#It required such a small change to make this feel earned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rootedinrevisions · 1 month ago

Text

The Tribal Pull: Part 2

SUMMARY: Your internship with WWE continues and as it does you seem to be getting more and more attention from The Tribal Chief. But you're determined to stay focused on your career. No matter how hard he is to ignore

OTHER PART(S): PART 1 I PART 3

WARNINGS: None for this part.

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the person who sent the request for this one! I hope you enjoyed the first part and enjoy this one as well! There will be one more part coming that I am currently working on finishing!

The weeks roll on, and you settle into your role at WWE with a growing sense of confidence. You’ve earned your place amongst the interns, handling tasks with precision and professionalism. More people are starting to know your name, but it’s the attention from Roman Reigns that you can’t quite ignore.

It starts with small things. At first, Roman addresses you only in passing, asking about an assignment or a quick check-in on something you’re working on. But then, the tone of these interactions begins to shift.

One afternoon, as you walk down the hallway, heading back to your office after grabbing a quick lunch, you notice Roman leaning against the wall near catering. He’s surrounded by his usual crew, Paul Heyman included, but instead of looking deep in conversation with them, his eyes are on you.

“Hey,” he calls out casually as you approach. “You surviving all the chaos around here?”

You blink, surprised at the question. “Yeah, I’m managing,” you reply with a smile, stopping briefly. “I’m used to the chaos by now.”

Roman smirks, his eyes flicking down to the cup of coffee in your hand. “If you need another one of those to get through the day, I know where the good stuff is.”

You chuckle lightly, unsure how to respond. It’s not unusual for coworkers to exchange light-hearted comments, but coming from him, there’s a weight behind the words that you can’t quite shake off. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you say politely, before excusing yourself and moving on.

But the light exchanges continue. At first, you chalk it up to Roman’s natural charisma—he’s friendly, sure, but he’s like that with everyone, right? You tell yourself it’s nothing, and try to push it from your mind.

One day, you’re tasked with getting Roman’s signature on several 8x10 photos for an upcoming sale on the company’s website. You walk over to where he’s preparing for a segment and hand him the folder of photos.

“You need me to sign these?” Roman asks, raising an eyebrow as he flips through them.

“Yeah, just a few for the online store,” you reply, trying to keep things casual. “No rush. I know you’re busy.”

He looks up, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll take care of it. But next time, just come straight to me.”

You blink, confused. “Aren’t I already...?”

Roman leans back slightly, his eyes flicking over to Paul, who is in his usual spot nearby, scrolling through his phone. “Most people go through Paul. You don’t have to.”

His words hang in the air between you, carrying a subtle but undeniable shift in tone. Roman’s eyes are locked on yours, and for the first time, you can feel the full force of his attention on you. It’s not overwhelming, but there’s a weight to it that you can’t ignore.

“Okay,” you say slowly, unsure what to make of the sudden change. “Thanks.”

You leave the interaction puzzled, but you remind yourself to stay focused. You’re here to work. You don’t have time to analyze why Roman Reigns is treating you differently than everyone else.

The work requests continue—quick video shoots, promotional content, small tasks that require Roman’s involvement. Each time, he speaks to you directly, bypassing Paul completely. It feels odd at first, but you remind yourself that he’s just being efficient. He’s a busy man, after all. If he can cut out the middle man, the small tasks get done quicker.

But then, one day, things change.

It’s nearing midnight, and you’re about to head back to your hotel after another long day. You’re walking through the lobby when you spot Roman standing by the elevators, talking to one of his cousins. You consider just passing by, but as you near the entrance, he spots you and calls out.

“Hey,” he says, motioning for you to come over.

You hesitate for a moment but quickly remind yourself that it’s just Roman. It’s fine. You walk over, giving him a polite smile.

“Everything good?” he asks, his tone casual but still carrying that same weight that’s starting to become familiar. “You look like you’ve been working hard.”

You shrug lightly. “Just trying to stay on top of everything.”

Roman nods, watching you closely. There’s a moment of silence before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Listen,” he says, handing it to you. “Why don’t you take my personal number? In case you ever need anything.”

Your heart skips a beat. This is... not normal. “Oh, I—” You stammer, unsure how to respond. “I mean, I don’t want to overstep...”

“You’re not,” he says firmly, his tone leaving little room for argument. “Trust me. It’s easier this way. If something comes up, you can just text me directly.”

Your hand hesitates as you take the phone, quickly entering your number. You hand it back, your mind racing. He quickly sends you a text, and you feel your own phone vibrate when you receive the text.

Roman Reigns just gave you his personal number. You’re not sure how to feel about it.

On one hand, it’s an enormous gesture of trust and convenience—he’s making your job easier, and that’s a good thing. But on the other hand, there’s a part of you that can’t ignore the implications. Why would he give you, an intern, such direct access to him when everyone else goes through Paul? Even some of the upper management roles still had to go through Paul to communicate with Roman. Even the General Managers. Hell, even Triple H still had to go through Paul to set up meetings with Roman.

You can feel his eyes on you as you hand the phone back, and for a moment, you wonder if he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Thanks,” you say, keeping your tone as professional as possible. “I’ll only use it for work-related things.”

Roman smirks, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “You can use it for whatever you want.”

The words send a chill down your spine, but you force yourself to stay composed. You give him a polite nod, then excuse yourself and head for the exit.

As you walk back to your hotel room, your mind races. Roman’s interest in you is becoming clearer, but you can’t afford to let yourself get distracted. You’re here for your career, not for complicated relationships—especially not with someone like Roman Reigns. There’s an undeniable attraction, sure. But the age gap, the potential gossip, the implications of getting involved with someone so powerful in the company—it’s all too much to risk.

And yet, as you walk down the quiet hallway, you can’t help but glance at your phone, wondering what would happen if you let yourself cross that line.

The weeks continue, and you try your best to focus on your work, on staying professional. You keep telling yourself that Roman’s attention is nothing to worry about—that he’s just being friendly, that it doesn’t mean anything. But deep down, you know that something is shifting between the two of you, and it’s getting harder to ignore.

It starts with small things—things you convince yourself don’t matter. A touch on your shoulder when he passes by, the way he stands a little too close during conversations. It’s subtle enough that you can pretend it’s innocent, but there’s a current underneath every interaction that makes your heart race.

One afternoon, you’re backstage, working on logistics for an upcoming show. You’re engrossed in your clipboard, making notes on schedules and checking off tasks when you feel someone’s presence behind you. You turn around, surprised to see Roman standing there, much closer than you expected.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and warm. “You look like you’re working too hard.”

Your breath catches for a moment, but you force yourself to smile, keeping your tone light. “Just trying to stay on top of things.”

Roman’s eyes flick to your clipboard, but instead of stepping back, he leans in slightly, his arm brushing against yours. The touch is casual, but it sends a shiver down your spine. “You’re doing more than that. People are noticing how good you are at this.”

You swallow, trying to ignore how close he is. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, and you can feel the air between you shift. There’s something unspoken in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes your heart beat a little faster.

Roman doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans in just a fraction more, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “I mean it,” he says softly. “You’re really standing out.”

The warmth of his hand through your shirt makes it hard to concentrate, and for a moment, you’re frozen. It’s not like he’s being overtly inappropriate, but the way he’s looking at you, the way his touch lingers—it’s making it hard to keep up your walls. You glance around quickly, hoping no one else is paying attention to this interaction, but Roman doesn’t seem concerned.

You clear your throat, stepping back just slightly to put some distance between you. “Well, I have a lot to do before the show tonight,” you say, trying to shift the conversation back to something professional.

Roman just smiles, a knowing look in his eyes. “I’m sure you do,” he says, his voice carrying an edge of amusement. He lets you slip away, but as you walk off, you can still feel his gaze following you.

Over the next few days, Roman’s behavior becomes more daring. It’s subtle, but you notice it. The way he stands close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, the way his eyes linger a little too long on you when you talk, and the compliments that are starting to feel more personal than professional.

“You look good today,” he says one evening as you pass him backstage. His eyes sweep over you briefly, and it’s not just a casual remark—it feels like a quiet acknowledgment of something more. “That color suits you.”

You try to brush it off with a polite smile, but the compliment sticks with you long after the interaction ends. It’s the kind of thing that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and you’re no exception.

Despite your best efforts to remain focused, you can’t help but notice how often Roman seems to find his way into your path. Whether it’s backstage at an event, during a lunch break, or even in the hotel lobby late at night—he’s always there. Always watching.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you find yourself in the hotel lobby, waiting for an elevator to take you to your room. The doors open, and as you step inside, you see Roman coming from the other side of the hallway, heading straight for the elevator. Your pulse quickens as he slips in just before the doors close, standing next to you in the small, enclosed space.

“Late night?” he asks, his voice low as he glances at you.

“Yeah,” you reply, trying to keep things casual. “A lot of work to get done.”

Roman chuckles softly, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “You always seem to be working hard.”

“It’s an internship. I’m trying to make the most of it,” you say, shrugging lightly. But even as you speak, you can feel the tension in the air between you, thick and heavy.

Roman shifts slightly, his arm brushing against yours in the confined space. The touch is small, but it sends a jolt of awareness through you. You glance up at him, and for the briefest of moments, your eyes meet. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.

The elevator dings, breaking the moment, and you quickly step out, relieved to have an excuse to walk away. But as you head toward your room, you can’t shake the feeling that Roman is watching you, his presence lingering in your thoughts long after you’ve closed the door behind you.

Over the next few days, Roman’s subtle flirtations become harder to ignore. He finds reasons to talk to you, to stop you in the hallway or backstage. His compliments grow more personal, and the way he looks at you leaves little doubt that he’s interested in more than just a professional relationship.

“You’ve been killing it lately,” he tells you one afternoon as you pass him backstage. “Everyone’s been talking about how hard you work.”

“Thanks,” you reply, keeping your tone polite, but distant. You can’t afford to get caught up in whatever this is. You’re here for your career, not for Roman Reigns. “Just trying to do my job.”

Roman smirks, his eyes locked on yours. “You’re doing more than just your job.”

There’s a flicker of something in his gaze—something that makes your heart race even though you know you should be pulling away. But despite your best efforts to keep your distance, you can feel the chemistry between you growing stronger with every interaction. It’s intoxicating, the way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room when he speaks to you.

But you can’t let yourself get distracted. You’re here to learn, to grow in your field, to land a good job after this internship ends. Getting involved with someone like Roman Reigns—especially with all the rumors and whispers that would surely follow—is a risk you can’t afford to take.

Still, as you walk away from yet another charged encounter with Roman, you can’t help but wonder how much longer you’ll be able to resist the pull between you.

* * * * *

It’s been another long day, and by the time you make it back to the hotel, exhaustion is setting in. The events, the logistics, managing talent—it’s all starting to blur together. All you can think about is getting into your room, changing into something comfortable, and finally relaxing.

You walk through the hotel lobby, eyes on the elevator ahead, your pace quickening with the thought of some well-deserved rest. The ding of the elevator arriving makes you pick up your steps, but as the doors slide open, your breath catches.

Roman is inside.

He’s standing at the back, his arms crossed casually over his chest, his dark eyes locking onto you the second you step into the elevator. You give a polite nod, pressing your floor button as the doors close. The tension is instant, palpable. You can feel the energy in the small space shift as Roman leans slightly against the wall, watching you in that quiet, confident way he always does.

“Long day?” he asks, his deep voice filling the silence.

“Yeah,” you reply, keeping your tone light. “Pretty typical for this job.”

Roman chuckles softly, his gaze never leaving you. “You’ve been handling it like a pro.”

You smile politely, grateful for the compliment but trying to stay focused. The last thing you need is another charged conversation with him, not when you’re already battling with the undeniable chemistry between you. “Just doing my best.”

There’s a pause, and the elevator hums quietly as it ascends. Roman shifts slightly, and when he speaks again, his tone is different—lower, more personal. “You know,” he says, “I gave you my number weeks ago, but you’ve only used it for work.”

Your eyes flick to his, surprised by the shift in the conversation. “What else would I use it for?”

The question comes out before you can think, and the second it does, you regret it. Roman’s lips curve into a knowing smile, and he pushes off the wall, taking a step closer to you. He’s close enough now that you can feel the heat of his body, the faint scent of his cologne filling the small space.

“I can think of a few things,” he says smoothly, his voice carrying that unmistakable confidence. His eyes stay locked on yours, as if he’s daring you to ask for more.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you’re stunned, unsure how to respond. The elevator feels suddenly too small, too intimate. Your mind races, trying to process his words, the weight of his gaze, the unspoken meaning behind what he’s suggesting.

Before you can find your voice, the elevator dings, signaling its arrival at his floor. Roman steps back, the intensity of the moment breaking as he turns toward the doors. But before he steps out, he glances back at you, his eyes lingering for just a second longer.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, knowing smile.

And with that, he’s gone. The doors slide shut, leaving you alone in the elevator, heart racing, mind spinning.

You stand there for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head, trying to make sense of what just happened. Roman’s confidence, his directness—it left you momentarily stunned, and now, as the elevator continues its climb to your floor, you can’t help but feel the undeniable pull between you growing stronger.

You swallow hard, telling yourself to stay focused, to remember why you’re here. But as you step out of the elevator and walk down the hallway toward your room, you can’t shake the thought of Roman’s words—the way he said them, the way he looked at you.

It lingers with you long after you close your door, settling into the quiet of your room, the tension simmering just beneath the surface.

#Roman Reigns #Roman Reigns Fanfiction #Roman Reigns Fanfic #Roman Reigns x reader #Roman Reigns x you #WWE Fanfiction #WWE Fanfic

62 notes · View notes

141wh0re · 8 months ago

Text

"Sugar" Pt 1

Pairings: Simon Ghost Riley x F!141 Reader

Warnings: it's fluffy and cute and sweet.

Summary: Simon finds himself coming to terms with his revelation about the way you make him feel.

AN: Inspired by Sugar by Sleep Token.

Simon was reclined in his full sized bed, arms lazily slung behind his head, and tired, brown eyes haphazardly focused on the ceiling tiles of his private quarters.

Lost in the dark recesses of his mind, Simon cursed the day he was born. The inky-black tendrils curving about the contours of his brain. Each fissure of his brain harbored the trauma.

How he hated this day. The day he was born. The day that he always spent alone. The day no one knew the significance of. And he kept it that way.

Until you, that is.

The bright, blinding ray of sunshine hovering just meters above his face. A warm smile gracing your soft lips. Small crinkles at the corner of your stunning eyes.

Simon was so lost in the depths of his mind, he hadn't even realized you'd come in. His eyes took in your appearance before he slowly sat up, pulling himself to recline against the headboard of his bed.

"Hey, big guy. I didn't mean to interrupt you," you start in your soft, soothing voice.

Behind his balaclava, his eyes ran the entire length of your form, quickly assessing you. His person.

The one person who could pull him out of his dark thoughts.

"'S nothin' important," he waved off dismissively. "Need somethin', doll?" he asked with an assessing look.

"Well, in a moment, I'll require your person." you answered with a playful smirk.

Unbeknownst to you, the corners of his lips threatened to tug into an amused smirk in response to your playful demeanor

"Wha' for?" he inquired with a calculating look.

You bit your lip in anxious excitement, partially from the brilliant plan you and Johnny concocted and partially due at the off chance you'll put a hint of a smile on Simon's lips.

"You trust me, yeah?" you asked, studying his brown orbs.

Simon almost gave a visceral reaction, instead, he steeled himself and gave a subtle nod, earning a bright grin from you.

"Follow me, big guy," you giggled and offered your hand to him, to which he studied momentarily, letting out a half-annoyed sigh before taking your hand.

"Bend down, you're too tall." you teased, earning a grunt of amusement from him while he obliged your request.

Stepping behind him, your hand was rested on his shoulder, a quiet reminder that it was only you.

Simon's thoughts ran wild, trying to decipher what game you were playing with him. He trusted you implicitly... but that doesn't mean you weren't trouble.

Simon was pulled from his thoughts when he saw the black material in your small hands. He was about to protest before you soothed him in your gentle voice.

""S jus' me, big guy,"

His breath caught in his throat as your hands situated the material on the only slip of skin showing.. his eyes.

Once the blindfold was tied into place, your hand traveled the length of his arm until you stood in front of him, linking your fingers together. Simon immediately relaxed upon feeling the softer, yet slightly roughed up skin of your hands.

He could never understand how you maintained such softness in this career. From your soul to your skin. He never wanted that to change.

Your hands were always the soothing balm his weary soul needed. The few times you have initiated physical contact with your superior and teammate, he's instantly calmed.

His mind would go blank, a quiet peace he's never known before settled within the root of his being when you laid your soft hands on him. Either when you've deliberately touched his hand or the few times you've patched him up on missions.

He humored you by allowing you to guide him through the halls of the base, his mind focused on your hand in his. How perfectly your small hands fit within his palm.

"Doll.. I trust ya, but wha's with the blin'fold?" he asked finally.

You sent his blinded self a smirk when you came to a halt just outside the break room.

"Well.. I hav'ta test ya, now." you mused playfully.

"Do you scare easily, Lt?" you asked with a curious tilt of your head.

Simon stilled upon your question, panic and worry seeped into his bones. For the first time in his entire time knowing you, you'd manage to instill a blind fear into him. Literally.

"Doll.." he warned.

"Okay. That answers my question." you mumbled, feeling a part of your plan crumble between your fingertips.

"Hoist me up, big guy." you demanded, resting his large palms on your hips, to which Simon obliged, almost instinctively.

"Don't you dare drop me, Simon." you playfully warn, sending him a teasing glare.

He didn't even have to see your face to know of the smug smirk encasing your lips.

Simon held you up in his arms, wrapping his burly biceps around your waist, hoisting you up for what? He didn't know.

You locked your legs around his hips, reaching behind him to undo his blindfold.

Simon blinked at you a few times as his vision recovered. Brown, calculating eyes studied between you and the rec room entrance that was completely blacked out at the moment.

His heart stuttered in his, typically,hollow chest when his eyes settled on you. His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips as you smiled at him, for once being eye-level with him.

You smirked at him before jutting your chin to the break room door, silently urging him to go in.

He continued holding you to him with such ease, as if you didn't weigh anything.

Simon tried not to focus on the comforting feeling of having you in his arms like this. But he'd be damned if he were going to let this moment pass him by.

He took a cautious step through the threshold, keeping you clutched tightly to him.

An uneasiness crept into the back of his mind as his senses picked up on the feeling that they weren't alone.

"Easy, big guy. Just hit the lights and it'll make sense. Kay?" you reassure him in that gentle voice.

His unease relaxed when he realized you were aware of other people's presence within the room.

He took a deep breath before reluctantly setting you down on your feet and flicking on the lights.

"Happy birthday, Lt!!" Johnny, Kyle, and Nik exclaimed in unison.

John Price and Kate Laswell stood behind the group. John's lips were tilted into an amused grin, his arms firmly crossed over his chest while Kate mirrored his stance.

Simon's initial reaction was to startle from the sudden exclamation but he quickly eased when he felt your hand in his again.

He turned to look at you, his expression still stoic behind his mask, but his eyes glittered with appreciation.

Until you blew a cheesy kazoo in his face and popped a silent confetti tube in his face.

Simon's eyes turned annoyed but you didn't miss the amused puff of air he let out into his mask in response to your antics.

When the rest of the team realized he wasn't going to kill you, they broke out into amused laughter.

"Happy birthday, Simon," you said with the biggest shit-eating grin, feeling triumphant in your ways of successfully pulling off his surprise party.

You gently nudged him toward the group where they all greeted him with a handshake or a clap on the back. Except for Johnny. Who unabashedly wrapped Simon up in a big hug, earning a friendly punch to his shoulder in response.

You sauntered over to Johnny and Gaz, beers in hand, and sat with them at the large round table.

"Seriously, lass, I don't understand how ye pulled that off without gettin' skinned," Johnny chuckled softly with an amused shake of his head.

"If it were us, he'd have our heads!" Gaz said with an incredulous look.

You shrugged nonchalantly and sipped on your beer, "Told ya he loves me."

Simon heard your words as he stood behind you, chatting with John.

He realized then that you were right. As much as he'd never admit it, he did love you.

He developed a taste for your sweetness and he now craved to always be on the receiving end of that flavor you gave.

His person. His sunshine. His sugar.

You were everything he never knew he wanted in life. And you were quickly becoming everything he needed.

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley cod #simon riley x female reader #simon riley fluff #cod mw3 #cod #cod mw x reader #Spotify

161 notes · View notes

imastrangeone98 · 10 months ago

Text

Carved Into Time Immemorial

(A/N: I'm back with my bullshit 😄 I've reemerged from the depths of legal hell and I will not hesitate to repeat this again)

Based off of a dream I had, started off as a zombie apocalypse dream but it suddenly changed to a reincarnation au so there's that

Warning: fem!reader, ooc modern!alhaitham who's a simp, reincarnation angst to comfort, just general bad attempt at hurt/comfort fluff

"I'm merely attempting to tell you to stop deluding yourself with your fantasies."

"So you're telling me to screw off, right?" you sniffled, tears running down your soft cheeks. "If you didn't like me, you just had to say that. Why are you being so cruel?"

"It's not being cruel, it's simply being realistic," he retorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "With my status as the Scribe, the requirements for a romantic partner must be near equal to or higher than my own. And with your low grades, unruly personality, and penchant for idiotic decisions, the answer is quite obvious:

"You don't meet any of my prerequisites."

Alhaitham's eyes crack open, and he blinks at the sunlight peeking through the blinds.

With a grunt, he hoists himself up and stretches with a soft yawn, before rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

Another dream.

What a shitty way to start the morning. He runs a hand through his hair and ruffles it rather aggressively.

"I need a coffee."

[...]

Never mind. He doesn't want coffee anymore.

Because the new barista taking orders bears a striking, near-identical resemblance to the crying woman in his unnaturally realistic dreams.

But it's too late to back out, because Alhaitham is next in line, and your gentle eyes peer into his own so deeply, he almost doesn't notice the way your hands shake just the slightest at the sight of him.

Despite the brief stutter in his voice, he manages to give you his order, even placing a small tip inside the jar, which he normally doesn't do.

Given the terror in your eyes which you so desperately tried to hide, he feels as though you earned it. That, and the coffee you handed over to him (ignoring the softness of your fingertips when they brushed over his knuckles) is surprisingly delicious- perfectly bitter with a smooth undertaste that the previous baristas could never achieve.

As he heads off to work, he finds himself savoring every sip.

Meanwhile, you're still reeling at the sight of the mysterious, yet familiar man this morning. How could it be possible, that the figure you saw hurting you with words so sharp they could've cut through your skin in your dreams be a living, breathing human being in your reality, especially when said man spoke with such a surprisingly quiet voice?

Could it be possible that we met before? you couldn't help but mull over, before shaking your head resolutely.

It's just a coincidence, nothing more, you try to reassure yourself, returning to grinding coffee beans with diligence. Nothing more, nothing less.

It's not like you're ever going to see him again.

[...]

You ought to smack yourself right in the head, because you end up meeting the familiar stranger- Alhaitham, you recall from the name on the cup- again at the tavern.

Your coworkers had dragged you there against your will, despite your lack of enthusiasm. So you sit at the bar, a mocktail in your hands, watching the other baristas get more and more drunk.

"You're not a fan of alcohol, I presume?"

The sudden voice close to your ear makes you flinch, and it's only thanks to the man's solid chest that he doesn't go tumbling to the ground when you smack him.

"I- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No need to apologize. You have quite the arm strength."

You flush at the reminder of your actions, as well as how firm his stomach was. You'd slap yourself silly if you weren't in public.

"If that's all, I hope you have a good rest of your night-"

"We've never met before."

You look at him, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"We've only met once, yet you seem strangely familiar. Like someone from the past," he says. "And from the way you seem to avoid my gaze, would I be correct in presuming that you also view me in a similar light?"

Something within you- almost like an inner voice- whispers at you to not answer his question, to leave and not turn around for a final glance. And it's so unnerving that you're speechless.

"I'll take your silence as an answer." He gazes at you with unbridled curiosity, eyes sparkling in the dim bar light that you can't look away. "If it's agreeable with you, would you be interested in going out for a meal sometime? Perhaps we could compare notes."

You should say no. The voice within you tells you to say no.

But he tilts his head, and somehow, your voice cannot bring itself to vocalize what you should say. So you simply nod, albeit hesitantly. And with a brief exchange of phone numbers, you hurriedly grab your things and ditch your coworkers to rush home.

Alhaitham watches you until the door swings shut, then moves his attention to his phone screen, swiftly typing a message to his newly-made acquaintance.

"I've never seen you so excited about meeting people before," Kaveh chortles with a swig of his wine. "Were you hoping to bring her home tonight? The way she darted away says otherwise."

He rolls his eyes. "Says the one who pulled zero people in the span of the hour we've been sitting in this bar."

"Why, you-!"

"Alhaitham's and Kaveh's love lives aside," Tighnari jumps in and glares at his two friends, "it's about your time to roll, Cyno. We came here because you wanted to play cards, yet here you are, staring at nothing."

Their attention turns to their card-loving friend, who is merely staring at the door.

"...She's a marathon runner," he says simply.

"...What?"

"A marathon runner. Because she's been running laps in Alhaitham's mind."

The men stare at him blankly.

"...Do you not get it? Allow me to explain- Alhaitham has been exceptionally distracted for the past hour-"

Tighnari immediately tries to stop him, leading to an objectively hilarious argument that even has a chase sequence ("Enough with the shitty puns, you pea-brained lummox!"). But Alhaitham isn't laughing.

He stares at his phone, at the little notification indicating a response from you, agreeing to lunch in a few days' time.

He sets about looking for a nice cafe.

[...]

The booths are small in this restaurant, because the two of you pick at your food with your knees practically bumping each other under the table. But the panipuri appetizers are good, so at least you have that silver lining.

He's not particularly chatty, as his answers to your icebreaker questions are short and straightforward. But you sense that it's not out of malice, but simple directness.

At least you learn some things: he works at Sumeru Corporations, he holds a relatively high yet comfortable position, he has a "terrible roommate with no sense of rationality or common sense," and he enjoys a good book at the library. It suits him, you think.

It isn't until your lunches arrive that the conversation turns more serious.

As you nervously take bites of your fish with cream sauce, he asks you a question: "Did you sleep well last night?"

You flinch. The answer is: you did not. The dream prevented you from doing so.

"Dropping out of the Akademiya? I knew you were always foolish, but to think you'd stoop so low as to throw away your future," Alhaitham said, watching you throw away boxes upon boxes of your schoolwork and rejected theses.

"You said so yourself, Grand Scribe," you sighed. You refused to give him any more attention than this; the sting in your heart wouldn't allow it. "I was never meant to be a scholar. This is the best case scenario for everyone involved."

He huffed, and scanned through some of your old papers- papers you spent days, weeks, months on, even. Papers that he would've written in an hour or less. You bit your lip; you refused to give it any more thought, lest the grief in your chest mutate into rage.

"You do realize that some of these could be published, yes?"

You rolled your eyes. "If you're done mocking me, Grand Scribe, you can return to your duties now."

"I'm not mocking you; some of these papers would easily be approved by the Grand Sage-"

"Don't even get me started on that incompetent old fool!" you hissed, and you squeezed the old papers in your hands so hard wrinkles formed. "If that was your attempt to have me stay in the Akademiya- which seems beyond your best interest, mind you- then you did a horrible job. Leave at once!"

"Just listen to-"

"LEAVE!"

"Are you alright? You're crying."

The voice jolts you out of your memory. You jump in your seat, the feeling of a warm finger gently rubbing under your eye further pulling you out of your unexpected funk.

Alhaitham stares at you, leaning away. "My apologies. You just seemed very lost in thought."

You wipe your suddenly wet eyes. Why would you cry over a silly dream? "Sorry; I don't know why I did that. It was just a bad dream I had last night, please don't worry about it."

He hums and stares at you thoughtfully, a cheek rested on his hand. "I suppose now would be a bad time to tell you I also had a dream last night."

You look at him, eyes wide.

"You were leaving some institution called the Akademiya, and I made some attempt to stop you for unknown reasons."

The blood in your veins chilled you; you stare into your plate, appetite gone. He eyes you, swiftly switching his empty plate with yours.

"I admit that I'm not one to be superstitious. But for us to share the same dream cannot merely be a coincidence."

You want to deny it; there's no way some complete stranger happens to share the exact same dream as you! It's just a coincidence!

...But is it really? To both know the words that were spoken between your dream self and his? Could that truly be called a coincidence when it seems like every dream of yours is known by this man?

You stay silent.

Alhaitham takes the time to briefly study your face: the corners of your eyes are etched with laugh lines, your hands are rough and calloused from months- maybe even years- of hard work from your various areas of employment, and even though you're visibly upset, your head still bobs gently to the soft music playing above. You live a different life than he imagined.

He swiftly handles the bill, and when you complain and try to hand him your share of the receipt, he merely says, "If you'd like to repay me, I know a good place that has excellent baklava."

And when his eyes glow and he extends his arm to you, you- against your better judgment- say yes.

[...]

"Y'know, he's been in quite the good mood ever since his date~" Kaveh chuckles at his roommate from the comfort of his cramped desk. "He's finally appreciating all those love lessons I taught him!"

"Sure, if you can even call those lessons," Tighnari laughs at his friend. "More like screaming matches to me."

"I swear to the archons, if you try to mock my teaching skills again, I'll give you a 'love lesson' too!"

"No need, I don't need another one of those."

"What are you talking about, I never gave you one-"

"On the contrary, Alhaitham has been rather cranky at work." Cyno watches his friend typing away at his phone while simultaneously managing his leftover paperwork, oddly determined on finishing the last of his duties before work ended so he could focus his attention on other, "more important things worth my time than slaving away over a desk," as he put it. "He seems very intent on 'throwing a wrench' in all of my proposals for the upcoming case."

"...Not gonna lie, Cyno, that doesn't sound very off-brand from his actual personality," Tighnari says bluntly. "Also, stop with the archon-forsaken puns!"

"No. And correction- he's intent on rejecting my proposals. Setaria's and Zandik's went through without a hitch. And their plans almost never get approved by him."

That fact left the lawyer's two friends utterly confused. While Alhaitham was never an active fan of Cyno, they knew that the former always respected the latter's opinion regarding legal matters. The fact that he is actively avoiding Cyno's advice is... concerning, to say the least.

They all turn towards Alhaitham, who had seemingly paid them no heed, and observe him in silence.

"...If you focused on your duties as fervently as you do your gossip, I'm sure this office would be much better off," said man cuttingly says to his friends.

"I will once you tell me why you're rejecting my proposals," Cyno huffs, arms crossed.

"I would accept them if they were not so riddled with nonsense."

But Alhaitham knows that the words he spills so smoothly are actually directed towards himself. After all, no reasonable man would be doing such ridiculous things as he is solely because of a dream.

...Or perhaps, a distant memory.

"Do you happen to know what flowers she likes, Alhaitham? Perhaps not flowers..."

Alhaitham watched Cyno mumble to himself as the general pored over the selections of bouquets, a strange feeling in his gut. But he rolled his eyes and pointed one out to his friend. "This one."

"Ah, so she likes Sumeru roses. Simple, yet classic and elegant. A fitting flower indeed for a blooming beauty."

It was strange to see the General Mahamatra himself with such a wide, love-struck smile on his face. Everyone around him was placed on edge, including the Grand Scribe himself. But there was no real reason to feel this way. After all, he had long since cut ties with you ever since you left the Akademiya to start up your own food stall, selling fresh chai and charcoal-baked Ajilenakh cakes to eager customers.

But ever since Cyno became interested in getting closer to you, Alhaitham found it more difficult to avoid you. He began inviting you to the tavern for TCG, then to the Grand Bazaar to watch Nilou's latest performance, then to walks around the city at night to stargaze. Soon, you and Cyno were practically inseparable- where one was, the other would most certainly be as well.

It was... odd, to say the least. Alhaitham was always used to your gaze on his back. Now that your eyes had moved elsewhere, the feeling was unusual. He should have felt relieved. Yet all he felt was an unnatural wrongness.

But he said nothing. He gave Cyno his advice, and watched as the general practically sprinted to where you had promised to meet him that night for dinner. He watched until his friend's back disappeared, then returned home, feeling abnormally bitter.

"Don't play dumb, Alhaitham," Cyno says cuttingly, eyes piercing. "You've never approved of Zandik before. So what's really going on with you?"

"I already said my piece. Maybe instead of standing around and blabbering about how your proposal didn't get chosen, your time would be better spent fixing your mistakes."

Alhaitham turns back to his computer, headphones slid over his ears, effectively tuning out Cyno's further complaints in favor of the playlist you sent him a few days ago.

A playlist that you certainly did not give to Cyno.

[...]

"Wow. These are beautiful, but..." You gaze at the bouquet of rainbow roses Alhaitham placed in your hands earlier. "...Where did you get these? They don't look local to Sumeru."

"The florist imported some unique flowers from Fontaine. I thought you'd like these ones."

His eyes fixate on your small, sweet smile as you nod and breathe in their scent. "Yes. I do. Thank you, Alhaitham, that's very sweet of you."

Not as sweet as you, he thinks. But he can save those thoughts for another time. A more appropriate time.

[...]

...He just didn't think that time would be now.

Because you and Cyno are playing TCG. Together. At the same table.

Alhaitham knows he shouldn't feel this way. He was the one who invited you to join him, after all. He knew this could have been a possibility- you're soft and likable, it's only fair that his friends would be drawn to you.

But the look in the lawyer's eyes is unnaturally familiar. And it grates on his nerves.

Because he saw it before. At your wedding. He saw you walk down the aisle, with a smile brighter than he had ever seen grace your lips.

And across from you, Cyno. With hearts in his eyes, he held out his hand for you, and Alhaitham watched as you took it in your own and held his hand close to your heart. And he watched, bitterness on his tongue, as you were whisked away in the general's arms, dancing the night away.

That could have been me. The thought thudded so strongly in his mind he nearly knocked himself over. But he knew he only had himself to blame. And Kaveh was more than eager to rub that fact in his face as he helped his stupidly drunk friend back to their shared home.

"If ya weren't such a... such a hard-ass, maybe she... she would've gone out with you," the architect cackled, the smell of booze so strong it made Alhaitham's nose crinkle in disgust.

Just as it does now, at the sight of the two of you, chumming it up like peas in a pod. Like the two of you were meant to meet.

To fall in love all over again, as you did before.

His hands clench, and the wineglass nearly shatters.

Kaveh eyes him knowingly. "Y'know, if you're gonna be such a hard-ass-"

"Do not." He snaps at the architect, before rising from his seat to march over to you, completely ignoring Kaveh's baffled gasp at the sheer audacity of his junior.

"Alhaitham!" you greet him so cheerily, he almost forgets why he's so upset. Almost. "Come sit with us, we're just about to start a new game!"

"She's quite the talented player," Cyno nods at you. "You should bring her around more often."

"I'm afraid not for a while, as we have somewhere to be." He grabs your wrist and escorts you out of your seat and towards the door, choosing to ignore your confused pout. "I'll see you on Monday."

He doesn't turn back around to Cyno's brief protest, nor to Kaveh's knowing guffaw as the two of you exit the tavern into the cool night air. He breathes in deep, trying to ease the tightness in his chest.

"...Alhaitham?" Your soft voice cuts through the silence, compelling him to turn towards you. "Is something wrong?"

He chews on his lip. "...Do you like him?"

"Who? What are you talking about?"

He sighs; no way could you be this adorably oblivious. "Cyno. Do you like him?"

Your eyes widen briefly, before you rub your chin, deep in contemplation. "He's very friendly, I'll give him that."

He glares at the ground.

"But I don't think I would go out of my way to hang out with him outside of hanging out with you," you laugh, scratching the back of your neck and looking up at him. Your eyes glow in the moonlight, and he's so captivated, his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek.

Your face feels hot, and you're suddenly even more bashful than you already are. But when you try to hide your face, he immediately gets a gentle, yet firm grip on your chin.

"Don't hide," he whispers. He stares at you, a fond look in his eyes. "You don't need to hide from me."

You're once again reminded of how utterly handsome Alhaitham is. And you want to kiss him. So you lean on your tiptoes, face moving towards his-

DON'T.

The voice echoes loud in your mind, and you grab your head in pain with a yelp.

"I'm merely attempting to tell you to stop deluding yourself with your fantasies."

Alhaitham immediately reaches out for you, grasping your chin and tilting your head this way and that. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"With your low grades, unruly personality, and penchant for idiotic decisions, the answer is quite obvious..."

"My- my head..."

"Your head? I'll take you to the Bimarstan, just hang in there-"

"You don't meet any of my prerequisites."

"NO!" You pull away from his touch, like his skin burned you, and turn your back to him. Every cell in your body seems to be screaming: LEAVE. "I- I have to go."

"At least let me walk you home-"

You don't hear any more of him- you can't, not with the voice in your head demanding you to turn your back on him and return home immediately.

You don't see the pain in his eyes as he watches you leave him.

[...]

You don't contact him for a while. His messages go unread.

Alhaitham spends most of his time staring at his phone instead of his papers, waiting for a message that never comes.

"You keep staring at that screen, your eyes are gonna pop out," Kaveh chortles as he sips his coffee. "And then that woman will really never want to see you again."

Alhaitham doesn't reply. He instead thinks back to his last conversation with you: the fear on your face, the tremble in your hands, the shakiness of your voice.

Did he make you uncomfortable? Did he push too far against your boundaries? Did he make you remember too much, too fast?

Did he remind you of something... or someone... you'd rather forget?

"You haven't brought your friend around recently," Cyno comments lightly from his desk. Alhaitham's hands clench. "You should invite her to join us again sometime. I'm looking forward to another rematch."

"I'm just surprised Alhaitham is capable of thinking of someone other than himself," Kaveh scoffs. "This man reeks of haughtiness, what makes you think he's capable of having friends, let alone a love interest?"

"Sounds like somebody's jealous," Tighnari chimes in. "Kaveh's right, by the way; staring at a computer screen doesn't do well for your eyes."

Alhaitham simply mumbles, "Pardon me if my eye health is the least of my concerns at the moment," and continues typing and deleting his message to you, trying for the nth time to make it perfect.

"...I knew it," Kaveh gasps, and he points dramatically at his roommate. "It is because of your lady friend! Let me guess, trouble in paradise? Want your best friend to give you some love tips?"

"That would actually be greatly appreciated."

"I knew that those would come in handy- Wait, what?" It's not just Kaveh who looks at him utterly flabbergasted; Cyno and Tighnari also stare him, dumbfounded at why the ever-rational secretary would want romance advice.

"Since when did you...?"

"Why would such a lovely lady ever want to..."

"I KNEW IT." Kaveh lunges towards Alhaitham, dramatically grabbing him by the collar and vigorously shaking him back and forth. "Ever since that woman showed up, you've been so googly-eyed; it freaked me out for weeks! And here I thought you were physically incapable of feeling love."

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. "Excuse me for wanting to keep my private life private."

Tighnari coughs into his hand, silencing the two men. "Well, since it's not so private anymore, you may as well tell us what's plaguing you."

"The lady lost interest?" Cyno chimes in, resting his head on his hand. "Or perhaps she's being distant. Like an iceberg."

"What does an iceberg have to do with-"

"She hasn't responded to me ever since I tried to kiss her. I'm worried I may have breached her personal space." Alhaitham sighs heavily and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I'm aware that I might have done something wrong, but she won't even let me apologize."

Kaveh simply rolls his eyes. "Then isn't that the solution? Just leave her alone; clearly she no longer wants anything to do with you, for good reason."

Alhaitham grits his teeth. "It's not that simple; she looked like she wanted to reciprocate, but something held her back."

"Well, you're not gonna know what until you ask her yourself," Tighnari says with a shrug. "See if you can meet her. If she gave you her address, go to her house or something. You're just gonna keep asking yourself questions until you go crazy."

"He's plagued with the love bug," Cyno hums thoughtfully. "You should bring flowers. She seems like the type to like Sumeru roses."

Alhaitham's eye twitches. "Actually, she prefers rainbow roses. I'll be off; it's exactly 5 PM."

He swiftly gathers his things and leaves the office, glaring at the piles of unfinished work he's intentionally putting off until the next week. He has much more important things to contemplate than the office goals for the next month.

He needs to find a way to meet you. He has too many things to say, and no way to say them.

What should he do? Should he go to your workplace and see if you're in? Should he be a freak and try to track down your phone? Should he-

Ding~

The soft tinkle of his message tone hits his ears, and he yanks his phone out to look at the screen... and nearly drops the device onto the ground.

Rainbow Rose 🌹: Sorry for not responding. Please come meet me. I'd like to talk to you about some things.

Attached is the address to Puspa Cafe. He immediately starts calculating in his head the fastest way to get there, what to order, what to say to you.

I'm sorry for invading your privacy. I want us to be closer. What can I do to be allowed into your space? How can I prove to you that I'm different from the person in your dreams?

By the time he's finalized what he wants to say, he already sees you through the window of the cafe, sipping on some specialty drink. The setting sunlight frames your face so perfectly, the words he planned fall through his mind and onto the floor beneath him.

But he swallows the rock in his throat and approaches you.

You blink up at him and smile softly. "Alhaitham. Sorry for calling you in such short notice. Please, sit." You gesture down at the seat in front of you.

But he's unnerved; you're polite and distant again, just like how you were when the two of you first met.

He has so many questions, but they all narrow down to the same thing: Were the dreams too much for you? Are you still willing to see him again?

"How is your head?" is all he can manage to ask you.

You nod. "It's alright. Thanks for asking." Then you scratch your head and lower your gaze to the ground. "Alhaitham. I don't think we should meet anymore."

The words don't process in his mind until you're halfway through some spiel. Then his blood turns to ice.

"...Pardon?"

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "That night, when my head started hurting after we..." Your cheeks flush, and you glare at your cup. "The dreams wouldn't let me sleep. Every one of them involved you, hating me. They're so vivid, I know you and I both know that it's not a coincidence anymore. And I'm worried that-"

Alhaitham stops listening.

You don't want to meet him anymore. Cyno's words echo in his mind: the lady lost interest.

You don't want to see him. He may never see you again.

He's brought out of his mental spiral when you brush your hand against his.

"Alhaitham?" you ask quietly, too softly. Like a hunter speaking soothingly to a dying animal. "You lost focus."

"I..." He's dumbfounded; Alhaitham has never been lost for words, yet now his tongue refuses to move, his lips refuse to speak, glued together with fear and desperation.

You stare at the ground, hair covering your eyes. "...I understand. I'll take my leave. Thank you... for everything. It was..." He sees you bite your lip, a tear slipping down your cheek, and you stand up and leave.

He simply stares at your seat until the doorbell chimes lightly behind you.

He cannot process anything, not with your rejection still echoing in his mind, clouding his senses, your tears polluting his conscious.

...Your tears.

...You were crying.

The cogs in his brain turn once more.

He stands up so abruptly, he knocks his chair back, and throws himself outside the door, sprinting towards you.

And when he calls to you, your shoulders turn.

His heart burns with hope.

"I can't accept that," he pants, grabbing hold of your shoulders and gently turning you towards him. His hold is weak, enough for you to slip through his fingers if you pull away hard enough.

You don't pull away.

"Alhaitham, what are-" you start, but he cradles your face in his hands, staring deep into your eyes, and you fall silent.

"You said we shouldn't meet because of the dreams." His thumbs draw circles onto your soft cheeks, and archons above, he wants to kiss them. "Would it be more accurate to say that you feel that way towards the man in them?"

You blink at him, confused. He nearly coos at how adorable you look.

"What do you think about me? Do you think of me as someone who hates you?"

"No." His heart warms at your instantaneous answer. But it stops at your next sentence. "But my body doesn't feel that way. My head doesn't feel that way. The dreams... You hated me since the moment I..." You freeze, and become stiff in his hold.

But when he rubs your cheeks again, you melt into him, stumbling on your own two feet into his arms. And he cradles you against him, as though if he pressed his body into yours hard enough, the two of you could combine and never be apart.

"...I can't promise you that I won't be like him, the one in your dream...The me of the past," he whispers into your hair. "But I can tell you this now: I am not so foolish as to let you slip from my hands yet again."

Your eyes water with tears; you don't know whether to move closer or move away. Your brain is mush; Alhaitham's cologne fills your nose until all you can see, smell, hear, is Alhaitham.

"He was foolish; he made his choices and regretted them too late. I have already made my choice, and I choose you."

You gasp, just the lightest of breath, and he traces your bottom lip with his thumb.

"I chose you, and I will always choose you. And under no circumstances are you obligated to choose me in return." But he smiles so sweetly at you that tears well up, both in your eyes and his. "But if you choose me, I swear that I will never repeat his mistakes. I will build us a future here, from the ground up, and earn your trust, piece by piece. And I will never let you go again."

Your body flushes hot, urging you to flee his grasp and never return.

He hasn't changed, your mind whispers to you. He is just as cruel, callous, and selfish as ever.

He gently places his forehead on yours, and closes his eyes. "Take as much time as you need," he says. "I will always be here."

"...Will you?" you ask, voice so quiet that it blends into the background.

But Alhaitham hears you. Loud and clear.

He smiles. "Always."

Your body hates you. You should hate yourself, perhaps, for being too weak.

But you melt into his arms, where he encloses you with his warmth and security.

And when your mind tries to overwhelm you, your heart tells it to be silent.

[...]

"It's been awhile."

You scoff, refusing to look at him. Alhaitham chooses to look down below at your respective reincarnations sleeping peacefully. He- the newer him- embraces you tightly in his arms, and you- the newer you- snuggle closer to his warmth.

Alhaitham- the old Alhaitham- smiles. You- the old you- do not.

"Foolish girl," you sigh heavily. "I tried to warn her, yet she never listened. She's only going to fall into the same trap I did."

"...Perhaps she won't," he counters, hovering closer to you. "Perhaps she, and he, are a little more intelligent than we were. Wisdom comes with age... and experience. Something we lacked then." He glances down at them again. "Something they have now."

"Only because of us," you grumble. "And here I am, trying to pass down my wisdom, and she refuses to listen. Is stubbornness just something we're destined to have, I wonder?"

"Perhaps," he chuckles. "And perhaps, she is also building her own wisdom based on her own experiences. As is he." He glances down at his other self. "If he only relied on my memories, he would have never even approached her. He would be a coward like I was, and hold all his feelings in until it's too late."

You say nothing. He smiles softly, and gently touches your hand. When you don't move away, he slowly wraps his arm around you, resting his head on your shoulder, savoring your warmth (or what you have... given you're both spirits).

"Our story has long come to a close," Alhaitham murmurs. "But theirs is different. Let's let them be. Maybe they'll be much different from us."

You grumble in his hold, but don't pull away. "I didn't take you to be the type to make irrational predictions."

"Death does do things to a person's mentality," he muses. "After all, you wouldn't let me touch you like this in life."

You huff, but don't say anything in retort.

And he holds you, just as his counterpart does, until the sun rises and melts the darkness away. Them with it.

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

A/N: this took way too long to write (thanks law school), also tumblr is a b*stard and wouldn't let me write in my drafts so I had to copy paste everything when it was 3/4 finished 🥲

And yes, this sucks- deal with it XD

#genshin impact #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader

194 notes · View notes

balkanradfem · 10 months ago

Text

It was a while ago I read this tumblr post, which still comes to my mind every time I think about the future. It was explaining in an insightful way, how it's not a violent revolution that will bring forward the better future, it's slow and consistent change of our everyday life, of our habits, the resources we use and the way we go about achieving things. If we're hoping for a future where we're not dependent on capitalism, not destroying the environment, not robbed of our labour for a fraction of the money we need to survive, we'll have to slowly die capitalism out, by changing our own living habits.

If a sudden shift happened, and capitalism stopped functioning overnight, for most of the people that would be unsurvivable, all of the resources, food, jobs and life-sustaining services would stop. And we can't afford that. But, if instead we slowly backed away from it, generated alternatives, created communities and systems that can sustain us without capitalism, then it would only be a matter of time before capitalism is fully dead, with everyone alive, everyone safe. And this slow shift would be able to happen through decades and generations, and it would still be a great positive shift, with a future in sight. Capitalism offers no survivable future, seemingly ready to last as long as it can by destroying whatever is left from the environment and people alike, for the benefit of the few.

So let's see how we got here, or how I feel, looking back, we got here.

People used to be less dependent on a global system of distribution of resources, even just a 100 years ago; survival and trade skills were passed down in families and communities, and people would be able to make inside of their home and communities, a big percentage of things that we today would buy at the store. In those times there was no other way to gain those resources but by relying on people's knowledge, skill and labour. The future, however, promised a more convenient and easy way to gain all those resources, because they would be made by machines, and thus cheaper. And things kept coming in cheaper, for no visible labour required; you just needed to have money to buy them, which not everyone had.

But this too, would change as cheaper and cheaper things arrived, and it became less convenient to make those things yourself or within your community, and more convenient to just trade some money, and have it all be done for you. For people then, it could mean less energy spent on survival, more leisure time, more health and longer lifespan – except, it didn't, because the jobs that they needed to earn that money, tended to take all of that away. So still, there was a lot produced at home or within the communities, independent workshops and artist shops, so people within in the community would benefit from each other, instead of benefiting some faceless global corporation.

And now we know where this went; conveniences started lining up to the point where not having a certain convenience meant that you were below the norm. They sometimes got mixed up with inconveniences, but those inconveniences were 'necessary'. For instance, pollution became necessary, highways, huge trucks delivering goods, the oil industry, destruction of forests and habitats, exploitation of the poor, extinction of certain animals, and by the end of it, the climate change.

When I was born, my mother and grandmother still attempted to pass some skills that their mothers taught them; I remember being taught how to knit at the age of 5, the activity which at that age, seemed awfully tedious and was soon abandoned, and my grandmother showed me how to crochet, which I also soon forgot. After the age of small child, they both looked at the world, shrugged and decided 'she won't need it', and they have stopped trying to teach me any skills of the sort.

Buying things, rather than making them, already seemed the norm. People were readily telling you that you are stupid for trying to make something, when you could get it in the store, for very little money. Having animals at home, or growing food, was slowly getting replaced by buying it cheap, or buying tons of snacks, and biscuits and cakes, which now you could get pre-packaged, readily available to consume at your leisure. If it brought lots of waste from packaging, plastic and other non-degradable materials, nobody cared, it was new, convenient, and available, and we would have it, and live luxuriously.

Soon nobody seemed to talk anymore, about what we used to do before we were able to buy anything we could possibly need at the store; nobody would tell me what were the names of the native plants, and which ones I could make into teas, I was instead told to change my priorities because this kind of behaviour will never get me any money. All of my efforts to do arts and crafts, to forage, to make things from scratch, to paint and invent stories, were called frivolous, because they would not generate the one thing that was now the only thing worth generating: money.

It simplifies things a lot, instead of making various, interesting, self-made and beloved items that would all require different knowledge and skills, a human is now required to put all of their talents into 1 thing that would generate revenue, and then do that one thing, for entire life, and this would present a normal life on earth now. This was how it was presented to me, and it was before I found out that keeping one job for the whole life, was no longer an option, that changing jobs was the norm and was not often volountary. I did not, however, understand how doing that one job would not make someone go insane, and nobody was explaining that to me, it was just, the life.

So while the world was shifting into this new concept of 'make nothing but money', the first millionaires started to appear, the billionaire was not even conceptual, having 1 million was equal to being the richest person on the planet. That is pretty laughable to us now. Back then, it felt like heading into a new exciting world, but we know better now. We understand that lives consisting of a job and thousands of conveniences, easily sends a human being into a depression. We understand that relying on a job to keep us alive, and having constantly to compete with everyone else unemployed, to get one, has brought us to a place where others are a competition, not a resource, not a community. We understand that living in a world where we have to market ourselves as a resource, causes a lot of us to lose self confidence and the feeling of value, while it sends others into obsession with becoming popular, gaining perceived value, gathering a public image, that would later prove to be profitable.

By this time, unknown to us all, this life of convenience and consumerism had caused immense damage to the environment, and we were mostly kept in the dark about it, so we wouldn't complain. We learned about the holes in the ozone layer, but were told it was merely the fault of certain aerosols, and the rest of the stuff was fine. We would in the future get to watch oil spills and devastation of animal habitats, never fully connecting it to corporations who were responsible. Acid rains were mentioned, but we were told they caused by the new pesticides, but it was the fault of the farmers, they said, who simply used too much of it. Now we know it was the exhaust fumes from cars, factories and coal power plants. Climate change was barely mentioned, and even less believed in. And now, we can no longer ignore it.

So, what do we do in order to progress? We obviously can't go back to where we came from, but we are now made aware that the amount of energy and resources we're consuming, and the amount of toxic waste we're creating, will devastate the planet to the point where a big chunk of it will become inhabitable, millions of both people and animals, will end up dead if we keep going. But wait! How can I blame the people for any of this, when it's obviously the corporations that are doing the most damage, lobbying and hiding what is in actuality going on? And you're completely correct, I would have to say, it is corporations, and for the most time, we really didn't know the extent of damage they were doing. So why are the corporations exactly doing all of this? For profit. And who's giving them all that profit? Well, the consumers, by consuming all of the oil, energy, goods, resources and products they make. So how do we take down the corporations? By not giving them any of the profits. But, we can't do that in the current state of the world, we need cars, and food, and that food to be shipped and delivered from the distant lands, and we are all depressed and if we can't at least have our favourite snack, food we're used to, little treats and pieces of clothing that make us happy, we no longer feel like we can live!

And that's where the slow and meaningful habit shift comes into place. The thing is, we're not the same people we were 50 or 100 years ago, we don't have the skills of our ancestors, we're not used to producing our own resources, we are out of touch with nature, and we struggle to find our communities and feel valued. But we also have, so much more information and education at our fingertips. We have more scientific data, we have more access to information, we have more people creating public resources, we have the experiences and wisdom of generations back, only waiting for us to reach out, to tap into what the humanity knew centuries ago.

We're made to do various activities! We thrive on changing our habits by season, even by weeks. We thrive in communities, with no competition for resources. We love creating art, music, crafts and beauty just for fun, and the communal value of it cannot be compared to money. We don't like being reduced into human resources or labour force, we don't like repetitive activities that don't produce results or seem nonsensical, we don't like to be stuck within one room for most of the day, we don't like being replaced when we stand up for our rights.

I can already see a lot of people valuing all of the things on this planet that cannot be exchanged for money, but have intricate value in our lives and experiences; wild animals, plants, forests, environments and ecosystems filled with life, little stories and jokes we tell to each other, making crafts just for the sake of making things, creating their own clothes or fabrics, learning how it was done in the past; growing food, foraging, herbalism, basketry, making of soap and fixing things on our own, visible mending, connections and building communities, we are remembering it's what we want and need, and we're not going to build it the way it was in the past; we're going to do it our own way, with the knowledge and experience we have, the way we think is the best. All we need to do is start small. Do one little shift that takes you one tiny step away from consumerism. Add one little enrichment in your life that doesn't have anything to do with money or purchasing. Find little ways to save on energy that doesn't make any dips in your happiness or comfort levels, that only requires a little bit of your attention or focus to do.

Big shifts are not sustainable, and are not survivable, but we didn't get here by a big shift; we got here by a series of small, almost invisible shifts that we barely felt were happening, until it was our new normal. We can do small, painless shifts too, but this time, they're going to be conscious, purposeful, with thoughts of the future behind it, and they're going to come from us. Not the corporations, not the money holders, but us, pushing the future to the direction that we want.

#anti-capitalism #essay #long post #capitalism #environmentalism #climate change #future #environment #saving energy #leaning away from capitalism

207 notes · View notes

arcane-vagabond · 5 months ago

Text

Road To Perdition: Prologue

Road to Perdition: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol, Allusions to alcoholism, Death of parents, Pessimism, Historical Inaccuracies probably. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: Just under 1.2k

Series Masterlist

Light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting shadows across the walls as your eyes slowly fluttered open. There was a stillness in the air that was all too familiar for those that lived as far out of the city as you did, nestled in the trees that scattered the farmland surrounding your home. You heard the shrill chirping of the birds as you adjusted back to life in the waking world, stretching with a grunt as you glanced over at the clock sitting on your nightstand.

It was still early, something you both lamented and thanked the lord for. You had things to do today, things that would require you to sneak past your brother who had undoubtedly passed out on the couch once more after a night of drinking himself silly. He had been like that before your parents passed, one of the many things he and your father had in common.

It had been only a couple of years since your father died, leaving your brother his illegal business of moonshining - a business you had been a part of at one point before finding other means of making money. Your father hadn’t been too keen on the idea at first, always commenting on how you seemed to have a special touch with the liquor, earning you your nickname of Moonshine or Moonie for short.

He had accepted it in stride, though. Especially when he saw the amount of your first earnings as a part-time photographer for the local paper. The camera had been a gift from a family friend, having purchased it for his son who quickly let it fall to the wayside as other pursuits caught his interests.

“Shouldn’t go to waste,” he had said, handing it to you with a small smile on his usually stern face. “Here, Moonie. You should have it.”

You had felt wrong taking it at first, but the feeling quickly left you once you held your first photo in your hand, your brother having saved up enough to set up a makeshift room for you to develop them in. That was before he started sampling his own product, of course.

“These are really good, Moonie!” Jack had grinned as he held a particularly stunning shot of a doe you had encountered in the back field one morning. She had turned to face you, and that’s when you had taken the shot, just before she ran back into the safety of the woods. You were particularly proud of that shot, but you ducked your head down in humility.

“They’re not that good,” you mumbled shyly.

You smiled wistfully at the memory before letting out a sigh as you pulled yourself up out of the comfort of your bed. You were quick to tidy up, fluffing the pillows before marching down the hall towards the bathroom. The sound of snoring echoed from your brother’s room, and you snorted in surprise at the change, but continued on.

After relieving yourself, you washed up, grimacing at your reflection in the mirror. Most girls your age had a whole counter full of makeup, but you simply couldn’t see the need for it, or justify it for that matter. No, you were saving up what little you could to make your escape. You weren’t sure where you’d go yet. New York perhaps? You’d heard there was always an opportunity for someone there. The thought of making your way in the growing city sent your stomach fluttering, and you clapped your hands against your cheeks to settle your mind.

There was no time for daydreaming. You had to focus on the task at hand. You were able to squirrel some of your earnings away from your brother’s greedy hands, and you made weekly deposits into a private bank account. People had been weary of the banks since the crash a few years back, but you trusted them more than your snooping older brother. Work had been hard for people to come by, but people were always looking for a photographer. So for now, non-essentials like makeup would have to wait.

You dressed quickly, double checking to make sure your camera was tucked away in your messenger back alongside your rainy day fund, and set out only to stop short at the sight of the living room.

Bottles were strewn all about the place along with cards scattered alongside them. Letting out a heavy sigh, you dropped your bag down onto one of the chairs as you set about cleaning the place up. You were surprised that the noise of what was surely many men hadn’t woken you up. You had had a long day, though. The fresh wad of bills sitting in your bag proof of that.

The bottles clanked together as you gathered up as many as you could, taking them out to be washed later. Coming back inside, you glanced over to observe the state of the kitchen, the sight having a growl leaving your throat before you could stop it. Plates were stacked high in the sink, and you knew you’d have to take care of them now lest they stink up the place for the rest of the day. The last thing you needed to deal with was unwanted pests in your home.

You actually enjoyed doing the dishes, if you were being honest. It was time to let your mind wander, plotting your way out without being disturbed. No one wanted to be drawn in to helping, of course. So you washed and scrubbed in silence as the noise outside picked up with the late morning. You wouldn’t get to the bank until this afternoon, at this rate. That left little time to go snooping for your next lead, which left you more irritated than before.

You drained the sink once you were done, wiping your hands with the dishcloth with a grimace. You’d have to do laundry tomorrow. Another chore left for you to take care of.

Perhaps you wouldn’t be so quick to want to leave if it wasn’t only you holding this place together. Your brother had been your rock once upon a time, but then your mother had passed due to illness and your father followed her not long after. Of course, you had been devastated, but you took it upon yourself to be the strong one after Jack fell apart. He started drinking then. It had only been one here or there, but it quickly grew into several bottles a night, and no amount of begging would get him to stop. So you quit trying.

It had come to a head only a year ago when you came home early to find your room tossed upside down, anything of value missing along with Jack. It was a week before he came home.

You had learned your lesson, and now you bided your time until you could withdraw your money and make a break for it. The sun shone down on you as you began the trek into town, dreaming of the day you would make this journey for the last time.

A/N: Just something to tide you guys over until I can formulate the next chapters of By Its Cover and Fool's Fare. I'm excited for this one though!

If you would like to receive notifications on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find all of my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

#rtp #road to perdition #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun hangman

137 notes · View notes

wolveria · 2 months ago

Text

The Anomaly Archives - Reality #005

AU of The Raven's Hymn

Pairing: Male OC x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, whump, nightmares, hurt/comfort, age difference, vaginal sex

AO3

You balanced the cardboard cup holder on one hand as you swiped your keycard with the other. The observation room door slid open, and what followed was a confused yelp and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Entering the room, you expertly stepped over the obstacle in your way, placing the cupholder on the desk and giving Kenneth a moment to recover his dignity.

“Still can’t sleep?” You set the two cups of coffee on the surface far away from the delicate equipment.

A groan was your answer, and Kenneth slid into the chair beside you, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. He was a mess, his copper hair coming out of the ponytail at the back of his neck, the bags under his eyes heavy and dark, and his freckled skin was paler than usual.

“Ah, thanks, you’re a lifesaver,” he said, grabbing one of the cups and then almost dropping it immediately before you could warn him it was still hot. “And no. Not yet.”

Any other day would earn a scolding for him falling asleep in the observation room. With some SCPs, you could get away with it, either because they didn’t require much attention, or they were harmless.

Your assigned charge was neither of those things. You glanced through the one-way mirror at the room beyond. Nothing had changed within it, the pedestal was clean and intact, and the porcelain mask remained inert.

Regardless, SCP-035 was not an anomaly to be taken lightly, and it was known to ensnare personnel who let their guard down, even for a moment.

You rubbed your finger against the side of your cup, waiting for it to cool.

“Maybe you should take a nap.” You tried to sound gentle, not judgmental, but you weren’t exactly practiced.

“What? N-no! It’s not safe.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Not here. Take the day off, go to your quarters and get some rest.”

“I meant, it wouldn’t be safe for you.”

You raised a brow, and his terrified deer look was replaced with a blush.

“Being here, alone. It wouldn’t be safe for anybody. I’m fine, I’m not that tired.”

It was a lie and you both knew it, but it was… kind of sweet. Even though Kenneth was freaked out by 035 far more than you were, he still got antsy whenever he found you early on a shift inside the observation room alone.

You didn’t know why it made him so anxious. 035 never did anything interesting while you were there. Of course, that was part of the danger with the mask SCP, by the time you noticed it had done anything to you, it was far too late. That’s why observation rotations with 035 were much shorter than other anomalies, and bi-weekly psychiatric evaluations were mandatory.

Kenneth was wrong, he was that tired, and he needed rest more than you needed a second person, but you didn’t argue the point. You enjoyed his company, and maybe that was selfish of you, but he was the one volunteering to stay.

Still, you were… concerned. Restless nights happened to everyone, it was the nature of the work, but Kenneth’s bout of insomnia wasn’t normal for him. And it had started as soon as you both began observation duty with 035.

As you filled out the logs and looked over the previous rotation’s reports, you planned your approach. You considered prodding about his last psych eval, but asking a coworker “hey, how crazy were you on your last test?” was considered poor form.

“You know…” you tried for the tactful approach, “if you need to pull off rotation early, no one will judge you.”

Kenneth stared as if you’d suggested he kiss 049, with tongue.

“Uh, what? Why would I do that?”

You sighed. So much for the subtle approach.

“Because you’re not sleeping, you’re not eating, and frankly, you look like shit.”

A small grin burst through his tired features, and for a moment he looked like his old self again.

“You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

“I’m serious.”

“I’ll sleep eventually,” he said, and that flippant statement did nothing to ease your worry. “I’ll stop at the med station and pick up some sleeping pills if it gets worse.”

You said nothing and sipped your coffee.

You didn’t know what woke you. Your room was perfectly dark, and when you touched the personal tablet at your bedside the time showed as just past midnight. Sleep nagged at you, but the fullness of your bladder made you get out of bed in defeat.

Once you were finished in the attached washroom, you checked your door, still locked. No one had attempted to enter your quarters, but someone might have knocked. There weren’t any messages on your tablet, but something still prickled at you.

Putting on a pair of slippers, you peeked your head outside the door to find the hall empty. Other doors lined the residential wing, all leading to their own individual quarters, the ones currently unoccupied belonging to those working the night shift.

On a whim, you left your room and headed in the direction of someone else’s quarters. After two right turns, you came to the correct hallway and rounded the corner.

You came to a stop, your slippers skidding at the lack of traction.

“Kenneth?”

His back was to you so you couldn’t see his face. Something about his posture set off warning sirens in your head, and it certainly wasn’t normal to find him in the corridor in the middle of the night wearing green plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt.

“Kenneth?” you tried again, quieter this time. Was he sleepwalking? You drew closer, and the hairs on the back of your nape stood straight as you rounded him. His expression was vacant.

Hoping he wasn’t prone to getting violent in his sleep—he might have been lanky, but you didn’t want to test how hard he could punch—you carefully reached out, your hand hovering above his shoulder.

You set your hand down carefully on his shirt, but he didn’t blink. Frowning, you let him go and reached higher, planning a gentle jab against his cheek.

Your fingertips touched his skin. He flinched back with a scream.

“Kenneth!” you hissed through your teeth, because he was definitely awake now, staring at you with wide eyes as he sucked air into his lungs. He looked half-mad, which was exactly why you didn’t want anyone stumbling across Kenneth making a scene. Sleepwalking and screaming was a good way to get taken off rotation and dosed with amnestics.

He was lucid now, and unfortunately on the verge of hyperventilating, sweat trickling down his temples as his hollowed eyes looked even more sunken.

You grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hallway. Kenneth followed with a surprising lack of resistance, even when you pulled him into your room and locked the door behind him.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” You didn’t give him the chance to speak first, though by his dazed expression as he glanced around your room it was safe to say he wouldn’t have anything intelligible to say. “Sleepwalking? Night terrors? What else is going on with you?”

His attention snapped to your face, clear panic on his.

“N-nothing!” A pause. “I was sleepwalking?”

“I found you out in the hallway, so unless someone put you there, yes!”

You took in a deep breath and rubbed the middle point of your forehead. Yelling at him wouldn’t help, and sadly, it didn’t make you feel better.

“You have to tell someone.”

“No.”

You looked up. It was the first time he’d sounded sure about anything, and at your scrutiny, he immediately dropped his gaze.

“You know what would happen,” he said quietly.

You did, or at least, there were the rumors. And you liked Kenneth. You didn’t know if he could be considered a friend, but he was more tolerable than anyone else you worked with.

“Fine. We keep this between us. Are you good to sleep again?”

His visible relief at the first part of your statement was wiped out by the second half, and his eyes returned to their previous look of dejected terror.

“I… I can’t go back there. To my room. I just… can’t.”

“Then don’t.”

You left him at the door and took of your slippers, placing them at the foot of the bed before sitting on the mattress. He still stood there looking like a lost puppy, so you took pity on him. He was so easy to mess with it almost wasn’t fun.

“Don’t go back to your room. Sleep here.”

He made a choked noise, which you ignored as you got under the covers.

“Turn off the lights when you’re done.”

“…What?”

“I can’t sleep with them on.”

“No, I mean, you… want me to sleep here?”

“I wouldn’t have made the offer if I didn’t mean it.”

When he didn’t move or make a sound, you sighed and sat up, leaning against the headboard. He stared at you with a mixture of horror and surprise, as if you were offering to torture him instead.

“I can set my door lock so that it won’t open without my passcode, which I’ll give to you. That way, you can only open it while you’re awake. No more nocturnal-wandering the hallways, and maybe you’ll get some actual sleep so you can stop looking like death.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I can only cover for you so long before someone figures out you’re having sleep disturbances. And… maybe not being alone will help.”

Kenneth looked a little less horrified but still just as apprehensive, though his face softened a bit.

“And you would do that? For me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Hadn’t you established that? Why did he still look so tense? He was the one who would have your private passcode to come and go as he pleased.

He chewed his bottom lip, glancing once around the room before settling on you.

“What if I wake you?”

“Then you wake me.”

“Okay, well, what if I get violent in my sleep?”

“Then I hit back.”

You smiled, just a little, and some of the tension left his posture as he sheepishly returned the gesture. He was almost cute when he didn’t look like he was on the edge of a mental breakdown. Okay, maybe even then too, but no one would drag that information out of you even if they used SCP-645.

“Okay, but…” He fidgeted. “What if someone sees me entering your room?”

“They’ll think we’re having sex.”

Kenneth’s face went so red so fast it was actually impressive, and a little concerning.

“In case you couldn’t tell, I don’t care what anyone thinks.” You shrugged. “I just care if it helps. It’s no one’s business, anyway.”

His cheeks still burned, but he stopped looking like he was going to run out the door. He chewed his lip again, a nervous habit you were beginning to notice, but there was something decisive in his face.

“If you really don’t mind…”

“I don’t.”

He blew out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’m just gonna… grab some of my stuff then. If that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.” You also gave him the passcode, and added, “You can use it to go in and out, no need to knock. I’ll probably be in bed by the time you get back.”

“Great, yeah. Okay.”

You simply watched him with raised brows as he finally shuffled out, and you smirked after he left. The poor guy was such a target, it was going to take a conscious effort not to tease him. Needlessly, anyway.

You laid down and planned to be on your way to asleep by the time he returned, figuring he’d take his time and possibly stall. But he came back surprisingly fast, only a few minutes after he walked out the door.

Your back was to him so you couldn’t see, but you could hear him move about the room, unzipping what sounded like a bag before moving quietly into the bathroom. The idea of having a temporary roommate would have been hell in nearly any other circumstance, but the idea didn’t feel terrible with Kenneth. With how timid he could be, somehow able to shrink his presence despite being so tall, it would probably feel more like sharing space with a mouse than a man.

You’d almost fallen back asleep by the time the mattress dipped behind you. For a bewildering moment, you’d forgotten Kenneth was there, wondering who the hell would be getting into bed with you.

He’d turned off the overhead light when he got situated, and the darkness of your bedroom was heavy with silence.

“Comfy?” you asked.

“Uh-huh.” He sounded stiff enough that he would snap in half. You snorted and closed your eyes.

“Night, Kenneth.”

“G… goodnight, Reid.”

By the time you woke up, Kenneth was gone. You would have suspected last night was just a weird dream and he hadn’t been there to begin with if you hadn’t spotted the bag next to the bed. Also, his side of the bed was neatly made, where you tended to just throw the covers back in place in a haphazard pile.

Finding no sign of him in the cafeteria either, you grabbed a couple of bagels and cups of coffee. You knew where he would be, and you weren’t disappointed to find him in 035’s observation room.

Or rather, you were disappointed, though you couldn’t pinpoint why.

Kenneth nearly jerked out of his seat when the door opened, and you stepped through.

“I’m cutting you off,” you said, placing the coffee and bagel next to him.

“Oh, no, please don’t.” He sounded sincerely distressed as he wrapped his fingers around the cup, savoring its warmth. “I would die.”

“Then perish.”

He snorted as you sat down beside him.

“I keep forgetting you’re an old Millennial. That meme is, like, from the last decade.”

“Call me old again and you’ll really feel the last decade.”

Kenneth laughed and then dived into his bagel. It had been a while since you’d seen him with an appetite.

You took another drink of coffee and pretended to sort through the observation logs, keeping your voice intentionally light.

“So. You sleep okay?”

He paused in his bagel chewing long enough for you to worry he was going to choke on it.

“I, uh… yeah, actually. I did.”

“Good.”

Trying not to appear too pleased, you focused on your actual work, though you found yourself distracted that day more than most. Ever since you’d noticed Kenneth’s disturbed sleep patterns, you’d kept an eye on him to the point where it became routine. Observe the SCP, observe your sleep-deprived coworker, and see which would yield the more interesting result.

You were aware enough to know that was a little weird, but it was a hard urge to fight. Kenneth was prone to being easily startled, like there was a prey animal living under his skin, and you still didn’t know how he’d managed to end up at the Foundation. It generally took a more aggressive personality to literally survive the job.

Maybe you did feel a little protective. So what?

The workdays were less awkward than you thought they would be, though the nights held their own kind of tension. Maybe Kenneth’s nervousness was rubbing off on you, but at least he seemed to be sleeping soundly. Even you slept like the dead until your alarm went off, and each time you woke to find Kenneth already gone.

The facility ran on a 24-hour schedule, with someone always on duty during night and weekend shifts. But as part of the research team, you and Kenneth had a more traditional schedule, and you were looking forward to your weekend.

And then the thought hit you. What were you going to do this weekend? Usually, you caught up on shows or devoured as much reading as you could, but with Kenneth there… Were you supposed to hang out with him? Or would he go off and entertain himself? Come to think of it, outside of your workdays, you didn’t see him much and had no idea what he did on his off time.

Your anxiety over the looming weekend kept you up Friday night, and it was why when Kenneth’s nightmare started, you were awake for it.

You sat up and stared down at him, the glow of the digital clock on your nightstand enough for you to see by. Kenneth trembled, breathing too fast, and his eyes were shut tight as if trying to block out what he saw.

“Kenneth.”

He didn’t respond.

“Kenneth,” you hissed louder. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

His twitching worsened and a small whimper squeezed out of him.

Shit. You scooted closer, one hand hovering over him.

“If you hit me, I swear to God, you’ll be doing the coffee runs for the rest of your life.”

He was insensate to your threats, so you lowered your hand and very carefully placed it on the side of his neck. You remembered how touching him over his shirt hadn’t done anything, but skin contact had.

The trembling immediately stopped. He still had his eyes wrenched closed and he was breathing too fast, but at least he was no longer shaking.

Another scared noise left him, and you let out your own defeated breath. This was either going to go extremely poorly and you’d be embarrassed, or it would help, and you’d still be embarrassed.

Moving your hand to his shoulder, you gently rolled him toward you on his side. He moved easily with your effort; surprising, because you thought he would fight it. You scooted a little bit closer and higher up on your pillow, making it easier to slot you together.

All you’d wanted to do was move him close enough that you could wrap an arm around him and ease the nightmares. But as soon as your chests touched, Kenneth wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, buried his face in your neck, and held you tight. You couldn’t move.

Fuck.

You didn’t move, eyes wide in the dark as he held you like his own personal teddy bear. It took every brain cell you had just to keep breathing normally and not whack him off of you.

It was startling, and weird, and he was way too close, but it was also kind of… nice. Warm. He was surprisingly soft for being all arms and legs.

His hold on you was also one you couldn’t wiggle out of, so you didn’t try to escape. You were tired, and he wasn’t making any more sad puppy dog noises, so you took the victory. And tried not to think about how you were going to explain this in the morning.

When you woke up, your first thought was one of vague confusion. Even before you opened your eyes you knew Kenneth was there. It was the first morning he hadn’t vanished before you woke up, and you knew that, because he still had a hold around your waist.

He was also rigid, like someone had the muzzle of a gun shoved into his back.

Ignoring his terror, you stretched a tiny bit, enough to ease your muscles but not dislodge him, and then relaxed against the pillow. You even propped your chin on top of his head.

“Uh,” he said. Okay, maybe you were enjoying his torment a little too much.

“Morning,” you mumbled, your eyelids heavy with sleep as you were tempted to slip back into a doze.

“You’re… awake.”

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re… uh…”

He floundered, uneven to even begin to address the strange situation. You sighed through your nose.

“You had a nightmare. I tried to move you closer. You turned into a Velcro monkey.”

The noise he made was an impressive mixture of choked horror and surprised snort.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“It’s, uh…” He leaned up to look past you. “Half past seven.”

“Mmm. Go back to sleep.”

“Go back to… sleep…”

“It’s too early.”

His baffled silence stretched on and on.

“What?” you finally asked.

“You…” He audibly swallowed. “Don’t mind… this?”

“No. Do you?”

Okay, this was a little too relaxed, even for you, but you wanted to go back to sleep and Kenneth was unfairly warm.

“I… n-no. No, I don’t mind.”

The noise you made was unconvinced, but he didn’t move away so that was something. But he was still so damn stiff.

After a few moments of restless silence, he said, “But this is weird, right?”

“You’re makingit weird.”

He laughed, and you didn’t know if it was from your response or how cranky it sounded.

“Sorry, sorry.”

And then he pulled in close, tucking his face close to your neck, and—oh, that was nice. You closed your eyes again, and if your arm tightened around his shoulder, well, you were both too polite to say.

He had another nightmare the following night.

You don’t know why this one caught you off-guard. Maybe because the weekend had been going surprisingly well. It turned out you both were reclusive introverts, not wanting to go out when you could simply stay in. It wasn’t much different than your usual weekend, except this time when you started up a movie, you had someone to watch it with.

You were growing more comfortable around Kenneth, which was perhaps why when he woke you up with his violent shaking and startled cries, you didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm over his torso and lean your head on his chest.

Like the first time, the shaking immediately stopped. His heart raced fast against your ear, and you listened as it gradually slowed into a calmer rhythm, and the regular pattern lulled you back to sleep.

And for a second time in a row, when you woke up, Kenneth was still there. He was awake and awkwardly stiff, but when you stretched and stayed where you were, bidding him good morning, he relaxed. A little. His heart still tamped out a fast beat against your ear, and you wondered if he’d had another nightmare.

The nightmares, which had been practically absent for the first few days, erupted with a kind of vindictive violence, as if angered they weren’t allowed to play out. It was becoming so routine that you barely woke, only enough to roll over and set your head on his chest, or when he was turned away from you, wrap your arm around his waist and lean against his back.

You’d rather have teeth pulled than admit you liked when you got to do that. He was like your own personal heater, and maybe it was your imagination, but he seemed to relax in proportion to how much physical contact you had.

And then of course, you’d wake up in the morning and Kenneth would still be there, frozen like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. You would almost think he dreaded waking up like that from how he acted, but the times you pulled away first, you could have sworn he moved toward you.

Most likely, he just missed the warmth. The damn facility was kept cold, even the living quarters, and you hadn’t realized how uncomfortable it was until there was someone else’s body heat to chase away the chill.

Unspoken but somehow agreed upon, you both started preemptively subverting the nightmares ahead of time. You wouldn’t call it cuddling, it was more of… close proximity sleeping that might involve a limb or two being fastened to the other person.

It was strategic. Anticipatory. Definitely nothing to get excited over.

Until one night you woke up, startled and breathing too far, the lingering horror of hands holding you and pulling you under so real you could still feel it. And then you realized you could feel a pair of arms around you.

You tensed, about to throw your elbow backwards, but Kenneth’s voice stopped you.

“You were having a nightmare. So I…”

Ah. You relaxed, though your heart still thudded too fast and refused to slow down.

“Was it…”

He trailed off, and you encouraged him with a noise. You didn’t trust yourself to speak yet.

“Was it about any particular SCP?”

You shook your head, forgetting he couldn’t see it in the dark.

“Nothing that specific. Just a sort of… vague dread. Like something has me trapped and I can’t escape.”

He hummed in understanding. There was something that everyone experienced at one time or another. An oppressive, horrific knowledge that Foundation staff rarely ever reached retirement age. At least, not with their body and mind intact.

You didn’t look into these nightmares any deeper than that, and by the time the morning came around, you were too focused on actual horrors to worry about imaginary ones.

“What do you dream about?”

He went stiff at your sudden question, and you didn’t expect a response, so you were surprised when you got one.

“…035.”

You could have guessed that, but the confirmation caused your chest to ache.

Kenneth started to move away, but you grabbed his hand and moved it back around your waist. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. He understood. It was unspoken.

The next time you woke up, you didn’t move, too comfortable with Kenneth’s weight against your back and his arm heavy around you.

It was… different from when you held him. When you did it, it was comfortable and soothing, like hugging a giant stuffed animal that sometimes moved and snored a little. But when he held you like this, curled around you like he was trying to meld you together, it was distracting. A restlessness took hold of your body, your skin felt too hot, and it was difficult to remain still.

Which was why you failed at it, shifting in place as if that could make you more comfortable. It was a mistake. Your hips moved back too far, and something hard pressed against your ass. Kenneth let out a quiet breath, but he otherwise didn’t move, still asleep.

Now you understood why he froze whenever you embraced him like this. You couldn’t move, your muscles locked into place. You should leave, get out of bed and let him sleep and stay ignorant to this embarrassment. He didn’t mean it, anyway. It was a natural response, and he wasn’t even conscious.

But you didn’t move. Your heart raced, and you listened to the even pace of his breathing with barely a breath of your own.

And then his hips shifted again, pressed harder against your ass, and you forgot how to breathe. Kenneth nosed against your hair as if to get more comfortable, but then he went very, very still.

By how carefully you weren’t moving, he knew you were awake. He tried to back away, and like the night before, you grabbed onto his hand. He froze.

Delicately, as if you were defusing a bomb, you pulled his hand back and placed it over your stomach. He didn’t resist, but he didn’t ease up from his anxious tension either.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. He was your coworker, maybe even your friend. You were taking advantage. It wasn’t right.

You took his hand and slipped it under your shirt, sliding upward until you pressed his hand against your breast.

He sucked in a breath, a small tremble racking through him, and then his thumb grazed over your nipple, hard and sensitive. He groaned and molded himself against your back, his face pressed into the crook of your neck.

Encouraged, you arched your back, and he didn’t hesitate to grind against your ass. His response surprised you, enthusiastic where you thought he was going to run away. You would have let him, even knowing you had just ruined your friendship and working relationship, but that hadn’t happened. You let go of his hand, and he kept it right where you left it, his fingers toying with your nipple.

You ached. Days of tension building inside you that you couldn’t ignore or make go away, even in the shower with your hand between your legs.

You rolled onto your back, and with a light tug you guided him to lay on top of you, hardly having to pull at all. He eased himself between your legs, but he moved his hand to hold your waist, as if nervous to touch you without your direct intervention.

The overhead lights were dim and pale, simulating the early sunlight, and you could make out his features. Color suffused high on his cheekbones, his long red hair messy, and his eyes were dark in what could easily be arousal or fear. Perhaps a mixture of both, knowing him.

Kenneth had moments where he was kind of cute. Adorable, even. And there were moments, rarely glimpsed when he let himself be vulnerable, where he was pretty. Unfairly pretty.

And there were moments where you would look over and see him chatting to other facility members. Researchers, security personnel, janitorial staff, it didn’t seem to matter, he would talk to anyone. His eyes would light up, his actions animated, and he was pretty. A stab of jealousy would shoot through you at whoever was being given that warm, sunny attention, until you turned away and went somewhere else.

That same possessive need, the feelings you were so careful to bury deep where it couldn’t find nourishment and take root, clawed its way to the surface and growled its demands.

You cradled the back of his head, weaving your fingers into his hair, and pulled him down.

You kissed him, lips meeting in a heated hunger from your side, and a surprised stiffness from his. You let him pull away, reining in your own need so you didn’t devour him. It was a close thing.

“Sorry,” you whispered, though you weren’t really. “I shouldn’t have—”

But he shook his head and didn’t retreat further, his breath trembling but his weight on you solid.

“Are you sure?” he asked, wincing, as if he was the one taking advantage. “I don’t want you to… I mean, if you’re not sure, then—”

He didn’t get out the rest of his words, either; you took his hand and slipped it under the waistband of your sleep pants and underwear, pushing his fingers between your legs. You were soaked and coated his fingers immediately.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, and without your prompting curled his fingers, as if seeking out your slick heat of their own volition. “I… Reid…”

You pulled him down and kissed him again, and his hesitation melted away along with his resistance. As his fingers prodded your entrance, you pulled off your shirt, having to break the kiss to yank it over your head.

Kenneth immediately took advantage of the new angle and buried his face in your neck, latching onto the skin as he sucked and licked. You tried to tug off your pants and underwear, but when his thumb found your clit and pressed down at the same time he slid two fingers inside, you immediately forgot what you were doing.

Kenneth didn’t, and he tugged off the rest of your clothes with one hand while the other slowly pumped in and out of you. It was tortuously gentle, and you growled and pulled off his shirt with frustrated impatience.

He smirked against your throat, the little shit, but at least you wiped it off his face when you reached under his waistband. You grabbed him, firm and tight, and he groaned as his cock involuntarily twitched in your hand.

“Pants off,” you huffed in his ear. With him lying on top of you, you couldn’t get him out past his waistband.

“No… foreplay?” His question was a breathless laugh, cut off by another groan as you squeezed.

“Later,” you said and purposefully didn’t think about the implications of a later. “I need you to fuck me, now.”

Kenneth made a choking sound, but he was quick to obey, pulling off his pj pants and boxers in a hurry.

Impatient, you wrapped your legs around his waist and tilted your hips upward, at the same time guiding his cock at your entrance. You didn’t care that his fingers were still inside you and technically in the way. He would either have to move them, or you would have to take all of it inside you, because you weren’t waiting.

“Jesus Christ, Reid.” He barely moved his fingers in time as you notched him against your entrance, and then all his protests vanished as he pushed into your tight heat.

Kenneth tried to take it slow, but you dug your heels into the backs of his thighs, and he swore again as you swallowed up every inch of him. You should have paid better attention, because you couldn’t tell if he was just thick, long, or both, because there was a lot of him.

You finally breathed when he pushed all the way inside, though it felt like you couldn’t take a full lungful.

“S-slow down,” Kenneth stuttered as you ground yourself against him. You forced yourself still for his sake, knowing if he came now he’d probably die from embarrassment.

You wouldn’t mind. His noises and reactions would be worth it, and you were confident you could get him hard again with minimal effort. With how high-strung he was, it wouldn’t take much.

Letting him take a moment, you stroked the back of his head, letting your fingertips lightly scratch against his scalp. Kenneth groaned and shuddered, and maybe it would have been nicer to leave him alone while he regained his composure, but you weren’t feeling nice.

You leaned up and nuzzled into his neck, dragging your lips against his skin until you stopped in one place and sucked, hard.

He trembled and his hips stuttered involuntarily. You smirked and made sure to suck where he couldn’t hide it underneath his shirt collar.

“Reid.”

Your name came out as a whine, pleading for mercy, so you sucked harder, making sure to squeeze his hips between your thighs.

He shuddered again and finally gave up on the idea that you’d give him a moment to breathe. His hips moved in shaky, aborted movements, as if he was trying to fight himself as well as you.

With a movement far more coordinated than you thought it would be considering how much taller he was, you rolled him onto his back and straddled his hips, making sure he was still deep inside you. The pillows had scattered, and you had him flat on his back, his eyes large and startled.

But you were almost gentle as you kissed him, though it was more of a tease, your lips dragging across his in languid taunt.

Finally, he showed some lack of restraint, forcing the kiss deeper, his hips pushing upward in frustration. Unable to wait any longer, you gave him what he wanted, rolling your hips and grinding down on him with deep, decisive friction.

Kenneth gasped for air, breaking from the kiss he started, but you couldn’t keep your mouth off him. Your lips and teeth were at his neck, alternating between brief kisses and nipping bites, and Kenneth kept repeating, “fuck, fuck,” in a breathy mantra.

You ground down harder, chasing the pleasure that was slowly uncurling deep in your abdomen, and Kenneth must have felt it because he tried to thrust upward. He couldn’t move far, but the combination of sensations kept building the high at a slow, tortuous pace.

But it did build, each thrust its own molten pleasure, as if it was one long simmering orgasm. You might have said something, a nonsensical smattering of words that might have been you telling Kenneth how good he was.

He whined at whatever it was you said, and then he gave a small, begging, “Please.”

You latched your teeth on the crook of his neck, and his startled cry pushed you over the edge. You clenched around him hard and let go of the bite, propping yourself up so you could ride him through the last spasming waves. It seemed to never end, every inch of your skin prickled with pleasure, and when you finally opened your eyes you were surprised to find Kenneth watching you, his eyes dark and teeth clenched in effort.

It was almost sweet, Kenneth holding back so your orgasm could last longer. But you didn’t want sweet, you wanted to watch as he lost control. You sat up all the way, leaned your hands against his chest, and rode him hard.

With the way he rolled and bucked under you, it really was like riding, and you held on with digging nails and clenched thighs. The sound of him fucking up into you was sloppy and obscene, and impossibly, you felt another orgasm on the horizon.

Your brain shrouded and not thinking clearly, you took one of his hands and shoved it where your hips met, but you couldn’t get the right angle. Kenneth understood what you were trying to do, and he held your hip tight as he pressed circles into your clit.

You choked down your own whine, losing your rhythm as you started to clench tight, and Kenneth’s voice was strained and hoarse.

“I’m gonna--… you gotta get off me before I—"

“No.”

You ground down on him, purposefully, intentionally.

“Come inside me.”

He cursed and fucked up into you like he was going to die if he didn’t, and you screamed through your teeth as the pleasure shot through you like a thunderbolt.

You were distantly aware of your own body after that, too lost in the deluge of sensation and heat, but you could feel the distant throbbing between your legs that wasn’t yours.

Trying to catch your breath, and suddenly too self-conscious to meet his eye, you laid on top of him and rested your cheek against his shoulder. The bite hadn’t broken skin, but you could already see the bruised indent from your teeth.

Kenneth was the one to speak first, his voice catching, and he cleared it before continuing.

“I… I shouldn’t have done that.”

Something cold and unpleasant filled your stomach, even as the rest of you was warm and relaxed.

“Which part?”

“The, uh… coming inside you.”

The cold dread thawed a little.

“I’m on birth control. It’s fine.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s good.”

“But the rest of it?”

When he didn’t answer for several seconds, you started to move away. You should have done so already, it wasn’t as if he wanted you just lying on top of him. You weren’t lovers or partners or—

You moved off of his lap, wincing as his cock slid out of you, and that’s about as far as you got. Kenneth caught your waist and pulled you back down, tucking you against his side as he turned toward you.

You didn’t mean to freeze up, awkward and unsure as he kept his arms wrapped around you.

“I should… get us something to clean up with.”

He blew air out of his mouth, like he was laughing.

“Seriously, Reid? Can you relax, for like, two seconds.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m not the one who—”

His lips were on yours, stealing a kiss and your breath. You weren’t as annoyed as you could have been, but you sent him a dirty look when he broke away. He grinned like a cat who’d gotten in the milk.

“You’re not allowed to win arguments that way,” you said.

“But I would win them.”

Your gaze narrowed and his smile brightened.

Settling back against his side, you were just starting to relax when he went and ruined it.

“So… we should probably talk.”

You groaned.

“We really don’t have to.”

“Don’t we?”

You closed your eyes and considered ignoring him, but when had that ever worked.

“It’s not that complicated,” you said. “Do you want to have sex again?”

“Right-right now?!”

It was your turn to grin, though he couldn’t see it from this angle.

“Because I don’t think I could, not so soon—”

“Wanna bet?”

“Against you? Absolutely not.”

You snorted and then propped up on your elbow so you could face him.

“Do you want to keep doing this?”

Kenneth swallowed and his gaze drifted to somewhere around your shoulder.

“I mean… what is this?” He made a vague gesture at you both lying naked in your bed. “Is it just… you know. Sex?”

Now you couldn’t meet his eye, unease coiling in your gut. Not because you didn’t know what you wanted—you absolutely did. But Kenneth was younger than you. He had other options, avenues he could pursue without much effort. What you both got out of this might be very different things.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” you finally said.

“Really? You’re leaving this up to me?”

His skepticism drew your attention and your annoyance.

“Why not.”

“Because that’s not fair. What about what you want?” He shifted, his fingers fidgeting with wrinkles on the sheet. “You’re kind of getting the raw end of the deal.”

Your glare grew sharper, and before he could back away, panic growing in his eyes, you crowded him into the mattress and kissed him.

It wasn’t a half-assed thing, either. You licked into his mouth, tasting him on your tongue until you finally let him up for air.

“Your counterargument…” He gasped for air, his face flushed. “…is persuasive.”

You smirked when something hard and familiar pressed against your hip.

“I told you I could get you hard again.”

“That’s not—”

He actually squeaked when you licked a stripe up his neck and purposefully pressed your thigh against his cock.

“W-we’re not done talking yet.”

You sighed. Of all the moments, he had to be responsible now.

“Fine.” You backed off and met his eye, probably with more glare than was warranted. “I want to keep doing this, and I’m not interested in anyone else. That cover it?”

He blinked slowly, as if his brain was catching up to the words.

“Y-yeah. That’s… yeah.”

You lifted your brows, and it took a minute for the lightbulb to turn on in his head.

“And, I mean, I want to keep doing this too, obviously. And I’m not…”

Your brows lifted higher as he progressively grew tongue-tied, until he finally flopped back on the bed and blew out a frustrated breath.

“Come on, Reid.”

“What?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“You have to know by now.”

“Know what.”

“I’ve had a crush on you since day one.”

The silence stretched on long enough for him to frown up at you.

“You… didn’t know.”

“Of course I didn’t know!”

“Really?” He said this last to himself, rubbing his chin. “Nix always said it was super obvious.”

Ah, yes. Kenneth’s strange little friend from down in anomalous body storage. They were attached at the hip most days, and you didn’t think you imagined the evil eye Nix sent you whenever you were in the same room. Then again, they looked at everyone that way.

You gave him a blank stare.

“Anyway.” Kenneth rolled onto his side so he could face you again. “I didn’t think it mattered since you didn’t seem to know I existed. The first time you said my name, I actually forgot it was my name, because there was no way you were actually talking to me—"

“Kenneth.”

“—Yeah, that’s exactly how you said it, and annoyed tone and everything—"

You shut him up with another kiss, and yeah, it turned out it was an effective way to stop an argument. You could get used to this, and something about that felt dangerous.

When you felt Kenneth had been sufficiently kissed into silence, and by his dazed expression when you broke apart, he had, you leaned back and stared at him for a moment. When you’d mentioned contraceptives, the thought had crossed your mind, and you’d almost joked, If I did get pregnant, do you think they’d give us both parental leave?

And then you realized how unfunny it was. Starting a family was one of the few ways to get out of the Foundation that didn’t involve a body bag. Sure, they’d give you so many amnestics that you’d barely remember your name, but at least you had an escape option. You both did.

But then… did you want to leave? You’d been here for years, and while the work was still satisfying, it had lost its charm. One by one, coworkers would disappear, either through transfer, or they simply… vanished.

You didn’t want that to happen to you or Kenneth, and you knew if you ever found a way out, you wouldn’t leave without taking him with you.

But then you started to think of the anomalies you would leave behind, the ones you tried to give a little extra attention and kindness to. There was 053, and she adored Kenneth. It was hard to imagine leaving her and the other humanoid SCPs.

Plus… Dr. Puli had hinted that the next subject in your rotation was the enigmatic plague doctor. You could admit there was a curiosity there that went beyond professional. Were you ready to give up the opportunity to study SCP-049 because you started having doubts?

“Hey.” Kenneth’s soft voice pulled you back to reality. “Where’d you go?”

“I’m right here.”

“You sure?” He chewed his lip again. “No… regrets?”

You squinted at him.

“I was pondering something.”

“Oh?”

“Do you think it would be workplace sexual harassment if I started calling you Horse Dick Kenny?”

He choked, sputtered, and then buried his face in your shoulder so you couldn’t see the face that you knew would be bright red.

“Don’t worry,” you said and patted his arm. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Very safe. You would jealously guard that knowledge to your grave.

“Come on.” You grabbed his head and tugged him out of bed. “We’re filthy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kenneth followed obediently as you led him to the shower, and you left your dark thoughts behind in the bed.

#scp foundation #scp containment breach #the anomaly archives #oc x reader #male oc x reader #kenneth the assistant

36 notes · View notes

nuggetofthesea · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter: "The Dark Witch's warning"

The Dark Witch, they called her. Known throughout Hyper city for many reasons. Transformation services, potions, her eerie appearance, the tower in which she resides, but more importantly, her affinity for monsters.

Creatures of the night, eldritch horrors, spirits, the witch has a fascination with them all. Often labeled as dangerous just for existing, sometimes actually dangerous, but always interesting.

That witch is Iris. Iris is hyper city's transformation witch and has a Fondness of all things supernatural and arcane. One of the darkmage nugget system, famous for running a studio that houses a lab underneath. Years before Animal HRT hit hyper city, It was when the original owner of the body, Ashe offered herself as an experiment to the lab owner, the witch appeared. And the rest of us.

Ashe, the original host. Former human. Now kitsune. Runs the darkmage nugget studio. She now has the ability to change her shape at any time. Uses it to be a fox.

Iris, the dark witch with a skill for energy manipulation and transformation. Needs her magic to transform unlike Ashe. But now owns the body after Ashe couldn't feel connected to it.

Aqua, an elf with strong connection to the sea and a desire to write. Trapped in nightmares for 15 years before the experiments. Leaving her a walking shadow at times.

Chaos, a destructive gremlin hellbent on causing mayhem. Trouble find us and she is the first to step up to the fight.

Mira, A crystal fairy construct capable of multiplying herself up to 30 identical copies. Organizes things in our head.

Aria, former strong silent type, now basically a puppy with muscles. Sweet, but still willing to protect everyone.

We were always a presence in Ashe's head since she was young. But the experiments brought us to the front. 6 souls inhabiting the body of the dark witch. When we aren't in the studio, or around town, we reside in Iris' tower just off the park in hyper city. a round tower that sits in the middle of a small yard fenced off with stone. A witch hat made of bricks covers the top of the tower, that overlooks the city and the surrounding woods.

Iris in particular though, found herself with a curiosity she needed to satisfy. The monsters and mysteries of hyper city. Is there more too them? More than meets the eye? In some instances, she also found herself weirdly attracted by the monsters that roam the city. Finding beauty where the rest of the world shuns away. This led to her often interacting with those cast out. Those who aren't human. And hyper city was the perfect place to satiate that desire for the unknown.

A city in the center of realities, in the middle of all possibilities. Iris soon was going to make the possibilities hers. She was often seen making deals or helping out the various creatures and horrors she came across. Earning her the title of… "The Dark Witch" as most humans began to fear her. At least until they know her. Then they realize, magic aside, She's actually very friendly when she wants to be. And even helped in making the animal HRT her friends have utilized to transform their bodies to their will.

This though was the move that led to this encounter.

One particularly stressful day, Ashe had left the studio to head home. But was on her way to stop for some food and anything heavily caffeinated. (Required for all the things we do).

As she turned a corner she found her heart suddenly sinking. every nerve in her body in shock. Frozen in fear as the fur on her paws and tails stood on end. Something was coming. Quickly, Ashe began to call to Iris. This was her specialty after all. Iris quickly came to front. Taking a moment to make the body hers again as she wasn't used to using Ashe's paws or her tails. Summoning her staff, she questioned what was around that corner.

Only to see a sad looking eldritch creature. Keeping an ear out, she could hear people around calling the being a freak or hiding in fear. they looked ready to cry. A quick read of her energy and Iris knew she wasn't a threat. But to everyone else, She looked like the most horrifying thing they could see.

Not iris. iris had the ability to read aura's by concentrating on a person's energy. And hers was all over the place. But Iris recognized a small hint in the overwhelmingly powerful aura of fear. Some of that energy, was hers. Twisted and distorted by some outside forces, but this definitely the result of the Animal HRT tablets. But wherever she got these ones, they had very little of the original left, and it was extremely powerful.

"FREAK! MONSTER! get out of here!" was shouted at her from those she passed. And iris was growing quite tired of this. using her staff, gem glowing on the end strongly, she called on a circle with a single word.

"Mute" Iris said as the spell was cast. Suddenly, the sounds of the crowd were drowned out. All went silent. Though they still moved. A temporary effect, but just enough for them to take notice of Iris just there. A glare from the glowing yellow eye piercing the gaze of the crowd as they pieced together what had happened and ran.

"Hey. You okay?" Iris asked the horror before her.

No response as she was a bit confused as to what was happening. What was with this witch? even magical beings tend to fear her.

"Don't know where you are heading. But that had to get pretty annoying. I'm Iris. your name is?"

…

She began to speak up. Looking to figure this situation out.

"Mars. Alright. What's your angle."

Not even realizing the distortion she was doing with her face and the accidental piercing stare with her eyes.

"I'm a witch who can see into your very being past the admittedly strong fear aura you emit. But beyond that, I have a pretty big interest both in what you are, and where you got your humanity removal treatment."

"WHAT!? How do you-" "My energy is all over that fear aura. but you definitely got that from somewhere i haven't given that info to. you don't have to talk here, especially with others watching.. But know I am someone you can turn to and want to support you."

Iris reaches into the air and snaps her fingers. in a small flame a card appears in her hands.

"My tower is just past the woods in the park. if you ever need help, look me up and use that card to come to my tower."

"I'll consider it. But for now, I need to get going. I'm running late as is." Mars responds. not knowing what to make of this conversation and wanting to leave it as soon as possible.

"That's fine. But I do need you to know…" Iris' eyes turn to mars her one eye showing more piercing than ever. "Something latched on to a spell i created."

Perhaps you know what happened to make it so, but there are probably eyes on you. The tower is blocked from all outside eyes. No matter how powerful. If you need help, Do not hesitate to seek it."

Iris then begins to walk away. Leaving more questions than answers with Mars. Iris did always like being a little cryptic. Not many know what is going on in her head. But one thing she always takes seriously is when someone messes with her spells.

End Chapter

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

I wanted to do more to establish Iris. And Mars' ( @dawning-mars ) latest page brought a few ideas I've wanted to write down for a few days now. One moment of "Why would ancient texts spawn a modern pill bottle" thoughts later, this story was born. Had fun writing again as usual. ^-^

#plural #plurality #animal hrt #Hyper City #The Dark Witch #Writing #Chapter #short story #Iris #Ashe

27 notes · View notes

succulentsiren · 1 month ago

Note

Hey Siren!

(Can I adress you like that???) I hope you are having a great time wherever you are. What advice would you give to someone that has never dated before and has no experience with romantic relationships? Please be a little more detailed that just take it slow and bla bla bla. I already know that, but I want to get know something I could not know if I have never dated before. Some inside knowledge, if you will. Please excuse any possible spelling mistakes I have dyselxia .

Take care!

Lots of love from here!

What do you think the most important advice always is for a beginner driver? ! To take your time and take it slow i

You don't know how many people wished they would've heard this advice before engaging with the wrong person.

It's not just senseless advice. Dating isn't something to be rushed through. It takes time to get to know someone, to see if they're the right fit for you, if your lifestyles align, to understand how they feel about you, if you want to spend years of your life with this person, etc.

If you rush through the process (especially if you've never dated/driven before you'll end up crashing. The same applies to dating. Let it happen slowly and naturally.

More Advice For Unexperienced Daters

• Create standards by making a list of what you require before entering a relationship and when you do find what you're looking for, keep your standards! You must have a backbone when dating because you will be tested to see if you will fold or not. Never let them intimidate or pressure you into anything. Vet them and do background checks as well. Again, take your time to feel it out and don’t be afraid to let people go. There’s plenty more, qualified, fish in the sea.

• Learn to read the red flags and escape before it's too late. Pay attention to their manners towards you and towards other people. If he/ she disrespects other women, it's a sign they'll do that to you. If they're abrasive towards their mothers, it'll show up later in the relationship. If they have a cigarette, alcohol or weed addiction, they are weak willed and get easily distracted. If they don't court you, they're not that interested. If they're trying to force you into their religion, they're trying to control you.

• Learn to read the green flags. If they want to get to know you, without sexual demands, they're likely more interested in forming a genuine relationship. If they make a promise and actually keep it, they're reliable. If they treat the women in their lives well, it shows that they are respectful. If they don't push you into doing anything before you're ready or uninterested, they're not trying to control you.

• The minute you don't like something SPEAK UP and say something. Communication is key. Many relationships fails because of misunderstandings and emotional immaturity. But they're are also many relationships that thrive because they value healthy communication and speaking life into each other.

• Get with someone who respects your pace. Never ever commit to changing yourself for the pleasure of someone else, especially if they're pressuring, criticizing or downplaying you. Free yourself by leaving them behind.

• Keep your independence. Never get to the point in ANY relationship, where you're dependent on that person for the responsibility of your well-being. Remain self sufficient. Earn your own money (even if it's a small side hustle) and have your own individual hobbies, friends and activities.

• Stay mysterious. Don’t tell them everything about you on the first date. Let it be earned. Share more parts of yourself, with time, as you get to know each other.

19 notes · View notes

hsvh-hp · 8 months ago

Note

You know I agree with you that fanon paints Lucius as a much worse father than he was and I don't like that either, but do you not think indoctrinating your child into a genocidal cult + coldly demanding that he be the best in class and publicly humiliating him about that ("if [my son's] grades don't pick up, a thief or a plunderer] may indeed be all he is fit for") is bad parenting?

Like I'm not saying "he is a bad parent" or "he is a good parent", I'm very hesitant to label parents (real or fictional) in such a one-dimensional way because parent-child relationships are so incredibly complicated. But at the same time it is very important to me to acknowledge even little things parents can do that can really have a negative impact on children. And indeed in Draco's case they do, leading him to want to be a Death Eater, to seek validation from Voldemort (when he disarms Dumbledore he talks about wanting to be the Dark Lord's favourite, he doesn't want help from Snape because he has a need to prove himself etc) and contributing to his general insecurity and need to be better than everyone & getting upset when he's not, because if he's not the best all the time then he feels really bad.

One big reason I dislike the fanon tendency to make every morally questionable parent an extremely physically abusive monster is precisely because that erases the representation of how the smaller, psychologically/emotionally damaging things they do can still be traumatising.

It goes without saying that there’s nuance. I would never say nor claim that Lucius did nothing wrong or didn’t make mistakes. By mere virtue of holding bigoted beliefs, he signaled to Draco that there were things he could do or be that might undermine his father’s love. To me, it doesn’t even matter if Lucius is otherwise perfect as a father. That small thing, in a kid as needy for love and validation as Draco is, would be enough to have him always on edge and anxiously performing his role as the perfect son to the best of his ability.

My earlier frustration was a pushback against the need to inflate Lucius’ less-great moments into overtly obvious abuse (we are very much in agreement there), as fanon seems to love to do without a hint of introspection or greater analysis. I’m so bored of complicated behaviour being filed away into a thought-terminating box called ‘abuse’, where a sole instance of someone being a grumpy, imperfect dad (the Borgin & Burke’s scene) is all that’s required to put a character on the same level as men who actually do beat their sons. It’s not given a greater thought.

For instance, you bring up Draco’s indoctrination into the Death Eaters, and his eagerness to join. This is a very interesting conundrum for Lucius to me because Voldemort is back for an entire year before Draco signs up. Lucius is in Azkaban at the time, unable to exert any influence over Draco’s decision, and Voldemort explicitly brings Draco into the fold as a form of punishment for Lucius. We have no access to Lucius’ head as readers, but he had an entire year afterward to sit and think about how he failed Draco. He’s a smart guy. I’m sure he could put it together that his bigotry came very close to costing his son his life. Considering the Malfoys sit alongside the winners of the war in the Great Hall, it speaks to me of some greater narrative reflection on Lucius’ part to have earned himself a place there.

The point is, I’ve never seen that Lucius in fic before. I crave that Lucius, who can realize his mistakes and grow or change as a result (and is brave enough not to let the lateness of its arrival dictate the terms). It’s very important to me that growth not be something exclusive to a certain age (16 and under? 18? I’ve seen people argue that Draco was no longer redeemable at 12 LMAO). So yeah, feeling alone in this sentiment occasionally bubbles up and I forget to articulate all the nuance of the subject when engaging with it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#meta #draco malfoy #lucius malfoy

64 notes · View notes

ya-zz · 1 year ago

Note

*stares at you* this is a request, but you really don't have to write a lot, I'm just curious to see you write Ramattra receiving a kiss on his faceplate from reader for the first time 🧍‍♂️

*stares back*

Ramattra is a big softie at heart, change my mind.

Ramattra x Reader (gen)

Word count: 1307

He hated you, and not just because you were human, but because you avoided him. He’d watch you speak with other omnics, friendly tones and laughing to their stories when needed. Yet, with him, you were cold, avoiding his look whenever he was around with the same group.

He knew his model didn’t have the best reputation, but he wasn’t like that now. He was kinder, more helpful towards humans, however you wouldn’t see it, or at least that’s what he thought. You never spoke to him, always cowering whenever he got too close.

At some point, he gave up, no longer wanting to pursue a friendship with you, however, something inside of him hurt, like he was heartbroken. At first, when he saw you, he noticed how well put together you were, your warm smile that brought others together, a friendly aura around you… When he was around, he noticed that change, almost as if you feared him.

You never gave him a chance and he was desperate to prove to you he was no longer a ravager, a killing machine. He wanted you to know he had thoughts and emotions of his own too.

So, Ramattra would start small, a simple greeting as he passed you in the corridor, bowing his head as a friendly gesture. He’d stay quiet when you were in the same group, optics looking at you but thankfully hidden behind his faceplate. He wouldn’t utter a word unless spoken to, but his optics would stay on you despite his head being turned away and he’d catch small glimpses of you looking at him, a small fear present in your eyes.

His tone never faltered with you, always friendly and inviting. It was slow, and he would admit that it was painfully slow, but trust wasn’t something earned over night, and he knew that. He kept it up, almost like an entirely new schedule to follow.

Progress seemed like something that was never going to happen until you greeted him back after a few weeks. Ramattra nearly stopped as he heard you reply back to him, a smile would have been on his face if he could express such emotions. You finally acknowledged him and that sent a warm feeling though his wires.

Finally, I am getting somewhere…

It took longer to speak to him properly though, however, he noticed that you’d look at him with a kinder expression, an awkward smile occasionally, but progress was progress.

Whenever he’d pass you now, you were the first to greet him which made his circuitry warm. As the weeks passed by, you’d talk to him within the group, sharing the warm smile with him alongside the others, yet he still noticed a slight discord inside of you.

He could no longer hate you for it, he expected many humans to have their doubts about his kind, wondering if he would ever turn against them as he had done in his past, but this was something else entirely.

Ramattra was still cautious, not wanting to frighten you and pushing his progress back to zero. He would wait for as long as the stars burned.

As he walked through the building, pondering his own thoughts, he looked up, dismissing files and small errors as his optics landed on you carrying a two boxes within your arms.

“Do you require assistance?” He asked, noticing the strain in your body. He didn’t wait for an answer as he approached, taking the top most box out of your grasp.

A relieved sigh escaped you as you straightened slightly. “Thank you.” You look up, smiling at the omnic beside you.

“These are quite heavy.” He stated, quite surprised you managed to get this far with them in the first place.

You nodded, smiling awkwardly as you kept walking, Ramattra by your side. ”Yeah.” Was all you managed to say.

He didn’t ask what was in them as he followed you, keeping an eye on you, making sure you were okay.

The pair of you reached your personal room, the door unlocking instantly and allowing you both inside.

“Stuff from home.” You mention, placing your box on the table as you grab a step ladder, putting it against the half empty bookcase.

Ramattra nodded, watching you stand on the ladder, arms open and waiting for the box. He hands you the one he carried, watching you reach up and put it on top of the bookcase.

“Family stuff.” You spoke again, turning slightly as you pointed to the other box to which the omnic grabbed it and handed it over to you.

“You’re not unpacking it?” He questions.

“Not for a long time. Too much trauma behind it...” There was a gentleness in your voice as you turn and look back at him. “Could you pass me those books while you’re here?”

“Of course.” He nods once more, walking over to the table and picking up the books, briefly looking over the covers as he hands them over to you. He wants to ask more, but refrains.

“Thank you.” You lean back slightly, careful not to go too far back in case you fell. Looking over the top shelf, you smile and step down, feet back on the floor.

Looking at you, he notices the pain, perhaps the coldness you showed him back then was due to his kind, but of course, he stayed silent, not wanting to push you away.

“I’m sorry.” You broke through the silence. “For how I acted.”

“It is understandable.” He moves his hand, motioning that it’s alright.

You nod, looking at him for a moment. “I’ve been wanting to apologise for awhile…”

“You are always welcome to talk to me.” He tilts his head to the side slightly, a friendly gesture.

“Thank you. You have been so patient, I wish there was something I could do to make up for all of that.”

“You do not need to do anything. I understand your reasonings.” He takes a small step forward, watching you.

Shaking your head, you speak up. “I insist, really. I may not be able to do much, but I feel terrible.”

“Nonsense.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, wanting to comfort you, pushing the boundaries a little. “Your emotions were warranted. Do not feel ashamed for it.”

Looking up at him, you smile gently, hands coming up and wrapping around his back as you hug him. At first, Ramattra seemed surprised, but brought his own hands around you, pulling you a little closer.

“You’re too kind, Ramattra.” You speak, voice muffled against his chest. His chest vibrated a little as he chuckled, making you look up at him again.

He felt warm inside and not just because of the warmth from your body, but the way your hands felt, slowly trailing up his chest, gently gripping the purple metal of his cheeks as you pulled him down, planting a soft kiss to his forehead.

Ramattra felt his fans pick up speed, whirring quickly yet softly as he heated up a little more, the lights on his forehead flickering gently. The sudden gesture caught him off guard, however it wasn’t unwelcomed as he rested his forehead against yours, a soft vibration tickling you. If he had the ability to blush, his cheeks would be turning pink.

The rise and fall of your chest made him hold you just a little bit tighter, your heartbeat soothing him as his optics looked over you, noticing the peacefulness on your face that was still pressed to his. He didn’t want to let go, not now or ever. The softness of your body only warmed him more, feelings surfacing that he hadn’t felt for years. He finally felt content, somewhat proud he waited for you.

Progress was progress and he made quite a lot in one day…

#overwatch #ramattra x reader #ramattra #ramattra x you #reader #overwatch fanfiction #fanfic #overwatch ramattra #ow #ow2 #overwatch 2 #yazzfics

207 notes · View notes

lalalian · 4 months ago

Text

ranking & schools | aethergarde academy dr school program

date: july 17, 2024

assignment type: reading + questions

hellloooo! welcome to your second assignment, today, we'll just be getting directly into the notes. Please answer the questions at the end of the assignment-- with a minimum of 75 words per question. This assignment is due by next Wednesday, July 24th.

CHAPTER I - SCHOOLS & RANKING

AETHERGARDE ACADEMY

You may know by now that the most famous dragon rider school is Aethergarde Academy. Aside from the fact that it's student body almost entirely consist of S-ranked riders, what else is special about Aethergarde Academy? Aethergarde's magic curriculum is known to be the most rigorous out of most schools out there-- the fact that a student must earn a passing score on a glyph course-- the fact there even is a glyph course-- is only a small part of why it's such a well-known and prestigious school.

Aethergarde Academy was founded by Deana Exalos Empyrigate, Alec Mathis Helvengrim, Len Catalina Qaruiabrim (Olena is now simply Len), and Gladyes Tybees Gaiangrove, essentially the entirety of the Guardian hunting clan besides for Jean Lune Kashmir, after the death of Mikhael Sol Kashmir. Aethergarde not only was created to live out Sol Kashmir's last wish, but started out as an academy for all riders, no matter what rank; this changed as more riders turned to Aethergarde to seek a career as an official dragon rider. Eventually, four other academies were created in a similar likeness to Aethergarde-- you may know these academies as Empyrigate Academy, Helvengrim Academy, Qaruiabrim Academy, and Gaiangrove Academy.

Aethergarde Academy has a strict no bribery and a fair admission process-- this means that any teacher or staff that has received bribery from a student/a student's family is immediately fired from the academy, and the student must be relocated to a different school. This rule is called the Solemis Policy. If a student's cheated or engaged in bribery in Aethergarde Academy, said student cannot attend Empyrigate Academy, Helvengrim Academy, Qaruiabrim Academy, or Gaiangrove Academy. They must enroll in an academy for lower tiered riders. Recently, students from these schools (Empyrigate, Helvengrim, Qaruiabrim, and Gaiangrove) were held to the same rule.

AETHERGARDE'S MAGIC CURRICULUM

As mentioned previously, Aethergarde requires it's students to master the basics of glyph magic-- no other school does this purely because of how difficult this kind of magic is. Glyph magic is also quite a recent magic technique-- although it has existed for thousands of years, even the most talented scholars were unable to make sense of them for the longest time. Aside from glyph magic, Aethergarde focuses on the movement of mana in the aura, the mental image, and security*.

*You'll learn these characteristics in detail in a different chapter*

RANKING

How does ranking determine what schools a student is invited to? A student is not invited to schools like Aethergarde simply because 'S-tier riders are better than other riders'-- Students with a high mana capacity flourish more in academies that prepare them for the jobs that only an S-ranked rider could do best.

No matter how hard an E-ranked rider or even a human works at becoming part of the Thorns, they could never be as qualified as an S-ranked rider that works equally as hard. An E-ranked rider cannot form spells higher than II-- in comparison, an S-tier rider are able to hold V tier spells, Six, after proper schooling, they could hold a level II ranked spell in their sleep.

The separation may seem a little dystopian, but it is simply because of skill set differences. Lower ranked riders are taught more heavily in laws and government, while higher tier riders are taught how to harness their power safely and in a useful way.

It's important to realize that higher ranked riders do not have to become protectors. If an S-tier rider doesn't feel that they belong in violent spaces, that rider can easily choose not to.

RANKING: CAPABILITES AND ASSETS

There are six rankings, starting from the weakest to the most powerful, they are as follows:

E, D, C, B, A, and of course, S.

Note that: We are discussing riders that are in the Eudora Empire, and spell capability limits are after proper schooling.

E-ranked riders

E-ranked riders are slightly stronger than the average human. It's pretty much impossible for lower ranked riders to bond to dragons that have higher mana capacities purely because their soul cannot match those dragons' at all. It's possible for higher ranked riders to bond to lower ranked dragons; however, it's not common. E-ranked riders who work hard to learn magic typically struggle to cast spells III and above after schooling, though a generous portion of E-ranked riders struggle to cast a level II spell. E-ranked riders cannot cast AOE spells, even if it's level I.

D-ranked riders

D-ranked riders are stronger than the average human. They are able to cast level III spells at the most, but are unable to hold them for long. D-ranked riders can cast AOE I-II spells after schooling.

C-ranked riders

C-ranked riders typically are desired in lower ranked soldier roles. They're not terribly strong, but they aren't weak. C-ranked riders can cast level III AOE spells and can cast level IV if they specialize in magic after schooling. These riders are also considered mid-tier.

B-ranked riders

B-ranked riders are considered to be higher ranked. Generally, they work to protect more important cities and are often hired to protect a noble family as a knight. A B-ranked rider can enroll in Empyrigate Academy, Helvengrim Academy, Qaruiabrim Academy, or Gaiangrove Academy. These riders can conjure spells up to level V with enough training, and can cast AOE spells up to level IV after schooling. B-ranked riders may also receive marriage proposals from lower noble families.

A-ranked riders

A-ranked riders often work for dukes or royals-- many marry into higher noble families as well. They can cast level V spells with enough training, but can also cast another spell (levels I-III) at the same time. They can cast AOE spells up to level V. An A-ranked rider can enroll in Empyrigate Academy, Helvengrim Academy, Qaruiabrim Academy, or Gaiangrove Academy.

S-ranked riders

S-ranked riders are the most well known kind of riders out there. The highest ranked S-tier riders are incredibly unique in how they fight, think, or even how they cast spells. S-ranked riders can easily cast multiple spells after schooling, and are able to cast level VI spells. S-tier riders can cast AOE spells up to level Vi, but more comfortably at level V. S-ranked riders are the most desirable marriage candidate and/or knight; they typically always enroll in Aethergarde Academy. An S-ranked rider can enroll in Empyrigate Academy, Helvengrim Academy, Qaruiabrim Academy, or Gaiangrove Academy if they refuse to enroll in Aethergarde Academy.

Oki doki, so idk if this was long enough or not, I hope so? I kinda struggled writing this bc I felt like I was talking about the things I've already written down in the script T-T

Here are the questions! Again, please answer them by next Wednesday (July 24th).

Click me to go to the homework questions! I'll have grades out as soon as I can.

Also like another announcement-- No assignment this Friday! I'm flying out from Thailand to the U.S. to get back home... Perfect time to actually shift??? We'll see, idk LMAO

how do I see my grade?

I’ll send it through email within a few days after you submit your assignment. It should say ‘Score released: Chapter 1.1 Notes : Crit Questions’ in the sub heading of the email.

This is what you’ll see in the email! The circled statement will contain your actual score. Ignore the score at the bottom.

#shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting community #shifting blog #lalalian #desired reality #shifters #shifting diary #shifttok #scripting #aethergarde academy dr

20 notes · View notes

kentocalls · 7 months ago

Text

geto suguru | motivation nsfw. spicy and wordy, minors do not interact. i'm a novice runner and know nothing about fencing but it suits suguru 💯

"breathe babe." his wonderful, sultry voice does nothing to ease the pressure of his hand focused on their mission. help massage and move the lactic acid building in your legs.

it's the side effect of being a runner. it's always painful, hence you tend to skip the massages offered by your trainers and foam roll your muscles (stopping before it hurts too much.)

but not under suguru geto's watch. he knows you have a big run tomorrow, a super duper, medal earning run. he's seen your dedication to the sport and is always amazed at the sheer discipline you have.

as a fellow athelete, he admires it. his sport, fencing, requires a different kind of focus but the little times he's jogged a 5k or 10k behind you really puts running into perspective. he remembers the soreness and ache. he's not going to let you run on achey muscles.

he moves down to your calves, gets a tense exhale and he knows you're going to protest. "we can do streteching in-ah, instead. dy-dynamic st-fuck that hurts." he barely hums before pulling your legs closer.

it moves your shorts higher, exposing the flesh of your bum, he makes a mental note to massage there last. the glutes and hips are vital to easy running and overall movement afterall.

he moves towards your achielles, aware this is a pretty sensitive spot for you and the shudder you realease is sinful.

he's not going to stop, he's found the knots, he's going to diligently knead them away. going to make sure you feel good, your legs feel strong. he won't be distracted by your noises.

it goes on for too long, the pain is less, but suguru's hands are warm. the constant movement and gentle praising is getting to you. "you're so dedicated." "almost done, you're being so good for me." "taking it so sweetly." " you're so amazing." "such a disciplined athelete." "how lucky am i?" "i get to call you mine." he's hands are slower, gentler. slowly his movement moves up, pulls you closer into his lap. your shorts bunching uncomfortably, it's a flimsy piece of fabric. leaving noting to imagination but it feels soft.

sugur's hands are now pushing into the space where your hamstrings meet your glutes. teasing the flesh, pulling and pushing with his thumbs.

"su...suguru." you huff, turning to catch his eyes and he's got a hand on your neck, pulling you up, straddling his lap, soft kisses to your lips and jaw.

the position hurts a little, your quads are still tight but you don't want him to know, don't want him massaging, want him to touch you instead.

"you said you'd make me feel good." you pout, he tries to steal more kisses. vaguely aware he needs to be at practice soon and you are not going to run a raise with bruised hips and his hand prints peaking under your run shorts. those are for his eyes only.

"i'm not done yet." hands on your hips moving to grab at your round flesh, gives your ass a really tight squeeze. "lie down for me yeah?"

trying to change suguru geto's mind is near impossible and you'd rather kiss him silly then hear another lecture about proper post-running routine. gosh, he sounds like a runner with all the research he's done on your sport.

a smile slips your lips as your stomach meets the pillow suguru has placed for you, and if you stretch your arms and it happens to push your hips and butt higher well, that's just you stretching. also part of a good post-run routine.

he gives you a small tsk before pushing your hips flat to the bed. straddles your legs and lets his hands start massaging your lower back, his thumbs move as a team up and down one side of your bum and then the next. your glutes are really tight and you relax into the movement. it feels nice.

when suguru notices your breathing slow and your muscles with less tension, he starts to move his thumbs under your shorts.

the fabric is mostly bunched into your crease anyways, if he's pulling it higher it's just so it fits better. he needs to massage closer to your lovely leaking opening as it is.

and if you moan at the tension, moan at the pull it's not your fault. he's so controlled, working you up so nicely, it's not your fault at all. you his lips on your lower back. then his tongue followed by his teeth and his voice is so deep when he asks, "ready? still want me to make you feel good?"

your nodidng is useless because he wants to hear your words. no point in swaying your hips, he holds them still. "suguru, please. you promised."

"such a pretty pretty thing." he lifts your hips up, pulls the shorts down, spreads your cheecks, thumbs dangerously pushing where you want him the most.

"l..like this suguru? is...this okay?" this angle is new, suddenly feeling shy you want to see him, need assurance.

you feel his entire body lie on top of you, the pressure welcome, you feel a certain bulge near your hips, so he is affectd too. he moves to the side of your body, his focus is on your reassurance, this is about you. he kisses the nape of your neck, a hand turns your face to his, lips on your cheeks and he's looking at you with so much adoration.

"we can stop and change if you want."

"you want to try this?" he nodds, " "promise. it'll feel really good." and he's so patient, waits for your decision, doesn't push or pull. hands moving to your low back, keeping you grounded.

"okay, kiss me more first please." it's so filthy, nothing prodigy fencer should know how to do. but suguru is special, selective, always a mystery and somehow you're his entire world.

he moves back down your body. pushes but never breaches his thumb into your wet, wanting, aching core. indulges in your tiny gasps, marks the top of your hamstring with a very nice hickey.

only pushes his thumb in once he completes a matching mark on your other hamstring. it's enough to fuel your need, you're so wet, you can feel it. his slow and steady in and out motion driving you mad.

"more, more, more."

he speeds up a little bit, deeper now, almost touching where you want him to, barely grazing it. so you try to help him, you push your hips back and he pulls his thumb out.

"no babe, this is my job." but both his thumbs are pushing the sides of your pussy. squeezing the lips together. you're moaning his name, burning.

"okay, oka-fuck." he pushes a thumb in again, the other starting to run small circles on your clit. it's so slow, it feels so good. the noises your making are absolutely criminal.

suguru is lost in trance, you're so wet. he can feel the heat on his hands, fuck the noises your making, the way you're saying his name like a prayer over and over.

he needs a taste. moves his thumb near your occupied hole, and laps at the delicious juices making a mess on his sheets.

he feels you twitch and tremble. "still babe, be good for me. i know you can." he knows it's mean, you've already been so good for him, he's been slowly bringing you to the edge and back.

"can't. need you, please pleas-ah." he replaces his thumb with a finger, followed by another and another. the quick sucession and stretch making you so full suddenly.

a thumb is back on your clit, moving faster. your hips moving on their own, your not saying coherent words anymore. he doesn't need you to. "that's right, that's right, you're so close."

he guides you throw it, his fingers reaching deep and full, constantly massage the sweetest spot and pushes you over the edge.

you feel his wet hands on your hips, his voice near your back as he leaves kisses up ad down your spine. "you did so well. made such pretty sounds for me." he pulls you close, spooning you perfectly. you're so relaxed, boneless.

"keep breathing babe."

♡

when your eyes peak open you're still in his bed, a blanket thrown over you and two glasses of cool water stand proudly on the bedside table. no stickyness or sweat lingers on your skin, he's changed you into one of his band tshirts and boxers that are suspisciously in your size.

the bathroom fan clicks off, suguru steps out of the shower looking better than any adonis you've googled. hair tied in a messy bun, towel wrapped low on his hips. he's shuffling to grab his training fit of the day before his eyes catch you.

the smile is so sweet, he's in your space instantly. running hair from your face, small kisses and praises. "you're gonna finish both of these, right?"

you frown at him. "hey, electrolytes and hydration are key fo-" you smush his face with a pillow. but take a big sip of the glass he's held out for you. "atta girl."

you help him chose his outfit, he rambles about his opponent and how training is going. when you stand you're surprised at the lack of soreness?

you fully expected to be comfortably sore, suguru is big, no matter the stretching you're always left a little sore after. fully expecting your hips to also ache from the firm grip suguru keeps when he's drilling you into the mattress but that's missing too.

"i'm not going to have you running side-to-side babe." he's done packing his gear as you follow him into the kitchen. "but, you didn't-?" "who says i didn't?"

the blush on your cheeks should be on his cheeks but he's busy making toast. this fine fine fine man is too much, too good, too nice. "but, i wanted to. i would've woken back-" "shush. i'm not the one running a marathon tomorrow."

"don't remind me. though I should get a new PR, that would be fun. you'll be there?"

always, is on the tip of his tongue but that's after. both of you need to finish the compeitions first. "of course. with your favorite smoothie and fries."

he has you smiling and you cling to him until he really needs to go. "stab the guy and come home kick!"

"always so violent babe." "it's the same jerk who cut your lip. a stab is the least he desreves."

he smiles, shaking his head and pulling you in for a final hug and kiss. "what's my reward if I get a new PR?" you tease. "going to be hard to top my reward for sticking to my training goals."

"i've got a few ideas."

#geto suguru fic #suguro geto fic #jjk x reader #fencer!suguru #runner!reader #april writes #he's the hottest thing alive #geto suguru motivation

31 notes · View notes