#and despite having that much time to prepare this post im sitting here on christmas eve and typing this out while hiding from festivities | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kitazura · 3 years

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it’s the thought that counts, tendō satori

1.6k words of fluff; gn!reader

synopsis: tendō doesn’t understand the excitement surrounding valentine’s day until he decides to celebrate it with you.

notes: i haven’t finished the manga but i’m making timeskip content :D thank u rissie (@sugas-cookie) for beta-ing mwah <3

Tendō’s come to learn that Valentine’s day brings waves of purchases made by eager youth preparing to confess their affections, frantic lovers who’d completely forgotten about the occasion, and other last-minute shoppers looking for gifts to give their loved ones. This year is no different; the orders pile up so quickly he can barely keep up with them.

He’s not complaining—not when his bills are getting paid—he just doesn’t understand why everyone lets themselves get carried away by the Valentine rush. At the root of it all, it’s blatant commercialism, another scheme by society to run your bank account dry through obligatory benevolence, so why play into it? Well, as long as it keeps him in business, he supposes he’ll keep his critiques to himself.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little cynical?” you say when he shares his thoughts, the gentle smile on your lips showing you mean no harm. “I think the idea behind Valentine’s day is charming.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek, humming in response. “Why’s that?”

“Isn’t it sweet when someone puts time and effort into something just for you?” you gush. Tendō watches your gaze turn dreamy as your mind wanders off into the clouds. “Like making chocolates for the person you like.”

“That’s what I do for a living, darling.”

“You like all of your customers?”

“Of course; they give me money, after all.”

You laugh, swatting his arm lightly. “I guess it’s hard to romanticize something you do as work.”

You’re not wrong. At some point, it’s expected for your job to lose its magic, no matter how passionate you are about it in the beginning. Chocolate has long lost its allure to Tendō, and now he spends day in and day out pouring it into molds and hurrying to shape it before it hardens beyond salvation. It’s become a chore for him, and even just catching a whiff of a candy bar sends his brain into the stress of work mode.

“What do you think about when you make chocolate, Satori?” you ask, interrupting his thoughts.

“What an odd question,” he remarks, clicking his tongue like a fussy mother hen. “I think about what I have to do to make it look presentable, of course. And then I count down the minutes until I come home to you.” He beams, proud of his response.

But pride turns to dismay when he catches a glint of disappointment in your eyes. His expression falls as he pulls you closer. “What’s the matter?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, nothing. Would you ever make me Valentine’s day chocolates?”

He tilts his head in surprise, then kisses your forehead. “I’d make you chocolate any day; all you have to do is ask.”

You seem to drop the matter, although he swears you sigh, “It’s not the same.”

He spends the next couple of days convincing himself he’d only imagined it, but something about your tone and attitude makes it stick in his brain. Whether you’d said it or not, there was clearly something behind your first question.

He asks you about it over dinner: “Is there a reason you want Valentine-themed chocolates in particular?”

“You’ve been thinking about that?” You laugh a little, surprised. “It’s not the Valentine theme I want; just the knowledge that you’re thinking of me on that day.”

He pesters you to elaborate—he’s always thinking of you, don’t you know that?—but you dodge his questions, leaving him in the dark once more.

Since you won’t give him any answers, he’ll just look for them on his own.

He texts Ushijima that night: “Why do you buy chocolate for the one you love?”

“Because they like it,” comes the reply. It’s simple, straightforward, but it’s not what he’s looking for.

He texts Semi the same question. The response is the length of a school essay, explaining the motivations of love in depths only a poet could reach, but it’s still not enough.

At work, your question echoes in his mind: What do you think about when you make chocolate, Satori?

What was he supposed to think about aside from the process? His customers?

He looks again at the order he’s making. It’s one he expects every year—it comes a week before Valentine’s, by a man whose wife adores chocolate covered strawberries. Tendō remembers it not only because of its consistency, but also because it’s always preceded by an order by the aforementioned wife, who asks for milk chocolate filled with raspberry créme that her husband is so fond of.

He wonders why they order the same thing at the same time every year. There’s no surprise in it, so what’s the point? Had he been in the husband’s place and you in the wife’s, he’d make sure to buy you something different every year, each present more extravagant than the last. He’d make sure that you’d always have something to look forward to in your married life.

A cheery little tune takes form beneath his breath as he pictures a life with you: silver bands around your fingers, lazy mornings on your days off, walks along the Seine.

He sweeps the excess chocolate off the molds in one clean stroke, sighing dreamily. You would buy a bigger, better apartment once you’d saved up enough, or even move to a quiet little cottage in the countryside.

His thoughts wander through the clouds as he mindlessly flits from one project to the next, forgetting to count the hours until his duty for today is through.

Lately, some of Tendō’s usual customers have been dropping by to say the same thing: there’s something different about his work these days. It’s not negative; on the contrary, actually, the quality’s spiked. But he can’t figure out what he’s been doing differently for the life of him.

It weighs on his mind from the time he clocks in to when he clocks out. He’s been using the same ingredients, the same equipment, so what was it?

His answer arrives in the form of the Chocolate Strawberry man, on the very eve of Valentine’s.

The man enthusiastically shakes Satori’s hand and thanks Him for his work, his hands warm and clammy from excitement despite the biting Parisian air.

“My wife would have liked to come along as well, but she’s preoccupied with the baby,” the man explains. “She wants you to know how much she enjoys your work, though. We look forward to it every year.”

“Then why not buy it off-season, when it’s cheaper?” Tendō asks. The man looks surprised, prompting him to continue. “With all due respect, you order the same thing every year, anyway, so why wait?”

The man laughs at the sincere look of curiosity in the chocolatier’s eyes, patting him on the shoulder, like a father to his son. “Why wait until birthdays to buy a cake? Why wait until Christmas to exchange gifts and set up the tree? It’s old advice, but it’s good: it’s always the thought that counts.” With one last pat on the back and an affectionate chuckle, the man wishes Tendō a good night—“Enjoy tomorrow with your loved ones.”

The stores are packed with the usual extremely last minute rush on Valentine’s morning, and for the first time, Tendō Satori is part of that crowd.

His arms are filled with the goodies he’d woken up early to buy: heavily discounted candies in tacky packages, a cheesy card, a bouquet, an offensively pink stuffed bear, crumpled foil balloons. (He’d made chocolates for you too; those were waiting in the fridge at home.) If it was an authentic Valentine’s experience you wanted, he decided, then it was an authentic Valentine’s experience you’d get.

He’d sent you out to pick up a cake across the city just before he’d left that morning, so the apartment is still empty when he returns. He checks his watch—only half an hour at most until you’d come back. Setting the bear on the counter, he gives it a determined grin.

“Think I can set everything up in fifteen?”

He’s just barely managed tying the balloons closed when he hears the knob on the front door jiggle as you unlock it.

“I’m home!” Your shoes thud to the floor, joined by Tendō’s footsteps as he hurries to help you with the cake. You thank him when he takes it out of your hands and leads you to the dining table while you chatter away. “Boy, did you see how many people are out there? It’s like all of Paris decided to run their errands this morning. It’s a miracle I got the cake here in one piece—what’s all this?”

Tendō grins, proudly motioning to his handiwork. The bouquet sits in the center of the table, surrounded by neatly arranged dishes of your favorite foods. The plush bear sits at the head, the card and candies tucked into its paws. Balloons reading “Happy Valentine’s” are tied to your chairs, gently swaying to and fro in greeting.

“Do you like it?” he asks. “I figured you wanted to do something for Valentine’s, but all the restaurants are booked so I had to improvise—”

You cut him off with a kiss, and another, then another. “I love it! I love you and I love”—you wave at the room—“all of this.” Another kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for thinking of me, Satori.”

He laughs as you hug him, squeezing as tight as you can. He thinks back to the strawberry man’s remark, “It’s the thought that counts.” And maybe, just a little, he’s starting to understand that there’s more to Valentine’s than business.

As you prepare the cake and gush over the bear, he pats the pocket of his jacket. The pretty little velvet box would have to wait until after lunch.

postscript: heyyy <3 i stopped writing for like three months srry LMAO but im back in business baby !! if i try hard enough and school stops kicking my ass maybe i’ll start posting twice a month ahaha ... unless?

#haikyuu fluff #tendou fluff #hq fluff #tendou satori #tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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yuuri-nsane · 3 years

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Last in Stock

Fandom: Yuuri On Ice

Ship: Viktuuri [Viktor Nikiforov x Katsuki Yuuri]

T/W: nothing, apart from swears, mild dirty jokes and recurring mentions of nudity? BAHAH IM SORRY I PROMISE THERES NOTHING GRAPHIC THO TOTALLY SFW

Summary: Yuuri Katsuki wanted nothing more than to spoil his lovely poodle, Vicchan, and if that meant playing a game of Truth or Dare in a broken elevator to attain the likes of a beautifully pink chew toy, he was game.

[Inspired by a little rough imagine I posted a while ago]

a/n: honestly dont even ask me how this happened, happy holidays!! i wish you all a very merry chrysler, and if you dont celebrate, a very happy december!

oh and dont forget, constructive criticism is always welcome! dont hesitate to tell me what you think of my work, and also! please please ple e a a s e tell me if you see any spelling mistake or grammatical errors! THANK YOUUU!

also please note that this will be posted to my ao3 account: @yuuri_nsane

---

This was not how he'd planned his Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, to go. No, not at all.

He thinks back to the start of the day, wondering how exactly he'd wound up sitting in a broken elevator, positioned in between the third and fourth floor, having just ended a dastardly game of Truth or Dare with quite an attractive man.

Said attractive man was not only attractive, but also very, very naked, save for the pair of patterned purple socks still clad on his feet. He also had the entirety of the Russian National Anthem scrawled on his left leg, as well as a black eye and terribly painted nails: a bright hot pink that shrieked against impossibly pale skin. Not to mention the taunting pastel dog toy he was now cuddling with.

Yeah, no. Yuuri was stuck in a predicament - one far too mortifying yet amusing for his own comprehension.

How in the ever-loving fuck had this happened?

---

Katsuki Yuuri was a good person.

He loved his mom, fed his dog, never showed up late to work.

He was good at recycling - always remembering to separate the cardboard tube and plastic lid of the Pringles' can he'd eat out of during a late night binge.

He watered his plants religiously, and no, it didn't matter that one out of the four of them were fake. He loved all his plants equally, thank you very much.

He held the door open for people no matter how far away or close they were, and even when they did that awkward little jog, he made sure to give them a warm smile.

He cleaned after himself, not at all tolerating any bits of scrap paper or crumbs left as residue from a busy night of studying and stress eating, no matter how tired he was.

He even cleaned up after other people! Like, for example, when his roommate and best friend, Phichit Chulanont, had eaten too much takeout and could barely move - Yuuri had offered to clean up for him. Phichit, with somewhat of a moral compass thanks to Yuuri, had protested at first; Yuuri had replied with a gentle 'tsk' and a 'go get some rest, you can make it up to me by doing the dishes tomorrow and the day after that'.

And so, to conclude, Katsuki Yuuri was a good person.

So why, why exactly was he here, in the middle of a bustling mall at 2pm, so close to being trampled on in the midst of hectic shopping, staring down an unfairly good-looking stranger, both their hands having met in the middle - the middle being a cutesy dog toy, the last one in stock.

Yuuri had naively left his Christmas shopping till the very last minute, much like everyone else present in the store. He hadn’t intended to buy Vicchan another toy, Lord knows he had plenty more at home and that Yuuri’s bank account was suffering because of it. But it was Christmas, and if anything, his dog deserved the world.

One more as a little festive gift wouldn't hurt, and it certainly brought Yuuri a step closer to giving Vicchan ‘the world’.

And so, he needed this.

And he was not going to give up that easily, despite the fact that the universe decided to make his life just a little bit harder, since the opposition made Yuuri slightly more weaker in the knees than he'd like to admit.

He winced in the bright white lights of the shop, the Christmas music blaring and irritating, no longer as heart-warming as Yuuri had found it when he first entered. The excessive Christmas decorations made him cringe - it was as if one of Santa’s elves had puked all over the place.

"Why," the other man began, his voice oozing with honey, with charming remnants of an accent. His soothing verbal confrontation had caught Yuuri’s undivided attention. His hand was inching closer to the catalyst of this hassling event and Yuuri barely fought the urge to slap it away (or hold it tenderly), "I believe I saw this first."

Oh, heck no.

Yuuri scooted closer and desperately tried to ignore the blooming heat on his cheeks, "Actually, I think I did."

This did nothing to deter to the other man, who with his height, easily stood over Yuuri and glared ever so passive aggressively.

"Well, okay then! Since we can’t decide who gets the damn toy, why don't we settle this like men?"

The black haired male stared frozen in shock. He was not looking for a fight, no matter how eager he was to spoil his little poodle with all the gifts he warranted and more.

"Uh, I don't- um, I'm not looking for trouble!" Yuuri ranted swiftly, slowly pulling his hand away from the dog toy.

So close, yet so far.

It wasn't like he couldn't fend for himself, God knows he was stronger than most people with the avid workouts he did to prepare for dancing recitals.

(And let me tell you, Yuuri has never skipped leg day. Ever.)

But at the same time, he knew it would be less than ideal if the young man spent his Christmas holiday sporting a black eye or something similar.

In response to his quick exclamation, the silver haired male beside Yuuri also retracted his hand, a look of bafflement evident on his chiselled features.

"I-You..." he started, looking at Yuuri far too intensely than the other male was admittedly comfortable with.

A few seconds later, he burst out into laughter, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. He tilted his head back, arms grasping his middle.

He gasped for air, dramatically wiping a tear away, "You thought - you thought I wanted to fight for it! Like in some sort of - cliché romance where the two love interests fight for the main character's hand in marriage! Or something!" He babbled on, leaving Yuuri flustered and awfully ready to make a run for it.

In his fit of embarrassment, he raised voice, "Well, what the hell did you mean by 'settling this like men'! Of course I thought you wanted to get physical!"

Yuuri regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth.

"Physical? Well, I'll have you know I have a bit more class than that. I'd take you out on a date first, if anything."

The shorter male sputtered angrily, his blush not at all dying down, but instead doing the opposite. He glared at the other man, cursing his stupid pretty face and his stupid pretty voice.

And much to his luck, the blue-eyed villain pursued his words, snickering, “Not to mention here of all places! Quite the voyeur, are we?”

Yuuri was a Good Person™ - what the hell had he done to deserve this!

The taller male must've noticed Yuuri's increasing discomfort, and his teasing came to halt. He inclined his head in the direction of the damned chew toy and reiterated, "What I really meant was we could buy the toy and decide outside who gets to take it - like civilised human beings. You rest your case, I rest mine! Sound good?"

Yuuri pondered, before slowly nodding his head. It wsn’t like he had anything better to do, and he really wanted this dog toy. If only he knew the events that would follow soon after, he might’ve have ran fast and far before giving a real answer.

Fortunately, it seemed that both of them were just about finished with their shopping, the dog toy being last in each other's spontaneous list.

The light haired man took this as inclination to pluck the dog toy off the shelf, giving Yuuri a confirming look, and leading them both to the checkout.

They squeezed their way through the crowds; meandering, lifeless beings that swayed from aisle to aisle. Once they made it there, they payed for their own items separately, before splitting the money for the toy.

Afterwards, they made way to the elevator just two shops down, both agreeing to settle their dispute in the parking lot. They were on the top floor of the shopping centre, after all. Yuuri figured that the both of them would be more comfortable if they weren't surrounded by other people, who could very fairly judge them when arguing about the baby pink dog toy. Said baby pink dog toy had somehow found its way into Yuuri's grasp. If he wasn't such a good person maybe he'd have run away by now, pastel chew toy in hand. But damn it, he was, so he swallowed down the urge.

They stepped into the elevator, the shiny silver doors sliding apart before meeting in the centre. A sickening array of tinsel was hung to the upper corners, along with a few baubles hanging from them. Yuuri noticed the red ribbon twined in with the tinsel, and wanted to grimace at its tackiness.

The young dancer then turned to his companion, now realising how dangerous this situation actually was. Without thinking he blurted, "You're not a serial killer, are you?"

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Well no, but I wouldn't put it past myself to become one for the sake of that toy." He waved nonchalantly at Yuuri's hand, the chew toy dripping from his fingers.

Yuuri instinctively took a step back.

"Oh my God, I'm kidding!" The man chuckled, turning away and watching the numbers at the top of the elevator decrease gradually.

"So, uh, what do we do now?"

To this, the male looked back at Yuuri, and replied simply, "I come up with a sob story to convince you to give me the toy!"

Yuuri pursed his lips, unimpressed. He was tired but by God, was he so not above from entertaining the notion. "Okay, then. Go ahead. After you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

He was met with a smirk, a smirk far too devious for Yuuri's liking. Before the other man could attempt to pull at Yuuri’s heart strings, however, the room jarred and the two men in the elevator were sent tumbling to the ground.

"What just happened."

It came out more like a statement than a question, a robotic string of words that spewed from Yuuri's lips involuntarily.

"I think...I think the elevator just...broke down."

They stared at each other for a moment, and the next words came flying about - who said them exactly left a mystery.

"Oh, fuck."

---

They spent the first five minutes panicking, calling for help in such an inglorious manner that Yuuri was sure they'd both lose their voices. They spent the next few moments afterwards checking their phones, and resentfully realising that somehow, there was no reception. And that, of course, since the universe seemed to love good ol' Yuuri, that his phone was at a sad two percent.

His company's was no better, where his phone was at a fifteen, to which the taller man responded with a sheepish, 'I forgot to charge it last night too.'

They realised then that they had no choice but to wait until help miraculously found its way to them, and so they indulged in the waiting game.

The next hour or so consisted of the two bantering back and forth, 'sob stories' passed around like old folk's tales. They bickered and still, their argument over the dog toy was left unsettled, and Yuuri had to admit, it was kind of fun.

Time had whizzed past, and soon enough it was already 4:37pm. The other man spoke up suddenly, sat opposite Yuuri on the cold, hard ground of the elevator. His skin was painted in the gold of the old light that flickered above them, his blue eyes sparkling impressively. Yuuri wanted to look away, yet simultaneously couldn't find it in him to.

"I just realised that I don't know your name. And you don't know mine! Chances are, we'll be spending all night together," he wiggled his eyebrows. Yuuri choked in response, the other male continuing, "so let me introduce myself! Viktor Nikiforov!" He held out his arm out, humbly awaiting.

Yuuri clasped it gently, mumbling a near silent, "Yuuri Katsuki."

Viktor reacted with an all too cheery, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yuuri!"

They held hands for almost a second too long, until Yuuri forced himself to pull away.

The two men once again decided to engage in such chatter, bordering small talk. They joked and teased, each finding out more and more about the other.

Yuuri now knew that Viktor Nikiforov was four years older than he was, a good twenty-six, and had a lovely little poodle he called Makkachin, or Makka for short. (He guessed that she was the reason for Viktor's desperate need for the dog toy.) He was Russian, and moved to the states just a few weeks before his nineteenth birthday. His favourite food was Borscht, a beef stew mixed with all sorts of vegetables, and that he almost burnt his kitchen down once upon a time trying to make it. And, to Yuuri's surprise, Viktor was a choreographer for all sorts of dances, his specialty being ballet and contemporary.

In response to this sudden spout of information, Yuuri had offered his own age and his dog's name and breed. He also told Viktor that his parents were from Japan, but moved to Detroit to start a hot springs. He explained too, that his favourite food was Katsudon, a pork cutlet rice bowl, and that his mother made the best of them.

Yuuri even mentioned his own career in dancing, to which Viktor had reacted to with an animated widening of his eyes and a contemplative 'really?'.

He also swears that Viktor had checked him out soon afterwards, but maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Soon enough, boredom got the best of the two, having spent the last three hours doing nothing but lounge around. Their phones were now completely out of battery (no, Yuuri didn't spend the last two percent playing Candy Crush-); they were hungry and unentertained, and it didn't take long for Viktor to begin whining.

Immediately, he shot up, forcing Yuuri into a frightened jolt.

"Sorry, sorry - I was just thinking, since I'm bored and you're bored, we should play Truth or Dare!"

Yuuri stared, "Really? Your first thought was child's play?"

"Aw, please! Yuuri, don't be like that! I'm literally dying of boredom-"

"Stop being so dramatic, Viktor."

Viktor ignored him, "-and you know what! We could settle this," he gestured rapidly to the dog toy, where it lay in between them, holy and seemingly unattainable.

Yuuri had never been more stupid to have asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, we play Truth or Dare, and whoever forfeits first means that the other gets the toy! And bragging rights!"

He crawled over to Yuuri, too close for comfort, and drawled, "Pretty please?"

Yuuri, feeling scandalised and suddenly like a hormonal prepubescent teen, pressed himself up against the wall, looked away and squeaked a feeble, "Okay, fine!"

He felt regret seep into his soul for the umpteenth time that day.

---

He sighed.

Yuuri Katsuki was a good person.

He was a good person and he knew so much.

And so he wondered again, quite bitterly, why and how the planets had aligned in such a way to quite literally fuck him over in this elevator, where the most handsome man he'd ever seen was now lying in front of him, naked and quite the hot mess - a result of playing Truth or Dare.

Viktor, being the proud little shit he was, had chosen nothing but Dare - whether to egg Yuuri on or likewise.

Yuuri had wasted the pink nail polish he'd just bought for his sister Mari in response: his first dare being a cheap jab at the man's dignity. Though, it did little to do so, as Viktor painted his nails happily, albeit messily, and wore his paint job loud and proud.

After that, he had dared the man to write the Russian National Anthem on his leg with a black sharpie, one he’d conveniently carried around in his coat’s breast pocket. Viktor had done so entirely without complaint, going as far as to showcase his leg in a fucking split.

The dares that followed were mild, if not slightly concerning - Yuuri having dared Viktor to lick the floor, to pluck the hanging tinsel from the corners of the elevator and stuff it in his mouth, to try and do a handstand, to stand on one foot for two minutes and so on.

Watching Viktor, physical perfection on legs, trying to stuff a wad of sparking red tinsel down his throat was more amusing than Yuuri cared to say, and it came to show that the taller man was just as human as he was, despite his uncanny appearance to that of a greek god.

Although Yuri didn't even want to recall how Viktor had ended up wearing nothing but his socks, and even the nasty black eye now splotching across his fair skin.

He was more than happy to block that out from his memory.

Because of this, he’d stuck religiously to choosing Truth, not at all willing to risk whatever was left of his self-respect, in fear that Viktor would take no pity on him and get his revenge.

In fact, the worst question Viktor had asked him was,

"What's your biggest turn on?"

And Yuuri, being the sad, and easily embarrassed person that he was, had panicked and briskly declared, "Katsu...don?", his confidence soon blinking out like a candle flame halfway through saying so - it was evident in his statement all but becoming a gratifying question.

It was 6:29pm, and Yuuri's sure that help was on its way - for he could hear the bustling of what he assumed to be mall security outside the elevator. He wondered briefly, how worrying it would be for the two men to step out the elevator, one untouched, and the other looking as though they'd flushed themselves down the toilet. Repeatedly.

Yuuri kept his gaze away from Viktor and his...glory. He scowls, remembering how Viktor won the dog toy fair and square: Yuuri having refused to carry on playing after Viktor's little strip tease. Or whatever the hell it was.

He sighs another sad sigh, shaking his head and wishing for oblivion.

---

It was 7:01pm, when the elevator doors were finally opened. Yuuri and Viktor were helped up, blankets wrapped securely around the both of them - specifically Viktor, for obvious reasons.

Security were nothing short of polite but it was safe to say that when they managed to open the elevator doors, the last thing they were expecting was a 5'9" Russian man to come stumbling out, naked and, oh yes, naked.

They were ushered to a nearby bench on the fourth floor, surrounded by nearby onlookers who were whispering amongst themselves. The mall security had asked them politely to wait by, probably to offer some sort of compensation, Yuuri expected.

They sat in silence: hungry and tired - most definitely ready to go home, after a lovely evening spent stuck in the elevator for roughly five hours.

Viktor clutched at the dog toy and his blanket - his clothes and plastic shopping bag resting rumpled on his lap. Yuuri kept his head ducked down, listening pathetically to Mariah Carey and her silky singing echoing in the mall.

All I want for Christmas, Yuuri pondered spitefully: beyond mortified by the near nude man beside him and his demeaning loss when playing Truth or Dare, is to dig my own grave!

Suddenly, Viktor spoke up besides Yuuri.

"I was thinking-"

"No! Viktor, when you think, it ends badly!" Yuuri exclaimed, turning to point at Viktor's general being and the chew toy that he held loosely, "that was traumatic."

"It's nothing bad! Or at least I don't think it is..." Viktor helpfully supplied.

Wait, was as he, blushing?

"...What is it then?"

"Do you, uh...thinkthatVicchanwouldliketohaveaplaydatewithMakka?"

"Huh?"

Viktor coughed, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. His blanket fell from his shoulders and rested at his waist. Yuuri kept his gaze from trailing down, and could've sworn he was going to have a heart attack.

"I just...uhm, do you want to, maybe, uh...organise a play date for our dogs, or something?"

Yuuri straightened up immediately.

"You, you don't have to say yes! I'm sorry! I-I get that you're probably really busy, since Christmas is in like, two days, and you might have better things to do than go out with me - I mean, go out with my dog, wait, no! I mean-" Viktor rambled on, his face getting redder by the minute.

Yuuri, being the good, merciful, and apparently brave that person he is, disregarded all rational thought and leaned in to kiss Viktor on his cheek; a sweet press of his lips to soft skin that made the dark haired male tingle all over.

He pulled away, noting the relentless flush that started from Viktor's hairline, all the way down to his toned chest. And along with that, the older man's abrupt silence. He stared quizzically at Yuuri, reaching to touch the cheek that had been kissed.

"I'd love for our dogs to have a play date. But on one condition," Yuuri teased, a devilish grin making its way into his face, "you take me on that date, okay, Viktor Nikiforov? We can't afford to forget about class, now can we?"

He was bombarded with a humiliated shriek: a high-pitched squeal that left Viktor's lips, which stringed along like music to the younger man's ears, and a promise for a date - both for his dog and himself.

This was not how he'd planned his Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, to go. No, not at all.

But he certainly wasn't complaining. Anymore, at least.

---

BONUS:

“I’ll see you later, Viktor! Um, merry Christmas! Oh, yeah and Monday, alright, Vicchan and I will see you then! Call me!” Yuuri all but whispered hastily, carrying his shopping and Viktor’s heart away with him to the other side of the parking lot.

Luckily, their cars were in the same district, and the Russian watched dreamily as Yuuri made his way to his car, and he himself got into his. He giggled bashfully, glad he forgot to go Christmas shopping last week.

What were the chances that he’d have ended up spending five hours with such an attractive and certainly interesting man, in the small confines of a horribly decorated elevator?

He smiled softly, making one last assessment of his things. His watch, shoes, shirt, pants - it was all here! Along with his shopping bag, Yuuri’s number and-

Wait.

Where...

Where was the dog toy?

Viktor didn’t enough time to fully wrap his head around the disappearance of the chew toy, before he heard maniacal laughter, and a dark blue Volkswagen blurring past. The car’s windows were rolled down, an insulting pastel pink lolling out slightly.

“Finders, keepers!”

A mortified gasp.

“Yuuri!”

Fin

---

Taglist:

@maximoffzinha @the-immortal-thylacine @holaboiiiiis

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lightsonparkave · 4 years

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO LIGHTS ON PARK AVE! WE’RE OFFICIALLY A ONE-YEAR-OLD BABY (our birthday was on the 22nd). Join the celebrations by submitting a work! There’s one week left until Round 12 closes on August 31, and you have 80 prompts to choose from. There are no minimum work requirements or limit to how many works you can submit.

Not sure you can finish your work in time? Little messages are great presents too. What has the past year of Lights on Park Ave been like for you? Do you have a favorite prompt or round? A favorite LoPA work? Want to make a rec list of your favorites or wax poetic and show some love for a specific work and/or creator? Go for it. Let the Steve/Tony community know! The LoPA askbox is open or if you want to make your own Tumblr post or tweet, you can mention @lightsonparkave or tag #lightsonparkave. Whatever method you choose, I’ll make sure to share your message/post on here and Twitter.

Or maybe you’re not up to making anything this time. In that case, let’s take a walk down memory lane. Here are all 46 Lights on Park Ave works for previous rounds.

ART

3490 & 616

A comparison between 616 Civil War and universe 3490 where the war was averted by the marriage of Steve Rogers and Natasha Stark - @jarvisuanddumetoo

ANY UNIVERSE

A framed portrait of a smiling Tony, drawn and signed by Steve - @hundredthousands

Steve steals his husband’s helmet and gives his king a springtime crown - @starksnack

Tin soldier Steve and ballerina Tony dancing - @jarvisuanddumetoo

BATTLEWORLD

Steve watching Tony flying in on the battlefield - @thingexplainer

MCU

Old Steve holding flowers and seeing a blue butterfly after Tony’s death - @hundredthousands

So much of life feels like drowning... but when I’m with you my troubles recede like waves on the shore - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Stranger Things AU where Steve is the one who was experimented on in a lab and doesn’t understand pop culture and Tony is the guy with no powers who is still doing his best to fight these weird new aliens - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Steve and a dandelion that represents him weathering all his hardships over the years - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Tony on fire and Steve’s reaction - @jarvisuanddumetoo

Steve crying while holding Tony’s helmet after Tony’s funeral - @noririna

I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You’re a hero. - @starksnack

ULTIMATES

Steve and Tony leaving marks on each other’s bodies that are only visible in the dark - @sirsapling Ults Steve and Tony are tragically bound to one another. They can always feel the trace of each others hands, it leaves an invisible mark they will cary with them till there is nothing left. Only a ghost of something lost in the chaos of the past.

FIC

1872

Say My Name - @citsiurtlanu Steve reminds Tony that there's more to him than the war his weapons were used in.

616

Snow Day - @captainneverever The Avengers think that Steve and Tony got engaged at the annual holiday party. It’s news to Steve and Tony.

Kiss me rough before you go - erde Tony is dying. His life is slipping away and Steve wants to be better than this, but he can't quite manage the feat. Tony's war has made a bitter man out of him, a lesser man.

Boys, boys, boys - Missy_dee811 (@viudanegraaa) (AU) Steve keeps putting off his oil change. Finally deciding to see the mechanic in town.

Without the rusty music of my machine - Missy_dee811 (@viudanegraaa) Tony was lying on the hood of his car. He had taken off his leather jacket, gently folded it in half, and draped it across the windshield so he could rest his arms on the supple leather.

Muddy Waters - RossKL (@but-damn-is-he-lovable) (also on Tumblr) Tony bleeds. It's not real.

ANY

(A Dream is) A Wish Your Heart Makes - @helovedyou Cool evenings together and laughing free and all the nice things Tony never thought he’d get

Afternoon Off - Neverever (@captainneverever) Freedom is just another word for getting with your boyfriend on the downlow during a mission.

BULLET POINTS

Those We Were (For A While) - sadisticsparkle The blueprints hadn’t prepared Tony for the light bouncing off the battered metal, for the empty stare of its empty eye sockets or the dim circle in the middle of the chest. He traced its lines with his gaze, remembering every day he had spent hunched over the schematics picking its inner workings and every night he had spent sprawled under its pilot letting him take Tony apart.

MCU

border state - @areiton (also on Tumblr) They exist in the in between.

star crossed - @areiton (also on Tumblr) "The gods made the stars,” you whisper, a lifetime ago, a heartbeat ago, now, “and they were so bright, so beautiful and strong, that they ripped them in two. And half of ‘em fell to earth, and woke from the dust and walked as men.”

this is how - @areiton (also on Tumblr) This is how the world ends: Gaps in the code.

kiss me hard before you go - duckmoles & starxreactor (AU) “I love you, you know that?” Tony says just after popping another grape into Steve’s mouth. He watches as Steve’s jaw works, chewing and then swallowing. Steve smiles up at Tony with a bright, toothy grin. “I love you, too.” “I’m going to miss you,” Tony continues. “I’m going to call you everyday, okay? And—and, during the holidays I’ll show up at your house and we can—we can—sit together on the balcony, and—” The last day of summer, and it's time to hold on to what you might lose.

No Winter Lasts Forever - Fluffypanda (@ayapandagirl) Steve stopped, white breath clouding the air around him, to look at the little shoots of green and purple peeking out from the scant layer of snow left on the ground.

snippet of a post-apocalyptic A/B/O AU WIP - Fluffypanda (@ayapandagirl) Steve’s fingers traced the bite, a half-moon of red marks, from in front of the largest mirror he’d ever seen.

the first blush of morning - Fluffypanda (@ayapandagirl) (AU) The sun rises on the Atlantic ocean and Steve isn't alone - or is he?

Santa Paws - @heartsandmuses [I]f there were two things the public couldn’t get enough of, it was cute puppies and shirtless Captain America — and Tony, ever the philanthropist, decided to give the people exactly what they wanted, right on Christmas morning.

Philautia - @helovedyou Tony dies and Steve keeps on living. Well. He doesn’t die. Living might be a bit of a generous term

To the Victor - @helovedyou There are rainbows flying and people hugging and others ranting and raving, spittle flying, he thinks this. We have won this, this tiny victory.

Snippet of a WIP set post-IW - @ishipallthings The numbers keep climbing, for hours, in the aftermath.

Shuffle Off This Mortal Coil - jellybeanforest (@jellybeanforest-a-go-go) (also a Cap-IM Bingo 2020 round 1 fic) Tony hadn’t been a cruel man, but he had been a practical one. Or: In his twilight years, concerned about how his slow-aging possibly-immortal husband will adjust to his death, Tony builds an AI version of himself that he updates nightly, intending for it to keep Steve company after he’s gone. When the inevitable comes to pass, Steve doesn’t know what to make of the AI or whether its presence lessens his grief or makes it significantly worse. He’s leaning towards the latter.

Five Bells - @lazywriter7 (also on Tumblr) After returning the Stones, Steve takes a detour through time.

if we’re gonna heal, let it be glorious - @littlemissstark forgiveness. The salty air was intense enough to wake Steve up completely, snapping any left over drowsiness away. He was alert despite the sky still being a shade of navy that tapered into a purple at the sea’s horizon. The world was still dormant, but Steve couldn’t stay asleep – not when he woke to coldness on the right side of the bed and empty arms.

In My Hands and Gone Again - @nostalgicatsea (also on Tumblr) Memories were like fish, Tony had explained, or the tease of one. A flash of silver, and his hands would plunge down. Sometimes he would catch one; other times, it would dart out of reach. He wouldn’t be sure whether it had been real or just a trick of the light, after.

Leaving You Forward - @nostalgicatsea (AU) It would be easy, staying here like this with Tony. But Steve knew he couldn't—because he had never taken the easy way out and because he loved Tony.

i choose: me, you, us - @onlymorelove (also a Cap-IM Remix Madness 2020 fic) “We, uh. We’ve been together five years, and you’ve never— I’ve never let you see it. I told you I’d let you see it on our wedding night.” In which Tony and Steve marry, but Tony hasn't let Steve see the arc reactor—and the scars around it. Yet.

best of summers gone - rosycheeked (@lovelyisthedawn) Tony's favorite month has always been August.

when we all fall asleep - rosycheeked (@lovelyisthedawn) Tony wakes up and questions why Steve loves him. It's a surprisingly complex question for such a simple answer.

you anchor me (back down) - rosycheeked (@lovelyisthedawn) Steve still loves Tony, no matter what mask he’s wearing. He’ll never tell Tony that, though. He’s read enough books and watched enough movies to know that it only ends well when it’s just a story. Or, everyone needs an anchor sometimes, and Steve and Tony just happen to be each others’.

take me to the feeling - smalltonystark (@theotherwasdeath) Steve looks gorgeous in the lights. He always looks stunning, but here, late at night, in the faint glow from the streetlamps underneath them and underneath the stars, he looks magnificent.

POETRY

A Toast to Cold, Hard Facts - @onlymorelove (also on Tumblr) The world is brutal and coarse, but...

Love was fading stars - @onlymorelove (also on AO3) Blackout poetry based on “Failing and Flying” by Jack Gilbert on top of an original print.

not married - @onlymorelove (also on Tumblr) Grief works in mysterious ways.

#lightsonparkave #announcement #stevetony #stony #superhusbands #if anything looks wonky or is missing Tumblr has been acting up #every time I fix something it erases something else #so please know that I didn't intentionally leave you off if your work is missing or miscategorize you #if your universe disappears! :(

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chokememrstark · 6 years

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The Soulmate Sam Never Asked For // Part 3

Ship: Samifer (Sam Winchester / Lucifer)

Words: 2987 (Chapter 3 / 12)

Fic Summary: After a surprisingly decent Thanksgiving with his brother, Sam finds himself back in Stanford and hoping the strange feeling he had for the last week will go away again soon. Lucifer, whom he blames indirectly for his unpleasant situation, acts extremely cold suddenly, however, and things don't get better when Sam runs into the other in the restrooms suddenly. This unexpected encounter turns into more than an awkward situation, though, and Sam doesn't really know what to think of it.

college!AU, human!AU, soulmates!AU, dysfunctional families, abusive parents, dramatic romance, or romantic drama, your choice, big brother!Lucifer, soulmates hating each other, referenced alcoholism, death and abuse, some violence, and lots of feels, fluff and cuteness, some drama but not too much, lots of bickering, and two damn stubborn soulmates (!!)

Note: My lovely beta reader @brieflymaximumprincess called this a rom-com and even though I don’t believe it is, in my eyes, it does have certain elements of it. This is not the angst you know from me, not at all.

Yes, there is some drama, but there is also a lot of sweet and cute moments, much more than the dramatic ones. I guess you could say I accidentally wrote cute fluff? Because it was not intended, but here we are.

This fic is already completed and will be posted by the regular schedule from now on: Thuesday, Thursday and Saturday! So, enjoy ♥

Tagging: @shebahda @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @spnyoucantkeepmedown @brieflymaximumprincess @multifandomhcsforinsanity @etysky @justasmalltownsuperwholock @humongouscandycoffee @blakechaos08 @daddycasstiel

If you want off the tag list or want to be added, just drop me an ask or IM!

Read on AO3!

The weeks until Thanksgiving went by rather fast and when there were only a few days left, Sam decided spontaneously that he would go back home and called Dean to pick him up. Not that he couldn’t drive, but he never got a car himself and his brother didn’t mind doing him the favor. In fact he was actually happy about Sam’s decision because he wouldn’t be alone with their dad. What Lucifer would do wasn’t really of Sam’s concern, though he wondered if his absence would cause those annoying effects to come back. Maybe it would turn out to have no effect at all and he could go back to his normal life, who knew?

Being back home turned out to be much worse than Sam had anticipated. The only reason he didn’t catch a taxi back to campus the first evening was Dean and the fact that the brothers had the days mostly for themselves. They visited some of Sam’s old friends and visited Dean’s roommates, which made for an overall nice time while they were away from their dad. The older one of Dean’s roommates was clearly a womanizer, the other a bit awkward and quiet, but they were really nice guys and Sam enjoyed those visits a lot. He found it kind of amusing how Dean acted around the younger brother - he clearly liked him, but refused to admit it.

Thanksgiving itself was a total disaster, as their dad once again drunk-raged about Sam wasting his life and his fortune and how all he was doing in his life was sucking the soul out of people. Luckily, around nine in the evening, their old man passed out drunk on the couch and Sam managed to enjoy the rest of the evening with Dean and a few beers. They had a lot to catch up on after all and it was much easier when he wasn’t verbally attacked by his dad.

Most of the time he was home, Sam felt a little lost though. Despite the fun he had - and sometimes the not so pleasant things - something just didn’t seem to be right. He blamed it on the fact that he had decided to come without planning much, but deep down he knew it wasn’t that. He was too far away from Lucifer and his body didn’t like it. Still, there was nothing he could do about this fact at the moment, so he tried his best to distract himself enough to not think about it too much.

When Dean drove him back Sam was almost sad to leave. Sure, home wasn’t a very warm and welcoming place for him at any given point, but for some reason it had still been a good time with much less pressure. He consoled himself with the fact that he would be back soon enough, during Christmas, and that what he was doing right now would lead to a better life in the future, which made saying goodbye to his brother a bit easier at least.

Sam used the last day he had left before classes started again to go over his notes again, mentally preparing himself for the next days. Part of him wished that Lucifer wouldn’t show up the next day, but the part that made his thoughts go back to the blond all the time was much stronger sadly. He hated how little control he actually had over this, but he was not ready to let it dictate anything if he was able to prevent it somehow. If there was any possibility, no matter how small, to not fall into this soulmate trap that would ultimately ruin his life, Sam would fight against it.

To start the week off perfectly, Sam nearly overslept and made it to class the last second. He rushed to his seat and avoided the professor’s eyes going over his students, but he couldn’t stop himself from a side-glance at Lucifer, who was already sitting on his seat. Today he wore a big black hoodie, not the biker jacket he usually had on, with the hood over his head and big sunglasses covering his eyes. Something else was different about him too, which was the swollen lip with a big red cut where Sam was used to seeing a piercing.

Before Sam could even fully take in how horrible Lucifer looked, however, he heard the strict and angry voice of their professor and almost flinched.

“Mister Milton! No sunglasses in my class, you should know that by now!” The whole room was silent and Sam was sure all eyes around them were directed at Lucifer at this point. “Loose them this second or you can walk right out again!”

Lucifer showed his disapproval by puffing through his nose, but still followed the professor’s instructions to take them off. Sam’s jaw dropped and a few people around them actually hissed when Lucifer revealed his face, but the blond quickly made them turn back around with a single glare. The whole left side of Lucifer’s face was swollen and covered with bruises and he had the worst black eye Sam had ever seen. It was extremely dark and painful to even look at.

“Damn, you look awful. What happened?” Sam asked before he could stop himself. Lucifer turned his head and gave him the same pissed off glare and he wished he would have just shut his mouth immediately.

“Why the hell would you give a shit?” Lucifer snarled and slammed the sunglasses onto the table.

“Sorry, I was just asking,” Sam quickly said and raised his hands a little in defense. “No need to get all pissed.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I got into a bar fight,” Lucifer said without much cogency and glared daggers through Sam. “Satisfied?”

“Yeah, s-sure,” Sam mumbled and turned away from Lucifer, blushing slightly. Damn, he didn’t know such a simple question would make the other so angry, but apparently he was in a really shitty mood. Sam decided to just keep his mouth closed from now on to not cause any further argument and tried paying attention to the professor.

This was without a doubt the most awkward lecture of Sam’s life so far. He didn’t react well to Lucifer being so obviously angry and grumpy, it made him nervous and jumpy, and he just couldn’t stop glancing over to see if he was about to go off or not. It was a huge relief when they were finally dismissed; Sam had never fled from a class that fast before. He actually needed a moment to calm himself down after escaping Lucifer’s presence, which was how bad it really felt.

After his next class, which was less mentally challenging than the first, Sam had an hour to himself because a teacher had gotten sick and he used it for a long, quiet meal. When he went to the toilet after that he got another weird surprise; he wasn’t alone and had the worst company imaginable. Lucifer stood in front of the mirrors when he walked in and cussed vulgarly and loud, which actually startled Sam enough to freeze next to the door.

“Fucking hell,” Lucifer hissed when Sam finally peeked around the corner to actually see him. He was doing something with his face that Sam couldn’t really see, but it was clear that it wasn’t fun at all. “Son of a bitch, stop fucking bleeding already!”

Summoning all his willpower, Sam took a deep breath and stepped forward and into Lucifer’s view. The blond immediately squinted his eyes and stared at him through the mirror, his expression anything but friendly.

“What do you want?” he growled dangerously.

“Taking a piss if that’s allowed,” Sam scoffed and walked past Lucifer in a hopefully confident way. “I’m not stalking you, don’t worry.”

“You better not,” Lucifer grunted. “Just hurry and leave me alone.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Sam took unusually long to relieve himself, maybe because the atmosphere was so tense, but eventually managed to get done and walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

“May I?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Lucifer hissed again and stepped away from the sink with a furious face, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Hurry, will you? I’ve got something to do!”

Sam frowned when he saw the pile of bloody paper towels in the basket next to the sink and the streaks of what surely was blood too inside of it. Whatever Lucifer was doing, it looked bad. He washed his hands as fast as possible, but didn’t move away from the sink just yet. He knew it was probably the worst thing to do at this point, but he felt bad for just leaving the other like this.

“Want me to take a look at what you’re dealing with?” Sam suggested in the most calm and friendly way possible, to which Lucifer glared at him through the room.

“What are you, a doctor?” the blond huffed annoyed. “What do you even want from me?”

“Well, you’re bleeding and can’t stop it obviously,” Sam shrugged and pointed at the basket full of bloody towels. “I’m just offering my help, that’s all.”

“And why the hell would you do that?” Lucifer stomped over and Sam could finally see what was actually going on. It didn’t look good at all. Lucifer’s lip was bleeding badly, apparently somehow the cut had ripped open again and even now that he stood in front of him the blood dropped on his chin and on the floor. Now he noticed the cut on his eyebrow too, which was bleeding into his black eye that he pressed close.

“Damn,” Sam hissed and unshouldered his backpack. “Look, I know we’re not friends but you can’t walk around like that. You’ll scare everyone to death and I doubt it feels very nice.”

The brunet searched in his backpack until he found a box and pulled it out before dropping the backpack. He looked at Lucifer again for a moment, then opened the box and placed it on the sink.

“It won’t take long,” he mumbled and took a bottle out of the box. “Just let me help you, alright? Not that anyone calls the police or something.”

“Fine,” Lucifer groaned and licked the blood off his lip almost annoyed. Sam cringed at that, but didn’t say anything. “Just hurry, I need to get to class again soon.”

Sam nodded and grabbed a new paper towel on which he poured some of the liquid on.

“This is gonna hurt, but try not to move or punch me. I need to put this on or your lip will get infected and you don’t want that, trust me.”

Lucifer just looked at him, which Sam took as him understanding and continued his work. When he pressed the towel onto Lucifer’s face he could see the blond tense up immediately, but there was no flinching or punching - not even a word coming from him.

“Alright, hold this on for a moment, will you? And lean your head forward.” Sam said and waited for Lucifer to do so before taking his hands away. “I don’t think it needs to be sewn, but if it keeps ripping open it won’t heal. You didn’t keep those towels on for long, right?”

“Not really,” Lucifer mumbled and Sam nodded.

“Give it a few minutes, the pressure will stop the bleeding,” Sam explained. “I have some antiseptic balm here I can give you, put that on twice a day and it’ll heal within a week.”

“You’re good with this,” Lucifer admitted, not without a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Thanks,” Sam laughed and got another paper towel. “I had an epileptic friend as a kid and when he had a seizure he often fell and hurt himself. It got better, but I learned to treat small wounds because of him. Pretty helpful.”

“Not bad,” Lucifer huffed.

“Okay, let me see your eye now,” Sam lifted Lucifer’s head up a little by the chin, earning another of those cold glares. “You just press on your lip, don’t remove it yet.”

Sam carefully cleaned the blood from Lucifer’s black eye, though not without hearing the blond hiss from time to time because even the slightest touch to his skin. Once he had disinfected the cut through Lucifer’s eyebrow, which was pretty deep from what he saw, Sam pressed a clean towel onto it as well and smiled weakly.

“Not as bad as your lip,” he said reassuringly. “But I don’t wanna see the other guy if you look like this. Is he still alive or…?”

Lucifer looked at Sam for a long moment with the same estimating and piercing glare, as if he wanted to intimidate him, but suddenly his expression changed and he looked more ashamed than angry.

“You’ll find out anyways, but if you tell anyone about this or what I’m about to say you’re dead, understood?”

“Yeah, sure?” Sam was very confused now. Of course this was the most he ever talked to Lucifer, but he had not seen this behavior yet.

“It wasn’t a bar fight, my dad kind of lost his shit on me yesterday.”

Sam didn’t know what to say or if Lucifer was kidding him or not, so he just stared at the blond while holding the paper towel to his face like a complete idiot.

“Didn’t see that one coming, huh?” Lucifer said after a minute of Sam staring at him like a weirdo, actually cracking a smirk where he didn’t hold his lip.

“It’s… unexpected,” Sam admitted, managing to return the smirk partially. “So, no murder? You didn’t beat anyone to death and will be arrested soon?”

“You’d like that, wouldn't you?” Lucifer huffed. “Hate to disappoint you, but no. We had an argument, one thing led to the other and next thing I know is that I’ve got his fist in my face.”

“Damn, what an ass,” Sam hissed sympathetic.

“Yeah, but it’s fine,” Lucifer shrugged almost amused. “I’m used to it and I don’t mind taking the beatings. Better me than someone else.”

“Your mom?”

“My brothers.”

Sam’s chest stung at those words, he couldn’t help it. Imagining Lucifer, the cold and rude punk that never had a nice word for anyone, as someone who got beaten up regularly was hard, but imagining him taking those beatings for his brothers was actually very sad in Sam’s eyes.

“How old are they?” Sam asked while taking the towel from Lucifer’s eyes to distract himself from just staring at him all the time. The wound looked much better, so he got the antiseptic balm from his first aid box and put it next to it on the sink.

“Six and ten,” Lucifer smiled weakly. Sam had never heard this tone in his voice and it made him realize how little he actually knew about his supposed soulmate.

“So, you’re the big brother?”

“Looks like it,” Lucifer shrugged. “I’m not the oldest, that bastard left years ago, but I can distract our dad from them, so that’s what I do.”

Sam felt horrible imagining this. He stayed silent while carefully taking Lucifer’s hand away from the towel on his lip to examine it, fearing that whatever he might say would come across as rude or cold. He was pretty shocked and had no idea how to feel about this situation or about Lucifer telling him that in the first place.

“He hates me so much, it’s easy to do,” Lucifer continued, almost proud. “No matter what I do, you can see the hate boil up in his eyes.”

“That sounds horrible,” Sam said and stopped himself from biting his lip from feeling so uncomfortable and bad.

“Maybe, but it’s better when I’m there, you know?” Lucifer answered and carefully tapped against his lip. It had stopped bleeding by now and he looked a little relieved. “I missed two years of college because one of my brothers got sick and he didn’t give a damn, but I don’t mind. He’s a shitty father and I gladly dropped out for that.”

“So, that’s why I didn’t see you around last year.” Sam was surprised, but kind of touched somehow too. That was actually a very nice and caring thing he did not expect from Lucifer. “Is your brother alright now?”

“Yeah, luckily,” Lucifer smiled sadly. “He had a few close calls and was in the hospital for quite a while, but he recovered. Now he’s back in school and I can continue studying.”

“That’s good,” Sam sighed in relief and nodded. “I’m glad he recovered.”

“Thanks,” Lucifer sighed and pushed himself away from the sink finally. “And thanks for helping me with this mess. What I said earlier still stands though, tell anyone about what happened here or what I said and I’ll end you.”

Back to his old self within a heartbeat, why was Sam even surprised?

“I’m not that kind of asshole, but thanks for the warning,” Sam huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest with a frown.

“Just so we’re clear,” Lucifer informed Sam with the same cold attitude the other was used to from him by now. “This doesn’t change anything.”

“I hope not,” Sam shot back just as cold. He grabbed the first aid box, brushing against the balm that rolled into the sink and walked out without looking back or grabbing the balm.

As he stomped over to his next class he wondered why he had suddenly felt so bad for Lucifer, after all he was still the same rude asshole he knew by now. And yet, something inside of him knew that this would change something, whether he liked it or not. For some unknown reason Lucifer had opened up to him about his life and he was sure that this wasn’t something he consciously decided to do.

#samifer #sam x lucifer #sam winchester #spn lucifer #college!au #soulmate!au #human!au #multi chapter fic #myfics

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hope-for-olicity · 6 years

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Fabulous Olicity Fanfic Friday - February 16th, 2018

Happy Friday! So this is my attempt to both thank awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and offer my recommendations to anyone who is interested. Here are the fantastic fanfic stories I read this week! They are posted in the order I read them.

Untitled by @smoaking-greenarrow - Arrow Out of Context Prompt: "I'm very particular about what I put in my body." http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/post/170701037619/6

Another Chance On Love multi-chapter by @smkkbert - It's been almost two years since Oliver lost his fiancée Detective McKenna Hall when she died in the line of duty. He closed his heart to love ever since, unable or unwilling to give love another chance. That changes when he meets Felicity Smoak at the annual gala of the Starling City Police Foundation. Is he ready to give love another chance, though? http://archiveofourown.org/works/13561101/chapters/31119801

Elizabeth Grace Smoak by Lynn8828 - What if Felicity and Oliver briefly had met before he got on the Gambit? Despite her best efforts, Felicity was unable to get in contact with the famous Oliver Queen after having a one night stand with him and getting pregnant with his child. After raising their child for five years after finding out that Oliver died on the Gambit, she finds out he is alive and knows that she needs to tell him about their daughter. But will he believe her? http://archiveofourown.org/works/13639371/chapters/31322715

Felicity the Attorney by @tdgal1 - A fluffy story about Felicity being Oliver's attorney. http://archiveofourown.org/works/13643016

Time for a Story multi-chapter by @smkkbert - This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. YOU NEED THIS STORY IN YOUR LIFE. http://archiveofourown.org/works/3912157/chapters/8757172

(Don't) Let Me Go multi-chapter by @emmilynestill - Felicity told him to let her go, but even when Oliver tried, it didn’t seem to be something he was capable of. In the end, there would be nothing in the world Felicity was more grateful for. Weaving in and out of the final four episodes of Season 5 and beyond, follow Oliver and Felicity’s emotional journey back to one another, one step at a time. http://archiveofourown.org/works/11591223/chapters/26051715

The Christmas Con multi-chapter by @spaztronautwriter - In order to convince his parents and his ex that he’s changed, Oliver Queen hires a stranger to be his girlfriend for the holidays. Felicity Smoak is as far from his type as possible, with her dark hair and attitude problem, but a bottle of hair dye and a new wardrobe—not to mention the money he’s promised—can do wonders, and if he plays his cards right this whole thing might actually work. http://archiveofourown.org/works/13116201/chapters/30006585

Arrow Twitter Fic: Because Reasons by @geneeste - Figure Skating AU http://geneeste.tumblr.com/post/170783429172/arrow-twitter-fic-because-reasons

Falling for an Angel multi-chapter by @missafairy - What happens if an angel falls from the sky? Oliver Queen is a respected club owner in his hometown - Starling City. His life abruptly changes when one night he finds a beautiful girl claiming to have fallen from heaven. With her wings tucked into a jacket he helps her navigate her now human life while trying not to fall in love. Nothing can go wrong even if she drinks all of his coffee and cries in the shower, right? http://archiveofourown.org/works/9368912/chapters/21209975

You Used To Be My Friend But I Learned My Lesson multi-chapter by @tdgal1 - Arrow skims over feels so this is my fix it fic for season 1-2. Lots of canon but it is an AU so events may be out of order. Tommy and Felicity friendship. This is my idea of how these characters felt during these scenes and how they may have acted differently. Not a great summary but read and let me know what you think. Exploring deeper feelings that the show won't. http://archiveofourown.org/works/13507359/chapters/30978543

Untitled by @smoaking-greenarrow - Arrow Out of Context Prompt: "Excuse me! Can you help me? He's really heavy." http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/post/170824982559/8

As Easy As Falling multi-chapter by @charlinert - Felicity has just received tragic news when she meets Oliver, I believe there is hope, highly recommend but you will cry but not every chapter! http://archiveofourown.org/works/8035363/chapters/2254234

Tempest multi-chapter by @so-caffeinated and @dust2dust34 - Three years ago, tragedy struck Julianna Queen's life. Now, she wears a mask and fights at her father's side, looking for closure and justice as she tries to find a path to move forward with her life while holding on to her past. But that may a bit more complicated than she thinks... http://archiveofourown.org/works/13309731/chapters/30461850

Technical Assistance multi-chapter by @thatmasquedgirl - Felicity Smoak swore she'd provide technical assistance to all who need it. She's just not prepared for her newest client. A story that shows another way Felicity and Oliver could have met. Each chapter contains a bonus scene at the end. Olicity undertones, with a definite slow burn. Originally started as a one-shot of the same name. Complete. http://archiveofourown.org/works/1359190/chapters/2838451

#workoutpartners by @spaztronautwriter - Felicity and Oliver workout together, and Felicity receives news about a role. Follow up to ch. 15 #flirting http://archiveofourown.org/works/6104462/chapters/31387077

The Christmas Wish (Part 1) by @beemichelle7 - Oliver and Felicity make Christmas Wishes on the night of their first Christmas together. https://beemichelle7.tumblr.com/post/170785617939/christmas-wish-part-1

Untitled by @smoaking-greenarrow - Arrow Out of Context Prompt: “Don’t tell me a tough gang banger like yourself is afraid of a tiny little needle.” and “It doesn’t look so tiny.” http://smoaking-greenarrow.tumblr.com/post/170853173439/im-say-11-if-you-havent-but-change-the-rough

Left to Fate multi-chapter by @missyriver - Oliver never forgot her or the time they spent together. Does he risk everything to find her? Will he try one last time before his life is changed forever? http://archiveofourown.org/works/11354388/chapters/25413282

Falling In Reverse multi-chapter by @geneeste - From the next room, a loud metallic sound of something clattering to the platform rings out, and Oliver can make out Lyla saying something indistinct but urgent. That has him sitting up, on alert, but it’s not until he hears a low, anguished cry that he’s shooting out of his seat and toward the main floor of the bunker. Because it’s Felicity. LOVED THIS! http://archiveofourown.org/works/13673589/chapters/31409550

Will You Remember Me multi-chapter by @jesileighs - After being attacked by a metahuman with the power to steal memories, Felicity learns that a lot can happen in six years. Even things that she once believed to be unthinkable. SO AWESOME! http://archiveofourown.org/works/13436049/chapters/30793386

Hushed Rendezvous by @green-arrows-of-karamel for Olicity smut-a-thon 2018 - Felicity, The Viscountess Ghostfox, is invited to Valentine's Day Ball hosted by The Earl of Starling. In a night to celebrate love, can they maintain their romance a secret or will the all-consuming passion Oliver and Felicity share expose their love affair? Prompt given: Can’t make any noise sex http://archiveofourown.org/works/13682667

Business and Pleasure by @dmichellewrites for Olicity smut-a-thon 2018 - Oliver and Felicity have to spend their first Valentine's Day as newlyweds in Gotham. Despite an interruption from the couple's mutual friend with an affinity for business, bats, and billions of dollars, Star City's favorite power couple still manages to have a fun, sexy night alone together. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13681626?view_adult=true

Real Love (Is Never a Waste of Time) multi-chapter by @callistawolf - Oliver and Felicity are CEOs who are more partners than they are rivals, but they still bicker whenever they meet up. Constantly pestered by their families and board members, they turn to each other for a simple solution. But marriage is never simple, especially when these two are involved. When Oliver's younger sister decides to hold her much-anticipated wedding on a tropical island and insists her brother and his wife attend, will the island paradise prove to be the tipping point in their carefully balanced relationship? https://archiveofourown.org/works/13604955/chapters/31233603

Purge Night multi-chapter by @spaztronautwriter - Felicity is caught in the Glades during the annual Purge. She's rescued by a man who claims he can keep her safe, but when things start to go wrong—and boy do they ever—she might find herself back on the streets, even worse off then before. An Olicity AU based on the movie The Purge (I didn't see the movie and am still enjoying the story) http://archiveofourown.org/works/8451076/chapters/19361185

Ruined by @felicityollies for Olicity smut-a-thon 2018 - Prompt: "It's like you want to ruin men/women for me!" // set in the trust me universe https://archiveofourown.org/works/13681359

Forever and Always by @bokayjunkie for Olicity smut-a-thon 2018 - Oliver and Felicity are not only roommates but they're best friends who always seems to be on the edge of something more. What happens when they finally cross that line? My prompt is: "God, you're perfect" https://archiveofourown.org/works/13668795

Re-Arrow 1x09 by @lostolicityscenes - Felicity has a short scene with Walter at the beginning of the episode where she tells him about Doug Miller being on the list. I felt it was pretty self-explanatory so I left that one alone. The second Felicity scene is with Oliver and I wrote a little bit of business for after he leaves. Emily had some interesting facial reactions that I wanted to write around, first when she’s handed the arrow and then later she get this sad look on her face. Her last scene is a voice over phone call with Walter – the cliffhanger of him being taken. This is episode 1x09 FS version. https://lostolicityscenes.tumblr.com/post/170923969101/re-airrow-episode-1x09-an-felicity-has-a-short

// @emmaamelia95 // @mel-loves-all // @oliverfel4 // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @coal000 // @miriam1779 // @memcjo// @captainolicitysbedroom // @tdgal1 // @spaztronautwriter // @lalawo1// @quiveringbunny // @wrongshipper // @thebookjumper // @vaelisamaza // @myhauntedblacksoul // @lovelycssefan // @laurabelle2930 //

#FabulousOlicityFanficFriday #olicity fanfiction #fic recs

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itschrissenpai · 7 years

Text

(A super late but still in time) Happy Birthday to you, @thatbastardmiyuki / @mochi6 !! ♥

Since you made this adorable drabble for my birthday last month, I just had to write something for you too. I hope you're having a nice, stressless day with much cake and many presents. You're a amazing person and one of the best ChrisMiyu shippers I know (and the best Miyuki my Chris could wish for).

Enjoy your day and have this ficlet of our dancing class!au. I figured I could sent this to you via IM but it was just so much text, that I decided that this would just be easier to post.

ChrisMiyu ahead, in case you weren’t figuring it out already.(◡‿◡✿)

I really hope there aren’t too many weird parts or typos in there but I really wanted to finish this despite feeling a little feverish. Also, the end was totally on purpose heh.

Ceru.

PS: No real nsfw here (just some teasing and... bananas). but it’s a long post, so I kept it under a Readmore after the first scene.

Home Is When I’m With You

When Chris was young, Christmas always meant everything to him; family gatherings, weird sweaters (not to say ugly since his father used to be all happy seeing him wear them), good food and - of course - presents.

Things shifted once he got older, gatherings getting rare occasions with his parents getting divorced and his father being absorbed in his work - and once Chris was the one working in his father's company too, knowing that one day it would be his , he started to forget about the importance this day once had for him.

But it changed again when he met Kazuya. Granted, things between them always took their time. With them both being very busy (Kazuya was a well known model who definitely didn't need to look for jobs anymore), sometimes, it got difficult to meet up, to even just spend a night or an evening together without any interruptions. Sometimes Chris wondered how they even managed to keep this relationship. But they always found a way and it never changed anything about their feelings, not even after so many years.

One of the things Kazuya brought back to Chris was Christmas. Despite their full schedules, they always spend the day with each other. It wasn't like they decided on it together; it just... happened and they had kept this little tradition since then.

However, this year was different, because instead of sitting on their couch, all wrapped up in a blanket with a glass of wine and just some cuddling and snuggling, Chris was standing at Narita International Airport and checked the time in distress.

"What do you mean, you cancelled the last meeting to go back to Japan? This was supposed to be one of the biggest deals we could've wished for the company this year, Yuu!"

Chris sighed, trying not to move too abruptly while searching for his luggage. Fortunately, it should be one of the first pieces on the moving walkway since he'd been one of the last people to check in.

"I know, father. And I made sure to send someone who's perfectly able to represent us in the meantime." He put the phone between his ear and his shoulder when his suitcase was the first to roll into his direction. "It won't affect the deal. But I had to come back sooner."

"What kind of emergency is important enough to risk that deal?"

Chris pulled the suitcase off the walkway, checking again if it was his. It took him a few seconds to give an answer, but when he did, there was a smile on his face.

"Something personal", he said, tone gentle. "It's Christmas after all, father."

Again, he checked his watch, realizing that it would still take at least an hour until he'd be back home; and he still had to make sure that Kazuya would be there, otherwise it had been pointless to stress about coming back early.

"I have to go. I'll call you tomorrow. Merry Christmas, father."

"Yuu, I'm not-"

He hung up, trying not to think about how much damage control he'd had to do the next day to somehow calm his father down again.

"You were on a business trip?"

Chris looked up from his phone, surprised by the sudden question. The taxi driver was looking at him through the driving mirror, giving him a smile that Chris tried to return.

"Yes. I've been to America for a week."

"And you just came back to celebrate the day with someone?" It was somehow obvious that he did, considering that he came back miles to be here on this particular day. So Chris nodded, leaning a little back in his seat. There was a short pause, until the driver - a broadly build man, old enough to have white hair and a beard, some wrinkles shaping his face -, gave off a deep laugh. It strangely reminded Chris of... Christmas despite the lack of decoration in the car.

He pulled out his phone to text Kuramochi, knowing that it was the most subtle way to get to know where Kazuya was since he and Kominato planned on asking him if he wanted to stay the evening. Once he sent a short message, he could only do so much and wait.

Luckily, he got an answer minutes later that made him smile again - this time more sincerely than before.

[text from: Kuramochi] Asked him but he said he'd rather watch a movie than be the third wheel all night. You gotta call him?

Definitely something Kazuya would say.

[text to: Kuramochi] No. I took a flight back. Don't tell him.

With that he put his phone away to grab a small box he kept in his bag. Kuramochi was probably grinning at the message; perhaps even telling his boyfriend about it. About the fact that today was the day Chris would do what he'd planned on weeks before his trip. But once he opened the box, exposing a small, golden ring, he felt his chest tighten in nervousness.

They'd never talked about this. About marriage, about staying together like this. It was a gamble to take that step without being able to calculate the outcome, but damn, Chris was willing to take it after so much time. If Kazuya decided that it wasn't what he wanted, then at least he'd tried - but that thought was anything but calming him down.

He rubbed his temples as he took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tried to go through everything he wanted to say.

"Young love surely is beautiful, especially on Christmas, isn't it?" Chris looked up again, closing the box.

"I guess it is", he answered, hands playing with the box. "It can be hard sometimes too though. We're not necessarily in a - what you'd call - normal relationship."

"Depends on what you're defining as normal. But it seems to have worked out well until now." He nodded, eyes obviously on the little box to emphasize his words.

"It did. I'm lucky to have..." Him. "Them. Both of our jobs don't make it easy to have a private life."

"It seems like you're handling it well."

"Yeah." Chris took a breath again. "Which is why I want to be with them." For the rest of my life.

The car slowly stopped, causing Chris to look up. They were in the middle of the freeway, cars next to cars, rolling slowly further the road. The taxi driver furrowed his brows as he turned up the volume of the radio, listening to the announcement. The volume was still too low for Chris to hear it.

"Is anything the problem?", he asked cautiously, internally preparing for something he didn't want to hear.

"I'm afraid yes. Apparently there was a crash that causes the traffic jam. I'm sorry to say this, but we're most likely being here for a while."

Of course. That one time when he needed to be home as early as possible was that one time he'd be stuck. Chris suppressed a sigh. Perhaps this wasn't a good sign for him. Perhaps this was supposed to tell him that he better not proposed tonight. Perhaps--

"How about you take a nap? Since we'll be staying here for a while, you might as well not want to be tired once we reach your place."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep much. I'm..." Well, definitely a little tired after such a long flight, but probably too stressed to get proper sleep now. "I'm sorry."

"How about you take that pillow next to you and lean back at least? I know this weren't the best news to tell you just now but if you want to surprise someone, you might as well try to be a little relaxed at least."

He wasn't wrong with that, Chris knew that much. But he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep off his problems now.

Chris tilted his head and turned, a deep red and white pillow next to him. There was no need to b impolite and he didn't have to actually sleep. Just making himself a little more comfortable wouldn't hurt anyone. One that definitely hadn't been there before (or he was just blind for not having seen it earlier). Still, he took it, a little reluctantly, and placed it between the window.

It was comfy, no doubt. But he'd definitely not fall asleep on it.

Definitely not.

____________________________________________

When Chris opened his eyes after what felt like a couple of minutes, the car was standing and the engine was turned off again. Part of him was afraid to check the time; and yet he sat up and glanced to the dashboard.

9:38pm.

God. There was still time, if...

If they weren't still on the freeway. If they were at least a little closer to his place.

If...

"I was about to wake you up."

Chris furrowed his brows, eyes wandering out of the window to see city lights, red and green Christmas-ey and decorations all over the place. There was even snow - not much but enough to cover the ground just a little.

They were back in Tokyo despite the traffic and Chris had never been this confused (because how exactly could he have slept so deeply while they must've gone full speed to be here in this short amount of time). Yet he was happy at the same time

"How...?", he asked.

"I took a shortcut once the traffic got better." The driver smiled. "I know it's late already, but there's still some time until midnight."

"I..." There was so much Chris wanted to say. "I don't know how to thank you."

"Go to your lover and make them happy. I'm sure they're waiting for you."

And Chris did - after thanking the old driver a couple of more times, insisting on paying him more than he'd have to for the drive (but he rejected even that; little to Chris' dismay since he hated to feel like he was in someone else's debt - luckily the driver at least told him to spend the money for charity, figuring there were people needing it more than him).

As the elevator took him to the last floor, Chris was staring onto the little box again, his heart racing more and more as he was carried from floor to floor. He still couldn't forget what the old man had said just before Chris had left the car and saw it drove off, that feeling that there was more to it than how it had sounded like lingering.

"Keep making people happy", he muttered the words to himself, just before the doors of the elevator opened. He had decided to choose a charity to spend his money to later (either as a distraction in case he got rejected or as some sort of celebration if not). By now Chris knew many charity organizations since he was known to participate in many events all over the year.

The door to his own apartment seemed larger than usually - but Chris still dared to knock, figuring it was better than just to enter and possibly scare his boyfriend. His suitcase stood neatly next to him, the little box slid back into his pocket.

There were sounds coming from inside and Chris was pretty sure that he had heard someone say 'Coming', but when the door opened, Chris blinked at the sight: Standing in front of him was Kazuya with a peeled banana in his mouth, staring at him like he was estimating whether this was reality or not.

It was adorable and Chris almost smiled a little too widely because he'd give much to catch that moment on a photo (but Kazuya would probably not speak to him for a while if he did).

The model pulled the banana out and swallowed his bite before he fell into Chris' arms, the sudden movement almost causing him to trip backwards. It was then that Chris knew he finally reached it.

Reached home.

"It's good to see that you're eating properly while I was away."

Kazuya pulled away a bit. "Well, since you were gone, a banana is the only thing I can take in my mouth that has the shape of..."

"Kazu- Hmpf!" His voice turned into a hum when he felt lips shortly on his. "I see you haven't lost your sense of humor while I was away."

"Never", Kazuya replied before letting Chris finally step inside. "But seriously, didn't you say you wouldn't be home until next week?" Chris started to take off his coat and his shoes while Kazuya leaned at the door. "Not that I'm complaining but..."

"I wanted to be with you today." Their eyes met. "It's that day after all, isn't it? I didn't want to leave you alone. And I didn't want to be alone today either."

There was a pause, and Chris almost thought he said something silly again, but judging the way Kazuya's face seemed a little red--

"I... I wasn't alone..."

"I know. You had that banana after all."

"Now you're teasing me."

"I have to make up for being away, don't I?"

Kazuya huffed and followed him to the living room. There was a bottle of wine standing on the small table by the couch, next to it a glass of wine - half empty already. Considering that there was a blanket laying on the couch, Kazuya had probably been watching TV to waste some time; and although Chris didn't pay much attention to the TV (the volume was too low and he couldn't see the screen of it), he assumed it was probably either a documentary or a quiz show.

"If you want to make it up, I'd recommend to start differently than that."

Chris turned, his fingers going to his tie without any commentary to unbuckle it. Hungry, amber eyes hung on his collar as it was exposed slightly. Kazuya bit his lip.

"So, are you going to eat up?"

Kazuya grunted. "Yes", he answered. "But I think I found my dessert after that."

Clothes were scattered all over the bedroom and two naked bodies were laying close to each other, arm in arm and sweaty all over. It was almost midnight, Chris noticed when he checked the clock and he turned a little to Kazuya, causing him look up and earn a kiss to his forehead the next second.

"For what was that?", he asked, voice playful.

"For being here. With me", Chris answered.

"Now that's cheesy. Did you miss me so much?"

Chris didn't say anything at first. This was probably the best situation he'd get for doing what he actually had planned. It was almost midnight. And Christmas' Eve.

"Don't move." He pulled away, missing the warmth already as he stood. "I'll be right back."

"Alright. I'll be waiting here. All naked. Watching you walking all naked through our apartment."

"Sounds like fun to me."

"It is", he purred, eyes following Chris when he left the room. "But it's going to be cold here!"

"Not for long."

Chris reached into his coat, the familiar small box in his hand again as the nervousness was slowly crawling into his chest again - but this time he swallowed it down and walked back, holding onto the box not too visibly. Sliding back under the blanket, he soon pulled Kazuya closer, head placed onto the others.

They were staying like this for a few minutes, the clock in the living room quietly announcing midnight.

"I need to get something off my chest." There was some resistance to how he held him, Kazuya seemingly wanting to pull away and look at him, sensing something bad. "Please."

"Alright", Kazuya gave back - and Chris sensed some fear in his voice. The same fear he already had when they met, and which kept him away from each other for a long time. Chris knew that he wasn't doing it on purpose and it wasn't like he didn't trust him. It was something buried too deep, something Chris one day wanted to heal in him. Because despite knowing that his partner was the most beautiful person on earth, it wasn't this beauty that had kept him to stay. Or fight for them when they started to get feelings for each other.

"I won't leave you." I will never leave you. "Actually, I... was thinking about the opposite. About the next step and... I've been thinking about this for a while now"

"Chris." He held his breath. "I can't have kids. We have no time to take care of them and I..."

"Oh." Of course.

The next step... Kids.

"I think you're skipping another step here."

It seemed to be then that Kazuya realized, his lips forming an o-shape as he pulled away and looked at Chris, speechless. The businessman shifted, exposing the little box and opening it to reveal the ring inside.

"Kazuya, I've been spending the last five years with you and every day that I was able to wake up - next to your or not - I realized that you're the one that I'll always want to have by my side. I'm the luckiest person to be with you. Because I love you. Because you're perfect to me. "

He took a deep breath, seeking eye contact. " I know we haven't talked about this at all and I don't know how you even think about this but...

"Will you marry me?"

#⚪ ;; fanfiction #⚪ ;; my stuff #thatbastardmiyuki #mochi6 #⚪ ;; reflection #⚪ ;; miyuki #⚪ ;; the blue bird on my shoulder ( chrismiyu )

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lonelygloryrpg · 5 years

Photo

ANOTHER WIZARD JOINS THE FIGHT!

Congratulations, GREY! You have been accepted as the role of BENJY FENWICK with the face-claim of Edward Bluemel. We advise you to submit your account within 24 hours otherwise your role in the group will be reopened. You can review the next steps by clicking here. Welcome to the family!

The path to glory is a lonely one. Which do you dare to take?

the player —

name: grey

age: 31

preferred pronouns: she/her

timezone: AEST (Sydney); GMT +10

triggers: //**removed**//

ships and anti-ships: given how open all the characters are, i don’t have any particular thoughts about specific ships at the moment, and generally i’d have to see how things unfold during play with various people. Be prepared though, because anything long term would need to be the slowest of slow burns with where he currently is (though his mental state right now also leaves him vulnerable to emotional manipulation if anyone wants to go the fucked-up route).

preferred method of contact: discord, tumblr im

the tale —

(tw: death)

Camden Prewett was the only child born to his parents, a pureblood couple living in South Wales. His father played Chaser for the Welsh team, while his mother (a Greengrass) worked part-time writing an advice column for the Daily Prophet. For a while, there was nothing to reveal that they weren’t the picture perfect wizarding family that they appeared to be.

As the years passed and Camden grew from toddler to boy, the lack of strange events about him started to cause his parents concern that only grew as more and more of his yearmates had outbursts of uncontrolled magic that changed the colour of their hair, caused sugar to coat the walls of their room, sent them floating near the ceiling, or - in one notable case - set their grandmother’s hair on fire. When he hadn’t so much as hiccuped a bubble by his fifth birthday, they started seeing a specialist at St Mungo’s. By his eighth birthday, his parents were telling people he was sickly and couldn’t leave the house – not that many of his previous friend’s still kept in touch as their parent’s carefully nudged them away.

It wasn’t until the September following his 11th birthday passed with no Hogwarts letter that his parents finally gave up hope and acknowledged their son was a squib. They enrolled him at Eton, where their correspondence was patchy at best. When he returned home for the summers, he found his father’s eyes sliding past him as though he were invisible and could see the blame in his mother’s eyes when the owl post came without any invitations to the high society events that used to fly thick and fast. The summer after he turned 17, he withdrew a small sum from the Gringott’s account his father had started when he was born (and eventually given up on adding to), converted it to muggle money, closed his eyes and stabbed at a map – and went to Oxford instead of going home.

He didn’t exactly have a plan in mind, and what exactly might have occurred had he not walked past Fenwick Bakery and heard the familiar sounds of Welsh spilling into the street is likely a much sorrier tale. As it was, Mrs. Fenwick took one look at the scrawny boy dragging a school chest of books around with him as though it was the only thing he owned in the world (it was) and announced that he needed to be fed (he did). When he politely asked if they could direct him to a boarding house, Camden found himself caught in a whirlwind of activity that ended with him installed in the old study above the shop (“Nae, don’t argue lad. No one’s using it and our Ben went off to the Army last year, he did. Truth is, we could use a hand around the place from time to time.”).

Over the next several years, Camden worked part time at the bakery, put himself through Oxford University, fell in love with the Fenwick’s daughter Elizabeth and married her shortly after her graduation from the police academy (taking her name in the process), moved into the house directly beside the bakery and started a small accounting business which he ran from the same set of rooms above the bakery that he’d lived in previously. He gave little, if any, thought to the world he’d left behind.

Benjy and Anna were born three years later, Benjy following after Anna then as always. Both babies were healthy, alert, and apart from a tendency to cry when separated that the nurse said they’d grow out of, seemed as perfectly normal as sand. It never occurred to Camden, delighted with a life where nobody expected him to perform magic beyond the usual Dad-level magic of making food appear and hurts go away, that maybe magic wasn’t as done with his family as he was with it.

In retrospect, it probably should have.

‘In retrospect’ meaning after he’d walked into the twins’ room to find his toddlers giggling and playing with floating balls of coloured light and then gone and made himself a rather stiff cup of tea and had a bit of a sit down. And then down the street for a pint or two after he realised he was – somehow – going to have to explain the fact that both magic was real and that their children had it to Elizabeth.

For the most part though, the magical outbursts grew less frequent as they aged out of the most emotionally volatile years, although the two always shared a sort of uncanny awareness of each other. If one was out, the other always knew when they were coming home, moving to open the door before the other came into view of any of the windows. When Benjy broke his leg playing soccer in P.E., Anna started crying in her maths class on the opposite side of the school. Sometimes, they’d both wake up from the same dream.

(Camden was rather bemused to find how easily prepared everyone was to write that off. ‘Oh yes,’ they’d nod knowingly, ‘Twins. I know how that is. Why, I once knew a pair who…’)

Benjy, for the most part, was a quiet boy, a little shy and inclined to bookishness. He excelled at his schoolwork, did decently in the under-10s soccer team he joined, and the parents of his friends always commented on how polite he was. He liked spending time in the Bakery, helping Granna Fenwick knead the dough (and to this day still has a tendency to make his bread the muggle way).

Camden had sent one letter to his parents when he arrived in Oxford, another with an invitation to his wedding, and a third when the twins had been born. The first had received a vague set of well-wishes and a half-heartedly unconvincing reminder that he was welcome home; the second a note that they would be out of the country at that time and would be unable to attend (along with a set of magical tupperware that Camden had had to sneak out of the house before anyone attempted to use them) and the third an utterly impersonal congratulations card. Despite this, he wrote another when the twins received their Hogwarts’ letters, thinking they might be able to introduce the twins to some of their schoolmates ahead of time.

The letter he received back didn’t come from his parents at all. It came from their lawyer, with the news that his parents had died two years ago. It also contained the keys to two Gringotts vaults, with a letter explaining that his parents had set up the trusts on the off-chance one or both of their grandchildren should prove to have magic.

And thus went Benjy’s introduction to the Prewett family; they only cared if he had magic.

Anna was Sorted first, and the Hat had barely landed on her head when it sent her to the Hufflepuff table. Benjy’s turn, though, seemed interminably long. He clutched the edge of the stool, and thought longingly of just taking the thing off and going to sit with his sister. “Hufflepuff? Hmm, no, I think not. Oh, they’d take you, certainly, but that’s more about them than you. No, wouldn’t work, it’s all wrong for you. You’d stagnate. Ravenclaw, perhaps…” How long he sat there, balanced on the knife edge between two Houses, he never was certain. And perhaps, if the hat had sent him to Ravenclaw, his life would have followed a different path, an easier one.

A happier one.

Instead, it placed him in Slytherin, for reasons that took him seven years to understand.

Green was not a kind colour for a boy with a muggle name. It was the week before Christmas that things came to a head. Sent sprawling once again in the Charms corridor to a series of sniggers and drawling comments about mudbloods belonging in the dirt, flushed with shame and anger, he snapped back that he wasn’t a mudblood, he was a Prewett.

(It’s nothing compared to the shame that he feels at home, crying into his father’s shoulder because he hadn’t admitted Camden was a squib, had validated the belief that it mattered. He’s too young to know that that’s the root of his shame; all he knows is that somehow, in some way, he’s let his Dad down.

It’s the one and only time he claims the name of Prewett.)

He avoided as much as he could, tucking himself into hidden corners of the library with books and poured himself into his schoolwork to escape the slings and slights still aimed in his direction. The uncertainty of his blood status caused a general lessening in their volume, but the vitriol of those that remained took a nastier edge from those who decided that squib-born was worse than muggle-born.

Benjy… endured. He started to learn, in bits and pieces, to not react, to protect himself with distance.

(The winter break of his second year, he asks his mother how to disarm someone.)

It was his third year that bought a change in his circumstances. It came in two parts – the first, a skilfully convincing performance in duelling club that made several people reconsider certain choices in regards to the quiet boy. The second - an invitation from Slughorn, impressed by the boys skill in potions, to join the Slug Club. Anna was thrilled ( “You’re finally making friends! Oh Benjy!” ); Benjy knew the club was more about connections, and power, and influence – and he’d seen the effect of not having all three far too clearly to turn them down when they were offered.

It didn’t gain him acceptance, it didn’t make him friends, but it achieved what he’d wanted: to be left alone. And as the ice grew thicker and colder around him, he smothered the plaintive, lonely voice that asked if this is what he really wanted, and played the game. He learned to think not just of the moment but the turns and plays that loomed ahead, to manoeuvre his pieces into place.

(He doesn’t see the worry and concern in his family’s eyes as he withdraws even further into himself.)

After graduating with a high score on all of his N.E.W.T.S., Benjy took up an apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s on the recommendations of both Madame Pomfrey (who he had started assisting in the Hospital Wing after a few detentions in his second year) and Professor Slughorn. (Anna, watching her brother disappear each evening behind a towering stack of text books, informed him that he was crazy for extending school by another handful of years. Benjy informed her that she was crazy for hopping on a floating stick of wood for hours a day of risking her neck – and then made her read the sections of his textbook covering broken bones and impact traumas in detail.) He did well, though his bedside manner was noted as an area for improvement.

In the background, though, the war was still brewing, growing darker and grimmer as it went. When Benjy finished his apprenticeship, he strongly argued for moving somewhere else for his residency (to America, Australia… where ever, he didn’t care, as long as it wasn’t in the path of Voldemort). Anna had different plans, plans that were almost entirely opposed to Benjy’s. She didn’t want to leave, she wanted to stay and fight. There was a group, she said, fighting Him. And when they couldn’t fight they tried to help. (And besides, she’d just made first-string Chaser and she wasn’t going to start all over again, thank you very much).

Benjy could out-stubborn most people, but he could never stand up to his sister. And so he ended up standing impassively behind Anna at their first Order of the Phoenix meeting, apparently unaware of the side-eyes and mutters his presence caused among those who subscribed to the idea that all Slytherins were evil incarnate or full of betrayal. Still, they thawed gradually, as they came back from mission after mission to find Benjy standing there, waiting silently with his medical supplies arranged neatly on the table, and asking no questions other than a few blunt ones about any injuries and their causes.

Benjy remained stiff, because he didn’t want to be ‘alright, for a Slytherin’ or ‘the good Slytherin’. He didn’t want to be the exception that proved the rule to them, he wanted them to realise that the rule itself was wrong. Still, Benjy’s chilly oddness became something familiar, and people started being more open with him about Order activities.

Six months later, Anna stumbled onto a gang of Snatchers going after a Muggle family and tried to intervene. Benjy was in the middle of examining a patient when suddenly he was choking on phantom blood, the taste on his tongue, struggled to draw breath and inhaled liquid instead. His nerves shrieking with agony as electric shocks bounded along them, burning the nerve path searingly as his heart convulsed under crushing weight and he struggled to breath, sight narrowing – and then, abruptly, horrifically, it stopped – and in it’s wake, a gaping emptiness as something that was never supposed to be torn was ripped out of him.

It wasn’t thought, it wasn’t planning, it wasn’t anything other than the purest fear and need and instinct that made him disapparate with no clear destination and nothing but a trace of shared sensation to follow but somehow, somehow, he made it.

She was already dead, left lying in the street with her eyes open. Besides the thin trail of blood escaping her mouth, she might have been simply stunned.

When he walked into the Order’s headquarters and laid her body silently on the table, many thought that would be the last they’d see of either of the Fenwick’s, that Benjy would take the opportunity to leave now that he didn’t have Anna holding him here. But three weeks later, he resurfaced again, still overly pale and with deep bruises under his eyes, in need of a shave. He didn’t talk, or meet anyone’s eyes, simply started to lay out his medical supplies again almost mechanically. (He became more active in meetings, which most ascribed to his sister’s death making things personal – they were right, to an extent, but not only in the way that they thought.)

Three months later, the Ministry fell and Benjy found himself in possession of knowledge that would quickly escalate him to the top of Voldemort’s Most Wanted if anyone knew he had it. Because he not only knew that Dumbledore was alive but how to find him – and the exact details of his injuries and recovery. This also, he found, put him into the odd position of go-between; when he got back from the Order, he’d fill in Dumbledore on what was going on, and in turn he’d try and vaguely guide things in the direction Dumbledore instructed, though he was limited to the occasional nudge here or there or dropping pieces of information that he’d ‘heard from a patient’, lest he give away Dumbledore’s secret.

#accepted #benjy fenwick

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