#following halts example a little too close

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (4)

Chapter Four: A Different Approach

Gif by @azertyrobaz

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: A reunion may be on the cards sooner than you thought

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, gambling, again we have my interpretation of headspaces, limited use of y/n, fluff and mild angst, discussion of character death, protective reader and Hunter, reader and Crosshair kinda get into it

Word Count: 5.3K

Author's notes: Now we're getting into part of the series where each episode allows for a bit more creative license which I'm very excited about! It starts with the end of this one and I hope y'all like it! Also, with regards to tagging people, I'm only tagging the users who still officially register when I do it. Please, please let me know if you want tagged/for me to try your username again!!

Sparks flew from the control as Omega did her best to stabilise them, but it was proving to be a rather challenging task. “I could use some help up here! Our comms are down. I can’t contact Hunter!”

From down below in the shuttle, Crosshair was also doing his best to get things under control but the smoke, electrical malfunctions and the persistent screech of the alarm told him that was a very unlikely outcome. He analysed the screen dictating the state of the ship. “That’s not the priority. The ship sustained heavy damage.”

“I can see that.” Omega retorted.

Crosshair made his way back up to the co-pilot’s seat, with Batcher following close behind. “Get the stabilizers back online!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Immediately after she said that a large spark of electricity crackled from the console and the ship was torn out of hyperspace and spiralled towards the planet ahead.

“We have to land.”

“A little hard to do when nothing’s working.” Omega snapped at him as she fiddled with the steering but to no avail.

The ship entered the atmosphere and started to plummet towards the ground.

Omega pulled hard on the lever to even out the ship as the ground grew ever closer. It was all she could do before it crashed landed and skidded along the surface.

When it finally came to a halt, Omega opened the glass roof to allow them all to get some air and eventually exit the wrecked vehicle. She looked in dismay as the controls fully shut off and the last dying spark flickered. “This will take forever to repair.”

Crosshair exhaled a sore sigh as he got his bearings, but that soreness was soon replaced by irritation as the hound pushed insistently on the back of his chair. “No. there’s no time for that.” The dog’s fussing got too much for him. He stood up to allow her to jump past him and off the shuttle.

“We need to get the nav reader online to extract the coordinates to Tantiss for when we go back.” Omega said, turning to look at him.

He couldn’t understand how she’d only just escaped that hell and was already talking about returning. “We’re not going back.”

“We left the other prisoners behind.”

“And the Empire is going to be searching for this ship and us.” He grabbed the pack with the blasters and hopped out of the shuttle. “We have to move. I scanned a spaceport a few clicks east. We’ll start there.”

Omega followed his example and let him lead the way to the spaceport.

--

With the establishment of the new plan being they would get to the spaceport and sneak onto a shuttle, they acquired their disguises and the two of them blended in with the civilians of the town.

They walked past the various troopers in the town as casually as they could so as not to arouse any unnecessary suspicion.

Omega warily analysed the situation ahead as they reached the spaceport. “It’s too well-guarded. We’ll never slip past all those troopers undetected.”

“I can take out at least half before they know what’s happening.” Crosshair stated confidently.

“Or… or we could try a way that doesn’t involve blaster fire.” Omega countered.

“Like what?” Crosshair asked, his voice filled with doubt.

“Watch and learn.” With that, Omega calmly led the way to the ticket attendant.

“Oh, I can hardly wait.” Crosshair said with a sigh as he followed a few paces behind.

“Hello. We’d like two tickets on the next shuttle please.” Omega requested pleasantly.

“Chain codes?” Came the standard reply from the attendant.

“About that. We lost our chain codes.” Omega said coyly.

“No chain codes, no passage.”

“Right. But you see, a problem for us could be an opportunity for you if, say, you knew of an alternate way of booking passage without a chain code.” She advanced towards the desk.

The attendant leaned forward. “Are you insinuating that I should take bribe?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.” Omega replied, feigning innocence.

“I do. And that could be arranged… for 15,000 credits.”

Omega’s composure slipped slightly upon hearing that price, “For two tickets?” She exclaimed.

“Per ticket. And it’s non-negotiable. You’re lucky I’m not charging extra for the creature.”

“Where do you expect is to get 30,000 credits?”

“Sounds like a you problem. Don’t come back without the credits.” The attendant waved a hand in dismissal.

Omega hung her head in defeat and left the port with Crosshair.

“Well, that went well.” Crosshair remarked sarcastically.

“Stow it.” Omega grumbled.

--

“Storming the spaceport would be easier than finding 30,000 credits.” Crosshair hissed as they aimlessly wandered the streets of the town.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Don’t be naïve. Every second we’re here, we’re at risk.”

They came to a stop outside a bar.

“The quite wasting time complaining.” Omega argued before two troopers exited the bar and they both averted their gaze, but the opening of the door had given Omega another idea. “I think I know how we can make some fast credits.”

“Of course you do.” Crosshair mumbled as he saw her getting ready to make her way into the bar. The fluttering of a scrappy piece of paper caught under a nearby crate grabbed his eye before he entered, and he came to a sudden stop as he picked it up and saw what- or rather who- was on it.

Omega noticed he had stopped and when she turned back to enquire what was wrong, the question died on her lips as she saw what he was looking at. Only half the information on the sheet was news to her, but the rest made her eyes widen in shock. By the looks of things, you had been on your own for the time she’d been on Tantiss and clearly, you’d stopped hiding. And judging by the harsh language and substantial reward offering, the Empire wasn’t too happy about that. Now, not only was there the trouble of how exactly this information would go down between you and Crosshair but she also couldn’t count on the fact that you were back with Hunter and Wrecker. She glanced up at Crosshair and, despite the fact that most of his face was covered, he could not conceal the emotions that flashed behind his eyes. “Oh… um… she- well back when- I’m sure she would’ve told-” She broke off with a sharp breath as she struggled to find the words to say.

“Doesn’t matter.” Crosshair said dismissively, crumpling it up and putting it away before he carried on into the bar. The fact that Omega seemed to already have an idea of what your… situation… gave him enough of a timeline to go off of.

“One thing at a time, right girl?” Omega said with a shaky breath, patting Batcher’s side as the hound nuzzled into her. Putting her mind onto the task at hand, she too entered the bar.

--

The bar itself was relatively busy, especially compared to how Cid’s had usually been, and it gave Omega the chance to study her potential adversaries from their booth by the wall unnoticed.

“That’s your plan? You want to hustle someone?” Crosshair repeated sceptically. What had they taught this kid?

“I’ve done it before, and I prefer to think of it as a temporary requisition of funds.”

“And bet with what? We don’t have anything.”

“They don’t know that.” Omega said with a cheeky grin.

“And if you lose?”

“Well… I guess we’ll be in more trouble.” With that, she made her way to the card table in the middle of the bar and sat across from the Trandoshan and got her performance ready to go.

--

To say that Crosshair was surprised would be an understatement, the kid was winning every hand against the Trandoshan and securing credits within a matter of minutes. Whatever experience she’d gained with the rest of his squad was clearly something to be admired. Although the mental image of Hunter even allowing her to hone such a skill felt very out of place, he was quietly grateful for it right now.

The bar came to a sudden hushed silence as the door opened. Omega heard Crosshair clear his throat in warning and she looked to the entrance to see an Imperial officer flanked by two troopers enter. She studied them carefully but remained at the table as she won the next hand much to the Trandoshan’s disappointment. “I think I’ll quite while I’m ahead.” She said in response to his pleas for another game. Having an Imperial official here complicated matters and it was time she, Crosshair and Batcher left.

“Leaving so soon?”

Omega turned her head to face the officer as he stood by the table.

“You’re in my seat.”

The Trandoshan let out a low snarl before he departed and gave up his seat to the man.

Crosshair tensed as he saw the Imperial sit but Omega waved him back.

“So, you think you’re good at this game?”

Omega replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

“Want to try against a, uh, real opponent?” He suggested to the young girl. “I insist.”

--

“Your mutt don’t seem to like me.” He said as the dog released a series of growls.

“She’s harmless.” Omega said in reply as she organised her cards.

“She’s a distraction. Get rid of her.” He demanded.

Omega signalled to Crosshair to take her out.

Crosshair got to his feet, clicked his tongue, and led Batcher to wait outside.

The Imperial watched them go. “Never seen you or your dad around before.” He commented.

“We’re just passing through.” Omega replied as she watched him flip the next card and the rise in murmurs indicated that both he and the crowd seemed to think her time was up.

“Eh, I’ll admit you’re not bad. But you seem to have misunderstood your enemy.”

Omega only smirked, “Did I?” She placed her cards down and flashed the set of the three Eastern Stars. Game over. “I’ll take those 20,000 credits.” She grew nervous however when his two guards made to approach the table.

He held a hand up to stop them. “I concede. You beat me fair and square.” He gave her the credits. “Nicely played.” He left the table.

The Imperial went back to his men and one of them addressed him.

“Sir. Patrol found a crashed Imperial vessel on the outskirts of town.”

“I wasn’t notified about any shuttles arriving today.” He angled back to look at the two strangers with a newfound sense of suspicion. “Now, hang on a minute.”

Omega gathered the credits in her bag and, now that Crosshair had returned, she got up to leave with him, but the familiar voice of the Imperial stopped them both.

“We’re not done here.” He chuckled coolly. “You haven’t paid your fine.”

“What fine?” Omega asked.

“Gambling’s illegal in these parts.”

“What?” Crosshair snarled as he made to step forward, but Omega’s arm stopped him.

“The law is the law. Now, all you gotta do is pay the fine. And I’ll be on my way.”

“How much?” Omega asked him as she did her best to keep her disgust at bay.

“Ten thousand credits… unless you prefer to be arrested instead.”

Omega got the credits out and handed them over.

“Excellent. Consider your fine paid in full.” He said smugly. “Try and stay out of trouble.” He dipped his cap and left the establishment.

Omega sighed in relief. “Let’s get out of here.”

Crosshair caught her shoulder. “How many credits do we have left?”

Omega checked the bag. “Thirty-five thousand. Enough for two tickets and a little extra.” She made the first move to leave.

--

“Crosshair, where’s Batcher?” Omega asked anxiously as she scanned the area for her companion.

“Oy. You looking for that hound?”

The two of them turned to look at the young boy speaking to them.

“You know where she went?” Omega queried.

“Sure do, but the answer’s gonna cost you. Ten thousand credits.”

The fact that he was a child made no difference, Crosshair sighed and stood intimidatingly over the boy. “I’m getting tired of this.”

“Okay, okay.” The boy backtracked. “Five, but that’s my final offer.”

Omega touched Crosshair’s arm to call him off before she gave the boy the money.

The boy examined the credits before he supplied the information, “That Imperial officer and his troopers snatched the creature and headed for the cargo docks. Down that way.” He pointed. “Nice doing business with ya.” He ran away from them before they could change their mind about the money.

Omega started off in the direction of the docks.

“Omega.”

She angled back to face Crosshair. “You heard him. Batcher’s this way.”

“And the spaceport is that way. Forget the hound. We have to get off this planet.”

“We never would be escaped without Batcher. I’m not leaving her.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“I’m not abandoning her!” Omega angrily tossed the bag of credits at him. “Take the credits. If you wanna go, then go. I’ll find my own way.” She stormed off.

Crosshair watched her go but before he got ready to go his own way, he felt guilt coil in his gut. It was becoming very clear as to the impact she could have on someone and explained why his squad had cared so much for her since he too found himself following her rather than doing the more sensible thing of leaving from the spaceport.

--

“Fine. We’ll do this your way.” Crosshair agreed begrudgingly as he placed the bag down before Omega scaled the gate to the cargo docks herself. “But my skills are being wasted.” He offered his hands as a means to boost her over the top.

Omega gave him a warm smile, “Noted.” With his assistance she was able to climb over the gate with ease.

Crosshair made the quick climb after her and together, they snuck through the docks looking for where Batcher was being kept.

Omega then heard a series of whines and she saw Batcher’s cage. “There’s Batcher.” She signalled to Crosshair before she analysed the situation around her. “Shouldn’t we free the other animals too?”

“Don’t push it.” Crosshair replied.

--

They had managed to covertly make their way around to get better access to the centre console but before they could make a move, that dull voice spoke up.

“I thought you’d come searching for your mutt. Yeah, unfortunately for you, Lau has a very strict pet policy. No license means a hefty fine.”

“How much this time?” Omega asked, pretending to play along as the two of them were swiftly surrounded by troopers.

“How ‘bout you give me all my money back? Credits won’t do you any good when Hemlock shows up.” He saw the shared looked between them. “Oh, did you think I wouldn’t piece it together when I found that crashed shuttle? Nothing gets by me. I run this town.” He drew his own blaster. “So, hand over the credits and surrender.”

Omega sighed, “Alright.” She chucked the bag to the Imperial. “Let’s try things your way.” She murmured to Crosshair.

“Finally.” Crosshair waited until Omega ducked to cover before firing the first shot, but he noticed his hand was still no unsteady and his aim was more compromised than he liked.

Omega used the chaos of the firefight to get to the controls and release all the animals, the resulting stampede thinning out the Imperial forces and reuniting her with Batcher.

“I’ll handle this. Take Batcher, and power up the ship.” Crosshair ordered. He provided her cover fire as she got the ship ready and when he saw a break in the blaster fire, he made his move towards the step.

Once he was on board, Omega got the cargo ship in the air and into the safety of hyperspace.

--

You had remained on the ship to study Tech’s datapad and the various planets and their coordinates whilst the other two dealt with the lead on this particular planet, but its name escaped you- you’d been to so many in this sector already, the names of them were beginning to blur together.

You were doing what you could to try and determine the next, more efficient course of action whilst the others were out but the words and data on the screen were moulding into one pile of unintelligible information. You put the datapad down for a minute and rubbed your eyes as you huffed a tired breath from your lungs. You stretched your neck and adjusted your posture but before you picked the datapad back up, a faint chirping caught your ears.

You swivelled in your chair to see the communications light flashing and you knew you weren’t supposed to be hearing from Echo any time soon. So, when you patched the encrypted message through and untangled it to find coordinates to the moon just outside of Ryloth, you knew there was only one other person who could’ve sent it.

You jumped out of your chair and cleared the steps of the Marauder in one leap before you sprinted to find Hunter and Wrecker.

--

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked urgently as he saw you come running towards them.

You shook your head as you glanced between them. Your breath was heavy from the running but also from excitement as you said, “It’s Omega.”

--

“Look, I hate to be the one to say it, but what if this message is a trap?” Wrecker broached carefully as the ship flew through hyperspace.

“Who else would know those codes?” You disputed.

“But if the Empire has her…”

“If it’s a trap, then we’ll get out of there but if it is her… we need to be there, Wrecker.” Hunter said as the ship disengaged from hyperspace, and he entered the landing cycle. There was no sign of another ship yet, but he opened the door anyway.

“There’s no one here.” Wrecker murmured, wringing his own hands anxiously.

“Then we wait.” You said calmly though your own heart was pounding.

--

“The Empire will be able to track this vessel. We need to ditch it.” Crosshair advised as he entered the cockpit after getting rid of the hat and face covering that he had donned back in Lau.

“We will. I’m heading to a remote location, and I sent a coded transmission for Hunter and Wrecker and (Y/N) to meet us there.” Omega responded. She only hoped you’d be with them too.

Now that this reunion was approaching ever closer, he found himself unprepared for what was to happen next. “Omega. It’s- it’s been months. You don’t know if they’re still ali-”

“They’ll be there.” Omega interrupted sharply.

The ship exited hyperspace and as she peered out the window, she saw the welcomed sight of the Marauder waiting there.

Omega dashed down the ship’s steps but paused as she saw no immediate sign of any of you.

--

A few hours had passed but there was still no sign of the ship and nerves were starting to get the better of you all.

Hunter had begun pacing the length of the cockpit, you had not stopped fidgeting with your vibroblade and alternated between that and examining the hilt of your lightsaber, and Wrecker was busying himself around the rest of the ship.

You saw the uneasy expression on Hunter’s face, and you pulled yourself together enough to be there for him. You caught his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “Just wait, take a breath. She’ll be here, Hunter. I know it.”

“But-” He broke off as he heard the sound of a ship landing and a whole different type of nerves overtook him.

Wrecker made the first move to look outside and what he saw filled him with pure joy. “Now there’s a sight!”

Take your time. You caressed Hunter’s cheek with a comforting and utterly relieved smile before you ran outside to join Wrecker.

Hunter braced his hands on the back of the pilot’s chair. He needed a minute to gather himself. This was the moment he had been seeking out for months but part of him couldn’t quite believe it was happening.

--

“Wrecker!” Omega cried in relief as she ran towards him and let him pick her up.

“I wasn’t even sure your message was real!” Wrecker said with a happy laugh as he held her close.

“I knew you’d show up.” Omega closed her eyes and let the comfort of his strong hold overtake her.

“We wouldn’t have missed it.”

Omega opened her eyes to the sound of your voice, and she smiled brightly as she saw you standing just behind him.

You knelt down with your arms open as Wrecker lowered her.

Omega fell into your embrace and nuzzled into your shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if- I thought you might’ve been-” She pulled away with a teary sniff.

You tilted your head as you tenderly wiped away the tears that had slid down her cheek and stroked a hand through her hair, the longer length of it a painful reminder of how much time had truly passed. “I’m right here, nothing happened to me.” You didn’t need to worry her about past events right now- that rehashing undoubtedly would come up later- but this current moment was something to be celebrated and not clouded by anything else.

Omega went to clarify what she meant but Wrecker’s words stopped her.

“We crossed the galaxy four times looking for you.” Wrecker revealed, wiping his own tears away.

“Five.”

Omega glanced past you as she heard Hunter’s voice and the sight of him created a feeling of pure elation that she wasn’t sure she would never experience again.

“But you’re the one who found us.” Hunter said with a smile from the doorway of the Marauder.

Omega started to run towards him.

Hunter darted down the steps two at a time and came to his knees as he held his arms out to her.

Your heart swelled and the emotions of the moment got stuck in your throat. That sight had been one you had been waiting to see for quite some time. You sensed and visibly saw how relaxed and content he looked, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Wrecker put a friendly arm around your shoulder as you both go to your feet, and he saw your reaction to their reunion. He too felt himself getting caught up in it all. Finally, things were looking up.

“We missed you, kid. We never stopped searching.” Hunter said affectionately and as he tightened his hold on her and felt her reciprocate, for the first time since Ord Mantell, he felt truly at peace. He pulled away but kept his hands on her shoulders, “But how did you escape?”

Omega hesitated before saying, “I had help.”

Hunter looked past her to see… well to see his brother descend the stairs of the ship, but what hit him was far more complicated than the relief he had been experiencing a mere second before.

You all followed his eyes and whatever happiness and lightness that had been surrounding you all immediately vanished and was replaced by a palpable tension as you all faced the clone that walked down the steps.

Your hand automatically came to cover your lightsaber.

Omega gaze darted between you all and she saw the shift in body language as well as the serious and distrusting expressions on all of you. It appeared she may have miscalculated as to how this smoothly this particular reunion would go.

“We can do this now and remain by a ship the Empire will be currently tracking, or we can get out of here.” Crosshair said simply.

Hunter placed a guiding hand on Omega’s back and jutted his head to Crosshair as the rest of you boarded the ship.

Crosshair followed them, with Batcher now close on his heels and the Marauder entered hyperspace once more.

--

Omega stood in the middle of the hallway. None of you had so much as made a sound or really moved since the ship had begun the journey back to Pabu and it was getting rather unbearable. “So… I got a dog! Her name’s Batcher.” Omega said with an uneasy laugh into the dead silence of the ship, but it got no reaction. The four of you continued your standoff with Crosshair positioned down the hall of the ship closest to her room/gun turret and the rest of you closer to the cockpit. All of you had your arms crossed and you, Hunter and Wrecker looked particularly guarded. She took that resulting quiet as her cue to perhaps let you all have it out right now. She took a seat and called Batcher over to sit by her feet and waited.

It was Crosshair who broke the silence first, “Where’s Echo?”

“Working with Rex.” Hunter replied briskly.

Crosshair released a soft hum in acknowledgement before he asked the question that he’d been putting off since he’d deduced it from how Omega had talked to him all those months on Tantiss, “And Tech… he’s- he’s really gone?”

“Yeah. It-” Hunter released a sad sigh, “It was a mission gone wrong and he- he sacrificed himself for us so we could get away. He knew what he was doing but… yes, he’s gone.”

Crosshair’s jaw tightened. He knew exactly what mission Hunter was referring to. “So much for Plan 88.” He couldn’t help but say, the grief and tense situation getting the better of him.

“What?” You remarked with a glare.

“You were supposed to stay hidden.”

“We couldn’t do that.” Wrecker said grimly. “Not when it looked like you were in trouble.”

“We couldn’t leave you behind, Crosshair.” Hunter added quietly, some of the fight leaving him as he recalled the events of Eriadu.

“Why? You never had trouble doing that before.” Crosshair retorted harshly.

“Excuse me?” You growled.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t-” Hunter came to stand in front of you, but you stepped past him.

You couldn’t help it, the protectiveness that hit you was all you could act on. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to throw your choices back in his face. You were offered a different path, but you decided the Empire was where you wanted to be. And yet, despite all of that, the moment we found out you needed us, there was no real alternative. We never knew what had happened to you, but we didn’t need to. All we knew was that you were in trouble. We all knew the risks of ignoring that plan… Tech knew the risks. Don’t you dare-”

Crosshair wasn’t prepared to explain what happened to him yet, so he kept up with his provocation instead, “You want to talk about risks? What are you playing at staying around with them?”

Hunter and Wrecker both looked sharply towards Crosshair.

Your posture stiffened. “I don’t know what-”

“I may have been out of action but I’m not blind. If the lightsaber on your belt didn’t give it away, the wanted poster I just saw sure as hell did.” Crosshair spat as he flung it towards you.

You unfurled the paper, and your breathing became irregular saw this was one of the more detailed wanted ads that had been circulated. You crumpled it back up and then glanced to Omega who could only offer an apologetic grimace that she couldn’t warn you earlier, “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

You looked back to the clone, “Crosshair, I-”

“You’re a Jedi and that wasn’t something you felt the need to share?”

“Every day.” You said tightly, “But I couldn’t chance something happening-”

“Well, something’s happened now, hasn’t it?” Crosshair bit back angrily. “Do you have any idea the danger you’ve put us in? Do you even care? You’d be doing us a favour by leaving.”

Even Omega joined Wrecker in shaking her head at him this time.

“Crosshair.” Hunter cautioned as he saw the guilt and shame that flashed across your face as your mask of composure slipped. “She’s not going anywhere. We’ve handled it so far.”

“You don’t know what the Empire is capable or what she is. I read what she’s done, and they won’t stop-”

“We’ve got it handled.” Wrecker repeated again as he noticed the way your shoulders started to heave.

Your jaw clenched. “You weren’t there. You don’t know-”

“I was there on Devaron.” Crosshair snapped. “I was there when you decided to join us. I was there when you decided to spend every day lying about what you are.”

“Crosshair.” Hunter warned again and there was no mistaking the protectiveness in his tone or his stance now.

Crosshair picked up on Hunter’s reaction, but he wasn’t to be dissuaded. “You want to judge my decisions, but you betrayed-”

“You don’t get to talk about betrayal, Crosshair.” Hunter interjected coldly as he came to stand by your side.

You only let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, I made my choices in the beginning but when would you have liked me to tell you, Crosshair? On Kaller? But would that have been during or after your attempts to kill the Padawan? Or perhaps you would’ve preferred it on Kamino when Tarkin was there, and you were talking about how great the Empire was and how the Jedi were traitors and what happened to them was justified? Or would you have liked to have a sit down during one of the many occasions you were already actively trying to kill us? Tell me, when should I have entrusted you with this part of me?”

This time he didn’t have a response for you, he just shifted uneasily on his feet and glanced down at the floor.

You continued to speak but there was a distinct sadness to your voice now, “I wished I had been honest with all of you from the start. Truly I do. But after everything that’s happened, I’m glad you’ve only just found out because looking at you now, knowing what I do, I can’t be certain that if you had known what I was on Kaller, that you wouldn’t have tried to kill me too.”

Crosshair went to speak but found that he couldn’t immediately offer the reassurance that was needed.

“You’re our brother, Crosshair, and you’re welcome to stay on Pabu with us but don’t expect any of this to be easy.” Hunter said, placing his hand on your back in support.

“He helped me get out of Tantiss. He’s different now.” Omega remarked quietly.

Wrecker grunted and nodded towards his brother, but you and Hunter made no such moves, instead you both retreated further into the cockpit.

You sat in one of the passenger seats and stared at the paper again as you read the painful reminders of how you’d acted when you’d been separated from them. He’s right, you know.

“No, he’s not.” Hunter disagreed firmly as he knelt before you and untangled the wrinkled piece of paper from your hands. He paid it no attention as he threw it away. He came back and placed his hands on your shoulders as he crouched before you. “Are you alright?”

You breathed deeply and nodded. And you?

Hunter also nodded before he got to his feet and sat in the seat across from you.

--

“So, when did this happen?” Crosshair asked, gesturing to the two of you. The way you both were behaving wasn’t totally different to how things had been in the months before Kaller, but there was a definite shift that marked something more official. There had been a lot he’d missed out on.

“After Tipoca City.” Omega informed him as Batcher eagerly greeted them.

Wrecker enthusiastically petted the hound as he moved closer to Crosshair and Omega. “About time, right?” He added with a hint of humour in his voice, but the stern looks from the two of you had him clearing his throat awkwardly.

Crosshair simply hummed in reply and found himself wondering just quite how difficult things were about to be.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @nightmonkeysstuff, @arctrooper69

[neiptune]

all eyes on you my magician

c/w: 8.4k wc, the secret history au, incest, recreational drug use (weed), dubcon, vaginal fingering, intoxication, reader is drugged against her will, masturbation, penetration, mentions of blood & murder, dark academia setting, gojo and suguru and shoko and utahime and kento and yu are all snob assholes, I just had so much fun with this and sincerely hope you enjoy!

PART 1

“I’m telling you, I’m gonna be right back!”

“And I’m telling you, you’re gonna get struck by fucking lightning!”

Hina rolls her eyes at you, best roommate she’s ever had and yet always so dreadfully dramatic.

“You’re very welcome to stay here and starve to death but if I don’t eat something within the next five minutes, it’s gonna get ugly”

You pucker your lips, equal parts annoyed and worried as you watch her put on that ridiculous yellow raincoat, always too bright for a campus so dull. She is exactly like that, too: peculiar, bubbly energy at complete odds with the majority of the snotty students filling the grim pile of dark stones that makes your school. You’ve always felt some sort of protective affection for her, one that expands in your chest especially as she’s about to run through campus in the middle of a raging storm, alone.

“Wait up” you grumble and attempt to get up from your messy bed.

“Nuh-uh” Hina keeps you down with a friendly push of small hands on your shoulders, eyes narrowing “you have to finish that essay, I’ll bring you a sandwich or something”

“Damn, I’m working hard for the both of us and all I get is a sandwich?” you playfully throw an extra pencil at her, she effectively dodges it with a light chuckle.

“I love that you know it’s gonna become our essay” by now, the mischievous glint in her eyes elicits nothing but a fond albeit resigned scoff.

And yet you’re still not entirely convinced as you wave goodbye, a don’t get too close to the pond! yelled a moment after the door shuts behind her, exasperated laughter already fading in the distance, echoing across the empty hallway.

With a sigh, you get more comfortable against the soft pillows and sink a little deeper in your bed, the heat of the laptop balanced on your legs enough to keep you from shivering as the rain carries its merciless pitter-patter on the windows, the wind blowing hard enough to slam the thinner branches of the elm, most ancient resident of your dorm, against the glass.

The influence of the classics on english literature is not a hard theme to tackle and you get rapidly absorbed by the topics you have messily categorized in order of succession on your notes: among the main points you care to underline, is the fact that neither is superior to the other. There’s a sharp distinguo you trace between the concepts of originality and novelty, an entire paragraph dedicated to expressing the idea that the creative activity of a writer shouldn’t be adversely affected by the interest they take in classical literature. Right as you delve into the specific examples you’ve chosen to discuss contemporary tendencies and estimate the influece of Latin and Greek upon modern writers, your fingers come to a halt.

Originality, novelty. Unraveling the concepts takes you back to that late afternoon in the quiet library, the ominous curve of an unfamiliar smirk teasing your peripheral, saccharine pitch asking you to settle an argument that was never serious enough to require an outside opinion to begin with.

You’ve met Satoru’s unsettling eyes more than once after that afternoon, they seemed to follow you whenever you happened to walk past his group or enter a room they were in. You hate that you can now anticipate the way he tilts his head, lazily throws one leg on top of the other, ankle resting on knee. You hate that Suguru now talks to you, says hello and good afternoon and wishes you luck on your classes.

You still can’t quite believe Yu, the way he’d casually sat between you and Hina on a Sunday morning when the lukewarm sun served as a break from the usual, gloomy winter days. He was all friendly smiles and relaxed chatter, easily endearing himself to Hina and winning her sympathies. You stayed frozen in utter disbelief until he naturally pulled you into the conversation as if you were one of his oldest friends, sweet giggles outlining the story of how you had brilliantly shared your valuable opinion with them.

None of your attempts at explaining the stupid exchange were taken into consideration, Hina’s big eyes sparkling with each detail Yu unraveled, from Utahime’s comical frown to Suguru’s sincere admiration. He fondly downplayed your skepticism and proceeded to stay for the entire study session, leaving you to mouth a shut up after the other in response to Hina’s exaggerated mimics all the while he immersed himself in one of those thick books they always make a show of carrying around.

It’s disturbing, the feeling of part of that unfortunate afternoon still lingering, sticking to you in a way you don’t know how to escape.

The Anglo-Saxons and their interest in Cato, Orosius, Pliny the Elder. The modern period with its shift of emphasis upon Catullus, Lucretius, Terence and his plays. The entire, separate history of the interest in Ovid, the consequent imitations stemming throughout the fifteenth century only to escalate into close to total neglect during the nineteenth and twentieth. Even as you focus on your essay once more, the unnerving feeling persists in your gut.

You conclude the first draft of the paper with some statement about how classical lore, mythology and style hover above the most representative writers of the elizabethan literature, the most original of all periods of english literature in its entirety.

A light grumble of your stomach demands you glance at the time and you sigh upon noticing it’s already been more than an hour. What the hell is she even doing? The vegan options suck, she may as well eat grass in the park. Unless they’re serving those falafel hummus salad wraps with spicy potato and feta, now that’s something you’d walk in a storm for.

An entire moment is spent considering putting a coat on and marching all the way to the dining hall, muddy campus and everything, but then a whooshing sound is followed by a creaking in your roof and the best you can do is send a mildly annoyed text.

She texts back ten minutes later, the message short and oddly enough void of her usual emojis, informing that the she’s run into her friend Yuki and so she’s most probably going to be late. Well, that’s ideal. As much as you love having the room all to yourself, you really are hungry and the only edible thing within a ten foot radius is a bag of tortilla chips.

The second you reach over to your laptop with the intention of continuing the show you had started watching together (serves her right for leaving you to starve to death) the room turns purple for a second and before the loud crack of the thunder can even hit, the already dim light of the lamp flickers, unsteady.

“Don’t you dare!” you glare at it as if it was a person. It certainly does seem to listen.

Gotta love old buildings with even older electric utility infrastructures.

You send another text for good measure, the possibility of suddenly finding yourself in the dark, alone, enough to induce a reasonable amount of anxiety.

hurry tf up, hina

Your screen lights up a second later, eerily quick. Again, odd. Doesn’t she always try to tuck her phone away while eating?

sorry baby, it’s raining too much

I think we’re trapped here for the next hour lol

You frown. Baby?

Something doesn’t sit quite right with the way she’s replying, maybe she’s given her phone to Yuki after grumbling about how you keep interrupting her meal. Still, you take your chances and send another text.

you okay?

Seen, instantly. Yet she doesn’t type back. Ugh, definitely Yuki taking over: she’s always been the number one supporter of the stupid no phones at the table rule, her glare over waffles and tea as you dared to check your social media over breakfast still engraved in your mind.

As you grumpily stare at the screen for a few more seconds, several things happen at the same time: the light coming from the lamp above your head flickers again, a branch slams against the window and your heart drops to your stomach at the three short but certainy energetic knocks on the door.

The entire evening has been so weirdly quiet, you honestly wouldn’t have guessed somebody else was in the building. Is there someone at the door or did your mind play a trick on you? It must’ve been the rumble of the thunder bouncing on the walls, the loud whistle of the wind. But then they knock again, with the same exact rhythm, and for some silly reason goosebumps blossom on your forearms because you simply know that, even as you tentatively call her name, it’s not Hina.

Shoko peeks inside, the white stick of what you can only guess is a lollipop hanging from her lips. It’s the first time you see her alone, without her friends or her sister. It’s also the first time she speaks to you and it’s surprising, really, how calm and gentle her pitch is.

“Hey, are you alone?” her eyes lazily scan the room, the question sounding every bit as unnecessary as one could guess.

“Yeah” you wonder why you reply in the most natural way, not a second spent wondering why the hell she’s there and how she knows which one’s your room.  

“I really don’t like storms” she tilts her head to the side a little, gaze blankly darting to the window and then intently locked to yours “you should join us”

Taken aback, you open your mouth and close it a number of times.

“Pardon?”

Shoko waltzes into the room, graceful as ever in her school uniform. As opposed to you, she’s wearing dark tights and your stare lingers on her thin legs a moment too long before travelling to her features again.

“They’re having another one of their arguments, it gets so boring. You’re lonely too, please join us”

There are so many questions running after each other in your brain, you’re not even sure which one to prioritize. Why would she ever think you’d…?

“No, thank you” it may have taken a minute but you finally snap out of it (whatever it is) and clear your throat, uncomfortable.

Shoko bites back a smile, enhanced. She can smell the uncertainty, the uneasiness. And can barely wait for when it will turn into panic. Doesn’t it always?

“You really must dislike us” she locks her hands behind her back and casually shifts her weight from one foot to the other “have we ever given you a reason to? I know Satoru can be a jerk but he’s harmless, really”

She sees the anxiety that flashes over your features and wonders what it would feel like to sink her teeth into it. It’s infuriating, how Suguru’s always right. She really was the best one to be sent to get you: not Kento, not anyone else.

“I don’t— it’s not that” you stutter adorably “we don’t really know each other, it’d be weird to…”

“It wouldn’t. We’re all students at the same school, aren’t we?” she offers a sweet smile and extends a hand “come. I won’t let them bother you, pinky promise”

You watch her shift the position of the lollipop in her mouth with a gentle sweep of the tongue, securing it inside her other cheek.

Sure, you could insist on staying in your room, waiting for your friend: she’d probably take the hint and leave. But this is weird. Shoko showing up unannounced, with no reasonable motive, insisting you take part in… what, exactly? One of the bizarre evening gatherings everyone keeps gossiping about?

You don’t care if they realize you don’t like them. Ever the keen observants, they probably already know anyway. But you’ll be damned if you allow some elitist assholes to think you’re intimidated, or worse, scared of their bullshit haughtiness. You talked to them once, you owned it, you can do it again and walk away the second things get too weird. Or Hina actually fucking decides to come back.

Shoko smiles softly when you rise from your bed and take her hand. She thinks boldness suits you.

You quickly type another text to your roommate, certain she’ll sense the annoyed tone at last and hopeful she’ll decide to get you out of the absurd situation.

I need you to come back, preferably now

it’s just rain get back here and take a shower or something

also bring be the goddamn sandwich, I’m starving

Seen. Instantly, right as you sent them. What the hell, is she deliberately ignoring you? Did Yuki forget to lock the stupid phone before putting it away?

since you’re clearly reading these, I’ll have you know I’m currently being kidnapped by the classics gang

Seen.

come look for me asap

Seen.

“Fuck’s sake” you grumble under your breath and Shoko turns to look at you from over her shoulder, gaze soft in the dim light of the hallway. For a fleeting second, you think that purple eyeshadow would look horrible on anyone else but she kinda pulls it off.

“Sorry, my friend hasn’t been replying to my texts” you clear your throat once more.

“I’m sure she will, eventually” she utters, tone flat. Lightning flashes violet on her chestnut hair and your stomach tightens a little, clammy palm nothing but a forlorn hope it will feel nasty enough for her to let go. Shoko tightens her grip on your hand, thumb lazily grazing over the top of it and in between your knuckles.

“How come you don’t like storms?” maybe if you keep talking, the bullshit situation will feel more normal. Maybe the walk in the stupid hallway won’t be as infinite.

Shoko giggles, the mere thought of how your features would morph into a mask of pure horror has warmth pooling between her thighs. God, why do the guys always get to have all the fun?

Storms make it difficult to hear them scream.

“Never been a big fan” her pitch is suddenly lighter, almost jolly “they make everything look so gloomy, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do” you don’t intend for it to be a jab but her chuckle makes heat crawl from the base to your throat up to the roots of your hair anyway. 

Of course their common room is the most magnificent of the building, somber and exclusive and, naturally, conveniently connected to their private rooms. The sanguine hues coming from the stone fireplace dance across the dark, wooden furniture and make the carvings of the coffee table grow in depth. There are two upholstered sofas and two armchairs surrounding it as velvet constellations painted in rich burgundy, the oil lamps serving as a convenient counteragent for musty electric utility infrastructures.

There’s a bookcase by the door, built in what looks like African blackwood. It’s filled with vintage hardbacks, leatherbound volumes and what you wouldn’t have a hard time imagining are expensive first editions. Some of them are turned around, piled up and showcasing the paper side, alternated with silver candleholders and white Carrara marble bust sculptures. You recognize Marcus Aurelius and a representation of Canova’s Venus and Adonis.

A peculiar, earthy scent wafts through the stale air of the sweltering room: notes of lemongrass, pine and wood.

“Ah, we have a guest” Suguru’s line sounds rehearsed, void of actual surprise, and you don’t like it one bit.

He’s sitting on the sofa, an empty spot left between him and Satoru, whose grotesque cerulean gaze bores into yours as he brings a grape cluster to his mouth. The coffee table is covered in trays and plates of food: an abundance of fruit, prosciutto wrapped figs, smoked oysters accompanied with champagne beurre blanc, salted chocolate and caramel tarts, a basket filled with an assortment of breads. What looks like an exceptionally expensive replica of a traditional lagynos, the hellenistic wine jug favored by the ancient Greeks, dominates the center of the table and elegant wine goblets in sterling silver accentuate the unusual choice of flowers embellishing the surface: lycoris radiata, or red spider lilies.

“We do” Shoko lets go of your hand at last and you instinctively flex your fingers. Inexplicably, she seems to notice because she turns to look at you with an unreadable expression, hand rising to secure part of your hair behind your ear “I promised you’d behave” the little wink is not intimate at all, like a secret whispered to your ear only for everyone else to hear.

“Don’t we always?” Kento’s bored tone draws your attention and you’re finally able to tear your eyes away from the odd energy tying your gaze to the magnetic figures perched on the sofa.

Nanami and Yu are sitting on the opposite divan, the latter waving at you with a sweet smile that has his eyes turn into little half-moons that swallow his pupils. Pale, lithe fingers are gracefully holding a joint that is held to his friend’s lips.

“Want some?” Shoko’s syrupy voice startles you, the question almost whispered against the shell of your ear as she passes you by to take the seat her sister’s offering.

How are they allowed to do this in the first place? Sure, they’re sickeningly favored but smoking weed in a dorm? Not even attempting to keep the scent from seeping out into the hallway? What would it take for them to get some semblance of an actual reprimand, a corpse hid in a closet?

“No, thanks” you attempt to take the last remaining empty armchair but Suguru pats the spot between him and his best friend, cracking a soft smile and tossing a casual comment about how famished you must be.

“No reasonable person would venture outside in this weather and it’s way past dinner time” he indicates the plethora of options scattered on the large coffee table with the gentle wave of a hand “please, sit with us. I’d like to benefit from your views once more”

Against your better judgement, Utahime’s skeptical scoff prompts you to accept the invitation. Satoru scoots away ever so slightly, perhaps to give you enough room to feel comfortable. And yet the comfort doesn’t come, you can’t relax your shoulders as you sink into the soft velvet. For a second, you even wonder if it’s a good idea to eat anything they’re offering.

“Thank you” you cautiously accept a fig because at this point your stomach is one step away from absorbing itself “uh— Ieiri mentioned you had another discussion going on?”

Her crystalline laugh pierces the air and you’re not surprised to find Utahime sitting on her lap, back flush against her older sister’s chest, glaring at you like a guard dog.

“Please, just call me Shoko” she peers at you from behind Utahime’s shoulder. Her arms easily envelop her sister’s smaller frame, hands conveniently placed on her lap as thin fingers work to pack dark weed into the thin rolling paper.

Shoko. You’re tempeted to articulate it right away, to taste the way it’d feel on your tongue.

“We are” Suguru’s gaze lingers a moment too long on your mouth, the way it sinks into the red, purplish flesh of the fruit “we were analyzing Ovid’s metamorphoses and Kento was really interested in hearing your thoughts”

You search for his gaze but he’s thrown his head back, legs parted in what’s perhaps the most relaxed pose you’ve ever seen him indulge in. Yu has propped himself up on one elbow against the backrest of the sofa, cheek squished by his fist as pink lips close around what’s left of the joint.

“Our professor wants us to point out why their repetitiveness is unimportant” he smiles, words slightly dragged. 

“I mean, myths are not sacred stories and mutability is not sacrilege” the sweet taste of the fig melts in the back of your throat right as Satoru’s eyes travel back to you once more, it takes everything in your not to turn your head and challenge his stare “they’re still relevant because there’s still vibrancy to them. Stories were meant to be mutable, Ovid was never supposed to preserve canonical versions that had already been retelled thousands of times”

Geto hums, the corner of his lips already curving upwards. Such a pretty thing, with a pretty mind too.

“What did you like the most about them?” the question vibrates with genuine interest and you pick another fig as you dwell over it.

The stories, the narrative techniques, all the varied tones, make the metamorphoses one of your favorite Latin poems. You love that they’re a celebration of nature and, at the same time, a raw representation of the fundamental uncertainty of all things human. Love is kept  as a recurring theme and gods are only portrayed as allegories for forces and passions that guide the human decision making process.

“I think his mocking attitude is fun” you attempt a smile “it’s just… such a hilarious, epic, tragic opus. Whatever Ovid writes keeps its sheer beauty even in the darkest of lines and, god, does he have some of them”

Satoru huffs a small laugh out of his nose and this time you do look at him. He’s gorgeous, could easily become the Narcissus of any Echo, the nymph that in the myth falls desperately in love with him only to be rejected, scorned and humiliated.

Oh marvellous boy, I loved you in vain, farewell.

Would his body fade, his bones turn to stone? Would those eyes look at something other than his own divine reflection?

“Tongues being wrenched out, humans barking out their sorrows, women turned into mute creatures by envious gods. Yet you see beauty in them” he’s not mocking you, it’s the most serious you’ve ever heard him sound. The challenge he offers is void of sarcasm or skepticism, it sounds more like… a kind observation.

“As humans, we’re imperfect” although this may not exactly apply to you “we’re blinded by lust, passion, greed, jealousy. Just as the tide goes out only to go in again, we too drift and change in shape and are left witnessing each other’s ever shifting existence. Don’t you think he portrays the concept wonderfully?”

You’re not sure why you’re hoping for a decent exchange of views. Maybe you want to take a peek into their world, a real one, because there must be something other than the unnecessary travesty they carry around, something behind all that self-righteous bullshit. You want to know who they are, what they actually think, if something really does make them special. You don’t care about impressing them, you just want to understand.

But then Satoru’s lips curl into a smug smirk you’re all too familiar with, broad and spine-tingling. His pupils are dilated, swimming in the depths of his impossibly blue eyes as the tip of his tongue traces his upper lip in a pink flash.

“Nec perit in toto quicquam, mihi credite, mundo, sed variat faciemque novat” he articulates the words slowly, savoring each syllable and basking in the way your shoulders stiffen once more.

“What we call birth is but an incipient change from a prior state” Suguru chimes in delicately and when you turn to him you get the impression that he’s sitting closer than he was “while death is but cessation of a former state” he’s offering you a cup, filled with wine to the brim.

“Ah, no, thank you” you attempt a smile. Foxy eyes make it impossible to discern the size of his pupils but something tells you, even when high, he’d be able to remain perfectly lucid.

“I insist” he tilts his head to the side a little “our professor gave us the recipe, it’s our very own ambrosia”

You’re hesitant when you reach for the cup, the one he’s been clearly drinking from. But then again, maybe some liquid courage wouldn’t hurt while facing what’s your strangest evening to date.

The first sip burns in your throat and explodes in your chest, flush rising from your neck to your cheeks. It’s pleasant, most probably sweetened with honey and infused with spices you can’t quite pinpoint.

“Good girl” Satoru’s chuckle is close but somehow muffled. You take another good sip from the cup under Suguru’s expectant gaze and give it back, he thanks you with a smile.

It doesn’t take but a couple minutes spent discussing your favorite myths from the metamorphoses, Kento and Utahime having a lazy debate over Pyramus and Thisbe, for everything to start to feel kinda blurred around the edges, your head dizzy as if you’ve walked into some sort of misty haze. You can see Shoko’s mouth move and guess the sound of her laugh when she looks at you but receives no response, you can hear Suguru’s voice asking if you feel okay, but you’re floating underwater and your body suddenly feels so unbearably hot.

“I’m fine” you murmur and someone from across the room laughs. Is it Yu?

“You’re more than fine” Satoru’s hand ghosts over your bare knee for a moment, one digit starting to lazily trace the skin all the way up to the hem of your skirt “look at you. Our very own Diana” your eyelids feel heavy when you look at him, smile glistening even in the dim light of the room as thunder rumbles in the distance.

“So furious that we’ve seen her, she’d turn us all into deers and watch us getting mauled by a band of hounds if she could” his eyebrows raise to mimick your surprised expression when you open your mouth to protest.

“Deprendi miserum est” Shoko's playful pitch makes someone, perhaps Suguru, laugh condescendingly.

“You look nothing like Actaeon” is all you manage to let out and he laughs sweetly, hand reaching out to gently cradle your cheek, thumb tenderly grazing the portion of skin underneath your eye.

“What do I look like?”

What, not who.

Something in a corner far away of your mind is ringing as his thumb travels down to skim over your bottom lip, your mouth parts on its own accord and he gently pushes the digit between your lips.

You suck on it and it feels like the most natural thing on earth: it’s flattering that a being so ethereal would grant you such attentiveness, it’s only fair you return his fondness with equal generosity. He could ask for anything and you’d do everything in your power to satisfy him. Isn’t that why you’re here for?

“Tell me” Satoru’s pitch sounds accomodating but Suguru can barely contain a scoff at the actual impatience simmering beneath the surface.

His thumb wetly pops out of your mouth and you attempt to blink away part of your stupor, mind dangerously decelerated as you struggle to remember the answer you should be chasing.

But then he tilts his head to the side and offers another smile, a bolt of lightning exploding behind the tall window on the other side of the room. It might’ve as well struck you because you feel on fire, quite literally set ablaze right as another clap of thunder dissipates part of the fog flooding your head.

“A god” you murmur, equal parts fascinated and daunted beneath that stare.

He hums, pupils somehow blown wider in darkened celestial depths as he gently reaches over to guide you toward him. You’re clumsy as you attempt to carefully balance yourself atop his lap, head spinning even if big yet gentle hands patiently support your graceless movements.

Except he’s not being accomodating, he’s leading. You’re moving pliably, responding to the simplest of inputs with such submissiveness Gojo’s practically stiff in his pants already.

Lips are gentle and surprisingly soft as they first press to the column of your throat, they trace your skin while his broad hands keep you in place, fingers not even having to sink into the fat of your thighs to make sure you don’t move. His kisses are wet by the time he mouths his way up to and along your jaw, stopping mere inches away from your lips, reveling in the way your chest rises erratically underneath the pressure of your heavy breathing. Darker petals are already blossoming on your throat, skin still stinging in the spots he has sucked, bitten and then licked better.

“So worship me” he coos, a sudden squeeze of your hips prompting you to inch forward.

Your kiss is tentative, still asking for a permission you’re not sure you’ve been granted, obvlivious to the fact that you never needed one. You feel rough fingers cradling the back of your head to tilt your face and demand you kiss him deeper: still slow and attentive but more courageous, you comply and the sweet taste of wine melts on both your tongues, his rendered slightly bitter from the weed.

It’s addictive and exhilarating and when you pull back he doesn’t give you the chance to catch your breath because he chases you, an annoyed “not yet” breathed against your mouth, lidded eyes falling on the string of spit connecting your lips right before kissing you again. One of his hands slips underneath the hem of your skirt and strokes the soft skin of your thigh with intent, up and down, certainly distracting but not enough to convince you to break away from a kiss turned greedy, insatiable. Your hands travel from the back of his neck to his broad shoulders, pressing lightly against them to signal the lack of oxygen making you even more dizzy. Gojo would smirk if his tongue wasn’t buried so deep down your throat, the hand still holding your hip guiding your body to grind against his own while you let out soft mewls he keeps swallowing, a satisfied groan leaving his chest at last when you comply so easily. So obediently.

He allows you to draw back but not before pinching your bottom lip between his teeth, the sting so painful it makes you whine.

“So pretty” he says breathlessly, then inches forward once more and lets his tongue carefully trace your swollen lip to collect the blood “almost makin’ me want to keep you”

“Don’t be… ridiculous—” Utahime’s voice comes out faint from behind you, soon breaking into a muffled moan. But when you attempt to turn around, Gojo harshly grabs you by the jaw and painfully sinks his fingers into your cheeks.

“Eyes on me” the command is stern, makes a shiver run down your spine. The hand underneath your skirt lightly pinches your inner thigh, it hurts but not in the way you’d expect and you find yourself rolling your hips once more, in a silly attempt to get closer to that warmth. His smile is clement as the tips of his fingers gently run over the fabric of your cotton panties, it only grows in size and brightness when he finds the material already damp.

“Oh, you poor thing” he purrs right as he presses long fingers a little harder against your cunt, the softest of gasps promptly silenced by his lips grazing yours and then gently murmuring “see? Isn’t this nice? Did you really need to act all high and mighty after all?”

You tremble pathetically while he keeps rubbing you back and forth, slowly but applying just enough pressure for your heart to pick up its pace and your stomach to contort in all too familiar knots.

“Please…” you breathe out. It takes everything in you not to reach in between your own legs and grab his wrist to get some relief.

“Please what, pretty thing?” his thumb casually swipes at your clit and this time he lets you whimper for everyone to hear, the way you’re heaving and the feeling of your nails sinking into his shoulders going straight to his painfully hard cock.

“He can’t help you if you don’t tell him what you need” you can hardly recognize Kento’s voice in your dazed state, it still carries its usual, unfazed pitch but there’s something new vibrating to it. Something Yu’s low chuckle and the groan that follows seem to confirm.

“Touch me” you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the feeling of fresh arousal soaking your underwear under the pressure of his fingers, the lazy rubs his thumb teases your bud with “fuck, Gojo, just—” you damn near let out a sob when the warmth of his hand is abruptly taken from you, hole pathetically fluttering around nothing at all. Hips buck in protest and he chuckles at your impatience, savoring every last drop of your desperation. It’s his favorite part.

“Ask nicely” the tip of his nose grazes your cheek before he lays a soft kiss on it “and say my name right”

“Satoru” you whine, every single nerve ending of your body catching fire at the anticipation wrecking you from the inside “please, please, just touch me”

There’s no time and you don’t currently have the mental capacity to take a second, acknowledge how that name feels when spelled out loud for the first time. You can’t discern the taste between your teeth because your underwear is moved out of the way, safely pushed to the side and your mind goes blank when he finally touches your bare, feverish skin. Satoru doesn’t cast his eyes away from you as his lithe fingers rub you back and forth some more, collect part of the slick that trickles out of you like a syrup so sweet. They tease the opening of your cunt right before a finger carefully dips inside: he’s barely holding back a groan when you instantly clamp down around it, wet and tight and so warm.

He thrusts slowly, pushing up into you with exasperating languidness, so much that you have to roll your hips with a strangled moan to keep the fire in your gut ignited.

“Stop being an asshole” Suguru’s voice is so close and yet seems to reach your ears from far away.

“Yeah, Toru, hurry up” you barely register Shoko’s mocking words, the light giggle that follows “let’s see who can make them come first”

Gojo smirks, one hand rubbing reassuring circles into your hip as he adds another finger and starts moving in and out faster, digits skillfully curled and thumb pressing to your clit once more.

“That’s not very fair, Shoko. I don’t know this one as well as you know your sister” and yet you cry out once more, legs tightening around his hips the deeper he pushes his fingers in. The rhythm is relentless, the squelching sounds filling the room obscene. You’re too lightheaded to realize they’re not coming just from you.

“Quid est rei? Let me hear you, pretty” he presses another kiss to your jaw and angles his wrist, curled fingers roughly dragging in and out as they continuously stretch you open and batter a specific spot over and over again, until you can’t hold back a vocal, desperate moan. You feel so full and yet impatient for more, for that boiling wire in your stomach to finally snap.

He gazes at her lips, and knows that gazing is not enough. He marvels at her fingers, her hands, her wrists, her arms. And what he does not see he thinks is better.

Satoru starts trailing kisses over the skin of your throat, he seems to have already memorized where to suck to make your pulse tap faster against his mouth. You’re so human, so fragile, so desperate for him. Would it be so wrong to keep you? You wouldn’t look nearly as pretty as the last one anyway, not covered in all that blood and with that cute little mouth frozen in a forever scream. A little inebriation is all it takes to instill some sense of devotion into that charming, opinionated brain of yours. Just a few sips of a special nectar to have you making a mess on his crooked fingers, moan after moan springing from your shameless throat as sticky arousal dribbles down his fingers and between his knuckles.

“What d’you say you help me out, angel?” he’s leaking in his own underwear by the time his teeth sink into the tender skin of your neck and his movements nearly come to a halt, making you whine in protest. Satoru’s smile is feral when it meets your scowl. “C’mon, don’t you want to please me?” his thumb presses on your clit and gives it a few rough rubs, the muscles of your thighs twitching in response.

“Yes, yes” you clumsily reach for his crotch, give it a few messy strokes before he groans right into your mouth and grips your wrist. He presses your hand against himself for a moment, hips rubbing against your palm, clarity of his mind threatening to abandon him when you grind down harshly, in desperate search of some friction, and he feels the wetness of your cunt against the back of his hand.

“Let me please you, I’ll do anything” you whine when he forcefully moves your hand away, grip around your wrist bruising as his other hand roughly lifts your skirt over your thighs. Ah, there you are. Satoru unconsciounsly licks his lips at the sight of your swollen clit, slick folds glistening with fresh arousal he’s dying to taste.

But now Suguru can see you too and he knows just how impatient he gets. Fuck.

“Anything?” it’s meant to be a tease but Satoru is just really trying to hold it together, to gain back some sort of lucidity. You’re still languidly grinding against him, making a visible mess of his light brown pants. It takes every ounce of self restraint left in him to stop your movements and start rubbing at your dewy skin again, spreading your lower lips and barely dipping two fingers inside your fluttering hole.

“God— yes, Satoru. Anything, anything” your despair is addicting and he chuckles darkly at your franctic nods, presses his forehead to your cheek as his gaze sets on the gorgeous, glimmering sight underneath him.

“Take what you need, then” Satoru angles his wrist but keeps still, patient “fuck yourself on my fingers and maybe I’ll fill that pretty little pussy up”

He hates that it’s a lie, despises the idea of giving up his chance to effectively ruin you. He’s a man of his word, when the consequences of not abiding by the agreements are too troublesome anyway.

But is he really above giving in to temptation? You called him a god, you’re here to worship him. He’s a perfect being, he’s the one calling the goddamn shots. And so this has to be different, special, a moment belonging only to the two of you. Even as Shoko’s fingers relentlessly stretch her sister open, even as Kento’s dark gaze is fixated on him and Yu is lazily stroking his cock, wrist turning skillfully in comforting circles. Even with Suguru’s eyes not missing a single movement or twitch of lips. Satoru can practically discern the shadow of a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, it infuriates him. 

This moment has to be his. No one else’s.

And so, as you restlessly roll your hips, he starts moving in and out once more, precise and fast. It’s the deepest he’s ever pushed his fingers inside you and the electricity crackling below your stomach leaves space to nothing more than a wordless cry out from lips frozen in muted pleasure.

“Please, please, please” you sob and reach to rub at your clit, eyes rolling back when his thumb presses harshly against your fingers and works the bud in sync with you.  

“Come, pretty girl” the velvet of his voice sends a jolt of pleasure between your thighs, lips pressed to the shell of your ear as his other hand closes around the base of your throat “say my name and cream on my fucking fingers”

Devote yourself to me. Worship me, worship me, worship me.

You reach in between your legs and grab his wrist with feverish desperation, pushing down to bring him closer and fuck yourself on his hand as deep as you can, until he abuses that specific spot inside you over and over and over.

“Satoru” you cry out “close, so close—”

“I know, angel” he half-chuckles because of course he can feel that “let go for me”

You’re sobbing out his name, juices from your soaked cunt drenching both your hands as you rock back and forth, sounds you’re well past feeling embarrassed about drown out the noise of the storm. He doesn’t stop when your jaw goes slack and one of the strongest heats you have ever experienced explodes in your core. Satoru keeps moving and moving and moving even as your hips still and your muscles seize up, raw touch turning so sensitive your nails dig into the flesh of his wrist.

The heavenly sound of your whines still echo in his dazed mind when he slows his movements and ultimately stops, gaze drinking in the bliss embedded in your features before he tilts his chin forward to press a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Did so well for me” you smile at the praise, flinching just a little when he slides his soaked fingers out of your warmth and brings them to his mouth. Just a taste, he thinks he should get to have just a taste.

He can only indulge in it for a moment before a hand from beside him uncerimoniously closes around his wrist. Suguru brings the long digits to his mouth and lets his tongue shamelessly swirl around their length as he suckles on them, eyes shutting for a moment at how unexpectedly sweet you taste.

“I still won” this time you don’t attempt to turn around, you don’t care about whatever Shoko is talking about. Not when his eyes see nothing but you, free hand gently stroking your thigh, lips murmuring honeyed praises. You want him and you’re blinded by the wild gratification that comes with him wanting you.

I am dragged along by a strange new force. Desire and reason are pulling in different directions. I see the right way and approve it, but follow the wrong.

Satoru gently takes the hand still nestled between your legs with a light chuckle, genuine amusement softening his perfect features.

“Taste yourself” he guides your drenched fingers to your mouth but not before pressing a kiss to your knuckles “so you don’t forget what I do to you”

You’re still throbbing pathetically as you comply and suck on your own fingers, lick them clean under his attentive gaze, the hardness you’re sitting on causing new warmth to pool into your core.

You’re not hesitant when you kiss him again, desperate to have him taste your essence with every swipe of your tongue. The guttural groan that arises from his throat makes you smile, triumphant. You kiss him, lazy and messy and deep, timidly rock your hips in hopes of further pleasing him. All that you are, all that you’ll ever be, belongs to him now.

“I think that’s enough. Don’t you, Satoru?”

And just like that, he pulls away, harshly stills your movements with a firm grip of his hands. He doesn’t look at you, head falling to rest against your shoulder as he catches his breath.

Looking to your right causes a new wave of dizziness.

Geto is out of focus but smiling kindly at you, eyes that are so different from Satoru's narrowed and curved into little crescents. They bring a different kind of darkness and yet you feel drawn to him all the same, eager to abide by any request. It just feels so good, to be obedient. Whatever you kept worrying about? They mean well, they want to take care of you. It’s the safest you’ve ever felt.

“C’mere” Suguru is sitting close enough to support your poorly coordinated movements as you attempt to detangle yourself from Gojo, who presses a final kiss to your forehead before retracting without complaint.

“Sweet girl” Geto welcomes you onto his lap with the sweetest touch, reassuring hands pushing back some of the hair sticking to your flushed face “sweet, smart girl. How lucky are we that you decided to join us” he coos.

Captivated by his glittering onyx gaze, you give yourself to him just as easily, mind swimming and barely able to register the harsh sound of the rain against the windows. You lean towards him, although there’s really no need because he ever so gently cups your chin to bring you close anyway.

“You’ll do as I say” he whispers, the firmness of his hold preventing you to further lean over “won’t you, sweet thing?” you can’t suppress a gasp when his knuckle forcefully comes against your still sensitive cunt and presses hard against it.

“I—” breath catches in your throat when he suddenly pushes two curled fingers inside just once, in and out, movement harsh and painfully fast.

“Look at me” Suguru tightens his hold on your chin as a warning, tilts his head to the side when your clouded gaze meets his hungry one “you’ll let me split you open on my cock for everyone to see, you’ll take what I give you until you’re sore and raw and then you’ll beg for more”

“Yes” you breathe out and he chuckles at the feeling of your legs clenching around him.

“Yes what, sweetheart?” delicate fingers move over your clit in slow circles, absolutely unbothered by the way you start squirming, unable to control the way your body reacts to a touch so controlled and yet overwhelming.

“Yes, I will— God, I'll let you—”

“I’m a patient man, darling”

You honestly want to cry at the sensation of his fingers barely sinking into your hole, the tips teasing your entrance over and over again as his thumb never loses its rythm over your sore bundle of nerves.

“I'll let you split me open!” you cry out “I’ll let you do anything!”

“You will” his fingers curl and the heat of arousal explodes inside you once more. He finally dips his digits all the way in, up to his knuckles, right as he kisses you. It’s rough and messy, teeth clashing and tongue eagerly licking into your mouth, the tip of his cock leaking copiously at every strangled moan you let out, at every subtle, pitiful roll of your hips against his hand.

Suguru breaks away first and harshly pulls his fingers out but you know better than to complain, too eager for what’s to come.

“Touch yourself” it takes a few seconds to understand that he’s not talking to you, although his gaze has not left your eyes a single moment. 

Satoru’s relieved groan seems so far and yet close, embedded in fresh memories that make your heart beat with the frenzy of a caged rabbit. You don’t dare look in his direction.

“Perhaps we really could keep you, mhm?” Suguru kisses your forehead, eyelids, the tip of your nose and then dips his head to trace your jaw, angles your head to have better access to the already marked skin of your throat. He almost clicks his tongue in annoyance: what a mess, he would’ve made a much more gracious job.

“Not even scared enough to beg yet” Suguru moves his hand down, you catch the faint glisten of the wetness covering lithe fingers as he reaches below the waistband of his pants “and you still managed to arouse him. Isn’t that a first, Satoru?”

Mesmerized by the sight of his cock, you fail to register whatever reply comes from Gojo. Suguru’s fingers easily circle the impressive girth of a length so pretty, curved and with a flared, heavily leaking tip. Is every part of them this beautiful? Will you have the chance to find out more, to learn the edges of every single one of their bodies? Will they all claim you, keep you?

Geto gives himself a few strokes, wrist turning elegantly as his lips welcome a smile so soft.

“Would you want to stay, sweet girl?” his free hand travels down to your hip and gives it two light taps. You barely gather some strength and use the leverage of his shoulders to push yourself up just enough for his cock to find your entrance and teasingly move against it a few times. He barely pushes you open and stays like that, the sound of your ragged, labored breaths music to his ears.

“Yes” you rasp “yes, please let me stay”

“Over my dead body” Utahime’s bitter reproach doesn’t faze you, not as Suguru pushes in some more, your muscles tensing as drools collects in the corners of your parted lips.

“Don’t bother, we have enough of those already�� Yu’s low chuckle reaches your ears a moment too late.

Suguru grabs your hips and sits you down on him harshly, in a single, brutal movement that has your mind going static and your entire body burning at the sudden stretch. You’re stuffed so full and he’s so deep, almost like he’s pressing against the inside of your stomach.

His controlled facade alters for a moment, the sensation of your tight walls sucking him in so superbly clouding his senses and better judgement.

“Fuck” you whimper, nails digging into the soft fabric of his perfectly ironed white shirt “Suguru” his name on your lips, the pleasure distorting your fucked out features make his cock twitch inside your pretty pussy. Just perfect, you were made to take him, for him to painfully carve its way inside you.

Dark shadows swim in his intense stare while you struggle to breathe properly as he slowly grinds you against him. Is this a reward or a punishment? You can’t tell anymore.

“Look at how gorgeous you are with my cock spreading you apart” he presses his lips to your forehead once more, it feels like the blessing of a deity.

“Keep me” you whisper, delirious, desperate for him to move or at least allow you to roll your hips some more “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be so good”

Someone reaches over from behind you to gently comb some hair back from your forehead, now covered in a sheen of sweat. A melodic, familiar chuckle inadvertently sends a shudder down your spine even in your hazed state.

“Let her stay, Suguru” Hina lays a kiss on the top of your head as her chest presses flush against your back “we’ll help you take care of her”

index vocabolorum:

Nec perit in toto quicquam, mihi credite, mundo, sed variat faciemque novat - there’s nothing in the entire universe that perishes, believe me; rather it renews and varies its substance

Deprendi miserum est - it is wretched to be found out

Quid est rei? - what is the matter?

[gloryy-vs]

Neteyam x Reader miscommunication trope | Reader is a hunter, absolutely blood-thirsty trained killer, a total badass, completely outspoken,, and well our Neteyam is in love and in over his head and shy etccccc so he finds it easier to ice her out, (out of fear - maybe a little) and yearn from afar ... Reader has always had a crush but is convinced he hates her

<3

also im in love with you and all your works,, can we be friends or do I have to beg?

we are bsfs now. <3

Huntress’ Call

Chapter 1 : Fleeting

next || chapter 3 || chapter 4

characters: Neteyam x reader, Jake, Neytiri, Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk, Sky People, Quaritch

ratings: sfw, mentions of miscarriage, violence, war, angsty, enemies to friends to lovers, warrior, aggression

prompt: you’re an aggressive warrior, praised by the clan and close to the sully family. neteyam caught your eye but you’re convinced you’ll never be as mighty or honorable as he is. you also caught neteyams eye but he assumes he will never be as truly dedicated to the warrior life as you are.

Each day was a task. There was always a reason to fight, a reason to go on, something to want to win for. You were a brave warrior, continuing to fight now for your Omatikaya people, especially for your age. You were only 19, but had a strong heart. One of the best warrior the clan had seen when it comes to the second war against the sky people.

Many afraid to approach you, and many begging to work with you. You paid it no mind, there was too much to lose to be distracted by the little things. Neteyam was different though. You could tell he was a mighty warrior, the perfect eldest of the Sully children. He truly had the fighting instincts of his mother and father. He was the prime example of a man worth your time, but you weren’t too sure if he found you to be on the same level as him. You were the youngest of your family, having an older sibling by two years. Your brother Ols’eyo was an aggressive warrior, but wasn’t calculated like you were. Every move had to be perfect, elegant and angled. Not to say you weren’t ruthless. Just more cautious.

You weaved your way through the crowd of Na’vi, seeing them all prepare their bodies in paint. You yelled out a call to your own scouting team, a mixture of clicking noises and a yodel like sound. They came flocking to you, plucking their fingers from their foreheads. “You, and you. Watch westward, eagle view.” You said sternly, snapping your four fingered hand and they headed off, mounting their Ikrans speedily. You pointed two fingers at more of your scouts, “You two, watch east from side view. The rest of you take North and South as usual.” You said, taking your bow from behind you and taking steps toward your own green and purple Ikran.

Just as you bonded with your Ikran, Ye’ola. Jake Sully approached you, as if he had something important to discuss. You swiftly turned your head to properly face your leader, beginning to bow before he halted you. “I need you with us today. You’re one of the best we have. Have you sent those scouts off yet?” He said, brows furrowed as he began to reload his weapon. It looked like he just returned from a raid that led to angrier Sky People.

“Yes, sir. I can recall them back though if necessary.” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. He was a very important figure to you, as he was very close friends with your father, and Neytiri was life-long friends with your mother. Your piercing eyes darted off to the side, catching Neteyam’s attention. He straightened his back, turning away from you immediately. Your own eyes fluttered away, turning back to The Olo’eyktan in front of you.

“Not needed. Keep them where they are. I’ll have someone sent to do the patrol for you. Come with us.” He said, jolting his head in the direction he came from. You were in no place to decline, and followed immediately. Ye’ola spread her wings, and you assumed she went to land near the Sully Ikrans.

.

Neytiri painted you in your Ikrans colors, swiping her fingers across your frame quickly. “You wear the colors of the Ikran, represent the ferocity of the first meeting.” Neytiri said, wiping her fingers off the purple and green paste.

You typically never wore Yeola’s colors on patrols, but as you’d be more on the front lines with the other warriors like Neteyam, it was important to showcase that. You stood, thanking Neytiri for her help before you grabbed your intricately carved bow. It had your families names carved into it, your father made it for you when you were of age to begin your training. You sauntered over to your Ikran, Neteyam following behind as he bonded with his. You mounted Yeola, bringing your visor down. You followed Jakes orders, his voice sounded gruff and demanding, “Let’s go!” He yelled.

You had your brown in hand, readying your arrows as you commanded Ye’ola with a ‘yip yip’. You took off quickly, gliding above with Neytiri to the left of you, you squatted above the saddle on your Ikran, instructing her to go downwards to the railroads site that was constructed not too long ago. You could see the bombs and bullets already going off down site. Na’vi of all genders riding fiercely and attacking with all they had. It only made you even more determined. You aimed carefully, arrows laced with a deadly poison. Gliding past the Sully’s yoir began firing, arrows piercing straight through the glass of large motion capturing robots, instantly killing the drivers and causing them to collapse.

Your Ikran angled itself, leaning one side more towards the ground as you got in even closer, arrows firing in a calculated manner to stop the human advances. You directed Yeola back up, flying steady next to Neteyam as he was only there to watch out from up top. Your head turned to him, beads that were woven into your hair were clicking against each other in the wind. He looked into your eyes, and you thought you almost saw a yearning in his eyes. Like he wanted to say something. Neteyam scoffed to himself, shaking his head and pulling his Ikran away from yours. The sudden coldness from the eldest Sully offended you, and the offense turned to irritation. Irritation led to violent outbursts in battle. You hooked your feet into the loops of the saddle on your Ikran, nearly standing on your spirit sister as you readied more arrows, but you heard Jakes voice come through the throat device he gave you. You weren’t sure of its proper name. You still decided to put all your trust into the Sully, knowing he only wanted the best for his best friends daughter.

“Your brother is in need of back up, eagle eye view report. Northeast from the head rails where I’m at. Over.” Jake said, you pressed the two buttons on your throat, “Understood. Viper heading there now.”

You yipped at Ye’ola, and she turned east, swooping closer to the ground so you could get a better view of your brother. You saw him, slashing away to his hearts content with no regard to his safety. Ols’eyo looked up, hearing your familial call, which as the name describes is a way to let relatives know you’re there. His angered eyes soften when he saw you coming in, but went wide as he saw the arrow aimed for what seemed like at his head. You fired, causing him to duck and luckily, your aim didn’t let you down as the real target was writhing on the ground from the indescribable pain the poison caused. “Ma’tsmuk. Use your head!” You said with a thick accent, irritated at his impulsive behavior. You gripped onto his forearm, hoisting him up to your Ikran and yipping out to return to the Sully’s.

Your aggression never ceased, arrows firing in every direction to protect unsuspecting or distracted Na’vi. They know just from your calls and yells that you were their aid. Protecting them from above to reduce fatalities. Your eyes met with Jakes as he slowed his Ikran down and motioned for his family to do the same. “I see you got him.” Jake said with sought venom in his tone.

“Yes sir. This Skxawng almost got himself killed. I pray I don’t pluck his eyes out.” You said sourly, slapping at your brothers chest from behind you. He scoffed, “I had it under control.”

“With Eywa you did! Mother and father don’t need to lose another child!” You yelled, your Ikran flinching at the anger mixed with sadness you felt which translates through your bond with the creature.

Jake allowed you to have your moment with you brother, knowing it was a sensitive topic. Though unbeknownst to you, Neteyam had his eyes only on you, how fierce you acted, brave enough to swoop into a high risk zone to get your sibling, just as he had. Jake waved his hand, signaling it was time to go.

“We’re done here. Let’s go.” He said, instructing his Ikran to speed up. As he did, all four of you followed behind him.

You and your brother were silent behind the family, feeling solemn from the mention of your mothers miscarriage. It was all because of the stress the first war with the Sky People. Her body was in shock and couldn’t handle the fear and grief of Hometree being destroyed. Your brother rested his hand on your shoulder, his common way of apologizing for the behavior he displayed in such a serious battle. You pressed your cheek against his hand, forgiving him once again for nearly sending you to Eywa

[philomenie]

KILLING ME SOFTLY

Hitman!Jolly fic

CN murder, violence, sex, organized crime, blood, mention of child murder 18+

@jilliemiw86 @nojoyontheburn @reyadawn

TWO

Instead of driving straight to his apartment, Jolly drives to the hospital where Olivia works, parks his car on the opposite side of the road, right in front of the entrance, turns off the engine and looks at the building.

What is he doing here anyway, he thinks to himself, shaking his head. It's complicated enough as it is and he shouldn't be intruding on Olivia's life in any way. It's enough that he lives next door to her and talks to her.

He's putting her in danger by doing that and by his mere presence here. In mortal danger and that is the very last thing he wants.

But as if by an invisible bond, Jolly is magically drawn to Olivia again and again. When she is working, especially at night, he makes sure that nothing happens to her unless he is needed elsewhere. Watches her, protects her. He has spent hours in the emergency room just to be near her or waiting outside the hospital to make sure that she gets home safely.

Since their first encounter, he has fallen for her, as he now admits. He can't explain it to himself, but Olivia brings out a side in him that he never thought existed. He doesn't even know why that is.

He divides his life so far into two sections, before and after, normality and hell. However, if he is honest with himself, he would have to add another section right now..... Hope. But he doesn't want to do that, because the tender seedling that is germinating inside him could be destroyed too quickly. So he clears his mind of such things and leans back, making himself comfortable in his seat and keeping an eye on the entrance. He waits until Olivia finishes her shift and goes home.

As he broods, lost in thought, he misses the car that has followed him and has also come to a halt a little further away from his position, just as he parks and waits.

Jolly is haunted by flashes of memories of the past, which come back every now and then when he tries to relax, to calm down.

Memories that are painful and that he would rather forget. Memories of his family that no longer exist. Wiped out and massacred in the Succession War in which Semjon was able to triumph within the organization.

Because on that cursed day, Semjon was stupidly eating at his parents' restaurant. A coincidence, because the "Maritime" was not one of Semjon's usual restaurants where he used to eat. Only that day was different....

On this shitty day, Semjon had to propose to Inga, Kolja's mother, and chose his parents' restaurant for the occasion... to create a special atmosphere, away from the usual routine and away from the structures of the organization.

Semjon had rented the entire "Maritime" for the occasion in order to be undisturbed. Only a handful of bodyguards were still with him, as well as his parents and two members of the kitchen staff. Jolly can't even remember their names, just a blur of their faces.

He was still small, if not tiny, at the time. He and his siblings, his older brother Niclas and his little sister Linnea, were staying in the restaurant's private rooms that day. The two rooms included an office and a playroom/bedroom for the children and, for example, the parents, if they had no one to babysit their children or it was too late to drive back to their house outside Stockholm....

The fact that Semjon was in Sweden at all is just as incredible a coincidence as everything else. He had retreated to Sweden to prepare himself for the decisive blow against his opponents and Sweden was close at hand, as he was madly in love with Inga, whom he wanted to make his next wife and who came from Sweden, or rather Stockholm.

Fortune was not at all kind to Jolly and his family on this shitty day...…

Linnea was already asleep and he and Niclas were still playing when all hell broke loose and Semjon's opponents' men stormed the restaurant, shooting at anything that moved. The fact that Semjon and Inga survived was nothing short of a miracle.

Jolly knows from stories that his parents must have died almost immediately. His father must have tried to protect his mother, but both were riddled with bullets. Just like the staff in the kitchen.

Apart from two bodyguards, one of whom was Oleg, Nadja's father, they also died in the hail of bullets. Semjon, Inga, Oleg and the other made it out of the building through the back door after a fierce battle in which most of the attackers were killed.

He remembers exactly how he and Niclas heard the shooting, their hearts pounding and their eyes filled with fear, and Linnea woke up and cried. Niclas then picked her up and hugged her to his chest.

He was almost 9 years old at the time and Linnea was just 2.

When the door was kicked open, Niclas stood rooted to the spot with his sister in his arms. Jolly himself ran into his parents' office, squeezing into the narrow gap between the wall and the desk, hidden from the attackers' view. When the shots rang through the silence, Jolly had to bite his hand to stop himself from crying out loud, because he knew immediately what the shots meant.

The killers must not have seen him, because when he calmed down a little and the noise in his ears subsided, he could hear nothing but silence......

He didn't dare come out for fear that someone might still be there.

When he heard footsteps again and men talking in a language that was foreign to him, he thought he would die of panic and heart-rending whimpers came from his throat, so that he was finally found. By Semjon and his men.

It took a long time for them to drag him out of his hiding place, and in the process he got the long scar on his back from cutting himself on a sharp piece of metal sticking out of the wall.

Screaming, wriggling, thrashing around and bleeding, Oleg held him down, unsure what to do with him.

Knowing Oleg now, he would probably have preferred to dispose of him straight away, to kill him, but Semjon was against it.

I bet you wish you'd killed me then, Oleg, Jolly thinks grimly, a sneer on his lips at the thought that he is now fucking Oleg's daughter.

Jolly later asks Semjon why he took him with him, why he didn't have him killed or simply left him there, and gets the following explanatory answer: "You fought, you showed that you were strong, even though you were still so small!"

That is perhaps his biggest mistake, to fight to the last breath even when it seems hopeless.....

Semjon brought Jolly into the organization as his protégé, making him a child of the organization with no chance of escaping. That is now his fate.....

The next few years were hard, he was drilled mercilessly until he was old enough to fight back, then things got better. When Semjon, who had almost forgotten him, realized how good he was with weapons, he quickly became the man for discreet kills and his rise in the organization began.

Sighing, Jolly leans his head against the headrest of his car, he should know better, this could be the mistake of his life..... So far he hasn't made a mistake, well the one with Nadja, but he only touched her when he had Semjon's permission to do so....

But this.... Involving a bystander in the criminal, brutal machinations of the Russian mafia.... Absolute madness!

Jolly knows that if something like this happened, the women were either eliminated or brought into the organization. He wants neither for Olivia. But then what does he want from her at all..…

He wants a piece of his peace of mind back, perhaps this is possible by making sure that nothing happens to Olivia in this distorted picture of normality. He makes sure that she can live her life, that it isn't completely turned upside down like his and so many others who didn't even know why or wherefore, just because they met the wrong people or were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like his family.... Like him......

It is already getting light when he sees Olivia leaving the hospital. Even from a distance, he can see how tired and exhausted she looks. She's rummaging in her large handbag, how can she possibly find anything in there, Jolly thinks, as a man approaches and speaks to her.

Frowning, Jolly sits up, sharpens his gaze and tenses up, mainly because Olivia flinches and pulls away from his grip on her elbow.

Jolly can't hear anything, but he can see enough to know that Olivia is shouting at the guy, who is arguing back. Enraged, she storms off, he can make out the flash of her eyes all the way here, the guy after her.

He drums nervously on his steering wheel, FUCK, what should he do now?

Without thinking further, he reaches for the case, takes out his new gun and the magazine for it, loads it and pulls the trigger, sticks it in the back of his waistband and gets out. He smoothes his shirt so that the gun is concealed and runs across the street.

His pursuers become aware of this and one of them also gets out, following Jolly at a safe distance so that he does not become aware of him.

Jolly is oblivious to his surroundings at the moment, something that never happens to him, his focus is on Olivia and the guy running after her, talking to her over and over again.

Anger wells up inside Jolly, what the hell does he want from her and who is he anyway?

Since he's been in contact with Olivia, she's never had any male visitors and when he asked her, as if in passing, about a partner during an innocuous conversation, she denied both and then looked at him waiting, questioningly....

He then explained that a woman had no place in his life and never would, to which Olivia nodded with a raised eyebrow.

The guy continues to chase Olivia, who stubbornly walks towards the subway with her head down and disappears down the stairs. The guy shouts after her.

Jolly quickens his steps to almost catch up with the man. A quick sideways glance is enough to give him another impression of him. He is tall, about the same height as him, has dark hair that is cut short, looks well toned and has pleasant features in themselves, though distorted by the anger that reigns within him.

Olivia has also quickened her steps and is now almost running to the subway, hurrying inside. The doors close behind her and the train starts to move.

FUCK! The guy next to Jolly yells and hits his thigh with his fist, getting upset.

Jolly looks at him with lowered eyelids. His clothes seem high quality, if not expensive. The watch he's wearing is a Breitling... anything but cheap. His signet ring shows the staff of Asclepius. So doctor.... Jolly also appreciates being from a rich family.

He stands there calmly and watches the man walk up and down, swearing to himself, and then run back up the steps and out into the street.

Jolly stays on his heels.

The man walks to the hospital parking garage and is about to get into his Audi when Jolly grabs him from behind and pushes him against the car, pressing the gun into his back.

Jolly looks around quickly, there is no one to be seen, the surveillance cameras do not reach the entire corner of the parking garage.

The man under his grip begins to tremble, swallows several times, "You can have my money...." he gasps and tries to reach for his wallet.

"Don't!" grumbles Jolly quietly, trying to disguise his accent.

"What... what do you want from me?" the guy stammers.

Yes, what does he actually want from him? This action right now is more than stupid and completely ill-conceived. Jolly has let his feelings guide him, not even remotely thinking about what this can and will do.....

Actually, he should kill the guy now.... But Jolly hesitates.

"The doctor...." he hisses.

"Olivia??!" the man is astonished and wants to turn around.

"NOT!" Jolly growls dangerously.

"What... what does Olivia have to do with this?" gasps the man.

Just everything, Jolly thinks to himself.

"The doctor, keep your hands off her!" he rumbles.

The man freezes, "Olivia?" he asks again.

Jolly rolls his eyes in annoyance, is this guy somehow stupid? He presses the pistol harder into his back, his kidneys, causing the man to whimper in pain. What a wimp, Jolly thinks contemptuously.

"Leave her alone!" he grumbles quietly.

"Olivia??" whimpers the man.

Jolly has to fight down the impulse to pull the trigger, so he growls, "YES! Don't push her again, keep your hands off her or you'll regret it! Do you understand that?"

"Yes, yes.... Please...." the guy whimpers pathetically.

Jolly grabs the man by his hair and rams his head against the frame of the car, causing the man to scream and collapse. He lies on the ground whimpering, holding his bleeding nose. Jolly bends over him from behind, "This never happened! You don't go to the police, don't tell anyone or I'll come back......"

Startled, the man whimpers again, but at the same time nods his head vigorously, "I'm not talking to anyone!" he swears immediately.

"Good!" Jolly pats his head, stands up, puts his gun back in the back of his pants and slowly walks back to the exit as if nothing had happened.

He doesn't notice his shadow, which has been watching and listening to all this.

When Jolly gets out of the elevator, Olivia is standing in front of her apartment door, struggling with her door key. The door is stuck again. Something that happens all the time.

Frantically, she kicks the door, then screams at it, "DAMN!"

Jolly approaches her from behind, reaches for the door key, which is still in the lock but won't budge.

As if stung by a tarantula, Olivia scoots around to him, staring at him with wide eyes, terrified.

She looks enchanting, he thinks, seeing how individual brown strands have come loose from her bun and gently frame her face, how her cherry-red mouth is slightly open and her emerald-green eyes are shining......

Jolly has to clear his throat, "Can I help?" he asks quietly.

"Um...." Olivia pulls herself together, then nods, "Yes, please... the fucking key's stuck, the lock's jammed again. I can't get the fucking door open!"

Jolly smiles and gently pushes her aside, "Let me do it!"

It's easy for him to unlock the key again and open the door. So far, he has managed to open every door lock.

"You need a new lock!" he explains, "This one is broken!"

"I know!" sighs Olivia, "It's urgently needed!"

"Urgently needed?" asks Jolly, noticing her tone of voice.

"Yes....." Olivia throws her hands in the air, "Oh, forget it!"

Jolly raises an eyebrow, looking at her questioningly.

Olivia rolls her eyes, "My ex!" she then sighs.

"Oh!" nods Jolly, thinking about the asshole he just told to leave Olivia alone.

"Yeah.... Nothing wild really, but he won't leave me in peace since he got back!" she explains.

"Has he been away?" Jolly wants to know.

"Yes, a year in Spain!" Olivia nods and yawns.

"You're tired!" says Jolly.

"Yes, I am!" sighs Olivia.

"Then.... I'd better leave you alone!" he nods.

"Hmm," Olivia mumbles vaguely and looks at him.

Jolly can hardly tear himself away from her gaze.

Olivia's gaze flits briefly to her apartment before she looks at Jolly again, "Um, do you want to come in for a coffee?" she asks quietly, "I'm tired, but I'm still a bit buzzed, I can't sleep like this anyway...." she explains hastily.

Jolly is struck by lightning. What should he do now? He knows he has to stay away from her, but standing next to her now, talking to her, feels so good. So familiar, so he nods without thinking further, "I'd love to!"

Olivia beams at him and pushes her door open, "Come on then!" she smiles.

Jolly looks around inconspicuously. Her apartment has the same layout as his, but the furnishings are completely different from his.

While his is plain, orderly simplicity and muted, rather bright colors, Olivia's furnishing style can at best be described as chaotic and an explosion of color.

His heart constricts as he looks around her living area. It reminds him painfully of his parents' living room. It was colorful, warm and cozy there too.

Olivia has a large dark green velvet couch with colourful cushions and patchwork blankets as the central point in the room, a solid wooden coffee table in front of it, two stools and two expansive armchairs nestled around it, all in different shades of green that harmonize wonderfully together. A light, soft carpet underneath completes everything.

The walls are lined with shelves overflowing with books and a massive antique cupboard. Where there is space, there are pictures, photos and posters.

The large floor-to-ceiling window is adorned with a heavy, dark green velvet curtain in the same color as the couch.

"Sit wherever you can find space!" Olivia smiles apologetically and hurriedly removes individual items of clothing that are strewn across the upholstered furniture.

Jolly's gaze lingers on a black lace bra and he has to pull himself together not to imagine Olivia in it.... And only in it....

Jolly pushes the cushions to one side and takes a seat on the couch. On the coffee table in front of him are various specialist journals, medical textbooks, but also a novel by Jane Austen.

Curious, Jolly picks it up, leafs through it and reads individual sections.

"My favorite novel ...." smiles Olivia as she leans against the doorway to the kitchen area, "I've read Pride and Prejudice at least 10 times, if not more!" she nods.

"Hmm, I haven't once...." admits Jolly.

"I wouldn't have expected that!" she laughs warmly and Jolly's heart tightens.

"I do read!" he defends himself.

"But not romance novels from another century!" Olivia adds teasingly.

"Hm, maybe!" Jolly shrugs his shoulder and puts the novel down again.

"Milk? Sugar?" Olivia wants to know from him, "But I only have cow's milk and white sugar here!" she adds.

"Both please and both perfectly ok for me!" smiles Jolly.

"Phew, lucky you!" Olivia laughs and puts the carton of milk and the jar with sugar and a spoon in it in front of him, goes back and gets the coffee for herself and him.

Olivia sits down across from him in an armchair, half curls up in it and takes a sip from her mug, "Hmm, just what I needed!" she groans in pleasure.

"Hard shift?" Jolly wants to know and also takes a sip of his coffee.

"Hmm, the usual...." waves Olivia off, "Blood, screaming, some drama and the occasional nice patient!"

"Hmm," nods Jolly, thinking to himself that their work is similar in a way. He knows enough about blood and drama and screaming.

"About your ex then?" Jolly probes quietly.

Olivia sighs, "Michael...." she mumbles, "Yeah, probably. He's..... complicated! He won't accept that I've left him." she explains.

"Hmm" Jolly nods, THAT problem should have been solved, he thinks to himself and smiles as he takes another sip from his cup.

"And you? Were you out?" she wants to know and scrutinizes him, running her eyes over his body.

"Not exactly.... More like a business engagement... a professional meeting that I couldn't avoid!" he explains, stretching.

Olivia narrows her eyes, "WHAT are you actually doing? Sorry to ask so directly, you don't have to answer.... I mean, sorry, forget the question.... I'm just way too direct sometimes.... Speak before I think."

Jolly laughs softly to himself, then looks her in the eye, seeing the slight blush that has crept onto her cheeks.

"Hmm, I'm something of a personal assistant, bodyguard for an important man!" he describes his job, "Solving problems for him!" he explains further. Usually for good, he adds in his mind.

"Oh!" Olivia looks at him with wide eyes, "Isn't that dangerous?" she wants to know.

"Hmm, I'm quite good at it!" he smiles, "As you can see, I'm still alive!"

"Lucky for you!" Olivia blurts out, her cheeks darkening a touch more, "Um, I mean, good thing you're good at it!" she explains quickly, drinking hastily from her cup.

Jolly's eyes rest on her under lowered lids. FUCK, he needs to get out of here! He has to distance himself from her again, he doesn't know if he can control himself otherwise as he would love to pull her into his arms and kiss her.....

Just as he's about to get up and say goodbye with an excuse, the next question comes from Olivia.

"I've just realized, I don't even know your name!" she blurts out.

"Jo...." begins Jolly and wants to say Jolly because EVERYONE calls him that, he got this nickname from Semjon and it's been HIS name ever since. But he stops, thinks for a moment and then decides on his real name, the name his parents gave him. "Joakim!" he declares.

"Joakim...." Olivia lets it slide over her tongue, hitting the right pronunciation, "It suits you! Where is it from?"

"Sweden!" Jolly whispers harshly.

"Ahh, hence the slight accent, I thought it must be something European!" she smiles warmly at him.

"Hmm, I'm from Sweden, but I've been here in America for as long as I can remember!" he mumbles.

Olivia looks at him questioningly, "Because your parents moved here?"

"My parents are dead!" Jolly explains gruffly, "I was raised here by..... relatives!" which is a little closer to the truth, because the organization is a kind of family.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean...." apologizes Olivia hastily.

"It's ok, that was over 30 years ago... I barely remember it!" waves Jolly off.

"I really didn't mean to.... Please, I...." Olivia tries.

Jolly smiles at her, "It's all right! I just don't like talking about it!"

"Hmm" Olivia nods, not fully convinced.

Jolly realizes that he has just revealed far too much about himself. Also something that is completely out of character for him. Even to Nadja he never talks about his family, doesn't want her to refer to him as Joakim.

"Um, I have to go now!" he declares and stands up.

Olivia looks at him, then nods, "Yes, I should go to bed now too!" she mumbles and gets up.

"Sit still, I'll find my own way out!" Jolly shakes his head and takes a step towards her, ramming the coffee table with his leg, causing the cup to slide as he hastily placed it on the pile of books.

Jolly and Olivia reach for it at the same time and both get hold of the cup. Their hands are on top of each other. Jolly's over Olivia's.

Her skin is infinitely soft and rather cool, his hand calloused and warm. Electric shivers race through Jolly's body just from this touch and he notices how the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Instinctively, his fingers slide between hers, his thumb gently stroking her skin. When he looks up, looks at Olivia, her eyes burn into his soul. Dark green and unfathomable, they rest on him.

Jolly has to swallow, time stands still for a moment as they stare at each other.

Neither he nor she dares to move for fear that the moment will be irretrievably gone. So they stare quietly into each other's eyes until Jolly's cell phone buzzes audibly in his pocket, shattering the moment.

Apologetically, Jolly pulls his hand back and takes out his cell phone. Semjon.....

"Um...it....." he swallows, "I have to get this!"

Olivia nods dumbly, watching after him as he walks to the door, taking the call as he does so, opening the door and disappearing.

Jolly is completely confused, what the fuck has just happened. He answers Semjon with a corresponding lack of concentration, having not even heard what he said to him.

"Uh, what?" he gasps and unlocks his apartment door.

"You should come. Now!" Semjon growls at him.

"Give me five minutes and I'll be on my way!" promises Jolly.

"All right, but hurry up. I've got something for you to do!" Semjon grumbles.

"I see! I'm on my way!" nods Jolly.

When he hangs up, he has to lean against the wall and take a deep breath.

FUCK, this must not happen again under any circumstances. He has to avoid Olivia like the devil avoids holy water, otherwise he's doomed and so is Olivia!!!

[irayoeywa]

the name game ✧

part one.

neteyam sully x fem!omatikaya!reader

warning/notes - lowercase intended, characters are always speaking na'vi unless stated otherwise, i don't own any of the gifs, divider credits to shifterium, and i apologize if this chapter is a little boring.

part two >

series masterlist main masterlist

for as long as you can remember, your parents made their expectations of you very clear. they were firm believers that everyone in a clan had to contribute and pull their own weight. so when it came to raising you and your siblings, they made sure to teach all of you many different skills so you would never bear the shame of being useless.

as you grew older, you and your siblings started to figure out your places within the omatikaya clan. your eldest sister, nanti and younger brother, ri'an had followed in your parents footsteps and became hunters. your youngest sister, tuseÿa had her heart set on being a gatherer.

growing up, you were always making a new piece of jewelry for yourself or your siblings. you became more advanced in weaving than your peers. therefore, becoming an artisan for the clan just made sense.

now even though your parents were proud of the type of people you and siblings became, they do wish that you and nanti were more social with your peers. ri'an and tuseÿa were both very adventurous and social so they had many friends.

you and nanti on the other hand, the two of you were more reserved and stayed to yourselves. being the oldest, nanti always felt the pressure of having to be the best and leading by example. so instead of going out and socializing with her peers, she practiced her archery and her combat every day so she would be the absolute best.

you just found solace in being alone and it's always been that way. most of the time, you are off somewhere in the forest by your lonesome. you also crafted most of your work there as well. going off into the flora of pandora and coming back with a basket you weaved within the time you were gone was a usual occurrence.

at the moment, you were seated on the mossy ground of the forest, your feet and calves submerged in the water of the lake beneath you while you worked on a water carrier. the materials you needed sat beside you.

the comforting sounds of the water and soft wind was interrupted by the snapping of a twig. your ears twitched at the sound and you looked up, watching as a figure walked towards the lake.

it didn't take long for the figure is come into eyesight as you realized that it was infact, neteyam sully. the son of the current olo'eyktan and sixth toruk makto. you had never really interacted with the sully family being that you mostly kept to yourself.

as neteyam approached the lake, he noticed you sitting there, watching him.

“please forgive me, i did not realize anyone was here.” he apologized to you.

you shook your head, "it is alright.'

neteyam eyed you closely before he gave you a weird look, he had never seen you before. maybe you were a part of another clan close by. tawkami perhaps? kekunan? maybe even olangi.

"what clan are you from?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"omatikaya." you answered simply, your fingers never once stopped moving as you kept working on the object at hand. you weren't bothered by the question he asked you, you actually expected it.

"really? you are omatikayan? are you sure?" netayam's voice was full of surprise.

this time, your fingers did come to a halt. ‘are you sure?’ what did that mean? did he think you didn't know what clan you are apart of.

"do you think i don't know where i come from?" you asked bitterly and neteyam noticed that you took offense to the question due to the sour tone in your voice.

“no! not at all. i just- i have never seen you before.” he replied truthfully.

“i spend most of my time here in the forest.” you answered, putting the halfway fine water carrier to the side. the ongoing conversation with neteyam distracting you enough to take a break.

“me too. well- i try. when i am not busy.”

"busy training to be olo'eyktan, i assume."

neteyam nodded at your assumption so you decided to ask a question, "what is that like?"

the question was normal in your eyes but when you looked at neteyam, his body language seemed a bit uncomfortable and you immediately regretted allowing the words to leave your mouth.

"i do not mean to pry." you tried to apologize for asking a seemingly inappropriate question before neteyam reassured you it was okay.

"no, it is alright. i have never been asked that question so i was caught off guard. it is actually a lot of work but if it will make me a great olo'eyktan when the day comes, it's worth it."

you smiled, "you will do great, i know it."

it was now neteyam's turn to smile, "thank you."

you then place your attention on the bow and arrows in neteyam's hand. 'he must be here to fish' you thought. you didn't want to postpone his plans any further so you quickly gathered your things as you stood to your full height.

"i see you're here to fish so i will leave you to it." you said and he shook his head, "you don't have to leave, you were here first."

"it's fine. i have other matters to attend to. goodbye neteyam." you responded, finally leaving.

"wait! i didn't catch your name.." neteyam spoke but you were already out of earshot when the words left his mouth.

the next couple of weeks went by normally. during breakfast with your family, you noticed that your arms have been lacking in jewelry as of late. after breakfast was over you helped your mother clean up before grabbing materials so you can make a new arm guard for yourself.

after double checking that you had everything, you left high camp and went into the forest. after finding a comfortable spot on the flat surface of a rock, you got to work.

you were at peace until you were reaching the end of the arm guard, an arrow flew past your head, only missing you by mere inches.

you gasped as your head flew up. before you could move any further, you heard a groan and knew that was most likely where the arrow came from.

“you almost took my head off.” you spoke loud enough for the person to hear. for a moment, it was silent. then movement started as you heard footsteps coming towards you. you stared in the direction of the sound until the leaves in front of you were pushed aside, revealing your almost-murderer.

the green leaves were now replaced with the body of neteyam sully. you let out a small sigh of relief, now knowing it was someone you somewhat know and not a complete stranger.

you turned your attention back to the piece of jewelry, "you should really scope out your surroundings neteyam. you almost killed me."

neteyam's eyes widened a bit in surprise, "i almost hit you? i'm sorry i was trying to hit a hexapede."

"well there isn't an arrow in my forehead so i guess it's alright."

neteyam didn't respond. instead he walked over to the rock and took a seat next to you. your fingers stuttered a bit but you quickly recovered and continued what you were doing.

"are you making an arm guard?" he asked the obvious question and you nodded.

"it looks good."

"thank you."

neteyam watched as your fingers moved swiftly. you were very gifted in this field. he thought back to the first time you two met and how you were making a water carrier, you had to be an artisan.

"so neteyam.. why are you out here hunting hexapedes?" you asked, bringing neteyam out of his thoughts.

he huffed, "my dad is away on a hunting trip so i have a couple days to myself."

"so you're spending your days off from training.. training?"

neteyam shrugged, "i don't know what else to do."

"maybe pick up a hobby since you clearly do not have one." you chuckled when neteyam playfully shoved your shoulder.

"ok smart one. what would you do?" neteyam turned so that he was now facing you entirely. you paused your movement and pretended to be deep in thought.

"what i usually do when i'm not making something, explore the forest. there's probably so many places in this forest you haven't seen." you responded.

that was true. jake usually took neteyam to the same spot to train and when he did go into the forest in his free time, he always went straight to the lake. the lake brought him comfort and reminded him of his childhood so it was always the first place his mind went to. he never even thought to venture out into the beautiful forest.

he thought for a moment, "okay i'll explore the forest. but only if you come with me."

you had finally finished the arm guard so you finally put your undivided attention on the boy in front of you. he was looking at you attentively and it slightly intimidated you, having him watching you so intensely.

"are you sure?" you asked.

he nodded his head, making his braids move in the process, "of course. we're friends now after all."

"oh is that right?" you said in amusement and shock. you broke eye contact with him as you started to clean up your area of all unused or cut material.

"well.. we would be if i knew your name."

"my name is not of importance." you replied rather quickly.

"what? of course it is."

you sighed, "how about this, i'll tell you my name when we go exploring."

"so tomorrow?" neteyam didn't understand why you wouldn't just tell him your name like everyone else. was there a problem with him knowing your name? but he decided not to pry and just trust what you said.

"tomorrow." you smiled. you picked up your new creation and inspected it, making sure it met your standards.

"it is very nice. it usually takes me forever to make any piece of jewelry." netayam laughed. you looked up from your creation to see that his left arm was decorated with jewelry while his right arm wasn't.

"give me your arm." you spoke.

neteyam looked at you in confusion until a look of realization washed over his face and he quickly shook his head, "oh i can't accept it. you just made it for yourself right."

"i can make another one. besides, we are friends now so consider this a gift of newfound friendship."

neteyam smiled softly as he gave in. he then held out his forearm and watched your fingers touch his skin to place the arm guard on him.

"thank you." he said once you were done.

"you're welcome neteyam.. i should go now." you stood up, stepping him down from the large rock. neteyam followed behind you.

"so i'll see you tomorrow?"

"mhm" you hummed before finally walking away, leaving neteyam behind.

when neteyam got back to high camp, he walked straight to his family's marui. opening the flap, his siblings kiri and lo'ak were there along with spider, talking amongst themselves.

they all looked up once he entered and returned to their conversation realizing it was only him. kiri's eyes lingered on him a bit, noticing an armband with a really nice pattern.

"nice arm guard, where'd you get it?" kiri asked and spider and lo'ak looked over at neteyam, seeing the new piece of jewelry.

"all i know is he didn't make that, it took him like a week to make his last one." lo'ak jokes. spider laughed at the joke while kiri rolled her eyes.

"i know you aren't talking, you can't even make one." neteyam clapped back.

lo'ak scoffed in response, "yes i can don't piss me off."

"whatever. anyways, no i didn't make it. a friend of mine did." neteyam spoke and it was quiet in the tent for a couple seconds before all three teens started laughing.

neteyam's face scrunched up as he watched the, "what?"

"bro no offense but you don't have any friends." spider laughed, shaking his head.

"right! so what's their name?" lo'ak asked.

“uh..” neteyam trailed off rubbing the back of his neck, “i don’t know her name”

“what?” kiri spoke in english. lo'ak and spider started laughing once again and neteyam rolled his eyes.

“you don’t know her name? bro i'm starting to think she doesn't exist." lo'ak also voiced his opinion in english.

neteyam wanted to know your name before but now he had to know it.

[fatandnerdy30]

please write a protective Scott Lang one as him as the giant 🥺🙏

Ask and you shall recieve!!

Scott was driving along when suddenly he got a call and on his radio the name 'PEANUT' blared at him in bold capital letters. Quickly he answered, his voice ringing with worry. "Cassie? Are you okay? What happened?"

"Dad....I need your help..." Cassie's voice was quiet and he could hear suppressed sobs on the other end of the phone. In an instant, he turned the whole car around, other vehicles blowing their horns at him, but Scott simply waved and began speeding the other way towards Cassie's school. She had just gotten into college and for her to call her dad for help meant it must be a big deal.

He drove as fast as he could before noticing there were lights in his rearview mirror and he groaned as he was pulled over by the police.

Stopping the car, he slammed his hands on the wheel and waited for wha felt like an eternity for the officer to get out of his car and make his way to Scott's window. "Do you realize how fast you were driving, sir?" The officer asked.

"Yeah, but there's an emergency and my daughter called, in tears I might add, so I'm on my way to get to her and I know I was going a little over the speed limit, but c'mon, it's my daughter." When the officer's face stayed the same, Scott sighed. "Do you have children, officer?"

"Yes I do, but I still don't speed and drive recklessly. Licence and registration."

Knowing he was getting nowhere, he pulled his backup card. "You know I'm an Avenger, right? Ant-man? Recognize me?" He circled his face with his hands.

"I know who you are, but Avenger or not, you need to follow the laws. What kind of example are you setting for the kids out there if they were to see you speeding? Now, license and registration. I won't ask again, Mr. Lang."

Scott sighed and reached into the glove compartment, pulling out the document he needed, and then produced his license with a swish of his hand, hoping to make the man smile at least once. "No? Nothing....all right, not everyone likes up close magic, I guess." He handed them over and watched the officer move on back to his car and get in.

After a few seconds, Scott began tapping his hands on the wheel. This was taking too long. His daughter was crying her eyes out at this very moment, over who knew what, and this officer was taking his time with his computer! Well, that was enough. He had to get to Cassie now!

Jumping out of the car, he began walking a safe distance away before he heard the cop yelling. "Return to your vehicle, Mr. Lang! Don't make me repeat myself!"

"Sorry, can't do that!" Scott yelled back, turning to face the officer. "Emergency!" With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled on the gloves, his helmet appearing from under his hoodie and clicked the button.

The world got smaller and smaller the more he grew, and he watched the police man and his vehicle become toys as he reached his full height. It took a minute for the vertigo to stop before he took his first steps, being careful of the cars under his feet. "Sorry, excuse me," he said to no one and yet everyone as he passed.

Once he was off the highway, he turned to where he knew Cassie's school was and walked as quickly as he could, waving to a few kids who jumped up and down at the sight of him, chuckling at their enthusiasm.

Cassie sniffled as she sat in the bathroom stall hugging herself. How could she be so stupid? SHe grabbed a peice of toilet paper and blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She was about to throw it into the trash when the ground started rumbling and immediately she knew it was her dad. Getting up, she ran out of the building, ignoring the students who were simply staring up in awe and shock at her father's large form.

He towered over the trees on the campus and made the ground quake with each step. His legs finally came to a halt out in the parking lot where car alarms were going off like crazy, but Cassie didn't notice any of that.

Instead she was focused on the large head that kept looking around before the face plate came down and her father's face was on full view. "Cassie?" He called, his voice echoind through the air like a living megaphone.

"Dad!" The girl called, coming to a stop just before his feet, panting with tears streaming down her face. Slowly the living building collapsed as Scott knelt down and made a soft noise in the back of his throat.

"Oh peanut. What's wrong? I came as quuick as I could." Slowly he brought a hand out and wrapped it around the girl and immediately she flung herslef into the fingers that were bigger than her by at least a foot.

"Thanks for coming, dad," Cassie sniffled as she nuzzled into one of the fingers, not caring about her hair. "I'm so stupid," she cried, her sobs coming out like hiccups. Suddenly the hand tightened and Cassie found herself being lifted to her dad's stern face.

"Never say that about yourself," Scott said not unkindly. "You're the smartest, bravest girl I know, peanut." He smiled and brought his other hand up to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks the best he could. "Now, tell me what this was all about."

"My geometry teacher...he....he said he would fail me if I didn't....do things for him,..." She blushed as she remembered the words that came from the man's mouth and looked down. "I can't afford to fail this class, but I can't do those things, dad..."

Anger filled Scott as he stared at his daughter's red face, seeing tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. "He WHAT?!" Yelled Scott, not even thinking about his size and winced when Cassie held her ears. "Sorry...but I'm glad you told me, sweetheart. You stay here, daddy will be right back."

"Dad what are you gonna do!?" The man was already lowering her to the ground, anger written all over his face as he stood. "DAD!" Cassied called, scared for the safety of the man who had verbally assaulted her. She tried to run after him, but her dad was too fast in his current size and she had to stop and catch her breath.

Scott made his way to the school, his brow furrowed with anger as he took every step it seemed to rise. How dare that man confront his sweet little girl with those disgusting words! He would have a little chat with the man.

Making his way to where he knew the math department building was, he stopped and looked down at the terrified faces of both teacher and students alike. "Excuse me, where can I find Mr. Phillip's geometry classroom?"

One teacher pointed to the side of the building and Scott nodded. "Thank you." He took a step and lowered himself to kneel and look into the windows. Screams of fright could be heard from each classroom he peeked into, but it soon became an awed hush as they recognized his face.

Finally he spotted the classroom and raised his head to the top floor, where he found the culprit talking to a female student. The girl looked terrified but had yet to see Scott's face. In fact, both people in the room seemed to not even notice him until he took a finger and tapped on the glass, making the both jump and turn around. "You," Scott called, angrily looking at the man. "I wanna have a word with you." The teacher's face paled and he turned to run from the room.

Not caring about the damage, he broke the windows, Scott smashed his hand through the glass and quickly reached in, careful not to hit the woman in the room, and grabbed the teacher just as he was about to leave the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked the man, dragging him out into the light of day by the collar of his shirt. The man was dangling at least fifty feet from the ground as Scott glared at him, his legs kicking and tears streaming down his face.

"Put me down, please!"

"Not until we've had a good chat. I heard you said some pretty nasty things to my daughter, Mr. Phillips. And I think you were saying those things to the girl in there as well." Scott turned his attention to the girl who was staring at them both.

"Am I right, miss?" The girl nodded fast. "See? You're a piece of filth that I can't stand being around my daughter."

Speaking of Cassie, she came around the side of the building, panting. "DAD! What are you doing?!"

"I'm simply making sure that this creep doesn't get away with what he's been doing. In fact, why don't you alert the media what this scumbag has been doing?"

"I don't need to.." Cassie pointed to where a news van was parked, the camera pointed right at him and the teacher.

"Perfect." Scott got up and took a step towards the van, the newscaster shaking as he stooped. "Good afternoon. I have something for you." Scott lowered his hand and put the teacher in front of the camera. "Now, tell the world what you did." The man was silent for a moment, and Scott pushed him forward with a finger, almost making him fall.

"I...I told my female students that if they didn't do....certain favors for me...that I would fail them and make sure that they were kicked out of the school." Mr. Phillips hung his head, knowing that his career was over the moment he was put in front of the camera.

"That's a good molester," Scott said high above their heads. "And the window I'll take care of, by the way," he told the press, the camera then zooming in on the destroyed classroom. "Sorry about that." He then lifted the man into the air again paying no attention to his screams. "Now, I would like a written apology to each and every girl you threatened from your jail cell because that's where you're going."

Mr. Phillips felt something warm running down his pantleg and was too ashamed to bring it up to the giant man as he hung by his collar until he was put into a fist.

"Cassie, let's go get some ice cream," Scott told his daughter, stooping to let his daughter climb up on his palm. He then stood and started walking back to his car.

Officer Phelps was trying to radio in what had happened when suddenly the road started shaking again and he looked up to see Scott Lang coming his way, this time with a girl seated in the palm of his hand, talking and smiling at him like this was completely normal.

"Sorry about running off like that, officer," Scott said. He stopped and knelt down, letting his daughter off his hand and bringing his fist over to the police car. "This is a little present to make up for it." He opened his hand and let the teacher fall out into the road, the man tumbling a little bit. "A little jailbird in the making. Ask him and he'll sing you a little tune of every wrong he's ever done. Isn't that right, Mr. Phillips?"

The man nodded, not even covering his soaked pants. "I did, officer, I did it to all those girls, I swear. Just please don't let him pick me up again!"

Scott then nodded at the officer and hit the button on his right hand, his size starting to decrease until he stood a little taller than his daughter. "C'mon, ice cream is on me. We'll go to where I used to work, they love me there." He wrapped his hand around Cassie's shoulder. "Oh, and you can send my stuff to the FBI, officer. There's an agent there who'll know what to do with it."

With that, he and Cassie got into the car and drove off like nothing had happened.

[goddesstrolls]

⏰️ Kas (from the caverns)

(TW for child abuse)

"Kasora!"

Kasora heard the head matron bark her name, and immediately bolted. She had once again neglected to do the extra duties assigned to her as punishment- She was in trouble no matter what.

She'd long since given up doing her best and listen and be obedient. Even when she tried, tried to follow in the steps of her praised peers, it just wasn't enough.

It took four matrons to find her, and one of the cavern guards to actually catch her, which was a new record. Kasora even made sure the guard regretted it by biting his hand hard enough to draw blood.

She was dragged into the dining room with two matrons, plus the head matron, and another guard leaning on the wall. They sat her down in a chair while the head matron began to yell at her.

How dare she run. How dare she bite one of the guards that kept her safe. Blah blah blah. Kasora let her attention drift to a beetle trundling along the dining room floor.

"Kasora! Are you listening to me?!"

"Yes, head matron." Kasora parroted for what felt like the thousandth time in her life. Apparently her tone wasn't quite right, or maybe it was because she looked away across the dining room instead of at the matron. Next thing she knew, the matron's old wrinkled hand shot into her peripherals and the old crone was smacking her across the face. The two other matrons in the room gasped.

That finally brought Kasora's gaze to the head matron. The old woman was jade in the face, small lips shriveled into an enraged little frown, jowls quivering as she shook with fury.

"You will fix that attitude of yours!" Snarled the head matron, pointing a bony, wrinkled finger in Kasora's face.

That was enough.

"You fix your attitude!" She snapped back, gripping the edges of her seat with tiny hands. "You hit me! You push me around and you don't care how I feel!"

"What you feel does not matter!" Roared the head matron.

"Why not?! How come what you feel is the most important thing in the world, but what I feel means nothing?!"

The head matron inhaled and Kasora prepared for another enraged lecture. But instead the old woman whirled around and stormed towards the door. "I am through with you."

As she passed by the guard leaning by the doorway, she spoke again. "Cull her."

"H-Head matron, let's not be hasty!" One of the other matrons darted over, laying a hand on the older woman's shoulder, but she would not be halted. Kasora stared, eyes wide at the head matron's turned back as she disappeared through the door, the other matron desperately trying to convince her to change her mind.

The guard waited for a few moments, and then sighed and straightened. He drew the sword on his belt, and the last matron raised her hands, stepping between the guard and Kasora.

"Let's- Let's wait, please- Not here- There are other wrigglers-"

"Orders are orders. She'll make a good example of what not to do." The guard stepped forward. The matron didn't move.

"Don't make me kill you, too." The guard tilted his head, adjusting the weapon in his hand. The matron hastily stepped aside.

Kasora jumped off the chair and attempted to run. She saw a cluster of other wrigglers peeking around the other door, crowding around each other, trying to see. A few of them ran when Kasora spotted them. The guard grabbed Kasora's ponytail and yanked.

Kasora screamed and batted at the guard's hand. She saw him lifting the sword, the blade catching the candlelight as he began to bring it down towards her neck.

She squeezed her eyes shut and willed a wall of stone to form from the ground around her, raising up so quickly that it bashed the guard's arm and forced him to let go. The rocks closed up around her, forming a small sealed dome.

Kasora curled up, hands over her head, sobbing. She didn't know what to do. He was going to kill her, as soon as she came out. Muffled, she heard the guard swearing and there came a few thuds on the dome.

She eventually heard other voices outside her dome, but she was too busy sobbing uncontrollably to listen. She cried until she couldn't anymore- And then it seemed like hours after that passed. Exhausted, thirsty, and hungry, she eventually fell asleep curled up on the cold floor.

Kasora woke to a loud thud on the side of her dome, rattling the whole thing.

She froze, immediately alert. There came another thud, and some rocks and dust rained down on her. She heard a muted voice from outside.

Kasora slammed her palms on the side of the dome opposite from where she'd heard the thud, disintegrating the stone with a touch and trying to run- Only to collide with a guard. Multiple trolls were gathered around, and it didn't take long for her to be collected and locked in some small room. It wasn't her own room, like they usually locked her in. This one was bare and dark.

She was left alone for another hour, and then finally the door opened.

One of the matrons came in holding a tray, shutting the door behind her. She knelt and set the tray down, watching Kasora. Kasora didn't move from her position curled tightly in the corner.

"Come eat, Kasora. Please." The matron seemed tired, but her voice was gentle.

There was a bowl of soup, some bread, and a cup of water on the tray. Kasora unfurled herself and slunk over, sitting down across from the matron to silently eat.

"The head matron has decided to send you to another part of the cavern instead." The matron began. "Please...Please mind your manners there, Kasora. We only want the best for you."

"No you don't." Mumbled Kasora bitterly, and tore a chunk of bread off the loaf with her teeth. "You just want me to do what I'm told."

"If you don't do what you're told," the matron said slowly, struggling to find the best words. "They'll kill you. None of us want to see that. Please, Kasora. Please just listen."

The matron reached carefully across the tray to take Kasora's hand. Kasora couldn't bring herself to look up at the woman, her pleading tone making it difficult to say anything back. She didn't move or speak until the matron finally let go of her hand, and then she continued to eat.

The matron waited, staring at her own hands in her lap, and then when Kasora was done she took the tray and left without another word.

[morbidgh0st]

Will: *shows up to a gathering with his beard*

Gilan:

Literally everyone:

Gilan, crying: As your commandant, I order you shave right now. I will literally pin you down and do it myself I can't handle this.

[sunfish-studies]

Worth

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall, around 170.5 cm (along 5’7’’). This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ Direct Sunlight › | Next:  ‹ Acceptance ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

You began to question if your existence is worth for the team or not.

“Ah, Hitoka-chan, [Name]-chan. Are you done changing?” Shimizu asked, smiling down at both of you who waited on the yard.

The sky was already dark the moment practice was over–something you knew you have to get used somehow if you really want to become the team’s manager in the future. However, what you didn’t expect was how time was surely running quickly that you could ever imagine. Maybe because you thoroughly enjoyed on how the team fired up during practice.

Yachi clearly didn’t expect her name to be mentioned so friendly and you didn’t expect Shimizu to called out for you too. That and her next words almost had you yelped out of surprise. “I’ll walk with you two, so hold on a sec. I’m going to change too.”

“No, it’s okay! I actually think I should be walking with you, or something, or…!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dismissing the blonde’s reluctance, Shimizu jogged towards the changing room and leaving the two of you alone once again. Well, at least Yachi had any decency to reply while you just gaped at the senior’s figure–you found yourself being extremely rude and embarrassing.

“S-Shimizu-senpai is really nice, huh?” you stuttered, not knowing how to make it sound right. But you’re honest with your words–Shimizu treated you nicely and you didn’t once feel uncomfortable around her.

“Y-yeah,” Yachi replied, nodding stiffly.

“What’s wrong, sensei? Why the serious face?” Another voice managed to caught both of your attention. It came from the still lit gym–you noticed that it was Coach Ukai’s and the question directed to Takeda-sensei. Them being quite close with the open-window made their conversation could be heard clearly.

“Oh, well, apparently the bus we were supposed to take for the away games in Tokyo was booked by another club so it doesn’t look like we’ll get it. It looks like it’s going to cost us a lot more than expected so I was trying to figure out what to do.”

“I’ll try talking to a few more alumni.” Coach Ukai hummed in understanding. “I’m sure this problem will come up again in the future.”

“I apologize. I’ll try reaching out as well. Well, if all else fails, I do have some savings.”

“No, no, no! You need to save that for your future wedding or something. And don’t do that with your hand!”

“Yachi-san! [Name]-san!!” while Yachi stiffened from the energetic call, you blinked as Hinata skidded to stop right in front of you two. “Yachi-san, [Name]-san, are you going to be our manager!?”

“Uh, um-“

“Well, Hinata-kun-“

“You will, right!?”

“Hey, first-year girls, hey!” this time it was Tanaka and Nishinoya, looking at Yachi and you in confidence.

“We hope that you will join the Karasuno High School volleyball team.” Nishinoya said.

“Huh?” you and Yachi replied in confusion, with limited vocabulary.

“When you two are around, Kiyoko-san talks a lot.” Tanaka continued. It earned them both a smack on the head along with scolding from the team’s captain almost instantly.

“What kind of invitation is that, you idiots!?”

“Sorry these guys are so stupid,” Sugawara apologized in a more relaxed way–you’re guessing he’s already used with these two’s antics.

“N-No, not at all!” Yachi shook her head frantically.

“It’s okay…” you muttered, not sure how to reply that without sounding rude.

Yachi and you both knew it’s quite a shock to know Shimizu was so eager to have you in the team to help despite almost everything. For Yachi, she didn’t have any experience or knowledge about volleyball and considered herself an extra who’s not worth of her position. She didn’t want to be a hindrance and you understood.

You? You didn’t particularly have any reason to not join and to join. You sure have enough experience from middle school, although it was brief. Your brother loves volleyball so everything about it is already crammed inside your head without your consent. As a manager, you could rate your skill as 5–nothing too grand and nothing too special, too plain maybe could be the right word.

For a really high-spirited team which eager to grow, you’re too… plain. There’s no place for a monotone person like you in a club full of color.

With that, you began to question if your existence is worth for the team or not.

.

.

“Is something troubling you two?”

If Yachi’s staring at the empty club application in her hands, then you’re staring at the empty changing locker. Surely, Shimizu noticed your antics.

“By the way, I did play sports, but I had no prior experience with volleyball or being a manager,” your senior admitted. “I don’t think everyone has to like something before giving it a try. I don’t think you need an unwavering will or lofty move just to get started. Sometimes things that you start on a whim end up becoming very important to you, too. To get started, I think you just need a little bit of curiosity. And also a leap of faith.”

A leap of faith.

You found yourself mulling over her words.

.

.

This time, Shimizu told you that it’s fine to showed up at practice without having to wear the school’s gym clothes–just white shirt to match the team and jogger pants would do.

“Ouginishi will arrive in four and a half hours!” Shimizu announced as she began to changed to her indoor shoes. Once she got the series of replies, she turned to you two. “Alright, Hitoka-chan, would you line up some chairs around the court there? Let’s see… eight of them!”

“Uh, right!”

“And [Name]-chan, could you prepare the water bottles? The drinking fountain’s not far from here, just around the corner.”

“Okay, and the protein mixture is right over there, right? The blue box-“ You halted your words, shoulders immediately tensed from the automatic question which tumbled from your tongue. Shimizu’s eyes widened before she smiled, even wider one than before.

“That’s right! You really know a lot, it’s amazing!”

Flustered over her praises, you excused yourself immediately–snatching the rack of bottles and bolted towards the nearest drinking fountain. After finished filling them up, you poured each packet for each bottle and shook it to get it mixed properly. You didn’t even notice how fast your hand was moving and noticing that all the bottles were ready.

Once you were back, you put the rack on the designated place and jogged towards Yachi–maybe she would need help moving the chairs.

“Wha? How would I know?” Kageyama questioned, raising a brow–probably answering the conversation happened between him and Hinata which you didn’t know. “Is there a reason you want to eat when you’re hungry?”

“Right? Hmm…” Hinata hummed.

“And where are the water bottles?” Kageyama questioned, looking left and right.

“Here,” You gave one to him, the one you purposely not mix with anything. “I already filled it with water. You have your own protein drink, right?”

You noticed that the raven-haired boy already pulled a package with different color so you knew he had his own choice of protein drink and brought it. Kageyama muttered a thank you, taking the bottle from your hand after you opened the lid so he didn’t have to juggle with the package he held.

“How do you know about that, [Name]-san!?” Hinata questioned, eyes shining. “It’s almost like you’re reading minds!”

“H-Huh? I’m just observing, I guess…”

“Really!? That’s awesome!!”

Yachi was right, it’s like being shone under the intensely bright sun if you’re talking to Hinata.

.

.

You were juggling between manager duties, studying in your own, and tutoring Hinata and Kageyama for the upcoming test. It’s quite difficult, but teaching others also helped you memorized the material better–that and also finding out terms that could help the two.

“So, ‘to’ is helping in referring on where do you want to go in this word here.” You explained, circling the word. “For example, ‘I want to go to the gym’.”

After tutoring both Hinata and Kageyama for some time, you learned that the two would literally remember anything if it’s sports-related–especially volley ball. So, it became your best shot in cramming the materials into their head.

“I see!” Hinata exclaimed, furiously writing down the correct form of sentence, while Kageyama nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, it’s already this late,” you muttered as you looked at the clock. “Time sure flew by.”

“You’re right!” Hinata followed your line of sight. “I guess it’s time to go home! Thank you, [Name]-san! Your explanation is really easy to understand!”

“I’m glad I could be of any help,” you smiled in return.

“And after this, we’ll go to Tokyo together!” the orange haired boy exclaimed. “You’re coming too, right, [Name]-san!?”

“Uhm, about that…” You honestly didn’t know how to respond–you couldn’t be a trial manager forever, it’s either completely reject the idea or finally joining as an official member. If you did join, do you even have a role in it? There’s Shimizu and Yachi already, there’s no need for a third manager. “There’s already Hitoka-chan and Shimizu-senpai, right?”

“Yeah! You should join too!”

“Do I really have a place there?” you questioned out loud. “I mean… do I can really be of any help? Two managers are already enough, besides I don’t have anything to offer to the team either. I can’t do anything important to help the team grow stronger…”

“What do you mean!?” Hinata’s shriek almost made your heart jump out from your chest.

“Filling water bottles, washing bibs, mopping the floor, tidying the balls, it’s all important.” Surprisingly, Kageyama was the one who spoke. “It’s simple but important. Without it, we will have double work and it’s exhausting.”

Hinata nodded vigorously. “Kageyama’s right!”

“Do you really need to do something grand to join something?” the raven-haired then questioned. “While you think it’s nothing, the others don’t think so. The one who judge whether your actions leave a mark or not isn’t you, it’s the team. So, quit overthinking. Do what you want.”

It’s like being doused with cold water–it slapped you awake in an unexpected way.

“I guess I will,” you smiled, heart feeling lighter than before. “Thank you, Kageyama-kun, Hinata-kun.”

.

.

“So, we’ve finished our exams and starting today, Yachi-san and Otohaku-san will officially be joining us as our managers.”

In the hot summer day, you found yourself back in the gym, but this time standing beside Sawamura and a fidgeting Yachi. She didn’t seem to be uncomfortable, maybe it’s a new feeling of excitement for her–you completely understand because you felt the same.

“Here,” Shimizu went up to the both of you–handing identical black jersey which the team also owned. The inky black material with white broderie sent torrents of emotions towards you, instantly the corner of your eyes felt as if it was burning.

“Ready, and-“

“Welcome to Karasuno High School Volleyball Club!!”

You found yourself bowing ninety-degrees, hugging the jacket tightly against your chest. “It’s a pleasure working with you!”

[writingtoforgetreality]

Sleep Paralysis (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You hated sharing a room with another person. Especially when it came to sleeping. Which usually resulted into you staying awake for the night if you were teamed up with someone. Sometimes you could not escape exhaustion, though.

Words: 2,381

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, insomnia, experiencing sleep paralysis, anxiety, TFATWS spoilers (I don’t think there are any but just to be sure I guess), Zemo awakens the poet in me idk, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The people you found yourself teamed up with gave you safety. Sam, Bucky & even Zemo. With the three of them on your side, you had nothing to fear. Missions with these guys were easy. If the two grown ass men children were not occupied with killing the other grown ass man child. Names were not needed here, that was explanation enough. You were surprised yourself when you started enjoying Zemo’s company. He was a criminal. He was supposed to be the bad guy. So why could you not view him as such? Was it the way he moved his body? Was it his hair which fell in place just perfectly imperfect? Was it his coat that accentuated the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders alone? Was it his smile that was just the tiniest bit bigger whenever he glanced at you? Was it that stupid head tilt thing that was everything but stupid to you? What the hell was it? And why the hell was resisting your urges so damn hard?

Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you but you could have sworn that his eyes fell on you, no matter how big the crowd. You could have sworn that his body searched out your presence wherever you went. There was this unspoken thing between you guys. As much as you wanted to address the tension building up, you were apprehensive what your best friends would say about it. You were doubtful how he would receive the news. Your ever growing friendship was at risk. The mere thought of having to live your life without him was inconceivable. How did it work before he came along? It was like your brain erased those memories altogether. Truthfully, he changed your life around without having an idea of the effect he had on you. Or he did know but enjoyed messing with your feelings. Though he did not strike you as that type of man.

Countless nights were spent with you having deep, meaningful conversations. Thanks to those times, you perceived his side of the story. His motives & what drove him to the actions that brought him behind bars in the end. By no means were you trying to justify his crimes. There would have been multiple different ways. Back then, the only purpose for him was revenge. Apologies that came too late were given. Zemo truly was sorry. And while words & emotions could be faked easily, it was impossible to hide the deeper meaning that his eyes held. The softness, the wariness, he could not simulate this. Those beautiful brown orbs were withholding years worth of tears. It was not your position to force him to display his weakness in front of you. Sometimes, simply knowing that another person was available if needed, that was enough.

The same feeling of secureness was provided by him. Your past was not necessarily pleasant either. Innumerable regrets labeled your existence. You were not a good example of a hero. Every day, you contemplated the what-if’s. Overthinking was part of your diurnal routine. All the pondering was needless. The switch only shifted after the beginnings of Zemo’s nocturnal reassurances. Without him, you would still be stuck in that gloomy pit your body had constructed on its own. You two were reliant on each other. Not physically but mentally. Unpretentiously, small touches followed. Brushing his thumbs over your smooth skin on the back of your hand. Squeezing your shoulders gingerly. Goosebumps erupted each time his body warmth was transferred to yours. Whether he wore his leather gloves or not, your body responded with endless fireworks that launched from deep inside.

The hotel you entered radiated wealth. Zemo negotiated the reservations. Which was obvious by the mere impression of the lofty ceilings that were embellished with immense sparkling chandeliers. Your eyes overstrained from the extravagance, switching from one highlight to the next. As a regular citizen, your income denied you such a lifestyle. Avengers did not earn a fortune, this trait came with the job description. Meaning that you would savor every little ticking of your stay. The marvelous high of contentment ceased when the receptionist informed you of an immutable adjustment concerning your room situation. The only two vacant premises were a king size in one & two singles in the other. Apparently, the decision was resolved without you having a say in it. Your questions were answered with a definite proclamation. You were the only soul unable to kill the Baron. Your attempts to conceal your embarrassment were unsuccessful. The smirk adorning Zemo’s features was unhelpful in your current position. Sam & Bucky abandoned you in the entrance, heading off to their room to rest after a tiring mission.

Zemo demanded your luggage to be brought up to your chambers. One of his hands rested on your lower back. This motion warmed your body. It was so simple yet filled with extensive care. It should have been wrong but you have never felt more protected in your entire life. One thing worried you. Sharing a room with the man who brought out your true happiness. It was no secret that you suffered from insomnia. Usually, it vanished after indefinite missions. The interminable flight in Zemo’s private jet added up to your exhaustion. Under no circumstances would you sleep in a room with the Baron. The trust existed, that was not the issue. What happened during your slumber could not be controlled. The tossing, turning, screaming. Nightmares invaded your dreams every time you closed your eyes. Therefore, you obviated sleep as long as possible. Multiple cups of coffee, the heavy does of caffeine every day, aided your wish to stay up. If you narrated a good enough excuse, he would not inquire. At least, that was what you hoped.

Stepping through the tall door into the spacious room, you stopped dead in your tracks. You needed a second to take everything in. Never before had you occupied such a luxurious chamber. It resembled a suite. Different shades of warm colors complemented each other. The vast windows enabled your view of the city beneath. Colorful lights brought the dead of the dim night to life. Facing the stars aligning the somber night sky, Zemo arranged himself next to you. Minutes of silence enveloped you, filling the room to the brink. The man next to you fractured the quietness with whispers. He pointed out various constellations. Observantly, you absorbed his words. He was cultured but never bragged about it. His sentiment of deliberate timing was unique. One of his characteristics was fathoming when to quit talking. Or when it was suitable to speak. Zemo constantly knew how to ease the tension with his thoughtful comments.

“You take the bed. I am content with resting on the couch.” he proposed. As much as you appreciated his deliberation, you pronounced the contrary.

“No, Helmut. I won’t sleep anyway, you can have the bed.” your gentle smile underlined the tiredness emanating from your eyes. He tilted his head to one side, observing your body language.

“You have not rested after our mission yet. Not even during the flight where Sam, James & I slept.” he annotated, worry audible in his voice. Your shoulders lifted in a short shrug. Alleging that you were fine. Spending hours with you concluded to him comprehending your lies. Your features were different whenever you attempted feigning him. Approaching your figure in the barely illuminated room, he halted a few steps away from you. Movements of his hands caught your attention. The gloves were peeled off. Lifting one of his arms, you shivered when his skin touched your cheek affectionately. His fingers caressed your face so lovingly, your eyes closed instinctively. “You are exhausted, darling.” his words were soft, soothing your ears by the fragility of them. The space between you two was narrow. You breathed the same air. His body heat passed onto you. Your heart sped up, almost as if it could break out any second. Nobody had ever made you feel that way. Nodding obediently, Zemo dragged you closer to the soft mattress covered with silk sheets. It was a desired invitation. It did not last long before you gave in. The smooth material welcomed you. Realizing Zemo’s retreating steps, your hand reached for his wrist, freezing his tries. He glanced over his shoulder bewildered.

“Stay.” it was music to his ears, hearing your quiet proposition. Holding himself back, he shook his head briefly. A signal that he did not want to disturb you. “Please.” his face softened at your plea. How could he resist your sweet voice? How could he resist you when it was obvious that you wished for him to stay with you?

“Okay.” pulling back the blankets, he lied right behind you. Your back was facing him. The shock was only brief when your hand searched for his arm. Draping it over your waist, you sighed contently when he embraced you tighter. It was not just what you needed. This, it was required by him as well.

Peaceful hours of cuddling went by without disruption. The calm was interrupted by your eyes snapping open in fear. Your back was against the mattress. Staring at the tall ceiling, your breath quickened when you could not move. Could not talk. Could not scream. There was not a single thing that could be done but you awaited the bad that would arrive soon. It was not the first time you experienced such a situation. The pressure in your chest grew steadily, obstructing your breathing. Your muscles ached, your head pounded. Someone would murder you. If you did not rise soon, death would come knocking on your door. Your attempts to push away the sheets & your labored breath stirred the man next to you awake. His confusion ended when he noticed your struggles. Propping his head onto one of his arms, he scooted closer to your body. Zemo knew what you were going through at the moment. While he had never suffered from such a period himself, he had read about it. Your eyes widened when his locked onto yours. The fear was visible even without a light illuminating the room. His free hand moved to your cheek. In the process, he whispered sweet nothings to you in hopes that they would reach you. Irregular breaths were still very much present. Though you had him with you, your anxiety was acting up still. Your mind was determined that you would die in a few minutes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Darling, look at me.” your eyes slowly shifted from the ceiling to his dark, almost black ones. They were a beautiful shade of brown but it was too sinister to detect the different hues. “There you go.” his voice was steady, controlled. “What you are experiencing is called sleep paralysis. It means that you are awake but your body is asleep still. It will be over soon, I promise. This might feel life threatening to you but I’m here, okay? I am here with you & I will not let anything happen to you.” his eyebrows raised expectantly. The most you could give him was a useless attempt of a nod. His fingers stroked over your skin, bringing you comfort. You were not on your own. Zemo held you close to his body. Still unable to move, the one thing you could feel was his body heat. Minutes without change went by. Affirmations were whispered into the quiet of the ample room. Your leg shuffled the blankets. A small smile crept onto your face. Finally, you had control again. Your muscles were no longer frozen in place. Overwhelmed by the sudden liberty, you embraced Zemo into a tight hug. Reciprocating immediately, he held your head in place in the crook of his neck. His other arm raked around your waist, keeping you as close as possible. He assured you that you were alright. That nobody & nothing could hurt you. Not when he was around. The silent tears rolling down your cheeks were inevitable. They stained his shirt but he could not care less. All that mattered was you overcoming the feeling of uncontrollability. Maybe it was his explanation. Or his proximity. Or his sweet words calming you down. In the end, the cause was insignificant. Zemo helped you through this & there were no words to express your gratitude to him.

Pulling away slightly, he rested his forehead against yours. You mimicked his deep breaths, disposing of the last bits of worry. When you were in his presence, it was gratuitous to be fearful. Demons had no chance. Not when it came to Zemo. The next reaction came naturally. This time, you did not fight the urge to press your lips onto his. You took his breath away by the unexpected action. There were no complaints from his side. Both hands rested on your face, bringing you closer if it was even feasible. In your imagination, you recalled kissing Zemo to be heated. This right now was the exact opposite. No words could depict what emotions were rushing through your entire body. Descriptions were useless if you could demonstrate it with a simple kiss. After it ended, silence sheathed you two once again. It was everything but unpleasant. He kept holding onto you. Zemo would never judge you because of nightmares or similar occurrences. Your head rested on his chest, above his heart. The beat calming your nerves even further. Explaining that you had always suffered from the monsters of the night, he did not interrupt. You needed to confide & he was more than happy to be available. Another soft kiss was pressed on top of your head. A content sigh left your lips. Zemo assured you that he would stay, no matter what. He was in this for good. Whatever this was. Time would clarify the relationship between you two. All you knew was that it felt right. Having him close to you. Having him as your protector. Having him to brighten up your days. Simply having him. That was adequate. That was your unspoken wish. You expected a lot but you did not expect the fulfillment of a previous unknown dream. You were home.

Published (04/21/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @eristudytime, @hiraethmaximoff, @incansas, @fionanovasleftnut, @mundaytuesday, @ashamed23, @pedropascallovebot, @kpoptrash2000, @lulu-yuming, @bibliophilewednesday, @arctic--ash, @mischiefmanaged71, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @tatooineisdry, @obsidian-queen, @h0ly-fire, @dxnxdjarxn (thanks for your support <3)

[onceupona-chaos]

Cassian and Azriel's reactions to the Archeron sisters

Everything will be supported by the text. English is not my first language, so sorry for any possible mistakes. Be kind and respectful!

I will begin this post with the scene that was the starting point of my thoughts.

The two Illyrians paused their inspection of me long enough to note my sisters finishing up breakfast, Nesta in a pale gray gown that brought out the steel in her eyes, Elain in dusty pink.

Both males went a bit still. But Azriel sketched a bow—while Cassian stalked for the dining table, reached right over Nesta’s shoulder, and grabbed a muffin from its little basket.

Very often Azriel and Cassian show the same reaction to the sisters (in this case, they go still). The scene above is a perfect example of that and of how SJM is always very faithful to the differences between the couples: there's a difference of personality, which will be the one I'll focus here, and of "romantic status". Differently from Nessian, Elain and Azriel were in love with different people when they met each other. We don't know what was their first impression of each other yet, but with this in mind and considering their personalities, makes sense that they needed to get close first, trust each other, and then develop feelings (SJM writes slow burns after all).

Cassian was sizing up Nesta, a gleam in his eyes that I could only interpret as a warrior finding himself faced with a new, interesting opponent.

“I can imagine,” Azriel said. Cassian flashed him a glare. But Azriel’s attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit.

In their very first meet, the males were paying attention to each Archeron, but the way they were focusing on them is different. Look at the wording:

sizing up, warrior, opponent;

attention, polite smile;

While Cassian and Nesta "size each other up like opponents" and are loud/rough in terms of personality, Azriel and Elain are both quieter and acting like peacemakers. Here, please remember Feyre noticing how their personalities are similar:

Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.

Basically while Cassian is always provoking Nesta, Azriel puts Elain at ease, because there's a difference of personality. It makes perfect sense that one of them is "enemies-to-lovers" and the other is "friends-to-lovers". Let's go back to the first scene:

“I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went. Cassian finished the muffin, licking his fingers. I could have sworn Nesta watched the entire thing with a sidelong glance. He grinned at her as if he knew it, too. “Ready for some flying, Nes?” “Don’t call me that.” The wrong thing to say, from the way Cassian’s eyes lit up.

Even though Cassian and Azriel's first instinct is the same (they go still), how they proceed is again different (Azriel extends his hand like a gentleman and Cassian is all cocky grins).

Cassian pressed one of his knives into Nesta’s hand. “Ash can kill you now,” he said with lethal quiet as she stared down at the blade. (...) “I told you to come to training,” Cassian said with a cocky grin, and strode off.

“This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.” (...) “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”

Just like Cassian, Azriel offered a blade to an Archeron sister so she could defend herself. Again, let's look at the wording:

Cassian pressed the one of his knives;

Azriel pressed the hilt of the legendary blade;

And again, Cassian: cocky, provokes Nesta; Azriel: softly, gently, puts Elain at ease. Of course, in the TT scene there's much more imagery (Light and Dark/ Death and the Fawn/ the fact that TT is not just one of Azriel's blades), but still both males have the same reaction when Nesta and Elain are about to face danger: they need to be able to defend themselves, so the males provide a blade.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

They were speaking, Azriel with some urgency, but Cassian didn’t hear him, heard nothing but the roaring in his head before he said to no one in particular, “I’m going after them.”

They also have the same reaction when the sisters are in danger. As I said before: their first reaction is very similar or even the same in some cases. The major difference here is that we have Cassian's PoV and not Azriel's, but the similarities are so clear:

Unspoken debate = said to no one in particular

I'm getting her back = I'm going after them

Firstly it seems the males are lost in thoughts, so concern about the females, and then they declare they're going to rescue them.

“Do you know,” Cassian drawled to her, “that the last time I got into a brawl in this house, I was kicked out for a month?” Nesta’s burning gaze slid to him, still outraged—but hinted with incredulity.

“What did you see,” Azriel said, and I tried not to flinch as I found him at my other side, not having seen him move. Again. Elain paused halfway up the stairs. Slowly, she turned to look back at him.

It is also very interesting to notice how Cassian and Azriel are the ones that can intervene when the females are "experiencing" their powers. It's like Nesta and Elain use them as some kind of anchor - they both are "lost" in their powers, but can focus on Cassian and Azriel. If Cassian can help Nesta do a scrying, it's Azriel who listen and gets that Elain is a Seer.

Now one of my favorite parallels:

“Are you … happy?” Shadows darkened his hazel eyes. “I’m getting there.” A halfhearted answer. (Cassian, ACOFAS)

Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn’t stop herself from touching his shoulder. (Azriel, ACOSF)

Exact same wording. In ACOFAS, Cassian was struggling with his situation with Nesta, and in ACSF it's Azriel who is suffering because of his situation with Elain.

Speaking of ACOFAS, let me highlight this moment:

Nightmares about the moment when Cassian was near death and Nesta was sprawled over him, shielding him from that killing blow, and Elain—Elain—had taken up Azriel’s dagger and killed the King of Hybern instead.

I just find very interesting how the two biggest moments between the couples are brought up here. SJM could had just said Elain killed the king with TT, but she chose to associate that moment with Azriel (she does that very often). Anyway, moving on...

Amren drained her wine and said to Cassian, “Nesta has a week. One more week to find the Trove with her own methods. Then we seek out other routes.” She threw a nod toward Azriel. “Including Elain, who is more than capable of defending herself against the darkness of the Trove, if she chooses to. Don’t underestimate her.”

Cassian and Azriel looked to Rhys, who merely sipped from his own wine.

Here, we have the males reacting to the females getting involve with the Trove (Azriel stiffened/ Cassian growled); then Amren speaks with Cassian about Nesta, and with Azriel about Elain; then both males look to Rhysand

And of course (I'll be brief because there are lots of posts about these lines):

Stupid, stupid, stupid— He didn’t care. Didn’t give a shit as she rose up on her toes, her mouth nearing his—

It was so wrong. He didn't care. He needed to know what her skin tasted like (...) Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

In both bonus chapters, Cassian and Azriel "don't care" about the possible problems and struggles, all they care about is the female before them. Not only the wording is the same, but in both cases the couples almost kiss.

That's the formula right there.

(Her scent) It hit him in the gut so hard he could barely focus, and it took five centuries of training to make himself meet her eyes rather than let his own roll back into his head.

Her arousal drifted up to him and his eyes nearly roll back into his head at sweet scent.

Basically the way these two are affected by the Archeron sisters is practically the same in both bonus chapters. Speaking of that:

I assumed seeing Nesta went about as poorly as could be imagined, because my lesson the following morning was longer and harder than it’d been in previous days. I’d asked what, exactly, Nesta had said to him to get under his skin so easily. But Cassian had only snarled and told me to mind my own business, and that my family was full of bossy, know-it-all females.

Three days passed with no word from Cassian. He’d been replaced in training by a stone-faced Azriel, who was more aloof than usual and wouldn’t even give her a smile.

Cassian in the next morning was still affected by what happened in Wings & Embers, and Azriel - three days later - was still affected by what happened in his bonus chapter. Not only that: these are the only direct references to the bonus chapters in the actual books. The major difference here is that SJM wrote Elain as Azriel's secret, so only the readers that have access to the bonus chapter know why he couldn't even smile (very similar to "Cassian only snarled"). Naturally there's a difference of personality, too: Cassian snarling, totally pissed off/ Azriel more aloof, stone-faced.

It's very clear the direction SJM is going.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.7

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Cassandra gradually starts taking up more of your time. Or, more accurately, demands it like it’s her birthright.

Every day, you wake her up with a kiss to her shoulder or neck and a whisper of her name. She comes to you when she’s bored at random times during your shifts, to either talk –complain— about her sisters or to outright distract you. There are times at night when you’ll feel the chill of her slip into your bed and press up against your back, but she’s always gone by morning light, like a dream.

She used to be just another component to your nightmares. Now… she’s what takes them away.

And you’re afraid.

That you’re growing to like the time with her while she’s just playing around, that it will cut that much deeper when you find yourself on the end on her sickle. Because how else can it end, you reason, between the two of you?

The thought momentarily makes your liplock with Cassandra taste bitter, despite the sweet strawberry taste of her lip balm -and no way she’s putting that on for you, right?

She has you pressed deep into a plush armchair with her palm on your chest, while her thighs are locked tight on either side of yours. You want to tell her that you should stop –both because you’re literally in the open and anyone can walk in on you and because it’s late—but her lips are doing wicked things to your neck and you can’t find your voice long enough.

When Cassandra starts grinding down on you though, rather impatiently too, you have to speak up before she starts something neither of you can finish.

“Cassandra.” you say breathily. A sharp nip comes over your pulse, then slippery lips close around the area. “Ah! Cassandra. You’ll be late for dinner.”

She tsks and pulls back, expression much like a kid that got her hand slapped away from the cookie jar. She dismounts you with the same sour look, smoothing down her robes.

“Walk me there.” she orders.

You rise and fall into step beside her, trying not to linger on how strange it feels. It should be nothing, really, considering all the activities the two of you nightly indulge in, but it’s… something.

Cassandra, uncharacteristically quiet, keeps gazing out the windows as though calculating or pinpointing something while you make your way to the dining room.

She comes to a sudden halt just before you reach it, turns to you, steals a quick kiss and then quickly leaves you behind, a colder aura about her as she strolls inside.

You hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice, but not what she says. Once a few minutes have passed and you can safely blend into the background, you join the other maids on standby within.

You used to hate it here. Having them all in front of you like that, serving them wine, when they’re all to blame for taking any semblance of normalcy out of your life. You never glance at what they’re eating. You still dislike dinner time.

But.

When Alcina makes a snide comment about Heisenberg and you hear Cassandra’s laugh above Daniela’s giggle and Bela’s chuckle…

It no longer seems so bad.

-

-

“Bela, stay a moment.” Cassandra says after Lady Dimitrescu leaves with Daniela in tow.

“Oh, no.” The blonde huffs under her hood.

“I didn’t say anything. Yet.” The younger sibling raises her hands in exasperation.

“When you go ‘Bela~’” You bite your lip to keep your expression neutral as you’re cleaning the table because hearing the normally stoic sister mimic Cassandra’s voice like that is just plain gold. “It’s never good.” her tone turns flat once more.

Cassandra very pointedly rolls her pretty eyes. “I need you to cover for me.”

“See?” Bela sighs. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, it wasn’t really a question, I was just trying to give you the illusion of choice.” Cassandra shrugs. “I’m going out tonight.”

“What?” Bela damn near hisses. “Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s fine it’s, like, thirteen degrees.”

“How is that fine?”

The elder sister’s gaze then flits to you. There is no other maid in the vicinity that can overhear them, but she’s clearly uncomfortable with you picking up the implications of their conversation.

You still don’t get it. You guessed their aversion to sunlight has to do with their mutations… but why would the cold be an issue?

The survivor in you wants to know more. To know if this is something that can be used to your advantage when the time and circumstances are right for a potential escape.

Another part of you… just plain worries.

“I know what I’m doing.” Cassandra says, stern.

“Then you’re doing it alone.” Bela turns to leave…

Except.

“Oh, well. Guess mother should know about that little maid you’ve been orbiting around, lately.” Cassandra comments. “The one you even did a favor for? Just imagine her disappointment in you, the shining example of the family, stooping so low.”

Bela’s back goes rod-straight. The piercing look she sends Cassandra sends ice down your spine. You think she’s going to pounce… yet she exhales.

“One. Hour.” Bela states. “If you’re not back in one hour I’m coming to drag your sorry behind to mother. And she—” A gloved finger points directly to you, “Won’t be coming back with you in one piece.”

Wait.

What?

-

-

You didn’t know Cassandra planned to take you with her. But she didn’t deny it when Bela pointed to you. After her sister left, all she said was: ‘Dress well.’

Which brings you to your current position, pacing by the entrance hall of the castle, in a warm coat and two layers of clothes underneath. You turn to look behind when you finally hear her steps descending the staircase.

And— you freeze.

Because Cassandra is not wearing her usual robes. She’s dressed in all black, yes, but the outfit is tight on her form, fitting every curve, hugging her wonderful legs like a second skin. She’s wearing knee-high boots instead of heels and her hooded, gothic overcoat reaches down to mid-thigh.

There’s not a single patch of her skin visible other than her face… and you can’t, for the life of you, explain why it’s that hot.

“You’re staring, plaything.” she chastises, yet doesn’t sound like she minds. Rather, she’s smirking.

“Uh—” you can’t really form words.

“We need to hurry, clock’s ticking.” she says as she jiggles the very key you’ve looked everywhere during work hours for. The key to freedom. To leaving the castle.

Cassandra double-checks her clothes before she opens the door. You file it as useful information for later as you hurry to catch up to her.

The path to the village –or what’s left of it— through the forest is… difficult. Mainly because Cassandra is entirely unbothered by any and all obstacles and moves like she’s on a walkway, leaving you to fight with every rock hidden in the snow.

You manage. Somehow.

Until a distant howl makes you jump and quite literally crash into her side.

Cassandra laughs. It’s a clear, beautiful sound in the dead of night. “My, my. Scared of a Lycan in my presence?”

“I thought it was just a regular wolf!” You whisper, mortified.

Yellow eyes blink at you. Then her gloved hand raises to yours, taking it in a secure grip. You didn’t realize you were shaking, yet the tremors quickly cease when she does that. It’s just your heart that still feels like it’s going to give out on you, but for an entirely different reason, now.

Cassandra safely leads you to the village. It looks more or less the same, except empty, void of life. You don’t linger on memories. You don’t.

“Show me your house.” she says.

You never thought you’d be tracing the steps of your front porch so soon. You only have to push the door for it to open. And the inside is just as you remembered. A quaint little house. It’s simply not… home, anymore.

Nothing is.

Maybe nothing ever was.

And the thought makes a thin, cracked wall inside you finally give. Cassandra is saying something a few paces behind you, but your vision has blurred, your eyes sting and hot, salty rivers roll past your lids.

“Are you listening to me?” she asks. “...Plaything?”

You can’t talk. If you do, you’ll sob and break to pieces on the floor like a pushed glass statue.

Cassandra’s grip is tight and demanding on your elbow when her fingers curl above it, but she turns you with gentleness you’d never think her capable of. You do not meet her eyes.

Her other hand comes up to your neck.

You can’t, you can’t—

“Alexia.”

Your eyes snap to hers when she says it, from the shock. You didn’t think she even knew your name. Cassandra shifts her weight from one leg to the other, then seems to decide on something and wipes the tears beading at your chin away with her thumb.

“Pack what you wish. We don’t have long.”

As you turn into your bedroom and open your wardrobe to pack a few clothes into a bag, just to feel a tad more yourself when you’re in your room in the castle, the sound of your name falling from her lips follows you.

Haunts you.

You have half a mind to get your mp3, phone and chargers before you return to her. Cassandra is holding whatever she wanted to get from the village in a box tucked between her arm and body.

“Come.” she orders. Her hand settles on your elbow again and practically drags you along.

You don’t talk on your way back to the castle.

From one of the many windows overlooking the front yard, you spot Bela’s eyes on the two of you until she retreats into the shadows. Rigidly, Cassandra enters and immediately goes by the large fireplace to warm up. You only then notice how much more fluid her movements get. Or rather, how sluggish she was during the trip.

You shut the door and turn the key and realize it’s much easier to handle your situation when you’re the one locking yourself inside.

You take off your coat and scarf, then make to head for your bedroom —according to your calculations you’ll only get 3 hours of sleep— until… you notice how cold Cassandra looks.

She’s one step away from hugging the flames. And you can still hear her call you by your name in your head.

Great. Another thing to keep me up at night. You think as you approach her.

Slowly, so as to not scare her, you slip your arms around her slim waist from behind. She’s like a block of ice in your embrace, at first. Her body thaws gradually, to the point she’s fully relaxed against you.

“Thank you for today.” the words don’t come easy –they’re like pulling teeth— but you manage to get them out clearly enough.

“You’ll thank me in very many ways, plaything.” she says. “Having your own belongings in the castle is not a privilege any maid gets. But.” her voice, although quiet, hardens the slightest amount. “If, despite my generosity, you harbor dreams of escape… I will turn them to nightmares.”

Your blood goes cold in your veins. You can only nod against her shoulder.

Cassandra turns in your arms to look at you.

“And if you ever try to leave me alone here… I will find you and kill you myself.”

[ponds-of-ink]

Post-FNAF 3 Piece: “Those Green Eyes”

This was the piece I mentioned alll the way back when I finished what’s currently there for @calcium-cat’s One Small Dream. Lost some steam at the end, as you’ll see, but at least I got this done. Tried to emulate the OSD style as well for an extra challenge. Anyway, here it is!

—

Springtrap hobbled, his only working arm using the brick wall as a crutch. The usual pain pumped through his body, but he only grimaced a little. After what he went though… some time ago, it didn’t really matter. Nothing did apart from his current survival.

Well, all right. There were other… concerns.

For example: Michael still being alive. Granted, it was a nice surprise to “hear” from him again. But, from what Springtrap could tell, this little plan of sending his eldest son out to go see what happened to Elizabeth went horribly, horribly wrong. And now said eldest son is out for revenge, no doubt. What else could “I’m going to come find you” mean in such a grim context? Especially after all that this (pathetic excuse of a) wicked soul had done?

A shudder rattled the rabbit’s charred remains. He stopped in his aimless tracks. A nearly-voiceless sigh escaped his rotten vocal chords. He really had to get his act together soon. No more reminiscing. No more William Afton from thirty— no, forty— years ago. It was just Springtrap now… Or, whatever he was going to call himself after some (much-needed) repairs. 

Footsteps, light and quick, triggered Springtrap’s ear to lift. A ghostly-hued, child-like vision rushed past him. The animatronic rolled his eyes before shuffling forward. He just had to say something about ditching the past, didn’t he? Nevertheless, he had to let whatever this “scene” was play out. He had no choice.

Second by second, more details came into view. The ghost turned into a well-dressed girl with hair done up in a bow. Another robot, imposing yet child-like, came into view. The back of the night-covered alley almost merged into a dark room much like a backstage area. The little one glanced left and right, then turning to “stare” at Springtrap, before finally resting her attention on the transparent newcomer. She approached slowly, like a robber towards some great museum artifact. If she was really there, she would’ve heard Springtrap’s knees quaking viciously at this maneuver. 

But, obviously, she didn’t. Her focus was dead-set on those two blue eyes glowing down at her. “Daddy isn’t watching,” she piped up, her Londoner’s accent strong and pronounced. She paused, as if trying to gauge the response of the pigtailed clown before her.  

Springtrap’s posture relaxed. He stifled an incredibly hoarse chuckle. Heh. How beautifully, painfully ironic. 

“Don’t tell Daddy that I’m here,” the girl insisted, gingerly taking a step closer. “I wanted to watch your show too.”

Of course she did. Elizabeth always loved Circus Baby just as much as he enjoyed playing Spring-Bonnie (that is, back when he was truly alive). Although these bittersweet remarks made his insides feel warm, they couldn’t prevent the ever-increasing anxiety surging through him. Whenever she took a step forward, he followed suit. He just had… to get… close enough…

“I don’t know why he doesn’t let me come see you,” the girl remarked, completely blind to the robot blinking and twitching right in front of her. “You’re wonderful!” She almost reached out to touch one of those huge, chrome-shined hands, but something stopped her. Her head tilted. Her open hand lowered. She looked behind again, causing Springtrap to halt. From what he could see, her expression contorted into something like a youth’s version of skepticism. “Where did the other children go?” she asked aloud, her green eyes darting this way and that.

A pause came between Circus Baby and Elizabeth. Battling his pain, Springtrap positioned himself as if he were William Afton standing in the doorway. He signaled for her to come with him, since he didn’t want to stress his already-ruined voice.

As if to defy him, Circus Baby sprang to life. Servos whirred as a music box played some sort of brief, nondescript tune. Elizabeth quickly turned around with a gasp. By the time she saw Baby, a claw was sticking outside of the now-open stomach hatch. This would have frightened the already-confused girl, but the sight of a single ice cream cone in said claw interrupted her fear.

Oh no.

Springtrap inched closer. “Lizzy…” he strained out, forgetting himself.

Once again, Elizabeth had that posture of wanting to reach out. She hesitated. Her eyes met those blue, lifeless marbles now fixed on her.

“Elizabeth…!” came a somewhat stronger growl. It took all his strength to not go into a coughing fit between any of those syllables.

She looked back down at the ice cream.

What remained of his throat formed a lump. 

She grabbed it by the cone, then tried to yank it out.

He tried to get as near as he could, but his shaking body had to stop short.

She made one wrong pull. Something in Circus Baby clicked.

No… No… NO—

A loud, freakish shriek rang in Springtrap’s ears alone. Like a toy in some twisted claw machine, the little girl was harshly pulled inside the robot and sealed in with a shut. Whatever might’ve happened after, he couldn’t tell. The sheer impact of it all caused his knees to buckle and his body to give way. It was bad enough, hearing the prior memories he actually had with her. But this? 

It broke him. 

How could he do this to his own daughter? 

Never mind her part of the incident. That was just childish curiosity.

But what he did? That was foolish negligence. Even worse than Michael’s impudence during… that day. Mike was still a boy back then. He was jealous, but not actually willing to hurt his brother. Springtrap? A full-grown adult with, at that point in his life, a kill streak that could rival heinous horror villains of his day.

And what did he have to show for it now?

A broken, twisted body.

A grim fate, caused by the one remaining son he hurt (accidentally or not).

And… the daughter he loved most… probably hating his rotting guts, if Michael wasn’t lying about her being put back together.

All because of him.

All… because of h-him…

Springtrap laid on the uneven path, his remnant now leaking from his eyes to the ground. On the bright side, any of that goo which dripped back felt like it was making him… physically stronger? His ear perked up at the thought, only to droop once more. No. Now wasn’t the time to pick up his research again. Not in this pathetic fit of self-loathing.

A clatter of wheels rhythmically struck the ground. The noise was distant, at first. Then it came closer. And closer. Yet Springtrap refused to get up. He tried to mouth a plea of mercy, yet all that came out were unnerving (yet still hoarse beyond reason) groans.

Two green circles of light pierced the dark. They focused on the rabbit kneeling merely inches away. Who was this sad little bunny? Why wasn’t it in some restaurant? Better yet, why was it sad? Did it miss its home? Or did it miss…?

The lights shrank. Servos whirred. The eyes moved from one angle to another, as if the owner’s head was tilted from side to side. Its skeletal hand reached out to the poor thing, but the figure itself didn’t move. 

The bunny was so sad, it didn’t even notice at first. But it did lift its head soon enough. Finally! Some progress! Now, if it could just—

Wait. What was the rabbit going? Was it… trying to run away?? 

Yes. Yes, he was. And why wouldn’t he, seeing that one of his own mangled creations somehow tracked him down? Springtrap struggled to get up onto his feet again, but all that remnant he did lose meant he was weaker than usual. Great. Just what he needed. A swift death by the hand of some animatronic he couldn’t even connect any memories to. Well, an animatronic he was too focused on escaping from to associate any memories with it. Unless he could… ?

Springtrap took one quick glance at the figure. The two eye-lights caught his attention. Glowing just like Circus Baby’s… But colored like Elizabeth’s. Not to mention the strange texture that he somehow didn’t miss. What in the world was this thing? It wasn’t that… prototype Roller-Skate Baby he built ages ago, was it? And, if that were true, then why was the eyes—?

Oh.

Oh…

“OH NO. SHE’S COME TO KILL ME.” 

That was the train of thought his mind crashed into after mere seconds of deliberation. All diplomatic things he would have resorted to flew out the window. It was time to get out of there, no matter what pathetic tactic he had to use. He staggered away, trying to say something—anything— that could get this fusion off his back. “S-S-Sorry!” he cried out, his voice now completely wavering and frail. “Don’t… hurt…me!”

“Roller-Baby’s” eye-lights widened. The bunny could actually talk? And its voice! Was it sick? Why did it sound like someone she knew? Someone she… thought she talked to recently? Her skates, slowly but surely, gained enough momentum to inch her forward. She came out from the shadows, the light hitting her wiry pigtails and broken red dress. But what she looked like didn’t matter. What mattered here was who she was approaching.

Springtrap stopped. He stayed still. He had to. His almost-visible heart thumped. His entire body rattled. His eyes followed her as she made her next move. She knelt down to his level. Her eyes scanned him up and down. He gave a trembling exhale. Here it comes…

“Daddy?” 

Springtrap’s eyelids flew up so high, you’d be forgiven for saying they disappeared altogether. “Wh…What?” he asked, summing up his internal screaming rather well.

“Is it really you, Daddy?” Baby inquired, putting her hand on his ear and stroking him as if he were a rabbit. “Or do you just sound like him? Answer honestly, please.”

Springtrap’s jaw hung open. “N-No,” he stuttered, not entirely sure how to process any of this. “It’s… me.”

Baby halted her habitual rabbit-petting. Her eye-lights focused on the ground. They wavered in steadiness. “You’re not… mad at me, are you?” she asked, her voice low and dismal.

Springtrap’s ear raised. Was this about Circus Baby or whatever happened with Michael? Both sounded like decent reasons here. But, once again, both were his own fault— directly or indirectly. “No,” he repeated, his tone as warm and fatherly as he could make it. “Not… now. I’m—“ A coughing fit interposed, forcing him to clutch his suit’s stomach and curl up. Even with shut eyes, he could tell that the gross noises must’ve shocked her. Maybe even sickened her? “A-Apologies,” he resumed, his ear drooped as much as the costume’s eyelids. 

“You must be really sick,” Baby remarked, wiping any gunk off with her arm. “You can’t talk as much as you did with those boring men in those funny suits.”

A snicker escaped the rabbit’s throat. Ah, those were the days, were they not? The days where all he had to worry about were business meetings and keeping Lizzy safe. No hoops to jump through, no animatronic costume to wear, no missing children… His would-be smile faded as Baby continued her petting spree. “Are you… mad at me?“ he asked softly, not entirely sure how else to phrase his current thoughts. Was she angry with him? If so, for which reason? The fact that he accidentally abandoned her due to lack of true knowledge on remnant? Or his (rather stupid) orders to still produce controlled shocks on the Funtimes? Or was it even the unintentional trickery he did by sending Michael instead of working enough power to reach his old office? Honestly, any of those reasons made sense to him.

Baby tilted her head. Her hand slowed its movement. Her pupils shifted from one place to the other. “No,” she answered softly. “Should I be?”

Springtrap grinned shakily. “Maybe,” he responded. “After… I tell my s-s-story.”

How was he going to tell it? He had no idea. Why’d he say it anyway? Wasn’t sure on that either. But now he forced himself into a weird corner. That was going to be an interesting night.

[gemma-collins-ily]

Oh can I also request the prompt "Reader and Requested Character falling asleep together with their heads on the other’s shoulder in the backseat of the carriage while their friend is driving." With Inej and then when she wakes up she's all shy because she has a crush on the reader? <3

Hypothesis

Inej Ghafa X reader

a/n - Yay, another Inej prompt! I know this was sent in earlier, but I really wanted to write that Mal request that had been sitting for a while! Sorry xoxo 💖

Prompt: Reader and Requested Character falling asleep together with their heads on the other’s shoulder in the backseat of the carriage while their friend is driving.

Warnings: extremely brief mentions of the Menagerie, drinking and gambling.

Tagged: @i-am-the-1930s @mrs-brekker15 @sarcasticnightmareblaze

You leant your hip against the wall, immediately regretting it when the sandpaper texture of the bricks grazed your skin.

Your face formed into a grimace, but after the initial movement to settle your position, the slight burning sensation halted and only stung a little, it becoming barely noticeable.

Your hand reached upwards to your hair to tussle the locks, ruffling the tendrils so the volume of them multiplied. You didn't bother to flatten it down again and instead rolled your eyes.

Would it kill Jesper to be on time?

You had apparently voiced these thoughts out loud as Kaz responded with a stony tone, "If he isn't here soon, I'm sure he could survive a night alone."

The three of you were fed up and Inej, who was usually extremely pacifistic and tried to refrain from insulting people, also joined the conversation.

"Wouldn't be a surprise if he couldn't direct himself back to the Slat until a week later."

Annoyance and boredom seeped into her speech and you snorted at the image of the sharpshooter so drunk he wondered into the completely wrong establishment, flopping himself where he thought the chair that was always waiting for him at the Slat would be, ending up sprawled on the floor instead.

A yawn escaped you and Kaz looked your way, the movement in his peripheral vision alerting him to you. His fingers tapped against the head of his cane as he glanced between you and Inej.

She too was struggling to keep her eyes open and he appeared to be thoughtful, pondering over if it was worth staying at the supposed meeting point, the probable result being you'd only end up delaying the return without Jesper.

He seemed to decide something and he nodded his head in the direction of the carriage then spoke.

"You two sit in the carriage."

It was a simple order, although you couldn't help but be concerned for Kaz, standing in the crisp and chilly air. You were also slightly worried for Jesper because if Kaz told you two, his assassin and spider to leave the scene, he might do something he would regret later.

But then again, he would never purposely hurt his sharpshooter to the point he wouldn't be able to fight. Apparently, your group all had to earn your keep, and this was done by carrying out jobs for Kaz.

You opened your mouth to dispute him but he simply gestured to the door of the carriage silently. You pressed your lips together and moved toward your ride home. Inej followed your example and you overdramatically bowed as you held the door for her.

She chuckled gently and stepped inside, you doing so right after, entering in time to see her closing the curtains, the darkness provided meaning you had to strain your eyes to observe her while you made yourself comfortable opposite her.

Whenever you had spare time, you always used it to gaze at Inej. How the pale light remaining struck her perfectly, revealing the baby hairs loose from her braid framing her face. She was like a living portrait, so beautiful you almost couldn't believe she was right in front of you.

Of course there were several other attributes about her you reveled in and admired consistently. She never stopped trying to be kind and helpful to anyone she passed, making your day one hundred times better by reading to you or taking you for waffles and a drink with Nina.

"Would you like some help with that, ma'am?"

"Oh no thank you dearie, I'm alright."

She would never fail to check the strangers were certain they needed nothing and would take time out of her day to make everyone elses more enjoyable.

"Hey, I'm just going to ask if they want me to carry that, their pile of purchases seems a bit large."

Or,

"I'm just going to see if she needs help crossing the street. Wait a minute, will you?"

She truly was an angel and if the Saints did exist, she surely was one herself. Another thing you loved about Inej; her resolute and stern faith in the Saints, unwavering after all she had been through.

If there were Saints out there, you loathed them. Inej would do anything for them at a moments notice, but she had to endure torment in the Menagerie all alone.

You had no more time to admire her after you were pulled out of your thoughts by her voice.

"(Y/N)."

"Yes?"

"You're staring."

Why wouldn't I be?

That's what you wanted to inquire, but you said something else instead.

"Hey Inej. You know you'll never have to be alone now you have me, right?"

She seemed at a loss for words, so overjoyed you were inferring you would stick by her side, no matter what came her way. A moment's pause later, she answered.

"Yeah."

Inej patted the bench beside her and you happily shifted to sit beside her. You vaguely registered Jesper arriving and telling Kaz he was doing something, giving up quickly at the teenage mastermind's glare and explaining he was really gambling.

As the carriage started to travel forward, the wheels squeaking during the first rotation, your head dropped onto her shoulder.

You didn't mean for it to happen, but when you started to move, Inej carefully pushed your head back into the junction between her shoulder and neck, showing you she welcomed the touch.

A haze of tiredness had descended upon the two of you, whereas Kaz and Jesper were kept alert by the wind nipping at their clothes and skin.

She slowly allowed her head to fall on top of yours, returning the gesture and releasing a deep breath as you slumped further against her.

Inej also felt sleepy and just before both of you succumbed to the slumber beckoning you, you heard one last whisper, so low it almost escaped you.

"Now that I have you."

"Tired, were we?"

You jolted awake in time to hear Jesper's remark and only flipped him off in response before clearing your throat to speak.

"An asshole making us wait, were we?"

He laughed merrily and held out a hand to help both you and Inej step down from the carriage.

"Fair, fair."

You wrapped your cloak over yourself tightly as the cold air infiltrated it, making you shiver and cross your arms, both of your thumbs rubbing over the alternate limb.

You hurried inside the Slat, not noticing Inej's blazing crimson cheeks, too busy worrying over your own red nose. The difference was that your blush was from the chill, and hers most definitely wasn't.

"So...?" Jesper prompted.

Inej sighed, still not entering the building.

"I didn't tell them."

"What! You didn't tell them even after all that lovey dovey stuff I had to listen to?"

"It's more difficult than that Jes. I can't just swagger up and tell them I think I'm in love with them!"

Jesper huffed and shook his head, "You just said it!"

"Not to their face! You're different!"

Her hands were waving around, irritated and wafting through the air. Jesper suddenly smirked and Inej's brow furrowed.

You had walked outside to see what was taking them, more specifically her, so long and witnessed the entirety of the conversation.

She turned, her eyes widening in horror before she stepped forward, her hands held out in a surrender.

"(Y/N), I- I didn't mean it."

Her heart broke as she denied that she was in love with you. Having to act as though she wasn't seemed like too much a feat to accomplish, but it was better to remain friends with you than to not have you at all.

Your eyebrows raised, almost disapprovingly.

What you said next shocked Inej, but certainly not Jesper. He had been subjected to listening to both of you ranting about your feelings and watching your painfully obvious wistful looks.

"Oh, that's unfortunate. I hoped you did."

"What?"

She was extremely confused and Jesper deemed this as an appropriate time to exit, trudging into the Slat. Of course, he couldn't miss this and so immediately raced up the stairs, on all fours, trying to reach the top swiftly, not wanting to miss any important details.

He cracked open his window unnoticeably and leaned his head out, his eyes glinting with pure and childlike joy.

"Inej, I love you. I really don't know how we've been so oblivious, on both of our parts, but it's fine. Now we know."

Jesper cursed. He couldn't hear anything from all the way up on the floor of his room! He sprinted out, dashing down the stairs and burst into Kaz's office.

"Get out, Jesper."

"No! This is extremely important!"

The sharpshooter ran to Kaz's window, sighing in relief when he could hear your words better. Kaz looked as amused as Dirtyhands could, and came over to stand next to him.

"But- I mean are you sure you love me?"

You laughed, the sound startling Inej, confused as to why you would be laughing at such a time.

"Don't you know? If you have to question someone's love, it isn't worth it anyway. I've never questioned mine for you, Inej. The second I realised that I love you I tried to hide it, convinced you didn't feel the same."

You had gradually been taking steps forward and now you were in a close proximity together. If she took one more step, your lips would brush together.

It was so tempting.

So she did it. She tilted her head as she moved and your chapped lips met hers. It was only a small peck, but she had said everything necessary to show just how much she reciprocated your feelings.

She had said everything in that one, perfect kiss.

Moments later, your own little bubble you had been in popped as Jesper yelled out to you from above.

"Why couldn't you speak louder? I could barely hear a word!"

And when you turned to the window, Inej gently pulled your hands, encapsulating them in hers and brought them to her lips then blew, ignoring Jesper and refusing to meet his eye.

Her eyes raked over you, acknowledging the shivers racking your body and she put a hand on your back, leading you inside.

"Come on, you must be cold."

But really, with Inej, you would always feel warm and fuzzy. You supposed you were just immune to the cold around her.

You guessed she'd just have to stick around for you to prove your hypothesis. And it was safe to say, Inej wouldn't mind.

She wouldn't mind at all.

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

I'm Yours

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Warnings: There's kissing. A lot of kissing. Just some teenagers being dumb really. No canon characters were harmed in the making of this fic. I didn't include a cheating aspect since I don't write for that kind of stuff, but there's still some jealous!Kirishima here >:3

Author's Note:

Uhhhh I kinda forgot to make this fluffy . . . .

Thanks to uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwi from Wattpad for requesting! (that's a really fun username hehe)

Enjoy!

-Sugar

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Swamped.

That was the only way he could describe it. Kirishima didn’t think he’d ever been so busy, and he wasn’t the only one.

Finals had the entirety of the hero course stressed, especially the second-years like himself. Between training, doing homework, and going to class, there wasn’t exactly room for being social. Any time he was able to hang out with his friends, they were studying together. Nothing he'd really describe as 'fun'. And that’s what had him feeling the worst about all this.

He’d started dating you a few weeks ago—going on three months now, actually. Things had been going well between the two of you. You liked him and he really liked you, so to him, there hadn't been any type of problem.

Even so, there was something a little unique about your relationship: no one knew about it. You yourself were never one for letting others get too involved in your business. And besides, you also knew the nature of most high school relationships. Maybe you’d announce yourselves as a couple and make a big fuss only to grow tired of the other and end it all within the first month. But clearly, that hadn’t happened.

There was a strange thrill to keeping your relationship a secret; a novelty your boyfriend hadn't expected. Though he wasn’t much for dishonesty, Kirishima practically lived for the stolen glances across the classroom you’d share, and the way he’d sneak you behind the school for impromptu makeout sessions with no one ever the wiser. You were his little secret, and he was yours.

Until it had all come to a grinding halt with the extra schoolwork.

He still tried to make time to spend with you in one of your dorm rooms, but the both of you finally had to admit to yourselves that neither of you could get any work or studying done when you were alone together. And so it was back to study groups; holding hands under the table as either Bakugou or Yaoyorozu went over the newest batch of hero laws that needed to be memorized.

God, how he wished this could all be over. Kirishima just wanted things to be normal again. When was the last time he’d even seen you? He could remember watching the back of your head duck out of the classroom at the end of the day, but after? . . . Nothing.

He frowned at the physics worksheet laid before him, mind wandering to thoughts of you as one of his sharp teeth sunk into the eraser at the end of his pencil. Kirishima supposed he should go check on you later, once he’d finished up his assignments for the evening.

…

“Did you see (L/N) yesterday?”

Kirishima’s ears unconsciously perked up at the sound of your name. He stood with his tray in the lunch line directly behind some of his female classmates. They were chatting amongst themselves as they slowly stepped forward. Kirishima wasn’t generally one to listen in on conversations he wasn’t a part of, but now they’d captured his interest. Had one of them seen him sneaking into your room?

“No, I didn’t,” Uraraka said in response to Ashido. “Is she alright?”

“Of course she is,” the pink-haired girl said, rolling her abnormal black and amber eyes as she reached for a clementine. “Actually, she may be doing more than alright.”

Kirishima swallowed. Uh-oh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jirou asked, sounding largely uninterested in gossiping about her fellow classmate.

“Well,” Ashido began, bouncing a little on her toes, “I saw her on the tech floor yesterday and you won’t believe who she was talking to.”

“Who?” Jirou asked dryly, probably hoping to get the discussion over with as quickly as possible.

“Kobayashi Tatsuo. The third year,” Mina announced proudly.

The redhead behind them quietly sighed. Thank goodness. They still didn't know.

“And?” Uraraka questioned.

“They were totally flirting!” Ashido said. “(L/N)’s bagged a cute upperclassman boy! They’ll be dating soon, I just know it! If they aren’t already.” She smugly leveled her shoulders, grinning with an odd look of satisfaction.

What?

“I guess that’s good for her,” Jirou commented, picking up her tray from the lunch bar in order to follow her friends to a table.

“I know, right?” Mina said excitedly as they walked off. “And he’s totally cute too! I wish a hot guy would pay attention to me for once.”

Kirishima watched them leave, almost forgetting to grab lunch for himself after being so absorbed in what they were saying.

The majority of him knew he shouldn’t pay any mind to it. This sort of thing was bound to happen. Of course his peers try to figure out who was involved with who, even if it wasn’t really accurate or from the most credible source. The girls didn’t know that you were already taken by someone else, in fact, the very person behind them in line.

At least now he knew where you’d gone after class yesterday . . . but why? What were you doing on the tech floor? And who was this third year you were talking to?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Kaminari’s voice. Kirishima returned the greeting, sliding into his seat next to his friend. As he settled into the atmosphere of his usual table, he couldn’t help but scan the cafeteria for your face, just as he had done every day, even before you were dating.

But for the first time, his search came up empty. You were nowhere to be seen.

…

Kobayashi wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to be spending your lunch with.

Really, a part of you wondered why you had to skip going to the cafeteria at all today. But then you remembered the stack of work that sat on your desk. It stubbornly refused to ever shrink, no matter what you did. Recently, it felt like as soon as you got one thing done, two more assignments would find their way right back at the bottom. And this was just another one you had to deal with.

While reviewing your materials for your upcoming finals, you’d begun to take note of other heroes’ costumes and support items. Particularly, you’d taken interest in a hero from Ukraine who’d debuted a few decades ago. Your quirk was wildly similar to his and you couldn’t help but further research his techniques, costume, and gadgets that enhanced his abilities.

You weren’t one to copy. Actually, you quite liked the way your current costume functioned and looked, with its own unique style of your own. Even so, you’d read things about him and his quirk that you honestly hadn’t even thought of for yourself, and you’d begun to make a special section in your notebook for improvements to your hero ensemble. Was it the best use of your time? Perhaps not, but you did have a practical exam coming up, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if these improvements you were sketching might make all the difference in your performance . . . .

You decided you could use an upgrade. Which is exactly why you went to the second-year in the support course who was in charge of making adjustments to your costume. Until your hopes were immediately dashed when you found out he was sick. Determined, you went to the next best option: Kobayashi.

He was a nice enough boy. Tall, witty, and a whole year older. You hadn’t expected to be spending so much time with him over the past week, but for whatever reason, he kept calling you back to his workspace in the shop for ‘daily check-ins’. At least he was making good progress.

But now you were spending your lunch hour eating with him. It felt strange, being alone in a different classroom with the guy—not an uncomfortable strange, merely “I’m not used to being here”. You’d let him borrow your notebook full of sketches for your costume, and that’s what he was going over with you now.

He’d ask you for clarification on one of your notes before jotting something down of his own right next to your handwriting. He had also been eager to show you his process, explaining the steps of what he was doing while you ate from your bento.

To be honest, it was kind of nice being in a different setting. Kobayashi was fun to listen to; it was clear he was passionate about what he was doing.

But still, he ran out of things to talk about. That was, when it came to your hero suit. Figuring it was too late to go back to the cafeteria anyway, he ate his own lunch with you, striking up a new conversation.

At first, you didn’t pay any mind to it. But then you began to take notice of how close he sat. Then you realized how eager he was to make you laugh, how smoothly the casual chatter flowed between you. And then it struck you just how much he peppered in compliments to you. Finally, it clicked.

Uh-oh.

You refused to meet his gaze when he waved you off after the bell rang. Dashing away, you wondered how serious he might be. Did he actually like you? No, perhaps you were overthinking the situation.

Then again, he had been being awfully nice to you ever since you’d met. But what if that was just how he was? Kaminari could be like that at times, and you knew he didn’t usually mean anything too serious behind it. Or—well—perhaps Denki the Flirt was a bad example for your case. Still . . . how were you supposed to make it clear to Kobayashi that you weren’t interested?

You shook your head to clear it of these thoughts. He hadn’t actually done anything, so what was the point of worrying about it? You were loyal to Eijirou, you knew that. You’d made a commitment to him just as he had to you, and that was all there was to it. No matter what, you’d continue whatever it was you had with him. Kobayashi wasn’t an issue you should be losing sleep over. Besides, you were probably reading too far into things anyway.

Content with the conclusions you’d made, you walked back into your homeroom class for fifth period. Settling into your seat, you faced the chalkboard in front of you, awaiting the return of Aizawa-sensei, unaware of the pair of ruby eyes fixed on your back.

…

Kirishima shot up from his desk the moment he heard a soft knock on his door. As soon as he opened up his room, you came barreling into his arms. “Hey!” he greeted you, reciprocating the hug.

“Study break!” you announced quietly, not wanting to alert his neighbors of your presence.

He tittered happily to himself, leading your bodies back to his desk where he could sit you on his lap in his chair. Settling comfortably on his thighs, you were quick to slot your lips against his. Kirishima melted into your touch.

How many days had it been since he’d last gotten a chance to kiss you? Two? Three? Either way, it had been far too long.

“Shall we take this to the bed?” he joked after a few minutes of kissing.

You chuckled at his harmless allusion. “You know I’m going to fall asleep as soon as I lay down.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, concern morphing his features. “Have you been getting enough rest with all this going on?”

“No,” you admitted. “I was up last night with my English flashcards. I swear Present Mic is trying to kill me with this new vocab, it’s like I can’t get it in my head at all.”

“I could help you study it,” your boyfriend offered, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“That would be productive,” you said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. “What was it last time? ‘If I get a set right, I’ll get a kiss’ and then next thing I know, we’re making out on your bed for twenty minutes.”

He grinned up at you coyly. “At least I made studying fun.”

“That wasn’t studying!” you protested with a grin. “Speaking of, my timer’s going to go off soon—” you pressed your lips against his for a moment, “—and I want more kisses.”

Kirishima let you have your way with him, threading your fingers through his hair while you savored the taste of his lips. But there was something still nagging at the back of his mind.

“(Y/N)?” he asked when your phone buzzed and you pulled away. “Where were you during lunch today?”

You shrugged, pulling your phone out of your pocket to silence it. “I’m getting improvements on my hero costume. My regular guy got sick so I’m working with this third-year dude.”

“Ohhh.” Kirishima’s worries dissipated almost instantly. “So that’s why you were on the tech floor.”

Confused, you frowned. “Did you see me there or something?”

“Oh, sorry! I just overheard Ashido saying that she saw you down there.” He laughed. “She thought you were flirting with him or something and that you were going to end up dating.”

“Ah, well,” you mumbled, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not but he, um, actually might have been flirting with me.”

Kirishima’s smile dropped, his arms subconsciously squeezing you tighter to him. “What?”

“I only noticed it today—it totally could be nothing—but I think he’s caught feelings? I mean, why else would he ask me to have lunch with him like this? Not to mention how he was smiling at me, and looking at me, and touching my hand—” You bit your tongue, stopping yourself from saying anything else. Maybe this was more serious than you realized.

Your boyfriend was silent, staring at the floor below you with a troubled expression. His ruby eyes traced over the rectangular patterns on his floor, seemingly lost in thought.

“You know that nothing’s going to happen,” you attempted to reassure him, lifting his chin with one of your fingers so he could look into your eyes. “Those feelings aren’t reciprocated and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already picked you, Eijirou. There’s no one out there like you.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, sealing your statements, not only to him but to yourself. “We’ll sort this out. If I have to tell Kobayashi I’m taken, then so be it. Maybe keeping our relationship a secret isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”

When you pulled back, you noticed that there was still a pout on Eijirou’s face.

“Aw, what is it?” you asked, tucking one of his fallen sticky spikes back under his bandana.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, pulling you even closer to him.

“Talk to me, baby.” You ran a hand down his back.

“I don’t like the thought of him being around you,” he confessed into your shoulder. “I . . . don’t want him smiling at you like that, or touching you, or letting people think that you belong with him. You’re . . . mine.” He paused before laughing dryly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. That sounded . . . totally selfish of me and probably not very manly at all—”

“No,” you said simply. “It’s actually kinda hot.”

He pulled back to look at you, perhaps to see if you were joking. Your expression was intrigued, maybe a little flustered. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “I . . . like when you call me yours. It’s cute. And besides, it’s okay that you feel that way. Feelings don’t have to make sense. I'm frustrated about this too.” Pecking his lips a final few times, you regretfully stood from his chair. “I wish there was something more I could do right now, but I should get going. I promised Tsu and Uraraka I’d meet up with them. We can talk about this later.”

“See you, (Y/N),” Kirishima said.

You smiled and waved, turning to the door and checking to see if anyone was in the hall before slipping back out. Kirishima watched you go, wondering what he should do.

Kirishima hadn’t even met the guy and he already hated him. Sure, Kobayashi wasn’t aware you were taken, and he had every right to show interest in you, but that was supposed to be Eijirou. It was Kirishima’s job to flirt with you and be there for you and sweep you off your feet. Your classmates should be shipping you with him, not this random guy from another year.

The redhead sighed. He shouldn’t let himself get so caught up in this. He knew you were capable of sorting this out on your own, and if you really needed him, Kirishima would help you. He couldn’t start getting whiny like some kind of child.

Besides, your friends could think whatever they wanted. It couldn’t affect your relationship. They were just high school kids. They didn’t even know what they were talking about.

Despite the fact he was trying to get back into focusing on his work, Kirishima’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Maybe once exams were over you could finally announce that the two of you were together. Then you wouldn’t have to sneak around so much anymore. He could hug you whenever he wanted, and you could sit on his lap during movie night. He’d be able to kiss you in front of his friends, no problem. Maybe, just to see the look on his face, he’d kiss you in front of—

No, no. Japanese Literature. That was what he was supposed to be thinking about right now. The sooner he finished his work, the sooner he’d be able to see you again.

…

Finally it was Saturday afternoon, and you knew you had an entire day to take things a little easier tomorrow. Maybe you’d even try to take the evening off and spend some time with your boyfriend. But of course, you had to meet with Kobayashi about your hero costume first. Hopefully it would be quick, and perhaps even the last time.

You walked down to the tech floor, heading straight for the workshop. You needed your suit for the practical exam next week, so you hoped he was ready for you.

Peeking into the room, you spotted him putting something into a very familiar case.

“Oh, are you finished?” you asked, walking in.

“Yeah,” he said brightly. “You’re all set, (L/N).”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Here,” he popped the little box open, showing off the finalized improvements he’d done and the changes he’d made that you’d spoken about together. He walked you through everything and you listened politely, asking the occasional question. Even with the newfound bitter taste in your mouth at being around him, you had to admit he'd done a spectacular job.

“That should be everything,” you said, ready to go. “Thanks for working with me.”

“No problem.”

Satisfied, you began to walk away.

“Wait, (L/N).”

Apprehensive, you stopped, turning back to him. “Yeah?”

“I was just wondering,” he began, bashful, “if you’d like to grab lunch with me sometime.”

You frowned, apologetic. “I can’t, Kobayashi senpai.”

“Why not?” He looked hurt.

You winced. “I’m already involved with someone else.”

“You’re just ‘involved’?” he asked dubiously, the expression on his face changing. “Please give me a chance. I can see that you feel something for me too. Whoever you’re with, I could be better.”

“I’m not interested,” you said firmly, any momentary sympathy you might have felt evaporating. “Goodbye, Kobayashi.”

He let you go, watching as you walked stiffly out of the classroom. As soon as you rounded the doorway, you felt something grab you. Gasping, you startled, but you were quick to register a familiar head of red hair. You saw Kirishima put a finger to his lips, pulling you further down the hall and towards the empty stairwell for some privacy.

He pushed you up against a blue-gray wall, grinning at you with hooded eyes.

“Eiji, what—?”

“I heard the whole thing,” he murmured, leaning in and capturing your lips for a quick kiss. “I thought that guy might make a move on you so I followed you down here. You held your own.” He kissed you again; this one longer, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth. “You’re really mine, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, a stubborn trace of hesitancy still present and quavering in his voice.

“Of course I am, Eiji,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his. “I’m yours.”

He surged against you again, kissing you hungrily and pinning you even harder against the solid surface behind you.

You gasped against his force, eyebrows drawing together as you struggled to keep up. “Ei—” you tried. “Not here, let’s go someplace else.”

“Who cares?” he murmured, uninterested in stopping.

“Me. I don’t want to get caught by a teacher or a random fifteen-year-old. We could get in trouble.”

Kirishima sighed, finally drawing back for a moment to meet your eyes. “Okay, fine. But we’re going straight to my room, right?”

You snorted. “Where else do you think I want to be?”

He smirked, taking your hand again. “Good answer.”

Kirishima briskly walked you back to the dorms, his hand migrating ever lower down your back. It wasn’t long before he was sitting you on his lap in his bed, mouth once again connecting with yours right where it belonged.

You weren’t sure he’d ever kissed you like this before, in all the time you’d been together. His passion blazed before you, unrelenting as your teeth and tongues crashed together. He nipped at your lips until they flushed and swelled, and you knew they’d be noticeably bruised by morning but neither of you stopped. He kept going, trailing more kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your jaw, and all the way down your neck only to return right back to your parted lips whispering his name.

Kirishima’s room had never felt so hot and stuffy, even as he pulled off his uniform jacket and helped you out of yours. His cheeks burned red as his eyes, so caught up in what he was doing, the only thoughts his mind was still capable of having were simply You.

It went by in a haze. He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d lowered you onto his pillow, or how long he’d been hovering over you and caging you in with his arms as he cherished you.

But he knew one thing. His love for you wasn’t something he could hide anymore. No, he’d never let anyone think they stood a chance with you again while he was around.

One day soon, he would kiss you good morning at breakfast. One day, you’d hold hands in the halls on the way to class. One day, he’d pull you in close after school, slinging an arm around your hips just so he always knew you were there at his side.

But he was happy to be here with you now. He was happy to be your secret. He was happy, even as his kisses began to soften and slow, content with the way your body melded against his as he laid himself at your side and hugged you closer. All that mattered was that you were here with him now, and he was yours.

And you were his.

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Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicalyrandom @bumbyslair @f0leysgurl @hyunmin-1404 @kqtsukii @nabo39 @pyrofanatic​ @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @ure-a-sunflower @xoxopam4​

[wizkiddx]

i loved your blurb the other day . i have a request off it if you could do one more domesticated about the little things tom does in a relationship?

Ooooh I loved loved loved this request!! In my head he is a complete romantic sap at heart <333 this is a lot more wordy that I normally write and bit concerned it is a shitter - feedback would be well appreciate, if you have any opinion on which crappy writing style I do less badly :///

Summary: the boring and domesticated day to day life with Tom

warnings: look really close an a bit of implied smut, but otherwise sickeningly nice stuff I think ahah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Given his rather unique position and place in the world - your relationship with Tom was also very much not typical. By no means did that mean worse though - Tom meant the world to you; as you did him. Yes, at times it was tough - the distance, the tightly scheduled face times because of the time difference. But every time you saw his crinkly smile, it was almost set in stone everything was worth it. He was, most definitely, worth it. 

Especially as he was such a sap. Perhaps because some of the things he did that brought rushes of heat to your cheeks - Tom wasn’t even aware of. Of course, Tom being Tom, he obviously did the bigger things and spoilt you rotten - which you were never going to complain about - though those weren’t the things that made your heart flutter so inexplicably. 

Take yesterday for example. Tom had just got back home from a long filming shoot for SM3 and it was fair to say you’d both been pining over each other enormously. Once he was back though, none of that mattered. The pair of you had spent almost a full 18 hours in bed, before eventually you’d pulled away from the pouty boy, due to your desperate need of a shower. That was too far away from you in Tom’s opinion though- meaning you’d had a shared shower too. Purely for water saving + environmental purposes , or at least, that had been his justification. It was intimate but not sexual, leading to the two of you wrapped in towels in the marble bathroom. Busying yourself with your skincare, you weren’t paying any mind to your boyfriend, who you assumed to be faffing about as usual. That was until you felt a gentle tug on the back of your towel dried hair. Instantly you locked eyes with warm brown ones looking back at you through the slightly fogged up mirror, panning down to see the hair brush in his hand. 

“What’re you doing?” You laughed gently, leaning back onto his bare torso, still slightly damp from the humidity lingering in the bathroom air. 

“ ‘jus’ brushin your hair, I haven’t got all the lotions and potions to spend hours on.” Cheeky bugger. Sweet but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes - as he watched you roll yours. 

“If I phoned Rach and said you weren’t following her-“ Cut off by his lips craning round to meet yours, you decided not to fight it, instead melting into his embrace while turning round - your body still only wrapped in the towel tucked under your arm. After a few moments Tom paused to whisper a shh against your lips, before painfully slowly moving against yours again. God knows, you would’ve stayed in that moment forever if you could however you did also still have moisturiser only half rubbed in on your face, like warpaint. So, you turned back around finishing off in the mirror and very much enjoying the sensation of Tom still hovering behind,  ever so gently working the brush through your hair. It took much longer than it should have for you to finish off, mainly because you spent the time watching him in the mirror concentrate, especially the way he pressed his tongue against the inside of his left cheek in concentration. 

After the pair of you had finally got ready for the day (at 3 in the afternoon but no one had to know), you’d gone out for a walk with his parents. Naturally you spent the majority of the time gossiping with Nikki slightly ahead of the Dom and Tom - who were no doubt talking about golf or something equally as dull. Tom loved to say that he found how close you and Nikki got as terrifying - really you both knew he only adored you more for it. Family was everything to Tom and given poor Nikki’s immediate surroundings of pure testosterone, when you became integrated into the family it was like a breath of fresh air. And you didn’t smell of boy - which to her was a win. 

It was a beautiful early evening and the sun was slowly creeping its way toward the horizon, changing the light from a brilliant white to a more golden hue - basking the four of you and Tess in the glow. You’d all come to a natural halt whilst Tess had gone a bit mental chasing squirrels. It just worked out that the sun was opposite you and though the evening was beautiful, dealing with it head on , in your eyes, was not the most enjoyable. Before you could even reach your arm out to shield yourself from the sun,  the light was blocked out, a shadow casting over your forehead. 

Now what’s important to note here is Tom is by no means a tall man. He wasn’t a midget but it would be fair to say that all 5 foot 8 of him was ‘below average height’. Not that it let him stop being a sun block for you and you really did try not to giggle as your furrowed brows caught site of his raised heels. This boy was literally standing on his tiptoes to stop the sun getting in your eyes for god sake. He noticed your grin though and as if it was the most normal thing in the world just shrugged his shoulders before engaging back in his parents conversation. You weren’t as quick to recover, honestly having to take a moment to swallow down your glee. 

Afterwards, you’d gone straight back the Holland family home as they all wanted to celebrate Tom and Harry’s return- what better way than having Sam the master chef himself cook you all a three course meal? As if choreographed both of you had taken the seats next to each other… but not in a clingy way at all, Paddy was interrogating you on how the hell you’d beaten him at the classic game of mariokart (which you would never let him live down) whilst Tom and Harry were recounting one of their many tales of filming to Nikki. Once the plates of food were served out to you by the esteemed chef, Tom wasted no time in skilfully and subtly piling the greens of vegetables and salad off your plate and onto his. You’d never dream of offending Sam by insulting his cooking, really you did love it - there was just something about rabbit food that you had to put your foot down at. Perhaps it was because it was literal leaves? Things that you used to feed to your pet hamster perhaps? It was a constant source of bickering between you, Tom and Harry- they claimed you’d end up dying because of the lack of leaves in your diet, which you strongly contested. Fruit and some veg was allowed but salad- stay the hell away.

Anyway it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have to face that debate tonight because Tom had you covered. He always had you covered. 

Finally, the night rolled round which you were so thankful for, considering even though you’d had an extortionate amount of time in bed last night - not a lot of it had actually been spent asleep. Combine that with the wine you’d been happily sipping on in celebration, it pretty much explained the situation you found yourself in now. Eyes bobbing up and down as the TV drifted in and out of focus, the slow and gentle thud of Tom’s heartbeat lulling you into that floaty place. You didn’t fight the drowsiness because really, nestled between the cushions of the sofa and Tom’s chest, you didn’t want to be anywhere else. Letting your eyes slide shut completely, you took a deep breath in and nuzzled into his chest- barely registering how he lightly chuckled at the action. Tom just took the time to look down at you, pressing the most gently kiss to the crown of your head. Moments like this would never not be his favourite. Don’t get him wrong, he loved your wit and sarcastic charm when you were more conscious… but something about how comfortable you were to be completely vulnerable with him, gave him a purpose. He would never be able to wrap his head around why you’d let him - how he deserved this was beyond him but he was so bloody thankful for it. 

Your hand that was splayed on his stomach caught his eye, you still had your bracelet on from the meal and he knew you hated sleeping with any jewellery on. Instinctively then, Tom ever so gently manipulated the clasp and skilfully removed the silver chain - reaching over and placing it on the little coffee table. Having spent 3 months without you within 100 miles of him, Tom was more than willing to wake up with back ache if it meant spending the night on the sofa with you like this. The gentle grasp on your wrist had roused you a little though. 

It was always the simple things that made your heart burst - like the bracelet . Or like his little raspy whisper, voice tired and thinking you were asleep. Even if everything else disappeared, it would still be the greatest life if you had Tom there saying this. 

“Your home Y/n… you and me forever…

…until u die from not eating ur greens.”