2019 Locker for Andrea Dominique

[kayable]

Name (as you'd like it to appear in the subject line for your stocking): ANDREA DOMINIQUE

Fandoms: MXTX (MDZS, SVSS, TGCF - english please^^), Haikyuu!!, Yuri On Ice (YOI), Free!, B:The Beginning (BTB)

Characters/Pairings/Moresomes:
MDZS - Lan Wanji x Wei Wuxian
- Lan XiChen x Jiang Cheng
- Lan Sizhui x Jin Ling

SVSS - BingQiu
- MoShang

TGCF - HuLian

Haikyuu!! - Iwaoi (Iwaizumi x Oikawa)
- TsukiYama (Tsukisima x Yamaguchi)
- BokuAka (Bokuto x Akaashi)
- KuroKen (Kuroo x Kenma)
- DaiSuga (Daichi x Sugawara)
- Miya Twins / Miya Twins x Suna
- Lev x Yaku

YOI - Viktor x Yuri / Yuri x Viktor
- Otabek x Yurio

Free! - Makoto x Haru
- Sousuke x Rin
- Rei x Nagisa

BTB - Koku x Izanami

Likes: Anything with a happy ending, slow build, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers (not too much angst), sex toys, cohabitation/domesticity, all sorts of au's (soulmate au's, fantasy au's, highschool/college au's, etc), ABO, miscommunication (with a happy ending ofc^^), fluff~^^, explicit, bdsm (dom/sub tones)

Dislikes: gore, unrequited love (esp weird love triangles where they don't all end up together), character bashing, switching (except viktor and yuri), too much angst (like unnecessary fights, too much miscommunication), major character death (or death in general), heavy kinks

Anything else: Thank you so much!-♡

Reminder that NOTES are welcome too - just a nice little comment (either plain, or you can even type it up on a nice little graphic/image etc.) for the recipient.


(Comments are going to screened until the reveal on Mar 15. Lockers will be open until the end of March.)

Comments

[multilinear]

you and me ain't no different / we are one and the same / the two of us / we suffer the same condition: love. — epik high, "no different (feat. yuna)".

The world blushes when Wei Ying comes to Jiangnan. What else could it have been but that, white blossoms swaying in the trees as if to greet the blue sky with their petals? Their surroundings soak up color as if washed over by a brush, indiscriminate in its vividness—a little red here, a little blue there—and Lan Zhan blinks hard.

His uncle notices immediately. Lan Qiren had raised countless boys and seen how they change: the first clue, he'd said once, is when you notice new things about the things you've seen before. Lan Zhan finds this is precisely the case, his eyes tracing a zigzag path among the stones kicked off the wide road. He hadn't known they were different colors before. He takes a renewed interest in the color of writing paper, its paleness no longer a stark, white void against the dark greys and blacks of his vision. He studies the strips of cloth that tie the library scrolls shut—and this is how his uncle finds out, Lan Zhan running his fingers over a ribbon as red as the trimmings on Wei Ying's clothes.

"You should have told me," he says reproachfully, but Lan Zhan cannot find the words to describe what has happened to him. He bows his head, snatching away his hand as if the ribbon would burn him.

"Forgive me," Lan Zhan replies, and shakes his sleeves over his hands. He has not done that since he was a child, since Lan Huan and he had enrolled at school and his parents—

"I could have helped." Lan Qiren crosses the room and takes the scroll, tying it shut securely. Lan Zhan had not even opened it to read, but as he watches his uncle he wonders if this too had happened to him. If Lan Qiren had once been struck by the minute details of things, translated from one plane of vision to the next; if he had seen his father go through this. Lan Zhan finds it difficult to meet his uncle's eyes then, eyes that are surely the same shade as his own, eyes that are accustomed to schoolboys and their brief, sudden collisions with fate. "I can only hope it is a good person."

Lan Zhan stiffly nods. He cannot tell his respected uncle that the apparent love of his life is Yunmeng's foremost scapegrace. Wei Ying is an unstoppable force of nature intent on leaving chaos in his wake; in the first few weeks of school alone he has been punished nearly every day for some small crime or infraction. Lan Zhan wishes he would stop stealing food from the kitchens or breaking curfew like a child—it burns at his pride that his soul is bound up with someone like him.

His uncle studies him as if he knows who it is. Lan Zhan thinks that might be for the better, to spare himself the shame of having to admit it aloud, but instead Lan Qiren shakes his head and gives him a rare smile. "Good."

Lan Zhan has never successfully lied to his uncle before. He manages to rise as his uncle turns to leave, bowing and sitting down again as the world realigns itself. His teacher has left behind a student, their family names mere coincidence. Lan Zhan permits himself a small sigh, gaze falling on his homework. He has not written a single word since entering the library; his brush has dried, and he has wasted ink, a tiny black pool drying grey on his blue-flecked inkstone.

Happy vlockers!! A small iwaoi

[aicqt]

Oikawa is a bad person. He knows this. He does. But he never stops himself. Which is why he loops his hands behind Hajime's neck and laces his fingers together with a pout.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he says, while Hajime tries to decide between anger and discomfort.

"So what?" Hajime growls.

"So, I don't have anyone to kiss me!" Oikawa says.

Fear wins out over other emotions in Hajime's eyes. Oikawa pretends not to notice.

"What am I supposed to do about tha—" Hajime begins, but is cut off as Oikawa answers his question by pressing their lips together.

It's Hajime's first kiss. Oikawa is a bad person.

Oikawa unlinks his fingers so he can cup Hajime's cheek and tilt his head to a better angle. Hajime is bad at this, but it's still the best kiss Oikawa has ever had.

Hajime doesn't respond to Oikawa's motions, which he supposes is fair, when Oikawa caught him off guard, but he doesn't pull away either. He allows Oikawa to deepen the kiss, allows Oikawa's tongue into his mouth to slide along his own, allows him to do whatever he wants.

Oikawa breaks away, smiling despite himself.

"Oikawa…" Hajime says. He's still scared. Oikawa is awful.

"Yes, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa says, brightly, hating himself all the more.

Hajime's tongue tests his lip, like he's trying to work out whether he liked the taste of Oikawa. (As if he could.)

Even knowing how much he just ruined on a whim, Oikawa can't make himself care enough to be serious. Kissing Hajime is too good for that.

Hajime wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, and Oikawa's bubble bursts. He pouts, adorably, though his heart sinks past his knees.

"Iwa-chan doesn't like the taste?"

Hajime startles. "No, it's—"

Oikawa clings to the scrap of hope Hajime offered. "Iwa-chan is intimidated by how much better I—"

Hajime growls, and yanks Oikawa down by his collar until he can rest his forehead against Oikawa's.

Oikawa's heart hammers in his chest. He wants to run. He's a bad person.

Hajime studies Oikawa's face, like he'll be able to make him a better person through willpower alone. "Don't fuck with me, Ass-ikawa."

"Or you'll do what?" Oikawa asks, as gently as he can under the circumstances.

Hajime's expression contorts. He doesn't know.

"It's okay," he says, still gentle.

Hajime scowls. "Can you just not, for two fucking seconds?"

Oikawa is so tired. He shifts to rest his head on Hajime's shoulder, pulls him into a hug, and feels Hajime's arms curl around him. "Sorry, Iwa-chan."

"You know I like you," Hajime says. It's not a question.

Oikawa hums in acknowledgement. Kisses Hajime's neck. He's so awful.

"If you want me to be the person you kiss then I'll be that," Hajime says, picking his words carefully. What a strain Oikawa must have put on him. "But you have to want it."

"Maybe that's what I want," Oikawa says. It's as close as he can make himself say.

Hajime sighs. "I figured." He pulls Oikawa back by his shoulders, and glares at his mouth, before closing the distance between them, and placing his lips on Oikawa's. "We'll work it out," he says.

"Okay, Iwa-chan," he says, and leans in to kiss him. Hajime responds this time. He's dreadful at it, and Oikawa can't help but smile against his lips.

He's awful at it, but it's still the best.

Maybe they will work it out.

valentines gift from kokirane to andrea :) wangxian

[(Anonymous)]

There is color bursting in the sky, but it’s not the thundering flashes from Heaven that Lan Wangji is familiar with. This is different: it comes from a human ship.

He swims closer.

This is the moment he’ll look back to later, but he won’t regret it. No, he could never regret Wei Ying, even if others say he should. Because nobody has met Wei Ying like this:

Wangji reaches the bottom of the ship and scales his way up, and here is where he hides and watches. In the center of the revelry is a man. Wangji has seen many beautiful humans before, but this one — this one burns with the brightness of every star littering the sky. This one has a long sheet of darkest night spilling from his head, grey eyes like the moon and its very pull, and that smile? Wangji can only describe it as breathtaking. He’s tall and slender, but he looks strong; he dances like no other, and soon the others just form a circle around him and clap. Wangji, irritated, has to keep shifting just to catch a glimpse.

In the end, the man moves away. Wangi rests his head against the wood, and closes his eyes. If he focuses, he can pick out the man’s laugh. It sounds like a melody; his fingers itch for his guqin — he wants to immortalize this night. The colors, the sound, the feeling — he’s in love with it all.

“Prince,” someone says. “You should rest!”

Ah, Wangji thinks. Of course he’s a prince.

“No, the night is still so young!” The prince says. “I’m going to dance! Or — bring me my flute, will you?”

Wangji perks up. Humans have beautiful music.

But the prince’s playing is far more than just beautiful.

Wangji is, in one word, entranced.

[(Anonymous)]

Every person is born with a countdown -- an intangible, inherent knowledge of the day they'll meet their soulmate for the first time. There's nothing else to indicate who it will be, but the knowledge of the day alone is enough to keep people on their toes.

Luo Binghe lives for that day, looking forward to it with all his heart. His life is not an easy one, his mother is torn from him, he's mistreated left and right, and saved only to be mistreated again. Each night that he sleeps outside, nursing bruises and cuts, Binghe hopes.

He hopes his soulmate has lived an easier life than he has, he hopes that his soulmate will understand the troubles he's been through and hold him tightly. Luo Binghe works hard at his training despite his master's scorn for the sake of being strong enough to protect his soulmate one day, the idea of being able to prevent pain from coming to someone else is comforting. It won't make up for what he's been through, but it'll make it easier to live with.

So when the day comes and Binghe doesn't meet anyone new, he's crushed.

By all accounts, it's a good day. His master is unexpectedly kind to him, which is almost enough to distract Binghe from his anticipation throughout the day, but then night falls and Binghe excitement is replaced with a slowly dawning sense of dread.

There hasn't been anyone new for him to meet today, he's certain of it. He hasn't so much as *seen* anyone he's unfamiliar with.

It only gets later and later no matter how much Binghe wishes that he could stop time -- this can't be right, can it? It's not fair, it's not right, he was so certain it'd be today...

He doesn't sleep. He lies awake and even paces some around the grounds, hoping he'll bump into someone, but nothing of the sort occurs.

In the soft light of the morning, Binghe wipes his tears and tries to patch his heart back together.

Life goes on, though the ache that he feels does, too -- objectively, things improve by leaps and bounds, he earns a positive reputation for himself, his teacher seems to look upon him incredibly favorably, and Binghe...

Binghe starts to wonder if soulmates really matter all that much, because slowly but surely, the hole in his heart starts to feel less like an open wound. At night, he's able to sleep more easily, thinking of his teacher's smiles, the praise that he's been given. It's the balm that he's always hoped to receive, and it makes his stomach flutter to have Shen Qingqiu interact with him this way.

And then his beloved teacher is impossibly far away, having pushed him down into the Endless Abyss, and Binghe feels hollow all over again.

Nothing gets better. He trains, strengthens himself, tries to forget the look on his master's face the last time he saw him, and then there's nothing but blame, distance and distrust when they reunite. It's not how Binghe ever wanted things to be.

And then his master is gone, and Luo Binghe is left more utterly alone than he's ever felt. For the first time in a long time, he wonders why he's never allowed to keep anything good, why he couldn't have a soulmate, couldn't have Shen Qingqiu, either.

But Shen Qingqiu comes back to him, however reluctantly, and Luo Binghe can't help but think that if life isn't going to be kind to him, he's going to seize the chance to create happiness himself.

By some miracle, he does make that very thing. He's blessed with reciprocated feelings, his teacher accepting his hand in marriage, and Binghe has never felt so light. His heart is full, waking up next to Shen Qingqiu makes everything worth it.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't know, but he always shifts closer in his sleep, seeking out Binghe's warmth, nuzzling his cheek against Binghe's chest or arm. Binghe's unashamed to admit that that's provoked more than a few tears from him.

That's nothing new for him, because he's cried openly over so many moments that Shen Qingqiu has been tender with him, but the instance that he cries the most?

It's one night when Shen Qingqiu is stroking his hands through his hair, seeming like he's fidgeting, nervous, and he eventually calls out to him.

"Husband?"

Binghe perks up, tilting his head to look at him with curiosity, concern. "Shizun?"

Shen Qingqiu's eyes narrow slightly and he clicks his tongue. Binghe knows he's not supposed to be calling him that, still, but it's a habit that's difficult to break, and truth be told, he's not entirely sure he wants to.

"This husband... has something complicated to explain," he's frowning, speaking slowly, looking so much less composed than Binghe's used to seeing him -- he can't help but straighten up to cup his husband's cheeks, to stroke them gently. The proximity doesn't seem to help anything, though, because he can feel Shen Qingqiu's skin heating up under his touch, and he averts his gaze.

All in all, it's an unbelievable story, the idea of him coming from another world, but they met his other self, so it's not too farfetched in that sense. It just seems so strange that this man would replace his teacher, somehow, that things would change that drastically, that the Shen Qingqiu he once knew when he was young isn't this man in front of him at all.

And that's when it hits him.

Someone new. He really had met them, after all. This whole time, Binghe's had his soulmate, he realizes -- it was just so hard to tell. In his heart, he knew, though, there was no way that Shen Qingqiu wasn't the one for him.

But the realization that he wasn't forgotten about and denied one after all, that there was someone for him, just for him, makes him cry. To think that he'd be a man from another universe, even, who gave up his prior life to be with Binghe's, to spend this new, immortal life with him.

He's never been more grateful.

He cries, deeply, and just as he'd always wished for, he has a soulmate to hold him gently, to shush him sweetly, and Binghe is so relieved it's Shen Qing -- no, Shen Yuan.