#warden writes

[hauntedppgpaints]

rode hard.

[wardenroot]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021), League of Legends Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends) Characters: Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends) Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, a tiny dash of angst Summary:

Caitlyn didn't mean to mislead her parents, it's just that when she told them she was bringing Vi as her date to their party they assumed she meant it romantically. When her mother started complaining about her choice in partner, Caitlyn had been too busy defending her to clarify the situation. Which makes asking Vi pretend to be her actual date the only option.

[hauntedppgpaints]

for the rarepair challenge: pat maroon/jeremy swayman + biting?

rarepair challenge // accepting

bite down (till you hit something)

672 words, M for suggestive themes.

Pat thinks he’s going insane. 

No… no, he knows he’s going insane. 

Like most hockey players, he’s got a bit of an oral fixation. His is relatively manageable, the mouthguard is enough to satisfy him, but he does sometimes just like to bite things. It’s probably related to his guard dog status, but whatever. He’s not hurting anyone. 

But when he joined the Bruins, and watched Jeremy stick his tongue out to drag his jersey up into his mouth, to bite it and lift it- god. God damn. The first time he saw it up close, he had to stop himself from saying ‘fuck’ out loud. It was hot, Jeremy’s tongue was flexible. 

But the later in the season they go, the more Jeremy’s routine gets to Pat. There have been teammates with routines that made Pat do a double take before sure- stretching and working a muscle set that looked… suggestive at best. He’s glanced, then kept his thoughts to himself. 

But holy fuck. 

The tongue… and the bite. The bite. 

It’s a random one that breaks the camel’s back. Pat keeps his thoughts to himself for the game, for the post-game media, the team getting undressed and redressed. But when most people have cleared out, Pat- he needs. 

“Sway,” He calls out. Jeremy’s head swivels, and when he sees who’s calling him, he smiles up at Pat. “Hey, bud, what’s up?”

“Why- why do you do that during warmups?”

“What, the twitches? It’s a goalie warmup-”

“No, not that- the, the tongue, and the jersey bite.”

Jeremy blinks, blinks again. “Oh. Uh, I don’t know, I just-”

“You know what you look like, doing that, yeah?” 

Jeremy blushes a little, light pink dusting his cheekbones, but he smirks. “I don’t do it because of that, but yeah, I know.”

Pat steps closer, and Jeremy looks up again, eyes wide. 

“You look like- fuck, Sway, you really do look like a dog when you bite your jersey like that.” Pat croaks, stepping closer again. Jeremy’s brow furrows and he glances around at Pat’s face. After a moment, the confusion clears. 

“They call me bulldog for a reason.” 

Pat huffs, and his eyes drop from Jeremy’s face to his neck. His teeth ache. He licks his lips, and Jeremy watches, suddenly transfixed. They’re close now, chest to chest with Jeremy’s back resting on the wall. Pat makes a low sound in his chest, something like a rumble, and Jeremy answers with a whimper. Pat leans down, and Jeremy leans up, expecting a kiss, but is disappointed when Pat just nuzzles his cheek. He rubs his hairy cheek against Jeremy’s, and brings a hand up to cup the back of Jeremy’s head and neck. 

He leans further down still, and pauses right before sinking his teeth into the soft, pale skin of the front of Jeremy’s neck.

Jeremy gasps wetly, legs going weak, and his head goes limp against Pat’s hand. Pat rumbles again, digging his teeth in a little more, and Jeremy keens. Pat can feel the sound under his mouth, in his teeth, and he presses Jeremy back into the wall. 

Pat wants- god, he wants. He wants to dig in, rip and tear and relish in the squeals and moans he knows will come from the throat he’s ravaging. He wants to let go and rub his face all over Jeremy’s neck- leave him covered in beard burn that he’ll feel for days afterwards. He wants to lick over all the beautiful pale skin he can see. 

He wants it all. But for now, he’ll settle for biting a massive bruise into the skin, stake his claim on the pretty goalie. He works his teeth in a little more, feels Jeremy whimper again, and finally lets go. He leans up and has to hold Jeremy up before he falls. The poor goalie is dazed, eyes distant and dark and hazy, chest heaving with each breath. 

“Bulldog, eh?” Pat asks. He watches Jeremy’s throat bob around a swallow. His teeth ache.

[hauntedppgpaints]

Tristan jarry Goalie nesting au

5 au fun facts

tristan's first time nesting with the penguins is actually not with a Penguin. It's with Claude.

it goes about as well as a first nesting experience can- claude is a perfect nesting mate, and helps tristan every step of the way. the only rough part was when it started- on the ice, during one of his first games as a starter.

all of his other nesting partners have been penguins

he still keeps in contact with claude. it's friendly-flirty.

in 2022, when both him and claude were at the all star game, they spent most of their free time together.

[hauntedppgpaints]

enough.

[hauntedppgpaints]

hi deary! i hope ur having a good day <3

for the rarepair prompts: tanger/jarry, "how the hell did you get pasta sauce on the ceiling?"

rarepair challenge // accepting

It's Everywhere!

581 words, T for language.

Tristan steps onto the porch, and heaves a big sigh. Another loss, another weight on his shoulders, another tough media scrum. He does his best to avoid them, but it was his turn tonight, so he gritted his teeth and beared it. He hated every second, but-

Whatever. Whatever! He was home now, and Kris was waiting for him, on the mend and ready to rejoin the lineup. Just another day or two, and they’d be back together on the ice. 

Tristan unlocks the front door, steps inside, and closes the door behind him. He toes his shoes off, takes a deep breath, and hums when he smells the wonderful smells of tomato sauce. “Hey, babe- are you cooking?” He calls out, curious. He tosses his gear bag into the hall closet and heads further in, following his nose to the kitchen. The lack of response makes his brow furrow, though. “Tanger?” He tries again. Still no response.

He steps into the kitchen, and stops. 

Kris… was cooking. He’s not there now, but what he was cooking is… It’s everywhere. Tomato sauce is splattered all over the stove, up the wall, and on the- god, it’s on the fucking ceiling . It’s like a jar of it exploded. Tristan hurries over to the stove, worried it’s still on, but thankfully all the burners are off. He hovers his hand over the pan, and it’s cool, so it’s been off for a while. Tristan looks over at the sink, and finds a used pot, but no evidence of pasta. What the fuck happened here?

He leaves the kitchen, and heads to their bedroom. He knocks gently, and peers inside. “Kris?” He calls. 

There, on the bed, is Kris. He’s laying on top of the sheets, shirtless, and face buried in a pillow. 

“Babe, how the hell did you get pasta sauce on the ceiling?” Tristan asks as he steps into the bedroom fully. Kris curls further into the pillow, back to Tristan. Tristan sits on the bed behind him, puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” Kris grumbles. 

“Aw, babe, c’mon- I wanna hear what happened.” “I tried to cook something for you and I fucked it up.”

Tristan’s heart melts at Kris’ frustrated tone, and he leans down to press his lips to Kris’ hair. “Baby, I’m honored you tried. Do you want to try again, and I’ll help? Or do you just want to order something?” 

Kris stubbornly refuses to turn around for another minute, but Tristan knows to just wait him out. Eventually, Kris turns around, and sits up to bury his face in Tristan’s chest. “Wanna try again.”

Tristan huffs, and cups the back of Kris’ skull. “Okay, Kris, let’s try again. Do we have more pasta sauce?”

Kris nods.

“Good, that’s a good start. What- uh, what happened to your shirt?”

Kris grumbles. “Got covered in sauce.”

“Let’s actually start with a new shirt, instead. Then we’ll clean up, then we’ll try cooking again, okay?”

Kris nods again, and sits up fully, letting Tristan get a good look at him for the first time since he got home. Tristan can barely muffle his laugh in time. The defenseman is splattered with sauce.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make fun of you- you’re just-”

“I know. I know I’m covered in it.”

“Baby, how did you-”

“I don’t know!”

“Okay, it’s okay, I’ll help you get cleaned up, too.”

[hauntedppgpaints]

another notfic ft. tk/tyson smut.

got a case of (body language), E, 1.2k

[hauntedppgpaints]

this is how hunger begins - daniil kharms, translated by robert chandler

an edit for an audience of me!! for my fic, A Voice Behind Me Beckons, where tanger gets turned into an eldritch horror, who then turns flower, who then turns geno, who then try to turn sid. many thanks to joy for the assist in finding a good poem for this!

( x. x. x. x. x. x. x. )