#I love putting stupid spins on tropes :] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amyispxnk · 6 months

Text

Hangin' with Dracula.

Finale of my Halloweeny drabbles with Joel!

31/10- trick or treating.

A/N: I love this trope with Joel where he falls in love with the babysitter so damn much. Also Sarah. Also Joel with slicked-back hair.

Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2046

Warnings: fluff, kissing, mentions of a divorce + adoption (Sarah's not adopted in this DW), pet names

DO NOT COPY THIS WORK IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

You crouched down on the purple rug, picking up jewels from the pot beside you and carefully attaching them to the girl in front of you, adding the finishing touches to her witch costume.

"You've put like eighty of those things on my face, is it done yet?" She groaned, despite having asked for the fancy gems and designs from you.

"There are only 14 on there, stop complaining."

"Okay, okay, I just wanna go already!" Sarah exclaimed, foot tapping furiously beneath her as she sat on the edge of her bed.

"Calm down, just 2 more." You said as you reached for another gem.

"One.. two.. and done." You grinned, standing up and clasping your hands together as you admired your handiwork. Swirls of different sized and shaped purple gems adorned her face, with a little eyeshadow - that took a lot of convincing for her father to allow it - and her hair done as best you could. Hair was never really your strong suit.

You had spent at least an hour getting supplies and trying to make the costume look as good as possible for her though, enjoying the task and finding it a good opportunity to grow your relationship with the girl.

You had been Sarah's babysitter for almost 3 years now, and you both loved eachother, and although she wouldn't admit it she thought of you as the maternal figure in her life. You were so caring and patient with her, good to both her and her dad, and a sweet person in general.

And although you were supposed to be just her babysitter, you found yourself coming round to their place for things even when Joel was home like dinners and movie nights etcetera. He appreciated you a lot, and knowing Sarah liked you so much made him like you a lot too.

"Okay, don't touch your costume too much! I'll go get your dad then we'll go." You told her before walking out of the room and knocking on his down the hall.

"Joel? She's ready.." You called from behind the door. He adjusted the bowtie on his much too extravagant costume before opening the door, immediately hiding his face behind one hand when he saw the look on your face.

"Oh my god. You went all out didn't you?" You teased, moving his hand away from his face and starting to scrutinize the outfit.

"So it's a vampire.." you began, as he nodded. "I like the hair." You grinned. He had actually brushed his hair for once, slicking it back with some gel. "Yeah. Makes me look stupid though." He shrugged as the two of you walked into Sarah's room so he could see the costume.

"What d'ya think?" She asked him, doing a 'creepy pose' and wiggling her eyebrows.

"I think..." He started, walking over to her before picking her up and spinning her around, making her squeal and swat at him playfully. "It looks super cool." He said, tickling her sides slightly and making her erupt into fits of laughter.

"Dad! Dad, you're gonna- mess up the makeup! We spent so long on it!"

"Okay, okay. You look amazin', babygirl." He grinned, kissing her forehead before setting her down again. Your heart melted at the sight of them, they had such a good relationship despite how much Joel had to work and the other many difficulties they came across in life, ones you knew about very well. Finance, family.. more specifically her mother. Your jaw clenched at the thought of her.

When Joel told you what she did to him, to both of them, you wanted to find that woman and make her realise the impact she made on his life.

She basically had the kid then decided it was too much, wanting to put her up for fucking adoption, leading to a huge argument with Joel. He couldn't just give her up like that. It had only been a few months and he already loved that little girl more than life itself. He'd do anything for her.

So that's what he did. After his ex-wife moved out, he did everything for Sarah every single day. Woke her up, brushed her teeth, changed her clothes, fed her breakfast, changed her clothes again when she got said breakfast all over them, took her to the park, watched corny kids shows with her, read her stories before putting her to bed then working so late his eyes stung from being open too long. He did everything he could to be the best parent ever for her, feeling like it was his fault her mother left and needing to make up for it.

Then things got busy. The contracting company was not exactly smooth sailing but he needed money. For her. He didn't care about his own wellbeing anymore, he could starve for all he cared as long as she was okay.

That's when he hired you, just over 3 years ago. And you were a blessing in more ways than one. Not only were you amazing at your job, but Sarah genuinely really liked you, loved you, and the way she'd talk about you made him so happy, hearing about all the things you did with her and for her. He knew that subconsciously she probably thought of you like a mother, and you acted like you were one with her; he honestly couldn't have wished for anyone better to be that for Sarah, and it made him more than just like you. He reckons he really fell in love with you when he came home to both of you asleep, she was in her bed all nice and tucked in whilst you were kneeling on the hard floor beside it, storybook slipping out of your hand and it was evident you were staying awake just for her, making sure she was fast asleep even though you were evidently just as tired as her. You put her first before yourself like he always did, showing him how much you cared for her, and the sight might have brought tears to his eyes.

Not only were you amazing with Sarah, but you were also really good to Joel, it was like you took care of him sometimes too. You'd leave him food, ask him how he was, make sure he was drinking water and sleeping properly, even bought him new clothes after teasing him about wearing the same 3 shirts in rotation but then noticing that he only had that many.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt Sarah tugging on the flaps of your pirate costume which you threw together at the last second; she had practically begged you and Joel to wear costumes too, so you had gone and bought one for him the day prior then realised you only had your old one from years ago, which got stained so you didn't wear it again until now.

"Yeah honey?" You said quickly, trying to seem less out of it.

"Let's go!" She beamed up at you, shaking her candy bucket around. "This is far too empty for my liking."

You chuckled at her comment before taking her hand and walking to the front door with the two of them.

"Let's go, Dracula." You teased, making Joel roll his eyes as he unlocked the door.

The three of you spent the night going around the neighbourhood, trick or treating and even visiting a haunted house - which was put together so badly even Sarah found it more funny than scary.

She was drifting off just as it got to 10pm, Joel picking her up and resting her head on his shoulder as he walked over to you as you were caught in a conversation with a neighbour who's daughter you were friends with.

"I think it's best we head home now, unless you wanna do some more trick or treatin'?" He teased with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, no. Let's go. Bye Mrs. Jones!"

"See ya sweetheart! Make sure you come 'round soon, maybe at Christmas?"

"Sounds good." You smiled, immediately grimacing once you'd turned around and walked away.

"Used to be friends with her kid and- shit happened so we aren't anymore. Her mom still thinks we're thick as thieves though." You explained to Joel.

"Shit happened?" He repeated questioningly.

"Yeah.. we knew eachother in highschool and stuff happened with boys. Yknow how it is."

"Boys suck. I hate 'em." He commented, making you laugh.

You rounded the corner and came to his front porch. He walked up the steps and you stood awkwardly at the bottom of them, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you waited to say goodbye.

"What're ya standin' down there for?" He asked as he opened the door and walked in.

"I- I don't know actually." You mumbled, walking inside behind him and taking your shoes off as he walked upstairs to take Sarah to bed.

He came back downstairs as you took off the outer, more cumbersome layers of your costume.

"You gonna take your costume off or am I hanging with Dracula for the night?" You smirked as his hand came to the button of his cloak.

"Right, right." He got to work with taking off his costume, ridding himself of the cloak, fangs (yes, he actually wore plastic fangs for this), bowtie and waistcoat.

You walked up to him in a moment of bravery and started unbuttoning the outer shirt he wore, he had put an extra on since it was actually really cold this Halloween.

A comfortable silence filled the room as you finished with the shirt, moving to hand it to him before his hands gently came over yours.

"Are you okay?" He asked, having noticed when you kind of spaced out earlier thinking about the past few years with them. It made you wonder if there was anything more, ever would be, and you accidentally let your thoughts get a hold of you for too long.

"What do you mean?" You replied, acting like you didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

"Well earlier you sorta.. y'were starin' into space." He explained, taking the shirt from you and putting it on the arm of the couch.

"Well, I uh- was just thinking." You murmured. You thought it would be kind of weird to tell him you'd been thinking about his ex-wife and how much better you could've been for him, for both of them.

"Thinkin' 'bout what'?" He pressed, stepping a little closer to you.

"Just about us." You said in an even smaller voice. "The past few years have been really nice and.. I just-" you groaned, cutting yourself off and looking away as you realised how awkward you probably just made things.

He took a deep breath before speaking, trying to calm his nerves and telling himself this was a good idea.

"I really like you, darlin'. Love you, I guess I should say." He confessed, making your head almost snap from how quickly you looked back towards him, eyes widening.

"You do?"

"Yeah." He exhaled, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek as he didn't see any signs of discomfort coming from you.

You leaned into his touch slightly.

"I really like you too." You said as your hands rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat erratically thumping inside.

He closed the distance between the two of you with a cautious, slow kiss against your lips as your hands slid up and moved to his hair, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss.

When you broke apart, you panted heavily as you looked into his eyes.

"You taste like chocolate." You murmured, making him let out a low chuckle.

"Had to take some from the bucket. Dad tax." He reasoned, making you nod in agreement.

You kissed him again, savouring the taste of chocolate and him.

"Tastes good."

"So do you." He smirked, hand still resting on the side of your face.

"Y'wanna stay over tonight?" He asked as his thumb rubbed circles on your cheekbone.

"Yeah." You breathed, unable to stop a grin from stretching across your face before you leaned in and kissed him one more time.

"Happy Halloween." He murmured.

"Happy Halloween, Joel."

°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open.

Happy Halloween! 🎃

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #halloween #joel miller hbo #amyispxnk fics

95 notes · View notes

ash-writies · 2 years

Note

I saw your bingo post. Please one bed trope with Connor is all that I need today!!!

A/n: I was hoping this one would get requested! I love it and I hope you enjoy <3 Updated bingo at the end!!!!! Original car here!!

Summary: You and Connor were assigned on a case that required you to leave town. Upon arrival at the hotel your department booked you realized there was only one bed…

Warnings: gets kinda steamy here and there but nothing explicit

1.1k Words

You opened the door to your hotel, the station had provided it for this case, and began to look around. You set your duffel bag on the counter and pushed open the door to the bathroom. There was nothing inherently special about the room but you were excited to begin this case.

“Wow,” you sighed, “it’s kinda cool here.”

The android hummed, “did you review the case? We’ll be starting in the morning.”

“Yup!” you said, running your hand over the dresser, “I did it on the ride here.” You glanced at the bed. It sat almost perfectly in the middle of the room, the edges of its pristine sheets tucked in. “Oh”

Connor sat at the desk, “is there something wrong y/n?”

“Yeah, there’s only one bed,” you pointed.

“That shouldn't be a problem, I don’t need to sleep like that,” he shrugged.

You pressed your lips together, “isn’t it more comfortable laying down though?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You stared at him for a moment, “alright… I’m going to take a shower real quick.”

“Okay, I’ll review the case one more time before going into ‘rest’ mode.” You nodded and grabbed your bag, hurrying into the bathroom.

You took your shower quick and dried your hair. You stepped into the main room and saw Connor still sitting on the car. His eyes were closed and his LED was spinning blue. You hesitantly took a few steps closer and knelt next to him. He sat with perfect posture in the chair with his hands place in his lap. You tilted your head to the side and continued to observe him, each feature putting you into a trance. If you squinted you realized you could barely see the seams that ran along his body.

“Y/n?” you jumped onto your feet and looked at him squarely. You had been so distracted that you didn’t realize he opened his eyes, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah- yup!” you cleared your throat, placing a hand on your chest, “I- um, I’m going to sleep. G’night.” You began to walk to the bed.

He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly confused, “Uh, goodnight.” You tugged the top of the blankets free and scrambled under them, eager to get out of his sight. You could feel your heat beating out of your chest and was sure Connor could see it too.

You silently lay there as your heart rate slowed down, and your breathing, and your mind. You didn’t realize you fell asleep until you shot straight up in bed. You were gasping as your eyes darted around the room, not yet used to the darkness.

Your eyes landed on a familiar light shining from the desk, “are you alright? You seem to have had a nightmare.” You didn’t say anything, you only continued looking at him. Although it was more like for him, you could see the vague shape he was making but nothing else. “Y/n?” he asked, slowly walking towards you.

“I’m okay,” you muttered, sleep still heavy in your voice, “it was just a stupid dream.”

“Will you be able to get some more rest?”

“Probably not,” you groaned.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you shot him a confused look, “sometimes humans require comfort inorder to go back to sleep.”

“Oh no- you don’t have to,” you stammered, shaking your head.

“Staying up before a busy day will have negative affects on your health and on your ability to complete assignments.”

“I’ll be fine, I don't need you to help.”

“I would like to if that’s okay with you.” He smiled, artificial muscles flexing as he expertly tilted his head to the side.

“Are you sure?” you asked, he nodded eagerly, “that’s fine i guess.” You tried to sound annoyed and reluctant although you were sure he could see through it. His LED flashed yellow as you slid to the other side of the bed. He began to climb in with you before you stopped him, “uh uh! First off you need to take off your shoes,” you pointed. You continues as he pulled them off, “next, you need to take off your outer jacket.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye and smirked, “oh?”

“Not like that,” you felt your face flush and swatted at him, “we just don’t need you overheating or anything…”

“You seem to be overheating,” he teased, pulling his jacket off and setting it on the night stand. He leaned forward and rested his cool hands on your cheeks, “but it’s not like you’re wearing much…”

You placed your hands on his wrists, “it’s these blankets-”

“Your hands are cold, you can’t fool me,” he laughed, quietly, almost to himself.

“I thought you wanted me to go back to sleep,” you muttered, “you’re only keeping me up.” He cast you a lopsided frown, sticking his bottom lip out.

“Fine, I guess I’m done for now,” he released your face and stepped off the bed.

“Good,” you watched as he adjusted his shoes so that they were neatly next to the bed. Once he finished he climbed under the covers.

There was a lot of shuffling before both of you had found a comfortable position facing each other, “is there anything else that would bring you comfort?”

Honestly, you couldn’t even remember the nightmare, “no, this is alright.”

“Okay.” He watched as you fell asleep and waited a few hours before moving as he didn’t want to wake you. He shifted so that he was resting on his back. It was easier to go into rest mode without having to worry about balancing. He glanced at you one more time before allowing himself some more rest.

You woke up slowly, Connor made sure not to startle you awake, “y/n it’s time for you to wake up.” You groaned and stretched. Just as you were about to complain about five more minutes you realized you were on top of him. You quickly lifted yourself up so that you were hovering over him.

“Um, sorry about that,” you awkwardly laughed, moving to get away from him.

He held your waist, keeping you close, “it’s fine, I did offer to help you get rest last night.” You watched as his eyes flickered to your lips. His LED spun yellow.

“Do you wish we didn’t get any?” you teased breathlessly.

It flashed red as his eyes met yours, “kinda,” he huffed.

You leaned forward until your lips were right next to his ear, “well that just sucks doesn’t it?” you whispered. You rolled off him and began picking out your clothes for the day, “You should get ready too, although I love the look, I don’t think the others would appreciate seeing you with bed head.”

#Connor detroit bh #connor detroit become human #dbh connor #connor rk800 #detroit become human #dbh #connor x reader #connor x you #connor rk800 x reader #connor x y/n #a little hurt/comfort #connor dbh fluff

622 notes · View notes

look-how-they-massacred-them · 7 months

Text

Preliminary Poll

Richard "Dick" Simmons

Submission reason:

I apologize in advance for the amount of autism youre gonna have to read. Red team, the team that Simmons is on, has been the comedic butt of every joke for *years,* while blue team carries most of the plot. In recent seasons, individual members of red team have been given their own development. I won't get into detail about it, but almost every member of red team was given their own lore, motives, character growth, etc. Everyone except Simmons. Every opportunity to give Simmons his own individual depth as a character that didn't ALSO INVOLVE GRIF had been used as a joke. During an episode covering worst fears, Grif faces his own trauma from boot camp training, while his sister watches their childhood home burn down (I'm pretty sure, anyways. Its been a while since ive seen the season and you'd have to pay me to watch it again). When they get to Simmons' worst fear, it's used as a throwaway joke about penises (this part i am sure about. I remember being so mad i had to pause the video and sit there for a second). The writer of those seasons one time shared snippets of script that was cut from final production that supposedly featured an arc where simmons is tortured for information, but then after being asked about it, the same writer revealed that the ""torture"" was actually gonna be a joke about him getting his nails filed. With the series stuck in perpetual limbo due to Rooster Teeth's inability to write RvB well AND their constant scandals (unsurprising, honestly), Simmons has been stuck a boring, depthless character for the last 5 or so years, give or take.

Propaganda:

The writing in the newer seasons has been so tremendously bad that there existed a trend for a good year where the RvB fanbase made memes reacting to fake situations that they WISHED happened instead of what actually happened in the new seasons. I have read fanfiction of potential Simmons backstories since I was 11 (for reference, I'll be 20 in a few days) that are better written than actual official writing for Simmons. Simmons has referenced an abusive home life on more than one occassion (again, mostly used for jokes, but this dates back to the early seasons where everything is a joke for red team) that could easily be used as a backstory for him, but has since been ignored. Which is strange, because Grif's exact same joke comments about a tough home life in the early seasons WERE utilized to further his backstory in the new seasons. Another extremely often under-utilized fact about simmons is that he's a CYBORG he has CYBORG BODY PARTS and they are NEVER REFERENCED. NEVER UTILIZED. I HAVE MET PEOPLE THAT FORGOT HE WAS EVEN A CYBORG AND ASKED ME WHY I WAS DRAWING HIM LIKE THAT IN MY VIDEOS. Also, I don't really like throwing around the word queer-baiting, especially when it comes to fandom spaces, so this is more like... queer-teasing??? But Rooster Teeth loves playing along with their fanbase with Grif and Simmons potentially being a couple (social media posts putting them into couples posts, using them for valentines cards, having the characters use the ship name to address themselves in spin-off non-canon episodes), but then tiptoe around the idea of actually making them a couple in any of their canon media. Like it's not slowburn at this point it's been 20 years and we've gotten vague jokes about fucking in a broom closet and beating someone up for asking them to kiss. Im so tired of the will-they-wont-they i dont even want them canon anymore i just want to know if theyre actually gonna do it or not for the love of god. Tldr rvb writers love using simmons as the ""haha nerd thinks hes smart but hes actually stupid and embarrassing"" trope and keep only writing him like that despite every other character around him getting developed, and with the series in limbo he's now stuck like that. Free my boy, Rooster Teeth. Let me write him I promise I'll do a good job.

#look how they massacred them poll #look how they massacred my boy #richard simmons #simmons rvb #rvb #rvb simmons #red vs blue

48 notes · View notes

forabeatofadrum · 1 year

Note

Do you have zimbits fic recs? I’ve never really gotten into Check Please fic, but I just got Madison in the mail and now I wanna read more zimbits but don’t know where to start!

YOU GOT MADISON?????? ASAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!!! My order hasn't been shipped yet so no spoilers, but you ask and you shall receive. It got long, so I am putting it under a cut in no particular order. ALSO the new Tumblr post maker is absolutely fucking terrible and it took so long to format this because of it. The whole idea of creating "blocks" in posts is stupid and it doesn't function well ANYWAY FIC TIME.

Set Your Old Heart Free by IBoatedHere

Jack doesn’t find Bitty after graduation. They don’t kiss. Jack doesn't go to Madison for the 4th. They still fall in love.

It's a simple premise, but so well executed. I uhhh always cry at the end and I love to read Jack's thoughts.

when it’s over (you’re the start) by @whoacanada

Jack goes to sleep in Providence next to his boyfriend and wakes up in Montréal to discover he's been in a coma since 2009. Refusing to believe Samwell, Bitty, and the Falconers were all a dream, Jack tracks down the real Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster to find they’ve shared the same group hallucination for years. Now, they’re on a mission to find Bitty, the love of Jack’s non-existent life, and the only member of SMH they can’t seem to get in contact with.

What it says on the tin. It is a "what if" story and it is great.

i'll see you with your laughter lines by the_one_that_fell

Eric Bittle was fourteen when his soulmate died.

They'd never even gotten to meet.

This is a great story, but heed the warnings. It's an interesting spin on the soulmate trope, because yeah, you can argue that Jack died when he overdosed, even if it was just for a small moment.

like a handprint on my heart by the_one_that_fell

"Dude, we've got an over-competitive golf dad, a badass art freak, a pre-med lax bro on the verge of a breakdown, a chronically naked rugby player, a beat-boxing giant, and an itty-bitty, baking figure skater - there's no way we came together accidentally. This was fate."

"Or it's the normal progression of human beings making friends. Chill out, bro."

(Or, the one where no one plays hockey, but it still manages to bring them all together.)

I have so much to say about this story. SO MUCH. It once gave me a breakdown when I was feeling super lonely, cause the fic is about friendship. Zimbits is just a part of it, though. Everyone gets a moment to shine and it's so good.

don't you look charming (here in the eye of a hurricane) by @whoacanada

In 2009, Jack Zimmermann doesn't just walk away from his future, he packs a bag and runs.

ANGST ANGST ANGST!! This fic captivated me so much. I don't know what else to say!!!

My Words on Your Skin by There_Once_Was_A_Girl

Jack and Bitty have a unique soul connection, they can write back and forth to each other by writing on their own skin. They know each other long before they've ever met. But when Jack overdoses Bitty thinks he's lost the love of his life forever.

Just like the other soulmate AU fic above, this takes the soulmate idea and runs with it. What do you do when you believe the other is dead?

you’ve got my number by ambrosius

It’s not as if Jack was totally inept when it came to technology. He could handle his Tweeter (Tweety? Twits? Twitter? Did it really matter?) just fine and if he’s honest, he much preferred texting to calling most days. So when he gets added to a group chat full of strangers, well, he’s pretty sure he can handle whatever comes next.

This one is so good. I am a bitch for epistolary stuff and I am glad it exists.

Graduation Dayby IBoatedHere

It takes Jack 50 days to finally see what's been right in front of him for the past two years.

Groundhog Day AU, but make it Zimbits. Jack doesn't kiss Bitty when he graduates, and that's fine, right? Well, looks like the universe disagrees. Also this fic has a real good platonic Jackshit moment.

Will Wonders Never Cease by @porcupine-girl

Eric has landed his dream job: social media manager for the Providence Falconers! Not only does he get paid to tweet, for an NHL team at that, but it’s a job where he’ll be able to make good use of his magic - when nobody’s looking, of course. Everyone on the Falconers is a joy to work with… with the notable exception of Jack Zimmermann. Eric understands that Jack doesn’t like social media, but he could certainly be a little more polite about it.

Luckily, Eric has support from his Samwell buddies, as well as his best friend - a man whose face he’s never seen, and whose name he doesn’t know. They met on an online forum where witches can gather anonymously, since it isn’t safe for them to advertise their existence in a world where magic isn’t trusted. They’ve been friends for years now, but Eric is only just starting to realize that he might have deeper feelings for someone he can never meet face-to-face.

THIS FIC!!! Jenna, I don't know if you read my fic Ebb & Flow, but I mentioned this fic in the author's note, because it was a huge inspiration. It's a secret identity magical She Loves Me AU. It sounds bonkers, but it is so goooood.

if you're going through hell (keep going) by @whoacanada

Eighteen years ago, Samwell suffered the tragic loss of one of their most promising young athletes. Ever since rumors have circulated that the school is haunted by the ghost of Eric Bittle. At least, that’s the only way anyone can seem to explain why the locker rooms smell like freshly baked apple pie on game days instead of the usual, omnipresent hockey funk.

Now in the twilight of his career, Jack Zimmermann is facing his own mortality and the last item on his bucket list?

Return to Samwell and disprove the rumor that his long-dead boyfriend is haunting Faber Memorial Rink.

MAIN CHARACTER DEATH!!! WARNING!!! And not like the previous soulmate AUs where the one thinks the other is dead. Bitty dies and Jack moved on, but he has to face the past, because people claim Bitty's ghost is real. Jack decides to find out himself.

Inertia by @foryouandbits

At the age of seven, Eric Bittle is tackled so hard in peewee football, it feels as though he's been knocked into another dimension. At the encouragement of his father, he avoids contact sports until he receives a scholarship to play hockey at Samwell University. The result is the same: every check on the ice hurts so much that Eric hallucinates another world. Eric spends the rest of his freshman year attempting to prove himself to his captain and his coaches. He questions his worth, his talent, and his sanity, and in his search for answers, he uncovers long-hidden secrets that change everything he has ever known.

I loved this one. It is an interesting take on dimension travel and Coach in this story is so great as well. I highly recommend it.

Ice Crew Please! by @petals42

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

This sorta!fic is a fic about friendship thawing Jack Zimmermann's heart. Jack realises he's kind of a dick towards the ice crew of the Falcs and so he gets to know them, including Bitty. It's a good fucking friendship fic.

All shall know the wonder by me, lol

When Bitty decides to skate on Sunday mornings, he didn’t expect to meet a nice, handsome man who cannot hear. The Sunday mornings lead to a deep friendship that slowly leads to more.

Yes, I am finishing this list with a shameless self-promotion. I have 28 fics on AO3, 27 of them being Zimbits (one Holsom) and this is my favourite. Yeehaw.

That's it for now. There's a lot more in my Check, Please! fic tag. Also, hi to the people I have @'ed. If y'all know the tumblr URLs of some writers mentioned on this post, lemme know so I can add them.

#ask #thelegendofjenna #i uhhh went nuts #fic rec

52 notes · View notes

blossominghunnie · 11 days

Text

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Pairing: hockeyplayer!Jiho x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, love at first sight trope

Summary: A hockey player and an ice skater. Kinda cliché, right?

Warning: None

Notes: There’s literally no Ampers&One imagines on this app and I’m starting to stan them so, here’s an imagine of my cute bias. 😚

“Why are we here so early?” Brian complained while yawning. It was Saturday at 8:30 am, pretty early for someone that wakes up past 11 am. The whole team of Ampers&One, which was the town’s local hockey team, was at the skating rink where they normally train on weekdays at 5 pm.

“Remember that coach cancelled training last week because of his allergies? Well, the only day available to reschedule was today, at 9 am.” The team’s captain, Jiho, responded while walking out of the locker room with his ice skates in hand.

“Stupid allergies, I could be sleeping right now.” The youngest of the group, Seungmo, complained as well. It wasn’t a secret that him and Brian loved to sleep all day on weekends.

“Quit complaining, it could be worse.” Mackiah spoke.

They kept walking and stopped at the bench that was in front of the ice rink.

They sat down and started putting on their skates.

Jiho decided to take a look at the ice to see who was training.

To his surprise, there was a pretty girl wearing leggings and a zip up jacket. She was doing spins and jumps, landing perfectly.

Standing a few feet away from her was a woman, who he assumed was her coach.

“Wah, she’s so pretty.” Kyrell spoke.

“Who’s she?” The blonde asked.

“Why are you asking?” Kamden questioned beside him. “You like her?”

“N-no.” The boy stuttered.

“I bet he thinks she’s cute.” Kyrell teased him.

When he didn’t respond, the two boys, plus the maknaes that were eavesdropping, began to make “oooh” noises.

“Her name’s Y/n, she’s a pretty well known ice skater.” Siyun informed the team.

“And how do you know that?” Brian asked raised an eyebrow.

The browned haired shrugged his shoulders. “I’m an ice skating enthusiast.”

“I’ve never seen her before.” Mackiah commented.

“Maybe she trains on weekends.” Seungmo guessed.

“Maybe.” Jiho kept looking at her, his eyes trained on her every move. She was so hypnotizing.

“I guess Jiho DOES have a crush, just look at him.” Kyrell “whispered”, his forte wasn’t really being quiet so everyone could hear him.

Kamden nodded. “He’s so astounded that he didn’t even hear what you said, and you suck at whispering.”

Everyone agreed.

And in a flash, it was time for their practice. Their coach arrived 5 minutes before the assigned time.

As they were preparing to enter the ice, the girl exited the rink with her coach. They bowed politely to the group of boys and walked towards the locker room.

Y/n felt a lingering stare so she looked back, surprised to see that the blonde guy kept looking at her. When he realized he quickly turned around, blushing. The girl blushed and giggled, thinking he was cute.

And with that, their first meeting ended. Without knowing that that was the start of something new.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Misc masterlist || Main masterlist

7 notes · View notes

adhd-merlin · 9 months

Note

I love exploring new ships bc it gives me more perspectives on the characters and I get to see how different kinds of love change them as a person. So.

all this to say do you have any good starter recs for merwenthur 🙏✨

Hey :) I've only been in the fandom a few months and I mean it when I say I haven't read much Merlin fanfic (I've spent way more time here on tumblr than on AO3).

But since you asked me, personally my recommendation for a starter Merwenthur fic would be Choose and Choose and Choose by fleete.

I think it's the fic that got me actually interested in this ship in the first place, and also probably the only longish Merwenthur fic I've read (though it's only about 11k word).

You might have read it already, because it's the one Merwenthur fic I keep recommending – in which case you can skip the next few paragraphs (sorry). But I'll put another couple of links at the end if you want to check out more stuff.

fleete's fic is about the three of them getting together, and the "triggering event" is Gwen jokingly confessing to Arthur how she kissed Merlin after he almost died from drinking poison that one time. And Arthur has... an interesting reaction to that revelation.

You know when you read a fic and it just makes something click for you? This fic did so for me, and it just happens to tick many of my boxes in terms of tropes, too.

I love the characterisation; the three of them didn't feel too OOC even when they were doing things they never would in canon.

I liked the slight awkwardness around sex of Arthur and Gwen, because they're medieval 20-somethings who only recently lost their virginity to each other, and I found it realistic and also kind of endearing. I liked the tenderness and the vulnerability of it.

I liked the dynamic of the whole triad, but especially between Gwen and Merlin because in this fic it feels like their S1 friendship again and it's clear that they care about each other a lot, and in some Merwenthur I've read their relationship feels a bit like an afterthought at times, coming second to Merlin’s relationship with Arthur, or Arthur’s with Gwen.

I don't know, I guess The Vibe in this story just felt right to me, and I loved it to bits.

A lil excerpt:

Before this, Merlin was a comfortable presence at Arthur’s side. He was like Arthur’s right arm. Or maybe, more precisely, like one of Arthur’s old battle wounds: occasionally annoying, but a familiar part of his body. And now. Merlin seems to have acquired his own body. And a pair of lips. Lips that Gwen kissed. It’s absurd how little time it takes for his mind to spin Gwen’s original, innocent story into something more tawdry. He pictures Gwen sitting in Merlin’s lap, rubbing her thumb under his chin, pushing up until he consents to let his head fall back. Gwen would pull down Merlin’s stupid scarf, admire his Adam’s Apple, feel the beat of his pulse under her fingers, and stroke up and down his throat while Merlin breathed open-mouthed at the ceiling, probably aroused and nervous. Would Merlin be nervous? Arthur thinks so.

@merlinemrys has also published some Merwenthur fics on AO3, as well as @flight-of-fantasy, who's recently updated their Merwenthur fic. They both might have more to rec.

If you've read or will read fleete's story, I've tried my hand at a sequel, because personally I needed more.

Also!! There's going to be a merwenthur fest soon (!?) so keep your eyes peeled for that 👀

#i fell asleep while typing this yesterday at 1am i hope this makes sense #sorry if I keep reccing the fic that triggered me into writing ~30k words of fanfic after 8 years of nothing #it will happen again #''Merlin seems to have acquired his own body. And a pair of lips.''#< I love this bit #AND A PAIR OF LIPS.#merwenthur #mergwenthur #arwenlin #merwenthur revival #asks

21 notes · View notes

omnidemidisaster · 2 years

Text

Jack x John fluff

Sick fic cause I like that fanfic trope

"Sick days"

"Told you you were gonna get sick" John pouted a little. He hates being wrong about...well alot of things. "I don't have time to be sick" John sat impatiently on his bed as that sentence repeated in his head. Jack came in with a plate with two slices of toast and a small bowl of rice.

"Did you eat anything else? You're definitely more sick then expected" Jack asked, sitting next to John and comfortingly rubbing his back. "I had that left over Italian in the fridge and-" "You had the italian?? We had to throw it out! I told you this" Jack interrupted. John looked down, tired, nauseous, and ashamed of himself.

"Well, I can do your work while you recover, you're definitely gonna need to rest" Jack said, already mentally pin pointing his next move once he started work. John started to eat the toast and rice. He hummed happily, obviously enjoying the bland yet appetizing taste. Jack looked lovingly at John, still rubbing his back.

John scooted closer into Jack's chest, still eating. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Just breathing, the sound of Jack's hand rubbing up and down John's back, and the noise of the utensil clinking against the bowl. John and Jack would of enjoyed this moment, if it weren't for the fact that John was lying there sick.

Jack kissed John's head, getting up from the bed. "I'll call in for you, just stay and rest" John nodded, putting down the food. He lied down, the uncomfortable feeling of spinning in his stomach. Even if he feels horrible and is mentally kicking himself, he at least feels good that Jack is still taking care of him and his stupid sick ass.

Thats one thing he loves about Jack. John is stubborn and doesn't like being wrong. Jack isn't stubborn by any means and just wants the best for John.

Jack walked in the room, putting down a bottle of water and a bag of ginger chews. "I love you, I hope you can recover quickly" He said, softly kissing John's forehead.

God. How was he so lucky to have someone like him.

#fluff #spooky month #spooky month jack #spooky month john #jack x john #spooky month jack x john #they are in love #they are an old married couple #yes

172 notes · View notes

levmada · 1 year

Text

Strange and Unfamiliar (But Not Unwelcome)

summary: Tensions and insecurities rise to a boiling point, and true feelings come to the light. Levi and Furlan, two people who could never trust anyone, experience that and more for the first time.

wc: 7.8k

content/warnings: loss of virginity, first kiss (first everything), getting together, pre-canonverse, very minor injury, so fucking soft, miscommunication, yelling for like a minute, heavy petting, handjob, first orgasm (Levi-receiving), multiple orgasms

a/n: you know that trope where 2 characters that should just get together already are yelling at each other because of a miscommunication and one just comes out and screams BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!! that's basically this. PS: in case someone's curious, both levi and furlan are adults in this.

| Part 2 | Part 3 |

He isn’t clingy, and he isn’t Furlan’s fucking wife, but Levi would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous right now.

Levi needs his guys to follow his directions, and second to that, he needs his routine. So then, why is one of his most important guys not at the hideout when he gets back?—Furlan doesn't pull stupid stunts like this.

He’s pacing, but he only got in the door recently enough to put up his cloak and change clothes—but he put his boots back on—after going all over the closest districts in search of this stupid asshole. The only things Levi knows for sure are the hideout isn't clean like Furlan was supposed to make it, and the payment from some constituents in the lower, shittier districts was done when he got there. No one could've gotten away with doing that besides Furlan or Levi himself.

Thing is, this disobedience isn't unheard of, not lately. He has no clue what's gotten into him, but from now on Levi isn't going to let him handle it by himself. If he's still alive.

A dull ache permeates his jaw from the way he’s been grinding it. He spends one more moment in this hollow silence before he decides he can’t take another, and marches towards his cloak hanging up by the door.

The lock’s tumblers are heard rolling over before it opens. Levi almost instinctively knocks Furlan back, as his hood is pulled all the way over his forehead, and he can’t see his face. Levi recognizes Furlan’s floppy blond bangs.

"The fuck?"

As Furlan shuffles past, Levi plants his hand on the door and slams it shut with more force than necessary. The hinges shake, then are still.

Head still bent, Furlan keeps walking.

“Hey!” Levi catches him easily and spins him around. “What am I, invisible? Where the fuck were—”

Levi blinks. His expression darkens. “What the hell happened.”

A stormy bruise takes up the better portion of Furlan’s cheek. He curses bitterly and pulls away, yanking his hood down now that the jig is clearly up. “I was being useful.”

“Huh? You call skipping out on your job useful?” he retorts. Furlan is hanging his cloak up, and Levi stands at his back. “You were supposed to be cleaning today. Instead I go out to do my job, and go on a wild goose chase looking for your sorry ass.”

Levi is so angry he can barely contain himself. He wants to punch something. “And so what, you did it on your own and got jumped, right? Fucking idiot, going off on your own…”

Furlan whirls around and explodes. “I’m not helpless, Levi! I could do it! I did it! I don’t need you breathing down my neck!”

“Tch!” He shoves Furlan back with a palm to his chest, square against the wall, leaving no room for comfort. “That’s exactly what I do.”

An apparent impasse. Neither speak, but Furlan’s red in the face and breathing hard. This isn’t over.

Levi lets the moment drag. Any moment—and they both know it—Levi can tear Furlan to the floor by the front of his shirt. Levi lets it drag, to make it seem like he’s really considering it.

“Stay here. You think real carefully if you wanna disobey this order or not.”

“Levi…”

Levi backs off, and marches to the hallway bathroom, but continues to make himself heard. Maybe someone out on the street will hear, too. “Would you rather I be breathing down your neck, or a whole gang of guys who still want you dead? I’m takin’ care of that. So my bad for giving you a simple task you could do on our turf!”

Furlan makes an exasperated sound. “I just wanted—”

“To be useful.” Levi reappears with a damp cloth. “I heard you the first time. Were you? Did you lose all the money?”

“No, I didn’t, you asshole!” He backsteps and yanks a few wads of notes from the pocket of his cloak. “I just wanted to take care of something important, something you hate doing. I did you a favor!”

Levi approaches, staring darkly. “Cleaning is important.”

“Right,” Furlan laughs bitterly. “So why is it my job all the time? Why not yours?—You always say you can do it bett—”

“Because you’re reliable!” Levi interrupts loudly. But it rings a little hollow.

Levi’s squeezing his hands into fists, causing droplets off the rag to drip. It doesn’t cross his conscious mind. “‘Cause you’re good at it.”

Furlan scoffs with that same bitterness. This time, he doesn’t yell. “Good at it—I see. So that’s what I’m good for.”

“Shut the hell up.” Levi seizes his shoulder, and with a startling amount of care, presses the rag to that ugly bruise. But he holds firmly.

“Levi, it’s a bruise.”

“I guarantee whoever hit you didn’t wash their hands before they swung.”

Furlan trembles, Levi thinks with outrage. At first he holds still, thinking hard about something, then rips away and yells, “Stop making excuses! Look at you!—Why are you doing this?”

“Because—” Levi covers his lack of an excuse with a scoff. “You‘re dirty.”

Furlan deadpans. “I said stop making excuses. You’d give me an actual job if you thought I could do it! Instead you’re here treating me like I’m made of glass. Like I-I’m—I’m fucking a burden to you!

“I mean, I get it, Levi. You don’t have to pretend, and it, that’s an insult, because you’re not the type of guy to lie to make someone feel better.”

Furlan gestures as he rants, turning redder by the moment. It looks more and more out of place with the bruise, which is seemingly all Levi can focus on as those ridiculous claims fall out of Furlan’s mouth.

“What?” He’s genuinely too stunned to be angry.

Like he’s made of glass? Fucking, glass, and pretending? A burden? This is the first Levi’s heard that he’s been lying to Furlan.

A burden?

“I’m a weak link, that’s obvious now. I didn’t think you let me in with you to be nice—you had to have some kind of plan in mind.

“Yet you keep me around, you make me go buy food or sewing supplies, and the hits I do make, you’re always there. You don’t even make me pay you for—”

“Money’s a waste,” Levi interrupts hotly. “Since you ruined your old life because of me, I’m not leaving you out to dry.”

“Tell me…” Furlan breathes. His eyes shine, like pale diamonds. “What do you care? I’m nobody. I don’t get it.”

He’s right. He’s right, and Levi doesn’t have an excuse for the guy in front of him who’s not an acquaintance or hesitant ally, not a subordinate and especially not a damn burden. Friend doesn’t even fit it.

So what is it?—That Furlan’s brains outweigh his strength, and he’s actually not a burden? That’s all true, but Levi feels, in a strange instinctive way that it’s not just that. Levi’s hired plenty of smart people who can’t fight (and then again, Furlan can).

It’s just that he has enemies, has had them since his gang turned on him before he could blink for going on chasing after Levi.

Part of it. Was pity. At first, he admits. No one else has the power to keep all those guys at bay except Levi.

But then, Levi had never protected someone before. He has an enormous well of strength to his disposal, but he’d never been given a reason to use it while it didn’t benefit himself. He’d never gotten to protect someone he wanted to protect and actually succeed.

But Levi isn’t that selfish. I don’t take care of burdens, he might say. And as soon as he thinks it, he realizes, that… he doesn’t take care of people. At least, he doesn’t come at them with a wash rag when they get a bruise. He doesn’t make sure they’re eating right, or for that matter he doesn’t rely on anyone to be home at a certain time. Or home at all. Home…

These thoughts confuse, and then scare him. He doesn’t see Furlan like he has anyone else as long as he’s lived. He has no idea how to proceed.

“Levi,” Furlan says. It’s a tone of giving up. “I know you’re not a feely guy, I’d just, if you had some plan for me, or if I made you realize that just now somehow—”

It bursts out of him. Loudly and too harsh. “You’re not a damn burden!”

Furlan stares back, almost nakedly confused, or hurt, or Levi thinks vulnerable. He might also look that way.

And he can’t stand it. For some reason he doesn’t like that look.

Levi is in front of him in a few even strides, and glares up at him. “You’re a shitty idiot, and a fool. You’re not, alright? You’re completely wrong for a guy who knows what he’s talking about most the time.”

But that still doesn’t sound like enough. Levi searches for some explanation about “home” to dismiss him with, or Furlan getting hurt, or why he cares so much, but there’s nothing.

Levi deflates. “Look… You’re not to me. Alright?”

Furlan, his shoulders square and stiff, blinks widely at him. Their height difference isn’t huge—Levi comes up to about his chin—and he realizes just now that he’s close enough to hear it when Furlan swallows.

“Completely wrong, then?” he whispers.

Levi finds himself frozen. It’s the dawning understanding in his blue eyes. He wants to know what Furlan’s thinking. So then maybe Levi could understand it himself.

“Don’t hit me for this,” Furlan blurts out. He reluctantly raises his hand, and lays his hand on Levi’s shoulder.

Like an idiot, Levi looks at it like he has no idea what it is. Contact at all is at once strange and unfamiliar, but not unwelcome by Furlan. His stomach turns weightless.

“I’m not like that,” Levi says. “I’d warn you before I do that. If you just want to. Do that.”

“Oh.”

Levi’s surprised and not at the same time as his palm slides up, catching on Levi’s collar before touching his cheek. Bordering on hovering. It’s a little sweaty, he registers, altogether warm and feels like it fits. A good fit.

Levi’s heart gallops in his ears. His face is hot, and his head is light. He inhales sharply as Furlan’s thumb strokes his high cheekbone. Delicate in a way, but can cut like a knife.

“Levi?”

“What?” he croaks.

“Could I kiss you?” Furlan blurts out for the second time. His lips flap uselessly for something else to say, but Levi doesn’t need convincing or an explanation as shitty as his own a minute ago and lifts his chin. He waits. He doesn’t know how to kiss. He’s never kissed. He’ll embarrass himself. Or worse.

Furlan makes a sputtering-gasping noise, and then he’s coming closer and closer and Levi feels a pair of lips on top of his own.

Warm, warm and soft he registers quickly. Furlan’s lips feel as plump as they always looked. And those are Furlan’s swift breaths puffing against his face. Furlan’s palm is much more warmer, pressed to his cheek, and somewhat rough. It’s overwhelming, completely. Levi’s hand slides down Furlan’s jaw to the side of his neck and doesn’t move.

His mind spins around like a top as he tries to grasp that this is really happening. He’s never kissed someone… He doesn’t like the insane feeling like his heart wants to burst out of his chest, but he likes kissing Furlan.

Is this kissing? Neither of them are moving. Levi’s an amateur at this sort of thing, but he knows lips are supposed to move.

His brow pinched, Levi raises his other hand to Furlan’s jaw and begins by moving slightly. Feeling it out. Hearing as Furlan shudders out an anxious breath. It feels sort of like kissing a sleeping person for a moment longer, but then, he reciprocates.

They’re kissing.

That dazed excitement-feeling explodes in Levi’s stomach at the sound of a small wet smack. Levi again doesn’t know if that’s supposed to excite him so much, but this sort of excitement fuels fear, and so he pulls away. That, and to perhaps get Furlan’s confirmation that this is still happening.

They seem shinier now, his lips, in contrast to Furlan’s bright blush and his pale eyes. Levi stares. A second ago, they were kissing.

“You like people like me?” Furlan asks.

A question like that coming so suddenly stumps Levi for a moment. Furlan is still touching his round cheek, Levi his neck. A minute ago, they were kissing.

“A-Are we… that different?”

“I meant men,” Furlan chuckles uneasily. “Sure you didn’t hit me… or warn you’d hit me, but I, I guess wanted to make sure.”

A confused stare as Levi thinks on it. He comes up with nothing again, and drops his gaze back down to his lips, flickering between them and somewhere beside him.

“Just you so far.”

“Oh.” Furlan sounds caught off-guard, but pleased. “Was that your first kiss?”

Levi’s hand falls to Furlan’s bicep of his cotton long-sleeves. “What’s with the questions? Is it over or something?”

“No, noit’snot—unless you want it to be?”

Levi exhales. “So what if it was?”

That trademark sly smile of Furlan’s makes an appearance for the first time since he walked in the door. “That’d be reassuring, since it was mine. For once you’d be out of your element.”

“Shut up,” Levi mumbles, and does that properly by leaning up and catching his lips again. Furlan is immediately on board.

Soft smacking fills the slight amount of space between them as their lips caress, slide, push. Noses quickly become an obstacle. Levi finds it easier to tilt his head.

Furlan follows his example, until Levi’s palm slides over his nape, Furlan has another hand delicately placed on his waist, and their soft exchange turns more hurried.

A sharp hitch in his heavy breath escapes Levi as a second hand joins the one on his waist, so he’s properly holding him to Furlan’s front.

“So small,” Furlan breathes, and kisses him harder. Levi doesn’t get a chance to comment.

A tiny whine, more of a hum, rises up in Levi’s throat. Is Furlan that good, or is Levi just… new to this?

No, they’re both amateurs stumbling through this, whatever this is, this barrage of feelings that makes Levi’s lower half heat and his trembling hand sink into Furlan’s blond locks, combing them backwards in efforts to press him close. Close until their chests touch, and Levi’s lungs burn.

But it’s true, that he’s small. Furlan’s hands can almost reach all the way around and close on his waist. They never move, but then… Levi wants them to. He’s unsure where his sudden impatience is coming from.

He lifts up on his toes and wraps himself in Furlan’s arms. Then, the sound of Furlan’s low moan is a shock to Levi’s systems. His lower half throbs heat.

He hears himself make a gasping-whining noise. In response, Furlan kisses him with even more urgency.

Furlan embraces him, but his hands explore no lower than his belt. Someone is always pulling away to gasp more often than not, usually Furlan, until Levi huffs, “Breathe,” and Furlan stops to laugh.

“Can’t.”

“My legs are falling asleep, too,” Levi complains. His hands slide down Furlan’s broad shoulders and land at his biceps again, the fabric pinched between his fingers. He doesn’t want him to go yet. To pull away.

“Then do you want to… lay down?”

Levi frowns deeply at a question that lame. His eyes briefly dart to couch, then the hall. “You had plans after this or something?”

Furlan’s lips crinkle. “Hell no.”

That’s a good-enough answer for Levi. He detaches himself from him, then snags his wrist and corrals him down the hall, his destination the one bedroom with an unimpressive double neither of them sleep in.

(Levi has always chosen not to and Furlan flat-out refused it because it was Levi’s. Thinking about it… that argument could’ve led to something like this, too.)

Levi has certainly never done anything like this before. He’s aware of it where it usually goes from here, and his anxiety is bright, in fact he’s petrified, but it doesn’t show in his quick walk. He has no fucking idea what’s he’s doing, so, he’s forced to act on assumption.

But he knows what he wants.

At the doorway, Levi stops and addresses him, but he’s looking at the bed. “You can keep kissing me, as long as you don’t ever let me hear you say something that shitty again.”

Seems Furlan forgot all about it for a moment. “Is that the only condition? Don’t worry.”

Levi finally turns his head and shoots him a skeptical look.

“Hey, I promise, Levi,” Furlan states.

Furlan clumsily, impulsively, leans in and kisses the wrinkle off Levi's brow, then his cheek and his small nose. Levi's too flabbergasted to move, at least until Furlan half-leads, half-walks them—with a care that's excruciating—towards the bed. Still giving Levi's lips attention. It hurts his heart in a way that he craves more of.

He cups Levi's jaw with reluctant hands as he leads him back towards the bed.

It's easy to sense before his shins bump the mattress. Levi stops it before it happens, jerkily pulling back from him.

"Are you okay?"

How does he look so calm? Furlan looks worried for him, genuinely. Is he patronizing him?

Doesn't this hurt?—Aren't they two men, about to do this?

Furlan is a virgin. But he must know.

A crazy thought occurs to him: Let me be wrong. He wants to be wrong no matter how plainly he knows he’s right... because... Furlan asked that question.

“What do you mean?” Levi asks quietly. “You’re planning to do it, right? Why’re you asking me?”

A strange silence infects the air.

Furlan shakes his head and says, “Because… Fuck ‘Vi, I don’t know. You’re participating. What do you mean?”

He stares. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Do you?”

He's actually starting a debate with him right now. Furlan can be a stubborn shit like Levi, but Furlan is smart. There must be something he’s not getting.

Levi acquiesces him with a dull silence.

Furlan's tongue darts out to wet his lips. He picks up Levi's hand by his side, holds up his other. It's a mystery what he's doing until Levi takes a closer look and realizes how hard he and Furlan are shaking.

"Look. Me neither," Furlan says calmly.

Levi pulls his hand back, disturbed by his own show of anxiety. It's not supposed to be this easy for someone to see through him. "So what?"

"To be honest, Levi, I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Tch…”

Furlan touches his chin. “Look. What if you just acted on the assumption that you don’t know what you’re doing, either? It's more equal that way." He smiles sideways. “Except kissing.”

Levi deadpans. "Yeah… You’re a fucking expert now for sure.”

But what Furlan is saying makes sense. Levi would rather sacrifice a little of his pride than inflict what he's seen and heard on him. Or the other way around.

Furlan thinks some more about it. "You can still say no. You know you can always do that, right?” he asks slowly.

“I’m not stupid,” he mumbles.

Levi is tired of talking about this, and he's not going to tell Furlan it's okay to kiss him a dozen more times, so he pops the collar of his shirt open, down to a few others until a peek of his chest is visible. Then he totally disregards him, sits on the mattress—which squeaks in protest—and begins working his boots off.

Furlan follows his lead, says, “I know.”

Blushing, Levi hurries.

Furlan bends over and unlaces his shoes, then takes the hem of his shirt. Something makes him change his mind, and he clambers into bed after Levi, who is laying back with his elbows propped up behind him and his legs stretched out in front of him, his chin raised. He doubts he looks as casual as he planned on being.

"Are you—"

"For the hundredth time, yes," he snaps. "I'm not your fucking bride. Why're you so scared of offending me?"

"You kidding? Maybe, because... you look freaked out for once. And I don't want to offend you."

"But you don't know how, remember?" Levi drawls, his heart throbbing in his ears. Now that he's aware of the shaking, it's harder to ignore.

"Hah..." Furlan looks down demurely. "I know you."

“Fine… What about you, then? Are you still saying yes?”

Furlan nods. He crawls until his knees sit outside Levi's thighs, where their lips meet.

Someone's hand knocks into another's arm as they move to touch each other. The two of them, bumbling around and embarrassing themselves more each passing moment, are doing it together, at least. The thought continues to reassure Levi.

Awkward is what it is, but no one has doubts about what the other wants. Levi finally lets go of what he thought this was when he decides laying out like this is making him anxious, and so he adjusts. Sits up a little straighter, so the wall is firm at his back, and they're pressed up against each other from chest to hips. Furlan's thighs slot in snugly outside his own. He decides he likes Furlan’s weight resting against him like this.

It’s disorienting, he’s distracted by sensations and unfamiliar feelings everywhere.

So he almost misses Furlan’s tongue. They’re kissing too heavily to have much room for comfort, so Furlan doesn’t get in a breath after properly pulling away for it. The heavy muscle brushes Levi’s lips and then it’s gone, and the kiss resumes more passionately than ever. It was wet, hot, even searing.

That feeling—Levi's brow pinches as he barely restrains a moan, and grows a little more daring. He experimentally parts his lips, and licks Furlan’s plump bottom lip. He makes an unsure noise. The passion abruptly evaporates, as they seem to be wondering the same thing at the same time.

A small moment, like an impasse. Furlan exhales deeply through his nose before heavy heat licks into Levi's mouth.

Chills flare on the back of his neck and his spine, his lower half sparks. He smothers a moan with a rough grunt, and lays his palm on Furlan's lower back, but only lays. He doesn't know how to push.

Hot overwhelming wet, and stale mint, and buttery soft. It’s a lot, dealing with the sensation that he can’t breathe and his desire to find it unimportant right now.

It’s like kissing for the first time again, experimenting, easing into each other. Lips part more, open with abandon. Their tongues push and stroke. A shudder seizes Levi’s whole body and shakes the foundations of his mind.

Furlan boldly sucks on his tongue. The moan bursts out of Levi this time.

An enormous heat rushes to his face, and down below, throbbing. Levi can feel his own heartbeat in it. He reels Furlan in by the nape of his neck. When he hums, he feels it vibrate from the inside.

“M-Mm...” Furlan grips his hair, holding Levi in place for him.

An embarrassingly loud gasp forces them apart when Levi’s hair is tugged, sending delightful tingles down his spine. A thick sticky line still connects their wet, swollen lips.

"Can I—?" Furlan's fingers snag Levi's open collar.

In response, Levi reels him back in and joins in helping with the buttons. They’re both so damn clumsy, progress is slow.

His shirt is open enough to sag from Levi's shoulder when Furlan gives up, and snakes his palm into his shirt.

Levi twitches. His severely distracted kissing has Furlan pulling back to—to just observe? His pupils, like black pools, almost take over the blues as his palm climbs the soft slope of Levi’s pec. He pays him close attention, scrubbing his nipple back and forth. Levi’s forehead melts against his temple.

As Furlan explores, they catch their breaths, sharing each other's air. Levi grits his teeth, eyes squeezed shut, painfully hard now.

You look really, really good like this," Furlan whispers. He fingers his nipple, and kisses his sharp jawline.

"Rather have my shirt on than off?" Levi remarks. Sounding sarcastic isn't working.

"If you want."

“You’re such an idiot.”

His other hand falls in next to the other. “That’s what I get for complimenting you, huh?”

"Ngh."

“Hope I’m at least doing something right, then.” Furlan kisses his tender neck, and applies pressure with his soft palms.

“Such an idiot,” Levi gasps, and shivers. The harder his nipples get, the more Furlan seems to want to pinch and tweak them.

“Furlan.” All Levi can do is hold on, hearing himself gasp... then whine. Furlan pulls reactions out of Levi that he can't control.

His mouth is all over his neck, pressing in until he feels the dull pleasure from his teeth. It feels like he's on fire from his cheeks down. At this point, his dick is going to suffocate.

"F-Furlan," Levi manages again, trying to sound convincing... but his voice is too unsteady.

The sucking motions to his tender neck are too much. His hips tilt forward into the small amount of space between their laps. "Fucking do something, you..."

He feels the rumbles from Furlan's boyish laugh. "All you're doing's holding on."

Struck by that, he makes a frustrated groaning noise and tugs Furlan back by his fingers laced in his hair. He's never seen Furlan look at him the way he is now, disheveled and so clearly pining for him.

"Lay down." Levi motions with his head, then rolls them over so the back of Furlan's head plops on the plush pillow. "There. Good. Stay."

"You know, you’ve always had a way with words," Furlan huffs, and chuckles breathily. He sounds anxious as hell.

"I know," he mumbles, sounding the same. He rises up on his knees, comfortably slotted outside Furlan's hips.

He's too... he can't bring himself to look at how hard Furlan probably is, and compared to himself. Let alone bother with his rumpled shirt, exposing one nimble shoulder down to enough of his chest to show cleavage.

Levi slides his palms up, exposing Furlan's pale middle and the lithe muscles packed into his abdomen. He has scars here and there. He catalogues them with his eyes as his hands roam, rolling his shirt up as high as he can get it, to the dip in his sternum.

"You need new clothes... This shirt's too tight."

Furlan sighs softly. "That's just a sign I'm eating better now."

"So?" Levi's hand disappears up under his shirt and closes on his pec. His nipple is pricked and hard. His other hand explores Furlan’s body in the opposite direction. "You still need new clothes."

Furlan’s head nods back. His adam’s apple bobs. “What should I get? You're the master of keeping up appearances, right?”

Levi can't think and process the firm grip Furlan has on his hips at the same time, or glance down when his palm touches coarse hair, the line of darkish blond that follows below his navel and disappears under Furlan's waistband. It rests low on his hips... and he's not wearing a belt, Levi notices. Maybe these are small on him too.

"Something that'll look good on you," Levi answers, not entirely hearing himself.

"You're not even paying attention, are you...?"

Levi isn't looking at him. He's so hard. They’re both hard. The bulge in Furlan's trousers is thick and pronounced, not inches from Levi's own. Levi feels cold and hot at the same time, reluctant and burning and eager, and nervous.

"I can't," Furlan grunts, his chest canting into the hand busy under his shirt. Furlan’s own slides down Levi's thigh and moves in-between... just hovering, touching their fingers. His round blue eyes implore him. "...Do you want this, Lev’?”

"Uh-huh," he whispers. “You?”

“Yeah.” Furlan touches Levi’s silver belt buckle and looks up at him for approval.

“Yes. What’re you waiting for?”

“‘kay, Levi.”

While Levi is getting over the way he spoke his name, the buckle clinks in the quiet room. Quiet besides their heavy breaths.

The outline of Levi's cock is pronounced and heavy through the cotton. Furlan opens his pants as Levi catches the zipper, and huffs from the modicum of relief he at least gets. He can't pull them down very far without them pooling at his waist.

"Levi," he says, pleading for something that isn't clear.

"Dammit," Levi whispers, and climbs off him, still kneeling while he struggles.

A frantic giggle can be heard. The shuffling of cotton means Furlan's doing the same.

"The fuck is so funny?" Levi grumbles. "S'just pants."

"Don't know... Just you." Furlan kicks his pants off his ankles and they fall to the floor with a whispered shift of fabric

Levi’s turn. “Me? You’re high.” Without thinking, he folds them with practiced ease and lays them down.

Furlan looks at what he's doing and snickers. He sounds fond. "Yeah... It's probably nothing."

He stares. "Don't say stupid things."

"Again, with that? Hah... Yes, sir."

“Quit making jokes.” He climbs back on top.

Furlan’s hand gravitates to his bare shoulder, pulling him back down to his wanting lips. Furlan's other hand is a strange but exciting weight on Levi's thigh, the spandex. He kisses back with more passion.

“Kay, baby," he murmurs.

Levi whines, and can’t cover it up. Instead, he he drags Furlan's hand between his thighs.

"Oh."

“Fuck,” Levi huffs weakly.

Levi’s thick lashes stand in contrast to the red painting his cheeks and the tips of his ears, sweet sounds stirring in his chest even as his teeth grit. The pressure and the heat is nothing he expected, and there’s a wet spot—not that he knew what to expect in the first place. He's never even done this to himself.

"Fuck, fuck..." Levi whispers, too high-pitched, too overwhelmed despite the care Furlan treats him with. Softly squeezing. Rubbing in motions that are barely there as his hips push into his hand. It's like Levi's hand is on top of his only to keep him from stopping.

It strains under Furlan's hand. He watches in awe of the bliss cracking Levi's normally terse expression as his hips move, and rock into his palm.

"Dammit, you look—you're just..." Furlan whines. "Please, touch me."

“…Sorry...”

The same way Furlan palms and squeezes him, Levi lays his hand on Furlan's bulge, and strokes him with the heel of his hand. The sound that results is so sudden it startles him. And the ones that follow. It makes Levi's head spin, and that wondrous feeling returning, whether this is really happening.

Furlan feels him up and properly begins to stroke the swollen outline around three fingers. It’s easier after that to pick up a consistent rhythm with his hips.

Levi copies him. He can tell Furlan’s is longer than it is thick, different from his own. Is it normal to compare? Before he can answer that, he thinks deliriously that it fits Furlan, as his thumb pushes on the spot that's wet.

Furlan's hips lurch up, jostling Levi. "Ah fuck, sorry sorry. That felt really good."

Levi's breath audibly trembles. Furlan squeezes firmly on the next downstroke, and it... combined with that just now, he feels strange. Almost precarious and too exciting, too too good.

"Furlan," Levi whimpers. "I think I'm..."

He takes a big breath. "Gonna come...?"

“I think. It’s really.” Levi’s hips move in more frantic rolls, gasps growing. The mattress whines from far away. "Think I'm close..."

Furlan's eyes flash with an excitement he doesn't notice. "Oh. Fuck, then keep going..." He puts his hand on Levi's hip, guiding him along. "There, yeah... you’re wetter now... feels amazing, doesn't it? Feels so good."

A fragile whimper. Levi's adam's apple bobs up and down as he takes support from Furlan's chest and moans what sounds like an affirmative. He's too close to remember how to act.

"Yeah, I know it does, just look at you. I can tell you need it so damn bad," Furlan groans, stroking faster. "Let it go for me."

"Fuck," Levi groans, it sounds more like a sob. "I'm coming, co-co—"

"Good, good—"

Levi's frantic thrusts stiffen the moment he gasps, throws his head back. A heavy moan sounds like it falls off his gaping lips as his hips jerk, then push in wild bursts, to the point where Levi unknowingly has Furlan’s hand pinned for him to hump while Furlan watches in captivated awe.

"Fuck yeah, Lev', keep coming, coming so fucking hard."

His frame shakes as full, sweet moans spill from him. The meaning of Furlan's comments are only noise, but every word hits him like a train. Heavy wet heat fills the front of his briefs, and with each load Levi groans, his jaw quivering, until slowly... the waves... soften and taper off. He’s blown away by it. How is it possible to feel this good?

It feels like all the tension seeps from his bones. He's left a mess, panting and holding himself up on an arm that looks like might give any moment.

For several moments, they're both still while Levi recovers. Furlan's hand caresses the curve of his hip, his other hovering over Levi's bicep in case he really can't hold himself up anymore.

As Furlan expected though, he doesn't collapse even now. He rights his posture, muttering, "Shit..."

"You okay? That was a lot..."

"Fine." Levi looks down at himself, and frowns.

Furlan nibbles on the inside of his cheek. "Was that your first, too?"

"Ha." When Levi looks up, there's a ghost of a smirk on his face. "If it was?"

"Then I feel special," Furlan replies, laughing enough for the two of them.

But this doesn't feel finished, and Furlan certainly doesn't look it. Levi climbs off, on his backside, and pushes his disgusting briefs down his legs. He can't have them on one more second like this, sticky and drying. He thought he came his brains out, but his dick is still slightly hard. Strings of cum streak his shaft.

"You don't have to get me off too, by the way," spills from Furlan's mouth. "You going to clean up?"

"Don't ask stupid questions." Levi turns around, bracing himself up with his arm in a way to covertly hide his crotch from sight. His eyes dart to Furlan's. "Take 'em off if you want." He blinks. "Are you insecure or something?"

"Why wouldn't I be...?" he scoffs.

“Don’t be,” Levi replies. He tries in vain to fix his sleeve in one final attempt to act casual, then crawls forward. He guides Furlan’s attention toward him with a hand to his cheek, and kisses him, once. Soft and simple. “Don’t be.”

Furlan searches his eyes for any denial, then he leans in for another. It feels shy again.

Furlan finally lifts his hips, and slides his briefs down his thighs. His cock springs up and slaps his belly, still hard. He huffs a sigh in relief while vicious arousal twists Levi’s lower half. Veins stand out against his pink shaft, and he spots a line of milky cum where he’s leaked down the tip. Levi squirms a little.

Furlan’s head briefly disappears as his shirt goes next. Short tufts of blond hair stick up, a wreck.

This angle doesn't let Levi see what his balls look like. He pins his tongue between his teeth, feeling pleasantly drowsy, but still simmering. He touches his neck, but he can't feel if there's a hickey. "Is it my turn to be insecure?”

Furlan bends his knees and gives him a small, confident smile. “Don’t be stupid.”

Levi’s brow scrunches with a small pout.

“Do you want to... Can you come again?"

He shifts again. "Mmm."

"'Kay, then." He leans up, and takes Levi's cheek when he kisses him.

It feels like he can relax again. He leans into it. Furlan’s lips are silky soft, and attentive, and somehow conveys an affection without a name. Levi forgets that time is passing until a hand on his shoulder—the clothed one—nudges him down.

Levi lets himself be laid on his back. The bed is a stable weight underneath, Furlan's body anchored on top. The close proximity is brand-new, and much more intense. He thinks of their discussion earlier, anxiety building.

He gazes into Furlan's eyes. "Is this... gonna hurt?"

Confusion again. “Can’t do that without preparing you... and... I don't want that. Right now. Is that okay?”

He stares, and files that information away for later. "Yeah," he whispers, relieved.

“Can I ask why you jumped to that again?” Furlan asks. The question is probing, but his tone couldn't be more tender, as tender as Levi feels when Furlan looks at him like this, and kisses him. He lays his arm by his head.

The other ends up behind Levi's head as they ease into a more resting position. He raises his head to make room and respond. “To make sure.”

“No more doubts?”

Their cocks slide together. Combined with the heat building between their bodies and the intense lack of space, the faint pulses of pleasure make his head spin pleasantly. “Nah.”

Their chests heave and fall pressed together. Levi's wide thighs on either side of Furlan's hips, and the tops of Furlan's thighs touching the crease between the seat of his thighs and his ass. The way Furlan is holding him makes him feel caged in, but it’s somehow a good feeling to be trapped.

It begins with the slightest of hitched breaths, teasing squeezes, and wandering hands. Their lips smack lazily. It almost feels like nothing matters but this... The naked affection in Furlan's eyes and Levi's shaky hands, and the fiery sweet pressure when their cocks rub together just right; how Furlan's thighs tense under Levi's when he moves his hips, and Furlan's voice bleeding into his sighs. Levi throbs, and hardens.

“I didn't expect you to, feel like this,” Furlan says.

Levi scoffs weakly. "What... you expected my dick to be small or something?"

"No,” Furlan chuckles, “that’s not—”

Levi holds onto the sound and the snorting noise Furlan makes when he kisses him quiet. Furlan's hand wanders to his hip.

"—not what I meant..."

Ah. Levi's toes curl. Furlan whines. His grip steadies him, so when their hips roll to meet halfway, it’s at the perfect angle.

“What’d you mean, then?”

Furlan's breath fans over Levi's face. He lifts up a little, and Levi follows where he's looking, a soaked, sticky mess between their bodies. Levi's fully hard again and twitching. Fresh precum beads his tip.

“Everything…?”

"Fuck," Levi breathes. His eyes flutter as Furlan moans and grinds deeper than before. "It’s so fucking hard."

"Ah... How d'you think I feel... And while you feel this good...?" A small whine, or a sigh, in Levi’s ear.

"I didn't know, either... Until you said all that stupid shit."

"Mm?"

"It made me realize some things."

"M... Fuck yeah… Me too."

Their sweaty foreheads press again. Strands of Levi's bangs are plastered to his forehead... while Furlan's look ridiculous parted in the middle for once, how ever they got that way.

Chatting wears away as the rolls of Furlan's hips deepen, and their sweaty bodies writhe and grind. Levi can feel the dimples on Furlan’s lower back from where his arm is slung around him, and up his back, Furlan has more raised scars, most curved, as if lashed into his skin. No matter where Levi’s hand wanders, one isn't too far away. Without a thought, his fingers sink into his hair and scratch gently. He senses Furlan stiffen from a mile away.

"Sorry, I know they're pretty bad," Furlan breathes. For the first time in a while his eyes open and search his.

“I don’t care about that.”

Furlan breathes in, and slams their lips together. Sloppy, needing. Levi grunts in surprise and bows up toward him, needing more now. He works his hand between them.

"Fucking please," Furlan gasps.

He gets his fist around them both, and keens gently, his fingers tight wound in Furlan's hair. Like an electric shock, the tension immediately rises and tightens. "Ah... I forgot," he huffs, and brings his squelching fist up and down. Their hips push in-sync. "You really need to come, right?”

"I was trying to go slow so you could catch up," Furlan retorts, but his brow is pinched, no weight behind it. "Underestimated you."

Levi's heart swells. "Hah... That's not new."

Furlan makes an annoyed noise and shifts his weight, one arm under Levi's head, the other sliding down his oven-warm skin and lithe muscle. The both of them are pretty skinny... but Levi is smaller all over.

He finds Levi's round ass and squeezes—he gasps down Furlan’s throat—and roams over his hip to his navel, the wild dark hair there tailing down. Somewhere on the way to their dicks, Furlan clearly got distracted.

Levi huffs in genuine amusement, and pumps them both faster. The slide is searing. Every slight twitch, every kiss is electric, and it's soaking wet, smells like salty sweat and sticky sex. His white shirt is stuck to his skin at this point.

Bodies grind and noises rise in need, until Furlan is bucking into his fist on every downstroke, whining noisily.

"Mmm...!" Their lips smack.

Levi groans from low in his chest, which rises into a thick moan as Furlan's hand collides with his own, wrapping around both their cocks and helping Levi stroke. It’s messy and searing hot, every squelch jolting Furlan. Levi mewls into his mouth.

Furlan's fist does something, squeezing both their tips together, and the moan that bursts out of Levi is heavy. He whines, and desperately snaps his hips into it. His sudden strength unsteadies Furlan, briefly interrupts the rhythm.

"Fuck, you're strong—"

"Don't fucking do that then." Levi raises his knees.

"You have-have to be joking."

Levi attempts to cross his legs behind Furlan's back, and manages at the ankles. The shift in angle is immediate. There’s more space now for both their hands, to quicken their movements and make them more smooth. It'd be impossible to get any closer without phasing into each other.

"F...Furlan..." Levi gasps, tensing up tighter.

"Yeah." Their lips clumsily crash together, jerking tight and fast now. The mattress is squealing. "Gonna come... I'm so fucking close. So fucking, so..."

Levi moans weakly, his back raising, pawing across Furlan's back and clinging on tight. His hand flies over their cocks. It feels so perfect, Furlan's perfect noises and perfect heat rising high inside and this perfect fucking friction feels so right—

“Levi!” Furlan comes first, his jaw slackening with a sharp hitch in breath. His hips stutter, he cries out sweet music to Levi's ears, and shivers in his arms. Levi feels him pulsing, and the moment hot cum first shoots and spills on his belly. "Levi Levi—Ah, Levi!"

Levi’s on fire. Furlan never quiets for a second, and he doesn't know if it's the noises, his name spilling out of Furlan's mouth and into his ear, or their hands working together, or Furlan's cock throbbing heavily against his own that pushes him over the edge.

All at once. All it once it tears into him and pulls him apart. His toes curl, his eyes roll back, and he jerks. “Fuck! Fuck!”

Levi’s heavy balls empty for the second time as their sweaty bodies grind desperately. Sounds spill out, they thrash like animals.

Furlan's lasts longer than his. Levi trembles and gasps from the contact to his painfully sensitive cock as Furlan relaxes, his moans soften, and his hurried pumps slow to an exhausted stop.

Levi drops back down to the bed, his legs falling by Furlan's sides. It’s Furlan’s turn right after, their panting heavy and loud in the still room.

A soft and peaceful warmth settles under Levi's skin where he lays, not so much embracing Furlan as letting him rest. His total weight on top of him lulls Levi into a shallow doze.

He could stay like this—if his dick wasn't awkwardly pinned under Furlan's thigh, and if it wasn’t for messy streaks of both their cum drying on his belly and... everywhere between his thighs. His shirt is so soaked in sweat he might as well have bathed in it.

Does he have the energy?

Levi sighs. Not really.

Does he want to?

Fucking of course he does. He moans tiredly and squirms, messing Furlan's hair so he'll raise his head.

He does, blue eyes heavy and soft, looking at him. His cheeks are pink, a visible drop of sweat on his temple. "Yeah?"

Levi's eyes close. Yeah, he'll make them get up soon. But, for now... Levi wants Furlan more.

| Levifar masterpost | main masterlist |

#levi x furlan #levifar #attack on titan smut #furlan church #aot smut #aot ships #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi aot #attack on titan fanart

93 notes · View notes

desceros · 5 months

Note

just curious how do u pick the jobs for y/n in each of ur fics. like do u put on a blindfold and shoot a dart at a spinning wheel or what /lh

fun question, thank you for asking!!

i have actually done that before for fics when i've been stuck with writer's block. i'll just randomly pick three tropes out of a hat and smash them together to see what happens. i, uh, haven't had that problem yet with tmnt, dear god no, but someday i'm sure it'll happen.

to answer your question: sometimes it's things i have experience with myself so that i don't have to do as much research to write a convincing story. for example, i'm a violist myself, so symphony's insert-chan is a violist. i was certified as a lifeguard back in college, so i have an insert-chan who is a lifeguard somewhere in my wips. i worked as a social media manager for several years, so i have one insert-chan who does that for a food truck.

sometimes it's things i find interesting. for example, i've never worked in a restaurant, but i love the bistro huddy series drew talbert has on youtube, so i wrote the insert-chan for goldilocks to be a chef. these fics require more research to make them sound realistic, but because the research is fun, i don't mind.

aaaaand sometimes it's just something that fits the insert-chan so i figure it out. for example, i have one where insert-chan is a photographer. i've never done anything with professional photography and i don't particularly have any interest in it; but the idea of an insert-chan who has mikey hanging them over the side of a building by her ankle so she can get a kick-ass shot thus making raph go nuclear over how stupid they're both being is just too good to pass up.

and finally, sometimes, i just can't decide, so i'm vague about it. for example, in the pining leo tea fic, insert-chan has a job but we don't know what it is. i prefer my insert-chans to have specific jobs since it helps me make them a fuller character, per se, but sometimes it ends up getting in the way of what i want the fic to say or takes too long; so i just end up throwing up my hands and keeping it vague.

#ask tag #wow. this got so long. im so sorry if you were expecting a short answer LMAO #writing tag

12 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 1 year

Text

Unexpected Complications, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki Trope Madness 2023 Championship: In Love With the Mark

The ballroom doesn’t so much spin as sway; the bob at the end of his heart’s pendulum, at the mercy of its heady beat. Obi screws his eyes shut, fingers gripping tight on the beam. All it’ll take is a few quick breaths and he’ll be able to walk right out of here. Just a running start to get him moving. This thing’s practically a paper cut, more bark to it than bite.

He levers himself to his feet, knees trembling under him, and oof, all right, maybe it’s not. Still not the worst injury he’s got on the job, though.

There’s a commotion down there now; not the delicate squeals of young ladies frightened by the unexpected, but the shouts of grown men. The kind that call out “Search the palace!” with authority, and waste no time adding, “I want to account for every inch.”

There’s inches a plenty up here, ones they’re going to find in short order once one of them remembers how to look up. Might take a while-- always does, in his experience-- but eventually some rookie’s going to get bored guarding a pile of glass, and glance up, wondering, just where did this come from anyway--?

And he better not be here when they do.

A feat easier said than done. One step nearly wobbles him right off the beam. That might make some new guy’s day down there, but Obi’s not about to launch any career other than his own. He crouches instead, working on all fours-- all threes, really, since he doesn’t want to mix up his insides with his outsides-- to the window he slunk through hardly an hour ago.

It’s higher than he remembers. His side burns as he stretches to catch the sill; it takes the generous application of his boots to some goddess’s face to get the momentum to pull him over, but he manages. One handed, even, balancing on the narrow leaden frame.

Torches leap to life in the distance before the strident shouts of the guard scatter them. Some start to poking along the perimeter-- the sort of creativity he expects from a bunch of knights, which is to say none-- but a decent group fans out into the royal forest, far enough apart that they need to call out to keep tabs, but too close to allow a slender spy to slip though. Or, at this rate, comfortably pass out in.

Well, damn. Looks like he won’t be biding his time in a tree branch this time, waiting for all this to blow over. The flat’s straight out; he’d have to make it across open ground and out one of these gates, and with his side like it is, he’ll be passed out long before and gate keeper could squint over his credentials. No, there’s no use in running, but where...?

There’s no time to let his thoughts settle into something like sense, not when he’s going to sway right off this sill any minute now. There’s risks to hiding right under the royal noses, but he’s got a shit hand, and the longer he waits to fold, the more likely it is he might lose his shirt with it. Or his head.

But there’s not much for it. On anything more than a wheeze pain burns up his side, enough that he’s got to grit his teeth to keep his scream silent. He’s running out of options, and fast.

It’s a shallow breath that trembles through him, probing that wound like a sore tooth, but that’s all he needs. With all the coiled strength of his limbs behind him, Obi throws himself into the air, whole body stretched long--

And trusts his hands to catch him. They always do.

The stone is slick beneath his fingers, the worn soles of his boots sliding as he braces himself for every jump. It rained some time tonight, and even his sharp eyes struggling to gauge the range between rails. It’s not enough to slow him, but it takes effort, the kind that doesn’t leave him much in the way of thought. He just keeps reaching out and putting his feet beneath him, trusting his gut to guide him to safety.

A stupid idea, really. His gut’s what got him here in the first place. A fact he’s so conveniently forgot, right up until his feet skid to a stop. The library doors loom before him, dark behind their glass, and of course he’d lead himself here, of course. What better place to hide than the last one he felt safe?

It’d be nothing to turn away, to throw himself to the next balcony and hope for the best. But his knees tremble with the first step and stumble on the second. The third’s barely upright. He’s losing blood with abandon now.

His fingers dig into the meat of his side, a poor excuse for a bandage. This isn’t the worst place to lie low, he has to admit. There’s not a knight alive that’s going to look for an assassin amongst the stacks. Not until they’ve turned over every other stone first. That give him until morning, at least.

The lock’s a simple pin-and-tumbler-- more to keep the doors from blowing open in the wind rather to keep anyone out-- which is a good thing, since his fingers are half numb on the pick. Any more than jamming a pin in the lock and he would have spent the night bleeding out on the balcony. What a title that would have made for the evening edition.

Instead he’s put in the proper position for knowing just how plush the carpet is when it rises up to greet him. Not Viandese, of course-- couldn’t have plebs dirtying those precious piles with their slippers and shoes. But it’s fine enough for his purposes: lying flat on the floor and thinking about how he needs to get this damned side of his stitched.

Without the drumbeat of his heartbeat driving him, Obi can admit: the library might not have made the top of his list for hiding places, but there’s a logic to it. The way the shelves sweep from floor to ceiling, clustered with no little regard for the passage of natural light, there must be places that are dark even in the day. Even with a lantern, the windy warrens burrowed through the stacks had pressed in around him, so complex he doubted most guards could find their way in, let alone out. And despite the sprawl, it didn’t seem the hang out for high society, at least according to Sh--

Ah. His fingers clench around a shelf, trembling. That’s the last thing he needs to be thinking about.

A breath or two rolls him onto his back, and with a concerted-- yet ginger-- effort, gets his feet beneath him. It’s good he’s landed himself a place to lay low, but he can’t just lay here on the carpet until morning. Not unless he wants to take a few years off a librarians life and maybe add a few dir to their pay check.

“Obi?”

Air hisses through his teeth. Pain makes everyone a child, he knows, but he thought he’d lost the instinct for comfort a long time ago, on a night darker than this, on a rain-slick ledge that the blood would never wash free. But for him to hear her voice now--

“Obi.” Light sprays across his boots, dispelling the shadows as two soft slippers pad into view. “Is that...? Ah, I mean, are you all right?”

It’s reflex to look up. That’s a mistake too. He’s supposed to run, to hide himself from every set of eyes he can lest they give the guard something to work with, but--

But these ones are green. Not olive, the way most are, but a full, deep color, like jade or juniper. A thing he only knows because he’s spent the last few nights getting lost in them. Seems a waste to hide now that she’s looking back.

“Why, Miss.” He shifts his clutch to a casual lean, smile sliding onto his lips as easily as his hand slides over that inconvenient slice in his side. “What’s a girl like you doing out at this hour?”

That lantern of her might cast her face in shadow, but he can still make out the way she blinks. “I could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?”

“Got tired of your friend’s shindig.” He tries a shrug, only to abandon it halfway through. Some theatrics just aren’t worth the pain. “Wasn’t anyone there I wanted to talk to.”

Her head tilts, and that cascade of red shimmers like a river of fire. Oh, how he’d love to burn. “So you came to the library?”

“Sure.” His smile slant to a wicked smirk. “Had a good time when I was here last time, didn’t I?”

I might just be a trick of the light, but he could swear her cheeks pink just from that little tease. “But that wasn’t even when...”

Her lips press shut, but Obi doesn’t need her to speak to know what she meant to say. That wasn’t when we danced. That wasn’t when you tried to seduce me. That wasn’t when you ruined this.

His mouth twists, wry. If only she knew. “I know.”

There’s a pause, a silence. A breath where the lantern trembles and the shadows dance, a moment where not only her eyes are a mystery but her entire face hides from him. And then her hands reach out, steadying it. “You went to the ball dressed in that?”

Obi snorts. “Funny thing to say, considering what you wore last night. If you don’t think they’d let me through the door, I’m surprised you...”

It’s part of the bit for his gaze to drop, to drag up her from hem to hairline with all the charm of a chamberlain with a checklist and mark her wanting. But when he strays from the safe harbor above her shoulders, it’s...

It’s linen, woven finer than anything he’s has the pleasure of putting against his skin. Not stark white, like these fine young ladies would wear, but creamy and uncomplicated, the embroidery around the slim-fitting cuff done in a floss meant to give texture rather than color. There might be more above the cinched-waist-- more than likely, considering the fussy little placard of buttons running down to it, with the barely hint of a ruffle-- but he can’t see it beneath her thick shawl.

Hardly fashionable of her, the thing drawn over her thing shoulders the way the grannies in the market would. But then again, nightgowns typically weren’t meant to be seen.

“Ah, Miss...” Shirayuki’s never fit the look of a prince’s mistress, but now, now...she could be someone he knows. The girl from the market stall on the corner, or the barkeep’s daughter he sent off to the university up north. Someone only a step or two out of his reach, rather than a whole ocean. “So this is what you look like.”

Better not forget that it’s only an illusion.

It’s harder when she blushes like that, two pink spots riding high as kisses on her cheeks. “It is.” Her glance is almost shy when she says, “Is this how you--?”

She blinks. “Is that blood?”

Obi glances down, and oh, hm, looks like all that warm, fuzzy feeling might just be blood loss. “Ah, now Miss, it looks worse then it is.”

It shouldn’t excite him how stern a turn her mouth takes, nor how firmly she grips his wrist. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

Obi’s not typically one to protest when a lady takes him to her rooms, let alone her bed. But when Shirayuki sits him down on hers, hard enough his breath gasps out on a confused woof, he tries. Just this once. “I shouldn’t be here.”

He might not have bothered for all the attention she pays him, scurrying around her room with the same fervor as a squirrel uncovering its nuts in the spring. A bottle here, some thread there; everywhere has something more interesting than his single attempt to be decent.

“You’re a nice young girl,” he tells the ceiling, helplessly. “Woman, I mean. Wouldn’t do for you to be caught with a charming rogue like me behind closed doors. Maybe--”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you’d let me take you to the pharmacy,” she reminds him with the careful sort of politeness kind-hearted young girls like to use on boys so far in the dog house they have to dig themselves out. “Garrack’s a much better hand at this than I am, so if you’d like...?”

She gives him a meaningful glance over her shoulder, but he just clenches his jaw. “No pharmacy.”

A sigh saws out from between her lips, but she bustles over to him anyway, a small basket in hand. “If you would take off your shirt, please.”

The shame had been worked out of him long ago, but it doesn’t stop Obi from clutching at his shirt, whispering with all the dramatics of a widowed aunt, “Miss.”

She may give him that stern stare all she likes, but he sees the way her mouth twitches, trying to smooth away a smile. Or better yet, one of her smirks. “I can hardly help you if I can’t see what I’m doing.”

“You shouldn’t be helping me,” he reminds her. “A good girl would have left me right there on the carpet, or even--”

“Here.” She presses a cup between his hands, urging it toward his mouth. “Take this. It will help with the pain.”

He does it before he can even to think what’s in it. A pity, since the thing burns going down. “Ah, now that’s bitter.”

“Better a little discomfort now than what comes after. Now, this.” With an impatient lift of her brows, she tugs at the hem of his shirt, as if he might forget where it starts without a reminder. “Off, please.”

“Why, Miss, if you wanted to seduce me, you only need say--”

“Obi.” He blinks down, watching the outline of her bleed into the dim before settling out clear again. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” The word feels good in his mouth, so he tries it again. “Goood.”

The room’s been swaying for so long he hardly notices the change in its rock, in the way it hangs just a little bit to either side, like time stretches out between his heartbeats, and--

Obi squints at the cup, taking a sniff so deep of its contents it stings.

“Miss.” It’s a miracle that he gets the words out, considering how his lips are numb. “You drugged me.”

“Only a little.” His girl’s not even the slightest bit contrite. It’s terrible how much that works for him. “Just a finger or two of roka liquor. Maybe four.”

“That’s devious,” he hums, impressed. She isn’t, for her part; just heaves a sigh and steps in, coaxing the slick material up over his head with hardly any help. And, if Obi’s being honest, probably a fair share of hindering.

“You’ve put me at your mercy, Miss.” He giggles as the fabric tickles his chest, suddenly so sensitive. Well, always so sensitive, but more now. “Now what will you do--?”

“Lay down.” Tossing the shirt to the end of the bed, Shirayuki has plenty of hands to put on his chest and push-- deliciously firm, if he does say so himself, promising even-- straight to his back. “This isn’t going to be pleasant. But try not to pass out.”

A giggle bubbles out of him. “Don’t promise me a good time.”

Her lips part in a grimace. “Trust me, I’m not.”

“There, all done,” Shiryuki murmurs, pulling the last stitch tight. Or at least so he assumes; despite all her dire warnings, Obi can hardly feel a thing. Well, beside the way her hand’s pressed to his belly, keeping him on the mattress. “How does that feel?”

“Like you should keep touching me.”

It’s out before his teeth can snatch it back, and oh, she pulls that hand away like he’s made of fire.

“Ah, Miss!” He makes to sit up, but ah, looks like that roka liquor can’t cover the way his insides slosh around now that he’s been sewn shut. “Youch.”

“Obi!” Her hands cup his shoulders, supporting him as he sits. “You should really lay down. You lost a lot of blood, and the roka--”

“I’m fine.” It’s a lie; the room’s spinning and his stomach is two sailors short of a heave, but his hand wraps around her wrist, her warmth washing into him, and he can’t find it in him to mind. “I shouldn’t have-- I shouldn’t tease you like that. Already made you upset once.”

“I’m not...” Her lips press together, tantalizing. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

A smart man walks away from the table while he’s winning, but Obi’s never been much of a gambler. His mouth opens, and it’s a roll of the dice to see if he’s ruined. “But I upset you last night. Talking to you like that.”

“I...” Her gaze skitters away from his, fixed to the lantern first, then her basket. Anywhere but him. “It’s not that. I just...I wasn’t expecting it.”

“From me?”

Pink floods her cheeks, and his lips itch from how much he wants to press them to it, to feel the heat against his mouth. “From anyone.”

“What?” A laugh hiccups out of him. “Not even your prince?”

Her hair sweeps across her shoulders. “I already told you, it wasn’t like that. We never...”

It would be stupid to push, to ask just what it was like, but well, tonight’s not the night for smarts, it seems. “Never...?”

Her hands flutter in her lap. “We only kissed. Just a few times. He never mentioned that he might...that he could...”

“Want you? How?” It’s the wrong answer, he knows it before she even flinches. “Sorry, I wasn’t...I didn’t mean to, er...”

“Ah, no, d-don’t be.” Her hands fly out, catching his. They’re soft, her calluses concentrated on the knuckles of her first two fingers, smooth as shells worn by the sea. It would be nice, if she left them there. Forever, maybe. “I mean...not if you meant it.”

His fingers curl so tentatively around hers, encouraging them to stay. At least, he hopes so. “Would it...be all right if I did?”

Her chin lifts, and it’s not so much her smile that draws him in-- though it’s no small part, her mouth so soft and pink and just for him-- as the spark it lights in her eyes. “I already said it didn’t upset me.”

“Ah.” She’s so close his breath ruffles the lacework of her lashes, sending her flyaway scattering. “How encouraging.”

“I would...” Her fingers knit around his, nerves drawing her tendons tight. Good thing he’s still half numb; her little kitten grip might be painful otherwise. “...I would like it, if it were true.”

He doesn’t so much lean in as fall toward her, slowing his descent enough that when his lips first touch hers it’s nothing more than a brush, a whisper of skin against skin. It’s nothing, but already it’s too much, every bit of his skin left raw and aching from just that.

“I think,” he murmurs, close enough that each word makes its own kiss. Or at least enough of one to make the arousal sleeping in his gut shiver, threatening to turn over. “I could die happy.”

Ah, well. Hadn’t meant for that to slip out. That roka stuff is one hell of a drug.

Her hand scrubs up the undergrowth of his scalp, smile slanting to smirk when he sighs into her mouth. “Not just yet, please.”

There’s a tease at the tip of his tongue, a quick little quip that’s sure to make her laugh, but he never has the chance to find out, not when her mouth opens beneath his and swallows it whole. It’s a groan that falls out of him in its place, his fingers flying from his lap to grip her elbows, dragging her closer--

And he loses a minute. Or maybe only a few seconds. Hard to count when he can hardly catch his breath, the whole world spinning as Shirayuki steadies him with her smile.

And her hands too, if the grip on his shoulders is taken into account.

“Ah, careful.” She guides him back to the bed, more gently than she had before. Tender, even. “You should really lay down. Gets some rest.”

His fingers tangle in hers as they pull away. “Only if you stay with me.”

Those pretty eyes of her round, matching the set of her mouth. He can’t quite puzzle out why, not when he only--

Haah, those drugs have really done a number on him. “Ah, sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to--” proposition you again-- “Er, don’t mind me, rea--”

“Obi.” The mattress dips, and it’s only when he opens his eyes to see her perched there, smile practically incandescent, that he realizes he clenched them shut at all. “If you want me to, I will.”

“Ah...” A killer like him shouldn’t have the shame left to blush, but here he is, like some young lord tumbled by his first farm girl.

“To look after you,” she adds, her own cheeks a darker shade than pink. “Not for...other reasons.”

It’s habit for his lips to part in a grin, to let one brow hike heavenward as he drawls, “I don’t think I have enough blood to go around for other reasons right now, Miss.”

“Obi--”

“But, if you don’t mind...” Earnestness fits like another man’s glove, but he breathes into the stretch. “Please. Just for now.”

It’s the tiniest tug he gives that hand of hers, but she falls beside him, tucked into his shoulder. “For now.”

#obiyukimadness23 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #unexpected complications #cinderella AU #in love with the mark #ans #it has been ages since i released two chapters back to back #and never with as tight a turn around as this #but i gotta say it's nice to be getting so close to the end of this!#only a couple more chapters #we'll see when I get to them 😂

20 notes · View notes