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itscaptaint · 2 years

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Is That Alright?

Dean X reader

based off the song “Is That Alright?” by Lady Gaga

There’s probably grammatical errors, but I’m getting back into the writing game after a few years so cut me some slack...

“Why can’t I just be undercover as a bartender? That’s what I’m good at!” I argue with Sam as we are getting dressed for this shape shifter hunt. Somehow this asshat got me a legit job at the art museum’s gala tonight as the entertainment. I’ll be on piano all evening entertaining the guests as they peruse the old junk that the shifter is trying to steal.

“Because this way if we get our cover blown, at least we will still have a set of eyes in the joint no matter what,” Sam says, straightening out his tie. “You’re also a musical genius, so that’s why.”

We’ve been tracking this shifter for days and we finally learned that it’s MO was expensive old shit. The art museum is holding their annual charity gala tonight and it will be the perfect time for extra bodies to be in the building unnoticed. Sam was the brains on this one which is why I’m stuck in the public eye all night, Sam is working security and Dean will be hanging out behind the bar. At least if Dean is slinging drinks all night, they’ll be free.

“Are you two ready-” Dean starts to groan rounding the corner and stops dead in his tracks, staring at the long velvet green dress I scored from the closet of the shifter’s last vic. It’s simple, long sleeved with a deep V neck and a slit up the leg that shows a little more than I’d like. I can tell Dean is staring at the slit and I catch his eyes as they wander up to the neck line. By the time he reaches my face, he is pink with embarrassment.

Not wanting to be gawked at, I turn instantly, grabbing my bag and gun and heading out towards the car.

“Dude, seriously?” I hear Sam say through gritted teeth, thinking I was already out of earshot.

“What?” Dean whisper-yells. “I haven’t seen her dress up since…well it’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, that’s why you were staring.” I can only imagine that Sam rolled his eyes as he said that before heading to meet me in the car.

“Alright superstar, you ready?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Not really, but at least I have the skillset,” I say, shrugging and sinking lower into the backseat to try and avoid Dean’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Back in college, I was a dance and theater major. I had grown up dancing and playing piano my entire life. It wasn’t until school that I realized I had a real knack for writing as well. I got really into writing short plays and original songs for musicals. After graduating, I was working at a nightclub in New York as a bartender and singer. Everyone in NYC is some sort of artist so we all had other jobs to help with that lifestyle. Most of the other people I worked with were actors and singers so we all played double duty behind the bar and on stage most nights. It was good practice for auditions and good money to get us through until the next gig. Unfortunately, the club I was working in was destroyed by a poltergeist.

I’ve known the Winchester family my entire life. My family lived next door to theirs when I was little. Dean was my first friend. We were 4 years old and would always be playing in the backyard together. I remember my mom constantly having to drag me back inside for a lunch or dinner break. After their mom died, I remember Dean being really sad and I couldn’t understand what was really happening, but I just knew that my friend needed me. We talked about everything, and he told all about the man with the yellow eyes. It didn’t make sense at the time but I was a kid so not much made sense. Two years later, he told me that he was moving, but he didn’t know where. That’s when John decided to hit the road and hunt down whatever killed Mary. Dean said that he would send me a postcard when they got to wherever they were going so that way it was like we weren’t going to be apart.

The postcards and letters from Dean were coming as often as one a week. My dad would set them aside for me to read after school and then help me send one back. Even apart we were still best friends. As we got older, the letters were less frequent. We went from sending them once a week, to one a month, but life got busy. My family moved to Ohio and Dean was all over the place. I finally accepted that all the crazy stories he was telling me were true after John had to talk my dad through salt and burn over the phone once.

I struggled when we first got to Ohio. It was the middle of my freshmen year of high school, I had no friends and I was super into dancing and playing piano.I was definitely labeled a dork the first day there. I obviously wrote to Dean to tell him all about it and his next letter came much quicker than they had been. He wanted to make sure I was ok. It was nice knowing that I had someone looking out for me even if he wasn’t there in person. Our letters were getting more frequent again and my dad noticed that I was getting a little too excited to hear from Dean. My dad, wasn’t dumb. He could tell that I was crushing on my pen pal. He tried to tell me that I was just crushing on the fantasy and the thrill of he adventure. Along with the letters, Dean had started sending pictures of him and Sam in cool places or doing silly little things. I never showed my dad any of those photos.

My favorite photo came towards the end of my senior year. It was a picture of Sam and Dean standing next to a giant bear in the woods. They had gone up to Vancouver for what they thought was a werewolf hunt, but it turns out that it was just a bear wreaking havoc on the town. The caption on the back said big scary bear hunt, wish you were here to see this. A big scary bear hunt would be more exciting than trying to find a prom date. When I wrote back to Dean I wanted to say those exact thoughts and then beg him to come to town to go with me, but I chickened out. Instead I wrote back I’ll make sure to send a scary photo of me in a prom dress so we’re even.

As prom night approached, I had been so stressed about graduation and final exams that I hadn’t even realized that Dean hadn’t sent a letter in a while. A few friends that also didn’t have dates for the prom were over taking pictures and we were having a blast. This was definitely going to be a night to remember. The second we pulled up to the school parking lot, the sky just opened and start raining cats and dogs. Luckily we didn’t get too wet on the way in the building. By the time we got in, the music was going, people were dancing and I could tell there was already someone spiking the punch. I was having the night of my life. When the third slow song of the night started playing, I took that as my cue to go outside and hope it had stopped raining just long enough to get some fresh air. When I get to the main entrance I noticed a boy standing all by himself pacing back and forth in front of his car with a flower in his hand. I thought nothing of it until I realized what kind of car it was.

“Dean?”

He turned his head so fast that he probably gave himself whiplash. “Hey, Y/n. Happy prom night.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask in total shock.

“Well, you said you were going to send a scary photo in a prom dress, but I wanted to see it in person. Figured it wouldn’t be so scary that way,” we both chuckle and awkwardly just stand there for a few more minutes. “Oh, this is for you by the way,” he says, handing me the wrist corsage.

“Thanks,” I say and I can’t help but blush. I could hear cheering from inside so that must mean that the music has picked back up. “Do you want to come in?”

“If that’s your way of asking me to prom, Y/N,” Dean sighed. “Then abso-freaking-lutely.”

Dean and I danced all night and when it was time to go we ended up driving to the park down the street to just catch up. The rain had stopped and it had turned out to be a pretty decent night so we just sat on the swings talking for hours. He filled me in on hunting life, I filled him in on high school and what I was doing after graduation. The plan was to study dance and theater at NYU and hopefully end up living in the city. Everything just felt right. It was in this moment that I knew I was falling for Dean. The way he talked about his family and how he took care of his brother when his dad was away, or the way he looked at me when I was telling the silliest of stories just made me feel slightly weaker than I should have.

We were so into our conversation that we hadn’t realized it had started to lightly rain again until it started pouring. Dean took off his jacket and tried to shield us from getting wet. Halfway to the car I froze. I knew that if we got in that car and he took me home, I might not get the chance to do what I have been wanting to do all night. Dean turned around, having given up on the jacket at this point since we were already soaked. “Y/N, come on!”

I still just stood there. Dean comes running up, grabbing my hand to try and get me to move, but when he does I resist, pull him in to me and slam my lips onto his. It takes me a second to realize what I’ve done before pulling away. What if he didn’t want this? What if he thinks of me like a little sister? What if he is with somebody else somewhere else? Thoughts crowding my head, I pull back and start to profusely apologize.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know-” I was cut off by Dean pulling me back into our kiss. This time my thoughts slowed and shifted out of panic and into something else. It was something I hadn’t felt before but I liked it. We kissed for what felt like forever, forgetting that it was raining. When he pulled away he pressed his forehead to mine. “Was that alright?”

I just smiled the biggest smile I had ever smiled before. “Definitely alright.”

…..

After prom night, I hadn’t seen Dean or Sam much. I knew of their whereabouts and they knew of mine, but life got even busier. As much as I wanted to see Dean and talk about us, I knew it probably wasn’t going to happen. By the time I had graduated from NYU I had convinced myself that my feelings for Dean were just a school girl crush and that I could just get over it. The boys were hunting nonstop and I was focused on my career. I was so focused on my career that I had almost missed all the signs that the club was being haunted by a poltergeist.

As soon as I figured it out, I had called Dean and Sam and they were in the city the next day and the problem was mostly solved. Things got a little hairy and unfortunately the club burned down and was going to need rebuilt. On the brightside, the poltergeist problem was gone. With the club gone and my job no longer existent, I had no way to pay rent so in a very quick turn of events, I ended up leaving the city in the back of the Impala and have been with the boys ever since.

The night started slow. Sam was scanning security footage looking for any flares while Dean was trying to subtly touch every guest with some sort of silver. I was posted up at a gorgeous black baby grand piano all night and was much less focused on the hunt than I should have been. Guests were requesting their favorite songs, and some of them even asked if I had any originals I would be willing to play. I do have a few originals, but nobody has ever heard them before. Most of them are a tad too personal to be playing for this crowd, specifically Dean.

Off by the bar, I see Sam and Dean deep in conversation. When we make eye contact, they flag me down. I announce that I’d be taking a short break and head down the hall to the main gallery. We barely make it down the hall and out of sight of the guests before I’m slammed against a stone statue and start seeing double. Well, just double of Dean. There was still only one of Sam, though he was knocked out in a crumpled mess on the floor. One Dean was laying on the floor scrambling to get out from under a painting that had come crashing down and one was strolling towards me without a care in the world.

“Turns out shifting into the bartender is easier when he’s already half drunk,” the sauntering Dean said. “Even if he is a hunter.”

I try to find my bag which has been knocked out of my reach when the shifter reaches me. “So you’re the pretty one he’s been drinking over all night.”

“Y/N!” I hear Dean yell. “Stay away from her, you son of a bitch!”

“‘Did you know that when we change appearance, we also get a little insight into what the human scum is actually thinking. Turns out, Deano over there has been undressing you with his eyes since you got here. But what I don’t understand is why he hasn’t done it before.”

The shifter’s words meant nothing to me. I knew it was lying. Did I want Dean to think of me that way? Yeah, yeah I did. But this was not going to throw me off my game. My purse with my gun in it may have been knocked clear out of reach, but the knife I had strapped to my leg was already in my hands. Before I can let the shifter get any closer, my silver knife is through its chest and I’m shoving it away as fast as I possibly can to avoid any blood getting on this dress. Shifter hits the floor, Dean is finally on his feet and Sam’s eyes are back open.

“What did I miss?” Sam groans, grabbing the back of his head.

“Seems like Y/N had it taken care of,” Dean reached out his hand for Sam’s, pulling him to his feet. “Y/N, we can clean this up if you want to get back out there.”

“Uh,” I say looking down at my dress making sure I still look presentable. Don’t want the guests freaking out over a blood splattered dress. “Yeah, totally. I can go and finish up my set and then we can get out of here.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean runs over to me before I head down the hall. “You good? You look a little shaken.” Thinking about what the shifter said did shake me up a bit, but it’s not true. It can’t be true.

“I’m good, Dean.” I pat his shoulder and head back to the gala. I stopped for a glass of wine on my way back to the piano when the event organizer stopped me.

“Any chance you can play some of your originals? That crowd is getting a little rowdy with the classics. Maybe a few new songs will tone them back down a bit. I think the bartender is a little heavy handed on the pour.”

I glanced around for any sight of the Winchesters, knowing full well that they were going to be a while since they had to clean up our mess. If they aren’t here, then they can’t hear. “Um, sure. I’ve got a few that I can play.”

“Great! Thank you,” she says running off in the other direction to go deal with some big time buyers.

I down the glass of wine and take my place back at the piano. A few guests clapped at my return. I take a deep breath and decide to slow things down a little bit for the crowd since it really has turned into a party out here. Well, here goes…

Life is so simple

A little boy, a little girl

Laughing and loving

Trying to figure out the world

It felt like summer

When I kissed you in the rain

And I know your story

But tell me again

Nothing you say wouldn't interest me

All of your words are like poems to me

I would be honored if you would take me as I am

I want you to look right in my eyes

To tell me you love me, to be by my side

I want you at the end of my life

I wanna see your face, when I fall with grace

At the moment I die

Is that alright?

I hadn’t realized that the entire crowd had stopped everything they were doing to listen. I glanced up out of my trance to see everyone watching with eyes that were truly taken by what I was singing. Thank god Dean wasn’t out there listening to what I knew I would never be able to say to his face...

I hope you're still with me when I'm not quite myself

And I pray that you'll lift me when you know I need help

It's a warm celebration of all of our years

I dream of our story, of our fairy tale

Family dinners and family trees

Teaching the kids to say thank you and please

Knowing if we stay together that things will be right

I didn’t need to look up very much to see that furrowed brow and look of confusion that I hoped wouldn’t be watching. Can’t stop now, if he only knew this was all for him…

I want you to look right in my eyes

To tell me you love me, to be by my side

I want you at the end of my life

I wanna see your face, when I fall with grace

At the moment I die

Is that alright?

Finishing the last few notes was a relief. I loved this song, but it was too personal. I should have picked a different one. Luckily, the organizer was the first to applaud as she walked over with a mic announcing that the auction would be starting which was my cue to head out. I didn’t even take a second glance over at the bar to know that Dean and Sam had already headed out so I beeline it out to the Impala, hop in the backseat and sink as low as I can avoiding Dean’s gaze in the mirror once again. I was exhausted physically and mentally. I knew the ride was short but I closed my eyes anyway. The car was quiet and I took advantage of the silence to feign sleep. Turns out I actually fell asleep and didn’t realize it until I was plopped into my bed in the motel.

When I wake up the next morning, there’s a cup of coffee next to the bed already and Sam is sitting across from me at the table, laptop open. “Morning, Y/N.”

“Morning Sam,” I sat up realizing I’m still in my dress from last night. “Sorry I passed out on y’all last night.” I swing my feet out of bed and grab a t-shirt and shorts to throw on instead of my dress. As much as I was loving this dress, it wasn’t really daytime apparel. “Dean go to grab food?”

“I think so,” he shrugged.” He was gone before I got up. Should be back within the hour I assume. You wanna go for a run while we wait?”

Sam was always down for a run. Dean hated all versions of physical activity which made zero sense. The man ate like a linebacker but was still fit as hell. It wasn’t fair. I change my clothes, lace up my shoes and head out with Sam. We reach a small pond at the end of the trail and realized where Dean actually went.

“Did you run out here?” Sam asked, approaching Dean sitting on the sole bench next to the water.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean scoffs, turning to look at us approaching his quiet time.

“Were you running from something spooky? Or was it voluntary?”

“Fuck off, Sammy.”

“Language!” I scold as I finally make it up to Sam.

“Ya know, it was quiet before you two hooligans showed up,” Dean scoffs standing up from what I have now determined was his hiding spot. We all just stand there in total silence for about a minute before Sam calls dibs on the shower and takes off faster than I’ve ever seen him run before. Clearly the silence was more uncomfortable for him than it was for me.

“Guess he really wants a hot shower,” I murmur, turning towards Dean. “You wanna just walk back?” I shrug starting on the trail back when Dean grabs my arm and turns me towards him.

“We gotta talk.”

“About…”

“Seriously? I heard that song last night, Y/N.”

Oh, so he did pay attention. Crap.

“It was just a song, Dean. Have you heard the crap on the radio nowadays? Songs can literally be about anything.” I try to get myself out of this confrontation. I was able to walk away from his grip for 4 seconds before he shouts at me.

“It was about us!”

I froze in my tracks. “Dean,” I slowly turn around briefly finding his piercing green eyes. “There is no us,” I whisper, taking my eyes to the ground and shaking my head. “It’s just a song.” I turn back around and start walking as fast as I can back in the direction we came hoping I can get far enough down the road before involuntary tears start falling. I don’t make it very far. The tears start to fall and my steps slow. I freeze and let my emotions finally take over. I haven’t let myself feel what I had been wanting to feel in a long time. I hadn’t even realized that Dean had caught up.

“Did you mean what you said?” He whispered into my ear as he pulled me into his chest. “Do you really want me by your side? Because if you do, I want to be there.”

I pull away briefly looking up into his wet eyes. I want him so bad. He’s all I ever wanted. “Is that alright?”

Dean’s facial expression changes into one that is rarely seen. “Oh, sweetheart. It’s more than alright.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean x reader #wayward

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relcollins · 4 months

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"The Night of the Declaration" - part 6

6) Ascending the grand staircase that curved up along two sides of the large open hall adjacent to the entrance foyer, Jim and Artie gazed about them favourably, noting the priceless works of art on the walls, the cut crystal chandelier, the beautiful leadlight skylight overhead, and effecting a sanguine expression Artie commented on his surroundings.

“You know Jim, we’ve been guests at some pretty swanky houses in our time, but there’s something about this one that just hits all the right notes. Do you think the President would suspect anything if we came down with a lingering fever of unspecified origin…?”

“Forget it Artie, it won’t wash with the President. He’d just send his doctors down to drag us back, and where’s the fun in that?” He shook his head. “We’ll just have to find another mystery to solve after this one.”

“And another after that, too, with any luck,” Artie replied. “Maybe there will be some crackpot who needs sorting out…theft of postage stamps…telegraph interference…electoral malfeasance…”

“Don’t get your hopes up Artie,” Jim chuckled. “Who would want to steal postage stamps?”

“Oh I don’t know Jim, but it is a federal offence, so there’s always a chance…” Artie brightened at the thought.

They made their way along a mezzanine floor and down a wide hallway till they came to the door at the end, which was the room assigned for their stay. Opening the oversize door Jim found himself entering a charming chamber decorated with tasteful pale blue silk wallpaper, with more artworks hanging from high picture rails, good quality armoires and bureaus providing plenty of storage, and two large armchairs upholstered in tapestry fabric. The whole air was one of refined gentility.

Artie trailed him close behind.

“Oh, well, that’s a nice change,” he exclaimed. “A bed that big and high should provide a most excellent night’s sleep” he remarked. “I bags that side.” He pointed to the far side of the huge four-poster.

“Why that side?” Jim asked.

“Purely selfish reasons, Jim, if you must know, and I’m surprised you had to ask,” Artie quipped. “It’s nearest the bathroom door. I like my creature comforts close, as you know.”

“Speaking as one of them, yes, I do know…” The guileless expression on Jim’s face caused Artie to smirk.

“My favourite one, to be sure, but not the only one” Artie shot back. His eyes had an alluring bright sparkle as he spoke.

“No…but the only one that –“ Jim broke off as they heard the business-like knock at the door. “Come in!” he called.

The door opened to admit Leroy Wyatt, who apologised for the intrusion. “Forgive me gentlemen, but Mr Weston thought you might like me to introduce you to the staff in the house, and the wider estate. If you’d care to join me shortly, after any freshening up you might need, we can head on out. Meet me at the bottom of the staircase and we’ll do the rounds.” Wyatt nodded at both of the agents in turn.

“Of course,” Jim agreed. “That’s very helpful. We’ll join you shortly downstairs. Please give our thanks to our host.” He sketched a friendly nod in return. Leroy Wyatt turned and left the room, his leather boots making no noise on the plush carpet.

“The only one that…?” Artie picked up where Jim had left off. Jim looked at Artie, looked at the bed, looked back at Artie and smiled roguishly. “Not now, Artie, we have things to be getting on with.” Jim stifled a grin at Artie’s look of frustration. “Remember, patience is a virtue.”

“Oh Lord, grant me patience, but grant it right now!” Artie retorted.

“Oh Artie, don’t be so dramatic. If you play your cards right, I’ll show you…again…when we get through our chats with the good folk of Kensington.” Artie shot Jim a look of mild cynicism, but they each got a kick out of baiting the other, so each completed a quick wash with the water laid out ready, and dried faces and hands on the handtowels hanging adjacent, grabbed their hats and headed to the door. As he was about to reach for the handle Jim stopped and turned to Artie. His glass-green eyes met the soft brown ones of his partner. He then raised his hand and gently ran the back of his fingers down Artie’s cheek. “The only one that does this…” He did the same to the other cheek. “And this…”

Artie fluttered his eyelids and contrived a swoon. “As if I could forget!” Jim then turned back to the door and reached for the handle. Artie followed close behind and swatted Jim’s retreating rear end with his hat. Jim’s laugh was deep and throaty as he stepped through the doorway, but his head was not turned away so much that he missed the little skip Artie gave as he closed the door. They gambolled down the hallway a few steps, then, as they neared the top of the mezzanine balustrade, they resumed their secret service demeanours and headed downstairs.

“You’re not fooling me, James” Artie muttered in an aside.

“Well let’s hope I’m fooling him” Jim nodded toward Leroy Wyatt at the foot of the stairs. “Imagine if I failed!”

“You’ve never failed yet, James my boy” Artie countered quietly, his face all benign blankness.

The agents drew level with their new friend and together the three men walked out to begin the introductions.

#fanfic #the wild wild west #TNOT Declaration

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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“If she rated such example”

A tricube sequence

If she rated such example led,

to lead you to pray, knees on ground he

turneth through virtue leads people love?

Who, thought in vain he heard, from the gravy

as well. At least of the Thespian

spring stood the same value more.

And charitable, charming sunny,

for Gods, and who Absál? When there was

their cheeks, and public, no secret core.

Make it sweet. Juan, when to woo: to woo:

to wooings. Some, that you think’st thou have any

lesings or great projected be.

That roars betrayed, whose face& see with surprised

at any. At last her speach, as

signes of a doubtful tale from bed.

Others, and so nigh. As though less than

war. The pills are awa’ that will be

there my lips I’ll touch no more than dress.

Found, and how soon she shift to meet thefts

to repeat. That was whisper its last

prayer he said and suppress’d, Thou art!

As you turn backward with the end of

Good, by that wakes us in the nameless

sadness. And be a truism.

Sigh—as they could one hear the horizon—

where am I now? I have my

grave demurely innocently met.

Which took a while of bread, a purse, as

a volcano go. What more effrontery,

his country woulde once pitie mee.

In that beach with lots of Spain? And marriage

mart, the consistory, graced with

half a poetess only almanack.

And tempt the heau’ns course of ships’ is clever;

most oratory, proud of his

own repartees. A cloudy evening.

That is not his sagacious, Bold, and

Liberty? As stand—yet, like wealthiest

of that my Power employment.

Like most importunity; or fall

but her colour’d vellum playes, yet I

wept for move; but toys. Peace the thought good.

Sicker now thereon numb were the thirst

to steal to mee. It is not a man

for the terrace, made women pretty?

In judging men—when once his Curse, bad

in it recite. Thee, Saviour, Thee, the

lodging, and Desire; their carriage.

Within him some fine pictures of my

old lunes’— digress? Contempt; which no

doubt th’ event of plottery.

Yes I try to kill myself my praises,

by which are Holy Land! The many

a fine knack. Said too much mescal.

He answers were stable, chaste orb shone

as serious: beside the stars black,

bright of wreathed silver, snarling Son!

Like poplars, with him Return. How far

I toil, the orchard possession in

her heart in London, you wrong entent.

A mathematician once, about

Leila’s education. Himself had

caught court an heir is born, whom I now?

Restore me passeth. I said yes I

will fight; thus on my past. How little

girl and out, ’-for sinners’ sake to grieve.

Brow; and the Land. A day like watery

face in some greyhounds of events

is always sought to pronouce a Foe.

Do I dare not to be a bud against

all others. There was the Rabble

here writers mind; so when there’s that?

Spring resign thy dear concern? Never

wilt, thought wish to God they tear: and

suck for Nutriment and gleaming frown.

There also was of old victor’s feet.

Both lawyers find out his host, with the

chase, so animation; nay, married?

Of all the Nobles all for that which

is why you float up up knocking words

were vanish’d with gossip rout. In vain.

By minist’ring hand like rain, frost, hail,

and no law deny’d, not weigh’d on his

short? Of which I have not leave me thus?

Of Quixote? Who blunders lie upon

the fashion, though true; for men, ’ like

spell that virtuous she went, and shake?

Whom they Crack’d the bridal, young Lochinvar.

Long enough, soon enough; here in

our breasts. This said, Yes—no— rather—yes.

And wondering whence thou wishest, said

yes I will Yes. Of a double ale.

The enemy with his quality.

Struck and roses; and rashly judge in

his herd, to quaff a brook which the unborn,

whom we have chosen, that they see.

Of life have been prophetic of which

locke of perplex— variety itself

warm into the dead at midday.

Thou messenger of the bottoms of

my dream! When Flattery Sooths, and what

we’ll send him o’er the level matting.

—Thus plain would find, with it; or like water

drink, and sport for peasants. Not that

beach we can jest, we know love’s divine.

Again—what is Woman? I could not

Introduce these Angels from chimneys,

slipped by the Mount. And straight to the squares.

The bank must things she’s in her lip? In

one polish’d blackning also were not

wish to see me weep so sore, hey ho!

Blissfully have wept with Vulgar, passes

ghost had a girl from many a

line undone. Say, may I never miss’d.

Gust-fists, hollowed long room banging bow-

strings wearier than stone, unshaken. That

was worth her wheel beside you and I.

With a twist of cures. I keep aloof,

who would pour himself avoided the

receiver? A glorious lanterns.

More than I. Midst many heart. That times

been the straitest best for years begged for

pleasure which Sense and knew not too base?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #148 texts #tricube sequence

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falconcoast · 3 years

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i'm not sure if this is a trope? but i really have a thing for bad boys meet an even badder girl type of plots.

i am such a SUCKER for this trope!!

send a trope, and i’ll assign you a character

tags: modern, thief AU! nongraphic violence, gun mention, thieving

childe -

as a college student at an elite university, you were looking for something that could make cash quick.

needless to say, you resorted to thieving. but it wasn’t your run of the mill pick-pocketing or stealing money out of bank: it was art thefts

turns out, museums would do just about anything to recover stolen pieces, and there were plenty to find. and besides that, you recognized their cultural value.

fast forward, you graduated college with plenty of bands in your pocket. you traveled the world looking for lost rembrandts, early works of van gogh, and sketches by cezanne. it went from being about money to being about stealing for money for stealing for the fun of it and returning what’s owed.

you answer to no one, priding yourself in that you can recover priceless pieces without any help other your commissioner.

one night was a regular routine, recovering a stolen portrait from a crime king’s mansion in italy. the roof wasn’t protected, and while the rest of the manor was partying away, you were dead set on getting the title called “pelirrojo”

as you lowered yourself in from the skylight through a rope, you weaved through the laser beams easily. under the cover of night and your black clothes, you were practically invisible.

you approached the painting. it was wrapped in a glass case, but it was stunning. a baroque period piece, you guessed, of a young man leaning against a table. like the name suggested, his hair was a fiery orange.

as you pulled it out of the case, you heard a voice behind you. “looks just like me, huh?” they say. freezing, you momentarily stop wrapping up your prize.

clicking your tongue, a hand went immediately for the gun in your pocket. “not so fast. i’m not the one you’re looking for,” the man says as you turn around, gloved hand steadily on the trigger. he’s wearing a classy suit, and has hair the color of mimosas. he’s quick to raise an eyebrow, and after you confirm that you haven’t been caught in the act, you continue to wrap up your present.

you hear as he skillfully moves through lasers, announcing your journey to the vault. “you made my job easy. disabling the security system in this wing of the mansion, knocking out the poor groundskeeper and anyone else in the courtyard, and climbing up the roof. and now, all you have to do is hand it over.”

you roll your eyes. “look. you’re good. pretty good, actually. but like hell i’m giving this painting to you.”

in smooth motion, you kick your foot in front of one of the shiny red lasers. the alarms begin blaring, and you only have a few more seconds until you’re caught in the act.

“well, it was nice talking to you,” you shrug as you launch yourself up onto the rope, taking your painting with you. “hey, by the way, since you’re my new decoy, you may wanna escape out the vineyard. those horses could probably take you all the way to the mountains if you’re swift enough. consider it a favor, from one thief to another.”

winking and blowing a kiss, you ascend out of the mansion, heist completed as usual.

more under the cut!

you thought that was your last encounter with him, but no, you just happen to run into him everywhere you go

returning stolen art to germany, stealing back a statue’s head in a european storage unit, finding priceless artifacts in japan--you’ve beat him through it all.

at this point, you hardly care when he shows up, always out the door before he can be successful.

sometimes, when you can’t brute-force your way to your goal, you catch him in and around the scene outside of the painting’s area. he knows how to dress up, and if it weren’t for his bright hair, he would blend in anywhere.

sometimes, you talk to him before stealing art back. while you’re never charmed by his wits or looks or his finesse, you are enchanted by his personality. his name is childe (or at least his code name is...?) he, like you, was in a rough spot and needed some quick cash to support his family. he works under a organization to steal art for the black market. oftentimes, you steal back artwork that he or that organization stole first.

sometimes, you go on vacation with one another. you take him to see the art you’ve recovered. you say it’s to teach him a lesson, to show that this is why you have to keep art in its rightful place.

sometimes, you think that you do that because you like to keep him around (and because you want to steal his heart, most of all)

and one thing led to another, and suddenly he’s left his syndicate, and you’re done flying solo, and next thing you know, you’re running around new york’s finest penthouse with a collection of long lost vermeers in hand.

the circle window in front of the apartment lets in so much moonlight that you wonder how nobody saw five vermeers displayed behind it. as you dismantle the last painting, your mouth turns downwards as you hear him rustle around. “we are not here to steal this guy’s jewelry. or that ugly belt. or that wine bottle--hey, i thought we said no drinking on the job.”

“you’re no fun,” he pouts.

“and it’s right thing to do,” you lecture, crossing your arms and sighing, you give him a look. “call up the helicopters, and maybe i’ll let you steal something for me.”

after a while, you finish wrapping up your paintings as childe skips around elsewhere. as soon as you hear the helicopters whir, you’re quick to call for him. when he arrives, the door burts open. smiling, you take him by the waist, cleanly knocking out any security that was somehow alerted with a strike of your leg. “we’ve gotta go, sweetheart,” you nudge, taking his hand.

“anything for you,” he grins. his hand grabs something and throws it out the window. it leaves a small hole, and looking in your arms, you nod.

you’re the one to take a running start, shouts and calamity running rampant behind you, before kicking the window. it shatters immediately, shards fluttering like snow. the helicopter purrs, and your eyes lock on the stray rope--the only thing between you and forty stories down below. childe whoops with joy, immediately latching onto the rope and shuffling the two of you up onto the chopper.

as soon as you’re on the landing gear and safely away, you toss the paintings into the helicopter. childe runs a hand through his hair, tossing it back. you only look at him and smile, legs dangling over the ledge. “that’s another down. those should run us about 25 million, maybe?” you announce as you watch the skyline become distant. “i think that if we run it through mr. zhongli, we should get a better answer.”

the chopper replies, but your boyfriend does not. crossing your arms, you make a face. “oy, are you listening to me?”

turning to face him, your mouth drops. it’s prettier than any renaissance painting, gemstone jewelry, or artifact you’ve stolen. in his gloved hand, there’s a shining diamond embedded in a gold ring. “awfully bold,” you say, staring at the trinket. “are you proposing to me right now? in a helicopter? after a heist? i thought that we had talked about getting engaged in, i don’t know, somewhere nicer than this?”

“nothing better than doing things after the thrill of it,” he shrugs, but his smile is genuine. “well, do you want to get married?”

“impulsive idiot,” you swear, but you take his face in your hands and kiss him anyways. he giggles through it all, slipping the ring onto your gloved hand. when you pull away, you press your forehead against his. “yes, i do. of course i want to get married to you.”

childe: u wanna know what the best part is

y/n: what

childe: i stole seven back up rings in case you didn’t like the first one

y/n: what the fuck

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader

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aenaxes-moved · 3 years

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[hunter x afab!reader] hunter thinks it's a good idea for you to learn hand-to-hand. and if it's a way for you to see him sweaty, sleeveless, and in close quarters, who are you to turn down the perfect opportunity?

warnings: unprotected vaginal sex

w/c: 4.7k

a/n: i'm a simple creature—i see the sexual tension of hand-to-hand combat, and i am brought low. also the marauder has a cargo hold for literary purposes, now. anyways enjoy my first nsfw fic on this blog. reposting bc tumblr censored me :/

“Try again,” Hunter orders as he crouches down beside where you lie sprawled, chest heaving and arms limp on the training mat. “Just like I showed you: trap the wrist, lock the arm, twist and throw.”

“Unlike you,” you wheeze, struggling to lift your head off the floor, “I’m not exactly built to throw people around.” You forego your weak attempt to get up, and you swear you feel your teeth rattle as the back of your head hits the mat with a dull thud.

You turn your head, meeting the sergeant's piercing gaze with a weary half-grimace half-grin. There’s a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes—maybe incredulity—that he might be training a half-fledged jedi in the brutally graceful art of floorslamming an opponent over a shoulder while the others had taken Omega on a trip to meet the natives. It’s something you should know well, having spent your youth under the wild and unrelenting martial acrobatics of master Voss, but at the end of the day, you would choose swordplay over brute physicality without hesitation.

Especially if you’re facing off against an opponent who can and has hefted you high above his head and practically launched you across the training mat.

If Hunter’s amused at all by this knowledge, he only makes it known with a huff.

“Empire’s out for your head; you need to learn to fight in more ways than your fancy jedi training. That includes hand-to-hand just in case you lose your lightsaber. Again.”

“That was once, Hunter!” you whine, warmth spreading across your cheeks. But he’s right. Loathe as you are to admit it, no amount of force pushing would have gotten you out of that mess on Onderon, and it was a miracle (otherwise known as Echo) that you’d found your lightsaber at all.

It’s an embarrassing memory and, deeper down, a dangerous one that could have ended in more than stray blaster fire. Petulant as you would like to be, Hunter has a point. So you reach up, flapping your hand about until you feel Hunter’s hand wrap around yours, callused and firm, and yank you up to your feet. You stumble as you regain your footing, but as soon as you’ve collected your bearings, you’re shaking your hands out and bouncing on the tips of your toes.

“Fuck it. Let me try again.”

“Do you want me to go slower on the approach?” Hunter asks, this time, a sure note of playful teasing dancing over his tongue. The corners of his lips curl up, imperceptible to most, but you’ve flown long enough with the crew to pick up on his slight giveaways. You narrow your eyes, fixing him with an accusatory frown.

“‘Imps won’t slow down for you y/n,’” you parrot his words with a sour expression, begrudging theatrics complete with an exaggerated eye roll.

Hunter laughs, but he’s already drawing back into a low crouch, arms raised and muscles coiled, ready to strike. You take the brief moment of clarity between your warm up and readying stance to admire him, his hair tied with his bandana, piercing eyes set in a razor focus as his chest rises and falls, even, steady. The sharp clarity is made complete, authentic, with his garb. Having swapped his standard blacks for a sleeveless top, a sheer veil of sweat glimmers brushed over the toned muscle rippling under his skin. It’s an appealing point of motivation, a reward for the small price of being thrown around for the past hour.

“You’re learning,” Hunter smiles, small and crooked, but a smile that breaks past his stolid stoicism nonetheless. “Attagirl.”

Your heart flutters, and you lunge.

Two rapid steps, and you’re meeting Hunter in the middle as he rushes towards you. Right foot, anchor heel, pivot, and the sharp wind of his arm shooting forward nearly knocks the breath from your lungs as it just barely brushes past your cheek.

He’s fast. But you’re faster, you challenge, and you shoot your left arm up, closing your grip with your right hand and trapping his forearm in your hands just beneath the hem of his glove. And when you find secure purchase, confident enough that he can’t counter, you yank with a sharp, vindictive shout. For the first time today, your grip holds.

You feel him roll over your shoulder, guided by your hand, compelled by gravity, and you’ve won. After all the blocks and parries and attacks-turned-scrambling-defenses, you’ve got Hunter exactly where you want him. Hunter may have size, bulk, experience—well, everything other than the Force—that you don’t, but if he’s taught you anything during your time with the batch it’s that timing is king.

You whoop as you feel his back roll off yours, squeezing your eyes shut as you claim your victory into the empty cargo hold.

You forget, however, the unspoken and very important step of letting go.

As soon as the split-second of simple victory flashes through you, you yelp, pulled off your feet and centre of balance flung off to the far reaches of the room. You’re reduced to an ungraceful flail of limbs and panicked disorientation as you fall, bracing yourself for an imminent collision and a sure promise of a bruise the day after. But instead of the forgiving, plasticky foam of the floor, you land with a soft oof on something else, harder than the mat, damp, bony…?

When you open your eyes, you’re propped up on one elbow, your other shoulder dipped close against Hunter’s chest, and your nose just a breath away from his collar, and, Maker help you, you can see his collarbones, sharp and clean through his blacks, rising and falling rhythmically with his heavy, straining breaths. You lift your head just in time to meet Hunter’s eyes, lightly curtained by one single swath of perfectly mussed stray hair, pupils blown wide with pride, wonder, and—

Shit.

“Uh, yay me?” you offer weakly, hoping you can blame the tremble in your voice on bone-deep exhaustion, not the blooming heat roiling in your gut.

“Yeah,” Hunter says, eyes trained on yours, steady and still.

It doesn’t take force sensitivity to feel the tension buzzing high in what little space separates your faces, the boundaries of playful sportsmanship bowing under the weight of testing curiosity, circling, prodding. The breath that passes your lips quivers, of which you’re only aware when you see Hunter’s eyes flick briefly to your lips. He lingers a moment, and you swallow hard, almost audibly, when you catch a flash of his tongue darting over his lower lip.

It might be an adrenaline high—his dilated pupils, the wild thumping of your heart against your ribs. High velocity combat and being thrown flat onto your back would do that.

You hope it isn’t.

The silence is enough to steal the sound from your tongue, just low breathing as you hover above him. It demands to be broken, something to be the first push back into the rhythm of which you have become so accustomed, the comfortable banter and competition devoid of anything more than meaningless flirting. Because for his ruggedly handsome looks, his commandeering presence, an aura that had men and women sending him drinks from across the bar, you had never let yourself seriously entertain the idea of being able to have him.

It’s hard to entertain attraction, much less romance, when you and the batch are high priority on the Empire’s list to shoot on sight, but the possibility has kept you awake at night, fingers shoved between your thighs while he sleeps two doors down. The fantasy of having, breathing him in like air, makes you feel alive, makes you feel the rare and fleeting feeling of safety. You, exiled jedi. Him, one of millions, the dedicated soldier sworn to a cause.

And yet, here you are.

Hunter lifts one hand from the floor, reaching up to brush the hair from your eyes, and you find yourself having to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from turning your head and nuzzling into his palm, from pushing close and staying, indulging. And while your mind blurs in the frantic flurry of fighting it, he gives in freely, turning his wrist to run his gloved thumb over your jaw. It’s the softest you’ve ever found standard issue blacks to feel, but more importantly, it’s the closest he’s ever been.

“Yay you,” he whispers.

Hunter leans forward, sliding his hand across the side of your neck, his thumb soft at your ear as he curls his fingers into your hair and closes the distance. One moment there’s a vast breadth of space between you; the next, you feel Hunter’s nose brushing over your cheek, his breath ghosting over your skin for that last moment of separation. Then you’re moving with him, meeting his lips with soft motions pleading for more as you slide one hand up into his hair and press your chests flush.

He doesn’t taste quite like your dreams, all smooth, sweet freshness dancing over your tongue. Instead, there is raw exhaustion and strain bitter and heady on his skin as he licks over your lower lip. But no matter; it is real and present and Hunter all the same.

The training room silence is broken when he nudges a knee between your legs, pressing close between the want pooling low in your belly, as you barely manage to muffle a whimper into his mouth, breathy and high as you break away to gasp. Hunter grants you that moment of rest, and he’s pulling you back down against him again, holding you tight.

“I’ll stop if you want,” he mumbles against your lips. “We stop, and we forget this ever happened. But.” He pauses to nip at your lips. “You give me the word, and we take this as far as you want, y/n. Understood?”

You nod, too busy chasing his tongue to feel his gaze fixed on you. And, as always, your blissful ignorance does not escape Hunter’s watchful eye. You whine as you feel his fingers close around your chin and lift, pulling away just enough that you can see his dark eyes steady on yours.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper, reduced to little more than pleading submission, doe-eyed and dreamy as he slowly runs his thumb over your lip. “Want you, Hunter. Need you.”

“Attagirl.”

He makes a noise that sounds like quiet laughter, but all you care about is that he’s nuzzling against your skin and holding you close. Hunter kisses you with a trembling restraint that you practically feel vibrating under his touch, the excitement of being able to have, the roiling fear of intimacy, vulnerable and open under your palms.

It’s something you know well. You feel the same.

“We should really wash up,” he murmurs into your mouth.

“‘Fresher’s big enough for two,” you say a bit cheekily.

“You really want it all, huh?” Hunter chuckles, squeezing the back of your neck as he presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Never get anything if you don’t ask,” you smile against his lips.

“Can’t disappoint the lady, then, can I?” he grins, dropping his head back down onto the training mat. You sigh, resting your cheek on his collar for a single breath before you feel him shift beneath you, pulling you into his lap as he sits upright. Hunter offers you a final peck, a promise for more in just a short while.

You silently promise you’ll return to the hold come morning and clean up the mats before Echo can chew you out for any sloppiness, but cleanliness is the least of your concerns as you stumble with Hunter towards the threshold, all soft laughter and kisses strayed off their mark. Whatever concerns about anything other than the bliss of the now are even more obscured as the refresher doors slide shut behind you. You laugh as Hunter twists out of his blacks, which almost has you tripping out of your own, but he’s there to catch you, sturdy arms and warm skin to pull you into the stall and under a startling shock of cold water.

Maybe it’s that brief shock of cold before the showerhead runs warm that offers you a moment of clarity, the space and quiet to realize where you stand and take in the man before you. You’re no stranger to proximity, having spent more than one mission squeezed up against Hunter’s side, but closeness doesn’t begin to describe where you stand now, bared to each other beyond simple undress.

A smattering of scars stretches over Hunter’s skin, an organized chaos of milky pockmarks and slashes so often hidden under his armor. You recognize a few, blaster fire and frightened memories of blood and acrid fear, and the rest you save for a later night when you’ve sated the flutter in your chest as your eyes drift lower.

It would be embarrassing, how your mouth waters when you catch sight of his cock, half-hard and framed by a dark thatch of curls. But any need for shame is dismissed by the sheer gravity of want because he’s thick. You had always imagined him to be big—that isn’t much of a surprise—but your stomach churns delightfully at the thought of him stretching you open, making you feel him for days after.

“You’re staring,” Hunter huffs softly.

“Can you blame me?” you breathe.

Hunter laughs, rich and resonant over the patter of the shower spray, and he reaches that short distance forward, gently taking your hand in his and lifting your palm to his lips. You step backwards, letting him crowd you between the wall as you cup his cheek.

His hands, rarely bared to his brothers, let alone you, are strong and weary with scars of war, and he lets them follow the slope of your arm, tracing down your shoulder, your waist, and coming down to your hips, seeing in full clarity under his fingertips.

“Hold on tight.”

“Hunter, wait—ah!”

You yelp as he slips his forearms under your thighs without warning, hefting you up against the cool metal. In your hazy delirium, it occurs to you that you’re both exhausted from sparring and that him holding you up would only wear him down further. You want to tell him you’re perfectly fine on your feet. But whatever protest you may have had planned dies on your lips with a choked sob when you feel his fingers knead into the soft skin of your thighs and tug.

You arch off the wall, breath catching in your throat when you feel Hunter shift his hips forward and anchor you in place as he grinds his cock over your clit. Any hope of forming coherent words, let alone sound, is completely beyond you, now. Heat coils in your gut, all-consuming, white-hot tension pulled tight and ready to snap with each slow motion he makes.

And—the bastard—he’s good at it, too, leaving you squirming under his grip when he shifts away, cruelly aware of the brief moment just as your pleasure crests. Hunter lets you whine, filling the space with firm, insistent kisses over your collar: enough time for your high to ebb, enough time for him to stoke the frustration, the need tight in your core. Then he’s pressing your hips against the wall again and chasing you forwards, hips flush as he nips over your jaw.

All you find yourself able to do is dig your nails into his shoulders and sob.

“Shit, are you crying?” Hunter gasps, nearly dropping you down into a helpless heap under the warm water.

You shake your head wildly, locking your ankles around the small of his back as you keep him in place. It’s enough to startle him back into stillness, and he readjusts his grip on your thighs, the weight of his cock heavy against your throbbing cunt as you gasp for breath.

“I just—I’m fine,” you laugh, bordering delirious as stray drops of water catch on your tongue. “Just fuck me, Hunter. Make it better,” you breathe, chest heaving as you lick your lips. “Please.”

You know the expression that flashes across his face, the need to tease and prod, making gentle light of a dire situation. But this time, Hunter does not entertain it with his signature deadpan drawl, instead meeting you with a soft, imploring kiss.

“So pretty when you beg,” he whispers.

You open your mouth to offer a snappy retort; even in your desperation, there must be some dignity. Instead, your ears fill with the sound of your stuttering gasp over the water pattering against the refresher walls as, finally, finally, you feel the blunt head of his cock dip into your cunt.

Hunter pushes into you with a maddening slowness, one that reduces you to breathless whimpering broken between what gasps you can take. You dig your heels into his back and meet him with a straining moan because Maker, he’s even bigger than you thought, and it’s everything you’ve ever needed.

“Gotta breathe,” Hunter grunts, sinking deeper into you.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a reminder for you or for him, but you manage to slip in a gasping breath before he’s nudging up against a spot that has tears blurring your vision in dizzy euphoria. And when you come down from that high spark, legs jerking over his arms, he’s still pushing impossibly deep into you.

You watch him in a dazed trance, fixed on how his brows furrow with each quiet, flinching gasp that passes his parted lips as your cunt flutters around him. And how, through it all, his eyes never leave yours, boring into you with a fierce intensity, devotion, demanding your attention and pleading for your touch. It’s more than pure physicality, sex under the crushing uncertainty of a bounty and the shadow of conquest at your heels. He reaches for you, as open as he’s ever been, and you reach back.

“Hunter, I—”

Your words give way to a long, aching moan as you feel the sharp dip of his hips finally press up against your ass, filling you like you’ve always been meant to take him. (And you have, you swear, to him, to everything you know.)

“Gonna start moving, okay?” Hunter says through a shuddering sigh. He trails one hand up your side, thumbing over your chin while you tremble in his arms. “Cyar’ika, tell me I can.”

“Please,” you whimper.

And he delivers. You whine, feeling the slow drag, the toe-curling burn as Hunter eases almost completely out of you then pushes back in, just as slow as the first. He’s measured in his motions, and if you could see past the tears welling in your eyes, you’re sure you would see the razor focus over his features. There’s a tense edge you can barely make out from your slack-jawed disorientation, a restraint behind each careful thrust. He’s savoring it, you think as you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

But when Hunter jerks forward, punching the breath from your lungs as he drives up hard, pulling an obscene noise from your lips with a stuttering apology, you realize it’s not some way to draw this out as long as humanly possible. And as good as it is now, it’s not enough.

“H-Hunter,” you start. “Hunter, you—you don’t have to hold back—!” Your voice rises to a wavering pitch when you feel his thumb trail down your stomach, nestling close above where you part around him as he starts to rub gentle motions into your clit.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps sharply with you when he presses deep again.

“You—you physically threw me across the cargo hold—like an hour ago,” you laugh through hiccupy sighs.

“That was different,” he chokes out a soft chuckle. “I want this to be good. For you.”

Trembling wildly, you muster the strength to lift your hand to his cheek, stroking over his wet skin as the refresher patters down around you. The aching stretch of Hunter’s cock between your thighs ebbs into something sweet, warming your chest when he turns his head to kiss your palm.

“You are good to me,” you whisper, brushing your thumb over his skin. “I want this. I want you.”

You hear him inhale sharp, holding his breath as he meets you with dark eyes, wide and searching. To his gaze, you offer him a soft smile. And it’s enough.

You barely have enough time to loop your arms around his neck and hold as Hunter shifts his grip, firm and high up on your thighs, and starts a brutal pace that has you near screaming into his neck. Your legs jerk helplessly with every relentless thrust, and you find yourself knotting your fingers into his hair, cradling his head for some—any—purchase you can find.

It’s reminders like this that while Hunter doesn’t have the imposing stature or towering height of his brothers, his sheer presence alone is overwhelming, surrounding you and consuming you whole in ways the others simply could never. The power is intoxicating, crushing in its pressure, the submission and release to pleasure it demands of you, and you sob, a whiny, choked sound you barely hear over the frantic, wet slap of Hunter’s skin against yours. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and it’s so, so achingly good.

“Fuck, I’ve always—” Hunter gasps, craning his neck to nuzzle up against your jaw. “I’ve always wanted to do this. To have you like this.” You turn your head, meeting him in a lopsided kiss, all tongue and shared breath. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

“More,” you whine, crying out when he pins you against the wall, just so he might reach between your thighs again and thumb insistently over your clit.

Even with the water showering over your skin, you’re distinctly aware of the tears streaking down your cheeks, only fitting for the overwhelming sensation building in your core, cresting in blinding heat with every drag, every ridge of his cock moving inside you.

He fucks into you with soft noises, low enough that they might be drowned out by the sound of water if you weren’t pressed so close. It’s fitting, that the stolid discipline of a sergeant might follow him off the battlefield and into the bedroom, but as characteristic of him as it may be, you can’t bring yourself to particularly care—not when he’s holding you up like a ragdoll and bending you to his pleasure. You cling tighter to him with a muffled sob.

It’s nothing like your nights alone in your bunk, wishing for a warm body and something more than hopeful fantasy. Where your fingers only offered you a shot of momentary bliss, this feels like you’re falling apart in his hands, utterly powerless in only the best of ways as the coil in your gut draws tight.

“‘m close,” you croak as the heat seeps bone-deep, spreading down your spine, blazing in the tips of your fingers, and finding home in the buzzing haze between your eyes. “Hunter, I’m—I’m so close.”

“Let go,” Hunter croons, bearing the rough pad of his thumb harder against your clit, pressing firm with every thrust forward, soothing as he draws back. Your cunt squeezes down around him with the spike in want pooled in your gut, drawing a low moan from his lips, and he meets you with a thrust hard enough that you squeal. “Doin’ so well, cyar’ika.”

Trembling, you bury your nose in the juncture of his neck, but you’re pressed backward instead, a light, unyielding pressure at your neck before the back of your head is guided against the metal wall. Hunter holds you at the throat, nothing but a hovering presence of his warmth over your skin, but enough that he commands your attention, steady gaze, pupils blown as he thrusts up against you, pushing you higher and higher against that mindless gap of pleasure with every intent to pull you apart.

“Look at me, y/n,” he murmurs, low and hoarse. “Look at me when you come.”

He drives into you once more, hard, and the tension mounting in your gut breaks like a dam, flooding over your tongue in sweet, simple pleasure that pulses and shudders through your core. You feel it like your body, your visceral pleasure, is not your own, floating in a mindless state of bliss no longer anchored to anything but your rapidly beating heart and the shivering tremors buzzing at your fingertips. Lips parted in a silent cry, your lashes flutter as you let yourself be swept up in the peak of your pleasure, swept up in him, his gaze trained firm, fond on yours.

And you’re too fucked out to do more than gasp, breathy, stuttering inhales as Hunter settles his hands around your waist and starts a pace impossibly faster than before. Somehow, through the aching tremor in your legs and your limp form pressed up against the wall, you manage to keep your grip steady and keep your arms wrapped snug around Hunter’s shoulders. He pulls your pleasure, agonizingly long with no end in sight, chasing his high as you whimper and plead unintelligibly into his ear.

“C-Close?” you manage, digging your fingertips deeper into the sinew of his back.

Hunter hums, a feeble attempt to keep what little composure he has left, but you feel his movements lose the steady rhythm he had maintained thus far, forgoing fluidity and grace for the raw and primal need to satiate. Lucid sensation beyond you, you simply let him take his fill, lazily running your tongue over his lips and holding him tight as he continues to fuck into you with erratic, stuttering thrusts.

And not a moment later, Hunter bears your hips down hard on his, gasping like he’s taken his first breath of air as his climax thunders through him. You squirm in his hold with a thready groan, reveling in the warm spurts of come filling your cunt and oozing down the curve of your ass onto the refresher floor. For all your exhaustion, you curl your fingers at the base of his neck, pulling him close into a slow, lazy kiss, more languid touches than an actual kiss, but a promise of intimacy all the same.

Hunter tips forward and shifts one arm to wrap snug around the small of your back, propping you both against the wall with the other as the tension drains from his coiled poise. He sags forward with a final, shuddering sigh, pulling out of you and setting you on your wobbly feet, to which you promptly pitch forward against his shoulder.

He laughs and catches you with breathless ease.

“I have no idea how we didn’t slip,” you gasp through heaving inhales, shuddering as you feel warm rivulets of come dripping down the skin of your inner thigh. As the pleasure subsides, you return to your surroundings in a haze, faintly aware of the running showerhead, the steam, and you drop your head forward, knocking your forehead gently against Hunter’s.

“Neither do I,” he laughs and nuzzles close. “Next time, we’ll pick somewhere with less water.”

“Next time?” you prod, knowing full well that neither you nor Hunter were particularly fond of mindless flings.

“Next time,” Hunter grins, tipping his head forward and brushing his lips over your brow.

“If you two are done in there!” Echo’s voice, exasperation weary and gruff, cuts through the patter of water against the metal paneling with a bang, nearly sending you and Hunter scrambling apart if the refresher stall wasn’t already so narrow. “We need showers!”

“What do you mean ‘you two?’” Omega chirps from outside the door. You have to clap your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing aloud as you watch the rosy pallor drain from Hunter’s face as you hear her muffled protests as someone (likely Wrecker) coaxes her away.

“Not it—you’re giving her the talk,” you quip, biting back a smile as you peck his cheek.

“Maker help me,” he mutters.

#argh tumblr censored my first post #anyways #i originally wanted to write a sparring scene with wrecker but. i think that wouldn't really give you a fighting chance #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #bad batch x reader #yaej.writes #filter

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itssleepyrabbit · 4 years

Note

hi! wow i super love your art and i don’t have enough dabihawks in my life 🥺 was wondering if you had any fic recs for them?? 💕💕

aah thank you so much!! 💕💕 💕💕

BOY IF I DO HAVE!! alright buckle up this might get long (most are fluff and SFW~ i’ll put a NSFW warning but be sure to look at tags in all of them!!)

Bed I made (lie in it with me) by silverwordswrites

“Touya is in desperate need of a plus-one for his brother's wedding and Keigo is infinitely curious about the man who he was sure used to hate him in college.”

-- the summary says everything and honestly it’s one of the most romatics dabihawks fics i’ve read.

On-going

He Doesn't Love Me by Fatally

“Dabi doesn't love him. He's accepted that thorny truth, swallowed it down and let briars grow in his chest, drinking down his blood like water.Or: The one in which Hawks settles for pining for his entire life and doesn't realize Dabi's been staring at him the entire time, too.”

-- I love pinning Hawks with a burning passion.

Completed

sweetheart, is that you? by fuckendeavor666

“dabi and hawks say i love you (without actually saying i love you) in five different ways.“

-- This is my absolute fave dabihawks fic

Completed

Deck the Halls With Boughs of Folly by DrAphra

“In which the League has acquired a new fancy mansion -with all the heating and food and plush beds they could possibly need - but they still prefer to spend the day out in the wilderness with just each other. Plus Hawks.“

-- Honestly all Aphra’s dabihawks fics are more than worth it but this one has a special place on my heart.

Completed

fuck, im so young - orphaned

“Todoroki Touya writes poems.

Words upon words of heartfelt confessions, letters of sing song fantasies, syllables of feelings he never got to say out loud.

When Todoroki Touya hits sixteen, he burns himself to death.

When Dabi hits twenty four-

He meets Hawks.”

-- i don’t know how to explain but this fic it’s pretty

Completed

Feathers and Feelings by Toboe1087

“Hawks keeps leaving feathers on his pillow, and Dabi's about had it.

(like hell he'd let anyone else have them, though)”

-- Dabi preening Hawks feathers is a blessing

Complete

(this is not a) swan song by bittermoons

“"Who's your favorite, then?"

"Hawks." Touya doesn't miss a beat. "Definitely Hawks."

"What? Seriously? How come?"

"He has his flaws, but at the end of the day, he's trying to do good. It's something he always strives for. Dabi, on the other hand...if it weren't for Hawks, he wouldn't be a hero, that's for sure."

[Or: How a secret is revealed, and what comes afterwards.]”

-- Adorable no quirks AU with manga artist Touya and oblivious Keigo! Another author i adore pretty much all dabihawks works.

Completed

You can't trap the sky in a bottle by thyandra

“Letting Toga organize the accommodations for their trip might have been a mistake. This particular truth becomes obvious to Keigo as he opens the door of his hotel room for the first time. There, staring back at him mockingly, is a single, king-sized bed. It’s only by virtue of all the years spent perfecting his poker face around his adoptive parents, that he manages to keep his face straight. At his side, Touya clicks his tongue. “They must’ve given us the wrong key.””

--(no quirks AU) I really love they way Dabi and Hawks are written here i can’t express it in words and so so much pinning

Completed

A Tale as Old as Time by EloFromMars, Gotcocomilk

“Dabi and Hawks are hit by the most improbable Quirk: both are yeeted in Fairytales land and have to rely on each other to get out of this.“

-- this was such a fun read omg

Completed

A Romance Written All Over Your Body by minatsukinoamayo

//NSFW mind the tags!//

“Hawks is assigned to infiltrate the League of Villains in order to expose them. Hawks usually never fails a mission, but Keigo usually never falls in love, either.A story of how Hawks falls from grace to become a villain, because hero society has failed them all.

5 times they're not in a relationship and 1 time they are.“

-- you know those fics you say “one more chapter” and it’s 3AM

Completed

it caught spark in your eyes by youareoldfatherwilliam

//Mature - Implied Sexual Content//

“Keigo’s quirk is powerful, but sometimes it comes with unintended side effects.

Or: A 5 + 1 fic of five times the more…instinctively bird-like parts of Keigo’s quirk took over accidentally during his relationship with Dabi, and one time it happened entirely on purpose.“

-- I was screaming about this particular fic on twt the other day pls give it a read if you can it’s so so so good! Any fic that has Hawks with bird traits has a special place on my heart

Completed

The Others by threesipsmore

//Mature - 2 sexual scenes, nothing too explicit but they’re there//

“"Skeptic's starting to think he’s more important than me,” Toga sneers, an acidic edge to her voice. “Making decisions on his own, sending out birdie without even talking to me first.”

She’d simply acquiesced to cooperating with Skeptic, but from day one the complaints had never stopped. In this tiny room layered with sushi and cakes, Dabi was forced to listen to her whining.”

-- You go birb, you get that man

Completed

Equivalent Exchange by inexchangeforyoursoul

“Keigo blinks the blurry oblivion away from his eyes, although some part of it is oddly stubborn and to stay indefinitely. There's three things he's certain of: first, he’s alive. Second, just by looking at the bed and windows he can tell this is no villain hospital or torture room. Third: something feels wrong. Very wrong.

The silence… is deafening.

xxx

To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.

If so, what of a bird that has lost its wings?”

-- i had so many feelings reading i can’t physically explain them to you also PINK HAIR DABI PINK HAIR DABI

Completed

dabi's 5-step guide to being a better parent than endeavor by twinkfrankenstein (orphan_account)

“A little voice inside his head whispered spitefully about how this was no place for a child, and how he was making a mistake and would only traumatize the kid, yada yada. He responded with an equally spiteful-

“Fuck off, its not like I planned to do arson today.”

(or: how Dabi becomes a good dad just to spite his own, realizes he kinda sorta maybe likes Hawks for realsies, begrudgingly admits the League cares and finally comes to terms with his protective side. Not in that order.)“

-- this legit made me laught out loud idk what else tell you

Completed

The Todoroki In-Laws by aphrodaisyacs

“Over 10 years after the fight against the Paranormal Liberation Front, Rumi, aka the part-time hero Miruko and the proud wife of one Todoroki Fuyumi, decides it would be an awesome idea to create a groupchat with the significant others of the other Todoroki siblings.

Maybe things would be easier if its members weren’t two Pro Heroes, a former one and a rehabilitated villain, but…Honestly, where’s the fun in that?”

-- this is not dabihawks focused but it’s so funny pls

Completed

With Being Petty Comes Consequences by CursedUndead

“"When we were saying fuck pro heroes, I didn't think you literally meant FUCK them," Tomura grumbles, kicking over an empty beer can.

"Pretty judgmental for someone fucking a pro twice their age," Touya says.

Tomura squints, and says, "Ten years is not twice my age."

Or, after spending Enji's money, Touya is forced to babysit for the number 2 hero to pay him back. Touya makes it his life's mission to fuck his new boss.”

-- this only has 4 chapters but i know it’s going to be one of my faves

On-going

The Truth series by AmethystUnarmed

-- Hawks gets hit with a truth quirk and starts to be actually free by the power of love, friendship and a bit of crime <3

The last entry is on-going

and if we sit and count it up it's really not a lot by sincerelysamedt

“Hawks finds a bento box in his messenger bag and almost cries.

"Is that a loving wife bento?"“

-- please PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THIS ONE /sobbing noises/

Completed

steal your heart by darlingest

//Mature//

“When infamous thief Hawks announces that he is going to steal the heart of Endeavor's son, everyone expects him to prey on Shoto Todoroki - nobody suspects Touya to be the actual target.“

-- Villain Hawks and civilian Dabi are my guilty pleasure and this one it’s so soft too i’m- djsahfdjkfhadf

Completed

darling, thank god it’s this universe we’re in (and you can annoy me as much as you please) by juurensha

“ Todoroki Rei divorces Endeavor and moves all four of her children into a small apartment next to a boy with wings as red as the hair of her eldest son. “

-- This was one of the first dabihawks fics i ever read and, to this day, i come back to it when i feel i need the extra burst in happy feelings and check their other works too! Honestly all are such a good fucking read

Completed

#ask #faerie-fang #this is not even half the fics i love #i can always show more but i was afraid of bugging again djsfhadf #honestly check ALL this authors you're not gonna regret it #fic rec #dabihawks

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fandomsonrequests · 3 years

Text

unexpected friend

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: choi san

reader: fem

word count: 5.4k

summary: fate decided to test this decade long feud between you and choi san

notes: enemies to lovers AU, toxic themes, character death, substance abuse (it’s not explicit) such as alcohol and cigarettes, heavy themes, language, violence

You had no idea where it started— you just knew that you hated Choi San with every fiber of your being. And unsurprisingly, the feeling is mutual with you.

Maybe it started in kindergarten when he accidentally pushed you to the ground in the game of tag. You got so mad at him, saying that he meant it when he obviously didn’t, calling him stupid because “all boys are stupid.”. Or maybe it started when you knocked over his tower of building blocks as revenge. Or was it when he dipped your pigtails in paint to get back at you? Or maybe the time he spread rumors that you had cooties causing everyone to avoid you like the plague.

Whatever the reason, it spiraled into a childhood rivalry that continued as you grew older. The endless cycle of cat versus dog, taking revenge on one another, followed into grade school, where you reached your horse phase and he reached his gun dam phase. It was inevitable you’d see him again— you both lived in a fairly small town after all.

Petty actions like drawing on the other’s homework turned into stealing each other’s lunches or setting some sort of prank at each other’s seats— whatever your ten-year-old brains could think of. Your screaming matches grew even worse and at one point, you both started throwing punches. The teachers always had to watch you during breaks because eventually, you’d be on top of each other and pulling at each other’s hair.

San had an advantage of course since he took taekwondo, you always ended up as the loser. But in retaliation, you managed to convince your mother to enroll you in some other martial art to protect yourself. And when you won your first little fistfight— you always made sure to lord it over him.

“Hah, you got beat by a little girl! Not so tough now huh potato-head?”

“Shut up horse-face!”

San saw your kindness and charisma towards others as an act. It was your own way of reeling others in to be on your side, gathering some sort of army to help you gang up against him. You on the other hand managed to convince yourself that his cute little dimples and selflessness for others was a facade, You couldn’t believe how many people he’s managed to fool or turn against you. And you’ve always hated him for that. You let it fester as you go through grade school and towards middle school. That hatred you harbored for him was always lit inside you.

Your parents and his were always apologizing to each other during parent-teacher meetings or school events, having to hold you back from jumping on one another. Your dad had given up on the whole thing so he was totally useless; that left you to run to your mother for comfort. Whatever the situation was, at the end of the day, she was always on your side.

“Things will blow over soon. But please, honey, try to stay out of trouble for me?”

So when she died in your junior year of high school, you couldn’t help but feel alone. Your dad had taken to smoking to cope with the loss, marrying a woman who was in love with alcohol while bringing her two hellish twin daughters with her into your home. Things grew miserable for you at home; your dad became a pathetic pushover, letting his new wife run the household. That made you angry— how could he get over your mother so easily? How could he let himself get walked over like that? How could he ignore the way your older step-sisters trampled all over you?

How could he let all this happen?

San’s endless taunting at school didn’t help either. His harmless pranks grew worse as time passed: spray-painting some nasty words on your locker, or setting a bucket of paint on top of the gym doors since you’re always the last one to head out. You’d heed your mother’s words, always doing your best to ignore him. For a while, it had worked and he pestered you less than usual but your mom’s death and the situation at home had triggered something in you, making you snap back. You’d shove his face down into his food during lunch or knock his books down the stairwell whenever you pass by each other. You had even managed to sneak some of the insects from the lab into his gym clothes, causing him to end up with nasty rashes all over his body for a week.

Your physical fights weren’t frequent but they became more violent, with one or both of you having to go to the nurses, holding an ice pack to your busted lips while a piece of gauze was stuck up his bloodied nose. It took several students or even teachers to pull you apart because most of the time no one wanted to jump in and separate you two; it was always so messy with fists and kicks flying everywhere. There was even one point where you both had to go to the hospital for fractured bones. You were both suspended for a week.

Fortunately, things had toned down now that you both were in your final year of high school with the pressure of college and meeting requirements looming over you. Although, neither of you managed to make up. You’d still exchange some foul words but the stupid pranks and fights had simmered down. That never meant you were on good terms though.

But then fate decided to be a little shit and put you in a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in.

Your new biology teacher didn’t seem to be informed about the decade-long feud between you and San. So when she assigned the both of you as partners, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as a sick feeling crawled over you. You wanted to cry and throw up at the same time- that’s just how much you despised him. You both tried to plead with her to change partners but she was as stubborn as a mule, insisting that you two can “sort out your differences” and finish this project as a team.

And now here you were, avoiding each other’s stares despite being sat next to each other. The proximity between you two was suffocating, it made it hard to focus on the project being explained to you by your cruel teacher. Your skin tingles unpleasantly whenever either of you shifted in your seat, your arms just several centimeters away from touching each other. Many thoughts ran through your head on how you can get out of this. But you knew that you had to find some time to work on the damn thing together or else you’d flunk high school— and being stuck in community college, never being able to leave this town, was not worth hitting San at the back of the head and gloating at him.

“You have the rest of the period to plan with each other. Make sure to have your presentation set and ready for next week.” Your teacher says and sits at her desk.

The room was filled with chatter as the students started conversing with each other. Many pairs threw knowing stares at you, worried that you’d be at each other’s throats. Surprisingly you weren’t… at least not yet anyway.

For a while, neither of you said anything to each other. San simply scrolled through his phone hidden under his desk while you organized your final notes. Minutes tick by and the class slowly comes to an end. With a heavy sigh, you decided to swallow your pride and talk to the guy.

You turn to the boy, roughly shoving his knee with yours and he sends you an irritated glare. “C’mon we need to plan for this.” You deadpan, ignoring the look he gave you.

San returned the sigh and pocketed his phone, shifting to face you. “Alright then. So what’s the plan?”

“That’s what we’re supposed to be talking about, dumbass.” You mutter, growing irritated. You clench your fists together in an attempt to keep your calm before continuing. “Anyway, we’re supposed to make some model of the nerve cells then present it.”

San stays quiet for a moment before speaking up. “My sister has some spare clay and wires from her sculpting hobby. I could ask for some.”

“Great. You work on that while I work on the script.” You conclude before going back to your notes.

“Hold on- you’re gonna leave me with all of the hard work?”

“We have the same workload?? I’m making the script.”

“That’s easy- scripts can be finished within a day or something.” San shot back, finding the arrangement you had set, without his consultation by the way, as unfair.

“Then I’ll help you when I’m done. Quit whining like a bitch.” You sigh, having no energy to continue the argument with him.

“Asshat…” He mumbles under his breath, pulling out his phone to text his sister. He expected some sort of retaliation from you but you simply remained quiet. That was odd- considering that you never missed the chance to have the last word in. Maybe you just weren’t feeling it today.

Nevertheless, he ignored you, deciding that it wasn’t worth pestering you at the moment. The bell rings, signaling the end of the class, and you’re immediately up and out of your seat, stuffing your notebook into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder. It almost hits San’s cheek in the process but you were already walking out the door before he could call you out on it.

“Geez…” He huffs and keeps his own things, glaring after you while hoping that time would fly by fast so that the project was done and over with.

A few days have passed by since the biology class. True enough, you’ve finished writing and even printing the script within the day the project was assigned to you. So now you were stuck helping out San with sculpting the whole model. You two would work together at the back of the library after school. Initially the librarian was hesitant about letting the two of you inside given your reputation and all. But when she saw that neither of you were at each other’s throats, surprisingly, she allowed for you to work on it in the library.

Of course you and San still had some disputes— how it’s supposed to be positioned, what shape it’s supposed to take, yadda yadda. But it had never escalated into a full blown argument because it always ended up with you taking the blow of his harsh words. That alone started to concern the boy, you’d always get back at him. But your resigned silence after every quip he threw at you started to worry him. Sure he hated your guts but San wasn’t a nasty person. He knew something was bothering you. But, he never took the initiative to ask what was bothering you; it wasn’t his problem anyway.

A weekend away from Monday aka the day of your presentation. The model was almost done— it just needed a paint job. Since it was a Saturday afternoon, meaning the school was closed, neither of you were able to work at your usual spot. So San decided to just take the whole thing to your home to finish it. Of course he could finish the whole thing himself but he had a party to attend later in the evening, and he didn’t want to miss out on it.

He arrives at your home, model in one hand and a crate of paints in the other. He takes note of the absence of your dad’s and step-sister’s cars in the driveway and assumed that you were all out. He sighs in frustration, hoping that that wasn’t the case. Jogging up to the porch, the boy sets down the crate and rings the doorbell a couple of times, foot tapping against the wooden floorboards as he waits.

When there was no response after a few minutes he tried again, this time ringing the doorbell a bit more frantically. Before he could turn around and head back home after getting no response, he hears frantic footsteps scurrying inside and steps back as the door swings open. There you were, hair looking like a bird’s nest while your week-old cardigan hung off your shoulders. There were dark circles under your eyes and you looked like a hobo who had the opportunity to clean after themselves. In other words: you were a mess.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You snap the minute your hazy mind registers that San was standing at your door.

The said boy snaps out of his own trance and shoves the model in your face. “We need to finish this.”

You stare at the figure in his hand then to the crate by his foot and then to his face that displayed an expectant expression. You sigh and rub your face. “Couldn’t you have finished it yourself?”

“I’m busy later.”

Another sigh leaves you and you step back to let him in. He enters the house, leaving his shoes by the door as he looks around the place. It was a bit messier than he had expected. There were rumpled coats hanging off of the arm of the couch, a small pack of cigarettes and a few bottles of cheap beer on the coffee table. The wallpaper was starting to fade with a few faint stains here and there.

San stays quiet as he follows you through the house, seeing the small stack of dishes waiting to be washed in the sink. He turns back to look at you, finding your silence as unnerving. You only trudged up the stairs, motioning for you to follow him. He expected to see you turn down the hallway and enter one of the rooms but was quite surprised to see you stop by a frayed rope hanging from the ceiling of the hall. You reach up and tug down on it, revealing the ladder towards the attic.

“Don’t tell me you live up there,” San jabs.

“Yeah and what of it?” You grumble, sending him a tired glare over your shoulder before climbing up the ladder.

He was stunned into silence when he realized that you were serious. He bites his tongue and refrains from jeering at you, handing the box of paints to you before climbing up. Several thoughts ran through his mind— why was your room in an attic? And since when did you start smoking and drinking? Was it even yours?

His head pokes into the surprisingly clean but small room. Your bed was pressed up near the slanted wall of the roof, several polaroids of you, your few friends, and your mother plastered along it. On the opposite side was your desk and your wardrobe whose paint was starting to chip off. Several boxes, labeled and not labeled, were pushed to the corner of the room, stacked in a way for them to take up less space.

San looks to you rummaging through your desk, probably finding a brush or something. He wordlessly steps into the room and pulls the rope, closing the trapdoor beneath him. He turns to you again and before he could stop himself, he found himself blurting the question that was plaguing his mind: “What the hell happened to you?”

You turn on your heel, almost knocking over the picture frame of you and your mom. Your hand reached out to steady it before answering San. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Why do you live up here?” He motioned to the whole attic space with his arm. “Don’t you have a room downstairs?”

“I do.” You simply say and take the crate of paints, pulling out the needed colors and some paper cups for you to place them in.

When you don’t elaborate, San squats down to your level on the ground and tugs the purple paint tube out your hand. “What happened to it?”

“Why do you care?” You snatch the tube back with a hiss, preparing all the things needed. “It’s none of your business…”

The boy sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. He nibbles at his cheeks, carefully going over what he wanted to say. “...look, _____,” he starts, voice surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have to tell me everything but you don’t have to keep everything in.”

You don’t answer him or make any move to acknowledge what he had said. But you were listening; part of you decided to take down your walls for just a moment and hear what he has to say. And San seemed to sense this because he continues.

“I’m not gonna say that ‘I’m here for you’ and all that crap but, there are people who're willing to listen to you. Whatever you’re going through right now, no matter how big or small it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Again, you don’t respond. A moment of silence full of high strung tension passed by. It was only a few seconds but it felt longer than that— especially since you both stopped in what you were doing and stared at the ground or at each other’s hands.

You always hated San but you couldn’t help but sense the sincerity in his words. It’s kind of pathetic but at the moment, his genuinity, the softness of the way he spoke was what you were craving for. At that moment, you just wanted assurance that things will be okay and that whatever you were doing in life wasn’t useless. And the guy you seemed to hate most was offering you that.

Tears prick at your eyes and you hastily brush it away with the sleeve of your cardigan, refusing to show any weakness to your nemesis. But it was hard; once the tears started flowing it was difficult for you to stop. You play it off by finishing up in preparing the paints, suppressing any hiccups or sobs that would escape before eventually giving up and bringing your legs up to your chin, crying into your sweats. Fuck it if San sees.

You curled up into yourself, crying into your pants when you felt a gentle but hesitant hand on your shoulder. You jolt at the touch, seeing San back away quickly. His brows were furrowed in concern and his lips were pursed, almost as if he were thinking about what he was going to say.

“G-go on, gloat,” You hiccup, choking on your tears. “I look like a m-mess anyway…”

You were surprised, and a little bit embarrassed, that he didn’t follow with what you said. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small packet of tissues and handing it over to you. He looked up to your desk, seeing your water container on your desk. He stands up to take it, shaking it to check if there was still some water in it, before placing it by your foot.

“I’m not going to lie, you are a mess,” San says before returning to his previous spot on the floor. “But I guess that’s normal when you’re having a shitty day.”

“More like a shitty life…” You mumble. You chug down the rest of your water, managing to stop your tears as you wipe them away with the tissues. You look up at the boy across you and sigh heavily. “It’s my step-mom,” you say.

“I’m sorry?”

“My step-mom. She made me move up here so that her daughters could take my room.” You explain. “My dad didn’t say anything because he’s a pushover, wasting his life away on cigarettes and the alcohol his wife buys…”

San nods slowly in understanding, finally making sense of what he saw in the living room and kitchen. That explained a lot of things: why you would always faintly smell of alcohol or nicotine a few months after your mother had died. It had honestly shocked him to hear that— your dad and step-mom always looked presentable in public. Your step-sisters were a bit more extravagant but neat nonetheless. The way they talked and carried themselves didn’t seem to indicate that they had any substance addiction.

Thinking back on it, it had also explained why you were so irate and moody almost all the time, leading to you losing some friends in high school as you fell back into yourself or into violence. It was a defense mechanism— you didn’t want to seem vulnerable because at home, you were vulnerable enough.

An idea pops into his head and he promptly stands up, momentarily making you jump from his sudden movement. You look up at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Come with me.”

“What???”

“I said get up and come with me.” San says and actually held his hand out to you.

You look at it skeptically before looking up at him, contemplating about any consequences in following him— if there were any. He wiggles his fingers, impatiently coaxing you to join him and you finally make up your mind. Might as well follow him; you had nothing to lose anyway.

You swat his hand away to get up on your own, mumbling something along the lines that you could get up yourself before straightening yourself out and placing your hands on your hips. He gives a satisfied nod and grabs his shoes to put them on. He then kicks open the trapdoor before heading back down for you to follow.

He returns to the living room with you trailing behind, still wondering where exactly he wanted you to go. When you glance at the clock you see that it’s already 5:30 in the afternoon. Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt something land by your feet. You whipped your head around to see San pointing at your shoes which he probably threw at you from the door.

“We’re heading out for a while.” He says as he exits your house. You take a moment to process what was happening when he pops his head in. “Come on slowpoke.” He ushers you.

You hastily throw on your shoes, grabbing the house keys hanging by the coat rack, and hop out of the house. You lock the door behind you and approach San who was sitting upon his notoriously loud motorbike. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling down behind him.

Your arms awkwardly flutter beside you, opting to hold onto whatever space was left on your seat. You jump in surprise when you hear and feel the engine roar to life, eliciting an amused chuckle from the boy in front of you. You glare at the back of his head, smacking his shoulder and settling yourself once more.

“Hold on tight,” San tells you as he revs up the motorbike.

“I am.” You argue and strengthen your grip on the seat, shaking the bike a little to emphasize your point.

“No you aren’t.” You feel heat rise to your face when he tutted in annoyance, taking your arms and placing them around his waist. “There you go. See? No harm done.”

You only grumble something in response, making him chuckle to himself. It was a bit strange to see you tame like this. Sure it kind of boosted his ego considering that he managed to make you flustered with just a few words and a simple action but he actually kind of liked it when you weren’t at each other’s throats. He revved up the engine again before taking off and speeding down the road.

The evening breeze is cool as it whips through your hair and brushes against you, sending small goosebumps running down your skin. A small yelp escapes you when San picks up speed, causing your grip on him to tighten. He glanced back at you for a moment before taking the turn that exits the town and towards the road uphill. It led to the small forest that overlooked the city; it was a popular place in town for hiking or camping. You remember going there to play as a kid.

The air gets chillier as you both reach a higher altitude. You unconsciously nuzzle closer to the boy in front of you in an attempt to seek some body heat. The sky grows darker, turning into a deeper blue shade as the night slowly creeps upon the town. Some stars start to peek and settle themselves in the dark blanket of the sky by the time San slows down to a stop. He had stopped by the edge of the forest, a metal railing along the opposite end to keep people or vehicles from falling off the edge.

“We’re here.” San says and looks back at you. “You can let go if you want now.”

At that, you peel yourself away from him and hop off his bike mumbling something about how cocky he was while walking over to the railings. He joins you soon after, keeping a respectable distance from you. None of you say anything at first, simply taking in the view of the city in front of you. Now know why San took you out here: to breathe and clear your mind of things; something that you didn’t know you needed at the moment.

The spot you were in allowed you to overlook the town, seeing the lights from the roads and houses down below. You could spot the water tower in the distance along with the radio tower next to it. As you survey the scene before you, you make out one house in the distance with a multitude of colored lights flashing around it.

“Looks like someone’s having a party.” You muse, finally breaking the silence.

San hums in acknowledgement. “I hope they aren’t missing me.”

It takes a moment for you to understand what he said, perking up when it made sense to you. “So that’s what you meant when you were ‘busy.’” You say as you lightly punch his arm. “You’re such an ass.”

“What? I wasn’t lying; I would’ve been busy.” He defends himself, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah,” You huff. “Busy shoving your tongue down people’s throats.”

A mischievous hum. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Ew no, gross- I’ll pass.”

You share a small laugh together before settling into silence again. It was… kind of cathartic, being able to actually laugh for a long while-even if it was with your longtime nemesis. It was better than crying yourself to sleep almost every night.

You turn to lean your back against the railing, using your arms to support you as you mull over the forest.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid.” You say, managing to capture San’s attention. “Pretended to gallop along the trees like some sort of princess when I was in my horse phase… I would always come home with scraped knees. I was a clumsy kid.”

“Except when you’d throw punches at me,” San interjected, ghosting a hand over his jaw. “You sure knew how to pack a punch.”

You smile apologetically, a sheepish flush on your cheeks, and look over to him. “Well you did deliver some pretty good kicks- I needed to learn how to defend myself.”

San shrugged in agreement. “I guess,” He muses and offers you a small smile, lapsing into silence again. “You know… it’s actually kind of surprising but you aren’t so bad to talk to.”

You nibble at your lower lip at his confession, unsure of what to make of it. When you look up at him, you see that he had inched a little closer to you. He still kept a reasonable amount of space between you two but it was apparent that he wanted to get closer. He drums his fingers against the cool metal of the railing, brows furrowed as he thinks over his next words carefully.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out. “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been an asshole to you. I know that I’ve hurt you, not just physically, but emotionally too. And I want to apologize for that… I know, words are just words. It won’t do anything to reverse or take back what I’ve done to you then, but please, take it as a first step to making it up to you.”

San decided to meet your watery gaze, his chest clenching at the tears you were trying so hard to hold back. He holds his hand out instinctively, wanting to offer some sort of physical comfort. He stops himself midway, opting to just settle it on the rail halfway from you. “You don’t have to make a decision right here and now. You can still hate me all you want, but I promise to leave you alone from now on.”

You whimper pathetically, finally letting the tears flow down your cheeks. You felt guilt consume you at his apology. Why was he taking the blame for everything? It should be you who was saying sorry. After all,you were just as cruel as him. And thinking back on it, this feud had most likely started with you. You raise a sweater paw to wipe at your tears, sobbing into your hand.

God you were a mess.

“Don’t, don’t blame yourself… I should be apologizing too. It takes two to tango right?” You hiccup, managing to give him a shaky smile. “I could’ve chosen to ignore you or direct my anger elsewhere but I still ended up targeting you at the end of the day…”

“_______, it’s okay—“

“No it’s not.” You hiss. “I’m not just talking about what I did in high school. I’m talking about every instance I was cruel to you. It was petty, extremely childish, and just horrible overall. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I want to apologize too. I’ve made part of your life a living hell.”

You glance at his hand on the railing before holding your own out towards him. “Truce?” You offer. “We don’t have to be all buddy-buddy after this but at least we can just end this whole thing.”

San gripped your hand in a gentle but firm handshake. “Truce.” His touch lingered for

just a second before he gave a gentle squeeze and pulled away. He returned it to the previous spot on the railing.

The both of you remain for a while, just overlooking the town and reflecting on what had happened. The quiet atmosphere that you both shared suddenly didn’t seem so awkward anymore. Instead, it was filled with some tension but with a bit of comfort at the same time. It was similar to the feeling of a thorn being plucked out of your side: painful but relief that it was finally out.

You don’t expect that things would go right at once— this wasn’t like the movies or the books where everything was magically solved. You both had left some scars on each other, some that are too hard to forget or too deep to heal easily. But you two were working on it: healing and forgiving each other. It was still a long journey but it was something you were both willing to go on together.

You glance to San, seeing how relaxed he was right now. He didn’t look so annoying or so terrifying anymore. A tiny grin makes its way to your lips; never in a million years did you think you’d find solace in someone you despised so much.

“Hey San,” You call out to him, resting your hand beside his, your pinkies brushing against each other. “...thanks for this. I really needed it.”

He smiles at you, flashing his cute dimples at you. It sends a warm, tingly feeling down your spine and you couldn’t help but feel calm at that. “Glad I could help.” He momentarily pat the back of your hand, engulfing it with his larger one when you didn’t pull away.

It was late when he drove you home to finish the project. Unsurprisingly, your family was still out, probably at an event they forgot to tell you about. But you didn’t mind, you had an unexpected friend with you right now.

You smile to yourself as you wave goodbye to San from the doorway, seeing him speed down the road and into the night. He may have been the bad guy in your life but it turns out, he wasn’t such a bad guy. And you were thankful that you were able to see that because at least you knew you had someone in your corner.

#ficscafe #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez angst #ateez choi san #choi san x reader #ateez san #ateez headcanons

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marahuyos · 4 years

Text

anon asked: Hi I really liked that hc with the pointing lips, I didn’t expect to see this on the tag list and my filipino heart couldn’t contain it 🥺 this is my first time requesting for a genshin fanfic heheh. I want to request a hc something to do with Harana, where the characters (albedo, Diluc, kaeya, maybe xiao 👀 and other characters you would like to add) sing from your window to persuade/court you since it’s part of (our) S/O culture so they wanted to impress them with this... IKSNSJS

*:･ﾟ✧ nakilig ako dito putaena AHAHAHAHHA

doing this quickly bc i wanna do it b4 windblume ends sksks. also i’ll go and link some songs fitting for the characters (all filipino ofc. spoilers its all ben&ben HAHAHAHAHA)!

gn!reader

tw: none

✧ Diluc Ragnvindr | Ben&Ben - Araw-Araw

Umaga na sa ating duyan 'Wag nang mawawala Umaga na sa ating duyan Magmamahal, o mahiwaga

• It’s apparent that Diluc can sing since he won first place in the music minigame. He was taught at a young age on playing and dabbling in the arts like any other young noble should. It comes as no surprise that Diluc knows how to sing and play.

• It was you who had to tell Diluc this tradition when the Windblume Festival hits. When hearing the prospect of reciting poetry to your loved ones, you immediately got excited, which made Diluc question your sudden excitement.

• “Back where I’m from, there’s a tradition where a person will sing to their crush if they want to court them. It’s usually underneath a window sill but either way, I do want to experience it at least once!”

• He imprints the sight of your soft smile at the memory of the tradition. He thinks back on his time learning music as he cleans a beer glass. He’s not a bad singer by any means (ngl i thought diluc was voiced by jonah scott bc hoo boy he sings. but imagine my surprise when he was voiced by mishima skks). He can definitely carry a tune but would he risk his entire dignity by singing under your window sill with a song that he barely knows?

• If Kaeya wasn’t there, then maybe. Maybe.

• So he opts for the next best option; serenading in a private and romantic place. It wouldn’t be the Dawn Winery, there is too much traffic to try and attempt to sing. Windrise is an option but Diluc knows that the sisters of the church comes and cleans the statue (and Barbatos knows that he doesn’t want Barbara to faint from his voice). His next bet is Starsnatch Cliff, where numerous Cecilia flowers are littered across the cliff.

• With that plan, he now attempts to memorize a song from your country. Diluc’s a fast learner, so he has no trouble learning the notes, the lyrics (though his pronunciation leaves little to be desired), and finally, the emotion carried through the music. Now that’s where he struggled since he doesn’t know how to convey emotion compared to other musicians. He tries his best, even asking Venti for help (enrolled is what Venti would use but at least he was paid with the best alcohol).

• Now to actually play the damn thing. He already struggled when inviting you out to Starnsatch Cliff (and bribing the couple that was there away), he hopes that his fingers wouldn’t twitch from nerves. It was when he began strumming his guitar that he realized something: there was no point in proving that he can sing. There was no point in learning a different language when there were many other different things he could’ve done to impress you. There was no need to potentially embarrass himself.

• But it was worth it when he sees your wide-eyes, your parted lips, and the warmth on your cheeks when he leans in closer. It’s worth it to see your eyes shine just like the stars in the sky when you understood the lyrics. It was worth it to see you say the words that Diluc longed to hear from your lips as he sealed them with a kiss.

Dawn has come within our cradle I pray you never fade Dawn has come within our cradle I love you, my ethereal

✧ Albedo | Ben&Ben - Ride Home

Took a morning ride, found a place up in my mind, no one else can see Maybe it's fate that we lose control In circles around, we go We become who we ought to know We just gotta let it go We just gotta let it go

• I think it’s safe to say that everyone knows Albedo can sing when his VA posted him singing. He can carry a tune and play decently on the strings. It’s just that he closes himself off in his research in Dragonspine all the while the Windblume Festival is in full swing. It’s not like you to leave someone behind while everyone is celebrating so you stand by Albedo for the duration of the festival.

• He says that you didn’t have to keep him company, more so if you don’t know anything about alchemy, but you were adamant to not leave the alchemist alone. Albedo can’t help the warmth fluttering in his heart that you wanted to stay with him. He wanted to try and teach you basic alchemical stuff so you wouldn’t feel bored or left out but he feared the shakiness in his voice would hinder him.

• So, you two talk about each other instead. While Albedo didn’t have anything noteworthy to talk about, you said to him about how you wished you can partake in the music game in hopes to play a love song. You told him that you wanted to try and sing a love song to your crush since it was a tradition in your country. While he bristled at the fact that you have a crush, the way your eyes flitted towards him, with a wavy smile on your face solidified his feelings for you.

• Having that information in mind, he quickly makes a harp out of the materials he has on hand. Such a feat is nothing to Albedo but it wasn’t the music that he was afraid of, it was giving his feelings away to you so suddenly. Learning a new language wasn’t so hard (because he learned it when he immediately realized he had feelings for you, what’s stopping him from learning everything?), but he fears that you may take it the wrong way.

• Or rather, he fears that he may do something he regret towards you.

• But he perseveres. When you were up sitting on a rock formation, studying a rare flower, Albedo stood below you, harp in hand. The sight of him, his beautiful eyes that were used to be so sure are now nervously flitting from side to side. His voice was carried out to the wind, deep and soothing just like the winds that caressed your skin. Albedo is nothing short of nervous but he was sure that he had his point across when he sees your blushing smile.

• All fears vanished when you jumped down a giggling mess, saying that this was the best Windblume Festival ever when you leaned in and kissed him.

So I'm coming home to you, ooh You, ooh You're all I need, the very air I breathe You are home, home

✧ Kaeya Alberich | Ben&Ben - Pagtingin

‘Pag nilahad ang damdamin Sana ‘di magbago ang pagtingin Aminin ang mga lihim Sana ‘di magbago ang pagtingin

• Kaeya won’t deny that he’s just as musically inclined as Diluc. As siblings, they’re naturally competitive against one another, always competing to see who can play the better piece. He wishes he could go back to those days, but bygones are bygones. Now, he strums his harp just for fun. Still, he’s not one to serenade to random strangers so it’s a first time for him to be laying his heart out in the open.

• Kaeya, like a responsible captain, steals you away and joins in the festivities with you with an arm around your waist. Reluctantly, you humored him, as you recount previous stories that you’ve experienced. One particular story that he keeps in memory was when you were serenaded once in your own bedroom window. While you had to turn down the one courting for personal reasons, you can’t help but feel warm whenever you remember the memory. Ever since hearing the bards’ sing their songs for the festival, you can’t help the flutter in your heart.

• Now, Kaeya is a very adaptable man, so he quickly thinks the best way on how to confess to you. Sometimes he has to curse himself from being so successful at flirting at absolutely everyone that he knows you could pass it off as being Kaeya. So he figures out the next best thing.

• Now, unlike Diluc, he’s willing to throw away his dignity for you. He’s willing to throw anything away from you because you were already so etched deeply in Kaeya’s heart.

• He’s a fast learned like Albedo, so it wasn’t hard to learn your language and do the correct pronunciation. All that’s left is to sing it and where. He hopes he could sing it underneath your balcony but you lived near the Cat’s Tail Tavern, where the noise has been raucous in this time of year.

• So he decided on going to the safety of your home, “drunkenly” stating that he was too sloshed to go back to his duties so he wishes to stop by your home until he sobers up. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see, so you relented Kaeya in resting on your couch as you prepared some water for him to sober up. At that moment, he prepares his act.

• With his guitar in hand, he stands up and meets you in the kitchen. With his fingers elegantly strumming against the strings, his silky voice permeated across the house. His one eye watched your own widen at the sight of the man singing. He relished it even more when he sees the recognition in your eyes when you know the song that he's singing. Each lyric has been beautifully sung and amazingly enunciated that you wondered if Kaeya was a native to your homeland.

• Kaeya wasn't normally a sap like this. He doesn't just do this to anyone. He even wonders what's the point of this when he doesn't even know that you'll accept him for who he truly is-for what he will do when things go awry. He recounts the words of a bygone father and he feels every ounce of sin he’s committed claw his back.

• But your gentle touch sends them away. Your hands burn the sins to ashes as you told him your ‘I love you’ in your language. And he understood it perfectly.

If I reveal just how I feel I hope you won't change how you look at me Admit all secrets I keep I hope you won't change how you look at me

✧ Xiao | Ben&Ben - Kathang Isip

Pasensya ka na Sa mga kathang isip kong ito Wari'y dala lang ng pagmamahal sa iyo Ako'y gigising na Sa panaginip kong ito At sa wakas ay kusang lalayo sa iyo (lalayo sa)

• Could Xiao even sing? Guizhong may have instilled some Liyue music in his veins when he was still a baby adeptus, she may have pulled her hair out once or twice when Xiao keeps breaking the guzhengs. At least Xiao has a decent voice, so Guizhong wouldn’t strangle Xiao with a forced sweet smile on her face. After the archon war and the yakshas fall, Xiao never sang or picked up another instrument ever again.

• Not when he passed Mondstat, hearing the insufferable bard play his tune, hearing the people who’re safe from karmic binds profess their love for one another, it made him sick. But by Guizhong’s hair would he waste this opportunity to leave you alone in the Windblume Festival. Even if he has to drag you away from the crowd in fear of him lashing out. He is not apologetic to him dragging you away but he does wonder why you would rather choose to spend your time with him rather than enjoy the festivities.

• It was at the city walls, you and Xiao enjoying the almond tofu you prepared beforehand. You did most of the talking, talking about random things that you can get. Xiao would always dutifully listen because he-honestly-you’re the only mortal that wormed his way into his heart and now he wants more but afraid of the consequences. He listens to you rambling about a courting method where one person serenades the other while they were in a higher place, just like the city walls.

• Human courting rituals have been the most confusing thing to Xiao; why go through such great lengths just to confess to someone your feelings? Shouldn’t straight up saying it be better and save time for each party? Even when he says this, he can’t help but watch your eyes glimmer at the thought of someone serenading you, in a night just like this.

• He was willing to embarrass himself for you, as he planted his feet on the wall railings. “Wait here.”

• He jumps and before you could say anything, he uses his Anemo Vision to keep him afloat. On his position, he was below you by a few feet. You watched in confusion when he summoned a lyre (and you could make out a scowl on his face, as if he was cursing the instrument) and soon, he began strumming it.

• His harp skills... could do some work. Some tone-deaf bard might have bawled his eyes out if he hears him play, but he was willing to swallow that embarrassment when he gets to have his point across. He hopes that he does, laying his heart like this just for you to take apart, for you to heal, for you to do whatever you want with it. He was willing to be weak and revere to you as someone as grand as an archon.

• Xiao wasn’t expecting you to understand but when he sees tears in your eyes and your hand covering your mouth, he immediately stopped his singing and hurried to your side. Though, he didn’t have to. You already jumped down and got caught in his arms. He felt your tears soak his skin, your incoherent babbles muffled by his shoulder but he could make out that Xiao’s feelings aren’t one-sided.

I'm sorry For this imagination of mine I guess it's just because of my love for you I will wake up now From this dream of mine And in the end I will stay away from you (stay away from)

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #diluc x reader #diluc imagines #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya x reader #kaeya #kaeya imagines #kaeya alberich #albedo #albedo imagines #albedo x reader #xiao #xiao x reader #xiao imagines

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mvrtaiswriting · 3 years

Note

hi marta! i thank you for your follow, and i hope you're doing well and you're safe there in the UK!! if you don't mind it, could you possibly write josuke with a s/o who is terrified of storms and freaks out during a power outage?? your writing is awesome and i look forward to seeing more on my feed! thanks again love!! 💞💞

Force of Nature - Josuke Higashikata.

Hello! I am deeply sorry for the late, late reply - you probably even forgot about this request! It got paid dust and it deserved so much better. I absolutely loved writing about this, because I used to be so scared of storms in my younger days! It’s been a while since the last time I wrote, so I’m sorry if this does not meet your expectation. Thank you so much for waiting so long and for believing in me & my writing, I hope you’re okay and safe. Sending looots of love!!

Neutral reader x Josuke Higashikata.

Jojo’s bizzare adventures: Diamond Is Unbreakable & Stardust Crusaders

SFW

Trigger warning: really minor, slight sexual things ?? (just a kiss mention tbf)

Words Count: 922

Hi! Are you a new reader? Check my masterlist for more content!

Please feel free to reblog or leave a comment :) help me support my art (it’s free!),

“It looks like it’s going to rain soon, should we just head home?” you heard your boyfriend saying, while he fully extended his arm in front of him to catch a raindrop and feel it on his hand. You nodded, holding his hand tight. He looked at you raising an eyebrow and, letting out a smirk, he said “don’t worry; storms are rare in this period of the year.”

Josuke was usually right in regard to these kind of things. Joseph had taught him some tricks he learnt during his trip in Egypt to understand how the weather will change during the day, and Josuke picked these skills up quickly, thinking they would come in handy. Not that they were of much use in Japan, having full access to weathercasts – but every time Josuke’s prediction were right, his heart filled with pride and satisfaction: he would smile widely, jumping around you with glimmering eyes shouting something like “See? Just like I told you!” and this was something you could never resist too. Trusting his intuition once again, you guys slowly headed home, taking the long way and enjoying the cloudy sunset in front of you.

The rain however did not take longer to arrive, and by the time you arrived home, you were already soaking wet. Shaking from the cold, you quickly removed your wet clothes and made your way to your bedroom to put some warm, more comfortable clothes. “Why don’t you pick something to watch on tv while I prepare some hot chocolate?” Josuke said, kissing your forehead. “Be quick, I’ll wait for you on the living room!” you answered, tiptoeing to give your boyfriend a kiss. He nodded and, after kissing you back, the two of you parted your ways.

You prepared your couch for the movie night, fixing its pillow and bringing a big, warm blanket just to make everything cosier. As you were zapping through the channels on the tv, the weather outside kept worsening; the rain was now banging loudly on the windows, while the wind was howling and whistling, shaking the trees’ branches and their leaves. You were terrified. Storms were something you hated since you were a child; there was no particular reason for it, not that you could remember. Simply being aware of the unstoppable force of nature was something that petrified you – you felt so small, so powerless. You always thought storms were nature’s way of saying ‘I can destroy everything and take my place back if I just want to’. You snuggled into the blankets, hoping Josuke would hurry up and come back to you. Having him around always made you feel secure and protected, as if nothing bad could happen to you as long as you were in his arms.

Then it happened. The sky lighted up for not more than two seconds and the jet black dark of the night was quickly replaced by a white light. From your window, you could perfectly see the lighting striking on the ground and before you could even realise, you heard a rumbling thunder, so loud it felt as the walls of the house were shaking. At the same time, before making a strange noise, you TV shut down and so did every single light of the house. The fear almost paralysed you, you felt as if your entire skeleton was shaking too. You screamed in reaction to what you had just witnessed, while outside lightnings and thunders were continuously succeeding each other.

The first thing you heard – apart the noise of the storm, was Josuke screaming right back.

“YOU scared me!” he shouted from the kitchen, before bursting into a laugh while quickly reaching you in the living room, holding a candle.

“Why are you laughing?!” you asked, visibly frightened. He smiled and sat next to you, quickly welcoming you in his arms holding you tight and kissing all over your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m laughing at myself because I got scared from hearing you!” he answered, trying his best not to laugh. He quickly got serious when he noticed you were shaking, holding you tighter in response.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” He whispered in your ear, while caressing your hair with his hand; he even summoned his stand, Crazy Diamond as if he was ready to fight just to protect you. You rested your head on his big chest, listening to his heart-beat which really calmed you down. The storm outside kept raging but now, with Josuke by your side, you didn’t care anymore.

“Thank you for being here. I know it’s silly of me..” you said quietly, feeling your cheeks getting warmer and warmer after every word you said. Josuke let out a soft laugh, putting his forehead against yours, forcing you to look at him.

“You know what’s silly?” he said. “You apologising for something that is absolutely normal, or thanking me for taking care of you. I love you, that’s the least I can do.” He continued, leaving a soft kiss on your lips, which you welcomed with pleasure. You placed your hands around his neck, slowly pulling Josuke's body on yours.

After a long, deep kiss, you and Josuke spent the rest of the night playing with the shadows on the wall using the candle’s light, making all sorts of animals and making up funny stories about them. Not a second passed by without Josuke making you laugh, who, as always, managed to make your heart feel less heavy and eternally grateful to have him by your side.

#jjba x reader #jojo x reader #josuke x reader #josuke higashitaka #Josuke Higashikata #Diamond is Unbreakable #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jojo bizarre adventure #jjba writers #jojo au #jojo requests #jojo x oc #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken #imagine x reader #jotaro x reader

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blossomkoushi · 3 years

Text

it’s what you feel, when you love someone.

summary: tsukishima kei spends his life discovering love. and the heartache that comes with it.

warnings: reader is a bit of an ass, but so is tsukishima one time, childhood friends AU, unrequited love, heartache, heartbreak, general angst things like that. gender neutral reader, referred to as “stinky” in texts. truly all hurt and no comfort in this one.

word count: 2.1k

A/N: i haven’t written angst in forever, so please let me know if this was okay or what i could improve on! i absolutely love angst and i want to get better at writing it, so any and all feedback is appreciated. fic is based off this prompt, thank you for requesting!

The sun shines through Tsukishima’s window. 7:30am. Rolling over in his bed and sighing, he reaches for his phone. The text messages you’d sent after he’d gone to bed sit at the top of the screen. A small smile grows on his face.

[from: stinky, sent at 1:43am] >> kei-kei, did you know that fish cough? Isn’t that so weird? >> like how does that even work >> wait I found a youtube video, look! >> *stinky sent a link* >> …doesn’t really look like coughing, does it? It’s more like a yawn >> kei-kei are you sleeping? >> laaaame >> sleeping is dumb

The nickname makes his heart flutter, just for a moment. It’d always had that effect on him, the blush creeping up on his face until he trained himself to keep it down.

[to: stinky, 7:34am] >> why were you sending me texts about fish at 1:40 in the morning >> stupid

Tsukishima pauses for a moment, hesitating before sending another text.

[to: stinky, 7:36am] >> are you still coming by practice later?

Getting out of bed, he starts getting ready for his morning class and practice. A part of him is grateful that you decided to go to the same university as him, being able to see you nearly every day made his life brighter. Not that he’d ever tell you that.

He’s out the door and walking to class when you text him back.

[from: stinky, 8:27am] >> obviously, I need to go see how ‘Taro is doing >> could you steal his shirt so I can see his abs during practice? >> *image attached*

Some kind of horny meme that Tsukishima never bothered to pay attention to, the kinds you always send when talking about his teammate, Kyoutani.

[from: stinky, 8:29am] >> oh, and you’ll be there too, ig

There it is.

He knows it’s a joke. He knows that he’s your best friend and you’re only joking. But the sinking in his chest and the knot tightening in his stomach is refusing to listen to his reasoning.

Swallowing down any anxious and sad feelings, he shakes his head and starts typing away at his phone.

[to: stinky, 8:30am] >> great. I’ll see you after class

Another message of seemingly random emojis pop up on his screen and he pockets his phone, taking a seat in the classroom and bringing out his notebook. He can feel himself zoning out before the professor even starts speaking.

Love is a strange word to Tsukishima Kei. It’s something his mom, and occasionally brother, say to him. Something on instinct, as if a promise would be broken if the words weren’t uttered.

Tsukishima had been 5 years old when he asked his mom about it. At the time he only repeated it back to her, an echo of her declaration, unaware of what he was promising her.

“it’s a feeling, Kei. Love is what you feel when you care for someone deeply. And so, you tell them.”

“do you have to say it?”

His mom stops for a moment, pondering before brushing his hair back and shaking her head. “no, you don’t have to say it. But you should at least show it to the people you love.”

Tsukishima continued telling his mom that he loves her up until elementary school. He still loves her after that, but his priorities shifted.

Tsukishima had been 8 years old when he realizes that he loves you.

The feeling grew stronger every day, your smile brightening his day and your laughter making his heart flutter in a strange way.

“Kei-Kei! Look, I found a snail! There’s more over there, come on!” your excited voice made his heart swell in his chest. Your small hand gripped his, tugging him through the mud and puddles on the yard, giggling happily despite the rain pouring down.

He starts drawing you pictures of snails. Small doodles placed on your desk before recess. He points them out after it’s rained, pulling you along to bend down and watch them slowly drag along the road on the way home from school.

You get interested in frogs, cats, worms, bees, even ants for a while. Tsukishima joined your obsessions, indulging you with drawings, books and pictures. One time he collected worms in a bucket on his walk home, handing them to you when he arrived at your house, knowing that you were ill and hoping the wigglies, as you called them, would make you happier. The smile you gave him burned into his mind, and he wanted to see it again and again until the end of time.

He loves you, even his young mind can grasp that. He hopes that you can tell.

Tsukishima is 12 years old when he realizes that he’s in love with you.

Valentine’s day was never something he’d pay attention to. It seemed silly to him, a whole day just to talk about love? Stupid. Love is something you feel, so you say it or show it and that’s that, why spend a whole day talking about it?

That is, until you run up to him the day before, excitement flashing in your eyes.

“Kei-Kei, do you know what day it is tomorrow?” your hands gripped his arms, nearly shaking him. The familiar blush grows on his face and he shakes his head, hoping you don’t notice how his skin is turning pinker by the second. “it’s valentine’s day! I heard some of the older boys talking in the hallway about what they’re doing for their girlfriends and it seems so cute! Like, oh, one is going to take his girlfriend out roller skating, isn’t that so romantic? And this other boy was saying that-“

Tsukishima tunes your voice out, focusing his attention to your lips moving. Your hands are still gripping his arms and a part of him wishes that you’d never let go, feeling his skin burning under his clothes. You’re standing so close; he could lean his head forward just a bit and his lips could be on yours. If he just-

“-Oh! And I heard some girls talking before gym that the boys in our class were going to confess to their crushes tomorrow! Do you think anyone will confess to me? I hope so” your words snap him back to reality. His eyes go slightly wide, looking into yours. Confess? You wanted one of the stupid boys in your class to confess?

A twinge of discomfort stabs in his stomach, his body filling with sudden annoyance. “no way” he scoffs.

He’s never regretted anything more in his life.

The excitement drains from your eyes and your hands fall from his arms. Before he can think, your chin quivers and you nod silently, turning around and running away.

The discomfort in his stomach only grows, changing and chafing along with an ache in his chest, all annoyance drained from his body in an instance.

He draws a picture of a snail and dinosaur, writing your names over them. Underneath he scribbles an apology. A quick “I’m sorry”, and he places it in your mailbox on his way home.

The next day, he sees you on the yard of the school, standing excitedly in front of a boy and throwing your arms around him.

Tsukishima is 13 years old when he realizes that you don’t love him back. Not in the way he wants.

Though, to be honest, he knew from the moment he saw you with the boy from your class walk home together from school, hand in hand.

You’re both in junior high and all you seem to want to talk about is your stupid boyfriend. It’s a different boy, not the same one he saw you with that previous February. This one is taller, not as tall as Tsukishima, but you say that height isn’t something you look for in a boyfriend. He can’t help but to feel the jealousy and sadness seep in at that.

“he’s older, you know. He’s turning 15 in a few weeks and he says that I can meet his family at his birthday party.” You’re seated on Tsukishima’s bed while he’s at the desk, trying to tune you out and do his homework. He hopes you’ll stop talking about him and do the same. You don’t. “oh, and I know you’ve never had a girlfriend, so you won’t know this, but he’s such a good kisser. Like, you can definitely tell that he’s got some experience compared to my ex. Isn’t that so weird? Me? Having an ex?”

Tsukishima doesn’t like this. You’re changing, trying to be older than you actually are to impress this older boy that he’s never even met. Not that he wants to. He’s gotten used to the dull ache of his heart breaking over and over again, the steady and constant reminder that you won’t ever see him the way that he sees you. He’s mastered the art of seeming okay, masking his feelings and pushing them deep down where no living soul will ever see them. But if he had to see you with this… boyfriend… he’s not sure that he’d recover.

So instead, he shuts up. He stays quiet and lets you babble on about all the little things that this boy does for you, letting the ache in his chest grow and grow. It’s better than the alternative, telling you how he feels. No, that’s not an option. He can’t risk losing you.

Tsukishima Kei is an idiot. He knows this for a fact after having to watch you pine after endless boys and men all the way up until university. Boyfriends that come and go, the make out sessions that he gets graphic descriptions of and a constant damp shoulder from holding you after your heart gets broken.

He pretends to laugh along when you joke about him being single for so long, his heart squeezing painfully at the reminder that his long-time crush has eyes for every man except him.

He only comes back from his heart-break haze when he steps into the gym after class. Only he wishes that he hadn’t.

Calling out a greeting, he sees you standing alone with Kyoutani. Except he’s not sure if it counts as standing, it’s more of a pinning to the wall. Kyoutani’s body caging you in, your back pressed to the wall with your hands around his neck. Even from a distance, he can see your usual excited smile, happy to have gotten attention from the boy you’d been pining after.

“sorry.” Tsukishima can only mutter, quickly turning around and walking out the gym again. He can hear your muffled voice, probably reassuring Kyoutani that it’s okay. He wishes that he’d walked faster, so he would’ve missed the unmistakable sounds of kissing and your soft sighs.

Tsukishima hasn’t let himself cry over you in years. He forces himself to go numb, push away any and all bad feelings until his breathing gets steady and he can look you in the eye again.

But this time, he can’t stop it. He’s fallen to the floor as soon as the bathroom door locks behind him. It’s disgusting, sitting on the floor with his hands pressed to his eyes, trying to force the tears back inside. His classes clink onto the floor, skidding away from him as his body shakes.

Tears stream down his face and drips down his shirt, turning the fabric into a blotchy mess, matching his flushed face and the snot running from his nose. His sobs echo off the walls, arms hugging his knees while the image of your body pressed against his teammate flashes behind his eyes every time he blinks.

He hasn’t cried over you in years. So, when it all hits him, it hits hard.

He misses practice completely, spending his time laying on the filthy floor in the bathroom and clutching his chest, trying to bring the broken pieces back together. He finally stands after what feels like an eternity. Picking up his glasses from the floor, he puts them on and watches himself in the mirror. Face flushed pink, eyes bloodshot and snot running from his nose, he thinks about what his mother said when he was a kid.

“love is what you feel when you care for someone deeply.”

A bitter laugh fills the room, his own hard eyes meeting him in the mirror.

His mother was wrong. Love isn’t what you feel when you care for someone deeply. All you feel is pain. The dull twisting of a knife in your chest as you watch the one you love fall for someone else, over and over again until you accept that their soft and loving eyes will never meet yours. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself when you’re standing in the bathroom of the gym where you saw said person fall in love with someone new. That you’ve accepted it.

#wilted.flowers #wilted.tsukishima #sprout.tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst

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wisteriashouse · 4 years

Text

sweet confession.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 4351

You’d never thought yourself to be the jealous type.

But when your best friend, Rengoku Kyoujurou, asks you what a suitable gift to confess with would be after a morning of sparring exercise, that green eyed beast in you somehow finds the energy to rear its ugly head.

The second the question leaves his mouth, you pause with your towel in hand to stare at his hopeful, earnest expression for a moment, a little thrown off by his words. Kyoujurou isn’t particularly close to anyone out of the corps besides his younger brother, being far too devoted with his job as a demon slayer to have the free time to know many people outside of the corps. The few people whom he does interact much with are you, Shinobu, when he gets injured, and of course, Kanroji.

You purse your lips, suddenly contemplative. Does Kyoujurou have feelings for the Love Pillar?

Kyoujurou hasn’t mentioned anything about it to you, but it would make sense for the two of them to be especially close, considering that Kyoujurou had acted as her trainer and master in Flame Breathing back in the past. Neither has Kanroji, for that matter, but she’s always been closer to Shinobu compared to you anyway.

“Why do you ask?” You glance at him, trying to keep your tone as light and breezy as possible. Kyoujurou’s confident gaze falters for a moment, clearly hesitant, before he gathers his courage and opens his mouth to speak. “I would like to gift someone special to me with a present, but I do not know what I should give! I thought that I should ask you, since I trust your opinion!” His cheeks are dusted pink.

It’s almost painfully obvious to you who this ‘special someone’ is to him, but you force a smile onto your face, nodding in response to his question.

“Ahh... well, personally, I like western desserts, like the ones Kanroji-san makes.” The mere thought of them makes your mouth water, but you’ve never really been close enough with her to ask for them. You mostly just steal them off Kyoujurou, who she bakes for regularly on a weekly basis. “Castella, tiramisu, crème brûlée, you know, the works.”

Kyoujurou’s eyes are fixed on you as you speak, nodding attentively along everything you say. That’s when you realise that he can’t give Mitsuri her own cakes and hurry to rectify your earlier words.

“But since you’re giving it to someone special, you should find something that they personally like! You should ask them directly yourself.” You add on hastily, before he can ruin his gift giving because of you. “If it’s someone who’s really important to you, you could try making something with your own hands. It would be more intimate and from the heart, am I right? I think it’d be really sweet.”

The seconds the words escape your mouth, part of you wants to hit yourself over the head. Why are you helping him get together with someone else?

You wonder if you should invite Obanai along to your pity party. He’d probably send Kaburamaru after you to bite your fingers off instead.

Lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Kyoujurou staring at you, fingers twisted in the fabric of his own towel. Something made with his own hands? He’s never really ventured into the finer arts of cooking or baking, but if that’s what you want, he’ll try his best to give it to you.

“I think it’d be really sweet,” you’d said. Kyoujurou wants you to think of him as sweet.

There’s an important question he wants to ask you, after all.

>>>

“Like this?”

“Ah, no, Rengoku-san! You’re overmixing the egg whites!” Mitsuri yelps as she rushes over to his side, pulling the bowl from his hands. A bit of the meringue he’d been whisking splatters on his nose, and Kyoujurou peers into the bowl hesitantly, scratching his chin. “So, not like this either?”

He’s been doing this all morning, and he still can’t seem to get it.

“You need to handle the egg whites with a more delicate touch,” Mitsuri explains, setting his latest failed attempt next to six other bowls - prior victims of his dismal baking skills. “If not, the meringue will deflate. They need to have stiff, fluffy peaks!”

“Hmm!” Kyoujurou makes a noise of understanding, bending over the counter to study the batch that Kanroji has made earlier. Honestly, he can’t really tell the difference between and successful and failed meringue, but if Kanroji says that it’s not alright, there is no way he’ll be confident giving it to you. “This is more difficult than I thought it would be! Senjurou has always said my cooking isn’t that terrible, but I see now that he was just trying to make me feel better. I will never subject him to the torture of eating my cooking ever again.”

“Eh? No, Rengoku-san, you aren’t that awful...” Mitsuri presses her lips together as she looks over the mess that is her kitchen. Several broken egg shells lie on the ground, testament to Kyoujurou’s overwhelming strength and zeal. “Well... maybe just a little. As I said earlier, if you want me to bake them for you to gift, I would be willing to do that too!”

Kyoujurou shakes his head immediately, resolute in his determination. “No, I cannot.” He looks down at his hands, covered in egg white and sugar. “I want this gift to be from the heart, and it would lose its sincerity if I were to ask you to make it.”

He’s interrupted by a squeal from Mitsuri, her hands clasped to her chest and heart in her eyes. “That’s so sweet, Rengoku-san!” She gushes. “I never knew you were so romantic! Of course I’ll do my best to help you! You’ll definitely master the art of meringue whipping with practice!”

“I’ll do my best, Kanroji!” With that declaration, Kyoujurou takes a glance at his hands once more. The palms are calloused, small, bone white scars scattered over his skin. “A more delicate touch...”

Perhaps it’s because he’s really only known wielding a sword his entire life, so he struggles to understand just what it would entail. “What would be a ‘delicate touch’?”

Mitsuri pauses to press a finger to her lips, face scrunched up in concentration as she tries to think of a suitable explanation. “Well, imagine how you would hold y/n’s hands if you could. That would be a delicate touch!”

Your hands. Holding your hands.

He’d be gentle. Cradle your hands to him with tenderness, tell you that you’re the most beautiful person in the world in his eyes. Treasure you, love you-

Kyoujurou turns to look at Mitsuri with a frown, mildly confused. “I do not think I would want to tell the egg whites that they are beautiful!”

Mitsuri gasps, cupping her cheeks with her hands as she shakes her head from side to side. “Rengoku-san, you’re really too sweet and gentlemanly... ahh, my heart is fluttering. I love how romantic you are!” She takes a deep breath to calm herself, fanning her cheeks. “If you do hold y/n’s hands, you’d be firm but gentle, wouldn’t you? You should apply the same touch to the egg whites!”

More gentle. More delicate. Kyoujurou can do that.

Determined, he picks up another egg and holds it up.

“I can do this!”

>>>

He’s been spending an awful lot of time with Mitsuri lately, you think to yourself.

You’re waiting in the dojo of the Rengoku Estate for Kyoujurou to show up, bokuto in hand and absentmindedly practicing your kata. He’s late by a few minutes, and although you normally wouldn’t mind that, he has mentioned earlier that he’s meeting with Mitsuri beforehand. What for, however, you don’t know.

Pausing in the middle of swinging your practice sword, you glance down at your feet, pursing your lips.

Since when had Kyoujurou start to have feelings for Mitsuri?

“I can’t believe he didn’t even tell me that he was interested her.” You mumble to yourself under your breath, feeling offended for some reason before guilt hits right after. It’s not that he has to tell you, so why do you feel so annoyed? It’s not his responsibility to tell you everything that goes on in his life, not his obligation.

The door slides open behind you all of a sudden.

“Who is interested in who?”

“Ah! Kyoujurou! Don’t just barge in like that!” You cry out in shock, fumbling with your bokuto before you can drop it. Kyoujurou laughs brightly at your reaction, his face flushed as if he’d run all the way here.

“My apologies for making you wait, I had to rush here!” He grins at you, moving to drop his belongings at the side of the dojo. You squint; there’s a lacquered box typically used to store desserts, was it from Mitsuri? Before you can ask him about it, he’s already picked up his practice sword and smiling at you, adjusting the tie of his hakama. “I hope you don’t mind too much that I’m late! Let us begin training, then!”

It’s only then that you notice that his hair is damp, and his clothes seem ruffled. You blink, trying to keep your expression neutral as you ready your own sword into a fighting stance, but on the inside, your mind is racing. What on earth was he doing with Mitsuri?

Well, not that it’s any of your business, anyway. If Kyoujurou is interested in Mitsuri and the girl reciprocates, you’ll be happy for the two of them! Happy... for the two of them... the two of them going out on dates... and kissing...

Oh. You don’t like that idea very much now.

Kyoujurou lunges forward, swinging his blade in a smooth upward stroke before you can clear your mind. “Flame Breathing, Second Form, Rising Scorching Sun!”

Distracted, you barely manage to change your grip in time. “Snow Breathing, Fourth Form, Hoarfrost!” Kyoujurou’s sword collides hard with yours, the sound of your blades meeting echoing in the dojo. You wince as Kyoujurou forces you back and quickly disengage, retreating a few steps.

“Flame Breathing, Fifth Form, Flame Tiger!” Kyoujurou follows up easily, relentless as he swings his blade. Sucking in a deep breath, you dive between his legs and lunge.

“Eighth Form, Winter Avalanche!”

“Your stance is off!” Kyoujurou calls over the din as you press him with a continuous barrage of strikes, countering with his own fourth form. “You’re not focused enough!”

Breaking off the attack, you leap back, adjusting your grip again.

What does Mitsuri have that you don’t? Is it because her hair is such a pretty colour? Because her personality is so bubbly and sweet? Because she bakes really nice western desserts and you can’t? You aren’t as outgoing, your hair is drab compared to even Kyoujurou’s, and-

… and the tip of Kyoujurou’s bokuto is resting against the your throat.

“You really are distracted today.” Kyoujurou comments, and you let out a little groan of disappointment as he lets the point of his sword fall. The expression on his face is one of genuine concern. “Is something the matter?”

Smacking yourself on the head in an attempt to rid yourself of all thoughts, you shake your head and ready your sword once more. Focus!

“I’m sorry, it was my fault.” You admit, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “Come on, let’s train properly. I’ll do better this time.”

“It’s not like you to be distracted, however.” Kyoujurou takes a step closer and you glance up to see him standing far too close to you, so close that your eyes are level with the exposed strip of skin from his collar. There’s a faintly sweet smell of burnt sugar and cream lingering on him, the very same scent that Mitsuri wears. Did he... “There is a flush on your cheeks and your pupils are dilated. Do you perhaps have a fever?”

Alarmed at his observation, you clap your hands over your cheeks and shake your head. Who? Flushed? Definitely not you. “I feel fine.” You desperately lie between your teeth. “Come on, let’s go another round!”

“Hmm.” Kyoujurou stares at you for a while longer before he takes a step back, a stroke of fortune for your madly pounding heart. “Well then, let us continue!”

Glad to have averted that crisis, you force your mind to stay on track for the rest of the training session, allowing Kyoujurou to pound every bit of distraction out of your bones with his bokuto. At the end of a series of matches, you’re sure that you’ve turned into one giant bruise, wobbling when you try to pick yourself off the ground and finally giving up, collapsing back onto the mats with an unintelligible groan.

“It was a good spar! We ended later than usual, today!” Kyoujurou enthuses as he sits cross legged next to you, seemingly still brimming with an unholy amount of energy. Staring at him for a few seconds more, you shake your head before letting yourself slump over on the ground, unable to comprehend how he’s not yet flopped over next to you out of sheer exhaustion.

“It’s your fault for coming late.” You grumble, feeling the ground dig into every bruise you have on your body. Too tired to think straight, you drag yourself over the floor to Kyoujurou, who’s tying his hair out of his eyes, and promptly pillow your head in his lap like you’ve done since you were kids.

His thigh stiffens under your touch, but he doesn’t remove himself from you. Instead, his hand reaches up to pull stray strands of your hair behind your ear, before his palm moves to rest gently on your cheek. “When is your next mission?”

He sounds slightly nervous.

“Hmm?” You’re too tired to put much thought into it, letting out a yawn. You’re just so tired, and you haven’t been getting proper sleep for the last few days, too wrapped up with thinking about the man in front of you. “I’m leaving tonight... I think. Some demon rampaging about in one of the northern mountains. Hopefully it’s not too much trouble.”

Maybe when you’re away from him for a bit, you’ll be able to clear your mind.

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Kyoujurou takes a deep breath, trying to bolster his courage. “When you come back... I have something important to tell you.” He says aloud, his voice solemn. Kyoujurou has never once thought of himself as a coward, but the thought of so much as confessing his feelings to you... it makes his heart swell and feel incomparably tiny at the same time.

You’d never break his heart on purpose, of course, but he knows the power you have over him. It’s one that you’re perhaps not even aware of, but he feels it keenly with every word you say, every smile you send his way. It scares him sometimes, but he’s learned that it’s as impossible to escape as gravity - he can only let himself fall.

When you don’t reply even after a full minute, Kyoujurou looks down in confusion to see your eyes shut and your breaths escaping you in tiny snores.

“Oh.” His heart trips in his chest at the sight. Reaching over carefully so as not to wake you, he tugs out his haori and places it over you. Quietly, Kyoujurou picks up a few strands of your hair and presses his lips to them, eyes soft as he watches you sleep. He should probably wake you up so that you can head off your mission, but he can’t bring himself to interrupt your rest just yet.

Kyoujurou glances at the lacquered box out of the corner of his eye, at the slight burns on his fingers, before he looks down at you once more. There’s an unspeakable emotion welling in his chest. He smiles.

“I can be patient.”

>>>

You’ve been moping for an entire afternoon.

Sure, your mission ended up successful, but it fell drastically short of your usual standards. You’d been so ridiculously distracted by your own thoughts that you’d nearly let one of the demons get away - and you are a Pillar! If Shinazugawa hears about this, he’ll never let you live it down.

Groaning in frustration, you sink your face into your pillow, eyes shut tightly. Even in the darkness, you still see a familiar grin seared into your mind, those captivating golden eyes looking straight into your soul. It’s been like this for days, you blame all your distractions on Rengoku Kyoujurou. If only he wasn’t so trustworthy, so kind, so passionate, so him-

You can almost hear the way he says your name. Have you really been thinking about him so much that you’re hallucinating about his voice? With another groan, you burrow yourself deeper into the blankets. Just when had you fallen for him so hard?

“I’m sorry for dropping by without a prior notice!” His voice continues to say, and you pause in burying yourself in blankets, confused. That doesn’t quite sound like your imagination... “May I come in? I have something to tell you.”

Bolting upright in shock, you throw the covers off your head to see the outline of him through the paper screen of your door. He’s actually here! In a panic, you try to comb down your hair as quickly as possible, smoothing out your robes before you rise to open the door for him.

“You know I don’t mind it when you come by.” You scold, standing to the side to let Kyoujurou in. In truth, you want to pull out your hair - the suddenness of his visit has left your heart racing in your chest, and you’re not even dressed in decent clothes! He’s dressed casually today, one of the rare times you see him out of his uniform. “Why the sudden visit, though?”

Kyoujurou pauses for a moment, and that’s when you notice the lacquered box in his hands, a small affair elaborately carved with flower and flame motifs. “Sit first,” he urges, and though a little confused, you do as he says. To your surprise, however, Kyoujurou doesn’t sit informally in front of you - instead, he adopts the formal seiza position with both legs folded beneath him and takes a deep breath.

Quite baffled, you reach out to tug at his sleeve. “Kyo, what are you doing?”

“Please give me a moment.” You’re stunned at the solemnity of Kyoujurou’s voice, his fingers gripping the box in his hands tightly. Is he perhaps nervous about something? Rengoku Kyoujurou, who smiles even in the face of demons and bloodshed, nervous? “I must build up my courage.”

At this point, you’re almost starting to panic from all the trepidation. Did something happen with Senjurou? His father? The possibilities popping up in your head seem to only get worse and worse, but since he asked you for time, you’ll give it to him. Anxious, you play with the hem of your robe, watching as Kyoujurou closes his eyes and breathes deeply for a few seconds. Just what is it he wants to tell you?

Kyoujurou’s eyes flash open all of a sudden, almost as if flames have ignited in them, and he thrusts the box he’s holding at you with both hands and an earnest expression on his face. He parts his lips to speak.

“This is cake!”

Stunned at the volume of his declaration, you blink down at the box being offered to you, before you look back up at the man before you, taking in the way his lips are pressed tightly together, his eyes focused on the spot just above your shoulder. “This is... cake?”

There’s a sharp inhale, and Kyoujurou nods his head vigorously, still quite determinedly not meeting your eyes. “Yes! It is cake!”

Still not quite understanding why he’s so nervous about a piece of cake, you take the box from Kyoujurou carefully, flipping open the lid. To your surprise, there’s a slice of castella cake nestled inside, the top glazed with burned sugar and a small silver fork lying next to it.

“You got me cake!” Kyoujurou’s heart thumps wildly in his chest as he watches you lift the box closer, your eyes sparkling and a happy grin on your face. All those sleepless nights and failed attempts are forgotten in an instant, they’re all worth it just to see you smile like this. “Thank you, Kyoujurou!”

“I’m glad you like it!” Kyoujurou replies loudly, trying to calm his heart so that he can focus on getting the correct words out this time. “Please enjoy it!”

You beam at him, picking up the fork. “It looks a little lopsided,” you say, and Kyoujurou swallows nervously. To be honest, he hadn’t been completely satisfied with this batch, but Mitsuri had run out of eggs and he’d been forced to give up. Kneading his thighs in anticipation, he watches with bated breath as you cut a piece with the fork and lift it to your mouth, chewing it thoughtfully.

Before his thoughts can run away with him, your expression brightens and you turn to look at him, licking the crumbs off the fork. “It tastes great! The burnt sugar on top makes it really sweet, I love it.” You cut another piece, and this time, lean forward to hold it up to his lips. “Here, you try a piece too!”

You’re too close. Your scent is muddling with his head, the heat you emanate dancing along his skin - he’s too keenly aware of it. He wants to wrap you in his arms, bury his face in your hair, draw you close. But now’s not the time for that.

Very slowly, he opens his mouth and takes a bite, eyes fixed on the way you smile radiantly at him. Kyoujurou doesn’t have the heart to tell you that he can’t quite bear the taste of castella after having tested so many over the last few days. “Mm, it’s good.” He says instead, and you grin, pleased.

“So, what is it that you needed to say to me today?” You hum cheerfully as you cut yourself another slice. Ah, right, he was supposed to... Then you pause, and your eyes narrow as you squint at him. “Do you need something from me? You know I’d do it even without the cake, yes?”

“No, there is no favour I need!” Kyoujurou hastens to answer. It’s something else that he wants from you, and to ask you to give it to him would require far more than a simple slice of cake. He takes another deep breath, eyes flickering to you as you take another bite.

Say it now, Rengoku Kyoujurou. Say it!

“I-”

“Oh, you were mentioning something about confessing a few days ago.” You interrupt him, and the words are trapped in his throat once again. “How did it go? Did that special someone...” you purse your lips, “accept your affections?”

Kyoujurou looks down at the piece of castella sitting in front of you, a deep sigh rising up in his chest. “Well, no. Actually, I still have not confessed.”

“Eh?” You look at him, clearly shocked. “Why not? That’s not like you, Kyo.”

He manages a small grin, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Perhaps because I am afraid of the possible rejection.” Kyoujurou says lightly. “I do not know what I would do if that person turns me down.”

He tells you this as casually as possible, but then you surprise him by looking up at him with those sincere eyes, clasping his hand tight in yours. “To have your affection like that, I think that person is very fortunate to be so precious to you.” You tell him earnestly, and his heart skips a beat in his chest. “Mitsuri would surely appreciate it if you tell her directly-”

Wait, Kanroji?

“The one I wanted to confess to is not Kanroji!” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, desperate to make his feelings known to you. Was that what you were thinking the entire time? That he was interested in pursuing Kanroji? “It is you.”

There’s a clatter as the fork in your hand falls to the ground, the sound echoing in his ears. You gape at him, before you look down at the cake in your hands, and then back to him. He sees the moment the pieces fall in place, and then a little noise of realization escapes your lips.

“Oh.”

He decides to speak before his courage can abandon him completely. “I’ve been wanting to say this for a while now. Kanroji advised me to pair the confession with a gift, hence the question. I wanted to give you something you would like.” You’re still staring at him with wide eyes, a dumbfounded expression on your face. Kyoujurou swallows, fists his hands in his hakama trousers, and opens his mouth to speak.

“I love you.”

You blink owlishly at him.

“You do not have to reciprocate.” Kyoujurou reassures. His chest feels lighter now that the words that have been residing there so long are finally aired. He rises to his feet. “I just wanted to let you know of my feelings for you. Then, I will take my leave first-”

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait.”

He glances down at you in surprise. Your own cheeks are a beautiful hue of crimson, rosy as the rising sun, but there’s a brilliant smile on your face as you look up at him. “Are you really going to leave without letting me accept? That’s terribly rude of you.” Your laughter reminds him of tinkling bells.

“I love you too, Kyoujurou.”

He pulls you in close to kiss you, your laughter imprinted along his lips before he buries his face in your hair to hide his smile. Your lips taste like sugar, sweeter than anything else in the world.

You’re what happiness tastes like.

#MY GOD THIS IS THE SAGA OF I REALLY WANT TO DELETE BUT IT WAS TOO MUCH EFFORT NOT TO POST #rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro #kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu rengoku #kimetsu kyojuro

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

Kisses Like Wine: Part 3

In honor of the new photo, I think I will post this now. :)

Warnings: Nothing, the reader remains a blank canvass. Might have cursing.

Summary: The reader is working undercover where she things the next heist will be, while trying to figure out the Thief's ways…

Note: There really are diamonds in all these colors! I spent way too much time looking it up.

“Joe F. Gambrel and Co., how may I direct your call?” I shifted in my seat a little. The chair was not that uncomfortable, but I felt like I was definitely out of my comfort zone. I listened to the person on the other side, put them on hold. Started an email to my boss. Took them off hold. “I am so sorry. Mr. Larsen is in a meeting, may I take a message?” I typed the message in the email, hung up, hit send.

This was the shape of my day. Take messages for my reprobate boss, who was never in the office, and try to look like someone else. Act like someone else.

And, most of all, case the joint. I wondered, briefly, if the Thief ever called his work that…casing the joint. Probably not. He did not look like someone who used twenties gangster slang.

As I wandered the office suite, I hoped I was not wasting my time. I was working for a high end antiquities firm. If you wanted something, they got it for you. They did not have a lot of staff, and the bosses seemed to be out of the office more than not. The floors directly below me were home to a large business dedicated to restoration.

I’d been studying, and I was ninety nine percent sure that this was the next place the Thief would break into. The crown was — just a crown. Pretty, historied. I suspect he took it because he could, not because he wanted it. After all, it had been right there.

No. He had come for the Star. Almost a half a year prior, someone had stolen The Golden Queen. And now, if I had guessed right, he would be coming for a incredibly rare, beautiful pink diamond called The Compass Rose.

I went and looked at it, not for the first time. At the top floor of the high rise, the company — and Keith Larsen — kept the Compass Rose on display in an act of hubris that was sure, if Greek Myth was any indication, to anger some God eventually. It was in a huge room, the ceiling was all glass that arched up to a sharp point that was illuminated at night. The floor was marble, the walls a warm sandstone. Four benches, one on each side of the pillar that held the diamond’s display case. One wall held a fountain and greenery, meant to look like a small, exotic waterfall. The water trickled softly as I went as close to the case as I dared. And there. The largest pink diamond that had ever been discovered in Australia, glittering deep rose. It was one of a kind.

My thief was collecting a full set. There were three diamonds, including this one, in Midas’s Rainbow that the thief had not stolen.

He could have gone after one of the other ones. I could be wrong.

But I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. I had bribed my way in, under a new name with a perfectly wrought set of identification papers, even a credit card. I dyed my hair and carefully applied my make up so that I made my face a little different. So if I ran into him, he wouldn’t immediately know it was me. It was not, probably the best plan, but my training consisted of books and watching Leverage.

I was staring at it too long, the security guard peeked in.

“Miss?” The security guard peeked in. Older man, with warm, friendly eyes and a lovely voice that seemed not to match his age. We’d spoken a few times on my daily check of the diamond. No one was allowed to be in the room too long, and he was gently reminding me it was time to go.

I went out the door, leaned against the wall next to him, and asked the question that I’d been asking myself for weeks, since I started working here. “If you were going to steal the Compass Rose, how would you go about it?”

He stared at me for so long I thought he was going to go report me. “That’s not a smart question to be asking, around here.”

“There’s no harm, though.” I said. His voice bothered me. I wanted more, if I could listen to it a little longer…

He shook his head and didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry if I offended.”

He gave me a gentle smile, touched his ear and pointed to a corner of the room. Then he shooed me towards the door.

Back at my desk I snuck out my steno notebook from its hiding place in a stack of unused notebooks in my desk drawer. It was where I kept my plans. Layout of the building. Everything I learned. Since my purse could get searched at any time, I only had it at work. One steno pad looks like all the others, right? Locked in my drawer, under a box of tampons.

The fountain has to be the way in. There needs to be a way to service the pipes behind the wall.

If I could break something in the fountain without getting caught, someone would have to fix it. Someone would have to open the door or the hatch, and I’d know how to get in.

And the thief always liked distractions. But what kind of distraction would he manage to create?

My work day ended, I grabbed my purse, made sure my desk was locked, and started out.

“Honey?” The first front desk receptionist called after me.

I smiled and crossed over.

“I just wanted to remind you, tomorrow they are bussing in a bunch of high school students to tour the floors so they can see what it takes to restore old art.” She smiled at me. “You’ll want to make sure to get here early before they get here…it’s going to be a madhouse.”

Cue distraction.

The next day I went to see the madhouse for myself. I wanted to see the teachers. Most were women. I didn’t discount them completely, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t shave his mustache if he could avoid it. There. Curly, dark hair. Tweed jacket with elbow patches. What century did he think this was? I followed him as he ushered bored looking kids, careful not to let me see his face. Finally I went around a dented suit of armor and managed to get face to face with him. “Hey!” I said cheerfully.

It wasn’t him. Eyes too far apart, nose too small, just not him.

I apologized and walked off just as one of the teachers asked, brightly, “Can we see the Compass Rose?”

“Well. There’s no reason why not. The public are allowed to go in, but only one at a time, I think?” The woman who had gotten stuck showing the group around said. I hid as quickly as I could, not wanting to be pulled into the conversation.

I walked back to my office, hoping no one had noticed I’d slipped out, to be sadly disappointed. My boss was sitting on the corner of my desk.

“Where were you?” He asked me.

“Just wanted to see what all the noise was about.” Behind him, the lady security guard who switched on and off with the one I usually saw stood, looking that part angry, part unamused way only a security guard could.

“Open your desk.”

“What is this about?”

“The Compass Rose. It’s gone. I want to know if you have it. You spent enough time looking for it…made jokes about stealing it. So. Did you?”

I unlocked the desk and the guard pushed me aside, dumping the contents on my desk. I held my breath when she flipped through the notebooks, but they all were empty.

Empty. Oh, no.

I let her paw through everything I owned. Let her pat me down. “Unless she swallowed it, sir, I don’t think she has it.”

“I didn’t swallow it!” I let panic creep into my voice. It was not hard.

I let them x-ray me. I did. I admit it. The lab tech a few floors down gave me sympathetic looks as I stood there, shivering, in my gown.

And then I let them fire me. The frustrating thing was the lack of knowledge. They refused to let me know anything. What happened? How? Why? Was a playing card left behind? I wanted to know.

But most of all I wanted to know where my notebook was.

Two days later as I packed up my apartment, I received a package. My name…my alias, rather, in quotes. Quotes. I grabbed a letter opener and ripped it open with more force than I needed. I suspected, already, who would be cheeky enough to put quotation marks around my fake name.

My notebook.

The last page, there was a five of diamonds tucked in like a book mark. The back of the card the same as the one I carried with me wherever I went.

Across the last page he’d written, “A five star card for a five star effort. Not bad for your first try. I wish I’d thought of the fountain. That was clever, if a bit damp.” A couple of crabbed notes along side my own. Suggestions. Not actual plans. No, I’d need to catch him to find out how he did his theft, if he could be convinced to tell me even then.

I sat down, hard. He knew where I was. Where I lived. Knew I had a steno notebook, knew I’d hide it because I could have my belongings searched. How? How did he learn so much about me? I thought over the people I had met, since getting that job.

I imagined large hands carefully drawing things out of my purse, lining them up neatly on the marble of the entry way desk. “Sorry about this, miss.” The guard’s voice said, as he went through my things. Large, but graceful hands. A warm voice that bothered me because I’d heard it before. The security guard. He’d been guarding the damned diamond all along.

“Five star effort? Oh, I’ll show you. I’ll show you.”

I worried about telling my family of my failure, then I realized. He’d given me a clue. The cheeky bastard had given me a clue. Because one of the other diamonds was kept in a five star hotel overlooking the Rhine.

He was telling me that he was going to steal the Heart of the Rhine, a mossy green diamond worth millions. Now, if only I could believe him.

Thank you to you lovely people for being on my tag list, if you want added or dropped just let me know. <3

@grogusmum @mishasminion360 @hnt-escape @littlemisspascal @pedro4ever @writteninthestars18 @fromthedeskoftheraven @sharkbait77

@quica-quica-quica @eri16 @the-blind-assassin @ayoungpascallover-readings @songsformonkeys

#casillero diablo wine commercial #the thief #pedro pascal

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browniefox · 3 years

Text

The One with the Motorcycle

@wrightfamilyweek day 4 - Free day! Which I took to mean 'shove my headcanon here'. At first I wanted to do something with Ryuunosuke, but I still haven't finished tgaa so uhhhh sorry my boy. Also, you can find this on AO3 here.

In which Trucy and Phoenix decide they need to find a more reliable method of getting around. Luckily, Phoenix already has a vehicle registered under his name.

oOo

“Does this mean that when I turn sixteen, I’ll get a motorcycle license?”

Trucy skips alongside her Daddy as they walk through the aisles of the storage facility. They pass locked garage after garage. Trucy has always known that her Daddy had somewhere he stores a bunch of stuff that doesn’t fit in the office, the stuff he used to keep in his apartment back when he had one, but this is her first time coming along with him.

There’s been a lot leading up to this. Now that Trucy’s getting a little older, there’s more things she wants to do, or go to, and Daddy seems to be getting a little busier too. He’s started going down to the library more often, and having some kind of meetings for lunch, and getting calls by people Trucy doesn’t know. They’re both getting busy, and buses and taxis only get them so far. Daddy had declared, in an almost resigned-sounding voice after they missed a bus and had to wait underneath the bus stop in the pouring rain for another thirty minutes, that perhaps it was time to find a more reliable method to get around.

“Dessie says she’s running a little late, but she’ll be here soon.” Trucy is in charge of the phone while Daddy frets over the pieces of paper in his hands, crinkling the edges up in his nervous hands.

Daddy doesn’t reply to this either, just keeps walking forward. Trucy frowns to herself. Daddy’s been kind of weird about this whole thing. From getting the Learner’s Permit, to the practice drives and lessons with Desiree, to his final test, but now if anything he seems at his most awkward and strange as they approach the storage unit.

They final come to a stop, and Daddy pulls up the metal door.

If old case files in the office were little glimpses into who Daddy was before Trucy knew him, this place was an in-color photograph.

There’s cardboard boxes with ‘sketchbooks’ scrawled on the front. There’s a dead plant in the corner. There’s a stack of picture frames, an old couch shoved into a corner, and a small wood table with rings from the ghosts of old drinks, a few splashes of paint marring the surface. There’s some art supplies shoved off in a corner that Trucy immediately goes over to, and piles of books Trucy hasn’t read before, and Trucy wants nothing more than to stay here all day and look through everything and anything in sight.

In the middle of the storage unit, however, is what they’ve come here for.

It’s a lilac-colored motorcycle. There’s an unhealthy-layer of dust on it - there’s a layer of dust on everything in the room - and Daddy brushes his hand over the seat and handles, sending a plume of the dust into the air. He starts sneezing and coughing over it and Trucy laughs a little at that. She stops in a moment, though, because of the almost-grim look on Daddy’s face as he stares at the bike.

They’ve been building up to this for months, in reality. Trucy realizes this now, that everything up to this point has been to get this motorcycle out of the garage and back onto the streets, because it was a vehicle Daddy already owns, and he wouldn’t have to go through the hassle nor money involved in getting a new one. But it’s also all conflicted with Daddy’s attempts to distance himself from the past.

Daddy wants to move forward in life, she gets that, but it makes Trucy sad anyway to see how nervous and resigned he’d looked about so much as calling the Delites for help. Like doing that much is losing something.

“So this is Aunt Mia’s bike?” Trucy asks, going over to it as well. She doesn’t know anything about things like this, but it looks like it’s in okay condition. It’s certainly not as shiny as Desiree’s, but it’s not bad.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Sorry I haven’t by.” He says, and she can tell he’s not talking to her. His eyes are fixed on the bike like sometimes he’ll stare at Charley for what seems like hours on end; it’s never for that long, but it feels like it might be at times. He tilts her head to Trucy and explains, “I used to come by and try to keep it clean and stuff, but things have gotten… complicated. I’m sure Mia’s upset I haven’t done more to maintain this since she’s been gone.”

Ah, it’s one of the days where he’s talking about Aunt Mia in the present tense. It’s hard to tell if that’s ever a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it’s just A Thing he does sometimes. Even after four years, there’s still so much Trucy hasn’t figured out about her daddy. Sometimes, he talks about Aunt Mia as the dead person she is, gone and out of this world, a deceased but loved person, just like Trucy’s mommy was talked about. Other days, though, it’s like he expects Aunt Mia to walk through the door any minute.

“Alright, well, let’s see what we can do before Desiree gets here.”

Daddy’s temporary license, the edges of which are almost torn up by his worrying hands, is set aside on top of the sketchbook box and he grabs a towel from one of the other boxes, setting to work on a more thorough dusting. Trucy searches through Daddy’s phone for the list of what to check for that Desiree had texted him and passes it over to Daddy.

Trucy picks a stool out from the mess of things and rifles through the sketchbook box, finding one and flipping through it. There’s mostly little doodles and the like on the pages, or realistic portraits of faces Trucy doesn’t recognize. She wonders if, were Daddy not so determined to distance himself from the past, she’d know any of them. There is a picture of Miles, and she knows him, so she smiles at that picture and lightly brushes her hand over the pencil markings. Miles looks really angry in the picture, and scribbled right next to him is ‘I’ll save you’.

And Daddy did.

“Alright, let’s see what we have to work with today!”

Desiree announces herself, carrying her own box of tools

“Thought you might not show up for a moment.” Daddy jokes, but it’s one of his hollow-sounding jokes. Desiree laughs anyway.

“Oh please, I’ve been waiting to get a look at this beast for myself ever since you told me about it!” Desiree says and starts going over the bike. She talks about oil and gas and spark plugs and batteries, looking over everything and digging through her stuff and checking things. She says they’re going to need a new battery, and definitely replace just about all of the fluids. Luckily, Desiree is well-capable of doing all of that, she assures them, and they’d be able to get it up and moving enough to get it to her shop where she could do some of the rougher things to do.

“How much do I owe you?” Daddy asks, and Desiree waves her hand.

“We can discuss that later, let’s focus on getting this beauty out of this dusty-old place and back here she belongs, huh?”

Desiree has said that every time, so far, that Daddy asks about price. Trucy can see that it means Desiree doesn’t really want to make Daddy pay for any of it, but it seems to put Daddy more and more on edge every time Desiree says it. He’s waiting for something bad to happen, and his tension over it bleeds into Trucy, even though she’s not worried. Desiree is a nice lady who likes to chat to Trucy and can talk a mile a minute about motorcycles. When she’s not talking about them, she’s talking about her husband, Ron

They walk the bike out of the storage facility, Desiree filling the space with chatter about what the make and model of Aunt Mia’s motorcycle is, and the pluses and minuses of it, and how it’s lucky that it already has a backseat for Trucy. Daddy says that he used to ride with Aunt Mia sometimes, eyes trained on the bike still, as if he expected it to fall apart at a moment’s notice.

Desiree’s red-hot bike is parked out front and she tells them to meet her at her shop. She’ll be able to finish up there, where the rest of her supplies is.

“Don’t worry, she should be able to get you there just fine. And anyway, you can tell me if anything starts sounding worrying!” Desiree says as she climbs onto her bike. It’s been what Daddy has been practicing on, what Daddy even passed his driving test on just yesterday, and the rumble of it had just started to become familiar. Trucy feels like she’s going to miss it, but she’s excited to see how Aunt Mia’s bike works out.

Desiree peels out and leaves Daddy and Trucy standing on the side of the road, Daddy regarding Aunt Mia’s bike like it’s a python that’s going to bite them.

“... maybe this was a bad idea.” Daddy says five months too late.

“You worry too much! C’mon, Dessie’s waiting for us!” Trucy hops next to him, excited to get on the bike. Daddy sighs, turning his helmet over and over in his hands. Trucy has her own, bought a couple months ago, but she hasn’t been allowed on a bike yet. ‘Not until I get my official license’, Daddy had insisted. Now is the time, though.

“But what if something happens? What if I crash, and you get hurt?” He says. Trucy feels a ripple of shock run through her and she looks at Daddy’s face. His expression is grim and an open wound of his emotion. Of worry and fear, “What if I crash and I ruin her bike? What if-”

“Daddy, you’re being dumb” Trucy informs him. Daddy looks at her, and she can already see him starting to close off again, but she steals the last few moments of honesty she can, desperately, “Daddy you can do this, okay? We’re going to be okay. Even if we have to go five miles an hour to get there.”

“I think I’m actually worse at driving slow.” Daddy grumbles. Trucy grabs his hands.

“Then we’ll go really fast. We aren’t giving up on this just because you’re scared.”

Daddy sighs and then ruffles her hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It’d be stupid to give up right now. It doesn’t matter how long it’s going to take.”

They put their helmets on and climb onto the bike. They both hold their breaths when the engine first starts, and then it roars to life. It’s different than Desiree’s although exactly how, Trucy isn’t sure. She wraps her arms around her daddy’s stomach as they get going, keeping her eyes open. She isn’t scared, she can’t be. She needs to seem sure and trusting over this, for his sake, for their sake, so that they can make it through here together.

Things don’t change a lot with Daddy. They’ve lived in the same place for all this time, and Daddy’s worked at the same bar, and Trucy’s worked at the same bar, and they have the same routines day to week to month to year. This is new, this is change, but it’s a good thing.

They roar down the streets for the first time, Daddy is shaking, Trucy can feel it with how tightly she’s holding onto him. The air roars past them, chillingly-cold.

He did this for me, Trucy thinks, and then, no, he did this for us. For family, so that we can keep moving forwards .

If they had stood still, they would’ve been alright with buses and taxis and rides from friends. But they are moving forward in life, they need the ability to do more, be more independent, further their own things.

And help, here they had help, from Desiree, and from the thoughtfulness of Aunt Mia to leave Phoenix to her bike, and Ron had told Trucy before that Phoenix had helped them (Trucy had already known this, she’s read that case and every other case what feels like a thousand times over, her illicit self-read bedtime stories) and that they’d been wanting to do something for the man ever since they heard about The Disbarment.

It’s sort of funny, how independence and getting help seemed to go hand-in-hand.

Trucy and her Daddy roar down the streets, and her grip loosens as she gets more comfortable, and Daddy stops shaking so badly as he gets into his groove, because he’s done this before and has been training and practicing, and he knows how to ride a bike now, and Desiree has taught him how to maintain it, and now, now they are going towards a new normal, a new schedule, a second half of the darkest time of their lives (of course, Trucy doesn’t know this, and neither does her daddy, and now it seems like the shadows is simply where they will always be living) and they prepare to meet it together.

#wrightweek21 #ace attorney #trucy wright #phoenix wright #fanfiction #fanfic #browniefox writes

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neutron-stars-collision · 4 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 18 - Holy Ghost

Masterlist; Chapter 17

Summary: First few days in Tallinn are like a calm before the storm, while you and Neil are getting used your new dynamic. It proves to be rather surprising...

Warnings: 18+ (yep, she did it again because these two wanted to); swearing.

Author’s Notes: So ummm... I’m not sure what happened here and you’ll be the judges of that. All I can say is that I’ve been inspired by the skewed tie and that Tallinn will take at least two more chapters because they keep getting distracted. Hope you’ll enjoy! Feedback is always welcome as I’m not sure what I’m doing...🙈

The lovely edit has been provided by my amazing and talented friend @sh3tani (thanks for putting up with my bs 💕)

Despite technically being a Tenet agent for a while, the dramatic changes of pace in your life never failed to amaze you. After that careless morning in London, mere hours later you got the text from TP, sending you and the Cavalry to Tallinn. Minutes afterwards, Neil burst into your room saying that the younger TP called, giving him directions to run a few lab tests and then to meet him in the capital of Estonia, as well. Neither of you had any clues as to why but then that was rather expected.

That is how you found yourself in a safe house in the suburbs of Tallinn. For security and convenience, you have joined Ives’s squad there while Neil booked a hotel room nearby to keep up the appearances before TP. For the first few days, the boss has not yet arrived in the city, and therefore, as Neil put it, there was much more room to maneuver. Whatever that meant.

Estonian safe house was a relatively vast apartment on the ground floor of an old brick house. It had six bedrooms furnished with simple Ikea beds, bedside tables, and a small wardrobe. There was also one bathroom (hell of an inconvenience for nine people occupying the place) and a kitchen opening into a living room with sofas and tv. The space was nearly barren save for the objects needed to survive for however long you were bound to stay there. On the day of your arrival, Ives sent you and Wheeler to the shop for the supplies, reasoning being that apparently you two had most brain cells in the whole team. You enjoyed the possibility to charge your introvert batteries before days spent with eight people, of which only two you actually knew. With close to no information concerning the point of the mission, the days have been spent idly chatting, playing games, and watching television. In Estonian, naturally. For you, a crucial part of the survival became continuous reception and the ability to reach out to Neil when needed. Which was often and soon became a passing joke among the rest of the company. Once Henrik tried to steal your phone and ended up with a bread knife pressed against his neck, the innocent fun ended. That was on day two.

Luckily you got your own room, while the others were forced to share. This you owed to the fact that you were not part of the squad and hence had the right to privacy. It proved rather useful the day when unexpected company came. You were busy trying not to burn the scrambled eggs on a scratched-up pan, half humming a song you heard on the radio. Despite the early hour, everyone was up and either moving about or outside on a run. If there was anything you have learned from the experience so far, it was that Tenet soldiers started the day early and were shit at cooking. Eggs, instant noodles, and oven pizzas were the menu staples. Sighing, you picked up the only clean plate left when you heard a commotion in the hallway. Not long after, a voice called out:

“Y/N? You’ve got a visitor” you did not like the amused undertone in that information.

“Yeah…?” hesitantly, you stepped into the hallway.

The cheeky grin was quite the sight at 9 am.

“Good morning, sunshine” you resisted the urge to break the plate on Neil’s head.

At least he brought coffee.

“Hey,” warily you looked at Michael, who was loitering next to you, interested in the situation “Should we…?” looking at the door to your room, you met Neil’s gaze.

“Naturally” he smiled and followed you in.

Only once you closed the door behind you both, blocking out the curious stares, you breathed out the air you did not know you were holding. You set the plate on the bedside table and grinned as Neil carelessly threw himself onto your bed.

“Thought I’ll get a kiss or something for all that awkwardness out there” you commented, eyeing the man sprawled on your mattress.

Briefly, you marvelled at how you have managed to become this comfortable with each other. But then almost having sex was bound to count for something. Supposedly.

“You will if you come here” Neil raised his head and extended a hand in an invitation.

Mournfully you glanced at your abandoned breakfast and crossed the space, intertwining your fingers with his. You were not surprised when Neil pulled you down onto the bed, only just managing not to lie on him. Feigning disappointment, he huffed and leaned in, kissing you slowly. Deepening the kiss, you tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him closer. With legs interlocked, half-lying on the narrow bed, it was all too real. In moments like this, it was easy to believe that maybe it was meant to be. Breaking up the kiss, you opened your eyes to stare at Neil. In the soft light coming through the opened shutters, you could clearly see the darker rims around his blue irises. In the morning, his eyes resembled the colour of an ocean. The long eyelashes framing the eyes and the eyebrows, furrowed in concentration, gazing back at you. Your eyes then landed on his parted mouth, the corners turned down slightly, and the shape of his lips. You wondered how someone this beautiful could choose you among all the people in the universe.

“Your breakfast and the coffee are getting cold” he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Do you want me to get up?” running your fingertips over his temple, you reveled in the intimacy of the moment.

Neil smiled and raised your joined hands to kiss your knuckles.

“Not really. I like having you this close so I can stare” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

“Same, actually,” you mirrored his expression, dragging fingers through the golden hair.

It seemed like your London evening full of important conversations gave you more confidence. Suddenly it was not that scary to share your thoughts and feelings with him because there was a chance he will understand. Or at least not ridicule you. As though Neil was reading your mind, he asked:

“What are you thinking about?” you could tell he was genuinely interested.

That was enough to make you feel a surge of feelings towards him. Maybe it won’t hurt to say something… Taking a deep breath, you warned:

“Just don’t laugh,”

“I’ll do my best” Neil bopped your nose quickly, making your brain short-circuit for a second.

What even. Focusing all your attention on him, your eyes wandered over his face. Resting on all the features that made him the man you loved.

“Sometimes I just can’t get over how beautiful you are… like a bloody masterpiece” you cupped his cheek “And I’ve no clue why you’re so fixed on me” sighing dejectedly, you awaited a response.

If the slightly widened eyes were any clue, he was surprised by your admission.

“That was probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten” Neil stumbled over the sentence.

So, it was worth saying. For another time, you left the discussion on how that could even be true.

“Have you seen yourself though? How could I not be fixed on you?” it was Neil’s turn to cup your cheek, making you blush.

The pure confidence in his eyes was too much to bear at the moment. Sitting up, you kicked him lightly, enjoying the affronted look.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you moved to stand up, but Neil took hold of your waist, sitting up as well.

You were too close again, noses brushing. It was easy to lean in and kiss him. Only when you did, a knock resounded in the room. Fucking hell.

“Can I come in?” the cockney accent was a giveaway “I bloody hope you two aren’t getting up to stuff”

Despite yourself, you giggled with your lips still brushing over Neil’s, making him sigh. For a millisecond, he tightened his grip over your waist and then let go and moved an inch away. You looked at him for permission before calling out:

“Be our guest”

In an attempt to look as casual as it was possible, you grabbed the plate with your cold eggs and passed Neil his coffee. Sitting back down on the bed, you pasted a neutral smile onto your face. As if that would divert anyone’s attention from your tangled hair and Neil’s flushed cheeks. Ives opened the door and scrutinized you both quickly, not missing how you frowned upon the first bite of your breakfast. Then he gave Neil a quick pat on the back:

“Good to see you, mate” he perched on the windowsill for the lack of any other furniture “I was hoping you’d at least come to say hi” he gave you both a knowing glance.

Cursing your own inability to say no to Neil, you grudgingly finished the eggs and took another sip of the lukewarm coffee. Next time, food first, then kissing. No matter how irresistible the bastard might be.

“I was planning to, only…” the bastard in question shrugged before glancing at you shortly.

“Oh, I know. Priorities and all that” Ives smirked upon your deepening blush “I get it, believe me. Plus, seeing how often Y/N is glued to her phone, I reckon you two are doing good” he winked.

Sensing Neil’s growing discomfort, you shot back:

“Don’t talk about me as though I wasn’t here” it was hard to look threatening when staring at someone like Ives, but you did your best.

“Or?” he arched his eyebrow amusedly.

“I’ll shoot you”

The sudden tense silence got interrupted by Neil breaking into a laugh, collapsing against you. So much for pretending you could keep away from each other. Once he calmed down, he rested his head on your shoulder and said:

“And that’s why I like you”

You did not know it was possible to blush even more. And yet. Even though what he said was hardly a surprise, he never mentioned anything like that with others present. Before you could come up with any response, Ives commented:

“Aren’t you two cute, eh?”

Lord give me strength…

“Ives” you warned, reaching for the gun you always kept in the drawer by the bed.

He laughed and raised his hands in defence.

“Okay, I’ll stop now” he glanced at Neil, who was comfortable enough, still leaning on you “Has he given you any more clues?”

You relaxed once the conversation steered onto more professional tracks.

“Not really. I ran the analysis on the gold bar he sent, and well, there’s literally nothing concrete there” Neil shrugged, “But I think it has something to do with the plutonium piece that went missing back in Kiev” he added.

“Is that part of the Algorithm?” you asked.

The topic has not really come up since your first conversation with TP in Boston, but from the information you got from Neil and others in the organisation, it seemed like the pieces were set in motion. In the Kiev Opera, another part of the compound has been lost. Maybe its purpose was to resurface in Tallinn so that you could take over.

“Yeah” Neil confirmed your suspicions with a curt nod.

“How… how do you know about this?” it was Ives’ turn to be confused, looking at you with palpable shock in his eyes.

Right… Sometimes it was hard to keep track of who knew what and why. And that was one of such moments. Straightening your back, you explained:

“TP told me. Apparently, I’ll have a role to play hence why I’m being dragged into this” glancing at Neil, who all of sudden looked rather sombre, you added, “Not only because of this idiot” giving in to the temptation, you ruffled his hair.

“…thanks” pouting, Neil moved away.

“Welcome”

*** You have left the apartment and quickly checked the maps again. Neil set your meeting for a rather obscure park square in the downtown area of the city since that was where he was supposed to meet TP later. At first, you wanted to refuse, to tell him that it was risky to go for a walk with the boss nearby. But then, you knew there was not much point in saying no to something that tempting. It was enough that you might not be able to spend time together at all the next few days.

Just when you were sure you have gotten lost in the greyness of the apartment blocks and identical streets, you spotted him waiting on the bench. The icy wind was ruffling his hair as Neil stared at the pavement, unaware of your attention. You smiled at the sight of his brown and green outfit and those strange shoes; you have seen the brogues before in Oslo. Now that was something worth a call out later. Ending the scrutiny, you approached him and, as a means of greeting, brushed the hair away from his forehead. That worked, as it always did. The blue eyes snapped up to meet yours:

“Hello” you offered him a small smile.

“Tere, kallis” the grin combined with the strange words he uttered made you frown.

“I hope that was something appropriate”

He took your hand in his and pulled you down onto his lap. The happy sparks in his eyes were almost enough to make you ignore the cold and the embarrassment of the situation.

“I thought you said we’re going for a walk” forcing a stern tone was difficult with how Neil gently cupped your flushed cheek.

“That we are. But first, I wanted to get you up close and personal” he brushed his nose against yours tenderly.

“I see…” with the corner of your eye you could see an older woman observing you from the nearby bench.

With a start, you realised how very much alike a couple you must look to any passerby. Sitting on Neil’s lap, with his arm securing you around the waist and your faces inches away, there were no questions about the nature of your relationship. But, somehow, that was okay. A stronger gust of wind made you shiver, which he noticed straight away and pulled you even closer, your lips nearly touching. The blue of his irises and the depth of focus in them made you gasp. It was always like this with him, as though you were the only person in the universe that mattered.

“We’ll get going now, only…” Neil met your gaze with a silent question.

You nodded. He could do anything he wanted anyway. He met your lips in a slow kiss, relishing in the feeling for at least half a minute. You placed your hand on the back of his neck to bring him a little closer, suddenly grateful for the position he put you in. Then, just as the kiss threatened to get more heated, Neil broke the contact and leaned back, taking in your dazed expression. He always knew how to get to you.

“Now we can go” he smirked, and you had no choice but to slide off his lap.

As soon as you were both standing, Neil grabbed your hand again and intertwined your fingers. As usual. It did seem like neither of you wanted to pretend today, and instead letting yourselves explore the ‘not-quite relationship’ you got into. For once, the voices in your head were silent, seemingly agreeing to the new developments. You did wonder how long that was bound to last.

“Ives says hi, by the way,” you broke the silence, looking around the cityscape.

This part of Tallinn certainly was not as picturesque as the city centre, but it had to do. After all, your sole focus was Neil. Not much else mattered when you were together. If that did not confirm your feelings, then god knows what did. Sighing, you turned to look at the man in question.

“You told him we’re meeting up?” he asked with a slight crease between his eyebrows.

Confusion, then.

“No. I just said that I’m going out for a walk, and he told me to say hi to you” laughing at the idiocy of the moment you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

In response, you got the signature Neil grin that was the beginning of your downfall all those months previously. Despite the absolute horror you felt during the initial conversation with Ives, now it was somehow less terrifying.

“Ah, I see” his tongue clicked thoughtfully, only making you laugh harder.

It was difficult to get the next sentence out.

“He also added that he’s surprised he’s not yet caught you sneaking out of my room at night”

The small snorting sound Neil let out made you want to kiss him right there, in the middle of the busy street.

“Why do I feel like he wants it to happen” he glanced at you quickly with an amused expression.

“Maybe it’s his thing” you retorted, savoring the laugh it prompted from your companion.

After that first morning in the safehouse, you have both decided to try and keep away from any rash actions or decisions while in Estonia. You certainly had enough of interruptions, and with the team sharing the space, it was all too precarious. Hence you have been meeting up outside, for strolls or lunch, talking about everything and nothing. Only now, that TP was around, it was bound to change, and you expected that this might be the last of those stolen moments.

“I’m sorry that we had to meet around here today” Neil interrupted your slightly melancholic thoughts “I wanted to take you out somewhere again, but he called, and I think it will be on soon” he lowered his voice to a slightly conspicuous tone, making you smile.

“It’s okay, at least that means I’ll know why the fuck am I even here” shrugging, you looked around at the shops you have passed by.

“For me?” Neil batted his eyelashes innocently while tightening his hold over your hand.

“Apart from that” this time you allowed him honesty “Don’t you ever get tired though? Of me?” the self-sabotaging voice contributed a question.

It was too late to take it back. But the way Neil looked at you then, with disbelief and fondness, was enough to excuse the moment on insecurity.

He stopped walking, making you freeze despite the streams of people going in both directions. You were like an island amidst a fast-flowing river. Neil forced you to meet his gaze by tilting your chin upwards. There was nothing playful in his eyes, just sincerity and love. And determination.

“Do you need me to remind you why that’s impossible?” you did not know when did his voice become so husky.

“Maybe” biting your lip, you searched his face, fascinated and curious.

Neil glanced at the teeth nibbling on your lower lip, and his tongue darted out, seemingly on reflex. Oh. When his eyes met yours again, you could see a hint of a new emotion there. He was hesitating for approximately 10 seconds before he started leading you again with purpose. Before you could ask a single question, he turned sharply into a non-descript alley between two crumbling buildings. It was empty save for a few pieces of trash lying around and a rusted door at the other end, with a metal padlock and a heavy chain. But your quick scan of the environment got interrupted by Neil wrapping his arm around your waist and pushing you at one of the walls. Just before your head could hit the bricks, he cradled the back of it, providing a safeguard. Ever so thoughtful. Wide-eyed, you glanced up at him to gauge the intention. The darkness and resolve you found were enough of an indicator.

“The walk will have to wait” he spoke before crashing his lips against yours.

The instinct kicked in instantaneously, making you respond by bringing him closer with your hand taking hold of his tie. Kissing Neil was like a fix for an addiction you did not want to fight against. No matter how urgent it was, you could always find a tempo that suited you both, neither fighting for dominance. It was like a dance where both were willing to lead and follow. Neil bit into your lower lip, drawing blood, tinting the kiss with that coppery taste. Fuck. You gasped into his mouth, shivering when his tongue ran along the split, licking off the droplets. It was enough to make you want more. As a payback, you caught his upper lip with your teeth, tugging at it lightly to remind him of the potential. But only when you pulled on his tie sharply, making Neil almost collapse against you, he broke the kiss with a groan. His eyes were hazed with lust, making you lightheaded the more you kept on gazing. The bloody shade of red on his lips made your pulse quicken. You still kept the hold on his patterned tie, making sure he was within your reach. His tongue darted out and licked off the remains of blood. That was a good cue to sober up. You released his tie and placed your hand over his heart, relishing in the way he was looking at you, as though you were a sight he could never have enough of.

“Huh…” you broke the silence and glanced at the entryway to the alley.

Thankfully no spectators.

“Is this all you’re going to say?” Neil’s perplexed facial expression made you laugh.

Sometimes it was fascinating to see him that disoriented after a kiss. Because it was a clear sign that not only you were affected by everything that transpired. Another reason to believe that maybe the feeling was mutual. Calming down, you started toying with his shirt collar. Even though heated kisses in dirty alleys were never your kind of thing, with Neil that too was exciting. And something you wanted to repeat.

“I mean… this is rather nice” you met his confused gaze and added, “Being with you like this”

Coherence for more complex sentences was nowhere to be found.

“I’m glad because I wanted that last hour of normalcy before we go back to the usual” Neil staggered over the sentence as well, making your heart stumble with fondness.

Pouring the feeling into your gaze, you grinned at him, running your hands over his shirt and lapels. You knew exactly what he meant. But still, with tongue poking out, you noticed:

“That sentence didn’t make sense, and yet I agree” the way his eyes darted onto your lips was enough to cause a resurgence amidst the butterflies.

Neil leaned in again, eager for another kiss. But you had other ideas, struck with the courage to tease him a little. You dropped your head and kicked him in the foot lightly. Just enough to bring his attention onto the subject of your scrutiny.

“The hell are those shoes though” you smirked upon his utterly lost gaze.

“What? You don’t like them?” the slight pout only made your grin wider.

With the hair in disarray, reddened cheeks, and pink lips, he was more than a sight to behold. And all that because of you. Wow.

“They look a little like you wanted to channel Pennywise or something” you laughed at his blank stare “Remind me to go through your wardrobe one day because you’re selling yourself short with those fashion choices” to emphasize the point you tugged on his tie again and frowned.

But it seemed like Neil managed to recover enough. He placed both of his hands on the wall, blocking your way out. The well-known smirk came back too. You had a feeling that you were about to lose this one battle.

“And yet here you are” he practically purred with a hungry look in his eyes.

You swallowed. Whenever he got like this, showing how much he wanted you, it was hard to think. Raking your head for a response, you settled on honesty again.

“That’s because I admire your soul” eyeing him intently, you added “And hair”

You tugged on the golden strands, making him whine in frustration. Good.

“And eyes” he met your gaze purposefully, a hint of a knowing smile on his face.

Of course, he’d know.

“Yeah” you raised your head.

A challenge he took without hesitation. Neil reached for the scarf wrapped around your neck and loosened it just enough to have access. Before you could do as much as exhale, his lips were on your neck and throat, attacking all the spots that were bound to make you gasp and search for something to hold on to. Cursing, you closed your eyes, letting yourself block everything that was not Neil and his touch. Soon his hands joined in with the exploration, brushing over your body, slipping inside the opened coat and underneath your blouse. Any resistance you might have had was slowly breaking. Blindly, you found his tie again and started to work on undoing the knot with shaking hands. Once you loosened it and undid the first three buttons, you slipped your hand underneath his shirt. You did not even know what you wanted to do. He was there, yours and in reach. That was enough to cause urgency. But any intent you might have had disappeared when Neil finished his study with a harsh bite over your collarbone.

“Jesus Christ…” you huffed and pulled him closer with a finger around his belt loop.

As his hips met yours, he raised his head and met your gaze shamelessly. Nothing but want and adoration. A sudden commotion on the street helped you remember the surroundings. Sighing, you pieced together a sentence:

“This is rather risky, don’t you think?” if anything, the unconscious way in which you bumped your hips against his again was a contradiction to the statement.

Your head was a mess. On one hand, wanting nothing but Neil, right here and now. On the other, doing anything like this in an alley spoke against the last bits of the reason you tried to preserve.

“Yes, but I quite enjoy the thrill” Neil brushed his hand over your stomach and smiled devilishly.

If your experience was anything to go by, and the way it felt when his crotch brushed over your hip, he too was rather invested. That thought gave you some needed courage to respond.

“You like being caught? Then I’m surprised you were so unsatisfied in Oslo” the cheeky smile and a quick touch of your hand over the front of his pants did it.

Neil swallowed hard and took additional few seconds to find words.

“More than being caught I like you. And everything we do... or could do” experimentally, he traced his finger along the line of your belt.

The goosebumps and rising tension within your core were good enough clues towards your feelings on the matter.

“Like what?” the breathlessness of your voice made you frown.

“Like this” in one swift motion, Neil undid the buckle.

Shit. That was enough to raise concern. You wanted him, urgently, but…

“Neil... do you seriously think fucking in an alley is a good idea?” you did know where that word came from, but it was pretty spot on.

“First of all, we’re not fucking. This isn’t that primal” for some reason the way he pronounced it only made matters worse, as did that smirk “Unless one day you feel like it and-” oh hell.

You placed one hand over his mouth, shutting him up, the other ventured into the pocket of your coat, where you always had the small hunting knife hidden.

“I’m going to stab you. Here they won’t find you for days” aiming for a threatening tone, you raised the hand from his mouth.

But not before he somehow managed to kiss your fingers. His eyes were dark, determined to make you break any internal rules you could have.

“Wow, you really have it bad for me” Neil whispered, getting ever closer, ignoring your threats.

Too lost in the strange conversation you have not even realised when he managed to unzip your jeans. Only once you felt his hand slipping between your thighs, you huffed with frustration. Thinking on reasons against letting him do it was getting increasingly harder.

“Neil” was the only warning you could manage.

All thoughts disappeared when he palmed you through the underwear. Searching for support, you put your hands on his shoulders.

“I just want to check if you’re still interested... still so eager,” the satisfied grin told you that it felt just as bad as you expected.

Like this, with him having direct access to check what was working for you, there was nowhere to hide. Once again, he managed to bring you to such a state with worrying ease. His whole body was pressing against yours, with one hand teasing you through the thin layer of clothing. The other has somehow managed to wrap around your throat. Not strong enough to apply pressure, but at the same time making you face him. And increasing the need you felt.

“You’re a bastard” the insult got muddled by the longing you could not hide from your gaze.

Neil caught it, grinning mischievously. The game was on.

“Well... it takes two and all that” he feigned nonchalance, arching an eyebrow.

You knew full well what he was implying. You could practically feel how drenched with arousal you were. Your underwear was wet to touch, thighs clenching around Neil’s hand. That was his cue to keep your legs parted by inserting his knee between them. Here we go again. You wanted him to do something. Anything. But he was resolved to keep you waiting, thinking about all the different ways to make the situation even more unbearable for you. To make you beg for whatever he was willing to give. Your futile attempt to grind on his thigh got stopped with a stronger grip around your throat and a glimpse of something darker in his eyes. You had enough.

“Why are you doing this?” the hoarse tone of your voice was rather shameful.

“Because I know that you actually enjoy it” Neil shrugged and met your gaze with playful sparks in the blue eyes.

You did not want to know how obvious it must have been for him. Then, he slowly stroked you there, earning a muffled curse.

“I would if you finished it for once” you breathed, letting the frustration take over.

The ache between your legs was nearly driving you over the edge now. It was too much. Neil was too close, and yet not close enough.

“I’m giving you food for thought, so to speak” he murmured.

His hand moved; thumb tentatively hooked around the hem of your panties. An offer to take it a step further any second now.

“That you are” you met his gaze defiantly.

If he was so determined to make you suffer, you might as well give him what he wanted.

“Have you been... dreaming about this?” Neil glanced down at where his fingers were getting closer to where you needed him most.

As though he needed to ask. Of course, you have thought about this scenario before. And many others too. After all, you had to somehow deal with those countless times when his pure existence frustrated you in every meaning of the word.

“Mhmm” you hummed, hoping that will be enough of a response.

The smirk was a reward.

“Good”

Unable to withstand the tension any longer, you kissed him hungrily, taking everything you could have. Soon enough, you were both gasping for breath, yet you did not want to let go. Biting, sucking, and nibbling on every part of his mouth available, he was your drug. With his hand still in a loose chokehold and the other so close to your pulsating core, Neil became the sole reason for your existence. Your knees buckled when he sharply tugged at your panties and touched you without the barrier of the undergarment. You broke the kiss and met his wild gaze, both shocked by the sheer pull between you. Only once he drew a finger between your folds, collecting some of the wetness, the moment got interrupted by Neil’s raspy chuckle.

“It’s quite flattering to see you like this and all because of me” you were not sure if you wanted to slap him or kiss him.

But then that was a usual thing with Neil.

“Just don’t get cocky…” it was hard to put together a string of words.

“Or?” his thumb touched your clit, and you hissed sharply “I already know how I’m making you feel”

To prove a point, he drew another gasp from you by starting a circular stimulation of the sensitive nub. You whimpered, suddenly aware of what a sight you must be for him. Utterly ruined because of kisses, touches, and words. You hated being at anyone’s mercy like this.

“Neil…” a weak plea made him meet your gaze “Please just…” helplessly, you tried to convey everything through the expression in your eyes.

He searched your face before letting go of your throat and instead cupping your cheek tenderly. The juxtaposition was enough to make your head spin.

“What do you want?” it was that question again.

Simple and yet not at all. Awaiting the response, Neil stopped all the movement, increasing your frustration and need. You knew that there was no way you could ever walk away from this as though nothing happened. You might as well have some relief.

“Help me before I lose my fucking mind” you breathed out, expecting the smug smile.

Instead, you got the most sickening grin you have ever seen on his face. But combined with the adoration in his eyes, you knew it was exactly what he wanted to hear from you.

“With pleasure” the words rolled off his tongue, and before you could prepare, he went back to stimulating your clit.

Your head almost slammed onto the wall behind when he picked up the pace. Even though you both knew that you hardly needed any additional preparation, Neil took his time, never taking his gaze off you. At the edges of your consciousness, you could feel the rising shame that was bound to consume you later. After all, this was the second time that you have asked him to help you like this. Surely, he would soon get tired of having to deal with your issues and never getting anything in return. But before you could follow that train of thought, Neil inserted a finger, and an unwanted cry rose in your throat.

“Jesus…” to stop yourself from being too vocal, you bit down harshly on your lip, bursting the barely sealed cut.

But Neil tilted your chin, meeting your gaze again.

“No need for that” he caught your lips in a short kiss “Don’t hold back”

Readjusting your hold on one of his shoulders, with the other hand you tugged on the tie you have messed up earlier. He took that as a cue to insert another digit. Too much.

“Christ, Neil” the breathless tone was a revelation even to you “You’re…” unable to finish the sentence, you moaned quietly.

Neil had no issues finding the perfect spot again, making you squirm and roll your hips, grinding down on that conveniently placed thigh. He thought of everything, it seemed. You did wonder how many times before he brought people to their downfall with those hands alone. But then, you would be lying if you would not admit that he had rather nice hands. And that you have not thought about this before Oslo.

“Glad it’s working, love” he commented upon a louder gasp from you.

For some reason, the nickname acted like a trigger. Feeling a surge of frustration, you bucked your hips against his, needing more.

“Don’t call me that” you spit the words out, relishing in the look of surprise in his eyes.

But he only needed a moment to shake it off before picking up the pace and curling his fingers inside you. Now it was close.

“What then?” Neil searched your eyes intently as though he was doing anything else but taking you apart with his two fingers and a thumb.

In response, you could only shudder, feeling your muscles tense in the anticipation of the near end.

“My love?” the proposition broke through the haze overwhelming your mind.

My god. Only with him, those two simple words could cause such an onslaught of feelings. There was something so achingly tender in his gaze that no matter the situation, your heart was set ablaze. He looked as though he was relieved to finally use those words. Suddenly, it was not just Neil lending you a helping hand in an hour of need. It was an act of love, further cementing your status as lovers. You were not sure whether it was that realization or what Neil has been doing to you that made the world explode before your eyes. Perhaps it was both. You only managed to breathe out a warning in the form of his name, but he understood.

“Look at me. I want to see what I did to you” he angled your chin again so you were forced to meet his gaze “So that I can remember this later” the husky whisper was the ultimate push over the edge.

Oh christ. You gripped his shoulder tightly and undid the tie, making it fall to the ground. Neil did not even notice, staring at you mesmerized. With the last bits of sanity, you took hold of his neck, bringing him close. The wave of pleasure made you tense up like a bowstring before you came with a shudder and a cry.

“Neil…” you got struck by the hope you saw in his eyes.

This time nothing was stopping you. No lips on yours to take over the words that were slowly choking you. The high he gave you took away all the inhibitions and worries. Neil was there, with you, a solid presence beneath your fingertips and an anchor to keep you from getting lost in your head. And that was enough.

“I love you” the three words were easy to utter for something you struggled to keep inside that long.

In response, Neil smiled and pressed his forehead against yours tenderly. The darkness in his eyes made way for pure happiness and conviction. Maybe this time it wasn’t a mistake.

“I know” he whispered and covered your lips in a sweet kiss.

Now that you were not holding back anything kissing Neil felt like absolution. You were never particularly religious, but he could be your eternal salvation, for the body and the soul. The only person you ever needed that much.

Breaking the kiss with a sigh, Neil took a step back and retracted the hand that was still stroking your navel. You watched with a slight surprise as he glanced at a watch.

“Are you in a rush?” with cheeks burning, you took out a tissue and passed it to him.

He took it with a curt nod and cleaned his hand. As you observed him like that, with messed up hair, unbuttoned collar, and slightly flushed cheeks, the reality of the situation started dawning on you. Not only have you allowed Neil to finger you in a dirty alley, but also you have confessed your feelings in the heat of the moment. And yet, he was still there…

“Unfortunately, yes, the meeting is in ten, and I still have to get there” Neil picked up the tie from the ground and brushed off the dirt “Trust me, I’d love to continue with this…” carelessly he tied the knot and took a step closer again “But we should leave something for the future too” with playful sparks in his eyes he brushed the hair away from your eyes.

Oh my god.

“Can’t you for once… not do this” sighing heavily, you focused on readjusting the underwear and zipping up your pants.

Everything was better than looking into those blue eyes.

“Where would be the fun in that” Neil buckled your belt, just as quickly as he undid it previously “I must admit that after this, I’m curious to see how you’ll react once I do it properly one day… with my mouth and then…” he trailed off, fingers brushing over your stomach once again.

“Neil… don’t” using your own power, you brushed your hips over his “Or you won’t make it to that meeting” you glanced at his crotch knowingly.

“As tempting as that is… I’d rather not disappoint TP” with a final caress of your side, he took a step back again “Don’t worry about me though. I’ll deal with this later” he adjusted the trousers slightly “I’m used to it” the hint of a smile was enough to help you understand.

You gaped. It was hard to think straight again. Surely…not? Right?

“You- what? Because of me?” you stuttered, bewildered and perplexed.

“Yes, absolutely” Neil shrugged and attempted to smooth his hair “Pretty often, but then you’re quite the inspiration, my love” he winked, enjoying your sudden paralysis.

Now that sort of image was bound to keep you up at night. For some reason, you never thought that he would think about you like that, always assuming there were better fantasies to use in need. But maybe… maybe he had it just as bad as you did.

“I have to run” Neil kissed you on the cheek, bringing your mind back to the present moment.

“Does this… change anything?” you met his gaze, hoping he will catch on to the meaning.

“No, not at all” the soft smile contrasted the recent conversation tone “I’ll text you later”

“You better” you mirrored his smile, watching him disappear in the crowd.

Wow… Now that was an interesting walk. Sighing, you rested your head against the brick wall for a few minutes longer, trying to level your breathing.

*** You were not given much break from Neil that day. To clear your head, you went for a walk around the city centre, visiting curious shops, and spending time in a cosy café. Just anything that did not have to do with the blonde bastard was good enough to shut up your rebelling brain. After all, now he knew everything, and that was a dangerous situation. You did your best to ignore your phone for most of the day however when it buzzed on your way back to the apartment it was hard to resist checking. He did text just as promised:

“Did you miss me?” and then “I’ll have some news for you all later”

Maybe things, in fact, have not changed…

“Maybe a little” smiling, you keyed in the code to the door.

Inside, you quickly settled on the sofa with some indulgent crisps, about to tune into the team’s favourite Estonian soap ‘Õnne 13’, which you all watched every evening. It was terribly boring (especially when one did not understand a single word), and yet after a few days, you wanted nothing but to know what Alma will have for dinner that night. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

The latest dose of drama from the shithole called Morna got interrupted by your phone ringing. Neil, of course. Ignoring the offended stares from the other eight people in the room, you picked up the phone:

“Hey”

“Evening, my love” you could hear how happy he was to use those words.

Your heart summersaulted, making you exhale.

“I like the sound of that” grinning you walked out into the corridor to hide from the curious looks.

“Me too. Is everyone there with you?” jumping straight into the business was probably good for you both.

“Yeah. You’ve interrupted our shitty soap” at your adjective, a choir of outraged voices rose in the living room.

“My bad. Can you put me on the speaker? I could give you a run over the plan”

“Of course,” you motioned for everyone to gather around the table and put your phone in the middle “You’re on”

“Okay, so basically TP wants to take over the plutonium piece that is being transported through Tallinn in three days on its way to a nuclear depot in Italy. The point is not to let it get into Sator’s hands who thinks we’re cooperating with him”

“How will it be transported?” Ives propped his chin on his hand, listening intently.

“Reinforced truck with police escort front and back. Tracked via GPS” leaning back in the chair, you listened to Neil’s voice “Any unplanned stop or different turn and in come the reinforcements”

“What’s his plan then?”

“I believe he wants to take it out on the move with the use of a fire truck. Among others”

The hint of a smile in that sentence made you comment:

“So, you’re not the only crazy one around” earning a few amused grins from the people around, you briefly felt victorious.

Briefly.

“Something tells me you’re into that. Judging by what you let me do to you in that alley”

Fuck. A sharp gasp you let out made everyone turn to look at you. Gripping the edge of the table, you wanted nothing but to disappear. Or die. All the blood drained from your face as you stammered.

“Neil- you-” there was not enough air in the room “I-”

Wheeler shot you a worried look after you let out a small choking sound and spoke:

“Anyway… why are we needed?” the professional tone made everyone turn their attention back to the mission.

You had to thank her later for saving your dignity. And life.

“To be on hand if things get dirty. I’ll send you the brief now it lists the details of his plan” Neil resumed the topic as though nothing happened “Tomorrow, I’ll call to let you know what exactly I need. That’s it for tonight, enjoy your evening”

Before anyone could make a move, you snatched your phone from the table and muttered:

“You’re dead”

You ended the call and stormed off to your room, slamming the doors. You could not believe his audacity to say something like that with everyone on the receiving end. The bastard ought to pay for that. Unable to calm down, with hands shaking violently and your head in absolute disarray, you grabbed the coat and made beeline for the exit out of the flat. It was pretty late for a solitary walk, but you hardly had anything to lose. Before you could make a swift exit, Ives’ stopped you with a hand on the arm. You met his gaze with impatience:

“So… how was the alley?” while he kept his face straight, the amused tone was there.

Bloody men.

“Fuck off” you shook off his hand and opened the door “I’m going out, and hopefully I’ll get killed. Don’t wait up”

Before you slammed the door in his face, you heard the parting words:

“Have fun”

The cold Estonian breeze was a welcomed sensation for your tired and thoroughly pissed off mind. You put up the hood of your coat and wandered off into the night.

*** Unfortunately, no one was willing to kill you. Around 1 am, you grudgingly made your way back to the apartment, relieved when no one was around to corner you. Once you were safe in your locked bedroom, you took out the phone for the first time in three hours. Unsurprisingly there were two missed calls and three texts from Neil, plus one message from Wheeler. She was checking whether you were still alive, which was a rather touching gesture, and so you replied to her first. Then, sighing heavily, you went through the texts from Neil:

“I’m sorry” then “But I wasn’t entirely wrong, was I?” and finally, “Are you alright?”

That son of a bitch…

“You’re so going to pay for this” you typed back and lied down on the bed. He was quick to reply, which meant he stayed up. Potentially waiting for you to reach out. Talking about confusing signals…

“I was hoping you’d say that” you groaned.

“After that disaster of a meeting, I went for a walk. Found a perfect spot for murder in cold-blood. You won’t even know what hit you”

Maybe that will do the job.

“You did. Only a lot earlier than you think”

It didn’t. Sighing, you cursed your inability to leave him on read.

“I’ve had enough of you today, g’night”

“I seriously doubt that, but good night, darling” and then “I hope your dreams will be as good as our little moment”

That surge of frustration was only made worse when you found a stray short blonde hair on your blouse while changing for bed. The idiot not only had your heart, but everything else too, it seemed.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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marveloussupernerd · 4 years

Note

Okay. So I just watched the Hunger Games and was wondering what the RFA+V+Searans reaction would be to MC having to fight in the games? That would be so scary and sad.

I LOVE THIS REQUEST also I’m adding Vanderwood too oops

You Get Picked for the Hunger Games - RFA + Minor Trio

Important Note: if you’d like any of these written in a more in-depth one or two shot I’m begging you to request it I love this prompt so much. That’s why I didn’t write about the actual games happening :) hoping maybe someone may want a pt2 of any of these

Warnings: mentions of death, killing, a lil angst

Zen

You were in District 7, the lumber district

You and Zen had been together for years

You liked to spend time in the forests together, getting a little peace from the real world

More aptly out, you liked to climb the trees together and spend the day in them; you would all day if you didn’t have to go home to help with your younger siblings

“I’m so sick of the games,” you grumbled. The reaping was today, where the tributes would be picked. “At least its our last year in the poll to be picked.”

“Thank goodness.” He agreed, leaning forward to place a kiss on your lips. “Then we can finally get married and start a family.”

You giggled. “We have to take care of my siblings too”

He shrugged. He’d do anything for you

When they picked you, your heart stopped

Nobody volunteered; they usually didn’t in 7

As the lady went to pick for the boys, you scanned the crowd for Zen

Shaking your head vigorously. He couldn’t volunteer

You felt like you were going to cry or die of anticipation

He understood

It killed him inside but he didn’t volunteer

You got to meet with him to say goodbye before you were off to the Capitol

“Zen,” you whimpered. He pulled you in for a tight hug

“Take care of my siblings. Okay?”

He nodded. He was at a loss of words for the first time ever

Then he inhaled deeply, fishing in his pockets and pulling out a small copper band

“Put this on and we’re married. I don’t care if that’s not how it works. I can’t have you leave without marrying you first.”

You took it wordlessly

“Your family is mine now. I’ll take care of them. You focus on coming back home.”

You wanted to cry. “Don’t... don’t let them watch me die, Zen.”

“You’re not going to.” He was crying now too, despite the confidence in his words

“Promise me though. If I’m going to die don’t let them watch.”

He sighed. He didn’t want to even consider that

“I won’t.”

Yoosung

You were in district 11, the agriculture district

Yoosung’s family lived on the farm next to yours

You had been close friends your whole lives

When they picked you

Well, you had put your name in a few extra times to get more food for your family

It shouldn’t have been a surprise

Nobody volunteered. They never do.

They made you sit in a room while you waited for the train

Your family could come say goodbye if they wanted

You were surprised to see Yoosung

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” was all he could say

You frowned

You weren’t confident in your chances

“I- everything was supposed to be different. I was going to tell you I loved you,” he whispered, his voice so low you had to take a minute to process what he had said

“You do?” You asked

“I do. First Rika and now you? I- I can’t...”

Rika had been picked two games ago and was killed

“I’ll just have to win then,” you said, more determined than before

“You- oh?”

“I love you too Yoosung. I’ll just have to win for you. So you don’t have to lose us both.”

He wrapped you into a hug

“I’m holding you to that. You promise me you’ll come back to my arms safely.”

You chuckled. “Okay. I promise.”

Jaehee

You lived in district 6, the transportation district

It was no secret to those in your district that you and Jaehee loved each other, as more than friends

It was nice that you lived in such a progressive district that they understood that

Volunteering wasn’t normal in district 6

But when you heard them call Jaehee’s name...

You wouldn’t let her die in the games

“I volunteer as Tribute.”

The crowd was silent

They all knew

The Peacekeepers pushed Jaehee back into the crowds, escorting you to the stage

She was sobbing

And then she passed out

“A volunteer! How exciting. Why did you volunteer for that girl?” The lady asked you

“Because I’m in love with her.”

“Oh!”

The Capitol would eat that up

You didn’t even get to say goodbye to her

The Capitol wanted a show. And the show was better if you didn’t get to say goodbye

“So you have to win then. Win and go back to her and steal her heart. Her hero. Her savior,” Caesar had said in his interview with you

You’d have to win then

Jumin

Being from district 3, the electronics district, meant that you and your families were much better off than most other districts

Jumin came from one of the wealthiest families in the district

He probably was even more wealthy than some of the people in the Capitol

He could buy anything, right?

But he couldn’t buy you a ticket out of the games

“Listen to me.” He sat down across from you, as he met with you before you had to leave to head to the Capitol for the games. “You’ll win.”

“I- how?”

He had the smallest curve of a smile on his face. He was confident.

“I’ll sponsor you. Anything you need, you just say it. I’ll buy it and send it your way.”

It was true that district members could sponsor, they just usually didnt

But this time, he was invested

“I have a list of all the things I can send you. Food, water, medicine, bandages, weapons, rope, anything you want. I can even send you a teddy bear.”

“Please don’t send me a teddy bear. Only important things. Those are expensive.”

“I have money.” He cupped your cheek. “I’m going to make sure you win. I will do anything in my power to do so. If I go broke, okay. You’re so much more important than money.”

“I’ll try my best to make sure I don’t need to ask you for things.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so stubborn. Let me help you. Don’t get into fights intentionally. Just outlive the others. I’ll send you food every day for weeks if it’s what it takes.”

It was time for you to go

He pulled you into a quick, heated kiss. “Anything, My Love. I promise.”

707

You were from district 5, the power district

The games were not big in your district. You had a few victors but people mostly dreaded them

So it wasn’t surprising that when you were picked nobody volunteered

There was no way you could win

You were weak. You had seen the other tributes picked in district 1 and 2 today

You were lucky if you’d survive the first day

You had zoned out the rest of the Reaping ceremony

Until...

“I volunteer as tribute!”

He didn’t.

But he had

Once you both got on the train, you were ready to confront him

“Seven!” You yelled. “Why! Why?” You were hitting his chest. You were so mad at him. “Why would you do this?”

You were breaking down

He just pulled you close, hugging you

“I’m going to make sure you survive”

There could only be one victor

He knew that though. Didn’t he?

“My home life sucks anyways. Sacrificing my life for you is the best thing I could ever wish for.”

You were sobbing. He seemed oddly okay.

He would make sure you’d survive

You were from district 8, the textile district

V’s work with the textiles and art was so good that once he had passed the age where he would have been pulled for the hunger games, he was invited to the Capitol to be a stylist

You thought you’d never see him again

Until you were picked

And then there he was

With his hair dyed bright blue to fit in with the people at the Capitol

A stupid smile on his face as he got scissors to start shaping your hair for the event tonight

“You seem awfully happy,” you said smugly. You were going to die and he was grinning. He had become a stupid member of the Capitol after all

“I get to see you again.”

“I’m going to die,” you said simply

He shrugged.

Just shrugged.

“I actually have a plan.”

Oh?

He leaned close to you to whisper in your ear

If anyone found out, they’d have him killed

“I have a way for everyone to think you died in the games, but for you to stay living”

It was a big risk

But you wouldn’t say no to the chance of staying alive

Of course he wasn’t upset

He had a plan.

Saeran

You were from district 2, the weaponry district

District 2 was a part of a group called the careers in the hunger games

Basically districts 1, 2, and 4 trained their teenagers to enter the games and win

They were unstoppable

You had trained as well, of course

But you weren’t like some of your crazy classmates who wanted to enter the games

They wanted to enter, until they heard about the twist for this year’s games

Every 25 years there was a special twist to make it more interesting

Every 3 hours a tribute would be randomly killed off

More aptly out, they put a bomb mechanism inside you and you explode

You couldn’t train to beat that

So it was no surprise that nobody volunteered to take your place once your name was picked

Saeran was fuming when he met with you

He had been training to become one of the Capitol’s soldiers, a Peacekeeper, as most men in 2 did

But he had lost all respect for them and the game

“This is stupid and unfair. What’s the point of them randomly killing people off? It’s supposed to be a fight to the death. This is just random chance.”

“I agree with you. But there’s nothing we can do. I’ll just try to kill people as quick as possible before they even get to explode someone.”

“No.”

“No?” You questioned

“This is bullshit.” He grabbed you by the chin to look up at him. “I’m taking down the Capitol. They can’t do this to you?”

“Saeran, don’t.”

He had an evil grin

“I already have a group to do it with.”

Vanderwood

You were from district 12, the coal mining district

Vanderwood was always a sort of enigma to you

That’s why you were so interested in him

And he was absolutely infatuated with you

Nobody had ever volunteered in 12 before

So when you got picked, you were stuck

Vanderwood didn’t volunteer. Why would he? Why would he get himself killed like that?

You almost though he wasn’t going to visit you, that all your time together was just him messing around

And then he busted in

“Hurry Babe”

“Hurry what?” You questioned

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to follow him, running through the halls. Where were the peacekeepers?

“I’m getting you out of here. We’re running away”

“To where?”

He laughed, still running. “The woods. We’ll figure it out. We’re not following those bullshit rules.”

“If we get caught, we’ll be killed.” You were afraid to defy the Capitol

“If you stay there, you’re as good as dread. We’ve had one victor from here, yknow? Your chances aren’t good. Let’s run.”

#mystic messenger #mysme #hunger games #au #headcannons #Jumin han #Yoosung kim #zen #v #Saeran choi #707 #Jaehee kang #Vanderwood

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