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kahlanmars · 1 year

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BAD FEELING

Hello! The first part is here ⬇️

MASTERLIST

As usual, english is not my first language so please be merciful and tell me if you want to be tagged!

part 2

Anchor

You don’t realise at first, the Peacekeepers pushing you to the stage where Effie is paler than ever. You search Holly with your eyes, dazzled and confused, and you see she is crouched down crying. Maybe you should cry, but you can’t.

Katniss and Peeta are there, beautiful, holding hands, but when you see Haymitch you jump into his arms, just like the day before. It’s almost crazy that you do it, it’s not part of a strategy or anything, but Haymitch is firm, is there, an anchor. You hide in his solid chest in a way that, you know, will make you ashamed of yourself later.

He holds you, visibly drunk, however he whispers in your ear «Don’t cry, stay there, stay still. You are looking weak.»

You turn to Katniss, who’s looking at you with fear. Peeta, always better at faking, greets you with a handshake and accompanies you where you are supposed to be. Thanks, Peeta. The true mastermind.

Effie is smiling, fooling nearly noone, when she announces the male participant.

Oh c’mon. You know that name, and you barely contain yourself not to roll your eyes. Clark Undersee, a boring name for a vile man.

He stands up, more confident than you, more handsome than you, and he shoots a glare at you. You return it. It’s clear to everyone that you two are not allies and you perfectly know why.

The peacekeepers escort you in two private rooms, where Holly enters immediately. You watch her brown eyes and white hair, the wrinkles around her face as you’ll never see her again.

«My dear…» She doesn’t know what to say, her voice is cracked by the tears. You try to console her, to pat your hand on her shoulder, but your voice doesn’t want to collaborate.

«At least it’s not a child.» You find yourself thinking. Holly doesn’t share your thoughts, you can see it in her expression.

«You can win.» Your mother is delusional. You know it’s the pain, but you can’t help feeling a little frustrated.

«Holly…» There’s no possibility you win. You don’t have any survival skills, you never hunted or fought. If they were the “Kinder Games”, or the “Be Nice To Strangers Games”, then maybe. The Hunger Games? You are already dead.

«You have Katniss, and Peeta. And Haymitch. They can help you.» They can’t help me in the arena, you think but decide to keep it to yourself.

«I really hope I’ll see you again.» Haymitch was right, you don’t need to appear weaker than you already are, and tears are the last thing you want. You hug her, trembling in the great effort of not crying.

«I’ll see you.»

The peacekeepers escort her out, but before she leaves the room you jump into her arms again.

«I love you, mama.» You rarely call her mom, but this is the last time you see her.

The next to enter is Prim. You don’t have many friends, but Primrose Everdeen is a face you didn’t expect to see, especially because she is so much younger than you and you two aren’t close friends.

«Prim?» You ask, carefully. The Peacekeepers are not in the room, but you never know with the Capitol, you wouldn’t be surprised if they placed cameras in there.

She smiles, and you have to admit she is adorable, blonde hair in pigtails and a grey dress.

«Daisy! I’m really sorry for you.» She hugs you, which you don’t mind. You wanted to be a teacher, after all, you like children.

«There there, sweet child. Someone had to go.» It’s odd how you have to comfort the people who came to comfort you. «I’m glad it’s a grown up like me and not a kid like you.» You wipe a tear out of her cheek, and you manage to wink at her.

«L-like uncle Haymitch always says, try to hold on as much as you can.»

That’s weird. Haymitch never said that, at least not to you. And uncle Haymitch? Your boss is not exactly a child person. Or a people person. Or a creature person. She never calls him “Uncle”.

You raise your eyebrows, but before you could ask her something she is accompanied out of the room.

You can’t believe the last person from the District you got to say goodbye to is Primrose Everdeen.

You get to be alone for a moment, then you are conveyed to the train with Clark.

Clark is better looking than you, you hate to admit it but it’s as clear as the sun. He has short, blonde hair, sparkling green eyes and a chiselled jaw with a short beard, and at the age of twentynine he is tall, muscular, he looks like one of the careers.

The train is marvellous, faster and larger than anything you’ve ever seen. If it wasn’t for the You-Are-Gonna-Die part, you’d be excited.

In the train there’s Effie Trinket. Away from the cameras you only last three seconds before you jump into her arms.

You are a hug person. It’s not a crime. And you are not crying, actually it’s like you are on the cloud, everybody is looking at you like you are going on a death sentence - and you are, but after Holly and the weird digression with Prim, you don’t really sense where you are. It’s like you disconnected.

Your escort, with her peculiar outfits and wigs you could say she is a product of Panem, and she is, but she is also a grown woman of forty who has always been great to you, kind and patient.

Effie knows you, and she is crying right now so you think she… cares for you, in a twisted way that makes her job tolerable. People forget that a mentor has to see their tributes die every year, but she also has to. It must not be easy for her either.

«I'm sorry, dear girl.» She caresses your hair, while Clarke is just there, looking awkward. You hate him, but you get it. Must be embarrassing.

«It's not your fault» You murmur to the escort. You have to live with her, there is no need to be harsh.

«Actually it is» Says Haymitch. He appeared out of nowhere, not saying hi, and you notice he already has a drink in his hands.

«Is she President Snow on a wig and I don't know it?» You snap, before you realise that 1) Your boss, although you think it’s kinda sexy, is not the nicest person ever, 2) You don’t say President Snow’s name in a Capitol train and 3) You never said anything back literally ever and now it’s not the time to start. «Sorry, Haymitch.»

He is smirking, tho. «Don't be! We can work on that.» You think you passed, but he holds your wrist in a second, which is actually impressive for a drunk. «But before you want to use that tone with me again, sweetheart, remember who gives you sponsors.»

You look at your wrist, then at your boss. Late boss. At your mentor. «I’m really sorry.»

You are not, to be honest. Effie needed to be defended. But then again you want to have sponsors.

«Come, come, there are your rooms. You want to… clean yourself before dinner, don’t you?» Your escort suggests, and you are very keen to try a shower for the first time. You practically run into your room, and it’s the most luscious thing ever. It really has a shower! On a train! And a thing, you don’t really know what, that gives you sweet if you ask it.

You are going to die in two weeks. You are going to enjoy every second from now on.

You take a long shower, and it feels amazing. You now get how the Capitals are so dumb and superficial, if they give you hot water on your skin everyday and sweets from a button you’ll become dumb too.

You even get to choose clean dresses. You pick a simple blue dress with a round neckline and white embroideries, who you think it’s really cute and matches the daisies you have on your hair. There’s no need to die ugly.

At dinner there are Effie, who smiles at you like you are a princess when she sees the dress, Clark, who rolls his eyes when he sees you, and Haymitch, who’s barely awake.

You begin to eat, and every bite of every meal tastes like paradise. You are well-mannered - Clark eats like he’ve never seen food in his life, which is kinda true, but if Holly could have seen him she would have shouted so loud the train would’ve stopped. Holly is rigid in these things, you always have to be kind, gentle, polite. Even when you are starving. All it takes is small bites.

«Thanks for everything.» You say to the avox who serves you dinner.

Effie shots a glare at you. «You don’t need to talk to the avox, dear.» She reminds you.

«But…»

«No.» She repeats. «But I compliment you for choosing the dress. It really suits you.»

«Thank you for saying that. I liked the embroideries.»

You are aware it’s an awkward conversation, you two chatting like old friends as you are not sent to die in a bloody arena, but it’s your way of rationalising it and you are very thankful to the woman for being there.

«You’ll be a beautiful corpse.» Clark responds.

«You’ll be a really ugly one.» You say to him in a light tone.

Haymitch finally opens his eyes. «I don’t think we have lovebirds this year.»

#fanfiction #haymitch abernathy #the hunger games #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch x fem!reader #haymitch Abernathy x reader #hg #thg

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teaberrii · 2 years

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Chapter 8: Flirting... with Honesty (My Worst Enemy is a Cat)

Human by day. Cat by night. That’s how Scaramouche lived until you came back into his life.

Scaramouche/You

Notes: Cross-posted on Ao3. If you want me to add you to the tag list, visit the tag list post for the blog.

The master list for the other chapters is at the end of chapter one.

I've been having trouble with the taglist recently, where it wasn't notifying some people. So, if you weren't getting tagged before, I would appreciate it if you let me know if you got a notif. for this.

You're expecting a smirk or some kind of arrogant or sarcastic remark. But, his warm gaze never fades. The silence drags on. Your surroundings start to blur as you focus on him and him alone.

Despite his calm demeanour, Scaramouche is doing everything in his power not to kiss you. Then, he gently puts a hand on your cheek. When you take his hand, his heart starts racing. Wait. What are you doing? With his hand in yours, you lower it.

You put your other hand on your table and shift your weight to one side as you say with a ghost of a smile, “Then, should we take things somewhere more private?”

That's it. He's done. Scaramouche's eyes widen, taken by complete surprise at your words. His face heats up instantly; he knows as he feels the heat around his ears. Is it your calm confidence? Or is the slightly playful way you're looking at him?

Whatever it is, you've completely entranced him. Something stirs within him, and Scaramouche suddenly imagines holding you against the large office window and kissing you until you're drunk on the taste of each other.

He doesn't want you. He needs you.

That is… until you start chuckling. Then, finally, you let go of his hand and tap his arm. "Looks like I win this time."

It takes a moment for your words to sink in. But, once they do, it hits him. Are you trying to out-flirt him? Now, hold on a second. Scaramouche crosses his arms with a slight smile. "...What is that supposed to mean?"

You shrug with a mischievous grin. "Nothing." You look to the side. "But, that was the first time I've seen big-shot Scaramouche speechless in a long time." Your gaze finds his. "That means I did something right, right?"

Scaramouche has no idea what he's feeling. Disbelief? But also strangely aroused? Fine. Two can play at this game, and he will come out victorious. He's about to close the distance when a sudden knock comes at your door. You quickly look past him just as Scaramouche turns around.

“Oh! I’m sorry! Am I interrupting something?”

You gently push Scaramouche aside and walk a few steps forward. “No, not at all. Do you need something?”

Scaramouche watches you leave with your co-worker. You glance at him over your shoulder just before you walk out the door. Then, Scaramouche sighs loudly as he puts both hands on your desk, his emotions like a fire burning inside.

Are you in your right mind? No, probably not. You don't know what led you to do what you did or say what you said. But you did it. No matter how calm you may have looked, your legs felt like they were about to give, especially after what you said.

You still have no idea where that burst of confidence came from, but boy, you're glad it happened despite your rollercoaster of emotions. Scaramouche isn't the only one who's going to make you speechless. You also have a few tricks up your sleeve.

It doesn't take you long to leave the office. Once you do, Scaramouche already has his car waiting for you. As soon as he knows you're coming, he immediately steps out and leans against the passenger door. If you think you can out-flirt him, you have another thing coming.

Scaramouche doesn't know what it is… this sudden desire to sweep you off your feet. He wants to be the person who makes your heart race, the person who you go to for the good and the bad, the person you wake up next to every morning. He wants to be yours.

Scaramouche sees you come out of the building. Then, when you're close enough, you ask, "Did you wait long?"

He opens the passenger door. "Again, does it matter? I'll always wait for you, no matter how long it takes."

Maybe it’s his suave or how he gestures you to get in his car that makes you smile. But, just before you get in, you turn and point at him. “Close… but no cigar.”

Scaramouche takes your hand and gently pulls you closer to him. "Then, should I kiss you right here? Right now?" Whoa. Back up. Too fast. Scaramouche smirks and lets you go. "That's what I thought."

You're still stunned as he walks back to the driver's seat. But, then, he puts his elbows on the hood of his car and gives you a playful smile. "What happened to the confidence earlier, hm?"

That snaps you out of it, and you give him a deadpan look. You know that he knows you have no comeback. So you and Scaramouche get in his car at the same time. Once you close the door, he starts the car.

“...So, where are we going?” you ask.

"Somewhere 'private.'" You resist the urge to hit him. But then, he smiles and says, "There's a festival near Teyvat River." Ah, yes. You heard about it. It's all over your social media feed. "We could go for just a little bit. Interested?"

Instead of answering his question, you ask, "Do you still remember when I found you by that river?"

"...Are you… crying?" Scaramouche was sitting by Teyvat River, feeling terrible for getting a bad grade, when he heard your voice. Scaramouche refused to look at you. So, you approached him until you were close enough to tap his shoulder. "...Hey, answer me."

Scaramouche glared at you. Yup. From his red eyes, it was obvious he'd been crying. Then, he got up and started walking away. To his dismay, you followed him. A short while later, he felt you wouldn't give up anytime soon. So, he turned around and said, "Can't you take a hint?"

“Well, I gotta make sure you won’t do anything reckless.”

“...Like what?”

You looked at the river. “...Maybe throw yourself into the river or something.”

Scaramouche scoffed, turned around, and continued walking. Both of you continued walking in silence, with him in front and you a few steps behind. Eventually, Scaramouche's shoulders fell, and he pressed his lips together. How long were you going to keep following him?

Then, he heard a short scream. He immediately spun around and saw that you had fallen into the shallow river. He quickly ran to your side.

"Why are you so clumsy?" he scolded. Still, he held his hand out to you. You glared at him as you got up without taking his hand. Then, once you were on dry land, you looked down at yourself as Scaramouche started laughing. "You look like you peed yourself."

"Thanks. I really wanted to hear that."

Then, to your surprise, Scaramouche took off his jacket. But he didn't just give it to you to put around your waist. Instead, he wrapped it around you himself.

You and Scaramouche are now walking side by side on the road above the river. Distant conversations from the festival take over the silence between you and him until…

"Do you want to know why I was crying that day?" he asks. You turn to him. "Because I got a bad grade." You want to laugh, but you can't. Because you've been there. You've tortured yourself for days after getting a grade less to your satisfaction. "Not going to laugh at me?"

You put your hands in your coat pocket. “I’ve been there. So… I understand how it feels.”

Scaramouche isn't surprised. But he's still curious. "Why were you always so keen on getting first, anyway? Surely it wasn't just to beat me."

You remain silent for a brief moment, and Scaramouche wonders if he asked something he shouldn't have. But then, you say, "It was because of my parents. They were always tired from work… and their jobs took a toll on their health. So, they encouraged my siblings and me to study hard and get a good office job. I couldn't disappoint them."

"It takes good parenting to instill that kind of diligence in their children at a young age."

You gently nudge him. "What? You aren't going to compliment me for being a good kid?"

Scaramouche stops you and spins you to face him. "Would you like something better?"

You know what he's hinting at. But, instead, you ask, "...Free food?"

"Do I get to feed you this time?"

You lightly smack him. "What is it with you and feeding people?"

"Well, you always feed me when I come over," he mutters.

"Did you say something?"

Scaramouche clears his throat. "Nothing."

You continue walking, and Scaramouche falls into step with you as you ask, "Why were you so keen on getting good grades?"

Scaramouche looks straight ahead. "Because of my mom. My father passed away when I was young, so she raised me on her own." You aren't expecting that. "At the time, we didn't have the money to pay his hospital bills." He turns to you. "My mother eventually took up multiple jobs… and always told me to work hard at whatever I did. I was a student, which meant my job was to study."

"She must've inspired you."

"Of course. The last person I wanted to disappoint was her."

You smile. "I'm sure she's proud. I know I would be."

"Oh? Is there another meaning behind that?"

The playfulness in his tone doesn't go unnoticed. "Well, if you must know, you've become a decent person despite what you put me through."

Scaramouche almost laughs. "Oh, I'm sorry. What did I put you through, exactly? I always wanted to help you, but you always turned me down."

"Help me?" you ask incredulously. "By making fun of me?"

"I admit that sometimes my methods were questionable. But, hey, at least I later started offering actual help."

“...Yeah, well, when that came, I thought you were looking down on me.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I joke about that?”

Scaramouche puts a hand in his pocket. “Well, just so you know, it's true that I was kicking myself over a bad grade that day, but it was also because you beat me.”

"Seriously?"

"Why would I lie?"

You shrug. “I just can’t see you crying because of something like that. I mean… how many times have you beaten me?”

Scaramouche scoffs. "Well, let me let you in on a secret, princess." You look at him. "I thought that would be the end… of us."

Wait. Huh?

"I thought that once you beat me, you'd move on to other things." Oh, if only he knew. Scaramouche looks away. "So… I wanted to beat you again and again."

"Oh, so you were putting in the effort to be annoying. Is that what you're saying?"

Scaramouche suddenly grabs your arm and stops you. He steps toward you, and you naturally turn to face him. "I was putting in the effort to keep your attention." He's turning red, but you're sure he isn't the only one. "Because I didn't want you to notice anyone else."

Anything more, your legs might just give. You glance away. "...Well, it worked," you said quietly.

You immediately look at him when you feel his hand on your cheek. "...Is it still working?"

Can he just pause for a second without making your heart feel like it's going to explode? You don't know if he's aware of his effect on you right now, and you hope he doesn't. Scaramouche hopes you don't see that he's nervous as heck. He's not even trying to flirt, impress, or whatever you want to call it. He's being honest, which scares him senseless.

“Well—I mean—I… I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

Everything around you becomes a blur as you stare into each other's eyes. Then, Scaramouche glances at your lips. "And that's all that matters." Your eyes widen as he starts closing the gap between you. Then, just before you feel his lips brush against yours, someone calls your name… followed by Scaramouche's.

"Long time no see!"

Scaramouche instantly pulls back. You turn away from each other awkwardly and see Childe, an old friend, walk up to you. Arlecchino, your old high school senior who you highly respected back in school, isn't far behind.

Childe gives you a tight hug. "I missed you." Upon seeing that, Scaramouche frowns, which only Arlecchino catches.

You put one arm around Childe and pat him gently. “I missed you too.”

“Hi, my name is Childe! It’s nice to meet everyone.”

The boy who stood in front of the class got everyone's attention almost instantly. His boyish looks had the girls talking; his height had the guys' attention. You knew this new student was going to be popular. The teacher said your name, and you stood up.

"As the class president, could you show Childe around school?"

"Yeah, of course."

Beside you, Scaramouche looked from Childe to you. It was a bit of stretch, but Scaramouche couldn't help but wonder… You couldn't possibly be into pretty boys, right?

Then, Childe looks at Scaramouche. "Good to see you."

"Yeah, likewise," is Scaramouche's flat response.

Before the teacher walked in, Childe spun around in his seat and asked, "I know this is the third time this week… but do you have a pencil I could borrow?"

Well, at least he always returned them. You were digging through your pencil case when Scaramouche handed Childe one of his and said, "Keep it."

"So, are you two on a date?" Childe asks.

"...When will you learn to read the room?"

Childe looks at Arleccino. "What? It's not like it's an invasive question. You are, or you aren't, right?"

When Childe steps toward you, Scaramouche immediately takes your arm and gently pulls you towards him. Then, before he can stop himself, he says, "We are."

You immediately look at Scaramouche, who’s focused on Childe. Childe looks at you. “And is that true?”

“...Why do you ask?”

"I need a date for my sister's wedding this weekend." Childe turns to Arleccino. "And she still thinks I still have cooties or something. So… since I bumped into you here, it must mean something, right?"

“Why are you here anyway?”

Childe looks at Scaramouche. “What? I can’t enjoy the festival like everyone else?” Then, Childe takes your hand. “It’s been a while since we last saw each other. Let’s make the most of it.”

Before you or Scaramouche can say anything else, Childe is already dragging you towards the festival. Scaramouche takes a step, but Arleccino stops him. "...It's Childe. You have nothing to worry about."

Should he be worried? Scaramouche didn't know. Childe seemed like a decent guy… besides the fact that he flirted with a lot of the girls, you included. At first, Scaramouche was extremely annoyed, but when he saw how you treated Childe like any other person, Scaramouche felt a little more at ease. You were still bickering with him, which was a good sign… right?

But that's when the rumours started. You and Childe had been hanging out a little more, and someone started a rumour that you had feelings for him… and soon, people were saying you were a creepy stalker who wouldn't leave him alone. Even after Childe said that the two of you were just friends, some people wouldn't let it go. Scaramouche was getting fed up.

You were studying in the classroom when two girls approached you and asked about Childe. You glared at them. "Why don't you go ask him yourself?"

“Well, you’re his stalker, aren’t you?”

"No, I'm not," you said through gritted teeth.

"Why are you getting so worked up? It was just a question."

"Leave her alone." Everyone turned to Scaramouche at the doorway. His glare made the girls look away. When he stopped in front of them, he said, "Bother her again, and I won't be so nice next time.

"When he took another step toward them, the girls took a step back. "Get out of here."

When they did, they didn't notice Childe leaning against the wall until he spoke, "Both of you are pathetic."

"It's hard to believe you're still single," you say.

"Are you offering?"

You give him a deadpan look. "No."

"Right. You already have Scaramouche." When you say nothing, Childe chuckles. "Man, you've been stuck in the denial phase for too long." You roll your eyes. "Wanna have a little fun with him?"

Scaramouche and Arleccino are walking a short distance from you and Childe when she says, "I take it you haven't confessed to her."

Arleccino snapped her fingers in front of Scaramouche. "Are you paying attention?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry."

She crossed her arms. "The tournament's coming up. I'm expecting you to focus."

Arleccino, the captain of the kendo club, was strict. But, she was stricter when tournament season was around the corner. Scaramouche was staying later than usual to practice with her. Still, when the rumours between you and Childe started coming out, he couldn't get you off his mind. When practice began again, it didn't take long for Scaramouche to make another careless mistake.

Arleccino took off her helmet. "Okay. What's bothering you? You're better than this." Scaramouche also took off his helmet. Should he tell the truth? "...Is it girl trouble?"

"Both of you deserve a gold medal for dragging this out for so many years." Arleccino sighs. "You're making it more complicated than it should."

"I should've expected that response from you."

"Well, of course! Just be straightforward and get it over with."

"This one will look good on you!" Childe's voice makes Scaramouche and Arleccino turn. Upon seeing Childe put a panda headband on you, Scaramouche frowns. Then, as if you sense him looking, you turn and wave him and Arleccino over.

As you and Arleccino try on different headbands a small distance away, Childe doesn't look at Scaramouche as he says, "Did you know we kept in touch?"

"And?"

"She asked about you."

It's been so long since you talked with an old friend. Childe happened to ring you up on your birthday, and you welcomed the company.

"...Happy birthday to youuu!"

You couldn't believe you just sat through an entire birthday song… sung by Childe. "...Am I supposed to clap?"

"Well, that would be nice."

"I rather not."

"Harsh." You smile slightly as Childe continues, "So, how have you been?"

After spending some time catching up, you ask, "...Um, do you still keep in touch with Scaramouche?"

"Oh? Why do you ask?"

"It was pretty obvious that she missed you," Childe says. Scaramouche looks at you just in time to see you laugh at something Arleccino said. "But she didn't know if you even remembered her." Childe gently taps Scaramouche's arm. "So, make it up to her, would you?" Then, he calls you and Arleccino. "What do you think of this one for Scaramouche?"

Scaramouche doesn't let Childe put the fox headband on him. Then, you approach him with one that has black cat ears. "What about this one?"

Once you put it on him, Arleccino says, "Ooh, it does suit him."

Childe grins. "Very cute." Scaramouche isn't amused but seeing the smile on your face makes it worth it. When everyone has a headband, Childe snaps a photo. "Ah! Scaramouche isn't smiling!" You gently nudge him, and Scaramouche sighs. After snapping another photo, Childe looks at it but frowns. Then, he turns to Scaramouche. "Could you at least pretend to be happy?"

"You're asking for a lot," Arleccino says. "He can't act to save his life."

Childe grabs your shoulders and spins you to face him. "Give him a kiss."

"What? I—"

Your eyes widen when Scaramouche gives a quick kiss on your head. Arleccino puts a hand over her mouth as Childe smiles widely. "Wait," Childe says, looking at Scaramouche. "Why are you smiling?"

"Isn't it obvious? Because I'm happy."

Eventually, you and Scaramouche part ways with your friends and head back to his car. Once inside, you lightly tug on the cat ears on his head. "I can't believe you got this."

He looks at you. "What? You don't like it?"

"It's cute."

Scaramouche gently taps your nose. "Not as cute as you."

"...Okay, that wasn't cute."

Scaramouche takes off the headband. "Then, why are you smiling?" He starts the car and drives off.

"Because that was corny and terrible."

"Wow, okay. I'd like to see you do better."

You put your elbow on the windowsill. “I already did.”

“That was once. I call it lucky.” When Scaramouche arrives at your place, he shifts the car gears. “Well, did you have fun tonight?”

"Could've been better."

"What? You didn't get the free food you wanted?"

You lean slightly closer to him. "Do you think I'm that petty?"

Scaramouche leans even closer. "Yes."

His eyes wander to your lips. Should he go for it? There are no kids with ice cream. No co-workers. No Childe. Just you and him. But somehow, this makes his heart race and mind go blank. Maybe he—

Your lips on his catch him off guard. Then, his lips part, and your soft-lipped exchanges begin slowly and carefully at first before it starts to escalate. Scaramouche's hand is on the back of your head, his fingers in your hair as he pulls you closer.

The flutter in his heart intensifies as he can only focus on how soft you feel against his mouth. He sneaks a peek at you every time he comes back for air. This isn't his imagination. He's kissing you, and you're kissing him back. As soon as he deepens the kiss, the taste of you silences all of his thoughts.

Your whole body is tingling. When Scaramouche claims your mouth again, hungry and intense, your knees go weak. His tongue is gentle but demanding, and you pull him closer. You want more. You need more. You never want this moment to stop.

Soon, you're kissing him like crazy, as if your life depended on it. And, he, too, is giving you everything you can ever imagine… and more. You've never had a kiss like this before, the kind that sends an adrenaline rush so intense that you almost forget to breathe.

"...Do I win again?" You're gasping between breaths as you try to regain some sense.

"...You're lucky we're in my car right now and not somewhere else."

Well, you could impro—you don't get a chance to finish your thought as his mouth is on yours again.

Chapter nine

Tag List: @suoshiii @lordbugs @feverish-dove @126dvtn @one-offmind @sweet-almonds @pooonyo @n8mareee @killuixz @w9vyy @124eve @mxrossweisse @genderfluid-insomniac @goodthingimsam @thenightsflower @yo4loer @lxry-chxn @leon-to-sayaka @melodyyamino @meowlumi

#scaramouche x y/n #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche fluff

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vampyrsutton · 1 year

Text

SakuAtsu~Anal Play

Summary:

Atsumu desperately wants to hang out with the unfairly pretty wing spiker, but he won't let anyone get close. When he finally convinces the other to let him come over will a few drinks ruin it all?

Ao3 Tags:

Anal Play, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Miscommunication, Drinking, Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, Miya Atsumu is a Tease, Miya Atsumu is a Mess, Sakusa Kiyoomi is Bad at Feelings, Post-Time Skip

"Omi-Omi~!" The dyed blonde grins from where he's boxing the spiker into his own locker. "Ya comin' with us tonight?"

Sakusa blinks at the setter slowly before continuing to pack his bag to head home. "Joining the three loudest people on Earth at a germ-filled club surrounded by sweaty strangers? Pass."

"But Omiiii! Come on! It'll be good for team bonding!" Atsumu pouts.

"Hmm, I remember Hinata and Bokuto mentioning their significant others are in town so I highly doubt anyteam bonding will be accomplished." He zips his bag.

Atsumu's eyebrows shoot up in minor shock. "So ya do listen to us, huh Omi-Omi? Yer right though." His pout returns as he crosses his arms so Sakusa can stand. "I just didn't wanna be a fifth wheel."

It's Sakusa's turn to raise an eyebrow now albeit an unimpressed one. "With how much you overshare about your hookups, I doubt you'd be fifth wheeling long. You're all going to a club. Literally just grab a drink, dance a bit, and I'm sure I'll be getting the hungover details in the morning whether I want them or not."

An embarrassed flush dust Atsumu's cheeks but he just laughs. "I mean you're not wrong, but that's not the point. Listen, apparently an old friend of Hinata's has connections at this higher-end club and got us in for the night. That means private booth ya can hide at while still bondin' or whatever. Come on, Omi-Omiii!"

'Why the hell does he want me to go so bad?' "No. Private booth or not, just based on the number of drunk texts you send me and that the lot of you send the group chat, you're probably clingy drunks, and I don't want your germs on me when I undoubtedly end up having to play babysitter." Sakusa glares as he closes his locker and makes his way to the locker room door.

"But Omi!" Atsumu whines, scrambling to grab his stuff so he can follow after the germaphobe. "Oi! Slow down! Ugh! I'll play babysitter! Just please come with us?"

Sakusa pauses long enough for black eyes to meet pouting gold as Atsumu attempts to manipulate him with puppy dog eyes. His eyes narrow. "...Why do you want me to go so bad? You're annoyance at having to stay sober enough to get everyone to their Ubers shows you'd have way more fun without me so why?"

Pink graces the tips of the setter's ears as he mumbles something at the floor.

The two moles on Omi's face rise with his brow. "What?"

"...It's not important. Come on, Omi. We've been on the same team for months now and none of us know hardly anything about ya beyond yer hatred of germs and crowds and that ya have freakishly flexible wrists. ...As ya said the other two will probably be busy with their boyfriends... I thought maybe we could at least try gettin' to know each other?"

Sakusa studies the setter for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan. "I'm going to regret this. How about this? You want one on one time?" Atsumu nods enthusiastically. "I'm sure Akaashi is more than capable of being the group brain cell. I'll text you my address that way I can be in a space I know is clean, and you can sate your sudden curiosity. Sound acceptable?"

Atsumu stares at the other in shock for a moment before breaking into a grin. "Should I bring anything?"

Sakusa continues walking towards the exit. "I don't mind drinking in my own home, though, all I have is wine so I guess whatever you'll want. I planned to watch the last Adlers game so I'll just put that on while you ask your questions. Do you drive?"

"Nah. Was just gonna take the train depending on how far ya live" Atsumu shrugs as he keeps pace.

Sakusa's eyebrows furrow and Atsumu knows he's making a face. "You're taking a shower before you go anywhere near my couch, but at least I don't have to confiscate keys." He mutters, tapping at his phone as they leave the building. Atsumu's phone chimes a moment later. "I'll see you around seven then."

The blonde reads over the address triumphantly, trying to figure out where it is. "Yeah, see ya then. And don't worry Omi-kun, I won't make ya regret it." He promises with one of his lazy smiles.

Sakusa just waves him off as they part ways. "We'll see about that."

~~~

'Holy shit! Is Omi-kun loaded?!' Atsumu gapes at the upscale apartments that loom before him; complete with a number pad at the front door and what appears to be an underground parking garage.

Loud "Blonde":[Im here How do I get in]

Omi-Omi:[I'll buzz you up.]

'Yep. Rich.' Atsumu mentally confirms as he approaches the door and rings the buzzer with the familiar kanji before another buzz informs him he can open the door.

The blonde nods to the person sitting behind the desk with what looks like an expensive gaming laptop who grins and waves in response before returning their attention to the screen. He assumes this means he's fine to go up as he presses the elevator button before stepping in and pressing the button for Sakusa's floor.

'At least it's not the top floor or somethin'. I'dhave to tease him then.' Atsumu chuckles to himself as he gets out on the third floor.

The fact that there seem to be only four doors per floor though is not helping the matter as Atsumu walks to the last one on the left side and knocks.

Dark eyes scrutinize him from the other side of the entryway moments later. Whatever Omi is checking for, Atsumu apparently passes as the dark-haired man nods and steps aside. "You can use the white slippers. Bathroom is on the right...Welcome, I guess."

The setter gives one of his easy smirks as he slips past the spiker, careful not to touch him. "Thanks for lettin' me come over, Omi-omi."

"You would've kept badgering me otherwise." Sakusa sighs as he closes the door behind the blonde. "Just go clean up. Do you want tea or anything, or do you plan to jump right to drinking?"

"Such a good host, Omi-omi." The blonde teases as he takes off his shoes and slips on the offered slippers. "But sure. Thanks, Omi-kun."

Sakusa just shrugs as he makes his way to where Atsumu assumes the kitchen is. "Shower. Now."

Atsumu doesn't bother teasing, not wanting to risk getting kicked out now that he's made it this far. "On it." He says instead, making his way to what he finds to be a rather impressive bathroom.

The setter lets out a low whistle as he closes the door behind him and starts taking off his 'dirty' clothes before shoving them in the backpack he brought with him, taking out the fresh clothes before he does. He was not riskinganything right now.

'Come on, Atsumu.' He thought to himself as he started to wash himself up. 'Ya've been crushin' on this guy since training camp in high school, and finally, have a chance to get to know him. Ya've got this. Don't fuck it up...not like last time.'

Atsumu shuddered as he remembered his stupid high school self who managed to make Sakusa laugh at training camp and short-circuited at the sound. He could've laughed it off, but nOooo. Upon Sakusa snapping him back to reality, all that left his mouth was a gasped, "Fuck me."

Sakusa had just blinked at him in confusion and instead of turning it into a joke or the start of a compliment orsomething , Atsumu had flushed, panicked, and fled.

He didn't see the spiker again until he was introduced to the team, and Atsumu hopes he was right in assuming the other had forgotten about it by now.

Atsumu shakes himself out of the past and continues trying to hype himself up as he rinses off. 'There's no way he remembers yer gay panic. This is yer chance to actually get to know him and maybe one day get somewhere.'

He dries off before getting into his clean clothes. 'Go time.' He nods to himself in the mirror.

As Atsumu exits the bathroom, he's met with the slight scent of tea he had been expecting, but also...is that stir-fry?

"Omi-omi! Are ya cooking?" Atsumu asks, peeking over Sakusa's shoulder.

"I hadn't had dinner yet so I thought I'd make something real quick. There should be enough for both if you want some otherwise I'll just have leftovers for tomorrow." Sakusa answers without even glancing at the blonde.

"It smells amazin'. I ate a bit since drinks were mentioned, but I definitely wanna try some if yer okay sharin’." Atsumu hums, thrilled that Omi's even offering.

"Probably wouldn't have made this much if I wasn't. Figured I might as well be a halfway decent host." Sakusa shrugs, inclining his head to a cabinet behind him. "Mind getting the plates? ...If you don't make a mess, I guess we can eat while we watch the game."

"Gotcha! I won't let a crumb escape!" The setter grins as he gets the plates and brings them over.

"I'll hold you to that." Sakusa huffs, amusement crinkling his eyes.

"Did Omi-kun just banter?" Atsumu smirks.

Omi just shrugs as he loads his plate with food before walking around the setter to let him get his own. "I don't know how hungry you are so help yourself. I'll get the game set up."

"Thanks, Omi-Omi!" The blonde grins before serving himself and grabbing the remaining cup to follow.

The apartment was a mostly open floor plan so really all he had to do was walk around the counter to be in the living room, but he hovers by the couch for a moment, waiting for Sakusa to sit first so he doesn't accidentally take his spot.

Sakusa apparently notices as he sighs. "I usually sit on the left so sit wherever else with that information." He brushes off with an overly flexible flick of his wrist, seemingly looking for new batteries for the remote.

"Thanks, Omi-kun." Atsumu smiles with a flush before sitting on the right, barely catching himself when he almost threw his feet up on the table out of habit. He doesn't and even manages to play it off as a dramatic flopping on the couch before he sets his cup on one of the coasters. "I would figure ya'd have yer entertainment and stuff all meticulously organized, Omi-kun?"

Sakusa tsks in annoyance. "I usually do but my sister visited the weekend, and she loves fucking up my system in some small way every time. Guess this time it was my batteries." He scowls, checking another drawer.

Atsumu can't help laughing a little as he pictures a faceless woman laughing evilly as she hides the spiker's batteries or tilts frames or something. "Sounds like something Samu and I would do to each other. I didn't know ya had a sister though, Omi-omi?"

The black-haired male shrugs. "It never really came up. Kimiko and I are close I guess in that she comes to annoy the shit out of me every month or so." Atsumu had apparently got him talking as he continues. "Mom will visit at least twice a year when she's not in Hong Kong with dad, but otherwise we're not that close. My brother is eight years older than my sister and ten years older than me so neither of us was ever close with him, and dad is the stereotypical cold or maybe a more awkwardly distant businessman. He makes sure we're comfortable though and doesn't discourage us from pursuing our dreams so long as we have a concrete plan and backup so I guess that's his way of showing he cares. Really?! She taped them to the back of the T.V.?!"

Atsumu blinks, stunned. "I think that's the most ya've ever said to me, Omi-Omi."

He watches a Sakusa's ears turn pink from where his back is still to the setter. "...You said you wanted to learn about me…?"

Atsumu grins. "I do, Omi! I just thought it'd take more work. Sounds like ya and yer sister are polar opposites."

Sakusa seems to relax. "Well, every family has their nut. Mom swears Kimiko's the reason she has grey hairs, and I don't doubt it." He's smirking when he faces Atsumu again as he turns to sit on the couch. "After all, what normal person tapes batteries to the back of the T.V.?"

Atsumu laughs at that. "An absolute madwoman. Sounds like you two get along pretty well though. What's she like?" He asks as Sakusa starts the recording of the last Adlers game.

"Chaotic, loud, energetic, but also fierce and determined. Once she sets her mind on something it's as good as hers." Sakusa actually chuckles. "She has an entire culinary degree with a focus in pastry, but she couldn't decide if she wanted to do that or continue her cosplay career so she now owns a five-star restaurant known for their desserts and a wedding business because obviously, the logical middle ground for knowledge of cake and sewing is weddings. She's still a famous cosplayer, too. No clue how she hasn't lost her mind." He glances at Atsumu with a smirk, making Atsumu finally realize he had taken off his mask. "You two would probably get along."

Atsumu couldn't help grinning at the relaxed Sakusa next to him, and the thought of maybe one day being introduced. 'Don't get ahead of yourself.' "She sounds amazing, Omi-kun."

Sakusa smiles slightly. "You'd have to be to pull that off. She made the family proud that's for sure."

"I bet! Ya mentioned yer mom, too. What about her?" Atsumu asks next since family seems to be a safe topic.

The conversation continues like this for a while as they trade questions and stories back and forth while they eat; Adler's game long forgotten. By the time drinks actually make an appearance you'd think they'd been friends before all this rather than just teammates.

After a few drinks in Atsumu has started asking more truth or dare-type questions as he laughs through his sentences. At least Sakusa looks amused rather than annoyed.

"When- hahaha- When was- snort- When was your first kiss, Omi-Omi?" Atsumu laughs.

"No wonder you're always completely gone whenever you spam me. You're a complete lightweight, Miya." Sakusa smirks at the giggling blonde.

"Omiiii!" Atsumu whines. "Am not! And call me Atsumu! Not Miya!"

Sakusa chuckles, taking another sip of the mixer the blonde had brought with him and managed to talk him into trying. It's fruity, but he can't say he hates it. "You definitely are…'Tsumu."

Atsumu freezes, staring at Sakusa in awe.

The spiker cocks a brow. "What?"

"Omi-Omi just gave me a nickname." The blonde gasps, face almost resembling Bokuto's when he's about to cry.

Sakusa rolls his eyes. "Dramatic. At least you didn't ask me to fuck you this time I guess." He shrugs, taking another drink.

Atsumu turns scarlet as he hides in the throw pillow that had found its way into his lap. "Oh my god, you remember that?!"

The black-haired male hums into his drink before answering. "Yep. You do know you could've played it off as a joke right?"

Atsumu groans into his pillow shield. "I panicked! I had just managed to make the extremely talented, distant, and pretty spiker laugh at my shitty joke and he sounded like an angel! What was I supposed to do?!"

Sakusa chokes a little. "You-... You think I'm pretty?"

The spiker can almost swear there's steam coming out of the setter, but he still answers. "Yer gorgeous, Omi-kun...way out of my league."

Sakusa is honestly shocked as he stares at the hiding blonde. "I- What? Mi-...'Tsumu, should I cut you off? You must be drunk if you think that."

"It's true, Omi-kun." Atsumu looks up, pouting. "Yer so pretty. Yer hair is all effortlessly wavy and looks really soft. Yer skin is flawless, and yer little moles are adorable. Yer eyes are so pretty, and I can never make eye contact with ya 'cause I get trapped. Yer body is god tier like please crush me with yer thighs-why did I just say that-anyway, and yer so talented. Ya come off as scary at first, but yer beautiful inside and out. Yer laugh sounds like an angel, and ya know what?" Atsumu was sitting up proud now like he will fight Sakusa on this. "I stand by what I said! I could die happy if I ever so much as got to hug ya let alone if...that happened."

Sakusa is almost as red as Atsumu now as he stares at the setter in shock. "I- all that spam...those weren't just drunk snaps? ...Is that why you only use Snapchat when you drink?"

The blonde almost hides again, but nods. "I didn't want to get my hopes up that ya'd feel the same so I wanted to give us both an easy out. Easier to pretend it didn't happen if there's no evidence."

The spiker just stares at the other, blinking. 'That's actually pretty smart.' "I just thought you were a massive flirt. You talk about your escapades all the time in the locker room, I didn't think you were serious."

Atsumu does hide again, mumbling something into the pillow.

"What?"

He huffs before peeking back up. "I looked up fanfiction and asked Sho and Bo-kun to go along with it. Only two were actually real, and they were the ones that didn't go any further than a quick handjob in the bathroom and the one girl that sucked me off under the table. Rest were stories."

"Why?"

Atsumu shrugs. "I don't know honestly. I think a part of me was hoping ya'd get jealous, but otherwise, it was just locker room talk because yer not the only one with that image of me. "

Sakusa stays quiet for a minute, processing what he's just heard.

The minute is apparently too long as Atsumu moves to stand, swaying a little. "I've probably made ya uncomfortable. I'm sorry, Omi-Omi. Ya probably hate me now. I'll just go. "He checks his phone as he picks it up. "I can still catch the train. I'm really sorry again, Om- Sakusa. I'll see ya at practice. Ya can pretend this never happened if ya want. I'm sorry." Atsumu rambles as he grabs his jacket and bag and stumbles his way to the door, fighting on his shoes.

Sakusa blinks, flinching when Atsumu uses his real name instead of Omi. "'Tsumu, wait."

"No, I'll just get out of yer hair. I'm sorry for annoying ya into hangin' out with me. Ya can keep the mixer." He rambles, giving up on getting the shoes on normally and just slipping into them before going out the door. "Bye!"

Sakusa finally gets his bearings as he stands up to go after him. "'Tsumu, wait! Hold on!"

The door closes, and Sakusa curses as he looks around for a mask before grabbing the one off the counter and running out just in time to see the elevator doors close.

"Dammit!" He growls, running back inside for his keys before dashing to the stairs, hoping he can beat the elevator.

He makes it in time to see the front door closing, the frazzled person at the front desk trying to ask what's wrong.

Sakusa doesn’t answer, patting down his pockets and realizing he forgot his phone upstairs. It was already 11:30 on a weekend. With the last train usually being around midnight, the bar crowd would be flooding the streets meaning Sakusa had no chance of finding the setter on foot.

He rushes back upstairs to his phone and immediately calls the blonde.

"Pick up, you idiot," Sakusa grumbles as the phone continues to ring, cursing when it goes to voicemail.

He tries several more times to the same result, before sending off a couple of texts.

'Who can I call? The rest of the team is at the bar, so will be useless.' He thinks, completely forgetting only Hinata and Bokuto had been mentioned. 'I don’t have his brother's number, and the shop would be closed so not like I can call that...Isn't that Suna guy always online?"

The spiker quickly switches to Instagram and finds the most recent post is from 3 minutes ago. "Perfect."

sakusa.kiyoomi: [Hello. This is one of Miya Atsumu's teammates. He just ran out of my building after admitting some things, but we've been drinking. You're dating his brother, right? Can you ask him to check on him? I don't have his brother's number and Miya won't answer his phone.]

Seen 11:41

sunarin: [typing ]

sunarin:

sunarin: [did he finally confess? do we finally get to stop hearin about how amazin "omi-omi" is?]

sakusa.kiyoomi: [...He talks about me?]

sunarin: [*sigh* another pining idiot. ya really need to private yer accounts because yeah he never shuts up. we're headin to atsumus place rn btw. samu wants to talk to ya.]

sunarin: [Ya better not have hurt him or we're gonna test just how flexible those wrists r when I break yer damn arm!]

sakusa.kiyoomi: [He ran out before I could respond. He's stuck with me at practice so I'll talk to him then. Can you please just let me know he made it back okay and is safe? I may come off as an ass, but he's still my setter.]

sunarin: [Yeah yeah, we're in his house now we'll let ya know when he gets here. Suna's usin' my phone to talk to him rn so he's alive and made it on the train]

sakusa.kiyoomi: [Thank you.]

Sakusa goes about cleaning up while he waits for one of them to text again. Sakusa had honestly thought Atsumu was just a fuck boy and a flirt, but he was just as much of a mess as Sakusa.

He manages to get everything cleaned up including vacuuming and putting dishes away when his phone finally buzzes again.

sunarin: [he's back. samu is gettin him water and to bed. he won't stop whinin and blubberin about how "omi-omi" probably hates him now so ya should probably figure out what ya plan to say before next practice. also samu's number]

sunarin shared a contact

sakusa.kiyoomi: [Thank you. I'll be ready when I see him next. Good night]

sunarin: [np]

Sakusa sighs in relief as he saves the younger twin's contact, and gets ready for bed. He has some thinking to do.

~~~

They're on the same fucking team! How can the blonde manage to go an entire practice without so much as speaking to him? He had appeared out of nowhere at the last damn minute at the start, avoided him completely during stretching, not spoken at all during actual practice, then up and vanished before Sakusa could so much as spot him after the coach let them go. Even his gym bag had vanished by the time the spiker made it to the locker room.

"What the fuck?!" Sakusa curses into his locker as he gets ready, already throwing his bag over his shoulder. 'Should I harass his brother for his address?'

"Hey, Sakusa!" Hinata grins, suddenly appearing next to him. "I know you'll probably say no, but 'Tsumu seemed really out of it at practice so Bokuto and I were going to stop by and try to cheer him up. Do you wanna come?"

Sakusa looks up at the ceiling for a moment. 'So you do listen, huh?' "Sure."

"Oh, come on! Please? I know you- wait what?!" Hinata gapes at the spiker.

The taller man just shrugs. "I said sure. Where does he live? We can take my car."

Hinata stares at him like he grew another head. "Uhhh, he's actually in walking distance, but I guess you probably don't want to deal with crowds. Wait, you're letting us in your car, too?!"

Sakusa raises a brow at the orange-haired man. 'Any other day you couldn't pay me enough, but I need to talk to the dumbass.' "Yes? Are we going or not? I don't have his address."

Hinata just blinks before nodding slowly. "Yeah, uh, let me grab Bokuto."

Sakusa almost smirks when Hinata about jumps out of his skin from Bokuto suddenly appearing behind him and clapping him on the back. "No need! So did you manage to convince him or are we seeing TsumTsum solo?"

"Not only that but we even get to ride in his car!" Hinata grins like he actually did any convincing.

Large, owl-like eyes turn to him in shock before Bokuto releases his own grin. Sakusa almost worries he might go blind. "Really, Omi?! That's awesome! I promise not to make a mess!"

"If you manage to make a mess in the short distance Hinata claims it is, I would be shocked, but would also be calling your boyfriend on you so I don't strangle you." Sakusa deadpans as he closes his locker.

Bokuto's hair deflates as he whines. "Omiiii! Please don't call Akasi! I'll be good! I'm sorry!"

The spiker's eyes widen as he realizes he triggered Bokuto's Emo-Mode. "Fine, I won't! Just put that away! I don't want snot in my car. Now come on."

Sakusa makes his way to the door as both teammates scramble to get their bags and follow. They've caught up by the time he makes it outside, and follow him to his rather expensive-looking sports car with wide eyes.

"That's so cool!" Hinata grins, running around the car in awe.

"Just get in and tell me where to go. Whoever can give directions better can have shotgun, just don't unnecessarily touch things." Sakusa sighs, slipping into the driver's seat.

"Right!" Both men salute before Hinata uses his superior speed to jump in the passenger's seat. Both ignore the now pouting Bokuto.

"Alright! Go left after you leave the parking lot." Hinata instructs.

Hinata's not wrong that they could have walked, but seeing all the people out makes Sakusa glad they didn't as they pull into the parking lot minutes later and he sees a child wiping their nose on their arm. "Disgusting."

"What was that?" Hinata asks, already out of the car.

"Nothing." Sakusa sighs, grabbing his hand sanitizer before getting out as well. "Lead the way."

The short orangette is more than happy to as he leads the way up the outdoor stairs and makes his way to the third floor.

When Hinata knocks on the door they hear a faint "Coming!" before the door opens to a grinning Atsumu. Upon seeing Sakusa, however, panic covers his face and he slams the door.

'Great.' Sakusa sighs as a confused Hinata begins pounding on the door and causing a ruckus.

"'Tsumu! Open up! We came to cheer you up you ass so let us in! Come on! Even Sakusa came!" The orangette yells through the wood.

"Nope! Sorry! I gotta, uhhh, water my fish! Try again later!" Is the failure of a response they get in return.

"What does that even mean?!" Hinata yells as Sakusa sighs again.

"Let me try. Can you two wait by the car? I'll call you up when it's sorted." Sakusa orders rather than actually ask.

The more energetic of the three look at each other in confusion before looking at Sakusa uneasily.

"Don't kill him, please?" Hinata finally speaks.

Sakusa raises a confused eyebrow, but nods. "Didn't plan to?"

"Then see you in a bit." Hinata nods in return before grinning and pulling Bokuto along. "Come on, I'm pretty sure there's an ice cream place near here!"

Sakusa waits until the two are out of sight before sighing for the millionth time since the incident and turning to the door, knocking firmly.

There's silence on the other side before the door cracks open and gold eyes peek out. This time Sakusa has his foot ready in the gap before it can close again. "You have a bad habit of not letting people talk don't you, 'Tsumu?"

Sakusa can see the blonde melt a little at the nickname before he shakes his head and pouts. "I told ya to forget it, Om-Sakusa. I don't need to hear yer rejection. We have practice tomorrow still, and I've re-lived my teenage angst quite enough thank you so if ya could just move yer foot tha-"

"First, stop calling me that. I have never hated hearing my own name so much. Second, who the hell said I was going to reject you?" The spiker glares, forcing a bit more of his leg into the setter's apartment.

Atsumu blinks in apparent confusion. "I thought you hated that name? And why wouldn't ya?"

"What kind of? Whywould I?" Sakusa rolls his eyes at both questions, cutting Atsumu off when the blonde looks like he might actually answer that. "Shut up. If you had let me finish my own gay panic the other day, I would have admitted that I also find you attractive and wouldn't say no to a date. I haven’t known you long enough to properly like you back, but I did enjoy spending time with you…" Sakusa flushed. "And I think you're pretty, too."

Atsumu had definitely short-circuited again as he stares at the spiker, face a similar color to a Nekoma jersey. "I-...I-...What?"

Sakusa rolls his eyes, but there's a smile behind his mask. "Go on a date with me 'Tsumu."

Suddenly the door is thrown open and Sakusa would have stumbled forward if he didn't almost fall back due to the sudden armful of happy setter.

Atsumu jumps away almost immediately, seemingly remembering who it was he was suddenly touching. "Oh my god, Omi-kun! I'm so sorry! I just got really exci-"

Sakusa holds up a hand, effectively cutting the setter off as he processes. He still felt some unease at suddenly being touched, but it wasn't the normal revulsion and panic, it was more of just discomfort that Sakusa couldn't quite place the source of. "...I don't have the urge to throw you over the railing and scrub my skin raw so I think we're okay, but maybe just a fist bump or a high five for now?" Sakusa explains, offering his hand before flushing slightly. "...and also is that a yes to the date?"

Atsumu's nervous expression turns to a beaming grin as he bumps the offered hand. "Yes! Absolutely yes!"

Sakusa sighs in relief this time before nodding. "Good. Now the two idiots are down by my car waiting to see you so we should probably deal with that. We'll discuss details later?"

Atsumu beams at him, nodding. "Okay, Omi-Omi."

~~~ Several Months Later ~~~

"'Tsumu! I swear to whatever god got me to your house that day, just because I've adjusted enough to make out with and grope you on the couch without drowning in the shower, doesn't mean you can leave your dirty fucking underwear on my bathroom fl-!"

Sakusa chokes on his tongue and the rest of his rage as he enters his room to find avery naked Atsumu standing in front of the drawer he's taken, bending down with his towel at his feet. His hair and body are still damp and Sakusa wets his lips at the thought of following the droplet rolling down the blonde's neck.

"'Tsumu?" His voice doesnot crack.

"Yeah, Omi-babe?" Atsumu smiles innocently over his shoulder, not moving from his position.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for some clothes." He answers as though he did not just wiggle his butt teasingly.

'Minx.' "And you had to drop your towel for that because…?"

'Tsumu shrugs, stretching his back muscles delightfully. "It fell."

"Mhm. Sure. Well, I'm going to either need consent to fuck you on that towel or I'm going to need it to go freeze myself in the shower." Sakusa hums, leaning against the door frame casually.

Despite the first option obviously being his intention, Atsumu still flushes before perking his ass up anyway. "Would really prefer the bed?"

"That can be arranged," Sakusa smirks, coming over and delighting in the squeak he gets from lifting Atsumu up and dumping him in the requested location.

Atsumu scrambles into a more comfortable position as he watches Sakusa slowly undo the buttons on his shirt. He shivers at the hunger in the darker eyes and reaches forward to help with Omi's pants.

He whines when his hand gets shooed away and a chuckle leaves Sakusa's mouth.

"Nope. You were being a tease so now you get a taste of your own medicine." Sakusa smirks.

"But Omiiii!" The blonde whines.

Sakusa smiles fondly at the blonde's pout. "Fine. How about you crawl up to the nightstand and find the lube and condoms, okay?"

Atsumu nods, happy to be given something to do instead of just watch and not be able to touch...though maybe under different circumstances-no. One step at a time and right now that was trying to get Omi inside him.

He finds both items easily enough and when he turns around, he almost moans from the sight alone. Down at the end of the bed, Sakusa is watching him with a cocky smirk, his chest and arms exposed. Atsumu silently thanked whatever force allowed Omi to be that perfectly sculpted as his eyes followed the line in his abs right to his happy trail that disappeared into his boxers. How did he get his pants off that quick?

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Sakusa jokes.

"Can I?" Atsumu asks before he can think about it.

Sakusa's eyebrows shoot up. "I don't even have my briefs off yet...and maybe some other time."

It was time for Atsumu's eyebrows to shoot up now at the prospect of Sakusa actually letting him take a picture sometime before he looked to the ceiling and acted as though he was thanking a higher power.

"Dramatic as always. Get your ass down here." Sakusa laughs, curls bouncing as he shakes his head.

The spiker catches Tsumu's chin once he's close enough to kiss him deeply. "Guess high school you finally gets to have his wish fulfilled."

Atsumu blushes, hiding his face in Sakusa's chest. "Omiiii!" He whines. "...he'd probably faint, to be honest."

"Glad it took a while then. That might've killed the mood a bit." Sakusa hums, before pushing lightly at Atsumu's shoulder to ease him onto his back. "Now lay back, 'Tsumu."

Atsumu obeys easily, handing over the lube and condoms when prompted before his mouth is being devoured again.

The blonde moans into the kiss as Sakusa nips at his lower lip before trailing kisses down to his neck. He gasps when he feels a bite at his neck before Sakusa's making a mark that the setter will definitely be teased for in the locker room. "Omiii~" He moans.

Sakusa smirks against the other's neck, kissing the new mark before making another underneath it.

"Ah! Omi! Ya know, for someOne so non-touch, ya certainly like shoOowing yer toucheverywhEre ." Atsumu tries to tease between sounds.

"My sister literally stole my damn mug last month!" Sakusa huffs, marking his way down to Atsumu's collarbone. "Learned to mark what's mine." He punctuates his statement with a dark mark right between the blonde's collarbones making a pretty collar of his own.

Atsumu flushes clear down to the new mark. "We found the mug in with yer towels." He squeaks.

"And I found you not in yours." The spiker smirks, moving down more. "Mine." He punctuates this one with a hard suck to the setter's left nipple, making the blonde try to arch off the bed and grab at black locks.

"Omiiii~! Ah! N-no! It's sEnsitive!" Atsumu moans, not knowing himself if he's trying to push the other off or pull him closer.

"Yup." He pops the 'p' as a hand starts playing with the other nipple and creating more pretty sounds.

Sakusa can feel the blonde's length hardening against his abs and hums at the sound Atsumu makes when he shifts enough to create friction.

"AhH! Don't move! Omiii~! Yer Abs! Ahh!" Atsumu squirms, subconsciously chasing the friction.

Sakusa just smirks as he sits back to unwrap a condom and the setter whines at the loss of contact. "Shhh, 'Tsumu. Don't worry, I just need to get the condom and lube and you'll feel even better." Sakusa shushes as he leans forward to kiss the other's forehead before sitting back once more and slipping the condom on a finger, letting the lube warm in his palm.

Soon enough, he's lubing the condom and teasing at the blonde's hole. He can't help the sadistic smirk that forms at watching him squirm.

"Ooomiii~!" Atsumu whines, shooting puppy eyes at the spiker. "Come on! Please!"

"Hmm, didn't think it'd be this easy to make you beg, 'Tsumu," Sakusa smirks, snickering at the moan that cuts off the setter's impending argument when he sinks his finger in.

"Shit. Move, please, Omi?" Atsumu groans, trying to fuck himself on the spiker's finger.

Sakusa complied, but at his own pace, taking his sweet time to open the other up and watch him fall apart.

By the time he felt the blonde was ready, said blonde was a babbling mess, clutching the sheets as he begged Omi to fuck him already.

"Omi! Pleaz! 'M ready! Yer cock! Please!"

"Shh shh shh. I've got you, baby boy. Just let me get the condom on." Sakusa cooed as he pulled back, reveling in the whine that escapes the other at the loss.

"Hurryyy~" Atsumu groans, subconsciously rutting against nothing.

Sakusa, groans at the sight, snatching a tissue to wrap the used condom in until he can throw it away. He bats at Atsumu's hand when he tries to touch himself before slipping the other condom down his length.

Meanwhile, Atsumu whines at being denied his relief, pouting at the other. "Omi~!"

Sakusa leans forward to silence Atumu with a kiss, sliding in slowly and taking advantage of the blonde's moan to slip his tongue into the kiss.

He enters slowly, groaning into the kiss himself until he bottoms out. "Fuck, 'Tsumu. You're so tight."

"Move, Omi. Please." Atsumu moans, squirming to try and fuck himself.

The spiker groans at the movement, nipping at the other's lip in retaliation. "Patience. I don't want to hurt you."

This earns him a soft smile as the blonde hooks his arms over his shoulder. "Why do ya think I waited 'til we didn't have practice? I've been waitin' since high school." He pulls the paler down to moan into his ear. "Ruin me, Omi."

Something in Sakusa snaps at those words as he grips tanned hips and pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, delighting in the surprised moan it causes before he starts a brutal pace.

"Ooooomiiii~!" Atsumu screams as he claws at Sakusa back for some kind of hold as the spiker abuses his hole.

Sakusa hisses a bit through his teeth but makes no move to stop the blonde's actions. If anything it almost seems to spur him on as he goes faster.

"Ahhhh~! Yes, fuck please OmMi~ Ah! There! Shit, Omi-kun, there!" The blonde rambles, back arching when Sakusa finds his prostate.

Sakusa smirks down at Atsumu before groaning when the setter suddenly gets tighter. "Fuck, 'Tsumu…" He then makes it his mission to try and abuse the other's prostate now, hitting it as often as he can manage without slowing down.

"OmiiIiii!" Atsumu cries out, pulling black curls down so the other's face is in his shoulder. "Harder, please. Bite me more. Mark me. Fuck! Omi! AhHhh!" His voice hitches when Sakusa starts slamming into him harder. "Shit. Please, Omi! I don't care if the guys give us shit, wanna show I'm yers!"

Sakusa groans into the blonde's ear, nipping at the lobe. "Fuck, 'Tsumu, you're gonna be the death of me."

Atsumu just pulls him closer, trying to use the spiker's abs for some sort of release to his neglected cock. "Please, Omi~"

Sakusa reaches between them to offer Atsumu some relief. "Needy." He teases, smirking when Atsumu's offended noise is cut off by the delightful sound he makes at Sakusa pumping his cock in his hand.

"Ru-AHhhh! Shit, Omi! Nngh! Close, Omi! I'm close!" Atsumu chokes out as he pulls at Sakusa's hair.

Sakusa smirks as he whispers in the blonde's ear. "Then come for me, 'Tsumu. Maybe I won't even make you clean your own mess." It was a bluff, 'Tsumu was getting spoiled after but he also knew the blonde loved when Sakusa treated him as a lesser.

As suspected, a few pumps later and Atsumu is arching off the bed and painting their chests white, clenching around Sakusa as he screams.

The added pressure from Atsumu's release made Sakusa's not too far behind as he bites the blonde's shoulder to hide his own groan and fill his earlier request.

A few more measly spurts came of Sakusa's action as he filled the condom, and it didn't take long for Atsumu to whine in sensitivity.

"Omi..." Atsumu grumbles, pushing lightly at Sakusa's chest. "Too much."

Sakusa gives one last gentle squeeze and smirks at the whine it caused before he lets go, and slowly pulls out.

Atsumu whines once more, but sighs happily, making grabby hands at the setter.

Sakusa smiles fondly but pulls back. "Let me get a washcloth to clean us, then we can cud-"

Atsumu pouts and locks his legs around Sakusa's back before wiggling down and licking at a stripe of white on the other's chest. He smirks at the surprised sound Omi makes despite his own ears turning red. "No. Cuddles now."

Dark eyes blink in shock as his dick twitches in interest despite knowing it's not reviving soon. "I- I was joking about you cleaning it up you know? It's dirty, you don't hAve to- 'Tsumu!"

The blonde smirks up at him playfully as he gives little kitten licks across the spiker's chest and stomach. "Yes, Omi-babe."

Omi groans when that tongue flicks a nipple. "Always the sly fox aren't you? If I carry you to the bathroom to get us cleaned then come back and cuddle will you stop your games?"

Gold eyes gaze up at him innocently as the blonde nods, releasing the other's hips.

"Spoiled brat." Sakusa huffs, grabbing a tissue so they're not just smearing it more before lifting the other up in the world’s most awkward bridal style given they were both over 6 feet.

He couldn't help but snicker once more when the blonde yelped yet again. "I told you I would pick you up."

"Honestly expected ya to make a break for it and get the washcloth without me." Atsumu pouts, clinging to Sakusa's neck.

"So you thought I was going to trick you? I'm hurt." Sakusa deadpans as he shuffles sideways to get them through the bathroom door.

"Look me in the eye and tell me ya wouldn't." The blonde huffs as he's set on the counter, yelping when he's almost dropped. "OMI!"

"Sorry," Sakusa mumbles, placing a kiss on the blonde's pouting mouth before smirking. "And you're right. I definitely would."

Atsumu smiles into the kiss before pouting once more at the dark-haired man's admission. "Yer lucky yer pretty, Omi-omi."

"Hmm. Am I?" Sakusa hums as he wets a washcloth. "I distinctly remember a certain blonde having a full shut down over a laugh, and legitimately trying to lick his own cum off my chest for cuddles. But guess I'm just lucky."

Atsumu's face flames as Sakusa cleans his own chest before moving on to Atsumu's. "Omiii! We agreed to never speak of that again!"

"But you're so cute when you blush," Omi smirks, kissing pouting lips again as he runs the cloth over the blonde's stomach.

"I'm not cute." The setter huffs.

"Right, my mistake." The smirk grows. "I believe 'pretty' was the word I used to ask you out."

The blush spreads down to the blonde's new hickeys. "OMIII!"

Sakusa just laughs as he helps Atsumu stand so they can clean up the lube around his hole before helping the dopey smiling blonde back to the bed.

"What are you all smiley about, Baby?" Sakusa asks once they're comfortable.

Atsumu's smile just grows at the pet name as he nuzzles the spiker's chest where his head is laying. "Just that I love yer laugh, and wish ya'd do it more.

It was Sakusa's turn to flush a little now as he kissed dyed hair. "Hey, I laughed when Bokuto got himself stuck in the net after missing a spike."

A laugh escaped Atsumu now. "At something other than our friends' suffering."

"Friends? What are those? I only have my adorable boyfriend."

Atsumu lifts his head to fake pout but the amused smile is obvious. "How can ya be such an ass and a sap at the same time."

"Picked it up from my boyfriend who's a little shit. Does things like stand naked in the bedroom after his shower to coerce his boyfriend into sex only to later degrade himself in his need for cuddles? Maybe you know him?" Omi snickers.

Atsumu huffs, laying back down and making no attempt to deny it. "Well, it worked!"

Sakusa hums, nodding. "That it did." He starts running his fingers through dyed hair which is much softer than he had first expected.

Atsumu makes a sound like a pleased cat before whispering a shy, "Love you, Omi."

Sakusa smiles fondly. "Love you too, 'Tsumu."

They stay there cuddling until they eventually fall asleep, holding each other close. If Sakusa now has a sleeping 'Tsumu as his wallpaper, well, it'll be a while before the blonde finds out.

#haikyuu sakuatsu #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! smut #kinktober #kinktober 2021 #sakusa x atsumu #miya atsumu

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dzpenumbra · 1 year

Text

4/30/23

Last night was difficult.

I don't think I mentioned it in my journal, maybe I did and I don't remember, idk, I'm going to tell the story anyway. I was watching a Red Dead stream last night and a girl who had been a subscriber in that channel for 7 consecutive years accidentally wrote a private message into the Twitch chat. And I mean really private.

(side note - ctrl+b, which is used for bold is right between ctrl+v [paste] and ctrl+n [new window in chrome]. And the undo on Tumblr is fucked. So... just... gonna point out how frustrating and inconvenient that is if you just slightly miss the b key and suddenly you either have a new window pop up or a paragraph of text just appears.)

This chick posted about like... really bad medical news. Like organ disease news. That she got that day. And she immediately asked mods to delete it, because she couldn't. And no one did. And there were like over 1000 people in there. And then these assholes started copying and pasting her message. At first just one. Then one who spent "channel points" to actually highlight the copied message. Then like 5 more. It... was really disturbing. Like... I struggle to see any humor in it, and I have a pretty open mind about humor. It really felt like someone saying "haha look, this chick has cancer!" As though... anyone is going to laugh about that...

Now... I know a thing or two about humor. Humor used to be my primary coping mechanism. And most humor is just that, it's a way of diffusing something incredibly uncomfortable or painful, and transforming it into something funny, something palatable. Something positive, even. And sometimes that can be a... compulsion for some people, a reflex, that they're not even really conscious of. But there's a skill to doing that. It takes effort, it takes practice, it takes skill. And there is nothing... buckle the fuck up, I'm going loud here... THERE IS NOTHING FUCKING LAZIER THAN COPYING AND PASTING SOMETHING AND CALLING IT FUNNY. <catches breath> Okay, just had to get that out. People man, I just don't understand. Do these fucking imbeciles really lack the brain cells to understand that making a joke about a serious medical condition should... I dunno... maybe be handled a little more tactfully than treating it like retweeting a fucking meme or something?

Again, I am not against jokes that test the line, and even outright cross it. At all. Pushing those boundaries is important, in its own way. But there's a goddamn reason why we only had one Don Rickles. There's a reason we had one South Park. One Jackass. There is an art to pushing boundaries, and it requires skill, charisma and confidence. And these people had none of the above. They were just... schoolyard bullies, trying to impress other schoolyard bullies. They were literally grown-ass schoolyard bullies, likely piss drunk at 4AM, watching a 38 year old man pretend to be a cowboy in a video game, and stumbled across what was pretty obviously a private message between a long-standing paying community member and likely a family member... and they decided they wanted to pants her in front of class. Like... this is a fucking cartoon of schoolyard bully behavior. And people were fucking laughing! People were like... chuckling and going along with it

I... I pulled up a private message to her. And I typed out "hey, what they're doing is really not cool and I'm really sorry all this is happening to you. It's really fucked up." And... I didn't send it. Any other lifetime, I would have sent it. But I didn't. And I don't even know why I don't anymore. I definitely didn't stand up for her in chat. I didn't even support her behind closed doors. But when she put a message in chat saying it was fucked up? I immediately tagged her and sent a heart emoji, like... lightning speed, to show she has my support. I just... I feel bad. It's self preservation, it has to be. Like... I don't want this mob turning on me... So I don't stick up for the grown adult that's being bullied by grown adults. Because there are people there whose job it's supposed to be to moderate that, and they were asleep at the wheel, and... I didn't want to overstep, and they sure as shit won't respect my opinion if I don't have a sword icon next to my name.

And the streamer, when he noticed? He chuckled. And was like, "come on guys, knock it off..." Like... it was a bunch of kids playing in the backyard by throwing knives at the dog or something, and that's his response. It made me super uncomfortable. That and the shit that went down in his Discord? Blatantly saying "we're mob-mentality around here, okay?" And the Native American character he made, and how... really insensitive he was with it... and how he pretty obviously got reported several times on it but straight up lied to his audience about it and has doubled-down so many times I can't even count. "Nah nah nah, Moondance isn't going anywhere guys, I'll play him whenever I want, I just don't feel like it tonight..." RIIIGHHHTTT... I just... I'm really turned off by it.

Fuck the internet, man. The internet is very blatantly advertising directly to children, who are the most profitable demographic on the internet, if you weren't aware... and Twitch specifically has developed a wagering system with fake internet points that you accumulate by spending time watching a streamer (more time = more ads = more $$ for Twitch = more fake points for the kids). And they call them. Get this. Tell me this isn't disgustingly corporate Amazon cliché. They call them "Predictions". It's not gambling marketed towards children to keep them on a website that makes money off of feeding them ads, no no no, it's placing a wager on a "Prediction". I'm not gambling on what the outcome is, with a payout ratio identical to a fucking horse track, nope, I'm just predicting what the outcome is going to be and if I get it right I get a neat prize! They specifically market their site to children. How have they not gotten this shut down yet?!

Okay, got a bit of that out of my system. Why the fuck am I telling this story from last night? Well... I had a night terror. I got about 4-5 hours of sleep, and I had a super intense nightmare. It was very vivid, but I didn't remember much except for the last bit. And... it took me a bit of journaling (I did dream journal, so yay on that) to really start to understand what it was about. I might as well paint a picture for you, it was super vivid and deeply meaningful for me.

I was in a location that represented my parents' basement. I grew up in that house from the ages of 11-18, very formative years. My parents are closeted hoarders, they hide it well. The basement was where everything went. I was down there with someone else, I don't remember who it was. I had found a book that was for me, that I felt bad I hadn't read because, when I was down there and started reading it, it was really interesting. It was part of a series, and it was an exploration and interpretation of the Bible through historical record, plausible science and comparison with other cultural ideologies/mythologies. It was... really cool, and right up my alley. Almost like something I would write, if I felt qualified. I read the part about Genesis I and as I was reading... I got that thing I get sometimes where the mental imagery gets really vivid. And this moment was really disorienting in a dream, and is even disorienting just trying to process how it even happened, because I was... dreaming... which is my imagination, my subconscious mind... and then within that dream I was reading a text and... my subconscious in the dream was conceptualizing the text visually. It was like a Russian Nesting Doll of subconscious visualization, it's absolutely mind-boggling that that's even possible. And this visualization was... essentially an early proto-Earth colliding with a very water-dense celestial object. My brain interpreted this very metaphorically, like big blob of water. And then the combination of these two qualities ended up nurturing an environment like hydrated and nutrient enriched soil. Again, a metaphor, like... water and collision were huge components in setting off the chain reaction that resulted in... life. And... there was some part in the text that was referring... where either that water-dense body or the proto-Earth likely came from. I don't really remember the details on that.

And then... after that... I remember the person I was with upsetting the streamer (who was there with a bunch of his friends in-character), and they left. And after I read and visualized all of that, as though I had read it out loud... he kinda knew. Honestly, I'm struggling to remember it, I'm going to get the journal real quick to refresh.

Okay, it looks like even in the journal right after I woke up I wasn't sure what had upset the streamer and the people he was with. I was reading that passage in the book in the moments leading up to him getting upset and leaving. The book had this section in it that was like MadLibs... like a simple mini-test to sorta... jog and concretize your memory of what the previous passage was about, so you could sorta... use your own brain to make the connections rather than just reading his wording. So, like... I wasn't sure if I upset him, or he witnessed the surreal visual experience I had and it upset him (because it was super vivid, like panic attack vivid, and very emotional), or maybe he knew what I read and that upset him? Maybe I accidentally read out loud and didn't realize? Or... maybe the person I was with upset him... Which, with this much time between me and the dream, seems like the most likely factor... But, either way, he got upset and left. Then... I could sorta... sense through the ceiling and walls in an almost x-ray kinda way that he was like... glaring at me. In a... judgmental, suspicious, skeptical way. In a "I'm on to you..." way. In a witch-hunty Inquisition kinda way. And that set off a massive panic response that immediately woke me up.

You know what? I reflected on this when I woke up, and it's actually really well put for 4 hours of sleep coming out of a panic attack. <pats self on back> So I'm just gonna transcribe it. Fuck it.

"I felt like I needed to impress him, and like I fucked up... which was embarrassing but passed quickly... but that turned into... genuine concern that I was in danger. Like lynching kinda danger, mob violence danger. And that's because I witnessed that last night. And the chick who was being bullied? She was like me. This crowd? These streamers? I keep gravitating towards confident bullies. Andrew Santino types. They're very talented, but their skill is a coping mechanism developed through trauma and conflict. Unprocessed trauma, typically. Because the coping mechanism is their greatest gift, and really their whole life and identity are built on it. I gravitate towards that talent. Being this aware of how these people think (because I was one of them) and how much influence they have, how followers will blindly obey them and they have thousands, made me scared of... as that guy so poetically said in my Twitch chat "(being) thrown in a river with a mill stone tied to (me)." For learning, and exploring ideas that they may consider heretical. But, more specifically, sharing them and being associated with them."

So... you can imagine how hard writing a journal entry like this can be sometimes. It feels really serious and risky, and really silly at the same time. It's not like the context I'm referring to is even... heretical, really... if anything it's trying to prove the Bible's validity! But... I've just seen a lot of dark shit in my study of humanity. A lot of dark, ignorant, zealous things that people do. And seeing that mob mentality last night? It just brought me back to that same old familiar fear. And that shit sticks, and can be hard to shake.

I'm getting really tired, so I want to kinda wrap up, so let me get to the crux of all of this.

Besides the obvious, this journal and this post, why would I be so anxious about sharing my personal beliefs publicly? 1). Family-induced trauma, let's just get that out of the way, so that explains the life-shattering severity. But the focus - I made my desire path project public today. I posted it. It was my only goal for the day. And I did it.

I put it on YouTube. It currently has 3 views and no one has watched it all the way through. I fucking hate analytics and I don't want to watch them anymore. So fucking stupid, as though you have any control over whether people give a fuck about your work. Yikes.

Then, I went into this whole pros and cons list of posting the full project on Instagram. Insta won't let you link shit, and I wanted to keep my videos all on YT because... habit, I guess? Maybe because my Rimworld series is still over there and I was hoping someone might actually give a fuck about that again someday. But after a long time going over it, I decided instead of trying to direct people to go to my profile, then go to my YT link... fuck that. I'm just going to post it there in full, too. And I did. And the grand reception? I got 2 likes. And a comment from my former "best friend", my former goddaughter's mother. And I do appreciate the sentiment. It's just been hard to process those memories.

I always wanted to be a dad. And in my 20's, I got to be her nanny for most of the week when she was around 1 year old. I was working nights and inverting my sleep schedule to drive up an hour each way to watch her during the week. I still have a picture from when I got there one day and comedically, melodramatically collapsed onto the couch in exhaustion and actually fell asleep with my legs hanging in the air off the couch and shit, right next to my goddaughter who was also passed out. And she fired me. Because I didn't "take her outside enough", which she never instructed me to do or taught me how to do. Not to mention the fact that she never paid me once, and I just... didn't ask for money? Because I was trying to be nice? Because both her and her husband were like... not parenting their infant child and just going and working jobs instead, while I watched their kid for them.

Meh, enough about that. See what it does to my head though? Nostalgia is nice... sometimes... but it can be bitter, and if you have an especially dicey past, it can turn sour real quick. So... I do appreciate her sentiment, she left a really kind compliment that seems sincere. And the emotional processing from the past? That's my job, I gotta just remember... that's in the past. I just... I feel bad for my goddaughter, and I miss her. She was the closest thing to a daughter I've ever had, besides my dog and cat, of course. The closest thing to a human daughter I've ever had. And she may not have a great role model for like... healthy emotional regulation. And I worry about her. And I do kinda feel like... that's kinda part of the godfather thing, to step up and like... be there. But at this point? I was envisioning this when I was making dinner. I feel like if I ever even do that, I'm going to be the uncle or aunt figure at the family dinner that they haven't seen in 10 years and pulls the teenage kid aside and goes "you know, I used to change your diapers, do you remember me? No? It's okay, well... if you ever need to like... talk or anything, I'm always here for you." And they'll wince through the awkwardness and then go off and play something on their phone and sigh and mutter "weirdo". But like... is it worse to not even try?

That's a quandary for another day, I just went down that line of thought because I was kinda imaginatively strategizing what might happen if my former friend messaged me. To... prepare myself.

So yeah, lots of ups and downs today. Sleep deprivation, panic, nap, social media strategy, posted the video, made dinner, watched streams, Risk of Rain, journal, and off to bed we go.

Gonna try to sneak a quick shower in before bed, screw it, see if that helps with more relaxing sleep.

To end on a more uplifted note... The Path was one of the more ambitious projects I've taken on. It was very new, super conceptual, very "risky" regarding whether anyone would "get it", also very tedious and demanding. I did the 100 runs in Minecraft, with 3 screenshots per run. I hand-drew each path, twice. I animated each path individually. I composed, played and recorded 12 minutes of original music for 4 guitars, bass and drums. I wrote the script, I recorded the voiceover (on Easter day!). I hand-drew and animated the parts of the voiceover that I couldn't really figure out what to put under, as though they were being drawn on a whiteboard. I shot cinematic B-roll in Minecraft, Google StreetView and a real life National Park. I edited it all together.

And now... it's done.

Fuck crowd reception, this was months in the making. I am goddamn proud of myself.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

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imkylotrash · 3 years

Text

The Noble Kind

Pairing: Sir Gwaine x reader

Request: She's the queen, married to uther but is just a year or 2 older than Arthur. She has magic. They had an arranged marriage cause her kingdom which is extremely powerful didn't want to go to war with uther as they were taking in refugees to protect and didn't want to inforce the idea that magic is evil. She has an affair with gawain and they run away when she's pregnant. Anonymous

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @shadowhuntyi

“It’s for the greater good,” you mother tells you right before you marry the King of Camelot in an attempt to prevent a war. Uther is a great king for the most part but he is frightened by what he doesn’t understand. Magic is one of the things he knows nothing of - leaving it up to your kingdom to take in the refugees running for their lives.

“To a strong alliance,” he toasts at the wedding party and you keep a smile plastered on your face through the entire evening even though you hate every second. You’ve always said you’d marry for love but there’s no lost love between you and Uther. He agreed for the alliance and nothing more. You agreed because it was the right thing to do for your people. None of you could afford to go to war with each other.

“A strong alliance,” you echo lifting the glass of wine placed in front of you. In the crowd, you spot Gwaine looking at you with sorrow in his eyes. He didn’t want to believe it until he saw it with his own eyes. But then something changes, you see the flip switch as he raises his glass to you before downing the whole thing. You should’ve known he wouldn’t take this well.

“Have I lost your interest already?” Uther asks with a sparkle in his eyes of something you can’t quite figure out.

“Of course not, dear. I was simply amused by the people dancing.” You’re quick to recover having been taught etiquette and manners your entire life. You know the game well enough and you’ve only gotten better after your mother abdicated and handed the crown over to you. The loss of her king, your father, had been too much. You stepped in knowing you’d had to give up what little life you had acquired. Gwaine was the only thing you refused to let go of.

“You should join them. Show them they can trust their new queen.” You wonder where Arthur but that question doesn’t go unanswered very long. He comes in by a back entrance quietly sitting down next to Uther.

“As you wish, my king.” You join the common people dancing and they’re quick to welcome you and show you the steps. It’s the most fun you’ve had all night. You don’t see Gwaine in the crowd though which worries you. It won’t do anyone any good if he gets drunk enough to make a scene.

“He’s in your chamber,” Merlin whispers using his magic to carry the sound to you and only you. He must’ve figured out who you were looking for.

“Thank you,” you whisper back. Merlin is the only one who knows about you and Gwaine but he’s promised to keep quiet. He doesn’t want to cause problems for neither of you. It’s another hour before you feel it’s appropriate to retreat for the night. Uther doesn’t object when you inform him that you’ll be spending the night in your private chambers and you don’t feel guilty for doing so. The marriage is strategic and you both know it. Besides, there’s something about only being one summer older than Uther’s own son.

You finally reach your chambers having sent your servants to bed with the promise that you’ll be able to take care of yourself. It’s an excuse to keep them from seeing Gwaine. He’s drunk when you enter, he’s very drunk.

“Do you ever stay away from trouble?” you ask noticing the split lip and the bruise on his cheekbone. He’s been fighting again.

“You know, I had the strangest dream,” he starts but you’re too tired to make sense of his metaphors. You want him cleaned up and ready to sleep.

“Let me,” you whisper carefully wetting a cloth and rinsing the worst of the blood from the cut.

“You could always do the witchy woo,” he says wiggling his eyebrows and puckering his lips.

“It’d do you some good to heal naturally. Perhaps you wouldn’t worry me so much,” you reply but the second he mentions the pain you’ve lost all resolve to let him heal on his own. You can’t let him be in pain when you can take it away.

“Fine,” you whisper placing your hand right about the cut and closing your eyes. In mere seconds, the wound has closed as if he’s been waiting for you here the whole time and not been out looking for trouble.

“Thank you,” he says this time a little more serious. You feel as though you can finally exhale as you crawl into bed with him. These are your moments of peace, the moments where you can avoid the pressure of your title and the expectations that come with the crown.

“You know, you did just get married. Normally, there’s something you’d consummate the marriage as well.” He’s drunk and out of his mind, but he’s your crazy drunk and looking into his eyes you feel nothing but love.

“Sober up and I’ll think about it.” You don’t consummate anything that night but you do the following nights. You get careless and before you know it, you’re late. Gaius confirms your suspicions and congratulates you thinking it belongs to Uther. But Merlin knows the truth though which means he’ll be the only person who can help you.

“We must leave tonight,” you confide in him. If Uther finds out that you’ve disrespected him in these manners, he’ll have you hung and declare war on your kingdom. If you flee, you’ll be able to have the baby and come up with some sort of plan for your return. It’s the safest option.

“Meet me down here tonight. I’ll get you out of Camelot but then you’re on your own,” Merlin murmurs already concocting a plan for how to distract Gaius as he helps you escape. There’s no time for excitement when you tell Gwaine what has happened but you can tell he’s over the moon.

“And it’s mine?” he whispers eyes full of affection. He never thought he’d want to become a father but learning the news of your pregnancy has proven him wrong.

“Of course it’s yours,” you say with as much dignity as you can muster. How could he ever think it wasn’t his? You stop dead in your tracks when Arthur appears around the corner.

“Sir Gwaine. My Lady.” He kisses your hand from obligation rather than willingness.

“Could I have a moment with her Highness?” Gwaine knows he can’t say no but the hesitation is enough to raise suspicion. He continues down the hallway as you remain with Arthur.

“He’s good with a sword but that brainless head of his is going to get him killed one day.” You chuckle having said the exact same thing to Gwaine many times.

“Perhaps his sword skills will be the thing to save him from the troubles his brainless head creates?” you suggest hoping the talk of Gwaine will distract you from the real question; why are you down here? But it doesn’t and you mention the only thing that will make him run the other way.

“I have terrible cramps. Gaius promised he had a potion that could help.” The mentions of menstrual cramps is enough to send him running and you hurry on laughing at how easy men can be distracted. Sound travels through these tunnels and you’re close enough to hear both Gwaine and Merlin.

“I used to think you hated nobles,” Merlin laughs enjoying the company of his best friend one last time.

“Yeah, well... maybe that one’s worth dying for, eh?” You don’t mention their conversation as you enter but your heart is beating a little faster after hearing his declaration. That night you and Gwaine escape Camelot with help from Merlin. You seek refuge in your own kingdom using magic to distort your features and remain hidden. By the time, Uther realises what has happened, you’ve taken in too many sorcerers for him to launch an attack that will ultimately lead to a war he will lose. Not too long after the birth of your child, you return to the throne with Gwaine by your side and a little heir running around the throne room.

“Is it wrong for me to miss being on the run?” Gwaine asks you as you walk in the garden surrounding the castle.

“I miss it too sometimes. But I couldn’t abandon my people.”

“You just might be the first noble to care for their people,” he smiles. He takes your hand in his and the topic is never brought up again. Gwaine settles into his role with grace leaving behind the tavern fighting instead focusing on little Merlin and you.

“I’m pretty proud of our little family.”

“Me too.”

#gwaine x reader #gwaine blurb #gwaine imagine #gwaine bbc merlin #bbc merlin blurb #bbc merlin imagine #bbc merlin #sir gwaine x reader #sir gwaine blurb #sir gwaine #king arthur #merlin #uther pendragon

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somedrunkpirate · 3 years

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learn the dead | Arthur/Eames

Read here on ao3 or continue below Tags: Presumed Dead, First Time, Angst with a happy ending, pining Rating: T Wordcount: 5,4k

------------------------------

Everything checks out.

The hospital records, the police report, even the fucking local news because, to quote scruffy looking anchor, with a stutter no less, “There has— sn’t been an lethal acc—sident for over ten years on this s—street.”

The information is bare-bones, but that isn’t remarkable for an open and shut case like this: drunk driver meets tree trunk. Happens a thousand times a year, and will continue to happen whether you make a fuss out of it or not. Write down the licence plate, try (and fail) to inform relatives, do the paperwork and get home on time for dinner for once. Simple as pie.

Except. Except Arthur wouldn’t have. He wouldn’t have driven drunk. His stick reaches too far up his ass to do something so utterly reckless in reality.

That thought is what had spurred Eames to begin his search— there had to be something, anything, that could explain the whole bullshit situation. Even if that something is a hit, covered up like an accident. Then at least Eames would have some to blame— Someone to kill.

But everything checks out.

Even that initial discrepancy. Arthur couldn’t have been drunk, but after many phone calls and bribes, Eames had learned what Arthur could have been.

He could have been high.

His last job had been an experimental trial. Not with a chemist Eames knew. An academic who had shit his pants when Eames barged in with a smile as sharp as a knife— and a knife in his hand, of course. Wouldn’t do to be less than intimidating in this case. The chemist had spluttered into a rant Eames had understood half of, so he’d called Yusuf and held the phone up without responding to the cursing at being awoken in the middle of the night. But he’d caught on quickly, started to ask questions Eames wouldn’t have thought to ask. Then more, sharper. With a hiss.

“What is he saying?” Eames had asked, after the chemist had run out of breath.

“Eames—“

The way Yusuf sounded, a sigh more than an utterance. The tone of his voice as it tried to fold in pity— badly. Yusuf was never quite made for compassion. Though the attempt had been enough to haunt Eames’ nightmares since.

“Eames. He’s dead.”

The confirmation had come without fanfare in the end. Eames didn’t even kill the chemist, after. It hadn’t been his fault that the mix Arthur had taken voluntarily turned out to suppress reflexes when tired. Not tired as they would call it— after a rush job, when exhaustion nipped at your heels. Just tired; about to drink a cup of coffee tired. Arthur probably hadn’t even felt any different until it was too late. But it had been raining, and he’d been driving for more than six hours. It was no one’s fault that Arthur had lost control over the vehicle just in front of the only tree in a three mile radius.There had been a rabbit flattened between the car and the bark. He’d probably been trying to save it.

A fucking rabbit.

Eames had hung up on Yusuf without a word. It had been the last time he’d spoken to anyone for a long time.

Except that isn’t quite true.

“Well, darling, you’ve gotten me in quite a pickle.”

The grave doesn’t respond. It never does.

— — — — —

If someone had told him that his reaction to Arthur’s death would be to stand before his grave every day for a month straight, he'd have laughed his lungs out of his chest.

It would’ve been sad, of course, to see such a talented colleague go. He might even have gone on a bender for a week— drinking away the sorrows that come with a lost acquaintance— maybe a friend. But he’d have better things to do than indulge himself for longer than that. He’d been indulging himself with Arthur for far too long, and death should have been the end to it.

Because he had been thinking about it, sometimes, when he was feeling fanciful. You would have had to be blind not to see the chemistry. The push and pull that led to delicious flirtation — as much as Arthur wanted to deny it — and even more delicious dreamsharing. They made each other better and that was honestly the only thing Eames ever looked for, when, if ever, he thought about that nebulous concept of ‘settling down’.

So yes, there would be something more to losing Arthur. Eames had known even then. It was losing that slight hint of potential. Though that is always a treacherous word.

Because he never truly believed he’d make it that far— not just with Arthur, who would’ve laughed even harder if Eames were ever to confess his vague future plans for them — but with life in general. Why plan for something that would be cut short anyway? Even if Arthur could be persuaded to make something out of the spark between them, it would’ve been cruel to do so. Eames knew himself well. He wouldn’t have stopped taking risks, stop wanting more-- craving freedom like a drug. The idea to set Arthur up for inevitable heartbreak had been enough to avoid thinking about practical steps. A fantasy was fine. Eames got paid to live in them. He didn’t get paid for reality.

So, Arthur’s death would of course be sad. But it shouldn’t have been more than another scar on his back— the punishment of the trade he chose, along with a whisper of nostalgia at losing a construct of his imagination. Even he wouldn’t have had the heart to keep the fantasy of a dead man alive for his own entertainment. A week, a few drinks, and it should’ve been over.

It shouldn’t have destroyed him.

“I just never thought I’d be the one left behind, darling,” Eames says to the wet dirt below him. It feels off to tell the headstone itself— the name is fake. Aaron Fister. Arthur had thrown a knife past his head when Eames had shown him the forged papers. To say he regrets the joke now is an understatement.

“In all fairness, it should’ve been you here, it would make more sense for you to fall in love with me, once I’m not there to bother you anymore. Absentia makes the heart go fonder, hmm?”

The dirt seems to be judging him. It’s good that some things never change.

“I know— I know it's hypocritical. I didn’t even— I didn’t even love you. It was just a game. A fun thing to theorise about when the goings got tough. Would you be as snappish if we lived together? Would you forgive me faster if I sucked you off? Would you kiss me goodbye in the airport?” Eames stops himself, and rubs a hand over his face, groaning. “It’s humiliating, darling. I should’ve just gotten off at the thought of you like half of the dreamshare community was doing. Hand on or in their whatever and imagine you moaning next to them. But I had to be pathetic about it. Though this is reaching new heights, I must say.”

He leaves, abruptly sick of himself. He comes back the next day, as always.

Some days, though, Eames doesn’t devolve into confessions that make the little old ladies passing by their lost friend’s grave raise their eyebrows and linger by a random grave to listen anyway.

Some days, Eames is angry.

The first time, he breaks his toe in the process.

“You bloody cunt!” He’s aware that he’s shouting, but he doesn’t stop. “Never experiment alone! Isn’t that what you fucking say to the newbies? You need someone to be a baseline. Someone who can bring you home safe. You fuck. Why didn’t you call me. Why didn’t you fucking—“

Kicking the gravestone had not been his best idea, but the pain of it brings a rush of satisfaction. There is— so much, inside of him. Eames is drowning in it, and the throb in his feet cuts right through it. Clarity. He kicks again.

“You fucking bastard.”

The old ladies have gone from curious to concerned now. Eames hobbles away, hissing, before he gets a restraining order on a grave.

The next day he’s back, a bottle of whiskey in hand, and finds himself apologising.

“I know— I never made it quite clear that you could call me, for stuff like that. That I would pick up. Maybe I wouldn’t have. Or no, I would have, but I might not have bothered for that. The jobs— I knew how to handle you on the job. But outside of that. I don’t think I would’ve had the courage. I wouldn’t think that way then, of course. Convince myself that I’m above errand runs like that. Throw you a bone recommending some up and coming kid I knew or something— intern type, for all that we have those here. But I don’t think I would’ve come. So it isn’t your fault. You made a mistake, not getting back-up, but it isn’t your fault. You didn’t know you had any. And I didn’t dare to believe I could be yours. That you would let me. That it wouldn’t end in disaster.”

Eames leans against the cold stone and sighs. “’Suppose it has, already. Would’ve been too good to have it end any other way.”

— — — — —

When Eames isn’t in a graveyard, or in a bar, he’s in the warehouse.

It had felt too… personal, to get a hotel room for this. To do his research in a living room, as opposed to the dreary, dusty and echoey spaces where most of their professional relationship had flourished. It’s too big for a one-man job, but Eames had managed to fill it up anyway. Boxes upon boxes of information, any trace of Arthur he could find. Every email, record, police report, college paper— printed and archived. Eames can find his way through the documents blind and drunk. Arthur has taken over every nook and cranny of the warehouse— and every nook and cranny of Eames’ mind. Eames has read everything, twice over.

If Arthur had been alive to know, he would’ve killed him.

Because Arthur had always been a private person, for all that he pries in the lives of clients and collaborators both. He was the one who asked the questions and rarely answered them. It had always been a luxury— a rare reward, to be thrown a scrap of information. He’d always said something with that slight subtle smile, like he knew the power his breadcrumbs of personal life held over others. Everyone ravenous for more intel on one of the greatest pointmen of their generation.

How horrible is it then to revel in the mountains of information that Eames had been able to gather after his death. He’d always known he’d had enough pull to find something, and after the inception job he’d had more than enough cash to buy the rest. But he’d never done it; at first because of the wrath that would quickly follow. Then because he’d known it would tarnish Arthur’s trust in him— something he’d wanted to protect at all costs. And then lastly — but maybe from the start — because it was so much more thrilling to learn bit by bit, piece by piece. To earn his knowledge of Arthur, and to ensure that his curiosity would never run out. He’d become slightly addicted to the feeling.

But now, with no one left to tell, it had only taken the excuse of the suspicious circumstances of his death for Eames to turn into the hoarder he’d always known he could be. It had gotten to a point where new packages arrived every so often— criminals even beyond dreamshare having caught wind of an individual willing to invest heavily on any information. Someone had even hacked the pentagon to get classified documents. From the message on the box, the hacker thought they were helping a spy of some kind. Eames had sent him enough bitcoin to blow wind in the direction of that particular fire hearth of urban legend. He’d rather have people think there is a whole network of people digging into this, than anyone realising it’s in truth only one pathetic man.

So Eames drinks. Eames talks to a grave. And Eames reads. It only takes him two boxes until Arthur makes him laugh for the first time since the car crash. It was due to a spirited essay on the importance of open source information that was clearly written to spite the professor leading the course, who’d been forced to give it an A+ regardless. Eames had chuckled, imagining the self-righteous satisfaction of this young Arthur as he got his grade back, and then began crying. Not to grieve the loss of a future he hadn’t realised how much he wanted, as is his wont, these days. But from the unfairness of it all. That a person like this, who had so much to say in this world, should’ve been taken so early, and in such a meaningless way.

Arthur would’ve denied it, but Eames knows he’d only be content with a death from sacrifice . He’d shown that side of him clearly when he jumped into Cobb’s mess headfirst and without hesitation. If Arthur had died from a bullet taken for Cobb, Ariadne, or maybe even Eames, he would’ve been at peace— or as much as you can while bleeding out.

Eames had known that, but as he learns more and more of Arthur, he realises how true it is. How, despite everything, Arthur cannot stop himself from being a silent hero. There are so many instances where Arthur, behind the screens, helps someone. Whether it was connecting the right people to each other under the mum of a potential project, or taking jobs way below his pay grade because he sympathised with the client, Arthur did not let their line of work destroy the possibility to be kind, every once in a while.

It’s not like he advertised it. He didn’t do it in a way people would recognize his actions— which was smart, as it could be seen as a weakness in their circles. But whenever the chance came along, even if it was to his own detriment, Arthur chose the rough road home if it would ease someone else’s way.

And this, Eames realises, is the secret to his competency. All other pointmen are expert researchers through and through, but no one had the reach Arthur had. Arthur knew everything, and if he didn’t know, he knew someone who knew— and most importantly, someone who would tell him. Eames doesn’t even know if Arthur ever realised that it was his kindesses, in and out the community, which led him into such a position of power. His actions are too random and inconsistent to be a strategic scheme to build an empire. Some of his biggest successes are results of a nicety five or ten years ago, something that he might have forgotten doing, but the people receiving it definitely haven’t.

On the surface Arthur had been known as cool and effective— someone with a distance to the rest of the world that resulted in a highly detailed overview of any situation, even if it brought a side of professionalism to even the most informal of interactions. The people who witnessed a more casual side of him were few and far in between, but even those came away with the impression that to Arthur, doing the job in the best way possible was the only drive to his actions.

No one had seen every little thing he did that had no other reason at all besides that he could do them for someone.

Eames maps out everything on the walls of the warehouse. And when he stands back to take it all in, he realises that more than anyone, the person Arthur had silently helped was him.

Everything he’d done for Cobb had been grand and obvious, but more out of loyalty to Mal and her children than kindness without any other motivation. And Ariadne’s training had been as much for the inception job than for herself— maybe introducing her to the life hadn’t been a kindness at all. Continuing after could be seen as one, even if you could argue that her honing her raw talent would directly result in better and more stable dreams in later jobs.

But Eames— what Arthur had done for Eames—

Eames can’t think of a single reason besides just being plain nice.

Because it hadn’t been like he needed to. Eames had made him very clear that he’d be down for almost any job Arthur put in front of him. Just him being himself had always been enough, he didn’t need to do him any favours to persuade him like everyone else did.

And maybe Arthur had gotten the memo, because he’d done Eames favours without ever telling him, and those you can’t pay back. Eames had no idea the reason he got out of that trouble in Chicago was because Arthur bailed him out— it was presented to him as a procedure mistake. And then there was the Telula job, with an extractor-architect team Eames had wanted to work with for ages, but the chemist they’d been looking to hire was someone from Eames’ not so smooth first years of dream-share and he’d almost cut out of the job to not be forced to confront that past. That was until the chemist suddenly dropped out with an offer he couldn’t refuse— an offer Arthur had been behind.

There were so many things like that. Little things, small things— warehouses next to Eames’ favourite restaurants; nuggets of information given anonymously through the channels of dreamshare gossip to hit Eames’ ears right on time before a betrayal; a job a week delayed because of Eames’ mother’s funeral.

It’s not like Eames had been the only one, but he was by far the most frequent of all of them. More and more so over the years, like Arthur had been finding more reasons to be nice to him, while Eames had still been stuck in his pathetic imaginations, blind to what was already in front of him.

A friendship.

He’d been so preoccupied with his own flights of fancy, that he only realises how close they had been all this time until it was too late to experience it. Too late to thank Arthur for everything he’s done.

The agony of it— the longing. His heart thundering with the sudden need to have Arthur in his arms, alive and real and—

“Oh god. I love him.”

Eames drinks until he can’t remember. He manages to avoid the grave for a little while, but he doesn’t last long. Inevitably he’s pulled back to the grave yard, whiskey in hand, ready to talk to the love he lost again.

— — — — —

His cemetery routine— because he has one of those now — is usually to be at the grave around noon. Late enough to roll out of bed reasonably comfortably after a long night of drinking and/or reading, but early enough for there to be time left to check the new documents coming along and pay the right people before they send thugs to his hideout.

But this time the afternoon light shines golden over the rows and rows of headstones and Eames shivers in the Autumn breeze. The old ladies are all dressed in fur coats. He recognizes some of them, and wonders if they noticed he was gone. None of them greet him as he passes, so he assumes not.

Eames takes another sip of his bottle, allowing his feet to lead him over the familiar path up the hill, and then he drops his bottle all together.

A man is standing before the grave.

Tall, hunched a little in the wind. Long coat and thick black beanie. Nondescript. Anonymous.

He does not turn as Eames nears.

“You’re late.”

Eames’ hand is on his gun at the first syllable, but before he can put it on his temple a leather gloved hand snatches it from his fingers. The clip ejects with a decisive click.

Arthur gives him an unimpressed look. “Don’t be dramatic. We don’t need a scene.”

His face— a little gaunt. His eyes— tense, intent, darker than they should be. Eames doesn’t recognize the coat. But he’s there, pressed in close to hide the gun between their bodies. His breath— warm, hits Eames’ cheek. It isn’t— It can’t. He can’t be breathing because he’s—

Eames squeezes his eyes shut and thinks of metal against the palm of his hand, the smell of gunpowder.

A sigh falls between them. “It won’t work. This isn’t a dream, Eames.”

The hell it isn’t. “Experimental somacin, three levels.”

Raised eyebrows shouldn’t be audible only through speech. “Do you remember how you got here?”

Eames opens his eyes and says, “Deep immersion dream.”

Arthur huffs at that. “Do you really think they’ve been keeping you under for years? Fine. When have you last lost memories?”

Oh, that’s easy. “Two days ago.”

There is a pause, and Eames hates the fact that he can see the exact moment of tension in Arthur’s jaw that signals him suppressing a question. It’s too detailed, too precise, too re—

“Later,” Arthur murmurs under his breath, almost to himself. Like later is a given between them. He seems frustrated. His eyes keep flicking to the side and his hand hovers near Eames’ arm, like he’s trying to keep himself from hurrying Eames along and is annoyed that Eames is stalling them.

“I’m sorry darling,’” Eames drawls, “but in case it has escaped your notice: we are having this discussion on your fucking grave, so forgive me for being reasonably sceptical about the reality of this situation.”

Arthur breathes out a deep sigh, clenched teeth. “Eames, think about it, is there any forger you know capable of forging me in a way you can’t see through it? Or for that matter, is there anyone who would dare to try steal from the fucking person who invented the craft?”

No. The answer is no. It hits Eames with a muffled weight. He wonders what his face is doing, but whatever it is, Arthur responds to it with a curt nod. It suddenly strikes Eames as absurdly hilarious, in the way only the most traumatic experiences can.

“You know, complimenting me really doesn’t help with the reality argument. Never mind doing it twice. Death changed you, darling.”

Arthur stills in the middle of putting the clip back in Eames’ gun. There is the slightest flicker of his lips, and he huffs. “Maybe it did— can I trust you not to shoot yourself the moment I hand this back?”

“Come on now Arthur,” Eames says, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

And there— there it is. Arthur rolls his eyes as he presses the gun into Eames’ waiting hands, and a part of Eames’ breaks with it. Still muffled, still numb, but something is lumbering closer. He can almost hear its laboured breaths.

“There you are,” Eames says, smiling. “You don’t know how much I missed that.”

It is a miracle he doesn’t choke on the words.

“Glad to be remembered for something,” Arthur is saying, and now he’s pushing Eames— gently but with intent, away from the grave. “And I’d like to keep it that way, so we need to talk before your insatiable curiosity ruins everything I worked for.”

Eames doesn’t know if it's the words, or the press of Arthur’s hand against his back— barely sensable beneath all the layers but even the slightest hint of pressure sets him alight— but all at once everything falls into place.

“You faked your death.”

“Have you always been this slow on the uptake?”

Eames barely hears him. Reality is roaring and there is space for nothing else. Arthur isn’t dead. Arthur isn’t dead. They’re standing on Arthur’s grave— an empty grave. A lie. A trick. He’s been fooled because Arthur isn’t dead, he’s right here. He’s touching him because he isn’t—

Arthur isn’t. He isn’t.

He’s alive.

Eames doesn’t say anything the rest of the way to wherever. If Arthur speaks, he doesn’t strain to listen. Because Arthur isn’t dead and if he hears anything at all he’s either going to scream or kick the shit out of him just like he did on that stupid fucking grave— just to check that this one isn’t made of stone but flesh and blood and he is alive.

His fists hurt from clenching by the time they enter a hotel room. Something of the turmoil must have reached Arthur because he’s gone quiet. The roar lets off the very moment the door clicks closed and Arthur stands before it, uncertain, almost as if he regrets closing off his only exit. His expression is one Eames knows very well— preparing himself for a fight he saw coming too late. But he isn’t reaching for his gun. He just stands there.

He’s just waiting to take it.

Eames kisses him.

He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s—

A heartbeat feels more real when it’s underneath your lips. A pulse against a jaw— up, up to feel breath against breath. To hear the rush of it— a hitch of— of surprise.

Strength— dead people don’t have strength and Arthur is pushing him so he can’t be dead.

“Eames—“

Alive, alive, alive.

“Eames! Wait!”

Eames pushes closer. He places his forehead against Arthur’s, presses them both against the door. Arthur isn’t pushing him away anymore but his hands are still on his chest. Eames wonders if he can feel the beat of his heart. He hopes, quietly insane for a moment, that Arthur will never forget to make his heart beat as long as he is feeling one. As long as he’s given an example on how to live.

“Eames,” Arthur says. A word, a question, a name. All in one. His eyes are wide. Breathing heavy— breathing, breathing, breathing— and he’s flushed. Sharp cheekbones stained red. Lips wet.

Eames’ hands move of their own accord and cradle each side of Arthur’s face.

“Let me, darling. Just let me.”

Arthur breathes again.

Eames trembles, trying to hold himself back. Trying to breathe. But one more moment and he will collapse and he can’t— he can’t risk it. He can’t risk losing another chance. He needs this as much as he needs Arthur to be alive. He needs to stop regretting not having done this when he could and now he can again and how can he let this undeserved second chance slip through his fingers. He has to. Please. He has to.

Arthur’s mouth falls open. “Eames. Eames, it’s okay. You don’t have to— You don’t have to beg. It’s okay.”

“Let me, Arthur,” Eames repeats, “Let me.”

Arthur lets him.

Arthur lets him do everything.

— — — — —

It’s after when Arthur whispers, “I didn’t know.”

His head is on Eames chest, moving ever so slightly when he breathes. In and out. Eames has his fingers tangled in his hair. The strands slip away when Arthur turns around to look up at him.

“I didn’t know,” he says again. There is a rasp in his voice and his eyes are wet. Eames has never been apologised to like this before. Arthur sounds as if he believes sorry would be an insult, the word too small to encompass his regret. There is guilt there, in the flush of his cheeks, and the way he can’t seem to hold eye contact. His pupils flickering, microscopic twitches of shame.

Sometimes he’d dream of this. Arthur’s return. A fantasy, a different one, yet still addictive like a drug. He’d expected to be angry, to want to spill his pain onto Arthur’s feet and watch him try and walk through it; burn in it. A stimulation of the magmatic life Eames has been living since his death.

But now, face to face with an Arthur who is alive, Eames doesn’t want any of it.

So he leans down, and kisses Arthur on the forehead, like a benediction, trying to extract the regret from his face. And he tells him, honest in a way he’s learned to be in the last scant weeks, “I didn’t either, darling.”

Arthur doesn’t relax, but there is something about his misery that is easily pushed to the side for curiosity.

Eames smiles at him and continues. “You were— you were a fantasy. A what if. Something amusing to think of when I was bored, or something life saving to dive into when reality drew a knife and stabbed me with it— literally, sometimes. But it was always a fantasy. An escape. It— it couldn’t have become real, if you’d given it a chance back then.” Eames takes a breath, shakes his head.

Arthur reaches up with a hand, frowning, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“But the trouble is, darling, it is incredibly hard not to fall in love with you the more I learn about you.” Eames smiles under his finger tips. “That is what changed. You never let me learn you. But who is to stop anyone from learning the dead?”

Something flickers over Arthur’s face— guilt, again, but different. “I didn’t know you wanted to learn about me— I thought you only gave a fuck about what I could be for you.”

Eames lays his hand over Arthur’s. “You’re right. I was blind— too blinded by the possibilities and too selfish to do anything about it. Maybe I needed to lose you in order to learn how to see .”

“No— No I should’ve,” Arthur shakes his head sharply. “I should have told you. There would’ve been another way without— How long have you been drinking?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to darling.”

“Eames.”

Arthur takes his hand off and moves off of Eames’ chest, sitting up straight. Eames follows him, struck by a sudden vision of Arthur slipping out of bed— out of his life, dogged by misplaced guilt and regret. He curls his hands around Arthur’s wrists, as gently as he can. Don’t trap him. Don’t chase him away.

“No. It’s fine. We’re fine,” Eames hurries to say. “Why would you tell me? I was a colleague at best, bane of your existence at worst. I had— I have no right—“

“I should have told you because I did know you,” Arthur interrupts him. “I was supposed to know. You said possibilities? I am supposed to be the one who sees them— all of them. I’m the one who has to prepare for all scenarios, know the players, do the research and put the pieces together. That is what I do, Eames. And I missed something.” Arthur takes a shuddering breath, looking forlorn and tired. “I’m so sorry for missing the most important part.”

“You can’t apologise for missing something that wasn’t even really there yet.”

“Yes, I can. I’m sorry for missing our potential. For underestimating us. Underestimating you.” Arthur laughs. “I’m so fucking stupid. I thought you kept searching for me out of— curiosity. Or that I fucked up, left a trail somewhere and you wanted to prove to me that you found it, you figured it out. Fuck. I never thought it was because you missed me.”

“I did,” Eames says, and it almost chokes him. “Every day.”

Arthur looks at him then, eyes flicking to the side, his hair covering half of his face, but his smile is visible. “You know, I did too. That’s why I knew you were looking for me. Kept tabs on you, even though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t.”

Eames swallows at the sight— at the hope it instills in him. Arthur let him, yes. It could have been a kindness. But this smile, shy and bashful, and the words that follow it. Maybe potential comes in twos. “I didn’t keep looking because I missed you,” Eames tells him, because he has no time for secrets anymore, no time for regret, for either of them. “I kept looking because I couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t bear it. Darling.” Eames slips his hands from Arthur’s wrists and puts them on either side of Arthur’s face instead, bracketing the smile. “You’re my future. You couldn’t be dead.”

“I’m not,” Arthur tells him, like a confession of his own. “I’m not dead, Eames.”

“Good.” Eames pulls him in closer, and Arthur lets him. He lets him trace the smile with his thumbs, lets him breathe close against his mouth and whisper, “Next time darling, when decide to you kill yourself. Kill me too.”

The grin that blooms doesn’t fit between Eames’ fingers, so he kisses Arthur instead. Deep, possessive. Loving. Arthur lets him, and he never stops.

#arthur/eames #fanfiction #fanfic #inception #inception fic #inception fic rec #arthur/eames fic #dreamhusbands #dreamhusbands fic #im back to writing?#honestly from all the wips and ideas that i have #no clue why this one ended up being the first #but i like how it turned out

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trippin-over-my-fandoms · 3 years

Text

I’ve seen this done before but here are my modern!rdr2 social media headcanons for the Van der Linde gang.

some of these are LONG and then some are shorter. doesn’t mean I love any of them any less however. I just did my best with all of them.

* I treat the gang as family especially for my modern au

Dutch

frequently uses Facebook and has dozens of friends he doesn’t even know. like if he gets a friend request he’ll accept it. John tells him he might as well just make his page public and Arthur pleads with him to make a facebook PAGE so that his random friends will stop liking posts that Arthur tags Dutch in.

Dutch has no idea how to make a facebook page.

he also has a Twitter and a massive following at that. He’s VERIFIED.

all of his twitter posts are vague though

are they a joke? are they political? is it what he’s eating for lunch that day? literally no one knows.

Hosea

also has facebook but doesn’t use it because why does he need to look at pictures of events he was at. he only uses it to see things he didn’t partake in

also has snapchat but just to keep up with the kids

because life360 was too much to deal with for everyone

and snapchat is cool

also he can and will spam you with bitmojis

Arthur

used to use facebook a lot but stopped because he was tired of his posts getting likes from people he didn’t know and friend requests from people Dutch was friends with.

plEASE

he has a private facebook for a reason, he doesn’t want other people to know his business.

he also has an instagram but anything he posts on facebook also goes on there. it’s not aesthetic or pretty or anything and he doesn’t even caption over half his pictures.

he literally only uses social media so that his friends and family know he’s alive

has snapchat because of Hosea but barely knows how to use it

doesn’t get why everyone wants to use snapchat when teXTING AND CALLING ARE RIGHT THERE

John

the question is what doesn’t he have.

john has been trying to make it big on social media since youtube came out.

his youtube used to have videos on it but he deleted them because they were cringy and arthur liked to send them to the group text.

plays twitch games on the weekends and sometimes with Jack but he thinks most of the subscribers are there for his kid since most of his solo streams don’t do as well

has a twitter, doesn’t follow Dutch, literally envies that he’s verified.

he’s tried everything but no matter what he does nothing pans out

uses tiktok to promote twitch streams

instagram feed is mostly selfies of him but 99.9% of the time he’s wearing sunglasses and the caption is some random quote

also has facebook but only to appease Arthur and Dutch, he doesn’t even have a profile picture. Claims only boomers use it.

an avid reddit user. if he’s got problems he’ll go to reddit. claims reddit saved his life. everyone’s tired of the story so they stopped asking.

also uses snapchat more than he should and the only social platform he has more than 100 followers on.

Charles

same as arthur and has both facebook and instagram and posts the same on both except his are pleasing to look at.

they’re unintentionally aesthetic

he uses a psd on all his pictures and won’t share what it is

has monthly life updates that start with some inspirational or deep quote and then text that pushes the instagram word limit

also has a deviantart , has shared psds there before , constantly tries to convince Arthur to get it.

used to use tumblr but he forgot about it

Abigail

the definition of a facebook mom. 80% of her facebook posts are about Jack or parenting.

Instagram is similar but also different, she’s actually a relatively successful influencer with over 1,000 followers.

all of her friends and family (who have instagram) follow her

has snapchat solely for the cute bitmojis and to send John adorable snaps of Jack playing with all the fun filters.

she also won’t take a selfie unless it’s with snapchat because she no longer trusts her own camera.

also uses pinterest and has a collaborative board with all the ladies.

but in general, on her own, she has too many boards. she uses pinterest for EVERYTHING

Sadie

bold of you to assume she uses social media.

she does just not a whole lot.

checks it once in the morning and once at night.

except pinterest because how dare Abigail get her into it. but even pinterest she only uses in downtime.

has facebook and instagram but there’s maybe only five posts.

if anything she’ll post on her story

will only snap Abigail and Arthur otherwise she doesn’t use snapchat

all of the social apps are mostly offloaded on her phone anyways

if she needs to know anything she just checks the group text which she has on do not disturb because they text way too much.

Molly

she’s verified on instagram

it’s also the only social platform she’ll use, which frustrates Dutch because he wants to be friends with her on facebook

but she’s happy with just instagram

she keeps it simple

and the main theme to her posts are fun outfits in her ever expanding closet

the other posts are usually of plants that she’s managed to grow. she’s not the best at being a plant mom but she’s still a good one to the ones she’s managed to keep alive.

the only thing she contributes to the pinterest board are her own pictures of her plants which are overly aesthetic.

Karen

started out with a normal instagram account then made a spam account which she ended up using way more often.

all of her posts are extremely chaotic

and usually reposts from her snapchat

has a reddit just to troll John

reposted his cringy youtube videos to reddit and got hundreds of upvotes

if you wanna see the most raw and chaotic videos of Arthur and John then she’s the one to follow.

also if you wanna see Abigail when she’s not all put together.

is the reason there’s so many memes in the collaborative pinterest board

Mary-Beth

has a instagram but also has a second instagram for art and book reviews

or basically anything she’d post on her tumblr

which is her second most used social

also uses facebook but only because she is an admin for one of those multifandom blogs.

also begs Arthur to get a deviantart.

uses pinterest most but only second to Abigail

literally the queen of pinterest DIYs

Micah

has twitter

as far as anyone else knows that’s all he has

maybe he has snapchat?

maybe they saw him on snapmaps once?

all he ever does with twitter though is retweet anything Dutch posts.

yet somehow he has so many followers.

Lenny

anyone who has snapchat has streaks with Lenny

even Hosea who doesn’t understand why it’s a thing

he also posts a lot on facebook but it’s mostly travel or vacation photos everyone is just a tad jealous of.

Lenny always seems to be busy but still has time for streaks with his friends.

he’s also an up and coming youtube vlogger

Sean

also has reddit to troll john

but he also legitimately uses it too.

he’s also really popular in the minecraft subreddit , don’t ask

also has twitch and also has way more subsribers than John

and a youtube which he’ll upload (overly edited) twitch streams to

everyone subscribes to him but they don’t tell John that.

also has a tiktok and is up to date on all the trends because of course he is

Kieran

got facebook when he was 10 and just never left.

literally doesn’t use any other social media

he’s not in the group text either so he has to facebook message Arthur to know what’s going on.

but he shares a lot of memes and cute pictures of animals

he used to follow Dutch but unfriended him when he was the only thing he ever had on his activity feed.

Susan

has facebook but claims she doesn’t have time to use it

Arthur knows this to not be true because she will like a lot of his posts.

she’s also guilty of liking every single picture in one post or album.

Arthur has also caught her looking at memes and using recipes she finds on there.

also part of the pinterest board but never contributes.

Trelawny

he has an account for everything

litereally

everything.

even whatsapp and linked in and kik

even tinder

the only one anyone knows about are his facebook, twitter, and instagam

but there’s no posts on any of them except twitter

he’s also verified

but for unknown reasons

any posts on his facebook are ones he’s tagged in

he’s also in a lot of facebook groups

Strauss

runs a subreddit

a paid facebook admin of several pages

the only person who actually knows this is Dutch because Strauss has told him about it

he has no online presence whatsoever out side of those.

Javier

spotify king

has over 500,000 subscribers on youtube

uses instagram but as another platform for his music

edits his own album covers

top tier playlists too

Tilly

aesthetic queen

the most put together and pleasing to look at instagram feed next to Charles.

uses pinterest a lot as inspiration and for making moodboards.

also uses tumblr to share moodboards

part of the sims global community facebook group

she keeps saying she’s going to start a youtube vlog but hasn’t yet

keeps trying to convince John to let her help him with his youtube.

she also uses twitch to play minecraft and sims

oh and she set up a minecraft server for everyone

Bill

facebook boomer

that’s it

I don’t know how else to put it

probably shares heavily republican posts

Swanson

didn’t use social media until tiktok.

he doesn’t do dances or anything but he does post weirdly obscure and chaotic videos that end up trending on more than one occasion

it’s usually drunk ramblings in his car that end up being hilarious

or videos of the others almost dying or ending up in the ER

Pearson

facebook boomer but make it cool.

also shares conservative posts but less offensive ones compared to Bill’s

likes almost every post any of his friends share

also comments on them too

Uncle

does he have social media? no one knows for sure.

yet somehow he knows what’s going on

even if nobody can find any of his social accounts or have ever seen him using one before let alone doing anything on his phone other than playing cheesy mobile games.

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jinx-jade · 3 years

Text

A little bird and his Prey Chapter 4

Babs let out a tired groan, letting her head fall into her hands.

The bat kids had been combing these camera recordings for hours with no luck of finding any evidence or leads to who could have done it.

“Got anything?” Barbara questioned, exhaustion dripping from her voice.

“Nothing useful,” Damian said with an annoyed growl. Titus lets out a whine for attention to try and distract his human, earning him a lazy scratch behind his ear.

“Nothing,” Tim replied, setting down his laptop in favor of picking up his thermos of what they could only assume was a death brew mix of caffeine.

“Nope. Nothing suspicious here either.” Jason claimed with a groan, collapsing from his upright seated position, flopping onto his back.

“Here,” Cass claimed, rewatching the security footage once more to double-check her findings before hooking her laptop up to the tv.

“Watch,” Cass instructed, pointing to the screen.

The security feed began playing and they watched the explosion.

A few minutes later they saw themselves and the cops appear, heading straight to the scene.

Except for one of them.

Crow strayed from their path to push a civilian out of the way of falling debris.

“Nice save,” Jason called out to his younger brother before looking at his sister with a silent question.

Cass simply shook her head before pointing at the woman Damian had saved.

They watched as the civilian took what appeared to be a calming breath before beginning to move.

She ended up leaving the range of the camera, Cass switching feeds to follow her.

The bluenette casually walked into an alleyway, disappearing into the shadows.

That had the bat kids’ attention.

She didn’t just disappear from view.

She was gone.

No longer in the alleyway.

A dead-end alleyway no less.

There was no way out of the alley except for the way she entered and scaled the buildings to travel by rooftop.

None of which she did.

Cass pulled up the other feeds for all possible angles and views of the alleyway.

Nothing.

She was just gone.

“Well. Shit.” Jason claimed.

“She could just be a magic user?” Barbara tried, even though she didn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“It could be Menagerie.” Tim guesses with a yawn, he really should take a nap since he has a back-to-back meeting later.

“Replacement, get some sleep. Your theories are getting a bit…” Jason stopped mid-sentence.

“Fuck. That makes sense.” Jason swore as he took out his wallet, handing Cass fifty dollars.

“You couldn’t have gone another week before making outlandish theories make sense,” Jason grumbled under his breath

The other bats looked at them in questioning.

“Win bet. Thanks, little brother.” Cass said, ruffling Tim’s hair.

“O… kay?” Tim questions, scrunching his brows in confusion.

“Back on topic please,” Babs said with an exasperated tone of voice.

“Oh. Right. Ugh... Menagerie was already in Gotham when the bombings had started. The bombings are connected to the stolen heirlooms. Menagerie is already a known thief that has a habit of stealing from the upper class and their businesses.” Tim explains. “Plus Menagerie is the only magic, meta, thing, person, that can turn into or disappear into, thin air.”

The bat kids weren't sure if they liked the fact that the theory made sense or hated the fact that the theory makes sense.

If Tim was right, and there is a high chance that he is, then they now have more than a thief on their hands, they have a bombing terrorist.

Barbara ran the woman through facial recognition, and to her surprise, she got a match.

"Uhm… guys?" Barbara says, gather the other bats' attention.

"Did you figure out who she is?" Jason questioned.

"Uhm. Yeah. I got a match from facial recognition. Two matches actually." Barbara informs them.

"So she has fake identification papers?" Damian states more than asks.

"Yeah," Barbara answers a bit unsure.

"Well?" Damian asks, waiting semi impatiently, for the names.

"The first one is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, age 24," Barbara informed them.

The bats raise a brow at her hesitated to read her file.

"Her other ID?" Tim questioned.

"Marinette Constantine, age 24." Barbar read off her other identification papers.

The room fell silent.

"Constantine?" Cass questioned, receiving a nod from Barbara.

"Yup, with John Constantine listed as her father. Wait. What?" Barbara furrowed her brows in confusion as she started typing rapidly.

"Something wrong? Besides the drunk mage apparently having a kid and not telling anyone." Jason questioned.

"Uhm. Alfred is her godfather?" Barbara informs them.

There was a defining silence that fell over the room before it changes into loud shouting.

“What are you guys yelling about?” Dick questioned as he entered the room.

“We thought we found out who Menagerie cause someone with the same magic as she was caught on camera near the bombing. We ran facial recognition on her and it turns out that John Constantine has a kid, and that kid is Alfred’s godfather.” Barbara explained with a defeated sigh.

“Wait a minute! Constantine, has a kid, and Alfred is their godfather?” Dick questioned confused.

Cass gave him a thumbs up, causing Dick to let out a sigh.

“So in other news, your promising suspect is one of ours or the Justice League’s at least, which knocks her off of the suspect list. We should definitely question Alfred and Constantine later but besides that, we’re still at square one.” Dick summarized.

Each of the bats gave their annoyed agreement at Dick’s summary but agreed that it was correct nonetheless.

“Welp, It’s your call on what to do next, Little d’ since this is your case,” Dick said as he took a seat on an armrest.

“Tch. We should call a private meeting with Constantine, if we didn’t already know about his kid then it’s probably for a reason and he might not want that information to be found out by league members.” Damian told them what he thought they should do while petting Titus.

“Sounds good. What about Alfred?” Tim asked.

“We can ask about Constantine’s kid but Alfred is more likely to direct up to Constantine if we want any real answers.” Damian reasoned, receiving agreements from his siblings.

“Looks like we have our game plan. If all goes well maybe Miss….. Marinette Constantine will help us with our Menagerie problem.” Dick claimed, leaning over Barbara’s shoulder so he could read the, admittedly small, file on Constantine’s kid.

As today’s plans were rattled off, Damian realized that today was going to be a long day with far too many meetings, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

tag list: @henie04 @only-trust-fictional-characters @lolieg @Moon5608 @animegirlweeb @asrainterstellar @toodaloo-kangaroo @mystery-5-5 @dontbenddontbreak @jayjayspixiepop @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat

#maribat

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nessinborderland · 3 years

Text

Be Mine (03)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader / Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn't want an Alpha; you didn't need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drama, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Scars

Notes: Would like to thank everyone that has been liking, reblogging and commenting on this fic, I see ya’ll and I love you. It means the world to me <3 I’m so glad people are liking my lil Niragi work. My dm’s and ask box are open if you ever feel like saying hi and/or scream over stuff in general with me lol. Enjoy!

AO3 Link Masterlist

You had woken up to an empty bed the next morning. You had laid there, staring at the ceiling and rewinding every moment of the last twenty-four hours in your head, over and over. How things had changed so fast. How so much had happened already. You didn't know if you should feel sad or relieved by Niragi's absence; you weren't sure if you wanted to face him after what had happened last night. You still remembered the look in his eyes, his promise, how he made you feel. It was all so...overwhelming.

A week has passed without you speaking with Niragi. You barely caught a glimpse of him beside the occasional moments where you see him from afar with his group of militants, usually coming from or going on raids. You tried to talk to him on several occasions, but he was out of sight before you could get close enough. You also changed rooms after that first night, and part of you was hoping to see him barge in to take you back to his room. But it never happened.

He is avoiding you.

That or maybe he is usually that busy. Either way, you don’t like how this whole situation makes you feel. Yeah sure, maybe you aren’t exactly being the most approachable person either, but you are...scared. This is all so new for you. His scent has practically disappeared from your skin, and you can feel yourself getting restless again. Especially when he is close.

You don’t see him, but you can feel his eyes on you. You can smell the peppermint in the air every time he is close. You usually walk around the hotel alone or just stay in your bedroom. Walking around by yourself is nerve-wracking; the constant whispers, the stares, the way people either avoid you or get way too close to you. But you can feel him always close by, watching you.

Chishiya.

You honestly don’t know if you should feel safe or afraid. Afraid that he will use his influence as an Alpha to take you as Niragi did the first time you met. At least Chishiya hasn’t tried hunting you down yet. Even though stalking you around like a cat chasing a mouse isn’t much different.

You’re now in a car with Ann, exhausted, wet from head to toe, but alive. Another game where your skills were evaluated; another game where you won without particularly impressing her. You always feel like you’re alive out of sheer luck and the help of others. It bothers you more than you dare to say. You have already been evaluated in games of Clubs and Diamonds, and you’re sure you would be dead if it wasn’t for Ann and the other players.

You can’t understand how people can be so smart at these hell games. Yes, you were successful at solving the riddle that allowed you to win the game of Diamonds, but since when was that impressive? You would still have been eaten by that shark in the game of Clubs without everyone else’s help.

“How are you holding up, Kenji?” you ask the young man sitting beside you. His arm is bandaged with a t-shirt already drenched in blood and his face is pale. He turns to you with a half-smile.

“Alive, thanks to you,” he says, moaning in pain when the car rides over a bump. “Thank you for that, by the way. For coming back for me.”

“It was the right thing to do.” you shrug with a smile, “Besides, I almost got eaten too.”

You can feel Ann’s eyes on you through the rearview mirror. You wonder what she’s thinking. It’s like you’re back in high school, waiting for an important evaluation. You hate it.

The car finally parks in the Beach’s parking lot and you get out, helping Kenji to his feet before two men come to take him to the infirmary. You’re walking away to get inside when Ann calls your name.

“A lot of people wouldn’t have done what you did,” she says. “That was brave of you. And stupid.”

“Uhh, thanks?” you stand there awkwardly as she seems to assess you through those big sunglasses of hers. “I just-”

“What do you see in him?” she asks after a pause, interrupting you. “You have nothing in common.”

You don’t know what to answer; shared interests and personality traits are not exactly what attracted you to each other. You shrug, “Wolf things I guess.” It’s not exactly something easy to explain. You also would rather not give it too much thought.

Ann hums, shaking her head. “Just be careful,” and walks away before you can even think of an answer.

You’re about to make your way inside when the sound of tires screeching makes you look back. The militants arrived from the games. You instantly see Niragi as he gets out of a vehicle, and you desperately want to approach him. He makes his way to the entrance at a fast pace, rifle on his shoulder as he’s followed by the rest of the militants. His pace falters when his gaze falls on you, but he doesn’t stop as he passes by you without a word.

“Niragi!” you’re calling before you can think twice.

He stops in his tracks, making everyone behind him stop too. More than twenty pairs of eyes lock on you as you stand there, heat growing on your cheeks. Why the hell did I call him, you think to yourself before clearing your throat.

“Hmm, could I speak to you? In private?”

He sighs. “I can’t right now. I’m going back out,” he says in a dismissive tone. You can’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes; you worry if he’s been getting enough sleep lately. “We’ll talk when I get back.” and with that, he turns his back on you and walks away, followed by his group.

He’s definitely avoiding you. You wonder why; was it all the rejecting? Maybe he finally realized you are more trouble than pleasure. Maybe he regrets his promise to you, made in an inebriated state?

It was your disgusting scars, a mean voice in your head whispers.

You flinch. Whatever it is, you hope that he will at least be straightforward and honest with you. Eventually.

You try not to overthink it as you get to your room and go straight to the bathroom, getting rid of your wet clothes before jumping in the warm shower. The thing you probably like the most about the Beach is the showers. That and the good food; there’s always a tray of delicious meals delivered to your room three times a day. You can definitely get used to those small luxuries.

You finish your shower just in time to receive your dinner tray. You eat your meal in bed, a book you found while outside laying open on your knees as you take occasional spoonfuls of your rabbit stew. The sound of laughter and loud talking makes you frown for the third time in half an hour. One of the things you dislike the most about the Beach; the constant partying.

You give up on the book and decide to sleep, hoping that your exhaustiveness will win against the noise of your next-door neighbors.

It does not.

You’re knocking on their door moments later. A man opens the door, clearly beyond drunk, if his breath and slurred speech are anything to go by.

“Could you guys please keep it down?” you ask. "I'm trying to sleep." The man stares you up and down with a smirk, and you give a small step back.

“Yo, guys guess who came to pay us a visit!” he says behind him. You can see three men sitting at a table, playing what you guess is poker, several beer bottles scattered around them. You think you recognize one of them as part of the militants. Maybe coming here wasn’t a good idea after all.

“Isn’t that Niragi’s bitch?” “Ask her if she wants to join us!” is what you hear them say above the laughter. Yes, bad idea. You put your arms around you, wishing you were wearing something more besides your cotton shorts and Niragi’s shirt.

“Listen, just keep the noise to a minimum, that’s all I’m asking.” you quickly say before turning around to walk back to your room. A hand grabs your arm before you can take more than a couple of steps.

“Why don’t you join us?” says the man. His friends stand behind him, a look in their eyes that makes you shiver with apprehension. “We could show you a good time.”

“Thanks but no, thanks, I’m just trying to get some sleep.”

“You can sleep here, we don’t mind.” he retorts with a pull to your arm. “C’mon-”

“Haru, this isn’t a good idea,” warns the guy you had recognized. “She’s with Niragi.”

Haru laughs and pulls you closer, ignoring your struggle. He sniffs your hair. “Then he has been doing a shitty job at fucking her.” he pulls at your shirt, “Isn’t this his? She doesn’t smell like an Alpha at all,” he chuckles, “And didn’t you say that he ignored her today? I don’t think he’ll care if we get his sloppy seconds.”

“Let me go!” you pull your arm from his grip and face the taller man. “Niragi is not here to kick your asses, but I am.”

“Oh look at this, the little Omega has claws!”

“So do I.”

You freeze. So do Haru and his friends.

You smell him before you see him. Peppermint and rain.

You turn around to see him a few meters behind you, standing casually with his hands in his pockets. He looks bored; like he’s just passing by and there’s an inconvenience on his path. But his eyes…

“Chishiya-”

“You aren’t very smart, are you?” he interrupts, walking slowly towards you. “Harassing an Omega when there’s an Alpha around. It’s not acceptable back in the real world, what makes you think it’s acceptable here?” his eyes flash with something you recognize. You also notice the golden ring on them, giving them a more animal look. “Now you can either let her go or-.”

Haru releases his grip on your arm and takes a step back before Chishiya can finish his sentence.

“We didn’t do anything to her, man,” he says, hands raised. The man trembles slightly, eyes cast on the ground. “We were just messing around, that’s all.”

Chishiya chuckles and nods, “Of course, of course. Just remember what can happen if you mess with her again.” one of his hands leaves his pocket to scratch his neck, almost mindlessly. You gasp when you see the claws, the changed hand. “I would hate to get blood on my white hoodie.”

The men scatter back into their room without another word, tails between their legs. You stand there looking at him, involved in his scent. After more than a week without an Alpha, having him so close is not doing you any favors. His presence is unmistakably wolf, his scent stronger by his show of dominance. He barely had to try; Betas just instinctively know not to mess with Alphas. You start feeling hot, and you curse yourself; please not now.

“Are you okay?” his voice gets your attention.

“Uh-hm, yeah I am,” you stutter a little, “Th-thanks for the help.”

He takes a few steps closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. You feel hypnotized; like you’re under a spell. He smells so good, and you’re so horny, and he’s the only thing making you feel safe now. You think of Niragi for a moment, until your wolf pushes the memory aside with a huff; Niragi is not there, you’re still unclaimed, and there’s an Alpha right in front of you.

You jump into his arms before you’re able to overthink things even more. His arms envelop you as your lips touch, and you feel that amazing electrifying sensation every time you touch an Alpha. His lips are soft on yours as he kisses you. His hands are surprisingly warm against your skin.

“Alpha- ” you moan into the kiss.

“Bedroom,” is all he says as he pulls you with him to your room. His lips are still on yours as he closes the door with a kick before making you lay down on the bed. His body covers yours in an instant, his hands roaming your body while his lips suck the skin of your neck. Even his kisses make you feel pleasure, and you whine as his hands go under your shirt to fondle your breasts. “Your skin is so soft,” he whispers with a pinch to your nipple. “I have been wanting to touch you since I first laid my eyes on you.”

“I- I want more,” your pussy clenches around nothing as you feel him hard against your stomach, “Please, Alpha...more,” you don’t care about how you sound. You just want that sweet release only an Alpha can provide. Niragi’s face shows up in your mind’s eye, but you ignore it; he wasn’t there for you when you needed it. Chishiya was.

His hands move to untie your shorts, sliding them down your legs to uncover your wet cunt. He sits back on his heels, hand on your thigh as he stares right at your naked core. He’s more expressive now than you’ve ever seen him before; his eyes burn with lust, his bottom lip between his teeth. You whine as he stays still, pushing your hips up; you want him to fuck you, not to stare at you.

He chuckles and licks his lips. “Open your legs wider for me,” you immediately do as he says, craving his touch. His hand slides lower until his fingers are tracing your slit in up and down movements, making you moan and instinctively close your legs. “Open,” he says with a glance at your face before leaning over your center. His breath is warm against your swollen clit.

You shiver as he flicks his tongue over your sensitive bud; it feels so good, and you want more. Your hands grip your pillow as you moan in time with his licks, almost letting out a scream when he sucks on your clit. No man had ever touched you like that; they were all inside you and over after a few minutes of thrusting. Even Niragi had gone straight to business. But fuck, does it feel good.

“Chi- Chishiya, oh my god- “ you manage to say before you’re interrupted by two of his fingers entering you. They curl inside you as his tongue keeps working wonders on your clit. You can feel an orgasm growing, toes curling at the pulling sensation in your core. You’re so close. “Please keep going, don’t stop.” you practically beg as he finger fucks you.

He stops.

You open your eyes with a displeased grunt to catch him looking at you, lips glistening with your juices. He smirks, “We’re just getting started,” he says, pulling you by the legs so your center is pressing against his crotch. You moan again at feeling him hard against you with only his swim shorts in the way.

You sit up to undress him off his hoodie, something he lets you do as he devours your lips. He suddenly pulls you up against him until you’re practically sitting on his lap. You grind against him, trying to put out the fire inside you. His mouth kisses down your neck to your breasts, without fully undressing you. You try to take off the shirt, but he makes you pause.

“That’s his shirt, isn’t it?” you nod and he huffs out a laugh, unbuttoning the first buttons only, “Keep it on,” he says before closing his lips around a nipple. You close your eyes and just enjoy the sensations he provides you. Your mind goes back to Niragi; how his tongue piercing felt against you as he sucked on you too, or how his hands never stopped pleasuring you. You almost grunt in frustration at the memories; he doesn’t matter now.

“Alpha, I want you inside me,” you beg as you keep grinding on him. It’s starting to feel like torture. Your hands slide down to work on his shorts, “Please...please.”

“Easy there,” he chuckles, pushing you back down on the bed. “We have time. Be a good girl and stay still,” he says as he gets rid of his shorts in a swift movement, now completely naked in front of you. You glance at his cock, hard as wood in between his pale thighs, a bead of precum sliding from the tip. Your mouth waters; you desperately want him to fuck you, you think as your pussy clenches around nothing.

You open your mouth to say something but hesitate, trying to follow his command. You wonder how can an Alpha have so much self-control; he should be deep inside you by now. It’s beyond frustrating. He finally covers your body with his, and you smile at the sensation of his skin on yours; it feels so good. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you kiss him with ferocity. It hurts how much you need him.

You finally feel his tip at your entrance, and then he’s inside you with a sharp thrust of his hips against yours. You scream at the sensation; so warm, so full, so unbelievably pleasurable. His thrusts are slow but firm, each hit of his pelvis against your clit making you see stars. His face goes to the side of your neck, and you feel as his teeth graze the skin, sucking and biting; right over the fading marks Niragi left on you a week ago.

“Go faster,” you whine as you push your hips up against his. You want him to fill you up to the brim; like Niragi had done. “Please Alpha, fill me up. Make me yours.”

He doesn’t say anything, but his pace gets faster, and you finally hear him make a sound since he started fucking you. His face is still hidden in the curve of your neck, but his hands clasp around your thighs, pulling them up until you’re practically folded in half. You finally feel him deeper, hitting your g-spot as his shoves get gradually harder.

“Tell me how much you want me to knot in you,” he grunts against your ear. “Tell me you want me.”

“I- I want you,” you whine. “I want you to knot in me, and fill me up with your cum. I want you.”

He kisses your jaw, thrusts getting even faster. You can barely think; all you want is to come and for Chishiya to do the same inside you. You want to feel him as he shudders, hear him as he moans and you milk him dry. His hand goes to cradle your cheek, and you finally see his face as he locks eyes with you; his white hair sticks to his neck and forehead due to sweat, and his eyes are more gold than the usual dark brown. However, an uncomfortable realization sparks in you; there’s only lust in his eyes. No care, no adoration, no imitation of something resembling love. Nothing like Niragi’s eyes had looked at you. Your wolf pushes those thoughts aside once again, and you close your eyes as you focus on the man currently thrusting in and out of you. He’s what matters now.

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, toes curling behind his back as you clench around him in pleasure. You feel him as he comes too, hands squeezing your thighs with enough force to leave a bruise. However, you gasp when you feel him pull out with a hiss, and he finishes spilling on your belly and breasts.

You lay there as he finishes with a grunt before laying down beside you, both of you panting furiously. The fog in your brain soon evaporates, and you have to control the impulse to run out of your own bedroom. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? First Niragi, now Chishiya. All those years of self-control wasted. They meant nothing. You were just pushing back the inevitable; the day you would be claimed with no real ability to even choose by who. Your wolf doesn’t care, but you do. The last thing you want is a relationship like the one your parents had.

But you still ended up fucking two different Alphas in a week; it’s not like you have a choice.

Chishiya moving beside you pulls you out of your thoughts. He’s looking at you with his usual expression; cold and with a pull at his lips that gives the impression there’s something that only he’s smart enough to understand. It annoys you just a little. You guess it shows on your face because he’s full-on smirking as he sits up.

“Feeling regretful, are we?” he says as he retrieves his shorts, putting them on, “I figured you would.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” you say in a low tone, sitting up with a moan. His come sticks to your thighs and runs down the skin of your breasts and belly. You sigh when you notice it stained Niragi’s shirt too.

“Why would I?” he shrugs, putting his hoodie on, “I can’t control this thing much more than you do. Besides- ” he says, shooting a glance at your torso, “Thought it might be fun.”

You furrow your brows at him. “This isn’t about me, is it?” you ask. Things kind of start to make sense now; his constant presence near you, the shirt he wanted you to keep, “This is about Niragi.”

His eyes lit up with something like amusement. “If I get to claim an Omega while pissing off Niragi then I’m doing something right.” he starts walking towards the door, “Don’t misunderstand though; I will fight to claim you when the time comes.” He closes the door behind him.

What have you done? You feel a sudden urge to cry, but push it back; you are done crying about this. So you just let a few tears fall before standing up and heading to the bathroom, wanting to get cleaned up as soon as you possibly can. You groan when you see yourself in the mirror, covered in love bites and cum.

You wonder how Niragi will react when he finds out; because he inevitably will. It wasn’t unheard of Alphas to fight to the death over an Omega; you just wish that isn’t what is about to happen. You don’t think you can live with that.

You step in the shower for the second time that night and vigorously rub your skin, trying to erase any and every sign of Chishiya off your body. Mission impossible, of course; his scent is still all over you as you get out of the shower. Next, you try to clean Niragi’s shirt. At least that one still smells faintly of cinnamon and wood.

As you should too, remarks the voice in your head.

You barely sleep that night.

You feel like a zombie the next morning and, as per usual, you stick to your room. You’re particularly into avoiding people today. Well, two people. So you keep to your room and jump between reading, to napping, to overthinking until you get a headache and then fall asleep.

A sudden knock on your door wakes you up, and you notice it’s almost night outside. You trip on your way to the door, opening it to reveal Chishiya on the other side. You scowl and move to close the door in his face, but his foot stops you.

“What?” you ask.

“We’re in the same group tonight,” he says, raising a piece of paper. “And before you say no, remember that you’re still under evaluation.”

“I have enough visa days,” you say, forcing the door on his foot. He doesn’t budge. You sigh and count to ten. You can do this; just another game. “Fine. But tell Ann that after this I’m only going out when I need to.”

You grab your jacket and get out, following Chishiya. You don’t say a word and neither does he. Your body feels his presence though, and you’re sure he can smell it in you. Smell himself in you.

You get in a van with your group, a bunch of people you faintly recognize but know no names. Chishiya seats right at the front, and you cringe as everyone else in the vehicle clearly knows everything that happened between you two. You hear Niragi’s name being whispered around, but try to ignore it, focusing on the road outside as you drive around looking for a game.

“Look there!” someone exclaims.

Koishikawa Botanical Garden.

The whole place is completely dark as you walk through the main gate, the familiar sound of the barrier closing behind you making you tremble with apprehension. A sign at the front says no weapons allowed, and you watch as two of the people in your group leave their weapons behind. Not really a good sign.

A single street lamp casts light on a table right next to the reception. You follow your group as they approach the table, but your attention is focused on your surroundings. You remember being there as a kid; hard to imagine that the beautiful open space full of trees and flowers of every species is now a game arena; a place of death. You wonder what exactly is the game that awaits you.

You focus your attention on the table, retrieving a phone and staring as it does the facial recognition thing it always does. It’s apparently a big game; there are already more than ten people waiting to play, and at least fifteen phones are still on the table.

You sit on a park bench while you wait, bracing yourself against the chilly night air. Chishiya is leaning against a street lamp right in front of you, and you know he’s staring, even though it’s dark and he has his hoodie up and covering his eyes. Your mind keeps rewinding the last twenty-four hours and you try to focus on something else with no success. If you’re not thinking about that, you’re thinking about the imminent game; both make you want to cry and run.

People slowly keep coming in, and you notice as the phones vanish one by one that the game is almost at its full capacity.

A sudden ruckus at the gates snaps everyone’s attention to the entrance, and you swear your heart stops as you see Niragi running in your direction with the most terrifying expression you’ve ever seen on him. He looks furious. Absolutely terrifying.

“I’m gonna rip your fucking heart out!” he screams as he gets closer. You notice his eyes are locked on Chishiya. His eyes; they aren’t human. Neither are his hands, now curved into claws. The other man doesn’t seem scared in the slightest; on the contrary, he looks like he’s having fun.

“Niragi, don’t- “ you scream as he lunges himself at the shorter man. Chishiya is fast though, swiftly dodging the punch before kicking Niragi in the stomach and stepping away.

Niragi huffs and doubles over before standing straight with a growl and trying another swing at the other man. Two men that got in with him try to corner Chishiya, but he just dodges them like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Not so bad without your gun, are you?” asks Chishiya in a mocking tone.

“With or without a gun, I’m still going to fucking kill you.” Niragi growls, “You fucked with the wrong wolf.”

Chishiya huffs a laugh, “Actually,” he says with a smirk, nodding in your direction, “I fucked the right wolf.”

Niragi’s eyes finally lock on you, and it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time. Only now his eyes are filled with something that resembles betrayal and pain. You hate it. You look down, trying to make yourself small; you don’t want him to look at you like that. Never.

“I’ll deal with her later,” he says in a cold tone, and you can’t help but flinch. He approaches the table and retrieves the last phone, eyes still on you. “Now I- “

You’re startled when cheery music starts playing all around you and the big screen you hadn’t noticed at the roof of the reception lits up.

“Registration has closed,” says a feminine robot voice, “The game will now commence.”

You look at your phone as it lits up.

Difficulty, Ten of Spades.

Game, “Akazukin: Red Riding Hood.”

Next Chapter

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #chishiya shuntaro #niragi fic #chishiya x reader #also on ao3

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Sound Conclusions

Rating:Explicit

Words: 3975

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Tagging @today-in-fic

Find it on AO3

*********************

2000

She hadn’t expected that her desire for him would only increase after she’d had him once. That first night, emboldened by loneliness and a little red wine, she’d found the courage to reach for him, to lean in to his desirous gaze, to walk them slowly to her bedroom between fervent kisses. It was an itch to be scratched, something that you could anticipate fading away once sated, but it hadn’t. Perhaps that was because it had exceeded even her most graphic fantasies about how it might be, the slip of his fingers inside her igniting nerve endings that her vibrator had never located when she had imagined his touch. The grip of his palms on her hips as she writhed, gasping, in his lap a detail she had never known to conjure. The depth of the growl in his throat when she told him she was going to come vibrating through her bones was a memory she couldn’t shake. The smell of his cum in her panties hours after he’d left her apartment had her breathless, wanting him again already, somehow more than she ever had before she knew the taste of his saliva and the scratch of his stubble against her nipples.

They’d arrived to work the following day and acted as though nothing had happened, pretending not to feel things being one of her specialties. She worked hard to mask the new way her pulse quickened when he touched her back, the visceral response she had to the smell of his breath when he leaned in to whisper a snarky comment during their weekly division briefing. She found herself getting lost staring at his hands while he took notes, remembering the way they stroked her insides, and then blushed when he asked her if she was okay. She knew, without a doubt, that she wanted him again. If he at any point had offered to take her right there on his desk, she wouldn’t have been able to say no. And yet, she was so careful to avoid giving him any indication of this, feeling embarrassed and guilty for such wanton desires, for objectifying her partner like this. The Catholic guilt a wet blanket on her newfound lust, suppressing her into the polished, poised, sexless FBI agent she had spent so much time working to be. Weeks passed, her need for him coursing through her veins like a drug, intoxicating her to the point she often forgot terms and concepts that she normally recalled easily, again prompting him to inquire as to whether she was feeling alright, noting that she didn’t seem like herself.

She wasn’t herself. She was a woman obsessed and fixated, aroused by the casual brush of a hand or the timbre of a laugh. She was sitting on the edge of a precipice, teetering between control and absolute abandon. Normally so securely in the driver’s seat of her own body, she was unnerved by the feeling that she barely had a grip on the wheel, that at any point she might let go and crash into him, revealing the truth that she needed human contact and sexual release just as much as anyone did. The vulnerability in that need made her feel unhinged.

She found herself trying to entice him, concurrently hating herself for stooping so low. She left an extra button on her blouse undone, put a switch in her hips when she walked ahead of him, brushed her own fingers across the skin of her neck in a way that would be unnoticeable in anyone else, but she caught him noticing from the corner of her eye. When she anticipated that he’d come by her apartment, she wore shorts or a low v neck shirt, forgetting a bra or sitting cross legged to reveal the milky insides of her thighs, inviting him, wordlessly, to taste them. Sometimes she thought she saw a flash of desire in his eyes, but he always composed himself quickly, sometimes making an excuse to leave. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he hadn’t tried again, that even when she did something as overt as leave her bedroom door open when she changed, he chivalrously averted his eyes. She realized it was unfair to expect him to understand, to know, what she wanted. Even if he did pick up on her painfully subtle, and occasionally obvious, signals, that didn’t mean he returned her feelings. Perhaps that night had been a mistake in his eyes, a slip up never to be repeated. The possibility that he would reject her if she risked reaching out to him again was enough to hold her back from doing so. Though he had enthusiastically participated the last time, that did not preclude him from having regretted it once it was over.

Now she stood before his closed apartment door on a Friday night, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves. Not because she was nervous, but because she was on fire. Her pelvis twitched and her spine arched at the idea of being near him in a private space, where the possibilities that ran through her mind all day seemed more plausible. He’d invited her over for dinner and a review of some possible cases they might take on, so they could plan how to spend their time the following week. Since he’d made the proposal that morning, she’d convinced and then talked herself out of his ulterior motives countless times. She knew that working herself up into thinking that something would happen made it even harder, and she heard her grad school professor’s voice in her head saying “expectations are premeditated resentments, Dana.” Gathering her composure, she took a moment to hike her breasts up in her push up bra and tug her jeans up over her hips so that they were snug against her ass. She’d finally settled on jeans and a green T shirt, which felt appropriately casual, but she’d selected a shirt that was a little too snug and a little too low cut, jeans that were half a size too small and slung low on her hips. If she were to bend over the flesh of her back would be exposed, which gave her a tiny thrill. Any stranger on the street would never give her outfit a second glance; it was painfully basic and unremarkable. But for buttoned-up, proper Dana Scully, it was reckless and suggestive. She may as well have been wearing lingerie for how sexy it made her feel.

Putting on her game face, she knocked. From inside the apartment he called “it’s open” and she let herself in, setting her purse on his cluttered dining room table and scanning the adjacent rooms to locate him. He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor the living room, and she found herself standing in the doorway of his bedroom, eyes roving over his naked chest and belly, a towel slung low on his hips and his hair spiked and wet from the shower. She smirked a little, wondering if this were intentional. Given her recent antics it seemed entirely possible, so she took a risk and didn’t look away, allowing him to see her rake her eyes over him appreciatively, finally reaching his face where a knowing smile played at the corner of his lips. Those lips. She sighed and smiled back at him, and he glanced down her body and back up before saying “hey.”

“Hi” she returned, suddenly feeling shy. She averted her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll be out in a minute, this isn’t what I was planning to wear.”

“That‘s too bad” she said in her head. “Okay” is what came out of her mouth before she turned and went to sit on the couch, tortured by the knowledge that he was naked on the other side of the wall. Was she supposed to take that as an invitation? Was he trying to send her signals just as much as she was him? She suddenly remembered why she didn’t bother with dating; all the guesswork was exhausting.

He emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later in a black T shirt and jeans, his feet bare. He looked freshly shaved. “I ordered Italian” he said, sitting down beside her, only a sliver of space between the sides of their thighs. “Should be here in about an hour, they were really busy.” He smelled like soap and his old spice deodorant, mint on his breath. She figured he had played basketball after work and that explained the shower, but did he normally shave and brush his teeth before dinner? Her expectations were weaseling their way into her thoughts again. Stop, she told herself.

“Do you want a beer?” He asked, and she said yes a little too quickly. He opened a beer for each of them and she sipped it steadily, welcoming the way it would smooth the edges of her thoughts but not wanting to appear as though she were planning to get drunk. Mulder was a gentleman beyond gentlemen and wouldn’t dream of touching her if he thought she were incapacitated in any respect. This was a fact she appreciated generally, and resented presently.

They dug into a thin stack of case files, each leaning forward with their elbows braced on their knees. She watched out of her periphery to see if he was looking down her shirt, and bit her cheek to keep from smiling when she saw that he was at regular intervals. Within about 20 minutes they narrowed it down to three cases they’d dig into on Monday, revealing the fact that an entire evening together wasn’t necessary for such a task, but they were both grateful to set the case files aside and just exist outside of suit jackets and basement offices. Scully was sitting sideways, cross legged, with her back against the arm rest, her toes grazing Mulder’s leg as he sat beside her, his torso twisted slightly to face her. She held her nearly empty beer bottle in her hands, picking at the corner of the label with her fingernail.

“So” he said. She felt the prick of anticipation and the hairs on her arms stood at attention, on guard for whatever might come next.

“So” she responded, because what else was she to say?

He studied her intently, his hazel eyes traversing the terrain of her face, darting from eyebrow to lip to nose, searching her for something. Finally the unbroken attention made her so uncomfortable that she was willing to speak.

“What?” She asked him, keeping her tone neither accusatory nor annoyed, simply curious. “What are you thinking about?” it conveyed, without saying as much.

He took a deep breath and exhaled it forcefully. “Was it a mistake, what happened? Do you think of it that way?”

His speaking of the unspeakable caught her off guard and she felt her face flush immediately. “No” she said, but she couldn’t meet his eye. “No, I don’t think of it that way.”

“What was it then? One time thing? Random fluke?”

How he was able to speak so directly about such fraught topics was always a marvel to her. She opened her mouth to speak once, twice, but closed it again each time. What she wanted to say was that she didn’t know what it was supposed to be when she initiated it, but the second it was over she wanted it to be part of her daily routine, like brushing her hair. Finally she gave him a tiny shrug and an “I don’t know.” She hated herself for making it seem like she didn’t care, but she didn’t know how to be honest without sounding like a teenager with a crush.

He studied her face again, and she self consciously fussed with her hair, looking at anything but him. She could feel him thinking, strategizing. She could only hope his strategy ended with her naked in his lap, but she also realized that if that were to happen, she would have to make more of an effort outside of simply not getting up and leaving.

“Do you want it to happen again?” He asked, and she laughed out of surprise, biting her lip but not answering. She lifted her eyes to meet his and her stomach clenched when she saw the stoic expression on his face, his eyes full of self-doubt. She was an asshole for making him think for a second that she didn’t want him. They lingered there, locked in an impromptu staring contest, until Mulder reached out and took the empty beer bottle from her hands and set it on the coffee table. He then lightly grasped her wrist in one hand and pressed the middle and forefinger of his other hand to her pulse point. She knew what he was doing. Her heart, which was already racing, sped up to something resembling the beat of hummingbird wings. After a moment, he removed his fingers and brought his lips to kiss the spot they had just vacated.

“I realize things like this are hard for you to talk about, and I know you well enough to know that if the answer were no, you would have told me as much and high-tailed it out of here. So I’m going to take the fact that you’re still sitting here, as well as the fact that your heart is working triple time, to mean that it would be acceptable if I were to kiss you right now. Is that a sound conclusion?”

“It is” she said in a near whisper, every cell in her body reaching out for him like he was magnetized. They were still locked in eye contact, though with this new understanding it had shifted from awkward to intimate.

They both jumped at the sudden pounding on the door. “Marinos!” Someone called out from the other side, and Mulder stood and went to grab his wallet. While he was gone, Scully let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since she got here, and stood to use the bathroom. She studied her face in the mirror, sniff-checked her armpits, freshened up to be sure there were no errant toilet paper shreds clinging to her anatomy. When she opened the door, she found Mulder standing on the other side, waiting. She gave him a confused but also amused look.

“Hi” she said around a shy smile.

“Welcome back” he replied with a cool bravado, then stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands, drawing her in to a sweet kiss. She sighed into his mouth, the relief after weeks of tension pooling at her feet. She brought her hands to his neck and used his weight as leverage as she leaned her body against his, wanting him closer. In return, he stooped to grab the backs of her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. It was still light out, and without the cover of darkness or the clumsiness of a first time, she felt more powerful and in control. She knew he wanted her, and she knew what she wanted from him. He stepped the few feet towards his bed and gently lay her down, moving to plant kisses along her neck. Pushing the bottom hem of her shirt up to expose her belly, he asked “is this okay?” And she replied “you don’t have to ask, you can do whatever you want.”

“Fuck” he breathed. It was an expression of excitement, and nervousness, and amazement that she trusted him so perfectly, and wanted him so completely.

She sat up and he pulled her shirt off over her head, deftly un-hooking her bra before she slipped it down her arms and threw it over the side of the bed. He sucked a nipple between his teeth and she gasped, her hips bucking into him, her head falling back. He repeated it on the other breast and she whimpered, to which he pushed the bulge in his jeans against her thigh, seeking relief. She pulled at his shirt, signaling him to take it off, and he did in a split-second maneuver, not wanting to stray from his task for a moment longer than he had to. Kissing down her belly, he unbuttoned her jeans and tugged them forcefully off her hips and down her legs. His actions were desperate and hungry; he couldn’t wait to get at her, and she could not wait to be gotten. When he went to pull her panties off they ripped under his urgency and he tore them away, hooking his arms under her knees and pressing his face into her vulva as he drug her to the end of the bed.

“Jesus Christ” she called out, her hands threading into his hair as he lapped at her hungrily. She could not believe the speed with which she approached orgasm. She would never have described herself as someone who was easy to please in bed, and yet he seemed to locate every pleasure point on her body with admirable ease, slipping a finger inside her to massage her G spot as he sucked on her clit. She felt herself falling over the edge and she hung there deliciously long, the point of release laying across her like a blanket until it crashed against her like a wave.

“Oh, I’m gonna come” she pleaded, the sound more breath than words, as if he didn’t already know from his position on the seat of her orgasm that it was happening. She came for an eternity, unaware of her own sounds or movements, existing only within her body and beneath her pleasure. He stayed with her, teasing out every throb she had to give, running his rough hands over as much skin as he could reach, until she was sated, and lie still and quiet. He rested his head on the inside of her thigh and waited for a signal that she was ready to return to Earth. After a couple minutes, she spoke.

“Holy shit.”

He laughed, and crawled up to lie next to her, tucking his nose into her neck and placing tiny kisses all over her chest.

“I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that I am completely naked” she said, a mix of self-consciousness and humor in her voice.

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down and then back up the length of her body. “You most certainly are” he said matter-of-factly, and she wrapped her arms across her chest in mock-modesty.

“You tore my underwear” she accused him, and he shrugged.

“Do you want to tear my underwear as payback?” He thrust his hips against her gently, and she was reminded that he had yet to be touched.

“Perhaps” she said against his lips, biting the lower one gently, signaling that they were not yet done. As she kissed him, she reached for the button of his jeans and flicked it open before easing down the zipper. He shifted up a bit to give her better access and breathed a low moan when she slipped her hand into his pants and grasped his erection.

“Mulder, I can’t help but notice that you’re not wearing underwear”

“Maybe if you’d had the same idea I wouldn’t have needed to rip them off” he teased breathlessly.

She pushed his jeans down and he stood to remove them before rejoining her, curling his naked body against her side as she resumed stroking him. “Come here” she directed, moving her leg aside to make space for his body. He hovered over her, their tongues dancing between their mouths as he thrust against her belly. She lifted her knees towards her chest and reached down to grasp him, brushing the head of his cock against her slick lips. He hummed and mumbled words she couldn’t understand, until she guided him inside her and he said “fuck.”

“Watch your language, Mulder” she chastised playfully, and he thrust into her suddenly, eliciting a gasp.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt? He stilled, searching her face.

She shook her head with a sly smile. “Even if it did, that’s not always a bad thing.”

His eyebrows went up in surprise “I’m learning so much about you today” he mused, resuming his thrusts slowly.

“Likewise” she replied, but her breathing was growing ragged, their playful banter becoming unsustainable.

He quickened his pace, kissing her neck and lips, burying his face in her hair when it became too intense for kissing. Suddenly he stopped and withdrew from her, and she looked at him incredulously. “Where are you going?” A question she’d asked him hundreds of times in an entirely new context.

“I’m interested in seeing you in every position imaginable, however I’ve been thinking so much about last time and I’d really like you to be on top again, if you don’t object to that.”

“No objections here” she replied, moving so that he could sit at the head of the bed against the wall. The sun was setting and she felt a little less exposed in the fading light of the bedroom. She climbed into his lap and kissed him for a couple minutes as she teased him at her opening, shifting her hips so he’d slide by, but not enter her. When she finally sunk down onto him, he dropped his head back and moaned in delicious agony. She started rising and falling slowly, planting kisses on his neck and nipping at his earlobes. As his breathing quickened she changed her rhythm, keeping her body close against his and sliding back and forth. His eyes shot open and his head lifted to watch what she was doing, gripping her hips though he made no attempt to control her movements. He reached down between them to touch her clit and she pushed his hand away. “Too much” she panted. “This part is just for you.” He returned his hand to her hip and trained his eyes on the place where their bodies met, slack jawed and wide eyed as she flexed her pelvis forward and back. When she could tell he was close, she increased her pace until he closed his eyes, he tightened his grip on her and cried out. As he crested over the most intense point, he opened his eyes again and looked at her face, locking eyes with her in the dim light of his bedroom as he filled her with his hot cum, desire giving way to the deep affection they held for each other. She collapsed against him and they sat like that for a while until she felt his fading erection slip out of her and a rush of fluid followed.

“Shit!” She said, sitting up with a worried expression. “I forgot about that part.”

He made a face that set her off giggling, which caused even more to drip out of her and into his lap. “Gah, don’t laugh, Scully, that makes it worse!” His protests only made her laugh harder and he smiled at her jiggling breasts as she wiped tears from her eyes.

“How about a shower, then dinner?” He proposed, and she nodded, still regaining composure.

After a hot shower and a borrowed pair of boxer shorts, they sat on his couch eating reheated lasagna and smiling at each other. After Mulder cleared their plates, he sat back down beside her.

“So” he said.

“So” she returned. What else could she say?

“I’m going to take the fact that you’re still here and that you’re wearing my underwear as an indication that this wasn’t a two-time only thing. Is that a sound conclusion?”

“It is” she replied with a smile.

#the x files #xf fanfic #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #txf #sculder #gillovny

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fanfic-cave · 3 years

Text

Corellian Ale

Rating: SFW/PG-13

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Hunter x Fem Jedi!OC

Warnings: Drinking and getting drunk, swearing, I think thats all? Also romance but when is that ever not in my fics hahaha

Summary: Our ex-jedi veteran Sera finished a mission with the bad batch, and now looks for a way to entertain herself and get someones attention while on the flightpath back home (also this is pre "The Reveal")

Authors note: After this weeks episode I wanted to write some fun stuff with the whole group, and a drinking contest sounded perfect ahaha! Also theres fluff nobody can stop me. ALSO ALSO I decided to switch to third person for the rest of my OC chapters so sorry for the sporadic chapters and writing, thanks and have fun!

tags: @mangoberry99

“Let’s never go back to Corellia.” Sera huffed out.

“Agreed. That was too close a call.” Tech spoke from the pilot chair, the Havoc Marauder just now entering hyperspace.

“We’ve got what we came for, let’s just head back.” Hunter sighed. He was sitting by a console looking at a map of a star system.

“Corellian ale.” Crosshair spat, shaking his head. “One of the worst missions we’ve ever done.” The cargo was stored all over the ship. Someone who wanted to avoid going through the empire to acquire some had hired the boys to lift the ale from a contact they had in Corellia, and from what Sera heard, the buyer had some deep pockets.

“Why would someone want this so badly?” Omega chimed in curiously. Hunter looked at Echo who shrugged, Tech sighed, and Sera held in a laugh. Crosshair shook his head. “Good luck with that.” Crosshair spoke, and he left to be somewhere more private, walking past Wrecker who was entering the public area.

“Well, Omega-” Hunter started, but was interrupted.

“How much longer till we get there?” Wrecker complained loudly, shoving himself into a chair across from Sera.

“We only just went into hyperspace, Wrecker.” Tech spoke and sounded a bit annoyed. “We’ll be back eventually.”

“This is always the boring part!” Wrecker threw his arms up, exasperated. Sera let out a quiet laugh. Wrecker reminded her of a kid sometimes, with his lack of patience and affinity to, well, wrecking things. One of the few things that reminded her otherwise was that he was huge, and could probably throw her across the room if he wanted to.

A thought crossed her head, and a smile spread onto Sera’s lips, a glint lighting up her eyes. Echo had noticed and eyed Sera.

“I’ve got an idea, Wrecker.” Sera stood up, hands behind her back, and walked around a bit aimlessly for a moment.

“Huh?” Wrecker looked puzzled, but curiously watched Sera.

“What are you doing?” Echo asked suspiciously, arms crossed. Sera caught that Hunter had been peeking at her out of the corner of his eye. He quickly looked back to the star map. Sera felt herself scowl at the lack of attention she received from him.

“You know, I remember,” Sera suddenly turned around, and swiftly grabbed a bottle of Corellian ale. “That some of the bottles broke while we made our escape.” She easily twisted the top off.

“Oh no-“ Echo said. “We’re not doing that.”

Sera smiled mischievously and took a swig. “Sera!” Echo tried to reach and stop her, but it was too late. The warm liquid settled into her stomach, and she sighed. She handed the bottle to Wrecker. “Oh yeah! This should be fun!” Wrecker took a long drink.

Sera heard Tech sigh loudly from the pilot's chair, clearly wanting his opinion to be known. “Well, now you’ve done it.” He spoke loudly from the other room. “If he breaks my ship, you’re fixing it Sera.”

“Your ship?” Hunter chimed in finally, raising an eyebrow in Tech's direction. Otherwise he had been completely ignoring the conversation taking place.

“You and I both know you don’t want me trying to fix the ship tech.” Sera shouted loudly to the other room.

“Then you’re paying for it!” Tech countered. Sera laughed at that.

“Could I try it?” Sera heard Omegas' small voice and her eyes widened.

“No.” Echo and Hunter spoke at the same time.

“Shit-” Sera spoke at the same time as the other two, then covered her mouth and coughed.

“Sorry kid, adults only.” Sera addressed Omega more seriously.

“Aww” Omega sighed and leaned back into her chair.

Wrecker handed the bottle back to Sera and burped loudly. “Anyone else?” She shook the bottle, looking at Echo, then Hunter, who was still ignoring her.

Sera felt herself get more irritated. Whatever, she turned back to Echo.

“Not happening.” He spoke firmly, and also placed a brief pause between the two words for emphasis. Sera sighed and took another sip. She felt like she was beginning to weigh less with each drink she took, her mind wandering more too.

“I would offer you some Tech, but-“

“Alcohol consumption is well known to inhibit your cognitive functions, and make you susceptible to poor decision making. For starters, I am piloting, and secondly I would prefer to keep my wits about me, thirdly-”

“We get it!” Sera shouted out, interrupting Tech.

“Think you can out drink me Wrecker?” Sera turned and eyed Wrecker challengingly, raising an eyebrow and tilting her chin up to add more effect.

“Of course I can!” Wrecker pounded his chest, laughing heartily. Sera ignored the loud collection of sighs. She thought she heard Hunter mutter something under his breath, but she ignored it.

“Let’s put it to the test then.” She grabbed another 2 bottles and placed them in the middle of the table. “We each drink a full mouthful. Games over when someone can’t continue.” Sera laid out the ground rules.

“Deal!” Wrecker pounded his fists on the table, the drinks jumping up along with the shaking. “Let’s do it!”

“Would you all be quiet?” Crosshair walked out, clearly more annoyed than usual.

“You might not want to miss this Crosshair.” Echo said, somewhat sarcastically.

“What does the winner get?” Sera ignored the other conversation and spoke to Wrecker, trying to raise the stakes.

“Uh,” Wrecker scratched his head, trying to think of something.

Sera’s eyes flickered to the oversized knife on Wreckers belt. “If I win, I get to take your knife.” Sera pointed. Wrecker gasped shockingly. “Not my knife!”

“Just don’t lose.” Sera flashed Wrecker a grin, showing off her teeth.

“Well when I win, you have to buy me an explosive!” Wrecker grinned back and leaned back into his chair.

“Sure, if you win.” Sera countered.

“You seriously think you can beat him?” Crosshair said casually, not looking at Sera and examining a new toothpick.

“Watch me you little fu-“ Sera stopped herself and looked at Omega.

“Firaxan.” Sera finished, and coughed awkwardly. “Omega, maybe Tech needs some help up in the cockpit.” Sera gestured over to the direction of Tech. Omega peeked over to the pilots seat curiously, where Tech sat.

“Not really-” Tech started.

“Oh he would REALLY LIKE the COMPANY!” Sera yelled over him. Hunter had nodded his head to Omega, which caught Sera’s interest. Now he‘s interested in what’s happening? She complained internally.

“Alright then, good luck Sera! Oh, and you too Wrecker!” Omega added it after Wrecker had made a face at her wishing Sera luck. She trotted off to the pilots area happily, and Sera heard Tech sigh. She knew he actually would enjoy the company though.

“Alright, start us off Wrecker.” Sera smiled and handed the bottle over to Wrecker.

One and a half bottles later and Sera found herself being a bit more giggly than normal. She and Wrecker were both holding their own, and sides had been drawn. Echo had been supporting Sera, while Crosshair clearly wanted Wrecker to win. Even Hunter had begun to watch too. Sera had failed to notice that.

“It’s *hic* you’re turn, Wrecker!” Sera then laughed. “Keep it together Sera,” Echo counseled her carefully.

“Oh like that lightweight can outdrink him?” Crosshair spoke and gestured to Wrecker. Wrecker laughed at the both of them and took another drink “Ah, tastes so good! I’m almost not thirsty anymore!” Wrecker leaned back into the chair and brought his arms up, and kicked his feet up on the table. He waved his arms around a second to catch his balance.

“A-ha!” Sera slammed her hands on the table. Everyone looked at her, surprised at her outburst. “You wobbled! I win!” She jumped up, then had to lean onto the wall to keep her balance.

“No, I’m fine!” Wrecker complained. He stood up and wobbled a bit again, but held himself up fine compared to Sera.

“Gimme this I’m celebrating-” Sera grabbed the bottle and began downing the contents. Crosshair just snickered and Echo snatched the bottle away after Sera got two gulps in. “No way, you’re both done.”

“Boo!” Sera yelled, and Wrecker joined the booing. Echo only shook his head and kept ahold of the bottle.

“I gotta, I’ve, hafto pee!” Sera then giggled more and stumbled down the hall, searching for the bathroom.

----------

“I’ve got it.” Hunter stood up to follow Sera and the boys watched him walk down, Echo looking surprised, Crosshair suspicious, and Wrecker didn’t notice as he was trying to grab at the Corellian ale Echo was holding onto.

Hunter found Sera stumbling down the hall. He quickly caught up to her and grabbed underneath her arm, keeping her from taking a nasty fall. “Steady there.” He spoke quietly. She turned to look behind her and then smiled. “Hunter! What are you doing?” She looked at him confused, and for some reason was whispering.

“Making sure you don’t get hurt. Which is usually your job for the rest of us.” We did bring her along as a medic after all. Hunter wrapped his arm around her back and put her arm around his back, trying to keep her from falling.

“Pfft I’ve outdrank gamorreans, I’ll be fine.” She waved a hand at him trying to downplay how drunk she was. Hunter was watching her carefully, and he had noticed she had a blush on her cheeks from the drinking. It was a soft pink that was hardly noticeable, but Hunter found himself examining it closely.

“Hmmm what?” Sera wiggled her eyebrows at him, clearly taking notice that Hunter was staring.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Hunter looked away and ignored her faces, and began dragging her down the hall.

“Oh, since when do you care, huh?” Sera hiccuped again when she finished.

“What are you trying to say?” Hunter wasn’t sure what he could’ve done to upset her. They continued walking together, just a few feet away from a cot. He turned to look at her, and found himself staring at her face again.

“Well you didn’t seem to care what I was doing earlier. You didn’t even say anything.” Sera grumbled it out, and Hunter was surprised at her complaint. She really thinks I don’t care?

Hunter had truthfully found Sera distracting. He had been listening to what she was saying and watching, but he also didn’t like how she grabbed at his attention so easily. He wanted to stay focused on the mission, and he didn’t want to let himself get too distracted by her. He didn’t watch her directly, or didn’t speak to her, but his thoughts would constantly drift to her. In the end, he watched the end of her little contest with Wrecker unfold, unable to keep his eyes away.

Hunter contemplated what to say to rectify the situation. “You’re my friend Sera. You’ve helped keep us alive. Of course I care.” He looked away for a brief moment after he spoke, trying to ignore how her breath smelled nice.

Hunter began steeling himself, getting ready to carry her the rest of the way. He heard her shuffle, and turned curiously, only to see Sera’s face just an inch from his. His eyes widened in shock to see her hazel eyes up close, the green in them looking striking, her blonde messy hair giving her a look of wildness. She moved in, and swiftly pecked him on the cheek.

Hunter touched his cheek, then looked back to her, his expression still shocked. Sera giggled again and Hunter's face began to turn red. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace.

“I care about you guys too.” Sera whispered into his ear. Hunter was frozen, unsure how to react for a second. He removed his hand from his cheek and put an arm around her awkwardly. He was new to physical affection, and had never really given anyone a hug. Only one time with Omega, but she was smaller, and it felt different than this.

Suddenly Sera’s head went limp on his shoulder, and her weight started to completely fall on Hunter. “Sera?” He stumbled, but easily held her up, and turned his head to look at her and see what was wrong. She was taking deep breaths, and Hunter recognized that she was asleep.

Hunter sighed and hoisted her up, carrying her bridal style the last few feet to the bed. He set her on the cot, being careful not to bump her into anything, and put the cheap blanket on top of her. She barely moved, except for her breathing, and seemed completely out of it. “So much for out-drinking gamorreans.” Hunter laughed to himself as he spoke the thought out loud.

He noticed she was laid flat on her back, and realized that could be dangerous with how drunk she got. Hunter placed one hand on her shoulder, and began to turn her onto her side. She felt warm underneath his hand, and her arm was smaller compared to his larger hand. He was watching her rose tinted face doze off peacefully as he shifted her. He indulged himself for a moment, and gently shifted a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. He turned away and quickly left after that, flexing his fingers as he walked away.

Hunter scowled as he contemplated, feeling very confused by Sera’s actions and his own feelings. She’s probably going to forget this by tomorrow, he thought to himself.

Can't say I will though.

#star wars #tbb #the bad batch #clone force 99 #hunter #tech #crosshair #echo #wrecker #omega #hunter x reader #hunter x jedi #jedi #oc #fanfic #fanfiction

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headoverheelsforramsey · 3 years

Note

Hi there! This week’s newlywed’s round will be a short one (but hopefully a fun one). This week we’re playing:

What Would They Rather?

Note: The setting is back to Ethan x MC being married/together. They have to guess what their partner would choose from the options. Dialogue is entirely up to you!

MC, what would Ethan rather?

Beer or Wine

A Cruise or Camping

Horror Movie or Chick Flick

Stay at home or Go out in the rain

Get up early or Stay up late

Ethan, what would MC rather?

Cook dinner or Do the dishes

Diamonds or Pearls

Live in the city or Live in the country

Walk on the beach or Dance in the club

Travel overseas or Explore locally

Bree! Short one but a real fun one let's get started! 💜

Meera, what would Ethan rather?

Beer or Wine

Meera : Wine if he really had to choose, but not the cheap ones, the obnoxiously expensive ones.

Ethan : I don't know why you like cheap wine

Meera : Because one it doesn't cost a fortune, two it gets me tipsy enough so basically does the job.

Ethan (rolls eyes)

A Cruise or Camping

Meera : Cruise because he isn't an outdoorsy person at all. Also private cruises because Dr. Richie Rich Ramsey hates people.

Ethan (poorly contains a laugh) : I won't disagree with you on this but that name should go down on your nickname list.

Meera : Yes I'll put it right next to entitled jackass and spoiled child. (laughs)

Horror Movie or Chick Flick

Ethan : Niether

Meera : Hey! I was supposed to answer!

Ethan : Go ahead but there is only one correct answer and that's niether.

Meera (rolls eyes) : You'll have to pick one. That's the freaking rule! Right Bree?

Bree (nods affirmatively)

Meera : I think horror but he complains a lot like a lot! (clears throat and attempts to say in Ethan's voice) This is not sensical! They should have called 911! That's not how a body looks after removing its head.

Ethan : I DON'T sound like that.

Meera : You do babe. And don't get me started on Chick Flicks. Once I made him watch one that too a bollywood one he had a headache for hours after that. (chuckles)

Ethan : Worst 3 hrs of my life.

Meera : Yeah gotta admit it was a little too much torture for the old man. But I made up for it later. (winks)

Stay at home or Go out in the rain

Meera : Stay at home. He doesn't let me go out in the rain at all, no matter the puppy eyes I make at him!

Ethan : I don't understand your unhealthy obsession with rain. It's raining put on a soft opera cook some pasta and then let's dance together in the living room.

Meera : When you put it like that, you know I can't resist your pasta. (goes in for a chaste kiss)

Ethan : Or me (grins)

Get up early or Stay up late

Meera : Both. I don't have any idea how he does it but he does. If he is set on finishing up a case before going to bed he'll definitely do it and then wake up at the break of dawn go for a run and cook breakfast before I even open my eyes! It's like something miraculous.

Ethan : Someday maybe you'll become a morning person too.

Meera : Nope, not happening Ramsey. I love my sleep too much.

Ethan (opens mouth too say something)

Meera (immediately) : Yes, even more than you. And I am married to it for decades.

Ethan, what would Meera rather?

Cook dinner or Do the dishes

Ethan : Both. She is the type of person who cleans as she cooks, one of the few things we match on.

Meera : It's been a habbit since forever because when I see the sink overflowing with dishes after I cook, I freak out. Although my favourite is when I cook and my super helpful husband offers to clean up.

Ethan : But she won't do vice versa. She won't clean if she hasn't cooked.

Meera : That's true lol.

Diamonds or Pearls

Ethan : Diamonds.

Meera : Nailed it!

Live in the city or Live in the country

Ethan : Honestly depends on her mood. Someday she complains why we don't live closer to the hospital and someday she wishes to be able to see the beach from our bedroom.

Meera : You can't blame a girl for dreaming!

Walk on the beach or Dance in the club

Ethan (thinks for a moment) : Tough choice actually. She loves the beach quite dearly and she loves dancing, especially drunk dancing. So I think dancing on the beach?

Meera (impressed) : You sure you are not taking any secret mind reading lessons? That's exactly what I had in mind.

Ethan (grinning) : No my love. Just spending a lot more time with you.

Travel overseas or Explore locally

Ethan : She enjoys any and every kind of travel. But if she had to pick one I think she'll go with overseas because she loves experiencing different cultures and food.

Meera : Nailed it again! (kisses him) I basically would have love to wake up in a new country everyday.

Thank you for the questions Bree! @jamespotterthefirst Hope you have an amazing vacation! 💕

Tagging my usual : @starrystarrytrouble @mm2305 @charisworld @choicesfanaf @potionsprefect @genevievemd @shanzay44 @little-flowers-on-heaven @schnitzelbutterfingers @coffeeheartaddict @gryffindordaughterofathena @chemist-ana @adiehardfan @custaroonie @ireneadlerisseggsy @takemyopenheart @natureblooms24 @mainstreetreader @izzyourresidentlawyer @a-crepusculo @quixoticdreamer16 @starryeyedrookie @barbean

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed. And if you want to sit out only the answers to the ask games hit me up too. There won't be any hard feelings. I promise. 💜

#asked and answered #messrprongs #newlyweds game with your host bree #queen bree supremacy!#cue the queue

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nanaminokanojo · 3 years

Text

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 5/8

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The autumn winds heralded more clement weather, carrying the tart scent of peaches and pine in the air. With the balmier weather, everyone in the estate had taken their opportunity to be outdoors. Nanami himself had been dragged out and was walking with everyone who cared to go to the private orchards when at breakfast, the groundskeeper announced that everyone can go peach picking.

He watched from across the table as the object of his attraction visibly lit up, your glorious blue eyes brightening exponentially. You loved peach picking and he loved seeing you all excited over small things. But it turned out to be something of a disappointment when your attention turned to Geto instead of him, inviting him to go with you.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” you asked expectantly, giggling like a little girl when Geto nodded, placing an arm over your shoulder and hugging you to his side while he said, “Anything for my favorite girl.”

My favorite girl. He had to stop himself from being petty and scoffing at the very thought of it. His annoyance was further validated when you generalized your invitation, saying anyone who wished to could come, voiced out by Yuuji who pouted at you and said you should have been inviting him since he loved picking peaches as much as you did.

That was just how it was with you when it comes to Geto. You forget everyone around you the moment he makes an appearance, and it seemed Nanami wasn’t an exception. He could accept that in the past. Ever since, you had been vocal about your preference for the dark-haired man who spoiled you to no end, letting you have your way and without fail made you smile and laugh like you never do with anyone else. When their group would go out, travel or do something else recreational, you’d always be where Geto was, dangling by his arm. You mellowed out with him when you met Yuuji, but the truth is that Geto Suguru is your favorite among your older brother’s friends.

This time, however, he couldn’t rest easy with you interacting that way with said male. If he was being honest, he only agreed to go peach picking after Gojo made him tag along because he wanted to keep a close eye on you. He was also being obvious about it with the way he was trailing you with his eyes every other five seconds, the realization dawning into him when Shoko walked beside him, grinning as she took a long drag from her cigarette.

“If you want to be with her, just do it,” the woman told him, easily reading him as usual. “You look like you’re about to blow your top.”

Nanami just glanced at you, his eyes involuntarily flicking to your familiar figure now circling around Geto as you walked, your hands and arms animatedly making big gestures as you seemingly explained something to him. He felt his temper rise when the male grabbed your arm, pulling you towards him so he could wrap an arm around you, his dark eyes finding Nanami over his shoulder in a sly taunt.

Shoko clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “We all know, Kento.” She glanced behind her where Gojo and Utahime were walking. “Only that white-haired idiot seems to know nothing. Or he pretends not to know.” She sighed. “I can’t blame him though. She used to be this really cute bundle of joy, but look at her now. She’s a grown woman.”

He couldn’t disagree with that. He knew exactly just how much of a woman you have become physically and mentally. What he doesn’t understand was why you weren’t walking with him instead while you’d be sneaking around with him, stealing kisses and hugs from him since the previous day when the pair of you returned from the lake.

At the rehearsal the previous night, you had stuck to him like glue, not that he minded. You purposefully touched him even when everyone was watching, running your fingers over his arm, leaning against him while everyone waited for their turn to practice their part for the ceremony and holding his hand while he sat with you in the garden during breaks, all the while feigning innocence to your actions. You even went to the extent of wrapping an arm around his waist while Gojo was speaking to you. The man, obviously aggravated, narrowed his eyes at you before turning on his heels and leaving.

“God, he’s so frustratingly dumb,” you muttered under breath, watching him leave. Only you had the guts (and right if Nanami was being honest) to call your brother dumb. It somehow made Nanami think that you were really just doing things to get a rise out of Gojo for whatever reason or whatever complex you had with him, but what confused him was that you didn’t stop even if your male clone wasn’t looking.

It was no different at the dinner that followed at the restaurant the family had rented for the night. You purposefully said you forgot something, declaring that you will be riding with Nanami instead, tossing your car keys to Megumi who saluted him while snickering with Nobara. Yuuji, being the most annoying of your three friends, deliberately bumped against him and said, “Make the most of it, Nanamin.”

He would have smacked the boy at the back of his head if the conniving little sprite dragging him around didn’t pull him towards his car. “Wait for them to leave,” you told him as you boarded his car.

“I thought you forgot something.” His lips quirked upwards, already realizing what you were playing at, but before he could say anything more, you grabbed him by the collar, silencing him with your lips. That ended up with you two being half an hour late to dinner after that one kiss turned into a full-on make-out session in his car with you sitting astride his lap while he kissed you stupid.

When both of you finally got to the restaurant, he expected you to let go of him, but you boldly walked with him to your designated seats, holding onto his hand as you led the way. He did not miss the way your parents were looking at the two of you, but he pretended not to notice. Your father was rather approving which was a relief but your mom was just confused. He could just surmise that your friends were in on it when you ended up sitting on the same table, reserving two seats for him and you, further proven when you exchanged high-fives with Nobara who, in turn, winked at Nanami. Of course, he thought, they knew.

You engaged in conversations with your friends for most of the duration of the dinner, but you never failed to smile his way or wink at him when you think no one’s watching. You didn’t ride home with him since he had to drive stupid Gojo after he got too drunk to function and instead drove your car with your pals. You and your friends didn’t come back for another hour, but when you got home, you rifled through the house, loudly asking everyone where he was.

Nanami had to suppress laughter as he crossed the foyer on his way to the stairs and saw how you pushed past Suguru to make your way towards him, latching onto his arm and announcing to everyone that you will walk him to his room cause he might get lost. You had giddily stuck to what you said you’ll do when he noticed how your eyes were bloodshot and you had that odd smile on your face.

“Sweetheart, are you high?” he asked, gently holding you at arm’s length. He already knew the answer to his question when he caught a whiff of weed on your hair. Typically, he’d scold you, but the way you were tittering for no reason was just too adorable for him to handle.

“Don’t be mad,” you said to him, attempting to pout, but you couldn’t in your state. You then started poking his cheek that he eventually had to hold your hands away from him. When you finally stopped laughing, you blinked up at him and said, “I want you to kiss me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice as he pulled you to a side hallway, pushing you against the wall, giving you a peck. You whined loudly. “You call that a kiss?” you complained.

“Be specific, love. How do you want me to kiss you?” he teased, leaning his forehead against yours, trying hard not to laugh as he held you back, preventing you from touching him. He was already aware of how you could easily take the reins and dominate him.

You smirked at him. “Kiss me dumb. Pretty please with a cherry on top, Kento?” You seemed to have discovered that calling him by his given name has become his weakness, and you succeeded because in the next second, he was all over you, prying your mouth open with his tongue as he pressed you against the wall with his body. You submitted to his touches, pulling him closer, your sensuous lips and the sweet flavor of your tongue driving him insane. Before he lost control, he walked you back to your room, defeating the purpose of you walking him to his.

But now, he had to watch you being monopolized by Geto.

He sighed. He could trust Shoko to shed off pretenses for once.

“You okay?” she asked.

He nodded. “I know she’s really fond of Suguru, but I can’t help but –” What was it that he felt exactly?

“You’re jealous. It’s natural especially when she was all clingy with you yesterday.” She chuckled. Shoko couldn’t have been more right, but the scene playing out before him was the least of his problems. It ran deeper than just the moment at hand.

Nanami promised to keep it a secret as Geto’s friend although it killed him a thousand times when three years ago, just a week before the time he had to haul you out of a bathtub after your cocaine episode, the male came to him, confiding that he wanted to pursue you romantically.

“Good luck on that,” he remembered telling Geto, feeling that same pang of envy pervading his system, but then the latter said, “It’s just that she said she likes someone else.” He looked at Nanami sharply as if he was angry at him for some reason, but retracted to his easy-going mood. “Forget I said anything. I can’t have her.”

“Why is that?” Nanami asked then.

At that, Geto smiled, sadness crossing his features. “I don’t deserve her.”

At odd to his words three years ago, Geto was as close to you as ever. You’re obviously still very fond of him. Still, Nanami wasn’t sure what the intention was behind Geto’s calculated actions. The man was just as aggravating as you are with your mutual penchant for games and keeping people on their toes.

Shoko stole him back from his reverie. “Just put a label on it already. She likes you, too, you know.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“Seriously?” She burst out laughing then. “Men are such dense creatures.”

“That’s offensive.”

“So is your obliviousness.”

“What does that even mean?”

She shook her head, her laughter dissipating. “Talk to her and find out.”

“I saw what you were doing with Kento last night.”

You looked at Geto who was walking beside you, not really knowing how to respond to his observations and settling for twirling the wicker basket you were holding. He flashed you a knowing smile, already used to your behavior when you were puzzling something in your head, caught up in your own bubble.

“I’m not as frustrated about Nanamin as much as I am with Satoru.” You sighed, remembering how your brother just walked away when he saw you holding onto Nanami, annoyed as if he thinks you were just trying to rile him up. “He’s so dense with things like this.”

“You’re one to talk,” Geto stated frankly, snickering at your appalled reaction. “On a more serious note, why?”

Letting up on your scowl, you said, “Well, he’s being a bitch about how I never tell him anything anymore. He asked whether I liked Nanamin and what was going on when I was being very obvious. I kissed the man in front of him, for heaven’s sake.”

“Sweetie, that’s not straightforward at all. You know yourself better than anyone, and seriously, even I get all confused as to whether you’re just messing with everyone, not to mention that you’re so erratic that we just don’t know what to expect from you.” Geto eyed you placatingly, letting you know that he was being earnest.

You easily laugh and smile because of him, but he just as easily offends your by being so brutally straightforward. You’re realizing that now that he was acting more like your older brother, and you knew you couldn’t get offended when you wanted assurance. “I just want to include him all the time but his reactions are so fucking infuriating. He treats me like a kid crushing on his friend if anything.”

“So, why not talk to him about it?”

“I don’t want to sit down and talk to him about it as if I’m asking for permission or approval. I love Satoru to smithereens – don’t tell him that – but he doesn’t get a say about what I want in life especially not where the people I date are concerned especially since he seems to have an aversion to me being attracted to any of you guys ever since I turned twelve.”

Geto chortled. “So you’ve been crushing on Kento since you were a kid?”

You made a face at him, punching him on the arm. “No, idiot. I liked you first.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

You momentarily stopped walking. “Yes, but then I found out what a womanizer you are but I won’t even venture into that. I’m not really fond of martyrdom,” you deadpanned.

Not even hiding his affront, he walked back to your spot and flicked you on the forehead. “I’m very offended you’d say that to me!”

“It’s true though.” You laughed, reaching over to squish his face before walking around him in circles. “If you think I’ll cry over your pretty face, you couldn’t have been more mistaken. Besides, I don’t want to share.”

“Now you’re just being a jerk.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning insult. “I’m hurt, baby.”

“You deserve it for kissing that cheap model wannabe in front of me on your first runway show.”

“My, my. Your tongue’s loose today. Tell me more.”

“I settled for thinking I’ll just steal you from Satoru to be my best friend. Well, that’s before I met Yuuji. I guess I was just really jealous of what you and Satoru had. I wanted everything he had anyway until I realized that’s now how it works and there were things about me he couldn’t have either. Makes it fair.” You chuckled, finally making it in front of him. “Like that personalized plush bear you gave me on my eighteenth birthday. Man, that was huge.”

Laughing with you, he held onto your arm, pulling you close to him, glancing behind him.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, still giggling.

“Your boy toy would have killed me with those looks he’d been throwing at my direction since breakfast,” Geto whispered to you, making you look over your shoulder, too. There, you found Nanami, looking so breathtakingly gorgeous with the rakish way his hair had been styled and his chiseled physique outlined by the long-sleeved running top he had on. He’s been dressing more casually recently much to your satisfaction.

“Don’t call him that, He’s not my boy toy.” You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. “Sometimes, I have to stop myself from jumping his bones.”

It was Geto’s turn to make a face at you. “Sweetheart, I love you, but don’t say those things to me. Anyway, are you two together now?”

You tensed slightly and shook your head. “That’s up to him.”

“What?” He scoffed. “In case you’re not aware, you’re a prize. Don’t go doing all the work.”

“I know.”

“He should fight for it, too, if he wants you.”

“So Yuuji says.”

“He’s right.” Geto stopped walking, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know I love you right?”

You nodded, poking fun at him. “More than your hoes, I hope.”

He clucked his tongue, rolling his eyes at you. “I’m being serious here. You may think I’m a hedonistic bastard who only thinks about getting laid all the time, but you’re a different story, sweetheart. I treasure you like Satoru does, and if I see something wrong, it’s my duty to tell you.”

Seeing the somber look on his face, your smile dropped. “What are you getting at?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he began. “Kento is a good man, better than Satoru and I combined to tell you the truth. But when it comes to things like this, he has the tendency to be indecisive.”

Your heart dropped, feeling nervous all of a sudden as your eyes widened in fear at the prospect. “Are you saying he doesn’t like me?”

“Honey, he loves you. I know so.” He snorted. “Bastard can’t even resist you anymore by the looks of it, but trust me when I say he’s going to over-analyze things because there are so many things to consider instead just going for it.”

“You mean Satoru?” you griped.

“One of them anyway.”

“O…kay.” You pouted in perplexity. “How would you advise me to proceed?”

Geto finally let up on the seriousness, bursting out laughing. “The gods are fair, aren’t they?”

Understanding why he was laughing, you punched him on the arm again. “I know I’m dumb at this, but at least try acting like the older, more mature one here. You should be flattered I’m coming to you for shit like this at all.”

Still laughing, he pulled you close and hugged you, planting a chaste kiss on the top of your head. When he was calm enough, he breathed out and squeezed you tighter. “Talk to him and be direct about it.”

You decided to approach Nanami when you spotted him alone under one of the trees, reading a book. The forgotten basket of peaches beside him, only half-filled, was indicative that he forgot about the activity at hand and is in his own world again. You adored his quiet side, the way he kept to himself, unafraid to be alone and always comfortable in his solitude, so much so that you hesitated to disturb him.

Quietly, you stalked towards him, making sure not to make any sudden sounds, but being him, he was immediately able to perceive your presence.

"You have a very dark taste in literature as a child," Nanami spoke when you’re within earshot, sensing your presence.

You frowned, sitting beside him, confused at first but upon seeing your battered copy of "Coraline" sitting on his lap, you understood what he meant. "Where did you find that?"

"In the library." He finally met your gaze, his expressions unfathomable. "I remembered you gushing about it when you first read it."

You nodded in understanding, but couldn't quite keep your mind in the conversation, plagued with thoughts of what Geto told you earlier. He was saying something about your fascination for the horror genre, but you cut him short, saying, "Can I ask you something?"

Nanami tilted his head slightly at the question, his quizzical gaze prompting you to proceed.

"What are we?" you blurted out, your blue eyes quite unable to meet his dark ones. You don't exactly know what was making you behave with such uncertainty. After all the times you had been confident where he was concerned, you were suddenly scared. You didn't fear being rejected by anyone. It has always been the case for you since you’re younger, but you were afraid of not knowing, of not being sure.

Nanami looked at you, deep in thought for a few moments until he finally told you, "That's up to you, isn't it?" His tone had a bite to it.

Unable to place where he was coming from at the moment, you hesitated. You rummaged through your head about what his response to you could imply, frowning when you came up with nothing. "What?" you said, thinking it better to ask.

"You heard me." He shrugged, opening the book to the page he was reading. By the looks of it, he was trying his best to ignore you.

You fought the urge to pose barb at him, too, wanting nothing but to get a straight response from him. "Why is it up to me?" You totally didn't understand, thinking it ought to be a decision the pair of you should make. Wasn’t that how it worked?

Silently cursing at the whole situation, you contemplated on your past relationships. All of them seemed less complicated. They liked you, you liked them. You decide to date, and when things don’t work out, the arrangement is broken off. High school and college boys were irritating to say the least, but you were expecting it to be a lot more straightforward with Nanami because he’s a mature adult. Now it seemed like you were in one of those previous relationships again.

“Elaborate on that,” you prompted him, seriously at a loss.

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is this another game of yours?"

To say you’re appalled by his odd line of questioning was an understatement. Unable to control your emotions anymore, you stood up. "What are you talking about?" You burst out laughing without mirth. For once, you’re being direct with what you wanted. For once, you weren't playing and yet all you get are questions being thrown at you.

"Go play with Suguru. He seems to enjoy your antics more than anyone," he told you coldly.

"What are you on about?" you demanded from him. “I’m asking you a simple question.”

Nanami flashed you a tired smile. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He also stood up, obviously exasperated. "Look, I honestly don't know what we are. I'm not sure." He sighed when you eyed him in disappointment but that expression turned into icy indifference very quickly.

"You don't know," you repeated, nodding. "Okay. I see how it is."

For the first time in years, you felt stupid, so much so that you felt like tearing all the hair off your scalp. You didn't understand what was wrong with Nanami but so many thoughts ran through your head at the same time. You thought you might have asked too early. You thought maybe you read things between the two of you wrong. On top of all that, you felt so overwhelmed with anger over his response that you couldn't think straight, but you were also afraid of saying anything else in case your inner demon decides to jump out.

Turning away, you started walking away. You heard him call your name but you didn't look back, suppressing the urge to go back to him and instead storming out of the orchard. You didn't understand what the dull ache in your chest meant but you knew you couldn't handle it.

-end of part 5-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years

Text

Romantic epiphanies are dope

At what point, though, had she decided that it was Jake of all people who would disrupt her calendar so completely, while also fulfilling the dreams she didn’t dare write down on it?

After all, if 11-year-old Amy had been asked to create a binder on her future husband - Jake would have not even been mentioned in the footnotes. If she could’ve wished for a partner back then, she definitely wouldn’t have specified that he had to be dorky and clumsy, constantly making bad jokes, living on a diet that would send any other person to the hospital for malnutrition, obsessed with action movies and cop heroics, spending his free time and money on the most useless things anyone could think of, and pranking and bothering her to his heart’s content.

-*-*-*-

On the evening of their engagement, Amy wonders about her own romantic epiphanies and what made her decide that Jake was the person she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

Read it on AO3

“What about you?”

The scene at Shaw’s bar had settled down a bit after the united ring of the squad had broken down into their own little groups as they always did. Gina was busy admiring Terry’s biceps from a corner booth, phone in hand as always, while he played a game of darts with Jake, who was shooting glances over to Amy every few seconds as if they had been apart for months again instead of just a few minutes. Charles was extolling the virtues of some new restaurant to Captain Holt, who definitely looked like he was preparing to leave ever since he’d stepped foot into the bar. Hitchcock and Scully were… well, somewhere, either asleep or eating, probably.

And Rosa was sliding onto the barstool next to Amy, a cocktail glass - Moscow Mule, her favourite, Amy had learned after literally a year of sleuthing - in her hand and a curious glint in her eye that didn’t quite fit the usually stoic face.

“Hmm~?” Amy gave her a quizzical look - she was not yet anywhere on her scale of drunkenness, still holding the beer she’d used to cheer during today’s round of toasts. She didn’t want to get drunk tonight - she wanted to remember it all, forever. The little diamonds of her wonderful new ring were shining just perfectly against the dark brown bottle.

“What about you, Santiago. When was your romantic epiphany? Knowing that you’ll say yes if he asks?” Rosa raised an eyebrow and schooled a more appropriate, serious look on her face. “Because let’s be honest, as sweet as Jake is, his’ was pretty lame. You do cross word puzzles like, every night.”

“Oh, I see.” Amy gave the label on her beer a good scratching, peeling off the edges slightly. “I guess-” she started, but nothing else came.

While Rosa usually enjoyed drinking in silence far more than anything, right now she was on the level of inebriated where she would actually let loose enough to, ugh, chat . And she wanted to chat with Amy, of all people. Well, she supposed, maybe that wasn’t quite so strange, considering she was one of her best friends. Actually, her best friend. Girl-wise, next to Jake. It was still a struggle to admit to herself that these two absolute dorks were far more than just co-workers to her, sometimes even more than just simple friends.

But Amy was still silent, staring at her drink as if it held the answer to everything (which it definitely didn’t if it turned her into Spacey Amy on drink 1).

“It’s fine if you don't have one, you know. S’not always like the movies.”

“No no, it’s just- it’s kinda-” The beer’s label was peeling some more, and the bottle was almost empty after another sip.

It was just kinda… the fact that Amy had always been split down two very different sides concerning marriage.

On the one hand, it had never really occurred to her. Her life plan, hanging proudly over her bed while she was living alone, now replaced by a movie poster of Jake’s that was luckily not Die Hard and the plan relegated to her little office corner, made no mention of it. She had plans for her career - many of them - and actually a few goals for her private life as well, to maintain a healthy work-life-balance as one should. But marriage? There had never been a date set on her wall for that. It was too risky, she’d reasoned even as a teen while drawing up her first plan. Unpredictable, since it involved a whole other person, and relationships couldn’t be planned and dated down to the day, which she hated to think about, and she wouldn’t have much time to date anyway if she was gearing up to be the youngest female Captain in NYPD history. And, if she was completely honest, it was sometimes too scary to think about as well - she knew she was a difficult person to be around, in some ways. Definitely difficult to handle as a romantic partner. What if she couldn't find a man willing to put in that work? And then see the dates on her calendar pass by, alone, or crying from heartbreak? No, marriage was not on her life plan at all, she’d decided at the ripe age of eleven in her pink and off-white bedroom while writing down all the big moments of her life to come.

On the other hand, it had always been an obvious yes. Having a husband, having a family - she could imagine nothing else, growing up with all her siblings, with her parents still being obviously in love with each other after all these years, with her tias and tios and abuelas and abuelos all around her. What would life even be like without that kind of family? Without people over at her place every holiday, without someone trusted by her side tag-teaming all the tasks and duties of everyday life, without that little group of people that she knew would always be there, would always be loving and caring for her the way she loved and cared for them. It was unimaginable. She’d seen the endlessly romantic scenes in films and read about them in her books, and while she was not easily impressed or swayed even as a teenager, she was definitely... expecting some of that in her own life. She wanted the romantic moments, the flashbacks to tell her children and grandchildren about, the beautiful proposal, the perfectly-planned wedding, the photo album of years and years together, of all the milestones a couple could have. Yes, marriage was definitely on her life plan, tucked into the back of her mind and ever present.

At what point, though, had she decided that it was Jake of all people who would disrupt her calendar so completely, while also fulfilling the dreams she didn’t dare write down on it?

Then again, that wasn’t Jake anymore - maybe it had been during their first few years as only co-workers, but he was constantly changing, growing up step by step, maybe a bit later than others, but definitely growing. He was always willing to learn, as much as he’d moan about it all. He was willing to get better, spurned on by competition, maybe, or by the desire to be the best -anything- he could be, not just best detective, but he was willing no matter the reason.

And then again, that wasn’t all that Jake had really been, ever - maybe on the outside, to the unknown onlooker, but not to those who really spent time with him. As careless as he was with his own health, he was always caring for everyone else in his own subtle and not so subtle ways. As ridiculous as his jokes and pranks were, he also knew exactly when they were not appropriate anymore, and he could lend a hand or a sympathetic shoulder just as seriously as he could stand guard for you if you needed a moment alone in the evidence lock-up. As much as he would boast about himself and throw jabs at everyone else, he would also turn into the ultimate hype-man for everyone on the squad at the mere mention of one of them failing or stumbling.

And if Amy had been given the chance to write a wishlist for the man she wanted to spend her life with at any point of her planning - that kindness, compassion and support would’ve definitely been on the top of it.

She realised she still hadn’t answered Rosa. Luckily, Diaz was exactly the kind of person who knew how to hold onto a weighted silence and give her all the time she needed without interrupting her. She simply sipped her heavy-on-the-vodka-please drink and waited.

“I don’t think I-” Amy started up again, realising that her beer bottle was now completely label-less, a small heap of paper on the bar counter next to her. “I don’t think it was one big moment, to be honest. I think it was a lot of little ones.”

“Like what, buying folders together to get his desk straightened out? The moment when he actually used a five-syllable-word right? The day he finally stopped mixing gummy bears with red vines and calling it ‘sugar bolognese’?”

“I know you’re making fun of it, but those were all milestones in their own way, okay?” Amy shot Rosa a little glare, which proved to be extremely ineffective against the other Latina’s taunting grin.

“But they weren’t the moments?” Rosa continued to poke her, turning her voice several octaves higher for the last words. “Where Jake turned into the knight in shining armour baby-Amy definitely used to draw into her diary?”

No, they weren’t. Sure, Amy was proud of Jake for all of them. But they weren’t the moments where she’d realised that this was it, that this person was her person. That there would never be anyone who loved her the way he did, and that she could never feel for anyone else what she felt for him.

She tried to think of something romantic, something big to throw back into Rosa’s face, make her stop the jokes and understand. Make her see that it wasn’t about the grand gestures or the perfect match that made Jake her one and only, as cheesy as that sounded.

They’d had many big moments, that was for sure.

When he went in front of the whole precinct here at Shaw’s to cryptically talk about how much just six days with her meant to him. When she knocked on his door to say screw light and breezy and his eyes lit up as if she’d just taken the weight of the world off of his shoulders. When he sat at the back of an ambulance, a bullet wound from her in his leg and the memory of Figgis’ gun still on his temple, and none of that seemed to matter because they were back in sync and he’d get to finally go back home with her. When he forfeited a bet, lost a collar and gave up his entire apartment for her happiness. When she was knee-deep in files at the precinct long after her working hours and her phone rang, an unknown number on the screen, and when she picked it up she heard his voice so far away and metallic and realised that he must’ve broken several rules and put himself into danger just to get a phone into prison to talk to her. When he spun an entire Halloween heist around today to get her to win it, all so he could give her that soft scared smile as she turned and saw him down on one knee.

Rosa knew about all of these. She’d witnessed them, or heard her drunkenly ramble about them during their weekly get-togethers. And they were all big moments, good moments, special moments she would re-tell to everyone who wanted to hear about her and Jake and their story.

But they weren’t all of it. They were the big plot points in their shared book of life, that was for sure. But they weren’t the kind of quotes she’d underline, the ones she’d write little notes into the margins for. The ones that made her love this book more than any other story she’d ever read.

Yet when she thought about those definitely underlined quotes that came up in her mind now, they all seemed so… trivial, compared to what you’d expect about romantic epiphanies.

Like the time she picked him up at the airport coming back from prison, when he leant back in his seat and took a deep, almost inappropriate sniff of her stupid little pinetree air freshener, telling her how unreal it seemed that someone could miss a smell like that, but that he’d longed for it for weeks now. That it wasn’t pinetree to him anymore, it was the comfort of Amy’s car, and their morning drive to the precinct when he was too tired to get into his Mustang, and Amy picking him up after a few hours too long working on a case, all wrapped up in one scent that he never realised he could miss. He was sniffing an air freshener, with his uneven beard scratching all over it, red eyes from an early flight and maybe a few tears they’d shed at the pick up area, and Amy was sure her heart could never ache as much for anyone else as it did for the tired man sitting in her passenger seat.

Or the time she’d come home from work on his first day off after they’d moved in together, expecting to see her prim and proper apartment turned into a slouchfest the way his old place had been. Only to realise that nothing had changed - safe for the take out containers next to the sink, which had enough left in it that they could share it for dinner. Only to realise that he had actually done all of the laundry, and folded all her socks and underwear exactly right, and even folded the fitted sheets properly, and put it all into the closet in the system she’d developed but never actually written down, because it came to her like second nature. Only to realise that meant that he’d watched her, every time she’d done it, to learn it all perfectly so he could do it for her. And she looked at him as he jumped up from the couch to heat the take out for her as she changed out of her work clothes, and realised that she never wanted to share her home with anyone else.

Or the time he’d first been invited to the big Santiago summer get together, and she’d stressed over it just as much he did, making information binders on her family and their quirks and their habits and what he could say and what he should absolutely not say. But when the party finally came, and he’d squeezed her hand so nervously stepping into the living room, he managed to remember every single brother’s, sister-in-law’s, niece’s and nephew’s name, made extra time for her abuela Claudia’s stories and waited for her tia Maria to translate everything someone yelled in Spanish for him, sat down at exactly the place on the table that would’ve secretly been reserved for him as a test, and slipped into dinner conversations and children’s games down at the lake as if he’d always been there, always been a part of her family. She watched him running from her nephews’ water guns and secretly rolling his eyes at her while talking to her brother David and offering his arm to her abuela Sofia on a walk the way he would usually offer it to her, and she realised that it fit so well because he should have always been there, that this spot in her family had always waited for him.

Or the time she’d started her period while staying over at his place for the first time ever, waking up to stained sheets and cramps and the rushing feeling of pure embarrassment, telling him she was so, so sorry and would buy him new sheets and probably better get home so she could deal with this and not bother him for the rest of the weekend despite the plans they’d made. And he’d simply gotten out of bed, rummaged through a cabinet in his bathroom and returned with painkillers, a hot water bottle, and a box of pads and tampons he’d bought after an awkward day at the academy when Rosa had lectured him about always being prepared for anything his fellow detectives could need. And he’d parked her on the sofa after she’d changed into one of his boxers, and the washing machine was already cleaning the sheets and her underwear, and he said be right back and returned from the bodega on the corner with ice cream and salt & vinegar chips and her favourite chocolate. And she looked at him as he sat down on the other side of the couch, remote already in hand to see what they could binge-watch this weekend, acting as if nothing was wrong and she hadn’t just completely inconvenienced him and weirded him out with her problems, and she realised that she hadn’t. That they’d been together barely a month and a half, and he was already so comfortable having her around that he was prepared for anything. That she could lay it all on him, without the fear of being embarrassed or rebuked as she had been with any other man in her life before him.

Or the time she cancelled what was meant to be their second date ever (after that awkward, chaotic, yet happy-ending first one) because she’d gotten sick. When he showed up that evening at her door, she’d been worried he hadn’t gotten her text (she was too stuffed up to speak properly on the phone, she’d realised when calling in sick to work). But he was wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants instead of a date outfit, and carried a grocery store bag and a drug store bag, and then he made her take a bath with one of those cold-remedy bath salt sachets he’d found, and cooked her his mom’s sickly-soup (with store-bought matzoh balls, he had to admit, he never quite got those right), and let her pick any movie she wanted to watch while they ate their soup wrapped up under one blanket so she could steal all of his body heat. He’d been to her place as her boyfriend only twice before, but she realised as she snuggled into his arms under the blanket and blew her nose into one of the extra-soft tissues he’d bought that she’d felt so wrong being sick and alone at her home, that she’d subconsciously hoped he could be there to rub the vapo-rub on her back before she went to sleep that night, and that nothing felt more right than him already whistling in the kitchen when she woke up feeling slightly better the next morning.

They were all these little moments, these facets of life that barely even mattered to outsiders, that happened and re-happened several times a year. But they did matter, and they came into her mind every time her mom warned her on the phone not to be ‘too hasty’, every time her non-work friends asked her if she was really sure she was talking about ‘Peralta, the guy you used to moan about so much’, every time someone made a joke to Jake and her about her being ‘above his pay-grade’ or them being ‘an odd couple if they ever saw one’. It was these little moments that mattered so much more to her than any grand romantic gesture could, and that manifested in her mind that Jake was it, and always had been.

The bottle of beer in her hand was still label-less, but she noticed that it was also empty. She didn’t know when she’d transitioned into Spacey Amy, but looking up at Rosa’s face, seeing Gina next to her who’d apparently walked up at some point, she realised that she’d been talking, not thinking all of this.

“Daaaamn, girl.” Gina replied, but her voice was quiet, not even close to the usual mocking tone she’d take on for Amy. Rosa next to her was silent, blinking hard, and if she didn’t know her any better Amy would’ve almost believed she was fighting back a few tears. Which was ridiculous, because this was Rosa, and she’d only had six drinks, which brought her barely close to the emotional level she needed to even think about crying. Rosa’s drunk-scale started a lot later than Amy’s did.

Amy swept away a little tear from her own cheek while grinning awkwardly down at her bottle.

“Good thing that was one drink Spacey Amy and not two drink Loud Amy, huh?” She tried to joke, but Rosa only shook her head.

“Santiago, shit like that, you should shout from the fucking rooftops. Or at least into your fiancé’s stupid grinning face. Damn, I’m genuinely so happy for you two dorks, you’re so perfect. Don’t ever quote me on that, though.” Rosa had at least reached the swearing stage of drunkenness, the one where she’d wrap genuine emotion in as many rude words as possible to make it seem like she still didn’t care as much as she did.

Amy looked over at Jake and caught him looking away just as quickly. He’d been watching her again. He often did when he thought she wouldn’t notice, she’d realised that early on in their relationship. They’d be watching a movie, or hunched over case files, or simply hanging out at her kitchen counter nibbling on take away leftovers and discussing their day, and she’d look up and notice him almost flinching away. On the rare occasions that she woke up after him - once in a blue moon, when the night had been far longer than she’d planned, like tomorrow, probably - she would roll to the side and meet with his eyes, half-closed and shining and definitely, completely focussed on nothing but her.

It was almost unsettling to be the centre of someone’s attention like that, but in a good way. In a way that made her heart skip a beat, because she’d never expected to be anyone’s point of focus like this, ever.

Maybe, besides all the little moments and epiphanies, that had actually been the point of no return for her, love-wise - when she realised just what she was to Jake. Everything, he’d told her not just once during his more romantic moments, whispering in her ear and pressing a kiss to her temple. You’re everything to me, Ames, and sometimes I think you’re even a bit more than that.

“Hey.” She heard his voice next to her as he walked up from the long-forgotten dart board, where Gina was quick to jump in and challenge Terry to another round to see him flex his shoulders.

“Hey yourself.” She grinned back, one drink Amy still on the clock.

“Thought I should come over here to tell you something really important.”

“Oh, sure.” The serious tone in his voice made her steel herself almost as a reflex. “What is it?”

“I realised I’m absolutely, crazy in love with you. Is that okay?”

And there was this grin, this stupid wide grin she knew so well, that always looked a bit different when it was directed towards her than anyone else. Amy couldn’t help but laugh as she softly punched his arm.

“Yeah, you know.” She looked at the ring on her finger as she stroked over the space she’d only just hit. “I think that’s pretty okay.”

He leant down for a kiss, and they could both hear a gagging sound from the side.

“Knock it off, Diaz.” Jake shot Rosa a fake-angry look. “You’re not allowed to make fun of us today.”

“Alright, alright. I don’t need to watch it, though.” Rosa stood up from her bar stool, only to punch Jake into the other arm, definitely stronger than Amy just had. He grinned at her nonetheless, knowing full well that was as close and emotional as a tight hug would be from his old friend.

“Better take your fiancée home before she turns into two drink Amy, though. Think you’ve got some stuff to say that shouldn’t be heard from the whole bar.” She grinned again before walking off to beat both Gina and Terry at darts.

Jake followed her with his eyes before smiling back at Amy.

“My fiancée.” He repeated, and she could see how strange the word still felt in his mouth, strange and new and absolutely joyful.

“Your future wife.” She smiled back, and it didn’t sound strange at all. It sounded perfectly right. Because it had always, always been.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #fanfic #my writing #my Q needs no more vowels

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