

‘Yeah, we shouldn’t,’ you agree, watching him as he pulls his head back to look at you, a dazed smile on his face. ‘My room or yours?’

Rafe’s grin is enough to set your body on fire. ‘Yours is closer.’

He kisses you again, a firm kiss planted on your lips, before taking your hand and letting you lead to your room. The moment the door is locked, your lips are on his neck, clothes are clumsily coming off on your way to the bed, and you only have a second to wonder how long this has been inevitable until his lips hit the right spot, and every thought is as good as gone.

When you wake in the morning, you’re half-surprised to find him curled into your side, head resting on your shoulder and an arm draped over your stomach. He’s still asleep, and you take a moment to think about how calming—how right—it feels to be here, with him. The hotel room is nice, a quiet rose gold, and the light coming through the windows is making it almost ethereal.

It doesn’t feel like a mistake. You’re still a bit angry about being pushed back, but things seem a little different now that you know he wasn’t trying to hinder you, but protect you.

(You still need to tell him that you don’t need protecting; you know what you got yourself into when you decided to play the sport.)

With a smile on your face, you start playing with your head. He wakes within five seconds, with the same dazed look on his face from last night. His eyes find yours and he pauses for a moment, as if he were taking it all in, before his lips find home in yours. Neither of you think about morning breath, or about the fact that you should both probably go for a shower before leaving the hotel, because Rafe snuggles into your shoulder, pressing butterfly kisses to your collarbone, as his hand traces circles around your stomach.

You take it upon yourself to ask, ‘No regrets?’

‘None.’

‘You should have one,’ you tease, and only let him be frightened for a moment. ‘Pushing me into the back.’

He sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck. ‘Are we still arguing about that?’

‘We will be, until you let me play offense again.’

‘If it was you instead of Kiara yesterday, it could’ve messed with your leg,’ he says. Before you get to respond, he pushes himself off the bed so he can look at you. ‘I know your ankle is still hurting from New Jersey even if you’re not saying anything.’

You can’t deny the truth.

Rafe kisses your forehead. ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful.’

‘I always am.’

‘More,’ he says, breaking into a smile. ‘I need my partner back.’

‘If you promise to never make decisions for me without consulting me first.’

He squints, as if thinking about it, but you can tell he isn’t. ‘I promise.’

‘Okay, then.’ You wrap your arms around him and pull him down, kissing him softly. ‘I promise to be more careful.’

In the end, it’s like he promised – you go back to playing offense, in the front of every attack, and you and Rafe are back to being the dynamic scoring duo you’ve always been. Except this time this dynamic extends to beyond the field, and you support each other when the football isn’t around. Nobody is surprised by the turn of the events – you’re not entirely sure, but JJ passes Kiara a few bills when you and Rafe break the news to the team, and you think there was bets going around.

Things get back to fine. Things get better. You end up winning the tournament, and Rafe kisses you with the cup in his hand, and the next morning, the headlines are full of your and Rafe’s names more so than your team’s, but that’s fine. You’ve made it.

You’ve got everything you need – you just never thought it’d be no one other than Rafe Cameron, the Captain himself.

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #obx fic #my fic #i even made a wee graphic for it bc i was born but also bc it's not a usual fic #it's a gift <3 #anyway i might be willing to explore football!rafe a bit more in the future if there's interest #no clue if the obx fandom is even alive rn #anyway the left pic is bc that's the rafe i imagine being here #the smoker posh boy kinda type #you know the kind that fleur likes (not that i'm exposing her or anything)

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brockadoodles · 4 years

Text

sydämellinen (warm) - m. rantanen

AN: SURPRISE BITCHES HERE’S A CHRISTMAS FIC. I wrote this little thing specifically for @hockeyboysiguess. So Merry Christmas in November, my dear. I hope you love it. It might be some of the softest content I’ve ever written, for a boy I don’t even go here for. So let me know what you think.

*Also if any of the Finnish is wrong, I apologize, I don’t speak Finnish rip.

Word Count: 2362

Warnings: None

Christmas traditions were something that you never quite understood until you weren’t at home anymore to have them. Growing up, you had never considered the things that your family did around the holidays as monumental or special traditions, oftentimes you felt boring and inadequate when asked about them. Your mom, your dad, and you, that was all you had, and the holidays seamlessly came and went each year. Sure, a tree would get decorated, there would be some sort of family dinner, but nothing felt magical or special like the holidays were always made out to be. Everything in your world felt stagnant until you met him.

Mikko Rantanen adored everything about the holidays, it was part of growing up for him. Christmas in Finland was no debatably the largest celebration in the country all year, every year. He found extravagant light displays enticing, and the warm smell of Christmas ham comforting. To him, there was nothing more memorable than his childhood memories of Christmas with his family, the traditions held strong each year, traditions that he packed up and took with him when he moved away for his career. His Christmases changed from large family gatherings to small close-knit nights with the few teammates and friends who also didn’t go back home for the holidays, attempting at recreating that fleeting feeling of home that he desperately missed. A feeling that he hadn’t felt since he was young until he met you.

Mikko knew you never cared for the holidays, he realized this on your first date, a cold, snowy evening in November. He watched as you sat there in the soft candlelight, face twisting slightly at the mention of what both of you were doing for Christmas that year. When Mikko lit up at the mention of the holidays and started telling you about his traditions from home, you tried to hide your distaste. You tried to hide the sinking feeling in your stomach, the one that was pulling you down into a self-deprecating mess sitting at a far too nice restaurant with a far too expensive-looking meal in front of you, waiting for this person as wonderful as Mikko to realize that you weren’t worth sharing his traditions with. Mikko noticed though because Mikko noticed everything about you, even the things you hopelessly tried to protect him from. He noticed it all because that’s what happens when you love someone as much as Mikko fell in love with you.

The first Christmas, you had a reasonable excuse for not seeing him. Your parents had insisted on a Christmas spent in Aspen, a three and a half-hour drive from Denver that acted as your barrier from Mikko and his Christmas traditions, something that was overwhelming so early on in your relationship. You simply packed up a bag, driving your old car through the mountains, and spent Christmas sitting in front of a fire in a far too expensive resort town, no Christmas tree in sight and nothing but an unread text from your boyfriend to keep you company.

The second Christmas together, his schedule is what kept you apart, with the Avalanche getting the unlucky Christmas Eve game out in New York. A schedule that would have him sitting wide awake on a redeye flight after a 6-0 shutout loss back to his condo alone in Denver with a heavy and longing heart, knowing that he needed to give you space during Christmas but also desperately wanting to share his favorite holiday with his favorite person. Instead, he spent the holiday alone on his couch, his texts to you left on read and a cold cup of miso soup on his coffee table as he wished for the day to pass.

By your third Christmas with Mikko, you knew it was time to actually spend the holiday together, to swallow your feelings and make an effort to learn the traditions of the man you had come to love over the last two years. A diamond ring sat nestled on your left hand, unfinished wedding plans for the following Summer in Finland, and a hole between you when it came to the holidays that you were finally ready to fill.

“Mikko?” You murmured into his shoulder, your lips pressing soft and slow kisses down his skin, your legs tangled with his own, a warmth nestled between you that made your stomach fill with butterflies, even after all this time together.

“Mhm, kultaseni?” The Finnish pet name running from his lips effortlessly, a term of endearment that made you blush every time. You kissed his shoulder once more, letting your fingers dance along the bare skin of his arm as you breathed a sigh that you didn’t know you were holding.

“Will you share your Christmas traditions with me?”

Mikko had to take a moment to make sure he heard you correctly, to make sure that the mechanisms of his brain that were translating English into Finnish as you spoke were working as they should. When he looked down at you, he saw something in your eyes that he didn’t recognize in all the years that you had been together. He saw, for the first time, a fleck of excitement about the holidays, and he wasn’t going to be the one passing that up for anything.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair, pressing a soft trail of kisses down your temple and lingering there for a moment, before he slowly adjusted his arm, rolling his body to hover over yours as he properly kissed you for the millionth time, but the first of that morning. The two of you stayed like that for a while, comfort nestling into your heart with each kiss that he gave, and each touch you felt. You were hopelessly, and entirely in love with Mikko Rantanen, and for the first time in your life, the idea of a Christmas tradition didn’t seem so bad.

Mikko knew he had to start slow with the traditions, he didn’t want to give you too much and have you pull yourself back from the idea. He wanted this to be a good experience for you, and if it took giving you one minuscule detail at a time for you to re-wire the part of your brain that associated Christmas with your parents that were somehow still together, yet should have been divorced, and a lack of lights and warmth into a special time for you and him, he would. Mikko Rantanen would have made the snowmelt in Denver for you if he could, because he loved you, as much as someone is capable of loving another person. And all he wanted for Christmas was to give you one new tradition that you loved, one that could be shared with just the two of you until hopefully one day there were toddlers running around the tree.

The first thing you did together was get a tree. It was a small tree, its branches were short and stubby and it couldn’t have been more than 2 feet tall even in the pot that it was nestled in. It wasn’t the tree that Mikko would have chosen, but when he saw your eyes brighten at the ceramic pot it was planted in, the 6 feet Douglass Fir’s lining the tree farm suddenly disappeared from his line of sight.

“Are you sure this one’s okay, Mik? I don’t want to mess with the tradition.” You quietly asked, your arm wrapped tightly around his as he pushed the tree in the cart toward the car. You didn’t want to change the things that he was trying to show you, but deep down you were finding yourself longing for this to be something you created with him, memories and traditions to have together. It may have seen silly to outsiders, putting so much thought into something that should have been simple, but you were trying to let him show you the magic of Christmas that he had spent years keeping from you at your own request, and part of that process was trying to redesign the idea about Christmas that you had built in your head.

“I love it, it’s perfect for us.” He smiled at you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, the black pom on your hat ticking his nose slightly as he stood back up.

The tree sat undecorated on a table by the window for nearly a week. With Mikko being gone on a road trip, you had just pushed it to the outskirts of your mind, figuring it would get done eventually. On the fifth morning that you woke up alone, you leaned over the counter as your coffee brewed, the tree sitting there on the table directly in front of you, Mikko’s good morning text replaying in your mind. You looked out the window, admiring the snow falling over the city, the grey clouds casting a shadow into your already grey and modern home. You sighed, and before you realized what you were doing, you found yourself wandering into the storage closet and pulling out a bin that you had never once touched or even looked at.

You set your coffee down on the floor next to the tree and slowly opened the plastic container, the contents carefully wrapped in protective tissue, ornaments you knew he had collected over the years since moving to Denver. You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes slowly, an image of Mikko dancing through your mind. You opened your eyes and grabbed an ornament, a small antique looking Santa, a chip on his leg from wear and tear and a black ink smudge on the bottom, 2002, presumably the year that it was bought. You carefully hung it on the tree, leaning back to admire it for a moment before reaching your hand back into the bin to grab another. This one, 1999. You took each ornament one by one, taking almost an hour to decorate this two-foot-tall tree sitting on a table against your high rise condo window, each ornament having a year written somewhere on them, leaving you to begin to wonder all of the circumstances that had led to Mikko having that specific ornament.

When all was done, the tree had ornaments but no lights, a pot instead of a tree skirt, and there was nothing sitting on top of it that resembled a star. Instead, you placed a photo of you and Mikko carefully next to the pot, one that was taken just shortly after you told him you loved him for the first time, one that to you, symbolized a new shift to your relationship, one that you were hopefully emulating by decorating this tree.

When Mikko came home late that night, tired and ready to crawl into bed next to you after almost a week apart, he stopped in the living room when he saw the light still on. In his foggy state of mind, he didn’t even notice the tree until he was reaching to turn off the small lamp sitting next to it, pausing in a state of shock when he realized what exactly he was looking at. It wasn’t how he would have decorated it, the ornaments were in the completely wrong places, some too densely placed, and the lack of lights was a design choice that he wasn’t sure was intentional or not. But, Mikko felt his heart grow looking at it. A tree that a year ago you would have never said yes to buying, let alone decorating that you had spent time on doing yourself. Mikko turned off the light, walking into the bedroom to find you peacefully asleep on your side of the bed. He wrapped himself around you, pulling you close and pressing a soft kiss into your neck, murmuring his love for you before drifting to sleep.

The next morning you woke up in a familiar trance, soft and needy kisses shared between you as his hands guided your hips and their movements on top of him, heavy breaths filling the space as you held each other close, making up for the lost time of that week. When you slid off of him, he pulled your face down to his one last time, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, “Minä rakastan sinua,” melting from his lips, “I love you,” in Finnish.

“I love you, too, Mikko.” You said back, your heart full and your cheeks flushed.

By the time Mikko emerged from the shower, you had already made coffee and were sitting on the couch reading. He came up next to you, setting a small box in front of you as he sat down. You set your book down, eyeing him curiously as he began to speak.

“I noticed you decorated the tree, and I have something for you, for us that we could put on it together.” He carefully unwrapped the box, a silver ornament resting neatly in it. You carefully pulled the ornament from the box, the shiny material feeling smooth in your hands until you noticed something scratchy on the sides. You turned the ornament, your eyes welling with tears when you saw what was engraved on the side. A date, the date that you said the famous three words for the first time, the same magnetic pull coming from the ornament he had made that you felt from the photograph.

“I thought having a special ornament each year for just us could be a tradition we start together. It’s sort of like our first Christmas together, but it’s not the first that I’ve felt love for you.” He smiled. Mikko reached up and wiped your cheek tenderly, drying the tears that had fallen as he pulled you up and toward the tree. You hung the ornament on the small, imperfect tree with no lights, and as you looked out at Denver in the background, with Mikko curled around you, you felt that warmth he had always told you he felt about Christmas for the first time, a feeling that you hoped to carry with you for the rest of your life together.

#mikko rantanen #mikko rantanen fic #mikko rantanen imagine #mikko rantanen x reader #avs fic #avs imagine #avs story #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic

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ttylfedora · 4 years

Text

Duck, Duck, Dumo

You just know I had to continue with the prank series!!

The prank mentioned in this fic can be found here! You don’t need to read it but it’s mentioned at the start.

As always, characters belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

Enjoy!!💚

“Hey, Marc, do you think your dad would help me prank Remus?” Jules asked. They were both currently sat in the Dumais’ basement playing on the PlayStation after an evening at Sid’s.

“Oui, absolutely. My Papa loves pranking people. You’ve seen the video of Papa, Katie and Logan pranking Sirius, non?” Marc asked, pausing the game and turning to face Julian.

Julian’s eyes went wide.

“They what?!” He exclaimed, this was new information. Maybe he could enlist the help of his brothers boyfriend too!

“Oui! I’ll see if I can borrow Papa’s phone so I can find it. It might be in your brothers too actually!” Marc started getting jittery at the thought of being involved in a famous Dumais prank. His father was forever playing little practical jokes on Marc and his siblings, his older sister more often than not being the victim of such crimes. They both ran upstairs, colliding into each other as they rounded the corner into the dining room where all the adults were sat.

“Papa, could I borrow your phone, S'il-vous-plaît?” Marc asked, extremely out of breath from running.

“Any reason, mon fils?” He asked, suspicion dripping from every word. Marc only laughed slightly and took the phone from his fathers hand.

“Merci, I want to show Jules the video of Sirius getting pranked.” He reasoned, already going through his fathers photo app.

“Mon Dieu. I haven’t even seen that.” Jules and Marc looked up to find Sirius at the other end of the table with his head in his hands, his boyfriend laughing next to him. Marc backed up next to Julian to show him, both bursting out with laughter when Logan got Sirius in the face with the pie.

“That’s brilliant!” Jules exclaimed. “Re did you help?!”

“I mean I recorded the whole thing if that counts?” Remus chuckled. Julian was still beside himself as he nodded.

“Can I have my phone back now, mon fils?” Dumo asked holding his hand out. Marc placed the phone back in his fathers hand and they both bounded back down the stairs, shouting their thanks to the father of the group. Marc stopped suddenly.

“Jules, I have the BEST idea ever.”

—

“You both know your rolls, oui?” Dumo asked the pair of boys. Jules and Marc nodded vigorously, eager to get going with the prank.

Marc had stayed over at Sirius and Remus place the night previous while Jules was staying with them, and had clue Dumo in on their plans, to which he was more than happy to provide aid with. In fact, he ended up offering a better solution. A two for the price of one deal where they pranked both Cap and Loops. Naturally, Marc and Jules loved the idea and couldn’t wait to get started.

They made their way down into the kitchen, making sure to keep the noise down so as to not wake Remus and Sirius. What good would it be if Dumo arrived this early if they woke up anyway?

“Right, Julian, you’ve got the bubble bath, oui?” Julian nodded, holding up the bottle of soap like it’s was a first prize trophy, grinning widely as he did. “And Marc, you have all of the rubber ducks, correct?” Marc giggled as he held up the sizeable bag of miniature rubber ducks to show his father. “Parfait, Julian, you go upstairs and fill every sink with water and bubbles, I’ll start downstairs. Marc, you start pouring the rubber ducks in. If you have too many, put them on the floor, on the counter, wherever. Hide some if you want.” Dumo’s smile grew, knowing the Captain will grow more and more frustrated with each rubber duck that is found.

Julian and Marc bounded upstairs with the ferocity of dogs chasing after a ball in a park, however mindful not to wake the sleeping couple on the other side of the house.

“Remus is going to hate this.” Julian giggled as the entered the bathroom. He turned on the tap in the bath, pouring the bath suds in. Marc followed suit and poured a considerable amount of the rubber ducks in. “Where did your dad manage to get all these ducks any way?” He asked.

“We have learned not to question how Papa does his pranks. Even maman doesn’t bother any more.” Marc shrugged. Whenever he asked his father how he managed to get him and his siblings so good, he just shrugged.

“For me to know and you not to find out, mon fils.”

Julian turned his attention to filling up the sink with bubble bath too.

“Hide some in the drawers. Cap will go crazy trying to find them all.” Marc nodded in agreement, emitting a mischievous giggle.

Once the sink and bath had been filled, and an appropriate amount of rubber ducks had been deposited, they made their way to the next bathroom, leaving smaller rubber ducks in random places throughout the hall, in the guest rooms, and on the stairs. Having hidden a rubber duck in every place they could found, they trodden carefully back down the stairs to hand the remaining ducks to Dumo, who was sporting one of the biggest grins known to man.

“They’re still asleep, non?” Jules and Marc nodded. “Parfait, I’ll go fill up the rest of the sinks and then...we wait.” Dumo giggled, a laugh reminiscent of a seven year olds.

Julian and Marc watched, silent laughs shaking from them as they watched Marc’s father work his magic, hiding rubber ducks in hard fo reach places.

“Marc, you are taking after your Papa. This idea was brilliant, mon fils. Brilliant!” Dumo looked at his son in admiration. “I’m going to go, Julian you cleared it with your brother last night that I’m taking you both out for breakfast, oui?”

Julian nodded. This truly was the perfect plan. “I’ll go let them know we’re leaving.” He quickly ran back upstairs and knocked on his brothers door, opening it slightly and popping his head in.

“Re?”

Remus’ head lifted from the pillow, his curled hair ruffled to no ends. He opened up one eye to find Jules at the door.

“Mhmm?”

“Dumo’s here to pick me and Marc up for breakfast.”

“Alright buddy. Have a good time.” He flopped his head back on the bed and fell back asleep.

This was too easy. Julian closed the door quietly, barely able to suppress his giggles. He ran back downstairs and gave Dumo a thumbs up and they all left.

Ten minutes later

Lion Pride Chat:

Sirius: Dumo, please explain why the FUCK there are rubber ducks all around my house.

Julian, Marc and Pascal burst into fits of giggles over their pancakes.

Dumo 2 - 0 Cap and Loops.

#sweater weather lumosinlove #lumosinlove #coops #Dumo #Julian lupin

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