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sinsatmidnight · 4 months

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30 Years Later

Pairing – Kim Minji (JiU) x Male Reader

Words - 3101

Sins – Smut, oral, sumata, shower sex

So...it's been a while. I have not been keeping up with what goes on Tumblr, I have to admit, and nor have I read any (most? I may have read a couple during this period) of the many stories that people have started after I stopped. I'm inevitably rusty, but I had this draft I started a long while back that I somehow got into the mood to finish, so I figured I may as well post it, just for fun. Maybe someone will enjoy it. Hopefully you like it if you read it! And no, I don't expect a significant uptick in activity from me, but I may pay more attention to some of the other stories being written. Working on this was not quite the healthiest thing (because uh, I may have overused a certain part of my body the last couple of days) and let's just say one of the reasons I'm posting this is because it already had a significant bit written. But I kinda wanna subject myself to more of this...abuse(?) now. Ugh I'm rambling, but anyways, hope everyone has a good day (or night)!

(2130 hours, 20 September 2220, Eternity)

It started out muffled. The droning sound breaking into your consciousness, jolting it to life. You have no idea what it is. Or where you are, for that matter. Your eyes are closed. But your ears are sharper now that your mind is actively concentrating on listening.

A voice. Female. You can’t make out words but she sounds calm. And then your eyes slowly open, almost as though forced open by an outside force. That’s when you remember.

“Condition is stable, consciousness gained, cryo pods are opening.” That calm, droning female voice comes through clear to you now. There is a soft hiss as the transparent door of your cryo pod slides to the side. The light outside your pod is quite soft, and yet at the moment to your eyes, it is blinding. Disoriented by your awakening, you lay in the gel bed as you try to get your bearings.

“Eden? Status update…oh, and what is the current date and time?”

The ship’s AI, Eden, responds in the electronically generated calm tone that all shipboard Ais use. “Welcome back, Commander. All of the Eternity’s systems are currently running optimally. All crew members are in good health. It is currently 2130 hours, 20 September 2220.”

Your mind does the math easily despite just coming back from the induced cryo-sleep. Thirty years. Well, that would be right. Crew members were supposed to be woken up after thirty years to run manual checks on the ship’s condition and look over all data collected automatically by ship sensors and the AI. They stay up for two weeks and then go back into cryo-sleep. And after the first thirty years, this is repeated every five years.

Your mind remembers that crew members aren’t woken up alone, they’re normally woken up in pairs as an additional safety measure. One person who can handle technical or mechanical issues on the ship, which in this case is you, and one more person who is medically trained to check on the sleeping crew and in case of medical emergency.

Your gel bed is softening; rapidly melting as you defrost and becoming less of a gel and more of a slime. A marvel of human technological ingenuity; the clear gel froze quickly, was non-toxic in case of accidental ingestion, while also serving as a shock-absorbent and anti-bacterial bed for cryo-sleep.

You need to get out and check who else was awakened with you. As your hands reach and hold on to the sides of the pod, you realise that you have an erection. Your mind immediately jumps back thirty years prior, to the minutes right before the crew enter cryo-sleep. It might have been from thirty years ago, but those are your last waking memories and they feel like just minutes ago instead.

You remember undressing before you enter your cryo pod; cryo-sleep has to be done naked and trying to unpeel clothing frozen to a person for years is painful. And that was when your eyes caught sight of the occupant of the pod opposite you.

With long dark hair and incredibly kissable lips, combat medic Kim Minji drew attention wherever she went. She was tall, gorgeous and had a body that drew a reaction from your own. As you watched her unzip her white bodysuit and slip out of it, stripping off her underwear and getting naked, you felt the blood rush to your penis and you were glad that she was too preoccupied with her own cryo-sleep preparations to look over at you. You ended up getting frozen before your erection could soften.

Back in the present, another female voice that definitely wasn’t Eden’s cuts into your thoughts. “You’ve had that for thirty years, Commander?’

As you stumble out of the pod, the melting gel dripping all over the floor, your eyes immediately catch sight of Kim Minji’s naked body standing outside her pod, the clear slime dripping off her body and giving it a shimmering sheen under the soft white lights of the cryo chamber. You quickly realise two things: that Kim Minji is your medically trained partner that you’re going to be alone with for the next two weeks and that your erection won’t be going down anytime soon despite your embarrassment at getting caught. You technically outrank her, but that doesn’t matter when there’s just two people awake on the ship.

Minji’s gaze is fixed upon your groin and very obvious erection and a smirk plays on her red lips. “Oh, Minji, I-“

Before you can think of an excuse, Minji cuts in. “Thanks for the compliment, I guess. I’ve never had a guy have a boner for me for that long.”

You smile sheepishly and try to change the subject. “Let’s go wash up before we start work.” At the far end of the cryo chamber was the doorway to another smaller room. A shower chamber with a row of showerheads which to wash off the slime with warm water before you got dressed. There were no partitions, they didn’t bother with them, given that everyone is naked in the cryo chamber anyway. And anyone outside the showers can see into them, given that the walls and doors are made of transparent shatter-proof glass.

You drip clear slime onto the silvery metallic floor beneath your bare feet and the metal doesn’t feel cool to your touch, but given that you were completely frozen minutes ago, that’s understandable. The two of you make your way towards the shower chamber, walking past the other cryo pods which stand up at 45-degree angles, glancing at the naked bodies of other crew members stored in cryo-sleep within them. The water from the shower feels warm to you, a nice comfortable temperature. Minji is next to you, the water flowing over her naked and fit body. It's not helping your erection. Her voice cuts into your thoughts. "I can feel some slime on my back still, could you help me scrub it off?" You hesitate for a moment but then your hand reaches forward and runs over her smooth back, swiping the slime off. You feel Minji's body shiver at your touch, and she lets out a soft moan.

You are sure that your erection is pointing straight up now. Not that it wasn't before, but this situation is just prolonging it.

"Oh, that's nice. Can you do it a little lower, please?" She asks, and your hands move further down. Your hands are caressing her pert ass now, the soap lather coating it and making it feel smooth. Minji is letting out soft moans and you are enjoying touching her. As you wash her ass, your fingers stray between her legs, rubbing against her dripping vaginal folds. She is wet and it is not the water causing this.

"You're doing a great job, Commander. But there's a lot more I need you to wash for me." You turn her around so that she is facing you. You look into her eyes and she is biting her lower lip. Minji has a perfect pair of breasts, firm but soft and a nice handful. They are covered with soap lather now and you find your hands moving forward to massage her tits. You pinch her pink nipples, feeling her tremble as you touch her. Minji leans into you, her wet body pressing against yours. She feels hot to the touch, as though her temperature has gone up.

"Look, I really feel like I should help you with that boner of yours." Minji whispers breathily. "Can I do that for you, Commander?" She has already reached down and taken your hard length in her hand, her thumb rubbing the head of your cock, spreading the precum that had gathered. She gives your cock a gentle tug, and it takes all of your willpower to not cum on her right then and there.

"Fuck, Minji, that's- that's fine." You let out an odd mix of strangled gasp that ends in a muttered assurance, as her soft hand continues to firmly stroke your erection.

"Thanks, Commander. I appreciate it." Minji presses those incredibly kissable red lips up against yours, and her tongue hungrily comes out to play. You reciprocate, even as your hands are busy continuing to explore her body. Her hands, on the other hand, are one of the most pleasurable experiences you’ve ever had as your wet cock is deftly and smoothly pumped and stroked.

With a wink, Minji drops to her knees, the water from the showerhead splashing her face and wetting her long hair. She presses her tits together and wraps them around your throbbing shaft.

It feels good and your body instinctively thrusts forward, your hips rocking back and forth, fucking her breasts. Your balls are tensing up, and you can tell you aren't going to last long. It is smooth and slick between her breasts and the tip of your cock is rubbing up against her lips with her tongue comes out to tease the tip. Your eyes stare at her as she looks back at you and with a smirk, Minji parts her lips, taking the head of your cock into her mouth.

The tip of her tongue swirls around the sensitive head, licking up the precum that continues to leak. Then, she starts bobbing her head forward and back, taking more and more of your shaft into her mouth, eventually releasing your cock from between her tits. Minji hums contentedly as she sucks and swallows your cock, and her hand is wrapped around the base, pumping you in time with the movements of her head. Minji’s other hand has drifted between her legs, and she starts to furiously masturbate as she blows you. Her slender fingers plunge in and out of her leaking vagina as she keeps her thumb vigorously rubbing her engorged clit.

As you lock eyes with the gorgeous medic on her knees in front of you, she gives you a sultry look, her lustful eyes peering into yours as she sucks you off. Minji’s expert tongue swirling around your shaft and the vibrations of her moans as she takes your dick deep into her throat very quickly becomes too much for you. Your hands need to grab something, to get control.

Your fingers run through her long hair and roughly grab hold of her head, pulling her towards you as you thrust into her mouth hard. You hear her gag a little, but she doesn’t stop with her movement. You feel the pressure building up, and your hips are moving of their own accord. Your cock is hitting the back of her throat, and your balls are tightening.

With a moan, you cum in her mouth. Thick spurts of cum erupt from your dick and fill her throat. She swallows it all, and stands up, licking those red lips. "That was tasty. It’s not every day you get to taste cum stored up for thirty years."

You barely register her words, breathing heavily. That was the most intense orgasm of your life. Your cock is still hard, but Minji is seemingly satisfied. For now.

Or maybe not. She steps away from you, and turns around, bending over. Her shapely ass is facing you, and her pussy is glistening. She looks back at you and wiggles her hips. "Can you help me clean down here too, please?"

You can't refuse Minji’s request. You have to return the favour, after all. You move towards her and rub her pussy. It is dripping wet, and her juices are flowing freely. You stick a finger inside her and feel her walls clench around it. She lets out a gasp, and pushes her hips back, as if wanting more.

"Oh, I really need it, Commander." She pants, as you continue to finger her. You pull out, and she lets out a groan. "Why did you stop?"

"Just making sure you're ready for me." You reply as you give her pert ass a quick spank, drawing a low moan from the medic. You position your cock at her entrance and push inside her.

She gasps and whimpers as you enter, and you feel her pussy walls tighten around your shaft. You start to thrust into Minji’s soaked pussy, and she groans while pushing her hips back to meet your thrusts. You grab her hips and pull her closer, helping her out in an attempt to get ever deeper inside her. She cries out in pleasure, as you fuck her as hard and fast as you.

It doesn’t take long before you are getting close to climax, and she is too. You can feel her walls tightening around your shaft, and her breathing is getting faster. You grip her hips tightly and pound her harder.

"Commander!" She moans, as she orgasms. Her juices flow over your cock, and you can't hold back any longer. You pull out of her and explode all over her ass and back, creating a sticky mess there. And then you plop down on the ground, all this exertion so soon after coming out of cryo-sleep has taken a lot out of you.

You both pant, catching your breath. Minji crawls over and kisses you deeply. "Thanks, Commander. I can't wait to work with you for the next two weeks." You can only nod breathlessly in response, your tongue wrestling with hers. Minji breaks the kiss and stands up, with her back to you. “Well, going to need your help with this mess here. Your fault, so you clean it up, sir.” Your gaze goes over her cum-glazed skin and you stand up to grab a sponge from the side of the room, lathering it up with some body wash from a dispenser. You start to work on cleaning her up, using the sponge to get your semen off her skin. But Minji is inherently distracting. It is clear whenever you touch her that she is affected by it. You hear some sighs of pleasure, even the occasional whine when your hands leave her.

This inevitably affects you and you are somehow hardening again down below. You make a split-second decision and suddenly press Minji's wet body up against the wall. You swiftly follow that up by sliding your semi-erect dick in between her soaked creamy thighs. You start to thrust in between her thighs, making sure that you brush against her pussy fold throughout.

"Oh, you're naughty, sir." Minji pants lustfully. You can feel the warmth of her vagina radiating through your thrusting member. You are quickly erect once more. This feels even better than her sucking and giving you a titfuck. "How is this, Minji?" You whisper into her ear.

"Fuck, Commander. That's… that's really good. Really, really good." She whimpers breathily, her body pushed up against the transparent wall, tits first. Your cock continues to slide between her thighs, teasing her pussy. You are both covered in soapy suds, the water from the shower spraying and splashing on the both of you. Her skin feels silky smooth and slippery to the touch. With each thrust, her ass and thighs clap loudly. You reach forward and fondle her tits, her nipples hardening and her breathing quickening. You keep thrusting, enjoying the feeling of her soapy thighs wrapped around your shaft. Minji is moaning and gasping with each thrust, and her breathing is getting faster.

Her legs are trembling, and her juices are flowing freely, mixing with the soap suds and water. Your balls slap against her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, her whole body shaking. You reach forward and grab her wrists, pinning her to the glass wall. She lets out a moan and arches her back. You kiss her neck and shoulders and continue to fuck her soapy thighs. She is whimpering and moaning with every thrust, and her juices are flowing freely, making her inner thighs and your cock very slick and slippery.

Your thrusting becomes faster and more urgent. Minji is definitely close to climaxing; you hear her moans and whimpers are getting less coherent and more urgent; you’re sure you catch some lust fuelled whining and babbling about wanting your cum and something about being fucked hard. Your cock is slamming against her pussy, and her walls are clenching around it, her juices leaking out. She is breathing heavily, and her legs are trembling.

You release one of her hands and guide it down to her clit, prompting her to start rubbing it furiously. Her fingers are a blur, and her moans become louder and more urgent. You continue to fuck those soaped-up milky thighs of hers, and she is practically screaming in pleasure, her voice echoing off the walls of the shower room. Not that you had to care about anyone hearing you. You did have an odd sort of audience in the rest of the crew outside in cryo-sleep, just beyond the transparent wall you have pressed Minji against.

Your cock is twitching and pulsating, and you can feel the pressure building up. You are both close to that final edge, and the only sounds are your heavy breathing, the splashing water, and the loud clapping sound of her ass and thighs slapping against your cock and balls.

You thrust forcefully into her thighs a few more times, and then you erupt. Your thick, creamy load sprays onto her thighs and the transparent wall, coating them in your semen. Her body shudders, and she cries out, reaching her own climax. Her juices flow over your shaft, and she slumps down, exhausted. You follow suit and collapse next to her. You both lie there for a while, trying to catch your breath. You do catch out of the corner of your eye, that Minji takes a few licks of your cum from the wall.

The two of you eventually manage to finish your shower and dry up, with you eyeing Minji the whole time as she puts that white bodysuit back and zips it back up. She catches your eye, bites her lip, and then smirks naughtily. You’re both relieved and regretful that your cock is worn out and needs rest. That would have brought it back up. You and Minji are both very well aware that you don't actually have much to do over the next couple of weeks, other than the occasional diagnostic check of the ship’s systems and such. The ship’s AI, Eden was there to handle the heavy lifting. And so, you're very much looking forward to the next couple of weeks alone with Minji.

#male reader #reader insert #dreamcatcher jiu smut

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planete777 · 9 months

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WHAT YOU HEARD・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n senselessly drags lando for a swim at midnight, high and all. she just forgets to mention they'll do it naked.

WARNINGS. 16+, smoking and getting high (don't do drugs yall, this is just for entertainment purposes!), make outs, night skinny dipping, mentions of sexual activities, once again high hotness

NOTE. back again with the high!lando agenda. something about it just gets my brain all scrambled. anyways, as i said, don't do drugs, listen to 'what you heard' by sonder, and enjoy luvs <3 (wondering if i should make this a series.....)

SIDENOTE. my askbox is open! feel free to send in any thoughts, scenarios, requests etc about high!lando, or other tropes if u want. 🤍

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even when he can't piece two cents of his thoughts to construct a legible sequence, lando is sure that, no matter the state he's in, y/n can persuade him to do whatever, as if her words were a siren's call. in his mind, she has this way of curling her tongue around every sentence she says, as if they're something so sweet, so good, and it beckons him closer, pathetically. yet, lando indulges in it like a fucking mad man, and every time he has to leave y/n, he finds himself itching for everything she makes him feel.

but, right here, right now, he'd rather lose himself in the swirling puffs of smoke that have him feeling he's levitating with it. sprawled on the girl's couch, legs and arms weightless and completely non existent, in a room that's so unsuspecting to delinquent dallying.

that's what makes him love her even more.

they're the same. from the wisp of their hairs to the tip of their toes, they both crave an escape from everything and everyone, and don't care how they get it. live a dual life of forced smiles to the world and adrenaline rushes from a drug that drains every feeling possible from their flesh, but could tip their lives on their heads without warning.

it's like their own little secret, and knows that if he were to tell anyone, they'd instantaneously talk him out of it. beg him that he could get hooked and spiral, yet he'll be damned if he allows himself to lose the only sanity he has with the girl that he's addicted to.

the breeze whispers on his skin, soothes it somewhat as the forecast had been cooler the whole day, and the spliff between his fingers remains an inch-long bud, incinerated away in mere hours. his eyes are ajar, just the tiniest bit, and remain trained on the open back sliding doors. watches as ripples glimmer and twinkle beneath the moon's shine upon the pool's surface and his mind undulates with the tentative viscosity of thick honey.

speakers drone whatever playlist y/n has chosen for the night, and he finds himself subconsciously tapping his fingers to the beat. nothing else but music needs to fill the room, each other's presence speaks for itself, and lando loves this unspoken normality between them.

he's on the brink of unconsciouness, rocking between the borders of sleep and awareness, but he's slowly justled awake as y/n walks up to him.

she gently grabs his arm, pulling him upright, "come."

his movements are slow and hesitant, "where we going?"

"swimming."

for a second his mind agrees, so he relents, but realising that he's wearing a tank top with jogging bottoms, and y/n the same but with leggings instead, he grows confused again.

he doesn't get time to question, mind too slow and sticky to even get further words out, as y/n lets go of his hand and turns to him.

then with speed that aches with tease, she tugs her top off, flinging it off to the side and lando stops breathing. he sees everything, how they curve and smooth back into the inward slope of her waist and he trembles so much that he has to clench his fist to urge it away. she's so beautiful drenched in blue, easing its way down her legs as she shrugs them off, and lando's eyes burn as they weld into every dip of her body.

"join me."

that's all she says, with that pretty smile on her face, before she swivels on her feet and dives into the water with much precision she barely marks a discrepancy upon the surface of the water. lando is hypnotised, barely moves from his place as she watches her glide and twirl in the water as if that's where she's meant to be, and then his body cries to join her.

it doesn't take long for him to hover next to y/n, right in the centre of the pool. the cool water washes some highness away, but they're both inebriated enough to retain the red glaze in their eyes and slow movements. lando's sick, seeing y/n so etheral in nothing, looking at him as if she wants him flowing through his veins, and he no longer fights the impulse to get closer and gather her in his arms. she smiles, wide and white, circling her arms around his neck before jumping on his waist. he fumbles slightly, with a huffed out laugh, then her thighs are tight around his hips and he can feel everything.

"you're hard already?" she asked, amused. her hand plays with the curls on his neck and he feels like he's dissolving.

"do you blame me? look at you."

"well," her finger traces his chest, light and completely burning, "we're not fucking in my pool."

he chuckles, figures cum is a hard thing to clean out of water, "at least let me eat you out?"

she pretends to think, "maybe later, but right now, i want you to fucking kiss me."

lando doesn't waste time doing so, lips pushing into hers with great urgency as if it's his last kiss on earth. y/n's mouth is wet, warm, sweet and so inherently y/n that lando moans, deep and loud, sliding his tongue deeper. it's not enough, not the kiss, nor the way her body radiates immense heat directly into his, and lando craves to be one with her. absorb into y/n, like a water to a sponge, and remain there forever.

air runs out, way too quickly for lando's liking, and y/n moves her head back, half closed eyes staring back at him. he's hot, bothered, hungry for so much more, and squeezes the flesh of her thighs to suppress just how much his flesh aches for her.

"i want to have you so bad," y/n sighs out, a splayed hand flush against lando's chest, and oh does he want her to completely take him. do whatever she wants, however she wants. he craves to say so much but his mind can only come up with so little.

"then fucking have me, y/n."

#lando norris #lando norris romance #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one #formula one x y/n #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic

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helladirections · 2 years

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Wet Dream

Author: @helladirections Pairing: Harry x Y/N Status: Complete Word Count: 3.5k

MASTERLIST | PATREON

Preview

And for a moment, he had almost forgotten his predicament. But when she giggled and her entire body shook a bit, her leg once again brushed up against his length. Taking him by surprise, he didn’t have the wherewithal to hold his breath and accidentally let out a small, short moan. Her body stiffened up then, head rising up off his chest to look at him. “Harry, did you?” “No.” “But you...” “No, I didn’t.” “But I can feel-” “You can’t.”

Read below or on Wattpad or AO3

It wasn’t the first time it had ever happened, but it was the first time he had been caught.

Every other time, it happened when he was alone, at his own house, in his own bed. He would wake up and squeeze his eyes closed again, desperate for the dream to come back only for it to dissipate quickly as he became more aware of his surroundings. He could feel the way his body was on alert and he knew what it meant, but it would take a few minutes for it to fully register in his brain how he had gotten that way.

That he’d had a wet dream about his best friend.

Sometimes, he would take care of it - not worrying much about the cause, just desperate to reach his high first thing in the morning. Other times, he would feel immediate guilt and hop into a cold shower to will his excitement down.

But he didn’t really have either of those options this time, because Harry had woken up hard from a wet dream while at Y/N’s house, on her couch, cuddling with her.

She was lying on top of him, head over his heart, face squished into his chest as small puffs of air released through her nose and lips. Their legs were intertwined, arms around each other, warm under her favorite blanket. The movie they had been watching was still droning on in the background meaning they had fallen asleep pretty quickly and the nap hadn’t been very long. Just long enough for the dream, apparently.

It was a good one, too, Harry was willing to admit. He was on the side of the road in a field somewhere when Y/N was driving her car, coming to a stop in front of him. She looked deep into his eyes as he sat there, begging her to let him take her home for a movie night (which is what they were doing outside of his dream).

She was just leaning down to touch him when he was shaken awake by a loud noise in the now forgotten non-dream movie.

He could feel how hard he was beneath her body, and prayed to whatever might be listening that she wouldn’t notice. That she would continue sleeping peacefully on top of him until well after he was able to get his cock to relax and she would never be the wiser. She would wake up later on with a soft smile on her face, give that soft moan along with her yawn which she always did, and snuggle into him tighter before agreeing to order some dinner.

But he wasn’t that lucky. Because the movie was going into an action scene and the loud noises were rustling Y/N awake. She was flexing and relaxing her thighs as she was pulled out of her slumber, which would have been fine if it wasn’t for the way she was lying with her thighs directly over Harry’s crotch. The friction she unknowingly created made him even more excited, and he had to bite his tongue to hold back a soft whimper.

Soon, she opened her eyes. She yawned with a soft moan, snuggled her face further into his chest, and adjusted her arms so her hands were looped around his neck.

“Mmm.. you’re so cozy,” she mumbled into him. “Could stay here like this all day if you’d let me.”

Harry could feel himself going soft at that remark. He would let her, if he could. She was his best friend, his partner, his person. They’d known each other for ages and grown closer than he had ever been with anyone else. Holding her in his arms was the best feeling in the entire world, and he would kill to be able to experience that for an entire day.

“I know, babe,” he whispered, leaving a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You’re the best blanket in the entire world, hm? Just wanna snuggle with you every night.”

She giggled at that.

Her body stiffened up then, head rising up off his chest to look at him.

“Harry, did you?”

“No.”

“But you...”

“No, I didn’t.”

“But I can feel-”

“You can’t.”

She dragged her leg up and down along his length to prove her point.

“Yeah... I can.”

“Shit.”

Again, she let out a giggle.

“H, it’s fine. It happens! Must’ve been a good dream though, hm?”

That’s when he started to blush. He couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes anymore, so he stared up at the ceiling as he bit down hard on his lower lip.

“Oh my god it was a good dream!” she teased. “What was it? Come on, y’have to tell me!”

At this point, Harry was pretty sure all the blood in his body was rushing up to his cheeks, except of course for the blood rushing between his legs.

“No, not gonna tell you.”

“Harry, come on.”

“No, Y/N.”

“Why not? Was it something embarrassing? Oh my gosh was it something weird and kinky? You HAVE to tell me, H! No secrets, remember?”

He groaned at that. Desperately he wanted to roll her body off of him so he could sit up, drink some water, maybe go into the bathroom and calm himself down. But his hand was a traitor and instead began stroking up and down her back.

“I know we said no secrets but... I don’t want you to think... shit.”

Again he closed his eyes. Not because he couldn’t bear to look at her, but because of the internal battle he was now facing. On the one hand, she would probably just laugh it off and move on with her life. Maybe tease him about it now and again. Maybe in the best case scenario she would actually... like the idea. Maybe she would do something about it. Maybe he could admit that this wasn’t the first time he had thought of her like that. But then again, maybe it would ruin everything.

“H, I’m not gonna judge you. But you know I hate not knowing things so you have to tell me unless you want me to go insane.”

And she was right. He knew how crazy she got where there was something she knew she didn’t know. If he didn’t tell her right now, he would be fielding her questions about it for the rest of forever until he eventually did tell her, and the longer he waited the bigger the deal it would be. So even though he knew that admitting any piece of information meant encountering a barrage of questions due to her endless curiosity, he also realized he really had no other choice.

“Ok fine,” he finally relented. “It was... I was in a field...” he started, looking at her just for a moment to see her interested gaze before looking away again. “You were there...”

He couldn’t get himself to go into more detail than that, and it seemed like he didn’t need to.

“Oh my gosh,” she whispered.

He couldn’t really gauge her reaction just by the sound of her voice, so he was forced to look at her again. She actually had a smile on her face.

“You had a wet dream about me?” she accused.

“I... yeah?”

She smiled then. Actually SMILED. It took him by total surprise because of all of the ways she could have reacted to that information, a smile was not on his radar.

“So you were thinking about...?”

He gulped.

“I was thinking about you...”

“And you got hard from that?”

He nodded his head.

She dragged her leg up and down again, smile widening when she saw the look of holding back pleasure on his face.

“And has this happened before?”

Another nod.

One of her hands grazed the skin along his neck before finding purchase in his hair.

“And when you get hard from thinking about me... what do you do about it?”

He shrugged.

“Tell me.”

“I... sometimes I... touch myself...”

“Hmm...” she hummed questioningly. “You think you’re good enough to think of me when you’re touching yourself?”

He was a little in shock having never seen this side of her before. She was a strong person, always made up her mind and stuck to it but equally liked to be the beneficiary of cuddles and soft words. He never expected her to be like... this.

“I... what?” He wasn’t sure how she expected him to answer that.

“I said, what makes you think you’re good enough to think of me while you’re touching yourself?”

“I’m... your friend?”

“I have lots of friends, most of them don’t get off to the thought of me.”

The way she was so blatant with it really threw him for a loop.

“I’m your best friend.”

“Best friends don’t fuck, Harry.”

He gulped.

“Never said I was gonna fuck you.”

“But you’ve thought about it.”

“I... yeah,” he admitted.

“So why are you good enough for me, hm?”

She started moving her leg against him again, squeezing her hand in his hair, and he couldn’t think straight anymore. It was too much all at once. It was happening too quickly.

“I... I...”

“Are you nice to me?”

“Yes,” he answered breathily.

“Do you care about me?”

“Yes, Y/N.”

“Do you take care of me? Do things for me when I ask you to?”

“Yes.”

“So you think you’re a good boy then?”

His eyes shot wide open at that. No one had ever spoken to him quite like that before. And he never thought he would be into it. But... he was.

Harry nodded his head.

“Gonna prove it to me?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

And now, he really didn’t know how to answer.

He mustered up all of his mental strength to respond to her. “Look, Y/N... I don’t... I don’t want to cross any boundaries with you. I don’t want to... you’re my best friend, yeah? So if you want something from me like this... you’re gonna have to tell me. Tell me what you want and I’ll do it but only what you tell me.”

He looked into her eyes, trying to read what she was thinking. Her irises were blown out, the vibrant color usually surrounding them relegated to a thin ring. She was biting the corner of her lower lip, one hand in his hair holding tightly, the other coming back around to rest on his chest. He knew she wanted this, but he needed to hear her say it.

“Harry,” she said softly, breaking some of the tension. “I’ve had dreams about you too.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“Had one last night. Tried to go back to sleep because I woke up right when you were about to touch me.”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rate of his beating heart.

“Couldn’t do it. Had to... had to touch myself, instead.”

“Fucking shit, Y/N,” Harry mumbled.

“I want this, H. You have no idea how bad I want this.”

He searched her eyes one more time for any sign of hesitancy, any chance she wasn’t a thousand percent sure that this is what she wanted. But he only found certainty.

His left hand stayed resting softly on her mid back, but his right traveled up and around to cradle her face. She leaned into the hold, closing her eyes softly and he let his thumb drag over her cheekbone. Harry had thought of this moment so many times, but never imagined it would happen for real.

“You wanna stop, you tell me, ok?” he whispered.

She nodded, eyes still closed.

“Gonna let me show you that I’m good enough to think about you?” he teased. “Gonna let me show you what I’ve been thinking about?”

That strong, dominant energy was still there in her body, and he felt it. But at the same time, he felt her relaxing into him, giving him the chance to prove himself to her.

“Harry, if you don’t kiss me right now I swear to fucking god I’m gonna-”

He cut her off, smashing his lips into hers. The kiss was hungry, strong, eager, but not so desperate that he was rushing things. Harry took his time, appreciating the way her soft lips felt against his own, taking one between the two of his and sucking on it hard to try and get a reaction. Feeling her breathing getting heavier out of her nose, he knew she was responding how he had hoped.

The hand on her back traveled around then and found her breast, grabbing at it firm but gentle. She let out a small gasp, and Harry took advantage of the opportunity to let his tongue enter mouth. Her taste was amazing, and he couldn’t get enough. If they made her taste into an ice cream, he would buy it by the gallon and go through it on a daily basis, he thinks.

His left hand continued to knead at her breast, and he quickly learned based on her reactions how she liked it best. Her hair was falling around them in a curtain, and he felt like they were in their own little world where no one could interrupt. She ground down on his lap again, and he broke the kiss just enough to let out a soft groan at the feeling. He was only getting harder.

“Show me,” she whispered against his lips.

“What?”

“Show me. Show me what you do when you think of me when I’m not around.”

She sat up then, disconnecting their lips much to Harry’s chagrin. A small whine escaped his mouth before he could think to hold it back. He felt so on edge already, and she was just teasing him.

“Go on, show me,” she urged again, sitting back on the opposite side of the couch.

At first, Harry stared at her blankly, eyes wide. But when she laughed and reached to undo the button on his pants, something clicked in his brain and he sprung into action. He shimmied his pants down to his ankles and sat up, resting against the back of the couch as he started to palm himself over the thin fabric of his boxers.

“I don’t think that’s what you do when you’re alone,” she whispered. “I think you’re just teasing me. And that’s not very good, is it?”

He shook his head no and dipped his fingers under the waistband of his briefs. Pausing for just a moment, he looked at Y/N again - for her approval or for her consent, he wasn’t sure. But she nodded her head and he continued with his motions, leaving his bottom half completely bare.

His hard prick bounced up against his stomach, leaving a small patch of precum on his shirt. But he wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about the little gasp that came out of her mouth when he revealed himself to her.

With one hand tightly holding the base of his cock, he looked up at Y/N again.

“Is it... do you like it?” He cringed on himself after hearing the words he had pieced together. “I mean, do you-”

“Yes, Harry,” she cut him off. “It’s uh... it’s very pretty...big...” She was looking from his lap up to his eyes and back again as she spoke, and Harry’s ego had never been bigger.

“Bigger than you expected?”

“Yeah.”

“Big enough to make you feel good?”

“We’ll see,” she said with a smirk. “Now, are you gonna touch yourself or what? Hm?”

Harry nodded his head and focused on what he was doing again. He spit into the palm of his hand and spread the saliva along with the precum already leaking from his tip around his length. When it was wet enough, he started with long, slow strokes. He had never done this in front of another person before, especially not with that person just staring at him, evaluating him. It wasn’t long before he could feel the nerves building up inside of him.

“Y/N, I can’t... you’re just staring and it’s making me... I can’t...” he tried to explain between strokes.

“Do you want some help?”

Before Harry could even register what he was doing, he shook his head. Her hand clasped around him, and he moved his own to his thighs. Y/N’s hand was smaller and didn’t quite close all the way around him. It was softer and warmer, and felt better as she proceeded to drag it against him.

“Have I ever done this in one of your dreams?” she asked softly.

He nodded his head.

“Was it good?”

“Yes,” he said through a heavy breath, his fingers now digging into the skin of his meaty thighs. “But this is better.”

“Good.”

She smiled a crooked smile, and if Harry thought about it too much he was surely going to blow earlier than he wanted. So instead he closed his eyes and rested his head back on the couch again, elongating his neck as his adams apple bobbed with each harsh swallow.

“What else have I done in your dreams?” she egged him on.

“You... you’re mouth... you used your mouth.”

Quickly, she moved to sit on her knees on the floor between his legs. She stuck out her tongue and left a kitten lick to his tip. “Like this?”

“No.”

Leaning down, she swirled her tongue around the head. “How about this?”

“Not quite.”

“Oh you meant like this...” she trailed off before opening her mouth wide to accommodate him, taking his first few inches into her mouth and hollowing out her cheeks to suck on him.

He moaned in response, which only encouraged her more.

Y/N started to bob her head up and down, his girth stretching out her lips. She looked up at him beneath her long lashes, even as her eyes started to water a little bit. When she needed a break, she licked up and down his entire length, then took his balls into her hand to massage them gently.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned.

“Still better than the dreams?”

“Yes, shit.”

“Good.”

Without any other warning, she took him back into her mouth and swallowed him down as deeply as he could go. Her nose was pressed into the soft, curly little hairs at his base, and his hand came flying down to find purchase in her hair. He didn’t force her, but he used his grasp to encourage her to stay as long as possible as he felt the back of her throat. She gagged on him repeatedly before she lifted off with a gasp and watery eyes.

After taking a moment to catch her breath, she started to lean down again, but he stopped her with his grip still resting in her hair.

“Baby, I swear to god... you’re amazing. So amazing. But if you do that again I’m not gonna last.”

“You don’t usually cum in your dreams?” she asked.

“Shit... I do but... this isn’t a dream, yeah? Gotta take care of you. Dreamed about doing that loads of times too.”

“H,” she said softly, tilting her head to the side. “It can be my turn when I’m done with you, ok?”

Silently, he nodded his head and she got back to work. She was a woman on a mission and she wasn’t going to rest until Harry had shown her exactly how good he was feeling. With a brutal pace she worked his cock up and down, taking him deep after realizing how loudly he moaned when she gagged around him. He was a squirming, whimpering, blubbering mess by the time he was about to cum.

“Where do you want to cum, Harry?” she asked, hand still working him while her mouth took a break.

“In your mouth, fucking shit, Y/N. Not gonna last much longer...” he warned.

“Don’t want you to last,” she responded. “Want to feel you shoot down the back of my throat. Want to taste it, lick you up. Swallow it all. Not gonna waist any of it, hm?”

He groaned at that, once again letting his head fall backwards. She took him back into her mouth quickly after that, which was good considering he only lasted another 30 more seconds or so. When he felt his head tap against the back of her throat, followed by the tightness of her gagging on him, he just couldn’t hold on any longer.

With a loud moan and calls of her name, he came exactly how he wanted to. Exactly how he had dreamt about in the past. His stomach muscles clenched and he couldn’t help but pull tightly on her hair. As he eventually started to cool down, he opened his eyes and saw the blissed out look on Y/N’s face as she took all that he had to offer.

Yeah. This was a lot better than his dream.

MASTERLIST | PATREON

#yo #writing

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masterwords · 1 month

Text

curve of the earth

Summary: Hotch & Gideon go undercover in Astoria to try and find a serial killer's ex wife. Hotch also manages to find love…and more secrets.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 11.8k

Warnings: see AO3 tags

Notes: Kindergarten COP AU, because I'm a sucker for undercover stories. That's all. Sorry for never updating my big stories, writing isn't really vibing right now. My head's not in it. I'll get there! In the meantime, enjoy this spectacle of borderline crack-fic proportions.

********************************************************************

“When we land in Portland,” Jason said, breaking into his third bag of airline peanuts. They were so salty that his fingers were coated after the first couple and Aaron had to turn away in order not to see when the salt dusted his lap. It was a short flight but he claimed to be famished. Aaron had given him his own bags, preferring to stick only to a small cup of iced club soda while Jason ate almost non-stop since they’d met up that morning. Aaron was staring out the window, skimming the clouds as the sky went from bright blue to the pale gray of the northwest. It had been too long since Aaron had been here, a fact that made him feel weary. He hadn’t lived here long but it became part of him and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until he started to get close.

Jason continued munching on his salted peanuts and talking a little too fast about what the plan was. They’d been over it multiple times already but once more wouldn’t kill either of them, Jason figured. He had a lot of nervous energy and flying across the country, being cooped up in a passenger airliner in coach, he had nowhere else to put it. His knee bounced, his voice droned on and he only interrupted the plan by more eating.

They hadn’t been working together long but Aaron had already become well acquainted with Jason’s endless nervous energy. “You listening?”

“I am. You’ll go to the baggage claim, I’ll get the rental car. I’m driving because I’m familiar the region. Got it.” He didn’t mean to be short, he just didn’t have all of that nervous energy. In fact, he had none. What he did have was a headache.

As they crested the airspace over central Oregon, Jason’s stomach grumbled. He burped, pressing his fist to his mouth to try and hide it, and Aaron did his best not to pay it any mind. About ten minutes later he was rubbing at his stomach and Aaron had a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.

“Everything alright?”

“Not feeling too hot. I’m sure it’ll be fine by the time we land.”

“Couldn’t possibly be something you ate…” Aaron muttered with a smirk that Jason didn’t care for. He’d put more food into his mouth in the time they’d been together than Aaron usually did in two days. Five minutes after that first burp, Jason was pulling the little white puke bag from the chair in front of him and resting it gingerly over his lap. Just in case.

Read the rest on AO3!

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds #hotchgan

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lovelywingsart · 1 year

Text

//AU// An Odd Friend

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

And on we go! This one is a little short and kinda went a little off from what I intended, but hey, that's how these guys work in my brain... But it turned out alright, I guess!

This is a small important one, of course... And introduces a new 'character'!~ You may already know who it is. uwu

**Remember, check out the Masterlist for more! <3**

-----

*Warnings?: Curious child, possible child endangerment???, very very worried parents, a sweet little heisendad interaction at the end (I just really love him being a dad so that's what you're gonna get)

Summary: All kids need friends! Thankfully a certain little boy might have just found a friend of his own... But it's not exactly the kind of friend a parent would be happy about.

It was quiet- TOO quiet, at least for Adalwulf. Even with the droning machinery he had grown up with thus far, it all seemed like natural noise to him... No odd sounds or clanging, not even a huff or screech from his mother traveling around the easiest way she knew or a crash from his father throwing things about as he sometimes did. No, it was simply just... Silence.

And while he was used to it, it made him restless.

And so the young boy currently wandered the cavern with small humming, occasionally skipping or climbing an odd box or pipeline. Of course, his parents had warned him to be careful... And he was! He made sure of it himself. He listened to their rules, mostly, and was still able to wander. But even now there were parts of the factory he hadn't explored that they said nothing about, so he figured a little adventure every now and then couldn't hurt... It was his whole world, after all.

His small skips turned into a full jog as he raced the new piping along the walls, his bright eyes traveling along the metal with his imagination racing. He could imagine his momma as a beast, her big beast he loved to cuddle with when she could. He imagined the beast running with him, skittering across the walls and ceilings as she often did, and it only made him grin and run faster. Maybe he could convince her to so do later that day if they weren't busy... If he ran now, maybe he could race her and win!

He rounded one of the many corners at a full sprint, only to suddenly come to a near skidding stop as he encountered a small dead end hallway with a single, non-mechanical door. Well, THIS was new... He'd never encountered a dead in his home end before. He thought it went on and on... Or it at least looked like it did. He tilted his head with a small, questioning hum, looking at every little thing in the surrounding area to be aware of any dangers present. Yet there were only a few lanterns, and no sound coming from the unsealed door to give off any possible threat... None of the creatures his mother worked around, and no sign of life otherwise. And so he moved forward again, turning to the door.

It didn't seem to have any outward locks, nor did it seem to have much of a way to lock in general. He patted the edges for a moment, sending out his own small power as if scanning the door itself, just like he had been taught. No internal locks, either... His curiosity only grew as he carefully pushed at it, watching it swing open near silently.

No sound came from the room even as the door was opened, and he wandered in cautiously. The room itself seemed to be another small workshop, one of many his father kept around under the explanation of not wanting to stay in one place for too long. But this one seemed... oddly bare compared to the few he had been in. One he had forgotten about, maybe...?

He looked around for a few seconds before fully wandering in, seeing the usual boxes and small cabinets, as well as a table to two against the wall. But he soon froze as he passed the length of the door to see the other side.

Standing against one of the tables to the far side was one of his fathers creations- a Soldat, he remembered them being called.

The thing was large yet somewhat thin despite it's muscular structure, taller than both of his parents by a small bit- certainly much larger than him. It stood still and slightly hunched over as if were a weighted mannequin or statue of sorts, its head hanging to it's front. Closer inspection after a few steps showed wires connected to its back and shoulders as if holding it in place for his father to work on the joints as he had mentioned before, or something else he hadn't told him about... But it seemed to be deactivated, or at least not functional enough to be with the others.

He tilted his head at he stared at the still mechanical being, his eyes immediately being drawn to the unlit reactor in its chest once they left the wires. It soon stuck him that this was a full creature- It was a finished one. He had never seen a completed one so close before... Only in the distance of the cavern on the lines that always looked fun to ride on. The most he had ever seen was the occasional mildly disassembled one he had been allowed to help with, but he was nearly forbidden from interacting with the completed ones, so much so that his father had always told him to go when they were close to being finished. That knowledge alone made him immediately nervous, but...

He couldn't help but look behind him, almost afraid one of his parents would come rounding the corner. They'd definitely be mad for sure if they caught him here.

He finally looked back at the creature, giving a huff before walking closer with mild confidence.

He stood in front of it now, his eyes moving along the stapled skin and pipe-like wires from the things chest, looking into the reddish black innards he could see through them. It was like a giant patchwork doll, he thought, seeing the 'seams' along the skin that circled its shoulders and chest. But it didn't scare him... No, it quite honestly fascinated him, much like the dismantled ones he assisted his father with every now and then. Reaching up to poke at one of the thick industrial staples proved to be even more thought invoking, as did the surprisingly stiff, leathery skin it held together. His eyes traveled up to the unlit reactor once more, tilting his head with a small hum before reaching up for it. Maybe if he just-

A single tap to the creatures chest led to a spark and a sudden motor running, making the boy jump back with a startled yelp as the thing jerked to 'life'. His eyes widened as the red reactor suddenly flared to life, watching with a slightly rising fear as the creature straightened itself out with a growling grunt. It stiffly stepped forward as he scrambled back, disconnecting itself from the wires holding it with multiple pops and loud hisses- but it didn't move farther. In fact, it seemed as if it struggled to move. He stared at it in mild fear, his wide eyes darting between its head, the reactor, and the massive drill bit on it's arm he hadn't noticed before until the motor began to rev into activation. The sharp edges hadn't begun to occur to him before this, being so focused on the construction of the thing, though they were the only thing now plaguing his brain as he listened to the hum of the motor... But it wasn't moving. Not towards him, not away... Not at all.

It took him a moment to breathe, watching the things face as its somewhat mangled jaw shifted slightly with another low growl, its yellowish teeth clicking as it did. But he relaxed a small bit as he took a step away, though went on guard again as the creature also shifted- but it stopped just as quick, and he tilted his head again. It almost seemed... calm. No sudden movements, no destruction, no attacking, MUCH different than how his parents had described them... Especially his mother.

"... Hello...?" He said cautiously, lifting his arm to wave. He didn't want to run, so it was the only thing he could think to do.

He jumped as the thing moved yet again, though watched as it simply lifted the non-drill arm and jerked it slightly, resulted in a slow, mechanical mimic of his movements-

The thing was waving back at him.

He stated at it for a moment before slowly waving again with a confused gaze, watching as it did the same. He moved his arm out to the side, then moved it up and down in a near flapping motion, starting to giggle as he watched the creature do the same with a seemingly strained grunt, as if it hadn't quite learned to move fully.

"You're not so bad... I think you're kinda cool." Adalwulf smiled, taking a step closer once more. He held out his hand in front of him in a peaceful gesture, watching the thing mimic him once more.

He lifted his arm higher to meet it's hand, nearly touching it's stiff fingers; though he only stopped as the creature froze in place with a sudden clicking of the motor on its arm and the reactor, jerking unnaturally as if it attempted to move but couldn't. A moment later it shut off on it's own with a small sputter coming from the motor itself, its arm falling to its side and its head hanging once more just like how he found it. He frowned, reaching up to tap the reactor, hoping to make it spark to life again. Did... Did he break it...?

"Adalwulf..."

A low, careful voice sounded from behind him, causing him to gasp and jump before he whirled around. His face fell as he saw his father- no, BOTH parents- standing at the door with wide eyes. He barely had time to recognize the sheer look of terror on his mothers face before his father finally stepped forward.

"Back away from it. Slowly." He said, keeping his eyes on the creature as if focusing on keeping the motor off. Judging by the gentle pulses of his power, that's exactly what he was doing.

"... You know these things are dangerous, pup..." the man started slowly, carefully nudging him back as soon as he reached him. Adalwulf frowned fully.

"But I-"

"You shouldn't have been down this way." He continued, taking his eyes off the creature for a moment to look at him. "There's no monitors here, you know better."

"I have a radio...!" The boy chimed, patting the small one he kept at his side with a pout. Heisenberg shook his head.

"We need to see you, pup. And this one hasn't even been fully wired, we don't know what it could've-"

"But it was waving at me...!!" He protested immediately, cutting him off. The man jerked back slightly, mildly stunned. Actually, it was more like he was somewhat horrified.

"... Excuse me??"

"Yeah! It waved, Papa! I swear!"

His father paused, his brows knitting in confusion.

"That's not-"

"I mean it, look!!" He nearly pleaded, suddenly darting forward and dodging the man's attempt to reach and grab him.

He nearly skid to a stop in front of the creature with how fact he moved, reaching up to press his entire palm to the reactor to send his own pulse through, instantly pushing away his fathers powers with a huff. More small sparks made the motor jumpstart once again with a few sputters, and he took a step back with confidence.

"ADALWULF-" his mother started, immediately darting forward after him, only to be stopped by his father suddenly lifting a hand in front of her.

Both watched as the boy lifted his hand again, watching the creature as it slowly but surely did the same.

Adalwulf gave a small smile and raised his hand to the side to wave, watching as the creature slowly copied his movements in the same slow, jerky motion as it had done so before. He could feel the near horrified stares of his parents at his back, his mother specifically, hearing her whisper to his father in near desperation.

"… Please tell me you're moving it…" she spoke quickly, her voice that of a quiet horror.

"I'm not doing a damn thing, Doll…" his father replied quietly, his own voice filled with an odd, fascinated worry. But he kept his attention on the creature in front of him, slowly moving his arm every which way and watching its mimicry.

"See??" He said, twisting his upper body slightly to the side as if stretching his back, only to giggle as the creature followed suit. It was only then that he had an idea, immediately darting to the things side.

His parents watched as the thing slowly turned, it's movements slightly clunky and hard as it seemed to attempt to keep up with the boy circling it. It's feet dragged on the ground unnaturally as if it were about to tip any moment, but somehow it stayed upright. His father lowered his arm from his mother, only to take a step forward.

"That's… not supposed to be possible…" Heisenberg said quietly, hesitantly followed by Emelia. She kept a horrified gaze, her arm trembling and pulsing with every desire to tear the thing to pieces from the proximity it was to their son alone.

"What the bloody fuck do you mean 'not supposed to be possible...?!" She hissed, and he shook his head.

"When I said it wasn't fully wired, I meant to the brain and spinal cord for circuits to the joints and muscles." He said flatly, keeping his stare forward. "They stay upright in this phase with the connections in the joints themselves, but nothing was connected properly... Most it'd potentially be able to do is turn on and stand straight, maybe jerk around if I tested it hard enough. It's not supposed to be moving fully, that's for damn sure..."

Emelia broke her stare to look at him with a wide eye, her jaw nearly open.

"Then how did he-"

He shook his head.

"I have no idea."

She looked forward again as Adalwulf paused in front of them once more, waiting for the creature to stop it's jerky movements before reaching up and patting the reactor with a grin.

"See?? I told you-" he started, turning to look at them, only to pull his hand away instantly as he saw his father make a brisk walk to the things side. The man was silent as he circled it, his eyes drifting over every inch of the creatures torso, fiddling with each outer connection in a confusion filled fascination.

"I don't understand..." he mumbled, finally circling to the things front before messing with the reactor on its chest and the piece on it's head. Adalwulf tilted his head, moving next to him.

"Papa? What are you doing?" He asked, watching the man's nose scrunched in mild frustration.

"Trying to figure out how the hell you got it to move." He said simply, suddenly using his power to undo the bolts in the chest reactor. He popped the cover off, and while he didn't reach in, he inspected the glowing core closely. "It's not supposed to be this functional... It could be a strange positive defect from your power interacting with the-"

"... Are you gonna shut it down...?" Adalwulf asked quietly, and his father froze. The man suddenly looked at him.

"What...???"

He swallowed slightly, but stepped closer as his eyes shifted between the things face and the open reactor core.

"Are you gonna shut it down because it's not supposed to move...?" he asked again, his small voice a sad tone that made both parents freeze. His father kept his eyes on him before looking back to his mother, who now held a stunned, yet conflicted expression.

"... uh..." he tried, his mind truly drawing a blank. What the hell was he supposed to say?? The kid clearly seemed to enjoy it, not to mention the surpassing of the impossibility of the things functionality because of him...

"... N-... No... Uhm... Most likely not..." he managed, tapping the reactor for a moment before closing it again and tightening the bolts. He thought for a moment before clearing his throat. "I'll need to do some tests on it, though. Figure out exactly what made it move-"

"But you said I did...?"

"Well, yes, but I don't know how you made it move." He managed to calm slightly, easing back into a regular form of speech as he stepped away from the creature. "I don't know exactly what this specific one is capable of now, pup. And while it's moving, it's not moving... properly."

Adalwulf was quiet for a moment before suddenly smiling.

"Maybe I can help!"

"Adalwulf, darling, those... things are still dangerous..." his mother piped in, her gaze shifting between the three of them. His father cleared his throat.

"And you're still in trouble for coming down here in the first place." The man said clearly, nodding to step away from the thing. He did, albeit with a small pout- but his father sighed.

"... Maybe."

Both mother and son looked at him with wide eyes.

"WHAT??" Emelia said, her tone that of disbelief. Adalwulf smiled again, nearly bouncing on his heels.

"Really???"

"Yes. Maybe." Heisenberg said, nudging him back again and finally letting the creature power down once they were far enough. "And BEFORE you chew my damn head off,-" he glanced at Emelia, "This will be the only one- and I mean only one. Any more 'accidents' and I will let your mother 'dismantle' them." He looked back at his son. "Am I understood?"

Adalwulf nodded.

"Yes, Papa."

"And your mom can figure out what to do with you for coming down here." He said casually, nearly snorting as the boy pouted and his mother rolled her eye. She was calmer now, but still on edge from being in the room with the thing.

"No matter, that thing stays down here... I don't want it interfering with work..." she mumbled, slowly backing away to the door once they started to move forward. But she looked at their son with an arched brow. "And your punishment will be staying with one of us for a few days while we work, even if you get bored." She then looked at his father. "And YOU get to travel the caverns down here as well to place monitors anywhere he may decide to wander. And I mean anywhere."

She couldn't help but give a small laughing huff as both boys groaned.

"I don't wanna be bored..." Adalwulf frowned, and his father gave a huff.

"You and me both..." Heisenberg grumbled, watching as the boys mother shrugged and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"I trust you two will figure it out." She said, and he snorted.

"What about one for me too, eh?" He joked, but she simply snorted and headed out the door.

"I'll think about it." She said, knocking slightly on the wall as she walked away.

Adalwulf let out a small giggle as his father grunted again, though couldn't help but look back at the now resting creature.

"... Papa?" He started quietly.

"Hm?"

"Are they really so dangerous...?"

His father paused for a moment, tilting his head in question.

"Well, not to me..." he started, finally leading him to walk out. "And I suppose maybe not to you... But this could be a specific 'one-and-done' case."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why not to you? Why is it specific?"

"Hm." His father let out an amused huff. "Well, in my case it's this damn parasite." He said simply, closing the door behind them and taking his hand. "I created them with its influence. Used my power to make them work. Influenced the other little parasites in them, too. They won't attack me because I can control them, and it's why they will go after your mom. They don't have a trace of her parasite like they do mine, so they won't listen." He tilted his head. "But... You're a bit of an odd case, kiddo."

"'Cause I don't have one...?" He offered. His father nodded.

"Precisely. My power is in your blood. Nothin' extra." He shook his hand a little, making him giggle again. "Judging off of that poor bastard in there, that little bit in your blood may have a few effects we didn't know about... But seeing as how that one wasn't finished, it could have just been jump started... Don't know about the full ones entirely, but I have a hunch it may be the same."

Adalwulf looked at him with mild confusion.

"Why??"

Heisenberg tilted his head.

"Because they didn't attack your mom when she was pregnant with you."

"But why can't I go near them then??" He asked with a small frown, and his father only shrugged.

"Because we weren't sure if it would change when you were here, and she wasn't risking it."

The answer was simple enough, and he was quiet for a moment before nodding. His father looked at him for a moment before sighing.

"Please don't do that again, pup... I mean it." He said quietly. Adalwulf looked at him and met his gaze, only to frown at the slowly appearing exhaustion and genuine concern. "You had us both worried. Unfinished or not, the fact it was moving could have been bad for you... You could have gotten really hurt."

He kept his fathers gaze for a moment before looking down.

"... I'm sorry, Papa..."

Another small shake of the arm.

"I know. I forgive you, but that's only because you're ok and it interested me enough to want to follow up... but the one you really need to say that to is your mom." He lowered his voice a bit. "Those things have been at her ass for years now... If one of them hurt you, I don't really want to imagine what she'd do." His tone was quiet and gentle, and he looked forward again. "Like I said, you shouldn't have been down anywhere without monitors anyway. You can run around, but you need to somehow stay where we can see you just in case anything happens and you need help. Alright?"

A small nod.

"Alright, Papa... I won't do it again..." Adalwulf spoke quietly, though looked up again with a nudge to the shoulder.

"Hey, now. Don't be too down about it... Maybe I can convince her to let you down with me when I get monitors down here, hm?" He suggested, and the boy smiled.

"Really??"

"Not too often, but we'll see... For now you're stuck with me until she gets you."

"Ok..." he pouted slightly, but then glanced back. "... Papa?"

"Hm?"

"If it only moved because of me, does that mean I can have it????"

"Can you-" Heisenberg paused fully now, stopping mid step. His brows knit in confusion before looking at him. "'Have it'?? Why would you even want it???"

Adalwulf shrugged with a small smile.

"I think it's cool...! It could be my friend!"

Friend????

His father stared at him for a few moments before looking forward and chewing on the inside of his cheek in a genuine dilemma. And he thought the kids mother being friends with the Fish Freak was bad, but his son and one of the Soldats, of all things?? While he knew full well there was no one else to even consider, the kids heart was still big enough to think of one of them as friend material... Oh dear lord, freedom couldn't come soon enough.

Heisenberg was silent for a few moments before finally starting to walk again, clearing his throat.

"... I'll think about it. Don't tell your mom."

14 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too.

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it.

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo.

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away.

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy.

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences.

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife.

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would.

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.”

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you.

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication.

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign.

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you.

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in.

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is.

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever.

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe.

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you.

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin.

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place.

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her.

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign.

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?��

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator.

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening.

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold.

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law.

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally.

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide.

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite.

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit.

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites.

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with.

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you.

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same.

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick.

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is.

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind.

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you.

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second.

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind.

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him.

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland.

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance.

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere osamu miya #yandere osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere osamu miya x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: infidelity #angst #drunk reader #manipulation and gaslighting ahead y'all #dilf osamu

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47crayons · 3 years

Text

so, you want to write a musician?

about me: i play viola and have experience in symphony orchestras, string orchestras, string quartets (+ a few other small ensembles), and solo performances. i've done some light composition, and have friends/family who play other instruments. while my musical history is extensive, by no means do i know everything or speak for everyone.

this guide will focus on classical music/how to portray classical musicians and things that aren't as easily researched.

quick overview of instruments in a typical symphony orchestra

upper strings (violin, viola), lower strings (cello, (double) bass; i've seen viola included here too, but it's more commonly classified as upper strings)

strings also technically includes harp and piano

woodwinds (flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon)

depending on instrumentation, they may also have piccolo, english horn, bass clarinet, contrabassoon

saxophones are not traditionally in symphony orchestras due to it being a relative newer instrument! but this is changing because more contemporary composes are including sax parts

brass (trumpet, trombone, bass trombone, tuba, euphonium)

percussion (depends heavily on instrumentation, but common instruments are bass drum, timpani, snare, crash cymbal, xylophone, marimba)

some things you should research

where the hands are supposed to go!! i'd recommend you look at pictures of professionals in orchestra settings (ny phil, cso, berlin phil are all top tier). some musicians *coughs at yoyo ma* have less than perfect posture when they're performing solos (for the same reasons famous authors can break "rules")

necessary equipment including reeds, rockstops, different kinds of sticks/mallets, rosin, mouth pieces for whatever instrument you're writing

common misconceptions

loose/photocopied sheet music is not aesthetic—it's annoying and impossible to keep organized. folders and binders are fairly common especially when managing multiple ensembles.

original copies are often expensive and required to perform a piece (legally) for profit or otherwise (though i know a few people who have bent this rule)

not all performers are good composers (i myself have very little formal music theory training), but many composers have performance histories.

not all musicians can sing.

perfect pitch is both a blessing and a curse. notes can be slightly lower/higher but in tune with the context of the piece, which drives people with perfect pitch insane.

having perfect pitch does not guarantee someone will be a prodigy, and people don't need perfect pitch to be a talented musician.

drama in ensembles does exist, but it rarely gets in the way of rehearsal. same thing goes for good friends: if your characters have even a shred of common sense, they aren't going to be talking/messing around during rehearsal.

instruments (especially good ones) are extremely expensive. people very rarely store instruments on the wall or other displays for fear of falling.

instruments are very picky and require tuning every time. every time! it doesn't take long anyway. temperature and humidity can and will make instruments go out of tune or damage your instrument if not properly stored.

some people listen exclusively to classical music, but in my experience, that's definitely not the majority

like with anything, most musicians struggle with self doubt at one point or another.

musician culture

getting excited when we hear a piece we recognize

getting frustrated because we can't remember the name of the piece (after all, no lyrics to search)

being horrified when a non-musician actor is playing a musician. yes, we notice. yes, it's obvious.

if people are joking, it's likely to be about: violas (a quick search for "viola jokes" will tell you all you need to know) or trumpets (a reputation for being overly loud, playing and not)

putting stickers (places they toured, their orchestra, or just purely decorative) on cases is common, but not for everyone. same goes for pictures (of family, past concerts, or anything) on the inside.

scrambling for a pencil when the conductor says to mark something. pencils are a musicians best friend :D

asking (and forgetting) how to split double stops/two parts at the same time. sometimes one stand partner will play the top while the other plays the bottom, and sometimes this is split stand by stand.

this has NEVER resulted in a sexual top/bottom joke. please just. don't. also no g string jokes. it's just unrealistic.

awaiting the obligatory "it's one week before our concert, and you sound like this?!" lecture

not talking about music 100% of the time!!! they have lives outside of music (most of them, at least /j). especially to close friends, music is probably not going to be a conversation topic unless something is out of the ordinary (high stress, something funny from rehearsal, etc.)

bragging/talking about how often they practice is generally not welcomed. great, but other people don't need to hear it!

stages are hot and bright. there's no way a performer can see someone in the audience with the possible exception of the first row.

practicing

three words for you: love. hate. relationship.

slow practice (like really slow lots of people recommend half speed; good for focusing on the right notes, tone, phrasing, smooth transitions)

metronome practice (while playing, it's not annoying at all! it's helpful and requires a lot of focus; when NOT playing, it's annoying and loud because it needs to be heard over the playing)

drone practice (having a machine/website/another person play one note in the background; good for tuning and scales)

and too many more for me to detail

auditions

ensembles may have entrance auditions to determine who gets in and seating auditions to determine placement within the section.

adrenaline does not make us play better; it just makes us make mistakes. and then thinking about those mistakes causes more mistakes.

some instruments, especially those with less repertoire, have common excerpts that come up frequently (i can think of one in particular that i've played for three separate auditions this year).

stopping/starting over is not recommended ever, but if you do, it has to be 10x better. most audition judges aren't looking for perfection!! they want to see how your character can keep going after messing up.

sight reading (being given new music, having ~30 seconds to look at it, being asked to play) is never perfect. i don't care how talented your character is; if they think they nailed it, they aren't experienced enough to see all the phrasing/dynamics that they didn't incorporate. no one gets sight reading perfect!!!

perhaps most importantly, musicians are not all the same! they enjoy it for a number of different reasons and have diverse and interesting lives outside of music!!! more information about specific instrument groups under the cut :)

strings

callouses. with the exception of pianists, most string players (and especially professional ones) have callouses where they press down/pluck the strings. i also have one on my right thumb where i hold my bow. cellists and bassists might have them on their left thumb from playing higher notes in thumb position.

hickeys are also fairly common, though only some people get them. upper strings will get these by under their left jaw. cellists may have one from the wooden body resting on their sternum. some people (including hilary hahn and many many others) use a cloth for comfort and to prevent hickeys.

few people want a hickey, but it might suit a character who is constantly trying to prove themselves.

our fingers do not "glide" anywhere. you can get cuts/"string-burns" from pressing down too hard when shifting. cuts like those are the only reason someone's fingers will bleed, and it's rarer than you think.

upper strings are more prone to back/neck problems from the way they hold their instruments on one side. see also: shoulder pain.

finger cramps happen. they aren't too common, but most if not all strings have experienced at least one.

pianos require tuning every few years or else the chords will be out of tune. few pianists can tune their own instrument because of how complicated it is.

piano parts/accompaniments will have so. many. pages. a page turner may sit on the right of the pianist to turn the page.

woodwinds & brass

spit. so much spit. some instruments clean afterwards with a cloth; others have a spit valve which is as gross as it sounds.

proper embouchure, or how a musician uses the muscles in their face/lips, is tiring, and people actually get strong cheek muscles. they can also easily turn red, but it varies based on a person's facial complexion. see also: good lung capacity.

flute and piccolo are not dainty. piccolo requires as much air as a tuba. an old teacher of mine almost passed out playing piccolo when she was in college.

flutes and piccolos are high, but often not shrill depending on the level of the ensemble.

reeds last a few weeks (less if your character plays for hours a day) and can be expensive to buy.

keys and valves can get sticky especially on older instruments which can result in the wrong note or bad tone.

saxes, clarinets, flutes are more likely to "honk" on low notes.

oboes are more likely to feel "wispy" on high notes.

articulation comes from the tongue, especially for brass instruments, and conductors may ask for "tah" "pah" or "wah" sounds depending on the style of the piece.

percussion

callouses from the friction between hands and sticks/mallets.

there are so many types of sticks and mallets!!! make sure to take a look at what materials are good for what instruments/sounds.

cymbals, triangle, and bass drum are not easy to play, even though they look simple.

percussionists with the exception of timpani may play more than one instrument during a piece, and they're constantly moving around in the back during their rests.

percussion instruments are too expensive for most people to have everything they ever play. practice pads are very common in place of these instruments.

ability to play one instrument doesn't translate to different instruments. for example, many percussionists don't have experience playing set/drum set.

some of the things detailed here are heavily glossed over, so if you have any questions, i'd always be happy to talk about it with you; i may not have answers, but i will try to help as best i can!!!

since you read this far, have my favorite viola joke.

what's the difference between a violist and a large pizza?

a large pizza can feed a family of four :)

tagging some people who showed interest: @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @kg-willie @owilder

#writing advice #writing resources #writing reference #music #wow this absolutely consumed me

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deluluass · 3 years

Text

What bliss, domesticity.

for: @tink2kagome. i’m sorry it took me so long to work on ur pretty setter squad request T^T i’ll probably do like another one in the future!

& @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa @belpomme @chaichai-the-weeb for being such lovely mutuals <3 <3

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; yakuza/organized crime; gun mention; a lot of (non-sexual) food references in this one

Jun’ichi Saikawa was obviously the kind of man who liked to laugh. Not unlike most people in their world. The kind who use their entire body when they do, announcing to the entire world with a bellowing “Ha Ha Ha!” how pleased they are with whatever’s going on in front of them.

Which, in all honesty, was pretty admirable, that the old man could still do it considering how bored to tears Wataru was.

That it’s a humid afternoon didn’t help either. He could feel the sweat on his back even when the doors were already slid open, exhibiting a verdant garden filled with blossoms and shrub peonies. From his place he could see the school of koi swirling in the shallow pond, their scales iridescent under the warm rays of the sun.

“Didn’t know you were the funny sort, 'Kaashi!” Saikawa blurted out, the sake in his hand spilling to his fingers.

This wasn’t Wataru’s first day on the job, but this is the first that he gets to do something this important. And with someone he highly respects, too.

So he gave his collar a light tug, steeling himself to endure as he tucked his legs further beneath him, and resorted to thinking about the many things he would absolutely surrender just to lie down on the warm mat.

His car, maybe.

The brand new noise-cancelling headphones he bought, if pushed.

Wataru saw Akaashi nod.

“I appreciate a joke every now and then,” he said.

The larger man laughed again.

“Here, here!” Saikawa thundered, snatching a tiny, yellow box from the maid who appeared as swiftly as she’d left.

“I heard you like sweets. Here,” he said, grinning as he handed it to Akaashi. “My youngest son just opened a cake shop. I know what you’re thinking, but who am I to say no, eh?”

Akaashi passed the box to Wataru.

“Mind it for me, please,” he whispered.

How unexpected. Akaashi-san has a sweet tooth.

Huh.

That’s pretty neat. Wataru himself wasn’t partial to cakes, but he does love pudding.

“You are a good father, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi told him.

This time, Wataru didn’t bother suppressing a yawn as Saikawa fumbled for his phone, hiding it behind his hand as he stared at the birds chirping and hopping about outside.

“Wanna see him? He’s much like you! Good head on his shoulders, that one.”

“I am honored, Jun’ichi-san,” Akaashi echoed back, peering down at the photos Saikawa showed him.

“He sends me a lot of these- uh,” Saikawa snorted, his nose reddened by the alcohol. “What do young people call it, the- pictures-”

“Selfies?” Akaashi politely supplied.

“That’s the one! Look. Precious, ain’t he?”

His earpiece crackled to life.

Konoha’s voice emerged from the static.

“We’re ready when you are,” his senior murmured. “Man, this is taking too long. Let’s get some burgers when we’re done.”

“Akaashi-san,” Wataru croaked, feeling his cheeks heat up as he continued, “K-Komi-san and the others are waiting for you.”

Saikawa perked up. “Ah, of course! Of course!”

He stumbled when he attempted to stand up. Akaashi was quick on his feet to assist him.

“I knew I could count on you, son,” he muttered, patting Akaashi’s back. “Now, you tell Bokuto that what happened between us- it’s all in the past! All in the past! And if those bastards mess with him again, you tell him to run to old Jun’ichi!”

Akaashi clasped Saikawa’s hand.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said. “I’ll be sure to relay your sentiments to Bokuto-san.”

“You do that, my boy.” Saikawa’s belly shook as he laughed. “Your generation’s a smart one, indeed. The in-fighting and wars, bah! All that trouble for nothing; that’s not your style. Your lot’s the future now!”

Then, Akaashi stepped a few meters back and bowed.

Wataru followed behind him.

“We will be taking our leave,” Akaashi said. “It has been an illuminating talk, Jun’ichi-san.”

The sound of the bamboo drip trickling water into another stalk permeated through the silence.

It collapsed and clunked against a stone.

He heard the birds flutter away.

When Wataru raised his head, Saikawa had already been lying face down on the floor.

And, of course, Wataru’s used to it: the crack of a gun muffled by a silencer.

He’s been practicing his entire life, after all. He actually doesn’t flinch anymore and Wataru thinks he should be proud of himself.

It’s just that... how could someone who used to be there, suddenly...disappear? Saikawa was right in front of him a few minutes ago. Laughing and showing off photographs of his son. And now he’s...not.

But, Saikawa didn’t disappear. Not really.

The blood seeping through the tatami is proof of it, but Wataru chooses not to look. In theory, he knows what a bullet through the skull looks like. He’d just rather not see today if what he’s taught reflects true in the real world.

Maybe some other time.

“Wataru.”

Wataru flinched. “Y-yes?”

Akaashi looked back at him. “The cake?”

His body was still trembling and it took a lot of strength to not let it show in his hands when he gave it back to Akaashi, the box pleasantly yellow with doodles of doe-eyed eggs dancing along the handle. Unblemished, unlike Akaashi, who was sporting a splatter of blood along his cheek.

It’s surprisingly still cool to touch, too.

“No, thank you,” he said, rejecting the handkerchief that Wataru offered.

From afar, Wataru could hear the faint melodies of an old love song being played by a car radio. No doubt Konoha’s doing. It followed them, growing louder the closer they walked back into the parking lot. The others bowed and sent gruff salutations along Akaashi’s way as they dragged bodies out of the Saikawa mansion.

(It was nauseating and Wataru wanted to pass out.)

He pressed his nails harshly into the meat of his palm.

“A-Akaashi-san,” Wataru began. “I didn’t know that- that um, you liked... sweets.”

Akaashi halted.

“No, I don’t,” he said, blinking. “But my wife does.”

Wataru stared at him.

Akaashi went ahead.

He stayed that way— staring and wondering, until they stopped by the fast food restaurant that Konoha loved so much. Wataru couldn’t even finish his burger and fries.

By the time that they hit the freeway, Akaashi had already cleaned himself up and Wataru was still grappling with the word “wife.”

Of course he knows the man is married.

But, how, exactly, do you reconcile his reputation with the sight of him, every passing headlight sharpening his features, quietly humming along to Aki Yashiro? Who was longing for Shinjuku at night, the beauty of it, and oh, how wonderful it’d be, she said: a rendezvous with her lover, waiting for her under raining cherry blossoms.

Wataru figured that he was tired and starting to see things.

That small smile that graced Akaashi’s lips couldn't be real, either, especially those hands of his that held the box of cake like it’s worth more than gold.

He wasn't really particular when it comes to music. A song's a song, in Akaashi's opinion. Another form of noise that helps when the silence gets too overbearing.

But you, on the other hand, liked music. Listened to it the same way one eats their favorite food: memorizes the lyrics; goes out of your way to collect unearthed photographs and newspaper clippings that made the singer seem more human.

You loved music— was probably the right way of putting it.

Especially the old variety. He didn't get it at first. The sounds are dated; no one speaks in that language with that cadence anymore; the singer's probably dead.

Well, Akaashi still doesn't get it, if he were to be honest.

Yet here he is.

His hands were wrapped around your waist, coaxing you into a slow— albeit clumsy, waltz.

"Kei-kun!" you squeaked. "The dishes!"

You dragged your slippers beneath you, struggling to wipe the suds off your hands.

"S-seriously, Kei-kun..!"

Sure, he doesn’t fully understand what’s great about it, music.

Yet here he is.

Perhaps it’s because he immediately recognized the first few notes this time, that’s why he’s doing this. He didn’t even wait for the DJ to finish saying, “You’re still listening to Vintage F.M. Here’s a classic for you couples out there. Have a romantic night with Nat King Cole’s L-O-V-”

Perhaps it’s because your cream stew tasted extra special that it made him shrug the fatigue off, giving in to the urge of pulling you close and taking your damp hand in his to sway and bob along the skipping bassline. Your bashful objections went in one ear and out the other.

Sure, he’s not the type to do this, either, dancing.

Yet here he is.

Perhaps it’s because he knew that it’s your favorite song.

Perhaps it’s just what marriage does to you.

"Did you like the cake?" he whispered against your neck, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and the way your skin jumped as he did.

Your breaths were shallow against his chest, but you managed a soft, “Yes, sweetheart. Thank you.”

Akaashi caressed your back, kneading the tensed muscles as he huffed.

“Good,” he murmured, trembling. “Good girl. What a relief."

It was endearing, how offbeat the both of you were. A shame, though, considering that Nat King Cole’s fervently insisting on love; that it’s all that I can give to you; that it’s more than just a game for two.

So Akaashi makes up for his two left feet by joining in. He pressed his lips to your forehead. How strange, your presence in his life. What did he do to deserve you by his side, for this contentment that thaws away the chill?

(He put a ring on your finger, is what he did. He deserves this.)

“Two,” he droned, made giddy by the sparks in his belly, “in love can make it.”

You looked at him, wide-eyed.

“Take my heart and please don’t break it.”

He spun you around.

“Oh my god, Kei-kun,” you gasped. “You can’t sing.”

Akaashi’s aware of it all too well. He can’t carry a note; not him: the guy who’s had monotony ingrained in his very being. But that’s why he has you.

A startled giggle left you as he guided you into a box step, the trumpet rising and falling over the strings. You stepped on him a few times, so he lifted you up, just so, and kicked off your slippers. Then, he set your feet atop his own.

He took you with him as he moved, waddling and careful not to hit his back against the countertop. It came as no revelation that both of you weren’t any better dancers even after this maneuver.

Akaashi continued. Starting with L—

“Is for the way you look at me.”

“Stop, stop-” Your eyes crinkled at the sides. “You’re flat.”

Akaashi persisted, anyway, taking your cheek to pepper kisses all over your face.

“O is for the only one I see.”

Your laugh was airy— light and buoyant all over the kitchen, like a fairy leaving stardust in its wake. Not gratingly booming nor demanding. After all, you weren’t the kind who felt the need for it: an audience to witness how pleased you are; how strong and powerful you are over everyone else.

Besides, your laugh was just for him. A private and intimate thing. And he was so lost in it that he almost forgot what’s been gnawing at him for the entire morning.

Akaashi rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling the downy fabric of your dress as he gripped you by the hips.

“Where did you go earlier?”

The orchestra was in a joyous uproar, joining the rapid beating of your heart; the trumpet bright and clear, singing in harmony with the bass and saxophones and trombones, as Nat King Cole repeatedly guaranteed, as if an oath, that love was made for me and you.

Love was made for me and you.

“I had to buy some groceries!” you piped up. “We ran out of ingredients. Sorry, I forgot to bring my phone with me. Oh, I have to run you a bath. I’ll tell you when it’s done, alright?”

You broke away from him with a beaming grin, but Akaashi wanted to ask, despite the evidence of it before him.

“Are you happy?”

It has already ended, the song. The DJ was signing off for the night.

You nodded, playfully jabbing his arm with a fist.

“Of course,” you told him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Perhaps it’s because you were never really good at pretense, no matter how much you hid behind needless noise.

Music. Laughter. Running water.

Akaashi sighed as he slumped down the nearest stool.

Of course you’re happy. Why wouldn’t you be?

After rubbing his eyes with clammy fingers, Akaashi fiddled them together beneath his temples. He released a heavy breath and fished for his phone in his pocket.

He spoke after the first two rings.

“Wataru-san, I’m sorry for bothering you,” he said. “Can you do something for me?”

His subordinate didn't ask him why, neither did he react when he'd stated his request. Akaashi knew, however, that the question was sitting in Wataru's clipped replies. The boy’s “yes, sir” and “understood, sir” were far too enthusiastic than normal.

Akaashi didn’t mind, though, if he did ask. And despite that familiar pang of dread, Akaashi would answer him like the common— just like the average, everyday husband— with that characteristic, bordering on irksome pride that they have when they talk about their wives.

Why?

“Well, Wataru-san,” Akaashi would answer. “Perhaps this is just what marriage does to you.”

The house was a house like any other.

There was an old pickup truck parked outside the freshly painted gate, carrying crates of fruits and vegetables in its trunk. Along the bricked walls was an overgrowth of vines and ferns. It extended around the windows and crept up the balcony.

A large Shiba ran outside and jumped to your lap as soon as it saw you by the driveway.

Wataru heard Chiaki stir at the back of the car.

“Pay up, asshole,” he grunted, waking a disheveled Ryota who’s still holding a half-bitten melon bread.

His lackey cracked his neck and gave the scenery a cursory glance. “Could be a front.”

Ryota grumbled and went back to sleep.

“Idiot,” Chiaki clicked his tongue. “She traveled all the way to Miyagi just to give intel? And here? Of all places?”

Three days.

They’ve tailed you for three days. Akaashi-san never said anything else, besides that within the week, while he’s gone and sealing deals in another country, there was a high likelihood of you folding and getting out of Tokyo.

To run right here. In Miyagi.

He didn’t say why, really, but Wataru supposes it’s better that he didn’t. Because during the days of absolute, mind-crushing boredom, of watching some suburban wife go out for a morning walk, chat with her neighbors, and shop around the market, rinse and repeat, coming up with the Why had been their only salvation.

The betting pool has two answers: cheater or snitch.

Chiaki was insistent on the former, while Ryota stood by the latter.

And Wataru...Wataru could only watch, waiting with a bated breath as the door finally opened.

“I bet it’s someone younger,” Chiaki said. “Usually is.”

Seems that none of them were winning anything today.

The man who emerged from the house was far older— who, oddly enough, resembled you. An old woman soon followed behind him. Both of them looked at you as if they were witnessing a specter, or someone who's crawled back from the dead. An appropriate comparison, especially since they’re both wearing somber black clothes.

It wasn’t his place to assume. Though he’s been promoted to a slightly higher position, it will never come close to the place that Keiji Akaashi occupies. Wataru knows all of these, but nothing was stopping him from putting the pieces together, no matter what little he has.

They could only stare when all of you broke down into tears, locked in each other’s embrace as you knelt on the pavement.

Don’t let her stay too long.

That had been one of Akaashi-san’s orders.

So the three of them didn’t wait it out. By the time that the sun had set, Wataru had already stepped out of the car, taking Ryota with him. He made sure to remind the boy, just in case he’d forgotten.

“Be gentle, alright?” Wataru reiterated.

There hadn’t been any need for that, it turned out.

He’s sure you’ve never met before, but Wataru saw bitter understanding flash in your eyes when you caught them loitering in front of your house. Fear was there, too, of course.

Wataru was convinced that surely it’s a good thing. It saved everyone a lot of time, that way.

You didn’t even say a word, only giving Wataru a stiff nod when he’d introduced himself, and remained like so on the ride back to Tokyo, with the strap of your handbag trapped by a clenched fist. Wataru didn’t try to initiate small talk; it felt unnecessary.

It took a while for Wataru to realize that you also hadn’t bothered to change out of your pajamas, though he gave you a couple of minutes to say your farewells.

Pajamas, obscured now by a thick, gray coat.

Akaashi-san was right.

You had no plans of coming home. Not tonight. Maybe not for a while.

Wataru decided not to linger on it anymore.

He ignored the blank stare that pierced right through the rear-view mirror. And then, Wataru wondered, hand sweating in his pocket, what the three of them should have for dinner.

Thick chunks of pumpkin melted in your mouth with just the first spoonful of broth.

It'd been a while since the last time Akaashi cooked. So, more than anything, it was the sight of him setting plates and utensils that took you aback, greeting you with a, "Welcome home. You're just in time. Food's ready," his sleeves rolled to his elbows while donning your baby owl-printed apron.

The taste didn't. Surprise you, that is. He's a good cook. Unlike you, who only became marginally better one hundred burn scars later.

It also didn't surprise you that he flew back home at the drop of a hat. Even when he said he'd be gone for a week.

"How is it?" Akaashi asked after chewing. "Took me a while to make it."

It obviously did, you thought. When you arrived, Irma Thomas was already begging through the record player.

"Do you need me, like I need you?" she implored, straight from the heart. "Look at me, I'm crying from holding you."

The last song on your favorite record. It was cheap and had the best from the artists you loved.

Etta James. Ella Fitzgerald. Aretha Franklin. The Mills Brothers. Bessie Smith. All in one vinyl.

"Yeah," you replied, clearing your throat when you realized how hard it is to speak. "It's delicious."

You looked back down to your bowl. The tofu had gone untouched. Your food was still close to spilling to the brim, while Akaashi was almost finished with his, scrolling on his phone laid on the table.

"So no one coaxed you into it," you heard him say, and that had ripped your eyes away from the broth like a bandage on an infected wound.

Akaashi was holding your phone, reading the messages- his number was the only one there, as pealing bells resonated in the dining room.

"I'd think of all the things that I wanted of you," cried Irma Thomas. "To make me forget the pain that you caused."

"I would've known if anyone else talked to you, anyway," he huffed, locking the screen before blowing steam off the morsel.

"You would," you conceded. The tofu was soft when you bit into it, sinking into your teeth.

"I found that in our cabinet. Last time it was in the kitchen drawer, wasn't it?" Akaashi helped himself to a bowl of rice. "Don't leave it in stuffy places. What if you forget where you hid it and you won't know when I call?"

"And I can no longer keep track of where you are for every moment of the day?" you could hear him say. Though he didn't; though all that could heard, besides the scraping of utensils, was Irma Thomas declaring:

A fragile thing, like life. It just don't last so long.

It could be for a minute or an hour. Or then again, from now.

Your lips tightened with a grin. "I won't do it again, sweetheart," you said, spoon hanging limply in your hold.

He didn't need to say it.

That your phone has a tracker. That this house is still the same cage that it'd been before. That the only difference between then and now is that silver band on your finger.

Akaashi’s blinked back at you as he sipped what remained of the soup. You tried to do the same.

The savory taste was cloying and it burned in your throat, so you didn't attempt to finish the bowl. It cut down to your heart, sinking heavily on your stomach, bile rising as the song came to a close.

You gulped it down, though. You had to. And in the final moments, Irma Thompson told you what she really wanted.

"Make me forget," she said, "the pain that you'd caused."

The chorus joined her. "Understanding is a great thing," she concluded. "If it comes from the heart."

Akaashi was on his own phone this time. Most likely checking on the business that he left, judging by those furrowed brows and that long-suffering look in his eyes.

Fizzling noise came at the heels of the fading music. Then, it stopped. And there was nothing left anymore but silence.

It's over now. Akaashi’s making a move to clean up. You were supposed to say, "That was a lovely dinner, honey." Or, you could tell him to sit down and watch a movie with you when he's done.

"I'll help you with the dishes," you wanted to say.

I'll help you with the dishes. It was so easy to say.

Instead, what came out of your mouth was a hushed call for his name.

"Kei-kun," you repeated, brittle and weak and dry.

"I'm so sorry," you might've mouthed.

You could barely hear your own voice as you looked at him. Akaashi paused from tidying the table.

You're parched and a lot has happened today. Gathering the courage to take that first step out of the city had taken what little strength you had. The fear never left you. Seeing your old house almost ended you.

It should be physically impossible for you to still be able to cry. And yet there doesn't seem to be an end to your tears now, the same way your apologies unfurled in an embarrassingly infinite string.

"Don't lock me inside here again," you whispered, clinging to him as he shushed you, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs as he helped you drink a glass of water.

He carried you to your room and sat you down on the bed, right between his thighs. You sobbed into your hands, tears and snot on the sleeves of your pajama top.

"I- I just wanted to see them. That's all. Just one day, Kei-kun. One day. I was gonna come back, I swear."

You're rambling. You're a madwoman pleading and bargaining with a stone-cold judge because playing house is the only thing keeping her alive.

And you messed that up you foolish, foolish girl.

"Please don't hurt my family," you heaved. "They're all I have left."

Akaashi doesn't speak, not for a while, but when he did, you bawled harder.

"I can kill them all," he said, matter of factly.

It is true. Hearing him say it does not make it easier to take, though.

"I can hurt you the same way that you hurt me."

Your neck strained as he tipped your chin towards him with a slender finger.

"I can break you," he muttered, not batting an eye.

That, too, is true. You know it all too well. He said it with such serenity, still and undisturbed by the shaking of your head, because it goes without saying.

Except, you, too, know it.

When he is breaking. When he is falling apart.

He smothered you, taking your entire body to curl against you, making himself small as he pressed his face on your back.

"Yet- and yet I-" Akaashi sniffled. You felt your shirt dampen. "I've given you everything."

When he finally brought his face close to yours, he looked so lost. Almost like a little boy who's on the verge of drowning, clinging desperately onto a lifesaver and too shocked to shout for help.

You hated him all the more for it.

"Each other," he said, snarling, almost, through tears as he grabbed your face with both hands. "That's all we have left, you hear? You and I. Husband and wife."

He seized your jaw and turned it towards the vanity mirror.

The room was dark save for the light in the hallway, peeking into the crack through the doorway.

But you could see yourself. And you could see your hand intertwined in his, your rings gleaming like muted starlights.

"We made a vow," he whispered, kissing your ring finger.

A detached part of you is astonished with how inescapable it is. Whether it be a reward or a punishment; a good day or a bad one.

No matter what happens, you always end up like this, don't you?

Begging to him with your legs spread wide.

You did as you'd always done when he began unbuttoning your top.

You go back to that autumn morning, when you first laid your eyes on him, a cup of coffee in his hand, and you thought that he had the prettiest face you'd ever seen.

You go back to when he was just this really romantic guy who sent you flowers every day. There was a letter, every time.

Nothing too grandiose. Just short messages hoping that you'd have a great day ahead.

He kissed your neck, wet smooches and long, flat-tongued licks dipping down your shoulder.

He watched you through the mirror, his eyes a pair of darkened blues daring you to look away.

Akaashi Keiji was your boyfriend, you told yourself. You dated him for quite some time before you married.

Akaashi Keiji got along well with your father and doted on your mother. On Sundays, you visit them and they send you back to Tokyo with ripe watermelons.

Akaashi Keiji has never hurt you.

The man tracing the hem of your bra, cupping your clothed tits and drawing lazy circles over nipples, however, did.

(And he still will in future. He still is, right now.)

This man is the real one.

And you have angered him, so he will not make this easy for you.

"What did you promise me?" Akaashi whispered as he lightly bit the shell of your ear. "Or have you forgotten?"

Of course, you haven't forgotten. You were chained to this very room when you made them, after all.

"N-no, I remember," you said, catching your breath. "I remember, Kei-kun."

"Then say it," he said. "Look at me."

You shivered as his palms swept over your stomach; as he unfastened your bra, letting it fall down your arms.

"Look at me when you say it."

You felt your nipples harden, gooseprickles spread all over you, as the air hit your bare skin, cooling the sweat that made it glisten.

"Please," he rasped.

The eyes of the woman in the mirror was hooded, threatening to close as she puffed with each squeeze and caress to her tits, swiveling her hips against her husband’s crotch as he grinded into her.

"I will be happy," she said.

Akaashi nuzzled your temple, using his rough fingers to tease your nipples just as he did, brushing them to and fro, then grazing the bumpy skin around until you're squeaking out his name.

And when he began pressing down on the stiff peaks with his thumbs, before rolling and pulling at them, the heels of his palm digging into your tits, you saw the woman claw at her husband's hair, a graceless affair that almost scratched his eye out, making him reach for both her arms to wrap them around his neck.

"I- I will..!" Her lips parted in a breathless scream and it was disgusting how lewd she appeared. "I will not run away!"

The streak of tears on his cheeks touched yours when he kissed you. His lips were soft and warm, his wet tongue gliding in so slowly as he deepened the kiss with a throaty groan.

His other hand crawled down to your soaked panties. You couldn't contain the mewl that left you.

Both of you gasped and struggled to breathe again after you parted from each other.

"You understand, don't you?" he rasped.

Two of his fingers slid down your folds, only to slither back up, then down again, smearing your cunt with its own slick.

But he never touched your swollen clit, even though it's throbbing and aching to be rubbed and the hard bulge sitting between your ass grew harder the more you squirmed in his hold, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

You heard your husband sigh, his hot breath tickling you when he said, "This isn't about you now."

Belly pushed into the edge of the dressing table, rattling and battering against the wall with each forceful thrust, and your leg perched atop it, made numb by Akaashi's grip on your thigh.

That was the first thing that you could recall when you opened your eyes.

But your entire body was screaming in pain, so you knew that everything else that happened last night would come back to you soon enough.

The flesh had a memory of its own.

You sat up with a groan and you didn't have to see the marks to know.

His teeth were still nipping at you, biting you until they drew blood, only to follow with an apologetic lapping of his tongue.

You could feel him beneath you, his hands clawing you down to him, palms kneading your ass cheeks as you bounced up and down on his cock.

You could feel him above you, gripping your wrists not unlike the cuffs that once kept you shackled. He had your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling you close to him, filling you up with loads and loads of cum, squelching every time he sank down your weeping hole.

And when your vision began to blur at the edges, he carried your body, mere seconds into fainting, to the dressing table.

The evidence of that stared back at you in shameful streaks and smudges, traces of your fingers on the mirror when he rammed your cunt from behind.

"Are you happy?" Akaashi whispered.

You don't know.

When he's just your husband who comes home to your arms and brings you sweets because he knows how much you love them; who dances with you in the kitchen and listens intently to you when you talk about that cute dog you saw at the park, were you happy, then?

You don't know, but the woman in the mirror, in that moment, surely was.

She even said, "Yes, yes, Kei-kun, right there, fuck me right there!"

Her pupils were blown wide, eyes rolling almost over to the back of her head. And despite the cries that escaped her, there was a wide, dissipated smile on her lips, spit trailing down her chin.

"Look at you," Akaashi said, grunting when your walls tightened around his shaft. "You're clearly happy with me."

"So why? Why'd you even think of leaving?" He rocked his hips, grinding his thick cock against that spot that had you holding onto the mirror. "Don't ever do that to me again."

You told him no, no, you won't run away again, but it didn't seem to placate his unease, nor his tears.

"I'm so scared, everyday, that you'll leave me and- and- it feels like hell. I would rather die."

He kissed your nape as he huffed and said, "Because I don't know what I'll do without you."

You never really understood why; what about you had caused him to single you out in the sea of people that had vied for his attention. Especially now as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

There were dark circles under your eyes and Akaashi’s t-shirt was rumpled on your body, engulfing you whole with its size— a far cry from that lovely, dazzling bride that his best friend, Bokuto, had described you as on your wedding day.

But you’re aware, more than anyone, that Akaashi Keiji is the last person to care about appearances.

When he entered the room, carrying a tray in his hands, he gazed at that disheveled girl with eyebags big enough to be dragged around the same way he looked at her when he waited for her at the end of the aisle.

“I made you pancakes,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he sat down beside you.

You were tired so it didn’t dawn on you as quickly as it should that he made them the way you preferred. Four fluffy pieces stacked atop one another, sprinkled with powdered sugar, whipped cream and a smattering of berries on the side.

He fiddled with his fingers when you only stared at it, so you immediately took the fork in your hand and sliced the pancake in half.

“I’ll be taking some time off work,” Akaashi said as you took the food in your mouth. You only nodded, having noticed that he wasn’t wearing the usual bespoke suit as soon as he entered the room.

You felt him near you; felt his hand, warm to touch, cup your face.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His eyes were misty and, this close, it seemed that he, too, wasn’t in a good shape. “So please-” Akaashi licked his chapped lips, “Please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” you replied, giving him the smile that you knew he needed. “I promise.”

Then, as you moved to kiss him on the cheek, the chains that tethered you to the bedpost clinked softly beneath the blanket, and you didn’t bother to keep the tears at the bay.

Akaashi wiped them for you when you said that you loved him. And when he asked why, you only shrugged and told him that the pancakes were so sweet that they could make anyone cry.

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x female reader #Dark content haikyuu #yandere akaashi keiji

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mackeydoodledoo · 3 years

Text

The Fifth Lord: Chapter 2

Pairing: Alcina Dimitrescu and (Fem!Dragon)Reader [non-romantic], Bela Dimitrescu x (Fem!Dragon)Reader

Summary: Your name is Y/n Dracul; The only ‘mutant’ that doesn’t have the Cadou Parasite. You already have some sort of power that impressed Mother Miranda; you were the first known Human-Dragon Hybrid. Although you have your own house, “House Dracul”. Your ‘house’ itself is basically an unused wing of Castle Dimitrescu.

Warnings: None?

A/N: So like- Y/n’s dragon form is different from Alcina’s. Y/n Dracul is based on the Dragon Slayers from an anime titled: Fairy Tail. Y/n’s relationship with Alcina is that similar to like close work colleagues. Aside form Donna and Mother Miranda, Alcina respects Y/n a lot. Fun Fact: “Dracul” is Romanian for Dragon or Devil

Ethan Winters is captured by Heisenberg and we take this chapter to the intro of the Five Lords.

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

As you enter the main hall, Bela and her sisters are seated before Alcina.

“Y/n, you and I are to go to a ‘family’ meeting,” Alcina says, taking a sip of her drink from her teacup

You nod as you seat yourself in a single seat, “When do we leave?”

“Right now,” She says, “Bela you are in charge of the castle until we reutrn.”

“Aww, Why can’t I watch the castle Mother?” Daniela pouts

“Because you will burn down the castle,” Bela states

“I do not!” Daniela looks at her elder sister

“Now now girls,” Alcina calms them, “My decision is final. No arguing while y/n and I are out. Understood?”

They nod their heads calmly.

“Good,” She says, “Let’s go y/n.”

You nod and begin following her before Bela takes your hand. You turn your head and she pulls you in for a hug.

“Keep that fly with you,” Bela whispers, “That way I’ll always be with you.”

You give Bela one last kiss before she let’s you go to go to the meeting.

“I’ve called you all here today to discuss this man’s fate,” Mother Miranda begins, “The lord who can persuede me the most, I will leave this man’s fate in your hands.”

“My daughters do so love, entertaining foreigners,” Alcina starts, “Furthermore, I can assure you can entrust the mortal to me.”

“Dracul, do you have anything to say about this mortal?” Mother Miranda asks, “How do you argue to entrust the mortal to yourself.”

You were sitting along a ledge right above Alcina. Smoke comes out of your nose as you exhale and you look away from whatever it was you were staring at and look at Mother Miranda; all eyes are looking up at you.

“You know, if I’m going to be honest,” You start, ‘You four can do whatever the hell you want with him. Don’t entrust the stupid manthing to me.”

“Y/n... We live in the same domain,” Alcina sighs in annoyance

“You may be right My Lady,” You add, “But, I’d be responsible for him and I’d rather not look after a stupid manthing. I rest my case.”

You lean back into a beam, letting out smoke from your mouth. You just listen to Alcina and Heisenberg argue over the manthing.

“You can entrust the mortal to house Dimitrescu, the manthings suffering is assured. Regardless,” Alcina states

“Yada yada if the man’s dick is cut off in the castle blah blah blah,” Heisenberg drones on

You couldn’t help but let out a snicker. You and Moreau. Alcina looks up at you in annoyance and a question of; are you on my side or not?!

“I’ve heard all of your arguments, some of you were less persuasive than the rest. But, I’ve made my decision,” Mother Miranda starts, “Heisenberg.”

She points to him, “The manthing’s fate is in your hands.”

You watch Alcina and Heisenberg argue once more.

“Mother Miranda I must refuse this decision!” Alcina states, standing up from her chair, “Heisenberg is but a child. Give the mortal to me and I will ensure he is ready.”

“Shut your damn hole!” Heisenberg growls, coming up to Alcina and telekinetically dragging his hammer back into his hand, “And don’t be a sore loser. Go get your food elsewhere.”

“Quiet now child! Adults are talking,” Alcina attempts to calmly say

“Oh, I’m the child?” Heisenberg asks, “You’re the one always arguing with Miranda’s decisions!”

“You wouldn’t know responsibility! Even if it was welded to that hammer!” Alcina argues

“Oh! Keep growing! Maybe your head might one day fit your ego!” Heisenberg argues back

Your eyes widen...

Not even I can make an argument like that... Well, they are siblings after all...

“Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” Angie provokes the two arguing lords

“SILENCE!” Mother Miranda yells, unfolding her wings, “I’ve made my decision and it is final. There will be no argument. Remember from whence you came.”

You gently land yourself into Alcina’s chair as Alcina walks over to stand behind her chair. You all watch Heisenberg deal with Ethan.

“Lycans and gentleman,” Heisenberg announces, “We thank you for waiting.”

You watch Heisenberg lean down to Ethan’s eye level, “Let’s see what you’re really made of, Ethan Winters.”

You follow Alcina back into the castle where you just head straight towards your clocktower. Having Bela be a regular visitor of yours has you really thinking on where you should set your bed. She told you about her weakness despite Alcina’s protests for you to know. However, you promised her that you would never take advantage of that.

“Tired already? Here, let me help you,” Bela teases as she throws the blanket around the both of you

You place a warm kiss on Bela’s forehead as you begin warming the blanket slowly for Bela to warm up.

“Mother is upset,” Bela sighs, “I guess it’s going back to woman flesh...”

“Sorry love,” You say, “I’d feel like I’d be the worst at looking after a manthing...”

Before the both of you continue on, you hear flies from the distance which are getting louder.

“Sister!” Daniela yells as she materializes first, “I heard the front door opening. Someone’s here.”

You and Bela give one glance at each other before throwing the blanket onto your bed and you follow their lead.

Once you reach the main hall with the girls, you watch them. The giggles echo throughout the castle entryway.

Music to my ears...

You see Bela hooking her sickle into the manthing’s calf. A shrieked pained scream exits his mouth.

“Mmmmm Man-blood,” Bela smiles

She yanks on the hilt of her sickle and begin materializing into her swarm of flies, dragging him with her. You follow close behind Daniela as Cassandra helps her older sister by hooking her sickle into the manthing’s other calf. The both of them bust open the door, beginning to turn back into their human form. You walk towards Bela, but stopping once you had reached Cassandra’s right side.

“Mother, I bring you fresh prey,” Bela says, trying to take the credit

You look over at Bela, slightly unamused.

Bela honey... Cassandra helped you drag him here...

“You are so kind to me daughters,” Alcina smiles through her glass

You stand next to Cassandra as Alcina stands to see who had entered her castle.

“Well Well Ethan Winters,” You and Alcina say in unison

You look up at Alcina as she looks down at you. However, someway somehow the both of you turn your heads toward Ethan, also in unison.

“You’ve escaped my idiot brothers’ games did you?” She asks, “Let’s see how special you are.”

You stand next to Cassandra as Bela and Daniela hold up the manthing’s arms for Alcina to taste his blood.

“Hmm,” She swallows the remaining blood lingering in her mouth, “Starting to go a bit stale.”

“Then let’s devour this man-flesh quickly mother,” Daniela suggests

“But- I’m the one who brought him in here!” Bela protests

Bela... Again, Cassandra helped you drag him in here...

“Now now daughters,” Alcina states, pressing a napkin between the creases of her lips, “I first must inform mother Miranda. Oh, but later, there will be enough for everyone. Now, put him up.”

Again, you watch Bela and Daniela place hooks into Ethan’s hands and Cassandra cranking a lever.

“Let me... Down!” Ethan pleas in pain

“Oh,” Alcina moans, “Be careful what you wish for, Ethan Winters.”

You watch Alcina turn and begin walking towards the door. You begin following her but you stop.

“You! I saw you in one of the photos in the village!” He says, “Let me down and I’ll help you find your past!”

You actually debated on doing that. However, if it wasn’t for Bela stepping in front of you, you would have actually let him go.

He might be lying... I’ll find out on my own time.

“Mere humans left me,” You state, stopping at the doorway

You turn your head and look up at him, “They sacrificed me to Mother Miranda. If it weren’t for her sparing me, I would have been long dead.”

I owe it all to Alcina for raising me though.... Mother Miranda neglected me...

You take Bela’s hand as you walk out with her. The both of you part ways for the time being.

“I’ll see you in my chambers love?” You ask

“The same time as always my love,” She smiles as she gives you a kiss

You return the kiss and watch her off with her sisters and Alcina. You decide to return to your clocktower and rest. Your head was pounding from the meetings.

Of all times head?... Damnit...

As you lay there in your bed, you hear high-heeled footsteps echoing through the tower. You look over and notice Daniela.

“Oh- Lady Daniela,” You say, “What can I do for you?”

“Can you help me make this for mother?” Daniela asks, holding up a decently sized weapon

Quite unfinished... But, Nonetheless impressive.

“What do you need help with specifically?” You ask

“Heat it up for me? Make the basic form of it,” Daniela explains

“Give it here,” You say, “ Don’t want those hands being severely burned now do we? You need to eat that manthing.”

You take the unfinished weapon from her hands and begin heating it with your hands, concentrating your heat into your hands.

“Can’t you just breathe fire?” Daniela asks, watching you

“I haven’t done that... Ever,” You say, shamefully, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Oh... Well, you’ll figure it out.” Daniela says, cheerfully

You couldn’t help but smile at Daniela’s comment of encouragement.

Maybe I will try it once everyone has taken care of the manthing...

You make a makeshift hammer and begin molding the basic form of the weapon. Reheating it when you needed.

“Okay,” You sigh, removing the sweat off of your head, “That should be good to get you started. Don’t worry about telling her that I helped you.”

She squeals in happiness and jumps onto you to give you a hug.

“See you at supper My Lord,” Daniela says, materializing into her fly swarm

Just as you were going to go rest some more, you could hear Bela’s voice...

“Bela?” You ask yourself

You could head a gunshot as well.

“Oh no,” You panic

You jump out of bed and begin making your way towards Bela. wherever the hell she was in the damn castle.

Bela you better be okay or else...

You make your way through the dungeon, pivoting or even forcibly moving all of the turned-ghoul maidens out of your way.

Bela...

You inhale the foul stench of the dungeons.

It’s blocking Bela’s scent... Shit...

You find a set of stairs and you ascend them.

Oh! I finally got her scent! And it’s stronger! Bela I’m coming my love!

Chapter 3

#bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #bela is my wife #alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #donna beneviento #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #mother miranda #house dimitrescu #house beneviento #house moreau #house heisenberg #female reader #resident evil village

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sullustangin · 2 years

Text

Maybe (A Mother’s Day Fic)

Rating: T

Word Count: ~4500

Pairing: Theron Shan x Smuggler

Time: 3624 BBY/ 28 years ATC

CW: Discussion of pregnancy, discussion of termination of pregnancy, discussion of character death, reference to past indirect character suicide attempt (sorta kinda - fuck Valkorion) .... All characters are fine at the end of the story, just lots of scary conversations.

(Yes, this is me being self indulgent. It’s fluffy at the end, I swear to God.)

The silence in the room was never-ending.

Theron arrived, the swish of the door the only disruption. He silently sat in a chair on the opposite wall of the waiting room in some non-descript women’s clinic in Coruscant.

Eva used to like silence. She worshipped it when she could have it in the gunner’s compartment of the Thief. She adored it when Valkorion was evicted, at last. Her silence was the drone of the engines and the solitary beat of her heart.

When Theron went AWOL on his Zildrog spy mission for long months, Eva had realized that her silence had expanded to include his breathing. The occasional times he was under the weather and snored were also accepted into the parameters of silence. When he was absent, the silence was broken – it was as if everything in her universe was screaming. When he had come home, years ago now, the silence resumed.

Now, as she waited in agony – no, profound discomfort but not agony – she found that she could not take the initiative to speak. Eva thought she would cry, if she spoke directly to him. After everything they’d put each other through, she didn’t want this to be another stone in the path. “It’s my fault,” she said to the floor.

His head snapped up to look at her.

Eva moved first, the slightest motion of a hand reaching toward him. That was all it took – Theron was on his feet, crossed the floor in three steps, and was sitting next to her before she took another breath. She crumbled into his arms. She did not weep.

She trembled.

Theron swallowed hard, twining his fingers into her hair. “Let’s start with the fact I love you. It’s a non-negotiable. You are non-negotiable in my life.”

That set her off. She felt her eyes water, and the tightness in her chest became painful. Eva listened to Theron’s heartbeat. Elevated rate. His arms curled around her, protectively. “Second fact. You forwarded to me a medical report that had a differential diagnosis attached. It was a very scary differential diagnosis.” He sucked in a breath of air. “You circled for me one of those less fatal diagnoses.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her forehead. “Why is it ‘your fault’?”

Eva tried to calm her breathing, but she just sniffled instead. She was losing it. She had always believed truth to be the ultimate liberator. “When…after I was defrosted, you know I had a lot of potential health problems and some very real, very scary aftereffects.”

Theron’s memory flashed before his eyes.

He found her retching over the head in the Thief. It was six weeks since they’d consummated their relationship. He could count. He also knew enough about female anatomy to understand certain events hadn’t occurred that would indicate contrary. “Should I be worried?” He asked as he knelt behind her, trying to gather her hair. He’d had to keep Balkar from drowning in a Nar Shaddaa bathroom once – this was nothing.

Eva shook her head, then held up a finger before gagging again. She spoke as soon as she could. “Already tested. This is a new fun side effect of my defrost, according to Oggurrobb. He’s got his friend’s niece working on my case – nice kid. Nosey as hell. I’m going to end up in a medical journal.” Back to worshipping the commode.

True to her word, it had stopped after a week. The vomiting was replaced by fainting spells, then by numbness in her right leg, which was terrifying due to the condition of her right arm. That was replaced by excruciating pain for a week or two. It took nearly six months for the worst effects to shake off. She still became cold very easily, even to today. Theron was there the entire time.

“We know that the ‘less than optimal’ carbonite freezing may have shorted my life, rather than extended it. Quality of life overall lowered. I was unhappy that my options were being taken off the table before I had a chance to actually decide what I wanted with my life.”

She shook in his arms again. Theron pressed to ease his mind or at least bring the issue into the light. “Pre-cancerous cells. Signs of early organ deterioration.” Theron felt the dread eating into his heart as he remembered the words written in the report.

“Infertility, when I first came back,” added Eva. “I had the implant for you anyway. Then, while you were away….” Zildrog. “…there was the question of whether it was helping me or hurting me.”

“And so it went.” Theron knew the rest of this story, but there was still a small, frantic voice in his head that chanted, No. No. No. No. Theron felt himself go pale, his entire head going cold while his implants provided a small burst of heat along his forehead.

She had told them before they married that she had taken out her birth control implant. He kept his.

It had been 4 years. Theron supposed the odds eventually would catch up to them.

Eva’s face was already contorted in misery, her eyes shut. “In all honesty, I didn’t think it would make a difference. The doctors didn’t. I thought…never. After the carbonite. After everything.” Silent tears coursed down her face. Agonizingly, she opened her eyes to look at Theron. He wished she hadn’t. “I broke your trust.” The red-rimmed, deep russet eyes were glassy with tears that did not seem to relent.

There was a part of Theron that was angry and wanted to leave her in the waiting room. It was an echo of the man he had been. Theron had been an unplanned pregnancy. His life hadn’t been easy. He didn’t get attached to people easily. He’d always been careful. Always. He was unashamed to be one of the first in line to get a male birth control implant when it came out, when he was 17. He got a replacement every 10 years on schedule. He hadn’t wanted a child, someone who very much deserved to have loving and secure attachments.

Theron never thought he could provide that. It took a near mythical effort over six years for Theron and Eva to be a committed pair. He didn’t need anything or anyone else. Now, if this was real, Theron had less than a year to make or fake another attachment to Eva’s child. To his child.

The anticipated panic never came. There was not a visceral, negative response to ---

The odds had been astronomically against this. Both partners with an implant? As close to zero as it could be. One implant? About .3% of a chance. The math itself – if this was what she suspected – was mind-boggling. The odds for her dying were vastly better.

Now there was the panic. Now there was the fright, the urge to clutch at her.

And yet, Theron always did find a way to blame himself. “If I hadn’t been away. If—if I’d known, if I hadn’t nearly destroyed us, lost so much time…” The waves of shame crashed over him as he forced himself to continue look at her, in the face. He had to stop doing this to her.

She gripped his arms, hard, tears still falling. He saw the flat eyes of the gambler briefly flicker through – it was her instinct to shell up. But she let it pass through and kept her face honest.

For once, Theron wished she had not killed the Voidhound. Just this once. Emotions complicated everything.

A tense silence ensued.

Theron spoke first. He had the most practice doing unforgivable things. “But I still have mine. The odds –” His voice cracked. “The odds for this being something else, something fatal – ” He couldn’t finish the sentence. “I don’t deserve you,” he said instead.

Eva took a deep breath and almost immediately went light-headed. She bent at the waist to rest her head in her hands, then let her head fall forward between her knees. She was dizzy. “I’m the judge of that – you told me I was when I took you back. I can’t reconvict you again and again for the same mistake – we would never move on.” Gods, she hated this.

Theron’s hand appeared at her back. “You need the doctor?” He sounded alarmed.

Eva shook her head. “I need to get through this conversation.” She attempted to regulate her breathing. “If I was pregnant,” Eva asked the floor, “would you want me to keep it?”

A hush fell over the room. Theron’s hand was still. “It’s your choice.”

“I need to know, from the beginning, what you want. If I am.”

He made no motion. Theron’s hand was still, but the longer he did not answer, the heavier it felt on her back.

Eva’s eyes traced the line on the tiles. Time passed by.

“You are non-negotiable. I will do anything for you.”

The floor tiles continued to be very interesting. “Except answer my question, apparently.”

Theron lifted his hand from her back. “As I said before, it’s your choice. My opinion is immaterial.”

Sometimes, a surgeon’s scalpel was the best way to extra information. Other times, a serrated blade without anaesthesia was the only way to go. “I think your father would disagree with that. But he doesn’t have a vote here either, does he?”

Theron’s chair hit hard back against the wall, even though it only scooted about two inches. Eva saw Theron’s boots threaten to head toward the door, but he didn’t pass through. “You’ve notified me of the possibility. Thank you,” Theron angrily spat out. “Congratulations, you’re better at this than Satele. Want a certificate? Or a medal?”

Serrated knives cut both ways. Eva had forgotten that, but her anger brought her to her feet, and she wobbled in her boots as the blood rushed from her head. “No, I want to know if you’d be happy if I kept or got rid of it. Which one? And I swear to the gods, Theron, if you say something about ‘whatever makes me happy,’ I will shoot you in the foot.”

“Just the foot? I would have aimed higher.”

“The day is still young, and that’s just where I’d start. I’ll work my up the more of an ass you are.”

Both of them glared at each other, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. Theron finally bit out, “I don’t see the point in having this conversation until we know what the final diagnosis is. We’re fighting over theoretical pregnancies and you might be dying. I did read the other scary things on that medical report.” Eva felt a small flicker of shame as she saw Theron’s anticipatory grief filter into his anger.

“And we’d deal with it. Only one way forward with the other options. The third option means we have to make choices and pretty soon.” Eva shook an open hand at Theron. “Can we just have the conversation?”

Theron huffed. “It’s a simple conversation. You have it. You don’t have it. That is your choice. It’s your body. My only vote is for you not dying.”

Eva’s brow furrowed. “Do you want to be a father? And I don’t mean just a biological contributor.”

Theron froze momentarily then sort of shrugged, sort of shook his head, sort of gestured. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Eva stomped her foot in frustration. This typically happened when she didn’t have access to anything that she could throw, shoot, or punch. Theron was never an option. “You know that’s not the question. I’m asking you if I got rid of it – or if I kept it – would you resent me? Be sad? Wonder, if we survive all these years, what if?”

Theron’s face was unreadable again. “You are non-negotiable. I will do anything for you.” That set line. That default.

Eva could strangle him. “Have you ever wondered what your life would be like if Jace had been in it? How different it would have been to have had a parent who wanted you?” she spat, thoroughly exasperated. “I need to know – in or out. I’m not doing this without you.”

As Theron’s face tightened and a frown appeared, Eva realized she said something more than what she should have known.

Eva crept up the gangplank into the Thief. She planned on ambushing Theron, wherever he was, for a quickie. Or maybe just to suck him off, if he’d let her. She had to break the dour mood that had overtaken him. Switch his brain off for fifteen minutes or however long he took.

Theron had been charged with determining the classification of certain matters in Jace’s journals before Jace turned them over to archives. It was a blind peer review; Jace was never to know. Eva wasn’t even supposed to know, but her ship was the only place with a storage environment suitable for archival material (add that to the list of random uses for smuggler holds). He had to ask. She let him.

Theron had been pouring through the legal and personal frameworks of his father’s life for weeks now. He had found out more about Jace than they’d ever spoken about.

He’d been an absolute horror to live with. Eva had made it a point to have girls’ weekends with Akaavi and Risha with Bowdaar as the Designated Responsible Adult.

As Eva crept around to the Captain’s quarters, she stopped. She listened.

Theron was sobbing.

Neither Eva nor Theron liked seeing the other in this state. She had done it front of him too many times during the entire ordeal with Arcann and then Vaylin.

Theron had grown teary on several of those occasions. He outright cried in the aftermath of Valkorion’s hostile takeover attempt. The one where she stuck a hot blaster in her mouth. Her potential loss was palpable.

This loss – whatever it was -- was actual, not potential.

Eva retreated out and away from the Thief. She waited twenty minutes in the cantina. When she approached the ship again, she made it a point to knock over a nearby toolbox and curse, loudly. As she walked slowly up the gangplank, she dawdled. She finally entered the ship, and Theron was in the hallway to meet her.

He’d pinned her up against the wall and had her there, loud and lusty. Apparently, the cry and the sex were enough of an emotional reset for him, and living with him became easy again.

She didn’t tell him that she later pilfered the journal he had cried over.

She didn’t tell him that she had read of how a young Jace had written about wanting a son. He had speculated that he could convince Satele that he was a good man, that she could marry him, even by the strict rules of the Jedi.

She didn’t tell him that she had read that Jace would have been fine with a daughter, too. He wrote about friends’ children, how he was an uncle to so many. He wrote about the activities he wanted to do with his own children, having seen his friends do it and have so much happiness. He wrote about women he dated after Satele. He wrote about how few compared to her. He wasn’t going to have a kid with someone he didn’t love.

The end of that journal volume saw an older Jace accepting that he likely wasn’t going to get married. Or have kids. He wished he had done so.

How different Theron’s life would had been if his loving father – his busy, emotionally clumsy, and sometimes too stubborn father – had been involved from the start.

Theron frowned deeply. This wasn’t going the way he thought it would. It would have been simpler if she, as the smuggler she was, lived just for today. If she didn’t make a play for the future. His opinion didn’t matter, because he wasn’t going to make her have a kid she didn’t want.

Now Theron was slowly realizing this might not be the case. He had disregarded the obvious fact that she was the child of smugglers – she was the only one of her kind among her parents’ circle of friends. However, she’d been thoroughly loved; as she said once, up until the last hour of it, her childhood was happy.

Adding on the invocation of Jace’s name and her face turning a whiter shade of pale, a different analysis came through. This had to be combined with his own lack of negative response to the idea. He hadn’t thought to update his preferences since he was 17 and angry. Because the idea of a child with her (specifically her, not anyone else) was not innately--

After Nathema, after he married her, after everyone was reconciled, Theron had read his father’s journals as an external reviewer. Jace….hadn’t known. Theron didn’t tell him or object because that would have exposed them all to far too much to public scrutiny, even 40 years later.

Jace’s life was a triumphant life. It was a duty-bound life. It was a lonely life. Par for the course, it seemed, when in juxtaposition with Satele’s life and Theron’s own life up until he was in his late twenties (some smuggler and her crew of misfits hijacked him and took him pretty far off course).

Jace had wanted a child. He had wanted Theron to exist, badly. He did not know his wishes had come true for 26 years, by which point the ability to parent was moot.

And now Theron knew that Eva had read the journals as well, without his consent. There was a flutter of anger. But he was storing things on her ship. The Captain always had a right to know what was on her ship. He had always thought she had been excessively noisy that day as she came home to the Thief; he now understood she had likely been home sooner but avoided intruding on his grief.

It was one of the few times that Theron had acknowledged his life had been sadder and lonelier than necessary, and he had indulged himself in the self-pity.

Theron’s shot about Satele had hit its mark better than he had anticipated: now it was a question of what she wanted, as she was desperate to not put him in Jace’s shoes. He didn’t want to put her in Satele’s. Theron realized that he had to ask the question, not her. “If I said I wanted it, would you be the parent who didn’t want it but had it anyway? Because that’s just as bad,” he hissed as he took a step toward her, fingers reaching for her.

A tremor went through Eva as she widened her stance slightly. Theron realized she – oh, the chair. The floor. The position. He crossed the rest of the way to her and let her lean into him. “I’ve been nauseous for days.” She placed her hands flat on his chest.

“Please don’t faint,” he plaintively asked as he drew her into his arms. Theron kissed her on the closest available part of her face. “Now you’re not answering questions. We’re not getting anywhere.”

Eva sighed. “You’re right. Fine.” She straightened up slightly to look at him directly. “The way I think of it, my family has history of things not working out.” The first Eva Corolastor, may she rest in peace. “This is the first time it might have worked out.” She cleared her throat. “It might be the only time it ever works out.”

“Do you want it to work out?” Theron’s hands clasped behind her back, draping over her hips.

“Do you?”

Theron cast a look heavenward. “This is so stupid. On the count of three, yes or no. One, two, three.”

“Yes.”

The ceiling became absolutely fascinating to Theron for a solid minute. He felt as if he’d just jumped off a cliff. “I’m starting to think we should have had this conversation sooner. Like, years ago.”

Theron finally looked down at her as she vigorously shook her head. “No. Part of--- part of --” She was waffling over saying something. He gave her a gentle squeeze and it came out in a rush. “Part of the reason I didn’t make the galaxy into an empire -- besides the obvious fact that a smuggler as emperor is stupid -- was the fact that an empire requires a succession, typically biological. After everything, I didn’t want the galaxy fixating on our ability to have heirs. I didn’t want that choice taken from either of us. Looking back, it would have been so hard to make it this point. Together.”

If they’d agreed earlier to have a child, what they considered ‘lucky’ now would have been very ‘unlucky’ then. Theron bowed his head to press his lips against hers. “My only reservation,” he said against her mouth, “is whether this is going to be high risk. I may want…this,” he danced around the more emotionally charged words he could have used, “…but I won’t sacrifice you for it. Everything else, I can do without. Not you.”

“I always did like risk,” Eva said, but she lacked her usual cavalier attitude when she said it. She was taking it seriously.

That terrified Theron. “For once in our lives, let’s be careful. I know this didn’t start from us being careful, responsible, loving adults instead of lustful, dangerous, kriffing idiots…but it matters how we finish this.”

Somewhere in the middle of that sentence, Theron realized that he might become a father. And that he was … not unhappy about it. “When do we get the final verdict?” he asked, stunned at the self-revelation.

“Should be soon. I wanted you here, as my next of kin.” That made him smile. Eva was the first person to ever give his name in that fashion; for obvious reasons, Satele and Jace and Theron had never written each other’s names down for anything.

As if on cue, the secretary stuck her head into the waiting room. “Are we ready for the doctor?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Eva drew a great, shaky breath. She looked up at Theron.

He was still desperately in love with her.

They walked through the door together.

Far later that night, the lights were on low within the Thief’s Captain’s quarters. Both were in their sleepwear. Eva lay on her back in bed, head resting in Theron’s lap. He had one arm crooked around her, the hand mindlessly playing with the closures of her night shirt. The other hand was holding a datapad, reading.

Eva turned her head slightly to leave a kiss on his abdomen. He startled slightly, his focus broken. “Lana is going to be so mad. Another security risk.”

Theron stifled a laugh. “If Lana is mad, she can go take a space walk off Republic Fleet without EVA gear. I don’t think she will be, though.” Theron put the datapad aside and used the free fingers to trace her face tenderly. “I think she’ll splash out. Remember how she prepared for your coronation long before you rejected it? Apply that, and you get an over-enthusiastic aunt.”

“She didn’t know if she’d get another opportunity to run a coronation. So she went hard. Yeah, I can totally see that.” Eva’s hand travelled to where Theron’s fingers were playing with a clasp. “The crew is going to be thrilled.”

Theron smiled at that. “I know Bowie will be over a few moons.”

“Corso too. Risha will wrinkle her nose and make noise, but go to pieces at first sight.”

“Uncle Guss may be an acquired taste.”

“Aunt Akaavi – that’ll be a force to reckon with.” A beat. “Boy or girl.”

“No preference.”

“Last name?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one.” Theron sat back against the headboard. “I’m not expecting either of us to change our last names at this point, just to be clear. But the kid has to have one.”

Eva’s lips curved upward in a smile. “I can tell you from personal experience, Shan is easier to learn how to spell than Corolastor.”

“Hyphenate it?”

“And make it even longer and more obnoxious?”

“I’m not attached to my name. You are to yours.” Theron drifted a thumb over her eyebrows. “My name should have died out a long time ago.”

Eva dipped her head back to catch that thumb with her mouth. “I could say the same. Maybe a third option?”

“And make this kid’s life even more complicated, having three different last names running around? I’d say pick one and stick with it.” Theron’s face relaxed as he looked at her.

In the dim light, Eva saw the increasing grey at Theron’s temples that was now sneaking into the rest of his hair. Eva had always liked silver foxes, and this one was exceptionally hot. The lines on his face were more pronounced than they were when she had met him back on Republic Fleet. His face was slightly thinner, the fullness of youth departing. The eyes still burned bright and intense, and he remained mentally and physically active.

“What are you thinking of?” he asked, noticing her rapt attention to his face. His thumb trailed along the side of her jaw and under her chin then up the other side.

“You.” They both used to lie about thinking about each other. Now there was no point.

“Good to know. Still like what you see?”

“Yeah. In fact, I might love it.”

“Very good to know.” Theron’s voice grew husky, and he turned off the lights.

She needed her rest. And he needed her.

Thanks to @ayresis, @vexa-legacy, @commanderlurker, and @previousjane for the nudges to post.

#swtor #swtor fan fiction #theron shan #theron shan x smuggler #oc: eva corolastor

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supernova-cas · 3 years

Text

so @itsinjustbeing made this post and @mochadean added the tags and I wrote a little thing about Dean studying for his GED.

The humidity surrounded him like a thick coat, seeping into the kitchen through the window screens, barely held at bay by the old fan whirring about two inches from Dean’s face. He wiped at his face with one hand, the other pushing down at the page he was reading, trying to stop the flapping page from flying away and taking the prep book with it. He was just on the verge of finishing the chapter, pen between his teeth as he ran his finger down the page when he heard the car pull up. Within moments he was up, the book flipped over and shoved far away from him, his own hands around a half-assembled rifle. By the time the screen door slammed shut he looked, for all intents and purposes, like he was just taking care of his weapon.

It was a moment before he heard the tell-tale sound of Bobby’s thick boots scuffing the floor and he sagged slightly, the tension draining out of him even before Bobby came into the kitchen and spoke

“You can put that down, boy, it’s just me.” He came in, groceries on one arm, a takeout bag on the other. “Brought dinner. Get your shit off the table and we can eat.”

“Thanks.” Dean put the rifle down sheepishly, and picked his book back up. He piled it up with the notebook he’d been writing in, the three different pens and the odd blue highlighter Bobby had found in a drawer somewhere that made up his studying tools. He dropped them down on the couch before coming back to join Bobby.

They ate in a comfortable silence for a bit before Bobby spoke up.

“I told you this morning. Your dad’s halfway across the country, he’s not coming back for another few weeks. Trust me, there’re plenty of jobs up there, and he’ll want to take them.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean answered around a mouthful of food. “I know that, he called last night.”

He’d picked up the phone, listened to John tell him about the job he was on, coughed a few times into the phone to try and make it convincing. Bobby had been skeptical of his plan at first, pretending to be sick to get the few weeks off without John realizing what he was doing. But Dean knew his father well enough to realize the moment Dean wasn’t going to be helpful John would be happy to drop him on anyone who’d take him, and understood him well enough to know that despite Bobby’s comments to the contrary Dean’s father wouldn’t get too worried when that sickness extended longer than a week or so. He chalked it up to his father wanting him to be tough. Trusting that Dean could handle whatever came after him, be it vamp or virus. It was a sign of his father’s trust in him and of course that only made what he was doing worse.

“So, there’s no reason to go throwing books about.” Bobby said.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean repeated.

Bobby looked like he was going to say something else but thought the better of it. Neither of them was very good at talking, but both of them understood the full unsaid conversation that hung in the air between them. Dean looked away, around at the cluttered room, down at the scratched table, anywhere but Bobby’s face. They lapsed into their regular silence until it settled again, back to comfortable.

Dean crumpled the trash up when they’d finished, throwing it out while Bobby took out a six pack and took one out. Dean reached for one, getting his hand slapped away.

“You done with what you wanted to do today?” Bobby asked in a tone that made it clear he knew what the answer was going to be.

“No.” Dean said it anyway, slumping back in his chair.

“Well then.” Bobby stuck the rest of them in the fridge.

Dean rolled his eyes but retrieved his books from the couch anyways, setting himself back up at the table and trying his best to refocus. It was hard, his mind kept trying to run in a million different directions, all directly away from the path the book was trying to take him. He’d been doing alright before but his mind had taken the break as a cue to shut down all functions responsible for understanding the numbers on the page and how he was supposed to be solving them.

This was why school was Sammy’s thing.

Still, Dean wanted to do this. He didn’t know why, knew he could never defend his case for it, but Dean wanted his GED. Even if right now his brain was fighting him about it. It wasn’t that he was stupid, he picked up on most the lessons in school easily enough when he was able to attend and even studying on his own, when he was able to keep his head down, when he got really drawn into the material, he was able to do fine. But now, suddenly he was faced with the practice questions and half of what he thought he’d known had flown right out of his mind. Fuck. Maybe he was stupid.

He sighed, flipping back through the chapter, trying to pin the knowledge back down, lock it up so it couldn’t fly away again. He was vaguely aware of Bobby working the phones in the background, his voice melding into the rest of the background noise, mixing with the old fan, the creaky chair he kept moving about in, the mosquito who was always just out of reach. Suddenly that whine was all he could focus on, unable to force his attention on anything else. He reread the same paragraph twice without taking anything in, the persistent droning impossible to ignore. He pushed his chair back, determined to find it and put an end to it. He tried to swat it but it was quick, darting out of the way every time. He waited another moment, until it seemed settled on the table before he swung his book down, crushing it with a loud, heavy thud!

For a moment there was blessed silence.

“Dean? What’s going on in there?” Bobby called from the other room.

“Nothing!” he answered back. “Mosquito.”

“So ya killed it with a hammer?” Bobby asked, coming back in. He took a moment to take in the scene. Dean, standing above the table, frustrated frown still on his face, the book slammed down onto the table face down, the back flipped over to reveal the past owner’s graffiti. He stared for about a second before he picked up the book, shut it and put it aside. He walked over to the fridge and took out another couple of beers, offering one to Dean.

“I didn’t finish.” Dean said.

“You’re finished for tonight.” Bobby said, gesturing for him to take it.

“You don’t think I can keep going?” Dean asked.

“I don’t think you should. You’ve been at it all day; you’ll be at it tomorrow. You’re not getting anything more done tonight.”

Dean took it wordlessly, stepping out of the kitchen out onto the back porch. Bobby followed after, sitting on the bench pressed against the wall.

“This is stupid.” Dean said finally. “This whole thing, me trying to study for this, lying to my father, it’s stupid. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Bobby waited until he was finished, taking a long drink.

“You done?” he asked. “With that little pity party of yours?”

“It’s not a pity party!” Dean turned back to face him. “I can’t even study properly, couldn’t even finish the section today.”

“So, you’ll finish it tomorrow.” Bobby answered. “You’ve been studying non stop since you got here, got your head bent over that book and takin a break right now aint gonna undo that. It’s just gonna let you focus tomorrow.”

“And if it doesn’t? If I fail, and this whole thing was just a waste?”

“Then we’ll do this all again I guess.” Bobby shrugged. “Listen boy, you’ve had a lot of stupid ideas. This is one of your rare sensible ones, don’t go screwin it up now by just giving up.”

Dean just shrugged, cracking open his beer and sitting down next to him. Between the two of them hung his agreement, his apology and his gratitude. Between them hung Bobby’s support, his acceptance.

Tomorrow he’d keep studying. Next week he’d take the test. And then it’d be over or they’d do this all again.

#my writing #mini fic #char: dean #char: bobby #'family don't end in blood' - sam dean and bobby #spn #spn fic #mine

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calamitykaty · 3 years

Text

A Twist of Fate

Charlie x Fem! Reader

Word count:7670

Warnings: Slight Swearing, I think that’s it?

Requested: Sorta? It’s a multi writer topic by @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic revolving around the idea of y/n finding an ad to rent a date for Thanksgiving. *You can find the first writers fic HERE

A/N: HUGE thank you to @dream-a-little-bigger-x for reading every rough draft of this that I sent her, along with bouncing ideas with me! Also a huge thank you to @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic for supporting me when I got stuck and reading my super rough draft!

I wasn’t gonna post this until tomorrow but now I have a Christmas Reggie fic that I want to post tomorrow so...Happy Reading.

Y/N wrapped the buffalo plaid scarf around her neck and pulled her favorite slouchy red beanie over her thick mop of curls. Her cellphone was pressed between her right shoulder and ear as she buttoned up her navy peacoat and half-listened to her mom rattle off the preparations she needed to make for Thanksgiving.

“Mom, I really need to…” Y/N attempted to interject only to be cut off by her mother. She placed the phone on speaker and set it down on the counter while she slipped her feet into a pair of black boots. She had stopped listening to her mother’s droning voice nearly a half-hour beforehand, but her ears perked up when her mother asked the dreaded question.

“Are you bringing Noah this year honey? I know you guys like to alternate holidays with his family, but your Aunt Martha is going to make it this year and she is just tickled to finally get to meet him.”

Y/N pursed her lips and ran a hand over her face, she hadn’t told anyone that Noah broke things off with her two months prior. She hadn’t meant to keep it a secret for so long, but her mom loved Noah and she just knew she would blame her for ruining a good thing. She had been dating Noah for three years and it was perfect until Noah started talking about marriage and Y/N began to realize that she couldn’t picture her entire life with him. Noah felt like a moment in time to her, not an eternity.

“I’ll have to check, Mom, I don’t know what Noah is doing yet.” Y/N settled on a half-truth to buy herself some time. She placed her elbows on the edge of the counter and rested her head in her hands.

“Honey, I need to know by the end of the week, okay?”

She could hear the irritation in her mother's voice at the non-answer that Y/N had given to her. Her mother was a meticulous planner and she could not stand curve balls making a mess of her perfect holiday plans. Her mother treated every holiday as if the editors of Better Homes & Gardens were going to drop in at any moment and do a two-page spread on her decor and perfect meal.

“Got it, mom! I have to go!” Y/N quickly ended the phone call and shoved her phone into her pocket. She huffed out a heavy sigh and made her way to her front door, grabbing her keys from the catch-all bowl on the table next to the door. She quickly locked up her apartment and rushed down the two flights of stairs to the small community lobby. She adjusted the scarf around her neck and reached for the door but stopped as a new flyer on the community board caught her eye. She took a step back and ripped the paper from the thumbtack that held it to the cork board and shoved it into her coat pocket before pulling the door open.

Her hair whipped around her face as she stepped outside and was met with the cool autumn breeze that had settled in over the last month. Y/N looked both ways before stepping off of the sidewalk and hurrying across the street where her best friend, Leigha, was already waiting for her inside the small corner cafe.

“How is it that I have to drive from the other side of town and can make it on time but you literally live across the street and can’t?” Leigha teased as Y/N unraveled her scarf and took her coat off, draping both over the back of her chair before sitting down.

“Sorry! Sorry! My mother…” Y/N rolled her eyes as she recalled the phone call.

“Enough said!” Leigha laughed, she had one of those laughs that turned heads. Her laugh was always a little too loud and sometimes she would snort, it always caused Y/N to break into a fit of giggles. Leigha had been Y/N’s roommate all the way through college and they had been inseparable since the very first day they had met.

“So,” Leigha crossed her arms on top of the table,” did you work up the courage to tell her about Noah?”

Y/N shifted her gaze across the cafe and bit her lip “not exactly…”

“You are unbelievable, y/n ” Leigha sighed, exasperated.

Y/N snapped her eyes back to Leigha and held her hands up in defense “I tried! Well...I mean…I tried to try…”

“You know if you show up stag and your mother already has a place setting for a plus one, you might as well just go ahead and bury yourself, honestly” Leigha tutted.

“That’s why I have a plan!” Y/N turned around and rustled through the pockets of her peacoat before placing the crumpled flyer on the table. She smoothed her hands over the paper and pushed it towards the middle of the table.

Leigha snatched the paper up as the waitress came over and took their orders, Leigha ordered a blueberry scone with a chai tea while Y/N ordered a croissant with a side of strawberry preserves and a coffee.

“I mean…” Leigha read over the paper before sliding it back over to Y/N, “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

Y/N bit her lip and stared down at the flyer, re-reading it for the fourth time before she pulled out her phone and scanned the QR code to bring up the app.

“I can’t believe I am actually this desperate to try to literally purchase a date a week before Thanksgiving.” She muttered as she began to fill out her profile.

“Wait! Thanksgiving is next week? As in a week from today? I haven’t even made my Thanksgiving Pinterest board yet!” Leigha panicked and grabbed her face.

Y/N looked up from her phone and shook her head at Leigha’s antics “why do you need a Pinterest board? You literally do the same thing every single year.”

“Yeah…” Leigha jutted her bottom lip out in a pout, “but I want people to think that I am making all of these intricate and super cute appetizers and stuff. It’s the illusion that I care about!”

Y/N looked up and thanked the waitress as she set the food and coffee down in front of her before turning her attention back to Leigha who was eagerly biting into her scone.

“Help me answer these?” She passed her phone over to the girl and picked up the knife, spreading the strawberry preserves onto her croissant.

“Beach or Mountains?” Leigha readout with her mouth half full.

“Mountains!” Both girls yelled out at the same time and burst into giggles. They continued down the row of questions, passing the phone back and forth until Y/N finally hit the submit button. Leigha practically yanked the phone from Y/N’s hand as the algorithm began to shoot out potential matches. Her thumb scrolled through the pictures at lighting speed before she stopped and slowly scrolled back up before thrusting the phone in Y/N’s face.

“This one! Oh my god, this one! And if you don’t select the platinum package so that boy can say he loves you then I will literally never speak to you again!”

Y/N wiped the jam from her chin and grabbed the phone from Leigha. He was cute, there was no doubt about that but unlike Leigha, she cared about what his profile said about him. She scrolled through his pictures, one of him playing guitar, one hiking, one surrounded by friends around a campfire. Lover of nature, endless adventure, campfire songs, and sharing the love with my friends. I’ll jump if you jump, let’s take this plunge together?

She felt her lips curl up into a soft smile as she whispered his name to herself, liking the way that it rolled so easily off of her tongue.

“I told yooouuuu!” Leigha sang out and crossed her arms over her chest, a smug look on her face.

Y/N placed the phone on the table and tried to control the blush that she could fill rising to her cheeks, “calm down,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m paying for a Thanksgiving date, not falling in love.” She selected the platinum option and typed in her credit card number before clicking the purchase open without a second hesitation.

“I better be your maid of honor!” Leigha teased as the two girls dropped the appropriate amount of money onto the table and began to layer their coats and scarves back on. Y/N pulled the girl into a hug and placed a kiss on her cheek before heading back across the street towards her apartment.

She had just placed the keys back into her catch-all bowl by the door when her phone began to ding. She felt her heart begin to race as she saw the approval message on her screen that Charlie had accepted her request to rent him as her Thanksgiving date.

“Oh my god...okay...okay, this is fine...everything is fine.” She muttered to herself as she received another notification that Charlie had messaged her. She set her phone down on the counter and peeled her coat and scarf off before slipping her feet out of her boots. She wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans and grabbed her phone, refusing to look at it until she had settled in on her couch. She crossed her feet under her and pulled a throw pillow to her chest before finally sliding up on the notification and reading the message that he sent.

Let's get to know each other? Lunch tomorrow?

Y/N hesitated for a moment before her fingertips began to slide across the keyboard on her screen.

Sounds good! How do you feel about chicken & waffles? I know a place!

She read over what she had sent several times, worried that she sounded too eager. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she waited for his response, watching as several dots appeared and disappeared several times on her screen before he finally sent his response.

A girl after my own heart! How is 12:30? Send me the address?

She felt her cheeks grow warm at his response and mentally reminded herself that he was just being kind and that she was quite literally paying for him.

500 Rue Kennedy Dieppe, NB. and 12:30 is perfect! I’ll see you then!

Y/N took a deep breath and closed the app before her thumb hovered over her mother’s contact. She quickly clicked on her number and quietly whispered to herself “please don’t answer, please don’t answer, please don’t answer.”

“Thank god!” she exclaimed as the phone sent her to voicemail. She rolled her eyes at her mother’s elaborate message before finally being told to leave her message at the sound of the beep.

“Hi, mom...it’s me...I just wanted to let you know that you will need to make sure to set an extra place setting for thanksgiving. Love you.” She rattled off, keeping the message vague but to the point.

The following day Y/N stood inside of her closet staring at her assortment of clothes trying to decide what said “I'm cool and definitely not desperate even though I paid for a date for Thanksgiving because my family is insane.”

She pulled a mustard yellow cable knit sweater from a hanger and laid it out on her bed before heading back to her closet. Her fingers sorted through the variety of skirts before settling on a silky, pleated navy skirt that was cinched at the waist. She laid the skirt out next to the sweater before moving over to her vanity.

She sat on the poof chair and stared at her reflection for a brief moment before pulling the small drawer to the left open and lining up her primers, eye palette, eyeliner, mascara, and her signature red lipstick. She grabbed the mason jar that sat on the right tableside of the vanity and grabbed the appropriate brushes, lining those up as well.

She used her middle finger of her right hand to gently swipe the eyeshadow primer onto her eyelids before dusting the brush across a shimmery gold eyeshadow. She used a maroon eyeshadow on her crease and slowly blended the colors until she achieved a golden and subtle smokey eye.Y/N shook her hands out to steady her nerves before slowly pulling the liquid eyeliner across her eyelids and flicking it softly at the end for a subtle cat-eye before she carefully built volume on her eyelashes with the mascara. Finally, she grabbed the matte red lipstick and carefully swiped it across her lips before blotting them with a tissue.

Y/N jumped at the sound of her phone vibrating on her nightstand. She moved across the room and grabbed the phone from the charger.

See you soon!

She felt the nerves settle back into her stomach and wiped her clammy hands on her pajama pants before quickly undressing. She pulled the yellow cable knit sweater over her head, careful not to let it touch her face. She followed that by pulling on the pleated navy skirt, the fabric falling just above her knee. She pulled on the fabric of the sweater at her waist so that it slightly hung over the waistband of the skirt before she slipped her feet into a pair of black pointed flats. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and pulled her curls over her shoulders before grabbing her purse and slinging it across her body.

Y/N entered the bustling restaurant and let her eyes wander across the tables trying to find Charlie. She wrung her hands together and pulled her lips into a thin line when she didn’t see him, her heart dropping at the thought that she had been stood up or even worse, that she had really fallen for a scam. She turned on her left foot and reached for the door, barely pulling it open before she felt a hand on her shoulder. She let go of the door, resulting in a soft thud as it closed.

“Y/N? You weren’t about to bail on me were you?” The soft voice teased as she turned around.

“I thought you had stood me up, actually.” She could feel the blush that dusted across her cheeks at the accusation. Her left hand fell to her right wrist, her fingers loosely wrapping around it as she looked up at Charlie through her eyelashes and offered an apologetic smile.

Charlie’s green eyes crinkled at the edges and his nose scrunched up as he laughed “take the money and run, I wish I would have thought of that!”

“Oh..” Y/N looked back at the door and then back towards Charlie, “if you don’t want to do this, it’s fi--”

Charlie smiled softly at her “I was just teasing, I didn’t want to sit at the table by myself in case you didn’t show and have to do the walk of shame, so I was at the bar.”

Charlie placed his right hand on the small of her back and guided her to a table in the middle of the bustling restaurant. He pulled her chair out for her before taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. Y/N tucked her hair behind her ears and glanced at the menu, though she already knew what she was going to order. The waiter, a young kid, probably seventeen stopped by their table and quickly took their order.

Y/N finally looked up to find Charlie staring at her, his face cradled in his hands with his elbows propped up on the table.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just trying to figure out why a very beautiful girl would need to rent a date for a Holiday.”

Y/N felt herself blush at his compliment and shrugged her left shoulder “I got dumped.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry”

She smiled and waved him off “It’s no big deal, we wanted different things out of life. He wanted marriage and I,” she hesitated, she hadn’t talked about this with anyone other than Leigha.

“You what?”

“I want adventure and I know that sounds silly. Like, of course, you can have adventure and marriage but Noah,” she paused, “that’s my ex.”

Charlie nodded and gestured for her to continue, “Noah works in the financial district and he wanted marriage and kids and stability….and I barely know what I want to eat for breakfast let alone what I want for eternity.”

“You’re a free spirit, nothing wrong with that!” Charlie interjected and Y/N felt her first genuine smile of the night spread across her face.

“You get it.”

“I do get it.”

Y/N thanked the waiter as he sat down two beers along with their orders of chicken and waffles, before turning back to Charlie.

“So, tell me about your family. What should I prepare myself for?” Charlie lifted the pint glass to his lips and took a sip of the amber-colored beer.

‘Well,” Y/N blew air into her cheeks and sighed, “my mother thinks she’s Martha Stewart. So be sure to compliment the decor as soon as you see her. You’ll win her over for sure...and maybe don’t mention the whole free spirit thing or you will definitely end up on her list of terrible suitors that I have brought home.”

“Noted.” Charlie nodded before adding, “and your dad?”

“My dad is easy going, just talk about beer and hockey and you'll be fine.”

Charlie threw his head back in laughter and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the way his whole face lit up when he laughed. She felt a flutter in her stomach as Charlie leaned forward so that his forearms rested on the table and his fingers lightly brushed across hers before he pulled back. Y/n pulled her hands off of the table and dropped them into her lap, her fingers lightly traced over the silky fabric of her skirt.

“Is everything okay?”

Y/N inhaled a sharp breath and rolled her bottom lip into her mouth before exhaling, “yeah, but I should probably tell you something,” she looked up at Charlie through her eyelashes.

“Well, c’mon then..” Charlie teased after several seconds of silence.

“My folks don’t exactly know that Noah and I are….done...and I know there’s going to be a big event made of it when they find out.”

“Oof…” Charlie sighed and took a swig from his beer and a bite of his food.

Y/N felt her heart beating in her ears, “I understand if you, I mean if this is too much and you want to back out.”

Charlie looked at her with a playful smirk, “are you actually going to eat that or?” He pointed at her untouched plate of food with his fork.

“W-what?” Y/N looked down at her food and back up at Charlie before letting a smile slip onto her face. She didn’t understand how someone she had just met could put her nerves at ease without even trying.

Charlie let his fork clatter on his plate before leaning forward on his elbows. Y/N watched with furrowed brows as he grabbed the maple syrup and poured it in a circle over her chicken before he leaned back into his seat and met her eyes with a soft smile on his face.

Y/N picked up her fork and knife and cut into her maple drenched chicken before popping a small bite into her mouth, “are you happy now?” she teased Charlie before putting her fork back down.

Charlie tried to hold back the smile that threatened to take over his face as he nodded his head.

“So, what’s our story going to be? It’s gonna have to be a good one if I have to upstage Noah to win over your folks.”

The two spent the next hour concocting a believable, but very romantic story of how they met. They talked about their likes and dislikes, their quirks and habits, and all of the little things that couples are supposed to know about each other,

Y/N felt butterflies erupt in her stomach as Charlie walked her to her car, his left hand just barely brushing against hers. She mentally scolded herself for feeling jittery over a guy that was simply fulfilling his job, but she also couldn’t help but hope that maybe he was feeling their connection too.

“I’ll pick you up next Wednesday at 4 pm, yeah?” Charlie asked as they arrived at her car. Y/n tucked her hair behind her right ear and nodded.

She felt her breath hitch as Charlie leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek before walking backward and sending her a wave.

A week later and Y/N found herself pulling on a green sequined, long sleeve dress, the hem set just above her knees. It was her go-to holiday dress, classic but not too formal. She painted her face with gold eyeshadow, a sharp winged eyeliner, and her classic red lips. Her hair hung over her shoulders in cascading curls. She sat on her bed, fastening a pair of strappy black heels when her phone dinged. She fastened the buckles of her heels and grabbed her phone, a smile instantly sliding onto her face at Charlie letting her know he’d be at her place in five minutes.

She stood up and checked her appearance one final time before grabbing her gold clutch handbag and shoving her phone into it, just as Charlie knocked on her door. She quickly made her way to the front door and turned the lock before pulling the door open.

“Wow…” Charlie breathed out as she came into full view.

Y/N shyly smiled back at the boy, thankful that the blush she had on her cheeks already would mask the red glow that she could feel heating up her face.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she teased, her eyes trailing from his brown wing toed shoes up to his pristine white button-up and finally to his slightly coiffed hair.

“Shall we?” Charlie extended his arm out to Y/N after she locked her door. She looped her right arm through his left, her hand resting lightly on his forearm as they made their way through the corridor and outside to Charlie’s car.

He opened the passenger side door for her and waited for her to get situated before closing the door and running around to the other side of the car. Their forty-minute drive was mostly silent as Y/N worked to calm her nerves down. She knew that she was going to have a lot of explaining to do when she showed up with Charlie in place of Noah and she was trying to memorize all of the details that they had agreed on a week prior.

“Are you okay?” Charlie glanced over at her for a brief moment before returning his eyes to the road, his left hand took hold of the steering wheel as his right hand settled on her bare knee.

His hand was warm against her cold skin and Y/N wasn’t sure why but she found her left hand moving to settle on top of his hand. Without hesitation, Charlie flipped his hand over and let her palm fall into his before his fingers slid between hers and gently curled.

“Just nervous…”

Charlie lightly squeezed her hand before letting out a small chuckle “if I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’re the one about to meet my family.”

“Oh, I’m not nervous about them meeting you, they’ll love you,” Y/N clarified,” I’m nervous about the terrible things that I know my mother is going to say to me about ending things with Noah.”

Charlie licked his lips as he pulled into her parents’ driveway. He pulled his right hand free from hers and put the car in park before turning slightly in his seat to face her.

“You know that nothing she says is going to be true, right? You don’t have to live by someone else's timeline for your life.”

Y/N pushed down the warming feeling in her heart and nodded her head at his words.

“Yeah, I know...are you ready?”

Charlie smiled brightly at her and pulled the keys from the ignition before getting out of the car. He double-stepped around the car to the passenger door and pulled it open for her, waiting for her to get out before closing the door.

He slid his left palm into her right hand and tangled their fingers together before placing a soft kiss on her hairline and whispered “let’s put on a show.”

Y/N could feel the nervous energy erupting in her stomach as they stood outside of her childhood home. She took a deep breath before twisting the doorknob and pushing the red front door open. They were met with the warm heat of the home and the smell of cinnamon as soon as they stepped inside. Charlie let his eyes wander across the walls of the entryway, scanning the line of pictures before tugging Y/N over to one.

“This is you, yeah?” The question was rhetorical as it had been obvious that it was her in the picture. She stood on a cliffside, at the top of a mountain with a bright smile on her face, her childhood dog, Rex, beside her and the ocean behind her.

“Yeah, I was seventeen and went backpacking by myself for the first time. My mom was so mad. This family that was passing by was kind enough to capture the moment for me and my dad insisted that it be hung on the wall of accomplishments…” Y/N rambled off the story before letting her eyes move from the picture and up to Charlie.

Charlie smiled down at her and laughed, “this is gonna sound insane, but I think that was my family that stopped and took the picture.”

Y/N pulled her brows forward so that her forehead was pinched in the middle “shut up! No it wasn’t!” she finally exclaimed.

“Rex….the dog’s name was Rex. I remember because I thought you were pretty and I got flustered and I said something dumb about Rex from Toy Story.”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide as Charlie recounted the story and she felt her cheeks growing red at the revelation “well, this is a weird twist in fate--”

She was cut off by the sound of her dad’s deep voice bellowing her name as he turned the corner. Charlie pulled her into his side and let his right-hand rest on her hip, while her right hand rested on his chest.

“Well, this certainly isn’t Noah!” Her father exclaimed a large smile on his face and his eyes soft. He had never been the biggest fan of Noah’s to begin with.

Charlie dropped his hand from her waist and stepped forward with it stretched out towards her dad, “Charlie Gillespie, sir.” He was taken aback when her dad threw his head back in laughter and pulled him in for a full bear hug.

“Nice to meet you, son”

Y/N giggled at her dad’s antics, he had always been the type to do things like that. He was a stout man with laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. He had graying hair and a well-kept beard and he radiated kindness.

“And you, little missy, are going to have a lot of explaining to do to your mother.” Y/N pulled back from her dad's embrace and blew the air out of her cheeks.

“Yeah, I know…”

Her dad gently squeezed her arm and gave her a reassuring smile before leaving the two to grab a beer from the kitchen.

“Why do I have the overwhelming feeling to call your dad pops and ask him over to mine to watch hockey?” Charlie joked.

Y/N shrugged and tangled her fingers with his, “I told you he was the easy one. Are you ready for the rest?”

“Lead the way, beautiful.”

Y/N tugged on Charlie’s hand and he followed behind her as they made their way to the den where her brothers were corralled around and a card table, intense looks on each of their faces as they held their cards close to their bodies. Their wives were set on the opposite side of the room. Y/N could feel the three women’s eyes on her as she entered the room with Charlie and she knew their hushed whispers were aimed at her and the fact that Charlie was very much not Noah.

Her youngest brother, Josh, was the first of the three boys to look up and notice her. He dropped his cards on the table, face down, and scooted his chair back against the hardwood floors.

“Junebug!” He yelled as he practically launched himself towards her. Y/N exploded into a fit of giggles as her feet left the floor and he twirled her around in circles. Josh was three years younger than her, sitting at nineteen but she had always been the closest with him. Her giggles quieted down as he sat her back down and turned to Charlie.

“Well, you’re not Noah.” Josh quipped with a playful smirk on his face.

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck and laughed “I have a feeling I am going to be getting that a lot today.”

“You play poker?” Josh eyeballed him.

“I know my way around a deck of cards, yeah.” Charlie shrugged.

Josh turned to Y/N and lightly punched her shoulder, “looks like you got yourself an upgrade, Junebug!”

Y/N rolled her eyes at her brother and wished Charlie luck as he was pulled over to the table and introduced to her two older brothers, Samuel and Michael. She felt her shoulders relax for a moment as the table erupted with laughter from something Charlie had said. He looked up from his cards and shot her a wink before turning his attention back to the game at hand.

Y/N glanced back at Charlie one last time before making her way over to the prying eyes of Amy and Melissa, the wives of Samuel and Michael. The two women each held a mug of her mother’s homemade cider in their manicured hands.

“Who’s the cutie?” Amy was the first to speak, her left eyebrow raised as she asked the question.

Y/N looked over her shoulder for a moment with a smile before turning back around “Charlie…”

“Oh! Well, you’ve certainly never said Noah’s name like that before!” Melissa looked at Y/N with wide eyes.

Y/N shook her head at the two gossipy women “like what?’

Amy and Melissa both shot knowing looks to each other before Amy quipped, “sweetie, that boy’s name left your lips like honey falling from a spoon.”

“It did not!’

“You can deny it all you want, but we both heard it!” Melissa declared and brought her mug up to her lips, taking a sip of the warm cider.

“Looks like I’m out boys!” Y/N heard from the other side of the room. She glanced over her shoulder to find Charlie laying his cards down on the table before he slid out of his chair. She smiled at him as he made his way over to her. He stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and tugged her back into his chest, his head resting on her shoulder.

“Charlie, these are my sister-in-laws, Amy, and Melissa.”

“Very nice to meet both of you.” Charlie beamed at the two women.

Melissa and Amy stood up at the sound of heels clicking against the tile floor of the kitchen. Melissa made her way around Y/N and she gently squeezed Charlies’s bicep, “good luck honey.”

Charlie pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek and tightened his arms around her waist as he felt her body tense in his arms.

“You’ve got this,” Charlie reassured before loosening his grip on her and letting her grab his hand.

Y/N sucked in a deep breath and gently pulled Charlie behind her as she navigated through the formal dining room and towards the kitchen where her mother was sure to be found.

She stopped just inside the doorway to the kitchen and turned to face Charlie, “you can still get out of this, ya know?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Charlie placed his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her around, nudging her into the kitchen while he followed.

Y/N stood silently for a minute as she watched her mother pull the green bean casserole from the oven and wipe her hands across her floral apron. Her mother was a thin woman with auburn hair that was almost always pulled into a chignon.

“Mom? Can I talk to you?” Y/N hesitantly asked, suddenly feeling less like a twenty-two year old woman and more like a twelve-year old child.

“What do you want to talk about, dear? Because if it’s about Noah,” her mother grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the brown gravy that was simmering on the stove, “then I frankly don’t have time to listen to your childish reasons for ending the only good thing you had.”

“You know?” Y/N choked out

Her mother grabbed the pepper grinder and began to twist the top over another pot of food, “I called Noah after we spoke last week since you couldn’t give me a straight answer when I called you.”

“Oh…” Y/N placed her hands on Charlie’s chest and gently pushed him backward. Her eyes pleading with him to give her a minute. She didn’t want him to bear witness to the reprimanding she knew was about to come. Charlie hesitantly left her side and waited on the other side of the door.

Her mother finally turned around to face Y/N. She placed her hands on the edge of the counter, her knuckles white from the tight grip.

“Honestly, y/n. I don’t know why you can’t get your life together. You graduated college just to throw away your education for this silly photography hobby of yours and now you threw away a perfectly acceptable relationship because you want to travel and have adventures? You’re not a child, anymore, y/n. When is this going to stop? When are you going to grow up?”

Y/N stood silently as the words washed over her. She could feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes and let out a shaky breath.

“I…”

“What? You what, Y/N? What explanation could you possibly have this time?” Her mother cut her off.

Charlie pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning on from the other side of the door and quickly made his way back into the kitchen. He felt her mother’s eyes on him as he quickly pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek, his hand sliding across the middle of her back before he put on his best smile and made his way over to her mother.

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Y/L/N. My mother would be insanely envious of the spread you’ve created, it’s magazine worthy!”

“Thank you, dear. You are much too kind! I am so sorry, but I don’t believe I caught your name?”

Y/N looked down at the floor and smiled to herself at the charm that Charlie exuded as he introduced himself to her mother and offered to help her bring the endless amounts of food to the formal dining room for her.

“I’ll go gather everyone.” Y/N shot an appreciative smile to Charlie before she made her way back to the den to gather the rest of the family into the dining room.

Y/N made her way over to the empty chair next to Charlie, the latter getting out of his own chair to pull her chair out for her before sitting back down. He placed his hand on the inside of her thigh and let his thumb rub circles on the top of her leg.

Her dad stood at the top of the table and carved the turkey while small talk was exchanged between her brothers and their wives and suddenly the question finally came from her mother.

“So, how did you two meet?”

Y/N glanced over at Charlie not sure if he was going to take the lead or not and was surprised when he started spitting out a story that was definitely not the one they had agreed on during their lunch meeting,

“I met your daughter several years ago on a hiking trip with my family,” Charlie paused and looked over at her before continuing, “my older brother, Patrick actually took that photo that you have on your wall in the entryway!”

Y/N’s heart was beating erratically as Charlie squeezed her knee before turning his focus back to her mother “your daughter took my breath away that day and I kicked myself for weeks for not getting her number and just having this missed connection. I guess you could call it a twist of fate, really, that I found her again.”

Y/N’s mother smiled at the two of them and Y/N felt her body tense for just a moment before relief rushed over her at her mother’s words “that may be the most romantic thing I have ever heard in my life.”

“Can we eat now or?” Josh hesitantly asked as he grabbed the plate of yams and began piling a portion onto his plate.

Y/N felt at ease for the rest of the evening as their shared meal went off without a hitch. Her family shared embarrassing stories of her with Charlie and she sipped glasses of wine as he endlessly complimented her. Her heart felt full as the night drew to a close and her dad pulled out the last Thanksgiving tradition. The wishbone was passed around the table until it landed in her hands. She turned to Charlie and gestured for him to grab the other end of the bone. They both tugged on the bone with their eyes closed until it snapped.

Y/N opened her eyes and looked down at the fractured bone in her hand and then over to Charlie who was holding the larger side.

“Make a wish,” she whispered to him with a soft smile on her face. Charlie shook his head and kissed her forehead.

“I don’t have to, I’ve got everything I want right here.”

Y/N dropped her eyes to the table and reminded herself that as much as she felt the connection between her and Charlie, that he was just playing a role.

She looked up as the sound of chairs sliding against the floor filled the room. She followed suit and slowly stood up from her chair.

“Do you need help, mom?”

“You go ahead and head out honey, I know you have a long drive.”

Y/N made her rounds of goodbye to her family before looking back at Charlie and grabbing his hand. They silently walked to his car and he opened the car door for her. Y/N hummed along to the songs that played on the radio during the drive back to her place. She tried to ignore the heat that she felt in her stomach as Charlie’s thumb ran across her knuckles every now and then. She watched the cars that passed by them, red tail lights lighting up her face as they drove on the highway. Before she knew it they were parked outside of her apartment.

“I guess this is it then…” Charlie looked over at Y/N as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“I guess so.” Y/N agreed, her right hand rested on the door handle as she looked at Charlie, her eyes searching for any indication that he didn’t want her to leave. She let her hand pull on the door handle when Charlie didn’t respond.

She swung the car door open and stepped out into the street before making her way to the sidewalk. She turned around at the sound of another car door shutting and was taken aback by Charlie running over to her side

“I should walk you to your door,” Charlie answered the silent question

Y/N smiled and led the way through the apartment corridor until they stood outside of her door, her keys dangling in her left hand. She looked up at Charlie and smiled, “you didn’t have to see me inside, ya know?”

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand and shrugged, “all part of the job.”

Y/N felt her smile falter and turned around to place the key into the lock of her apartment door. She quickly turned the key and opened the door before stepping inside. She turned to look at Charlie one last time, “well, thank you for giving me my money’s worth,” she let her eyes fall from his.

“Goodbye, Charlie.” She closed the door and dropped her keys into the catch-all bowl before kicking her heels off and making her way over to the couch. She let her body slump into the soft cushions and pulled her phone out to call the only person that was going to understand.

“Tell me everything!” Leigha demanded as soon as her face appeared on the phone.

‘Well,” Y/N sighed, “I think I accidentally started to fall in love with him.”

Leigha couldn’t stop the giddy laughter that erupted from her small frame “I knew this was going to happen! I so called this!”

Y/N rolled her eyes at her best friend and poked her bottom lip out in a pout “it’s not funny Lee...I’m never gonna see him again and now I have all of these feelings to deal with.”

“You don’t know that!” Leigha argued

“I appreciate that you’re a hopeless romantic, Lee, but I was nothing but a paying customer to him...he basically said so himself.” Y/N frowned, thinking back to Charlie’s words as he walked her to her door.

“Oh...hun, I’m so sorry.”

Y/N let a sad smile slip onto her face, “I’m gonna go to bed, coffee tomorrow morning?”

Y/N hung her phone up and pulled herself up from the couch. She shuffled through the apartment until she reached her room and slowly peeled the sequined dress from her body. She made her way to the vanity and grabbed a makeup wipe and slowly removed the makeup from her face before she crawled into bed and pulled the covers tight around her body.

It was 8 am when Y/N was pulled from her slumber by her phone blaring the ringtone that Leigha insisted she set for herself. She rolled over with her eyes still closed and fumbled around for her phone before slowly cracking her eyes to hit the green button.

“What?” Y/N grumpily answered

“Don’t what me!” Leigha chastised, “there’s a cute boy at the cafe and he just ordered your order! Like to the T!”

Y/N set up in her bed and pressed her fingers into her eyes, rubbing the sleep away in small circles.

“Ok? And?”

“AND?! AND!!! His name is Charlie! I swear to god if you don��t get out of bed and make yourself look decent, I will literally kill you!”

Y/N dropped her phone onto her bed and pulled the covers back. She quickly made her way to her bathroom and brushed her teeth. She stared at herself in the mirror and ran her fingers through her messy bed head, her curls tangling together between her fingers.

“Shit..okay….okay…” She muttered to herself and opted to twist her hair up into a top knot. She secured it with a hair tie and ran back to her room where she threw on a pair of black leggings and an oversized jumper. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest when she heard a knock on her door.

She wiped her hands on her leggings and quickly made her way to her front door. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves before reaching forward to unlock the door. Her hand shook as she turned the doorknob and slowly pulled the door open. Stood on the other side was Charlie with a small brown bag and a hot coffee extended out to her.

Y/N stepped to the side and opened the door wider, allowing Charlie to come in.

“What are you doing here?” She asked as she took the bag and coffee from his hands. She sat the bag on the counter and pulled the cup to her lips, taking a small sip. She hummed to herself as the warm liquid slid down her throat.

Charlie stepped forward and hesitantly took the drink from her hands, setting it on the counter behind her. Y/N watched anxiously as Charlie’s eyes moved across her face, flickering between her eyes and lips several times before he lifted his hands and placed one on her right cheek while the other cradled her neck.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Charlie whispered into the space between them before catching her lips with his. Charlie pulled away before Y/N had a chance to react, his face glowing red as he held his bottom teeth between his top two teeth.

“Is this free of charge?” Y/N joked as she placed her hands on Charlie’s chest and leaned forward, bringing her lips back to his.

@straywonpil @siennanoelle01 @choppedhoundsludgeclod @cool-ultra-nerd @hxney-bunches-x @crybabyddl @sorryyoureoutofmyleague @dream-a-little-bigger-x @kcd15 @all-in-fangirl @ifilwtmfc @onlygetaway @iainttakingshitfromnobody @angryknightstatesmantrash @jazzyhales @bathtimejish @lanasfandoms @miranda0102 @emotionalbruv @aliandthephantoms @multifandombabies @kinda-really-lost @5sosmukefan @alexpjoyner @mo-d3ans @hannahhistorian92 @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @i-should-be-writing-my-own-fic @sunflowerbecca @n0wornever @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic

#charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie #luke patterson #charlie gillespie one shot #charlie gillespie fanfic #jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #julie and the himbos #julie and the phantoms fanfic #luke patterson fanfic

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valdomarx · 3 years

Text

Inseparably Entwined

Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Sheppard, bound together, 2k, rated M

Elizabeth pinches the bridge of her nose. "What did you two do now?"

"We. Uhh. We found another Ancient device."

"And, instead of cataloguing it for a hazmat team to investigate, as per protocol, you decided to play with it?"

“To investigate it,” Rodney corrects. “Like the competent professionals we are.” John punches him in the arm.

Elizabeth's lips purse into a thin line. "And then you accidentally activated it?"

John winces. "And then we accidentally activated it."

"Of course you did. And its effects are…?"

"Non lethal," Rodney says, a bit too quickly.

Elizabeth mumbles something that might be don't bet on it under her breath. "Non lethal, but…?"

John shifts his weight and stares at a point behind her head. "McKay and I have to stay within ten feet of each other at all times or we both pass out."

For a moment there is stunned silence. Then the sound of Elizabeth's bark of laughter fills the office and spills out into the gate room.

Carson waves a hand. “You’re both going to be fine. It looks like the bond is only temporary.”

Rodney fidgets. “How temporary?”

“I couldn’t say. A few days, maybe a few weeks?”

“Weeks?” John chokes out. “Listen, doc, we need you to fix this -”

Carson cuts him off. “I’m sorry, son, but I’ve got more important things on my plate right now.” He looks pointedly around the infirmary which is admittedly full of marines being treated for combat injuries, Athosians coming in for checkups, and troops of medical staff organizing vaccinations for off-world groups.

John deflates. “So we’re stuck with each other?”

Carson pats him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

Rodney looks up at that. “Hey!”

“Absolutely not.” John recoils in horror. “We are not sleeping in your room.”

“But all my stuff is in there.”

“Your room is disgusting. If you think I’m sleeping on the floor among half-finished bags of cheetos and bits of drones, you are sorely mistaken. It’s a wonder you haven’t attracted the Lantean equivalent of rats.”

“I’ll have you know the bags of cheetos are almost entirely finished.”

“Rodney -”

“Alright! We’ll sleep in your oh-so-tidy quarters. Military spick and span, no snacks or useful bits of machinery in sight.” Rodney rounds on him, waving a finger in his face. “But if I get an inspired idea in the middle of the night and can’t find a circuit board to test it on, know that it’s your stubbornness that is robbing humanity of another of my great concepts.”

John hides a smile. “I’ll have to find a way to live with myself.”

When the doors to John’s quarters slide open, Rodney’s jaw drops.

“Hey! How come you have a bigger bed than me?”

John shoots him a smug look. “I upgraded after the last attack. Benefits of command.” It was one of the very few benefits of command he was willing to take advantage of.

“Oh, that’s how it is, hmm? We’re living in a military dictatorship here, with all the best perks and boons given to the highest ranking officers? Never mind that it’s the scientists who do all the actual work, who discover new technology and solve the problems, oh no, let’s give out the biggest and comfiest beds to the military guys, as if that’s fair -”

“McKay!” he interrupts. Rodney looks like he’s having fun, gearing up for a good rant, but John honestly can’t take it right now. “Go to sleep, I’m begging you.”

Rodney huffs, clearly saving that rant away for another time. “Fine.”

John is woken up for the third time that night by Rodney fidgeting on the floor and sighing dramatically.

“What is it, McKay?” His voice is testy. He doesn’t love having his sleep interrupted.

“I can’t get comfortable. A sleeping bag on the floor is bad for my back.”

John stares at the ceiling and counts to ten. He looks at the ample space next to him and calculates his best odds of getting some sleep tonight. “Come here and share the bed with me then.”

Rodney eyes his mattress dubiously. “I’ll have you know I require a very firm mattress, for spinal support, not that I’d expect you to understand -”

“For god’s sake, get in the bed. It has to be better than the floor.”

A moment’s pause. “Yeah, alright.”

It’s been a long time since John slept next to someone. His rare hookups have mostly involved sneaking out in the middle of the night, and even when he was married they slept in separate beds most of the time.

Sleeping next to Rodney is, surprisingly, not awful though. Sure, he steals all the covers and moves around all the time and, of course, he snores, but John finds that he strangely doesn’t mind.

John has seen Rodney under fire, seen him at his best, seen him happy and sad and angry and bored. But he’s never seen him first thing in the morning before.

“Whazzat?” Rodney’s eyes barely open. His expression is one of overriding confusion. “Whzz going on?”

John stifles a smile at his resident genius. He’s been up for an hour already, showered, done his laundry, and cleaned his space. He’s also decided to play nice and share his secret.

“Here,” he says, and hands a mug of freshly brewed coffee to Rodney. “Just don’t tell anyone I snuck coffee and a kettle into my personal effects, or the scientists will raid us in the middle of the night.”

“Coffee!” Rodney is still radiating confusion, but he hones in on the cup of coffee like a laser. A blissful smile passes over his face. “You brought me coffee.”

“I did.”

“You’re wonderful.” Rodney takes the coffee and cradles it like something precious and rare.

After a day and a half doing paperwork in the lab because they can't go off-world, John has reached the end of his rope.

"I'm going to the gym," he snaps. "You can either come with me or we'll both end up in the infirmary when I try to go there alone."

Rodney glares and is clearly about to start arguing when Zelenka elbows him. He sighs dramatically but agrees that they can take an hour away.

While they're both in the gym and John needs a sparring partner, he figures he might as well teach Rodney some self defense. The idea of Rodney needing to defend himself makes something unpleasant twist in his gut, but he pushes that away and argues they should make the most of this time and do something productive. To his surprise, Rodney agrees, and they run through some basic drills and defensive maneuvers.

Rodney is bad at this, frankly. He's all elbows and poor coordination, but he's trying.

John is feeling magnanimous, and he knows the value of a bit of positive reinforcement. So when Rodney steps forward and attempts a clumsy hip throw, he leans in and lets himself be thrown.

Rodney looks astonished that actually worked, before delightedly pouncing on John and pinning him to the floor.

"Got you," he says, face pink and grinning wickedly.

John's heart picks up, somehow distracted by Rodney's heavy weight on him and the sharp brightness of his smile. He swallows thickly.

"I guess you do."

“Geez, Sheppard, how long does it take to have a shower?” Rodney’s voice carries through the bathroom door. “I want to run some simulations on the city’s power systems with Zelenka.”

John’s cheeks flush and he tries to tune Rodney out. “Just give me a minute, will you?”

“What are you doing in there anyway, jerking off?”

John goes very, very still.

“Oh my god, you are!”

“Shut up, McKay.”

“No, no, don’t let me stop you. You go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

“I hate you.”

“I’m not judging. It’s perfectly natural. And hey, maybe it’ll help you chill the fuck out for once.”

John scowls, gives up, and shoves his dick back in his pants. “I will kill you in your sleep.”

John is used to having to drag McKay around after him on missions, so in some ways their new situation isn’t entirely unfamiliar.

Tac vests are useful for that; full of hand holds he can grab when he needs McKay to get down under cover or to stop him from wandering off to look at some shiny piece of technology. When Rodney is in uniform, he can grab the collar of his shirt, though Rodney complains that it creases the fabric horribly.

So John finds a compromise. When he has stuff to do and Rodney is dawdling, he grabs his hand and steers him in the right direction. After a while it becomes second nature - whenever there’s danger or something important is happening, he takes Rodney’s hand and they set off to deal with it together.

If any of the marines find it funny to see their commander holding hands with the head of science during a crisis, none of them dares to mention it.

John is carefully, carefully tending to his hair. Just the right amount of product, to spike it just the right amount to look effortless. He tweaks and ruffles, tugs and shapes. This is an art form which requires judicious maintenance.

“Oh, for the love of -” Rodney grabs the tub of hair wax out of his hands. “We’ll be here all day. Let me.”

He steps forward and slides his hands into John’s hair, ruffling it vigorously. His fingers are firm on John’s scalp and he tugs just on the right side of too hard.

Rodney steps back and surveys his work. “That’ll do.”

John glances in the mirror and sees a chaotic, wild mess. He looks like he’s run a marathon, with his pink cheeks and mussed hair, or like he’s rolled out of bed after a night of passion.

“Rodney! I can’t go out like this.”

“Oh, shut up. You look smoking hot, like you always do.”

That’s… What? What does that mean? Why the hell would Rodney say that?

“Come on,” Rodney is saying, already on his way out the door. John has to run after him, cheeks still flushed.

They find a rhythm.

John gets up first and puts the coffee on while he showers. He’s given up on trying to tidy Rodney’s side of the room, so he lets the piles of circuit boards and screwdrivers sprout up where they will. Once Rodney is up they get breakfast at the mess, then he spends the morning doing paperwork and writing reports in the science lab while Rodney works. They meet Teyla and Ronon for lunch, then he spends the afternoon drilling the marines while Rodney taps away at a laptop. Evenings, they bicker over which movies to watch in their quarters and throw popcorn at each other.

Elizabeth even agrees to let them travel to the mainland, and then to go on low-stakes reconnaissance missions.

It’s… comfortable, he realizes. It works.

That thought makes something twist in his chest, and he doesn’t know why.

“Morning, sunshine.” John pours Rodney a cup of coffee.

“Mmm.” Rodney is still sleep-rumpled, but he struggles upright and smiles softly. “Morning.”

As he hands over the coffee, Rodney catches his wrist and holds him there. He looks down at the mug, then back up at John. John notices in an abstract way that his eyes are very, very blue.

“Thanks,” Rodney says, and pecks him on the lips.

Right. Okay. That’s a thing. That’s a thing they’re doing now.

John is still processing as Rodney gets up and heads for the shower. “I’ve got a meeting with Miko this morning,” he says over his shoulder, normal as ever, “so we might have to push our gym session back by half an hour -”

He keeps chattering away while John sits on the bed and has a minor crisis. Did they… do they… but that would mean…

By the time Rodney is out of the shower, John has made a decision.

He doesn’t allow himself to overthink it, he just takes Rodney’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply. Rodney’s arms tighten around his waist and his tongue slips into his mouth and oh. Oh yes. That’s good.

John’s a little breathless, a little dizzy. “Are we really doing this?” he asks.

Rodney’s face scrunches up in amusement. “I think we’ve been doing this for weeks.”

Yeah. Okay. That’s a fair point.

The tense feeling that’s been winding around his chest uncoils, and in its place is nothing but blooming warmth.

“I guess we have.”

EPILOGUE

“Carson.” Elizabeth looks up from where she’s frowning at a tablet and gives him a polite nod. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Any time,” Carson says, and means it. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping to get an update on the situation with John and Rodney. We really do need them to get back on full duty soon.”

“Ahh.” He’s been carefully avoiding that topic. He takes a breath. “To be honest with you, the bond between them wore off days ago. They could go their separate ways now and be none the worse for it.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows fly upward toward her hairline. “And you haven’t told them yet?”

“See, at first they were in the infirmary every day asking for an update. But they haven’t been in for over a week and -”

“And?”

“They seem…” he pauses, contemplating his choice of words, “... happy.”

Elizabeth’s mouth twitches into a quickly suppressed smile. “That may be, but you have a professional responsibility.”

“Aye, you’re right. I’ll go and tell them the effects of the device have run their course.”

“Well…” Elizabeth looks thoughtful. “You have a professional responsibility to give them accurate medical information when they ask for it.”

Carson sees where she’s going with this. “And until then?”

Elizabeth shrugs and gives him a sly look. “They do seem happy.”

#mcshep #stargate atlantis #my writing #sometimes you must write the fic you want to see in the world

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pagingevilspawn · 3 years

Note

Hey my request is about Alex who returns to Seatle and finds out about Jo and Jackson's relationship

i had all and then most of you (some and now none of you)

wc: 1.4k

pairing: Jo Wilson/Alex Karev (past), Meredith Grey & Alex Karev (gen), and mentions of Jo Wilson/Jackson Avery.

summary: during a late night phone call, alex learns that jo is well and truly no longer his.

rating: general audiences.

category: angst.

warnings: angst, no happy ending.

AN: again, this is pretty short, but i wrote it in two hours, so.... it's not quite what you asked for anon, but i tried to keep it relatively canon compliant, since here (as you can tell) Meredith didn't get covid.

_____

The silence in the house seemed alarming to him, not used to the lack of commotion that usually echoed throughout the halls. Izzie was finishing up on a shift and wouldn’t be home for a while, and the twins were tucked into bed, leaving the only sound in the home to be the low, steady humming of a sitcom rerun on the TV.

The appeal drained after a while, and he eventually grew tired of laughter from the audience after nearly every line spoken. Mindless chatter was all it was and all it seemed to be.

Alex sighed, leaning into the couch’s cushions and pulling out his phone, dialing Meredith’s number once he saw that he had missed her call only minutes before. He waits a few seconds, the droning of the beeps making him anxious for a reason he couldn’t place. Eventually, Meredith picks up, her voice slightly out of breath, which he only assumes could come from finishing a long day of work.

“Alex! How are you?”

He gets up from his place on the couch, taking his conversation onto the front porch, settling onto the swing that hung in the corner. “I’m good Mer, I’m good,” he says, directing his gaze to the end of the road, where a car went by, headlights being one of the only forms of light besides the dim street lamps.

“How are the kids?” he asks, feeling a sense of nostalgia at the fact that he hadn’t seen his niece or nephews in months. He missed them, more than he would admit. He had been there for everything, everything graduation, every dance, every school play, he had been there.

But he had his own kids to tend to now, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

(not trade, but make some changes. he lost that opportunity a long time ago though)

“They’re good. Zola is driving Bailey crazy with how much she’s correcting his homework, when all he wants to do is go play on his XBox. Ellis is hating distance learning, complaining that all she wants to do is see her friends, but what else is new. Zola loves it, not surprisingly. She thinks school is even easier than it was before, the only part she misses is talking to her friends, but she calls them and everything, so she doesn't see too much harm. She’s started staying after class to help other kids with her teachers. Amelia and I have been teasing her non-stop about being a kiss-up, but she loves it. If she decides to switch careers I wouldn't doubt that she would be a teacher,” she says, and he can hear the car door slam shut and the rumble of the car's engine coming to life.

He laughs softly, “We both know that that’s not gonna happen. Zo would rather get into a bear fight before giving up on being a surgeon.”

Meredith hums, “That’s true. The thought of being anything else almost is offensive to her,” she laughs. “The other day I made an offhand comment about a lawyer being a fun career for her because of how much she loves to argue, and she went into a five minute lecture on why she was going to be a neurosurgeon.”

Alex smiles, practically able to see the image of Zola telling her mom off for suggesting she be anything other than a surgeon. “That sounds about right. I learned that lesson a long time ago.”

There are a couple of beats of silence, the only thing he can hear is the crickets chirping in the distance and the faint sounds of cars racing around in the background.

“They miss you, you know,” Meredith finally speaks, her tone dropping slightly to let him know how sincere her words were.

He lets out a heavy breath, “I miss them too Mer,” the crickets continue their noise, and images of what his life used to be seem to filter through his mind. An endless loop, dancing in his head of a life he once used to live, but could no longer say he knew.

“Well,” she breaks him away from his thoughts, “When all this is over, you’re due for a visit, okay?”

He nods, even though she can’t see him. “Long overdue,” he agrees. “So, what’s been going on over at Seattle Grace Mercy Death?”

She fills him in on the latest events of the hospital, how everyone was adjusting to their new realities, the newest batch of interns, and patients that had stuck out more than others.

It was a funny thing that he didn’t realize until a while ago, somehow patients at Grey-Sloan had stuck with him more than the ones where he currently was.

“And Jo—” she starts, but cuts herself off, piquing his interest. Jo hadn’t come up in any other of their conversations, for reasons that didn’t really need to be said aloud.

He bites the inside of his cheek, releasing and giving himself the courage to finally ask about her. She never left his mind, so he couldn’t see the harm in asking about her —an opportunity to clear the part of his brain that was on a constant track of her if he was able to know how she was.

“It’s fine Mer, you can talk about her,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

He can hear her sigh, and can practically imagine the head shake she is giving him right then “Not about this, Alex.”

He perks up immediately, “Is she okay? I need you to tell me if she’s not okay Mer,” he demanded, his voice firm, only a trace of worry present if anyone were to listen closely.

(he felt like Elsa, conceal don’t feel)

“What? No,” she scoffs. “Jo’s fine, though I don’t really think you have the right to care about how she is anymore Alex, considering you’re the one that left her,” she scolds him, and he can hear the disappointment in her voice, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

He lets out a heavy breath, trying to fight back the urge to explain himself to her, which would end up in a loud argument of why he shouldn’t have done what he had. He’d had it before, and each time it sent him to bed with all the what if’s playing out in the forefront of his mind.

Except he didn’t live a life of what if’s, he was living a life of right now.

“I know Mer,” he can hear the heaviness in his words, and she must too, since she relents her lecture on him, and he knows that it’ll just come up at another time.

“She’s sleeping with Jackson,” she says it so casually that he almost thinks that she’s joking, but realizes that she’s not when she stays silent.

“...Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He can feel the tenseness of the air, even though they are thousands of miles apart. He clears his throat after a few minutes have passed. “Are they together, or…?” he trails off, unsure of how he’s supposed to feel.

He left her. He left her. He left her. He wants to say that he’s upset that she’s already moved on, but there he was, sleeping in the same bed as his ex-wife and raising their children together, all while they were still married. He couldn’t really have an opinion, because he was the one who ended their relationship in the most cowardly way possible, through a letter sent in the mail, not even giving her the courtesy to tell her the truth to her face.

“No, they’re doing a friends with benefits sort of thing.”

He nods, trying to think of something to say. “Is she happy?” he settles on.

“Not like she once was, but I think she’s getting back there.”

The ache in his heart grows a bit more, because some selfish part of him wants her to only be able to be happy with him, as unfair and cruel as it is. But he smiles bitterly, and the larger part of him is happy for her, happy that she is finally able to have someone make her laugh and smile again.

The sight of headlights coming up the driveway breaks him away from his own mind, and he knows this conversation will have to be finished at another time.

“You did this to yourself Alex,” she says, as if she knows exactly what he’s thinking.

“I know.”

They both hang up, and he greets Izzie with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, wishing that the woman he was curled up on the couch with was someone else.

But it wasn’t, because he made his choice, and now he had to face the reality of a life he chose to live.

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sweetlavenderwritings · 4 years

Text

Little to No Space

summary: tendou has a little crush on a certain someone, their straight faced manager that never reacts to his weird shenanigans. his best friend advises that they should get closer.

-or, you get stuck in a locker with the guess monster.

a/n: this was based off an asmr i listened to a couple nights ago (you were hiding in a locker with a teacher of yours) it was kinda funny bc the one who voiced it was oikawa’s official va. anyways, take whatever this is lol.

pairing/s: tendou satori x reader

wc: 2 147 (whoops)

tags: crack, comedy(?), humor, ur literally just in a funny situation lol, nsfw implication if u squint

-ꦼ———▸ crossposted on ao3

⋅. ♪ .⋅ Loving Tendou Playlist

“You need to stop staring at our manager and actually talk to her Satori.” Ushijima’s deep voice broke him out of his trance, catching his attention.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Wakatoshi-kun.” He deflected. Okay, maybe he did tend to stare at you. But he swears he didn’t do it that much.

Ushijima rolled his eyes at that, “I may not be the brightest when it comes people-”

“You got that right.” He snickered while putting his gym clothes away.

“As I was saying, I at least know she isn’t the least bothered by you,” he shut his locker door with a firm bang, interrupting his musing for a moment, “we can all see how she isn’t fazed by whatever antics you flung at her.”

“But that’s just because she’s just like you!” His best friend raised his brows at him. “Not completely, but she’s uhh, I don’t know-stoic. Straight faced and doesn’t say anything much unless necessary.”

“I’m not stoic.”

“Sure you aren’t.” Has he really not noticed?

“So you’re implying that you can be close to her?” He knew his best friend can be quite obtuse sometimes, but where did that come from?

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, where did even get that idea?” He turned his attention to his duffel bag, already done with the conversation.

But it seems Ushijima wasn’t, “You said she was just like me, even if it was just a bit. And since we’re close, that means you could be with her as well.”

“You’re grasping at short straws here Ushiwaka,” he teased. “Why do you seem so persistent to get me to talk to her?”

“Because I think she might be one of the few people that would actually tolerate your weird personality, rather than shun you for it like most people would.” Oh, that was actually helpful. He knew Ushijima rarely spoke, but whenever he did, it was always something meaningful and helpful.

Ushijima scratched at his neck, looking around the locker room looking for something.

“Uhh, watcha looking for there buddy?”

“I’m missing my pair of socks.” Ushijima groaned. Suddenly, all his previous thoughts of him being meaningful was diminished within a second.

“That’s the fourth time this week ‘Toshi.”

“I know, but for some reason they don’t end up where they’re supposed to be.” He was pouting, the redhead could tell. You wouldn’t actually see it until you looked closely.

He had to reassure their captain before he drones about ads he read in today’s newspaper. He was not interested in discounts held for sock stores. “We’ll ask the janitors tomorrow, okay? Don’t fret about it.”

Satisfied with his answer, Ushijima nodded. They both grabbed their bags then turned to leave, until they heard a knock at the door.

“Uhm, excuse me. Is Tendou-kun here by any chance?” Speak of the devil...

He stilled, clearly not expecting for you to look for him. He wondered how long you’ve been there, hoping you haven’t heard a single word from their conversation that just happened to be about you.

Ushijima looked at him, a faint smirk curved at the corners of his lips. He gave him a look as if to say, this is your chance.

Without consulting him if he even wanted to answer, he strode towards the door and opened it without warning, causing you to jump back in surprise. The basket of jerseys nearly fell from your hands in shock.

He mentally slapped himself in the face. Way to go Wakatoshi, scare off our manager.

“Satori’s right here,” He waved to him, standing still like a deer in the headlights. “I must go.” He walked past you, leaving no space for you to even start a conversation with him.

“Oh, uhm alright. Thank you Ushijima-san.” You waved to Ushijima before to turning to him, looking at him with a blank expression.

“I’m sorry, it seems I interrupted you on your way home. But I promise this will be quick.” You said with a flat tone. You reached down on the freshly laundered basket of jerseys, fumbling with the different colored fabrics as you looked for something.

With a victorious ‘ah’, you held up a familiar pair of socks.

“I kept seeing these somewhere in your locker rooms whenever I clean after practice. I usually just place them on the benches but this time it was on basket with the rest of the jerseys so I took the liberty to wash them.” He took them from your hands, fingers lightly brushing when he grab ahold of the very socks his best friend was pouting about. He jolted, feeling a sensation from the minimal contact.

Either you ignored him or didn’t notice, which was probably the latter, you moved on to place the basket on a corner.

‘You need to stop staring at our manager and actually talk to her Satori.’

“So, how are you managing so far manager-chan?” He hoped his voice didn’t reveal how nervous he was to be alone with you.

In truth, he liked being with you at any chance he could get. It was fun flinging non-nonsensical shit at you, just to get a reaction. It was like a challenge for him really, wanting nothing more than to see you flustered or even better, laugh at his jokes just for once.

You never looked irked or disgusted by his whole demeanor, which was something he appreciated a lot. He hoped you never would, fearing that it might be the inevitable truth he wasn’t willing to accept.

That he was a monster no one could truly understand.

“I’m still afraid of getting hit by a ball every time Ushijima-san serves, but other than that I’m doing fine.” You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, exhaustion evident on your face. “You’re not going home, Tendou-san? It’s already late, I suggest you hurry now so you can rest easy for tomorrow’s practice.”

He smirks, suddenly feeling a mood for a good teasing. “Dawww, is our dear little manager concerned for the resident Guess Monster?” He quirked a brow as he leered at you with a teasing grin.

Unperturbed, you tilted your head, looking a bit puzzled. “Of course I am. I am your manager after all, isn’t it my job to look after the team?”

“Don’t be shy, you can just say you like me, manager-chaaan~” He thought really shouldn’t tease you like that but he really can’t help himself.

What happened next surprised him the most.

He figured you’d wave off his teasing like always, roll your eyes then move on with your day. But instead, he spots the blushing of your cheeks. Something he didn’t expect from you at all.

He opens his mouth to say something but stops at the sounds of footsteps nearing the locker room.

Shit. If the team saw you alone with him in the locker rooms at this hour it’ll be the death of him. You wouldn’t have cared, but he knows they’ll hold it over his head and tease him relentlessly, insinuating that there’s something going on between the two of you.

With a hushed ‘Quick!’ he grabs your arm then pulls you into a vacant locker. He shuts the door in haste, making a loud bang that makes him wince.

“Tendou what’re you-” he shuts you up with a hand covering your mouth. He looks at you pleadingly as he zips up his lips, urging you to stay quiet. You nod with his hand still covering your lips.

“Hurry up Semi! We’re gonna be late!” Reon’s voice booms loudly as they enter the room, causing the both of you to jump in surprise.

“Wait a damn minute will you? I just forgot my wallet.” The sound of a locker opening fills in the sudden silence. He waits with a bated breath hoping they’ll leave soon.

But it seems that wasn’t the case.

“Say... Isn’t that Tendou’s duffel bag?” You both hear Shirabu’s voice ask with uncertainty. Tendou freezes, unsure what to do.

There’s a muffled noise of shuffling. “Yeah, it’s his alright. It’s his jacket draped over it.”

“Then why is it still here? Shouldn’t he have left by now?”

“Didn’t we pass by Ushijima just earlier?” Shit. Shit. Shit.

The locker you were both hiding in was getting hotter by the minute. He feels a sweat trickle down his neck as he tries not to breathe loudly as to not grab attention.

When Ushijima told him to get closer to you, he surely didn’t mean this!

Your soft hands reach to take his off your mouth. He mouths a soft ‘sorry’ but you shake your head softly, not minding his mistake in the slightest. With the ongoing conversation about his whereabouts outside he distracts himself with little details he begins to notice.

Like how you smelled of baby powder and faint deodorant, or how there are strands of your hair sticking to your exposed neck from your ponytail. He tries hard not to think about how close you were. Your shoulders pressed against his chest, head just below his chin, and your hips just right where his-

“Tendou-kun,” he hears you whisper. He cranes his just a bit, trying to get a look at your face. “Your phone is bumping my hip, I know there’s not much space but can you please move it a bit?”

Phone? What phone? He was pretty sure he left it in his bag━

“Sorry.” He apologizes meekly, wiggling his hips away from you as he desperately wills his sudden hard on to calm down. This locker was gonna be the death of him soon if he stays here any longer.

He thanks whatever deity is at work above for your obliviousness. A blessing in disguise he’s really thankful at the moment.

“Eh, why’re we wasting time here? He probably just went to the bathroom.” Semi cuts off as he grabs his wallet. Tendou thanks the ashen blond silently, promising not to tease him just for a day.

He hears the door shut. He waits until the footsteps are completely gone, then sighs in relief when no one comes back.

“Phew, that was a close call. Who knows what might’ve happened if they found us here.” He lets out a laugh, “we can leave now, [y/n]-chan.”

Then he’s looking at you, head ducked so he couldn’t see much of your face. But he peers between the strands of your hair and finally notices how flustered you look.

He smirks. “[y/n]-chan?”

For once in your life, you try to avoid his eyes.“O-oh! Tendou-kun, are they gone yet?”

“If I knew better manager-chan~ Judging by your flustered face, I would assume you actually wanted to stay here with me.”

Your eyes widen like saucers. “No! It’s just that it’s cramped in here, it got hot so I am blushing for different reasons!” Your composure was breaking by the minute, hands flailing in exaggeration as you try to explain in defense.

He barks out a laugh. “Manager-chan, I was just kidding! Calm down for me, hm?” You don’t reply.

“Alright, I’m sorry for teasing you.” He says as he reaches for the knob, “let’s just get out of here-”

You shoot your hand on his wrist, surprising the both of you. “Uh... about what you just said.”

He waits for you to continue. With a deep breath you try to finish your sentence. “I don’t mind, being here with Tendou-kun.... that’s all.”

The message clicks in his brain. I like you Tendou-kun.

“Oh.” He replied numbly. He was sure he must’ve looked stupid with the face he was making, still awestruck at what you just admitted.

You giggle, a sound he finds himself emitting to his memory.

“You’re weird as ever Tendou-kun,” the look of adoration you gave him nearly made him choke. “But that’s fine, I like that about you.”

Two confessions all at once? Was this a dream? Boy, he surely was gonna panic about this to Ushijima later, not that he’d be any of help.

Waving away the butterflies in his stomach, he ruffles your hair. “You’re too full of surprises today [y/n]-chan. Someday you’re gonna give me a heart attack if you just suddenly give me these cute faces without warning.”

He feels himself smile wide at another bashful look you give him.

“Now let’s get out of here.” He twists the knob inside but it doesn’t budge. Confused, he tries to twist it another way but it still doesn’t move. He struggles with it for a minute until he gives up.

It wouldn’t open.

“Uhh... Tendou-kun, I think we might have to call the others.” He hears you say tentatively.

“Sure, do you have your phone with you?”

You pat your pockets for a second. “Oh, I must’ve left it in my bag. How about we use your phone instead?”

“...”

#LSAHDLKAS #no editing again #imma pass out now lol #tendou x reader #tendou satori #tendou satori x reader #tendou x you #tendou x y/n #tendou satori x you #haikyuu satori #satori fluff #tendou fluff #haikyuu tendou #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu

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