#he might express his displeasure but he’ll still go along with what they say even if it’s something fundamentally against his values | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ddarker-dreams · 3 years

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Out With the Old. Yan Childe x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Brief mentions of injury and blood, typical yandere undertones. Word count: 3.2k. Notes: i absolutely loved writing this!! i never realized how badly i needed a yandere childe that’s so obviously whipped for his darling. :’))

“Dearest [First],

I can only imagine the look that must be on your face as you read this. Don’t be too harsh on me for saying so, but I promise not a day goes by where I haven’t thought of you. Now stop scowling at the letter, it won’t do any good, after all; it’s just a piece of paper. I’d hate to come back home to see that you’ve aged from all that frowning at parchment.

Somedays I wake and fail to notice I’m in Inazuma instead of Snezhnaya. The scenery has its differences, of course, but it’s only when I realize I can’t see you that it truly sinks in. Writing this, I realize your judgment about my honesty only appearing in written form rather than in person is true. You’ve always had a penchant for keeping me in line, haven’t you?

Not that I can blame you.

You’ll be relieved to hear that the reason for my being here turned out to be a simple misunderstanding. There’s no grand coup d'état waiting to unfold amongst the lower ranks, so, unfortunately for me, it turned out to be a waste of time. On the bright side, that means I’ll get to come back home all the faster.

Tonia tells me that you’re doing well and I’m glad to hear it. I know your parents aren’t that fond of me, which is a smart call all things considered, but I hope they’re both in good health. Let me know if they need any help with their shop and I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t let them know it was from me, or they might blow a gasket.

When I come home, I wonder if I’ll see your face among the crowd on the pier this time.

At the very least… consider not discarding this letter like the others. Really, I can’t tell who is more stubborn, me or you.

-Yours eternally, Tartaglia”

This is the first letter of his that you’ve bothered reading in some time, as he made a point of mentioning. It’s difficult to identify the exact feelings his handwriting and characteristic word choice inflicts upon you, ranging from relief to exasperation. He has some audacity, refusing to see you in person for months on end, only to carry on as if nothing happened between you.

With the letter in hand, your mind wanders back, hoping to find some hints of where it all went wrong.

You remember the words said to you on that late, fateful winter evening. The confident timbre of his voice then still resonates in your head at random, never muffling despite the years that have passed, ringing as clearly as a bell. Does he ever think about it? It’s hard to say.

“One day,” Ajax, or Tartaglia as he claimed his new identity to be, had told you, “I’m going to conquer this world.”

His breath materialized in front of him as white, vaporous wisps. There’s something about that particularly frigid season that felt like magic, more so than the Cryo Vision wrapped snug around your neck. You bit back a scathing remark and instead focused your energy elsewhere. Your gloved hand raised and hovered just above his split lip, a prominent frown etched onto your face at the fresh wound. Likely the first of many to come, you lamented.

Your Vision pulsated with life and light blue shone through at your command. The tender, bruised flesh on his lip began to close, before it faded away altogether. Tartaglia raised his hand to gently touch where it had been, now nothing but a faint memory.

With that out of the way, you placed your hands onto your hips and gave him a stern look. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that. It’s going to get you into trouble one day.”

He laughed and waved off your concern.

“If only. Things have been so dull lately, I wouldn’t mind stirring up a little trouble.” Tartaglia hummed, much to your displeasure. It was no secret in your quaint hometown of Morepesok that this boy had been spiraling down a dangerous path. Your parents said as much and even encouraged you to break off ties with him. This just won’t do, you thought.

“Ouch!”

You flicked his forehead and offered up your most intimidating glare. “So you are capable of feeling pain, huh? Good. If it keeps you out of fights, then I won’t heal you anymore.”

Tartaglia rubbed the spot and smiled sheepishly.

“You say that, but I’m sure you’d change your mind if I came to you all bloodied and battered. You’re just that kind of person.” When he paused to reflect, you raised an eyebrow and challenged him.

“Now what’s this? I’m what kind of person, Ajax?” You pinched his cheek, much to his vocal displeasure, mischief gleaming in your eyes. “Say it loud and clear this time.”

“The kind that always looks out for others, even those who don’t deserve it.”

Your arms fell limp by your side. At that moment, your heart twisted in a way it never had before. It could only compare to how it felt when Ajax had stumbled back home after missing for three, long days. You weren’t sure if you had heard him right — his eyes widened as did yours like he felt equally surprised — and he rushed to save himself. The flush that dusted over his face was most certainly not from the cold weather.

Tartaglia shot up and made way for the door at a record speed. “I told my old man that I’d be home before dark. He already worries about me enough as is, so... I’ll be on my way. See ya around.”

Your rebuttal was slow as your tongue felt frozen. Tartaglia waved to you over his shoulder and took off, leaving you to wallow in your muddled thoughts. What exactly had he meant by that? Why did his gaze soften and his usually boisterous voice drop in volume?

Questions flooded your mind, questions that wouldn’t be answered for years to come.

ii.

You’ve always found this area of Morepesok to be serene. There’s no buzz of the community gathering, chattering about the latest gossip and notable news, no vendors vying for people passing by to purchase their fresh early morning catch. The surroundings are nothing but peaceful, and most importantly, silent. In the summer, there’d only have been the sound of the rushing rivers that are now frozen over and humming insects.

Twigs and dry leaves crunch behind the tree stump you’re hanging out at, signaling an approaching figure.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Tartaglia sits down next to you, blades of grass rustling against him as he did so. You don’t bother to look up, instead feigning interest in your fingernails, staring at them intently. Anywhere other than his face, which most likely than not would be boasting his trademark grin. Seeing the fake expression that he plasters on daily would only add fuel to the fire that rages inside.

Your lips part after an uncomfortable silence settles in, the atmosphere growing tenser by the second. “So you’re a Harbinger now, huh?”

“You don’t look impressed like everyone else,” He notes, his language notably more tentative than usual. It strikes through your heart, piercing flesh and blood, your fingers curling painfully tight. If he notices, he decides not to comment. Tartaglia gives you the time to process your overwhelming thoughts as if it’d make any of this easier on you.

“How could I possibly be happy about that?” You snap your head, catching how he’s momentarily caught off guard before it’s covered up just as fast. “This… this is going to be the death of you, Ajax. And Archons, the worst part is, I know me saying that won’t matter in the slightest. That death would just be the result of a fulfilling fight to you.”

Your breathing grows erratic, to the point you’re forced to stop speaking to regain yourself. He doesn’t dare utter a single word — uncharacteristically silent — watching your every movement with calculating precision. It’s taking all your strength to keep yourself together, not wanting to come undone in front of him, feeling weak just for showing this much. This is why you were hoping to avoid him, but figures he’d go out of to seek you out.

“And if I don’t die? Would that make a difference in how you feel?” He challenges, tilting his head, voice dipping in volume. “You can be honest with me, [First]. It’s not just that you’re upset about. No, there’s something else.”

He knows you too well and it’s beyond frustrating. Your body language might be difficult for others to read, but not Tartaglia, who picks up on every little nuance with ease.

Your lower lip trembles. “I hate that this is what you’ve become.”

“So that’s it then,” Tartaglia nods his head, once, coming to terms with it as soon as the words left your lips; like he already knew it all along. “I figured as much, but to hear you say it… haven’t you heard of mincing your words before?”

Hugging your knees to your chest, you internally plead with yourself not to let the nonchalant words get to you. It’s his way of dealing with strife to act unbothered, you know this, and still, it strikes deep. What if this isn’t a façade, but who he really is now? That boy you knew and grew up with — Ajax, your dearest friend — he may be physically sitting next to you, but his soul is gone. Whatever happened in those hellish three days changed him forever. Now his flesh and bones are nothing but a vessel urged on by bloodlust.

How ironic, you think. That your Vision lets you heal physical wounds, but not the unseen kind, which runs deeper than any gash could hope to. Maybe you were a fool for thinking you could fix him, revert him to how he used to be like nothing ever happened. Or maybe he let you try just to earn more time together for whatever twisted reason. Knowing that once reality settles in, you’ll go someplace far out of his reach, where he can never get you back. Sitting here, you realize that it won’t just be you losing him. He’ll also be losing you.

Is that why he is sticking around? To prolong the inevitable?

“When I look into your eyes,” you clear your tightening throat, not willing to let yourself cry. “There’s… there’s no light, no humanity, and you know it. That has to be why you chase all those stupid fights, all so that you can feel alive again.”

Tartaglia allows you the room to ramble without interruption, your venomous feelings that have long festered gushing out. When you work up the courage to look up, you find Tartaglia frowning, staring far off but at nothing in particular. So even he can sometimes be rendered to a loss for words, huh?

He sucks in a deep breath through his nose, the chilly air invading his lungs. “You’re wrong about one thing.”

Another cautious pause. He’s giving this a lot of thought.

“My fighting is not for the sole sake of the adrenaline rush, as enjoyable as that is,” he scratches the back of his neck and forces a laugh. “It’s so that I can get stronger. I told you, didn’t I? That I intend on conquering the world. To do that, I need to be the strongest, or else I can’t fulfill my promise.”

Your lips part, eyebrows furrowing together in irritation, but he places a finger to your lips before you can tear into him. The leather feels cool against your skin, and it’s just now that you realize how close he is to you. Having been so absorbed in your emotions, you failed to notice his stealthy movements, the two of you now shoulder to shoulder. Your heart thrums, reminiscent of that day ages ago.

“When the entire world lays defeated at my feet, what I want is to have you by my side. Until that dream of mine comes true, I’m afraid I’ll have to continue making you sad, but know that it’s for a reason.”

Tartaglia pulls his hand back, his finger lingering just a second over your bottom lip, finally allowing you to speak your piece.

You’re drawn like a moth to a flame to his lifeless eyes, which have seen more bloodshed in the past few months than you could ever fathom. Murmuring, you find it within yourself to respond, albeit so quietly he has to cant forward to hear. “If you accomplish just that… who’s to say I’d want to be by your side? The side of a killer?”

“Hm? Did I ever say you had a choice in the matter?” Tartaglia returns your inquiry with a bold one of his own, one that sends you recoiling in astonishment. He lets the words settle like fresh snow on the ground before laughing them off. You cross your arms over your chest, making your displeasure over his comment evident.

“Please, I’m kidding! Don’t look at me like that,” he puts his hands up in mock defense. “Ah, it’s suddenly feeling colder than usual. You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you? I never thought that humble [First], the child of the town’s apothecary at that, would be so bold as to freeze me to death.”

Your nose wrinkles up and you hold back a laugh, swatting at his shoulder. “Yeah, right. Like I could ever stand a chance against you in battle.”

“You might be surprised! I could make a warrior out of you yet. Think about it, Her Royal Highness the Tsaritsa saw fit to bestow a Vision upon you, didn’t she?” He accents his words by pointing to your neck, where you prefer to keep your Vision. Subconsciously, your hand raises, delicately touching the icy gem.

“I’m not like you,” you shake your head at his jest. “Hurting others is the last thing I’d ever want to do, trust me.”

He hums, your words taking him back, memories flashing in his mind. “I know, that’s why I’ve always done it in your stead.”

“Whoever would’ve thought fending off bored kids with a wooden sword would escalate into you climbing the ranks of the Fatui.” Had it not been for the final part of the sentence, you would’ve found it endearing to reminiscence back to your early childhood together. Still, the frost around your heart melts at the sweet memory, despite your attempts to keep it hardened. This goes to show how much I cherished it, you muse.

Lips curling into a smile, you take him by surprise and lay your head onto his shoulder. His muscles go tense, body unresponsive to the affection you used to bestow upon him in heaps. It’d been so long that he forgot the warmth you radiate like you were the sun incarnate. He had once commented that he expected a Cryo user to be cold, only to be delightfully surprised by how warm you were.

“Maybe I was always terrible, and you just didn’t notice?” He proposes, to which you snort.

“That most certainly is not the case. I’m a better judge of character than that.” You scoff at the mere idea. No, little Ajax had been nothing but a darling, there’s no doubting it. Wherever you’d go, he’d follow as if his life depended on it. There was hardly ever a time where the two of you wouldn’t be seen paired together.

“You’ll get no argument out of me there,” Tartaglia rests his head on top of yours like he used to. The circumstances have undoubtedly changed, but it’s nice to feign ignorance for a few minutes. “Say, you remember when we used to sneak off and meet here, right?”

“How could I forget?”

Tartaglia nods his head in agreement. “I was always dragging you into trouble, even then. I’m not one to dwell on the past, but I guess it’s hard not to when we’re here.”

Now that he mentions it, it wasn’t an immediate shift into his now unhinged personality; like all things, it began as a gradual descent. You should’ve noticed something was awry with how frequently he’d come to you, boasting injuries of all sorts. Each was accompanied by a rehearsed explanation as not to alarm you. Unfortunately for him, in a small town such as this, word travels quickly. It was inevitable that you’d find out the bitter truth behind his wounds.

Maybe you always knew but didn’t want to face reality.

“There was this one time in particular that always stuck out to me,” he closes his eyes, reflecting. “When I said I intended to marry you when we got older, or whenever you’d have me.”

You’re amazed at how Tartaglia recounts it without so much as stuttering, the humiliating memory sending your head spinning. There were so many memories he could’ve mentioned and that’s the one he decides to go with? You’re certain he’s messing with you at this point.

“I-I thought we swore never to mention that again!” You exclaim, blood rushing to your cheeks.

He blinks when you abruptly lift your head and shrugs off your concern. “I don’t remember ever agreeing to that. It was you who kept insisting to take a vow of silence on it, for whatever reason. Personally, I find it cute, you were so eager to accept my proposal then.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This irksome teasing quality had reared its head alongside his other new shortcomings. The best way to deal with it, you’ve learned, is to keep the conversation going. Dwelling on it for too long never ends well.

“So, Liyue, huh?” You recall the gossip from the marketplace earlier. Some locals were fussing over the news that the Fatui’s latest Harbinger, Tartaglia, would be sent abroad for more work. There were murmurs of excitement over how a child from this seaside town managed to make it so far up the ranks. And to think they used to bemoan Ajax’s violent streak, you remember. Now that it’s beneficial to them, they sure have changed their tune.

“I wonder what it’ll be like,” he muses. “Anthon seems to think the people there eat rocks, for whatever reason.”

“Kids always say the craziest things unprompted.”

He seems agreeable to that statement. Neither of you utters another word for some time, instead thinking of both the past and the future. It’s not a comfortable position to remain seated in, yet neither you nor he complains about it. For a few brief, glorious seconds, everything almost seems normal again.

“Hey, [First].”

You hum in response. Tartaglia’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, his eyebrows knitting together in contemplation. In the silence that follows, you swear you hear a sound akin to electricity crackling, the hairs on the back of your neck standing from the drastic shift in atmosphere.

“I meant what I said. Someday, you will be by my side. I don’t care what it takes, I’ll make it happen; even if you come to hate me.”

“Because once you make a promise… you keep it.”

And he intended to do just that.

#childe #yandere childe x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia #yandere tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff #commissions

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iceeckos12 · 3 years

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time travel snippet

little time travel au oneshot. season 5 jon travels back in time to season 1. from the perspectives of tim, martin, and sasha. 3.5k.

i dont think i need to tag anything, but please let me know otherwise.

Tim wakes up that morning, and it’s just like any other day.

Well—no, okay, that’s a bit misleading. Today is his first day working as an archival assistant, so he’s one part nervous, one part that breathless, exhilarated feeling you only get when you’re about to do something unfamiliar that may or may not redefine your life for the foreseeable future. When he says “it’s just like any other day”, he means that he wakes up, and he’s a normal person doing normal people things like eating a healthy breakfast and going to work.

(So, no. In short, he doesn’t realize that today is the day when It happens, that big, life-changing event that you think will Never Happen To You.)

He gets out of bed, stumbles into the bathroom. Washes his face of whatever residue that’d built up during the night, tries to scrape away the evidence of his nightmares, smiles big and bright at the mirror to see how successful his efforts were. He’s betrayed by the traitorous bags beneath his eyes, but that’s okay. Sasha taught him how to wield concealer as a shield whenever his past wore down his armor.

He shoots twin finger guns into his reflection, making soft pew, pew! noises that are almost too-loud in the hush of the bathroom. Then he turns on his heel and walks away, sauntering and humming along with the chorus of Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5.

He gets to the Institute twenty minutes before he’s supposed to—not because he’s trying to impress his boss or whatever (he and Jon have known each other long enough that there’s no point). It’s just, Jon will probably want to make some sort of game-plan before the actual workday starts.

The poor man had been relieved to an almost comical degree when Tim had said yes, I’ll come with you to the Archives. It’s painfully obvious how out-of-his-depth Jon is with the whole “Head Archivist” thing. Tim’s honestly baffled as to why Elias had singled him out for the position in the first place, considering his lack of qualifications.

But, whatever. It’s fine! Tim and Sasha will be there to help him—although the third assistant is a bit of a problem, considering that they know absolutely nothing about him. There’s no guarantee that this Martin Blackwood won’t report inadequacies or mistakes back to Elias. If that’s the case, Tim and Sasha will have to be Jon’s safety net, which is partially why Tim is hoping to talk to Jon before anyone else gets there.

He also wants to talk to Jon because he just knows the man is probably working himself up over all of this. Maybe reassurances won’t do away with the source of anxiety entirely, but at least it’ll remind Jon that he’s not alone, and that he can count on Tim and Sasha.

As expected, when Tim gets there he can see a sliver of light pouring out from the cracked door of the Head Archivist’s office. He selects a desk and sets his bag on top of it, noting a set of strange gouges in the fake wood with a raised eyebrow, and then an internal shrug. The Institute issued laptop is near the far edge of his desk, and his collection of pictures are strategically placed so that he can see them all clearly.

His eyes linger over the image of him, his mother, and his brother. Their smiles are almost perfect replicas of each other, like someone took a mold of one of their faces and recreated it twice over.

Briefly, he closes his eyes. Then he shakes himself, releases a slow, steadying breath, and goes to check on Jon.

Tim’s not sure what he’s expecting to see when he goes into Jon’s office.

(That’s misleading too, though. He’s not sure if Jon will be visibly calm or upset, if he’ll be on his laptop, if he’ll be picking at the skin around his fingernails, as he so often does when he’s stressed. He is expecting Jon as he is and always has been—a twenty-some year old going on sixty, who wraps his gruff, grumpy demeanor about himself to protect the soft, vulnerable core he likes to pretend doesn’t exist.)

He comes up to the door, and the soft rectangle of light that emanates from beneath the door paints the tips of his shoes gold. “Jon?” he calls softly, rapping his knuckles against the frame. There’s a soft rustling noise—papers maybe? but no audible response, so he shrugs and pushes the door open. “I’m coming in.”

Tim steps inside, a quip instinctively readying itself on his tongue—but then his gaze lands on Jon, and he freezes dead in his tracks.

Even years later, he still vividly, viscerally remembers the moment he saw Danny standing on the stage underneath the Royal Opera House, the way he’d looked...not quite right. The wrongness had been subtle, so much so that it had been unnoticeable upon first glance, upon second glance. The longer Tim had looked though, the more obvious it had become, exposing all the little faults in that almost-perfect recreation of his brother.

Looking at Jon now, it’s the first and only thing he can think of. Because—yes, there’s the long, silver-streaked black hair, there’s the rich brown eyes, there’s the pair of spectacles that make him look far older than he actually is. But that’s where the similarities between the Jon he knows and this Jon end.

Jon’s always been a small man, but his feigned haughtiness makes him seem much bigger than he actually is. Except—except this Jon looks smaller somehow, his shoulders curved protectively inward, like he’s trying to present less of a target. And there’s something about his face, too—his expression is too sharp, too much—

But the worst of it is his eyes. There’s something very wrong with his eyes.

Who the fuck are you, and what have you done with Jon? He doesn’t say it out loud though, just keeps staring at Jon, a heady mix of terror and horror making any sort of reaction impossible.

After a moment Jon’s lips thin, contorted by some distant cousin of displeasure, and he rises to his feet. Tim stumbles instinctively backward, his breath escaping him in a sharp gasp that’s immediately swallowed up by the apathetic stacks of books and papers surrounding them. He’s struck by the fact that if he dies here, it’s unlikely anyone will notice; he’ll become just another set of marks gouged into the desk, willed away with an uneasy shrug.

Jon freezes, lips parting subtly, as though he were about to speak. Tim feels his breath catch in his chest, unable to shake himself out of the clouded stupor his mind has fallen into.

In the end, Jon says nothing. Just releases a long, slow breath of air and sits back down, pushing his chair close to his desk. The motion looks heavy, tired, as though it takes far more energy than it should.

“You—you should go,” Jon rasps, and there’s something off about his voice too, though Tim can’t put his finger on why. He can’t cobble together enough of a train of thought to make sense of any of this, all he can think of is that clown ripping Danny apart—

He stumbles out of Jon’s office, sits down at his desk. Stares down at the cheap, fake wood, at the gouges that have marred the otherwise pristine surface. Puts his head in his hands, and tries to will his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

-0-

Martin’s heard things about Jonathan Sims.

He’s not usually the type to pay attention or encourage gossip, as the vivid memories of his classmates tittering cruelly whenever he walked by still leaves a sour taste in his mouth.The problem with the Institute is that the employees get bored pretty easily. Though most would consider academic research into the esoteric and the paranormal to be fairly interesting, it’s still academic research. And the subject content can get to be a bit...repetitive. There’s only so many gruesome statements you can read without thinking, oh great, more meat.

So the employees gossip a lot, and while Martin usually tries to keep his head down and avoid it, it’s difficult not to overhear some things. And from what little he’s heard, he’s...a bit concerned. Rude and unsociable has frequently been mentioned, as have arrogant and unnecessarily finicky, and worst of all, a bit of a stuck-up know-it-all.

Normally he tries not to put too much stock in office gossip—he’s well aware that the grapevine tends to exaggerate one’s most undesirable traits—but if any of it is true, then he might just be in trouble. It was hard enough being a library employee when his boss wasn’t even paying attention most of the time. If Jon is as exacting as they say, it might be enough to expose the fact that Martin has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. And if that happens, then he might get fired, and he can’t get fired, he needs this job, he can barely keep up with his mum’s medical bills as it is—

Calm down, Martin tells himself firmly, pressing his hand against his sternum, as though that will be enough to quell the rising panic. It’s only your first day. Maybe he’s nice, and we’ll actually be good friends.

(With his luck? Yeah, right.)

The Institute looms in the distance, growing closer with every terrified, grudging footstep. A shiver runs up his spine at the sight of its imposing presence, a dark, ugly blot of a building against the backdrop of the iron grey clouds.

If there’s one thing he’s good at though, it’s keeping his head down and muddling through until he’s able to figure out what is actually expected of him. He can twist and fold himself into whatever role they need him to fill, as he has done so many times in the past. Not easily perhaps, but he has always managed. The alternative is untenable, after all.

So he takes a deep breath, and shoves his panic down as deep as possible. Lifts his head and forces a smile onto his face, like a good attitude will be enough to protect him from his boss’s wrath.

He could really do with a cup of tea.

Martin trudges down the stairs, giving the blank walls, the old-fashioned carpet, a dubious look as he does. The Archives themselves are as he remembers it—he’s been down here a couple of times when Gertrude made a request for something specific, but—

He pauses when he notices a man sitting at one of the desks, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders aren’t shaking and his breathing is even, so Martin doesn’t think that he’s crying? He’s just….sitting there, his stillness so perfect it’s almost inhuman.

“Hello?” Martin calls softly, cautiously, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.

The man looks up, revealing a very handsome face and brown eyes so dark they may as well be black. His cheeks are dry but his eyes are bright and a little wild, and his mouth is pressed into a small, tight line. He doesn’t speak, just keeps watching, blinking dazedly in Martin’s direction. Martin gets the feeling that this person isn’t entirely there at the moment, like a house in which every room is lit, but there are no people inside.

He swallows and shifts nervously back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to call for some backup. Eventually he sets his bag on the floor and shuffles a bit closer. “Um—are you—is everything okay?”

The man blinks rapidly, some semblance of awareness creeping back into his gaze. He shakes his head slowly, pushes his short, gelled hair back from his head. His hands are trembling. “I’m...yeah, I’m fine. It’s—everything’s, it’s…”

But then his gaze lands on something over Martin’s shoulder, and all the color drains out of his face, his mouth shutting with a painful sounding click. Martin quickly spins around, searching for whatever could’ve scared him so much—

There’s someone standing in the doorway of Gertrude’s office.

There are so many things that one normally takes in upon first meeting another person: their hair, their skin color, all the little wrinkles and marks that give you the briefest insight into their life. Martin looks at posture first, tends to check if a person is intentionally looming, or if they’re making themself smaller.

But all Martin can see are the eyes.

There’s—two of them he thinks, but two is such an arbitrary number when the thing you’re applying it to doesn’t ascribe to human values (he’s not sure how he knows that—how does he know that—?). That horrible, terrible gaze is an unerring arrow, all-encompassing, all-consuming, piercing the deepest corners of his mind. It hurts in some distant, nebulous way he’s not even sure he comprehends—

Then he blinks, and the sheer terror, that feeling of the horrible, violating exposure of everything that he is, abruptly snuffs out. What’s left is just a person, wispy and small, his slight frame fairly drowning in a chunky, cable-knit jumper. He’s leaning against his doorframe, his eyes—two big brown ones, rich and unfathomably sad and more than that, human—drinking Martin in, his lips parted in a soundless gasp.

“Um—” Martin glances over his shoulder, and almost leaps out of his skin when a land falls heavily on his shoulder. The man who’d been sitting in the chair is standing just behind him, a strained but polite smile on his face.

“Hi Jon,” the man says, an undercurrent of a warning in his voice.

Martin glances between the two, his confusion growing with every passing moment. This is not what he was expecting when he first came into work today, and the uncertainty makes him feel strange and off-kilter.

The person in the door swallows once, twice, then straightens, one hand still gripping the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. When he speaks, his voice is soft, tentative, a little ragged around the edges. “Tim. It’s, um...it’s good to see you.”

“Martin Blackwood, was it?” Tim continues, injecting a bit of cheer into his voice. It takes Martin a moment to realize that he’s being addressed, and he shoots Jon—this is Jonathan Sims?—an uncertain look before nodding slowly. “We’re happy to have you on the team.”

“O-Oh?” Martin squeaks, then grits his teeth and bodily forces his voice back into its normal range. “I’m—um, I’m happy to be here?”

“Good,” Tim says through a grin that looks more like a grimace, giving Martin’s shoulder a friendly pat. The look he shoots Jon is a dark, mistrustful thing. The look Jon gives him back is fragile, vulnerable, that winds the tension in Tim’s shoulders so tight it has to be painful.

Jon’s gaze flickers to Martin, just for a second—and then he disappears into his office, leaving the door cracked behind him.

Tim and Martin stand there for a second, staring at the door. Tim’s still tense as a bowstring, and his grip on Martin’s shoulder is almost uncomfortable. The air in the Archives feels stuffy and too warm, and there’s a strange prickling sensation on the back of Martin’s neck, like he’s being subjected to close scrutiny.

Then Tim sighs and lets go of Martin’s shoulder, a little of the tension bleeding out of him, and without it he looks small, deflated. He goes back to his desk and sits down, booting up his laptop without a word of explanation to Martin.

Martin stares at the back of Tim’s head for a moment, a number of questions clamoring around in his brain—what the fuck was that? What’s wrong with Jon? Why are you so obviously suspicious of him?—but the words won’t come. Breaking the silence feels...sacrilegious, somehow. Every breath of air sticks against the back of his throat.

In the end, he doesn’t say anything either, just sits at his desk and takes out his Institute-issued laptop. Stares blankly at the screen as the machine slowly, laboriously, comes to life.

-0-

Sasha’s not entirely sure how to interpret the tense atmosphere that has descended over the Archives.

The first day she’d arrived a couple of minutes before she was supposed to, prepared to follow Jon’s direction and help him adjust as best she could. (Her feelings about Jon’s promotion...didn’t matter. She didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his fault that Elias was an old-fashioned misogynist.)

But when she’d come down the stairs, Tim and the assistant she didn’t know, Martin, had been seated quietly at their desks. They’d both had the same distant, shell-shocked look on their faces, like they’d received some shattering, horrible news. Sasha had sent Tim a confused look, but he either hadn’t noticed it, or hadn’t wanted to explain.

She hadn’t even seen Jon that first day, just received a polite email asking her to start organizing the statements according to the system which he’d devised.

It’s been almost three days, and nothing has changed. Oh sure, they’ve all started organizing the statements as directed. Tim cracks jokes, Martin tiptoes around them and makes copious amounts of tea. That strange tension that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up, like the world is holding its breath in anticipation, hasn’t faded though. And while she doesn’t know Martin all that well, she knows that something’s still up with Tim. He seems more subdued than usual, keeps sending uncomfortable looks in the direction of Jon’s office—

—which hasn’t been open since that first day. She hasn’t seen Jon at all either, no matter how early she arrives or how late she stays. The only proof she has that he’s still alive is the polite email she periodically receives, detailing some specific task that he wants for them to do.

Even then, his emails are...odd. She’s not sure how she can tell, but they feel...awkward? Stilted? Like he’s only half-aware of what he’s typing, or like he’s only asking them to do things because he feels like he should, not because he has any actual goal in mind.

Normally she’d be frustrated by this, would complain bitterly to Tim about Elias passing over her for someone who obviously doesn’t properly appreciate the position they’ve been given—except that she knows Jon. He’d made a point to explain the situation to her himself, an apologetic twist tucked into the corner of his mouth. More than that, he’d asked her to follow him to the archives, saying that he wanted the two people he trusted most, her and Tim, to come with him.

He respects her too much not to take this job seriously.

The strangeness of the archives is only emphasized by Jon’s complete and utter lack of presence within it, but she doesn’t—she doesn’t buy that. She doesn’t believe that he’d just suddenly decide not to do the job he’d been so anxious to excel at.

More damning than anything is Tim’s complete, utter silence regarding Jon’s strange behavior, but whatever he knows about it, he isn’t saying anything. Martin is willing to talk, but he seems to be as lost as she is.

“I—that first day, Jon…” Martin shrugs, shooting a nervous glance toward the door leading to the archives. He’s been spending a lot of time hovering in the break room making tea, not that she can blame him. “He—I mean obviously I don’t know him very well, but he seemed...upset?”

“Upset,” Sasha repeats dubiously.

Martin lets out an exhausted sigh and turns away, waving a dismissive hand. “Look, I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. He just—okay, so, bear with me for a second, but he reminded me of this guy who used to live in my neighborhood.”

Sasha backs off, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Okay?”

“There was this little old couple that used to live in my neighborhood. They were—they were really sweet! The husband used to give candy to us younger kids. But um—sometimes you’d see him sitting in the rocking chair on his porch, and it was like...he wasn’t entirely there? Like, he’d just sit there for hours, rocking and staring at nothing. That’s—that’s what Jon’s expression reminded me of.”

Martin gets more animated the more he talks, Sasha notes; his hands move in broad, sweeping gestures, his expression twisting into an expression of extreme concentration. The moment he finishes he deflates again, tucking his hands into his armpits self-consciously, a hedgehog curling protectively in on itself.

“So, yeah,” he finishes eloquently.

“Huh,” Sasha says thoughtfully.

She gets back to her desk. Looks over at Tim, who’s studiously working through a box of statements, his mouth set in a neutral, concentrated frown. Takes a deep breath, letting the taste of dust and old papers sit heavy on her tongue.

Then she opens her laptop and starts looking through the catalog of cursed items that are currently being held in Artifact Storage.

(She doesn’t think that she’ll find anything, but—but just in case.)

-0-

They all get the call the next Monday morning: Elias Bouchard was found dead in his office.

#tma #iceeckos12 writes #my writing #just a little time travel au #probably wont continue this but i thought it was kinda fun

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crescentsteel · 3 years

Text

Keeping a Secret - Part 5

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack/fluff/slow burn wc: 6.8k

[a/n]

Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist uwu

AO3

Part 4 || Part 6 || masterlist

“Your lips aren’t disgusting,” Tsukishima says quietly, but loud enough to reach your ears. You did hear him the first time though. You just didn’t understand what he meant so you brushed it off as garbled words induced by your sleep-deprived brain.

You didn’t expect him to contradict the subtle insult you unconsciously threw at yourself. From his reaction to your suggestion a while ago, you’d think he’d be glad that you instantly discarded it instead of pushing it further.

You pull back just enough to see his somber expression meeting your baffled one.

“I thought you didn’t want to do it again,” you mutter softly even though the kiss snapped you out of your drowsiness.

“I changed my mind,” he simply says.

“Uhhh. Care to elaborate?” you ask, still confused as to what his change of mind entails. Does he now agree to your earlier proposal? Or is he just saying that he doesn’t mind kissing you again?

...Wait, isn’t that the same?

Okay, so apparently your mind is still fuzzy and not digesting the situation clearly. His closeness isn’t helping either.

Maybe you’re actually still asleep and you’re having sleep paralysis on their sofa. In just a matter of seconds, Tsukishima’s face will turn demon-like and scream at how moronic you are for dreaming about this.

“You’re allowed to kiss me when it’s just the two of us,” the boy sitting in front of you announces.

Tsukishima tries not to look away so you wouldn’t think he feels awkward agreeing to your suggestion the same way you offered it. You look way better and more alert after he kissed you so he’s expecting you to say something sassy to get back at his brutal words.

Instead, you wrap a hand around your throat. Before he can even process what you’re doing, your hand is already joined by the other.

“What are you doing?” he asks both confused and worried as your hands tighten on your neck, but you don’t answer. He only confirms that you’re indeed choking yourself when you start gasping for air.

“What the fuck!” He hurriedly yanks your hands away from your throat, gripping each wrist and pulling them away from one another.

You inhale sharply from the absence of your hands blocking your windpipe.

It didn’t work. You’re still in sleep paralysis and with absolutely no idea how to get out.

You close your eyes and dejectedly lean on his chest. “I’m too tired to tell if this is real or a poorly conjured dream. Demon, begone,” you mumble while feebly knocking your head against him.

“Tsukishima will think I’m an idiot,” you add.

He usually doesn’t care about the aftermath of his words. The more they get under a person’s skin, the more it amuses him. But you seem to have really taken his words to heart this time, and he hates the fact that he’s bothered by it. He’d rather be annoyed by you than plagued with guilt.

He admits he was being a complete dick earlier, but he didn’t expect it would get to you like this, to the point that you’d even think you’re dreaming.

He sighs, accepting that he needs to deal with the consequences of his sharp tongue. “You’re not an idiot, y/n,” he softly says. You lift your gaze and look at him like he’s grown two heads. “So stop acting like one already,” he spurs on, unable to help himself as his true nature immediately returns.

You detach yourself from him as life returns back to your eyes. “Okay, I’m not dreaming. You’re definitely Tsukishima.” You shake your hands, probably to shake off the lethargy from your nap, then slap both your cheeks with your palms.

You steady yourself as you face him again. You verify the vague exchanges you two had with one question. “I take it we have a deal then?”

He holds your resolute stare, trying to come up with some set of rules but weariness is already hitting his cognitive capabilities. However, there is one that’s extremely necessary for the both of you to follow.

“No one should know about this.”

You scoff at his answer. “No one will know about this,” you repeat his words with a more convincing variation. So despite the insane premise of the arrangement and its lack of detail, he agrees.

“Deal.”

Tsukishima heads straight to the kitchen as soon as he gets home. In spite of the audacious agreement you now have, neither of you felt awkward when he walked you to the main road to see you off. Once again, you were right. Accepting that he is also attracted to you somehow cleared his head. He still doesn’t like it, but it’s better than constantly being irritated at the strange pull you have on him.

Since you’ve proven yourself to always be right, he’ll give this a go. It’ll only be until the end of the project anyways, which won’t be long from now considering the timetable you laid out.

As he gets a pitcher of water, he sees Akiteru approaching the kitchen as well. He moves away from the fridge to make way in case his brother is going to get something from it. But Akiteru passes him by and leans on the counter next to him instead.

He pours himself a glass while growing prickly of Akiteru’s not-so-subtle staring.

“If you’re going to say something, just say it,” he snaps.

Akiteru laughs lightly at his displeasure. “She’s very lovely,” his older brother comments randomly, and yet he already knows Akiteru is without a doubt talking about you.

Lovely?

His mind instantly goes back to when you were: (a) dancing like a crippled fledgling; (b) squawking like a dying seagull to imitate a crocodile; and (c) choking yourself because you thought you were dreaming.

“If an alien in a human suit is lovely, then sure,” he answers dryly as he returns the pitcher back to the fridge.

“She’s really just a classmate?” his older brother probes.

Akiteru has been insinuating for a while now that he should get a girlfriend, as if not having one will cause him to miss out on this ‘great’ experience of life. So now that he’s finally brought someone home, Akiteru had decided in his head that you’re a potential romantic partner.

“How many times do I need to answer that?” he responds sourly.

His brother smiles apologetically, but his face shows a regaled glimmer. “Sorry, Kei. I must have misunderstood since I don’t kiss my classmates on the lips.”

He stills right as he was about to bring the glass to his lips.

He did not hear Akiteru’s steps back then. If he did, he’d quickly give himself adequate distance from you. He’d blame you for the distraction, but you weren’t really doing anything outrageous at that moment. You were actually unobtrusive and reasonable for the first time. It was him and his guilt that preoccupied him well enough to not notice Akiteru.

He finishes his water and leaves the glass on the counter. “Goodnight,” he says without looking at Akiteru as he hurriedly goes back to his room.

It hasn’t been an hour since you two made the deal but someone -- worse, his own brother, has already found out. His only consolation is that Akiteru doesn’t really talk with his social circle so there’s no need to be worried. Also, Akiteru is not really the type to babble about stuff like that.

The disadvantage is also the same as its advantage, it’s Akiteru. He might get all excited and continue assuming that there’s more to the two of you than this limited agreement, when the truth is you’re just two individuals who agreed to make out in secret.

But that’s something he wouldn’t dare reveal to anyone, most especially to Akiteru.

When he reaches his room, he immediately texts you.

‘We meet in your place next time.’

Hopefully, Akiteru will forget whatever he saw tonight if you don’t come back.

Surprisingly but not really, you and Tsukishima are getting along swimmingly since you made the deal. ‘Swimmingly,’ meaning he still ignores you and regards you as a pest during practice. During your private meetings, however, he is agreeable.

It still seems unbelievable to you when you actually think about it. You and Tsukishima exchanging kisses when no one’s around? You’d have a good laugh if someone even suggested that idea to you before you shared that first, completely unintended kiss.

It is indeed comical, how you two would sit across each other, and with only a certain glance, both of you already know what’s up. Eventually, it became a bother to stand and go over to one another just for a kiss so you two sit side by side now.

Tsukishima is funny though. Sometimes, he wouldn’t act upon it because he expects you to take the initiative. You don’t mind doing it, but it’s fun to see him all bothered while trying to study.

“Tsukishima, you look weird. Are you okay?” You feigned concern even though you clearly know why.

He didn’t spare you a glance at all and just mumbled, “I’m fine,” while typing.

“Hmmm, alright! I’m done so we can wrap up now,” you let him know as you started fixing your stuff up. You thought that he’d hold on to his dumb ego and follow suit since you’ve finished cleaning up, but he still hadn’t done anything.

You held back a smile when you felt him grab your arm. You swiftly composed yourself before turning to his direction.

“What?” you ask like you don’t have a clue.

He glowers at you. “You know what.”

You pursed your lips to the side as you gently shake your head. “I am very confused right now,” you acted persuasively.

He puffed tempestuously before he grabbed your nape and roughly descended down on your lips, utterly disregarding his unnecessary pride. You willingly reciprocate it. You latched your fingers in his wrist beside your cheek as you responded to each suck and nip of his lips.

When it ended, you smiled into his mouth which effectively gave you away.

He harshly pulled himself away from you. “You fucking knew,” he muttered furiously.

You scrunched up your nose and grinned mischievously as you gently tapped his cheek. “Of course, I knew. See you tomorrow at the match, Tsukishima,” you said, gesturing to his scattered belongings.

Needless to say, he was extra salty with you during the match with the Lions. But hey, at least they won the game.

However, despite the Lions now out of the picture, your workload isn’t any better because winning only means needing to prepare the next opponent’s profile. You’re just a bit thankful now that unwarranted and unexpected kisses are no longer bothering you since the two of you acknowledged the stupid attraction you have for each other.

Still, that doesn’t mean that your body has magically recovered and you’re no longer stressed all of a sudden. Because you are. You are stressed as fuck. With your academic load also on the line, you can’t rest yet.

You’re starting to feel overwhelmed and whenever that happens, you succumb to your one coping mechanism: stress eating.

You’re about to meet Tsukishima but you have a few minutes to spare, so you head to the nearest cake shop. You buy a mini cake for yourself and one slice for Tsukishima. You don’t feel like sharing yours so you just get him his own.

With a paper bag in hand, you see Tsukishima waiting for you by your dormitory’s entrance. You waste no time and ask him to follow you even though he probably already knows where exactly your room is.

One would think that when the door closes, you two would jump on each other’s arms and just get on with your deal, but nah.

You two get to your usual seats with your mind solely on the cake you bought as both of you take out your notes and laptop.

After you pull up the journal you need to look at for the day, you eagerly bring out the cake.

‘Hnnnngg,’ you groan internally. The cake’s design is so pretty that you almost don’t wanna eat it. But of course you will. You’ve never had strawberry shortcake from that shop before, so you’re curious to taste if it’s as good as it looks.

Just as you’ve been ogling at your cake, you catch Tsukishima staring at it as well. “Do you want some, Tsukki?” you ask before you give the slice you got for him.

“Why would I want something childish?” he asks back with a scowl.

“I don’t see how a cake is childish but okay.” You would’ve felt bad, but you’ll have the extra slice for yourself anyways so it’s not really that bad.

Normally, you would like to savor the pastry while doing something fun, but you don’t have the time for it right now. You’ll just eat it while doing your assigned stuff for the day.

For someone who thinks cake is childish, he keeps glancing at you with tiny hints of envy every time you take a bite. When he sees you catch him peering at the cake, he instantly flicks his eyes back to his laptop.

To verify your hunch, you moan exaggeratedly the next time you take a spoonful of the cake, instantly earning you a menacing glare from the blonde across you.

“I’m sorry. It’s just so good, you know. The bread is so fluffy. The cream is not too sweet. The strawberry filling has actual bits of strawberry.” You enact a chef’s kiss after your detailed remarks.

“Amazing. Best I’ve ever had. 10/10 would recommend and buy again,” you give a positive review before getting another slice.

When you get another spoonful, you groan again and roll your eyes for added effect. You look at Tsukishima and you can tell that it’s getting to him. Yet, he’s still not saying anything. He only keeps staring as if silently imploring you that you should let him have a taste as well.

As if you’ll bend to his will just like that.

“If you want some, just say so,” you taunt him with a smirk as you scoop the last spoonful in the plate, giving him not much time to swallow his pride and ask.

Before you can put it in your mouth, he stops you. “Fine,” he says as he grits his teeth. “I want some.”

Tsukishima really is funny. It’s only cake but he sounds so angry and embarrassed just because he asked for a tiny piece. How can you not tease him just a bit more?

You take the remaining piece and move beside him. You get the spoonful of cake, extending your arm and offering it to him that way.

He looks at the cake and then you. “I know how to eat,” he enunciates coldly at your attempt to spoon feed him.

You shrug it off with an ‘okay,’ then proceed to withdraw your hand so you can have it for yourself.

“Wait.”

You comply and let your retreating arm stay in place. A faint pink tint surfaces on his cheeks as he leans down and takes the cake from the spoon with his mouth. When he starts munching on it, he looks away and slump a little while savoring the small remains you gave him.

You press your lips together to repress a smile cause you know he’ll be even more embarrassed. But holy crap, Tsukishima is so cute like this! You want to take a picture of him right now and just ogle at how adorable he is when he’s this flustered.

The Sendai Frog’s nastiest middle blocker, standing at 6’3, likes strawberry shortcake. You’re reeling internally at your astounding discovery.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he snarls with the tiny blush still on his face.

You can’t help it anymore and give him a tight-lipped smile. “Nothing,” you squeak out from how hard you’re trying not to gush at his cuteness.

He suddenly regains his composure as he narrows his eyes while studying your face.

It’s your turn to be conscious from how he seems to have discovered something about you as well.

“What?” you ask warily.

You’re completely caught off guard when he puts a hand on your shoulder and lunges down. His lips capture the skin just beside the corner of your mouth, delicately sucking on the skin before brushing his warm tongue against it.

You go rigid on your seat at the totally unexpected action from him. It’s not even a kiss but you feel goosebumps prickling your skin while the air you’re breathing gets stuck in your throat.

That’s all he does then hoists himself back up, his features devoid of any emotion as if he didn’t just do something bold. His hand on your shoulder goes up to spot he just licked and strokes it with his thumb.

“You eat like a ten-year old,” he says blankly.

Just like that, the situation is reversed. He now has the upperhand while you’re completely frozen as your mind helplessly tries to come up with something, anything, to hide the fact that you’re a complete muddled mess on the inside.

But nothing. Your mind does not work and all its attention is still on the little stunt Tsukishima pulled just now.

Being the manager of the Frogs, you’ve always seen them as cute little puppies you need to take care of. You’re the one in charge of them so you always feel like you’re the one in control. The sense of control is even more reinforced with other male athletes getting swept away with your antics during matches.

Even with the several kisses you shared with Tsukishima, it’s only now that you’re rendered utterly disconcerted. Your lips start to tremble while your brows contort with horror from the foreign feeling that’s creeping on your whole body.

Fuuuucck, you curse silently at your mind’s incapability to come up with a solution to handle the situation.

To make it worse, the corner of his lips start to tug up, forming a smug grin that suits him ludicrously well.

“You okay, y/n?” His pompous demeanor lets you know that the question is not out of concern. He is very much aware of the effect he has on you. He’s just milking it.

And it’s fucking working.

He drags his thumb to your chin and tilts it up to get a better view of your features growing even more at loss by the second. “What’s wrong, hmm?”

You press your quivering lips together as you harshly avert your gaze from his. “Nothing,” you say too softly, losing the playfulness you had not long ago.

“What’s that?” He pretends to not hear it.

Seems like you’ve had enough because you swat his hand away from your chin and cover your whole face with both hands.

His grin spreads wide from your surrender as a chuckle escapes his throat. To entertain himself even more, he pries your hands away from your face. It’s easier than he expected since your wrists are like twigs with no strength in them.

Your face is a furious shade of rose as you glare at him with both shame and anger. You try to retrieve your arms but he’s obviously way stronger than you. “Tsukishima, you smooth li’l shit, let go of me!”

With that, he releases you as he cackles from your remark. He can now see the merits of acknowledging the inexplicable magnetism between him and you. Now that he doesn’t have to feel conflicted about it, he can relish breaking your previously impervious defenses by teasing you this way.

There wasn’t even any cake on your face. He just made it up to get back at you for toying with him like one of your dumb admirers.

You give off one enraged puff then you go back to face your laptop. You try to look fine but you’re trying too hard. He can tell that you’re still bothered by it even when you’re focused on your screen now.

He gets back to his own as well, the same grin he had earlier still there. He thought you’re going to keep ignoring him for the rest of your meeting, but before he can even focus on his own task, you awkwardly slide him the paper bag you had.

“I actually got you a slice in case you wanted one,” you huff timidly while meeting his surprised gaze. You don’t say anything else and get back to working.

That was… thoughtful of you. You got him one even if he didn’t ask for it. And despite teasing you like that, you still gave it to him. If it was him, he wouldn’t have bothered.

He gets the cake and saves it for later at home. He’d like to enjoy it alone away from your cheekiness, ridding you the chance to make fun of him the second time.

When he looks at you again, you give him a brief glance before settling in to do your assignment. He does the same since you two have frolicked enough for the day.

He had learned something about you from your former meetings: you have unbreakable focus when you start concentrating on something. You don’t talk. You don’t fiddle with your phone. You don’t even peel your eyes away from the screen unless you’re checking something on your notes.

The remarkable thing is how efficient you are. You work fast and come up with decent output. He’s seen it both in your write up for the project and in the reports you give to the team.

It’s almost impressive, if not for its inevitable downside: you run out of steam just as fast, which is what seems to be happening right now. He’s ignored the first two yawns he’s heard from you, but he can’t dismiss the third consecutive yawn.

He looks at your direction and confirms that you’re indeed starting to drop your attentiveness. Your eyes are becoming lazy and you’re just pressing your keyboard too hard one key at a time.

“Oy, it’s still early for you to be sleepy,” he scolds you.

You tap your face, a futile attempt to wake yourself up because your eyes are still dazed when you look at him. “It’s the cake. I overfed myself and now I want to sleep like one.” You groan as you realize your mistake. “No worries though. I just need coffee,” you mutter.

He slams his palm on the wooden surface of your table. “Do not get coffee,” he warns almost threateningly. He does not want a repeat of what happened the last time where you’re one wheeze away from death because of your damn coffee.

“But I need it,” you protest.

“No, you don’t. What you need is rest.”

“Don’t wanna. It felt weird last time. I don’t like slacking off when someone else is being productive,” you insist further.

He sighs irritably at your obstinacy. There’s no need to rush because you two managed to get back on the schedule you set, but then again he understands why. You’re trying to get as much shit done before your responsibilities become too much for you.

That’s probably how you’ve been getting by for the past three years, being a university scholar while managing the team. If being a student while being an athlete is already difficult for him, how much more for you who has grades to maintain while working as well?

If it were anyone else, they’d have exploded from the humongous amount of work that entails. Yet, you come to the gym with that carefree attitude of yours like you’re not burdened in any way. In all the times you’ve met with him outside the gym, not once has he heard you complain about it.

You don’t whine. You just do what needs to be done.

It’s something worth respecting, to say the least. But you should really rest when your body tells you to.

“I’ll stop doing the report and watch volleyball clips from last year’s Olympics. Take your nap,” he says.

Your face brightens up at his suggestion. “Can I watch with you?”

“No.” The point of him watching is so that you can rest easy, not for you to join him. However, the look on your face tells him you won’t budge unless he lets you watch with him.

“I swear, it’ll do me better than a nap,” you press on.

He rubs his temple with irritation as you leave him with no choice but to agree. “Fine.” You squeal at his approval and scamper to his side.

He opens his folders of volleyball clips he’s yet to watch while you tuck your knees together the same way you did last time you watched documentaries for your project.

Halfway through the first clip, he feels your head bump his shoulder. He peers at you from his peripheral and sees your hazy eyes fighting off sleep. He doesn’t say anything and just waits for your drowsiness to successfully take over.

By the end of the first video, he feels your head bobbing forward which he can no longer ignore. “Can’t you just go to your bed and sleep?” he asks almost desperately.

You fix your posture and open your eyes again. “I’m fine.”

He rolls his eyes and gives a resigned huff as he skids his laptop to your front. You shoot him a puzzled look while he positions himself behind you.

“Continue watching then.” He scoots closer until your back is pressed to him, effectively caging you as he extends his legs on your both sides. There’s no use trying to convince you to sleep when you’re this stubborn. So, he’ll just provide you the means to do so.

You frown at him which he answers with a raised eyebrow. In the end, you just shrug it off and go back to watching.

Just as he anticipated, you’re already unconscious in a matter of minutes. Your head falls back to his chest. He lets you settle deeper in your sleep, watching you unconsciously find a position you’re most comfortable in. By the time the second video ends, you’re no longer wiggling around and have found refuge on the front of his shoulder with your arm loosely wrapped around his bicep.

Although he did say that he’ll slack off with you, he sees no reason to uphold it now that he’s finally got you to rest. Unlike you, he works at a normal pace. He needs to continue doing his own tasks so when you wake up, he’s already done as well.

He carefully reaches for his laptop and closes the video currently playing. He gets back to working on the current draft of the project, feeling the strain on his back with nothing to support him while you lean against him.

He shouldn't be doing this. There is no reason for him to be inconvenienced this way by you. This isn’t part of the deal.

But seeing how you’re working so hard yet still face everyone else with that vexatious cheerful smile of yours, he deems you deserving of that serene look on your face while you’re peacefully snuggled within his grasp.

Just as he allowed you to kiss him, he also allows you to hold on to him like this.

“Hey, number 17!”

Tsukishima hears someone yell. He’s sure that it was him who’s being called because he recognizes the voice. It’s someone from the Jaguars, the team they’re up against after winning against the Lions the previous game.

Still, he’d like to pretend that he doesn’t know it’s him the other athlete is shouting for. The gym is filled with other number 17s from different teams anyways. He can easily dismiss it.

However, he hears his last name not long after, automatically singling him out from the other players who also wore his jersey number.

Even though he despises small talk, it would be rude to ignore other players when they specifically call for him in public. Not that he bothers about what other people think of him, but more about how he represents his team.

In high school, he didn’t care at all. But things are different now in the professional level. He’s forced to engage in insignificant nonsense with other players.

He just hopes that this time it won’t be one of those times and that whatever this is is actually important

He turns around lazily and sees not one, but two Jaguars approaching him. It’s their starting setter and their pinch server. “I thought you couldn’t hear us, dude,” the setter says. He doesn’t reply and just stands his ground while waiting for what they’re going to say.

“Anyways, mind if we ask the number of your manager?”

It’s worse than nonsense. They approached him because of you.

They turn towards each other and simper at how they seem to think that it’s a genius idea to ask him instead of you.

“You can ask her yourself. She’s just over there with the rest of the team,” he passively suggests. He’d be glad to lead these two poor hopeful souls if they want to. He’s sure you’d be more than happy to entertain them, in your own kind of way.

“Nah. We know how she disses everyone. That’s why we’re asking you, Tsukishima-kun,” the pinch server counters.

He’s the least protective of you compared to the rest of the team. He doesn’t care if you flirt all day long with these people or if you give your number to every single person here at the stadium.

But whatever these hoodlums the idea that he’ll be the one to give your number to them? It’s not his to give. It’s yours. “It’s not really my decision to make,” he responds.

“Is she really that good of a manager that you won’t share her?”

He would’ve not perceived anything out of it if not for the malicious grin that surfaced on the setter’s poor excuse of a face. The two athletes step closer and speak in a volume only for him to hear.

“Come on now. Don’t tell us you guys are not touching that hot piece dangling itself in front of you.”

‘Lowlives.’

That’s the most fitting word he can describe these two uneducated imbeciles who talk like you’re a slice of meat. No one deserves to be treated like that, especially you who madly dedicate yourself out of actual interest and affection for the team and the sport.

Yet, these two fucking dimwits are insinuating that you’re available for him and his teammates to sleep around with. It’s more than just disrespect. It’s an absolute mockery of the effort and commitment you have for the job.

It’s not his place to be angry. He’s not the one being slighted. But the image of your exhausted features fighting off sleep to do the report of these scumbags in front of him makes him want to do something about their blatant lack of intelligence.

“Don’t look so scary now. We’re not going to steal your manager. We just want to know what it’s like to have a hot one managing us,” the setter once again proves his brainlessness to Tsukishima, successfully provoking him to do what he’s been itching to do.

He offers them a too-pleasant smile that he gives to people who are about to get a taste of his snide irony. “Sorry, but it’s not really my problem that no one wants to manage a bunch of unsightly goons.”

A vein on the setter’s temple looks like it’s about to pop out as his hand yanks Tsukishima’s collar.

“The fuck did you say?!” The setter of the Jaguars lashes out, quickly losing his temper amidst the public gymnasium.

The feigned smile on Tsukishima’s face is replaced by a genuine smirk as the two dimwits react exactly the way he wants them too. Although he can rile them up even more than he did, something tells him that these peabrains will actually resort to violence if he does so.

They’ll definitely be held out from playing the game if they do get violent, but so will he if he gets involved.

Even though he looks unmotivated and lazy, he actually likes being on the court. And if he’s going to be honest, he looks forward to blocking the tosses of the setter who’s clutching his shirt at present.

“You shitty blocker,” the pinch server backs up his teammate.

The shift of attention from you to Tsukishima doesn’t surprise him at all. From slandering you, they quickly move to verbally attacking him. His eyebrow twitches up from the remark but doesn’t bother responding to it.

Why would he when he’ll just prove them wrong later? Instead of engaging with these two, he should be getting back to the rest of the team to get ready for their match.

He’s about to grab the setter’s wrist to yank it off him when a set of feminine fingers beat him to it.

“My, my. Thank you for wanting to be friends with one of our players, but he really needs to warm up now,” you say with congenial sympathy to the upcoming competition.

They seem to have forgotten that you’re the reason why they approached him. The setter releases Tsukishima’s shirt with a glare before the two Jaguars walk away.

“Bye, bye! Let’s get along well, yeah??” you shout and wave at them way too enthusiastically. You probably didn’t catch them talking about you, which is a good thing because you didn’t need to hear that kind of horse shit.

You put a light hand on his shoulder, making him anticipate a lecture from you for dawdling around. But you only tell him that you two should go back already.

As you both turn around, the smile on your face drops while your grip on his shoulder tightens.

“Did it bother you that much?” he asks as you both walk back to the court.

“You bet it did. The gall of them to call you a shitty blocker, those fuckfaces. I swear to God, I would’ve,” you take a sharp breath then slowly let it out as you take your hands off him. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. It’s just the usual gibberish talk among athletes,” you say to yourself, more than to him.

“What about what they said before that?”

Your brows scrunch up as you try to figure out what he’s talking about. “You mean when they assumed I’m sexing everyone from the team? Nah. I know some people think I’m a slut because I’m too sexy for their lame asses. I’m used to it so I don’t really care about crap like that,” you explain way too casually.

He thought that at this time and age, people would be a little more progressive with how they think. Apparently, he was wrong. He’s always observed how you put yourself out there, entertaining any flattery that’s thrown at you. It’s also very obvious how open you are to showing affection for the team.

But he didn’t think people would have such indecent assumptions about you. What surprises him even more is you’ve been aware of it for some time now. Still, you continue being yourself.

“But Goooood. Their childish shit talking really pissed me off.” Your previous attempt to calm yourself down fails as anger graces your features once again.

“Promise me something, Tsukishima,” you tell him a few steps away from the court.

“What?”

“Up your blocking game and win. I want to see those fucktard’s faces pulverized with defeat,” you announce as you seethe with fiery determination.

“There’s no need to promise,” he says calmly before the curve of his lips form a subtle yet definite grin. You immediately get his message as you mirror the arrogant pride on his face with a smirk of your own.

—

You’re not particularly competitive. Even as the captain of your own team before, you did not play to win. You played with your very best because you want to experience all the sport has to offer.

Maybe that’s why you stopped playing and decided to be a manager. You love the sport, but not as an athlete. You just love pushing people to their potential and being their support so they can give their all during matches.

Although you do like winning, you’re not hellbent on it. As long as the team gives their everything and you see them at their best, you’re happy with that.

This match is an exception.

At 23-24 with the Sendai Frogs on their match point, you’re clutching your notebook way too hard that the pages become crumpled and the edges dig in your palms.

When you saw Tsukishima earlier approached by the two Jaguars, you didn’t intervene immediately. You were near the area, watching and listening as to how things will unfold. You didn’t hear much of their mumbled conversation, but you caught enough words to put together that it was you they’re talking about.

You do gain a lot of attention, but some of them are not exactly wholesome. Apparently, being outspoken and open equates to being easy to bed.

You just wish they said something more interesting because you almost yawned at how unoriginal their speculation is. You fucking around with the Sendai Frogs? Groundbreaking.

What amused you though is Tsukishima’s response. Right at that moment, you wanted to kiss his snarky mouth. Not because he defended your honor, but from the clever snide comeback he quickly spat at their faces.

Your amusement was quickly ruined when one of them laid a hand on him. You didn’t care that the fuckfaced setter did it in public. Even if he did it with no one around, your blood still would’ve boiled. But when he said that Tsukishima was a shitty blocker? The palm of your hand itched to get roughly acquainted with the opposing setter’s face.

If this isn’t a tournament, you would’ve had a hard time deciding whether or not you’d have done it. But since this is a tournament, you can’t do that. You need to be civil and maintain good relations with every team, even if some of their members lack basic decency and proper manners.

Luckily, there is a way to get back at them: that is to win this match which has got you to the edge of your seat as soon as it reached the 20s of the second set.

With Tsukishima, Eiji, and Kogane in front, there’s nothing to be scared about. It’s just that you really want them to score that last point already.

The ball gets to your court and is received by Kogane, effectively cutting out your most optimal set-up to attack.

“Tsukki!” Kogane calls out. Tsukishima runs to the center of the court, right in front of the net. The opposing blockers observe him to predict who he’s tossing the ball to, only to leave him completely open as he dunks the ball to the Jaguars’ side of the net.

You were sure it happened fast, but the pounding of your heart made it seem like the ball hitting the ground was in slow motion. You wait for the referee’s signal, hoping that there were no misplays on the Frog’s end that would prolong the game.

The referee whistles and extends his arm to the Frog’s court, letting everyone know that it’s your team’s win. Cheers from team members themselves roar inside the gymnasium, soon joined by the applause from the audience.

You’re supposed to check the losing facade of the Jaguars, but the joy and relief of winning floods you that you completely forget about how they insulted your clever middle blocker. You leave your tally notebook on the bench and rush to the court along with other members.

You’ve always been impressed with Tsukishima’s blocking skills, but to win from his offensive mindfuckery with the other team just sent you to a whole different level of being proud. So it’s him you first go to.

Without putting any thought to it, you wrap your arms around his waist. You don’t mind that he’s sweating and that his body heat is emanating from his skin. You’re too thrilled that he scored the winning point to even care.

“Good job, Tsukishima!”

Right after saying it out loud, you feel him tense beneath your touch. You lift your gaze up to him and meet his eyes which are wide from shock and panic. Immediately after, your eyes do the same when you realize what you’ve done.

The loud cheers from the team have stopped. You slowly turn your head to see why, even though you already know the reason.

It’s like a paused scene from a movie where everyone completely halts whatever they’re doing. The only difference is they stopped with their attention completely on you, specifically on how your limbs are enclosed around Tsukishima’s waist and your cheek flat on his chest.

Shit.

You’re hugging Tsukishima in public, in front of the whole team.

Part 4 || Part 6 || masterlist

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84 @anaiss97 @berna-dette @just4readingfics @suteorra @xxekitten69xx @simp4tsukkii @music-is-all-i-need @keshinslittlegirl @raspberrysunshinebby @iminlovewhaikyuu @pdiddy11 @lightyagamami @sailorscout1902 @lovershaikyuu @expectonothinfromme @finnydraws @namelessidentity @hqbeesun @yatoatyourservice @mrkozume @suzuyamitsuki @celestialarchiveshq @yongboxerrr @gomenpudding @kutiekoge @fizzfrick @flamingosis @korean-bbq

#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu smut

190 notes · View notes

velvetmel0n · 4 years

Text

No More Than a Name For Yearning

Summary: It’s a late night at the office when the tension becomes too much.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.5k+

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, a threesome (tag teaming?? idk man they take turns), Javier and Carrillo being competitive? penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, egregious use of italics and em dashes, exhibitionism and voyeurism? little bit of dom!Carrillo, Javier smoking as per usual, mutual pining, angst

A/N: let’s hope I didn’t overhype this lmao. Special thanks to @tintinwrites and her knowledge of musicals for the title💕

@damerondjarin @mandoplease @tintinwrites @poeticandors @darksideofclarke @futzingorchids @pascalplease @glowingpena @ollypopp @yougottakeeponkeepinon @bisexual-space-slut @agentpike @mylifeliterally @pedropasscals @huliabitch @winters-buck @hystericalmedicine @watsonwise @1zashreena1 @chelsfic @halfwaythereroyal @leahsafae @qveenbvtch @maxlordd @acomplicatedprofession @bobafvtt @propertyofdindjarin @milleniumvalcon @the-bird-suit @girlpornparadise @okay-murdocks @slfreya @aellynera @duamuteffe @ah-callie @bookshelvesandteacups @woakiees @himbopoes @shadow-assassin-blix @thedevilwearsvibranium @littleferal @veuliee2 @mserynlarsen @lesqui @softpedropascal @writefightandflightclub @catfishingmorales

“I’m done.” Steve’s voice, all Southern hospitality and exhaustion, breaks you out of the haze you’re in and have been in for the last two hours, English and Spanish swimming before your eyes and you smile up at him reflexively, grateful for the distraction, however small it is. It had been a bad day for everyone, bad intel and a bad raid and now you’re stuck shifting through mountains of files, looking for where you went wrong and the next plan of attack. “Do you want a ride?”

“I’m good, I want to work on this a bit more,” You say confidently, trying for a tone and an expression that says ‘I’m staying because I want to finish this, not because I don’t want to be alone yet’ while his blonde eyebrows knit together high on his forehead. Your smile doesn’t crack under the weight of the energy he’s putting out, brotherly and almost concerned as his eyes flick towards the only other people in the office with you; Javier and Carrillo.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” You snort when Javier waggles his eyebrows dramatically at you over a stack of his own files to go through. “Javi’ll take me home,” You say because he will. You don’t have a car, having wanted to save money and not fully grasping the inherent dangers of being a DEA agent who relies on public transport in the middle of Escobar’s territory before you had moved here.

You’d started saving the second week of living in Colombia, but somewhere along the way it had become less of a pressing issue and more of an afterthought as you fell into the rhythm of jumping into Steve’s car as he swung by on his way into work or pounding on Javier’s door, just down the hall from your own with some sort of baked good in your hands as the customary bribe.

“You sure?” He’s giving you another chance, another out, because it’s late and it’s hot and his nerves are probably still frayed just like everyone else’s who aren’t showing it and he no doubt thinks you need a break just as much as he does.

“I’m a big girl, Steve. I’ll be fine,” You turn a page, sending him the message that yes, you’re staying. You’ll wait Javier out, promising him some muffin or cookie you’d picked up from the store, crumbly and too sweet but he gobbles them down anyways.

“Oh—kay,” He drawls out, sounding unconvinced but he’s picking his jacket up from where it’s been laying on his desk. “You crazy kids don’t have too much fun now,” He digs his keys from his pocket as he walks out and the hollow slam of the door shutting behind him doesn’t shake anyone.

And it takes a moment for the gravity of what you’ve just done to sink into you, how you’ve just stranded yourself on a desert island of paperwork and intel. How you’re trapped between the two men you think about late at night when you’re alone and hungry, now hunched over one singular desk with them and your mouth goes dry.

Your skin prickles and some part of you thinks that this might be better; better than the stress of the day and the frustration that rises in your blood every time you have to ask one of them to translate for you because cartel slang isn’t taught in any class and at least Carrillo tells you. You’ll tilt the paper at him and point and he leans close, brows heavy over his sharp eyes and he’ll say it once in English, only once and his tone is equal parts exhaustion and frustration but it’s enough.

Javier is more of a bastard about it. The way he smirks every time you ask him for anything, smooth and suggestive and asking what you’ll do for him as payment and as much as it gets on your nerves you can’t help but rise to it, batting your eyelashes and threatening to do one thing or another which of course never fazes him. It helps soothe the more ragged edges of your nerves, falling back on the familiar rhythm of your friendship, the push and pull wrapping around your shoulders like a security blanket.

You both know that you’ll each fall apart in your own way as soon as goodnights have been said and your apartment doors have closed, but that’s a problem still hours away. It’s a problem you’ll deal with alone in your bed, hugging your pillow and wishing you had someone warm and solid sharing your bed because you could attach yourself to them somehow you think. Anchor your body to theirs, to reality, so you don’t float off into nightmares.

Carrillo seethes beside you, quiet and his mouth set in a hard line but you still find yourself wanting to reach out to him. It’s stupid but you want to reach out and smooth your hands over him, want to bleed the tension form his body because he carries too much of it and he can’t bury it under innuendos and harmless flirting like Javier can, like you’ve learned to.

You think about it sometimes, what might happen if you acted on your desires with the Colonel. You know what will happen with Javier if you ever take him up on the offer, one that’s stood since your first week here. You’ll know that he’ll treat you right, that he’ll take you out of your head and take you apart piece by piece. Maybe he’ll even put you back together again and you can’t deny that you’ve been thinking about it more and more lately.

But Carrillo is a puzzle and maybe that’s why you keep thinking about him as much as you do, maybe you want to take him apart just as much as you want Javier to do the same to you. You want to know what it’s like to have all that energy focused on you, intense and bordering on obsessive. All consuming.

The next exhale is shaky and you realize you need to stop before you start staring at them, at the way Carrillo’s shoulders fill out his uniform or catch Javier’s profile out of the corner of your vision, the way his mouth twists with displeasure underneath his mustache. You need to stop before you start thinking about what that mustache will feel like against your skin or how tight Carrillo’s grip on you would be.

You try to bury yourself back in the files and grainy photographs, trying to ignore the ache between your thighs and you realize that you were wrong, that this is worse.

The next hour passes in a haze, steeped in frustrations and stress and an insidious kind of tension, the air plucked taut like a bow string. You’ve untucked your blouse and have already undone the first button but you’re reaching for the next two barely ten minutes later and you don’t know if you’re overheated from the weather or the look you’d seen Javier give you when you reached for your collar the first time, thick eyes slid over to you and following the motions of your fingers. You think Carrillo might be watching you, too— see his head tilt from the corner of your eye, see his fingers still as they turn a page. You keep going, slipping the buttons from their closures and maybe you make more of a show than you should of opening your collar. Of fanning yourself and slipping your hand underneath your shirt to rub your shoulder.

No one says a word and you keep your eyes fixed on the ones in front of you, absently kneading your own shoulder as you wait for their eyes to slide away, for the moment to pass because it feels like it’s clogging your throat.

“Need a hand?” Javier raises his eyebrows, points his chin at the one you have stuck up your shirt, your fingers squeezing at the knot that’s formed and you snort. It splinters the tension enough that you can breathe.

“In your dreams, Peña,” Because the last thing you need right now is for him to touch you, the rasp of his fingers over your smooth skin with Carrillo watching the entire thing, less than three feet away. Your stomach clenches at the thought, a traitorous thrill forcing its way up your spine and you dig just a little too far into the tendon and a noise slips from your lips.

You expect Javier to call you out on it, on the way the sound just...flows out, low and keening but pitched up towards the end and you don’t breathe. You don’t know if anyone breathes because it’s like you’re the only three people awake right now. The only three people alive and the glow of the streetlights outside is pulsing and hazy as it slips through the cracks in the blinds and it’s making you feel like you’re in a fever dream, like suddenly all the consequences of bad decisions, of feeding the monster in your gut are going up in the smoke that bleeds from Javier’s cigarette.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t and neither does Carrillo and your breath shakes itself out of you, your fingers smoothing over the tendon you had just curled into and you have half a mind to go home, to try and call Javier off the hunt so you can curl up in your own bed and try to sleep off the stress and the heat, the thoughts that keep rising to the surface.

The sound of Carrillo yanking a drawer open drags you out of the daydream that’s trying to coalesce and you see him pull the bottle out; think that the frustration must be getting to him. You can’t blame him for it.

“I hope you’re planning on sharing, Carrillo,”

Because there’s something to be said for warm alcohol and the way it burns the whole way down like it’s holding a grudge. You don’t know what it is— it’s something clear and biting that smells like window cleaner when Carrillo unscrews the cap and passes it to you, the bottle half drunk already and the thought is dim in the back of your mind that the Colonel himself must’ve done this dozens of times before, that your lips are wrapping around the very same rim as his must have as you swallow a mouthful and try your best not to grimace. Your lips tingle on contact and you know whatever it is it’s strong, probably enough to fuzz your better judgement.

You’re already passing it to Javier when you see him reaching for it, fingers hungry in the way they wrap around the bottle. He gulps, bares his teeth at the taste and holds it out to Carrillo who swallows a mouthful of what you suspect to actually be paint stripper without blinking. Rinse, repeat.

The alcohol loosens your tongues and before you know it Javier is cluing you in on the things that are said behind your back, when you’re not in the room. Warning you about a young agent who’s been making noise about asking you out, maybe getting you in bed and you can’t help it.

You chuckle and the words rise unbidden to your tongue, spurred on by a combination of alcohol and stress, of sleep deprivation and the oppressive heat. You don’t realize your mistake until a second after the words are out of your mouth and you can feel your stomach drop to the floor.

“I’d rather fuck you grumpy bastards,”

Because it’s just as much about the wording, how you said it as much as it’s about the fact that you said anything at all. You’d rather fuck them. Not either, not one of. You’d rather fuck them.

“What was that?” There’s a change in Javier’s voice, some new chord resonating in the air and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Carrillo drinks slowly from the bottle and you can see his throat working, his Adam’s apple bobbing and he’s looking at you with intent. It makes you want to squirm.

“I— I just mean if I had to choose, between you and Miller I mean, I’d— I would choose you,” You fumble it and you know it. You’re not looking at either of them, eyes staring down at the files still on the desk because you feel warm and prickly all over, trying to keep your breathing even because you’re spiraling. You’re afraid; afraid of their reactions, if they’ll snort and reject you after all and afraid of what will happen if word gets out. The fear tangles with arousal in your gut, as exhilarating as it is confusing and no one is saying anything.

You see motion out of the corner of your eye, a large hand gripping the back of your neck a moment later and he almost pulls you out of the chair with his urgency to crash your lips against his own— Carrillo. You melt into the kiss, welcome his tongue into your mouth and you’re abundantly aware of the fact that Javier is just on the other side of you, that you’re being watched.

Your breathing shallows and it’s like you have a fever you’re so hot, drinking down every bit of attention that’s being lavished on you between Carrillo’s mouth on yours and Javier’s hands, sliding around your middle and squeezing your sides before you feel him crowding further into your personal space. It’s already verging on too much for you, too many things happening at once and not going to stop until you’re boiled down to a creature of lust and sensation and nothing else.

Carrillo keeps one hand in your hair while he eats at your mouth, keeping you in place for him while his other drops to your thigh, palming it before he slides his hand down to your knee and holds, stopping you from creating any friction for yourself before you could even try. You whine and Javier’s even closer than before, covering your neck with kisses now and his mustache tickles enough to have you trying to recoil from it, chills sweeping throughout your body and his chuckle dark in your ears.

Carrillo’s teeth drag over your bottom lip at the same time Javier starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, his hand deft and seeking as it slips underneath the fabric, his other mirroring Carrillo with the way it grips the meat of your thigh. You whine, trying to grasp Javier’s shirt in an effort to ground yourself or to pull him closer you aren’t entirely sure because all you know is their hands on you and the ache that’s burning you up inside, the taste of the alcohol on Carrillo’s tongue as it sweeps through your mouth.

Your shirt flutters to the floor in a soft heap and Javier’s attention stays on your chest for what feels like ages, palming your breasts through your bra while Carrillo’s head dips, mouthing along your jawline and down your throat, and in that moment you want nothing more than to feel his teeth. To have him suck marks into the fragile skin that you can look at in the morning to make sure this isn’t some fever dream brought on by the heat and frustration because you feel like you’re being melted down between the two of them and reshaped into something new, something hungry and aching and empty.

A hand trails from your chest and down your stomach while teeth scrape along your neck, your shoulder, and you almost hold your breath when you feel the button of your jeans being fiddled with. A whine builds in your throat, a sharp sound undercutting it and sending a jolt through your body when the Colonel smacks Javier’s hand away before he could slip it inside your pants. Your eyes flutter open for the first time since this all started, just in time to see the way Carrillo’s jaw clenches, hostility or just plain competitiveness you can’t be sure belying the heat in his eyes as he glares at the other man.

It shouldn’t turn you on— you know it shouldn’t, having him snapping over you like that, like you’re a new favorite toy he’s loathe to hand over but you can’t deny the way you squirmed, either, heat curling in your gut at the thunderous look on his face. And then Javier is huffing and for one insane moment you’re afraid that he’s going to give up without a fight, that he’s going to stop.

But then he’s turning your head towards him, wrenching you away from Carrillo so your chest is pressed against his own and he can have his fill of your lips. His kiss is different from Carrillo’s— the bristles of his mustache tickle and it’s less like an onslaught but no less heated, his groan sinking right down into your bones.

Carrillo’s fingers make quick work of your jeans and you almost leap out of your skin at the first touch, thick fingers slipping underneath the band of your underwear and dragging through your soaked folds.

You moan into Javier’s mouth, the sound ripped from the back of your throat and you hear one of them chuckle— self satisfied and almost mocking and you want to snap at them and call them names, want to regain the edge you maintain so carefully in this line of work but you can’t. You can’t because Javier’s teeth are scraping along your jawline now and his hand is working its way underneath your bra to start thumbing over your nipple, the edge of his nail against the sensitive skin making a chill skate through your body and Carrillo— he’s— he’s rolling the rough pads of his fingers over your clit, using enough pressure to make your thighs jerk and the insults wither on your tongue.

Then it’s your hands that are moving, unclenching from their shoulders to follow the lines of their torsos down, down, down and the scrape of chairs across the floor is loud and disjointed as they’re yanked closer. Half of you wants to take your time, to explore the both of them at your leisure and finally have your fill of each, to run your hands along their bodies and kiss each of their scars but the other half of you is louder. The other half of you is greedy. Impatient.

You smooth your palms along the front of their pants, reveling in the feel of their cocks twitching through the fabric and how Javier’s breath hisses through his teeth, how Carrillo drops his head to your shoulder and squeezes the inside of your knee, his fingers stuttering against you. It’s heady, knowing that they both want you like this and holding evidence of their arousal in your hands and you can’t help but stroke them, biting down on a grin when a moan works itself from Carrillo’s chest.

Javier recovers first and pulls you until your body is fully facing him, hunching over you with his fingers working at the closure of your bra, mouth trailing down your throat. Carrillo huffs behind you but he doesn’t pull you away, not yet. Instead he shifts closer, close enough for you to sag into the solid mass of his chest because his fingers are moving again, slipping lower and teasing your entrance, circling and only barely dipping the tip of one inside. At the same time Javier’s mouth is engulfing one of your nipples and sucking, teeth glancing off of it and you don’t know whose name to moan, writhing between the two of them and trying to get a grip on Javier’s hair.

Your other hand is still over Carrillo’s cock and you squeeze, a whine bursting from your lips because of course the bastard was waiting for that, waiting for just the right moment to slide one of his thick fingers home while Javier laves across your chest, licking and sucking at your tender flesh. “Fuck,” Your voice is high and reedy and you feel like you can’t breathe. It’s the first word you’ve spoken during this entire thing, whatever it is, whatever it’s going to turn into, and you think you feel Carrillo’s lips pull into something sharp that might be a grin against your cheek when he starts to move.

The angle means the heel of his hand is bumping into your clit and his pace is a cruel thing; dark and twisting and somehow it’s too much and not enough all at once and your head is spinning from it. You hear him in your ear, speaking low and soft and his praises are clogging your throat. Encouragements, teasing when he asks you if you want more, can take more because he knows you can, that you want it because you’re good for him, aren’t you? For them?

And Javier is murmuring his agreements against the pillow of your breast, dragging his teeth along your nipple and you think if it’s possible for a human being to go up in flames you would right at this moment, trapped between the two of them with no buffer, with nowhere to go.

“Need more already?” Javier’s voice is thick like honey, almost gloating as he picks his head up from your chest, taking in how it rises and falls in time with your rapid breaths, shining from his mouth underneath the fluorescent lights. His eyes drop lower and he can’t see you, not with Carrillo’s hand in the way and the thick denim of your jeans still biting into your thighs, but he can hear you, slick and obscene with little whimpers falling from your lips like you’re trying to stay quiet because you are. It’s not working, but you’re trying.

“Javi—” Your voice tilts up at the end, high and whining and you don’t know how much more of this you can take. You feel like you’re melting down, burning up from the inside out and you can’t remember if you’ve ever felt like this before. If you’ve ever felt this on edge, coiled up tight and vibrating with this much tension, if it’s because you’ve been wanting each of them for months now, if it’s because they’re both here with you. Both watching you, both stringing you out further and further and pulling you in different directions. Each trying to get their fill of you before the other.

And maybe you’re asking for Javier because Carrillo is cruel, working you with his fingers but never giving you quite enough, working you up and up and up. Like he wants to see how far can push you, if he can make the need swallow you whole. You know he can, that for all your wanting to take him apart piece by piece he can do the same to you, is doing the same to you just as you know Javier will show you more mercy.

Javier reaches for you, curls his hands in your jeans and pulls them down over your knees and maybe he meant to pull them off, to get you naked in the middle of the office but his eyes catch on the way Carrillo’s finger is sinking into you over and over again. The way he gives you another and how you still when he does, your breath stuttering.

You almost don’t feel the way Carrillo hooks his chin over your shoulder to watch for himself because you can’t think over how his fingers feel, thick and heavy and buried up to the knuckle and you whine. You whine because he’s just holding them there, seemingly content to just feel the way your cunt is squeezing around them, the way your thighs are shaking and listening to you crying in his ear.

You hand fists in the material of his pants, your other digging your nails into Javier’s shoulder and you use them for leverage, rolling your hips on Carrillo’s fingers. Someone groans, ragged and strung out and for terrifying seconds you think that they’re going to leave you like this. Leave you to fuck yourself on his fingers without any help.

But Javier doesn’t last that long.

Javier doesn’t last that long before he’s reaching for you all over again, pulling you away from Carrillo and you almost protest, almost call him a bastard for cutting off what little stimulation you’re managing to eek out for yourself but then he’s pressing you up against the desk and you forgive him.

You try to brace yourself on the desk, hands slipping on file folders and you look back, over your shoulder because you can hear his belt jangling, loud against the background of hurried breathing and arousal-softened voices. You don’t see it but Carrillo leans back in his chair, sucking your slick off his fingers and thinking about eating you alive even while he watches Javier line himself up with your weeping cunt, the way his head leans back as he pushes in, the way you go still. The way your chin drops to your chest and how you rock your weight onto your hands, spine curving when his hips meet yours.

Javier isn’t moving, not yet, and Carrillo almost feels sorry for you because another of those whines is falling out of your mouth, soft and needy and you lick your lips before you speak, begging him to move and so he does. They both do.

Javier’s hands curl around your hips and he starts to thrust as Carrillo stands, rounding the desk and his lips might pull into something crueler than a smile but pleased nonetheless when you reach for him, a moan on your lips. He lets you fumble with his belt and untuck his shirt with shaking hands and his chest swells with a twisted pride, that you can be filled with another man’s cock and still reach for him.

It goes to his head a little bit while he watches you, glassy eyes fluttering and your hands slipping. Your head drops to his shoulder with a high pitched moan, your hips rolling back, and that’s when he grabs your face, his fingers pressing into your jaw, lifting your head and forcing you to look at him.

It’s too much, you realize, trying to remember how to breathe while you stare into Carrillo’s face. His nostrils are flared and his eyes are swallowed up by his pupils, and he’s not looking away. Your breath is puffing into his face and you’re trying to keep your eyes open, you are— but Javier’s cock keeps dragging through your walls, catching on something bright and sharp and it’s almost enough.

You don’t realize that you keep closing your eyes until Carrillo is almost throttling you, tightening his fingers on either side of your jaw, the meat of his palm pressing against your windpipe and tomorrow you’ll feel embarrassed at the pathetic sound that leaves your throat. How you sway towards him, his "look at me” ringing in your ears, soft and biting all at once.

Javier hunches over you then and you feel his teeth in your shoulder, feel the rasp of his mustache on your skin. Carrillo’s shoulders move but you don’t look, don’t let yourself get distracted from the way he’s looking at you like— like—

You don’t know because Javier’s hand is moving, slapping Carrillo’s away before he can touch you and you see the muscle in his jaw tick before you crumple, would have spilled across the desk if his grip wasn’t holding you up because Javier is slipping his hand between your shaking thighs.

Your hands fist in the material of Carrillo’s shirt, your quest to get his belt undone long since falling by the wayside and being replaced by focusing on the way your nerve endings are lighting up under Javier’s fingers, buzzing and firing and the knot in your belly bursts, thick and sweet like syrup. You sob into Carrillo’s shoulder, bearing down on Javier’s cock and he groans behind you, ragged and grating.

But he doesn’t let you enjoy it, not really. Because the next moment he’s pulling away from you and you feel so empty you could almost cry, shaking yourself apart against Carrillo’s chest, dense and warm and the part of your brain that’s still functioning wishes you could feel his skin on your own. You don’t get the chance to dwell on it, on Carrillo’s hands and his arms, the feel of his torso through his shirt because the next thing you know liquid is splashing across your lower back, hot and dripping and you shudder right down to your bones.

“Fuck,” Javier sounds as wrecked as you feel and you can hear him pant, the air whistling over his teeth but the ache between your thighs isn’t fading away. If anything it’s getting worse as you try to pull yourself back together, trembling against Carrillo’s body because you don’t necessarily trust yourself to stand on your own quite yet and apparently neither does Javier, rolling his forehead on the space between your shoulder blades.

After a few moments he straightens and you feel his eyes on you as clearly as you do his hand, stroking down your side and squeezing your hip. He starts digging through the desk then, opening and shutting drawers until he finds what he’s looking for, wiping his cum from your skin with what you assume to be an extra shirt Carrillo keeps in his desk, always prepared.

Your fingers unclench from the shirt he’s wearing, sliding over his stomach to pull on his belt because you aren’t satisfied, won’t be until you know what it feels like to make him fall apart right along with you. You mouth at his neck, slipping your palm into the front of his khakis after you conquer the buckle and zipper.

“You’re breaking my heart, baby,” Javier sits back in one of the abandoned chairs, his voice hoarse and colored with exertion, and if you didn’t know any better you might think he’s serious, that his feelings are well and truly bruising with your efforts to get in Carrillo’s pants, still greedy for more after he had his turn with you.

“Fuck off, Javier,” You say it without any real venom against Carrillo’s skin and the other man might have barked out a chuckle, bared in his teeth in something that might have been a grin, but the only thing you can focus on is the way Carrillo groans when you close your fingers around his cock and stroke. You want to hear it again and again, want to have it vibrate through you while he’s pressed impossibly close.

He’s a sight as he pulls himself away from you, his uniform shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, unbuttoned now and his undershirt wrinkled from your fingers, his jaw set and you have to turn, all loose limbed and soft as you seat yourself on the desk, able to finally peel your jeans the rest of the way off and spreading your thighs in blatant invitation. He takes it, slotting his hips between your knees and wrenching you to him and you’re able to wind your arms around his wide shoulders like you’ve been craving to.

You rub yourself against him, your breath catching in your throat from how your sensitized cunt slips across the coarse fabric and it almost hurts, sharp and corrosive in the way it floods through you, dissolving in its wake. But you can’t stop, chasing after the pleasure with a whining moan because he’s just watching you, eyeing the slowly growing wet spot on the front of his underwear because of it and you squeeze your thighs around him, trying to spur him on.

"Horacio,” The name slips out unbidden, tinged with something you can’t describe and it’s the magic word. He huffs as if he’s coming back to himself, as if he’s realized that he can move, that you really do want this despite the circumstances. Despite Javier watching with rapt attention and a fresh cigarette.

He doesn’t make you let go of him, doesn’t make you pull him out because you’re clinging to him so sweet and nice and purring for him that he can’t imagine it and you’re grateful. Actually grateful that you can keep yourself wound around him, touching and tasting like you’ve thought about for months now, raking your fingers through his short hair and arching against him until you’re balancing on the very edge of the desk, his arms the only things keeping you from slipping right off.

And then you’re being split open.

You warble something that might have been his name, choking on it and you scramble at his shoulders for a better grip. He groans deep in his chest, rough and filthy as his head drops to your neck and it’s overwhelming. You want to blame it on the fact you’ve already cum, that you’re still overly sensitive from Javier because he’s making you feel better than he has any right to as harsh as he is, as stone faced. As mean.

But then his hand is slipping between your thrusting bodies and he’s anything but, unerringly finding your clit and it’s almost embarrassing. It’s almost embarrassing how hard your body jerks, grinding into his calloused fingers while he breaks you apart, your cunt pulsing around him as he keeps up the onslaught, hips snapping into yours.

You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, as the pleasure sweeps through you, glimmering and razor sharp and you say his name again, only this time mewling and shattered. And it’s the combination of everything that does him in; your cunt fluttering around his cock, your voice in his ear saying his name like that, you trying to pull him infinitely closer. He grunts as he spills himself within you, the sound strangled and you can’t help but gather his face in your hands to pull it to your own, slanting your lips against his and drinking it down.

Your thighs are quivering as you pant into each other’s mouths, Carrillo almost languidly stirring his cock in you as you both come down. You didn’t expect it— didn’t expect any of this to actually come to fruition, to exist somewhere outside of your mind and the four walls of your bedroom but here you are. The smoke from Javier’s cigarette hangs in the air and Carrillo— Horacio, now, is nosing underneath your jaw, staying right where he is and kissing the salt from your skin. If an ache wasn’t blooming between your legs, in your thighs and your hips you don’t know if you’d believe it happened at all, letting the memories turn hazy in the sunlight that’s only a few short hours away.

But it is and when you blink your eyes open you see Javier looking at you with an unreadable expression, flicking his eyes to Horacio and back again and a different heat starts to suffuse your body, this one prickling and bordering on uncomfortable. That’s when you unlock your ankles from behind Horacio’s back, your heart slipping into a nervous rhythm and you don’t want to press your palms into his shoulders and apply pressure, telling him to move without so many words but you do because you can’t take it.

Can’t take the way Javier is looking at you, can’t take how much you want Horacio to stay, to wonder and find out if he stays as gentle as this when the fog clears from his head.

You can’t take the way he’s looking at you either as he shifts, following the directive of your hands and you swallow the gasp that tries to burst from your mouth when his cock slips from you. You weren’t expecting this either, how bereft you feel without him filling you up, without him in your arms if you’re being honest with yourself. You can’t even blame it on the alcohol, not really. None of you had drank that much, the bottle still not empty after being passed between the three of you and now on its side, knocked over at some point from your combined haste but miraculously unbroken as it lays there on the corner of the desk, liquid pooling on the linoleum below.

Javier is the one who sees it first and throws Horacio’s crumpled, used shirt on the caustic puddle while you’re pulling your jeans up, dressing as if your clothes could become your shield from the emotions that are trying to flay you alive.

“Are you okay?” It’s Horacio who asks how you are while you button your blouse, his voice gruff and threaded with something that’s going to haunt you.

“I’m good, I promise,” You try for a light smile, like you’re not turned inside out, like you won’t keep thinking about this for the rest of the night and maybe into the day when you have to pretend like everything is fine, that nothing has changed.

Javier throws the shirt onto the desk then and it hits with a wet plop that makes you cringe. You see Horacio’s mouth thin, any traces of the softness from just moments ago bleeding away and you want it back.

But it will have to wait for another time, maybe a better time or none at all because Javier is crushing the end of his cigarette into an ashtray and picking his leather jacket off the back of a chair, looking at you expectantly because he knows you can’t refuse him, not without revealing anything. “Ready to go?” And maybe Horacio has some inkling about the arrangement, gleaned from comments that have piled up over the weeks and months but maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he thinks you’re going home with the agent, not bumming a ride to the same apartment building because you were naïve and are now complacent.

You nod, looking again at Horacio and running your eyes over him, as if you don’t want to forget how he looks in this moment despite everything. His uniform a mess, cock tucked back into his pants but his belt staying unbuckled for the moment and for one second, one harebrained second, you think about kissing him. Just kissing him, just a peck— just enough for him to maybe know.

But you don’t.

“Goodnight, Horacio,” Your lips wrap around the syllables, turning his name into something gentle as you drift towards the door after Javier.

The Colonel nods and you think you might see his lips part but the shadows make it impossible to tell and you don’t know what’s in his eyes either, just know that they feel heavy on your skin. Javier calls your name and you finally look away before you do something even more stupid than anything else you’d done tonight.

The door closes behind you and he knows you can’t hear him but he says it anyways, alone and looking at the door like you’re going to walk back in.

“Goodnight.”

#javier pena x reader #horacio carrillo x reader #javier pena x reader x horacio carrillo #javier pena x you #narcos smut #narcos fic #horacio carrillo x you #if you listen closely you can hear my hs english teacher screaming at all the run on sentences

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just-another-obsessed-fangirl · 3 years

Text

slow motion, double vision in rose blush (Renora College AU)

Summary: Ren doesn't need alcohol to know how gorgeous his best friend is or to admit to himself (kind of, sort of) that his feelings towards her aren't exactly platonic. Apparently, he just needs it if he wants to be unable to ignore those facts.

Warnings: Drinking alcohol, some suggestive thoughts

Fic under the read more or can be read on AO3 here

I wrote this for Flower Power Week, but I didn’t see that there was a rule to keep works PG-13 until I was almost finished with this fic, and I figure this fic is already inherently a bit more mature than that, so I don’t think I should use the tag or tag the blog.

Hope you enjoy!

Parties wouldn't really be considered Ren's "thing".

He much prefers the slightly-hectic-but-relatively-calm get-togethers of his friends that they manage to schedule every week or so amongst all their university classes. But it was the end of some particularly grueling midterms and everyone in their little friend group (and apparently, everyone on campus) had wanted to let loose and let wild after being cooped up with only their textbooks and their stress for so long. So that, and not enough displeasure at the plan to do anything about it, is how Ren ended up in the corner of the front room of some frat house with a red Solo cup in his hand.

He doesn't know where most of his friends have gone. Ren hasn't seen all of them in one place since basically when they first arrived and Yang had shoved shots of - Ren hasn't drunk enough alcohol in his life to know for sure, but he would assume it's whiskey - into each of their hands. He didn't have much desire to down it in one go like most of the group, would rather let its burn come in little bursts than have all of the pain all at once. By the time he had finished it, Yang had taken Blake somewhere promising to dance, Ruby heard a rumor of a ping pong table and had set off to find it with Weiss so they can challenge each other, and Jaune and Pyrrha went… somewhere. The only friend who hadn't wandered off was Nora, who immediately upon finishing her shot had started pouring ice, orange juice, and maybe a tad too much vodka into a Solo cup.

She had immediately come back to his side, expressing how much this was needed for her after midterms. Nora then starts rambling about what lengths she had gone to in order to make the information stick and the stomach aches she got from the stress and how she was shaking during her last test partly from how little sleep she had gotten in the past month from projects. At least, that's what Ren was pretty sure she was talking about. The music was so loud that he had to lean in pretty close to hear what Nora was saying, and even then he couldn't pick up half the words said. Which was a shame, because as much as people seem to believe he just ignores her, Ren does listen to everything his best friend wants to say, and he likes listening to everything she says.

Nora must've noticed how close Ren was leaning in, or his discomfort at the loud music, as she then grabs his hand and walks them somewhere else, still talking all the while. The farther they walk, the quieter the music gets, the more Ren can hear Nora. They arrive at some far-off corner and Ren is more than content to stay there and listen to Nora for the rest of the night. But then a girl dressed more like she was going to a full-out rave rather than a college party rushes up to Nora and begs her to be her partner at beer pong.

"Kobalt and Ivori are ‘too cool’ for it, and Flynt's our DD, so obviously he can't drink, and you're fun enough and I bet you'd be super good at beer pong-"

Ren can tell Nora wants to say yes, but she keeps looking at him from the corner of her eye like she doesn't want to leave him alone. If he really had heard her correctly, then she is certainly deserving of some fun right now, and it might be a little awkward standing here alone but it wouldn't be the worst thing.

"You should go," he says.

Nora turns her head fully to him. "Are you sure? You gonna be okay here all by your lonesome?"

Ren gives her a little smile. "I think I can manage."

"Great!" the girl says with a clap of her hands. "So it's settled". She grabs the cup that Nora was holding and hands it off to Ren. "Now be a good boyfriend and keep this safe for her."

Nora's face flushes, and Ren can feel that he does too. "Oh no, Neon, we're not-" but before she can continue her denial, Neon yanks her away to the beer pong table.

They're a little ways away, but they are perfectly within Ren's eyesight. He can see that they're playing against Sun and Neptune. He doesn't know them too well but he hasn't known them as anything other than friendly. Well, Jaune might disagree at least where Neptune's concerned, but it's been ages and he's since got over his crush on Weiss, so he's probably okay with him now. They start their game and on her first try, Nora lands the ball cleanly into one of the other team's cups. She jumps and pumps her fist in the air, showing off that usual bright beautiful smile in her joy that always seems to lighten up every room and flood Ren's insides with warmth.

He looks away a little, not wanting to acknowledge what that feeling really meant, even if he had finally admitted to himself that what he had felt for his best friend wasn’t exactly platonic. The admission itself is a barely-there kind of thing because no matter how much Ren would prefer it, he couldn't be in complete denial over it for the rest of time so he'll just settle for being as close to that as possible. Nora's his best friend, what they've had since they were kids - it's good. For the most part, he's completely fine with the way things are and Nora seems to also so why potentially ruin or try to change something that's practically perfect already? Before he could uncomfortably spiral into that thought process anymore, mercifully, he is interrupted. But not so mercifully, that interruption is from Nora, laughing so loud and wonderfully that Ren just plummets even deeper.

Something funny must have happened. Or maybe not. It doesn't seem to take much to send Nora into a fit of laughter. He likes that about her, that she can let joy or other emotions in so easily and that she doesn't really care about how it may look or what others might think. He's glad there isn't some insecurity that keeps Nora from laughing so often. She has such a nice laugh and Ren likes knowing she's happy and it's nice that she does it so much. And her lips are so pretty, especially when she smiles. He can't help but keep his focus on them. That is until she throws her head back, showing off the nice smooth skin of her neck. Ren then starts to wonder what it would be like to press his lips to the side of it and just how she'd react before he realizes the nature of just what exactly he's thinking.

His mouth goes dry. Without thinking, he raises Nora's cup to his lips to make it go away but it isn't until he's already swallowed and surprised himself with the hefty burn it leaves in his throat that he remembers what was in that cup. Yeah, he definitely took a much bigger sip than he should've, and there is definitely too much vodka in that. But the orange juice masks the taste of it for the most part and the ice soothes away a good amount of the burn, so it's definitely not the worst alcoholic drink Ren's ever had and might actually be one of the more pleasant ones. He takes a smaller sip of it out of a measured curiosity.

Ren's eyes drift back to Nora. If he had any sense left in him, he'd focus on anything else, keep trying to avoid feelings he doesn't want to feel and thoughts that might be inappropriate, or definitely inappropriate. But it's as if Ren's field of vision can only narrow down to just her. There are clouds of pink on the edges of what he can see, threatening to fill up the entire room, and it seems as if the only way it won't happen is if he keeps Nora right in the center, where all her movements seem to be in slow motion.

She picked a green top tonight, a color more associated with Ren more than Nora. She bears a little more skin in this top too, the two spaghetti straps unable to hide the nice, toned muscles of Nora's arms and shoulders along with her delicate collarbone. Ren had already noticed this top when everyone was on the way to the party, trying to figure out if it was new as he's pretty sure he had never seen it before. He must've been more obvious than he should've, because Pyrrha had nudged his shoulder then, giving him a coy little smile. "Green's a good color on Nora, isn't it?" Pyrrha had said, as if he hadn't already known that. Nora doesn't have a lot of green in her own wardrobe, but Ren does, and the times when she has worn the color were usually because she was wearing his clothes. She's done it often enough - stolen his sweater to fight the cold in the café while they were studying, hung his jacket from her shoulders walking around town, switched into one of his tees and sweats when she needed to crash at his dorm for one reason or another. It always feels nice seeing Nora in green, especially when it's his green. Ren would let Nora borrow his clothes any time just to see it more often.

Nora's skirt is still her signature pink, but without the usual volume or swish ability that she loves so much. No, this skirt is… tighter. It clings to the shape of her quite well, accentuating her curves very nicely. She's doing a little dance right now, and it looks like she's singing too. Nora's a really good singer when she wants to be but he can't imagine she's deciding to be that right now. She bumps her hip against Neon's and spins around, does some shimmying movement. Ren's mouth goes dry again. He's starting to feel really warm. He should look away. Nora's his best friend. He shouldn't be getting mesmerized by the movement of her hips or tracing his eyes over the muscles of her arms, or even noticing how her outfit and especially that skirt, while she’s dancing, makes certain areas of Nora more prominent and - okay Ren's taking another drink. He's taking another drink because he needs another drink, because he needs to stop ogling Nora and thinking these kinds of thoughts about her.

The burn hurts. It's a deserved punishment.

He's a little woozy right now but he still feels guilty. Nora is beautiful. She's always been beautiful. Ren has known that even before realizing he liked her in that way. But that doesn't give him or anybody else the right to objectify her like that. It's obviously not like her being gorgeous is the only thing to Nora, and neither that nor the idea of them being physical together are why Ren fell in love with her in the first place.

Love.

Well, that is… definitely true. It's definitely true but Ren doesn't think he's ever admitted that much to himself before. In fact, he knows he hasn't because emotions are uncomfortable and scary and often irrational and he doesn't like dealing with them especially when it could ruin probably the most important relationship he has. Why did he have to realize this now? Why did he have to realize this at all? This is uncomfortable. He might be panicking. He feels off balance. Ren takes another drink just so that he can distract himself from all of this but it doesn't quite work by the time he's finished off the rest of it.

There's nothing of this too-much-vodka concoction left and it is immediately apparent to Ren that that was not his brightest idea. He doesn't really drink too much, even at social gatherings. Their friends usually appoint him the designated driver, and he doesn't mind. If he does drink, he'll usually stop by the time he feels a hint of a buzz. This was… more than a hint. He's more off-balance than before, the room sways a little more and he thinks it's grown even pinker. His head feels cloudy. And this is the longest a burn has stayed in his throat. And he is so warm. Ren leans his back against the wall for some stability.

His eyes come back to Nora because if Ren couldn't stop it before, he can't stop it now. She's still there, being beautiful and charming and full of life, laughing with the people around her, and of course Ren is in love with her, how could he ever try to deny that fact. Neptune comes up to her, leans in kind of close to say something. Ren doesn't like that, or the way he's looking at Nora. Maybe Jaune was right about him. Maybe the problem with Neptune is that he's too friendly. Neptune points his thumb somewhere and - wait, is he pointing at him? He must have because Nora immediately turns her head and catches Ren's eye. There's some expression on her face and she immediately sets off in his direction.

There's something in Ren that tells him to act casual and he raises the cup to his lips one more time but is immediately reminded of the fact that there's nothing left in it so he figures he just looks stupid.

"Hey," Nora says as she stops in front of him. "You okay?"

Ren looks up from his empty cup and pushes himself off the wall. He probably used a lot more force than he should've and stumbles a bit, which Nora remedies by putting her hands on his shoulders. She laughs a little, and he can't help but feel even warmer.

"Guess that answers my question," Nora giggles some more.

"I'm fine," Ren says. He is very aware of how her fingers are splayed out on his shoulders, the pressure she's putting that's just enough to still him. It keeps him calm, but also doesn't, and his heart is beating so hard she must feel it where her hands are.

Her eyes scan over his face. "I've never seen your face so red." Ren's sure it only gets redder then. "How much have you had to drink?"

He wordlessly brings his attention back to the empty cup in his hand, which Nora follows. "You drank all of it?" she points at the cup, her eyes widening. "Ren, I put a lot of vodka in that!"

Ren blinks a couple times, having to more manually process what Nora said while he was trying not to stare at her mouth. "I can tell," he says, maybe a couple of seconds too late.

Nora raises an eyebrow. It's another cute look on her. "You don't really drink that much. There a reason why now?"

There's genuine concern in her voice when she asks that question, and it's so sweet and Ren's heart beats a little faster and he wants to take that concern away from her. But he doesn't think answering that question truthfully is going to help that. Ren's pretty sure the best-case scenario of saying 'you're pretty and I love you' to Nora is causing her confusion to the point of distortion.

"I was… thirsty." And that's really about as close to the truth as he can get. Ren shakes his head, but not too hard because the room is moving too much already and… ouch. "I'm sure you've had more tonight," nodding towards the beer pong table. She must've, shouldn't she? Is it just his alcohol-addled mind or does Nora not seem any bit of drunk at all?

She scoffs. "Maybe not. Sun really doesn't like putting too much beer in those cups. Besides, that's beer, not hard liquor. And I'm more experienced with it than you, so it takes a bit more to get me down. I've had more practice."

Nora shoots him a cheeky grin, a little closer to his face than she was before. She leaned in a bit when she was talking, migrated her hands closer to the base of his neck. It's nothing new. Nora being so physically affectionate is one of her trademark qualities. And Ren's happy to let her do that to him at any time, but he knows he generally seems unresponsive to it. But what if he responds to it now? He's not going to, he's absolutely not going to, but it's easier to fall into that daydream than usual. Ren could wrap his hands around Nora's waist, lean into this little space between them to ultimately close it. He could press his lips to that grin on her face, and Nora would be a little surprised, but in no time at all, she'd be kissing him back. She'd wrap her arms a little easier around his neck and she could press herself a little more against him, the idea of having any distance left between them as unappealing to Nora as it is to Ren.

"Uhh, Ren?"

He falls out of the daydream. "Oh! Ah… umm… huh?" She hasn't been saying anything. Ren has been very focused on Nora's mouth for the past couple of minutes, so much that he had missed the blush on her face. He must've missed something happening. Did he say something? The thought of that mortifies him to no end.

He might've been emoting his thought process on his face because Nora chuckles. "Yeah. That's definitely more alcohol than you're used to." She grabs his hand and leads him over to a couch nearby. Nora lightly pushes him down next to the armrest. "You stay right here," she says firmly, but full of fondness. "I'm gonna get you some water. And I probably need some too." Nora pats his cheek a little, brushes it with her thumb. Ren almost leans into it but she pulls away too soon.

Nora turns around and goes in search of some water, and characteristically of him tonight, Ren can't help but keep her eyes on her, until he's forced to because there are too many people in that direction. He sighs, sinking into the cushions as he closes his eyes, feeling the warmth bloom in his chest. She's just so caring. Nora is just so caring and she loves people so much. And she's not afraid to give away all that love and care, to allow people to really see that that's what she feels for them, does it without a second thought. That's one of the big things, Ren thinks. That's got to be at least one of the big reasons why he fell in love with Nora.

She comes back to him with two large water bottles in her hands. Nora tucks one under her arm in order to open the other, which she gives to him. Ren takes it and continues watching Nora as she settles right next to him, sitting down then kicking her legs up onto the couch. She leans back into the cushions and shifts herself more towards him, letting her head rest closer to his shoulder. Nora moves her head a bit to drink some water and then it actually touches his shoulder. Ren loves her so much. Moments like these are so small, and it's not like they don't happen between them very much. But maybe one day Ren will be brave enough to let them happen a lot more often, and those moments will have a slightly different meaning between the two of them than it does now.

She looks so pretty in this light. Nora looks pretty in any light.

Nora catches his eye again. She pushes her hand up beneath the water bottle Ren had forgotten that he was holding. "Drink up."

And who is Ren to refuse her? He starts to sip his first non-alcoholic drink of the night and already his head is starting to feel less like it's filled with cotton. He drinks until the room feels still again, until everything stops looking like it's in slow motion, until there's no more pink clouds on the edges of his vision. Before he knows it, Ren's finished the whole bottle and his throat feels the best it's been all night.

Despite the lack of pink clouds and an apparent increase in sobriety, Ren still keeps looking at Nora. She's giggling now. He doesn't know what exactly is so funny but that doesn't really matter.

"Feel better now?" She asks. He nods because he doesn't know just what he'll admit to her right now if he allows himself to speak. "Great. I'm glad they set out those really big water bottles. That really saved me another trip. And you probably didn't drink enough that you'd need ibuprofen or something. I would've said to take some just in case, but I'm not sure what taking meds when something isn't really wrong with you could do to you. I think you should be fine now. Don't think you'll wake up in the morning with a hangover."

Ren just keeps looking at Nora, without a word. He doesn't need them right now. He doesn't think he needs to do anything else besides look at Nora and hear her talk for the rest of time.

But something must be wrong because Nora turns her head away a little, shrinking a bit into herself. "Are you mad at me?"

That surprises him. "No," that is very much not what he was feeling towards Nora right now. "Why would you think that?"

She heaves out a heavy sigh. "Neptune said you were staring at me the whole time we were playing." Ren's heart stops a little. Nora keeps shrinking down and her voice feels smaller. "I don't know- I just figured you might be angry at me for leaving you alone at a place I know you'd rather not be."

Ren straightens up, shifts fully towards her so she can more easily believe what he's about to say. "I told you to go," maybe he's leaning more forward than he usually would, makes more direct eye contact with Nora. "And being here isn't too bad. I just- uh- I uh-" He puts his head down a little, taking some time to find the right words. How does Ren explain the staring? That he just loves the way she exists and who she is and she deserves good times and it's nice when she gets them?

"You were having fun," Ren brings himself to look back at her, says these words in all earnest. "I like when you have fun."

That takes her back a little. Nora's eyes widen but her face softens. For one terrifying but almost hopeful moment, Ren thinks she might've understood what he really meant underneath those words. She smiles and brings her hand up to his face. She uses a couple fingers to sweep his bangs to the side. Ren's eyes almost close at the contact.

"You're so sweet," Nora says, almost like she's in disbelief. "You wanna go back home? I can walk you back."

"Are you sure?" That does sound like a good idea to Ren, but he doesn't want to take Nora away from something she enjoys just for him. "I'm honestly fine here. I know you were really stressed, I don't mind if you wanna unwind a little more."

Nora smiles a little wider. "I think I've had a good amount of unwinding here already. If I stay here any longer and leave you unattended, who knows how many more screwdrivers you'll drink." She moves her hand from his forehead down to his cheek. "And you need to get home safe. For the most part, you seem all right now, but I just… I need to make sure."

Ren leans into the hand Nora has on his cheek. It's a bit more than he'd usually do, but it feels right. "Alright then."

"Can I crash at yours' too?" she asks. Ren chuckles a little at that, because when has Nora ever needed to ask that.

"Of course." And then some daydream starts again. They get back to his single dorm and it'll be just like the other times Nora's slept over there. She'll switch tonight's outfit out for some of Ren's pajamas and she'll look just as good, if not better to Ren. They'll lay down and fall asleep in his bed, and that's all they'll do tonight. And then the morning comes and there's no trace of alcohol in their systems and everything's in the clear, and Ren will kiss her, soft and sweet. Nora will kiss him back because she has wanted this just as much as he has. He'll keep a hand on her cheek and maybe she'll tangle her fingers in his hair. Then maybe they end up never leaving the dorm that day, or even the bed. They'll talk, of course. They'll say what needs to be said, about their feelings and anything else. It's decided between them that Nora can sleep at his dorm a lot more often. And when she does, they don't need to struggle as much to fit together on this twin size XL bed, because Ren can wrap himself around her and they can let their legs get tangled together. He can wake up and bury his head into the hollow of Nora's shoulder and just breathe her in. The next time they see their friends, Ren and Nora won't act all that much different, but it won't take long before they realize something's up. They'll get it out of them, and they'll be happy, and then they'll be mercilessly teased because how did it take you two this long? Ren will get a bit embarrassed, but Nora will take it in stride. She'll kiss the blush on his face, and he'll just blush harder, and she'll laugh a little until he does too.

But Nora in this reality grabs his hand and forces him to stand. He doesn't know if it's just how much he was in that daydream or if he's still a little buzzed from the alcohol, but it's a little disorienting as he makes movements.

Before he knows it, they're out the front door and into the cold night air. It's a little windy out. Ren wishes he had a jacket to give to Nora.

They walk at a leisurely pace in the direction of his dorm. Their hands are still intertwined, their arms swinging in between them. They don't speak, not uncommon at all for Ren but a little surprising from Nora. Ren might've wondered at this if we weren’t lost in his own thoughts.

How close is that daydream to reality? How close could that daydream be to becoming reality? Is it just Ren or are there enough pieces in place for that to happen? All this time he's been worried about losing their friendship, what they already have. But what kind of future could they have? What could they gain? Is all that Ren really needs to do is get over himself?

Maybe he's still not in his right mind. It certainly can't be that easy. But he can recall a few times when he's caught Nora looking at him. And maybe some of the comments she's passed off as jokes had more truth to them than she lets on.

Everything about this still feels scary, but not as scary as it was before. He is at least very lucky to fall in love with such an incredible, amazing woman who's already his best friend. He doesn't know what will happen, but he does know what could. And yes, that may include losing the person closest to him. But as devastating as that is, there's another possibility that is at least that amount of wonderful.

He peers at Nora from the corner of his eye. She's tucking some hair behind her ear to keep it from flapping in the breeze. Her hand is so warm in his.

Ren's not going to do anything like confess to her tonight. Or the next morning. But looking at Nora, and holding her hand, and thinking about the good possibilities - he thinks he's starting to build up the courage.

#renora #nora valkyrie #lie ren #rwby #my fics #I FINISHED WRITING A FIC FOR THE FIRST TIME IN ALMOST 3 YEARS #I LOVE THIS SHIP SO MUCH #i finally did my all lowercase tswift lyric title fic for this ship #fanfiction

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tinyjeanmarco · 3 years

Text

grisha relationship hc’s!

note: hi, this might barely get any reads, but i really love grisha, okay? enter the dilfverse with me. this is set in modern day! it also turned out SUPER long, so please enjoy! ♡

grisha x gn!reader

warnings: none.

you met grisha on a dating site. yes, that’s right, you met him online.

he’s a hot doctor and he seemed like a very sweet man from what you read on his profile, so after matching with him, you began to chat.

you quickly found out that he had two sons, one that was in his twenties, and one that was seventeen. zeke and eren.

he was worried that would be an issue for you, as it was for people in the past.

you quickly reassured him that you did not mind whatsoever.

when he took you out on dates, they would always be to some really fancy restaurants, because, as a doctor, he could afford it. he just loves treating you when he gets the chance.

he would never let you pay for dinner, he always would insist on being the one to cover the bill.

eventually, you two made it official and started going steady, much to his son eren’s displeasure.

you two had no idea what eren’s deal was with you. sure you were much younger than grisha, but that shouldn’t be a reason for eren to hate you.

you had met zeke a few times before, and he was pretty chill with you, he understood that you and his father really liked each other, so he made an effort to get to know you.

but no one had any idea what eren’s deal was.

grisha speculated that perhaps it was that he wasn’t ready to move on from his mom after she passed.

you had actually witnessed many occasions where eren would argue with his dad about how he didn’t like you and didn’t think it was a good idea to start dating you.

it hurt your feelings, but you never really said anything because you knew it was hard on eren and you didn’t want to say anything to grisha to drive him and his son farther apart.

eventually, eren accepted the changes, and while he was still unhappy, he conveyed it quietly instead of bursting out angrily.

he would rarely talk to you, and this didn’t change once grisha asked you to move in.

most days where you were at the house, were pretty lonely, even with eren there. grisha would be at work, you would have a day off, and when eren got home from school, he would grab a snack and retreat to his room.

he didn’t say hi to you, just gave you a wave and dismissed your presence.

you decided it would be good to bring up to him one night when you two were settling down for bed. he was livid, wanting to go talk to eren right that moment, but you grabbed him by the arm, keeping him in the bed with you.

you explained how you didn’t want to upset the relationship between the two. grisha was honestly upset about the whole thing and just decided to apologize and hold you extra close that night.

promises he will sit down with eren that weekend and talk to him about it and try to get him to be nicer to you and accept you as his new parental figure, because he wants to spend his future with you.

that saturday, you wake up and eren greets you which is already weird. he tells you his dad is at work, so it’s just you two. you nod and head to make your morning coffee.

eren confronts you and asks if he can talk to you. when you agree, he tells you his issue the whole time.

he thought his dad was trying to replace his mom with some new partner, he just thought it was too soon, but didn’t realize how selfish he was to everyone else involved.

he never took into account that his dad was ready to be happy again, and that he wouldn’t just forget his last partner.

you hug eren (which you have never done before) and he apologizes again, saying he wants to get to know you since you’ll be a big part of his life.

you decide to take him to the arcade that day, just the two of you, so you could spent quality time together.

grisha gets home before both of you, and is honestly super surprised, but very excited to see you two talking and laughing, getting along when you guys get home as well.

grisha suggests going out to dinner that night as a treat for both of you, and that way you can all three spend time together as a family.

eren readily agrees, and so do you. that night was a blast, filled with lighthearted laughter and full hearts.

enough of the backstory with how you and grisha got together!

grisha was super confident and flirty when you first started dating. he would be pulling out those compliments all the time, making you feel wonderful.

kissing grisha was one of the best pastimes. he was so good at kissing since he had a lot of experience. it comes with age.

he would cradle your face in his hands as he kisses you, being so gentle and making sure you felt loved.

whew, making out with this man? it would be steamy as all heck. he would love to have you perched on his lap when you two make out, his hands on your hips.

he likes to press kisses to your jaw in passing. kinda like a kiss on the cheek, but on the jaw.

this man knows what makes you tick and will do his best to make you weak in the knees.

he loves to have a hand on your waist or hip when you’re together.

he also loves to have a hand on your thigh, too. he especially does it when he’s driving. he’ll reach over and rest his hand on your thigh, rubbing circles in with his thumb.

i think instead of holding hands, he will prefer to have you around his arm. sure, he will still hold your hand, but he enjoys the feel of your hands/arms wrapped around his bicep.

he also loves carrying you or giving you piggyback rides.

he’s really good at cooking, but since he tends to be really busy with work, he doesn’t get around to doing it often.

when he does though? you’re in for a treat.

grisha really loves your cooking though and gets overjoyed when he comes home from work to see you made something for dinner.

ohhh grisha is the type who would be so into family movie nights or family game nights.

movie nights would be on fridays. they also typically included armin and mikasa, eren’s best friends, because they would spend the night.

game nights would be on sunday because grisha wants to invite zeke as well to join them in their game adventures.

grisha’s favorite moments are some of the ones where it’s only you two at the house, because you can both lounge around in your underwear and spend the day cuddling.

it doesn’t happen often with him being a doctor and all along with eren usually being home with friends over.

whenever eren is over at armin’s house or mikasa’s house for the weekend though? saturday mornings are spent making breakfast in very few clothes.

cuddles with grisha are the best, because he’ll just have you tucked under his arm with your arms around his middle.

he loves to press kisses to the top of your head when you’re cuddling as well.

when he’s feeling really stressed, he likes to eat sweet things, so you tend to bake him cookies.

he also likes when you hold him close and run your fingers through his hair when he’s stressed. it relaxes him and helps him fall asleep when he is unable to.

grisha’s favorite position to sleep in is with you snuggled into his side, head on his chest.

grisha definitely is one of those guys who would sleep in the nude. he’s just comfy with his body and sees no importance to put on clothes to just sleep.

if you’re not comfortable with that though, he respects you and will put on clothes. i definitely think it takes a while for him to warm up to that point anyways.

overall, grisha is totally a family man, he loves you so much, and he really loves his family.

he wants you to become part of it and enjoy his children.

oh my god, i see him as a grill dad. he will so grill for your little family whenever he gets the opportunity to. it’s just so fun for him.

makes dad jokes all the time, they’re pretty awful and make you question why you love him.

when you express that to him, he pouts and pretends to cry until you kiss him.

AHH grisha would love to impromptu slow dance with you in the kitchen or living room when you guys have music playing.

he would have a collection of records and a nice vintage record player, so you guys would almost always have some tunes playing in your house.

eren would walk in on you guys dancing, maybe sharing slow kisses, and he would pretend to throw up before grabbing a can of pop and slipping back into his room.

teenagers, amirite?

grisha is such a good boyfriend and would be an even better husband! (i will make separate headcanons in the future for being married to him!) grisha will give his entire heart to you, so treat him with much love, please. ♡

#grisha x reader #grisha yeager x reader #grisha jaeger x reader #grisha jaeger dilfverse #grisha headcanons

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Note

What do you think kenma and akaashi from haikyuu!! would be like sharing a darling? They both seem quiet but dangerous

I went ahead and made this more of an Akaashi/Bokuto/Kuroo/Kenma piece, if only because I have so many feelings on those four and so few opportunities to write for them. It’s nice to see two Possessives desperately try to act like they couldn’t care less about their precious little Darling, too, even if they’re still trying their best.

Title: Kennel.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Imprisonment, Verbal Degradation, and Claustrophobia.

In your defense, you never thought they’d actually use the kennel.

It’d been a looming threat since you first moved in. A large, barred cage with chipped paint and clean, white padding over the bottom bars, separating whatever poor creature forced inside of it from a back-ache any more painful than it had to be. It’d been tucked in the corner of your bedroom, and when prompted, Kozume only shrugged and informed you that they’d had an unruly mutt before you came around, whereas Akaashi tilted his head to the side and asked if you really wanted to know. He was right, of course, you hadn’t. You’d stopped pushing the topic, after that, resolving to lay a blanket over the top of the beat-up contraption and try your best to forget about it.

Looking back on it, you probably should’ve persisted. You should’ve made them throw it away back when your relationship was still mutually beneficial, or gotten rid of it yourself and dealt with the consequences as they arose. The punishment wouldn’t have been any better, but it would’ve been less cramped, less restrictive, and you were sure it wouldn’t last so long. Tight knots of something sharp and heavy were already tying themselves in your shoulder blades, your thighs, anywhere and everywhere they found space to settle. With your legs folded underneath you, your arms bent at odd angles and your head twisted just enough to test the flexibility of your neck, there wasn’t much you could do to move or relieve your claustrophobia, there wasn’t much you could do at all. The deadbolt on the kennel’s latch prevented you from letting yourself out, but you could think of a dozen better ways to hold yourself, a dozen more embarrassing positions that would’ve been so, so less painful. Still, two pairs of eyes held you in place with more suffocating weight than a kennel could ever hope to achieve.

Kozume’s gaze was curious. He hadn’t been the one to suggest this form of discipline, and yet, he looked at you with all the prying, inquisitive awe of a child seeing some strange, wondrous animal for the first time. Unlike Akaashi, who was currently pacing through the living room, fussing about how long your punishment would last and what you’d need when you came out, Kozume was content to sit at the side of your cage and stick his fingers through the thin, rectangular openings, probing at your cheek and attempting to goat you into biting at his hand or nuzzling against him, trying to force you into giving-in to his sterile affection or give him an excuse to make things much, much worse. Neutrality was the smartest option, albeit not your favored one.

Unfortunately, drawing blood was what got you into this situation. You weren’t eager to try something so short-sighted again.

“Here, kitty,” He mumbled, softly, his tone almost light enough to make the request seem like a joke. A quick glance to his expression proved you wrong, though, his face all straightened lines and unwavering concentration. His seriousness was only furthered confirmed by the small huff he let out when you failed to comply, unsurprised but no less disappointed. As if he was the one who’d been shoved in a kennel and cooed over like a prized pet. “Akaashi,” He called, the name nearly stretching into a whine. “They’re not playing along. Can we try something else?”

“It’s been less than an hour,” Akaashi replied, coming to a stop in front of your crate. Only his feet were visible, at first, but he didn’t take long to kneel, one hand pushing his glasses back into place while the other held a bundle of tissues to his cheek, covering the three open, bleeding scratch-marks stretching from his cheekbone to his jaw. If you checked, you’d probably see that there was still blood under your finger-nails, that there were still bruises on your wrists and forearms from how roughly he saw fit to restrain you, but you kept yourself from checking. He was less open about his satisfaction than Kozume, but that didn’t mean his joy was nonexistent. It only meant he was better at concealing it. “It’s not supposed to be fun, for you or (Y/n). We can’t let them off the hook because you’ve lost interest.”

“I’m not saying we stop, I’m saying we try something different.” It was a grim clarification, but Akaashi wasn’t caught off-guard, pursing his lips and raising an eyebrow, letting Kozume sigh and look away on his own. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t enjoy it. We’ll use a collar, keep the theme and everything. You can’t tell me that won’t be fun.”

“That’s not what I said.” You shied back, opting to take shelter in the farthest corner from either man. Akaashi didn’t sound angry, but it might’ve been better if he did, it might’ve made sense. Instead, you were left to gather what you could from his thin scowl, his narrowed gaze, his aggressive passivity to Kozume’s suggestions. He hardly spared you a glance before continuing, his tone never changing. It almost seemed worse than his companion’s inquisitive boredom. “Bokuto doesn’t like it when we leave marks, and he’ll be back by tomorrow. Kuroo will be mad, too, if we do anything before he comes back.”

Kozume didn’t respond to that, only dragging his knees up to his chest and glaring, a gesture Akaashi readily returned. It was how the two argued, once they decided they wouldn’t be able to come to a compromise. A wordless dispute, unlike the violent fits their counterparts were capable of, and more often than not, it only took a second or two to come to an end. This time, Akaashi seemed to be the victor, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as Kozume turned away, swatting at the side of your crate in displaced frustration. “You know we have to do something,” He went on, choosing to gloss over his defeat. “Shoving someone into time out isn’t going to teach them a lesson. You’re the one that got hurt, you should be mad.”

It might’ve been the way Kozume’s voice threatened to rise, the thoughtful glance Akaashi threw in your direction, the fact that you were in a cage and neither of them seemed to think it was ‘that bad’ - something. Panic flared in your chest, and suddenly, your fingers were clenched around the sleek, black bars, your mouth opening before you could think of that to say. “No,” You spat, hastily. “Please, this is bad enough, I’m not going to try anything--”

“Quiet, kitty.”

Your voice faltered, not because of the words themselves, but because they’d come from Akaashi’s tongue. Any traces of his contentment were gone in an instant, replaced with something displeased, something malicious. You moved to apologize, but Kozume was faster, following Akaashi’s lead. “We didn’t tell you to speak,” He snapped, the venom in his voice making up for whatever Akaashi lacked. “What’s your problem? Are you violent and disobedient? Or, are you too stupid to follow our commands-”

“No one asked for your opinion either, Kenma,” Akaashi added, silencing both you and his companion. Kozume crossed his arms, but he didn’t argue, allowing Akaashi to shake his head and sigh to his heart’s contentment, his refocused gaze soon centering on you, once he was done with his show of displeasure. “I don’t want to be angry, but it’s clear we haven’t been training (Y/n) as attentively as we should be. A crate isn’t going to make them any more respectful.” He paused, briefly, his scowl softening before disappearing completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to be thankful for the change, though.

Not when you were so abruptly aware of how much you loathed his smile.

“We might need to show our lovely, lovely pet what happens when it decides it doesn’t need our rules.”

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good-rwbyaus · 3 years

Text

Unnamed Crack Time Travel Fic. Part 3 [first] [prev]

After Salem united all four relics, the gods descended and judged Humanity to be unworthy, obliterating all. Ruby desperately activates her Semblance to avoid the blow and, as a result, becomes only one of two people remaining in Remnant. Months later, the two employ a plan to travel back through time.

Chronic!Backstabber!Syndrome!Cinder, DoneWithEverything!Ruby, transcended!Ruby, crack time travel AU. - mod lilac

p.s this thing seriously needs a name.

Everything had been a blur after Ruby laid eyes on her Mom, her Mom that had been dead for a good part of her life suddenly here in the flesh. She was so out of it that she completely missed the part where Cinder convinced her Mom and the rest of her company to go back home - and that she’d take her to Patch for a check-up with a doctor.

How Cinder knew her Mom, Ruby didn’t know. Why her Mom trusted Cinder to any degree was also something that eluded her. Nothing was right in this universe - nothing at all.

After Ruby was absolutely sure that the rest of them were out of earshot, she turned around and hissed at Cinder, “What did you do?!”

“What do you mean?” Cinder tilted her head, confused and appearing slightly hurt, “Are you okay, Ruby? I know it can be a bit confusing when you have amnesia, but trust me when I say that I have your best interests at heart.”

Ruby paused at the concerned expression on Cinder’s face before shaking her head, “No. Sorry. I’m fine.” She turned around to face the forest path leading to Patch - and missed the bright ecstatic grin on Cinder’s face as she manifested a glass knife into her hands.

Cinder lifted up the knife silently. And with a single motion, she mercilessly stabbed down at her young charge’s back. Happiness lit Cinder’s eyes as the blade encountered no resistance - but she quickly paled as she noticed that she did not draw blood but a flurry of petals instead. The girl she just attacked just turned her head with a mildly annoyed look.

And then everything went topsy-turvy to Cinder as she was buffeted away by a gale of red petals.

“Best interests at heart, my cute ass!” Ruby crowed at Cinder triumphantly, “I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist stabbing me in the back.”

Letting out a small pout, Cinder could only dematerialize her dagger in defeat. Her best shot after two years of planning and she blew it. “I can’t help it. It’s a nice back.”

Ruby rolled her eyes at Cinder’s reply. “Does stabbing people in the back really make you that happy? Can’t you try...to like not?”

“Yes it does,” she affirmed before shrugging, “As for your other question....why mess with what works?”

“Ugh. There’s no reasoning with you,” Ruby clicked her tongue, “Also, not that I’m complaining, but why’s my mom alive? And why does she trust you so much?”

“Well, that’s because I saved her life,” Cinder responded smugly, theatrically shifting her weight on the balls and heels of her feet and not giving any more information past that.

“...And how’d you do that?” Ruby had no choice but to play along.

“Oh you know. Salem bragged about how your mom was the prototype for those talking Grimm, so I asked how long ago she’d been experimenting. Put two-and-two together and knowing where Salem would be at that time, I managed to save your mom from certain death,” Cinder smugly said, tilting her nose high.

A moment of silence fell between them.

“...Thanks,” Ruby said with a soft smile, “I mean it.”

“And then when she was all grateful and saw me having Emerald and Mercury around, I told her that I always wanted to be a godmother,” Cinder continued proudly, “And she made me your godmother. And now I’m in charge of you brats’ training.”

“Wait. Why did you want to be a godm-” Ruby paused for a moment, eyes widening in disbelief. She stared dully at Cinder. “Did you seriously save my mom just so you could stab me in the back and call it training?”

“Nooooo...” Cinder said before crumpling under Ruby’s dubious gaze, “...yeessss?”

Ruby just facepalmed at the admission and groaned in frustration. The sky reacted to her displeasure, fluffy white clouds turning into a sinister gray. The faint rumble of thunder reminded Cinder that the small twelve-year old girl in front of her was still Remnant’s goddess, even if the events that led her there hadn’t quite happened yet.

“So...” Cinder hummed as she changed the subject, “you gonna go smite Salem right now or you gonna pretend to be a harmless 12 year old kid?”

“Well I was going to run away from home and look for Salem,” Ruby admitted, “Not that I can permanently destroy her with the power I currently have but I’d get some satisfaction beating her up after all the crap she’s put me through.” She rested her hands against the back of her head, “But you know, since you did save my mom, I would like to be a normal 12 year old kid for a while.”

“What?” Cinder said in surprise, “I thought you’d be all gung-ho about saving the world as fast as possible. You know, being the hero.”

“Eh, your perspective changes when the entire world starts hunting you and your team for a promise the Queen of All Grimm would never keep. And in the end, didn’t she destroy the world?” Ruby rolled her eyes, “I’ll save the world eventually, but it’s not them I’m doing it for. Besides with me around, no one’s gonna be able to hurt my friends and family.”

“Do I count as friends and family?”

“...Did you murder anyone you weren’t supposed to?”

“I murdered my abusive stepmother and stepsisters again. Which was just as satisfying as before, might I add. And I definitely remembered that I didn’t have my Maiden Powers while I was at it too,” Cinder lifted three fingers as she recalled, “And I st-”

“That’s suspiciously specific,” Ruby squinted her eyes.

“-abbed Rhodes just to say hi. And afterwards, I pi-”

“Who the heck is Rhodes?”

“-cked up the kids and hung around Solitas and Atlas. Pretended to be a researcher for a while and stole all of Watt’s future ideas and reported them as mine.”

“How’d you do that?”

“He was pretty whiny back then about how Ironwood ignored his genius. And very vocal about his ideas and why they were so genius, so I just “beat him” to his ideas.”

“So you stabbed him in the back for something he’ll do in the future?”

“Mad about it?” Cinder rose an eyebrow.

“After what he did to Penny. Not really,” Ruby laughed, “I’m just surprised you didn’t literally stab him in the back too.”

Cinder harumphed.

“I’m not stupid. Stabbing Watts in the heart of Atlas? Even with Emerald, I won’t be able to get away. Besides... I can’t get enough of that smarmy idiot being frustrated that a woman half his age is besting him in brains.”

“Because you’re stealing his ideas.”

“Well, maybe he should’ve been smart enough to prepare for the eventuality that someone would go back in time and screw him over,” Cinder said smugly.

Ruby shook her head as she was once again reminded that she was not going to beat Cinder in shamelessness.

“Any other changes?”

“Not really. I went to Vale. Saved your mom by making Salem have the mother of all temper tantrums. And then you regained your memory by getting hit in the face by Mercury’s boot. Nothing else really.”

“Glad you didn’t change that much then,” Ruby said as she let a breath of relief, pulling out her Scroll.

“Screwing over Watts took up a lot of my time. And then saving your mother. And then screwing over Watts,” Cinder said, “And still failing to properly stab you in the back.”

Ruby blinked as she looked over her Scroll.

“...Cinder?”

“Yeah?”

Ruby held the Scroll so that Cinder could see it. A video with the headline “The Grimm vs SDC: Theories as to why the Grimm are specifically targeting the company” is seen.

“This counts as nothing else?!” Ruby deadpanned.

#cinder fall #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #mod lilac #rwby #rwby fic #rwby au

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notchesandbullets · 3 years

Text

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Part 3: Reuniting with Ojiro, protective Sero and Shoji, Aizawa’s temporary guardianship, Koda’s adorable rabbit and naptime.

Word Count: 4.8k

Pelting towards him at full speed, you saw him drop his books just so he could catch you in his arms. You giggled as he wound his tail back in its familiar place around your middle once he drew back and nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his scent deeply.

A content growl rumbled from the back of your throat as you scented him.

He chuckled, ruffling your hair. "Y/N-chan, you're back!!"

A huge smile broke out on your face as one rivaling your happiness stretched across his and you hopped up and down once you broke apart from him.

Your eyes shone brilliantly with a light that put the stars to shame.

"Ojiro-san, everyone's been so nice and friendly to me!!" You waved your hands around wildly to convey to him your experience. "I met Tsu-chan and we were all in Yaoyorozu-san's room and Hagakure-san painted my nails, see?! And then Sato-san made a cake and it was so good!! I had no idea that things could be so fun and—"

You stopped dancing and lowered your arms when you saw the soft expression adorning his features. Despite his arms being crossed over his chest, he didn't seem closed off to you. It was more like he was observing something he really liked from far away.

Padding towards him, your head cocked to the side, furry ears twitching curiously. "Ojiro-san?"

"I'm really happy for you, Y/N-chan." Ojiro murmured breathlessly.

His confession had your heart thumping wildly in your chest. And in a much more intense way than you experienced with Sato and the girls.

Your breath caught in your throat and you swallowed thickly, growing shy in a way that the attentive observers scattered across the room didn't miss.

"Ooooo someone's got a crush." Kaminari teased from the sofa and you blushed.

Ojiro frowned at the uncomfortable spot you had been put in and subtly shook his head at the electric boy. But his heart skipped a beat when you didn't deny it and his gaze flickered back to you.

Your whole face had turned bright red and you were unable to look at him, mouth opening and closing, at a complete loss for words.

His tail snaked around your waist, tugging you closer until he could embrace you.

"It's okay." He whispered so only you could hear him. "Whether it's true or not, don't worry. I won't be scared off."

You sighed in relief but the tender moment was broken when someone wedged their way between the two of you.

Ojiro narrowed his eyes at the purple head in suspicion.

Mineta introduced himself, salivating at the mouth in a way that made you want to crawl someplace safe.

You curled into Ojiro's chest, wanting to hide your face but not wanting to seem rude. So you introduced yourself to him, suppressing the urge to snarl when his gaze didn't leave your chest.

Then, he was gone.

"Resident pervert." Sero warned you, the ball of tape by his side struggling on the floor from where he had tied him up.

He had come down for dinner but when he saw Mineta bothering you, he didn't hesitate to shoot his tape to bind him in it.

You blinked. Somehow when you weren't looking, Shoji had come to stand in front of you, acting like a shield with his duplicate arms stretched out.

"T-Thank you," You faced the two of them wide-eyed at what just happened. "Both of you. I-I didn't know what to say."

"Don't worry." Shoji said, gesturing towards the barely recognizing Mineta. "He's learning to respect women but in the meantime, this is the best solution."

Sero nodded his head in agreement, tugging the ball of protesting tape along the floor as he flashed you a thumbs up. "As long as you have Ojiro with you, you'll be just fine!!"

The two strolled away and everyone else resumed their studies.

The displeasure creasing Ojiro's features didn't leave and you lifted your hand, smoothing them out and poking his cheek up into a smile.

"It's true I don't know a lot about people, I know I can be naïve," You admitted quietly so that only he could hear. "Are you mad at me?"

He looked at you, shocked you would even think that. He was quick to reassure you. "No, no, of course not."

The tension disappeared and you exhaled shakily.

Taking your hand, he squeezed it once. "Let's go upstairs, I got you something."

At that, your ears immediately perked up and your tail began wagging furiously.

"What is it?!" You exclaimed, running around him only to be halted by where your hands were joined together. "I want to see!!"

Ojiro swore he heard Sato chuckle at your energy from the kitchen.

A disinterested tone floated from the doorway. "Before you do that—"

You paused mid-skip and would've gone crashing into the door that had just opened once more if it wasn't for Ojiro's quick thinking. He brought his tail up and you ran into it with an 'oof' as it slammed into your chest, knocking the wind out of you but successfully catching you in time.

"Take a look at this first and tell me what you think." Aizawa finished, holding something up.

Arms draped over Ojiro's tail from where he had caught you, you smiled sheepishly as he shook his head at your antics, lowering you so that your feet were planted firmly on the ground.

Aizawa held out a single sheet of paper and you took it, scanning over it relatively quickly.

"A guardian?" You inquired with a tilt of your head.

He nodded, hands stuffed in the front of his pockets as he leaned against the frame of the door. "For legal reasons. This will allow you to do as you please as well as enroll in UA."

You flipped it over and then back again, confusion clear as day on your face.

"I don't understand. Why are you asking me?"

According to the contract, all he needed to do was sign it. It didn't make sense to you why he would let you know ahead of time. You weren't used to such consideration.

Pushing off of his post, he strode over to where you were. If you didn't already know that he was a softie underneath that unapproachable front, you would've been scared as he towered over you.

"Because it involves you." He scoffed lightly. "Your guardian will be me until you find another home if that's what you want. This is a binding agreement that'll secure your safety for now. If you agree then I'll sign it but if not then you'll have to leave here until Principal Nezu and All Might can call in a few more favors."

Your jaw dropped at the mention of the number one hero. "All Might?!"

Aizawa looked like he got this reaction all the time from people so you shut your mouth and cleared your throat.

"What does it do to you?" You asked meekly, wondering what he would be getting into if he signed the contract.

"Do?" He raised an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders. "It makes me responsible for you, that's all."

"... I," You gulped. "I-I..."

You couldn't bring yourself to say it no matter how hard you tried.

Ojiro watched you visibly struggle with it and wanted to go to you but Shoji's hand on his shoulder prevented him from doing so. Instead, he was forced to shift his books in his arms, his backpack unusually heavy as he waited for the silence to be resolved.

Aizawa noticed your conflicted emotions. You were more concerned with how this would affect him rather than you. To think of his feelings first before your own made a flicker of admiration shoot through him.

You sure had potential.

You let out a small squeak when he rested his hand on your head, blinking up at him with big eyes.

"You're not tying me down, kid."

He called you out on exactly what you were worried about.

"So stop thinking you're being a burden." He told you, retracting his hand when he saw some of his students watching the exchange.

Tears welled up in your eyes and you hastily brushed them away before they could fall. Handing the paper back to him, you gazed up at him with earnest eyes.

"Thank you," You said softly. "I understand you could've easily given me away, so thank you. I won't cause any trouble, I promise."

A rare chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Yeah, I know, kid."

You shut the door behind him as Aizawa walked out the dormitory, clutching your hands tightly to your chest with an uncharacteristically solemn expression.

But Ojiro could read you better than that. Your tail was lashing back and forth like his did when he was unbelievably happy.

He couldn't stop himself from laughing when it became uncontrollable to the point where you actually grabbed onto it to stop it from giving away your feelings.

"You're happy." He remarked and you grinned.

"Don't tell him, he'll never let me live it down." You joked, offering to carry his books since it looked like his arms would give out any moment.

You waved goodbye to Asui and Tokoyami as you both headed up towards his room.

The elevators had gotten a bit more bearable to you but they still were a pain since they were so anxiety inducing. You never knew how you could be so scared of something you had no prior knowledge of before but you supposed that came with not knowing how the world worked.

You had been hidden away for a long time. Now, it was like dipping your toes in an endless ocean of possibilities.

He would give anything to make sure your future wasn't filled with the pain of your past.

Noticing he was caught up in his thoughts, you shot ahead of him sneakily.

Ojiro was so busy thinking that he nearly crashed face-first into the door which mysteriously shut in front of him. A smile twitched at the edge of his mouth and he cleared this throat.

"I could've sworn this was open a minute ago." He said loud enough for you to hear inside.

Your giggles filtered through the wood separating the two of you and with some difficulty, he managed to get it open.

"You seemed so distracted that I couldn't help playing a little." You teased, sitting on the floor in the middle of his room.

He swallowed, setting down his textbooks on his desk. Seeing you like that, tail waving behind you with an eagerness as if you were waiting for him made his heart pound harder.

You remained blissfully unaware of his surfacing feelings as you sniffed his backpack.

"Soooo, what's the surprise?!" You cried eagerly.

Ojiro barked out a laugh, unzipping it to pull out a large, compressed package and tossed it to you.

Thanks to your reflexes, you caught it effortlessly and flipped it over, reading the writing on the front.

"Yuzu beef jerky." He explained, scratching the back of his neck bashfully as your eyes lit up. "I know we don't have any meat in the fridge at the moment, Bakugou was supposed to go get some more last week but he forgot so I got something to hold you over until we go again."

Your eyes glistened with tears, touched to the core once again by his thoughtfulness and you were reminded of everyone's kindness. You felt the urge to repay it, to thank them properly and filed it away for later.

Ojiro nearly choked on his saliva when you knelt down in front of him, your canines poking out in the brightest smile he's seen to date.

"Thank you, Ojiro-kun." You breathed.

He relaxed and his eyes grew fond.

You squealed as he ruffled your hair, batting at his hand playfully, but in truth, didn't want him to stop.

He laughed, patting your head a couple more times before sinking down in the chair by his desk. "I have to work on some stuff but you're more than welcome to stay unless you'd be more comfortable with one of the girls or in a room of your own."

He pointed to the jerky you had already torn open and was wrestling with it in the corner. "I know Jirou-chan likes that stuff too, so you could give some to her if you'd like."

You pouted, shaking your head and clinging to it almost possessively. "Mine."

You had nothing against your friend but he had given this to you. It was a gift and you wanted it all to yourself.

Chuckling, Ojiro left you to your own devices while he got started on his homework. He would need help from Yaoyorozu later on with math but he could knock out the majority of it for now. Tapping his pencil mindlessly, his mouth pressed in a hard line as he hammered out worksheet after worksheet.

It wasn't until a puff of warm breath hit the back of his neck did he look up.

You were gazing at his homework with sort of an awed expression and he shuffled back so that you could see.

"Want to learn?" He offered. "It's not particularly interesting but it might make the time pass by quicker."

You nodded eagerly, plopping on his lap before he could stop you. You twisted around when he tensed underneath you.

Sputtering, Ojiro's cheeks colored at your innocence. He knew you were doing that just so you could see better but he couldn't deny how perfect you were for him. Your height made it perfect so that you were nestled right below his chin and he wondered what it would be like if he just rested it on your shoulder for a second.

Your tail was curled around your leg as you sat in between his thighs and your back was pressed flush up against his chest as you studied the numbers and words on the page.

Tilting your head up when he didn't start explaining, you wrung your hands anxiously in your lap. "Am I heavy?"

"N-No, princess," He stammered, the pet name slipping out again despite his best efforts to bite his tongue. "You're not."

Holy All Might, were you always so freaking cute?

You looked adorable, peering up at him like that and he felt like he was about to combust. The fact that you were still wearing his hoodie didn't make it any better.

You already looked like you were his.

Swallowing the lump caught in his throat, he began to stumble over his words, pointing out different equations to you on the paper, ones that he had already solved so you could see the process before giving you something to write with to practice on your own.

Your tongue poked out between your lips in concentration as you tried to solve it like he did. Then, you shuddered.

Despite the warm hoodie you had on, the AC was blasting and you were getting cold.

You tried to hide it from him. After all, he had already given you so much. You didn't want to keep taking advantage of his kindness.

You didn't get a chance to debate about it anymore in your head because a set of hands inched across your tummy hesitantly. You knew he was asking you if you were cold and you cursed your inability to conceal it from his keen eyes.

Sinking back further into his chest, you gave your answer and his arms hugged your waist from behind.

Either one of you could have easily gotten up to get his blanket but neither one of you wanted to move.

You were naturally very affectionate and in return, you were growing used to accepting a lot of affection from him, but somehow this time, it felt different. It didn't feel like the casual affection you experienced from Aizawa and the girls, this felt warm.

Intimate.

And as much as you didn't want to admit it, you desperately never wanted to leave his embrace.

The two of you jumped when there was a knock on the door.

Out of instinct, Ojiro squeezed your middle, ready to whisk you away at a moment's notice just like that day he rescued you.

Unfortunately, that caused you to squeak and the next second, the door cracked open.

Ojiro visibly relaxed when he saw his friend holding his pet rabbit. "Koda-kun!!"

He waved hello to the both of you and you returned it shyly as Ojiro invited him in. Internally, you wondered if you should get off of Ojiro now but really not wanting to.

Little did you know, he was feeling the same way.

The teen behind you nudged your shoulder and pinched your side to gain your attention. "He knew your first day back must've been kind of stressful so he offered to let you play with Yuwai-chan if you want to."

Intrigued by the creature exploring the room, you reluctantly climbed off of Ojiro, getting on all fours and following the bunny. You were unsure if it wanted to play with you since you were sure you seemed scary to such a fragile animal.

"You're not afraid I'll eat her?" You asked Koda.

Usually people ran at the sight of your canines.

He shook his head. Ojiro said you didn't have a mean bone in your body and he trusted him. He only wanted you to get more acclimated to the rest of his class and since he lacked the social skills, he was hoping to accomplish it through this instead.

Koda didn't talk much but you didn't mind at all. Choosing a spot on the floor, you tucked your knees up to your chest and waited for her to come towards you.

The domesticated bunny eventually crawled into your lap and you internally exploded at how soft and tiny she was.

"Kawaii..." You murmured to yourself as you petted her fur.

Ojiro smiled, sharing a look with Koda as you handled the latter's treasured pet with so much care. He couldn't bring himself to look away for fear he would forget how happy you looked.

You lifted your head and your gaze locked with Koda's. "Kawaii-chan!!"

Koda smiled at you happily and you beamed, eyes flickering over to Ojiro.

He was pretty sure his heart stopped. You were seeking his approval.

"It's a cute name." Ojiro commented softly.

You wiggled happily in place, squealing when the bunny burrowed her way into your arms and promptly fell asleep.

After some time, you handed her back to her rightful owner and resumed your previous position on Ojiro once he didn't protest. You bit down on your lip to keep the smile from spreading too far as his hands settled on your waist.

"Can," You cursed how meek you sounded. "Can you hug me again?"

All traces of nervousness faded as he obeyed almost immediately and you laughed breathlessly when his fingers danced along your sides.

"Stop that!!" You protested, unable to stop giggling before your hands shot to his wrists in a desperate attempt to pry him off.

Ojiro grinned, doing it again before conceding and stopping.

"It seems like you have a weakness, Y/N-chan." He whispered in your ear and you snorted.

"Who would be immune to tickling?"

You stiffened as his chin rested lightly on your head, in between your ears.

"C'mon, let's see if you can finish those four problems before I get the rest of this done." He challenged with a smile.

You grinned. Challenge accepted.

Before either one of you knew it, it was getting close to midnight. Everyone else was already in bed or fast asleep.

Everyone except for the two of you.

You had successfully completed his challenging questions for you to solve and as you proudly showed off your work, he had praised you. Not just for getting them right but for all the effort you had put in, emphasizing the latter.

You were sure you had never felt more touched by his genuine words. The two of you had moved to his futon once he finally set down his pencil, done for the night.

You were supposed to have your own room but since that only was going to come about once Aizawa signed the agreement, you didn't have a place of your own for one more night. The girls had kindly offered up their rooms for you to crash in but you had respectfully declined, saying you wanted to be with Ojiro.

You felt most comfortable with him.

They weren't worried for you. He was one of the purest boys in the class and had already shown he would never harm a hair on your head.

He had offered you another one of his sweatshirts and was puzzled when you nodded so fast, he was afraid your head would fall off. His unspoken question lingering in the air was answered when he caught you sniffing it once you thought he wasn't looking.

I'm whipped for her already...

You were about to make yourself comfortable on the floor when you saw him doing the same. The two of you glared at each other for the first time, engaged in a staring match that would end when the other caved and took the bed.

"What are you doing?" You growled through clenched teeth.

"Sleeping." Ojiro answered nonchalantly, fluffing his pillow only to have it snatched out from under him and tossed onto the futon with so much force it was a wonder how feathers weren't flying out of it.

"Get off the floor, Ojiro-kun." Your eyes glinted. "I won't take no for an answer."

"This is my room, Y/N-chan." He said firmly with absolutely no malice in his voice. "And as a guest, you're required to sleep in the bed."

You shook your head, crossing your arms childishly over your chest. He shot you a warning look but you stubbornly stayed put.

"Time's up." He declared, pushing himself up to his feet and striding over to you.

"Wha—" You cut off with a yelp as he hoisted you easily into the air. "Ojiro-kun!! Put me down!!"

A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Okay."

You shrieked as he dropped you onto the bed, bouncing a couple of times before shooting him a glare. "Ojiro!!"

He wouldn't let you get up, placing his hands on either side of your hips and leaned in close, staring at you intently. Your cheeks reddened and all protests of how evil he was died on your tongue the second he was a millimeter away from you.

"Sleep here, okay?" He pleaded, expression giving way to concern. "I don't want you to sleep on the floor. You deserve better than that."

You couldn't tear your gaze away from him. "But... But if you sleep on the floor—"

"I'll be alright, don't worry." He reassured you, patting your head and offering up a comforting smile.

You wanted to argue but lacked the energy to do so.

This time, you didn't resist as he tucked you in. Surrendering yourself to the exhaustion that had just kicked in, you were completely unaware of the fond gaze trained on your face.

It had to be sometime during 3 am when it started.

At first, it was just little things that woke him up. Rustling barely distinguishable until it got more frequent. Soft whimpers filled with poorly suppressed anguish followed not long after. It wasn't until you screamed that he tore off the covers and bundled you in his arms.

"Y/N, Y/N!! Wake up!!" He pleaded desperately.

Your eyes were crazed and feral when they shot open and Ojiro almost had a heart attack at the blood staining your teeth from where you had bit your lip. Your lip was busted but he didn't have time to dwell on it now.

"It's okay, it's okay, I got you." He chanted over and over again as he rocked you back and forth in his arms. "It was just a nightmare, you're safe now. I promise."

You couldn't calm down. Your chest was tight and you felt like you couldn't breathe. You were panicking, hyperventilating.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears and you couldn't hear anything else.

Ojiro hushed you softly, stroking your hair tenderly. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm here, Y/N."

He continued to soothe you gently, combing his finger through your hair to calm you down, his other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. It wasn't until ten minutes later that you had finally started to calm down and come to your senses. And then you started to cry.

Silently, as if you couldn't make any noise.

At first, he was worried that you couldn't breathe but when you started hiccuping, he couldn't suppress the small twinge of relief he felt and focused on helping you through it.

The next thing you wanted to do when you regained control of your breathing was to apologize for waking him up but he wasn't having it.

"It's okay," He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ears. "You're not alone. I'm here for you."

You clutched onto his t-shirt tighter, the material growing sheer as your tears flowed.

Ojiro rubbed your back soothingly, his big brother instincts kicking in from when he would comfort his little sister.

"What do you need?" He asked kindly.

Your muffled reply in his chest had him smiling faintly. Your thighs were straddled on either side of his hips but neither of you noticed how close you were sitting to him until you were practically pressed chest to chest.

His warmth enveloped you like a blanket as he held you.

"I can't quite hear you, princess." Ojiro joked, hoping to hear you laugh.

A flush creeped up your neck as you put him at arm's length.

"Can... C-Can you s-stay with me?" You managed to say, embarrassed to be asking for such a thing this late at night.

An identical blush overtook his features but he nodded, easing you back down so that you could both lay comfortably on the bed. He let you arrange him however you wanted, somewhat surprised when you snuggled into his chest. His hand hovered over your waist for a moment and he lowered it slowly.

"Is this okay?" He asked, making sure he wasn't crossing any boundaries.

You nodded sleepily, clutching onto the front of his shirt weakly. "Yes, I want you to hold me... please? If that's okay..."

He was never going to be one to say no to you. Draping his arm over your waist, he pulled the blankets up, ensuring you were all the way covered.

You pouted when his chest shook with laughter. "What are you laughing at, huh?"

Your hand flew up to cover your face out of the embarrassment of being laughed at but you were closer to him than you expected.

He caught your wrist deftly before you could accidentally hit him, shaking his head with an easy smile. "You're just very cute, that's all."

If it wasn't so late at night and he didn't have a near heart attack seeing you in that panicking state, he probably wouldn't have let it slip out. But weird things happened at 3 am and he wasn't in the mood to dispute it.

And neither were you.

Literally. You were speechless. How in the world did he find you cute? Those were two words you never heard before.

Ojiro's breath hitched when you tangled your legs with his, your bare foot brushing against his.

"Shoot, Y/N, you're freezing!!" He exclaimed in shock.

You squeezed your eyes shut when he crowded you closer, bringing you in so tight you thought you were going to lose your ability to breathe.

Cheeks puffing out petulantly, your voice came out stifled. "Ojiro-kun, you're squishing me."

Your strained mumble made him jump apart but you caught his collar before he could escape. Tail hitting the wall behind you, you didn't let up your grip.

Eyes widening in alarm as he moved, you feared you would be left all alone again. "... Don't go."

He froze as vulnerability shook your voice. Wrapping his arms around you again but looser this time so that you could breathe comfortably, he molded his body around you, tail winding around his leg.

In this position, you could hear his heart beating against your ear loud and clear.

Your eyes fluttered close and it lulled you to sleep once more, wrapped in a warm blanket of safety that kept the terrors away for the rest of the night.

"Thank you... Ojiro..." You whispered.

He smiled softly, resting his chin on top of your head as he crooked your face into his neck, your breathing evening out once you finally fell back asleep. He made sure that his tail wrapped around your leg.

To keep you close during the night and constantly reassure you that he was there. No matter what.

Anytime, Y/N.

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel

50 notes · View notes

cosmicjoke · 3 years

Text

Okay, so on to chapter 3 of “No Regrets”!

I’ve got a few observations, so I’ll just delve in.

First thing, and once again, I found this a huge improvement over the visual novel, but we get more insight here into the reason Erwin was so intent on recruiting Levi. During the scene in which he’s arguing with the other squad leaders about letting a group of “criminals” into their organization, Erwin pushes back against the other scouts deriding Levi and his friends. I really loved Erwin’s line here, where he says “You’re right. These people had no training. They did not earn wings from us. They grew their own, out of necessity.” This shows us that Erwin has a grasp and an appreciation for the hardship Levi and his friends faced while growing up, while most of the other SC leaders and even regular recruits can only look down on them and see them as gutter trash. This shows Erwin’s own scope of vision, his ability to look past a person’s upbringing and background and not make judgments about them based on that. More telling still is his comment about how “those wings will play a part in revolutionizing this organization.”. He wanted Levi’s skills in particular because he knew having someone like Levi around, with exceptional ability, would shift the way they all fight Titans. He was, as always, looking for ways to increase the effectiveness of the SC, and was willing to do whatever he could, and through any means necessary, to ensure it.

The next thing that caught my attention is the glare Levi and Erwin share during the trio’s introduction to the rest of the soldiers. Erwin’s right in front of Levi, standing there, reminding him of his anger and humiliation no doubt, and I think that leads directly into and impacts the next scene, when Flagon shows them their sleeping arrangements. Levi’s already no doubt irritated by having to see Erwin again, and then Flagon makes his frankly deeply disparaging remark about Levi and his friends having spent their whole lives living in a trash heap, implying that they’re filthy gutter trash, and so surely are incapable of keeping themselves and their environment clean. Levi, understandably, reacts badly to this, and gets in Flagon’s face, asking him what he just said, before Furlan intervenes. When you consider the way Erwin already made Levi feel so humiliated and Levi’s subsequent anger at it, then having to see Erwin again not long before this scene, and hearing Flagon just callously make an accusation like that must have only infuriated Levi more. I think, once again, the manga is doing an infinitely better job of portraying the tension, then, that’s starting to form between Levi and Furlan. Furlan scolds Levi after Flagon leaves, almost talking down to him when he says “Didn’t I tell you not to cause trouble?!”. Almost like he’s talking to some misbehaving little kid. Levi’s expression in the following panel says a lot, I think. Levi looks almost chastised, like he knows he’s upset Furlan, before he tries to explain himself, asking Furlan “Didn’t you hear how he talked about us? Like shit calling shit dirty.”. It’s really interesting what this says about the power dynamic in their relationship. Levi is ostensibly the leader of their group, but Furlan’s acting, in a lot of ways, like he’s the one in charge and he expects Levi to fall in line. Clearly, he’s not afraid of scolding Levi, or challenging him. All of Furlan’s insistence that they lay low and not do anything to draw attention to themselves must only be chaffing though at Levi’s already heated feelings about the kind of treatment they’re receiving, how they’re being talked down to, etc... It must be galling to him, to see Furlan not seeming to care that they’re all being so deeply disrespected. But he still continues to defer to Furlan, and agree to go along with his plan for now, though he makes his displeasure known by calling it a pain in the ass.

But seeing Erwin, and then being treated the way they were by Flagon, seems to have rekindled Levi’s desire to take his revenge, and he reminds Furlan that he’ll continue to go along with his plan, but that he’s still going to kill Erwin. Once again, we see Levi being pulled in two different directions. He’s giving priority to Furlan’s plans and wishes, but he’s still thinking about getting Erwin back. He’s annoyed that they weren’t assigned to Erwin’s squad, probably because it means it’s going to limit their contact, giving him less opportunities to kill him. Another line that I think signifies Lev’s annoyance at Furlan and how, well, dismissive he is of Levi’s own feelings, is after he tells them they have to clean the area around their beds before leaving for training, and in response to Isabel’s protests, he says “You wouldn’t want me to cause trouble, would you?”. He’s throwing Furlan’s words back in his face here, and it seems clear to me that Levi is frustrated and doesn’t appreciate the way Furlan’s been talking to him, or how little consideration for his own wishes he’s shown. There’s a lot of tension there.

Another really important scene is the one in the training yard, so I’ll got through it here.

Particularly when Isabel is talking to the Scout helping her with horse riding, and they get to talking about life in the Underground, and then Levi. What Isabel says, and the visual of the panel here, is particularly powerful. She says “It got so I thought I was gonna die. But life’s a little better since Levi saved me from that.”. And we see in the panel Levi lifting Isabels’ head up, obviously checking if she’s alive. There’s all these people, collapsed around her, and the fact that Levi is checking to see if she’s alive is interesting, because it makes me think this is something Levi would regularly do. That he would check to see if anyone was alive when he came across people collapsed in the streets. It’s probably not unusual to come across dead bodies in the Underground, and for someone like Levi, who’s lived there all his life, he’s no doubt seen plenty. The fact he checks Isabel shows a lack of callousness towards the sight, which is incredible, to not become uncaring or apathetic towards suffering, even when you’re surrounded by it your whole life. It’s a highly unusual quality to have, but of course, it makes perfect sense for Levi, who’s so full of compassion.

Nevertheless, it would have been simpler for him to just keep moving and ignore her, but instead he stopped, and when he discovered she was still alive, he took her in and gave her food and shelter and a home. She would have died otherwise. Levi had no obligation towards her, he had no, really good reason to do something so selfless, and yet, he did. And this truly is remarkable, especially when you consider the kind of cut throat world Levi grew up in, the kind of ruthless people he’d encountered, and even lived with, like Kenny, all his life.

Then there’s Furlan’s discussion with another soldier, and his story about Levi. The most interesting thing Furlan says here is how, after his own friends turned on him, he’s followed Levi ever since. And then he says “Though it might be problematic making him any kind of leader!”. It’s interesting what this reveals to us about Levi. People want to follow him because he’s so strong, but Levi himself has no desire for power, or control over others. People willingly attach themselves to him, because they think Levi can protect them, but Levi isn’t any kind of natural leader. So we know Levi was more or less forced into the role of leader by way of others seeking him out and assigning him that role. What’s interesting about this is how it, once again, reveals the kind of person Levi is. He could easily have rejected all of these people and abandoned them. One thing we know is that Levi didn’t need any help surviving on his own in the Underground. But instead Levi allows them to stay with him and willingly offers his help and protection, and though it’s probably more of a pain and a nuisance to him than anything else. It shows that Levi’s never been able to turn away from those seeking his help.

Which leads nicely into the next scene.

I’ve talked about this scene before, and how disappointed I was that they didn’t include it in the OVA. This also wasn’t included in the visual novel, which is, once more, just another way in which the manga is superior.

Flagon is once again criticizing Levi for holding his blades “wrong”, telling him he’s going to end up getting killed outside the walls. And then the training exercise begins, and we see one of the other soldiers trying to compete with Levi, and growing increasingly incensed and annoyed at Levi’s prowess. He thinks “These vagrants with no knowledge as soldiers...” and then “I trained half to death, and these criminals think they’re better?!”. What’s interesting is to see that while this soldier is fuming internally over Levi’s perceived slight of him, glaring at him angrily, Levi clearly hasn’t even taken notice of him. This isn’t a competition to Levi at all. He’s just there to do the exercises. He’s staring straight ahead, blank faced as always.

Now what happens next is once more hugely revealing as to Levi’s character. The infuriated soldier decides he’s not going to accept that Levi’s better than him, and so he intentionally pushes off of a tree and cuts Levi off mid-flight. What struck me about this is how incredibly dangerous it was. Levi’s going, presumably, full speed, through this obstacle course, and this dude, out of petty jealousy, cuts him off by flying right in front of and past him, forcing Levi to pull back and change direction. A stunt like this could have easily resulted in serious injury for Levi, or even death, if he weren’t as gifted as he is. To top it off, this soldier then brags about it, calling out to Levi “Don’t get left behind!”. Of course, his arrogance leads to immediate disaster, as the soldier that went through the course before lost one of their blades in the dummy Titan, and this dude’s flying towards it at top speed, with no way to stop himself or change direction in time. He’s about to be impaled by a blade. Considering the danger he’s just placed Levi in, then, it truly is a testament to Levi’s goodness, that he launches off the tree he’s stopped on, racing ahead and slicing the stray blade free before the other soldier can make contact, resulting in him harmlessly crashing into the pad, instead of dying. This really shows how Levi’s first instinct is always to help others. Even when others have just not only treated him badly, but even endangered his life. He doesn’t owe this soldier anything, and by all rights should be extremely pissed at him for his petty display before. But instead Levi just automatically reacts to his life being threatened by saving the man. He doesn’t even scold him afterward or express anger, just flies off and continues the course.

What makes this whole thing kind of sad is both the soldier’s and Flagon’s reaction to this. The soldier is still angry and upset over Levi’s superior ability, wondering how he can be so fast, not even sparring a thought of appreciation for him just saving his life. And then Flagon grudgingly admits to Levi’s fighting prowess, but continues to doubt him and his ability to stay disciplined. Even after saving one of his own men’s lives, he still continues to look down on Levi. That’s pretty messed up. Levi glares back at him after, as if to say “Who’s the one who’s going to get people killed out there?”. Levi saved a soldiers life, while Flagon could only sit and watch. It’s interesting too how this, tragically, foreshadows what’s to come though, with Levi not being able to save the people he cares the most about. But we’ll get into that when we get there.

Also, just gotta mention also the way Levi reacts to Isabel’s getting upset after he bonks her in the head and calls her stupid. He looks surprised when she starts crying, and it’s clear he didn’t mean to actually hurt her feelings, and it’s just really sweet, the way he rubs her head after. He obviously felt bad.

Okay, into chapter 4 next!

#attack on titan #No Regrets #Levi Ackerman #shingeki no kyojin #Furlan Church #isabel magnolia #Erwin Smith #snk analysis

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fuzziemutt · 3 years

Text

Do You Understand?

Chapter 1/9 - Link to MasterList in reblog

Summary: Connor knows he isn’t the most.. knowledgeable... about emotions but that didn’t mean he didn’t understand them ever. If they weren’t going to take him seriously then he wasn’t even going to try interacting with them anymore. What could possibly go wrong?

Tw: I’m placing all possible tws here that could apply to the story. Possible ableism (this is not explicit but what Connor goes through can be similar to it), dissociation, very emotionally harmful coping mechanisms. Self worth problems. Trauma responses that go unnoticed. Please let me know if I need to add any more.

This started as a vent fic that extended outward into comfort, it gets worse before it gets better.

Notes: This is my first multi chaptered fic, I’ve never done this before. I did write the whole story in entirety prior and scheduled the other chapters to slowly release. The original vent was honestly quite different than what ended up being written, and I don’t know how it turned into this huge thing.

Also: There are no ships in this, this is all platonic. The only relationship status is that Hank is Connor’s dad even if they don’t quite acknowledge it.

Also also: This is Connor Pov. We mainly focusing on his thought processes throughout and they aren’t particularly healthy. (Connor also has ADHD)

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Connor knew he had trouble expressing and understanding his emotions. It wasn't a secret. He'd often find people looking at him with confusion, and sometimes wariness, with his lack of response to many things. He was a prototype. Sure he had one of the most advanced social relations software to date, but Cyberlife cut corners with the amount of articulation his face could produce, his current model wasn't meant to live long and to be disposable after all.

It doesn't help that he also just didn't know how to express what he was feeling in the limited ways he could. He "lived" most of his trial runs and current time in severe denial out of fear of deactivation so he'd rather ignore them than process them. It wasn't healthy but it was safe. Familiar.

That didn't mean he couldn't feel. He felt lots of things like guilt, hatred, fear, the occasional spark of joy. Too many things sometimes, in fact, that led him to having a nasty habit of adamantly ignoring it all, manually storing it away for later to keep his composer and stay in fully functioning order. Sure this led to people often ignoring his own desires and doing things that severely hurt him with no mention from him. But he was fine. He chose this after all.

However, even with all the quarantining and ignoring, he couldn't help the anger that bubbled under his skin and in his throat right now.

"Hank, I understand that you're angry but-"

"You think you understand? You don't understand a shit, Connor! How could you?! I get you're your own person and everything now, but I never see you express anything beyond mild displeasure!" Hank yelled back. Connor was glad they were at Hank's house at least to provide some sense of privacy but saying he felt unhappiness at being yelled at was an understatement.

Connor went to open his mouth in defense but Hank cut him off, "Of course you don't understand! How could you ever understand any emotions! You keep acting like a-" he suddenly went quiet, but Connor knew.

"Like a what, Lieutenant?" He asked, making sure to keep his LED a yellow slow turn, but he couldn't help how sharp his voice came out, how his eyes hardened to a fine point.

They stared at each other for several tense seconds before Hank seemed to deflate a bit and looked ashamed.

"Like a machine," he spat out, still tense and upset but his fury gone.

Connor simply nodded, quarantining what he could to not lash out and stood up silently.

"I will be taking Sumo out for a walk to allow for us to take a breather before we both do something we regret. I will return," he said, shoulders tense and voice strict. His movements felt stiff as he tried to hold himself back from continuing this fight, grabbing the leash and patting his side to call over the old dog.

"You can't just run away-" Hank tried, stepping closer as if to grab Connor's arm to stop him. But Connor's ice cold glare, almost threatening posture and clenched fists seemed to stop him. They kept forgetting that Connor wasn't just meant for integration but also intimidation, he once was a deviant (killer) hunter after all, and he can be intimidating when he so pleased. Hank seemed to suddenly remember the rumors of Gavin getting his ass handed to him by Connor in under a minute flat by how he backed away uncertain.

Connor left and came back a bit over half an hour later. Hank would apologize and Connor would accept it, even if that anger still simmered deep inside, and they'd go back to joking and discussing work matters like nothing happened. Friends sometimes fight after all. It was fine.

Despite how much Connor hated those accusations of him being incapable of understanding, they. Kept. Happening.

Not just with Hank but others as well. The people who he thought were his friends, the Jericrew, even Nines the RK900, kept pulling the same shit. Connor knew they all experienced deviancy differently than him, Nines also had the gift of a face with full articulation that he couldn't help but envy, but it irked him every time.

"Let's switch topics for Connor..."

"Oh I should have talked about this with someone else..."

"It was rude of me to assume you understand-"

"Oh.. Sorry I know you don't understand-"

"You know he doesn't understand-"

"He won't understand-"

"He can't understand-"

Each time he heard that word, understand, Connor felt that broiling anger rise just a bit more. Each time they never even asked how he felt before the assumption, he felt his trust disintegrate bit by bit. He was a master of masking his emotions to get the emotional responses he wanted, but even he had a limit when anytime he saw his friends he felt nothing but hateful bitterness below his false pleasantries. He even stopped willfully hanging out with all of them, even Hank, as it grew harder to fight down the urge to scream and yell and make them understand.

It all came to a head during a meeting with the Jericho leaders, Nines tagged along as well as he said how much he missed seeing him outside of work. They were discussing how to handle the androids that still had severely negative responses to humans after all this time since the revolution. He was in the middle of talking about a solution of creating areas in New Jericho that would absolutely not allow humans and could run independently when North rounded on him.

"I'm sorry," in a very much not sorry tone, "but how am I supposed to take your option any bit seriously when you don't understand any of these androids' struggles mister 'my best friend is a human'."

"North-" Markus warned. The others even tensed up staring at Connor.

"No seriously. He could never understand their struggles," North plowed forward with no hesitation.

Connor felt something snap inside of him. He felt his LED burn bright red, his back straighten, fists clenched, and his features shift into that bitter anger that he tried his best to keep under wraps. He could see how everyone grew more than just tense but wary even; he even saw a flash of fear in North's eyes.

They insisted he was nothing more than a machine who didn't understand. That he'll forever be Cyberlife's pet (killer) deviant hunter. So he'll show them the hunter that was conditioned, threatened, who thrived on his own anger and fear through every grueling training session. The side that he kept pushed down as much as he could.

He couldn't help the bitter laugh that came out of him, "understand... You know what? I'm starting to think I fucking hate that word."

He knew he was scaring them with how North backed away quickly and the others started coming forward as if to protect her from him. His anger worsened at that but a small part of him felt a bit of twisted satisfaction at how they're finally treating him seriously. He could even imagine Amanda whispering praises for being the threat they wanted from the back of his CPU.

"Has it never occurred to you that I might have problems with humans as well?" His hands expressed where his face couldn't, trying to contain the energy thrumming in his body, "has it never occurred to you what I might have gone through hm?

“Oh wait. You never asked. You only accused. Have you ever thought about how my serial number has a 54 at the end of it? Did it ever occur to you that I have to exist with the memory of 53 deactivations constantly and the fear that I might be the 54th for merely breathing wrong? Who do you think did that? Who do you think reminded me day in and out that I was nothing but an expendable machine made to kill, to never ask questions because it meant deactivation or my internals torn out while I was awake. Humans. Humans did that but no, just because I trusted Hank not to do the same, I don't understand?"

He knew he was slowly growing erratic and unstable with how aggressively his hands moved and the way everyone backed away from him. The way he loomed over them with his presence didn't help their nerves he was sure. Or how he slowly stalked towards them as if a predator was cornering its prey. But he couldn't help it, the thrumming pulse in his core needed to come out and by hell was it coming out now.

"Not only that, but I apparently don't understand emotions too! I may be a deviant but emotions? They're off the table!" He couldn't help the second bitter laugh, a tinge hysterical, "no no. None of you took the time to ask me how I was handling these emotions and instead just assumed I didn't feel them! Because I'm ‘just a machine’. This guilt, fear, and self hatred I feel every waking moment? Lies because I'm just a machine. Even this anger I'm expressing right now? These are lies too aren't they? The nightmares I get of my countless deactivations and the numerous deaths that stain my hands? All just my programs malfunctioning because I'm just. A. Machine."

"We didn't... Connor we didn't know-" Nines started, his sadness and fear clear as day on his face like how they wanted Connor's to be. The others were solemnly nodding along too as if this would appease him.

"Because you never. Asked. Because none of you ever truly fucking cared!" Connor roared in response, slamming a fist down on the metal table next to him. All their eyes snapped and starred at the large dent he knew he left behind but he didn't care. He let himself breathe heavily, taking a second to find himself and his self restraint again.

And just like that, he locked up those pesky emotions like everyone expected him to. He knew the people before him didn't actually desire him to show any negative emotions just like them, they proved it just now with how they're looking at him. He took one final deep breath, fixed his tie and let his face slip back into its emotionless mask except the cold, closed off glare didn't leave. He even felt that that was going to be a permanent feature now after today and couldn't help the internal chuckle at the irony how he finally was showing the emotions they desperately wanted him to show.

No one said anything as he moved towards the door. There was still tension in the air, fear, anger and confusion swirled in various manners of their eyes. Nines seemed split on treating him like a threat and reaching out to him, maybe even to pity him. Markus also looked like he wanted to say something, but he just looked away in the end. North had fearful eyes but a look that seemed to say 'I was right we couldn't trust him'. Josh held Simon behind him, and he looked almost sad if his distrust didn't say otherwise. Simon refused to take his eyes off the clear fist shaped dent in the table, still as a statue. Connor vaguely wondered if they'd replace that table because of him just like how they so easily replaced him with Nines when given the chance.

No one made a move to stop him from leaving. He couldn't tell if it was out of fear of him showing those (killer) hunter colors again by snapping an arm or if they're realizing just how badly they fucked up. He couldn't tell which choice he wanted more either. He hoped it was the latter.

"You're all hypocrites. To me, you're all no better than them," was the last thing he hissed out before slamming the door closed behind him. He heard the way the frame and wall around the door shook and cracked from the force but again, he didn't care. He wasn't going to play nice anymore if this was how they felt like treating him. He was programmed to be amiable, calm but he was also programmed to be obedient and he knew how that went. A bit of anxiety existed of how much damage he did and how easily he almost lost control back there, but he just ignored it again as he rushed down the hall to leave.

No one followed him.

#i write #dbh #detroit: become human #connor rk800 #hank anderson #connor rk900 #markus rk200 #north wr400 #josh pj500 #simon pl600 #connor whump #connor angst #long post

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alolowrites · 4 years

Text

A Cry for Help

Summary: A hero finds a little girl crying and helps find her parents.

Author’s Note: I was hoping to post these drabbles on Father’s Day, but the idea slipped in my mind around 5pm and well...yeah. Guess I’m early for next year? (hahaha, but no seriously, maybe I am).

Following heroes are Shouta (Eraserhead), Toshinori (All Might), and Taishiro (Fatgum) because they are just such wholesome dads.

Please enjoy!

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Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

The bubblegum music plays on an endless loop in the children’s clothing store. All the songs from the playlist mesh together as one. Not even the singers’ voices are distinct thanks to the heavy use of autotune; it drowns out the entire shop. Fortunately, Shouta has years of experience dealing with this kind of nuisance—he thanks Present Mic for that.

Shouta ignores the constant, not-so-subtle, stares from the other customers. Even some employees glance at him, their perky smiles fumbling when Shouta catches their eye. The hero knows he sticks out like a sore thumb; he dressed all drab and dreary like the weather outside.

Yet, Shouta does not care if they gawk, just as long as they don’t interfere in his personal space.

One hand glides the pastel-colored blouses along the rail. Shouta is shopping for new clothes for Eri, much to Present Mic's displeasure; he finds Shouta's fashion sense questionable ever since the cat sweater fiasco.

'A little overdramatic, much?' Shouta scoffs as he inspects a purple shirt with massive ruffles running along the sleeves. An adorable image of a kitten graces the front side and he adds the shirt in his basket.

The clothes rack on his right starts whimpering. Shouta raises an eyebrow and slides the sweaters away to see a little girl hiding inside; she seems to be around Eri’s age based on her small frame. Shouta frowns as he hears her cries.

“Hey,” the girl jumps at the gentle voice. An unfamiliar face hovers above her with a concerned expression. He kneels, but keeps a respectable distance, “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Why are you crying, little one?”

“I-I…don't…my…mommy,” she wails as fresh tears rush down her puffy cheeks, “I-I want-t mommy-y.”

“You lost your mom. I see why that makes you sad,” Shouta digs out a handkerchief and hands it over to the trembling girl. She grabs it and Shouta nods, “First, take some deep breaths…that’s it, good job. Now, my name is Shouta. What is your name?”

She wipes away her tears, “Asumi.”

“Well then, Asumi, I will help find your mother, okay?”

“Really?” A sense of hope shines through her eyes.

“I promise,” Shouta shifts his balance and extends a hand toward Asumi. Not a second later, she takes it and crawls out the dark clothes rack. Her legs wobble, and she asks if Shouta could carry her; he doesn’t hesitate and scoops Asumi in his arms, disregarding the shopping bag filled with clothes; he’ll come back for it later.

Shouta informs an employee about the situation and asks for directions to the mall security office. The entire walk is quiet with an occasional sniffle here and there. Asumi’s fingers toy with his signature wrap scarf to help ease her sad thoughts. However, one slips through and she whimpers, “Will my mommy find me?”

“I’ll make sure she will.”

They arrive at the office in ten minutes. Shouta speaks with an officer and offers to remain with Asumi until they locate her mother. An idea runs through his head once the hero spots a colorful bulletin with other children's drawings. Asumi observes the artwork and slowly opens up as she points out what she likes about them; Shouta adds his thoughts, but keeps his focus on Asumi’s answers—it works.

Shouta turns around when a frantic voice booms from the entrance. The little girl’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. He quickly puts her down, not doubting that the woman standing in front was her mother. Asumi screams, “Mommy!”

“Asumi, sweetheart!” She kneels and embraces the little girl with a bone-crushing hug. Mother and daughter reunite at last, much to Shouta’s relief. Once the mother stops attacking Asumi’s face with her kiss, she stares at the quiet hero and smiles, “Thank you for finding and keeping her safe, sir! Thank you, thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Shouta shoves his hands in his pockets and crouches to meet Asumi’s eye level, patting her head, “You’re a brave girl, Asumi. It was nice meeting you.”

Asumi rushes to give Shouta a bear hug, catching the hero off-guard for a second. He returns the gesture, a faint grin creeping above his scarf. Asumi grabs her mother’s hand again and happily skips away, but not before chirping, “Bye, Mr. Shouta!”

Those three words keep his heart warm for the entire day.

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Toshinori Yagi/All Might

Toshinori overlooks the quiet sea at Takoba Municipal Beach Park. He enjoys coming here on his days off to get lost in his thoughts. The retired hero once again admires Midoriya’s remarkable efforts to clean the area—he’s come so far.

The waves barely touch the grainy sand, and a seagull soars above in search of food. Other people from around the neighborhood stroll through the beach as well. Even so, the locals do not pester him, and Toshinori is grateful for this, inhaling the natural scent only Mother Earth could produce.

A little cry catches his attention. Toshinori whips around to see a little girl wandering down the beach and rubbing her eyes. He may not be All Might, but the heart of a hero still burns inside him. Toshinori cautiously approaches the girl and calls out, “What’s wrong, young one?”

She stops in her tracks and peeks at the tall man. Toshinori finally gets a good look at the child and notices how red her face is. The girl’s body shakes like a volcano as she bawls, “I-I can’t find my daddy-y!”

“Oh dear,” Toshinori frowns and crouches to the child’s eye level. He gives a comforting squeeze on her shoulder, which somewhat stops the crying. Her head bobbles as she breathes rapidly and snot oozes down her nostril. Toshinori fishes for some tissues in his pocket, “Here, my child. You must feel very scared, but everything is all right, because I am here.”

“C-can you help find my d d-daddy?”

“Of course,” Toshinori nods and asks, “What’s your name, little one?”

“Asumi.”

“And how old are you, Asumi?”

“Five,” she sniffs while showing Toshinori five fingers, “But I’m turning six soon.”

“You are? That sounds exciting!”

Asumi cocks her head once her sadness subsides, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Toshinori, but you can call me Toshi,” he answers, and Asumi relaxes at the sound of his gentle voice. As the former Symbol of Peace stands up, he extends his hand to Asumi, who instantly grabs it. Toshinori feels how dainty and fragile her hand is. His, on the other hand, is rough. Sometimes he forgets it's like that after years fighting off villains, including All For One. Asumi’s innocent eyes gaze up, and he smiles, “Let’s go find your father.”

Toshinori walks in the direction she came from; hopes to find her father if he retraces her steps. The blonde man makes small talk to keep Asumi occupied. Her mouth is like a running waterfall as she shares everything she likes to do: playing on the swings, making songs on her toy instruments, baking cookies at home—It’s a wide range. Toshinori listens to every word, including the time she found a worm and named it Wormy; Asumi wrinkles her nose, “Worms are so squishy.”

“Yes, they are,” he chuckles before feeling a slight tug, “What’s the matter?”

“I see my daddy!” Asumi hops like a bunny and points to a frantic man wearing a red scarf. Toshinori suggests to get closer since he wants to make sure this person is her father. Asumi nods, and the two head forward. Once a few feet away, Asumi squeals, “Daddy!”

“Pumpkin!” He collapses on the sandy beach and nearly stumbles backward when Asumi crashes into his chest. Toshinori feels his heart stir at the beautiful reunion. The father finally glances over Asumi’s shoulder and gasps, “All Might! It’s an honor to meet you, sir!”

“He helped me find you, daddy!” Asumi bounces on her tippy-toes.

Toshinori coughs into his fist, “I found her crying nearby and realized she was lost. There was no way I could leave such a poor girl all alone.”

Asumi’s father scoops the child in his arms and gives a slight bow, “Thank you, All Might, for bringing her back. She’s very adventurous and tends to wander away a lot.”

“Daddy, his name is Toshi!”

“All Might is my other name, young one.”

“I like Toshi more,” she says with no room for arguing. Her word is final.

The retired hero grins, “I like it, too.”

“Yay! Okay!” Asumi claps and waves, “Bye, Toshi!”

“Goodbye, Asumi!” Toshinori watches as the father and daughter pair walk away, the little girl rambling everything that happened to her. Once they disappear from his view, Toshinori realizes how quiet the beach is. Surprisingly, he misses his conversation with Asumi—they are wild and full of imagination.

He hopes they’ll cross paths once again.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum

If there is one thing Fatgum loves the most, it’s doing hero patrol during a food festival. His nose catches a whiff of yakitori grilled over a charcoal fire. Each skewer is seasoned to perfection and soaked with a healthy amount of tare sauce. Fatgum buys five sticks, but regrets not grabbing more after he inhales all of them in one go.

Luckily a fresh batch of takoyaki calls his name. He arrives at the booth and chitchats with two older men who cook up a storm. Each crispy ball flips faster than Fatgum could blink—a technique that never fails to impress him. The hero bids farewell once he receives his order, promising to visit again before the festival is over.

As Fatgum swims through the crowd with his delicious street snack, he overhears a faint cry on his left. The hero hastily swallows his takoyaki and steps toward the wooden boxes. Peering over, Fatgum raises his eyebrows when he spots a little girl cowering behind them. She notices a large shadow looming over and snaps her head up.

Fatgum pouts at the sight of her tears, “Whoa there, what’s a lil gal like you hidin’ out here all alone? Ya’ hurt, buttercup?”

“I…lost…my…mommy-y…and dad-dy,” she hiccups in between each word, her loud sobs piercing Fatgum’s weak heart. A determined look briefly crosses his face before he hurries past the boxes to be near her. Out of nowhere, the girl feels a gentle pat on her head. She pulls away from her damp knees.

“It’s okay, buttercup,” Fatgum soothes the broken child, “I’m a hero, and I’ll help ya’ find your parents. Does that sound good to ya?”

She meekly nods.

“Okay then,” he hums with a soft smile, “My name is Fatgum. What’s your name?”

“Asumi…”

“What a precious name!” Fatgum beckons for Asumi to come forward. She wipes the tears away on her forearm before crawling over and holds his warm hand. Stepping away from her hiding place, Asumi shrinks behind his leg when she realizes how crowded the street is. Fatgum glances down and asks, “Do ya’ want me to carry ya,’ buttercup? I promise to ya’ safe, ‘k?”

She nods before being scooped up in Fatgum’s arm. Asumi is like a frightened kitten who clings to the jolly hero for dear life. He doesn’t mind and gives her a comforting squeeze. An idea soon pops into his head as he shows Asumi the last takoyaki, “I want ya’ to have it. Food always makes me feel better when I’m sad.”

Asumi takes a tiny bite and beams—it’s delicious. As time passes by, she slowly comes out of her shell, which makes Fatgum happy; he keeps her entertained with fun games like “I Spy” all while trying to locate an officer. Asumi eagerly points to a food stall selling taiyaki, and Fatgum wastes no time buying her the sweet treat.

After the quick pitstop, they continue their leisurely stroll through the festival until a guard post emerges from the tumultuous sea. Fatgum notices a police officer jotting down notes from a man consoling his wife. Maybe they’re Asumi’s parents, he thinks and is proven correct when Asumi yells, “Mommy! Daddy!”

“Asumi!” Both adults rush toward Fatgum, cutting their conversation short with the police officer. They weep tears of joy when their daughter squeals in her mother’s arms. Asumi’s father enthusiastically shakes the hero’s hand, “Oh, thank you, Fatgum! My wife and I will forever be grateful that you brought our little Asumi back, safe and sound.”

“Oh, no need to thank me! A hero has to keep everybody safe and happy,” Fatgum flashes a smile that is as bright as the sun, “Even the little ones!”

Both parents thank Fatgum once more before they take their leave. Asumi squirms in her mom’s grasp to stare over the woman’s shoulder. The little girl waves her half-eaten taiyaki in the air and shouts, “Bye, Mr. Fatgum!”

“Bye, Asumi!”

Such a precious cinnamon roll.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Thanks for reading!

#shouta aizawa #toshinori yagi #taishiro toyomitsu #eraserhead #all might #fatgum #dadzawa #dad might #bnha imagines #fat gum #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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awhitehead17 · 3 years

Text

Universal Signs

Chapter 17 / Previous Chapter

Also on AO3

Enjoy! :D

Kon does his best to ignore the pointed look being sent his way. It’s incredibly difficult considering the intensity of the stare. He shifts uncomfortably in the chair he’s sat on and keeps his focus on the paper in front him as if he’s actually interested in what’s on the page.

From the side, Cassie continues to stare at him in that unnerving way, not moving an inch as she waits for him to break.

The two of them were in Kon’s room at the TOC and it’s been a couple days since they woke up from the attack by the League. Bart still hasn’t woken up which is major concern, the two of them had been sat his bedside for several hours at a time, hoping he would soon wake up but he has yet to. In that time the two of them also recovered themselves, they’re both nearly back to normal and at full power the only thing is the lingering fatigue which quickly catches up on them at random times.

Right now they were discussing a plan to go rescue Tim from the League of Assassins. Well, Kon pitched an idea and now Cassie is glaring at him probably for the stupidity of that idea.

In the end, the weight of her looks does make him break and he turns to her almost desperately. “Look we don’t have a lot of options on how we’re going to do this, especially covertly.”

“What you just said Kon-el has got to be one of the most moronic ideas I have ever heard of.” Cassie bites out still glaring at him. From her position on the bed next to him, she crosses her arms over her chest and stares in disbelief. “You’re suggesting that we go to the ship, sneak on board and purposely get caught. That idea alone could easily backfire against us Kon!”

Kon sighs in frustration. “Look it’s an option. Anyway it might work for us because the Demon’s Head may be interested in us because we’re the ones who picked Tim up originally, so he may actually want to keep us alive to find out why.”

Cassie shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you even thought up that idea.”

“Well it’s one of three actually,” Kon points out, “the other ideas I had were that we sneak on the ship and sneak around until we find Tim. The other is that one of us purposely gets caught and acts as a distraction while the other goes off to try and find Tim.”

There’s a moment of silence as Cassie takes in his suggestions, probably trying to work out which of them is the least stupid one and will less likely get them killed. In the end she sighs and rubs a hand across her face in obvious displeasure with the situation they’re in.

“I don’t like any of those plans.” She declares bluntly. Kon nods accepting that, he’s not exactly a fan either but it’s all he's been able to come up with in the short time frame they’ve had.

“If I have to choose one, however, I suppose we sneak on board and sneak around until we find Tim. Though we’ll have no idea how many assassins we’ll be up against, what kind of weapons they’ll have prepared or what level of combat they have. Then there’s the issue of where we’ll find Tim. We know the Demon’s Head has an interest in him so Tim will be kept close to him. How are we expecting to free him? Then there’s escaping the ship once we have Tim.”

“I don’t know,” Kon admits quietly, “I haven’t really thought about that. My initial thought is that we find out where Tim is and what condition he’s in and go from there. We make it up as we go along.”

Cassie gets up from the bed and starts pacing around the small space of his room, one hand tapping her face she thinks things through while the other is wrapped around her torso. “Not only are we talking about sneaking on the ship but how are we supposed to get close enough to actually get onboard without being detected? There's no way the base ship wouldn’t have any sensors that pick up foreign ships in range.”

“Again, it was going to be one of those, we’ll deal with it when we get to that stage.”

“Then, even before that, how are we planning on escaping Krypton? Your father made it very clear he didn’t want us leaving the planet, we’re going to have to get creative to be able to sneak away and find a ship to take. There's no way we can take ours, it’s too obvious.”

Kon sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. He hadn’t even considered taking their own ship, because as Cassie said it’s too obvious. His father will no doubt have it locked down somewhere being watched in case they attempt to leave Krypton despite his orders. Which they are planning, obviously, but in a different way.

“Could there be another ship we could take? Anyone we would know who may be willing to lend us theirs?” Kon asks openly as his own mind searches for an answer.

There's a moment of silence between them as Kon stays seated on the chair while Cassie paces the room. Eventually the Amazon sits down on the bed with a huff and falls backwards until she’s stretched out.

Kon looks away from her and turns back to the paper in front of him. It wasn't anything much, just his ideas written down on the page in messy writing. A loud gasp gets his attention and he whips his head over to Cassie who’s now sat in an up right potion with a wide-eyed expression. “The compound!”

Kon blinks at her, not understanding the exclamation. “What?”

“The compound!” She repeats excitedly. “I’m certain the Kryptonian ship compound has an old League of Assassins ship parked in it. It would be perfect if we can get to it and start it up. Also it wouldn’t be tracked because the trackers would have long been disconnected when it was first brought to the compound.”

His own eyes widen at the idea. He hadn’t even thought of that. “With that ship it wouldn’t be picked up by the base ship because of its origins, it’ll bypass any form of security. Cassie that's brilliant!”

“Right, so we get that one and use that to get to the base ship, but how are we going to find the location of it?”

“What about Tim’s translator?” Kon suggests after a moment of thinking. “We should be able to track Tim’s location with the remote, that’ll lead us to the ship and then even to Tim once we’re there.”

Cassie’s face lights up for a brief second before she’s frowning once again. “That’s good, however the remote is on our ship which is being guarded.”

Kon shakes his head. “My father said we can’t leave Krypton, not that we couldn’t go to our ship. All of our belongings are on there, we could make up something saying we need to grab something off the ship and promise there’s nothing more to it. So we’re not exactly lying, just leaving out some details.”

His teammate nods, accepting the idea. “That sounds good. So we grab Tim’s universal translator remote, take a League of Assassins ship, track Tim’s location with the remote and then….”

“We go from there.” Kon finishes off. “What about at night fall we take the ship, there are less Kryptonian’s about then.”

“Yeah. We’ll have to sneak past the guards and work out how to start the ship but I think that's possible. What about Bart though, what are the chances that he’ll wake up when we’re gone?”

Kon frowns, his chest suddenly feeling heavy at the thought of leaving their teammate behind. It’s terrible that they don’t know when he's going to wake up. Kon sighs, “We could leave a note? An explanation of what we’re doing? We can’t plan around him because we don’t know when he's going to wake up.”

“That's a good idea, then he won’t be panicking when he can’t find us either. I don’t like it but it’s better than nothing. How about I grab Tim’s remote and you write Bart’s note, once that's done we’ll drop it off to Bart and then make our way to the compound.”

-------------

It was dusk turning nightfall when Kon visits Bart’s still unconscious form. As it always did, the sight of his usually energetic teammate now unmoving makes him uncomfortable. It wasn't right. Bart should be awake and talking off ears with his endless chatter. Bart should be joining them on this unsanctioned rescue mission, not left behind in the infirmary.

Kon leaves the envelope containing the note he had written detailing their plan to save Tim in an easy place where the Speedster would find it when he eventually wakes up (because he will wake up, Kon believes that).

He gives Bart one more glance over, quickly checks his vitals to find that nothing has changed, before he turns to leave the infirmary. Hopefully they’ll be back with Tim before he wakes up and everything will go back to how it should be.

As he leaves the infirmary Kon leans against the wall, waiting for Cassie to come by. He hopes that she’s had some success getting on board their ship to grab Tim’s remote. They could always track Tim’s location or the base ship’s location using other methods, but anything else feels like they would be caught before they get the chance to do anything.

When Kon hears footsteps approaching him he straightens up and turns towards them only to freeze when he finds Kara walking towards him. She has her training armour on with her long blonde hair swaying with each step she takes.

She comes to stand by him, giving him a questioning look. “What are you doing here Kon? How did it go with Kal?”

Kon sighs and rolls his eyes as he leans back against the wall. “It went as well as expected, nothing out of the ordinary. As for why I’m here, I came to see Bart. Why are you here?”

“I got sent by the mentors to grab some medical supplies. We’re teaching how to dress a wound in the field if our powers weren’t available.” She tells him. Kon nods and gestures to the door, as if allowing her in.

Kara continues into the infirmary but suddenly back tracks her steps and narrows her eyes at him. She stands up straight and puts her hand on her hips. “You’re up to something.” It wasn’t a question.

Kon shrugs, shaking his head. “No. I’m not doing anything. What makes you say that?”

He stares at her, silently pleading that she doesn’t call him out on it. If she finds out what he and Cassie have planned then she’ll either go to Kal and tell on them or demand to join. Both options were as bad as the other.

“Kon.”

“Kara, nothing is going on! Trust me, Kal made it very clear he didn’t want me or my team to be doing anything for the time being.”

Kara opens her mouth to respond when a different set of footsteps could be heard coming towards them. These were accompanied along with a voice speaking out as they come around the corner of the corridor. “Kon I got lucky and was able to easily access our ship. I managed to grab -”

Cassie stops short when she realises he’s not alone. Kon sighs and rubs a hand over his face, well there goes that lie. He glances at Kara who looks even more sceptical than before. She raises her eyebrow at him and glares, silently demanding answers.

Kon’s gaze flickers between the two girls before he breaks and ends up blurting out, “Okay, fine, yes I’m up to something! But I’m not telling you what because it’s got nothing to do with you. Please don’t tell anybody, especially Kal. If it all goes well we should be back soon enough!”

“Kon!” Cassie scolds him and slaps him on the arm.

Kon grimaces and watches as Kara looks at him, taking in his words. To his surprise all his cousin does is sighs and looks resigned. “You’re going to rescue that human aren’t you? Even though Kal has probably forbidden you from doing so.”

“Maybe…”

Kara nods her head as if she had been expecting this, after a moment she pins both of them with pointed looks. “Fine. The less I know the better, however I will cover for you where I can.”

“Really? Why?”

“You’re family Kon. You would do the same if the roles were reversed, I would offer to come with but it may be better that I stay on Krypton instead. Whatever you’re planning, be careful, if you need assistance don’t hesitate to call for help.”

An overwhelming feeling of gratitude fills Kon as his cousin talks. Once she’s finished speaking he pulls her in for a quick hug, thanking her as he does so. When they pull apart Kara waves them off.

“She’ll keep quiet right?” Cassie questions him as they make their way to Krypton’s ship compound.

Kon nods, feeling confident in his answer. “Yes. If she says she’ll keep quiet then she’ll do so. Kara is trustworthy like that, I’m grateful for her.”

The two of them continue in silence after that. Getting to the compound unspotted was surprisingly easy, getting into the place happened to be just as easy which has them sharing troubled looks but they work with what they’ve got.

They find a League of Assassin’s ship at the back of the compound, buried amongst all the other ships around it. Unexpectedly, not only do they discover one ship but two ships instead. The ships were small and circular with rounded engines coming out of the sides. They were also rusted and worn, the age of them easy to be seen as they’re not made of materials from recent times. Kon wonders how long they’ve been kept in the compound for.

Choosing one of the two ships, together he and Cassie make their way inside it after quickly working out how to open the door. Like it is on the outside, the interior of the ship is just as old. Old technology lined the control room, certainly things from before Kon’s time alive.

Kon wordlessly steps up to the dashboard and tries to figure out what he’s seeing. He’s seen a lot of different technologies and energy signatures that ships from around the galaxy are made of but nothing quite like this and certainly not this old.

As he starts to experiment with different buttons and levers to turn the ship on, Kon hears Cassie rustling around behind him looking at other parts of the ship.

One particular action of pulling two levers simultaneously has the ship making a clicking sound which soon abruptly stops. Kon eyes widen when he realises he's found the way to start it up and instantly repeats the action. It takes a few times before the engines kick in and the vroom sound could be heard signalling the ship finally turning on.

Now it’s powered up, Kon needs to work out how to fly the thing. It shouldn’t be too hard. Despite all of the different kind of space crafts out in the universe, every single one Kon has ever come across have all had the same basic piloting properties. This one shouldn’t be too different. Hopefully.

After some time, Kon eventually has them up in the air and shooting out of Krypton’s atmosphere.

He and Cassie don’t relax until they’re far enough away from the planet and have determined that they weren’t being chased by any Kryptonian’s for stealing a ship from the compound.

Kon turns to Cassie who has now joined him at the dashboard. “Time to track where Tim is. Can you bring out the remote?”

Cassie wordlessly pulls out three remotes from somewhere behind her and places them all on the dashboard. Kon gives her a look for the extra two remotes. Cassie rolls her eyes as she explains. “I got Tim’s remote and at the same time I grabbed ours so the leaders won’t be able to track us.”

Kon nods, unable to argue against that. It was smart and certainly something he hadn’t thought about. His teammate goes ahead and starts up Tim’s remote, going through it’s settings until she finds the tracking system.

It’s takes a while until it pings with a known location. Cassie reiterates Tim’s location, therefore where the base ship of the League are, and Kon guides the ship in the direction they need to go.

-------------

Surprisingly it didn’t take them too long to reach the base ship of the League of Assassins. While it’s a good thing they haven’t had to travel galaxies to reach it, it leaves an uneasy feeling in Kon because of how close they are to Krypton. Was there a particular reason for that or is it just a coincidence?

When all of this mess is sorted this will have to be something Kon brings up to the leaders when he gets back to Krypton. That’s saying if they choose to listen to him of course, he's going to be in so much trouble for disobeying orders.

The base ship is huge. It’s has a dark exterior which blends in well with the void surrounding them, from a distance no species would spot it at a glance. It’s long and has multiple levels. On the top deck Kon could easily see various of weapons set up in defence, a mixture of large canons and lasers. Near the bottom of the ship there is a hatch open and Kon watches as smaller ships and pods come and go in a steady stream.

Surrounding the base ship were smaller ones all scattered around. Kon’s guessing those smaller ships are the first line of defence. The positioning of them forms a ring around the base ship, covering every angle possible, all prepared for any kind of attack.

“Oh Hera…” Cassie sighs next to him. She turns and looks at him expectantly. “Well? Here we are, what’s your plan?”

Kon casts his gaze back onto the ships to avoid making eye contact with her. He hesitates to answer because he doesn’t actually have a plan in mind. Now they’re here it’s suddenly become all that more real and he realises even more than before of how much danger they’re in.

“You don’t have a plan do you?” Cassie accuses him after a long pause.

“Absolutely not. No.” Kon admits immediately, figuring that there’s no point in lying about it. That and also there’s the fact that Cassie knows him too well by now.

The Amazon sighs again and Kon knows what’s coming. However before she could open her mouth to scold him the two of them were suddenly thrown off balance. At the unexpected impact they both collide against the wall hard and collapse to the ground in a heap.

Kon’s disoriented from the sudden collision but before he could make any sense of what happened the ship lurches again forcing him and Cassie to propel to the other side of the ship in a tangle of limbs.

The two of them curse and scramble up to their feet, trying to get back to the dashboard. It’s almost an impossible task with how much the ship is shaking and with the unpredictable violent jerks happening.

“We’re being attacked!” Cassie exclaims glancing at him wildly as she grips the dashboard to keep her balance.

Kon grunts when he almost tumbles over again. He grasps the dashboard next to Cassie and starts rapidly pressing various of buttons to try and work out the ships defence system. After a moment he could feel trepidation rising up inside of him after nothing happens and when they’re blasted again.

“Kon!”

“I don’t know!” Kon yells back frantically continuing to slam different buttons. “I thought we were far enough away that they wouldn’t have picked us up.”

“Obviously not!”

“You think!”

In the middle of their screaming conversation everything abruptly stops and everything goes still. Kon peers over at Cassie in confusion, not understanding what’s going on, and the Amazon simply returns the look.

They were being attacked and then suddenly not. Kon’s got no idea what to expect. When an enemy attacks usually they go straight for the kill and destruction until nothing was left behind. He didn’t know what to make of this unusual tactic.

A sudden thought comes to mind, what if they’re preparing for the final blow? Aiming some kind of canon laser or missile at them right now? They have absolutely no way of defending themselves against a blow like that.

Just as he’s about to voice this to Cassie a deafening blast sounds out and the ship violently jerks. Unable to keep his balance this time, Kon falls to the floor but not before smacking his head against the dashboard. He hits the ground with a groan and clutches his head as everything becomes fuzzy.

He hears Cassie shout something but to Kon it sounds muffled and then there’s a rapid blast of harsh air. As he looks up everything tilts to the side so he quickly shuts his eyes and clutches his head once again in attempts to make the spinning stop. What’s wrong with him? What’s happening?

His attention is pulled away from his head when he feels something grab his arm, at that point his instincts kick in before he could comprehend what’s happening. He swings out blindly with a hand in hopes of hitting whatever has him hold but it dodges his punch and easily captures his hand forcing it back down to the ground.

A heavy weight keeps in it place and Kon tries to tug his arm to free it but finds he couldn’t With one arm pinned to the ground he swings blindly with his other hand but the exact same happens again. With both arms pinned against the ground, Kon is forced to lie down on his front. He squirms against the hold, still disoriented from earlier, and only stops when he feels a sharp pressure on his lower back keeping him place.

He needs to clear his head, he needs to work out what is happening. He takes a couple deep breaths and tilts his head up to look around, finding that the spinning has now mostly stopped. His view is limited from his position on the floor but he makes out multiple bodies around in the ship. Several more than what there were moments ago.

“Cassie?” He calls out to his teammate.

Instead of the desired voice answering his call, a deeper and more rich tone answers instead. “Oh he’s back with us. Hello pal, how’s it hanging?”

Kon frowns and continues to look around, trying to find the owner of the voice. Eventually one of the bodies kneels down in front of him and leers at him. It’s a male with blue skin, pointed ears and striking green eyes. He’s wearing a black uniform with the League of Assassins logo printed on it. Kon doesn’t know what species he is but he knows he isn’t pleased with how he's being spoken too.

“Can we help you?” Kon asks rhetorically. Even through his muddled mind he could now work out what’s going on.

“Yeah actually.” The blue male says almost thoughtfully. “Mind telling us what you’re up to? The Demon’s Head doesn’t exactly like intruders.”

“Just paying our respects.” Kon says without thinking. In response there’s a sharp impact against his back which makes his grunt. Maybe he should just keep his mouth shut from now on?

The blue male goes to speak again but he's cut off by another member speaking up first. “The master has just responded. He wants them on the ship, locked up in a cell. He’ll pay these two a special visit himself.”

That makes the blue male hum, he casts a mindful look at Kon and responds. “Very well. Prepare to transport them over and someone take control of this ship to drive it into one of the bays onboard.”

Kon watches as they all part ways, each doing the separate tasks ordered of them though the pressure on his back never eases, it stays there as a constant reminder to the situation he’s in. Kon doesn’t get long to observe what’s going on because the blue male is back and is holding a piece of cloth in one of his hands.

He smirks at Kon, looking rather pleased about something. The look makes Kon aware that something unpleasant is about to happen.

“Sorry about this, but it makes our jobs much easier if we didn’t have you fighting against us.” With those words he stretches out and places the cloth over Kon’s nose and mouth, attempting to smother him with it.

Kon jerks against the action, trying to twist his head away as well as break the hold that is on his back. The grip on his only tightens and suddenly there’s a hand in his hair, forcing his head still against the ground as the cloth blocks him breathing.

Kon does his best to fight against it, to not breathe in on whatever is on that cloth but he knows it’s too late. His body slowly becomes unresponsive and his mind starts to drift as his eyes become heavy. The cloth is finally removed from his face when he could no longer lift his head and when he could no longer open his eyes. After that everything goes black.

Jerking awake, Kon sucks in a lungful of air. It takes a moment to control his breathing but once he feels calmer he finally observes his surroundings. There are three solid plain walls, the last has a large metal door in place and Kon couldn’t see any furniture in the room. He does however find out he isn’t alone, Cassie sits opposite him, leaning against the wall looking completely bored out of her mind but thankfully unharmed.

“Cassie?” He croaks out, grimacing at the way his voice sounds. Whatever they used to knock him out certainly did the trick. It makes him wonder what they used because there isn’t really a lot that could make a Kryptonian go unconscious.

His call gets her attention and she perks up at seeing him awake. “Kon! Oh thank Hera, for a while I thought you may have been dead and they simply left me in here with your body.”

Kon blinks at her but chooses not to make a comment, there are more important matters to address first. “Where are we?”

“On the base ship, locked in a cell after getting captured on our own ship before we even had the chance to do anything.” She looks both unimpressed and frustrated by the end of her summary. Kon grimaces again, feeling like she has a point and the right to be upset with current circumstances.

When he doesn’t say anything Cassie huffs. “I told you this was a bad idea, and here we are, captured!”

“At least we’re not dead.”

“Not yet.”

Kon sighs and looks around the cell, not feeling very hopeful. “Look, we’re on the ship. All we have to do now is come up with some of plan to get out, find Tim and escape.”

“Because everything up to now has been so easy.”

“That's not helpful Cassie.”

Before she could retort a loud cranking sound could be heard and the two of them turn their attention to the door as it opens. Kon feels himself tense up as a figure appears in the doorway and enters the room with the door slamming shut behind them.

It takes a moment to work out who’s in front of them but when it clicks Kon sucks in a sharp breath. It’s the Demon’s Head himself, Ra’s Al Ghul. Kon’s never seen him in person before, he’s only ever heard stories, rumours and seen the occasional picture but all of that is very different compared to seeing him with his own eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I have certainly been waiting for this, especially when you decided to take what is mine and run off with it.” His voice his deep and low but holds some resentment in the tone as he speaks.

Kon doesn’t know what to make of the comment so he stays silent. He glances at Cassie to see if she has any ideas and finds the Amazon copying his actions, simply staying quiet.

“I can’t let you get away with what you did of course but the punishments could be less severe if you tell me what I want to know and if you simply cooperate. Also this whole nonsense of yours has taken me away from something rather important so I wouldn’t do anything too rash if I were you.”

Kon swallows thickly, trying to work out what he’s after. Obviously he's talking about Tim and it infuriates Kon that he's talking about Tim like he's a piece of property. It isn’t right and certainly isn’t fair.

His and Cassie’s silence doesn’t seem to bother the Demon’s Head because he continues to talk without any prompting. “Now why did you take the human?”

He looks between Kon and Cassie waiting for an answer. Kon shares a look with Cassie, unsure on what to do. His teammate looks back just as unsure and gives a light shrug of the shoulders.

After a moment of silence Ra’s speaks up again, this time sounding more agitated. “I’m waiting for an answer. Why did you take the human?”

“We didn’t take him.” Kon snaps in the end, hating the way he’s referring to Tim. “Tim was lost and confused. We wanted to help him.”

Piercing eyes turn on him and Kon feels himself shiver from the intense look being sent his way. “See that’s exactly what the human said. How you just wanted to help him, how there are no ulterior motivations. If that happens to be the truth then why did you help him? He could have been a spy. Did your precious Kryptonian leaders order it of you?”

Kon grits his teeth trying to keep his temper in check. “We first found Tim in a destroyed pod after escaping you. He was a lost and confused soul who doesn’t deserve anything that has happened to him. We wanted to help him get back home. At the time we didn’t even know he was a human but that didn’t change anything.”

Was there something wrong with wanting to help another being in the universe? Why couldn’t he help someone without there being some sort of repercussion from it?

“You gave him a universal translator.” The Demon’s Head states looking at him thoughtfully. “I assume that's how you tracked him too.”

Kon’s eyes widen at the mention of the translator, now suddenly remembering the remotes that had been on the ship. If the League get their hands on those remotes they were screwed because it wasn't just Tim’s in danger but his and Cassie’s remotes too.

His eyes dart to Cassie in silent panic. Her eyes were also wide in fear, as if the same thoughts were going through her head. When they make eye contact she mouths, “I hid them, they should be safe. Hopefully.”

That doesn’t do much to reassure Kon. Thankfully Ra’s attention is only on him so he didn’t catch their brief exchange. Kon swallows and looks back at him. “We did because he couldn’t understand us. He was freaking out and communication was difficult. We decided to give him a translator to help him. There’s nothing more to it.”

The Demon’s Head’s eyes narrow at him and Kon could see that he's getting frustrated with Kon’s answers. It’s not what he wants but Kon’s only telling the truth. It continues to annoy him that Ra’s believes his team had other reasons for picking up Tim off that planet and helping him. Kon speaks up without meaning to. “Just because you don’t know the meaning of helping someone out of kindness of your heart doesn’t mean that everyone is as merciless as your are. You can help someone just because you want to. There doesn’t have to be another reason for it.”

A tense silence fills the atmosphere of the cell after Kon finishes talking. The Demon’s Head stays silent, staring at him with an expression Kon couldn’t work out. Kon starts to panic as he stares back, his mind thinking that he may have gone to far with his words. It only intensifies when the Ra’s stalks forward until he's looming over Kon.

Ra’s leans down, never breaking eye contact with him, until they’re breaths apart. His voice is low and threatening when he speaks to Kon, his gaze fierce and promising painful things to come. “I’ll show you how exactly merciless I can be Kryptonian. You think you know what kindness is? Well I’ll show you a new meaning to the definition and then we’ll see what you think about that concept afterwards.”

After that Ra’s pulls away, giving him a hard look before backing up and heading towards the door. The Demon’s Head turns back around glances at the two of them. “I wouldn’t consider escaping if I were you. You wouldn’t get very far. Those bracelets of yours Amazon, are there to keep your powers subdued, unless you have a powerful enchantress available, you won’t be removing them any time soon. And you Kryptonian, your powers won’t be available as Kryptonite particles were injected into your system. Not enough to kill you of course but enough to be effective.”

With that Ra’s bangs on the door and is let out of the room. The door slams shut behind him with a deafening thud.

It’s when his presence has finally left the cell that Kon lets out a long breath that he hadn’t realised he had been holding in. All of the tension eases from his body as he slumps against the wall behind him even more than before.

Opposite him, Cassie is openly staring. “Kon you just lectured the head of the League of Assassins about kindness.”

Kon blinks, taking a moment to process everything that had just happened. “I guess I did. A lot a good it did though.”

Cassie shakes her head in disbelief.

After Ra’s visit time passes slowly for the two of them. They have no idea how long they’ve been trapped in the cell for but not once do they see another body enter the cell for the duration they are in there for.

They talk to pass the time. Talking about the bracelets encasing Cassie’s wrists, how Kon feels with the Kryptonite in his system, about what they could do to try and help Tim, how they may escape the cell, how Bart may be doing and what they may face if they return back to Krypton.

Within the cell they had the freedom to move around as they please. To their surprise the League hadn’t restrained them to the wall or the floor. Of course having the freedom to move about has both Kon and Cassie hopelessly searching the cell for anything they could to help them escape. Predictably they find nothing.

The two of them slump against the wall opposite the door and slide down to the ground side by side. Cassie brings her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them while Kon stretches out his legs in front of him.

They sit in companionable silence for a long time. They do nothing but sit there lost in their own thoughts as they wait for something to happen.

Kon’s startled out of his thoughts when a loud thump could be heard by the door. He eyes the metal contraption suspiciously and jerks again when a second thump could be heard. He glances at Cassie to find her staring vacantly at the ceiling with a scowl in place. She hadn’t heard the noises.

He nudges her to get her attention. After a small jump from where he startled her she raises an eyebrow in question. Kon gestures to the door, “Something’s up. There were thumps outside just now.”

As he finishes speaking a familiar cranking sound could be heard and the door opens up. Both Cassie and Kon get to their feet, preparing themselves for what they’re about to face. Multiple figures enter the room, three step forward while one hangs back keeping the door from shutting closed. They were all wearing the signature black League of Assassins uniform. Each of them had different skin tones, different features and different weapons strapped to their backs.

Kon shares an unsure look with Cassie, neither of them knowing what’s going on or what’s about to happen.

Before they could react two of the figures in front of them reach up to grab the collars of their uniforms and suddenly their faces shimmer, blur and bleed away to reveal new faces. Ones that were very familiar.

Kon and Cassie find themselves now staring at Bart and Kara.

Next to those two, the third figure begins to change and Kon recognises this as shape shifting. Soon enough another familiar face is looking at them. M’gann, a long time old friend who is a Martian, is there smiling at them.

Kon looks back at Kara and Bart and before he could stop himself he’s darting forward and throwing his arms around his friend. After a moment he pulls back and looks over the Speedster with a critical eye. “You’re awake? You’re okay? How did you get here? What are you doing here!”

Bart laughs and instantly starts talking in super speed about his journey of finding them.

It’s fast and its rapid and Kon has a hard time keeping up with what he’s saying. In the end Cassie cuts Bart off with her own action of hugging him.

Kon looks over at Kara who’s smiling at them. “What happened to staying on Krypton? How are you here? What was that?”

He has so many questions that need answering but he doesn’t know what he wants answered first or what’s the most important. He hadn’t been expecting to find his cousin and previously unconscious teammate standing in front of him on the League of Assassins base ship.

“Look first things first, are you both okay?” Kara asks seriously, looking them over.

They both nod. “Yeah we’re fine but how-”

She cuts him off. “Bart woke up not long after you left. He found the note you wrote and then found me, he insisted on leaving to help you. I knew I couldn’t let him go alone so I joined him. As we were planning on what to do, we bumped into M’gann who conveniently happened to be visiting Krypton. We shared what was going on and she decided to join us, stating that her shape shifting abilities would be useful. After that she also called in a favour with a sorceress she’s apparently good friends with and got us some enchanted disguises which we can manipulate with our thoughts and a small button.

We used M’gann’s bioship to track your location using your DNA. The bioship is able to shift to look like other ships, so we changed it into looking like a League’s ship and disguised ourselves as assassins and snuck on board. As we tried to find you, we bumped into Pru. After a long misunderstanding and several threats, Pru decided to help us and brought us here. We knocked out the guards who were on watch and here we are. Pru also knows where Tim is being held.”

Kon blinks as he tried to comprehend all that information. He can’t believe what they all went through to find them. Kon glances at M’gann and then at the assassin still standing at the door who must be Pru. “Thank you, all of you. I don’t know what to say.”

Bart blurs up in front of him. “You don’t have to say anything! Remember Tim is part of my team too, the fact I had helped along the way has made it all so much easier but I wouldn’t have let you guys fight this without me!”

“Won’t they notice that you’re gone from the infirmary?” Cassie asks him.

Bart shrugs. “At this point I don’t care. We’re already in trouble so what’s a little more. Plus you guys are going to be in for some serious consequences when you go back. The leaders are not happy.”

“What else is new,” Kon deadpans with an eye roll. He looks at Pru. “You know where Tim is? Can you take us there?”

“No.” The assassin states bluntly. She straightens up, still keeping the door open with her foot, and looks at them all. “It’s bad enough I lead them here to the two of you, it’ll be stupid to allow the five of you wonder around the corridors. I will bring Tim to you then you can head back to the Martian’s ship.”

Then without any warning she slips through the door, letting it slam shut behind her.

“Can we trust her?”

“She did bring us here, so possibly?”

“What if it’s a big trap, have us all together locked in this room?”

“Well we’re trapped in here so all we can do is wait and hope.”

After Pru left the cell they all spend time catching up. Cassie catches Bart up with what he missed after the attack from the League while Kon catches up with M’gann. They had met when they both were young as his father and her uncle worked closely together, it’s been a long time since they spoke and Kon wishes it was under different circumstances that they joined together again.

Eventually the cranking of the door opening could be heard again. Everyone is immediately alert and waiting for whatever is going to come through that door. Two bodies enter and they all relax when they find one to be Pru. When Kon sees the other instant relief washes over him but it’s quickly replaced with horror when everything becomes clear to see.

“Rao, Tim. What happened to you?!”

#universal signs #Kon-El #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #Tim Drake #kara zor-el #Young Justice #core four #space #space ships #fanfiction #bit angsty #a lot happens in this chapter #brace yourselves #Ra's al Ghul

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