#trick has a cat and a mohawk

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Then she said yeah you're like a diamond in the rough. You're dirty and you're damaged, all you need's a little love

Y'all have failed me with the lack of Trickette fics so I wrote my own. Takes place immediately after the Patreon bonus break-up booth video

Trick drags a hand down his face and sighs. That did not go the way he wanted it to. He storms back over to his dad and Amber and says, “I fuckin’ hate you, asshole.”

“Oh sure, blame your old man for your fuck ups! I knew Bridgey was too good for you.”

He suppresses a scream of frustration and rushes towards the kitchen. He needs a smoke break after dealing with this bullshit. He runs into Aaron on the way there and asks, “Hey, do ya mind takin’ table thirty? My dad is drivin’ me fuckin’ insane.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can do that,” Aaron says, hands full of dirty dishes.

Trick pats him on the shoulder. “Thanks man, I owe you one.”

He lights up a cigarette the second he gets outside and inhales deeply—holding the smoke in for a count of four before blowing it out.

By the time he’s done he’s much calmer, but still feeling terrible. He needs to find Bridgette and apologize.

He finds Nicole at the hostess stand and asks, “Hey, is Bridgey still here?”

She side eyes him. “She literally just left, and you better be on your way to apologize to her—I’m watching you.”

Okay, he deserves that.

He heads towards the parking lot, picking up the pace once he spots Bridgette at the car furthest from the front door.

She takes one look at him as he approaches and frowns. Fuck, he feels terrible.

“Look, can we talk?” he asks tentatively, hands shoved in his pockets to stop them from shaking.

“I dunno, you were pretty awful to me back there. I mean, asking me to close with you again some time? That’s not a date, Trick!”

He sighs. “You’re right, it’s not, and I don’t fuckin’ know why I said it.”

She turns to face him and leans against her car, arms crossed over her chest. “So what did you mean to say?”

“I was gonna ask if ya wanted to try that new restaurant I overheard ya talkin’ to Nicole about four weeks ago.”

“Then why didn’t you ask me four weeks ago​​​​​​?”

He thinks back to Pickles threatening to murder him if he hurt her and decides he can’t hold it in any longer.

“I was scared, okay? Pickles threatened to bury me in the desert if I hurt ya and then my fuckin’ dad accused me of just bein’ interested ‘cause you weren’t available, which is absolutely not true, I swear to god!”

She opens her mouth to respond but he plows on. “And then tonight my dad was just drivin’ me fuckin’ insane and I couldn’t deal with it and his and Amber’s bullshit and havin’ you be mad at me.”

He’s so busy spilling his guts that he misses the small smile that appears on her face.

“And look, I’m sorry for callin’ you dumb for believin’ in the break up booth or whatever. I’m startin’ to think ya might be onto somethin’ with that. And—”

He’s cut off by a hand covering his mouth.

Bridgette smiles at him and says, “Apology accepted. Can we start over?”

“Yeah, I really really wanna start over. So, wanna go with me to that new place you was talkin’ about?”

“I’d really like that. When were you thinking?”

“When’s your next day off?”

“Not until Tuesday but I’m working Sunday brunch. Terry usually cuts me by like three.”

“Fuck, I’m closin’ Sunday.”

He can’t stand the way her face falls so he quickly says, “I’ll get Aaron to switch with me, it’ll be great.”

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

The first thing he does when he gets back inside is figure out how much he needs to pay someone to switch shifts with him. The answer ends up being fifty bucks—well worth it.

His next stop is to the hostess stand so he can loop Nicole into everything. He’s gonna need all the help he can get.

She’s delighted to hear that he’d gotten his head out of his ass and makes sure to tell him, “Okay, but this is super important—you can not surprise her with dinner plans. She’s a pre planner.”

“What the hell’s a pre planner?”

“You know, one of those people who needs to look at the menu and pick out exactly what they want before going somewhere new. She’ll literally have a panic attack—ask me how I know.”

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

He makes a mental checklist as he approaches the restaurant on Sunday. Reservation made? Check. Flower? Check. Smokes (because god knows he’ll need them if his dad’s working)? Check.

Bridgette’s face lights up as he approaches her and his heart skips a beat. He’s down bad for this girl—and he doesn’t give a shit who notices.

“Is that for me?” she asks shyly.

“To really hammer home that apology,” he admits. His hands are shaking as he tucks the pretty yellow flower behind her ear.

The brunch rush flies by in a blur—he’s just counting down the minutes before their date tonight. He really hopes he doesn’t fuck this up.

When there’s a lull in the chaos he finds her by the server station checking her phone. “Hey, text me your address. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“You’re picking me up?”

“I mean, only if ya want me to. We can totally meet there if you’re more comfortable.”

“No! It’s not that. It’s just, I was the only one with a car between Pete and I so I was always driving him around everywhere. It’ll be nice not having to drive.”

He makes a mental note of that.

“Trick, you got a table!” Terry hisses as he intrudes on their moment. “They’ve already been waitin’ two minutes!”

He sighs and shoots an exasperated look at Bridgette, who just giggles in response.

He shuffles over to table thirty and says, “Hi, I’m Trick, I’ll be your server today.”

He gets cut by 3:30, much to his relief and goes out back for a smoke break to calm his nerves. Remembering Nicole’s advice, he pulls up the restaurant’s menu on his phone and shoots a text to Bridgette with the link.

His dad immediately bitches at him to run food when he gets back inside but he just puts up a middle finger and keeps walking—he’s got a date to get ready for.

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

He takes stock of his wardrobe once he gets out of the shower. Fuck, what is he supposed to wear​​? The place he’s taking her to is a newer Italian restaurant with no dress code—which doesn’t help anything.

Then there’s the matter of his hair. No one but his dad knows this but he’s hiding a mohawk under his baseball cap at work. He hasn’t spiked it up in years but also refuses to shave it. It’s been a part of him since middle school and he doesn’t like change. But would Bridgette think it was stupid? His dad certainly does.

He catches a glimpse of his cat in the mirror—a fluffy white thing that’s more fur than cat. She’s busy cleaning her paws—blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil going on in his brain.

“What do you think I should wear, Ethel?”

He turns around and holds up two button up shirts—one red plaid and the other a solid navy blue.

She pauses in her grooming and slow blinks at him before letting out the teeniest most pathetic sounding mew ever—something she’s done since he adopted her after his douchebag neighbor abandoned her.

“You’re right—red’s better.”

He picks a random punk band shirt that has zero holes and minimal cat hair to go under the button up and rushes to get dressed once he sees the time on his phone. The last thing he does is shove the baseball cap back on before he can do something stupid like letting Bridgette see the mohawk he hides at work. He’s not sure he could handle the ridicule.

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

He shows up at her doorstep with more flowers and almost drops them when she opens the door. He’s only ever seen her in her work uniform up to this point so he’s not prepared to see her all dolled up in a pink v-neck sweater and black skirt.

She fidgets with the hem of her sweater as he figures out how to get his mouth to work again—she looks absolutely gorgeous.

“Am I under-dressed? I didn’t look up the dress code.”

“Nah, you look great. Beautiful, even.”

He’ll never get tired of seeing her blush.

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

As shocked as Trick seems to be to see her, Bridgette’s just as shocked. He’s wearing a red plaid button up over a band shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She suspected he had more than just the neck tattoo but seeing the artwork on display on his forearms is still a lot to take in. She hopes he doesn’t hear the way her breath hitches.

She beckons him inside while she goes to find a vase for the flowers he so thoughtfully brought for her. Oh god, he was in her house. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t hoping for this to turn into more than just a dinner date, and frankly, she hadn’t been prepared to see how hot he looks outside of his work uniform.

She shoots a quick text to Nicole while she’s in the kitchen.

Did you know Trick was hiding more tattoos at work????

The response comes rapid fire.

Did you NOT see him on Halloween??? I assumed you were in the bathroom hyperventilating over the chest tattoos.

She drops her phone and lets out an embarrassing squeak when she hears Trick behind her saying, “I don’t wanna rush ya or nothin’ but the reservation is in like fifteen minutes. Sorry for scarin’ you.”

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

Trick smirks to himself as he spies the messages on Bridgette’s phone. Oh, so she likes the tattoos, does she? He makes a mental note of that and wonders what else he can do to rile her up as the night goes on.

The music he was blaring on the way over fills the car and he quickly turns it down—fuck, he forgot he was listening to Buddy Holly. Talk about embarrassing.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbles as he pulls out of his parking spot.

She giggles. “I don’t mind! I just wasn’t expecting something like that from you, if I’m being honest.”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I grew up listenin’ to this stuff as a kid—my ma’s obsessed with oldies. I can change it if you want.”

Instead of answering, she reaches over and turns the music up.

Halfway to the restaurant he asks, “Did ya get the link I sent earlier?”

“Yes! Thank you. I know it’s super weird but I need to be able to look at the menu and pick exactly what I want before trying a new restaurant. I even pick out a backup dish.”

“Not weird, trust me.”

He makes sure to open her car door for her and the door to the restaurant—just like his ma taught him.

Conversation flows naturally as they eat. The food is actually really good—and Trick’s picky about his Italian food, given who his dad is (as absent as he was).

As they’re waiting for dessert to come out he reaches over to grab her hand. She lets out the most adorable startled squeak but doesn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she relaxes into the contact. The energy between them shifts in that moment—electric heat that they’ve never been able to experience before uninterrupted.

“Wanna get that cannoli to go?” he asks.

“God yes,” she breathes out.

He catches their server’s attention and in fifteen minutes they’re speeding back to her apartment. He takes a chance and reaches over to put his hand on her thigh, just under the hem of her skirt. This time he definitely hears the way her breath hitches. He chances a glance at her—face flushed, breathing shallow—and moves his hand higher.

She parts her legs and grabs his hand—moving it even higher.

He’s not surprised to feel that she’s soaked through her panties.

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

Bridgette’s brain short-circuits the second Trick’s hand touches her over her panties. She’s so far gone she can’t even find it in her to be embarrassed about the soft moan she lets out.

“Like that?” he asks. She can practically see the cocky smirk on his face.

All she can do is nod shakily as his fingers keep moving.

He pins her against the front door once they make it to her apartment, and this time his hand slips under the waistband of her panties.

His fingers on her clit coax her to her first orgasm of the night as his mouth is busy attacking her neck with nips and kisses that are making her head spin. She’s not ready to admit how much the rasp of his stubble against her skin is turning her on.

She pulls him into the bedroom on shaky legs—wasting no time in shoving him towards the bed and climbing onto his lap. His baseball cap comes off when his t-shirt does and she gasps and bites her lip at the sight of more tattoos that, no, she had not seen on Halloween.

She wasn’t expecting a mohawk, and she wasn’t expecting it to turn her on so much either. She buries her hands in his hair and crashes her lips into his.

He manages to make her come three more times by the time he’s done with her.

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

She awakens the next morning to the feeling of Trick’s stubble against her cheek as he presses soft kisses into her shoulder. She smiles and leans into the contact and he tightens his grip around her once he realizes she’s awake.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles—hands slipping under the t-shirt (his t-shirt) she’s wearing.

“Morning!” she chirps back cheerfully.

He chuckles at her enthusiasm and presses a kiss to her temple.

They don’t move or speak for the next hour—too focused on the bliss of early morning cuddles. Normally she thinks her brain would be spiraling at this point—wondering if this was all some elaborate ploy to get her into bed. She’s not spiraling though—she’s not feeling anything other than pure contentment. And then she frowns as she realizes she never felt like this with Pete—not once in the three years they were together.

“You’re thinkin’ too loud,” Trick teases, lips pressed against her neck.

“Sorry,” she says instinctively. “I’m just thinking that I had a really good time last night.”

“Good, glad to hear it.”

“Did Pickles really threaten to bury you in the desert?”

“Sure did. Fully expected him to stab me or lock me in the walk-in this week.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s had a crush on me for years.”

“Don’t blame him.”

She giggles at that response but then admits her frustration with Pickles’ behavior. His comment about thinking he’d get a shot after Pete had been bugging her since he said it. She knows that old Bridgette would’ve given him a chance even though she’s never been interested in him. She would’ve gone out with him because he was sweet and her people pleasing nature would’ve made her scared to break his heart and she knows that she would’ve ended up in another relationship she was absolutely miserable in.

“You make me happy,” she admits. “And you make me feel more confident.”

“Sure that’s not Nicole’s doin’?”

She snorts. “Nicole tried getting me to break up with Pete for years and I never did. You gave me the confidence to do that.”

She rolls over to face him and stretches up to give him a kiss. His hand traces random patterns on her lower back as he kisses her back lazily.

“Do ya work today?”

“I switched shifts with Nicole. I don’t have to work until Wednesday.”

----------

They end up spending the next two days practically glued at the hip. He makes her breakfast in bed and then takes her to his house so he can check on his cat. Ethel surprises everyone when she warms up to Bridgette almost immediately.

“Whoa, she don’t usually like nobody,” Trick admits.

He shows her his favorite record store and gladly follows her into every clothing store her heart desires. It all feels very domestic and cute and Bridgette can’t get enough of it.

He buys her Starbucks before their shared shift on Wednesday and they walk into the restaurant holding hands.

Amber’s eyes widen at the display of affection and she immediately flags Nicole down.

“Yes! Get it, Bridgey!” Nicole cheers.

Bridgette blushes and buries her face in Trick’s shoulder.

“Joey is gonna freak out,” Amber says.

Her stomach does a flip. Trick’s told her what Joey’s been saying to him behind the scenes, and after spending the last two days with him she can’t help but feel like Joey doesn’t really know his son very well at all.

She can’t help but notice how his grip on her hand tightens and his pace speeds up as they approach the kitchen. They’re almost to the break room when she hears, “Oh look, beauty and the scumbag! Ya must really feel sorry for his ass.”

She hears a sigh and when she looks up at Trick she’s heartbroken to see just how done with everything he looks. He looks defeated—lips pressed together tightly, corners turned down. She sees an incredible sadness in his eyes rather than anger, and his posture is hunched over, as if to make himself as small as possible.

She’s thought for a while now that Joey is too hard on his son. It’s not normal to be that angry and mean to anyone, let alone your own child.

Before she can stop herself, she looks straight at Joey and says, “Fuck off!”

“Excuse me?” he scoffs.

“You heard me. You are way too hard on Trick!”

“Oh I’m too hard on him​​? Tell that to his parole officer!”

She ignores that comment (for now) and plows on. “And you’re one to talk! You treat Amber like shit!”

“I-I don’t treat Amber like shit!” Joey splutters. “I do basically everything she asks me to.”

“Is that why she had to ask you a million times to take her on a real date?” Nicole deadpans, having made her way to the kitchen to witness the drama.

“Get the fuck out of my kitchen!”

“I’ve only been dating Trick for two days and he managed to figure out I’m a pre planner before our first date!” Bridgette says.

“What the hell’s a pre planner?”

“Not important! The important thing is that he treats me way better than you treat Amber so maybe you should lay off him and focus on yourself.”

The entire kitchen is silent for what feels like forever. Her ears are ringing—she’s never had the courage to go off on Joey like that.

“Joey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Amber says, breaking the silence.

He grumbles before throwing his towel down and following her to the walk in.

The muffled shouting that ensues doesn’t surprise anyone.

Trick tugs on her hand gently and pulls her into a hug—squeezing her tightly. “Thank you,” he whispers in her ear, voice shaky.

She pulls away from the hug and rolls up on her toes, pulling him down to her height so she can plant a kiss on his forehead—something she’s learned is like crack to him over the last two days.

“Where the hell are my servers?” Terry yells as he runs into the kitchen. “And where did Amber go?”

Bridgette rolls her eyes as she ties her apron around her waist. Today is gonna be fun, but at least the company is good.

[mrsshabana]

𝐃𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, fluff, school au ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1k words. Got this idea from this amazing art piece I reblogged earlier today ♡

You don't belong here. Girls like you would never be caught dead in detention. With your cute pleated skirt, pastel colored cardigan, and animal plush keychains that hang from your backpack.

Now a guy like him, this is where he finds himself most afternoons. At this point Gyutaro is in detention more often than he's in class. Probably the most intimidating guy in school. If his towering height and sour attitude aren't enough to deter you, then his attire will do the trick. Always decked out in heavy punk fashion. He wears combat boots, ripped jeans, leather jackets, spiked bracelets, and not to mention copious amounts of piercings.

It's almost comical seeing the contrast as you sit next to him in detention.

The sweet scent wafting from you immediately hits his nostrils. Cupcakes...? he thinks to himself.

With a sigh Gyutaro leans back in his seat, crossing his arms and stretching out his long legs. He looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching curiously as you fold your arms and lay your head down.

He looks around the room, noticing the teacher sitting at a desk in the front of the classroom. This teacher always supervises the students in detention, and without fail, he falls asleep after ten minutes or so. Gyutaro can never seem to remember the teacher's name. He only remembers him because of the giant lump he has on his forehead.

Once the teacher falls asleep, Gyutaro reaches over to his backpack and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and a half-broken pencil.

"Pst," you hear a raspy voice whisper as someone nudges your arm. You slowly open your eyes to see a large hand with black painted nails holding a small piece of paper.

"Hm...?" you hum as you take the note.

The tall boy dressed in black who sits beside you quirks a pierced brow, waiting for you to open it.

Unfolding the small piece of paper you see something scrawled in messy handwriting, "What u do 2 get stuck in here?"

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, detention suddenly got a bit more exciting.

You pull out a Hello Kitty mechanical pencil and write, "I refused to change my skirt."

Somewhat ashamed, you hand the note back over to the boy. He quickly opens it and frowns upon reading the sentence inside. Unashamed, he immediately looks down at your skirt.

"Looks fine 2 me," he writes back.

"They said it was too short and a distraction," you blush as you admit this to him. It took a lot of courage for you to wear this skirt. Expressing yourself through your clothes has always been something you were afraid to do, always worried that people may judge you or give you disgusted looks. And when you finally got the courage to wear something you actually liked, you get shamed for it.

He scoffs and scribbles back, "They tripping. Its not 2 short. Its cute. Wear whtvr the fuck u want."

"Thanks. I think I will :3" his comment gives you some of that confidence back. He's right, you shouldn't feel ashamed about what you choose to wear and how you choose to express yourself. Besides, look at him. His outfit is probably breaking a few rules and he doesn't seem to care at all.

"Its badass u stood up for yourself cupcake."

You smile when you receive the note and read the nickname he gave you, "Cupcake?"

"Yeah. U smell like em." He scribbles a drawing of a cupcake below his sentence.

"Thanks!" you draw a little cat eating the cupcake.

In return, Gyutaro draws a spikey collar around the cat's neck and gives it a little mohawk. Seeing the cute drawing you can't help but giggle.

You briefly make eye contact, and Gyutaro has a shy smile on his face.

"Wanna get outta here?" he leans over and whispers to you, "Old man's asleep, he won't notice."

Looking over at the teacher you see him slumped over the desk, a dribble of drool dripping down his lip.

"Won't we get in trouble?" you whisper, worried about getting in even more trouble.

"Who cares, you're a bad kid now." With a smirk, Gyutaro quietly slings his backpack over his shoulder and stands to leave. When he sees you hesitate to follow him, he takes your backpack and walks out the door.

"Hey!" You whisper, internally panicking as you watch him casually leave the room with your belongings. You have no choice but to follow him now.

Even though your inner voice is telling you not to, you slip out of your seat and tip-toe toward the door. Outside you see Gyutaro leaning against the wall with your backpack in hand.

"I can't believe you did that!" you pout with a flustered face as you snatch your backpack from him.

He chuckles, "Tsk I did you a favor. Besides, it feels good right?"

"What?"

"To break the rules," he smirks, looking down at you.

You blush and look away, trying to hide your flustered expression, "kinda..."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he begins to walk down the hall knowing that you'll follow him without asking. And of course, you do just that.

"So, you got a name or you just want me to keep callin' you cupcake? I'm gonna keep sayin' it either way though," he chuckles.

"My name is Y/N... but I don't mind if you call me cupcake I guess," you mumble that last part under your breath, "What's your name by the way?"

"Gyutaro," he says. The piercings under his lip contort as he smiles.

"Well," you look up at him, "I hope we get detention together again someday."

"Oh we will, cuz I'm gonna teach you to rebel just like me!"

[katherynshoward]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞; { 𝐠.𝐰. 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 }

SYNOPSIS; my headcanons for what it would be like to date george. fred is alive and this would be AFTER the war when everyone is grown. feel free to use these in your stories! if it’s precise, like my quotes, just be sure to credit me.

RESTRICTIONS; preferably 18+. if you’re under 18, i only ask that you do not read the nsfw headcanons section. it is greatly appreciated.

WORD COUNT; 0.9k

WARNINGS; mention of death, sex, dress up kink

whenever you’re giving him the silent treatment after an argument, he puts your favorite snack on the highest shelf where you live and hides the stool. it’s how he gets you to talk to him. fucker.

he constantly asks if you still have a crush on him even after you eventually get married.

you tell him ‘sweet dreams’ every night before bed and he responds with ‘see you there’.

then he falls asleep in ten seconds while you stay up wondering if he remember to turn off the stove until you inevitably get up to check.

you guys build hella forts.

modern george would be the kind of person to angle his phone up so you can only see his forehead and one eyebrow during facetime calls, not realizing he’s on camera as well.

he likes to bath with you. he always sits directly behind you in the tub and tries to shape your hair into a mohawk with shampoo.

george loves hand holding. hand holding supremacy.

because you’re holding hands literally all the time, he likes to say ‘steady’ and twirl you around while you two are walking in public and then he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

he knows you’re very ticklish on your neck and likes to whisper the most obscure hilarious shit against your neck at random times.

you guys people watch A LOT. the two of you could literally commentate on others for hours, bouncing back and forth off of each other in good humor.

forehead kisses instantly revive his mood. it’s his life force.

he has to be sitting for you to give him forehead kisses bc he’s too tall otherwise.

he has accidentally used your toothbrush way too many times. they’re not even close to the same color.

fred used to pretend he was george to get you to tell him shocking information about george to blackmail him later. you eventually caught on and can clearly tell them apart now.

F: “Hey, love. Do you remember where I put my journal?” You: “Weren’t you just writing in it last night? It’s beneath the mattress. Like always.” F: “No bloody way. He still uses it?” You: “What?” F: “What?”

every opportunity to make a tasteless pun about his missing ear, he absolutely takes it.

george wakes up first and likes to spend his first hour just admiring you. caressing you with his fingers and brushing your hair out of your face. if you do anything embarrassing during this hour, you will be hearing about it.

he was terrified of cats when you first started dating. but he got you a kitten for your birthday after your last one passed and you were inconsolable. it looks just like your last cat.

george is now ultimate cat dad and probably cuddles the cat more than you do.

You: “Why did you take the cat to go poop with you?”

G: “He gets scared when I’m gone, y/n. I can’t leave him.”

you were best friends for a very long time before you started dating and you still very much act like best friends. because you are.

because he’s your bestie as well as your lover, he lets you do conventionally girly things with him if it means spending more time with you.

he would definitely by the type of boyfriend to let you do makeup on him for a youtube video.

G: “Am I pretty now?” You: “The prettiest.” G: Buzzer noise* “That was a trick question. You were supposed to say ‘yes but not as much as me’.”

he is always the little spoon and will fight for his life on this.

cracks out baby book every christmas at the burrow of him and fred. likes to point out that his butt was cuter and that’s how molly could tell them apart. fred and george usually end up arguing over this, fred claiming that george has them mixed up.

fred will naturally throw hands for you because george loves you so much. you are untouchable between those two.

george is so in love with you, it’s ridiculous.

even when he’s mad at you, he ends up taking the blame although you still apologize for upsetting him.

he just can’t rationalize you being anything other than perfect, even when you leave your hair clumps in the shower.

which he calls your ‘mini-me’.

NSFW headcanons.

he cracks jokes during sex. there is no escape.

those forts from earlier? of course you have sex in them. but only after popcorn and movies.

his hidden kink is dressing you up in sexy costumes and fucking you while you wear them. 

modern george would lose his shit over you cosplaying and probably help you make your cosplays.

but his favorites would be typical ones. like maid, school girl, nurse, probably princess leia at some point.

his favorite position is you on top while he just hammers into you.

george is a thigh guy. he grabs your thighs more than he drinks water. it’s his sustenance.

he loves morning sex. he’s so sensual and gentle in the mornings. something about the glow of sunrise really gets that man going.

mostly, he gets off by making you feel good and worries far more about your orgasm than his own.

makes bedroom jokes at the most inappropriate times.

*Sitting at the Weasley dinner table* G: *Cracks open fortune cookie and takes out fortune.* G: “Y/n, it says here ‘serious trouble will bypass you - in bed.’” You: “GEORGE WEASLEY it does not say that.”

[helliontherapscallion]

Headcanons for SBI Sibling!Parrot Hybrid!Reader

(A/N): ope, went a little overboard with this one (also it’s not proofread, so sorry about any mistakes)

You have wings on your back (the feather pattern depends on what parrot floats your boat)

If you’re a Scarlet Macaw, Blue-and-Yellow Macaw, or Chestnut-Fronted Macaw, then you have black lines on your cheeks and heavy black lines around your eyes (think Hawks from bnha but less pointy)

If you are a Hyacinth Macaw, you have yellow markings around your eyes and mouth

If you’re a cockatiel, you have a killer mohawk/hair that is always very pointy and orange circles on your cheeks (how cute!)

I have a feeling that your hair is incredibly soft

Very sensitive wings

I feel like your teeth would be sharp and your nails would normally be fast-growing, long, and sharp

You tilt your head like impossibly far when you’re confused or trying to hear something better

Like your ear would almost be touching your shoulder

The head movements are very jerky and kinda just happen on their own when you hear something so you would have a lot of neck pain : (

You’re allergic to chocolate : (

I feel like people would underestimate you greatly and think you’re nothing except the ditzy comedic relief

Parrots are actually very intelligent

It bums you out to hear people say things like that behind your back when they think you can’t hear, but you try to not let them get to you

You give the best cuddles and are very affectionate with the people you’re close to (you’re also very cautious of strangers)

You’re also very in tune with the emotions of the people around you

You see someone sad? Head nuzzles and wing hugs

You see someone angry? You deescalate the situation the best you can and make sure they’re ok afterwards

You can dilate and contract your pupils rapidly at will

You may or may not stare at people doing it until they notice you staring or until they get creeped out

You fuck hard with any type of seed, nut, or fruit

When you get excited, it’s literally so cute??

Like you do everything parrots do

Little happy pitter patters with your feet, flutter your wings, your pupils contract and dilate rapidly, you make a ton of mob sounds

You’re easily excitable, hyper, and happy most of the time

It makes everyone happy to see you so excited so they would often go out of their way to get you things that make you happy

“Hey (y/n) I have some extra melon seeds if you want em!”

*Pupils contract and dilate rapidly*

You are loud

Like very loud

And very talkative

Like everyone knows where you are at all times

If you’re quiet and they know you’re around, either something is very wrong or they’re about to get pranked

God forbid you start to scream, your scream is loud enough to deafen someone for a brief amount of time and would leave everyone’s ears ringing for days on end

The mere mention of yours and Tommy's names together in one sentence is enough to give Philza a headache (someone give this poor man a couple of advils and a long vacation)

You two are literal demons when you’re together

Very chaotic relationship

You both like to fuck with people by sneaking up behind them

You would make mob sounds and Tommy would jump them before you two made a break for it

You and Tommy almost got killed by Techno a few times, but in your opinion the look on his face was 100% worth it every time

I feel like you would cart him up and down from the towers he builds

He could relate to being stereotyped as the stupid loud one, so he recognizes right away when you’re sad about it and will try to cheer you up

His main go to is the jukebox

Oh my god if he plays his jukebox around you, you go full send with your dancing

*AGGRESSIVE HEADBANGING*

He would laugh at your awful dancing, but he would join you eventually

Cat and Mellohi go hard

Speaking of music, Wilbur uses you as a walking soundboard

He needs a sound sample? You better prepare for spending most of your day recreating the sound

He needs back up vocals? You spend most of your day listening to his voice and other singers so you could replicate it

You don’t want to disappoint him so you try extra hard to appease his picky music composition

You kinda stress yourself out over it sometimes

When he notices (which he will, he’s very perceptive), he immediately calls it a day and has some sibling bonding time

You both bond over liking to eat strange things

Amazon macaws like to lick clay deposits on riverbanks so you like to have some on you at all times to lick when you get stressed

Wilbur carries some in a bag in his pocket and you carry a bag of sand 

Whenever one of you notices the other has a rough day, you give each other your respective stuff

You have to be sneaky with it though, Philza always takes away nonedible stuff from his children if he sees them trying to eat it (he has good intentions tho)

It always looks like a drug deal 

With Techno, I feel like he would find you incredibly annoying at first with how loud you are

He would actually start to hate you when you started to sneak up behind him 

It got to the point to whenever he would hear your voice he would get irrationally mad and have to leave the house for a few hours

He, like everyone outside your family, would think you were useless and incredibly stupid

That was until he passed Tommy’s room one day and overheard you crying and telling Tommy about your insecurities

He would spend the next few days ignoring you bc he felt bad

He would spend those days contemplating on why he treated you like he did

Coming to the realization that you were likely trying to get closer to him and you were just being yourself, making him feel like the biggest piece of shit

He totally had no idea how to confront you about this, so naturally he went to Philza (that man was literally so happy that his children were gonna start to get along)

He would spend the day gathering golden melons because he found out that you’d never tried golden melons before from Philza

When he approached you one day with an apology and some golden melons, you were suspicious at first

He hated you, so why would he get you these things if he didn’t need anything from you?

Quickly finding that his apology is genuine and he felt incredibly bad for treating you like that over the years

You picked up on his guilt pretty quickly and made quick work to reassure him

He would take you on short trips and would soon find that you’re very useful in detecting mobs and deterring creepers with cat noises

He would never admit it, but he loves it when you would scare Tommy or Wilbur, thinking it’s hilarious 

You also found out that carrying a seven and a half foot tall piglin hybrid was incredibly difficult to do, especially when flying

You two managed to get only about ten feet above the ground before your wings gave out under the strain and you fell on him

“(Y/n) has earned the achievement ‘When Pigs Fly’” flashed on everyone’s comm tablets that day

That wasn’t fun trying to explain to Philza

Philza would be ecstatic to have someone to fly with that he didn’t have to carry

He would take you on flights when you had too much energy 

Sometimes racing each other and competing to do tricks midair (which sometimes you both rope your brothers into judging)

Late night flights when you need to get your mind off from something

Watching the sunrise together in silence for once

Bonding over being able to see ultraviolet light when everyone else couldn’t

You always give him the shiny things you come across and he gives you your favorite snacks

He always fusses over your wings, sometimes preening them for you

Helping each other through molts

Matches your excitement sometimes when you’re really happy

You feel bad whenever you hear stories of how difficult you were as a baby

He’s quick to reassure you that raising you was worth it and you turned out to be a great person

But he wouldn’t be lying when he said you were a difficult infant

Your terrible twos stage? His literal hell

Philza swears he can still hear ringing from whenever you would throw tantrums as a toddler, even years after you left your toddler age

He also still has some scars from when you went through your biting phase (teething was awful for you, his poor baby)

But he’s happy he was the one that raised you, he genuinely enjoys your presence

If you’re in a really affectionate mood he is more than willing to let you cuddle up to him while he reads a book or something

WING HUGS WING HUGS WING HUGS WIN-

When he’s had a long day and is stressed out, you immediately pick up on that and do everything in your power to make sure your brothers are quiet and behaved, try to find out what made him so stressed, and sometimes go out of your way to take care of it for him

You try to be the one taking care of him for once as much because he’s taken care of you so well throughout the years

He can tell if you’re overwhelmed or upset just with one glance at your ruffled feathers and your rapidly dilating and contracting pupils

Immediately pulling you out of the situation and letting you talk it out

Whenever he finds you sad about your insecurities, he points out every part of your personality that he loves

That’s before he hunts down the person that made you feel like this (he really lives up to his title of ‘The Angel of Death’)

Overall, you wouldn’t trade your family for the world

[skellebonez]

Tumblr Messed Up Fill #2

OK, let’s give this one a second shot as well! @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off​ I hope you enjoy this one since the anon credits you for this being created! It was very interesting to do a sort of companion piece for my first fill with WBS’s host.

Tell me what I can do to help.

"Would you like some tea?" Sandy asked, taking the time to be as calm and non-threatening as possible.

The young girl didn't answer at first, instead dutifully petting the tips of Mo's little mohawk. Her movements were slow and methodical, like she was trying to memorize the feeling of his fur or compare it to something else. She had a soft frown on her face, not upset but more passive than anything. Sandy wasn’t sure if he’s ever seen her smile... ever.

"... Lily?" She asked softly, quiet enough that Sandy hadn't been sure he had even heard her at first. "L-lily tea, I mean."

“I can get that,” Sandy said softly, and stood just as so.

It wasn’t the first time the young girl had come to his ship, but it was the first time she had come on her own of her own accord. A rarity for the young girl, but something that could become less so as time went on.

“Have you decided on whether or not you can trust us yet?” He chanced asking once the requested tea was brewed, careful in his wording and in his tone as he placed the hot cup on the table before her. “I don’t want to pry before you’re ready, but...”

“You need something to call me,” she said in a voice far more understanding than he had expected. “I... I dunno... I want to but I just... I don’t feel ready.”

Sandy gave the young girl a small smile, nodding his head in hid own understanding.

“I get it, sometimes it takes a while to trust anyone even that much,” he said, pausing to think. Maybe... “How about a nickname? Like, a set one. It doesn’t feel right calling you “Her” all the time... feels like we’re talking about you behind your back to be honest.”

That was what she had told them to call her first, when she snapped at them in her first show of frustration and fear. Like she was afraid them saving her from the White Bone Spirit’s possession was a trick of some kind, or that she was still somehow under her control and telling her anything would put the people she cared about in danger.

Sandy never voiced the concern that she would have likely already known about them, given her possession. She didn’t need more stress on her shoulders after...

“Bai He...” she said after a long sip of her tea, relaxing into the back of the couch and welcoming the approaching two cats that snuggled into her side. She still didn’t smile, her face just relaxing into a less tense expression. “It’s not... perfect. But I like lilies. So...”

“I think it suits you,” Sandy agreed, nodding sagely with a wide smile. “Bai He... yeah, that’s a great nickname to call you by! Bai He.”

He watched as for the first time she she had been rescued, since she has been taken in by the Demon Bull Family for protection, since she had slowly started to regain her memories lost to the time of her possession...

Bai He smiled.

[jadethest0ne]

In need of Refueling, Chapter 11 - Help

Summary:  “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the  White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red  Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 2173

Ratings/Warnings:  Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: Time for Red Son and Sandy to have a talk

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo  for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep  some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!  

Read on AO3

———-

He must have passed out at some point because Red Son wakes up, finding himself still on the floor, leaning up against the bed. Pillows and blankets have been stuffed around him and a heater has been placed in the small space. The shivers he was experiencing earlier have quieted down to a low rumble beneath his skin, and he feels much more cozy.

There is a tray in front of him as well, with some more tea and a couple of bean buns on it. From the steam coming from the tea, he can tell it is still warm. The steam reminds him of his sudden lack of powers, and he sinks his nose down into the blankets, hitching his shoulders up to his ears in remembered embarrassment and shame. Not only is he injured, but without his powers he is utterly defenseless.

A gurgle from his stomach alerts him to how empty it is, and he eyes the tray once more. He weighs having to leave his little cocoon of warmth to eat, but ultimately decides that having something warm to eat and drink will satisfy both his hunger and his need for heat. The thought that they might be poisoned did cross his mind, but he logics that if the Blue One was going to kill him, he wouldn’t have bothered healing him first. No, there had to be another reason he was going through all this trouble.

Red Son worms his arm out from the blankets and reaches down to the tray, picking up a bun and sinking his teeth into the plump bread. It has the perfect texture - soft and pliant, but firm enough that there isn’t a hint of sogginess where it touches the sweet beans inside. The bean paste has a nice creamy texture to it, with grains of surgery goodness. A contented mumble purrs out of his mouth as he chews on the sweet treat. He gets through half a bun before his dry throat reminds him to slow down and drink something. He takes a sip of the tea, which has a pleasant bitterness to it, with a mixture of ginger and flowery fragrance balancing it out. The tea and the buns compliment each other nicely. Red Son couldn’t remember eating or drinking something with so much apparent care and flavor put into it in a long time. If the big guy’s snacks taste this good, he wonders vaguely what any meals he makes taste like. Not like Red Son intends to stick around very long to find out though. A part of him that he doesn’t want to listen to quite yet, wonders where he’d even go.

Instead, he turns his thoughts to his present circumstances. Where is that big guy anyway? There are still a few cats in the room, but true to the man’s warnings they stay away, eyeing Red Son cautiously. Chewing through the first bean bun, he picks up the second one and notices another two items on the tray - a bell and a note. The note says ‘Red Son: I hope you enjoy the tea and bean buns. Please ring the bell if you need assistance.’

Red Son rolls his eyes at this. Like he wants anything to do with an enemy. Then again, he did seem to care for his injuries and give him some (extremely tasty) tea and snacks. But why? Red Son still can’t figure that out. He huffs out an anxious breath and puts down the last half of the second bean bun, stomach now having been filled despite the small amount of food. He slowly nurses the rest of his tea as he contemplates the situation. Where would he go? What happened to his parents? Would they even want a now powerless demon like him around?

After staring out at space for a bit, getting distracted at nothing but the same questions rolling around in his brain, he notices that his tea has gotten a bit cold. His body is also really achy from sleeping on the floor the whole time. He tentatively stretches out his sore limbs as best he can despite the bandages. He contemplates the distance from the floor to the bed, and decides that he can totally get up there by himself. He struggles onto his knees, careful of his sore ankle, and puts a hand on the bed.

A meow distracts his progress. He looks down to see that blue cat with the tuft of fur that matches the big guy’s mohawk. It’s pawing at his leg and giving him a meaningful look.

“What’s wrong with you? Go away! I’m trying to do something!” Red Son swats at the cat.

The cat responds with more meowing.

“Pft, dumb loud cats,” Red Son grumbles as he tries to ignore the yowling, and shifts his body upwards. He wobbles on one leg, but keeps steady with his hand on the bed. Unfortunately, the bedding is too fluffy to give him sturdy enough leverage to help him up to it. He lurches forward trying to use the momentum to get him up, but instead finds himself doubled over in pain, as his ribs protest the movement. His leg gives a final wobble, and he slips back to the floor with a grunt. He muffles a yell of pain and frustration in the soft mattress.

“Are you all right?”

The loud, but somehow still soft voice causes Red Son to flinch back. He swallows another grunt of pain, in the form of a growl he throws at the Blue One who had appeared in the room. “Of course I’m not all right! I-- I…” He looks to the side unhappily. “I can’t get into the bed.”

“You could have asked for help,” the man says matter-of-factly. “I left a bell.” He smiles genuinely and points to the bell still on the tray.

“I don’t need your help.” Red Son grumbles.

The blue man blinks, then squats down to Red Son’s level, and tilts his eyebrows upward, as if trying his best to appear as small and non-threatening as can be. “It’s okay to ask for help, you know?”

With an eye-roll, Red Son huffs, “Well, I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Technically, you did,” the man points up a finger.

“Listen,” Red Son says ignoring that obvious falsehood. “I’ve been completely fine on my own before. I’ve never had to ask for help! I don’t know what you’re doing here by bandaging me up and stuff, but I’m not playing your game! I don’t need your help! I can do this myself if I just try a bit more!”

“I’m sure you can!”

Red Son gives him a rueful look at his placating tone.

The man’s eyes soften. “But you don’t have to.”

Red Son’s instinct would be to argue further, but there’s something just so darn honest about the man’s tone and a gentleness in his eyes. He mulled over the man’s words. He hadn’t thought of it that way.

The man speaks up again, his gentle demeanor not changing in the slightest. “Would you like to get in the bed?”

“Yes.”

“Can you get in the bed by yourself?”

“...Not… easily,” Red Son decides.

“Would it be easier and less painful if I helped you?”

“Yes.”

“Would it be okay if I helped you get in the bed?” The man holds out an offering hand, palm up.

Red Son looks between it and the man. He nods slowly.

“Okay!” The Blue One beams like Red Son just made his day.

Red Son grimaces and squints as if he is looking directly at the sun.

It ends up being much easier getting into bed with the man’s help. Red Son gets the feeling that the Blue One could’ve just picked him up and put him in bed. But he took care to allow Red Son to go through the motions of pulling himself up and shifting into a sitting position on the bed, as if he had done it on his own, and not that his entire weight was being supported by the Blue One. Red Son decides to not dwell on that fact, and tries to hold onto the last dregs of dignity he had left. Once in bed, the man moved the pillows and blankets back in place once again creating a warm cocoon for the demon to be nestled in. He also moved the heater closer to the bed, and brought him a new cup of warm tea.

A big part of Red Son hates all of this unnecessary pampering, but he was beginning to get very tired and cold again and he didn’t have the energy to fight back.

“Why did you help me?” Red Son asks finally.

“Like I said before, you asked me to!” the man says jovially.

“No, not the bed thing - why did you rescue me?”

“You asked me to do that, too!” Upon seeing Red Son’s disbelieving expression he says, “Well, technically, I don’t think you knew it was me you were asking - you were kind of out of it -  and also maybe you don’t remember because of the whole shock, and cold, and being injured thing…” Red Son notes that the blue one really likes talking with his hands as they gesture about in his explanation. Either way, Red Son is not convinced.

“But why? This must be some sort of trick, or maybe a way to hold me hostage for-- you’re not going to try to use me as leverage for my parents, are you? Or-- what happened to my parents?! You haven’t captured them, too?!” Red Son’s voice starts pitching wildly, and he casts a highly suspicious gaze at the man.

“Woah, woah there! It’s not any of that!” The man holds up his hands in surrender. “MK was able to stop DBK. It’s… difficult to explain what happened, but you all were carried away by a, uh, flash flood…” Red Son quirks an incredulous eyebrow up at that. But the Blue One continues, “I happened to find you washed up on shore by my house boat. To be honest, I don’t know what happened to your parents. ” He shrugs apologetically, as Red Son’s eyebrows knit together at that revelation.

He mulls over the explanation. But something didn’t track right. “But I-- I attacked your friends. We’re… enemies! There’s… no way you would help me unless you had some sort of a plot.”

“Red Son,” the Blue One says, (again with that annoying, honest, gentle voice!). “I helped you because you asked, and I wanted to. No other reason than that. You are free to go and look for your parents whenever you want.”

Red Son sits there, confused. He considers himself very good at reading people. If this guy wanted to intimidate him and hold him hostage, he could easily do so through force, if his appearance is any indication of that. But instead he used everything in his power to appear not threatening. So either the Blue One was one of the best liars that Red Son had ever seen, or he was telling the truth. And he isn’t sure which explanation perplexed him more. Furthermore, if he was free to go and he did find his parents, would they even want him back? Maybe this was secretly a ruse to do so and find that they had actually disowned them. He would certainly deserve that after what he did…

Red Son shakes his head as if to rid himself of those thoughts. “How did you know my name?” he asks instead.

“I try to remember the names of everybody that I know.” The man gives a toothy smile, and points a thumb at himself. “My name’s Sandy, by the way!”

Red Son scrunches up his nose in what he hopes is convincing disgust and not embarrassment at not knowing an enemy’s name. “O-of course I knew that was your name, Blue One! I just don’t lower myself to using the names of peasants!” He tries to make a show of folding his arms, but it’s difficult when one is bandaged to his torso.

The Blue One laughs loud and heartily, which is not the reaction that Red Son wanted, but by now he supposes is the reaction he should expect from this impossibly happy man. “That’s fine! But please,” he places the tray with the bell on a table next to the bed. “Feel free to ask for assistance if you ever need it!”

Red Son grunts in response and buries his nose back under the covers, sinking into the cocoon of blankets. He realizes that he is still very tired and his eyes drift shut. He feels that he can maybe relax a little bit around the Blue On-- Sandy. Still, uncertainty about his parents and his powers bubble beneath the surface. Maybe it would be better if he stayed here. He couldn’t show his face to his parents. Not after all this.

start || <– previous // next –>

[therainroguefanfiction]

📱 Find Me (Tooru Oikawa) #12; It’s a Deal~

📑 Table of Contents | ◂p r e v i o u s

━━━━━━༻📱༺━━━━━━

“Mom, I’m leaving!” You called as you slipped your sneakers on, tugging the baby blue mask up to cover your mouth and nose.

She peaked her head out from the kitchen. “Be safe and don’t kill anyone!”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for believing in me, mom.”

“You’re welcome, sweety!”

You picked up the messenger bag from the floor and slid it over your shoulder before pulling the door open and stepping outside. It was ungodly hot today, the air weighing heavily upon you like a thick fog. You seriously considered just turning around and heading back into the air-conditioned house, but you knew you would never hear the end of it from Kenma if you did so.

With a sigh, you headed out the gate that surrounded the small property, only to step back in surprise. Kenma was standing in front of you, his golden eyes glued to the gaming device in his hands. Next to him stood a black-haired boy that you assumed was Kuroo. ‘Holy shit he’s tall…’

The ravenette nudged Kenma in the ribs and he finally glanced up, his face betraying no emotion as was the usual for him. “Where’s my game?”

You sweatdropped, digging into your bag to produce the plastic case that housed the game in question. “I still haven’t beaten Cage, so I’m tempted to keep it. What are you doing here anyway? I said not to pick me up.”

“If you can’t beat Cage, we’re no longer related.” He took the game from your hands, carefully placing it into his own bag. “And Kuroo insisted that we come pick you up.” He then turned around, heading back in the direction he had just come from.

“At least introduce us!” Kuroo cried out before sighing and turning back toward you with a kind smile, offering you his hand. “Hi, I’m Kuroo Tetsuroo. It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N-san.”

You slid your hand into his with a nod. “I’m L/N F/N, it’s nice to meet you, too, Kuroo-san.”

It was mostly silent between the three of you as you made your way to the train station that would take you to Nekoma high where the game was being held. It was mostly Kuroo asking you random questions in-between scolding Kenma for being rude, but you didn’t really mind his company, he seemed like a nice guy, plus he was taking care of your idiot cousin for you, so he already had points in your book.

The school came into view and Kuroo glanced at you. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” your brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would I be? It’s not like I’m playing.”

“Because of Oikawa,” Kenma responded simply, his cat-like eyes zeroing in on you. You came to a dead stop, eyes growing wide as your brain processed the words. “You forgot who we were facing, didn’t you?”

“I-In my defense, I’ve been sick.” You scowled at him, thankful that the mask was there to cover your reddening face. How could you have possibly forgotten such an important detail? ‘Calm down, Y/N! He doesn’t know who you are, just pretend like you’re a Nekoma student.’ “Give me your jacket, Ken.”

“No.”

Your eye twitched as he continued toward the locker room. “You little -”

Kuroo chuckled, sliding the red Nekoma jacket from his shoulders. “It might be a little big, but it should do the trick. He doesn’t know who you are, right?”

You nodded, taking the jacket from him and sliding it on. It was huge on you, making you feel quite small, but as long as it did what it was supposed to, you could live with that. “Nope. I never told him.”

The two of you reached the locker room just as a group of boys stepped out and you immediately caught the eye of a boy with a blonde mohawk. His eyes snapped between the two of you before he started to freak out, pointing at you as if you were some piece of art hanging in a museum.

“You have a partner, captain?!”

“No, this is Kenma’s cousin, Y/N.” Kuroo proceeded to introduce the Nekoma volleyball team to you, inserting little comments about each player as he did so. “They are here to watch the practice game and they’re still sick, so leave them be.”

“Why are you starin’ at me, huh?!” Yamamoto demanded, narrowing his eyes at his captain.

“Guys, Aobajohsai is here.” Yaku nodded his head toward the front of the school where the group of boys was filtering through, dressed in their white and blue track suits.

Your body tensed up upon seeing them and you tried to pull the mask farther up your face. Kuroo, sensing your discomfort, turned to Fukunaga. “Can you take Y/N to the gym so I can get changed?”

The black-haired boy nodded, giving you a kind smile as he motioned with his hand for you to follow him. The two coaches were inside the gym already, talking quietly amongst themselves. The older one noticed the two of you first.

“Oh, who is this?”

Fukunaga smiled politely at the older man. “This is Kenma’s cousin, sir. They came to watch the game.”

His dark eyes shined as he held his hand out to you. “Nekomata Yasufumi, I’m the head coach for Nekoma.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” You took his hand, bowing lightly before introducing yourself. “I hope it’s okay if I watch the game.”

“Of course!” The younger man grinned before introducing himself as Naoi Manabu. “We appreciate you coming to support the boys.”

Nekomata glanced at the door where the opposing team had appeared. “You can sit with us on the coach’s bench.” He patted your shoulder as he passed by, going to greet the coach of Aobajohsai.

You made the mistake of glancing at the group, catching Watari’s attention. His eyes widened in surprise and you quickly looked away, hoping he wouldn’t give you away as you settled yourself on the bench, pulling the jacket tighter around your body. The gym was pretty cold because of the weather outside, so you were thankful for the warmth it provided.

Kenma and Kuroo entered the gym, greeting the other team before heading over to you.

“You look like a turtle trying to retreat in its shell.” Kenma commented blankly.

“Because I am,” you scowled, attempting to smack him in the stomach but he stepped back before you even got close. “You of all people should understand that.”

He just shrugged and began his warm up stretches. Kuroo chuckled as he glanced between the two of you. “You two are a lot alike.”

Both of you snapped your eyes to him and scowled. “We are not!”

Oikawa glanced up at the exclamation and, at first, he didn’t recognize you as you sat in Nekoma’s jacket, a mask covering the lower half of your face, but then you shifted your head and he got a better look at those eyes of yours. How could he ever forget those eyes? They were burned into his brain.

Watari noticed the captain’s shift of attention and he chewed on his lip, wondering if he should try to distract the brunette, but before he could make a decision, the third-year was already striding toward the three of you, his expression a mixture of determination and annoyance. Kenma was the first to notice his approach but he didn’t have enough time to speak before Oikawa was standing beside you, hand on his hip.

“You have some nerve ignoring me, deleting the app without a word, only to show up at our game!” He huffed, brushing his bangs away from his forehead.

Your eyes widened, heart racing within your chest. You wanted to deny the accusation, to claim he had the wrong person, but something within his eyes told you that he wouldn’t be fooled by your lies. He knew it was you. You glanced at Watari, who was watching the scene with a worried expression. Had he betrayed you and told Oikawa who you were? ‘Of course he did. They’re teammates.’

“You owe me an explanation!”

Kuroo slid himself between the two of you, eyes glinting with amusement. “Sorry, but Y/N doesn’t owe you anything.”

His brown eyes narrowed. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s between me and them.”

The ravenette hummed, grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make a deal, then.”

“What?”

“If Nekoma wins, you leave Y/N alone. But if Aobajohsai wins -”

Oikawa’s eyes met yours. “When we win, you have to at least hear me out.”

“Deal.”

“W-Wait a minute -” You cried out, your voice cracking because of your nerves. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“No,” the two captains chorused, glaring at each other. You could just see the electricity between their gazes.

You looked to Kenma for help, but he only offered you a sigh, knowing that he would have to work harder to make sure Nekoma took the win. You had never wished harder that the ground would swallow you up whole.

━━━━━━༻📱༺━━━━━━

The game was intense.

Judging from how hard both teams were trying, you wouldn’t be able to guess that it was simply a practice game because they were acting as if it was the final battle for the gold. Every time Oikawa was up to serve, he made a show of staring at you for a solid five seconds before finally serving the ball and you hated it.

Just to spite him, Kuroo started doing the same, his grin stretching wider when the brunette glared at him. It was obvious to the ravenette that Oikawa was feeling jealous because he didn’t know the extent of the relationship between you and Kuroo.

It seemed to go on forever, at least to you since you weren’t used to watching volleyball games. Aobajohsai took the first set, but Nekoma took back the second set. The third set dragged on forever, neither team willing to give up but, in the end, Aobajohsai took the set by two points, much to your dismay. You could only hang your head as they celebrated their win.

Kuroo approached you with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Y/N-san. We lost.”

“I hate you, Kuroo-san.” You mumbled in reply, making the taller boy pout.

“That’s not very nice~”

Oikawa wasted no time heading over to you, a smirk upon his lips. “I won. Time to keep your side of the barga -”

Iwaizumi came up behind him, smacking him in the back of the head. “You won? Last time I checked, volleyball is a team sport, Shittykawa.”

A light strip of pink covered the brunette’s cheeks as he whirled around, his voice hushed. “Not in front of Y/N, Iwa-chan!”

But the boy only rolled his eyes. “You can figure it out later. We’re gonna miss the last train.”

Oikawa’s eyes met yours and he held his hand out to you.

For a moment, you just looked at his hand.

“Your phone,” he stressed, flexing his fingers. “I won’t let you get away again.”

Hesitantly, you pulled out your phone, but you were clearly taking too long so he snatched it from you, tapping away. To be honest, you expected him to make a comment about how you only had four contacts in your phone – your mom, dad, younger brother, and Kenma -, but if he thought anything of it, he kept it to himself as he tapped away on your phone.

“There. I’ve called myself from your phone so I have your number.” He handed it back, offering you a smile. “If you block me, I’ll find you, Geek-chan~”

A chill went down your spine and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him as he left the gym with the rest of his team. Silence settled over the three of you for a moment before Kuroo clapped his hands.

“Well, that’s settled. Let’s get you home, Y/N~”

Your eye twitched as you stared down at his number in your call history, lips tugging down. Why did it feel like fate was messing with you?

“He really called you Geek-chan,” Kenma mumbled under his breath as he followed after Kuroo.

You scowled, bumping your shoulder against his. “Shaddup, Ken.”

It was barely visible, but the corner of his lips tugged up in amusement.

━━━━━━༻📱༺━━━━━━

You were just crawling into bed when your phone started to ding on the bedside table. You considered just ignoring it, but you knew he wouldn’t stop until you answered so, with a defeated sigh, you picked up the phone and checked the messages he had sent you.

You decided to get it over with, saving the picture he sent to use as his profile photo as you saved the contact to your phone. As you filled out his name, though, you took pause, watching the line appear and disappear as it waited for your text.

‘Oh, I know!’ You erased his name, typing in something different. You had only just saved the contact information when he messaged again, clearly impatient.

Despite yourself, you smiled at the cute image he sent, setting the phone on the table before settling under the covers. Unbeknownst to you, Oikawa did the exact same thing, falling asleep with a smile upon his lips.

━━━━━━༻📱༺━━━━━━

▸n e x t

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

Tag List: @the-broken-halo-writer​ @nekoma-hoe​ @iishoto-chan​

[child-of-the-sea-and-sky]

Orange?

what makes you feel warm inside?

talking with friends, relaxing with my grandma, drinking hot cocoa in the winter especially when it was made with love (love is the best secret ingredient and I will die on that hill), snuggling with my cat, hugs from my mom, hugs from my grandma

what’s your favorite halloween tradition?

Watching scary movies while i eat candy, I haven’t been able to trick or treat the last couple years for some reason or another so I’ve made my own little tradition of doing ‘grown up’ trick or treating (other wise known as buying the candy that night or the next day) and watching horror movies I do it both on halloween and the day after

what’s the last thing you learned?

I actually just finished a TED video about the history of the IQ test, it was really interesting!

when’s the last time you felt obsessed?

Probably around Spring to Fall 2019, that was when I was head over heels for this girl and was pining for her real bad, I did end up telling her how I felt but we haven’t talked since then.

what’s your favorite article of clothing?

I think I already answered this for another question you sent me but I’ll answer it again anyways cause I ADORE my three favorite jackets

One is a pleather jacket that i got as a gift my freshman year of high school. I’ve spent the last like four years covering it in patches and buttons and safety pins and now it’s got duct tape on it to cover up where it’s starting to peel and wear away, I’ll probably post pictures of these in a bit cause I just love them so much.

Another jacket is a black denim jacket that was another gift. It’s a Hufflepuff jacket that I’ve modified to say Hufflepunk and gave the badger on the back a little green mohawk. I also have a couple patches on it, a Palaye Royale pin, and I just finished embroidering the phrase “Be Gay, Do Crime” under the badger and then beneath that I’m working on embroidering “Punch Nazis, Terfs, Racists” and if I hav enough thread I’m gonna add either bigots or homophobes on

The last jacket is my denim vest, it’s a bit newer to me so it doesn’t have quite as much work on it yet but it has a waterparks patch on the back (I’m planning on filling the back of it with patches for bands and the like), a big pride heart right over my heart, a couple pins on the front and I’m working on embroidering the lyric “Can’t be 100 if you’re only giving 95″ from Melancholy Kaleidoscope by All Time Low

[theethighpriestess]

Chapter 3, Pt. 1

_____________________

Summary: An arrogant young disciple of Bastet is forced to spend lifetimes roaming the Earth in search of her soulmate, but what happens when she tries to run from destiny?

A/N: For those of you that have seen Fahrenheit 451, Abhimani is taking on the role of Clarisse McClellan.

_____________________

Draped in a loose fitting oversized threadbare sweater with some barely visible shorts underneath and roughed up motorcycle boots with a burlap backpack hanging off her left shoulder, Abhimani leaned against the technicolor glass bar peering at the sights around her.

Another time. Another life. Another chance to get out of this hellhole of a curse her Goddess had bestowed upon her.

It’s not that she wasn't thankful for Bast’s favor or even that she thought she was better than the Goddess herself. Mani simply didn't believe she had to continue to do what her own Mistress does not if she is supposed to be a holy extension. What was the point of this punishment? What lesson was she supposed to learn from failing to find this man over and over?

As the deep skinned beauty’s eyes scanned the room, she watched the mentally enslaved people play in their virtual reality, hands waving around. They were really into this Big Brother shit huh? Two figures emerge right in her line of sight and though she moves to a more secluded area, she can still hear their voices approaching.

“Don’t worry I’ll talk to her this time,” the slightly shorter of the two men blurts out his eyes focused ahead but not close enough for her to see what he looks like.

“Keep your dick in your pants and stand guard,” Captain Beatty says in the usual gruff tone he thinks is intimidating or seductive. She wasn't sure but it sounded like his throat needed some moisture.

He always seemed to bring the second man with him. Presumably for back up since he always skulked in the distance and was never in her eyes’ reach. He stood off behind a pillar while Beatty walked up to her a little too much in her personal space as per usual with these meetings.

“Well, well, well Mani. You better not be wasting my time tonight. Your last tip led me to boy scouts with pornos.” Rolling her eyes, Mani replies.

“Reactivate my fingers like you said you would.”

“Feed me scraps and I’ll delete your travel permit.”

Oh you caucus dick munch. I swear if I wasn’t on a totally different mission…

“That’s bullshit. You need me.”

Grabbing ahold of the hand that was clutching the thin leather strap of her bag, Beatty seemed to caress the slightly weathered skin in his fingers, holding it preciously in his palm.

Here he go again touching shit he don’t need to be. Somebody get this dude some proper sexual harassment parameters.

“How many years did we restrict you? 6?”

“With all the tips I gave you, I should be free.”

“A beautiful free rat.”

I know he did not just… Ok Bastet, you really trying me now.

Jerking her hand away, Mani switches her position from against the wall Beatty had her up against and grabs a small folded piece of parchment from her pocket holding it up for him to see.

“Take a year off my sentence and I’ll give you something you like.”

The increasingly annoying white beady eyed white man grabs hold of her hand yet again, snatching away the piece of paper.

Abhimani lets out a heavy sigh before adjusting the strap on her shoulder and turning to the left to see the bodyguard spying from a distance.

What is this dude’s deal always staring? Hopefully I can get past him without trying some silly shit.

She proceeds to make her way to leave the moody lit place but was stopped by a pair of glowing brown eyes and a slightly hukling body in her way.

“I didn't hear the captain say you could leave.”

And once again the might roar of her Goddess rang in her head and judging by the perplexed look that flashed on his face, he heard it too.

FUCK YES FINALLY!

“Oh? Then why does he always make you wait outside like a little dog, huh?”

However fine this “soulmate” was, she had things to do, places to go and she knew that now that they had officially seen each other, they would keep crossing paths. If only she’d known this was him the whole time the damn lesson would have been learned a while ago.

As she continues her exit, the man with the pretty eyes and beautifully plump lips grips her arm, but it didn't send the same shiver through her body like when Beatty touched her.

This was actually the first time her mate had touched her in all of the lifetimes they shared. It was…. Nice.

Of course she couldn't let him know he affected her so. She's met him now she can make him want her so she pretends to be almost disgusted by his forward advance.

“You’re just like Beatty,” Abhimani says with a condescending smile on her face.

That seemed to do the trick because he gently let go of her and his chest deflated a fraction.

“I’m not like Beatty.”

“Everyone has a master.”

“Not me.”

Oh we got an independent over here.

“You spy on me but you never do anything. You stand close enough to hear but far enough that I didn’t even know what you looked like till now. Can’t say I’m disappointed.”

Another gleam flashed in his eyes at her slight admission.

And not one word of it was a lie. He was absolutely gorgeous. She didn't ever get to look at her man the way she was now cause he was either too attached to someone else or shot to death for her to focus but my oh my.

Oh thank you my Lady for this wonderous blessing.

“You’re welcome, my child.”

“Why? Do I make you nervous?”

He looked down as he replied, “You don’t.”

“When I see you burning up eels’ lives you don’t look nervous.”

“That’s because I’m very good at my job.”

He was so close she could feel the heat from his body, the slight smell of kerosene and his cologne creating a dangerous aphrodisiac.

I got a couple jobs you would be good at with your fine ass.

“Mmm. You ever stop to think for one second why you do what you do?”

His brow furrowed.

“You should try reading before burning. See you around Montag.”

Flashing him a seductive smile, Mani turns her back and saunters out of the bar with a flip of her perfectly mussed curls leaving Guy all kinds of in his feelings and a hint of confusion as to where that roar came from. Unbeknownst to him, Beatty ,who had been watching the tail end of their interaction, comes up behind him and clasps a hand on his leather jacket clad shoulder.

“Hey. Off limits. Let’s go she recommended a spot.”

With that, the two firemen left and proceeded to do their jobs off the clock.

Mani walks into the seemingly dilapidated apartment building that was actually teeming with tenants and knocks on her neighbor’s door. The door opened to reveal a blonde woman with tired eyes holding her 5 month old big baby boy with a small mohawk like strip of brunette hair. Pulling the small glass bottle of milk from her jacket pocket, she hands it to the woman who lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of the thin creamy liquid.

“I haven't had milk in a week. Thanks but I couldn't find any cooking oil.”

“That’s ok.”

Mani had already turned to her apartment door to let herself in and as the lock turned over, the woman called to her.

“Mani, be careful what you’re selling. People are talking.”

Nodding her head, Abhimani ducks into her apartment, dropping all her stuff down and removing her shoes.

Now why she would land me in this dump of a decade I will never know. If this is the future, may all the Gods be with the mortals. This is absolute purgatory but praise Bast I found him!

“You seem to be in high spirits.”

Of course Anubis followed her through every single life and like her, his form didn't ever change. He always remained the same enchanting black feline friend whom she had actually come to cherish after so long.

“Well if you must know my terribly named kitty cat, I met him today.” “You mean the white devil who secretly not so secretly wishes to have you?”

“Oh Bast please not on his gray eyed life. No Nubi I mean him. He’s been with Beatty the entire time. I only just met him today.”

The bodacious woman flits around her small space to play a vinyl that she shouldn’t be playing on a record player she shouldn't be having and takes a seat at her tool table to fix the roll of a tape she was to deliver to this man who in trade has a place for her to tip the captain off for more “graffiti” for him and his team to burn.

As the smoke rises from her soldering gun, her mind wanders to privileged times spent in the dazzling night jungle running alongside the panthers of the past trying to beat the purple starry night.

Time Break

Guy stands head bowed under the warm running water of his shower dripping down his face. Hoping it would clear his frazzled mind.

He had just returned to the station from a strange graffiti burning with this old woman who seemed to only speak in graffiti. She said no actual words but gave a quote of some sort?

‘Play the man, Master Ridley. We shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.’

Of course he had no idea what the hell that meant but it was haunting him along with the word she said right after she lit the books and herself on fire.

‘Omnis’

What is that?

He stepped out of the shower, dried off and got fully dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and an army green jacket. He was sure to retrieve the book he has stolen from the house from his locker and safely hid it underneath his jacket.

As he was making his way out, he caught the 9’s report of what they were now calling Beatty’s Barbeque. When they showed footage of the old woman burning, they replaced the word she actually said with a voice over ‘coward.’

Why would they cover that up?

Guy was simply getting more and more confused by the minute and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. He was anxious to get home so he could try to properly process the night’s events.

“Montag!”

Beatty walks up behind him with a stern look on his face.

“You hesitated tonight in front of the men.”

The shorter, more good looking of the two men was instantly transported back to the house they left only hours ago when the captain instructed him to remove the old woman from the house after the graffiti was laid out and kerosene poured, she refused to leave. Guy attempted to reason with her and asked the captain if they would just leave her which was a sign of weakness and insubordination. Placing a brave look on his handsome face, he retorts back.

“I know but it won’t happen again.”

“You know it’s my first time seeing a self burn too but as far as I’m concerned, it means we’re doing the right thing.”

Beatty was his friend. His captain. His father figure. Maybe he would be able to clear up some of this bafflement in his brain.

“What was that old lady talking about? Master Ridley play something.”

He was almost embarrassed that he couldn't remember the entire text.

“Well back when people still believed in God, the Brits burned alive two eels at the stake. Ridley and Latimer for praying to a different book than their queen did. Before us, people committed genocides over books while others blew themselves up killing innocent people. Insanity plus 100.

“But why did she burn herself for books?”

The stormy eyed man looked away from him briefly before giving his rebuttal.

“Well she tried to burn us all don’t you think?” “She didn't say coward. She said omnis. What is that?”

Breaking eye contact and turning about face, Beatty gives the information he actually wants to hear.

“Well the commissioner won’t say what the ministry knows but I guess we’re gonna have to find out.”

The captain moves to stand in front of him and hands him a silver square shaped lighter.

“Burn me.”

“John…”

“Go ahead.”

What is he trying to get from me?

Sensing Guy’s hesitation, the taller man urges him on.

Hurry up. I won’t ask twice.”

Immediately, he opens the lighter and flicks it on but doesn't hold it close enough for the lone flame to touch the other man’s hand and he looked back up to lock eyes with him.

“I know you’re different than the other men. I watched you grow up. And that’s how I know you feel the same inside as me. Closer.”

Lifting the lighter higher, the tip of the flame seems to disappear and fan out in his palm.

“I’ve been burned so many times, I don’t know where my scars end and my body begins.”

Guy lifts the lighter even higher, the flame all but gone into the captain’s hand as both men’s eyes stay locked in a vehement embrace. Finally Beatty grabs the lighter and extinguishes the flame with low pain filled groan stepping closer to him with an even more fierce gaze.

“There’s no way you’re gonna break. You’re the youngest cadet I ever accepted into the Youth Fire Brigade. I raised ya and one day you’ll be just like me son. You won’t feel anything when they burn you.”

_____________________

TAGS: @jozigrrl @itsangeludaku @thehomierobbstark @eriknutinthispoosy @hearteyes-for-killmonger @muse-of-mbaku @amethyst1993 @killmongersgurl @trevantesbrat @hdkween @iamrheaspeaks @princesskillmonger @ayellepea @vikkidc @laketaj24 @madamslayyy @allhailnjadaka @purple-apricots @thadelightfulone @theunsweetenedtruth @wakanda-inspired @panthergoddessbast @blackpantherismyish @yaachtynoboat711 @forbeautyandlife @bidibidibombaclaat @quietstorm-73 @youreadthatright

[sparklyaxolotlstudent]

THE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS TO BECOME A NEW GUARDIAN.

After posting the Black Cat part, I completely forgot for Plagg to ask about his favorite food, which is cheese because is a control form of decay for milk, and thus the most ideal for recharguing his powers. But then again, Plagg was being lazy AND more importantly, he already thought that Marinette was worthy.

ANYWAY, part 2!

PART 2. SLY FOX

She was again in her normal clothes, and without the Black Cat Miraculous. Looking around, she noticed she was now in Alya’s house.

“I see you passed Plagg’s test, You go Girl!” It was… Alya? Marinette was confused for a second, but then she just laughed.

“Hello Trixx. I see you’re my second Challenge”

Alya smiled and transformed into light, in which Trixx appeared. “You’re good Marinette!”

“Thanks”

“Your first part of the test is to find my Miraculous in this room”

Marinette looked around. The room was exactly like Alya’s living room.

“I’m guessing Plagg didn’t make you search for his miraculous” Trixx rolled his eyes. “It’s the first part of the test. The second is charging it up and then a challenge. Of course every one of us is free to mix it up a bit. You want a clue?” asked Trixx to Marinette, who hadn’t moved from her place yet.

Trixx is illusions, a crafty fox. “No thank you”. Marinette scanned the room and didn’t find anything out of place. Except for Trixx… and herself. She felt like a lightbulb had lighted on on her head, and reached for her own neckline. And sure, there it was, she was already wearing the Fox Miraculous.

“Awww,  you didn’t even think in reaching between the cushions of the couch” Trixx giggled. This girl was something else. “Very well, let’s recharge my necklace. First things first, what is my concept?”

Marinette side eyed him, while fidgeting with the necklace. Trixx rolled his eyes

“No trick questions. Master Fu made me promise that.”

“The Fox is the Kwami of Illusions, trickery and Storytelling.” A beep.

“What do I eat to recharge?”

“Anything grape-flavored will do, even actual grapes, but the illusion of the flavor of grapes works better for your powers. Grape Jam is your favorite.” Trixx smiled. Another beep.

“Weapon?”

“A Flute. It’s strong enough to work as a staff.”

“And my power?”

“Mirage. It creates realistic illusions that can fool all senses. It’s also a blast to tell stories.”

“And why did you choose Alya?”

“Because I trust her. She’s also obsessed with journalism, even if she makes HUGE jumps in logic, so she needed a bit of good storytelling magic.”

A final beep signaled the full charge of the necklace.

“Trixx, let’s pound!” Same as before, Marinette transformed into a form she hasn’t before. She danced along the music to become a Fox themed Superhero. She was admiring her own form, wondering if there would be a way to make these suits for herself, or at least doll versions of herself as the other heroes.

“Focus Marinette” giggled Trixx inside her head. “Although I would love to see the dolls, you are very talented” Marinette blushed. She had forgotten these transformations weren’t like the usual, and that the Kwami was still fully conscious. “The Challenge of Illusions is rather easy for someone like you. This place is full of mirrors. Find the true one.”

Marinette looked around, and noticed that most frames, paintings, calendars and pictures were now shiny mirrors. She went around the room, looking at each one. She was blonde in one, red head in another; in another her skin was brown. A mirror reflected her dressed as Chloe, another has her with a Mohawk, and yet another had Adrien clinging from her. She saw herself as ladybug, and another one that showed her like she currently was, and almost picked up that one, but decided to check the rest of the mirrors.  She picked a small one that showed her as Marinette.

“This one” She declared. “I am Marinette, even when using a Miraculous”

“Very good! A Good Master of Illusions has to be able to recognize the truth when they see it, you have passed!” Marinette smiled. “Now use your power to find the next room”

Marinette thought for a second, then grabbed the Fox’s flute and played a little tune, imagining a door. “Mirage” She called. A door materialized in front of her.

[vierafication]

Getting to Know: Faolan Kells

Was tagged by @an-honest-waltz for most of these AGES ago, so just gonna make one big ol’ post!

<STRENGTHS & FLAWS>

Bold those that apply, italicize if occasional or situational.

╳   FLAWS

moody | short-tempered | emotionally unstable | whiny | controlling | conceited | possessive | paranoid | lies | impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power - hungry | greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive | spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | masochistic | petty | unlucky | absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | childish | callous | clingy | delusional | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cynical | cruel | depressed | deranged | egotistical | envious | insecure | insensitive | lustful | delinquent | guilt complex | reclusive | reckless | nervous| oversensitive | rebellious | pessimistic | selfless

♔   STRENGTHS

honest | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave | patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky | intelligent | confident | focused | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming | cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | protective | proud | diligent | considerate | compassionate | good sportsmanship | friendly | empathetic | passionate | reliable | resourceful | sensible | sincere | witty | funny

🖌 SKILLS & HOBBIES

art | acting | astronomy | animals | archery | sports | beach combing | belly dancing | bird watching | blacksmithing | boating | calligraphy | camping | candle making | casino gambling | ceramics | racing | chess | music | cooking | crochet | weaving | exercise | swordplay | fishing | gardening | ghost hunting | ice skating | magic | engineering | building | inventing | leather-working | martial arts | meditation | origami | parkour | people watching | swimming | puppetry | pyrotechnics | quilting | reading | collecting | shopping | socializing | storytelling | writing | traveling | exotic dancing | minor potion brewing | tricks & trinkets | crow keeping | classical dancing

<BODY AESTHETIC>

[ BODY ]

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Toned thighs. Skinny arms. Soft arms. Toned arms. Muscular arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Small waist. Average waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Narrow shoulders. Broad shoulders. Average shoulders. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

[ HEIGHT ]

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm to 150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2 m. Taller than 2 m.

[ SKIN ]

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Moles. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Freckled. Scars. Birthmarks.

[ EYES ]

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Turquoise. Violet. Pink. Green. Gold. Hazel. Crimson. Doe-eyed. Almond. Close-set. Wide-set. Deep-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned. Mismatched.

[ HAIR ]

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Afro. Pompadour. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Past hip-length. Buzz cut. Bald. Weave. Hair extensions. Jaw length. Layered. Mohawk. Pony Tail. Braid. Locks. Box braids. Faux locks. White. Going Grey. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blonde. Strawberry Blonde. Ombre. Ash brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Golden brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Orange. Ginger. Red. Auburn. Dyed. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows. Plucked eyebrows.

[ TATTOOS / PIERCINGS ]

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. Back tattoo. Shoulder blade tattoo. One tattoo. Face tattoo. Hand tattoo. Henna tattoo. Wrist tattoo. Forearm tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple. No tattoos (for now). Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercings. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Top of the ear. Tragus piercing. Angel bites. Labret. Stretched out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

[ COSMETICS ]

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Nude lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears war paint from time to time. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make-up.

[ SCENT ]

Floral. Herbal. Earthy. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Fur. Sweat. Food. Incense. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Fire. Cold. Fresh. Metal. Rain. Chemicals. Baking!

[ CLOTHES ]

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight/Form-fitting dress. Cardigans. Tunic. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports-T-shirt. Sweatpants. Tanktop. Cut off t-shirt. Designer. High street. Leather jacket. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress.High slit dress/skirt. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Waistcoat. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Basketball shorts. Boxers/Boxer-Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sportsbra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Cotton. Linen. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Light colors. White. Black. Dark colors. Fur/Fauxfur. Revealing clothing. Heavy armor. Medium armor. Light Armor.

[ SHOES ]

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Bare feet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes. Leather boots.

~

<GETTING TO KNOW>

So I personally don’t like this prompt because it assumes the character answers IC, but how many characters would actually let someone come up and interview them with this barrage of questions, some very personal, out of nowhere, IC? So I think it works better to think of them as... filling it out as a form themselves?

► Name ➔   Which one? ► Are you single ➔ I think so. ► Are you happy ➔   I’d better be. ► Are you angry? ➔   Thankfully, no. ► Are your parents still married ➔  Who?

NINE FACTS ► Birth Place ➔ Somewhere where the trees are tall and green and overshadowing, I think. ► Hair Color ➔ Like the earth. ► Eye Color ➔ Like the leaves. ► Birthday ➔ I do not know. ► Mood ➔ Fluctuating. ► Gender ➔ Leaning towards male. ► Summer or winter ➔ Summer. ► Morning or afternoon ➔ Can I say evening instead?

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE ► Are you in love ➔ With life itself~! Mostly. Usually. Sometimes. ► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ It’s the stuff of faerytales. So of course I do! Would love to actually see it in action, though. It’s certainly elusive. ► Who ended your last relationship ➔ No relationships to end- so I have not suffered that terrible heartache so often written about! Ha! ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔  Probably. I hope so. ► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ I think the answer is yes, because I do not want them, if I can help it! Don’t like strings. ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Of course! Who or what, though, I cannot recall. ► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ I hope so! ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ NO.

SIX CHOICES ► Love or lust ➔ Love! Incredibly useless, but really quite fun to mess with. ► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ Lemonade. ► Cats or Dogs ➔ Dogs are more reliable, cats are more fun. So... cats, then.. ► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ Yes. ► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ A wild night out leads to so many more interesting possible occurrences. The other option is boring on multiple levels. ► Day or night ➔ Oh, so this is where I can say night. Night, then.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS ► Been caught sneaking out ➔ Out of where? By whom? ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ I am far too graceful for THAT, but it is very humorous to see! ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ No comment. ► Wanted to disappear ➔ Not if I’ve enough distractions to keep me occupied at the moment!

FOUR PREFERENCES ► Smile or eyes ➔ Eyes tell a lot more than a smile ever could. ► Shorter or Taller ➔ Shorter people are easier to poke fun at, in my experience. ► Intelligence or Attraction ➔  Attraction. ► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ I don’t want anything THAT close to me, thank you very much.

FAMILY ► Do you and your family get along ➔ We fight sometimes. ► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ It is certainly abnormal by your standards! If only you knew. ► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ When I was a child, I tried to multiple times, but I just ended up running right back home again. Not voluntarily, of course, for the forest paths never lead you where you want to go, only where you don’t. ► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ Not kicked out, necessarily, but... locked up? Hidden away? I feel that’s a better term.

FRIENDS ► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ No! That would be silly. ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ No. ► Who is your best friend ➔ I adore friends, of course, but I would not trust anybody to THAT extent. ► Who knows everything about you ➔ Only the ones back home, and I intend to keep it that way.

Thanks again Killian!!!! Not gonna tag anybody ‘cause y’all have already done these I’m sure. But if you haven’t, consider yourself tagged!

[ladynuwanda]

Heart of Darkness (Michael LangdonXFemale Reader) - Chapter 4: Sealed with a Kiss

Waking up at a place you don’t know where it is having no idea how the hell you’ve gotten there. What fun.

 All I could feel was a blinding pain at the back of my head, but when I tried to bring a hand to it I saw that I couldn’t move it. In fact I couldn’t move at all. Anything except my eyes, and I was looking around madly, as best as I could, panic growing in my chest. I was lying on a hard surface, like a table, in a dim-lit room, I could see there was someone else in the room from the corner of my eyes.

It was a man, not much more than a boy, walking busily around the room, lighting candles and reciting words in what sounded like Latin. When he turned around I lost my breath for a moment and I felt like my heart had skipped a beat. He had the most beautiful face I had even seen in my life, framed by silky golden curls. It’s not an exaggeration when I say he looked like an angel. His face looked positively radiant, specially in contrast with his black clothes, but his expression was so utterly miserable, it was sort of heartbreaking.

 He stopped by the table, speaking louder now (definitely Latin, and although I couldn’t quite make out the actual meaning of the words, it already sounded ominous enough) and I saw a flash of silver when he raised his red gloved hands. A knife. Oh, shit! I would have screamed if I could make a sound. The fact that he didn’t look very happy either was no consolation. He looked at me like he was about to apologise and I could tell something made him stop on his tracks. “You’re not a virgin”, he furrowed his brows at me.

 Panic gave place to confusion, and I felt a crease appearing between my eyebrows as well. He rolled his eyes muttering “oh, fuck it” under his breath. With a careless red wave of one hand whatever was holding me still was gone, and I could move again. I sat up on the table as he walked to an armchair and sat down looking exhausted. I knew I was definitely not off whatever hook he had me on, but I couldn’t avoid the warm feeling of relief that took me when he dropped the knife to the floor by the armchair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 “You were supposed to be a virgin. I can’t believe Miss Mead got it wrong... she was never wrong, you see? Not my Miss Mead!”, I was thinking that it was funny the way he said “my Miss Mead”, like everyone was supposed to have a Miss Mead, but that made me think of the lady I met at work. She had pleasant manners and sparkly green eyes, and I remember thinking I wanted to look half as cool when I got to her age, with the faux mohawk and black lipstick... the pain on the back of my head stung again. Whoever this Miss Mead was, she probably knocked me unconscious and dragged me to this place.

 He was still muttering to himself and I had no idea what I was supposed to do or say when his blue gaze fell on me again “... I mean, you ARE the girl from the library, right?”. I nodded stupidly. “And you’re not a virgin... now that’s a surprise!”, I wasn’t sure if I should be more offended that he simply assumed I was a virgin because I worked in the library, or by his disgusted tone when he said I wasn’t. I couldn’t tell exactly what kind of shaming he was giving me, but I knew there was some. And to my surprise I heard myself saying “I’m sorry” like a complete idiot.

 “Well, you should be! You were supposed to serve a greater purpose, I was supposed to consume the heart of a virgin tonight... but now I can’t, can I? Miss Mead is already back at Kineros to have her memory erased and it’s too late for me to find and capture someone else before the eclipse is over.”, very little of what he said made any sense to me, and he seemed to be talking more to himself anyway, but I think I got the meaning of the part about consuming a heart. Consuming. What a civilised way to say he was gonna cut my chest open with that silver knife of his, rip my bloody heart out and eat it raw before my corpse was even cold. “All because you humans have to succumb to lust all the time... was it lust, or are you gonna tell me it was love?”, his icy blue eyes were on me again.

 What was I going to say? Should I tell him it was love? Would that somehow make me less tainted, and therefore more eligible for heart-eating? Why should I even be honest to this psycho? Was I supposed to open my metaphorical heart to this very literal heart-eater? What for? But then I noticed something weird in what he’d just said “you humans”? This whole conversation somehow managed to get crazier by the minute...

 He raised himself from the armchair and was walking towards me now. “It was love. You loved him dearly. He was... your best friend. You trusted him with your life, but he betrayed that trust. He broke your heart”, he placed both hands, in those unsettling red gloves, on  the table in front of me, by my feet, and looked deep into my eyes, “I can see it like a physical trait, you carry it around like a scar.”. I felt tears stinging my eyes and looked away. How did he know? Who was this guy? WHAT was he? “Was it worth it? Giving yourself to this man only to have your heart crushed afterwards... human-beings are pathetic with this obsession with carnal pleasure. And the way you think it has something to do with love... It’s pitiful, really.”

 “Why do you talk about human beings like that... like you’re not one?”, what was I thinking? Why was I asking that kind of question to this lunatic? Was I so in shock that I was no longer thinking properly? He merely chuckled. “Because I’m not.”, he turned his face the other way and pulled his hair to the side, to show me this painful looking mark behind his ear, a small 666 in an intricate design that seemed to have been iron branded there. He looked at me again and his face was no longer his face, it was a white mask of evil that made my blood freeze in my veins. Just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone and he was giving me the most angelic smile. “My name is Michael Langdon, and I am the Antichrist.” I can’t explain why, and it wasn’t just the satisfied tone in which he had said those words, but I knew this wasn’t a trick. He was the real deal, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind. I knew it in my very soul, and fear took hold of my heart like it was grabbed by a cold hand.

 He walked around the table and sat casually next to me, it looked almost like we were school kids, chatting in between classes. It‘s amazing that, with everything that was going on, there was still room left in my brain to think about how nice he smelled. “I know you wanna ask me another question... come on, don’t be shy”, he smirked, he seemed to be having fun. Like a particularly wicked cat playing with a mouse before killing it off. “It’s so annoying how people never seem to be able to be honest with me... they always get all ‘pleases’ and ‘I’m sorrys’, they never answer my questions with the truth, it’s always what they think I wanna hear, you have no idea how frustrating it is!”, I talked before I could stop myself “Well can you blame them?”, I made a sound that was very much like laughter and pressed my lips together to keep myself from talking any longer.

 Shock. Definitely shock. What else but shock could explain the way I was talking to the actual Devil? But he didn’t seem angry, he was more... amused. “What do you mean?”, the smirk was almost a grin now. Well, fuck it. I’m probably not gonna leave this place alive, anyway, why should I worry about what I say to him? “Well...” I continued like I didn’t care at all about my own life “... you’ve got that whole situation going on”, I made a vague hand gesture encompassing his attire, “don’t get me wrong! It’s fantastic! But maybe just a little... intense. You can’t dress like that and then act surprised when people are a little intimidated by you!”

 He was laughing. The Antichrist was laughing at something I had said. Not laughing at me, but sorta with me. Like he was enjoying my company. Like this was... fun? The same man who was casually talking about eating my heart out a few moments before. “I guess you’re right” he was giving me the brightest of smiles now “maybe I am intimidating, as you say. I’ll tell you what: I promise not to hurt you during this entire conversation, if you promise me you’re gonna be a hundred percent honest, deal?”

 In case you haven’t noticed, he never promised he wasn’t going to kill me eventually. And then there was the fact that the actual Devil was offering me an actual deal. I realised I had very little to lose at this point so I shook the hand he offered me. “Good! Now, I’m hungry... are you hungry? We should find something to eat, since you’ve ruined my original dinner plans...” he jumped off the table laughing at his own dark joke “... I can’t cook, tho, can you cook? Nevermind! We’ll have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and call it the night. Do you like peanut butter and jelly?”, “Yes” my reply was barely more than a whisper, and I still couldn’t make myself move as he was already leaving the room. He stopped by the door and looked at me “Come on! I think my Miss Mead left me some chocolate milk in the fridge... it should be a little treat!”, he flashed me another bright smile. Still feeling slightly lightheaded, I followed the Antichrist into his Miss Mead’s kitchen.

 He threw his leather coat on the back of a chair and discarded the red gloves on the counter, he was untying his ascot (an ascot! now that’s something you don’t see everyday...) and unbuttoning the collar of his dress shirt. He was still insanely overdressed for a peanut butter and jelly dinner, but he seemed far more relaxed. I, on the other hand, felt absurdly underdressed in a sleeveless little thing, that looked more like a white nightgown, and absolutely nothing underneath. The sheer fabric made me feel exposed, so I braced myself, rubbing my own arms with my hands. As if the feeling of warmth from the gesture could make me feel less vulnerable. “Are you cold? Here...”, he took off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders, his hands were surprisingly gentle and warm, but the unexpected touch made me shiver, anyway. He didn’t seem to notice and proceeded to folding up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing lightly tanned forearms, with veins that looked like they had been carved in marble.

 He placed a tall glass of chocolate milk on the table and pulled me a chair, turning around to busy himself with cupboard doors, plates and sandwich ingredients. I sat down, looking at the glass and thinking about how surreal this was. I wanted to be afraid of him. I knew I should run away from that kitchen. But he was being so... nice! He was humming tunelessly to himself while preparing sandwiches, it felt like he was genuinely happy to have company for dinner. But I wasn’t imagining things, was I? He had been about to carve my heart out a few moments before, hadn’t he? So how could I feel so warm and cosy in his company now? Is that what Stockholm Syndrome feels like?

 A few minutes later he put a plate in front of me, with a PB&J sandwich in it. I had to smile a little to myself when I noticed that the crust had been neatly cut out. He sat on the chair across from me and took his own sandwich in his large hands. As I saw him take a ravenous bite I couldn’t help thinking about what had been originally on the menu tonight. It was only after he licked strawberry jam off one of his long fingers that he looked at me again. It would be a big fat lie if said I could taste the sandwich at all, but I had been chewing my first bite for a long time before I remembered how swallowing worked.

 “What did you need a virgin’s heart for?”, I asked before I could stop myself. “It was a ritual”, he swallowed the bite he had been chewing, “to bring me closer to my father, to give me power so I could fulfil his purpose. I guess I’m gonna have to make do without it now” he shrugged. “My turn: how come you’re not a virgin, Library-Girl? We’ve been watching you... you’re not seeing anyone, you’ve got very little social life to begin with. It was an honest mistake, if you think about it...”

 Like hell it was! So I was almost murdered over a stereotype? The spinster librarian, who lives alone with a thousand cats... Ridiculous! Except that I really was single. And I did have a cat. Oh, no! My cat! I hoped my next door neighbour would notice I had not come home, and use the spare-key to get into my apartment and feed my Vanilla, when she was feeding her Luna... Do you think Langdon would let me use the phone for a second?

 “You said so yourself, I was in love. And he broke my heart.”, that’s definitely the least comfortable sex-talk in the entire history of conversations. “Ah, but he wasn’t the only one, was he? You also did it with guys you were not in love with... why?”, it wasn’t a rhetorical question, he seemed honestly puzzled. And he was right. Even after having my heart shattered to pieces, I could still take other men into my bed. I hadn’t trusted anyone again, but that doesn’t mean I had chosen celibacy. I had to think for a while before replying this time “Because... it feels good.”, it was my turn to shrug now. He slapped the table, startling me, “I knew it! See, that’s the problem with mankind, that’s why you’re all doomed: you only care about immediate gratification. Sex, drugs... whatever! You’re just walking around the Earth looking for your next high, destroying everything on the way...”

 “You’re telling me that you don’t have this problem?” to be honest, I was beginning to feel a little tired of his air of superiority. “I’m not blinded by instincts, like you people. My actions are not motivated by animalistic impulse, I have a purpose.” He took a deep breath and drank from his glass of chocolate milk “But that’s not the question’s that’s been pulsing in your brain for the last few minutes, is it? Go ahead, ask it.”

 “So you are... a virgin?”

“Naturally.”

“You’ve got a milk moustache.”

 What?! I needed to gain some time! “Naturally” was so not the answer I was expecting! He wiped his lips with a napkin and met my eyes again “Why is that such a foreign concept to you?”

 “Because there’s a crazy little thing called desire... it’s a very powerful force!”

“Distractions.”

“Welcome distractions!”

“Not really.”

“You must have been a very weird teenager...”

“I was never a teenager.”

 The look of confusion on my face probably spoke volumes, for he kept talking “I was born on the 14th of December, 2011. One night, a couple of years ago, I went to bed as a child, and the next morning I woke up... like this.” Flawless, would have been the natural complement to this statement, but for once I managed to stay quiet, I just kept looking at him wide-eyed with my mouth slightly open. “You look cold... are you done eating? Let’s take this conversation to the living room, there’s a nice fireplace there.”, without waiting for a reply, he got up and kept talking as he left the kitchen “I had a reason to grow up so fast, you see, there were things that needed to be done...”, I followed him because he seemed really pleased to have an audience to whom he could talk about his life goals, but also because I didn’t want to be left alone in the kitchen with that strange dark altar behind the table.

 He sat on the rug in front of the fireplace and took off his weird looking goat shoes “you, humans, let yourselves be distracted by what you believe is a higher purpose... women tell themselves they’re looking for love, men make themselves believe they want power, but in the end you all want one thing: immediate gratification. Usually through carnal pleasure. I cannot let myself be distracted by that...” I sat down on the rug as far from him as I could, still wrapping myself on his jacket “But weren’t you ever curious?”, I knew I was!

 “I’m not curious, I’m on a mission!”

“But it’s not just that! Sure, it is pleasant... but it’s also about connection.”

“Connection? With people? Please... what part of that should I find enticing?”

“I’m serious! It’s not just about having pleasure, it’s about sharing it with someone! Having each other at the most vulnerable and the most powerful, at the same time... we all crave that feeling with every fibre of our beings! Don’t you?”

 He looked at me and I could see blue flames dancing in his eyes, there was nothing of the ice that had been there before. He was all fire, and I felt my own cheeks burning as well. I was panting, and I didn’t know why. I couldn’t hold his gaze much longer, I lowered my eyes to his exposed collarbones. That was worse. Far worse. I felt my entire body burn, now. I bit my lower lip and heard a low chuckle. “If that’s such a magical, intense pleasure... why do people get so mad about rape?”, there was a bitterness to his voice, like this was a very personal subject to him. Clearly he wasn’t speaking from first-hand experience, or he wouldn’t need to ask this question, but he was clearly talking about someone who was close to him. “Because rape isn’t sex, it’s violence. If I hit you on the face with a shovel, you wouldn’t exactly call it gardening, would you?”, it was his turn to bite his lower lip “Fair enough.”, he nodded.

 After a heartbeat he lifted his eyes to me again, they were glowing warm like molten silver, incredibly sweet. His cheeks were flushed, as imagine mine were too, his rosy lips still wet in the firelight, the silvery blue eyes resting on mine for what seemed forever as he took a deep breath. “Would you show me?”, his voice much lower than it had been the entire evening. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close, and covered his lips  with mine.

 He responded with an enthusiasm I could not have anticipated, pulling me impossibly close and kissing me back with a thirst that felt entirely new. His honey lips on mine while his entire body felt made of flames, and I was happy to be consumed by his flames. The moment his delicate tongue found mine, I felt a deep moan vibrating from de back of his throat. I was already aching for him. I straddled his hips, trying to find contact, grinding down for friction. I wanted to feel him with my entire body. I felt like I would never be truly satisfied unless every molecule in my body was touching every molecule in his.

 My fingers were working the buttons of his waistcoat and dress-shirt, removing his leather belt, with feverish desire. His lips and tongue caressing my neck so lightly I almost cried. His upper body seemed carved in marble, perfectly smooth and slightly tanned... so warm to the touch, so inviting. He held me in a sweet embrace for a moment, while we both tried to steady our breathing. His large hands firmly on my back, my fingers running down his while I kissed his shoulder. We remained there for a moment, just breathing together, enjoying each other’s warmth and closeness.

 His kisses started on my neck, moved to my jawline making me grind down on him again, gasping slightly. His hands moved from my back, his touch ghosting over my breasts. He pulled back a little to look me in the eyes, asking for permission. I took his trembling hands on mine and kissed his fingertips lovingly, slowly. Then I placed them on my breasts. He inhaled shakily and closed his eyes, I moved my hips a little and watched, not without a little satisfaction, a small crease forming between his eyebrows as he moaned softly, his lips slightly parted.

 He buried his face on my chest, kissing the tops of my breasts that weren’t covered by the white nightgown, his hands gently kneading me where the skin was not exposed. His thumbs found my nipples through the thin fabric, touching them in circular motions. I steadied the pace of my hips, my whole body shaking, I felt myself clench around nothing, craving to feel him inside me.

 He laid me down on the rug, and removed his trousers and underwear before lying next to me. Holding his head with one hand, supported on his elbow, he ran his fingers up my dress, his fingertips barely touching the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his gaze never leaving mine. The molten silver in his eyes seemed to come to a boil when he found the wetness between my legs. He slipped one finger inside me and I threw my head back, eyes closed, biting my lip to keep myself from whining. He pulled the finger out and slid it back in, with a another finger this time. He bent both fingers a little, reaching that sweet spot inside me and I arched my back, a loud moan escaped my mouth.

 He kissed my shoulder that was nearest him, while he pleasured me with his fingers. “Can I...” his voice was slightly raspy, so he cleared his throat “May I... taste you?”, I nodded looking in his eyes. I don’t think I could speak to save my life at that moment. Without looking away he pulled his fingers from inside me and took them to his own mouth, sucking them clean. His eyes still intently on mine he leaned over and kissed me slow and deep. I could taste myself on his tongue, and that only made me want him more.

 He moved on top of me, his legs between mine, his hands pulling the white dress up above my head. At that moment I felt something I had never felt before. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Lying under his body, no fabric between us, just skin on skin. His eyes on mine. It just felt right, somehow. Like this was the only reason I was put on this world: to feel him, to look at him. But I needed more. I reached for him with one hand and slowly guided him inside me. It was only when he filled me up that I felt truly complete.

 His eyes were closed, his exhaling almost a sob. He lost himself to the sensation. I was trying to get used to his size, it was more than I had ever felt, he was stretching me out in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant. He pulled out a little and pushed himself in again, whimpering lightly. He looked so young, so helpless, without thinking I placed my hand on his cheek and he opened his eyes looking almost surprised to find me there, his face lit up with a smile when his eyes found mine and he kissed me, moving his hips away, never leaving me entirely, before sliding back in harshly, making us both break the kiss gasping.

 “I’m sorry... did I hurt you?”, his hand on my hair, his eyes on mine again. “Quite the opposite!”, I giggled and he did the same, relaxing a little. “You don’t need to hold back, Michael. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

 Now, why would I say something stupid like that? No matter how big a girl I was, this man was still a little more than human. I’m pretty sure he could tear me apart if he wanted to. But now my words made him relaxed enough to pound into me without mercy. He would at times pull himself entirely out and slam back in with a loud groan, his forehead resting on mine, tears stinging my eyes. He was going so deep, so hard, I knew I was gonna be sore in the morning, but it really didn’t matter then. Pleasure and pain. It’s amazing how often those two can go side by side.

 At other times he would take himself out and slide back in agonisingly slow. As much as I craved to have him filling me up again, his moaning during those times was music to my ears. And when I felt him back inside me to the brim, I could cry in ecstasy, my fingernails on the smooth skin pf his back. His face showed nothing but wonder when he would look at me while burying himself deeper between my legs. Sometimes he would just close his eyes in abandon, and I felt tears leaving my eyes. I had never seen anything so beautiful.

 His thrusts grew sloppier, he was losing himself to the feeling again. Panting heavily against my face, whimpering bellow his breath. I dug my fingernails on his back when my orgasm washed over me, making me clench around him, milking him for his. Throwing his head back, he came undone, throbbing inside me. Tears spilling from his closed eyes, a soft moan escaping his parted lips. He looked so much like an innocent boy as he looked like a mighty god. As the wave of pleasure washed away, he touched my forehead with his again. Both of our sweaty bodies shaking, while we did our best to breath normally again.

 “Thank you.”, his voice was very low, almost shy. And I giggled, surprised, at his unusual post-coital remark, “Sure, any time!”. “What? People don’t usually say that?”, he was chuckling a little himself as he looked at me. “They really don’t!”, we were both laughing now. He brushed his nose on mine “But I really do... thank you, I mean.” he looked very serious now, and I kissed him as tenderly as I knew how. Trying to tell him with my lips and my tongue what I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud: that I was thankful, too. It had been an honour and a privilege... and a pleasure. So much pleasure, it didn’t seem to belong in this world.

 He fell asleep with his head on my chest. I ended up dozing off myself, while running my fingers through his hair. Just savouring the perfectly blissful moment, the weight of his body, the scent of his hair, the peaceful sound of his breathing lulling me to sleep.

 I woke up on the sofa, apparently someone had carefully placed my sleeping body there and covered me up with a blanket. This someone was sitting on the rug now, wearing nothing but his boxers and black dress-shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up. He had all his attention focused on the binders before him, that he was leafing through by the firelight. The white dress I had bieen wearing was very tidily folded over the cushion by my head. I grabbed it and put it on, standing up.

 He looked up and gave me one of the bright smiles that I was beginning to grow fond of. (Who am I kidding? By now my heart was already doing somersaults whenever he would so much as glance in my general direction...) “I didn’t mean to wake you up... you were sleeping so peacefully!”, he held out a hand, inviting me join him by the fire. “How long was I out?”, again. I was beginning to wonder if I was keeping track of time AT ALL, at this point. “Less then an hour, don’t worry...”, cupping my face in one hand he kissed me slow and tenderly. He ended the kiss in a grin of contentment, touching my forehead with his and gently brushing his thumb on my cheek.

 “What are these?”, I pointed at the binders with my chin. “Cooperative papers, plans for the safety bunkers, boring but necessary stuff... I was trying to find a way to place you in one of the Outposts”, as usual most of what he was saying made no sense to me, and also as usual it probably showed on my face. He took a deep breath, and lowered his eyes, he seemed to be making an effort to speak now “Listen, you don’t need to panic, I’ve got it all figured out, I had a meeting last week, with some people... big... important people... you may call them World Leaders”, he did quotation marks with his fingers at these two words, “we’re working on building strategically placed Outposts, to protect those who can make an intellectual or cultural, or even biological, contribution to the world we’ll be creating.”

 “I’m sorry?”

“I told you I was on a mission... humanity is doomed, there’s going to be... an incident. Involving nuclear bombs. A few months from now. After the Nuclear Winter, we’ll have a chance to start over, make everything new, from scratch. Make it... better.”

 I got up on reflex, getting away from him in horror. How could he be so calm when he was talking about the death of billions of people? And then I remembered: he was the Antichrist after all. What was I thinking? That he was just the sweet boy I made love with? How could I forget this not so small detail about him? “You don’t need to be scared... it’s alright” he was getting himself up too “Trust me. I can keep you safe.”

 “I don’t wanna be safe! This is insane... you can’t be serious!”, I felt more naked now then I did when he took my dress off. “I will rebuild the world in my father’s image, it will be a better world!”, he took my hand “And you’ll be there to see it! No more lies, no more hypocrisy... imagine that! The end of treason and ignorance,  only the truth and knowledge will be allowed to exist in this new world. But we can’t achieve that with humanity as it is...”

 I pulled my hand from his grasp, but I couldn’t speak. I just stood there shaking my head in disbelief, looking at him through the tears in my eyes. He grabbed one of the binders that were resting on the rug “I found the perfect spot for you actually, the newly-elected president of a South-American country is pure scum! A very unpleasant little man... just the sound of his voice is enough to set my teeth on edge! I never wanted him taking someone’s place in the Outposts, anyway...”

 “Stop it, Michael! Stop this nonsense! I don’t wanna take anybody’s place in the Outposts... scum, or not!”

“You don’t know what you’re saying...”

“I do! I don’t wanna be some privileged asshole safely hidden in a bunker somewhere while the rest of the world bursts in flames!”

 “You won’t be thinking that when you feel your flesh burning from your bones and you’re reduced to nothing but ashes!”, he nearly shouted the words at me, and I was downright terrified. In that moment I realised that I had never seen him angry, and the idea of it was scarier than the Armageddon itself. He took a few deep breaths, I saw he was trying to calm himself down. He took me in his arms, one hand on my waist the other on my hair, his forehead on mine again “please, please... I don’t wanna lose you... you gave me something I never knew was even possible... please let me save you... stay with me...”, I could tell by his voice that he was on the verge of tears himself.

 “Michael, listen to me. I don’t care about surviving if everyone else is going to die. When the world is consumed in flames, I want to be with my family. Surrounded by the people I love the most. With music, laughter and good food. I want to be in my Grandma’s backyard. Eating one more of the delicious meals prepared by my aunt. While my brother plays our favourite songs on the guitar. I wanna be holding my mother’s hand. My little niece sitting on my knee, telling me a funny story. THAT’s how I’d want to go. That’s the kind of person I am!”

 He looked at me through teary eyes “Is that your final word?”, I put my hand on his face and kissed his lips very softly “Yes.”, silent tears were streaming down his cheeks now “You don’t need to save me. The privilege of dying happy is all the salvation I need... Just give me a heads up, if you can. So I can go back home to my family in time, will you?”. He swallowed hard, and his expression became even harder. His eyes went cold all at once, with that familiar icy glint, and the remaining tears running down his cheeks looked completely out of place on a face devoid of emotion. “I will not let you down”, his voice hard and cold as steel. With both hands, surprisingly warm and gentle, on my shoulders he kissed me very softly between the eyebrows.

 After that I remember being back at the library. With no idea how I had gotten there. In fact I had no idea I had ever left. I worked there for the next months as if that night had never happened. Like I had never been kidnapped by someone’s Miss Mead, or met the boy-Devil with the face of an angel. I didn’t even remember I had loved that boy for eternity in one night. And I definitely had no clue of the nuclear holocaust to come. In fact, it was just another day’s work at the library when the Cooperative officers arrived, less than an year later, to take me to the Outpost.

 To bring me here.

 It was bad enough living in Outpost 3 all this time, with all their rules and the fear, knowing everyone I had ever loved, everyone I knew, had died a most horrible death. But knowing that I was standing face to face with the man responsible for ending the world was a horror beyond comprehension. And we had been so... intimate. Our encounters had not been numerous, neither had they lasted for more than one night at a time. But those had probably been the most intense nights of my life. I knew I loved that man. Damn my soul, I loved him with everything I was. But I also hated him. For everything he’d done I hated him. For destroying my world and killing everyone I knew... TWICE.

 I heard sounds from downstairs, one of the heavy isolation doors opening and closing again. Someone was inside the outpost. Before I could say anything, before I even had a chance to react to my newly recovered memories, Michael pulled me to himself and kissed me with a burning passion that I couldn’t help responding to. “Go to your room.”, he was speaking through gritted teeth, “Stay there. Whatever you hear, don’t come out. Wait for me.”

 “Michael, you don’t really think...”

“For once in your life, do as I say!” and then much softer “Please.”

 The desperation on his face was more than enough to silence my protests. Without another word I turned around and left for my room. As I was closing the door, I looked at him one last time, his silvery-blue eyes were on me, and those beautiful lips formed the word “go” in silence. I heard footsteps, apparently entering the great hall, and Mead came to his side in the balcony looking worried. They exchanged a glance and Michael’s face was transformed by rage, for a split second I thought I saw a flash of the white faced demon again. The last thing I heard before the door clicked shut were the sweet tones of a woman’s voice coming from downstairs. She spoke very softly, but I could hear her clear as day:

 “Find our sisters.”

[transplant01]

A little Drabble I don’t have a name for

Hi! I’m pretty sure someone already wrote one but just in case, have a cutesy LAMP ice skating fic! It’s my first sander sides fic so, any constructive criticism is plenty welcome! I definitely need it lmao!  Pairing: LAMP TW: Um, some language stuff and some tooth rotting fluff.  Some mentions of possibilities of being hurt?      Virgil had no idea why Patton was so insistent on this.  Sure, he was a relatively new addition to their relationship, but he had no idea why he wanted to go on an ice skating date of all things together.  What if one of the others got hurt?  What if something went wrong?  The what ifs could go on and on but fuck, Patton broke out the puppy eyes. 

 “Please, Virgil? It’s been a while since we’ve gone ice skating and this will be the first time not only bringing you along but with you a part of us. I think it’ll be a super cute date.  Everything will go okay, sure, people will get bruised and stuff but that’s part of the fun! Pleaseeeeee?” He begged, looking up with puppy eyes, making himself seem almost smaller.

   “Patton is correct.  The people in the memory cannot hurt us, they’re incorporeal.  The only danger is ourselves and we can’t really sustain serious injuries for long, as we’re imaginary as well.  The worst will just be bruises and scrapes those of us who fall will obtain,” Logan pointed out, and God, Virgil hated when Logan made sense. 

   “Unless you just can’t skate?”  Roman baited, and dammit, Roman knew he was competitive as Hell.  If the dorks wanted him to go so bad, he guessed he would concede.  Logan may or may not have a point. He also might want to show Princey up. 

   “Alright!  Alright!  I give in, I give in.  If only to show Roman who is boss at ice skating “ Virgil smirked and it was quickly stolen off his lips by Patton, who peppered kisses all over his face in excitement.   He laughed.  Alright, so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad?  The others’ attitudes were settling his anxiety a little bit.  Though, he did make them promise to bring things just in case any of them did get seriously injured. Soothed that if something were to happen, they would be prepared, Virgil relaxed. 

     Bundled up and ready to go, they were all led out to the ice rink from Thomas’s most recent memories.  The cold immediately slammed into them all and they all huddled close while they put on their skates that Roman had conjured up for them all. Patton’s were ice blue, with white detailing and elegant.  On the outside of each was a little spattering of detailed, intricate snowflakes.  Logan’s were black with dark blue detailing.  On each ankle were little pipes, like from the Sherlock Holmes books.  Roman’s were, of course, bright red with white detailing, and on the outside had a crown.  Virgil loved his.  They were black, with patches of purple and black plaid. Virgil put his own skates on slower than the rest, watching them all head off.  

    He stood by the glass, watching them all skate.  The first time Patton fell, his anxiety skyrocketed and he almost skated out to him but watching Logan and Princey each help him up, all of them laughing, he eased back, a soft smile on his lips as they each pressed a kiss to opposite cheeks, making Patton blush  but laugh.   Roman skated off, easily doing tricks and spins.  He skated by Virgil, who was leaning against the entrance and smirked. 

   “Come on, Hot Topic.  You scared you’re gonna embarrass yourself?”  Roman taunted before he spun away and skated off, laughter filling the silent rink. 

   Virgil looked over, and watched as Patton leaned heavily against Logan to avoid falling over.  This caused Logan to unbalance and they both sprawled across the ice, Patton laughing and Logan rolling his eyes but smiling fondly.  So, those two were good to go.  So, he didn’t see why he should stay on the sidelines.  Besides, the urge to show Roman up was just way too damn strong.   So, he shakily stepped out onto the ice.  His first step was always a little odd. 

   He gave a quick practice lap and came up behind Roman.  A smirk spread out on Virgil’s lips and he quickly skated past Roman, doing an Axle jump.  He was super glad that this particular move ended with him skating backwards because the look on Roman’s face was fucking priceless. He could hear Patton cheering him on as he continued to perform a few more moves for the benefit of showing Princey that this wasn’t just a fluke.  One more Axle Jump, quickly followed by a Mohawk turn, and ending on a flying sit spin.  He laughed as he soon ended his little show, skating up to Patton and Logan, who were now skating, maybe a little shakily but still.  Roman quickly joined. 

   “Where exactly did you learn to do that? How?” Princey demanded and Virgil shrugged. 

   “I have nights where I can’t sleep and Thomas has always watched really weird videos late.  So, I used to watch the figure skating ones and come to old ice skating rink memories to just skate.  It helped wear me out before I went to bed.  So, I had a lot of time to practice.” Virgil shrugged. 

   “That really was graceful, Virgil, Roman.  You’re both rather good.  Maybe we could all come here more often and you could teach Patton and I?”  Logan offered, raising an eyebrow at Patton, who immediately brightened. 

   “Yeah! It’d be so much fun, kiddos!”  Patton enthused and soon was quickly bundled up in Princey’s arms. 

   “Then let’s go! I’ve got you, my dear puffball!”  Roman told him, dancing around the ice with a laughing Patton in his arms.  Looking closely, Patton’s feet weren’t even touching the ice. Virgil snorted and looked to Logan, giving him a grin.  He held out a hand to him.  

   “What’cha say, Teach?  Wanna start slow?”  He asked, eyes sparkling as he referenced the first words they had told him about his nervousness of entering their relationship.  That they could start slow.  Which by the look in Logan’s eye,  he didn’t miss. 

   “Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.  Especially since you’re probably a lot more…aware of what’s going on around you than Roman is,” Logan pointed out, but there was a smile in his eyes and voice, despite one not being present on his lips.  

   Hours later, when the sides were all cold and tuckered out, they headed back to the common space.  Roman’s favorite Disney movie was cued up and all of their favorite blankets were piled on the couch, and even Virgil’s little cat pillow was there.  Patton was making hot chocolate.   As soon as it was done, there were plenty of marshmallows to be put in each cup.  Each was bundled close, Virgil and Patton happily in the middle. Despite the fact he would deny it to his dying day, Virgil was touch starved.  He loved being in the middle of their cuddling, feeling a piece of each of them against him. It was a perfect date and honestly, none of them could be happier. 

[winunk]

Under a Peach Tree | iii | Akaashi Keiji x fem!OC

Chapter Three: Rat of the City

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x fem!OC

Summary:  As Akaashi and Sasaki spend more and more time together she begins to feel more self-conscious.

Genre: romance, angst, humor if you squint and think I'm funny

Warnings: cursing, incompetent author who literally does not know how to update regularly, INTRUSIVE THOTS

Word Count: 2.8k

Check out the series playlist here!

“I really messed up the order of things, huh?” he asked me, looking up with a glint in his eyes.

How is he so gorgeous? I asked myself.

It wasn’t fair for one person to be that intelligent and attractive at the same time. He was a mystery to me, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to uncover his secrets.

A few weeks after our conversation under the peach tree, I was watching Akaashi flawlessly set to Onaga. It wasn’t hard to see that his skill surpassed the other setter on the team, despite only being a year older.

“Sasaki-san,” the team’s official manager piped up. “I forgot to fill up the water bottles.”

I tore my eyes away from the volleyball players and looked towards the young girl. Setting my notebook down, I followed her to the water fountains.

“I’m so glad you’re here to help, Sasaki-san,” she said, filling up the first bottle. “The boys can be so intimidating sometimes. It doesn’t help when they tower over me.”

“Don’t let them have power over you because of their size,” I replied. “Anyone who uses their body to control others is not worth your time, Yuka-chan.”

She turned to me, waving her hand. “T-that’s not what I meant!” Yuka stammered. “It’s just a little scary being surrounded by all of them at once.”

I scoffed and screwed on the lid to the last bottle. Yuka got flustered easily. I was worried about her and wondered how she would survive managing the team without me.

“You would think having a brother on the team would help your nerves.”

The first day I showed up to practice, Akaashi told the coach that I was only there to help the first-year manager, Arai Yuka. She had apparently been having a hard time following the way the old managers took notes, and learning the system while trying to keep up with the boys left her exhausted by the end of the day.

My job was easy enough. I started off filling up the water bottles while Yuka focused on taking notes. Occasionally I would help organize the equipment room, since the boys thought throwing things in there was good enough when it came to cleaning.

“I’ll bring the water bottles over. Go grab the clean towels.”

“Okay, Sasaki-san!”

One day after practice, I saw Yuka flipping through her notes, which looked like an elementary child’s scribbling. So I drew out a new format that categorized her notes more efficiently.

Within the first week, I was no longer nervous when a stray ball came my way. I even began to expect it. After the second week, I was picking up small things the boys were doing when plays didn’t go as planned. There were times when I would chime in during the team huddle, relieving Yuka of her nervous babbling.

That’s when Coach told me to be the one taking notes during the practices and games. I didn’t want to be any more involved with the team, but when Yuka eagerly agreed with him, I couldn’t say no.

“Who are we playing against today, Akaashi-san?” a first-year asked as I started passing out water bottles.

Yuka’s brother, I recalled. Name starts with an M.

Akaashi picked up a small notebook that he carried with him everywhere. “We’re playing Shinzen, if I’m not mistaken,” he answered, flipping through it. “Where did I write it down?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, handing the last water bottle to Onaga. He thanked me, but I hardly noticed.

“Akaashi-san, you guys are playing Nekoma today,” I corrected him. “You go to the Shinzen training camp next week, so you are mistaken.”

A hush came over the gym. I didn’t normally speak to any of the players and almost made it a point not to. It didn’t help that Akaashi was wrong for the first time since I’d met him, and I had sassed him for it.

“Sorry, Akaashi-san,” I said softly, bowing my head. I felt my face heat up, ashamed of myself.

You really had to tell off the Captain. At least it’ll give you an excuse to quit the team, even though no one’s forcing you to stay here.

“Oh,” he said, rubbing his shoulder and looking at his notebook. “You’re right. Thank you, Sasaki-san.”

“I’ve never seen mom scold dad before,” Yuka’s brother whispered loudly to Onaga.

I whipped around, narrowing my eyes at him. “I would suggest focusing on your upcoming game rather than starting drama for your captain,” I shot at him.

“She’s right,” Coach Yamiji said from behind me. “Nekoma should be here any minute now. Any last words, Captain?”

Akaashi stood up, looking as if he was about to go to battle, not play a volleyball practice game. “We’ve been working as hard as any team,” he started. “You saw last week that Nekoma is not much weaker than they were last year. Remember to watch out for their setter’s tricks and the silver-haired middle blocker. Kuroo-san might have graduated, but he made sure his team would be a pain in my ass.”

The last part was muttered, but I heard it all the same.

Kuroo-san? Pain in his ass? What did I miss last weekend?

I’d never heard Akaashi talk about something with so much hostility before. I had no idea what Nekoma meant to them, but I guess they were rivals. Whoever they were, it was making Akaashi tense in a way I had never seen before. 

“Just play as you always have, and don’t let them forget who made it to finals at the Spring Tournament last year,” he finished with a smirk.

The playful mood of the team disappeared with his words. Most of the team were first-years who’d never been to the Spring Tournament, so they would have to prove themselves even more so than their senpais.

If he keeps this up, he might be benched. There’s no way he’ll be able to play well without a clear mind. 

I wanted to say something to him, but I didn’t know what words would comfort him. Instead, I collected the water bottles from the boys and took them back to the water fountain to refill.

He’s saying all these things to encourage the team, but does he truly believe it?

By the time I finished and was settling down for the game, the volume in the gym went up to astronomical levels. I looked around for Yuka and almost jumped out of my skin when I saw some dude with a blonde mohawk staring her down.

“ANOTHER FEMALE MANAGER?” he was shouting. “HOW DO YOU DAMN OWLS DO IT EVERY YEAR?”

I all but stormed over to them. Gently pushing Yuka behind me, I glared at him. “You got a problem, punk?”

“TWO FEMALE MANAGERS?! I MISS ONE WEEKEND AND SUDDENLY I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!”

Another boy noticed what was going on and came up behind the punk. “I’m so sorry about him,” he apologized. “He hasn’t gotten laid, ever.”

How do you even respond to that?

I stared at him blankly before gathering myself. “Next time keep him in check,” I said. “Yuka-chan gets nervous easily.”

“I’ll be sure to keep a closer eye on him,” he assured me. “I’m Fukunaga Shohei, Nekoma’s captain.”

“Sasaki Momoko,” I said, shaking his outstretched hand. I gave him a soft smile.

He’s kind of nice.

“Already trying to steal our managers?”

“I think if we were really trying, they would already be at Nekoma, Akaashi-san.”

Fukunaga grinned at the volleyball captain beside me. Akaashi returned it with a small smile, but he seemed tense.

“Where’s Kenma?” he asked, looking around.

Weird. He didn’t use an honorific.

Fukunaga’s grin disappeared instantly, eyes widening. “He’s not here?” he all but yelled, spinning around to look for the boy.

“Who’s Kenma?” I asked.

“More importantly, how is Kenma?” Onaga asked jokingly. He came up behind me and slung an arm around my shoulder. I tensed up.

He’s never done that before. Why is he touching me? What. The. Fuck.

“I can help you look for him,” I volunteered myself, interrupting whatever Fukunaga and Akaashi was saying. “Just tell me what he looks like.”

I shrugged Onaga’s arm off of me, stepping closer to Akaashi. Akaashi looked at me with concern. He never seemed very expressive, but I could see that he had a million questions in his eyes.

“Kenma is Nekoma’s setter,” Akaashi said. “He’s a little bit taller than you and has blonde hair. He might be sitting somewhere playing a video game until someone finds him.”

“I’m right here, Akaashi,” said a monotonous voice from the doorway of the gym. “You would think that after all the practice games we’ve played here that I’d be able to find my way from the parking lot to the gym, right?”

Akaashi scoffed. “You usually have Kuroo-san holding your hand.”

“I’m not dependent on Kuro,” the blond boy argued, I think. His voice didn’t show any emotions.

“Boys!” Nekoma’s coach called out. “Enough talking. Let’s warm up!”

The boys rushed over to start their warm-up sequence. I settled down on the bench with Coach Yamiji and Yuka, notebook clutched to my chest.

“Thank you, Sasaki-san,” she said softly.

I nodded. It was the least I could do to protect her. She’d grown on me in the past few weeks, and I would do anything to keep her from getting hurt by the idiot volleyball players.

The first set of the match was uneventful. Nekoma kept up with Fukurodani, but the boys came out on top in the end. They made it look too easy. But something kept me on edge, as if the cats had something else up their sleeves.

Akaashi and Kenma seemed to be exchanging remarks between rallies. Kenma kept playing tricks on him, faking the blockers and dumping right in front of the taller boy. Any attack Fukurodani tried to do was only returned by Nekoma. It felt like forever before the ball would drop in their court. Though it was close, Nekoma ended up winning the second set.

“Don’t mind,” Onaga said, clapping. “We’ll get them in this next set. Keep up your effort and keep playing well.”

Akaashi nodded but didn’t add anything.

He’s not okay.

The raven-haired boy handed Yuka his water bottle and jogged back onto the court wordlessly.

That isn’t a good sign.

I looked over at coach, but I didn’t even know what to say. Turns out I didn’t need to say anything because he just nodded.

“I might have to switch him out for Anahori-kun,” he said looking towards the third-year setter. “In terms of intellect, the two setters are pretty matched, so their teams are what makes the difference. Last year Akaashi-kun had Bo-kun and the other third years to fall back on. This year, the team is good, but for now Nekoma has us beat in synergy and experience.”

I watched as Akaashi talked to Yuka’s brother. Akaashi’s face was more irritated than I’d ever seen before. Searching my notes for his name, I spoke up.

“Mamoru-kun seems like he’ll be a strong ace,” I noted.

Coach Yamiji nodded. “He needs some refinement, but he’ll serve us well in the next couple years.”

I glanced over at Yuka, noticing the spark in her eyes. It seemed like any compliment to her brother was a compliment to her. She would no doubt tell him about what I said after practice.

The third set began, and it did not go well for Fukurodani. Anyone who had eyes could see the strain on Akaashi’s face as he tried to set a better attack for the team. His whole body was tense. Everything was wrong.

Coach Yamiji finally switched him out for Anahori, but the damage was already done. The team was down by five, and Nekoma was not letting up. Fukurodani was able to get in a couple points, but the game ultimately went to Nekoma.

I handed Akaashi his water bottle, trying to comfort him through my actions.

What could I say to him? He’s not going to believe anything I say now. The worst thing that I could tell him is that he played well when he doesn’t believe he did.

He turned away from me, eyes downcast. Darkness loomed around him.

I sighed and began collecting towels from the team. Tossing it in a hamper, I brought it over to the washing machine at the side of the gym.

Some of the guys had already begun taking down the nets and cleaning the gym. Some were idly chatting with their friends on the Nekoma team. I absentmindedly watched as the tall middle blocker from Nekoma led Mamoru outside.

“Who’s the new girl?” the silver-haired boy asked Mamoru.

I narrowed my eyes but was anxious to see what the first-year would say.

They’ve played a couple practice games against each other, so they would’ve already met Yuka. They must be talking about me. Why are they talking about me?

“Oh, she’s just a friend of Akaashi-san’s that was helping Yu-chan with all the manager stuff,” he responded. “She’s cool but she doesn’t talk to us that much.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. I felt dirty eavesdropping on their conversation from the other side of the gym door, but they shouldn’t be talking about other people.

That wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t a compliment, but he didn’t insult me. Maybe eavesdropping isn’t that bad for my self-esteem.

“But Akaashi’s so awesome! Why is he hanging out with her?”

My body tensed up.

What did that giraffe freak say about me? Yuka better hold me back because I’m about to commit homicide.

I took a deep breath.

Calm down.

“Yeah, I’m not so sure,” Mamoru replied. “But maybe he sees something in her that we don’t? Akaashi-san could definitely date anyone in the school, though. I hear Anahori-san and Onaga-san complain about the people that ask them about him all the time.”

It’s fine. It’s whatever. It’s not like I care much about what the volleyball team thinks of me anyways. You’re here as a favor to Akaashi and Yuka. You’re just friends.

Numbly, I walked back to the equipment room. I cleaned up alongside the rest of the team, but my mind was somewhere else.

What does he see in me that the rest of the team doesn’t?

I folded the last towel and tucked it away on the shelf. 

Akaashi could date anyone in the school. He could hang out with anyone in the school.

I tied off the bag of folded jerseys and lugged it to the wall.

Why am I still helping out? I don’t have anything to gain from this.

By the end of the evening, I made my decision. Before I changed and went home, I told Coach that I was no longer able to help the team. He didn’t ask me any questions. He didn’t try to convince me to stay.

I’m not sure what hurt more: feeling like I wasn’t wanted or knowing that I wasn’t needed.

Coach Yamiji was announcing an additional practice for the next day as I was leaving. The team had lost in a practice game against Nekoma for the first time in a while, and their punishment was a weekend practice to focus on their weaknesses.

There were protests, but I knew they would show up. Even just seconds after the last ball fell in their court, I could tell they were already thinking about how they could get their revenge on the cats.

“Sasaki-san,” a voice called out after me.

I turned around to see Akaashi jogging towards me.

“I wanted to thank you for helping Yuka-chan adjust to being the team manager,” he said.

I nodded in response. “It’s been fun,” I said. “She’s a good kid.”

“I was hoping that you would decide to be a manager for longer,” he confessed. “It would be nice to have another third year on the team.”

I nodded blankly at him, still stuck in my head. “You could ask any of the third years that aren’t in a club,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to convince someone.”

It’s hard to say no to you.

I turned away from him, reminding me of the first time we talked over a month ago.

Why does walking away hurt more this time? Why do you keep trying to talk to me? Why can’t you see that I’m not a lot like you?

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Taglist: [Open]

a/n: Why do they both have anxiety!!!! I just love him so much he’s so pretty. I wish I knew how to make those cool headers/had the time to. I’m so busy with school

fun fact: I had a hard time letting Nekoma win the game because I know Fukurodani is a really good team but I think they’re lowkey in a rebuild period also Onaga is team dad when Akaashi has his breakdowns

[samanthabreedlove-blog]

FUCK Tampa. (part 2)

The bones of St. Pete have a lot character-- one might describe the architecture throughout as charming; the roads layout as a grid with Streets running east to west and Avenues south to north. The east side hits the waterfront where the piers reside, and to the far west are the beaches. From waterfront to beach is maybe about 20 miles, but downtown to the Grand Central District at 16th street is an easy walking distance. Everyone knows everyone in the scene, and for the most part everyone gets along. There are occasional minor spouts of drama, sure, but in general we’re united for good against our common enemy: ‘the Man’, Nazis, and anyone from Tampa.

Surrounding downtown are 15 distinctly historic neighborhoods fanning out on either side from Central Avenue, which divides the city down the middle into north and south. There’s Old Northeast, Roser Park, Jungle Prada, Crescent Lake and Snell Isle among others. Each whimsical neighborhood has a unique pulse, comprised of colorful craftsman houses, sprawling spanish style mansions with terracotta clay roofs, or little bungalows like my house in Historic Kenwood.

I purchased my house in 2004, a tiny pink tudor style built in 1941, with white shutters and a pointy grey roof located on 9th Avenue North at 28th Street. Originally constructed as vacation homes for snowbirds, little homes like this are super common in Kenwood. Inside my bungalow there are two teeny bedrooms on either side of the living room, dark hardwood floors throughout, and checkered ceramic tile in the kitchen. The bathroom’s shower faucet was dysfunctional, requiring a pipe wrench to turn the water on but in the five years I lived there, I never got around to fixing it. One winter we turned the Florida room in the front of the house into a makeshift bedroom where Faith lived before she got knocked up with her first baby Juliet.

My house becomes the hub for so many epic house parties; a revolving cast of roommates and couch crashers. An orphanage for wayward drunk girls and boys, at some point or another just about everyone close to me has lived there. The backyard, about 4 times the size of the house itself had a chain-length fence running the parameter so all my neighbors could witness the debauchery in real-time. The garage was separate. Early on, I turn this shed into a studio work space but eventually rent it out to a handful of people over the years who need a place to live despite the fact that the garage isn’t exactly what you’d call livable-- no bathroom, a/c or ceiling.  

In the summertime, my backyard has a kitty pool, a slip-n-slide and a constant keg of Yuengling. I’d mow the lawn only after the City gave notice of an impending fine, so the yard was always overrun with grass up past your knees. Here I lived until 2009. During these years, my little pink house will go down in history as one of the great party houses this side of the Bay, the last of which saw three kegs killed. A local metal band played a show that night in my garage, their mosh pit busted a huge hole in the drywall and some assholes started an uncontrolled fire in the alley. The cops came to break it up but we still had people sleeping on couches hauled out into the backyard come morning amid the hundreds of red solo cups littered across my lawn.

But, I am not technically from there-- my closest friends and I did not grown up in St. Pete proper, a fact which sets us apart. We remain “new kids” to the scene for years, in contrast to the original crew of rabble-rousers-- generations upon generations of brothers and little sisters indoctrinated to punk from a young age who’d been kicking it together causing trouble and setting dumpsters on fire since they were prepubescent.

Quinn, Emily, Carolyn, Alex, Diane and I are all originally from Seminole, a suburban enclave to the Northwest. Seminole is a “good” area, which just meant that any crime occurring was happening behind closed doors. In Seminole there are residential neighborhoods with names like Bay Haven, Imperial Point, or Rustic Pines, and tract homes that span for miles. Our local mall was desolate-- anchored by a depressing food court and a K-Mart, frequented only by the residents of a neighboring nursing home who would sit on benches all day staring out into the nothing. On the main boulevard is the only restaurant in town, Joto’s, a “family friendly” pizza joint where suburban moms and dads would hang out amid the local high school jocks, reliving  glory days over bud lights, televised football games and greasy food.

Anna grew up in nearby Pinellas Park, just to the east, best known for biker bars, white-trash trailer parks and an enduring meth epidemic. Anna lived in Seminole with her grandparents the years she attended middle school due to instabilities with her mom, stepdad and their ever-relapsing drug addictions. We met Anna back then but didn’t become good friends until years later when Emily and Anna will unknowingly be sleeping with the same guy. When the truth broke, they decided they liked one other better than they liked him anyway, and have been best friends ever since.

Quinn, Emily, Alex and I are Seminole High School class of 2002. Angsty outcasts, the rest of the school was all Abercrombie & Fitch; way too enthusiastic about attending and participating in sports related activities, pop music and having nice cars-- the four of us did not fit in. Surviving a fairly sheltered, very boring adolescence, our summer days were spent hanging out on John’s Pass-- an old fisherman’s wharf on the Gulf of Mexico where we would play board games or read books at a coffee shop located on the far East end of the docks. After nightfall we would hang out under a bridge where skater punks would use the uneven cement to facilitate flip tricks. While we’d watch them skate, they’d tell stories, cultivating for us an alluring mythology of downtown St. Pete: tales of out-of-control shows at State Theater and the Refugee a mission/music venue that fed the homeless population. The Refugee was run by a new-agey Christian man who fancied himself akin to a modern Jesus-- all walks were always welcome there.

There was the C.O.R.E., a radical bookstore on the far southside of town where you could buy extremist literature (even things that were government banned like the Anarchist’s Cookbook, prominently displayed on racks towards the front). They skaters would speak of long nights spent drinking quarts of malt liquor on dirty beach just east of the pier where you could look out across the Bay and watch the bright lights of Tampa on the other side.

The Globe had the best nachos. A buck would get you a cup of coffee, 50 cents more buys a few refills and because the Globe was open until 4am, it was an excellent place to stay out all night when your parents thought you were staying at a friends house. Josh Sullivan always worked the front counter, and was the coolest. Josh really loved ska music so he’d dance whenever it played on the stereo. He had a cat named Slap that he’d walk on a leash, and was the creator of JoshComics, an iconic local zine.

At the age of 17, we venture beyond the beaches and onto the streets of downtown. Overnight we go from good suburban girls to drinking Mickey’s at punk houses-- making out with older guys in studded jackets, bullet belts, mohawks and too many facial piercings. In 2002, when we turned 18, Quinn, Emily, and Alex all move into a house on 26th Street and 4th Avenue. I secure an apartment at 5th and 5th right next to the Coliseum. Soon after, Anna will move into a ground floor apartment in my complex. On Saturdays when she isn’t working, Anna and I will smoke pot on her big blue couch by the window discussing our plans-- when and how we will escape Florida; who was working that night at World Liquors, and if they would sell to us.

[runekirikjartan]

Hi heard you are wanting prompts about mad sweeney/reader fanfics. Wondering why there isn't any, let me just say your not the only one. Like really, who doesn't like him! What if the recently hired waitress!reader has caught the eye of mad sweeney (c'mon the irish charm) as she gets flustered easily and stutters when talking to him. Maybe tries to impress her with his coin tricks. She leaves her late shift at the bar she gets bothered by some customers but mad sweeney saves the day.

Oh anon I love Irish charm, it sweeps me off my feet every goddamn time c:I’m getting back into the swing of writing but hopefully this ends up going well.

pretty sure I hit over 1500+ words on this one

You’re new in town. It’s obvious enough as you entered the pub when you saw the sign claiming new employees were neeed. Getting the job was easy enough, when you thought about it. Be friendly, be polite, be able to hold your own, and serve the customers. Shouldn’t be too hard. It didn’t take you long to get your first shift, that night itself you were dressed in a neat blouse, and a short skirt that fell to just above your knees.

It doesn’t take long for the pub to fill up, it gets loud, and busy, very busy. People coming and going, some stopping to chat you up, others simply making conversation about the weather. It doesn’t faze you, most these conversations, they make time running up and down the length of the bar much more bearable. Conversations start and end, as the night grows longer, the atmosphere of the bar changes. The air gets filled with drunken laughter, the lighting switches to a more dim lighting, and in swaggers the most confident man you’d probably have ever seen in your life.

You don’t know how to describe him, but what catches your attention is the well trimmed beard, his hair, shaved at the sides, in a pseudo mohawk, is much more attractive than you think it should be. He gives the room a grin, obviously acting like a regular. His blue button up hugged his arms and chest as he swaggered up to the bar, giving you a cheeky grin.

“Well hello darlin’ didn’t realize we had some new ladies in town.” He drawls, crossing his arms on the bar top and leaning in to wink at you. His eyes twinkling under the lights. A hint of gold glitters between his teeth and his smile widens as he leans over the wooden bar top, getting a good look at you.

You try to reply, to get out the usual “What would you like for tonight?” The same thing you’ve been saying for the past four hours of your shift, but all that comes out is a slight “uh…” and a stutter that leaves your cheeks glowing red and a chuckle escaping his lips.

“S-sorry,” You stuttered, your cheeks burning as you glanced away for a second to collect yourself. “What can I get you?”

“Now I’ll tell you what hun, I’ll show you a magic trick just ta calm your nerves, then ya can grab me a pint aight?” He rambled on instead of answering your question, pulling a coin from what seemed like thin air. He continued to do so as you stared in awe, pulling one from his sleeve, his pocket, behind his ear, his hair, even producing one as he stuck his tongue out playfully. With each one, your grin, and his grew wider, friendlier. When he set the last, what you thought was the last coin down, he leaned on his elbow to catch your gaze and grinned.

“Cat got yer tongue hun?” He queried. A part of you wished you could get your head out of the clouds and shut him up, still in awe that he’d managed to practically ‘conjure’ up this many coins without letting the trick slip.

“Uh… Right. What can I get you tonight? Sorry.” You asked again, apologizing even though you probably didn’t have too.

“Well sweetheart, I’d like a pint of whiskey and maybe your phone number to go along with it.” He raised an eyebrow as your jaw slightly dropped, your lips parting in surprise before your blush brightened your cheeks at full force. You fumbled with the cloth in your hands and nodded, more for your sake than his, and you turned around for a glass and the bottle of whiskey from beneath the bar.

As you poured the pint, you let your gaze just rest on him, taking in the sharp cut pattern in his hair, the gleam in his eyes that intensified with the lighting. You slid the glass over to him, giving him a soft smile.

He lifted it gratefully, taking his first sip. “I suppose I’ll have to come by at the end of your shift for your number then?”

He was gone before you could nod, his body disappearing among the crowd of people, you’d figure you wouldn’t see him for the rest of the night.

An hour after you had been sure you had met possibly the man of your dreams, the middle of the pub had cleared. A loud accented voice shouting, almost rattling you at how aggressive it sounded. Familiar red hair moved away from the crowd, there he was, stripping off his button up down to suspenders and a white tank top, his arms bulging at his sides as he stared down a dark skinned man, about maybe six inches shorter than him.

While the switch from pure charm to raw aggression initially scared you, you couldn’t help but leaning against to watch closer as they began to throw punches, flinching when they connected with each other. It didn’t take too long, the fight pretty much over in minutes, leaving the red headed charmer with a bloody mouth, a bruised eye and blood matted beard. You went around the bar to help him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he steadied himself against the barstool.

“Are you okay?” You ask, gently, not wanting to aggravate him. He turns his head to look at you, eyes a narrow slit. As he recognizes you, they soften and he gives you a bloody grin, a low rumble emanating from his chest, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“Ya ain’t seen nothin’ I can take sweetheart.” He leans in to peck your cheek, uncaring of the slight blood smear he leaves. “I’ll see ya after your shift.”

Your blush has come back full force, as he pulls himself up and disappears, probably to the restroom to get cleaned up. A patron hands you a napkin, and gestures to your cheek. Your face burns and you wipe at the blood you know is smeared across your cheek and jaw.

3 AM comes and it’s the first time you’re locking up. The cold air bites at your lips as you tug your coat around you with one hand, the other fiddling with the key in the lock on the grill doors.

You hear chatter to your right, but you pay no bother to it, the cold isn’t something you enjoy, and neither is walking home alone. You pull the key away as it locks, stuffing it deep into your coat pocket, before lifting your head and turning to begin the trek home. The wind blows past your face and the chatter becomes more distinct, as if it was getting closer.

You chew on your bottom lip, flinching at the sting of your teeth against numb skin, you duck your head and keep your gaze half on the floor on in front of you, watching your step, when you hear the chatter practically behind you. You slow, and the footsteps behind you do the same, the chatter ceases. You turn around, ready to tell someone to piss right off, and you catch a view of a trio of men, all stocky and beefy, looking piss drunk, their faces half hidden by shadows.

“There we are boys, darlin’s noticed and turned around.” One man slurs, stepping forward, his pals, the other two following his steps. You frown and take a step back in return.

“Fuck right off!” You spit, your hands clenched into fists, eyes glaring at them. “What are you doin’ following me?”

They chuckle, disregarding your question. The other two split away from the first man and you realize they’re looking to surround you. Any other night, you’d reckon you’d be able to at least take one of them, maybe just by kicking them in the balls and in the pelvis, but with three. Your best idea would be to try and run. You look around, trying to find a way to escape, but they close in quickly, backing you against the wall. Alcohol’s thick on their breath. You press yourself back as far as you can against the bricks, shoving off their grubby, wandering hands.

Just as they get more grabbier, a loud shout catches their attention. Familiar red hair catches under the streetlight and you let out a sigh of a relief, With them distracted, you shove your way between them to make an escape towards him, your ‘Prince Charming’. He grabbed you gently, pulling you behind him, standing almost menacingly in front of you, his teeth, less bloodier than they were back at the bar.

“And what do you lads think you’re doin’ to a vulnerable lady at this time of night?” He growls, his accent think, his voice rumbling deep. He takes a step forward as one of the men do. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“Do what’cha want with the girl, she ain’t our type anyway Sweeney.” The leader growls, before spitting into the gutter.

“It’s Mad, Mad Sweeney to you lads. And I see ya come near tha’ lass again and I’ll kick yer arses myself.” You’re practically clinging to his arm, with one hand, the other clenched in his blue button up, twisting the the fabric between your fingers. As the trio stalk off like a pack of cats, your saviour- Mad Sweeney- turns around to look down at you. Standing outside now, you never realized how tall he was when you both were back in that bar. You chewed on your bottom lip and his expression softened, his lips turning upwards in a smile.

“I’m sorry ya had to go through that lass.” He cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing over it gently. You give him a soft smile back, your hand coming up to lay on his.

“Thank you.” You say, your voice is soft, but it sounds like speakers in the empty streets.

“It was my pleasure darlin’.” He lifts his eyes to the streetlights, and they highlight just how beautiful his eyes are, melted chocolate, or a swirl of caramel in coffee. He looks back down at you. “I’ll let’cha get back on yer way then.” He drops his hand, and steps out of your way. You hesitate, looking back at him.

“Maybe… it’d be better if you walked me home?” You give him a coy smile, red blushing cheeks under the guise of being cold.

He breaks out into a grin, holding his hand out for you. “Well, I didn’t get yer number back before your shift was done.” He said teasingly, before closing his fingers around your hand gently, pulling you to his side. You lead the way to your apartment, fiddling with the key with cold hands. He takes it from you, unlocking the door and handing it back, letting you invite him in away from the cold. As you hit the switch, in the lights, you can see the flush in his cheeks as he towers over you. He’s taller than you, could definitely lift you with one hand if he wanted too. You keep your eyes on his, and they have a glittering gleam to them that fascinates you. He smiles, and you smile back, he takes the blue button up off, and leaves his second shirt and tank top on.

The blue shirt ends up thrown over the back of the couch, your back pressed against the cushions with a 6’4 mass of muscle and charm gently mouthing at your jaw and throat. You scratch at his back, pulling up his tank top, tugging at those suspenders that highlight his chest and arms.

God aren’t you glad you got that new job.