#because it was a total style experiment and in the end i could barely see silco as silco
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@arcanefandomweek trans arcane week day 1: sunlight/rain
#silco#arcane#silco arcane#transarcaneweek#arcane silco#arcane fanart#sirren draws#arcane netflix#fanart#young silco#*puts silco in a binder* trans#see now i wasn't even going to post this#because it was a total style experiment and in the end i could barely see silco as silco#but a few people told me that he still very much looks like silco (you know who you are and i love you)#so here we are#also i am very proud of the colors#might redraw in my regular style at a later date. who knows!
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Listen. If you have anymore info to drop about that caseynardo au. I’m begging bc I’m kind of obsessed already
Sure thing >:]
@toothlesshat
When they are found by the others, they actually hide their real identities. It’s not too hard considering they both wear masks and Leo wears a cloak when out and about. The boys and April have no idea how long it’s been for them, and are looking for two 16 year olds instead of the guys in their mid-40s. The Elder Gays™️ hide their identities because they think that some other versions of them got stuck there recently, and that’s who the others are looking for. They think that this version of their family is not their version if I’m making any sense.
The Elder Gays ™️ would volunteer to help the boys and April find what they think is their Leo and Casey, since they think some other versions of them got trapped there too. As they’re guiding them around looking for two people who aren’t there, they start seeing connection between what Donnie describes as the events before the portal mishaps, and their own experiences. Like, the events line up perfectly for all of them, and Leo and Casey eventually realize what happened.
Eventually someone figures it out and they all collectively realize that they’ve just lost 30 years together. Cue angsty stuff but that’s not what we’re here for >:]
@lucatea ‘s idea of how the boys and April would figure out who they are is that Leo would run off to do something dumb and dangerous and Casey would panic and say Leo’s name, since they very much get anxious when someone runs off on their own in this dangerous world they’re in.
The masks:
Bonus:
Random Tidbits:
- After a few years, Leo did lose the leg that was damaged in his fight with Shredder. He has a prosthetic made of salvaged tech.
- They had a shotgun wedding, in the middle of a fight, Pirates of the Caribbean style >:]
- They worry relentlessly about each other
- They first started falling for each other after about a month or two
- Eventually they became leaders of their own mini tribe of scavengers
- Casey confessed first
- They don’t specifically mention a that they’re married. Mikey is the first to realize it, then April and Donnie, and finally Raph, who is dumbfounded for the longest time, bc I find it funny
- It took them a really long time how to work with the salvaged tech, mostly relying on another scavenger and a scientist they know to make their gear, but later in their lives they could do some stuff with what they find.
- They live in an alien-like jungle biome, but I’m not sure what their house looks tho (so if you have ideas lmk :] )
- Part of their house has been turned into a greenhouse courtesy of Leo
- Casey missed playing Hockey so Leo learned to play to make him feel better
- Puppy Dog Eyes are an efficient way for Casey to get whatever he wants
- Leo has gotten sick several times and Casey REFUSES to leave his side every time
- Neither of them could really cook when they got there, but Casey eventually got really good at it. After 30 years, Leo is still banned from the kitchen.
- They built their house by hand
- They were there for 30 years, married for 19, and together for a total of 25, resulting in the most loving shit-talking
Some worldbuilding for the world they’re in:
It’s a sort of post apocalyptic world with many cities acting as safe havens, either protected by walls or forcefield domes. Inside of these cities, resources are scarce because of the sheer population and limited space. People can live outside of these protected cities but very few do because of the sheer amount of hyper-predatory animals that live there. Naturally, when the boys get dropped into this world, they end up far from any cities. They survive but just barely, hiding up in trees or small caves most of the time. Eventually, they would adapt, and get together with a small clan of people who are also outside the city. This planet has a lot of very different intelligent species, so mutant turtle isn’t weird, but there are very few humans, so Casey is considered strange or new.
The people outside the safe zones, scavenge, hunt, and gather for their food, as well as salvaging ancient tech that can be found all over the place. Most of this tech is used to make weapons or protection systems for their homes to keep the scary stuff away.
The scavengers take the surplus of what the find and take into the cities to trade and sell, but it’s very illegal to do that. Most of the trading happens in a black market but there’s always the risk of getting captured by law enforcement. Leo and Casey often go into the underground of these cities, getting chased by law enforcement and occasionally getting arrested.
The did try living inside of several different cities but found that they were better off on the outside instead, since the competition for resources in them was ferocious, and they had the skills to live in the more dangerous areas. They mainly stick to sneaking in outside resources, and the occasional shopping or date night at a restaurant.
Quotes I bombarded @lucatea with when I discovered the incorrect quote generator:
C: Am I in trouble?
L: Take a guess.
C: No?
L: Take another guess.
-
C: You love me, right, Lee?
L: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.
-
L(smuggling outside resources into a city): Are we going too far?
C: No, no, no. We went too far about seven hours ago. Now we're going to prison.
-
L: So that’s my plan.
C: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don’t want to sound mean.
L: No, go ahead, I want to hear it.
C: It fucking sucks.
L: That’s not constructive criticism.
-
C: So what’s for dinner?
L, staring at the food he just burnt: Regret.
-
L, tending to Casey's wounds: How would you rate your pain?
C: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.
-
C: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died-
L: Twelve, actually.
C: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?
L: Yours!
C: That's right, no one's.
-
The vibe:
#enjoy my guy :]#they’re chaotic old men fr#shenanigans are their love language#tmnt 2012#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt leonardo#casey jones#tmnt 2k12#leocasey#caseynardo#2012 casey#tmnt leo#tmnt leo 2012#tmnt au
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
I was tagged by @thefreakandthehair and @wynnyfryd You’re both so hot and cool and talented it’s unreal.
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
Fifteen
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
88,773
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Stranger Things
The only other fandom I’ve ever considered writing for is Good Omens, but I’m so obsessed with Steddie I don’t know if I can peel myself away.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
1. Cut It Loose, Watch You Work The Room
2. I Like Playing Dumb Until You Figure Me Out
3. Tell Eddie He Looks Sexy With His Hair Pushed Back
4. All You Have Is Your Fire
5. Comb The Crowd, Pick You Out
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Abso-fucking-lutely I Do. Why? Because I am in shock and awe that anyone anywhere appreciated the goofy thing I wrote so much that they commented to tell me that. Thank you thank you thank you for commenting on fics. It means everything.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I’m incapable of not writing a happy ending. Happy Ending are GUARANTEED IN THIS HOME. However, Wynn noted I did write a bonus microfic that was posted to Tumblr only that was angsty. Fun fact: it was based off a very un-angsty IRL experience with Wynnyfryd herself.
‘If They Won’t Call You Wynny Baby, I Will.’
Anyway, read Drunk Words—Sober Thoughts if you wanna.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
All of…All of them I—yall you know my Steddies are so fucking in love with each other it’s stupid.
But Comb The Crowd, Pick You Out is especially cheese.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
No, and I’m blessed for that, but even if I did…all my buddies know how truly dedicated I am to the fact that We are responsible for our own online experience. Don’t let goofy goobers who have nothing better to do than put you down, get to you. If yall ever get hate and need someone to tell you you’re fucking worth it—cmere.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Me? Write Smut? Oh my god I could never—
Yall what haven’t I written, be so fucking for real.
Requests? Drop ‘Em in my Ask Box.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
Nooo. I do not. Obviously I have a mess of a good omens X steddie AU rattling around in my brain, but it will never come to fruition
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
No, but where I largely write Rockstar dom daddy Eddie it’s very easy to see different variations of similar plot lines. Alas, Two Cakes
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
No! But I would cry if one ever was.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
No! My writing style is so chaotic I think anyone I wrote with would be shook and terrified. HOWEVER, I may have something coming with @steddieas-shegoes real fuckin’ soon.
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
Steddie. My angels. The loves of my life.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Oh god. The first thing I ever started writing for Steddie was a Rockstar AU. Shocked looks from the lived audience. Where Steve and Robin moved to Chicago and Eddie covers Head Like a Hole by Nine Inch Nails. Fuckin’ Woof. May it rest in slutty slutty pieces.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Writing seventy two miles of really spicy foreplay…and dialogue 😂
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Some authors are so fucking incredible with imagery and beautiful descriptions of scenes and I just don’t think I’m one of them, but I would like to be one day.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I can barely speak English so I would never write a fic where Eddie speaks French when he fucks…
Anyway stream Tell Eddie He Looks Sexy
19. First fandom you wrote for?
That I published? Stranger Things.
That’s buried in the back of my closet, handwritten in a notebook? The Backstreet Boys.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
Kiss Your Knuckles (Before You Punch Me In The Face) It is everything to me.
Well that was fuckin’ fun as heck. Tagging with absolutely zero pressure a couple buddies 🖤
@messessentialist @steddieas-shegoes @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @aidaronan @sourw0lfs @t-boyeddie @scarcrossdlvrs @runninriot @cuips-not-cute @onirislanding @thisapplepielife
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New in 2E: Endgame
Today I’d like to talk about the endgame that I’m introducing with second edition.
One of the big problems I had with the first release of Toonpunk was a lack of ways to show you “made it”; when you play dungeons and dragons for example you can say my character is level 30, I’ve finished the game; there’s nothing left for me to do except retire this character, finish their story, and begin again”, but with Toonpunk there were no clearly delineated progress markers that players could tack their story onto. On one hand, this let stories kind of unfurl however people want it, but on the other hand that meant a characters story would often be meandering and aimless, and maybe wouldn’t even ever reach its end. Without a way for players to say “I’ve gotten this far with this character, they are at this point relative to the world they are in, this is what is left for them to achieve as people” there wasn’t a sense of direction that people really glommed onto.
So when I was making these revisions for second edition I thought to myself, “in the world of Toonpunk, what makes someone uniquely dangerous; what makes them a living legend?“ And that was itself a complicated question, because while there was a setting bible for Toonpunk, it wasn’t really integrated into the mechanics of the game. That was my intention at the time; but years of experience later, I’ve come to realize that by trying to make it setting-agnostic, I was hampering not only the game, but the players, with this philosophy. I didn’t realize at first how many people were attracted specifically to the fantasy on the cover of the book — which seems kind of like a silly thing to say now, but you don’t know what you don’t know.
So to answer the question of what makes someone uniquely dangerous IN THE Toonpunk fantasy, I had to look at the Toonpunk setting — and in that setting, there is a very clear open and shot answer: a person who is dangerous is a person with access to black ink and white paper. From that revelation, the new second edition endgame was born. It’s as simple as a simple gets: in second edition, the endgame is stealing pure black ink and using them to draw a new expression of your self onto reality. A character is at their “apex“ when they have taken for themselves the tools and equipment necessary scribble their image all over the world.
So what does that mean in practical terms? In brief: directions for GM’s to create new high stakes missions, and a few totally crazy rewards for finishing them.
Let’s start with some of the problems. Second edition includes a gallery of powerful enemies, collectively referred to as “the all county shit list“. Each of these characters is a fully developed antagonist ready for the GM to pull right out of the box and drop on top of their players. Each one has a powerful ability and unique fighting style guaranteed to make fighting them on one of a kind experience. Here’s some examples:
There’s no art for any of these and there might never be because art is expensive and I am a busboy.
As of writing, these characters will not be included in the core manual; rather, they will be included in the toonpunk‘s guide to Saskatoon — the companion volume to core addition, which contains a wide variety of settings and characters built specifically for toonpunk. This book will be released simultaneously had no additional charge with toonpunk second edition; but the inclusion of the rogues is subject to change, if all you out there in the gallery would prefer to have them included in the core volume. Let me know what you think in the comments.
Now let’s talk about some of the prizes. What do you get for stealing black ink out from under these creeps’ noses? Well, I’ll let the book speak for itself!
The text that you see here is actually a little bit bare-bones. Looking at it now, I’d like to try and revisit the “Being of mass destruction” option and provide further stipulations for what it can do. Maybe I should add more?
But I’ll tell you what IS fully developed to my tastes: the system for creating a living item is a series of charts and point-buys that allow you to create a piece of gear — armor and weapons primarily — with custom-chosen stats and traits to meet/exceed any other item in the book. They ALSO have a personality, which grants them a unique ability...and a small list of things they’d like you to do, if you want them to perform to their fullest. A living item becomes a bit of a commitment to a certain playstyle in exchange for maximal rewards. Once again, I’ll let the text speak for itself. Here’s a sample of the living weapons’ unique abilities, and some of the personalities they can have.
I’ll hold onto the others until I’m ready to release Second Edition...if only because this blog post is already getting too long! I didn’t even get to talk about the new kind of augment yet. I think we’ll get to that one next time. Stay tooned!
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Glass Animals at Columbiahalle Berlin | 5th September 2022
It’s been a while since the concert and I haven’t managed to write down my experiences yet. Glass Animals have been on my list for quite a while and I had wanted to buy a ticket months ago. Unfortunately, I had to pull off a last minute stunt with an Ebay purchase instead because I wasn’t sure if I would be moving places or working on this day.
The journey to Berlin went surprisingly smoothly, although I took a Flixbus this time due to the insane prices for the train. I arrived at the hostel a bit too early, so I took a walk around the local neighbourhood, found some vegan fast food and strolled through the Mauerpark. It was a gorgeous sunny day - perfect to go exploring.
I soon got reminded that Berlin and me are not best friends though, when I got lost completely and could not find the tram stop Google told me was just in front of my nose. It turns out my phone was having issues with location services these days - a bad timing.
At around 3 pm I checked in at the hostel. To my surprise, the guy at the reception used to go to the same uni I am supposed to start at. The world is small. Another surprise was the big and tidy, but completely empty eight-bed-room. I took a shower, charged my phone and relaxed. At some point I figured I should go to the venue to arrive there shortly after 5 pm.
This time my calculations were wrong. Although there was still plenty of time to go til doors, there were already about 50 people. Something I instantly noticed was just how diverse the fans looked like. Many had colourful hair, unusual clothing and jewellery.
A guy in a transparent shirt sorted everyone according to their numbers on their hands, so I just waited until they were done and joined two nice girls from Poland. Olivia and Paulina came here together to only their second concert and were super sweet to talk to.
I was surprised just how many people kept arriving. Shortly before the doors were due to open, you could not even see the queue’s end anymore. Then everything happened really fast: Ticket check, security check - I noticed there was a second security check nobody seemed to use and quickly changed the lane. That turned out to be my saving grace - I made it to front row right, just as I wanted.
I can’t remember any concert venue filling up this quickly with so many people squished together just minutes after doors. It became difficult to go to the bathroom or get drinks just right away.
I was lucky to have nice people around me, although I sadly lost Olivia and Paulina. Later I spotted them somewhere in the middle, but they did not see me. Behind me Erik and Emilia, brother and sister, came together in self-made t-shirts and with a sign. Emilia wasn’t old enough to go alone so her brother accompanied her. They were really lovely and we had a good time waiting together.
The opening act Sable was not very good in my opinion, but maybe that was because I could barely hear what the singer was whispering into her microphone. The audience mostly loved them, though.
In the meantime Glass Animals used their Dreamland aesthetic to mess with us old style: The estimate on the Showtime.exe file download would change from anything between minutes and literal years. Good old times.
We could see Davey backstage all in white, pacing around and talking to people. At some point we waved at him and he waved back. At around 9 pm smeone put a pineapple onstage:
And then, a few minutes later, the fun finally started with them playing Life Itself. It became clear right away that this was not going to be a normal concert. Not only was Wavey Davey on fire, but so was the crowd. The venue was absolutely packed and everyone had decided to sing and cheer their hearts out. After every single song.
At some point we just wouldn’t stop cheering and Dave was in total disbelief about what was happening, just holding his head and saying “Wow, wow” repeatedly.
The band proceeded to churn out bangers the entire time. There was not one weak moment in the entire setlist. Everything was complimented by the wonderfully colourful visuals and the lights.
N had been teaching me all band members’ names, so I knew exactly it was Drew in front of me on guitar and piano. Well I needn’t have worried so much about telling him apart from Ed, because Dave made a point to introduce him at least three times before remembering the band consists of two more members.
I did see a lot of Drew and tried to take a few pictures of him showing off. The “physics prof” as N and I named him after one of her former teachers, wasn’t very much in teaching mode today. He was more busy showing off to everyone and enjoying the show.
Both Ed and Drew came to the front often and fans were cheering for them and even showing hearts. It was very sweet how the band interacted with the audience and with each other. It seemed to be one big and very hyped up family. Sadly, I could not see much of Joe, the drummer, because he was mostly hidden behind his drumkit from my point of view.
Unfortunately some light situations also made photos difficult, but it was anyway quite impossible to catch Dave in motion. He is a human bouncy ball, constantly jumping and dancing around, and never being too much out of breath to not deliver stellar vocals.
Dave made all of us anticipate his little kiss during Space Ghost and it was honestly hillarious how everyone was cheering for that. During Gooey he came to the barrier and sang directly in front of some overjoyed fans. But for Pork Soda, he gave the pinapple to the very tall girl next to me.
Truly, no throwing, very careful giving instead. The lucky girl was dancing with the pineapple for the entire song. Too soon it was time for the encore with Tokyo Drifting and, of course, Heat Waves. I decided to let Emilia to the front for her favourite song, and it was definitely a good decision and made her very happy.
The last song was completely euphoric with everyone singing their hearts out. Too soon, the concert was over and we all had to go from Dreamland back to our ordinary lives.
Although my journey back to the hostel went very smoothly, the next day already started from the wrong foot. First thing in the morning, my USB cable disintegrated and I was left with 20 percent charge. So I went on a stressed odyssey to find vegan breakfast and a cable.
This made me really anxious and by the time I finally found sth to eat and a new cable at Alexanderplatz, I already used up much of my mental capacity for that day. I had really wanted to go to the Pergamon Museum for many years and somehow it had never worked out.
This day I was greeted by some security guy straight out of a movie in black sunglasses and wordlessly thrown off the property. Some weird barriers and building sites and the security guys made me really anxious together with the general aloofness on the Museumsinsel with its huge, palace-like buildings.
I decided it was not good to push myself any further because it's not a thing to go to the museum crying. So I headed to Brandenbuger Tor, which is already familiar to me, with the goal to go and explore the Tiergarten. What could possibly go wrong? A big, peaceful park for me to calm down and regain my mental strength.
Well, no. At some point two grown men approached me with some piece of paper in their hand and broken english and they would not back off even when I said no repeatedly, instead following me and invading my space really closely until I had to yell for them to leave me alone.
This left me crying somewhere in the bushes and I did not really get better even when N called me to calm me down. Wanting to sit on a bench for a while to regain composure, a poor unknowing fella came and asked me politely to sit next to me. I took my backpack and left him baffled and feeling sorry, but I was just crying again.
Things only started getting better when I arrived at another familiar place, the Hauptbahnhof, and went to Vapiano to get some food. The familiar environment helped keeping me stable and I decided to head for the central bus station a bit sooner and go explore a nearby park with a lake.
It was very beautiful and finally nobody bothered me, so the journey home actually went very smoothly once again. Finally at home, I was overjoyed to get into bed and feel safe and comfortable.
This should have been the end of the story, but it isn’t completely. A few days later, I started editing the photos from the concert and post them on instagram. Honestly, I did not expect or want much, but the fan base just blew me away completely. People would not stop sharing, complimenting and even messaging me with requests to draw the photos or use them as their phone background.
Especially Drew got a lot of love from the fans. But then Ed shared my photos of him and my inbox really exploded with notes and even fans excitedly congratulating me with being noticed by a band member. I have honestly never once seen fans this committed to include everyone and share art and photos. It made me feel very welcome.
Dreamland in real life may have ended, but I’m looking forward to the band’s next project and I really hope to see them again soon.
#glass animals#ga berlin#dave bayley#drew macfarlane#edmund irwin singer#joe seaward#dreamland#my concerts#my photo
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Replica Louis Vuitton Neverfull Handbag For Women
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Fake Louis Vuitton Replica Luggage
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I finally figured out why it feels like Supernatural murdered a unicorn (AKA why you need to STOP telling me to watch Black Sails)
I’ll start by saying, everything everyone else has been saying CERTAINLY bothers me:
- the queer-baiting
- the bury your queers
- the undermining of Dean’s character arc
- the wasted opportunity for a certain kind of overall narrative closure
- the flat out disrespect to Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles
All of that bothers me tremendously.
But there has been something else rather ineffable about this that has left a horrible taste in my mouth that I couldn’t quite pin down until last night. Bear with me, if you will, because this will require some set-up.
***
This is not the first show to ever disappoint me in a spectacular fashion, nor will it be the last, I suspect. And one of the ways I’ve always coped with that disappointment was to remind myself that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right. (”It” being any number of things from just pure narrative emotional coherence to not burying your queers to not stringing along your queer audience and then yelling fuck you to them on the way out)
But somehow that assurance -- that there will be other stories, other characters, other chances to get it right -- has rung particularly hollow in this instance, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until yesterday.
I kept asking myself, why do I still have this feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, like something was lost here that can never be recovered?
Because something was lost here that I am doubtful can ever be recovered, and I don’t think I’ve seen anyone else talking about this aspect of it at all.
***
A few months ago, TV critic Maureen Ryan did a great interview piece with Mike Schur (of Parks & Rec/The Good Place) discussing the death of long-form TV in the streaming era. They explore how the longer seasons and longer runs of traditional broadcast/cable TV provided an opportunity to tell particular kinds of stories that you simply can’t when seasons are 8-10 episodes and series typically run 2-4 seasons (thanks Netflix).
One key thing we’ve all lost in this new era of highly condensed TV storytelling (and of prestige TV narrative styles)? The traditional (several season’s long) slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance. Not only is there simply no longer the time or space to write such romances, it has also come to be seen as hacky, manipulative, cheap, artistically impoverished, low-brow, a embarrassing vestige of the era before TV became art™.
Everybody is trying to be Fleabag now. No one wants to be Frasier. (”It’s really more like a 10 hour movie” they all like to brag)
Obviously TV still has romances, even ‘drawn out’ romances. But ‘drawn out’ in 2020 is like 2-3 seasons, maybe. More commonly it’s like half a season. Take Schitt’s Creek. The number of episodes between when David and Patrick first meet and when they first kiss? Seven. Seven episodes. Half a season. If you watched it live, it took less than 2 months for them to move from introducing that dynamic to consummating it. And I’m not bagging on Schitt’s Creek; I think the David/Patrick’s story is very lovely and well-written.
But Niles & Daphne (Fraiser) had to wait 7 years and over 150 episodes before they finally got there. Josh & Donna (The West Wing) had to wait 6+ years, and 145 episodes. Mulder & Scully (The X-Files) had to wait 7 seasons and 143 episodes. Booth & Bones had to wait...you see where I am going with this.
And my point is (and I can’t believe I never realized this explicitly until now): there has NEVER been a queer slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance of that type on TV ever. EVER.
I’m going to say that again, because I think it bares repeating:
There has never been a queer, slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance that fits the 100-150 episode paradigm of delayed gratification on TV.
Not ever.
I can’t think of ONE example Not a single, solitary one. And I know queer TV pretty well. Arguably the closest we’ve ever come is Legend of Korra, and that ran 50 episodes, a THIRD of the length of old school will-they-won’t-theys like Booth & Bones or Josh & Donna.
Queer people have had a fair number of canonical romances on TV by now, even fairly long running ones. But we never got a primary/front-and-center romance that you had to root for for 100+ episodes before you got any kind of canonical consummation.
That is a particular kind of TV experience that queer people and queer characters were just 100% shut out of until it was too late. And because of how the TV landscape has changed in the last 10 years, I don’t know that that opportunity will ever come back around in our lifetimes.
***
Dean and Castiel are/were a legacy of an earlier era of TV, an era that still contained the possibility for a will-they-won’t-they of that particular mold. There were other shows that could have also filled this gap at one time - Rizzoli & Isles, OUAT, House MD, etc. But one by one all of them were killed off, their queer romances unrequited, until Supernatural was the only one of its’ generation left standing.
And they should have acknowledged that they were a species about to become extinct.
There are plenty of other valid and compelling reasons Supernatural should have gone full Destiel, don’t get me wrong.
A) It would have been the most emotionally satisfying ending to the series and to those characters (and that would have been reason enough).
B) It would have stopped the manipulative queer-baiting of the (disproportionately queer) fanbase (and that would have been reason enough).
C) It would have been queer representation of middle-aged men, of bi men, of queers who came to their queerness later in life (and any/all of those would have been reason enough).
D) It could have been a glorious subversion of the bury your queers trope, considering how often they’ve died and been resurrected (and that would have been reason enough).
But point E) on this list is the reason this one hurts in a singular way that no one even appears to be acknowledging.
Almost all of the other wrongs and missed opportunities contained in this Supernatural debacle have the possibility of being rectified (at least to a degree) elsewhere. I can and I likely will get more bi male characters from TV as time goes on. I can and likely will get more middle-aged queer characters. I can and likely will get more queer characters coming to their queerness later in life, and starting queer romances later in life. I can and likely will get more queer characters who aren’t killed cheaply and prematurely. I can and likely will get more genre TV shows with sprawling myth arc plots that are resolved in a coherent, satisfying way. I can and likely will get Misha Collins and Jensen Ackles involved in other projects that value their work and their talents.
All of those other things are at the very least POSSIBLE, and many are even likely.
But a queer 100-150 episode slow-burn romance a la Mulder & Scully or Niles & Daphne or Booth & Bones? That is the one baton Supernatural dropped spectacularly that no one else even has the possibility of picking up again for the foreseeable future. (They don’t even write those types of romances for heterosexuals anymore!)
Seriously. It was a TV unicorn. And rather than letting it run wild and free, they stabbed it with a rusty nail.
***
Given the monumental shifts in the TV landscape that have occurred in the last decade, I don’t know that TV will ever go back to the slow-burn/will-they-won’t-they romance spanning 100-150 episodes. Today it is a miracle if you can get ANY show to last longer than 50 episodes in the first place.
And that is the piece of this that makes it feel (to me) like they murdered a unicorn.
Because queer people have gotten a lot of things from TV, and they will get a lot more as time goes on. But that one? That one could very well be a totally extinct species.
That is the larger missed opportunity here that has left this feeling especially hollow and destructive. That is the thing that makes me balk when people tell me to go watch Black Sails or Pose or whatever other prestige TV show is doing this representation ‘better.’ Because that’s not really the loss I am mourning here. I KNOW there is ‘better’ representation elsewhere.
But the will-they-won’t-they/slow-burn romance is a qualitatively unique thing that queer people literally just never got. Ever. There is no substitute, no alternate, no other show I can turn to with that kind of build-up and pay-off for a queer couple, and there probably won’t be in my lifetime. Not unless the TV industry undergoes another monumental evolution similar to the streaming revolution that shifts the incentives back to telling those types of stories again.
All those shows you want me to displace Supernatural with? None of them can give me the one thing I uniquely wanted (and could have gotten) from Supernatural. THAT ALTERNATE SHOW DOESN’T EXIST. It doesn’t exist. And I have no reason to hope it will ever exist in my lifetime.
So stop telling me to look somewhere else; you don’t understand what made this one a unicorn.
***
Addendum: The only other possible show that could perhaps fill this gap is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia (re: Mac/Dennis). But I’m hesitant to say it exactly meets that criteria, for a number of reasons:
1 - It’s far less serialized relative to Supernatural and (except for a handful of stand-alone episodes) very little of the story is grounded specifically in Dennis/Mac’s romantic dynamic (unlike SPN, where it is absolutely central to much of the narrative)
2 - IASIP is fundamentally satirically in nature/tone which makes it much harder to have genuine romantic pathos (not impossible, but harder)
3 - All the characters on IASIP are fundamentally crummy people who you aren’t exactly supposed to root for. Which doesn’t mean a romance between two of them can’t have its value/charm/worth but it’s not the same as when it is between characters who unequivocally deserve nice things/happy endings
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for the prompts: NMJ/JC - Everyone with a functioning brain cell can see that JC just needs someone to tell him he’s doing a good job. And if WWX isn’t stepping up? Well, NMJ definitely will. (Preferably smut and/or fluff) Thank you! ❤️
Compliments - ao3
It started in anger, out of spite.
Traditionally, the world took this to be a bad thing, but in all honesty the vast majority of projects in the Nie sect were started that way – they inherited fiery tempers and spiteful personalities from their ancestors along with their saber cultivation traditions – and it didn’t always turn out badly. There were any number of buildings, techniques, or technological innovations in the Unclean Realm that had started life as a furious fuck you to someone and only turned into something worthwhile about halfway through, once the person involved had calmed down enough to think about what they were doing, realize they were already committed, and then shrug and carry on forward because there was no point in stopping a charge midway.
What Nie Mingjue meant was: there was precedent.
He liked to think it started with Jiang Fengmian, but if Nie Mingjue was being honest with himself, it started back in the Unclean Realm when Nie Huaisang had told him, quite casually over dinner, that he thought that the female cultivator in his class was very pretty and that he’d be happy to marry her.
“Uh,” Nie Mingjue had said, very intelligently. “Huaisang, you’re seven.”
Nie Huaisang had not seen the problem. Instead, he explained very forthrightly that it was only right that he start thinking early on about his marriage, as getting married and having children would be his great contribution to the sect on account of being useless good-for-nothing unfit for anything else –
“Wait,” Nie Mingjue said. “Who told you that?!”
Nie Huaisang claimed he had deduced it.
Nie Mingjue claimed that Nie Huaisang was full of bullshit, and also that he wasn’t good-for-nothing even if he wasn’t good at saber, and anyway even if he was a total good-for-nothing he was still Nie Mingjue’s good-for-nothing and no one had better say a single damn word against him or Nie Mingjue would bite them.
“I meant stab them!” he explained, far too late; Nie Huaisang was already rolling around laughing to the point of tears. “I have a saber. I can stab people! I’m actually very scary, you know!”
Nie Huaisang hadn’t believed him one bit and had carried on, seemingly at peace and forgetting everything, but Nie Mingjue had gone seeking advice from all of his elders and counselors and the more dependable senior disciples of his sect, abruptly terrified that he was permanently damaging Nie Huaisang by raising him the wrong way or something. Didn’t children need encouragement at that age? Weren’t they all young and tender peaches liable to be bruised at the slightest glance or young sprouts that needed to be sheltered from the harsh wind lest they grow up crooked?
Everyone assured him that children were hardier than they appeared, flexible and capable of bouncing back from just about anything. He'd pressed, though, pointing out that even the most flexible wood would eventually form a crack in the face of a vicious hurricane, and in the end they'd admitted that it was better to avoid applying too much pressure at too young an age, that a child squeezed too hard or not hard enough might develop neuroses that would hinder them in the future.
They mostly tried not to look at him when they said that, presumably thinking to themselves that Nie Mingjue was little more than a child himself and had already been subject to the worst pressures possible, which would undoubtedly result in who knows what future issues, but he hadn’t paid that part any mind. As far as he was concerned, his life was already a loss – he had sworn to take revenge for his father, to make that ancient monster Wen Ruohan pay with his life for what he had done and furthermore he'd sworn to pay back the blood debt in full before any of that burden passed to Nie Huaisang.
Letting Nie Huaisang grow up happy – that was what mattered.
Letting him be insulted when Nie Mingjue wasn’t looking played no part in that plan. If Nie Huaisang were going to be insulted, let it be by outsiders who he wouldn’t need to care about! Within their Nie sect, at minimum, he should be doted upon and honored, or else those responsible would have to explain themselves to Nie Mingjue.
Those dark thoughts still lingering in his mind, he had gone to the Lotus Pier for a discussion conference, and that, perhaps, was where it really started.
Rumor had already made the entire cultivation world aware that Jiang Fengmian had found the orphaned son of Cangse Sanren and Wei Changze, and that he had taken him into his home as his ward, allowing him to become a Jiang sect disciple – treating him almost as one of the family, even. That much was known, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Jiang Fengmian proudly introduced him or even more proudly showed him off, praising him to the high heavens.
What did come as a surprise was how little he praised his own son standing beside him, despite them being only a few days apart in age. It was as if Jiang Fengmian had simply forgotten that such a creature existed, much less that he had himself contributed to its spawning, and the constant looks of hope – invariably crushed – the child sent him made it clear that the present situation had been going on for some time.
Fuck you, Nie Mingjue thought, seeing red, seeing instead Nie Huaisang in his failed saber classes, struggling so desperately to keep up with the rest even though his body wouldn’t allow for it, being told he was useless and a good-for-nothing and fit for nothing but marriage. Fuck you, Jiang Fengmian.
He couldn’t say that, of course.
So instead he said, “Excellent stance,” to the child, who'd received the courtesy name Wanyin but seemed to be universally called Jiang Cheng. “Do you know the others in the set?”
Jiang Cheng, staring at him, very slowly nodded, and demonstrated them.
“Absolutely perfect,” Nie Mingjue said loudly, drawing attention to himself with his over-loud voice that everyone would automatically forgive on account on him being both a Nie and a young man. “You can see how hard you’ve worked at it, and it has paid off handsomely. You are very lucky in your son, Sect Leader Jiang.”
“…thank you,” Jiang Fengmian said, a little bemused at being interrupted. He’d been talking yet again about Wei Wuxian’s brilliance at picking up the sword again after years of living on the streets without practice, even though at the moment the smiling boy's admittedly impressive skills were still largely wild and undisciplined.
Nie Mingjue nodded, and said: “When exactly did you say the opening festivities would be starting?”
Jiang Fengmian had clearly forgotten about that in his enthusiasm, so he quickly hurried back to the actual subject at hand and the discussion conference was started in earnest.
It was almost enough to allow Nie Mingjue to forget the matter and put it behind him.
Or, it would have been, if only Jiang Fengmian hadn’t continued to insert praise for Wei Wuxian at every possible instance – it was as if he were the man’s first-born son, rather than another person’s child.
Irritated beyond belief, Nie Mingjue started complimenting Jiang Cheng every time Jiang Fengmian said something nice about Wei Wuxian, and he made sure to keep his compliments accurate: he was a hard worker, dedicated and sincere, thoughtful, clever, not overly arrogant…
“Wei Wuxian came up with his own ideas for a sword style already,” Jiang Fengmian claimed at one point. “You can see him on the training ground now, practicing it – take a look!”
Nie Mingjue picked up a stone and flicked it over with his fingers, making Wei Wuxian jump half a chi into the air and nearly fall on his ass.
“Weak foundation, and he over-commits,” he analyzed dryly, because it was true, and because no one else was saying it. He didn't make it any harsher than it had to be: he had nothing against the boy himself, of course; it was only that he knew from experience that it was much easier to be the one being complimented than the one not. “He’s got his head so high in the clouds that his feet are barely touching the ground – the weakest fierce corpse would knock him flat as a pancake with a childish style like that. He’d be better off sticking with orthodox or he’ll end up in real trouble one day.”
“Sect Leader Nie, really,” Jiang Fengmian said disapprovingly. “He’s only nine.”
“Old enough to pick up bad habits,” Nie Mingjue retorted. “Your son’s the same age and he’s as steady as a rock. If Jiang Cheng keeps going as he is, he’ll have a strong enough base to outlast the fiercest storm.”
“A rock has no imagination,” Jiang Fengmian said, and was he actually arguing that his son was inferior? Out loud, in front of outsiders? Did the man have no shame? “Mingjue, you’re young, but you must know that my Jiang sect prizes freedom and creativity as the highest virtue –”
“Would you rather build a house using a firework or a foundation stone?” Nie Mingjue asked, doing his best not to outwardly bristle at the condescendingly intimate use of his name by someone who might be technically his elder but legally his equal. “Tell me, Fengmian, does your Jiang sect’s acclaimed ‘freedom’ only allow for people to be as fluid as the river and not as steady as the earth?”
Jiang Fengmian faltered, clearly not knowing how to answer that.
Nie Mingjue raised his hands in a sarcastic salute: “As the leader of a sect whose style is based on a grounded foundation, I would be very happy if you would educate me in your wisdom. No doubt my peers would benefit as well.”
Perhaps it was at that point that Jiang Fengmian realized that his words could be misinterpreted as an insult to all the sects whose styles were less free-flowing than the Jiang – just about all of them except for maybe the Lan and their subsidiary sects, given their preference for techniques modeled on the wind over the water – and moreover that this was a discussion conference, where every word was political, and that a great deal of people were glaring balefully at him. He hastily moved the conversation onwards, and left the subject of his sons for another day.
Later that evening, Madame Yu came over to where Nie Mingjue was nursing a bowl of very fine wine that he didn’t especially feel like consuming. Before he could start worrying about the Purple Spider’s intentions, she said, voice stiff, “Your words regarding my son are too kind. His skills are still inferior; he has a great deal of progress yet to be made.”
“He’s only nine,” Nie Mingjue said, feeling mortified that she’d noticed his little temper tantrum, which he had belatedly realized was probably extremely obvious. “Anyway, I wasn't lying. He has a good foundation; he’ll be a fearsome cultivator one day, there’s no doubt. I only said what I saw.”
“You didn’t comment about Wei Wuxian,” she said. “You must have noticed his genius.”
“Geniuses don’t need to be praised overmuch,” Nie Mingjue said. He himself had been termed a genius by his teachers, and he’d hated every single moment of it – couldn’t he just be good at things without having people fall all over themselves to compliment him? He’d enjoyed it at the start, but after a while it had started to wear on him; he was expected to be a genius in all things, and being simply ordinary was suddenly seen as failing. “It’s the ones that have to work hard that do, or else they’ll be discouraged…comparing someone to another person’s child works as a spur to a certain extent, but after a while it loses its potency as a tool.”
Your husband is a fucking idiot, he didn’t say. It’s his own son! How could he speak like that about him? Shouldn’t he be holding him in his palms like a gentle flame, protecting him from the wind and rain? How can he bear to scold his son when he hasn't shown that the scolding is meant for his benefit?
“Perhaps,” Madame Yu said, but it was clear on her face that she wasn’t about to start taking parenting advice from a half-grown sprout like Nie Mingjue. “Nevertheless, your words were kind.”
She swept away after that, much to his relief. He shook his head and daydreamed about a magic tool that would make this whole nightmarish experience go by that much quicker.
In the end, it went by at the same speed it always did. It could have ended there, but Nie Mingjue kept up the habit of blatantly complimenting Jiang Cheng in future sect conferences as well, if only because it clearly irritated Jiang Fengmian – less because Nie Mingjue was praising his son and more because it was so obviously meant as an indirect critique of Jiang Fengmian’s skills as a parent or sect leader, and moreover it reminded all the other sects of that unfortunate interchange and made them less inclined to listen to him – and of course, because, well, once you’ve started a charge, you had to finish it even if you came to your senses about halfway through.
He made sure to keep it proportionate, of course, since there was nothing worse than false praise. He didn’t really mean anything by it, other than the half-formed thought that someone ought to be doing it – that the boy should know that someone looked at him and Wei Wuxian and remembered to praise him first. Nie Mingjue praised Wei Wuxian too, of course, since the boy often deserved it; it was only that he made a particular point not to forget about Jiang Cheng, either.
(He also made sure the other sect leaders saw how well the technique could be used to fluster Jiang Fengmian, an intrusion into his personal life that could be masked in perfect politeness, and several of them picked up the same tact, though less consistently than Nie Mingjue – Sect Leaders Jin and Wen, naturally, always looking for a weakness, but interestingly enough also Lan Qiren, who was normally above such petty maneuvers. Possibly he was actually just complimenting Jiang Cheng because he sincerely approved of him.)
He didn’t think much of it.
Nie Mingjue didn’t think much of it during the other discussion conferences, or when he came to the Cloud Recesses to pick up Nie Huaisang, who had – amazingly – actually managed to pass this time, although the expression on Lan Qiren’s face suggested the pass might have more to do with the other sect leader’s desire to never see Nie Huaisang haunt his classroom ever again.
“You know what, don’t tell me. Tell me….hm…how did Jiang Wanyin do?” Nie Mingjue asked, hand over his eyes as if it could forestall the headache. “He’s a bright boy, and knows how to put his mind to something when he wants. Tell me about him instead, it’ll be less depressing.”
“He’s very bright,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Very thoughtful, and very thorough. He sometimes errs towards conservatism out of fear of giving the wrong answer, but that’s just a matter of confidence; his thinking is very good. He’s very clear-sighted as long as the matter is logical, rather than emotional.”
“No surprise,” Nie Mingjue grunted. “He’ll be a sect leader worthy of respect, in his time.”
When he’s rid of that father of his dragging him down, he thought ungraciously, and he saw Lan Qiren bob his head in a sharp nod of unspoken agreement.
“All right,” he said. “I’m adequately fortified now. Tell me about Huaisang.”
Lan Qiren gave him a look of profound sympathy.
It wasn’t until much later, during the Sunshot Campaign, that it was first called to his attention – by Jiang Cheng himself, oddly enough.
“Why do you keep doing that?” he hissed, having stayed behind after one of their meetings.
Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Doing – what?”
“You – you said – about me…!”
Nie Mingjue tried to recall what he’d said during the meeting just now. “That you – were doing an excellent job while facing much higher level of obstacles than everyone else?” he hazarded, because he had said something like that. “Or was it the bit about how if any of them had needed to rebuild their sect and fight at the same time, we’d all be doomed because they couldn’t multitask for shit?”
Yeah, it was probably that one.
“I didn’t mean any offense by referencing what happened to your sect,” he said, hoping to explain. “It was only –”
“I didn’t take offense,” Jiang Cheng mumbled. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but – it happened, everyone knows that it happened, not talking about it isn’t going to make it not have happened. That’s not what I meant…why do you keep saying such nice things about me?”
Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “Because they’re true?”
Jiang Cheng’s cheeks flushed red. “You’ve always said nice things about me. Ever since I was a little kid – every time you saw me, at the discussion conferences, or the Cloud Recesses, or even in your letters to my father…”
He had in fact done that.
“I just want to know why. Is it – my father’s not around, you can’t be doing it just to piss him off, even though I know that was part of it. Why me?”
Nie Mingjue coughed a little, having not realized that Jiang Cheng had noticed. Or possibly even overheard, in regards to the Cloud Recesses. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of the other person’s child,” he said, and Jiang Cheng nodded his head sharply, clearly thinking of Wei Wuxian. “You’re Huaisang’s.”
“Me?” Jiang Cheng seemed unduly vulnerable when he asked. “You compare him – to me?”
“It’s amazing he tolerated you at the Cloud Recesses,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. In fact, his brother had all but declared war on Jiang Cheng in absentia on account of all Nie Mingjue’s comments, only for his first letter home from the Cloud Recesses that year to be I see why you like him! He’s cute! A perfect match for you! because he’d apparently decided that Nie Mingjue had a crush on the boy.
Which he certainly hadn’t – at least not when he’d been that age, anyway. Jiang Cheng had grown up to embody every single one of the compliments Nie Mingjue had paid him when he’d been younger, especially with the maturity and natural aura of command that came to him after his personal tragedy.
“But why…you knew Wei Wuxian about as well as you knew me.”
Nie Mingjue snorted. “And that would have helped Huaisang how, exactly? If I wanted to compare him with someone who picked things up the first time they saw it, I wouldn’t need to go outside the Nie sect for that – I was also considered a genius when I was young. It’s no failing to be born without a vast and unending natural talent; Huaisang’s issue has always been his unwillingness to put in the effort.”
Jiang Cheng stared at him.
“Anyway, your father was so blinded by his adoration for Wei Wuxian that he overlooked your merits, which are different but no less impressive,” Nie Mingjue added. “As someone who was trying to figure out how to raise a child, it irritated me; I thought someone ought to make it clear to you that you were seen.”
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice strangely hoarse. “Yes, you – you succeeded.”
He paused for a moment, meeting Nie Mingjue’s eyes intently, and then abruptly said, “I’ll be leaving,” and dashed out.
Nie Mingjue wasn’t entirely sure if that meant he should stop or not. Jiang Cheng had said he wasn’t offended…anyway, it was a fixed habit by now. He’d been doing it for over half his life! He couldn’t stop that easily! It would be like trying to stop his temper, or a charge – there was nothing for it.
Jiang Cheng would just have to live with a few compliments.
“Wow, you’re an idiot,” Nie Huaisang said when he told him about the incident, months later while he was lying in bed, recovering from the disaster that had been the end of the war. “I’ll fix this.”
“Fix what?”
“I’m going to tell him you’re dying,” Nie Huaisang decided.
“You’re going to do what?!”
“Stay in bed, da-ge! Doctor’s orders!”
The Nie sect chief doctor was an extremely terrifying person. Nie Mingjue stayed in bed.
Some time later, Jiang Cheng stormed in, face pale.
“Huaisang’s a rotten liar and I’m going to be fine,” Nie Mingjue said at once.
Jiang Cheng stopped mid-storm, and abruptly deflated. “Really?”
“Really. I would’ve stopped him, but I’m stuck in bed for the moment.”
Jiang Cheng took a seat next to him. “That sounds serious. You shouldn’t underestimate war wounds, especially given your sect’s tendency towards qi deviations...”
“Compassionate as well,” Nie Mingjue teased. “I’ll have to add that to the rotation of compliments.”
Jiang Cheng flushed red. “You’re…planning on continuing?”
“For the rest of my life, however short it might be,” Nie Mingjue said, because he was an honest person, even when it was inconvenient. He was going to explain about the habit, and the concept of stopping mid-charge, but he didn’t manage to start before Jiang Cheng grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up into a kiss.
After that, he figured that maybe explaining that part of it wasn’t necessary. He might be slow on the uptake, but he wasn’t actually stupid.
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We all know how looks can be deceiving right? I’d love to request head cannons of Kuroo, Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Konoha, Terushima, and Atsumu with a gf that’s gifted with that super-soaker, wet-wet pussy, a pro at riding that dick, and has the gwak gwak thotty throat slobber 9000 but she is so shy, cute, and innocent at first glance. She looks like the soft-spoken librarian but when they get down and dirty, she puts her body to work and these bois just don’t know how to act from how amazing she is. Let’s say they teased her too much, so she revoked their sex privileges for a few days (not knowing how addicted these guys are on her body). Desperate bois are best bois 😈
:o
i’m shell shocked anon, you’ve blown my mind
Cw: hair pulling, super WAP, kinda fem dom but not really, severe pussy-whipped men
Kuroo
firstly, he thought you were the innocent type up until you sucked him off for the first time
Honestly, he thought you were a total virgin prude
It wasn't really his fault, you two had met as lab partners for an AP chemistry class
You know, a class full of nerds and people he just assumed would get a job and married when they were thirty
Looking back he should have caught on after seeing you unconsciously jerking of a test tube
But, contrary to popular belief, kuroo is not the social cue master
After a few months of dating, you guys were just a horny time-bomb
Ahh~ the first blow-job, one for the books
He should have known it was going to be good just from the way you were unzipping his jeans, was it normal to almost cum just for your girlfriend palming you?
When you did get his dick out and had it all the way down your throat within the minute, he really did think you were a godsend
He didn't even know what you were doing with his balls, but whatever it was it was working
You didn’t gag or cough, even when he grabbed that back of your head and practically face-fucking you
(the real kicker was when you licked your lips after he came and gave him that small fucking smirk, mans was done for and he knew it)
Even with all that, nothing, and I mean nothing compares to the first time you guys went at it
when I say that you guy made out for five minutes when he went under your panties and felt the pacific ocean in your panties
He was about to propose right there (and about to cum in his pants for the thousandth time)
He didn't need to but he still rubbed a few circles around your clit, but apparently, you were ready enough
Considering you grabbed his dick and fully sunk onto him in one motion
Poor baby didn't know what hit him
You had to have done this before, and if he hadn't met you in class he would have been sure you slept around and learned everything in the book
You would clench every time your sims met and- AND THAT THINGS WITH HIS BALLS AGAIN
His mind was bungled, especially after you had both come and you fell onto his chest going back to the shy and sweet version he knew you as.
What the hell was that????
Was he fucking you or were you fucking him?? Because at this point he didn't even care
After that experience, you fucked like bunnies, all the time, even in school more than a few times.
And we all know kuroo can't shut his mouth
And he always teases you about how cute and mouse like you are outside the bedroom and how it's like he’s dating two different girls
....that hit a nerve...
Two different girls??? Well he’ll just have to endure one girl until he realizes what a blessing you are
5 days, 120 hours, 7,200 minutes, and 432,000 seconds, that's how long he lasted
He was going insane, and so he explained that he didn't mean it in a bad way and that he loved how you acted
Forgiving him you rewarded the poor cat boy, 5 rounds for five days
(he didn't want to admit it but he’s pretty sure his dick would have fallen off if you didn't relent when you did)
(he just didn't want to admit that he was pussy-whipped)
Bokuto
You actually had met at a library
One of his teachers wanted him to get a bit of extra tutoring and volunteered you for the job.
You had hit it off great! Personality-wise
(you’ll never tell him but it was frustrating that he clearly didn't understand anything you were telling him)
And you were so sweet and cute, and such a good teacher
He would know that if he wasn't too busy just staring at you and thinking about you and thinking about what you like and what you wear outside of school
(or how good your lips look, or how your thighs look so soft, or that when you get up he can see under your skirt.)
Your guy’s first time was an experience
(bokuto is the cunny easting master, don't call me out)
More cunny juice = more food for owl man
He was excited, somewhere in his mind he knew that it was gonna get better from then on
He wasn't wrong either, although he didn't let your mouth near his dick just yet, he knew that would be good considering the ‘art’ you've created on his neck
The true fuckary started with him on top, but the second he was in you he...froze
Poor baby was shell shocked, you felt better than he had thought, and he just slumped over, you thought he came but he wasn’t ready for it to end so soon
He just sat there for a few minutes, fucked out, before you just decided to flip you both over
That was more his speed at the moment
So he grabbed onto your hips for dear life and you got working
Within two minutes the two of you had created a pool of juices on his bed (bokuto had a lot of precum ok), not that he really cared
You were not competing with anyone but he already had you 2 to 0
(point 1 for the meal and point 2 for being an Olympic dick-rider)
I am also a firm believer that bokuto thrusts up, he just can't help it
You are too addictive, or the way you ground onto him in between every bounce was addictive
I also don't believe that you could even truly deny bokuto sex, he was good at guilt-tripping and he was soooooo adorable
(not to mention the puppy dog eyes he does that could convince good to do his will)
So I’m sure the only way he wouldn't get sex would be no nut November.
(aka the devil's month of torture, actually not month, week give or take)
This year it just happens that he set a new record, 8 days
He went a whole 8 days without trying for sex
Truly he went about 10 days before he stopped begging and just took matters into his own hands
(under enough pressure Bokuto become a hard dom and no one can say otherwise)
The entire time he was telling you how pretty you were and how well your pussy takes him and that you had no ‘right�� to tell him he couldn’t have sex
He even gained a new phrase “this pussy belongs to me”
You were going to have to set some things straight once he was done ;)
Iwaizumi
You were on the student council, it felt sacrilegious to think anything but pure thoughts about anyone on the council
(that didn't really stop him)
honestly, from the moment his crush festered he wanted to ruin your little innocent vibe
You always smiled so sweetly at everyone, and just seemed like a true goody two shoes.
And that point seemed to have been correct when you began to date
Until! The fateful day where his perceived innocent girlfriend pulled a full 180 on him!
Firstly, you had offered, out of the blue, to suck him off in the middle of the movie you were watching.
Second, he asked if you knew how, and you giggled at him with that smile he loved so much
Thirdly, when you did get his dick out, you swirled some of the pre-cum on his tip with your thumb, he started getting a bit suspicious
Lastly, you completely swallowed him down, face pressing on his hip, cheeks hollowed.
That’s when he realized that you did know what you were doing
(that also arouse the thought that you had been with someone else, which was counteracted with the fact that you knew how to suck dick by practicing on hair brushed and popsicles)
((it also helped that you barely had a gag reflex))
Truly trying to put that to the test, dom iwa came right out, grabbing your hair and telling you to suck harder
And you impressed the man, to say the least
After that he had to fuck you, he really just had too
For the first time, he went with a solid missionary, just to test that waters
He didn’t think anyone's pussy should feel like that, but since you were his it was ok
All was well he was lost in the feeling of your pussy and the deciding moment was when you pulled him against you and started to grind your body onto his
You were putting a whole lot of body into it too, and you were so soft, and unless he wanted to cum early something was going to have to change
So he flipped and changed to doggy style, which made thighs worse???
From there you got tighter and he could see all of the wetness drips from your fold onto the sheets
Yup, you were the one for him
(solidified when he pulled your hair and you moaned like a street whore)
As for the no sex thing, that was a ride
It started when Makki asked you if you were always dripping for iwa
And after a week of no sex, he confessed to letting them on his phone and watching a recording of one of your nightly escapades and he was sorry
(and he just wanted to show them what they were missing, y’know brag a bit)
That was, and he says the only time, he let you try to dom him
You truly were the most amazing woman in the world
Konoha
( i made him kind of an ass lol sorry)
You wee the girl who sat next to him in class
(not to be mean, but he thought you were a nerd)
You always had your uniform covering everything and you were always playing with your short sleeves
You raised your hand a lot in class, always had a pencil to borrow
He just assumed that you had cobwebs in your pussy
Proven wrong at one of the volleyball teams parties, you had apparently been dragged there by a friend (surprising)
And you both were dragged onto some weird spin the bottle game
The bottle would spring and someone would draw an action from this jar and the two people would have to do it in a bedroom in the house
Seeing as that’’s how fate goes you and him were chosen
A blow-job card was chosen
And he laughed with a friend about how you wouldn’t know what to do
Mistake, that struck a real nerve, was this guy for real?
Oh hell no
Being the baddie you were, you walked to him, grabbed him by the arm, and locked lips, breaking away after a moment you asked if he was ready to go.
Poor boy didn't even respond, he just nodded and stood up
Two minutes in, he knew what he had done
You were blowing him like it would be your last time, it should be illegal to be able to suck someone off that well
And damn you pulled away right before he was going to cum.
And then just left him! Walked out of the closet like nothing had ever happened
That couldn’t be it, he wouldn't let that be it
After two weeks of non-stop begging from the guy you agreed to a date, which led to many dates
Which led to him finally being able to fuck you
God damn, he didn't think it would get better, and it did, it really did.
You were laying on top of him and grinding your entire body onto him
Dripping all over him and squeezing him like crazy
He was never going to let you go
Now, that same friend from that party seemed very intrigued with your relationship
And he just can't help but tell him about how amazing you were, it just sucks that he did it right in front of you in the middle of lunch
Pussy pass revoked
He didn't think he did anything wrong so he went two whole weeks without any touch and he went crazy
He fell apart and apologized
After he begged enough you gave him the pussy pass back
And now he doesn't do anything to jeopardize it
Terushima
this is gonna sound weird
But
I feel like terushima knows when someone is a good lay
It's like a secret talent of his, he just knows and his radar went off when he saw you
But he thought it was wrong at first considering you were wearing leggings and a huge sweater
Not good fuck material
But he had to make sure, so he just walked up to you and asked if you were a good fuck
Surprisingly you didn’t punch him in the nuts, instead, you laughed at him and said that he would just have to find out
And that he should at least take you out to dinner first
Adm he took you up it, made it the best damn dinner date he’d ever be on
And you reward him
With what?
The best damn blow-job he’d ever get as long as he lived.
And it fit that to the T
It started with the little licks and swirls, then, you gotta catch the man off guard, and just take his entire dick in your throat
And with that, he was sure he had superpowers
When He came, fairly quick for his taste, you swallowed all of his cum and he was ready to marry you
If he needed to take you on a date for that, he would take you on a date every day for the rest of his life
(not every day) but that's what he did
But eventually, just a blowjob wasn't enough, oh no he knew you had a tight hole
And he knew you were gushing most of the time (ushy gushy my pussy-)
If making him suck the fingers you used to fuck yourself after he came was anything
And you tasted good, really good
He was so ready for it that he let you ride him the whole night
He thought his dick was a]going to fall off, you were just that damn good
It was insane, you were almost using him as a dildo, grinding your clit on the base of his cock
And you looked glorious, he was going to have to talk to you about recording it so he could watch it over and over
Maybe show a few people-
And that's what he did, poor unfortunate soul got the silent treatment for two days before he fell apart
He literally got on his knees and asked for forgiveness
(biggest simp on the planet, but only for you (and your dripping cunt))
He’s sure to never do it again, he’s also sure that if you asked him to step on him he would let you
(and I think he’s the most pussy-whipped)
Ok maybe you didn't fully forgive him until he showed you what his tongue piercing could do, but it was worth every moment.
Atsumu
Honestly, he was dared to sleep with the next girl who walked through the cafeteria door
And that just happens to bring you, miss. I remind the teacher there was homework
(Well he actually wasn’t really sure about that but that's what you looked like and he was already regretting his decision.)
In defense of him, your hair was in a messy bun and you had this teacher's pet aura around you
But he would be damned if he lost this bet to his brother and Suna, oh no
The moment he wa[lked up to your table you knew what was happening, and shut it down immediately
After that, you officially had his attention!
Lucky you!
Unlucky you for the fact that all he wanted to do was get in your pants.
But lucky you again because you could hold this over his head!
But one day you just woke up and chose dick (respectable)
So when atsumu did his daily “c'mon baby, you know you want some” you just stood up, scaring him
(he finally thought you were gonna kill him)
Instead, you grabbed him by the dick, literally grabbed his dick through his pants, and tugged him all the way to the roof
“Hey-hey baby, no need to be that rough”
“Shut up, Miya. pants down, now”
That was not where he thought that was going but he isn't going to complain.
“You want your dick wet so bad? Here you go!”
Honestly, he could die happy.
Not so sound gross, but you were slobbering around his cock like a pro. Now that left the thought, you had to have done this before.
You had hands on the back of his thighs pushing him further down your throat, hollowed cheeks, damn he should’ve done this was sooner
He was gonna cum-
And your mouth was gone, your hand was jerking him but that wasn't nearly as nice
“Lay back.”
Yes, yes he will do that. If what’s about to happen is what he thinks is about to happen
And now your pussy was above his face. Ok a little detour but he’ll take it
You were literally dripping onto his face while he got to work, and you went back to sucking him off
Yup, heaven.
After you both came he made sure to tell you that that had to happen again.
And it did, you rode him to hell in the hole to heaven, and he couldn't help himself from telling the entire volleyball team about how good you were
Now he really didn't think about what would happen if the news got back to you
But he definitely didn't think that meant a whole week of nothing
Well nothing for him, you made sure to send him more than a few videos of rigid dildos and fingering yourself
A week of torture, but when it was finally over he had an entirely new folder of spanking material
he was sure about who he told about your escapades, as in he told himself and Osamu if he just wanted to vent
poor guy was paranoid now
#kurro x reader#kuroo smut#kuroo x reader smut#kuroo tetsurou x reader#kuroo tetsurou x reader smut#bokuto x reader#bokuto smut#bokuto x reader smut#bokuto koutarou x reader smut#bokuto koutarou x reader#iwaizumi x reader#iwazumi x reader#iwaizumi smut#iwaizumi x reader smut#iwaizumi haijime x reader#iwaizumi haijime x reader smut#konoha x reader#konoha smut#konoha x reader smut#atsumu x reader#atsumu smut#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu miya x reader smut#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x reader smut#terushima x reader#terushima x reader smut#terushima smut#terushima yuji x reader
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The Pirate's Symbol(s): NSFW Alphabet [IkeSen Motonari]
Game: Ikemen Sengoku
Pairing: Motonari/Female Reader
Rated: NSFW/18+
Words: 2.5k
Warnings: stockings fetish, spoilers for Motonari’s ‘condition’, sexual intercourse, mentions of exhibitionism/semi-public sex, (non-sexual) bondage, innuendoes and dirty-talk, masturbation
Author’s Notes: Motonari’s entire self is a joy, his route gave me some much needed, invigorating enemies-to-lovers, and I officially love him! [Totally swiped my heart right up without warning!]
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Motonari is quick — you’d almost say adept — at sweeping off a cloth, or container, placed by your bedside. Although, your touch and whatever fire you generate in between the two of you does not bother him, he does prefer you both cleaner of the mess and fluids when holding you close in his arms, afterwards.
Wiping up the remnants of your passionate and, often vigorous, activities off of quivering thighs he presses apart, in gentle strokes of damp fibers. Movements of the cloth soft enough it doesn’t shock you into over-sensitivity but not soft enough you relax entirely beneath him, because that scarlet gaze is always fixated on you — your body language. And if you give away even an inch, he’s ready and up for round two (or four). [Bless yer stamina, matey!]
If not, he’s still up and happy to listen to his favorite flower-brained woman’s amusing, outrageous tales she narrates in animated conversation. While he whisks up a quick, invigorating meal for her at the kitchen counter, just as she rests her happy self at the table. Garnet gaze seemingly fixated upon the task at hand — spices being tossed, ladle being stirred, eggs whipped to perfection — but his answers are prompt and alert, although still carrying that insouciant edge. Indicating his attention; equal division in between feeding you and hearing you speak.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Motonari is fond of his mouth, and before you, he didn’t think of it as much of an achievement as he believes it now, when your jittery gaze seeks immediate relief (and lust) as soon as it lands upon that obvious smirk.
A single kiss and your thoughts are all but handed over to him on an elaborate platter. Your cheeks color dark and wide; restless eyes tracing across his mouth. Your own parting; pink tongue darting quick in a swipe across plush lips: all of you demanding more of him.
Yes, he is surprisingly (or not), in touch with a far more emotional side: Motonari adores your eyes, although you’re never hearing it from him. Your entire body speaks of honesty but the way he reads your thoughts so easy, in your gaze, there’s quite nothing as exhilarating or confounding as the love he captures in them. That quick, tight knot of your brow, your anger flaring in your eyes or the equally prompt melting, when he appeases you in gentle teases. He’s been so long used to not trusting that a person he sees this clearly through, and sees how she trusts; it’s not an entirely terrible thing to feel.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
As mentioned above, the man doesn’t particularly care to leave you a mess post-coitus unless you ask it of him; there is little he’s able to refuse you. So when it does come (…heh) to cumming outside of your pussy, your mouth is a pretty (very pretty too) good substitute for him to ejaculate, without having to think of leaving external stains on you. Your throat clamping, then swallowing, around his orgasm, so he feels that slick slide of saliva and semen around him, as you moan.
Yer pretty darn hot, m’lady.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
There are times he descends — quick and furious — into an almost juvenile state of petty jealousy [he realizes the immaturity of it, he just cannot! help! it!] and ends up turning that lust on you, instead.
He’d never actually do it but visualizing — in almost exact, murderous details — how he’d like to drag you into an empty room whenever Kicho gets all up in your face, and fuck you so hard your throat tears through screams lough enough Kicho hears each and every single sound and moan.
Or, clasp your chin in his fingers, whenever Hideyoshi’s a little too close for comfort at an Oda banquet, and kiss you senseless and noisy [pirates crave a flashy exhibition!].
He despises making a show of you to anybody, so that idea only stays in thoughts but also it’s mind-boggling, since it does get him hard on the spot.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Before you, it was only ever through terrible necessity (extremely dire straits) that he — if ever and very sparing — sought casual sex. The occasions hadn’t been plenty and he’d be frighteningly specific about how he wanted to take a woman to bed.
Bathed, no make-up, no perfume, no scented products or jewelry — anything extra that he could accidentally touch and trigger a reaction. A clean, unscented futon he’d provide in a bare room. Any bonds or cloths he could get his hands on (buying his own and discarding immediately after), to tie their limbs, keep their movements limited; Motonari used.
Of course, there’d be the rare prostitute who’d drop immediately after visiting a client, or one who’d perceive his conditions extreme and over-the-top and think they could ‘change his mind’. The moment they’d try and cross the line, he’d fling them off, almost violently, heart racing, sweat marking each inch of exposed skin. Nauseous and barely tapped, before he’d stride out of the room.
He’s also witnessed open and perverse brothels — and corrupt seething dens — where men and women fuck, for all to see, in his line of work, so he’s no stranger to how sex works for others either.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
He’s learning to let go and touch (just you) without the added barrier of gloves and since you so seem fond of his hands on you, Motonari likes any positions that allow his hands to move your body upon his; he isn’t picky.
Palms curved upon your hips so that your ass slaps against his pelvis each time he pulls back, the movements of his cock into and out of your pussy — a place you are both connected and he likes that. Or even when he can spread your thighs wide, press them apart before hooking his hands over your abdomen and just focusing on moving.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He’s a pirate he’s a vortex of a man and slips all over the spectrum. Motonari’s goading is far softened with minimum barbs, when he’s in(side you) in bed with you. More velvet — than leathery — questions, soft smirk-y and probing,: “Ya like that, flower girl?” —as his mouth hovers just close to your ear, nose barely touching and tucking sweat soaked strands away from your temple. Definitely lands firm and midway between too serious and entirely silly. But he’s all focus on you, make no mistake.
He’s still got a filthy mouth on him, but dirty romantic liners are more his style, in bed (he wants you warmed as well as turned on!), in contrast to the complete indecent filth he threatens you with (a good time!) when the two of you are out and about.
“Pipe down, m’lady. The way yer moaning, they’re gonna think I’m fucking ya, right on deck.” Those eyes are burnished rubies; smile wide, crooked and unashamed, as he ducks close. “But maybe ya feel like putting on a show.”
H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He’s clean down below (and silver-haired, yes) — he doesn’t go the ‘complete waxed up, no-hair in sight’ route, but rather prefers keeping his hair short-trimmed and well-groomed.
He’s also kept his pubic hair short and neat, for the rare occasions he does have sex, and an unkempt mass down there would leave him more likely and exposed to his partner’s fluids staying on him. He despises that.
Motonari doesn’t mind blood, dirt and grime on the field, nor the brine of the harsh sea sticking to his skin, but as soon as he’s done with — or in between — jobs, he takes the time to wash and clean himself up thoroughly.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
[Also see G=Goofy] Motonari isn’t short with words of love. He isn’t reciting romantic poems but he is quick to let you know, in exact words, how much he loves you — and is loving being inside you — in the moment. Barriers definitely lower themselves — not all down, not completely back up — with this man, in bed.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
(As also mentioned in E=Experience) the man, previously, has sought intimacy only and only out of desperate necessity and when his hand is just not enough for him to relieve himself of his lust. Motonari, before you, jacked off, multiple times within a week, sometimes thrice (or more) in a single day. His desires, usually amped, following a particularly unsatisfying battle or raid.
After you, he still does take time off for some self-lovin’ (remember: stamina for daaays, and you’re mostly unable to match him so he makes do), just not as much as he used to, in the past.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
You and Motonari share a love for (clothing) imports from the seas beyond. He’s always up for sharing and discussing trade secrets, doling out clothing advice and helping you work out modern clothing from whatever fabrics are available to you.
Stockings might be one of his favorite products.
The fabric feeling absolutely exquisite against his palms when he rounds you close into his grasp, stood in between his spread thighs as he observes and hums beneath you, seated. A harmless joke you make, about a stocking fetish and the ensuing explanation soon after, has him grinning and dragging you down to test the material against his teeth.
“Yer sayin’ I got a thing for yer fancy underclothes? Heh, don’t think so. Seeing you in it just makes me wanna tear it all off, meu docinho de côco.”
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Anywhere you’re afforded privacy; although a little flirting with danger is good and being pinned in between the door and his body. Watching you try and smother your moans into your sleeves, skews that grin wider, that cock harder.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
You. He’s got a dirty mind, it’ll do the rest of the work when its got its catalyst: you.
Nothing gets you results faster than being honest with Motonari, or expressing your affections (even chaste) for him.
Tell him he looked especially handsome, earlier on a job out: with his hair slicked back and how hard it was for you to have held back from kissing him, on the spot. That you love him—
He’s on you so fast.
“That brain’s just gotta keep sprouting its flowers, huh.” He murmurs, tugging at your chin to swipe his tongue into you.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Despite his treatment of you very early on in his route (the collar, the slavery deal), Motonari’s not into putting a collar on a person, romantic or otherwise. Collaring and hearing you call him your Master wouldn’t do much for him, playful or not.
He’s had to live a great chunk of his life as the Beggar Prince; experienced the devastating dregs of human society, including and not limited to being treated as one inferior, and having to watch people around at the very mercy of corrupt lords.
In retrospect, it isn’t something he might take pleasure in, in the bedroom.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Giving or receiving, both take some getting used to within the bedroom. He finds the taste of you pleasant, when he withdraws wet digits from inside you and takes a careful swipe of the clear fluid across his skin. And has expressed interest in, and gone down on you several times.
Receiving gets a bit more gentle coax-y and requires reassurances, with Motonari. He doesn’t particularly like seeing his release all over you. Having to work through those barriers of his mind, but once he allows you, he does enjoy the slow kisses, and the soft slide of your mouth against him.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
His default setting is rough and furious. The two of you are usually frustrated passion by the time you actually get to his bedroom (he likes to prod and poke much too often in public, get you riled) so there’s only one way to go and it’s up. He’s spreading your thighs apart with none too gentle hands as he pushes through and into you, your own hold on him, white knuckled and almost delirious with the way his hips rock into you and his cockhead scraps across your front wall with his onslaught.
At times, however, especially after a high-risk mission; when he’s been close enough to stare Death in the face and survive, he likes to take his time being inside you, just being able to feel you. Once, twice, several times, he’s keeping you beneath, or mounted on top of him, coaxing your hips and your moans.
“Don’t look at me like that, flower girl. I’m alive, ain’t I? Com’ere. I’ll take those tears of yers.”
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Definitely! Any time he can have you, or get you close enough in private, you’re going to be fucking each other. He loves those little breathy, moan-laughters you make in half-panic/all arousal, each time he drives up to grind your hips close together, stuffed into a hallway closet.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Semi-public quickies are a thing and the closest to risky as he gets. As mentioned previously, he’s demanding enough over you, he doesn’t like men Kicho touching you, let alone hearing you when you sound like that.
Other kinks, most kinks, he’s down to try with his favorite dirty, flower-brained woman. He does however, draw the line at any kinks that might involve him using harsh, ugly words to degrade you or your body and/or being soiled.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
All I gotta say is: Pirate’s got stamina enough to power his ships through horn alone, over an entire week!
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Toys translate to external objects. Which are always subject to germs, and need to be (excessively) cleaned by his standards, to keep them useful and usable. That’s far much more work than he’s usually willing to commit himself to.
And he has no need of them. Not when you respond plenty to his touch alone.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
A lot! Motonari’s brand of filthy talk is polished to leave you damp in between the legs. He’s pulling the nastiest most wonderful innuendoes out of the most mundane of tasks.
“Ya like that old weapon?” He might ask of you, as you admire the carvings upon the handle of one of his clan’s katana. “Didn’t know ya liked the feel of handlin’ a sword between yer hands that much, m’lady.”
Leaving your mind reeling and cheeks flushing before withdrawing with a, “What’re ya cooking in that flower brain of yers? Heh... you’ve got a dirty mind.”
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Heavy, sensual pants against your ears. His groans and grunts enough to fan the fires of your own arousal, to have you ready to come, from just the sounds that can leave his throat. Motonari doesn’t care to be heard outside your boundaries, but he also doesn’t care to withhold his own sounds of pleasure from you.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He almost swears (but will never tell you, in very direct words): the space in between your bare breasts smells almost sweet like flowers. He likes finding his way up and nosing in between your breasts — just skin-to-skin contact at a place he finds you’re at your most fragrant. Suckling and tugging at a nipple draws those moans and your scent more intense, so he nips and teeths around the place often.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
That beautiful cock — with the evidence of just enough silver at the base — is long enough it fits and curves snug into you, without entering into any discomforting places, deep. But he is thick enough, it takes you time (and many times) to not just hold your breath and tighten up around him on reflex, upon entry.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
(Read: S)
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
You’re almost always the one falling asleep first. Pirates are used to night raids and this one’s no different. He does prefer watching you sleep, late into the night, once you fall exhausted into slumber.
End Notes: Thank you for reading!
♧° Link to Master List °♡
#ikesen motonari#ikemen sengoku motonari#ikesen mouri motonari#ikesen motonari smut#ikesen smut#ikemen sengoku smut#ikesen fanfic#ikemen sengoku fanfiction#ikesen motonari x reader#ns//fw text#a pickle writes
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NSFW with Chuck Grant
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Charles Grant is a walking example of “acts like a badass, is actually a softie” bc BOY, IS HE HARD (lol) TO GET A READ ON.
When you first start fucking, he doesn’t really have the instinct to stick around after and soak up the afterglow- mostly bc that’s not the dynamic that any of his previous relationships operated under, but also bc he’s like Lieb and doesn’t feel comfortable being vulnerable and potentially having you reject him. He only confidently leaves the first time, and then he judges whether to stay or not on how you look at him as he makes to get dressed after the second time you boink. If you want your space, he’ll go and be back the next day as long as you let him, but if you look even a little bit offended or hurt, he’s getting his ass back in that bed and doing whatever he can to get that sad look out of your eyes.
When he does stay, he’s down to give you whatever he can manage.
He’s all for slowly kissing you while trailing his fingertips up and down your side, but if you just want to sleep beside him he is more than cool with it (he’ll probably still pet you a lil bit after you fall asleep bc he’s soft for you but shh shh shh don’t tell anyone). The only thing he isn’t very good at doing is pillow talk, especially right after sex. He’s too worried about saying the wrong thing and fucking up what he’s managed to establish with you.
It isn’t until after he’s shot that he realizes how nice it feels to have someone else take care of him, and when you do so after sex it solidifies the fact that you don’t see him as a burden- you want him and you want to stay. Thank god, too. He doesn’t think he could recover without you (again, not that he’d ever tell you that)
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Your AhhhhhhHSSSSssssSSSSSs!!!!!!
Oh wow, look at you- owner of the cutest butt he’s ever seen. Can he put his hands on it? Can he squeeze it? Please please puh-lease can you let him watch it jiggle as he fucks you? If you’ve answered yes to any of these questions, then you’ve made each and every single one of his dreams come true.
He doesn’t discriminate in his love for butts- he’s an equal-opportunity appreciator of the Majesty of the Female Ass™. If it changes size throughout your relationship, he’ll love it even more. Absolutely shameless.
On himself? He likes his legs- especially his thighs.
He likes how strong they are, despite how much he hates Sobel for getting them to their current strength re: Currahee. But he gets over it quickly bc oh wow is he happy with their endurance while trying to keep up with you, both sexually and otherwise. The day he realized you could ride yourself to orgasm on them was the day he died and went to heaven and was sent back to sin again.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He likes cumming on your pubic mound and then watching it slide down your pussy, thank you very much. If you guys are trying for kids or in a position where you don’t have to worry about not having kids, he’ll cum inside of you happily but oh wow he likes watching it slide down your lower lips. BONUS POINTS if he gets to catch it on his thumb and either stick it in your mouth OR circle your clit with it in order to get you off one more time.
Also, you asking him where he wants to cum on you gets him hot under the proverbial collar.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He’d do literally anything for you if you’d let him put his finger in your ass. He will genuinely kill an individual of your choice if you let him put his cock there instead. What a perv (jk it takes a lot of vulnerability for some people to convey their wants and desires to their partners plz remember that this has been a PSA).
The one thing he’ll never actually tell you about... EVER is that for a little while after meeting you for the first time in Georgia, he started hooking up with a girl who he didn’t realize (until much later) bore a striking resemblance to you. He’d had to end the relationship when he straight-up called out your name when he came (he was a lil drunk, just tipsy enough to slip up) and full-on booked it out of there bc not only had he pissed the girl off, but his shout had woken up her family- namely her very angry father- and barely escaped with his life.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He’s had two lovers before you, but one of them was really experienced and patient and bless that woman. All he really has to do is learn what you like and he’ll commit it to memory.
And you better be damn sure that he’ll use that knowledge against you/for his benefit.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Doggy style for all the reasons mentioned before. Or reverse cowgirl. Or normal cowgirl. His hands + your butt= dream combo.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He can be goofy, but more than anything else he likes it when you’re goofy. Chuck can get a little too in his own head at times, which can lead to frustration/self-doubt- ESPECIALLY while recovering from his brain injury. You reminding him that sex is meant to be fun does him a huge favor, bc poor lamb will forget that every so often.
So please, nibble at his earlobe in that way that tickles him. Make a quip at the expense of one of your friends. Mock the silly sound of the moan you just let slip out.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He’s not going to groom unless you tell him to, but he also doesn’t feel like you need to groom for him, either. Chuck’s not afraid to admit how much his personal hygiene has improved since meeting you.
I can promise you that if you’re heavily invested in skin/hair care, he’ll probably be just as into building his own routine.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
You always have Chuck’s full and undivided attention during sex, but he won’t necessarily show it unless he gets the guy feeling/you tell him that you want him to be. He’s going to whisper sexy things into your ear, call you a good girl (if not his good girl), and do everything in his power (at the time, at least (he can get a little distracted if you’re doing something particularly sexy)) to make sure you feel just how appreciated you are. He gets more and more confident in his PDA as your relationship progresses, but when it’s just you two? You’ll never meet a bigger sweetheart.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Ok, so I’m deciding for you that mutual masturbation is a thing that you’re both into, m’kay?
I'm also making the executive decision that you really enjoy watching him get himself off. You walked in on him one time, before you’d had sex, and were so stunned that you just watched in rapt attention until awkwardly backing out of the room and slamming the door shut. He’d nearly cum right then and there, and it got you extremely aroused.
The next time you see each other, at some Georgia bar while on a pass, you offhandedly mention that you wish you hadn’t left and FROM THAT DAY ON he always lets you know when he’s feeling the urge and how you’re more than welcome to watch.
And when you do? It’s always a much shorter experience than he intends bc wow how hot are you?
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Frottage! Dry Humping! Grinding!
Allow me to explain:
In the months following D-Day, it was quickly understood that being on the frontlines meant having traditional forms of sex were no longer on the table (hehe) for you two. You’d experimented with rucking your trousers down your thighs, his thighs, both of your thighs, and each time it was a disaster (with one of the worst times ending up falling onto Tab after he’d inadvertently opened a door that Chuck had been fucking you against. Chuck had nearly thrown fists when Tab refused to look aware from your bare ass.)
So yall started grinding- quickly finding out that the bunches of fabric separating your bodies not only led to new forms of stimulation, but it also meant that you both started to utilize dirty talk. There’s something about your trembling lips at his ear, your warm whispers of ‘so good’ and ‘is this really all you need, Chuck? Me, writhing on you like this? What does that say about you, you desperate boy??’
Boy’s bought a one-way ticket to Boner City, USA.
PLUS! What a way to keep warm during Bastogne? Everyone is so jealous that they don’t have a super foxy megahot babe like you to grind upon.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Hmm…..is saying anywhere a cop-out? Because he’s down for anywhere, he’ll follow your lead and rise to the occasion. Such a perv i s2g.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
♫ YOOOUUUUUUUU!!!!!! ♫
You have this one eyebrow quirk you do when you’re in the mood, and it just so happens to be similar to the brow raise you give someone trying to outsmart you (which is another turn on for him- you putting some overly-confident sonofabitch back in their place after allowing them to mansplain at you for a little bit. First boner he ever got (since meeting you, obviously) came after witnessing you telling Joe Liebgott to stfu in cutting German after he’d made some off-color comment about your ass.)
So, more often than not, he'll get a little turned on when you argue with people. Maybe even when you argue with him- who knows? not me. (i totally do, and he totally is)
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Any sort of pain play, on either of you.
After being in genuine agony for so long while recovering from all of the surgeries, the idea of seeking any more pain out just doesn’t make sense. Chuck also doesn’t want to see you in pain- even if you’re asking him to make you feel it. You’d both suffered through the pain of hunger, frostbite, insect bites, sunburn, and just war in general (all of which had emotionally taken a toll on him bc he felt completely helpless and hated that he couldn’t do anything to take your hurt away).
Sex and pain just doesn’t go together for him. Sorry not sorry
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He loves having you go down on him, adores the way your eyes look up at him as if you’re challenging him to withstand your beautiful ministrations.
He also is a big fan of going down on you, but PLEASE PLEASE PUH-LEASE ride his face. Good lord.
He’s a sucker (teehee) for it- something about you using him like it’s all you keep him around for gets him hot. You also get this certain snarl on your lips when you are getting close that makes him lose his goddamn mind bc WOW YOU ARE SO ATTRACTIVE and HOLY SHIT YOU CHOSE HIM OF ALL PEOPLE? WOWOWOW.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He’ll follow your lead/body language in terms of pace. Most sex sessions shift between both slow and deep as well as fast and hard anyway, so he is a fan of both.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
A necessary evil, as far as Chuck is concerned. He’ll do them, and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the spontaneity of them, but he would prefer not to be rushed when he’s with you.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He was riskier until that one time Tab caught you guys, after which he chilled out. Which you are thankful for, bc you’ve spoken with Lieb’s wife and BOY have those two gotten into some embarrassing situations bc of how risky that kid is.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
The longest he's gone is 4 rounds (it was celebratory sex on VE day, with both of you in the best shape you'd ever been in and too high on relief to listen to your bodies. Ya'll were sore and dehydrated afterward but LORD was it worth it.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He’d be very open to the idea of toys! On you, he’s automatically cool with it, but it does take him a little bit to get his head around the idea of using toys himself. Again, 40s/50s= somewhat repressed discussion about deviations from the traditional male sexuality- but Chuck is more willing and ready to challenge the societal norms than most. Very sexy of him.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He always intends to tease you, but more often than not he gets so turned on that he can’t follow that intention through. You are aware of this and ABSOLUTELY weaponize this knowledge. Get it, fam.
During day-to-day conversation, however, you both tease each other constantly. It’s been like that since you’ve met each other- always making innuendos and one-upping the other and for some reason that never even went away.
When Chuck woke up and the doctors brought you in to see him, the first thing he told you was that you looked terrible. When you’d replied with a sniff, a smile and a “guess the doc’s were full of shit when they said there was no change in your vision, huh?”- Chuck had smiled so hard it hurt.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He’s a choked moan kind of guy. His face gets all scrunched up and his body shakes and he curses quietly under his breath (it’s vv cute and hot, FYI). he doesn’t even try and be quiet on purpose, he just seems to lose the ability to be vocal, tbh. If he’s drinking or if it’s been a hot minute since yall have gotten to do the do, he’ll probably be a bit louder. Like, maybe one loud cry of your name (see: the letter D)
It doesn’t bother him if you make sounds at all, just so you know. If anything, he likes that he’s a quiet cummer bc then he can hear any and all of your sounds.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
biting your ass while eating you out from behind is *bang* *bang* *bang* *click* *cash register noise*.
Especially if you squeal and smack at him after he does it.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Average in all respects but OH MAN does he know how to work it to his advantage. Get ready for a wild ride, my dude.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Higher post-war, tbh. Chuck had had to be on bed rest for so long that he thought he may never get the chance to have sex again, so he totally makes a point to indulge in you every chance that he can get (but he’s cool if you say no, too).
But, as I mentioned in ‘risk’, he’s not going to be humping your leg in public or anything (ok but imagine if you were a dom to his sub and you made him do that holy fuck)
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He does not sleep very well, poor bb. He will be asleep but his mind will be working through all kinds of things ranging from PTSD to what shoes he wanted to wear to dinner with your parents that weekend. Good thing there’s a remedy to this ailment- your pussy sex with you!
While he can’t konk out immediately, he is able to relax. He will allow himself to get lost in the rhythm of your breathing, the weight of your hand on his arm or your arm wrapped around his middle. He will sometimes nuzzle into you as you’re drifting off to sleep, and when you press a kiss to his forehead he finally feels safe.
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taglist: @sunsetmando @televisionboy @now-im-a-belieber @tvserie-s-world @holdingforgeneralhugs @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday
#band of brothers imagines#band of brothers x reader#chuck grant x reader#problematicfavesareproblematic
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TYSON JOST | LIGHT MY WAY HOME
A/N: More than 12.000 words later, more than a month after the initial request from Taylor popped up in my notifications. What a freaking ride. My longest fic I've ever written, and maybe even my favourite one. Thank you, to everyone who hyped me up, send me inspo and send me sweet asks. I couldn't have done this without all of you. Special thanks to @dumb-and-dunner, @chicagoblackhawkslover96, @heybarzy and Chrissy (who doesn't have Tumblr unfortunately).
Warnings: Angst, ‘can I strangle him yet?’ Tyson, swearwords, some major character development and (how could I not?!) a happy ending.
Also: Gabe and Melissa Landeskog play a big part in this fic, so if you aren't comfortable with them, you might want to skip this one.
Word Count: 12.1K
Requested: Yes.
The NHL lifestyle, or the ‘popular’ lifestyle was attractive to all young, hormonal boys. You’d known that for a long time. You stood by Tyson’s side when he got drafted into the wicked world of the NHL. Parties, drinking, sex, training until you can barely move, fights, games, wins and losses. It all had it’s charms, but it also had its dangers. Just like any other guy Tyson wanted to experience it all, the whole package,
You assumed you fell under that ‘whole package’, you were his girlfriend for a reason, right? And you did, for a while. You partied together, came home together, did everything together. But the moment Tyson became older and ‘known’ outside the regular hockey fans, that title didn’t mean much anymore. He became more and more the type of guy you didn’t fall in love with, the type to take you for granted, the type to enjoy the attention of other people, other women in particular. You weren’t the jealous type, you didn’t want to claw out the eyes of every woman that looked at him, but you were at a breaking point. Maybe you were jealous, you weren’t jealous of those other women, you were jealous of the attention Tyson gave them. Attention he should’ve been giving to you, his freaking girlfriend.
You were however the loyal type, the type to come home after a long night. And that’s exactly where things went wrong with Tyson. While you were waiting for him at home with a meal, a warm bed or just simply anything else, he was out. You had no idea where he was exactly, he was simply ‘out’, whatever that might mean. You tried to talk to him, you tried to make him see that this wouldn’t end well for either of you, but he simply waved off your concerns, shrugged his shoulders and moved on.
How do you talk to someone who rediscovered himself? How do you talk to someone who thinks he’s on top of the world? How do you save someone from the downfall of success when they don’t want to be saved? You knew one day he’ll come down from this high, one day he’ll realize that he screwed up. One day he’ll come to the conclusion he let something special slip through his fingers, and for what? Fame? Drinks? A rush of adrenaline? One day. But you knew that it wouldn’t be today.
However today is the day that you’re done. Absolutely fed up with all the bullshit excuses Tyson has been feeding you, all the coming home late or not even coming home at all. You have no idea what he’s been up to these last months, he’s barely home. Even when he’s home it’s like he isn’t really there. You can’t even remember the last time the two of you slept together or the last time you actually went to bed at the same time. Breakfast together? A lifetime ago. A lazy day together? Can’t remember. Date night? Months, months ago. Even thinking about it pisses you off to no end, the pain and hurt slowly making place for a new emotion: anger.
It’s frustrating to say the least. You love and take care of him like he means the world to you, and he does. Tyson on the other hand seems to take you for granted, or forgets you’re here at all. It seems like you’re talking to a brick wall instead of your boyfriend. No matter how hard you try, your words have no impact, your tears don’t make him feel anything. It’s like he’s a totally different person. You barely recognize him anymore these days, he feels like a stranger inside the body of the man you love. It feels like you’re both living your life, besides each other instead of with each other. It hurts, that’s for sure.
Like any other day you’ve prepared dinner, put it on the table and sat down on one of the chairs. All you can do now is wait, wait and pray he’ll show up this time. You even texted him, begged him to come home and simply eat dinner with you for a change. Of course you didn’t get a response, of course it’s complete radio silence from his side. God, you were desperate at this point, you don’t even try to deny it.
With every passing minute your hope disappears little by little. You stare at the food on the table until it’s completely dark outside, no sign of Tyson. Hours passed and you barely noticed it, it isn’t until you try to stand up and your muscles ache from sitting in the same position for a long time that you realize how much time actually has passed. “Fuck this, why am I even trying anymore?” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head. This isn’t worth it, it hasn’t been for a long time. Maybe, just maybe you’re finally ready to admit it to yourself.
Deciding to choose yourself over Tyson is a major decision, one you probably should’ve made sooner. It doesn’t matter, what does matter is that you’re choosing you now. You make the split second decision to just grab your stuff, just the necessary stuff. You remember Gabe’s offer, at the time you waved it off with a smile, pretending it wasn’t as bad as it might look to the outside world, but now? You want nothing more than to take him up on his offer. So what’s stopping you?
Even though you were excruciating calm this whole time, the moment you step into your bedroom, or Tyson’s bedroom, you break. This is real, this is really happening. You grab your bags, filling them with some of your stuff. Some clothes, some toiletries, your makeup, everything you might need. It’s a tough job, it’s even harder when you almost can’t see past the tears. At some point you lose track of things you did and didn’t grab, just shoving random items into your bag.
You let out a frustrated sigh, your body sinking down on the floor. In your hands the box containing all your high school love letters, all the small gifts you made each other. Tyson was quite handy, who would’ve thought that? You smile at the memories, sorting through the box. You frown at the feeling surging through your body, is this how heartbreak feels? Looking down at the contents of the box you sigh, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. Why couldn’t life be as simple as it used to be? It shouldn’t be this hard, right? You grab your prom picture between your fingers, smiling sadly at the two people in the picture, both smiling like they just won the lottery, both utterly in love with the other. How time can change..
You throw the box on the bed, maybe it will remind Tyson what the two of you had was special, maybe he’ll realize what he’s about to lose. If it doesn’t, well, it’s his loss. Hauling your bags downstairs is a full workout, you intended to bring ‘just the essentials’ but you have way more important stuff than you originally thought. You aren’t planning on returning to this house any time soon.
Shutting the car door after you loaded in your stuff gives you some form of relief. You let out the breath you’ve been holding in. You made your decision, it’s time to follow through now. You make your way back inside, and into the kitchen. Cleaning up all leftovers from dinner, which obviously is a lot more than you expected. Although.. did you really think he would show up? You shake your head again, putting the leftovers into the fridge. After you finish the dishes you retreat back to the living room, falling down on the couch with a loud sigh. All you can do now is wait.
You could’ve just left and never look back, but that isn’t your style. If you’re going to leave, you’ll do it the right way. You won’t leave without giving him a piece of mind, letting him know he fucked this up for good. You try to focus on the movie playing on the screen, but your heart keeps beating harder and harder, at this point you wish you would’ve just left instead of waiting for Tyson to show up. God, why did you have to do it the right way? Because you know, deep down, you would’ve wanted him to do it the same way. It’s the humane thing to do, it’s only right after spending such a long time together.
The front door opening brings you out of your thoughts. Honestly you don’t even know what time it is, but frankly you don’t care. All you want right now is to get this off your chest and leave. Tyson’s eyes widen when he comes face-to-face with you, surprisingly he doesn’t seem that intoxicated. You suspected he went out, but at this point he could’ve been anywhere.
“You’re still up,” Tyson says, walking past you and flopping down on the couch.
“Yep, and you missed dinner,” you counter, crossing your arms. Tyson simply shrugs his shoulder, clearly not caring enough to explain his absence. “I texted you to make sure you would be here,” you say, even though you know it doesn’t make a difference.
“Yeah, I was busy,” Tyson answers, looking down at his phone.
You almost feel the need to chuckle, to start laughing at his stupid behavior, but this is anything but funny to you, it fucking hurts. “I’m done, Tyson. I’m fucking done,” you say, shaking your head, trying so hard to keep the tears away.
Tyson looks at you with dull eyes, no emotion visible on his face. “Then go to fucking bed, I really can’t deal with your problems right now,” he sighs, turning his head back to the phone in his hand.
Right now, at this moment you know you made the right decision. This isn’t behavior of someone who’s in love, this isn’t even behavior of someone who loves. “You don’t have to deal with me anymore, because I’m leaving. I’m done, we’re done,” you tell him, emphasizing the last part. Tyson’s eyes shoot to yours, the panic clearly written all over his face now.
“No, we’re not. You can’t break up with me, y/n!” he almost shouts at you, standing up from the couch.
“Yes, I can and I will. You don’t get to act like you care all of the sudden, Tyson. You haven’t acted like a boyfriend in months. You haven’t given me any reason to stay, so I won’t. I’m done with whatever this is,” you say, waving between the two of you. Tyson grabs your wrist, tears starting to pool in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off. “No. No. You don’t get to do this. It’s over. You put on quite a show, but I can’t say it was very entertaining. This curtain fucking closes right now, show is over. You can act like you care, but I know by now that you don’t,” you tell him, ripping your arm out of his grip.
You walk over to the front door, keeping your head high. Now is not the time to break down, your time will come. You hear Tyson behind you, muttering how sorry he is, excuse after excuse leave his mouth. You open the door, turning around one last time to look at Tyson. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, ‘cause you’re not,” you say while shaking your head. You close the door behind you, not looking back at what you’ve left behind, only looking forward to what’s yet to come.
It’s when you’re in your car mindlessly driving around when you realize you have nowhere to go. You forgot to call Gabe, and it’s probably way too late now. You quickly check the time, 2am, shit that’s late. You doubt he’s still awake, you feel bad for even thinking about waking him up. Two young children, both of them under the age of 2, and being a professional hockey player probably cost him enough energy already, you don’t need to add to that. “He did say I could always call him when I made my decision,” you say out loud, more to convince yourself that it’s okay than anything else.
You easily find Gabe’s contact, immediately pressing the dial button before you change your mind again. The line only rings twice before Gabe picks up. “I’m guessing you either finally broke up with him or there’s a fire somewhere,” Gabe says from the other side of the line. You chuckle, shaking your head. “And since you’re calling me and not the fire department, my guess is on the first one,” Gabe continues, trying to make you smile some more.
“I did it, I broke up with him, couldn’t stand to be there any second longer,” you sigh, brushing your fingers through your hair.
You hear Gabe’s sigh of relief. “I’m proud of you, y/n. I know this isn’t what you had in mind, but it’s better like this, I promise.”
Gabe turned into one of your best friends over time, Melissa is the older sister you never had and you love their children like they’re your own. Gabe and Melissa welcomed you into their family immediately after meeting you. You hadn’t expected to make friends and you definitely didn’t expect to make friends with the captain and his wife, but you’re so grateful you did. The support you receive from them is overwhelming, you couldn’t wish for better friends. So when Gabe first made you this offer, you were thankful he did, although you were still convinced at that point that Tyson would change.
“Uhm, you know.. that offer you made me? Is that still on the table?” you ask, praying he’ll say ‘yes’, praying you don’t have to sleep in some random hotel tonight.
“Of course, the guestroom is already prepared. Melissa expects you to be here as soon as possible, apparently she ‘really needs to cuddle her little sister’,” Gabe chuckles, you can almost hear him rolling his eyes at his wife.
“Thank you, Gabe. I owe you,” you say softly.
“You don’t. You’re family, y/n,” Gabe says, and you know he means every word he just said. Family. “Now get your ass over here, before Melissa starts a search party,” Gabe chuckles, making you laugh some more, because you know she would. You quickly say your goodbyes, promising you’ll be there in a few minutes. It’s just a short drive from your apartment, or Tyson’s apartment now, to Gabe and Mel’s place.
You kept up your appearance, keeping the tears at bay, but the moment you step out of your car and into Gabe’s arms you’re done. “Come here, I’m so sorry,” Gabe says softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.
You stand there for a few minutes, simply crying on your best friend’s shoulder, until Melissa squeezes herself between the two of you. “Hush, I need some sister time. Why don’t you grab her stuff?” she says, smiling sweetly at her husband.
Gabe sighs dramatically, sending a wink your way. “Whatever you say, wife.”
Melissa pulls you close to her, an arm around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you your room,” she softly says, leading you into the house. You’ve been here so many times already, but never like this. You’ve never been in a situation like this before, you’re not sure how to handle this. “I can hear the wheels turning in your head. It will be okay,” Melissa says, rubbing your arm soothingly. You sigh, shrugging your shoulders, not sure what to say.
Melissa leads you to your room, pushing you down on the bed, while she takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know you’re probably exhausted, but do you want to talk?” Melissa asks softly, her face showing nothing but compassion.
You lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all that has happened. “I don’t even know what to say, Mel. I don’t even know how I feel right now. I’m just so...” you trail off, not knowing the right words to describe everything that you feel and think right now.
“Confused, relieved, mad?”
You sit back up, looking back at Melissa. “All of the above, I guess? It hurts, but I’m glad I did it. But I also regret it, because I love him, you know? I’m mad he didn’t try harder for me, for us,” you say, trying hard to keep the rush of tears away.
Melissa wraps her arms around you, pulling you close to her. “I know, sweetheart. It will take time, but you’re going to be okay.”
You sigh, knowing she’s right, even though it probably will take more time than just ‘some time’. You did just end a long relationship, it will take a lot of patience and time to work through that. “Thank you, Mel. For letting me stay here,” you mumble against Melissa’s shoulder.
“No need for that. You’re my sister, remember?” Melissa smiles at you.
Gabe softly knocks on the door before opening the door. “Brought your bags, thought you might need them before you go to sleep,” he says, smiling at the sight before him. Your friendship might be unconventional, but he couldn’t care less what other people think about it. Gabe absolutely adores the sister bond you and Mel share, he hoped the two of you would get along, so this? Picture perfect.
“Thanks, Gabe,” you smile at him.
“Do you mind if I steal my wife from you?” Gabe asks, making you and Melissa laugh out loud.
“Nope, she’s all yours,” you chuckle, waving at their retreating backs when they walk out of the room.
You strip out of your clothes, pulling on a sweater. You sigh, realizing you packed some of Tyson’s sweaters out of habit. His smell infiltrates your senses, making it damn hard to keep your emotions under control. It’s right this moment you know exactly how you feel. Heartbroken. The realization that your relationship with Tyson is really over doesn’t give you the satisfaction you hoped for, it doesn’t give you peace, it just fucking hurts. You simply feel hollow, even though deep down you know this was the right choice, this was what needed to happen. You know damn well why you feel so empty, you gave your heart to Tyson a long, long time ago, never expecting to be in a situation you might get it back. You don’t want it back, but you might need it back.
You realize it’s morning when the light softly shines into your room. You sigh, knowing damn well you’re lucky if you slept more than an hour this night. Rolling over you look at the clock on the wall, 9 am, perfect. Deciding it won’t do you any good if you stay in bed any longer, you force yourself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water warms your cold skin, soothing your sore muscles. All the twisting and turning you did all night surely didn’t help the way you feel right now. Why couldn’t life be a bit easier by simply letting the shower wash away all of your hurt, all of your pain? A fresh start, a clean slate.
You slip on some skinny jeans and a soft sweater, not in the mood to even think about doing your makeup. You dry your hair, before making a quick ponytail out of it. You walk down stairs, the chatter and laughter greeting you as soon as you walk into the kitchen. “Morning, guys,” you say, smiling at all the happy faces before you. A round of greetings sound throughout the room.
“How’d you sleep?” Gabe asks you as soon as you sit down next to him with a bowl of cereal.
“Can’t even tell you, suddenly it was 9 am,” you chuckle, shrugging your shoulders at Gabe’s raised eyebrow. “Do you have any idea where my phone is?” you ask Gabe, knowing he grabbed all your stuff out of your car.
“Uhh, I do, but I don’t know if you really want to look at it,” Gabe says, scratching the back of his head before pointing towards the kitchen counter. It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, walking over to where Gabe’s pointing at.
You unlock your phone, quickly checking your notifications. “Oh damn,” you mutter, looking at the absurd amount of missed calls and messages left by none other than Tyson himself.
You sit back down next to Gabe, dropping your head on your arms. “What do I do now, Gabe?” you groan. “Why does he care all of the sudden?”
Gabe rubs his hand over your back before answering your question. “Because he lost you, y/n. He never thought he would.” You turn your head towards Gabe letting his words sink in.
Gabe gets ready to leave for practice shortly after you settle on the couch with Lucas in your arms. The little man has a fascination with your hair, maybe it’s all babies who have that, but you like to think that you’re special. “Don’t pull out all y/n’s hair, baby boy,” Gabe chuckles, giving his boy a soft kiss on his head. He gives you a kiss on your cheek, softly squeezing your shoulder. You open your mouth to say something, but Gabe cuts you off. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry about it, I’m his captain, but I’m your friend, okay? Just relax, make sure Lucas doesn’t puke on you and go do whatever it is that you women do all day,” Gabe chuckles, knowing you better than you know yourself. You mouth a quick ‘thank you’ to him, wishing him good luck with practice before he runs through the house trying to find his girls to kiss them goodbye.
“Your daddy is a good guy, you know that, Lucas?” you smile at the baby on your lap. Lucas coos, his hands grabbing onto the strands of your hair. “Your daddy and mommy make me feel so loved, even though their children like to see me in pain,” you joke, trying to free your hair from Lucas’s small hands. “Buddy, you’re way stronger than you look,” you mumble, when Lucas pulls on your hair again.
Melissa laughs out loud the moment she walks into the living room. “How many times did I tell you that you need to keep your hair away from him and his grabby hands?” she says, expertly freeing your hair from her son’s fists.
“Apparently not enough times,” you chuckle at her. Melissa joins you on the couch, while Linnea Rae plays on the ground with some of her toys, happily showing you what she got every now and then. It’s times like this that you’re extra grateful for Melissa and Gabe, the way they welcomed you into their family has been nothing but perfect.
“So, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Melissa asks, while scrolling through series to watch on Netflix.
You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know, I’m kind of worried about practice, I think? I don’t want to put Gabe in this position,” you say, keeping your eyes on Lucas.
“You know Gabe would do anything for you, huh? You don’t know how many times he came home utterly frustrated by the way Tyson treated you. He never said anything, because you were still with him, I can’t promise you he will stay quiet this time,” Melissa says, squeezing your shoulder. “He’ll be fine, this isn’t Gabe’s first rodeo.”
You look at Melissa, who simply gives you a wink. “I know, I know. I just don’t want him to get in trouble or anything,” you say, smiling back at her. You trust and know Gabe, so hopefully there won’t be a lot of trouble today.
“If he does though, he probably deserves it.”
Gabe surprises you all with some takeaway when he gets home from practice. It’s been nice eating with other people for change, it’s been way too long. The amount of lonely dinners has been through the roof lately. Gabe nudges you with his elbow, causing you to look up at him. “No frowning at the table.”
Melissa rolls her eyes at her husband while you just stick out your tongue at him. “Sure, dad,” you say, causing Melissa to almost choke on her bite of food before she lets out a loud laugh.
“Yeah, dad. Leave us alone,” Melissa laughs, winking at her husband. Gabe shakes his head at you and Melissa, a grin plastered on his face.
It’s during dessert you find the courage to ask about Tyson. You weren’t sure if you needed to ask Gabe, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know anything, but now you know you do. “So, did anything happen during practice?” you ask him, playing around with your spoon.
Gabe shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “Not much, just some chirping. Told him I’m his captain and he needs to fucking focus on practice. That seemed to do the trick,” Gabe says, shrugging his shoulders, continuing to eat his dessert.
You look across the table at Melissa who has the same expression on her face as you. Not convincing at all. ‘Sure,’ Melissa mouths at you from across the table. You shake your head at her, furrowing your eyebrows at Gabe’s statement. ‘Nope,’ you mouth back at her, finishing your dessert. You decide to let it go, you don’t even know why you care so much. You shouldn’t, right? You broke things off with Tyson, so why do you care so much what he does and thinks? The answer to that question is pretty simple the longer you think about it. Because you still love him, that’s why.
You thank everyone for dinner and dessert, promising to cook something from them later this week. Right now all you can think about is your bed and a decent night of sleep. God, that sounds like a true dream right now. You strip out of your clothes, crawling into the soft and cozy bed. It doesn’t take long before you fall asleep, showing just how exhausted you truly are.
The weeks that follow are filled with all kinds of activities, the 5 of you falling back into a comfortable rhythm, surprising you considering the situation you’re in. It isn’t every day you take in the ex-girlfriend of one of your teammates, or your best friend, whatever way you want to see things. When you aren’t working you spend a lot of time with the kids, trying to make things easier for Melissa and Gabe whenever they are busy or simply need some time for the two of them. You happily take on some of their care, even if it’s as simple as making sure they get their food in time. Honestly they are two of the sweetest children you’ve ever come across, they always find ways to make you laugh, even though most of the time it isn’t on purpose.
It’s been quiet around the house tonight, Melissa went out with a few of her friends, while she left Gabe and the kids with you. Apparently she needed some ‘alone time’ which didn’t include kids, and definitely didn’t include Gabe after he mentioned he wanted some ‘alone time’ with her as well. You love their friendly bickering, the love they have for each other visible in everything they do. So when Melissa gave her husband a dirty look and flipped him the bird the only logical thing to do was to start laughing at their exchange. “Have fun with them, sweetheart!” Melissa had yelled at you when she walked through the door, leaving the four of you behind.
Together you decide to just have a movie night. It’s late enough for both children to be asleep already, yet early enough to squeeze in a full size movie marathon. “Gladiatorrrrr!” Gabe exclaims excitedly while scrolling through the movie selection on Netflix, pausing on his all-time favorite movie.
You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please no, have mercy, Gabe,” you laugh, knowing damn well you’re going to sit through this movie again. How many times has it been already? 12? You wouldn’t even be surprised. This dude really loves his movie. You look at Gabe from between your fingers, seeing the look on his face which makes you groan even more. “Fineeee, one more time, Gabe. One more time,” you whine at him, secretly enjoying his taste in movies, something you don’t plan on telling him ever.
It’s a little after 10pm when the doorbell rings. You look at Gabe, who looks just as surprised as you are. “It’s a bit early for Mel, don’t you think?” Gabe asks, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Definitely, unless she drank the whole bottle of champagne again,” you chuckle, thinking back at one of the craziest parties you’ve ever been to with Mel and Gabe.
“Oh God, please don’t remind me of that,” Gabe shudders at the memory of that night, standing up to see who’s on the other side of the door.
Gabe hates to say that he isn’t surprised to see Tyson’s face as soon as he opens the door. Honestly he had expected him at his door days, maybe even weeks ago. The moment Tyson found out you were staying with Gabe he broke, Gabe expected him to fight, to yell, to scream, he expected him to do anything except cry. Which is exactly what Tyson did, breaking down in the middle of practice. For a moment the whole place went quiet, only Tyson’s cries echoing throughout the building. No one knew how to act, no one knew what to do, until Gabe realized he’s the captain for a reason. On and off the ice. It was a weird experience, one Gabe still feels extremely conflicted about. He comforted his teammate, his friend, while his other friend was at his home, utterly heartbroken, trying to get over the guy who was bawling his eyes out on the ice.
After Tyson got over the initial shock the anger took over, just as Gabe expected. It made him almost drop the gloves, something he tried to avoid, not wanting to hurt Tyson. He let him say his things, things that absolutely didn’t make any sense, until he got everything out of his system. “Now can we continue this fucking practice, Jost?” Gabe told him after everything calmed down. Gabe tried to avoid the Tyson/y/n topic as much as possible after that, not wanting to get in the middle of things more than he already was. Until tonight apparently.
Gabe raises an eyebrow at the boy before him. “Why are you here, Tyson?” Gabe sighs, already knowing the answer to that question.
Tyson looks around, eyes flickering from left to right, clearly uncomfortable being here. “I, uh, can I talk to y/n? I know she’s here,” Tyson asks, scratching the back of his head before putting them back in his pockets.
Gabe shakes his head at him. “You can’t, if she wants to talk to you she will find a way to contact you. As long as you don’t get your shit together and prove to me, but most of all to her, that you’ve changed, I won’t let you anywhere near her,” Gabe declares, starting to get annoyed with the way Tyson acts. There’s no way he lets him close to you until you feel like you’re ready to see him again, no way.
Tyson opens his mouth, but Gabe gives him a look that immediately shuts him up again. “I’m saying this as your captain, and definitely not as your friend right now. Go home and leave her the fuck alone. You had your chance, you fucked up and now you have to deal with the consequences. How you deal with those said consequences is up to you, but I suggest you leave now and think about everything you did and didn’t do, okay?” Tyson nods his head, turning around to walk back to his car.
When he’s a few steps away from his car he turns around, smiling sadly at Gabe. “She’s my home, Gabe. Home doesn’t feel the same without her. You out of all people should understand that.”
Gabe chuckles low, shaking his head at his clueless teammate. “I do. I do know what home feels like, but I never, never choose anyone or anything over my ‘home’. Never. You sure as hell did, time after time,” Gabe says frustratedly, before shutting the door, leaving behind an even more frustrated Tyson.
You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you caught the sound of Tyson’s voice when you walked to the kitchen, grabbing some more popcorn. You didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, but it felt like you were glued to your place, unable to take another step, unable to do anything but listen.
Gabe walks back into the room, the look on your face immediately letting him know you know. “How much did you hear?” he asks softly, approaching you slowly.
“Enough,” you whisper, before breaking down, no longer able to keep the tears locked away, no longer able to keep your emotions to yourself.
With two steps Gabe is in front of you, grabbing the bowl of popcorn you held onto between your trembling fingers. He guides you back to the couch, urging you to sit down, which is a true challenge for someone who can barely feel the ground they walk on. Gabe wraps his arms around you the moment you sit down, allowing you to cry onto his shoulder as much as you want and need. He whispers sweet nothings while softly brushing your hair out of your face, making sure you have room to breath. Time after time Gabe proves what kind of friend he is, always making sure to be there for you when he’s needed, always doing things with the best intentions. Even if it’s just holding you until you calm down, even if it’s just speaking the truth against Tyson, even if it’s just simply being there for one another.
“Sooner or later he would’ve realized what he lost, what he gave up for an evening of clubbing or God knows what. Apparently it’s sooner rather than later, however make sure you make him work for it, if you ever decide you want to give the two of you another chance,” Gabe softly advises you, when you finally calmed down a bit.
“I will, you know I love him, Gabe. But I don’t know if I should?” you mumble, not sure if it’s a question Gabe has the answer to.
“Sometimes the heart wants what it wants. If he’s serious about you, he will work his ass off to earn back your love and trust, I promise you,” Gabe comforts you, after knowing Tyson for so long he’s positive he knows that Tyson goes above and beyond to get what he wants in life.
Maybe it’s Gabe’s comforting words, maybe it’s knowing deep down Tyson still cares, maybe it’s your own strength, but for the first time in a while you feel a tiny flicker of hope, a little bit of light at the end of the dark tunnel. Maybe, just maybe this was all worth it, maybe this is what needed to happen to get better and move forward. Maybe this is how it was supposed to go.
It’s a weird feeling, knowing your ex still cares about you, but also knowing you aren’t ready to let him back into your life like that. You don’t feel like you’re capable of seeing him yet, let alone talk to him. The need to know how he’s doing, how he’s holding up grows, but also confuses you. It’s simply a weird and confusing situation to be in. Choosing between two, maybe even more ways to handle this, while also waiting for Tyson to make a move, which he obviously can’t since you don’t want to see him or speak to him, is a hard task. A task that will require a lot of thinking. You just need a bit more time to gather your thoughts, give all of your confusing feelings a place, while making sure you put yourself first, you need to put yourself first this time.
So when Gabe invites you to one of his home games a few weeks later you say ‘yes’ right away. It seems like the perfect time and place to see Tyson from a distance again, without putting too much stress on yourself, you can just watch and enjoy the game, you don’t have to force anything. Of course your seats turned out to be way closer to the ice than you expected them to be, although... what did you exactly expect with Gabe? You know he’s been talking to both of you, kind of acting like some sort of messenger. He tried to keep it casual, just slipping in some information during a conversation, but you noticed what he was trying to do. Frankly you’re thankful for his meddling.
Steadily your heart starts to beat faster and faster the more players appear on the ice to warm up. When Gabe appears you aren’t surprised to see Tyson close to him, knowing Gabe they probably had a little chat before they went on the ice. Tyson’s eyes shoot to yours the moment he’s close by, completely forgetting the ability to skate. You gasp when he lands on his ass on the ice, earning himself a round of laughter from the people around him, including Melissa and you. Gabe skates over to him, extending his hand and helping him upright again, but not before clearly telling him he’s ‘a dumbass’. Now that’s something you can agree on.
You know Tyson has something up his sleeve when he skates off to the bench, clearly busying himself with something you can’t see. After a few more stolen glances at each other Tyson skates closer and closer to you, until he’s right in front of the glass. His left hand catches your attention, until he gives you a small and almost shy smile. “Look at him, he’s blushing!” Melissa whispers next to you. You shoot her a quick ‘shut up’ look, before you focus your attention back on Tyson.
Tyson shows you the puck in his gloved hand, mouthing to you to catch it. It takes him two tries before the puck lands on the other side of the glass, safely in your hands. Tyson gives you one last quick smile before he skates off to get ready for the game. Melissa nudges you softly, bringing you back from your thoughts. “So, what’s on there?” she asks, knowing damn well you haven’t even checked.
“I don’t know if I want to look, Mel,” you tell her honestly. Melissa gives you a sad smile, throwing her arm around your shoulders.
“Let’s look together?” she suggests. You don’t know why you’re so nervous, how much can you actually write on a puck? He seemed happy to see you, so there’s no need to be nervous that it’s a bad thing. You look at the puck, turning it around in your hands so you can read the whole thing. ‘Talk after the game?’ is written on the puck, you immediately recognize Tyson’s handwriting and his little smiley face, or.. something that should resemble a smiley face.
“That wasn’t that bad, right?” Melissa asks softly, squeezing your shoulder.
“What if I’m not ready?” you ask her, a question that has been on your mind a lot lately.
“Then you take a step back, you don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, you don’t have any obligations. But he’s trying, y/n. You’ve heard all of Gabe’s stories, you’ve seen it yourself just now. It can’t hurt to at least talk to him.” You think about Melissa’s words, she does have a point there. Talking is something you should’ve done ages ago, or at least Tyson should’ve done that. So this is progress, he’s at least trying this time, that’s more than he used to do.
It’s hard to keep the smile off your face, you can’t even pinpoint why exactly you’re smiling. Whatever the reason is, it’s a good feeling to smile again. The game sure as hell plays a big part in it, the guys are on fire, scoring goal after goal, never giving the puck away for long. There’s barely any time for you to give Tyson a thumbs up, indicating you’re up for a talk after the game. Whenever you look at Tyson when he’s off the ice he’s smiling, whether it is to himself or to one of his teammates, that smile won’t leave his face.
You follow Melissa down to the locker room after the game is over. You’ve done this so many times, but this time it couldn’t be more different. You greet all the girls who are patiently waiting on their man, getting enough comforting words from them to last you a lifetime. When the door to the locker room opens you come face-to-face with Mikko, someone you haven’t seen in a while. Mikko’s face lights up when he spots you outside the locker room. “y/n! I haven’t seen you in so long,” he says, while hugging you tightly.
“I missed you too, goof. It’s great to see you,” you smile at him, wiggling out of his iron grip. Dude’s definitely stronger than he looks.
“Between you and me, Tyson’s a good kid, he just needed to grow up a bit,” Mikko whispers against your ear, before leaving you alone again.
You raise your eyebrow at Melissa, who just shrugs her shoulders. Weird. After a few more minutes Gabe and Tyson appear in front of you, both of them joking around. Tyson nervously looks around, not sure if he should come any closer. Gabe hugs you swiftly before throwing his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Make sure you bring her home safely, Jost,” Gabe warns him, before quickly saying goodbye to both of you.
You watch them leave, your mouth agape by the way they just left you here. Rude. “Did they just really do that?” you ask no one in particular, still shocked by their actions.
You turn around, looking back at Tyson, who still appears to be nervous. Is he nervous to talk to you? Why would he be nervous? It’s just you. “Hi there,” you smile, looking up at the man in front of you.
“Hi beautiful, it was nice seeing you tonight,” Tyson softly says, giving you a small smile.
Your insides flutter with his use of words, it’s nice hearing them even though you’re not completely sure if he means them the way you hope he does. “It was. You played great, I had a lot of fun,” you say, smiling at the proud look that crosses Tyson’s face for a moment.
Tyson leads you back to the rink, which is now completely deserted, thinking it would be a nice place to chat. For a while the two of you fall back into small talk, ‘how’s life?’, ‘how’s work?’, all that bullshit. You know Tyson and you are avoiding the actual topic that needs to be discussed, or topics? Whatever it is, there’s a lot to talk about. “I missed it here, I forgot how much I loved being here,” you tell Tyson, looking at the lights that lighten up the place, thinking back at the memories full of fun and happiness you both created here.
“I missed you, baby,” Tyson blurts out, completely catching you off guard.
Your eyes shoot back to his, you feel the panic rising inside your body. “Tyson...,” you start, warning him he’s walking on thin ice here.
Tyson’s face falls a bit, seeing the anxious look on your face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Tyson groans, rubbing his face harshly, utterly frustrated with himself and the situation.
It’s quiet for a minute, both of you completely lost in thoughts. “Why is this so hard? We used to be able to talk about anything and everything. What changed, y/n?” Tyson wonders out loud.
You feel a painful pang in your heart, because you know damn well what changed. “You did, Tyson. You changed,” you almost whisper, the truth behind those words more clear than ever before.
You watch as Tyson’s whole composure changes in the blink of an eye, in just a split second he goes from the ‘happy’ guy to the guy who’s just as heartbroken as you are. “I did, didn’t I?” Tyson whispers, the tears pooling in his eyes. “I fucked this up, how could I be so stupid?” he mumbles, burying in face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, I regret this more than I could ever admit to you. I’m so sorry, baby,” Tyson cries, trying to keep his eyes focused on you. It’s hard to keep your own tears at bay when the guy you love so much has a breakdown in front of you, so you don’t. You just let them fall.
You don’t make a move to comfort him, you do give him room to let it all out, give him time to gather his composure again. “I looked through the box, the one you left on our bed?” Tyson says, his voice still broken, still thick with emotion. You nod your head, it was something you hoped he would do. “I had no idea you kept all of that throughout the years,” Tyson smiles weakly at you. “It made me realize what a moron I have been these past few months, maybe even longer,” he continues, shaking his head in disappointment. You listen intently at him, this, this is what you hoped for all this time: realization.
“I’m not telling you that you weren’t a moron, because you absolutely were. But I’m glad you came to the same conclusion.”
Tyson chuckles at your statement, giving you half a smile. “I know, I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass for acting this way and a dumbass for letting you go. Any guy would be on top of the world with you by his side, and I just let you slip through my fingers,” Tyson tells you, finally showing he knows he’s been a fool all this time, he knows he let something special go.
“Is it too late for us? Can you give us another chance?” Tysons asks you, his eyes flickering between you and the ground.
You sigh softly, knowing this question would come. It’s something you gave a lot of thought, something that crossed your mind daily. “I don’t know, Tyson. I really don’t know. You really fucking hurt me, you know? I can’t just look past that, I need to heal from that,” you tell him. Tyson nods his head, a guilty expression on his face. “You made me feel worthless every single day. You didn’t even give me a second of your time day after day. All you cared about was being away. Being away from me?”
It’s right that moment Tyson interrupts you by grabbing your hands. “No. No. That’s not true, you need to believe me,” he tells you as fast as he can.
“But how can I believe you when you never gave me a reason to? Your actions showed me exactly that, Tyson. I need answers, I need to know why,” you exclaim, starting to panic again, your anxiety taking over.
“Easy, baby. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, everything you want, but right now I need you to breath. Breathe, baby,” Tyson says softly, trying to calm your shallow breathing back down to normal. “Listen to my breathing, try to follow the way I breathe.” You do as he says, following the rise and fall of his chest, gaining back control of your own breathing.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize, while Tyson just shakes his head at you, letting you know it’s okay. “Can you take me home, Ty? We can talk later, okay?” you ask him, suddenly feeling the need to crawl underneath the covers of your bed and just simply sleep for a while.
“Anything you want, y/n,” Tyson says, leading you out of the room and back to his car. You’re pretty sure he mumbled something under his breath, something very closely resembling ‘your home isn’t there, it’s with me’.
The drive to Gabe takes longer than expected, giving you more time to think about Tyson’s earlier question. You still need and want to know how he spent his nights, where he spent his nights, and why he acted like you didn’t exist. That conversation might need to wait until another day, you aren’t up for any more information, any more realizations, you still need to process everything you heard, saw and felt today.
Tyson stops the car in front of Gabe’s house, looking back at you with hopeful eyes. You know he still hopes he gets an answer to his earlier question, and you want to give him at least that. “You need to show me you changed, Tyson. Show me you changed for real and I’ll try to get past everything that happened. I can’t promise you anything,” you tell him softly, meaning everything you just said.
Tyson nods his head, a smile of relief on his lips. “I will, I promise you I will show you I changed and that you’re everything to me. I promise, baby.”
So that’s exactly what Tyson does the next few weeks, every free moment he tries to show you just how much you mean to him, without smothering you. Whether it’s taking you out for dinner, although you’re still waiting for Tyson to actually make you dinner by himself one day, to small coffee dates and fresh flowers at work. It’s been a lot to process, a lot of adjusting to this ‘new’ Tyson, or rather seeing the ‘old’ Tyson again. And you missed him, God you missed him so much.
Tyson seems happier, more at peace with himself these days, it’s a pleasant change. Often you wondered what was really going on inside his head, but you stopped trying after he waved it off again, and again, and again. The late night phone calls, or facetiming during road trips have become a habit again, something you didn’t think you would ever experience again with him. You still take things slow with Tyson, deciding to rather allow yourself to slowly start trusting him again than diving head first into a relationship again. Maybe it will never come that far again, you don’t know how the future will look like for the two of you, but for now it’s enough.
You come face-to-face with a smirking Melissa when you get home from yet another ‘iced coffee and donut’ date, even though you’re pretty sure Tyson isn’t allowed to eat any donuts. “Oh no,” you groan at Melissa’s expression.
“It’s time we have a little sister-sister conversation, don’t you think?” she asks you, ushering you into the living room.
“Do we?” you groan again, not in the mood to handle whatever Melissa wants to talk about now, because you already know it’s either about you, Tyson or you and Tyson.
Melissa flops down on the couch, patting the place next to her, indicating for you to sit your ass down. “Did you already talk to him about it?” she asks, straight to point in pure Melissa-style.
You let your head fall back against the cushions, sighing loudly. “I didn’t. We’re doing great, we’re having fun. I’m going to ruin it if I start asking questions again.”
Melissa stays quiet for a minute, trying to figure out the right way to approach this sensitive topic. “You know you deserve the truth, right? You can’t rebuild a relationship when not everything’s on the table, sweetheart,” Melissa says softly, knowing you’re struggling with this.
“I promise I’ll talk to him after the road trip, I don’t want to create any unnecessary negative energy before,” you promise Melissa, although she gives you a ‘who are you trying to fool here’ look before switching topics.
A few days later you find yourself back at Tyson’s place. It’s weird being here, knowing you don’t live here anymore. Nothing changed, absolutely nothing, Tyson kept everything the way you did, whether it’s out of laziness or out of hope you’ll come back on day. Either way it’s weird coming back to a place that’s no longer your home. You came here to talk, nothing more nothing less. You promised Mel you would, and if you’re being honest with yourself it’s time to know the truth, time to reopen old wounds and finally get some answers. You’ve grown closer and closer to Tyson, without knowing everything, without knowing you’d be able to forgive him if he ever made a misstep. It’s time.
Tyson has been a nervous wreck ever since you called him last night after he returned from the road trip to St. Louis. He knew this was coming, but he prayed you would simply forget, even though he knows that’s not fair at all. He can’t excuse his behavior, and he won’t, not anymore. You deserve nothing but the truth, the full truth. He’s not proud of it, but you leaving him opened his eyes, showed him he really needed to change. Tyson feels like that’s something he truly did, he changed for the better, he can only hope you’ll feel the same way. He can only hope you’re still on the same path after tonight.
“You did great these last games, Ty,” you smile at him. You’re proud of the way he’s been performing these last couple of games, he really stepped up his game.
“I know you didn’t come here to talk about my performances on the ice, so can we please skip the pleasantries?” Tyson sighs, catching you completely off guard with his rather harsh approach. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I’ve just been so fucking nervous since you called me,” Tyson curses, frustratedly brushing his fingers through his curls.
“You’re right though, I did come to talk. I think it’s time we lay all our cards on the table,” you tell him, nodding at your own answer.
You nervously bite on your lip, playing with the cup of water in your hand. It isn’t every day you ask your ex these questions. Questions you want the answers to, question you maybe don’t even want to hear the answers of. “I need to know if you cheated on me, Ty,” you blurt out, keeping your eyes on the ground, not wanting to see the look on Tyson’s face.
“Look at me, baby,” Tyson says, urging you to look up at him. “I never cheated on you, I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”
You shake your head at him, not knowing what to do with these emotions surging through your body. “It doesn’t make sense, Ty. Where were you all those nights? Where were you every time I lay in bed alone waiting for my boyfriend to come home? Waiting if he actually comes home this time or stays out all night again? Where were you?” At this point you’re past the civil conversations, past the friendly banter, you need answers, you need to know why he did what he did. The reason doesn’t even matter at this point, you need to know why. Why did he leave you alone so many nights, worrying about his well being, worrying about if he would come home at some point?
“Fuck, y/n! I know I fucked up, I know I did. But I swear on everything, I swear on my career, I swear on you that I never, never, touched another woman. I never kissed another woman, I never even danced with another woman, I did not cheat on you,” Tyson exclaims, hoping, praying you hear what he’s saying, that you’ll believe him. He didn’t do anything with another person, it was always you, it still is only you and he’ll do everything in his power to prove that to you every damn day.
“Then where were you, Ty? If you weren’t with another woman, then where the fuck were you every night you didn’t came home? Please enlighten me, because I’m so lost, so fucking lost,” you say, feeling utterly frustrated with yourself, with Tyson, with this shitty situation.
Tyson takes a deep breath, placing his cup back on the table. “Shitfaced drunk to the point I couldn’t even remember my own name, or so stoned I saw freaking elephants running all around town. Spending my money on unnecessary shit at clubs and bars, all to forget, trying to forget the fact that I had a perfect girlfriend waiting for me at home, while I did stupid shit. Fuck, this sounds even worse out loud than in my head,” Tyson groans, burying his face in his hands.
“But...,” you start, before Tyson cuts you off.
“I felt ashamed and guilty, y/n. Ashamed I let it get that far every time, guilty I didn’t tell you, guilty I didn’t come home again. One of the guys would just take me back to their place out of sympathy, letting me crash on their couch, trying to sleep off my haze.”
You try to come up with words to say, with anything but nothing comes out, you just feel.. empty? “I don’t understand, Tyson,” you say, at this point not even sure what you don’t understand.
“I tried, y/n. I tried to just come clean, but I couldn’t when you were so nice all the time, I couldn’t when I knew you would hate it, hate me. You know I’m a fucking lightweight, that makes it even worse. But those are no excuses, there aren’t any. I fucked up,” Tyson sighs, giving you a sad smile, “I couldn’t face you, I didn’t know how to show you my vulnerable side without letting it change the way you saw me. I didn’t want you to see me any different, but I didn’t notice I changed until you packed your bags and left me standing in the doorway.”
You’re absolutely speechless, there are so many things you want to say but you can’t form any sentences, any words. You just stare at him, your mind racing with an unlimited amount of thoughts. “Are you okay, baby?” Tyson asks softly, reaching out to put his hand on your arm.
You shake your head from side to side, wiping away the tears that spilled out. “I’m not okay, I’m definitely not okay,” you tell him. “I feel terrible knowing you didn’t feel like you could come to me, like you couldn’t talk to me. I’ve always been your biggest supporter, nothing would’ve changed that, Ty.”
Tyson gently wipes the tears away from underneath your eyes, scooting closer to where you’re seated. “Come here, baby,” he softly says, opening his arms for you. You hesitate for a second, not knowing if this is the right thing to do. Fuck the right thing, you definitely need a hug right now, and judging by Tyson’s facial expression he needs one as well. You lean forward, putting your arms around his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his body. How long has it been since you hugged each other? You can’t even remember, way too long. Tyson closes his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible to his own body.
“I missed this, Ty. I missed you,” you confess, the feeling of his arms around you, the feeling of Tyson, bringing back so many memories, so many happier times.
“I know we still have a long way to go, but I hope we’ll do this together. I can’t even tell you how great it feels to have my arms around you again, even if it’s just for a moment,” Tyson says, after you both let go of each other.
“We do, but I’m in if you’re in, Ty,” you agree, wanting nothing more than to work through the issues you still have. It’s time to forgive, time to let go, time to change and time to move on.
“I’m all in.”
The talk you had with Tyson that Wednesday evening did wonders for the both of you. You still had a long way to go before you were even remotely close to where you used to be with Tyson, but the most important thing was that you were working on things. Slowly, but steadily the two of you worked on trusting each other again, telling each other important things again, just simply working on being in a healthy relationship again. Although the word never came up, you were nowhere near ready for that commitment, so you settled on something less intimidating. Friends.
It was supposed to be a regular, normal Friday evening with just Melissa and the kids. Gabe and Tyson were playing one of their most important games this season, both of them begged you to come, but it was too late to find a babysitter. Not wanting to be by yourself there and leaving Mel alone, you decided to sit this one out as well, promising to cheer them on in front of the tv. It’s the least you could do. So there you are, seated on the couch wearing your Jost jersey for the very first time again, just as you promised. Weird, like nothing ever changed, even though the exact opposite is true.
You’re bouncing a giggling Linnea Rae on your knee, looking down at her adorable mini jersey. “Look it’s your daddy!” you exclaim excitedly, pointing at the closeup shot of Gabe.
“Daddy!” Linnea Rae giggles just as excited.
You catch Mel softly smiling at your little interaction with her daughter, enjoying the love you share for each other. It’s been a blessing to have you around here, the way you care for her children, but also for her and her husband has been phenomenal. Mel couldn’t wish for a better friend, for a better sister than you.
“Oh no,” you whisper when Tyson gets slammed hard into the glass. Melissa grabs your hand, squeezing softly.
“He’s going to be fine, he’s a tough guy,” she says, trying her best to comfort you. And he is, like the tough guy Tyson is, he gets up again, shaking off the hard hit. The game continues and you’re glad Tyson is fine, skating like he didn’t just get squeezed between a glass wall and a 200 pound hockey player.
All goes well until Gabe decides the best place to smack his stick is directly against Tyson’s face, again. “Not his face, Gabe! Not his fucking face again!” you yell at the screen, thanking Mel for already putting the kids to sleep.
“Shit, that looks bad,” Melissa almost whispers, squeezing your hand again.
You don’t know many things for sure in life, but you sure as hell know Tyson will be spotting a black eye for weeks. But like the tough guy he already proved to be, he just goes on with the game, trying his absolute best to work as hard as he can, giving himself completely to the game, anything to get his team the victory.
“That’s the second time you gave my man a black eye, Gabe. Why do you keep hurting him?” you whine the second Gabe walks into the living room. For a moment the room stays awfully quiet, until you realize what you just said. “I really said that, huh?” you ask, fighting to keep the smile off your face.
“You sure did. But I’m sorry, it was an accident. Again,” Gabe chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.
“Uhu, again,” you say, rolling your eyes at your best friend.
Gabe grins at you, flopping down on the couch next to Mel. “I’ll try not to hurt his pretty face again, okay?” Gabe laughs, shaking his head at you in a playful way.
“Is it weird if I, you know.. went over to check up on him?” you ask your friends, suddenly insecure about the thought of just showing up at his door.
Gabe gives you a soft smile. “I’m absolutely convinced he’d love that, y/n,” Gabe says, pulling Melissa closer to him.
“I know he would, sis,” Melissa agrees with her husband.
“Fine, okay. I’ll be back in a few. Don’t enjoy yourself too much,” you tell the two lovebirds before finding your stuff and almost running out of the front door.
You’re giddy the entire drive to Tyson’s apartment. This could go two ways, either it goes extremely well or this backfires completely. You’re hoping for the first one. Seeing Tyson get hurt gave you some realizations. One of them is that you absolutely hate to see him hurt, and you want nothing more than to be there for him, care for him, to tell him everything will be alright. Which brings you to your second discovery of the evening: you still love him, you’re still completely and utterly in love with Tyson. You can’t, really can’t imagine your life without Tyson in it. It’s your turn to tell him you need him, tell him you don’t want to do anything without him, tell him you still see a future together.
You pick up his favorite comfort food on the way over, cake. You know his nutritionist will hate you for this, but he deserves a treat after taking a stick to the face. You chuckle to yourself when you think of the small cake you bought, it’s stupid and childish, but you love it. The fun you already had makes it absolutely worth it. You park in front of the building, hopping out of the car and quickly making your way over to the floor Tyson occupies.
You rummage around in your coat pocket for the lighter you bought alongside the cake. Quickly placing the cover back into the bag, and lighting up the ‘2’ shaped candle. You snicker to yourself, enjoying this way too much. You knock on the door and patiently wait for Tyson to open up. You hear Tyson approaching, making it harder and harder to keep your composure.
The moment he opens the door his face shifts from slight annoyance, to confused, to happy, and back to confused again. “y/n?” he asks softly, looking between you and the cake, confusion clearly written all over his face.
“Happy second black eye!” you yell, before bursting out in laughter.
Tyson can’t help but join you in your laughter, if there’s one thing he loves about you, it’s your wicked sense of humor. “You really are something special, aren’t you?” Tyson chuckles, shaking his head softly at you, a smile playing on his lips.
“You tell me, Jost,” you say, giving him a wink before walking past him and inside his apartment.
“So you bought me a cake?” Tyson asks you, looking over your shoulder to the cake on his kitchen counter.
“I sure did, thought you’d deserved a treat after what Gabe did to you, again,” you laugh.
“He sure likes to hit me in the face with things. But thank you, this really means a lot to me, baby,” Tyson softly says, squeezing your hip with one of his hands, before grabbing two plates. While Tyson cuts the cake you look for something to drink, deciding water will do for the night.
You flop down on the couch next to Tyson, immediately bringing the fork with a piece of cake to your mouth. “Oh God, that’s so good,” you moan out, you picked some killer cake.
“Don’t make those noises, please,” Tyson groans, stuffing his face with cake.
“I’m sorry I picked such a good freaking cake, mister,” you laugh, nudging him with your foot. Tyson rolls his eyes playfully at you, grabbing your foot with his free hand before you can nudge him again and again.
“Movie?” Tyson asks after you both finished your plates, although Tyson finished the last few bites of your piece. Like he said he’s a needy and hungry man.
“Sure, but just something light and funny, Ty. Nothing dark,” you tell him, knowing he’d love to scare you throughout some horror movie.
While Tyson scrolls through the movies, you make yourself more comfortable on the couch, laying back against the cushions with your feet against Tyson. He looks at you, scanning your body, clearly thinking about something since his eyebrows keep furrowing and relaxing.
“Come here, Tyson,” you softly say when he finally picks a movie to watch, opening your arms for him. His eyes shoot to yours, like he can’t actually believe you just told him that. He gives you a quick smile, before moving towards you, laying down beside you.
He rests his head against your chest, just like he used to do so long ago, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Is this okay?” he asks you, making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, even though you’re the one who suggested this.
“It’s perfect, Ty,” you reassure him.
Halfway through the movie you can’t resist the temptation to run your fingers through his curls any longer. Tyson groans softly when your nails rake over his scalp, sending chill through your body. “That’s so good, please never stop doing that,” he groans out, pulling you tighter against him.
“I wasn’t planning on it, Ty,” you tell him, smiling at the way his eyes shoot to yours.
“You aren’t? Are you serious?” he asks you quietly, eyes still locked on yours.
“I am, love. I came to the conclusion that you’re worth all the risks in life. You’re my light, my guiding light in darkness, my light at the end of the tunnel,” you say, leaving a soft kiss on his forehead. You try to express your emotions towards Tyson, trying to make him feel what you felt when you came to the sudden realization he’s worth taking a risk.
“What does that mean, baby?” Tyson asks you softly, an uncertain smile on his lips.
“It means I’m willing to give us another shot, another go. I want to try again, Ty.”
You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips when you look at Tyson’s face, the realization setting in, the happiness and the gratefulness spreading all over his face, the relief flooding through his body.
“How does that work?” Tyson asks again, clearly trying to rid himself of any insecurities, any questions he has. You gladly take those insecurities away from him.
“A clean slate, completely starting over again to give us both a fresh start. How does that sound?” you ask him.
Tyson nods at you, the happiness radiation off him. “A fresh start, I like the sound of that,” Tyson muses. The changes on his face fascinates you, it seems like he goes through a whole range of emotions in just a few minutes. Until he reaches one you know all too well, mischief. He looks at you, the familiar glimmer in his eyes tells you he’s definitely up to something. He sends you a soft and sweet smile, that almost melts you into a puddle right there and then. “Hi, I’m Tyson,” he says, extending his hand to you. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, this is exactly how Tyson is. Funny, charming, an absolute dream.
“You’re a goof, you know that?” you tell him, softly shaking your head at him, but the big grin on your face tells him you loved that. Tyson intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing softly. When he doesn’t make any other moves you take matters into your own hand, slowly leaning in and softly pressing your lips on his. The familiarity, the rush of emotion flooding through your body hits you like a ton of bricks. The feeling of his lips against yours light something deep inside of you, and just like that you finally feel complete again.
#tyson jost#tyson jost imagine#tyson jost fic#tyson jost x reader#nhl imagine#hockey imagine#nhl fic#hockey fic#nhl fanfiction#hockey fanfiction#tyson jost fanfiction
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i can hate you sometimes || h. styles
warnings: pre-covid, mentions of sex, swearing, kissing
word count: 2.2k
summary: you and harry have mutual friends, but that doesn’t mean you two are friends. but when harry gets caught in the rain and you’re the closest person he can turn to, it makes for a much more awkward night...
Though you could respect Harry’s artistic abilities when it came to creating music, you could barely tolerate him as a person. Likewise, he wasn’t at all too fond of you. You shared friends in common, which often unfortunately resulted in many a night out with him and your mutual friends.
Yes, Harry was a respectful man. That was perhaps the one thing you could say didn’t irritate you about him. Everything else, the subtle cockiness he played off as jokes; the incessant need to be centre of attention; the bloated ego, which left him thinking he was above everyone else, all of that stuff, you couldn’t stand. But he wasn’t going to stop you from enjoying time with your friends, so you continued to go out drinking with them or go out for big meals with them or on lavish holidays with them. Unfortunately, he had the same mindset. You were both very stubborn.
Going out with your friends when Harry was there seemed like a difficult task at first. But if you sat at the opposite end of the table or stayed fairly distant in a club, the night tended to run smoothly. The one time you’d been left alone was around a year ago when you and Harry had gone out for dinner with Sarah and Mitch. Sarah had gone to the toilet and Mitch had gone to pay the bill. It had been two or three minutes maybe, but it felt like long, excruciating hours. Days, even. You’d distracted yourself by finishing off your wine and trying hard to look anywhere but in Harry’s direction. He’d busied himself with his phone and trying hard to look anywhere but your direction. But, either way, it had been perhaps the most awkward experience of your life.
And now, on a quiet Sunday evening, you found yourself preparing some pasta. Your dog, albeit too big for his own good, was curled up in front of the fireplace. You had your laptop set up on your coffee table, your classical music playlist floating through your house.
It had begun raining heavily about five minutes ago. The droplets were pelting down on your large windows. You had some candles set up and a glass of wine waiting for you on the coffee table in your living room. It was the perfect romantic evening for one.
A knock on your front door took your attention from the boiling water before you. You quickly jogged through to your hallway, opening the door. And, much to your surprise and perhaps disappointment, you were met with the face of Harry Styles. “Can I help you?” you asked, staring at him expectantly.
He sighed, almost embarrassed to ask, but said, “Can I stop at yours until the rain passes?”
You looked him up and down. Stop at yours? Why did that send your stomach into a state of flutters? “Just get an uber,” you said firmly.
He winced, “My phone’s dead. Can you at least let me charge it so I can get an uber?”
You weren’t a fan of Harry (biggest understatement of the year), but that didn’t mean you were an utter asshole. Of course you would let him stop at yours for a little while. Anyone would, right? You sighed, making sure he knew this was a reluctant decision of yours, “Sure.”
He thanked you as he shuffled into your house. He removed his coat and hung it up on your coat rack. Quietly, he followed you into your living room. “Here,” you said curtly, passing him one of your spare chargers.
The entire exchange was even more awkward than last year’s meal with Sarah and Mitch. Benny, your dog, was quite clearly enthralled about the arrival of Harry. He jumped up at the brunette man, his tongue hanging loose. As you tended to your exuberant pasta meal, you could hear Harry petting Benny.
On the few occasions Harry had met Benny, he loved the dog. But, Benny was a dog after all and it was hard to hate a dog. Especially one as lovable and as cuddly as Benny. Harry’s footsteps became louder as he entered the kitchen, Benny, tail wagging, not far behind. It was only when you looked up did you notice Harry carrying your laptop with him. Your first instinct was to tell him to put it the fuck down; it was your laptop - you paid good money for it. But something seemed to stop you from snapping at the man, who was soaked from the rain, in front of you. Usually, you struggled with biting your tongue around Harry. He was just infuriating. “Can I please put something else on?” he asked, gesturing to the screen, which had Spotify open.
You shrugged. You weren’t that bothered if he wasn’t in the mood to listen to your collection of great classical records. It was his loss. Besides, your pasta was nearly finished and then you’d dish it up and settle down in front of the tv. “Sure.”
There was a moment of silence after he’d paused to whatever piece was playing. “What’s this?” his voice came suddenly.
You knew exactly what he’d found. And you practically kicked yourself for forgetting you had it. It was your playlist, simply titled ‘sex’. A sex playlist. A playlist for sex. “I didn’t take you as the type to have a designated sex playlist,” he said, smirking.
“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you grumbled, your cheeks heating up.
“Clearly. Some interesting choices on here, Y/N. Not as many of mine as I thought there’d be,” he said.
There was none. None of Harry’s songs on your sex playlist and, if he was being honest, it kind of irritated him slightly. The thought of you having sex to his voice was an enriching one. But what most definitely pissed him off, was the sight of a couple Liam Payne songs and a few of Zayn’s. “I didn’t think Sign of the Times was right for the occasion,” you shrugged. “Do you want some pasta?”
“If there’s some going,” he said quickly. “I do have other songs you know. Besides, Sign of the Times is a great sex song. Starts off slow, builds to a climax...”
You turned to look at him. Only then did you realise you were actually having this conversation with him. Still, you pressed on. “All songs build to a climax one way or another. It’s called a crescendo.”
“Yeah, I know what it’s fucking called,” he sighed. “I’m the musician here.”
“And yet you can’t appreciate classical music. Anyway, if you’re so convinced you have good sex songs, name a few,” you challenged.
He spoke as he followed you through to the living room. You set his bowl of pasta (you always had a habit of making your portions way too large) down on the coffee table beside the candles and wine. “Okay, Kiwi.”
You hummed in thought, “What if I want something a little slower? Like, Kiwi could totally ruin the mood.”
He shifted in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his phone light up, signalling it had at least a little bit of power. But now he was eating your fresh pasta and discussing sex songs with you, and frankly, he didn’t want to leave. “Woman? You can’t tell me you’ve never had sex with Woman playing,” he said.
“Well, I can. So I will: I’ve never had sex with Woman playing,” you replied; you liked this game.
“Okay, come on. She is the perfect sex song,” he said smugly.
Now this one tripped you up. Because you’d had sex to She before. It had come on when the guy you were sleeping with asked if he could shuffle his playlist. She had come on second, maybe. And those six minutes had been the best of your life. You told yourself it was just the guy you were seeing at the time, and he certainly didn’t mind the compliment. But, in hindsight, you realised it was probably the fact that Harry was singing about living in daydreams in the background. In that moment, the sex hadn’t even been at the forefront of your mind. It was his fucking velvet voice. “I wouldn’t know.”
He smirked, “You’ve had sex to She, haven’t you?”
“No.”
“You have! I knew it.”
“Piss off, Harry.”
You hoped your nonchalant replies would be enough to deter his attention from the subject at hand. But alas, he didn’t seem to pick up on it. That, or he was deliberately ignoring your tone. You were beginning to regret letting Harry into your house. And you weren’t afraid to tell him so. “I wish I’d just left you in the rain.”
He scoffed, “That’s not very nice, Y/N.”
You rolled your eyes at him, making sure he saw. God, you could really hate him sometimes. “Harry, we’re literally discussing my sex life. It’s none of your business. And a bit personal, don’t you think? You don’t even know my surname.”
You got to your feet and made your way through to the kitchen, placing your empty bowl in the sink. You could hear him behind you, you just wanted to turn around and tell him to give you a moment to yourself. He was like a puppy. Before you had the chance to do so, you felt him lean over, placing his bowl beside yours. He was so close.
Turning around slowly, you were met with him. He was there, right there. You looked up at him. He wasn’t moving. You were torn between pushing past him, making sure he knew you were angry and staying for a while, basking in the sexual tension that was buzzing around in the air. “I do know your surname,” was all he said.
He was so close, his eyes exploring your face as if he’d never seen it before. Trapped between Harry and the kitchen counter, you’d fantasised about this moment for ages. Harry’s face a mere few centimetres away from your own. You could feel his breath on your face. It was warm, welcoming. “Do you?” you choked out.
He nodded slightly. The revelation of Harry knowing your surname was almost surprising to you. You didn’t think he paid that much attention to anything that had something to do with you. Up until this point, standing in your kitchen, neither of you daring to make the first move, you’d thought he only knew your first name because he was obliged to.
You both yearned the simple delight of the other’s touch. All the pent up sexual tension from the last years, longing looks disguised as glares of disgust and the little snarky remarks used as an excuse to talk to each other, all of that began unravelling at the seams. He looked at you and you looked at him, both of you daring the other to make the first point of euphoric contact. “Harry,” you forced out quietly, hoping he’d take that as a sign that he could touch you, kiss you, anything.
“What do you want?” he hummed gently. “What can I give you?”
“Just kiss me.”
You were also embarrassed that, after years of suppressing your enrapturing feelings, you were asking him to kiss you. And still, he didn’t touch you. It was like he was playing some sick game with you. And then the dreadful thought that he might just be doing all of this to give him a means to mock you in the future. If that was the case, he’d have the perfect upper hand over you. “Do you still wish you’d left me in the rain?” he asked, almost taunting you as he left you practically begging for his touch.
You shook your head, “No, no. God, no. Harry, please.”
“Anything you want, darling.”
“Kiss me.”
“Only if you’re sure you want me to.”
“I do, Harry. Please.”
And when he was sure he had your definite consent, he didn’t waste another moment. He placed his large hand on your cheek, the tips of his fingers buried in your hair. His lips on yours was perhaps the most perfect form of ecstasy. As you wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head up to meet his, you were sure you’d travelled to some distant infatuating dreamland you only ever hear about.
Reluctantly, you pulled away, panting slightly, “Don’t go.”
“What?”
“Don’t get an uber. Stay with me tonight.”
A smile crept its way up into Harry’s features. He tried to hide how elated he was that you’d proposed he spend the night with you. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips, which were parted slightly. All he wanted to do was indulge his need for your perfect taste all night. From the moment the sky went from the most divine lavender colour to the most starry black, to the moment it turned back to the most marvellous oranges and reds in the waking of the sun. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that to me.”
part two.
#harry fanfiction#harry imagine#harry fanfic#harry styles fanfic#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry x y/n#harry x you#harry x reader#harry imagines#harry styles imagines
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Harry's son sneaks out:
"No Josh you cannot stay overnight at that summer fest concert!" "But why not it's totally safe?!"
"Because people can get robbed, or murdered or beat up... anything could happen!" "But da-" "Josh I said no! End of discussion!" Josh huffed and ran upstairs cursing his father under his breath. Harry sighed deeply and sat down on the couch with his hand on his forehead. "Teenagers....why so hormonal?" He asked himself. Harry knew from experience about the whole concert culture and how reckless it could get. He loved Josh more than anything and even though he was possibly being a bit overprotective, he felt well within reason.
Josh ate his dinner at the table barely making conversation with Harry but wasn't exactly giving him the silent treatment either. Later on that night around 1 in the morning, Harry got up to grab a glass of water and by habit went to go check on Josh. To his horror he discovered his boy was missing. He searched his room for his phone but as he suspected he took that with him.
Harry ran downstairs still in his pajamas and grabbed the car keys. There was gonna be a hail storm coming down on Josh that night. A hail storm of Harry's anger.
Harry drove to the summer fest concert and to his fury he saw Josh there camping out. But Josh was awake, he looked frightened and alert. But nothing compared to fear he felt after seeing a familiar car and silhouette. To his horror it was his father! He almost felt the exact same fear Harry felt when he realized his child was missing. Harry stormed up to him and even though it was dark, Josh could still see the steam coming from Harry's ears. But to his surprise Harry hugged and kissed his face. "Thank God you're safe!" He said thankful that his son was perfect condition.....at least for now.
"Daaad you're embarrassing me!" Josh mumbled. Now came the hail storm. "JOSHUA ADAM STYLES! YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE YOUNG MAN!" Josh gulped before looking around seeing how everyone was waking up to Harry's authoritarian voice. He grabbed Josh and grabbed his sleeping bag and then dragged them to the car. Harry was so made he couldn't even speak for most of the ride home. "I-I can't even begin to say how angry I am. You snuck out of the house and went to the summer fest concert anyway after I said NO. Not to mention that you could've been kidnapped, you could have been stabbed or a shooting could've happened! Anything! Those are just the type of people where ANYTHING really could happen!"
Josh nodded disappointed in himself. When they pulled up in the driveway Harry looked at Josh who was looking down. "You really scared tonight ya know. Here I am thinking that you're safely in the house but you're not. Josh if anything ever happened to you........" Harry's voice softened.
Josh glanced at Harry waiting for his reply. "I'd be devastated. That's why I make these rules because they keep you safe and they keep you alive. I've lived a lot longer than you so I know how crazy times are. So please see that I'm trying to do what's best for you because I love you. And I don't want anything to happen to you." Josh looked at Harry before hugging him. Harry hugged him back squeezing him tighter. "Dad you can let go now." Josh said being squished. Harry let go and rubbed his cheek.
"Now you are gonna have to be punished for this. You're grounded for a month." Josh hesitantly nodded symbolizing his acceptance of the consequences. Harry hugged him again and kept his arm around his shoulder even when they went inside the house.
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Slumber Party
Request 4: C!Ranboo and his best friend just having a calm like self-care sort of night? Like just some fluffy friendly content- maybe the reader playing with his hair? 🥺 I thrive on platonic content so so much
Requested By: Anonymous
(PLATONIC!Ranboo x Reader)
I felt like this one was better written in HeadCannon style hope that’s okay!
Marching through the Tundra the snow crunched under your feet, this was the first time you had made the journey out to visit Ranboo.
You two had been inseparable since he came to the country of New L’manburg, Tubbo had introduced the both of you and you were attached at the hip ever since. You were one of the first names under the best friends category in his memory book and you had a locket with his face inside it labeled best friend.
So it was only natural that he had made sure you were the first person who had direct permission from Technoblade to be on his property.
The pigman had warmed up to you surprisingly quickly, mainly because you had brought him a housewarming gift.
(The gift in question was some of your world-famous homemade mashed potatoes)
He took it stiffly and gruffly, turning away from the both of you to walk back towards his house.
Ranboo rushed to assure you that, that’s what he does when he appreciates something.
You chose to ignore the weird reaction in favor of following Ranboo to his home.
Ranboo’s pets remembered you and it was a joyful reunion between all of them. It ended in many snuggles and pets from both parties.
Eventually, Ranboo suggested you both move away from the pets and do something more fun. Mainly he wanted to officially show off his new powers to you, keeping them a secret had been immensely challenging.
The both of you sat across from one another on the floor, in front of you he placed a grass block.
“Ready?”
“Considering I don’t know what you’re doing sure.”
You almost screamed when he broke the grass and it was still...well grass.
“Do it again! Can you do it to other blocks or just dirt? What else can you pick up?
He couldn’t help but preen at all the praise and you were happy to dish out the compliments.
Ranboo explained how he went around with Techno to do some little experiments with what he could pick up.
You could care less about the spawners but the cake was another story. You made him pick it up about five times, eyes sparkling about unlimited cake.
Finally, to distract you away from the cake he asked how you were doing living with Tubbo in Snowchester.
“The nukes freak me out a little but other than that it’s peaceful. Tubbo and Jack’s shenanigans are super entertaining, I love living by Charlie! His puns make me laugh and he feels like he’s having a permanent mental breakdown. Which is again, very entertaining.”
Ranboo gave a soft chuckle, “Yeah I mean understandable whenever I visit there’s certainly never a dull moment.”
The only thing that did worry you was how weird Jack Manifold was being around Tommy. There was just a weird vibe you couldn’t quite put your finger on and Ranboo frowned in distaste. He felt it too.
However, today was a good day. No sad or worrying thoughts and certainly no dwelling on business that wasn’t either of your own.
Ranboo watched your brow crease in worry and immediately wanted to steer your thoughts away from any negativity.
RANBOO SAYS THERE’S NO SADNESS ALLOWED IN HIS HOUSE UNLESS IT’S HIS OWN
“You wanna braid my hair?” He ended up blurting and watched you blink in surprise your sadness fading away and it was replaced with a look of confusion.
“Is...Is it long enough?” You tilted your head to the side, now officially eyeing his multicolored hair.
“I don’t know...You wanna try?”
“Yeah! Totally!” You chirped as he nodded, you both moved to shift into a more comfortable position. He sat in front of you, you could barely see over his shoulder to even reach his hair you had to sit up on your knees.
“Hold it!” Ranboo paused turning to look over his shoulder, “put a pillow down.” He mama henned you, “you’re gonna bruise your knees.”
You grabbed a pillow with an eye roll and put it beneath your knees as he instructed.
You gently put your crown off his head and placed it on your own, you began to run your fingers through his hair.
How was it so soft? It’s way softer than yours! That’s not fair!
Ranboo felt you huff against him, and he smirked to himself but his face immediately melted into a relaxed expression as you ran your fingers through it.
You began to softly braid the strands of hair, waiting curiously as the stray stands of white and black got intermixed with one another.
You ended up making two small pigtail braids and tying the ends with rubber bands to make them stay in place. You had placed his crown back on his head and smirked proudly.
He turned to face you and your smirk turned into a proud grin,
“How’s it looking?”
“You look amazing. I’m amazing, the talent I have is immense.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He declared moving over to look in the mirror, he had to admit you didn’t do a terrible job at all.
He turned back to face you and declared it was your turn for him to play with your hair.
So the both of you switched positions, you sitting comfortably in between his legs as he brushed his fingers through your hair.
In the end, Ranboo couldn’t figure out how to do anything other than put it in a small ponytail.
You snickered at his misfortune but assured you loved the new hairstyle and decided you’d wear it for the remainder of the night.
“You don’t have to.” Ranboo sighed shoulders slumping forward, “your hair will only get tangled-”
“Too late I’m wearing it all night and you can’t stop me.”
“(Y/n) please.”
“Never. It’s my new style now, permanent hair doo.”
“Please no.”
An idea struck you suddenly declaring the both of you make the night a self-care experience
Ranboo had no idea what that meant but decided he’d follow your lead.
You snickered, he had no idea what he was in for, you told him to give you five minutes and everything would make sense.
Unfortunately due to his Enderman traits, Ranboo would experience the warm water of a pedicure so you’d make due.
You came back arms full of the so-called self-care supplies you’d mentioned earlier.
The first thing you declared that you were going to paint his nails, you demanded he picks the colors he wanted and he hesitantly picked out a soft red color.
You painted his claws swiftly, he adored it immediately seeing the first nail completed.
Once all of his nails were finished he held his hands out and wiggled his fingers, his eyes lighting up in childlike wonder.
“Let’s do more self-care. Right now!”
You laughed happily and promised him there was more to come, and not to worry.
Eventually, the sun began to set over the hills and both of you were clad in a face mask, cucumbers sitting atop both your eyes.
You were sipping a strawberry smoothie, and Ranboo was sipping on peanut butter and banana.
“Can we get Tubbo in on this next time? He seems like he needs it.” Ranboo asked suddenly a cucumber sliding off his eye to stare at you. You looked back at him with a hum,
“Absolutely. Maybe Tommy can come too.”
“This is why you’re the smart friend.” He complimented, “Although we couldn’t have it here for reasons that look like a half pigman.”
“That’s alright my house is big enough to fit everyone. Plus I have more self-care stuff there anyway.” You turned to face him this time popping off the cucumbers on your own eyes yourself,
“I’ll tell Tubbo and you find Tommy?” Ranboo hummed, “Does next weekend work for you?”
“I do nothing like all the time so yes. It works.”
“How do you stay away from everything, all the drama, and the fighting?”
“I only talk to like three people,” You let out a small laugh rubbing the back of your neck, “Can’t get into drama and wars when you’re barely noticed.” Ranboo frowned a little nudging you with his arm,
“First of all, you are noticed. Whenever I gush about you everyone knows who I’m talking about,” He watched you flush a little at the inclination that he talks about you, “Second I will not have my friends talking bad about themselves or they’ll have to fight me.” You gave a little laugh and Ranboo held up his fists, “I’m gonna fight those negative thoughts.”
“My hero,” You cooed holding your hands to your chest and he smiled fondly at you.
“Plus staying drama and war-free means you’re safe and that’s what’s important.”
“But I want you safe too.”
“I… trust me.” He lied and you could tell there was something he wasn’t telling you but you knew Ranboo and it wasn’t good to press the boy, so for now...you let it go.
“You know I do, always will Boo.” You rest your head on his shoulder and he let you snuggle up close to him, he rested his chin on top of your hair. “Just don’t get hurt okay, I need you in my life.”
“I don’t plan on leaving you behind. Don’t worry.” Ranboo promised and watched as you held out your pinky towards him.
“Pinky promise,” you whispered and he melted,
“Promise.” He interlocked his long pinky finger with your own, from that moment on he knew he had made the right choice to join the Syndicate. He wanted to protect you, and being apart of the Syndicate would certainly allow him to do so, he had to fight to protect the ones he loved. Tubbo, Micheal, and you...he’d go against the world for them, even with his memory problems and his Enderwalking his only goal was to protect his friends, and that’s what he was going to do even if it killed him.
#requests#request#minecraft x reader#x reader#mcyt x reader#mcyt x you#mcyt#platonic#platonic ranboo x reader#platonic ranboo#friends x reader#friends#platonic x reader#platonic x you#dreamsmp x reader#dreamsmp x you#dreamsmp drabbles#dream smp#ranboo#c!ranboo
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