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yuta-nakamots · 3 years

Text

baby don’t like it - j.jh

Pairings - Idol!Jaehyun x Idol!Reader, Idol!Yuta x Idol!Reader

Genre - Idol!AU, Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst

Warnings - y/n is a cheater, phone sex/sexting, unprotected sex, cumshot

Summary - Relationships can get messy as seen by the way you’ve managed to fuck up one that you weren’t even officially in to begin with but at least your boyfriend seems pretty supportive of it all.

Word Count - 9.8k

A/N - Tagging @hunjins and @spookyhyuck who make their own guest appearances. This was originally supposed to be strictly a Jaehyun fic but then things got out of hand when I was writing for Yuta ahaha never trust me and Yuta like this.

Part of the 23 Days of Christmas Event hosted by @neosmutcollective. Check out the masterlist here.

After becoming an idol, there was a part of you that thought that you’d never find love and end up settling with raising a bunch of cats instead but somehow you had the luck of catching the eye of none other than Nakamoto Yuta when both of your groups were promoting alongside each other.

He had approached you first and blatantly told you that he would like to get to know you better and things quickly progressed from there. He took you on dates to so many nice places and it was like you had found your kindred spirit in him. It only felt right when he asked you to be his girlfriend.

In a little under a year, you found that the only drawback from dating him was that he was always busy. It may not seem that way to the public but he was constantly at work preparing things for future releases and you made sure to praise him for how well he dealt with the sheer amount of content he had to put out. Such situations led to a decrease in time for dates and having to settle for late night phone calls instead.

“I forgot to tell you that me and some of my other group mates were asked to be on a variety cooking show this week,” you excitedly told Yuta over the call, “it’s the one where the two groups compete against each other and do challenges periodically.”

You heard the familiar beep of Yuta’s water dispenser as he filled up yet another cup, clueless as to where his original cup went. “I think Jaehyun mentioned something about going on the show. Are you guys filming tomorrow?” Unsure of your schedule you checked your messages with your manager and confirmed with Yuta that you were indeed filming with his members. “I don’t know which other members are going but I can ask and let you know.”

“Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to.” You told him, not wanting him to go out of the way for you.

Yuta chuckled on the other end of the line. “Just trying to make sure you’re prepared for whoever you’ll be working with.”

You shook your head though you realized he couldn’t see you anyways. “I don’t think they’ll be able to tell that we’re together from just seeing me cook, you know. It’s not like you’re there for me to stare at.”

“I’m flattered to know that you’d stare at me if I were there,” you heard him pick up his cup and open the refrigerator, most likely looking for a snack, “but keep your guard up anyways. You never know if they’ll mention my name or something like that.”

“If they mention your name it’s probably to tease your cooking abilities-”

“Are you saying I’m a bad cook? Because I can assure you that I am not.” Yuta defended with a huff as he closed the refrigerator, a telltale sign that he could not find anything of interest in there.

“I didn’t say that but if that’s what you think I was saying then sure.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” you could practically see him rolling his eyes, “I have to sleep soon since we have some photo shoot tomorrow and they didn’t like it when I came in all tired-looking last time.” He mumbled something about his dark circles starting to show more as he’s getting older. “Make sure you do some cooking research though,” he advises, “Jaehyun’s a really good cook so you’ll have some competition tomorrow.”

“Mmm okay, whatever you say,” sass evident in your voice, “I have faith in my members though so prepare to watch your own groupmates get shut down.”

Yuta quietly chuckled and you heard him flop into his bed. “Alright, love, I’ll get ready to see that,” he paused to adjust himself under his covers, “but no matter the result I’m sure the episode will come out okay because you’re there and I know you’ll do great.”

You smiled at his sweet comment. “Thank you, I trust that your other members will take good care of us too.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Yuta jokes, “but again, I know you’ll do a good job on the show, have fun at filming tomorrow, I love you.”

“Good luck at the photo shoot, I love you too, goodnight.” With that, you hung up, already halfway to sleep yourself since you were only really safe to talk to Yuta at late hours of the night, not wanting to alert any of yours or his group mates to the status of your relationship together.

In the waiting room on set, you finally had some time to check your phone after a hectic morning of mapping out with your groupmates, Ivet and Liv, your game plan for the show. It was decided that the three of you would be making a type of mixed ramen with whatever spices and other ingredients you were able to win though you’d have to be careful and keep enough stuff in reserve to make side dishes. Looking at your phone, you saw that Yuta had sent you a few messages in the midst of all the chaos.

Yuta > y/n

8:23am: jaehyun said it’s him, johnny, doyoung, and haechan filming today

8:24am: i hope you prepared well because they certainly did

8:24am: i’d spoil their plans but that wouldn’t be as fun haha

8:25am: watch out for haechan and jaehyun though, they’re planning on distracting you guys

8:25am: i have to leave for my shoot now but keep me updated on how it goes!

y/n > Yuta

9:16am: i’m in the waiting room right now, sorry it took so long to reply

9:17am: but really? They just had to send the most competitive guys huh?

9:17am: i’m not gonna spoil our plans either so you’re gonna have to watch the episode to see what we came up with ;)

You group mate Ivet called out your name from the doorway, “we’re starting soon, you better come join us on set.”

“Coming.” You shouted back as you tucked your phone away into your bag and made sure your microphone pack was wired up correctly.

Once you were out on set, Yuta’s members came out shortly after and filming started. Everything was going smoothly, the group introductions went nicely and it was finally time for the starting challenge. All seven of you were on edge since this was one of the most important parts of creating a successful main dish.

“First on the table, we have udon noodles, salmon, and a loaf of bread.” The host announced, pulling the cloth off the table on the side in the middle of where all the rest of the cooking ingredients were.

“Oh my god we have to get the noodles.” Liv whispered to you, gripping your forearm as the challenge was about to be revealed.

“In order to win these, the challenger must do a dance from the opposing group and be deemed successful by at least two members. The first person to yell out their name may challenge on the count of 3. 1, 2 ,3.”

You shot up from your seat as soon as possible, yelling your name and shouting over Haechan calling out his own, confident in your abilities to dance an NCT song after watching fancams of your boyfriend a little too much. “I’ll dance to Work It.” You stated, mentally going over the choreography in your head.

The music began playing from a little before the chorus and you turned to face the cameras in the front, winking at the most centered one as you mouthed ‘work it’ and started dancing. You heard your groupmates erupt in screams from behind you along with side comments from the guys of ‘oh, she’s pretty good’ and ‘not bad, not bad’.

You ended the dance with a cute pose before returning to your seat next to your members. “Y/n how do you even know the dance to that song?” Ivet asked, totally in shock.

Shrugging your shoulders you replied, “it’s a cool song so I watched their videos a couple times and just picked up the dance along the way.”

“Nah, there’s no way you learned it just like that,” Liv interjected, “you’re so slow at picking up choreo, I know you must have purposely learned this.” Again, you shrugged your shoulders, readjusting the wire of the microphone that got jostled around while you were dancing.

“Johnny, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Haechan, what do you think?” The host prompted.

Johnny was the first to speak up. “I’m in the unit that promoted this song so I know the choreo the best out of us here today,” he stated to the host, “so personally, I’ll be a little more strict about details since the others don’t know the dance that well.”

He looked over at you as he began critiquing your performance. “You had good energy but you were putting emphasis on the wrong parts. It’s the second half of the phrase that should look more cool and chic rather than the first half.” He danced it himself to show you what he meant before turning back to the host. “I do not deem it as a pass but I liked her energy as she was doing it.”

“He’s so annoying.” Liv muttered under her breath. You put a hand on her knee in an attempt to calm her down.

Doyoung spoke up next as Johnny was sitting down. “She’s not a member of our group so we shouldn’t expect her to know all the little things. I think she should pass.”

“I don’t think she should,” Haechan interrupted, “the detail is what makes the dance memorable and unique from other dances like it and since that’s how our members performed it, if she’s supposed to be similar then she should do it the same way.”

“Ah, it’s a pity that we don’t have someone else from the unit here who could offer a more fair vote,” Doyoung commented, “Yuta would be better at this.” You felt your heart stop for a split second at the mention of your boyfriend.

“That’s one vote for pass and two votes for fail. Jaehyun, what is your vote?” The host doled out.

Jaehyun cleared his throat before speaking, looking over at you with a shy smile. “I think y/n did good, actually-” Ivet let out a shout of joy, since that meant you won the first batch of ingredients, before quickly covering her mouth out of embarrassment. “Like Doyoung said, she’s not a member of our group so she wouldn’t know the details. Y/n had the same energy and feel that our members did and I think that’s the most important part.”

“Alright, so with that, the members of NCT have deemed this challenge as a success. Congratulations to y/n for winning the first ingredients, you may all start preparing your dishes.” You smiled over to the four of them, thanking them as you collected your prize.

As you set down the large packages on the counter, Ivet nudges you with her elbow. “Hey, Jaehyun keeps looking over here. Should we give him something? I feel kind of bad since he basically allowed us to win.”

You looked up and sure enough, Jaehyun was staring right at you. He smiled at you as the two of you made eye contact before shyly turning away and busying himself in conversation with his members on what spices were available and what their best options were. “Should we give them the salmon? We really only need the noodles and we can save the bread to make a small desert.” You proposed to your groupmates.

“Wait, why are we giving them our prize?” Liv questioned as she started opening up the udon noodles.

“I’m just trying to be nice.” You mumbled, grabbing a bowl for the noodles. “I don’t want us to look mean if we just hog everything and let them suffer, you know?”

Liv shook her head, “ugh, fine. Give them the salmon but tell them not to expect any more help from us. This is a competition, y/n.”

You roll your eyes at her before picking up the slab of salmon, telling her “it’s not like we know how to prepare fish anyways” as you leave to hand it over.

As you approach them, Johnny notices you first. “Hey hey hey, no stealing our ideas.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you tell him, “I just came over to give this to you guys since we don’t plan on using it.”

“Thank you-” Doyoung began, only to get cut off by Haechan.

“Don’t accept help from the enemy!” He exclaimed.

You raised an eyebrow at them. “Take it or leave it.”

Haechan opened his mouth to speak but Jaehyun beat him to it. “We’ll take it. Thank you, y/n.” The smile he gave you was so cute, you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit charmed by him and his dimples.

After a few more challenges, both teams had a pretty even amount of supplies and your groups’ preparations for the soup broth and impromptu chocolate bread pudding desert are underway. As for the opposing team, they had decided on making salmon rolls along with a fruit parfait using the other ingredients they had won.

While you were breaking apart the bread into smaller pieces for the pudding and your members gathered the necessary baking ingredients, Jaehyun stopped by on his way to the pantry area where your members currently were. “Need any help?” His low voice coming from behind you causing you to jump.

“N-no, I’m fine,” you stuttered, trying to calm your now racing pulse though you’re not sure if it was because he scared you or from how close he was to you, “shouldn’t you be helping your own team?”

“Yeah but there’s four of us and three of you, it’s a little unfair to you guys.” He nodded his head over to where Ivet and Liv were arguing about whether to use white or brown sugar.

You scoffed at him. “Excuse me, but we are fully capable of pulling off this win. Thank you for the offer, but no, I do not want your help.” You noticed the slight smile he had on his face as he backed away and you realized that you had stopped tearing apart the bread while you were talking to him.

“Hey! I know your plan,” you called out, “I won’t be distracted by you again so watch it.” He giggled as he returned to his members, your own giving him death stares after hearing your exchange with him.

Not much else happened after the final challenges and as both teams approached the final stages of preparation, you noticed the glances going back and forth between both groups and they observed the activity and progress of the opponent. You caught Jaehyun looking at you a couple times and made faces at him to mock him, which he made back.

“Stop flirting with him, you guys are so obvious oh my gosh.” Ivet muttered.

You let out a gasp of shock. “What do you mean flirting? I am not flirting with him at all.”

“Yes you are,” she rolls her eyes in irritation, “I see all the faces you guys are making at each other and I’m pretty sure the other guys noticed it too.”

“Well then that means you’re distracted too if you’re watching us.” You shot back.

“Oh, just shut up and get back to work.” Liv huffed. “If you’re dating him you can just tell us, you know.”

You froze as you thought of Yuta. “I am not dating Jaehyun.” You said through gritted teeth.

“It sure seems like it thought.” Ivet retorted.

Once time ran out, both teams presented their dishes to the production staff who would be voting on the winner for today. Your team presented first as per Johnny’s request of ‘ladies first’. They seemed to like your dishes so you were fairly confident in your chances of winning.

When the boys came to present their dishes you were honestly shocked at how good the food looked. You had to give credit to Doyoung who took charge of most of it. “Johnny and Haechan worked on the fruit parfait while Jaehyun and I made the salmon rolls from our memory of making it with our member Yuta back when he shared his mother’s techniques with us.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Yuta trying to direct his members around in the kitchen since he rarely ever cooks in the first place. “Why are you smiling like that?” Ivet asks, snapping you out of your imagination. “Are you looking at Jaehyun again?” You reach over and pinch her side, effectively shutting her up.

As the production staff gathers up their votes, both teams are given time to make their closing comments. Liv spoke for your group since she was the oldest out of the three of you. “We had a lot of fun today getting to cook with each other and we would like to thank all the members of NCT and all the staff who worked with us today. It was a pleasure to be able to come on to this show and we hope to be back again soon.”

Haechan stepped forward to speak for his members. “We too enjoyed being on the show today and we would also like to thank our competitors and the staff for taking such good care of us. It was a new experience to get to do something like this and I hope NCT can come on again with and show the talents of the rest of our members.”

“Any other closing comments?” The host asked.

“As a fan of NCT, it was an honor to work with you guys today and I hope we will get to work together again in the future.” Ivet blurted out, making the studio burst out in laughter from how quick she spoke and the way she covered her face again.

“I really enjoyed getting to know y/n, Ivet, and Liv today and I look forward to working with you guys again no matter what it may be.” Jaehyun quickly said, taking the attention off of Ivet.

“I think the staff have counted up their votes and are ready to announce the winner for today.” The host announced, wrapping up the conversation. “And now, the dishes that won the hearts of the staff are…”

You reached to hold the hands of your group mates as the director wrote on a whiteboard. When they flipped it around, you let out a breath of relief as you read the winning dish. “The udon and the bread pudding! Congratulations to Liv, y/n, and Ivet for being the champions of this episode.”

Liv pulled the two of you in for a hug as you all celebrated your victory meanwhile Haechan came to the front and was asking the staff if they’re sure they counted the votes correctly as his older members laughed behind him.

Filming ends and both teams head back to their respective waiting rooms. You stopped by the bathroom first before joining your members but on your way out you ran straight into Jaehyun. “Sorry, I wasn’t being careful.” You apologize, moving out of his way and continuing on your path.

“Oh, it’s okay, and actually, I was looking for you so it’s more than okay. I mean not more than okay but I mean that it’s-”

“Jaehyun, why were you looking for me?” You ask, successfully saving him from his rambling and future embarrassment.

He reaches a hand behind his neck as the other goes inside his back pocket while his eyes flit around nervously. “I, um, I was going to ask you for your number if that’s okay with you.”

Your brain went into overdrive as you thought about your options. You could say no to be safe though it might draw suspicion since everyone saw how the two of you were interacting earlier. Or you could give it to him and tell him to keep things on the low though it makes another opening for someone to find out about you and Yuta.

“Yeah, sure.” You tell him and you watch as he breaks into a smile, his dimples showing once again. The two of you quickly exchanged numbers before heading off to your own members. On the way back to your dorm, you received a message from an unknown number.

Unknown > y/n

5:58pm: hi, this is jaehyun :)

y/n > unknown

5:59pm: hey, it’s y/n

You saw him start typing but you exited his chat to send a message to your boyfriend instead telling him how your day went.

y/n > Yuta

6:00pm: i beat your members just like i said i would ;)

Yuta > y/n

6:00pm: haha congratulations!

6:00pm: I’ll look forward to watching the episode when it comes out

6:00pm: I paused my anime episode just for you, consider yourself blessed

y/n > Yuta

6:01pm: yeah okay, i’m blessed by nakamoto yuta or whatever lol

6:01pm: did you want to call tonight?

Yuta > y/n

6:01pm: no, i got a headache during the shoot so I’m gonna sleep early tonight

6:01pm: tomorrow we can. I don’t think I have anything

y/n > Yuta

6:02pm: awwww, my baby

6:02pm: i hope you feel better soon <3

6:02pm: get some sleep and we can figure it out when you wake up

6:02pm: i love you

Yuta > y/n

6:03pm: don’t call me that

6:03pm: but thank you love you too

Jaehyun had been sending you messages while you were texting Yuta so you finally went back to your chat with him, feeling the excitement of talking to your boyfriend leave you.

Jaehyun > y/n

6:01pm: i just wanted to say that i thought you looked really pretty today

6:01pm: not that you don’t look pretty everyday but you know what I mean

6:02pm: i’m actually a fan of your group so today was really fun for me

6:03pm: did you maybe want to meet up sometime and get lunch?

y/n > Jaehyun

6:04pm: thank you, you’re quite handsome yourself

6:05pm: we’re actually working on a comeback so i don’t really have too much time these days

Jaehyun > y/n

6:06pm: oh? What’s the album like?

y/n > Jaehyun

6:08pm: we’re going for a darker concept this time

Jaehyun > y/n

6:09pm: that sounds fun!

When you didn’t see him typing again, you closed out the app and went to watch an episode of the anime Yuta had recommended to you a while ago. Jaehyun didn’t text you back for the rest of the night.

You went for the next day without texting your boyfriend but since you didn’t have any activities scheduled for the day, you binge watched nearly a whole season of the anime he had recommended to you until he finally texted you in the evening.

Yuta > y/n

7:16pm: i don’t think i can call tonight. I didn’t finish my chinese homework sorry

7:17pm: i want to talk to you so fucking bad though

7:17pm: i really miss seeing you and getting to touch you

y/n > Yuta

7:18pm: wait hold on

7:18pm: how do you go from talking about learning chinese to being all whiny

Yuta > y/n

7:19pm: it’s because

7:20pm: i miss you

7:20pm: and i’m horny

You were glad you were just lying down in bed because you weren’t expecting him to send you a picture of his bulge, the outline of his hard cock obvious in the soccer shorts he was wearing.

y/n > Yuta

7:23pm: you can’t just send that without a warning!

7:23pm: what if i was doing something huh?

7:23pm: are you even wearing underwear??

Yuta > y/n

7:24pm: no heehee

7:24pm: wanna see?

7:24pm: i know the answer is yes ;)

He sent you another picture that looked almost entirely black but when you opened it, you were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend seated at his desk with his legs open and facing towards the mirror by his closet. He had pulled the fabric of one leg of his shorts over his dick, exposing it to you with his free hand wrapped around the middle of it.

y/n > Yuta

7:28pm: what if the answer was no

Yuta > y/n

7:28pm: well you took an awfully long time to respond so i know you like it

y/n > Yuta

7:29pm: shut up or you’re not getting one back

You smiled to yourself as you saw the typing bubble disappear before sitting up and pulling your shirt off. You held your phone up and covered your nipples with your free arm, effectively pushing your breasts up as you bit your lip seductively.

Taking a couple with a variation of angles, poses, and facial expression, you sent the first one and waited for a response. He didn’t respond when you thought he would so you cleared the app and reopened it again realizing that the picture didn’t send so you sent it again.

Yuta > y/n

7:36pm: you’re so fucking hot

7:36pm: i can’t believe i get to call you mine

7:37pm: you’re literally a goddess

7:37pm: fuck can you send another one. I’ll send a voice recording

You sent him the rest of the ones you took and within a minute he sent you another picture of him accompanied by an audio message. Opening the picture first, you noticed how much more red his cock was, the veins more prominent than before. Your mouth watered at the sight of his length and the shine of precum at his tip. He had pulled up his shirt, revealing his abs and navel piercing, his hand tight around the base of his cock.

Making sure your earbuds were connected, you hit play on the voice message. “Y/n, baby, I miss you so fucking much. I wish we were together right now. I’d fuck you so hard that you’d only be able to say my name.” You reached a hand into your underwear as you heard him start moving his hand on his dick.

You inserted two digits in and started fingering yourself to his words. “I miss how warm your pussy is around me. I miss the way you moan when I fuck you just the way you like it. I miss feeling you cum on my cock and the way you take me so well.” Your fingers were in no way close in length or thickness to his cock but you hadn’t gotten off in so long that it wasn’t hard to get yourself worked up.

Yuta’s voice choked up in the recording for a bit and he let out a moan. “I-I miss seeing you so full and dripping with my cum. Fuck, I need to cum so badly.” You pressed your fingers as deep as they could go and you felt your pleasure starting to build.

You opened your camera and recorded yourself with your fingers deep inside of your pussy, you hand getting covered with your juices. “My fingers aren’t anything like your cock. I miss how good you fuck me and how deep your reach inside of me.” You paused as you brought your phone closer to your glistening folds.

“I love the way you make me cum and the way you fill me up so good.” You brought your phone back up, to get your face and naked torso in view. “Cum for me, Yuta.”

You continued fingering yourself to the voice recording he sent until you received a video from him. As soon as you opened it, his hand was already picking up speed on his length. “You miss my cock, baby? You miss cumming on it?” He let out a groan as he played with the tip of his length, his hand becoming slick with his own precum.

“Fuck, I’m so hard right now and it’s all because of you. I can’t wait to fuck you senseless the next time I see you. I-Fuck,” he started rapidly jerking himself off, “I want you to cum for me. I want to fill you up with my cum and watch it drip out of you. Ah fuck-” you watched as he covered himself in his own cum. On his abs, his hand, his thighs, and you felt a surge of arousal as you watched it drip down over his body, making his skin glow.

You dropped your phone in your haste to record yourself cumming for him and when you picked it up, you saw the picture that you sent earlier but not the video and previous messages from Yuta. Looking up at the name at the top of your screen, you broke out into a state of panicking realizing it wasn’t Yuta that you had sent the picture to. It was Jaehyun.

Jaehyun > y/n

7:37pm: damn. I didn’t know you were so sexy

7:38pm: i also didn’t know you were one to send nudes but i’m not one to say anything

y/n > Jaehyun

7:38pm: oh? You don’t seem like it either

Jaehyun > y/n

7:38pm: want proof?

y/n > Jaehyun

7:38pm: sure

You went back into your chat with Yuta, not wanting him to worry about you or question why you were taking so long to respond to him.

y/n > Yuta

7:39pm: fuck i thought i recorded myself cumming for you but i guess i didn’t hit record

7:40pm: i’m sorry :’(

Yuta > y/n

7:40pm: ah, it’s okay, as long as i know you came, I'm satisfied

7:41pm: besides, i have like four more pictures to look at when I feel lonely now

y/n > Yuta

7:41pm: ugh you’re so weird

7:42pm: but i kind of have a headache now so i think i’m gonna go to sleep soon

Yuta > y/n

7:43pm: i’m weird and you like it

7:43pm: go to sleep if you’re not feeling good though. Text me when you wake up

7:43pm: sleep well, i love you <3

y/n > Yuta

7:44pm: thanks, love you too

Checking back in on your chat with Jaehyun, you were surprised to see that he had actually sent you a photo. He was only in his underwear as he stood in front of his mirror in a similar setup to that of your boyfriend’s. He had raised one eyebrow and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek while he grabbed at the outline of his clothed cock.

y/n > Jaehyun

7:46pm: you’re pretty sexy too, i must admit

Jaehyun > y/n

7:46pm: like what you see?

y/n > Jaehyun

7:47pm: hell yeah i do

You felt a sudden rush of anxiety and worried about what Yuta would think if he found out about you and Jaehyun so you muted your notifications from Jaehyun and left your phone to charge as you took a shower.

Ever since that night where you accidentally sent Jaehyun a picture of yourself, the two of you have been texting on the down low. You hadn’t told Yuta because you were afraid of ruining your relationship with him or getting in the way of his relationship with Jaehyun.

Honestly, you just hoped Jaehyun would lose interest in you and find a new girl so you could let this whole thing be put to rest and tell Yuta once you were ready. But for now you entertained Jaehyun because you didn’t want things to be awkward the next time you saw him, especially now that the end of year award shows were approaching and you’d probably run into him somewhere at an event like that.

One of the award shows your group was set to attend was in Tokyo and Yuta had informed you that NCT would also be attending. “You know, since we’ll both be in Japan soon, how about I take you out on a date after the festival ends?” He proposed over another late night call.

“I like the sound of that,” a smile on your face as you spoke, “when are you leaving?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow. How about you?”

“I leave tomorrow so I guess I’ll be getting to the hotel before you.”

“Are you sharing a room with anyone?”

“Yeah, probably. You?”

“No, they gave us our own rooms this time around,” Yuta paused as he giggled, “you know what that means?”

You let out a similar giggle at how cute your boyfriend was. “Sexy time?”

“You know it.” You swore you could see him smirking through the phone. “But I’ll text you my room number once I get there so you can come by and we can plan out a day for me to take you out.”

“Sounds good-”

“Hey Yuta- oh, sorry. Are you talking to someone?” You heard the unmistakable sound of Jaehyun’s voice.

“Uh, yeah,” Yuta started, his voice showing how unsure he was, “just talking to a friend in Japan that I’m thinking of meeting while we’re there.”

Jaehyun let out what sounded like a noise of approval. “Oh, okay. I needed to ask you something but I’ll come back later.” You heard the door close as he left.

“Gosh, that guy,” Yuta breathed out once he was gone, “he’s been acting differently lately. I just don’t know what’s up with him. He’s always on his phone these days.”

You let out a light laugh. “You sound like an old man, Yuta. Though I should get going now in case he comes back.”

“Yes, you’re right. But, don’t forget, Japan, room number, then come over. Okay?”

“Okay, love you.”

“Love you too. Can’t wait to be with you again.”

Currently, you were dressed in sweats and one of Yuta’s shirts, even though you’ve had it for nearly four months now, after a day of just touring the hotel and performance venue as other idols began arriving. You were sure Yuta’s plane landed two hours ago so he should be at the hotel already but he hadn’t texted yet and you had started dozing off which made you worried that you’d fall asleep without seeing him. Just in case he forgot, you decided to send him a message asking what room he’s in.

You felt your phone vibrate after what felt like a minute but when you saw the time, you realized you had fallen asleep for about an hour. Reading the message on the screen, you saw the room number 412 and pulled yourself out of bed, making sure to grab your key card before you left.

When you arrived at room 412, you knocked on the door excitedly knowing that Yuta was waiting on the other side and you were more than ready to tackle him in a hug after not seeing him for nearly three months because of his own group promotions. What you didn’t expect was for Jaehyun to appear instead, shirtless with only a pair of sweatpants on.

You both stared at each other in shock before Jaehyun pulled you in, looking both ways to make sure no one saw the two of you. Once the door was shut he stepped away and asked “so, why exactly did you ask for my room number and come over this late at night?”

“I-uh, hm.” You didn’t know how to get yourself out of this but the way Jaehyun was looking at you told you that you wouldn’t be able to leave until both of you were exhausted.

“I take it that you were tired of just looking at a screen and wanted to experience the real thing in person.” He looked at you with an eyebrow raised. “Because I sure do.”

You saw the opportunity he was giving you and took it. “I like the way you think,” you closed the distance between both of you, “just don’t you dare tell anyone we’re doing this and I won’t either.”

“My lips are sealed,” he promised, giving you a playful smile, “with yours!” His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you in, greeting your lips with a warm kiss. You quickly melted into his kiss, one of your hands coming to rest on his firm chest. “Bed?” You nod and let him lead you to his queen sized bed.

He sits and falls backward on the side of his bed, pulling you to rest over him before kissing you once more. Your hands tangle themselves in his soft hair while his hands make their way to your ass, gripping your cheeks firmly before gently kneading at them. You shift your thigh to rest comfortably between his and that’s when you feel his length, already hot and hard beneath you. “You’re this worked up already?”

“I could see the outline of your nipples through your shirt and I just couldn’t stop my mind, sorry.” His cheeks started turning pink as you gave him an accusatory glare.

You shook your head before sliding a hand down over his chest, stopping at his solid abs. “I’m only forgiving you because you’re cute and sexy, but look at my eyes next time you pervert.”

“Yes ma’am oh-” He gasped when your hand went under the waistband of his sweatpants and started playing with the head of his cock. “Fuck that feels so good.”

You felt him twitch under your grasp and you realized just how large he was. “You’re fucking huge.” Your hand traveled further down his length. “I knew you were big but I didn’t know you were this big.”

“You wanna see it?” He teased though he threw his head back and moaned when you rubbed the tip of his cock.

Satisfied with his reaction, you pulled his sweats down and he lifted his hips to help you, his hard length hitting his chiseled body as he sunk back into the bed. Jaehyun let out a sigh of relief as your hand wrapped around his member and you felt it twitch within your grasp, causing you to meet his eyes with a smile.

You noticed his ears turning a light shade of pink as you sat back on your knees to pull off your own shirt, which you remembered actually belonged to your loving boyfriend, throwing it to the side and nodding at the man in front of you as an invitation from the way his eyes were suddenly glued to your breasts.

He sat up and pulled you into his lap, attaching his lips to your sensitive buds, alternating between kissing them and gently sucking on them as he teased them with his tongue. Your arm came to rest around his broad shoulders and you rested your cheek against his soft hair. You reached down to tease at the tip of his cock once more, letting out a noise of surprise as Jaehyun lightly bit into the skin of your breast. “What was that for?”

“It’s sensitive, you know.” He looked up at you, his hair falling into his eyes as he left kisses up your chest and neck while cupping and kneading at your breasts.

Brushing his hair away from his face, you told him “yes I do know, but I can’t do much else when you’ve got me stuck like this.”

His lips pulled away from your breast with a pop and he slid down beneath you so that he was laying down once again, his aching length practically begging for attention. “Here, ride me then.”

Giving him a devilish smile, you leaned off to the side to slide your own sweats and underwear off before seating yourself mere inches above his warm pulsing cock, lining it up with your entrance and slowly sinking down on it. You nearly got goosebumps from the way he filled you, the stretch stinging in the most pleasurable way.

You let out a moan as you fell forward, your hands landing upon his firm chest, bracing you as you began slowly moving on his length. Jaehyun groaned as you rose up to the point where only the head of his member was inside of you before lowering yourself back down, sheathing his cock in your warmth.

His hands found their way to your hips and he helped to guide your movements as you began to speed up, enjoying the way his length seemed to hit all the right spots. You threw your head back as Jaehyun began meeting your movements, his hips thrusting up from below you, pushing himself even deeper into your core.

Even when it was reaching the edge of being too much, causing you to stop your motions, he continued rocking his hips into you and went even harder when he noticed your still frame above him with your eyes shut in pleasure. “Babygirl enjoying my cock that much?”

“Shut up and just fuck me, Jaehyun.” Had your eyes been open, you would’ve seen the shit-eating grin that appeared on his face before he caged you in his arms and flipped the two of you over, his length never once leaving your warm walls.

You gasped as your back fell onto the bed, your legs unintentionally wrapping around his waist, bringing him even closer to you and burying his cock even deeper inside of you. Jaehyun braced himself on his forearms as he began thrusting into you, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your shoulder with every exhale.

The new position allowed him to adjust the speed to his liking, which was considerably faster than before, leaving you a moaning mess with one hand gripping onto his bicep and the other on his abs. The room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin and his lips on yours, the latter effectively muting the noises that either of you made.

When Jaehyun thrusted particularly hard, you accidentally bit into his plump bottom lip, causing him to let out a grunt before he pulled away and slowed down his movements. “You good?”

“Yeah, sorry, didn’t mean to bite you.” You apologized, your eyes falling from his face down to where his member was still dipping inside of you.

“Guess we’re even then.” He remarked playfully as he grabbed your calves from around his waist and brought them to rest upon his shoulder.

You breathed out a single “fuck” from the way the new angle allowed him to hit different spots in you. You were just about nearing your orgasm and could tell Jaehyun was too from the way you could feel his length twitching within your walls when your phone suddenly rang.

Jaehyun paused as you reached over to grab your phone from the nightstand, only gently pushing into you as you read the caller ID. “Who is it?” He asked, a slight smile appearing on his face.

“My, -uh, roommate,” you tell him, instead of reading Yuta’s name that was currently lighting up the screen, still fighting to keep your volume down as he continues rolling his hips into you.

“Answer it.”

“What? No way.”

“Go ahead, answer it.”

You shoot him a look and he pulls out nearly all the way with an eyebrow raised at you, threatening to answer the call. Huffing out of indignance, you accept the call and raise the phone to your ear after making sure the volume was as low as possible.

“He-hello?”

You hear Yuta’s voice over the line as Jaehyun starts to slowly rut into you once more. “Where are you?”

“I’m with my manager right now-” you nearly moan from Jaehyun purposely thrusting long and hard into you, but cover it by clearing your throat, “talking about the schedule for tomorrow.” Your voice raised at the end as Jaehyun delivered another powerful stroke.

“Are you okay?” Yuta questioned upon hearing your intonation.

“Yeah, um, I’m just not feeling all that good from the uh, fuck-” you glared at Jaehyun and placed a hand on his pelvis to soften his movements, “the traveling and activity.”

Yuta hummed in understanding and you felt bad for lying to him like this. “We can figure out another time to meet up and plan our date. You should go to sleep and get some rest, I don’t want you getting any worse.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you-” you pull the phone away from you as Jaehyun starts to speed up again and you cover your mouth with your free hand, letting out a muffled groan.

You brought the phone back to your ear to hear the tail end of Yuta’s “I love you” before telling him the same and quickly hanging up.

“You tell your groupmates ‘I love you?’” Jaehyun asked, not even bothering to slow down.

“Yes, and you don’t?” He rolled his eyes at you, only leaning down further, making his cock brush against your most sensitive areas. “Fuck, right there!”

Your walls flutter around his length as he begins mercilessly pounding into you, seeking his own release while you bring a hand down to rub at your clit, sending yourself into an orgasm. The spasming and clenching of your walls around his cock eventually pushes Jaehyun to his end as well though he quickly pulls out and cums onto your stomach instead, the warm strings of white coating your skin.

He lets out a string of groans and curses as he continues jerking himself until the last drops of cum are dripping from the tip of his length. He reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a tissue and hastily cleaning off both of you before he collapses into the bed next to you.

“I’m gonna go wash up in the bathroom.” You inform him, sliding out of bed as he pulls the covers over his large frame.

“Mmm, alright, don’t take too long.” You could tell he was already getting drowsy from the way he drew out his words.

You picked up your clothes from the floor and took a quick shower in the bathroom but by the time you came back out, you knew Jaehyun was knocked out from the way you could hear his faint snores. Checking your phone on the nightstand, you saw two messages from Yuta and you knew you couldn’t keep this going any longer.

Yuta > y/n

11:43pm: text me how you’re feeling when you wake up

11:43pm: I can go run and get stuff for you at a convenience store before rehearsals

As much as you enjoyed the mindblowing sex that Jaehyun gave you, you knew that your heart laid with Yuta. You picked up the pen and notepad resting on the desk in the corner of the room, writing Jaehyun a note before quietly leaving the room.

Jaehyun, Thanks for everything but I can’t continue our relationship like this. I feel that we are best off as friends and I hope you can understand and respect my wishes. I’m sorry. -y/n

You made sure to text Yuta that you were feeling fine, still just a little bit tired but you weren’t sick, much to his relief. During stage rehearsals later that day, your group just so happened to pass by him and his members as they waited for their turn.

Yuta’s hand brushed against yours and you quickly apologized, matching the smile on his face as the two of you finally saw each other in person for the first time in months. You continued past the other members in an elated state, not even realizing the way Jaehyun had been staring at you.

“Did you see how Jaehyun was staring at you?” Ivet questioned, excitement written all over her face. “What if he has a crush on you, oh my gosh-”

“Yeah, did you guys ever talk to each other again after the show?” Liv added.

You shook your head, making a face of disgust. “Him? He’s not my type. We talked and I got his number but nothing happened.”

“You got his-” You covered Ivet’s mouth with your hand, noticing the way people around you were starting to look at you and your group as you all headed back to the waiting rooms.

You were glad that your members quickly dropped the topic once back in the waiting room, opting to play games on their phone or someone’s Switch instead while biding time as your managers came to pick you guys up. You decided to leave Yuta a message to make yourself feel better though you made sure that you were texting the right person this time.

y/n > Yuta

3:27pm: what’s your room number? Sorry I forgot to ask last night

3:27pm: I’ll be over once you guys are done

You didn’t expect him to respond for a while, especially since he just went on and you knew he had to stay later that day to record interviews and other content in Japanese. Time couldn’t go by any slower as you laid in bed and switched through apps, waiting for Yuta to be done with rehearsals. Your excitement couldn’t be hidden when you finally received his message later in the evening.

Yuta > y/n

8:32pm: just got back. 417 i left the door slightly open

y/n > Yuta

8:33pm: coming

8:33pm: that’s dangerous you know. Someone can just walk in

Yuta > y/n

8:34pm: then you better hurry ;)

It felt as if you were a little kid again, the way you could barely control your pace as you walked throughout the hotel, your body itching to sprint through the halls to get to your boyfriend sooner. When you quietly entered his room, you saw him standing by his bed with his back towards the wall, probably organizing his backpack out of boredom.

Rushing up behind him once you were close enough, you wrapped your arms around his waist and began tickling him, causing him to erupt in his infectious laughter as he squirmed around in your arms. He eventually freed himself, only to turn around and come right back into your arms. “My love, I’ve missed you so much. I can’t believe you’re actually in my arms right now.”

You allowed yourself to sink into his hold and inhale the scent of him that you missed having on all of the shirts you’ve stolen from him. “Can we just lie down together and go to sleep instead?”

“I wish, but you know we can’t,” he sighed, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t cuddle for now.” Yuta pushed you onto the bed, jumping on after you and rolling around with you in his arms. Once the two of you were comfortably tangled with the other, Yuta began pulling up places to go, showing you pictures and talking about things to do there.

“So at Harajuku there’s tons of clothing stores and really good food vendors too. There’s even some cat cafes we could go to and then-”

“Okay, I get it, we’re going to Harajuku, calm down.” You laughed, seeing how excited he became. True to your boyfriend’s nature, he quickly gave up trying to plan out a whole day of activities and choosing to simply make a list of places to go like Yoyogi Park, or the Yayoi Kusama Museum, and the previously agreed upon Harajuku.

After compiling the list, you were calculating how much time you had left before your roommate would question your whereabouts when Yuta suddenly turned to you. “So tomorrow, some of the members were thinking of going out to get lunch and I was thinking that maybe I could bring you along…” His voice trailed off as he looked at you for your opinion.

“You want to introduce me to your members?” Your eyes were wide at the thought of having to talk to Taeyong, who you absolutely looked up to or Johnny, who just scared you from his appearance alone. But most of all, Jaehyun.

Yuta nodded his head, his earrings making the faintest jingling sounds. “Not all of them will be there but I think we’ve been together long enough, right? It’s like meeting your in-laws kind of.” You weren’t too keen on the idea of seeing Jaehyun so soon, especially after what happened earlier today with him but you agreed anyway, not wanting to let Yuta down.

All throughout the morning, you were filled with anxiety as you thought about going to lunch with Yuta and his members but you followed through regardless because if Yuta was ready to make this next step in your relationship then you should take it with him. You met him in his room and went down to the parking garage with him, only reaching out for his hand once you were sure there was no one else around.

As you approached his members, Yuta called out to them. “Guys, this is y/n,” you suddenly felt nervous at the way all three men turned to look at you, “I’ve been dating her for about a year now and I felt that this would be the right time to finally introduce her.”

The end of Yuta’s sentence was cut off as Jaehyun suddenly began coughing and pulled out his phone, looking anywhere but at you though you didn’t have much time to dwell on it. “Hi y/n, I’m Taeyong, nice to meet you,“ you and Taeyong both laughed from his cheery attitude as you shook his hand, “I hope Yuta has been treating you well though I’m sure you wouldn’t have stayed with him for so long if he didn’t.”

“She actually idolizes you,” Yuta quickly interjected with a chuckle, “she probably wants to date you more than she wants to date me.”

You looked at him in disbelief though you were torn out of it by Haechan who commented, “we all do, she’s not special.”

“Hey, behave,” your boyfriend scolded, “that’s Haechan, the idiot,” Haechan was about to open his mouth to complain but was stopped by Yuta’s finger on his lips as he shushed him, “and over there is Jaehyun.” He looked up and gave a quick wave with an expressionless face before staring back at his phone.

Once you were all seated at the restaurant and waiting for the food, Taeyong began asking more about you and your relationship with Yuta who was currently sandwiched in between the two of you. “So how did the two of you actually meet?”

“She came up to me-”

“He told me that he-”

You both turned to each other with the same scowl adorning your faces. Placing a hand on his thigh you raised an eyebrow at him. He did the same to you before giving in. “Alright fine, I went up to her first because I thought she was cute,” Yuta explained, “remember that one episode on Music Bank or something when I said the girl in the green dress was cute? That was her.”

Taeyong and Haechan both seemed to have a moment of realization meanwhile Jaehyun was busy staring daggers into Yuta’s hand on your thigh. You could see him out of the corner of your eyes because he was seated right in front of you though you pretend as if you didn’t.

“What’s Yuta like as a boyfriend?” Haechan asked, a mischievous look on his face.

Yuta turned to you, his signature Chesire cat grin appearing. “I couldn’t ask for anyone better than him,” you state simply while maintaining eye contact with him, “he always does his best to take care of me even when you guys are really busy and he gives some of the best advice whenever I need help with something work-related. I genuinely feel that I want to be with him for as long as possible.”

“Yikes, get a room,” Haechan joked after seeing the way you smiled at his fellow member while talking about him.

“Jaehyun, are you okay?” Taeyong looked over at the said member with worry. You did as well and the look he gave you could only be described as one of pain. He nodded his head and flashed a quick smile at everyone else before his gaze lingered back on you and then back to his phone.

Only when Yuta was wrapped up in conversation with the other two did you nudge Jaehyun’s foot across from you. He did not react so you did it again and he looked up at you with the same emotionless stare. You didn’t even get the chance to do anything because at that moment, the food for your table arrived. Everyone lets out remarks at how good the food looks and you begin eating after warning your boyfriend not to inhale his food, much to Taeyong and Haechan’s amusement.

Later on, Taeyong brings up something about their performance, bringing Haechan and Jaehyun into the conversation but Yuta leans over and whispers, “I know about you and Jaehyun,” you momentarily freeze though you give him a look of confusion, “I’m not stupid, you know. I know you two were talking.”

You all but choked on the mouthful of noodles you were chewing but you brushed it off as Yuta telling you a funny joke. The others ask to hear it too and you were glad Yuta was a quick thinker and was able to make one up on the spot. You were surprised that Yuta claimed he knew about your relationship with Jaehyun but didn’t seem to be upset. It was honestly scaring you at this point.

Once the bill was paid and the group of you were in the car heading back to the hotel, Yuta starts up the conversation again as you were both in the back row of the van. “I wouldn’t have minded if you wanted to have fun with Jaehyun for a bit, you could have just told me.”

“Okay, how much do you actually know?”

“I know that you were in his room getting the sense fucked out of you when you should have been with me, if that’s what you’re asking about,” you felt yourself go into a state of panic though really, you were just confused about this whole thing, “you know, I wouldn’t mind including him in our relationship sexually. You just had to ask.”

Your eyes go wide at his words, unsure if this was all really happening or if it was just a dream. “Are you actually being serious right now?”

Yuta shrugged his shoulders and giggled, “I don’t know. Am I?”

319 notes · View notes

t0wnspersonb · 4 years

Text

Waterpark Kisses (Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader)

Word Count: 1,863

Summary: You and Ushijima decide that a waterpark would be a fun date, but insecurities begin to rise and you’re left wondering if Ushijima really does love you like he claims.

This is dedicated to my @sunshinewitchz, the love of my life and the biggest simp for Wakatoshi I know. She’s literally the best and deserves the best💕💕💕

I hope you all enjoy this garage. My biggest concern when writing is making sure I capture the character’s personality, so hopefully I did a good job for this one😅

Also I know I have some requests sitting in my inbox, I’ll get to them eventually, but at the moment for requests I’ll only be writing three at time.

Anyway please enjoy!:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It was nice of Tendou-kun to give us these tickets.” You said brightly, staring up at the tall ace that was currently next to you.

The smell of chlorine was heavy in the air, along with the sounds of running water, and kids screaming and laughing.

“Yeah.” Ushijima said briefly, eyes flickering down to yours briefly before surveying the area. “I thought it would just be us though.” he finished, eyes now gazing at his teammates.

“Now, now, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou said coming up to you guys and swinging an arm around your shoulders. “Think of it as team building! Right guys?”

Semi scoffed, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “No one wanted to come to the waterpark Tendou, you literally forced everyone to go.”

You and Ushijima frowned slightly at his statement. When Tendou had asked if you guys wanted tickets to go to the new waterpark that opened, you were ecstatic. You and Ushijima hadn’t gone on a date in a while, and this was the perfect chance.

However, you weren’t expecting it to be a group thing.

“I wanted to go.” Ushijima said, looking at Semi with a blank expression. “Y/n and I wanted to go on a date and you guys decided to tag along.” his blunt statement had you gently patting his muscular bicep.

“Waka-kun. It’s fine. We can still have fun.” You said brightly, beaming up at the stoic male. “I’m just happy to be with you.”

Ushijima’s face softened as he stared back at you. This was just one of the many reasons why he adored you. You were literally the sun, incredibly warm and bright. Your sweet face melted away the bitterness he was feeling towards his teammates.

Nothing else mattered as long as he got to spend time with you.

“Let’s go find a place to put our stuff, Y/n.” He said, his large hand engulfing yours completely. Thick, rough fingers grasped at your dainty ones, gently squeezing before intertwining them together.

Ushijima’s hands were always so warm. The rough calluses from years of volleyball practice tickled your skin pleasantly. But the safety you felt when he held your hand was one of your favorite feelings.

It had always been like this though, while you and Ushijima had only started dating halfway through your second year at Shiratorizawa, the overwhelming feeling of love was always transparent between the two of you.

You had never thought that the stoic, blunt, blank faced captain would be attentive to you. Would care for you as deeply as he did. He never ceased making you feel adored.

“Wakatoshi-kun!” Tendou called out loudly.

Right now, you guys were sitting at one of the many tables that overlooked the main waterpark area, you guys were currently looking at the map of the park, deciding on what you wanted to do first.

“What is it Tendou?” Ushijima asked, staring at the spiky red-haired male making his way over to you guys.

“They’re doing a game of volleyball! Let’s play!” he gestured over his shoulder to one of the pools, a group of people beginning to pull up a net.

You noticed the slight glint in Ushijima’s eye at the mention of the sport, but he glanced over at you in expectation.

“Go play for a bit Toshi-kun.” you said, smiling in amusement. “I’ll keep looking over the map and after you finish, we can go yeah?”

He nodded, getting up from his chair to leave. “Okay. I won’t be long.” he stooped down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. He easily removed his black shirt from his body, the thick muscles in his arms flexing deliciously, the hard lines on his stomach revealed for all eyes to see.

But those were yours. You knew his body like the back of your hand; knew all the ways to make him unravel. You knew exactly how he liked to be touched.

He was yours. Simple as that.

You couldn’t help but watch the game for a moment, there was something truly amazing about seeing him play.

You loved his strength and his passion for the sport, the raw power that he possessed was breathtaking.

His play left you in awe every time.

You were staring in awe for a different reason this time. The water ran down his body, seeping into the deep crevices of his muscles, soaking his hair until it was dark and sticking to his forehead. His eyes focused and determined with that familiar glint that he always got when he played.

The tall ace was just so fucking beautiful, it was almost too much to watch.

But again, he was yours. The amount of love you possessed for Ushijima Wakatoshi was indescribable.

But there were times where you couldn’t help but wonder why he was with you; especially now, a group of girls had paused their conversation to stare at the tall male, your boyfriend.

“Look how hot that guy is.” one of them whispered, unconsciously fixing her swimsuit. “Do you think he’s single?”

A frown began to form on your lips as you listened in. A slight pang of insecurity and jealousy flooding in your blood.

You had the utmost trust and confidence in Ushijima, you knew that he would never cheat on you, you knew that he never had a wandering eye… but there were times when that little voice in the back of your head began those ‘what if’ scenarios.

Especially since those girls that were ogling your boyfriend were incredibly pretty.

“Oh my god, look he’s coming right over here.” one of them said in hushed excitement, they all began fixing their hair and their swimsuits. “He’s looking right at us!”

Correction.

Ushijima was looking at you.

His swim trunks hung low on his hips, revealing the deep ‘V’ set at the base of his hips. Water was still trickling down his toned stomach.

A greek fucking god he was.

“Y/n, did you see my win?” he asked in his deep voice as he approached you, grabbing the towel you had set out for him earlier.

However, you were too busy staring at the girls who were now glaring at you. “Is that his girlfriend? There’s no way. He’s too good for her.”

You immediately averted your gaze as soon as you heard those words; your shoulders curling in on themselves as you tried to make yourself as small as possible.

“Y/n?” Ushijima asked, frowning as he sat next to you once more, toweling off his hair.

“Oh! Uh… sorry Toshi-kun… yes, I did see your win! It was great!” you said, a fake smile covering your lips.

Ushijima’s frown deepened, his large hand reaching out to cup your face, he knew something was wrong, that smile of yours… it wasn’t the smile he was used to.

“But you’re back now! So, let’s go to this part!” You said, pointing off in a random direction. You didn’t want Ushijima to see you upset, you didn’t want to ruin the time you had together because of your insecurities.

He stared at you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Let’s go then.” he said, grabbing your stuff and your small hand before walking off.

The waterpark was vast, it had so many different pools with different themes, but somehow you guys ended up in a quiet beach themed area.

The serenity and the quietness were actually quite welcoming, and there weren’t that many people there.

Ushijima had set down your guys’ things on one of the folding chairs, before looking at you expectantly.

“Should we swim?” he asked, nodding towards the water.

You nodded eagerly, almost forgetting about the incident earlier. But as you went to remove the shawl that covered your body, you hesitated.

It wasn’t like Ushijima had never seen your body before, but for some reason… you were left feeling entirely unsure about it.

Had those pretty girls and their crude comments gotten to you?

As your mind was reeling, you hadn’t noticed that Ushijima was watching you closely. Once again noticing your odd behavior, your usual sunny and bright expression was incredibly cloudy.

That was something that he absolutely despised, all he wanted was your happiness. If he wasn’t able to give you that… then… he felt like he wasn’t doing his duty to you as your boyfriend, as your protector.

“A-Actually Waka-kun, I think I’ll take a break for a moment.” you finally said, giving him another fake smile.

“You haven’t even gotten in the water today.” he said bluntly, causing you to flinch at the trueness to it.

“W-Well, watching you play volleyball was just so exhausting for me.” you said nervously.

He wasn’t buying it though. He walked over to you, gently grabbing your wrist and tugging you closer to him.

“Don’t lie to me Y/n.” he said, carefully cupping your chin and moving your face up so you were gazing directly at him. “What happened? You’re acting strange.”

You stared back at him, his face was contorted into a frown, but you could see the love and the worry clear in his eyes.

“Do you… do you love me Wakatoshi?” you asked quietly.

“Are you stupid?” he asked bluntly, causing you to pout at his mean words. “Of course, I love you. You already know that.”

He wasn’t wrong there. He told you that he loves you almost every day it seemed. Of course, you knew, he never let you forget.

“Are you… attracted to me?” You tried again.

The expression on his face was incredibly confused now. “Why would you ask me that? Of course, I do. If I didn’t we wouldn’t have had se-” “Okay!” you interrupted reaching up to cover his mouth, although even on your tiptoes, you could only reach his chin, face burning in embarrassment at his bold claim.

He removed your hand from his face, cradling both in his large ones as he stared down at you.

“If I wasn’t attracted to you, we wouldn’t be dating.” he said simply. “Why are you asking me these things?”

You sighed softly, gazing at the sand beneath your feet now. “I just… those girls were so pretty… I got insecure…” you trailed off.

He frowned again, what girls?

“I don’t know what girls you’re talking about.” he said. “But you’re beautiful. I don’t see any reason for you to be insecure. I love your body.”

You could feel the blush rising in your cheeks at his statement, a familiar feeling of warmth and love washing away the feelings of insecurity and worry.

“Really?” you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yes.” he gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to gaze at him. His heart racing slightly at the sweet expression on your face, the dark clouds seemed to disappear now, leaving behind that warm, bright face he adored the most.

He stooped down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before standing straight again. “Let’s go swimming now.”

“Can you turn around so I can take off my cover?” You asked.

“Why? You strip down in front of me all the time before we have se-”

“Wakatoshi!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #ushiwaka #imagine #haikyuu imagines #one shot #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #reader insert #ushijima fluff #ushijima oneshot #ushijima haikyuu

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 3 years

Text

Soft ~ Bucky Barnes x Reader (Request)

A/N: Hi my lovelies! I hope you’re all doing well and staying safe. Sorry for going MIA again. Things have been crazy and I just haven’t found the time to get back here. But hopefully that will change soon.

In the meantime, I received this request like a million years ago and I apologize for taking so long to fulfill it. I hope you enjoy it.

Hiiiii! I love your writing so much; I reread you work a lot because it makes me smile so much :) Anywho, could you write a drabble or something where the reader is kind of sad and beating herself up because people have pointed out that she’s really sarcastic/tough and she thinks she’s not “soft” enough to be loved with Bucky please? Thank you!

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: minor angst, self esteem issues? , very brief/vague mentioned of being shot

Word Count; 881

“I like soft.”

The words played over and over in your head as you pummeled the punching bag.

You weren’t supposed to hear it. You hadn’t been eavesdropping, you’d been sent to retrieve Steve for a briefing.

He, Bucky, and Sam were in the game room playing pool and had the door open. The three of them were incapable of talking quietly.

“Come on, man. Just admit it.”

“I’ve never denied it. I like soft. I’ve had enough harsh for a lifetime.”

With those words, your heart dropped into your stomach.

You were known for your acerbic wit and general rough around the edges exterior. And that was an accurate description of you… at least on the surface. But underneath it all, you were soft. You just only got that way with people you trusted.

You’d been hurt before and you’d learned that you were the type of person who loved hard. But not everyone was deserving of that love.

It was a difficult line to walk, and you often ended up coming off as harsh.

Bucky’s words struck at your heart. You had been in love with the former assassin for a while. Since he came to compound really. But clearly he’d never love you back. You’d just have to accept that. Or… you could try to be less… you.

That had been two weeks ago. You’d dialed back the sarcasm to near zero, but that left you feeling unable to communicate. So really it had been two weeks of you faking smiles and saying as little as possible.

For the most part, nobody seemed to notice. Which was fine. But what stung the most, was that the few people who did mention it, could only say how nice it was. “Refreshing change of pace” was even thrown around.

You punched harder.

“You’re dropping your left.”

You whirled at the unexpected voice, grunting when the bag knocked into you from behind. Turning to steady it, you avoided eye contact.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you,” he admitted rounding the bag, and holding it in place so you could continue to punch.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” you asked as you raised your hands, working a complicated combination of punches to distract yourself.

“You’ve been off for the past couple of weeks. I wanted to check on you.”

You shrugged in between jabs.

“All good. Just a little off balance after getting shot.”

“Did they shoot you in your funny bone?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you huffed, putting your hands on your hips.

“It means you’ve stopped making jokes over the past two weeks. And I want to know why.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because I miss it,” he murmured quietly, suddenly shy.

“You what?”

“I miss your sarcasm. It was always something I looked forward to.”

“It was?”

“Yeah. So why did you stop?”

You bit your bottom lip, unsure how to respond.

“It’s stupid.”

“I doubt that,” he argued, with an encouraging smile. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I guess, I wanted to be a little softer. Especially around you. So I dialed back the sarcasm. And then people seemed to like it better that way, so I figured I should just keep my mouth shut.”

“Well, if anyone liked it better that way, it’s probably just because they’re jealous they aren’t as quick as you. Why did you feel like you need to be softer around me?”

“You’ve dealt with enough harshness for a lifetime.”

You hadn’t meant to quote him, but you knew he put two and two together.

“You heard us that day in the game room.”

You nodded.

“And you wanted to prove that to me?”

Another nod.

“Why did it matter to you?”

“Because I like you. And I thought maybe if I was softer, I’d stand a chance.”

Your voice barely rose above a whisper.

“Oh, doll. Don’t you know? I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“You have?”

“Mhmm. And one of the reasons, is because I know you’re soft,” he chuckled. “On the inside. You’re basically a marshmallow.”

“I resent that.”

“I don’t think you do. You’re soft with those you love and those who deserve it. I see the way you take care of people without ever saying a word. You leave Steve tea when he’s doing reports, and you always put a blanket on Sam when he conks out. You listen whenever we have something to say even if it takes us a lot of meandering to get it out. And you always have a joke at the right time, when we need to lighten up. You’re the perfect kind of soft. The kind of soft I love. Because it is covered by your tough exterior. I know how important armor is. And I know how hard it is to take it off. But you do with me and it’s the reason I fell in love with you.”

Tears welled in your eyes and you hurried to wipe them away. But Bucky beat you to it, cradling your face in his hands.

“Talk to me, doll.”

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too.”

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, and you weren’t surprised that his kiss was soft too.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed!

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#Bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader oneshot

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scullydubois · 3 years

Text

Only the Light Ch. 20

I now present to you a chapter that is filled with more angst than Chris Carter could ever dream of, and for that, I am truly sorry.

Scully and Mulder's foray into domesticity with Emily is interrupted by the past catching up to them. Faced with despair, they cling even tighter to each other.

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

Scully is granted maternity leave, though it’s only for two weeks, which Missy let her know is “a piss-poor bargain.” And she knows this is true, but she also has more incentive to stay at her job than ever, so she’d like not to lose it. The fact that advocating for herself and her child would mean risking her job is a mess in itself, but one lone woman can’t be expected to take down the patriarchy, and besides, she’s already tried and failed.

As for she and Mulder, they hide their flirtation in plain sight. Mulder’s perpetually present in body or spirit, but his behavior never reveals anything more than it did before. Every morning he swings by to say hi, brings Scully coffee and a bagel with full-fat cream cheese, and checks if Emily’s picked up any new words. Personally, he’s working on “alien” and if you ask him, she’ll get it soon. She knows that it refers to her UFO stuffie, so sounding out the letters can’t be far behind, much to her mother’s dismay.

On Wednesday of the first week, he shows up at 6pm with takeout carbonara from a local Italian joint. His presence makes every Scully girl happy, but it makes one in particular the happiest, and Melissa realizes that there are definitely things her sister has failed to mention. She doesn’t question it, but watches with glee as the situation unfolds.

After that first night, Mulder keeps coming back with dinner and refuses to let either sister shoulder the cost. On Friday, he stays for a movie too and gets to participate in Emily’s nightly tucking-in ritual (a tickle on the left foot, a tickle on the right foot, and a big smooch on the forehead).

Saturday afternoon, he joins them for a stroller push through the park, earning some serious side-eye from Scully when he suggests that they stop at the playground because, according to the mama bear, “Em can only take six steps at a time, Mulder.” So instead they buy hotdogs from a vendor and eat them on a bench, Emily sandwiched between her mother, her aunt, and her...Mulder. They couldn’t ask for more.

That night, Mulder hangs around after dinner because what else is he gonna do? Go home and watch old baseball games until he falls asleep? A new leaf has been offered to him, and he’s gotta turn it.

He’s baffled when, upon announcing that it’s Emily’s bathtime, Scully goes to the kitchen and switches on the sink.

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What, your mother never washed you in the sink when you were a baby?”

“Not that I know of...I have a hard time envisioning myself ever fitting in a sink.”

Scully scoffs. “I forget. You were a Vineyard boy.”

Before he can come up with a smart response to that (as if there actually is one), Missy pipes up. “Oh, I bet you were the kid that took baths with your mother,” she teases. “Care to confirm or deny?”

“If I did I blocked it out of memory, thank god,” he testifies.

Having spread a towel on the counter, Scully strips Emily down and perches the girl on her hip. She sticks her hand under the faucet.

“That’s not too hot, do you think?” she asks Missy, who tests it as well.

“That should be fine.”

Mulder joins in too, and immediately regrets it. He shrinks away from the water, shaking droplets all over the room. “Jesus, Scully! Are you trying to boil her?”

“Babies lose heat quickly because of their body surface to weight ratio,” she says matter-of-factly. “They’re more susceptible to the cold.”

“I think the cold will be the least of her worries,” Mulder quips.

“If you really think it’s too hot, I’ll turn it down…” There’s a concerned crease beneath her eyes, and it makes Mulder feel bad about his joking.

“No, no, you know what you’re doing,” he assures her. “You’re her mother.”

As she lowers Em into the sink, Scully’s heart twinges. Her. A mother. How many times will she have to hear this before it stops feeling like news to her?

One week and bathtime has already become routine. Missy fills a plastic cup and pours it gently over her niece, the water cascading down Em like she is nature’s own. Scully soaps her palms, then glides over her daughter’s skin with such care that its memory may blight any future affection Em is graced with. And then another waterfall, and the gentle brush of a wash cloth against eyes and nose.

Scully squeezes a penny’s worth of baby shampoo into her hand, looks to Mulder. “Come on, get in here. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?” she says with a smirk.

He smirks back and shakes his head as she lifts his open palm and shrinks her accumulation to a dime. “Although, technically I am getting my hands cleaner…”

She boops him right on the nose with a shampooed finger. He laughs.

Missy smiles. Oh, to see destiny play out right in front of you. “Someone’s cracking dad jokes,” she points out, unable to resist. This observation is much too on-the-nose for the pair (quite literally for Mulder), who simultaneously blush but say nothing.

Mulder wipes the shampoo from his nose and plants it on Emily’s head, joining his partner in making soapy circles over the girl’s tuft of strawberry hair. Scully’s full attention is directed toward her daughter. As soon as the lather is sufficient, she dons the lifted lilt of motherhood. “Okay, time to rinse! Missy, will you do the honors?”

Missy turns the faucet, fills the cup, and lets it flow over Emily. Mulder and Scully wash their hands off in the stream.

And as Scully leans for the towel, a splash of red dirties its fresh white surface. Mulder notices it first. He points at his partner’s porcelain face. “Scully, you’re bleeding.”

Her hand shoots to her nose. Sure enough, it stains her fingers. “Shit.” She turns away, goes for a tissue. “I haven’t had nosebleeds since I was fourteen,” she tells them, as if that invalidates this one. She wipes away a glob of blood, her stomach turning. “Missy--” her voice shakes involuntarily, “--will you dry Em off?”

“Uh-huh.” She nudges Mulder. “Will you grab a new towel from the linen closet?” she whispers, not wanting to further upset her sister.

Mulder goes off without a word, and Missy squeezes out Em’s hair as best she can. “What a pretty girl!” she gushes. “All clean!”

“Yee!” Emily throws her little fists in the air, injecting joy back into the room.

“Time to put your PJs on, and get a tickle, tickle, smooch.”

Mulder scrambles back in with a new towel, skirting around Scully, who remains occupied with her own situation. He slides the soiled towel away and helps Missy swaddle Em. Mulder ruffles the little girl’s hair, and she laughs like a music box.

“Mol-dy.” She spits it out in halves, as if she’s been rehearsing.

Mulder’s eyes water with recognition. “Mulder? Mul-der? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Moldy,” the girl declares again, certain of herself.

Missy adjusts Em on her hip, smiles at Mulder. “Looks like you’re Moldy now.”

Mulder bites his lip to hide his overwhelming delight. “Yeah, I...I never thought I'd be so happy to be called moldy.”

Next thing he knows, Scully is at his shoulder with a tissue stuffed up her nostrils. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Em called me Moldy,” he tells her, full of satisfaction.

“Oh.” It comes out relatively unimpressed, but really, she’s just distracted. “Missy, will you get a diaper on her before there’s an accident? I would but I’m still--” She gestures to her nose.

“Yeah, yeah.” Missy smiles at the baby in her arms. “PJ time, Em!” They go off toward the bedroom, a happy pair.

As soon as Em is out of sight, Mulder spirals toward his partner, panic-stricken. The glee of moments ago has evaporated.

“Are you okay?” He touches her hair, shoulders, and the familiar small of her back, unsure of where he should land.

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” Her grip on his elbows--keeping his hands firmly placed on her waistline--suggests otherwise.

“You’ve got to see a doctor,” he pleads. “This could be...”

“This could be what, Mulder?” The steel in her blue eyes is a death grip. She’s never liked being told the obvious.

“Scully…” He sighs, rubs his neck, wills her to say what they both know. When she doesn’t, he takes his hands off her and wrings them together. “The Mufon women...they said it would happen to all of them eventually.” He’s careful not to lump Scully in with their group.

“And what do they know?” she retorts. “One of them was sick. One.”

“Okay, well, don’t you think it’s better to be safe than sorry?” he reasons. “You have Emily to look out for now.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “Don’t guilt trip me. It’s a nosebleed. Those happen all the time for completely benign reasons.”

“Yeah, but they don’t happen to you. You just said--you haven’t had one since you were fourteen.”

She clenches her jaw. He’s right, and she’s playing the fool. His position is the one she would take if this were anyone other than herself. She’s gonna have to lose this fight with as much grace as possible.

“Fine. I’ll get it checked out, but they’re gonna think I’m insane for coming in because of one nosebleed.”

“That’s a nice change of pace--you being the insane one for once.”

“Well, you’re the one who wants me to go, so you’re not out of the woods.”

“Good, I’ve finally got some company!”

Scully smiles in spite of herself. “Yes, yes you do.”

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

It happens very quickly, as most calamities of life can be said to. This gives it the unreal quality of a nightmare that might soon be woken up from, if there is any justice in the world.

Scully snags a doctor’s appointment for three days after the initial nosebleed. By the time she walks into the waiting room, one nosebleed has quadrupled into four, and her minor concern has snowballed into abject terror.

Margaret Scully drove into the city to watch Emily so Missy could join her sister. Scully insisted that she would go alone, but Missy wouldn’t accept this. She threatened to tell Mulder the details of the appointment if Dana didn’t let her go, and that was enough to earn her a spot in the passenger seat. Scully can’t take the thought of Mulder witnessing the worst--let alone her reaction to the worst.

And so it goes something like this: they are taken to an exam room, at which point Scully explains her situation to a nurse, including that she has recently learned she is at high risk for cancer. The nurse assures her that such a diagnosis is highly unlikely, but makes a note for the doctor. The doctor comes in with knitted eyebrows and listens to Scully describe the aftermath of her abduction experience with a heavy emphasis on the convoluted but substantial claims of the Mufon women. She asks if Scully has had any other symptoms, to which Scully replies that it’s hard to tell because she has an infant in the house and thus, a marked lack of sleep.

The doctor laughs, but it’s not a haha laugh, more of an I feel your pain. She agrees that the women’s claims are concerning, but tells her patient not to fret. They’ll take all the precautions, run any test that might assuage her worries. There’s a quip about how it’ll be on the government’s dime since it covers Scully’s insurance, and then the doctor leaves to order an MRI.

A full body MRI, which Scully has never had, and which she hoped she would never require. There’s no deeper sickness than one that cannot be pinpointed, and no greater fear than of the unknown turning into the worst case scenario.

The MRI is completed that same day. As she slides into the machine, Scully thinks of Betsy Hagopian and wonders how she’s doing. It has been many months since she stood outside an exam room and watched Betsy enter one of these. Has fate been kind to her?

For a few minutes, her world is limited to the mere inches between her face and this life-saving yet life-ruining contraption. It is noisy and sometimes bright and altogether disorientating. She is glad when it’s over.

The images return almost immediately, and maybe it would all have been okay if Scully weren’t trained in radiology herself, if she wasn’t able to recognize the glaring speck of light in her nasal cavity for what it is. But that one glance is all she needs to know that waiting by the phone isn’t an option.

“It’s a tumor, isn’t it?” she blurts as the radiologist tries to escort her and Melissa from the room. “In the nasal cavity. I have a M.D. I saw.”

“Your doctor will call with the results,” the radiologist insists, standing by the open doorway.

“No, no, you can’t do this to me,” Scully sputters. “I know what I saw, and I don’t have any time to waste.” Her eye twitches in a combination of stress and anger. “I have an infant daughter.”

The radiologist sighs, pity on top of pity. “Perhaps your doctor will talk it through with you now.”

“Yes. Please.”

And it is talked through, though there’s no need to make it complicated: nasopharyngeal carcinoma. Inoperable, and just barely in the realm of treatable. That’s the kicker, the coyote in the pasture, the cloud covering the sun. In the words of Scully’s doctor, it is auspiciously rare. And in Scully’s brain, it is the bottom she’s been expecting to drop out from under since she held her daughter in her arms.

Melissa drives home. The sisters cannot fathom how they will tell their mother. Cannot fathom ruining her blissful time with the granddaughter she’s just met. When they turn onto their street, Scully swallows hard and coughs on her own spit. “Will you do something for me?”

Missy looks over, eager to do anything she can, yet terrified by the possibility of the request.

“Will you take me to Mulder’s?” Scully mumbles. “I would just take the car but...I can’t face mom right now. I don’t want to risk it.”

Missy bites her lip. “And what am I supposed to tell mom when she asks where you are?”

“The truth,” Scully says curtly. “She doesn’t need the backstory.”

Missy drives past their building, though she’s not completely sold on her sister’s reasoning. “Don’t you think she might wonder why you aren’t coming home to your daughter?”

“I know she’ll wonder, Melissa, I know all of this,” Scully snaps because she needs to. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Missy’s voice is barely perceptible. I don’t care; she knows how low her sister has to be to say those words.

They complete the drive in silence, Scully biting her nails--a habit which she has never possessed, and perhaps just acquired. The car idles as Missy pulls up to the curb of Mulder’s building.

“I can pick you up when you need it,” she tells her sister as she pulls herself out of the car. “I’ll bring Em.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Scully says, closing the passenger door and edging toward the building. Missy hears a thanks float toward the car, then her sister is gone like a teenage girl embarrassed by her mother.

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

They sit on Mulder’s couch, muted. Words cannot fathom the injustice of this situation, nor can they suffice as empathy. Their hands are clasped together, a throughline of strength between them. This is what they need now; the most primitive language of all.

Scully’s watery eyes brush Mulder’s face. His own eyes, more pained than usual, look into hers. Without a word, she drapes an arm around her partner’s shoulders and scoots into his lap. He is surprised but not distressed. What else is left for them, now?

She is tiny, so tiny. And she is his.

Their eyes meet once again, speaking in tongues. Scully nods, and then Mulder does too. This is it. This is it.

Permission granted at last, Scully’s lips travel to her partner’s jawline. The first time her lips have touched his body, and this is where they go. She is a constant box of wonders, a fortune he can never predict. Her lips are much like he has fantasized they would be: wondrously soft and silky, stroking him like they have always meant to be there. Yet he couldn’t have imagined the urgency with which they burrow into his skin. As if she’s making a mental map of his bone structure. He never expected that she would want him this much.

His hands find her hips and grip the cotton of her shirt between his fingers. It is enough to tear her away from his flesh. Mission accomplished. His breath travels past her ear, hitting her neck. It is shallow and warm as he breathes her name. Her real name, the one her family calls her. She breathes his own back to him, like a bird responding to a mating call.

She feels his lips on her neck, wet and aching. It feels like God. This is the most blasphemous thought she has ever had. She throws her head back, exposing the whole of her skin to him. What is holiness, if not this moment?

He showers her in tattoo kisses, and she lets him, she lets him, she lets him. This is not just what she wants, but what she needs. No one will save her now, she knows this. So she has decided not to be saved.

Her shirt ripples as he clutches it. “May I?” He is breathy, awe-struck.

“Only if I can do the same.” Always about equality, his Scully is. He lifts his arms, lets her strip him first. He is fraught with the temptation to feel insecure, inadequate, but this is not about him--this is all for her. There is no time to dwell on this anyway. Scully takes in the sight, then puts her own arms up with a hint of impatience. He pulls her shirt over her head, and goosebumps adorn her as the air hits her bare stomach.

It is unimaginable, the significance of this moment. All Mulder can do is keep going, lest the emotion hit him and he find himself blubbering all over her. His hands travel her body...it is slender and white, but so solid, so strong. Cartilage forming ligaments forming joints connecting bones. And her skin, stretching over her hips and framing it all. The masterpiece that is Dana Katherine Scully.

He fears for the day she will cave in on herself. Already, one of his hands covers her whole rib cage. Right now he can cradle her body comfortably against his own, but the day will come when a single cautious touch will crush her, and his heart along with it. He wants her as she is now forever.

Seeing that he wants to pamper her, Scully lets herself be pampered. He showers the taut length of her collar bone in kisses. The vibration resonates throughout her bone structure, and already she can feel him in places she’s only fantasized about having him. He is going to heal me, she thinks. If anyone could heal her in any way, it would be him doing this.

She shows her gratitude by kneading circles into his soft tissues, so tense from all their days chasing ghosts. The sinew relaxes beneath the pads of her fingers, and she feels like she has solved the most important X-File of all.

Mulder traces his way along her spine. He has never touched her here, nor ever even fantasized about it, and there is an erotic tension--like a needle about to drop on a record--that neither one of them could have seen coming. Inevitably, his hands converge at the hooks of her bra. She arches her back in approval. He slides the hooks away from each other, and both of them feel the release. She shimmies off the garment before he can pull it out of the way. No secrets, not anymore.

Mulder didn’t expect to cry and is aware that most women wouldn’t take that as a positive sign, but seeing her, like this, knowing what they both know, tears feel like the least he could offer up. She is...beautiful is too weak a word to describe it. He needs to invent a new word to capture the essence of his emotions, the reverence with which he views her. He is not a religious man, but he will worship her until the end of time.

He has known this, intuitively, for a while, and now he’s putting it into practice. He wants to do everything he can for her, give her everything she wants. Yet he doesn’t know how to, and this scares him. She has always slipped through his fingers, always turned on a dime just when he thought he figured her out. Tonight is no exception. How was he to know that he’d be on his couch with a half-naked Scully in his lap?

He fears the tears will offend her, so he nuzzles into her heartspace, his nose pressed against the heart that is--by the grace of that God she worships--still beating. His lips meet the plush of her left breast.

Where does he go from here? The dusty routine he’s used with other women--the few who have given themselves to him or let him hand himself over--is not worthy enough for Scully. He could never touch Scully in the ways he’s touched the women before because she is not like the women before. There is no mere giving or taking here, no detached exchange of commodities or pleasure for the sake of pleasure. This is survival. They are symbiotically keeping each other alive.

A drop of water hits Scully’s skin, slides down the curvature of her breast. She shudders. A tear. That’s what it is, she realizes. Mulder is crying. It’s a baptism of unfortunate proportions.

She cups her hand against his chin, tilts it up so his bleary eyes meet hers. She rests her forehead against his. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She kisses each eye closed, his lids fluttering beneath her lips. “It’s okay.”

His breathing steadies. He is quite certain that it is not okay, that it never will be, but he listens to her, lets himself pretend.

Hands still on his chin, she careens their lips together. His mouth on hers; a godsend. They caress each other for a moment, then Scully opens wide, and Mulder does too. They are reflecting.

If Scully could compress herself, pushing every particle of air out of her lungs and into his, she would. As a sort of thank you, for everything. For what he has done, what is doing, what he will do...She will never have to live without him. She knows this now, and it makes this easier. But he will have to live without her, and so she must make sure he gets the memories he needs to carry on. This is how grief works, she’s acquainted with it. These moments, these feelings, these bated breaths and tender touches, will be his survival mechanism for awhile. Until the day when he can throw them off and go on without her ghost. It will happen one day, and she will be glad that he made it.

She feels him pressing against her stomach, which is certainly not where she wants him. “Fox…” Her hands hover above his belt. She unzips his fly first, her hand warm against him. He is dizzy with want as her fingers curl against his belt buckle, loosening it with confidence. In a sweeping gesture, she pushes his jeans off his hips, exposing him. The thrill she feels, seeing him big and bare in front of her, is a new kind of livelihood. She’s overcome with the desire to take him in her mouth--and that has never, never been her first instinct. She ducks down, but he stops her.

“Dana, no. You.”

She doesn’t need to hear it twice. She sucks in a breath, arches her back, and slides onto him. Slowly, gasping as they go.

“Am I hurting you?”

Scully shakes her head, lips parted. It has been nothing like this before...nothing so fulfilling. She crosses her ankles, binding them completely together at last.

Unity triumphs against the self, their union abolishing the world’s insistence on the solitude of the individual. This is what it’s about, isn’t it? Being joined, not only in spirit, but in body? Knowing that whatever horrors are to come, he will feel them as she does. Her dwindling will be his too, her losses an equally empty space within him.

She is teetering on the edge of something she can never come back from. She is not afraid.

She careens her fingernails into his back as the pressure builds. If it doesn’t come to a head, she’ll die right here, she thinks.

She barely registers the cathartic noises coming out of her, though they give Mulder great delight. He thought she would be quiet, and the fact that she’s not trying to hold anything in--after holding everything in for so goddamn long--is the most moving part of the experience.

And they want this to go on forever, but they want the release. Mulder swivels his hips into her, bringing them both closer to climax. Scully curls against him.

“I’m sorry,” she cries into his ear.

“What?” He nearly pulls out of her, fearing that she’s hurt.

“No, no--” She scrambles to stay with him. “This--” she pants “--is so good.” She lowers her lips onto his as confirmation, then speaks into his open mouth. “I’m just sorry to be the one to go.”

He frames her ribcage, thumbs arching toward her belly button. “Fuck, honey...don’t say that, don’t even think that…”

They won’t linger on the choice of pet name, the tenderness with which it settles over her, nor the absolute devastation of her words. There is simply no time.

Scully hides her face in his neck as the wave breaks over both of them. There is no world anymore, only the two of them on this couch. They have forsaken the physical realm, ascending to heaven in time with their heartbeats.

Mulder understands then what his reciprocal means when she says she needs proof to believe. Now that he’s been there and felt it, he knows that heaven exists, and holy shit, what does that mean for the life he has lived and the time he has left? What did it mean for Samantha?...What will it mean for Scully?

They collapse into each other, a melted mass of skin and bone. Two becoming one, becoming two again. Mulder strokes the back of his partner’s head, presses his lips to her temple. Her chest rises against him in jagged breaths.

“You are the only proof I’ll ever need that this life is worth it,” he murmurs. “Just you.”

Scully looks up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He kisses them away and wraps his arms around her. “I don’t know if you got the memo, but I love you, Dana Scully.”

She rests her cheek against his. “I love you too, F--Mulder.”

Mulder chuckles, his amusement shaking both of them. Scully closes her eyes and snuggles into him. He puts his hand over her heart, feels it beating steadily into his palm, and longs for it to stay like that forever.

#i have been working on that last scene since uhhh...october #i apologize for any emotional distress this and the following chapters will cause lmao #probably only two or three chapters left!!!#thank you for reading <3 #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf #txf fic #the x-files #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine

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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 3 years

Text

Dear Heart - Chapter 3

Dick Winters x Melanie Davis

Summary: Melanie Davis is a nurse from North Carolina who has lived a sheltered life since her father died. Her father’s best friend, Colonel Sink, invites her to experience more as a regimental nurse for the 506th PIR of the 101st Airborne. She embarks on the adventure of a lifetime.

Tag list: @easy-company-tradition If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy the update!

Warning(s): None :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 here we go!

England was unlike anything Melanie had ever seen. Of course, she had never been out of the country before. It was cloudier than she was used to, but she oddly enjoyed it. Aldbourne was quaint, like Toccoa, only with a much richer history. Camp Toccoa was new and fresh. Aldbourne was old and lived in.

The best part of Aldbourne for her was the weather. It was refreshing to experience the cool English autumn after years in the humidity of the American South. She had even teased Dick once for his aversion to the heat. So Aldbourne would be pleasant for them both.

The paratroopers had a ton of training they had to complete while in Aldbourne to prepare for the invasion of German occupied France. In the evenings, Melanie had dinner with Dick. Nixon joined them fairly often, but sometimes he was busy up at battalion. Those were her favorite nights, where it was just her and Dick, talking together. She relished these precious moments with him. She didn’t know when they might come to an end.

She didn’t even mind that he usually had something to say about Sobel. She appreciated Dick being so honest with her. It was rare for him to speak so frankly, especially when it was something unpleasant.

“It makes me nervous,” Dick said. “His combat inability is harmless now, but we could be faced with the real thing any time. He could get a lot of men killed.”

“Is there anything you can do?” she asked. “I know he’s not an easy man to be reasoned with.”

“It’s not just difficult, it’s impossible,” he returned. “He’s too stubborn to take someone else’s advice when he’s in the field and unsure. And there’s no talking to him outside of training when he has the most control.”

“Have you thought about going to Colonel Sink?” she wondered.

“If I go over his head, it’s not a good look for Easy or for me,” he explained. “Not to mention, Easy’s so well trained, it’d be hard to convince Colonel Sink that anything is wrong.”

“It just seems brutally unfair for you all to have to go to combat with someone incompetent,” she said. “Because you’re right, it could mean life or death for you all.”

“It is unfair,” he agreed. “But I guess all we can do is rely on our platoon leaders and NCOs. They’re who’s really keeping Easy together anyway.”

She considered all this as she chewed and then swallowed.

“Would you like me to speak to Colonel Sink?” she offered.

She had done it once before but wondered if he’d change his mind since the stakes were higher now.

He smiled. “That’s kind of you, Melanie, but it feels too sneaky. Like I’m still going over his head, just in a roundabout, less ethical way.”

“I understand,” she said. “I just wish I could help somehow.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he said. “But you are helping. Just by listening.”

“You can talk to me any time,” she assured him. “About anything.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

She felt heat rise to her cheeks, and she looked down at her plate to hide it. Dick actually liked when she blushed. It always struck him in those moments how beautiful she was to him. A thought which gave him both a rush and a jolt of nerves.

He was being honest, though. He trusted her almost as much as he trusted Nixon. In fact, the only thing he confided in Nix that he didn’t say to her was his feelings for her.

“Can I walk you home?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Dick always walked her home. They were quartered with families who were neighbors, so it was convenient, but she had the impression he would have walked her home even if she was staying on the other side of the village. She just soaked it all in as extra time with the man who was quickly becoming her favorite person.

Autumn turned to winter, and then spring. Things with Sobel were not improving, and Melanie could sense Dick’s frustration growing. Every day it seemed there was something else that went wrong and the company’s morale was affected now.

One afternoon, she had a rare moment of down time with Dick. He and Nix were standing outside while Nix smoked a cigarette, so she joined them. After exchanging greetings, a jeep pulled up, disrupting the basketball game going on in the street. Sergeant Evans emerged from it and walked up to the trio off to the side. He looked grimly serious.

“Lieutenant Winters,” Evans said, and they all exchanged salutes. Then he held out a letter. “With Captain Sobel’s compliments, sir.”

Dick glanced between Evans and the letter before taking it. They saluted again before Evans stalked back over to the jeep. He climbed back into the passenger seat and they pulled off. Melanie, Dick, and Nixon watched him go.

“Well, what does it say?” she asked, nodding toward the piece of paper.

Dick opened it and she and Nix leaned over his shoulders to see. She was shocked by what she read, but Nix released a small chuckle.

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” Dick muttered.

“Misspelled court martial,” Nix pointed out.

Dick crumpled the paper and she gazed up at him, mouth agape with disbelief.

He left to confront Sobel about the incident with latrine duty, and she just stared at Nixon.

“This can’t be real,” she said. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s Sobel,” Nix said. “Anything is possible.”

“I should go with him,” she said hesitantly. “I’ve got a feeling this is going to be...dramatic.”

“He’ll want you close by then,” he returned with a smile.

She nodded, said a quick goodbye, and then followed Dick to battalion HQ. Sobel’s voice echoed from the stairs, so she followed it. She spotted Dick’s frame disappearing to the second floor. She continued after them, keeping a safe distance. She stopped outside the office, to the left of the doorway, and listened.

“My endorsement, sir,” she heard Dick say. “I request trial by court martial.”

She bit back a gasp. Dick was a man of principle, though, and she admired him for standing up to Sobel at this injustice. Dick halted outside the office when he spotted Melanie there. He almost smiled since she was just the person he was going to see.

“Did you hear?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m sorry. Are you worried?”

He glanced around the hallway before nodding slowly. She held his gaze and they just shared a look for a long moment. Then, they both sighed and embraced each other. They stood there, wrapped up in each other’s arms and held on tight. What was coming next didn’t seem so bad from where they were standing now.

Dick was transferred to battalion mess while the court martial proceedings went on. Melanie knew it was killing him because the invasion was so close, and if things continued this way, he could miss it. Which left the company only in the hands of Sobel. Dangerous was the only word for it. She couldn’t take it anymore, so she decided to go to Colonel Sink herself. Even though Dick didn’t like the idea, she couldn’t allow this.

She had known Colonel Sink her whole life, and now as she stood outside his office door, she felt her stomach twist with nerves. It wasn’t really her place to have an opinion on the management of Easy Company, and he could chew her out for speaking out of turn. But she had to do this. For Dick and the rest of the men. After all, she was the battalion nurse, and this was in the best interest for an important part of the battalion.

She knocked softly on the door.

“Come in,” said the familiar voice on the other side of it.

She took a deep breath and pushed it open. He looked up from his paperwork and grinned at her.

“Melanie, how are you?” he asked.

“Very well, sir,” she said. “But there is something I wanted to discuss with you.”

“What is it?” he wondered.

“Well, it’s about Di - I mean, Lieutenant Winters’ court martial,” she said, and she watched his smile flip upside down. “I know it isn’t really my business, but -”

“You’re right, it’s not,” he cut across her.

She bit her lip and looked at the floor, regretting her decision already. She opened her mouth to apologize and dismiss herself, but he continued.

“As it is, though, I value your opinion. So tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Really?” she gasped.

He nodded. “Yes, really.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said excitedly. “First, I want you to know how serious this is. From what I understand after my talks with Di - I mean, Lieutenant Winters - is that Captain Sobel’s strength is not combat strategy.”

“Winters has spoken to you about this?” he questioned, brow furrowing.

“Here and there,” she said, grossly underplaying how much Dick had confided in her. “I hear some things from the NCOs as well.”

“I see,” he said. “And what have you derived from all this?”

“They don’t want to go to war with Captain Sobel, sir,” she said. “They’re afraid his lack of ability will get many of them killed, and put unnecessary stress on the platoon leaders, especially without Lieutenant Winters.”

Sink leaned back into his chair and scratched his chin.

“This isn’t to say that Captain Sobel is a poor leader,” she went on, fearing she had lost Sink’s interest in the matter. “He’s trained Easy Company to be the best in the regiment. So, I think - from what I’ve been told - his strength lies in that training.”

“I know Sobel has had his moments,” Sink said. “But to take his company away from him...it seems drastic. The men can’t be so opposed to him that -”

At that moment, there was another knock at the door.

“Hold that thought, sweetheart,” Sink said. “Come in!”

The door creaked open and all the NCOs from Easy Company entered the office. Each held in his hand, a written note. Melanie looked between them and the colonel, anxious.

“What’s all this?” Sink asked.

Sergeant Lipton stepped forward, collected the notes, and placed them on the desk. She caught a glimpse of what they said.

“Our resignations, sir,” Lipton said.

Sink’s eyes went wide. Melanie clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Sink looked down at the papers then back up at the men. She looked on with bated breath. He glanced this way several times, as if to confirm he was not imagining what was in front of him.

“Melanie, am I dreaming or is this really happening?” he asked.

“I’m afraid it’s really happening, sir,” she said. “But I hope you realize now just how important drastic action is.”

His face hardened and he scowled.

“I ought to have you all shot,” he snapped. “This is nothing less than an act of mutiny while we prepare for the goddamn invasion of Europe.”

She observed, astounded, as he dismissed Sergeant Harris from the regiment. He busted Ranney down to private, and proceeded to shame the remaining sergeants as disgraces to the Airborne, and reminded them that if the invasion of Europe was not imminent, they’d be facing a lot worse than this.

“Now, get out of my office and out of my sight,” he demanded.

They saluted, which he did not acknowledge.

“Get!”

They filed out of the office and she caught Lipton’s eye. He offered a short nod, and she understood that they had risked it all for Dick. When they were all gone and the door was closed again, Sink heaved a sigh.

“This really is bad, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“I need some time to think about this,” he said, standing up. He went and opened the door. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course,” she agreed, and started to leave.

He stopped her right at the door and she faced him with an inquiring expression. He only smiled half heartedly and gave her cheek a paternal pinch. She smiled gently.

With that, she left him. She felt silly now for going there at all. If she’d known that NCOs were planning such a statement, she would have just let them make it. But she hoped that it was her and the men who had swayed Colonel Sink. She walked outside and saw the NCOs cutting a salute to Dick as they passed him.

He spotted her and smiled, which she returned. She approached him.

“What’s all that about?” he asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” she told him.

The following evening, Sink asked that Melanie come and have dinner with him. As she headed up to his office, she saw Sobel storming down the corridor. He glared fiercely at her and halted. She did the same, facing him.

“You had something to do with this, didn’t you?” he demanded.

“With what?” she wondered.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You wanna play innocent, that’s fine,” he spat. “But congratulations, you and your precious Dick are getting exactly what you wanted.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she returned levelly.

He stepped closer to her, towering over her, but she didn’t shrink away.

“You lost me my company,” he hissed.

“You don’t frighten me, Captain Sobel,” she said, hoping he believed her. “As for your company, you did a perfectly fine job of losing it yourself.”

She sounded braver than she felt. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel beads of sweat forming on the back of her neck. To speak that way to a man was unprecedented for her.

“It won’t make him love you, you know,” he sneered.

“You’re wrong again,” she said, knowing exactly who he meant. “Nothing I do is with the intention of earning the love of Richard Winters. He’s a man I could never even hope to deserve.”

He blinked, taken aback by the statement. But she meant every word.

“Good evening, Captain,” she said coolly, and then swept away.

Despite the tension with Sobel, she had a pleasant dinner with Colonel Sink. He asked if she had heard from her mother, and she said she hadn’t yet, and the colonel admitted she was shunning him too. They shared a melancholy sort of laugh about it. After the meal, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Sink said.

“Good evening, sir,” said Dick as he entered, offering a salute.

Sink returned it.

“How can I help you, Dick?” he asked.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could walk Melanie home,” he said. “I’d hate to disturb our routine anymore.”

She beamed. “Thank you, I’d like that.”

“Well, we’re all finished here, if you’re ready to go,” Sink said. “Thanks for looking out for her, Dick, it means a lot.”

“I’m happy to do it, sir,” Dick replied.

“Good night, Colonel,” she said to Sink. “I hope we can sit down together again soon.”

“Me too,” Sink said.

He pecked her on the cheek and said good night, and then she left with Dick. As they headed out into the cool night, she looked up at her companion and smiled again.

“So, I guess you heard about Sobel,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “You did too?”

“Yep,” he said. “I think the company’s having a party if you’d like to join.”

She chuckled. “No thank you. I much prefer where I am.”

He smiled that bashful smile of his, which always melted her heart so much she was shocked she didn’t just turn into a puddle and soak into the earth.

“Sink didn’t happen to share with you who’ll be taking Sobel’s place did he?” he asked.

“As a matter of fact, he did,” she said. “Lieutenant Meehan from Baker Company, I believe.”

“I don’t know much about him,” he said with a slight frown.

“Well, it can’t get any worse than Sobel, can it?” she returned, but immediately felt guilty. “Oh, that’s a nasty thing to say, I -”

“No, don’t apologize,” he said. “This whole business has been pretty nasty.”

“Have you been reinstated as Easy’s XO?” she asked.

“I have,” he said. “And I suppose I partly have you to thank.”

“Oh, Dick, how you do run on,” she said. “I did speak to Colonel Sink about my own concerns, but it was the actions of the noncoms that sealed the deal. Turns out they are absolutely loyal to you.”

“Or they just really hate Sobel,” he joked.

She chuckled again. “That could also be the case.”

She shivered as a chilly breeze rolled through, and she subconsciously moved closer to him. He offered his arm, which she took. Just holding onto him, bodies pressed together, helped with warmth. But she always felt a bit warm around him.

As they walked together, they chatted some more, eventually reaching subjects other than Sobel. They shared a few laughs and even some peaceful quiet as they reached the house. They came to a slow stop in front of her door.

“Well, goodnight, Dick,” she said.

“Goodnight,” he returned.

This time, there was no hesitation before she hugged him. He seemed a little surprised, but soon eased into her and wrapped his arms around her waist. It was so safe there, she hated to let go.

They grinned at each other as they both pulled away, and said goodnight again. Then, to her dismay, she went into the house to head to bed.

Dick remained on the street and watched her bedroom window until the light flicked on. He saw her silhouette flit back and forth across the room as she changed and let her hair down. He stayed there until her light went off again, and he pictured her crawling comfortably into her bed. Only then, knowing she was safe and secure, did he go in.

***

Upottery was fairly similar to Aldbourne, only with fewer buildings. The Army set up a camp there, with tents scattered throughout the main field to house everyone. Luckily, the weather was warm enough.

The invasion was so close now. Melanie had no idea when it would actually take place, but she had heard the plan several times already. The paratroopers would jump behind enemy lines and then have to clear the way for the Navy who would be landing on the two beaches - Utah and Omaha. It made her incredibly nervous because she would be separated from the regiment during the invasion. Her job was to go in with the rest of the Army Nurse Corps and set up aid stations.

One morning, she had her coffee by the sand tables and looked over them for what had to be the millionth time. She knew her part, but she wanted to remember exactly where Dick and the rest of the 506th would be. Dick found her there by herself.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you really studying before breakfast?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t really eat anyway. I just keep thinking about this and how...big it all seems.”

“Nervous?” he asked.

“Of course, I’d be a fool not to be,” she said. “But it’s you all I’m worried about most.”

“We all have our part to play,” he said. “Just focus on your task at hand and -”

“Don’t, please,” she cut across him. “You’re entirely too logical for me just now.”

He chuckled, but it stung him a little. Did she really think him unemotional? He tried to maintain his composure for the men, and for her, but he never wanted to give the impression that he didn’t care.

“What would you like me to do?” he wondered.

“Lie to me,” she said, and he appreciated her honesty. “Just once, lie to me and tell me everything is going to be alright.”

He stepped closer to her and she rested her head against his shoulder. He put an arm around her waist and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Everything’s gonna be alright,” he said.

She hummed happily. “Thank you.”

She finally got the news that the big day was to be June 5th. On that day, she went to the field before she was scheduled to join the other nurses. She walked among the men and offered hugs and words of encouragement, especially to the ones she was particularly close to. Most of it was Easy Company.

“If you’re looking for Winters, he’s up with first platoon,” Guarnere told her as she wrapped up with him. “I’m sure he’d love to see ya.”

“Thanks, Bill,” she returned. “Take care of yourself.”

“You know I will, sweetheart,” he assured her, patting her arm.

She found first platoon quickly and spoke to each of the men. Finally, she spotted Dick. He offered a kind smile as she approached him.

“Dick, I…” she trailed off.

She had no words to express what he meant to her, so she threw herself into his arms. He caught her and held her, stroking her hair tenderly. She swallowed the lump in her throat as her heart began to sink. What if this was the last time?

Dick was thinking the thing. So he held her as long as he could, committing to memory the feeling of her, the way she smelled, and the sound of her voice.

She sniffled as she pulled away.

“I, uh, brought something for you,” she said.

“You did?”

“Yes,” she said, reaching into her pocket. She retrieved a small, velvet box, which she opened and held out to him.

“A pocket watch?” he questioned, taking it carefully out and holding it up in front of him.

It was a fine, old fashioned, gold one. The initials JFD were engraved on the front, for Jesse Franklin Davis.

“It was my father’s,” she explained. “It always brought him luck. The only day he didn’t have it was the day he...well, you know.”

A softness came over his eyes that might have made her burst into tears if she wasn’t already trying so hard to keep it together.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I can’t take it, though, it’s too valuable.”

He tried to hand it back, but she only took his hand and curled his fingers around it.

“Please,” she said. “Consider it a loan. You may give it back only when we have found each other again.”

He looked happily at where her hand was atop his and then back up at her face.

“I’ll cherish it,” he said.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip so he wouldn’t see it trembling. He pulled her into one more embrace. When they parted, she swore she felt her heart cracking.

“Good luck, Dick,” she choked out.

He cupped her cheek in his free hand. She closed her eyes to his touch. A tear leaked out of her eye and he wiped it away with his thumb.

“Melanie,” he said, and she opened her eyes to meet his gaze. “I will return it to you.”

She attempted a watery smile. “I know you will.”

Several yards away, most of the company had gathered to watch, though they couldn’t hear what Melanie or Dick were saying.

“He’s gonna kiss her,” Buck said. “He’s got to. Look at that.”

“Nah, he won’t,” Guarnere added. “He ain’t that kind of man.”

“I dunno, Guarno,” Toye said. “I’m with Buck, it’s looking like he might finally get the balls.”

“Oh, shit, guys!” Malarkey gasped. “His hand is on her cheek. The hand. Is on. The cheek.”

“He’s not even leanin’ in though, look,” Guarnere argued. “He ain’t gonna kiss her.”

“Five bucks says he kisses her,” Buck said.

“You’re on,” Guarnere replied, and they shook on it.

Lipton approached looking concerned.

“What are all of you doing over here?” he wondered.

“We’re waiting to see if Winters is finally gonna kiss Melanie,” Skip explained. “Buck and Bill have placed bets.”

Lipton glanced over at her and Dick and then back at the men.

“He’s not gonna kiss her, Winters isn’t that kind of guy,” he said.

“Wanna get in on the bet, Lip?” Guarnere offered.

Lip sighed and shook his head.

“Does it count if he kisses her cheek or something?” Malarkey wondered.

“No, we’re talking a full on lip kiss,” Buck said. “Oh, look!”

They all turned eyes on Melanie and Dick and watched. He was leaning toward her, and for a moment, even she thought he might kiss her, but then he leaned back on his heels. They whispered their final goodbyes. And then, chest tightening, she turned away from him and walked toward the jeep that was waiting for her.

“Damn,” Buck sighed.

“Told you, fellas,” Guarnere gloated as he collected his winnings. “Winters ain’t the kissing kind.”

Dick watched the jeep disappear into the countryside, doubting himself for the first time. He tucked the pocket watch away inside his jacket. Right next to his heart.

That night, after the jump was cancelled, and he stood outside with Nix, he pressed his hand over it and thought of Melanie. He was carrying her with him, no matter when or where he jumped.

#dick winters #richard winters imagine #dick winters x ofc #band of brothers #melanie jo davis #dear heart series

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piraticalarchive · 3 years

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okay so for everyone who hates big corporations and management who takes advantage of their employees.. this one’s for you. it’s long but .... i find it completely hilarious.

so a brief recap: amy got fired back in march from a huge international retailer, yes? when things first started like they were going south, i worked on really re establishing a relationship with my brother who is like one level below C-suite (cfo, ceo, etc etc) of that same company because i had an idea in mind. March rolls around, amy gets fired .. and I’m like .. okay. time to put this in motion. but stress and depression obviously took the motivation away from me, but i continued to keep that line of communication up with my brother. we started talking weekly, sometimes twice a week via an actual call. well, i’m finally feeling better .. so this week i finally put my plan in motion. here’s how it went

stage 1: i sent a text to my brother asking if i applied to the store in my area if i could use him as a reference. he said, of course but every store is hiring so i’d look at any store besides that one. (which is already fucking hilarious but i digress) ... so i call the store and one of the managers who sat in on amy’s firing answers when i ask to speak to someone involved in hiring (oh lucky day). I start off with “hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been looking for a job thats a bit of a change of scenery and my brother is the *insert position name* and works in *insert headquarters location* and he recommended i give the company a try despite that I had a less than stellar experience last time”. And this manager FALLS OVER telling me they are hiring for so many positions blah blah blah and then at the end when i’m like “thanks for the information! I’m definitely going to apply!” she’s like “of course! I’ll give our hiring manager your information so she can pull it immediately. Whats your name?” and i give my name and suddenly its just dead fucking silent... because they know who I am and they know that I’m in a relationship with amy and that i know what they did. But she recovers and is like ‘can’t wait to see your application!’ .. so.. okay. stage 1 was a success. but then, enter...

unexpected event: the store manager himself calls me. Starts off with some small talk, finally gets around to saying ‘so I hear you’d like to come back and work for us? I was looking at your previous application and I didn’t see any mention of the relation you talked about when you called”. And I’m like “oh, yeah... I don’t like using stuff like that because I’d prefer to get in on my own merit and skills and not by a family member’s position. Plus its like that show undercover boss, you know? I get to see what the place is like before they know. BUT given with what happened to amy, I was unsure if I’d even be considered without a reference like that” and he laughs nervously and is like “i totally get it. So did anyone know that you had a brother in that position?” and I’m like “oh i mentioned it once in passing to [amy’s manger] but I just said my brother was in corporate and there are a lot of levels so i think he just left it at that” and the store manager is like ‘haha yeah different levels but thats like ... its own level...” and we talk a little bit and he’s like “what made you want to come back?” and I’m like “like i mentioned before, the amy thing really threw me off. I was angry and the good thing about siblings is you don’t have to sugarcoat stuff. So I went to my brother and was like this is how you treat people?? are you kidding?? what about job security?? and i sent him the picture amy had snapped of her discharge papers where it listed the reason and he told me that, and everything else I yelled at him about, wasn’t the company’s way and that the store had seriously violated something. So for one, I now know that isn’t actually something that should have happened and two, i inadvertently brought this store to corporate’s attention and there are a lot of good people who work here, and they don’t deserve the consequences of that, so I want to help make it right” and he’s fucking sweating yall, I can hear it over the phone. and he’s like “fill out your application and put whatever you want down and we’ll call you and talk about positions and we can find a way to give you what you want” and I’m like “oh, don’t tell me that nick because your chair is looking awfully good right now” and he did a nervous laugh. SO, unexpected event made my plan even better. Then we get to:

Stage 2: I apply. I check literally every management position, including the one they fired amy from and also some hourly positions and put down ridiculous hours. I pass the manager test with flying colors and when it asks why i said i want to be a team trainer i wrote down ‘thanks to knowing the home office, i know how things should work and I want to help this store raise its position in the district and I know what policies aren’t being followed to help make that raise smoother.” I submitted the application, called the first manager I had spoken to and told her I had done so and she was like “I’m sure we’ll give you a call tomorrow!” ‘Tomorrow’ came and by 7 that night, they hadn’t contacted me. So I went to the ‘we’re hiring’ image they had posted on their facebook page like an hour previously and tagged my brother and was like ‘dude this is one of the positions at my store i was telling you about. think i could pull it off?” AND BAM ! they sent me a request for a phone interview at 8am the next morning. I scheduled my interview for later that afternoon at 2:45 and we enter Stage 3.

Stage 3: Amy and I go to the store to pick up a few things. It’s suddenly fucking spotless. There are no gaps in the shelves, the floor has been cleaned since the last time we were there (monday night and i called them tuesday and it is now white and shiny as hell) and they have the lights turned up all the way so you can actually see. EVERY FUCKING AISLE is perfect. Cat food? perfect. Funko pops? stacked and lined up perfectly. Video games? Filled. Clearance aisle? Perfect order. Like its super obvious they did a mad dash and tried to get the store in shape. So amy and I walk down every single aisle and point things out and kind of put our heads together and talk and I take out my phone and act like i’m texting etc .. basically we’re just fucking with people’s heads because the managers are nearby and they can see what we’re doing.

Stage 4: So later we’re home and 2:45 comes and goes with NO word. No phone call, no email, no hey can we reschedule. they FORGOT about the interview. I’m dying because they’re making it even better and even easier to fuck with them. So I text my brother (who KNOWS my mental health has been in the trash) and I’m like “I filled out an application just to see and they set up an interview and blew me off. You were right .. not a great help when it comes to the blues” and he was like “yep...i’d look at literally any other store” and talked to me a bit more about it. He was irritated that they’d do that and kept saying they were on thin ice. Finally at 5 they text me and they’re like “hey, this is the [insert store] and we’re sorry we missed your interview. I wanna apologize. Can we reschedule?” And I wait like an hour and a half (i was napping, i’ll admit it) but I respond with “I apologize for the late response, I had a prior commitment I had to take care of. Unfortunately, I reached out to someone [they know who it is. they know] in the off chance I had misunderstood the process since I hadn’t heard from you guys and I was encouraged to pursue opportunities at other branches in the area. Thank you for the original consideration and I hope you have a great day!” and they waited until 11am the next day to reply back which I’m assuming is because they were waiting for the higher up management to return to the store.

Come to find out the managers are still basically pissing themselves and freaking out because not only did they a) fire someone against company policy and now know the people at the top know and b) drop the ball and forget to interview a family member of said people at the top ... I got to add salt in the wound one more time by mentioning that my brother dropped in a lot (he doesn’t) and that I’d love to show off the store since it’s such a huge part of the community and it was looking better than I’d ever seen it look. And that it would be nice because he’d get the real experience since it wasn’t a formal, announced visit .... but, of course, that he’s salary .. so the policy is that he’s always ‘at work’ and obligated to take note of things.

so basically, i feel justified. Six and a half months of careful planning and maneuvering was totally justified. 10/10, I’d do it again. Let this be a lesson that patience in planning vengeance is completely worth having and I hope I helped make the store better for employees who aren’t management by putting the fear of god into them with the idea that my brother or anyone else from his office can just drop the fuck in whenever they want with a totally casual visit that could still fuck the management over completely. This is a good week, mates .. a very good week. Am I petty? yes. Do i hate their guts and feel like it was an entertainment that was totally worth it given what they did to the love of my life? also yes.

#also if they checked - i'm facebook friends with their international corporate lawyer. my brother obviously and the cfo who i didn't realize #at first was him bc he goes by a different name via facebook. like last name is the same but i think he uses his middle name as his first #i love it. i love it so much.#i planning on doing more stuff but i gotta take a breather and plan it carefully but #god i am L IVING #fuck that place #we laugh because i'm known here for messing with companies that fuck with people #and i did my best one like 3 years ago but amy was just like 'this is 10 miles beyond that'#long post //#i'm sorry for this but i just want to let everyone know the major reason for my incredible mood this week

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into-crazy · 4 years

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More to the Madness Pt. 9

Ledger!Joker x Female Reader series

Summary: You see J's bare face for the first time before helping him carry out his attack on the Mayor.

Warnings- Cursing, mentions of violence & murder, incorporated elements from TDK, a dash of J being self-conscious about his scars

I'll admit, that last warning was a bit of a challenge. I might've ruined everything with this & got it all wrong, although I sure hope not. Also, I'd like to add(because I freaking CAN) that I personally adore his scars💜 I find them beautiful, attractive, and sexy as hell

You can find the other parts RIGHT HERE and through the “More to the Madness” tag lovelies💞💞

7:01 am

You read the time on the wall clock in the empty apartment that belonged to some man named Melvin White. The late commissioner Loeb's memorial service will start soon. Mayor Garcia is scheduled to speak in precisely 2 hours, on the street right outside this very building. Everything's falling into place. Joker and his henchmen had successfully kidnapped the Ceremonial police. Stripped the officers of their guns and uniforms in order to infiltrate the ceremony. This is really happening. Joker's going to assassinate the Mayor.

Your eyes shift to watch J, standing over by the officers- bound and gagged to a sturdy structure inside the residence. Terrified, the men are drenched in sweat, shaking in their restraints. Neither try to mumble or attempt to free the binds in fear of getting themselves killed. Little do they know that's not on the agenda. Still, their frightened state entertains J. That is obvious.

The only one's in full attire in the room are you and J. His men were previously instructed to ditch the clown masks. The area is on a high watch alert, no use in having some amateur blow the job if they're easily spotted. Even though it wasn't negotiable, you're the only exception. Given your stealth skills and the couple lookouts perched down the hall.

The henchmen gather together in their disguises while J is now peering through a telescope onto the street. Angling the scope in a spot to his liking as he mumbles quietly to himself. You slip close beside him, leaning on the frame, glancing down in search of what he's looking for. Which is difficult considering the blind is lowered halfway. Without interrupting his train of thought, you patiently wait. There's no denying that the way he works fascinates you. Given his nature, he can be very precise when it comes to certain things. Since this is a situation which requires precision, he delivers impressively well.

Finally, he gives a soft hum, "annnd.. right there." Still peeking through the lens, he removes his hand from the scope, waving it in a gimmie motion towards whoever's presence he felt next to him. "Timer." You grab the small timepiece put off to the side, placing it in his hand. "Thanks a bunch doll." He gave with a appreciative tug of his lip upwards.

You didn't respond. Instead you caught the gazes of the henchmen looking in your direction. Couple relatively new faces, observing how close in proximity you stood by the Joker. Clearly the sight was unusual to them, like they'd never seen anyone comfortable enough to be within a 6 foot reach by J. Let alone a woman, currently perched the mere inches you were beside him. Intrigued as you are. They didn't have to say what they were thinking, you knew from the judgment flickering of their eyes- what the hell is wrong with her?

That doesn't bother you. Why should it? Why would you care what they think of you? The cowards. You're also not going to let them belittle you. If you let that happen, they're going to think it's okay. That you're too weak to do anything about it. Too weak to stand up for yourself.

Raising your chin, you stare down back at them. Daring them to say what they're too scared to admit directly to your face. You don't need J to stand in and protect you. You can do that on your own, no problem.

Come on. Come over here and say it to my face you fucking cowards.

As expected, they don't. Your message was received. They get right on with the job without throwing another glance your way. Serves them right.

Bringing your focus back to J, you ask, "what were you looking for?"

He turns the knob on the tiny clock, setting a time. His blackened gaze flashes up to meet yours, "where the duck'll be sittin' at." J places his contraption before collecting an officer's uniform and a duffle bag. "Tick-tock doll," he motions for you to follow him, "we're on the clock."

Exiting the apartment, he leads the way to another apartment down the hall. Barging through the front door, it appears this residence is just as deserted as the previous one.

Handing you the large bag, J works on removing his plum trench. Slinging the heavy fabric atop a counter in the vacant living space, it crashes hard against the surface with metallic clinks of the various objects he hordes in that coat. You watch as he continues to strip himself of the remaining articles- blazer, gloves, tie, vest, and suspenders. All in that exact order. The many layers that help complete his look. That join together to make him Joker.

He begins undoing the buttons at the top of his dress shirt, catching the dumbfounded expression on your face while you observe him. "Enjoying the show, aren't we? Getting a ah- good look." A tilt in his head promoting his mocking tone.

"I- uh what- um," You blink a couple times trying to refocus, "sorry, I don't mean to stare." You admit, now remembering you're supposed to place his items in the bag. "You make it a little hard to concentrate sometimes." Cheeks glowing a shade of red, turning your attention towards the pile on the counter, hoping you didn't offend him in any way.

"Never ah, said I didn't like it," he claims, shedding the shirt from his broadly sculpted torso. Displaying a vast of scars adorning his body. J wasn't the largest man in the world with huge, bulging muscles. He's actually rather lean, fit. With the perfect amount of muscle to compliment his arms, chest, and back. Oh, but his legs- those strong, thick thighs of his. Now those are whole other impressive matter on their own.

To keep your mind from straying deeper into building up excitement, you get to work. Get ahold of yourself, keep your head in the game. Tossing the duffle on the floor, you grab his trench. Huffing at how heavy it is, you comment, "Damn J, this coat weighs about fifty pounds! What the hell have you got in here?" Attempting to fold the thick fabric before shoving it in the bag.

"Just the usual knives and grenades," he shrugs nonchalantly.

"Woah, woah, hold up-" startled, you back slightly away from the bag, "you mean to tell me that there are explosives in that coat!?"

"Yeah."

"So you've been walking around with a bunch of hand grenades in your pockets? This entire time!" You continue.

"Uh, most of the time. Yeah." He repeats as if it's something you should've already known. It bewilders you that this is something so casual- so common- for him to keep dangerous explosives, ready to use, on his person like it's nothing. Regular people carry their wallets and cell phones. Better prepared citizens also carry a concealed weapon for precaution, be it a pocket knife or small handgun. Meanwhile, Joker's norms are knives and grenades- and he's never shy when it comes to flaunting his custom modified, fully automatic Glock 17.

"Well, you must carry a lot for it to weigh this much then." You let out a breathy laugh, bagging the other articles.

J was on the verge of removing his pants, when he opted not to. Instead, he collected the police uniform, thumbing towards the door behind him. "Gonna ah, finish in the other room." He promptly tells you, "wouldn't want ya getting too distracted."

"Okay," you manage, a roll of your eyes which he didn't see but very well heard. He went into the room and shut the door.

You finished packing everything, minus his pinstriped slacks and shoes. So you left the bag open for those. J wasn't enclosed in there long, however it felt like he was. This is a little unusual, for him. The eerie silence only prolonging the suspense. What could possibly be taking him so long?

It gave you a brief moment to ponder. All he has left to do is get dressed and remove the greasepai- Ohh.. Right.

The greasepaint.

That must be what's holding him, then. You'd imagine it takes a lot of effort to scrub off the many layers he had previously applied. Especially since his disguise is going to require a bare face. Funny how that works.

As if on cue, the door to the room swings open and he emerges. Your head swings up to find him, walking out the room with his head held down, green dyed curls covering his face. His hair is draping his features, yet through the gaps could you see that he is indeed, without the makeup. Purposely avoiding your gaze, you catch on, he's doing it intentionally. He doesn't want you to see his face. The reason, being one or many, you are unsure of.

He reels past you to the bag, nearly bumping into you, he shoves the remainder articles inside. You go to help him zip the overloaded pack, but he pulls it from you, twisting farther away.

You frown, "J, would you let me? I could do that for you." No answer. You try again, "the pants are going to get wrinkled if you put them in there like that. Here-" you carefully go to reach for the strap, lightly brushing your fingertips over his gloveless digits, which are tightly clamped around the band. "Let me fold them for you." His whole demeanor is tense, you're hoping your gentle touch coaxes him to ease. It helps, least a little bit. He allows you to slide it towards you, but his face remains turned.

You're not fond of this behavior. It doesn't seem like him. Could it be a reason similar to yours from before? Hiding his facial features to protect his identity. No, that can't be it if he's willingly revealing them to his goons and the public. So with that being the case, why not simply show you?

For one, you sure hope it isn't because he's self conscious about his looks- about his scars. You can't have that, no. You will not have that. He has nothing to be ashamed for when it comes to you and what you think of him. You didn't find him repulsive at all before. Why would now be any different?

He stands, "where- where's the ah, cap. I need the cap." Frantically searching the room, barely able to see past his own hair.

You don't utter a word as you neatly place his pants and shoes into the bag, sealing it with a loud ZIP! You want him to look at you, but you don't want to push it. Wanting him to feel comfortable with showing you rather than pry at it harshly. Standing fully, you go to the counter where the police cap sat. There sparks an idea. "I got it," you pluck the hat, waving it in his view. He extends an arm for you to hand it to him. "No," you shake your head, "come over here so I can put it on you."

Irritated, he huffs, "just give it- give it to me. I've got no time for this." Beckoning his arm impatiently.

"Yes you do," you return, "will you please just come here?" Nothing. He rakes his hands through his locks, choosing to grumble to himself. Alright, now you're starting to grow frustrated.

"Joker," you almost demand, the full use of his name gets him to freeze. Still staring in the other direction. "Look at me, please." Your tone is firm, yet underlined with a sense of plead.

Ultimately, he decides to look at you. As he does, you have to be careful refraining an admirable gasp in fear that he'll take it the wrong way. Don't make a big deal about it. You mentally apprise yourself as you see his face- bare- for the first time. Easier said than done. If you thought he was breathtaking before, you'd go back in time just to slap that lady across the face, and tell her she hasn't seen his beauty in all its form yet. With those handsome features adorning his face. The same features you already noticed, ridden of the greasepaint. Out on proper display. There have been occasions where you thought about what he'd look like underneath. He's even more gorgeous than you could've imagined. The area around his eyes hold black shades, skin stained from the greasepaint.

J's stoical eyes stare at your face. Searching for a trace of resentment, horror, hate, disgust. He doesn't find either of those, yet he's not sure what he finds, he can't tell.

Your eyes meet his in a deep stare, and your breath hitches in your throat as you fight to hold back what you desperately want to tell him. Baby steps. Giving a soft smile, you inform him, "you still got a bit of white and black by your eye." Pointing to a spot under your own to show him where. He gives a breathy laugh in return. May it be of relief or genuine amusement, he wouldn't tell you, you're unsure at this point. But it's something.

You jump to sit atop the counter, putting you almost eye level with him. "Can I put it on you?" You retry with the hat. He thinks for a fleeting moment, then nods. You quickly remove your gloves as he goes to stand between your parted legs, placing his hands to rest on your hips, keeping a mindful distance. It's respective.

Carefully, do you bring both your hands to his head. Combing your fingers through his locks, pushing upwards, so that you could easily tuck the green strands under the article. Though he's allowing you, if he were to swat your hands away, it actually wouldn't be a surprise. You keep that in mind. He draws in a slow, steady inhale at your delicate touch. His eyes are on you the entire time, taking in the calmness in yours. And wait- is that.. is that adoration he sees? Nevertheless, he remains there, an emotionless look on his face.

"Don't do that." J speaks abruptly. Pulling you from your dream-like trance.

"Do what?" You ask innocently, "I can't sit for a moment and admire you?"

With an exaggerated sigh and a roll of his eyes does he react. "You can stop trying to convince me with the uh, false flattery, doll. I already know I'm not the most ah, prettiest sight to look at."

"It's not false," you frown. "I'm being serious." It hurts that he doesn't believe you. You speak with truth, why won't he at least try to accept the fact that you really do find him drop-dead gorgeous, incredibly handsome, utterly attractive?

"Ha ha," he mocks a laugh that lacks humor in favor of distaste, "Now that was a bad joke." Instead of going on, he chooses to remain quiet. Taking in the feeling of your nails lightly scratching through his scalp. You're being so gentle with him, like anything harsher could ever hurt him. He smiles at the amusing thought.

Once his hair's pushed up enough, you place the police cap atop his head. Completing the disguise. Tucking stray strands that fallen, under the hat. "There.." you draw back to take a final gander. He looks so different, almost unrecognizable. But his blackened eyes, his nose, his chiseled jawline, and the uneven scars protruding the flesh in his cheeks, distinctive features that remind you of how much he is still, him.

Still J.

And damn you. Damn you for allowing it to tug at your heartstrings seeing him this way. You're not supposed to start feeling like this. You're not supposed to start caring. What started out as physical and psychological attraction, is progressing into something more, in-depth. And fuck, are you diving in deep. You know this probably isn't a path to go down. It'd be risky. Although you haven't even scratched the surface of knowing him, you know yourself. Going down that path would result in you growing attached- catching feelings. Which could leave you wandering down a one way road, alone.

Much as you hate to admit, you crave a connection, a real one. And Joker isn't the man for that. He's far too busy carrying out his destructive schemes, he doesn't have the time nor mind for you. Perhaps you should pull out, before everything eventually comes crashing down onto you. Leaving you in a heaving pile of regret. Or in a pool of your own blood once he grows bored of you, realizes he doesn't want you around anymore.

However, once your eyes lock with his in a deep gaze, your rampant thoughts are put on hold. Then you are reminded of how far you've come, and you are not backing down. Let's just keep this going. We're getting too touchy feel-y. Too sentimental. Let's just focus on what's happening right now, and right now, he's gorgeous. You don't mind his scars. You actually think his scars are rather beautiful. Much like a precious work of Japanese kintsugi art. The once severely torn flesh healed together in a way that enhances the tear that used to be there. Visible repairs on his cheeks that give more meaning and strength. Whoops- your sentiment is still showing.

You know what? I don't fucking care anymore. Look at him!

"Well hello officer," you purr flirtatiously. Trailing your hands up the properly done jacket, stopping to rest on his shoulders. "I usually don't take kindly to police officers, but I'd let you frisk, cuff, and arrest me any day."

The suggestive joke brings a sly smirk to his face. Grabbing ahold of your wrists, he sets your hands down on your thighs. "Distractions, bunny." His jeering articulation of the word distractions let's you know that he's back. "Ya sure are good at 'em. Now, we can play officer later. You ah, remember your instructions?" He asks, checking over himself to make sure everything's in order.

"Yeah, I got them down," you return.

"Remember where to wait?" He presses.

"Yeah, yeah.."

" 'Yeah' me like that one more time, an I'll slice that pretty tongue right outta your mouth. Got it?" He warns with a bite of snarkiness.

You can't help but stifle a snicker at his false threat. Um actually, you'd hope that it's false. "Yes sir."

Your part is relatively easy. All you had to do was rid yourself of your outfit- including the makeup- and take J's stuff to the getaway car. Being your car. Oh boy. He gave you a set location to park and wait with his belongings. He mentioned that if everything went in the direction he's striving for, then he'd make it to your car soon after the crowd breaks into a panicking frenzy. If not, then you'll just have to meet him back at the warehouse. Which if course means more improvisation on his part.

You sat in your car, not too far, and not too close in proximity to where Mayor Garcia currently spoke on behalf of Loeb. It wasn't long until you heard the first round of shots ringing through the buildings, then the next, recognizing it to be the 21-gun salute. You braced yourself for the third round of shots, since this would undoubtedly be Joker's point of attack. The moment he and his henchmen turn their guns and fire at be Mayor.

Soon as the third rounds are fired, they are followed by even more shots and loud shouts. That's your cue. Quickly starting the engine, you glance in the rearview mirror, you could see the chaotic riot of people behind you. Rushing and screaming in different directions to get away from the area, escape the immediate danger. Seconds later, there were many running past your car. Citizens and cops alike. Citizens desperately searching for cover and the cops trying to get control of the situation. Madness. It was pure madness. Far from anything you're used to.

The sound of harsh knocking on tbe driver's window startled you. Looking directly at the source of the noise, you instantly recognized it to be J. Clicking the button to unlock the back door, he swiftly moves to get into the car. Shutting the door and motioning for you to go. You didn't have to wait for him to tell you that, as you promptly slammed on the gas before he even shut the door.

Putting as much distance between you both and the scene as possible, while Joker's catching his breath in the backseat. Checking him through the mirror, you see that he's not looking back. Didn't even bother to take a final glance at his work as you drove away. You wondered why, but you didn't ask.

"We missed." J hissed behind you.

"What?"

"We missed the shot." He clarified. "Ole Gordon decided to play hero and jumped in the line of fire." Snickering as he recalls.

"Bummer," you pout while he searches for the bag, "your items are down there." You point to the floor behind the passenger's seat.

He instantly reached inside and pulled out three tins of face paint. Wasting no time in popping open all the containers, dipping his fingers in, and slathering the paint accordingly in his face. Doing it with such a pace as if he couldn't wait to have done it any sooner.

"Please try not to get paint on my seats," you turn your head slightly to smile at him. You expected him to throw a sarcastic remark back, so you weren't prepared when he suddenly reached around, and placed his hand- fingers wet with fresh paint- snug around your throat. Making a showing effort to rub the remains onto your silky skin.

He leans close to where you feel his warm breath on your ear and neck. You find delight in his touch. He relishes the smirk that pulls across your lips, leaning closer to whisper huskily in your ear. "No promises, bunny."

End of part 9. I hope this part wasn't too rushed😭 There's still more to come. So the part in here where I made the comparison of his scars to Japanese kintsugi art, it's something that came to me but I do recall seeing something similar(on the first account that I had before this one) but I don't remember where. I appreciated the reference. If anyone knows where, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know. I'd like to give credit!

#More to the Madness #joker #heath ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #joker x female reader #joker x y/n #ledger joker x y/n #ledger joker x female reader #the dark knight #fanfic

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trashfor-imagines · 4 years

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The Music Series: Haikyū Edition! | 1

FIRE FOR YOU ft. Tendou x Reader

Concept: The Music Series will be a collection of one shots based on a song or music video for each story. Titles will be hyperlinked to the song or a music video for your convenience. :)

Summary: You’d known Tendou since elementary school. It was obvious that the two of you would catch feelings some day; unfortunately, you were the first to fall and he wasn’t extending his hand to save you. Warnings: Angst. Thoughts of suicide. Mentions sex.

It was chilly as you stood at the red post office box not far from campus, staring at it with several envelopes in your hands. With a sigh, you bit your lip, depositing them. You applied early for universities that were accepting far and wide. Anything to get you out of Japan at this point. Heading back toward campus, you stopped by a vending machine, buying a strawberry milk. Your nose and cheeks were rosy from the cool breeze that nipped at your face.

“Hi, (Y/N)! It’s so chilly out today for September,” a girl you knew from class commented as you stood on the corner together, waiting for the pedestrian light.

“Oh, yes it is,” you replied softly. The two of you fell silent.

“Ah- see you in class,” she spoke quickly, running ahead a few steps when the signal changed. You walked slowly, allowing the distance to grow between you. It was clear your classmate didn’t want to talk for any longer beyond the casual chitchat. Your life was filled with that now.

Walking into your dorm, you slipped off your shoes, and put away your coat and scarf before collapsing onto your bed. This melancholy cloud that followed you was old enough to feel normal, but new enough to still weigh heavily on you. Two more terms, you could endure it.

The next morning, you woke and moved on autopilot. You cared about your appearance still - that was a comfort to you. It meant you hadn’t lost all hope. Smiling at yourself in the mirror, you allowed the expression to fade away as you left the confines of your room. It was probably the only smile you’d muster today. The walk to class was lonely.

“Hey, that’s the cute girl I want to ask out,” whispered a boy as you passed in the hall. He was a third year as well, but in a different class.

“What? You’ve got to be kidding you can’t like her.”

“Why not, man? She’s a looker.”

“She’s that crazy girl from first term!”

Taking your seat, the fourth desk in the first column of desks closest to the door, you waited patiently for class to start, you stared at a spot on the chalkboard, spinning your pen in your hand without much thought to it. It was something you learned when you were small and it became a habit for when you had nothing to do. You almost fumbled your pen when a tall head of red hair walked in, laughing with a group of boys. You refused to let your eyes rest on him for long, turning your head to stare at the wall that separated you from the hallway. You were thankful his seat was next to the window and far away from you. It was almost funny now. You remembered a time when you wished he was much closer.

Tendou Satori had been your other half for all of your youth. You remembered the day you first saw him in elementary school during recess. There was something about the red haired demon boy with a bowl cut as he squatted by himself, using a stick to draw pictures in the dirt. Brave little you picked up a stick and squatted right beside him. You lost a lot of friends that day when you decided to hang out with the demon boy, but you gained Satori and he had been enough for over ten years. Honestly, you never realized he was your only friend until now. As the two of you grew older and volleyball helped him gain confidence, it was easier for him to make friends and the two of you were clearly a package deal. Both sets of your parents joked throughout your friendship that they hoped the two of you would even marry one day.

This past May, just at the start of your third year, had been the beginning of the end of the dynamic duo.

It was his birthday and you had just gotten back to campus from a dinner party with the volleyball club. Satori had been walking with his arm around your shoulders, something he’d done since you two first became friends.

“Ey! Best-chan and I are going to walk around some more. See you tomorrow!” he called out to the boys.

“Happy birthday again Tendou!”

“Goodnight (Y/N)!”

“See you!”

Soon it was just the two of you walking around campus, laughing and teasing one another. The two of you ended up in a game of tag before laying out on the soccer field, tired and breathing heavy. Reaching into your small purse, you pulled out an envelope and dropped it on his chest.

“Oh Best-chan, I though you forgot,” he spoke with a teasing tone, opening the envelope. Inside was a hand embroidered patch you spent weeks working on that said GUESS MONSTER. “I love it! You did this on your own didn’t you. You’re so talented. Will you put it on my sports jacket?”

“Of course!” You turned over so you lay on your stomach, propping yourself up by your arms so you could see his face better. Bending your legs at the knees, you casually kicked your legs behind you. “Sa-Sa, are you happy with your birthday this year?”

He thought carefully about his day. “Well, there’s one thing I want.”

“What is it?”

He looked over to you slyly and his voice was teasing. “I don’t know.”

You laughed at him and rolled your eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be embarrassed.”

“I’m not the one who’d be embarrassed, Best-chan.” He pouted and gently bumped your shoulder. “Don’t act weird when I ask you, okay? You can say no.”

You perked up a bit, realizing it had something to do with you. “Promise.”

“I want us to be friends with benefits, (Y/N).”

Shaking your head, you sat up to pay attention when the teacher walked in, standing to bow and say the good morning greeting. Taking your seat, you focused on your lesson and prayed for classes to be interesting and for time to pass quickly.

It was during your third class when a student came to deliver a note to the teacher.

“(Y/N), you’ve been requested to the teacher’s room.”

Standing, you bowed before leaving, ignoring the gazes of your classmates. As you walked the hall to approach the teacher’s room, you spotted Coach Washijou standing there, stern as ever. You bowed in respect.

“(Y/N), I’ll keep this simple. I need you to come back to the club,” he spoke.

“Coach, the boys don’t want me there.”

“Then they’re idiots! You’re the best manager I’ve ever had. You’ve been with us since your first year and these kids were spoiled by you. All they know is how to play,” he spoke loudly, clearly annoyed thinking about the team. “I don’t know what happened and I don’t care. This team won’t succeed if they don’t have the perfect support and that’s you. You graduate this year right? So I’ll also need you to train your replacement to do things exactly as you. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow morning. You should remember the time. Don’t be late.”

Did this grown adult just bully you? Holding back your sigh of annoyance, you simply bowed, understanding that was the end of discussion and headed back to class.

He barked at your retreating figure, “And learn to smile again, team manager!”

Excellent.

As you approached the classroom door, you stopped, hand on the door knob. You peered through the small window of the classroom, eyes floating over the faces of some of your classmates. Sighing, you backed away, and headed to your dorm to change. You needed to get out of here.

Throwing on a pink crop top and black overalls with the legs cuffed and slipping into some white Keds, you grabbed a crossbody purse and coat before heading into town. You walked along the river, kicking stones on the sidewalk. Crossing the river, you found yourself approaching the Gokoku Shrine at Sendai Castle. You followed the traditional religious practices by the book: purifying yourself with water, depositing a 5 yen coin for luck, ringing the bell, bowing twice and clapping twice, making sure not to skip a step. There weren’t many people around, so you took your time as you prayed. You felt tears well and slip from the corners of your eyes.

You were still gasping, taking in shaky breaths, your nerves still sending signals through your body. Arms and legs wrapped around you tightly as kisses were placed along your shoulder. Tendou nuzzled his face against your neck, pressing more kisses to your skin.

“You’re so good,” he mumbled into your ear, kissing your cheek. Turning your head slightly, your noses touched. He yawned and gave you an eskimo kiss before pressing his lips against yours.

“Really?” you whispered quietly, suddenly very conscious of yourself.

He laughed and nodded. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel... really different. I don’t really know,” you were honest with him. This had been your first time and now that it happened you were so thankful that it was your best friend. It made it so easy to communicate and you didn’t feel embarrassed for being unsure or telling him when you didn’t like something.

With a teasing smile, he blew a raspberry on your cheek. “Remember Best-chan, just don’t fall in love with me! You promised.”

Laughing, you rolled your eyes. “Who’d fall for you, Guess-chan?”

Stretching out, he got up and headed to the bathroom and left you alone. Biting your lip, you curled up into a ball, a sense of insecurity bubbling up within you. You heard the water running for the tub and he popped his head back out and your fears disappeared in a heartbeat. “Let’s clean up. I’ll give you a bath!”

Biting your lip, you bowed once more in thanks before stepping away. Wiping tears from your cheeks, you walked around the temple grounds.

“Miss?”

Looking up, you saw the shrine’s kannushi. He smiled peacefully at you. You bowed to him.

“How can I help you?” you asked, offering your own smile.

“Would you walk with me a bit?” he asked. Nodding, you walked with him silently. “The weather’s so nice isn’t it?”

“Ah, I suppose. It’s getting colder.”

“Yes, it is, but soon it will be spring again and everything will be new again. Bad weather will always pass. I saw you pray. I was very concerned to see the heavy cloud over you.” You said nothing in response, wringing your hands together. He stopped walking and you stilled as well. “Here. This is for you. I’ll be sure to ask kami to give your prayer extra consideration.”

Shiawase. A happiness amulet.

Arms were wrapped lazily around you as you lay in bed with Tendou after a very active evening. The two of you had bathed and Tendou put new sheets on the bed, the usual post intimacy ritual. Now the two of you were watching the newest episode of an anime he’s been following and cuddling. This had been going on for months now and it had been incredible.

The two of you had always been close, but now it felt like a different level. You knew so much more about him now. Both of you shared mindless and sometimes deep thoughts with one another that one usually wouldn’t speak of and gave each other the intimate affection you both craved. You hadn’t realized you were missing out on feeling loved in this way.

“Tendou, I have something for you.” You reached over into the drawer of your nightstand, pulling out a charm and hanging it in front of his face. “Kaiun. It’s a good luck talisman.”

His eyes sparkled as he looked at the charm that was as red as his hair. “You’re the best, Best-chan. Next match we win’s for you!”

Accepting it, you bowed. “Thank you so much.”

He hummed, a pleasing sound emitting from him as he nodded his head and bid you good day, going on his way. When he was out of sight, you headed back to campus. Tomorrow was going to be a long day with how early you’d have to get up.

It was 5AM when your alarm went off. Going through your routine, you put your hair up in a dutch braid and dressed in your maroon shorts and a white t-shirt. Grabbing your forgotten team manager jacket from the back of your closet, you headed to the gymnasium and punched in the code, opening it up. You found the lights easily in the dark from years of routine. It took only a few minutes to check your old notes and prepare drinks for the team. You rolled out the giant carts of volleyballs before setting up the net and getting towels for the team. Checking your watch, you headed over to the gym door and stood, waiting to greet the coach and players.

Ushijima was the first to arrive.

“Good morning, Ushijima.”

The towering captain acknowledge you, politely bowing in response. “I see Washijou was successful.”

“He’s not an easy person to reject.”

He hummed in agreement. “Do your best then.”

Soon the team trickled in, every one of them surprised to see you greet them; it seemed the captain was the only one the coach decided to discuss this situation with. Coach Washijou seemed quite smug and greeted you formally when he arrived. The only one missing was Tendou. Sighing, you went ahead and set up the safety net over the entry way to keep balls from escaping on accident. It was time to start practice and he was always late.

Fifteen minutes later you heard a series of apologies as Tendou slipped in, laughing off his tardiness. Coach Wahijou wasn’t having it and immediately had the boy doing flying laps until he said stop. Biting your lip, you tried not to take pleasure in him getting punished, or from the expression on his face when his gaze landed on you. You spent the morning running errands for Coach Wahijou, refilling sports drinks, collecting strays, and tossing balls for sets. It’d been a while, but you did your best to record stats for review and take notes of what Coach had to say. At the end of practice, Coach announced you were officially returning and dismissed everyone. He told you to just take care of water bottles and towels then to head off for school so you were out of there pretty quickly without having to talk to anyone.

Time seemed to tick by slowly. Tendou had made eye contact with you when he walked into class, sending you a look of pure confusion. You could feel him staring at you throughout your classes; a burning feeling. When school ended, you were quick to leave and get ready for volleyball practice, setting up just as you did that morning, except this time the boys were there putting up the nets. Coach Wahijou introduced you to the first year that would be taking over as team manager when you graduated. You had them pump air into the balls and take care of the laundry from this morning’s practice. Every once in a while, when there was time, you’d show them how to record stats and how they needed to keep notes on how each player had preferences, for example the way they liked their sports drinks made and how to tell when each player was getting tired; it was important to know when you were needed.

A few hours later, practice ended and you were putting things away in the storage room while your first year took care of the drink bottles and towels. You were looking for the push broom when a shadow fell over you.

“I love you.”

It was a whisper, but he heard it. His face was stoic and his body stopped moving, an extreme contrast from his wild and passionate expressions just moments ago. You laid beneath him in his shadow, breathing labored, eyes glazed with need and confusion. Without any further hesitation, he got off of you, slipping on his clothes and heading for the door.

“Satori wait! I’m sorry,” you sat up with realization, wrapping a sheet around you. “Please. I didn’t-”

Turning around, he gave you a look that had never been directed at you before and you felt almost fearful of it, stopping you from finishing your sentence.

“Get out. We’re done. Don’t be here when I come back.” Opening the door, he quickly left, leaving you to cry alone.

“So you’re back.”

Pretending not to notice him, you continued about your search, heading further into the room. Sighing, at not seeing the broom, you crawled over a couple of boxes, looking behind a shelving unit.

“When’d you decide to rejoin?”

Not there either. Bending down, your expression relaxed, finding the broom shoved under the shelving unit. Grabbing it, you turned around to find him in your way. The sight of him standing there gave you flashbacks of the intimate and compromising positions you’d been in with him in here. Your eyes fell to the patch on the shoulder of his sports jacket, the one you made for him.

Blinking, you spoke plainly, your voice more quiet than you had meant to be, “Excuse me, I have to sweep the gym and study before it gets late.”

“How’ve you been?” he tried again.

You raised a brow in response. Was he really trying to ask you that?

He laughed a little, clearly uncomfortable, and ran a hand through his hair. He picked up a volleyball from the cart and spun it in his hands. “Did you ever decide on plans for after graduation?”

Did he genuinely want to make small talk? Doubtful. Your face stayed expressionless, but your eyes spoke volumes and you wondered if he could see your pain. “Does it matter?”

“We haven’t spoken in months,” he stated, gripping the volleyball tightly in his large hands. “I just want to know what’s going to happen to you.”

“Satori, do you have a minute?”

He was chatting in the hallway with a few boys from class when you approached him. He didn’t even turn to acknowledge you. You stood there awkwardly, your classmates staring at you while your best friend ignored your existence. Biting your lip, you bowed your head, “Sorry for bothering you all. Please excuse me.”

“Tendou, (Y/N) looked like she had something important to say.”

“Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

“I don’t know what she wants and I don’t care. She’s crazy.”

Tendou’s words felt like being stabbed by a thousand knives.

Your gaze was fierce as you looked him in the eye. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to ask me those questions and you don’t get to know the answers. Now get out of my way so I can finish with practice.”

Stunned, he let you pass him. Thankfully he didn’t bother you again the rest of clean up. Knowing him, it was because of the first year’s presence around you. It created a buffer zone. You closed up the gym when you were finished. It took a bit longer so you decided you needed to go straight to bed in order to get up early enough to set up morning practice again.

Weeks continued on like this and soon it was nearing the Spring High Representative Playoffs in October. It only took a couple of weeks for your first year to get up to speed. You had them handling clean up for you, allowing you to get out of practices quickly. What you truly wished for was for them to already know how to organize and help run training camps so you could go home for a weekend instead of being stuck in a different prefecture at some other school with Tendou Satori for several days.

The bus ride to the training camp was insufferable. Tendou sat right behind you and burned holes into the back of your head. When everyone finally got to camp it only took a day for him to finally corner you alone. Thankfully, a few of the players from the university interrupted him and you could get away. Unfortunately, he was persistent.

“(Y/N), let’s talk,” he spoke seriously one evening. He had waited for you to finish your evening shower before bed and intercepted you in the stairwell on your way back to the female team manager’s room. When you said nothing, he continued, “Look, I know you’re still hurt-”

“Tendou!” you yelled at him, your voice echoing through the stairwell. “I confessed my feelings and you told me to get out. Then you wouldn’t speak to me when I begged you to and you even said lies about me. Hurt doesn’t describe it.” You still felt broken and beyond repair.

Soon after Tendou called you crazy, there were whispers, stories that got crazier and crazier with every time they were retold. Everything from Tendou being a victim of your lifetime of stalking to you being mentally unstable after he rejected you circulated around your class. You tried to approach Tendou to get him to stop the rumors, but he only ignored you and it fueled the stories.

So you stopped.

You stopped trying to talk to him before you made it worse. You did everything you could to limit being around him from changing how you walked to class, quitting as the team manager, and even asking for a class change - which was denied. You no longer looked in his direction if you could help it. You ate lunch alone. You kept to yourself.

People who you thought were friends avoided you, but continued to talk with Tendou, making you realize that you never had friends. You had Tendou and Tendou had friends. It made you laugh at how things had turned around. Before Tendou, you had plenty of friends and he had none. Now look at you both.

For weeks after school, you’d leave campus and walk to the Gokoku Shrine. When you crossed the bridge over the Hirose River, you’d contemplate your own end. You’d then go to the shrine and pray about it, asking for those dark thoughts to go away. It happened only once, but one night you even dared to stand on the parapet.

One day, out of the blue, the whispers at school no longer stabbed at you. When you crossed the bridge, you didn’t have dark thoughts anymore. You stopped going to the shrine as often. Slowly, you let yourself change, studying harder and making it a goal to leave Japan. You’d remove yourself from the situation in a different way. The world was too large to stay in Japan. You’d start somewhere new.

“If you want to apologize, then do it. Just leave me alone afterwards. I’m so tired of everything. I wish it never happened.” He stood there silently and you felt it was so typical of him to not even apologize. You moved to walk past him, but he stood in your way. Making a second attempt to pass him, he reached for your hand and you slapped it away. “Enough, Tendou.”

He left you alone for the rest of training camp. In fact, he didn’t try to speak to you again until after the Spring High Playoffs. Their loss to Karasuno was a heavy hit. He tried talking to you about something mundane like his sports drink not being prepared correctly by the first year, and even though you wanted to tell him to go figure it out, you silently took care of it, knowing how much the loss was hurting everyone. Coach Washijou immediately put you to work in organizing a First Year Training Camp to be held at Shiratorizawa in early December and thankfully that kept you busy.

It was the day before the training camp and you found yourself walking through town, headed toward the shrine to say a prayer. When you were leaving, you stopped at the top of the steps, looking out at the skyline. It was supposed to snow soon. You were half way down the stairs when you saw Tendou waiting at the bottom of the steps. Pausing before him, for the briefest of moments, you headed back to campus. He’d been silently walking with you until you got to the bridge where you stopped half way across.

When you didn’t move, he cleared his throat and spoke calmly, “We know I’m not the type to apologize. I did those things because I meant to at the time. But I look back and I’m filled with regret. I ruined our friendship on purpose. I set us up to fail because... I was falling in love with you every day. I was going to fix it, but I wasn’t ready yet, then everything got so bad from the rumors. I didn’t mean for it to explode like it did.”

Your shoulders tensed at his words. “Why did you do it? If you didn’t mean for it, why did you let it happen? Why did you want to sleep with me?”

“To know what love was... And I learned it’s painful. Before you even said it, I could tell you loved me too, just by how you looked at me, but as long as you never said it out loud, it was fine. Then, when you said you loved me, I remembered how lonely it was before you. I couldn’t look at you anymore. You got in my head. After I walked out, I thought about what to do. Loving me meant you could stop one day, so I chose when to end it to get it over with instead of going through these feelings again in the future.”

“You didn’t even consider that it could work out between us and doomed us from the start. That’s weak and so selfish. And you’re an idiot.”

“I guess I’m all those things.”

“I don’t think you’re justified in what you did and I know you'll never apologize, but you said more than I ever expected you to. So what do you want from me?”

He was silent, thinking hard about what he wanted. “Right now, I guess I just want to know if you’ll be okay.”

You leaned against the parapet of the bridge, looking down at the river as the icy water flowed. “I used to think of dying every time I crossed this bridge. I walked to the shrine every day and I’d think of jumping. Maybe the water would put out this fire I felt burning away at me and end it all. Then I’d go and pray for those thoughts to go away.”

“So praying worked?” he asked, leaning against the parapet with you.

“Maybe.” You exhaled and watched the cloud of warm breath swirl and disappear before your eyes. “You learn to stop loving me?”

“Maybe. I thought so for a while, but I’m not sure anymore.” He peered over at you. “Did you? Stop loving me, I mean.”

“I still cry about you, so probably not.”

“Oh.”

Let me know if you want to be tagged in any future Haikyū!! content I create!

tag list: @hihiq

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choupichoups · 5 years

Photo

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.2

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post.

Lucas feels attacked.

Ever since the great Instagram fiasco of last week, Eliott has been liking every single one of Lucas’ new posts. Every. Single. One.

So Lucas, confused and alarmed, could only retaliate by liking all of Eliott’s posts as well.

Their strange little game doesn’t go unnoticed, of course. The universe simply never spares Lucas from such situations. The boys tease him about it endlessly while Emma and Manon circle around the topic like the most unsubtle vultures in existence. Lucas brushes them off with responses so bullshit they drop the subject out of sheer exasperation.

Imane eventually asks as well, probably sick of seeing both sides suddenly liking each other’s posts out of nowhere.

“I didn’t know you and Eliott were close,” she says once they’re both settled at the back of the library and for once Lucas would actually prefer it if she focuses solely on their studying.

“Uh, no? Not really,” he fumbles, ever so eloquent.

“That’s a whole lot of likes for a not really.”

“I don’t— I mean— uh…” How does one go about explaining that they’ve literally only interacted for a whole ass week. “His posts are nice.”

“You mean his face is nice.” Imane quirks an eyebrow at him and Lucas rolls his eyes. He doesn’t bother to defend himself, pointedly flipping open his textbook so they can start their work.

But when he turns back to his laptop, Eliott’s newest post is still up on his screen. He’d clicked it open while waiting for Imane earlier, huffing out a fond sigh at the photo. Talk to me. How dare he put some obscure, nonsense caption and still look cool doing it? God, he’s whipped for a boy he’s never even properly met and he’s very much aware of how bad this could turn out for him. He likes the post absently, so used to doing it for the past week that it’s more a reflex by now, closing out of the tab before Imane catches sight of his screen.

He forgets about it for the rest of the day— or forget isn’t exactly the right word. More like he stops himself from checking in every other hour and it gets easier to tamper down the temptation once he’s helping Manon and Daphne set up for their sorority fundraiser. He’s turned off the notifications on his phone after every alert tone from Instagram has sent him panicking for no reason other than he’s a complete moron when it comes to Eliott.

The most infuriating thing about the Eliott situation is that Lucas knows they go to the same university. It’s in the description box for Polaris. That had been Eliott’s first year project for film studies. Lucas has seen a glimpse of him multiple times, always surrounded by a group of rowdy boys who look way too intimidating to approach. Not that Lucas would know what to say if he ever grows the balls to go up to him anyway.

“Can you move the pink ones to the far right, please? The colours have to balance.”

Lucas moves the cupcakes, allowing Daphne to maintain the illusion that colour arrangement would actually affect the end result. He checks the time on his phone, making sure he has enough spare time to make it to his part time job later. He has no class on Wednesdays and that’s usually when he covers most of his hours but Basile’s moving to a new place tomorrow and that guy needs all the help he can get.

There’s a small commotion across from them and they all look up to see a large group of girls cheering and clapping about something.

“Why are they set up there?” Daphne exclaims, sounding offended. Lucas turns to Manon for an explanation but she just shakes her head with a tiny smile.

“They came early too, it’s a good spot. It’s not like we can stop them.” Manon shrugs, placing the last plate of cakes on the table. Their entire area is covered with baked goods. He has to watch his steps so as to not stomp all over some backup muffins. Lucas just hopes the sales make enough of a dent so Daphne doesn’t end the day upset with herself, having spent an insane amount of time preparing for this event.

Lucas looks around their booth and then back up to where the other girls have set up what looks to be an imitation carnival game type of thing. He recognizes them as one of the more popular sororities on campus and immediately understands where Daphne’s stress is coming from.

Still, he thinks the girls’ cakes are pretty banging, not to mention they’ve gone above and beyond with the decor. They deserve the same amount of attention.

He gets distracted by another round of loud whoops, and looks over to see six boys crowding around the booth across, with one of them holding a plastic archery set and laughing with his friends when he misses the target. One lanky boy who has practically trademarked that black hoodie and tan jacket combination in Lucas’ eyes.

“Shit,” he mumbles, sliding behind Daphne’s giant signage so that he’s fully hidden from view. He doesn’t know if Eliott would recognize him just from his photos on Instagram alone but he doesn’t want to risk it. Lucas is too sleep deprived to deal with meeting him in person right now.

Alexia arrives shortly after and the girls get distracted enough with finishing up the finer details that Lucas is fortunately left to his own device.

But now that he’s just standing there staring at the trees, nothing stops him from fishing his phone out of his pockets to check on the holy app. He squints down at it, pausing when he sees that he’s got a new message.

srodulv So you’re finally gonna talk to me?

Lucas’ breath hitches. Eliott has no business sliding into his inbox like this. He fiddles with his phone for five agonizing minutes, not knowing how to respond. He doesn’t want to take too long, though, because what if Eliott thinks that Lucas is ignoring him?

lucallemant Hm?

It’s the best he can come up with. He clutches his phone to his chest, peeking around the signage to see if Eliott looks at the message. He sees Eliott reaching for the phone in his back pocket, shuffling a little away from the ruckus at the other booth. Lucas can hear the pounding of his own heart getting louder and his hands start to sweat a little— which, what the fuck he didn’t even really say anything, he needs to calm down.

srodulv Oh good you responded I was starting to think you’d leave me on read

Lucas twists back into hiding, unable to stop the big dumb smile on his face.

lucallemant Maybe I should’ve

srodulv What, why?

lucallemant I don’t even know you

srodulv I’m Eliott :)

lucallemant Wow ur so funny

srodulv I know Comedy is my passion

Lucas snorts a little too loudly, which makes the girls look over at him in question. He shakes his head, pointing at a student wandering close by so they can sell their food and stop bringing attention to him.

lucallemant Haha

He gets an idea then, hesitating only a little before deciding, fuck it. It's a big campus and Lucas has practice with avoiding people if anything goes wrong.

lucallemant Now go back to your game The point is to hit the target you know

He crouches down and turns a little, watching Eliott's head snap up, bright blue eyes surveying the crowd closely.

srodulv Okay, stalker Where are you?

Lucas waits for Eliott to turn around, searching for Lucas in the wrong direction, before he grabs his bag and kisses the girls on the cheek goodbye.

"You're leaving us already?" Alexia asks, wrapping up a set of cookies her girlfriend wants reserved.

"Yeah, picked up a shift this evening. See you later!" He jogs out of the crowded area, taking advantage of the traffic to cover him from Eliott's view.

lucallemant My friends are selling cakes and stuff across from you Lot 3 You should check it out

srodulv Will I see you?

He hops on the bus, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning like a lunatic.

lucallemant Go and find out

srodulv Hmmm The cakes are good But I don't see you

lucallemant Maybe if everything sells out you'll see me

srodulv Okay

He stares at the response, unsure of what to say next so he lets the conversation go.

And then proceeds to spend his entire shift agonizing over what that okay means. Okay as in that's ridiculous, pal, it's not gonna happen? Okay as in I have nothing else to say so let's end the chat here? What kind of okay does Eliott use in everyday language? Is it positive? Negative? Neutral?

Lucas spills boiling hot water on his finger and gets sent to the back of the kitchen to get his shit together.

It isn't until he’s headed home that Lucas finds out exactly what Eliott means by it.

His laughter comes out breathy, as if punched right out of his lungs. He’s not sure whether he’s laughing at how glaringly out of place the photo is in comparison to Eliott’s usual posts or if it’s the tingle of pleased disbelief at the thought of Eliott wanting to meet him so bad he takes Lucas’ dumb joke seriously. There’s just no way Eliott’s actually doing this for him. No way.

But then he notices that Eliott had tagged him on one of Daphne’s posts. Curiously, Lucas clicks on it, small chuckles turning into full blown laughter when he sees what it is.

Lucas has to physically stop moving, standing right before his own apartment door as he gapes down at the screen.

No. Fucking. Way.

srodulv Thursday, B building at the bridge, 13h

lucallemant Holy fuck

srodulv So I’ll see you?

And what’s he supposed to do? Say no?

lucallemant Yes

#skam france #elu #elu insta au #fictag #applaud me for finding aesthetic banana breads for elliott's extra self

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ladykeane · 4 years

Note

Bertie and Reg dress up for Halloween at Dahlia's!! and the party!!!

To the lovely Nonny who sent this, I profusely apologise if you’re not the massive weeb/animation geek that I am. But this idea stuck, and I couldn’t help myself!

Fair warning, it’s quite silly, most definitely cracky, and completely self indulgent…

There was a lesson given to me by my drama teacher at school, Mrs Irving, that has always stayed with me. The gist of her teaching was that a good actor must have a sort of dual consciousness. I suppose what she meant was that a chap should have the power to transform his mindset into that of the character he plays - and then just as easily slip back into his usual mental space, once the curtain falls. There must co-exist a Bertie-the-Wooster and Bertie-the-Prince-Hal within a single animal. Well, I suppose I have put this lesson to good use in my adult life, as I can attest that Bertie-the-Drone, Bertie-the-obedient-nephew and Bertie-the-seducer-of-certain-Jeeveses manage to be conjured at the drop of a whatsit.

A particularly surprising example of this dual consciousness wheeze occurred just recently, on the night of Aunt Dahlia’s annual Halloween bash. I suppose the lifted veil to the spirit world aided this shift of the Wooster disposish. (Well, the costume probably helped too, not to mention my dear auntie’s insistence that her party guests never drop out of character for the whole of the evening. That can make certain things a tad awkward, such as bathroom ablutions. One must ask: does Superman use the lavatory at all?)

I was given the scoop on the event by my ancestor over the phone, as I sat digesting a fourth-or-fifth slice of Reg’s birthday cake. (This year he had requested a Black Forest, and I have to say that I outdid myself. The leftover kirsch was also a boon.)

‘Super-groups?’ I asked. ‘You mean like the Travelling Wilburys?’‘No, young clot, I mean super-groups like the Avengers, Justice League, and their lycra-clad ilk. The group with the best costumes and most convincing delivery will receive a prize from your Uncle Tom and myself.’‘Ooh! And what is that?’‘For one, a cooking lesson with Anatole. Apparently he owed Reg a favour, and your man generously donated said favour to me.’I glanced an appreciative glance at my beloved, who sat perusing the W.H. Auden anthology I had given him.‘Secondly, a near-pristine Nintendo Gamecube, complete with controllers and a collection of best-selling game cartridges.’‘You mean the one you confiscated from Angela and myself? I still think that was an unfair punishment.’‘I say, it was entirely fair! Do you forget that I got stuck with the bill to clean your old headmaster’s office!? I am told that the stench of baked beans can still be detected throughout the school halls, to this very day! Anyway, I would advise you to get cracking. The competition will be stiff, I hear Angela’s little friends have been working on their costumes since August. Perhaps you and Reg could go as Batman and Robin!’‘Perhaps, auntie.’‘Well, pip-pip then. I’ve got many a fake tombstone and skeleton to haul down from the attic.’

As I hung up, Reg raised his head from his book. ‘I believe Mrs Travers has briefed you on this year’s Halloween festivities?’‘Indeed. She’s never offered a prize for the guests before. They’re real plums, at that. I reckon it would be well worth the splurge to get some first-rate togs.’‘May I ask what this year’s theme is?’‘Super-groups. By which I mean, groups of superheroes. She suggested we go as Batman and Robin! We’re already quite the dynamic duo, anyway. What d’you think?’

As I uttered these words, the Jeevesian brow began sinking south, until the look on his face chilled the lukewarm cup of tea sitting at my elbow.‘I should say not, Bertram.’‘Oh. Well… what about Danger Mouse and Penfold? You could be DM, of course.’‘I regret that I shall be unable to attend this year’s festivities. I have much to do to complete the Earl of Rowcester’s living will.’

Of all the paper-thin excuses! ‘Oh, don’t give me that Reg! What is it? You don’t care to be in the same room as all that brightly-coloured spandex? You fared just fine at last year’s “Stranger Things” soiree, and we were surrounded by a multitude of eighties fashion, at that!’(He made quite the dashing Steve Harrington, actually. Aunt Dahlia cast this Bertram as Dustin, so while I was able to tag after him all night there was an unfortunate dearth of snogging.)‘I am afraid I must insist. I do not care to be dressed in the bright, garish apparel that is requisite of superheroes.’

Given that it was the lowly rotter’s birthday, I held on to the flames that should have escaped from my nostrils. ‘Oh, very well, Reg. Have it your way.’ To ensure that none of my internal invective against him slipped past the Wooster lips, I left the flat for a sullen trudge about Mayfair.

***

That very evening, Bingo Little summoned self and several other Drones to dinner. He was in town with his husband Randy, to look for a property where they could spend their Winters. While the reports given indicated that all was spiffy within their NYC townhouse, Randy wanted to ensure that his paramour did not lose touch with his British roots. And I think I remembered him saying that his next novel was to be set in South Kensington, inspired by the likes of Richard Curtis and Hugh Grant. All rather convenient, no?

‘That Gamecube and cooking lesson with Anatole is as good as ours, lads. I have the perfect idea for our super-group.’ Here Bingo took a long sip of tea, leaving us in a state of eye-boggling suspense.‘Christ and his disciples?’ suggested Stinker.‘The Bloomsbury Group?’ queried Boko.‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?’ asked Gussie.

‘Better,’ Bingo finally replied, a rivulet of tea dribbling down his chin. ‘Do you know “Sailor Moon”?’

‘Sparkly schoolgirl with the pigtails? Yes, I recall watching the English language version with Angela sometimes. Quite a cheesy romp, that.’‘Oh, you ought to read the original manga ,’ said Boko. ‘A perfect blend of costumed superhero action and romantic high fantasy!’

For the next half hour, we were subject to Boko and Bingo giving us a full synopsis of the dratted space opera, complete with character studies, mythological references, and feminist overtones. Now, I have known my fellow Drones to sometimes possess hidden depths, but I was unsure whether this encyclopedic grasp of a Japanese super-girl-group was more of a mild pathology instead.

‘So,’ Bingo announced, ‘I believe I’ve figured out the perfect casting for each of us. I shall be Sailor Venus, of course, the soldier of love. Randy does call me his golden love god, after all.’ (Pause here for requisite retching.) ‘Gussie can be Sailor Mercury, given his general… wateriness. Boko’s love of house plants is perfect for Sailor Jupiter. And due to his spiritual calling, Stinker will be Sailor Mars, the shrine-maiden.’

I was trying to picture each of my chums kitted out in a colour coded schoolgirl costume. Perhaps we would score points for comedic effect, if nothing else.‘And what about me?’ I asked.‘Well, you’ll be our Sailor Moon, naturally.’‘Golly! I must say, Bingo, I’m quite chuffed to be given the starring role. I assume that it’s due to my former experience with drag, not to mention my theatrical prowess and general heroic gravitas.’‘Well… I suppose. It’s also because Sailor Moon is supposed to be a ditzy blonde crybaby.’‘Ah.’The judicious nods that the others gave were a tad insulting.

‘Does this mean that I’ll have to wax? ’ asked Gussie.

***

Now, if you’ve ever seen the much-celebrated cartoon, you’ll know that one of the highlights of every episode is the spangly transformation sequences, where each heroine morphs from humdrum schoolgirl into celestial warrioress. Our first go at donning the famous fuku was much less glamorous.

Boko knew a chap who knew a lass who worked at a highly-regarded fancy dress company. Apparently, many a masquerade-goer and cosplayer has raved about their beautifully crafted goods. As we trundled our way out their HQ on the tube, we were all in high hopes of scoring the perfect outfits. As it happens, the fitting session that followed made me appreciate just how inadequate the standard sizing of womens’ apparel really is.

Bingo and I had the best luck, but the costumes closest to fitting us were narrow in the shoulders and wide in the hips. Gussie managed to squeeze into one of the larger sizes, but resembled more of a wrinkly chicken sausage than a cute superheroine. (The skirt was appallingly short on him, and when he bent over to grab his phone from his bag I was quite traumatised.) Stinker, who is built akin to a silverback gorilla, utterly utterly destroyed the costume he attempted to yank on. I offered to foot the bill for that one, as a vicar’s salary can only cover so many breakages per month.

‘It’s no good, boys,’ sighed the seamstress who had patiently assisted us, ‘you’ll need to get these custom-made.’‘And how long will that take?’ asked Bingo.She put on a brave face. ‘I’ll do my best to get them ready for Halloween, but bear in mind I’ve already got a backlog of orders to finish.’‘Chin up!’ I replied. ‘I can probably ask a favour of the drag queen who did my costuming for “Legally Blonde” - Reg cut her a sweet deal with a new agent at the time. I’ll ask if she can source the shoes and wigs and things.’

A level of relief washed on to the girl’s face at this. I’d feel the same, if I were freed from the task of cobbling a pair of Stinker Pinker-sized red pumps.‘Even so, we’ll be cutting it close with this order. I doubt I’ll be done before the morning of the 31st.’‘Send me the bill for your energy drinks,’ I offered.‘It’s a deal.’

***

Time ticked on, and All Hallows Eve drew near. While I did my best not to harbour any full-on wrath against Reg at his blowing-off of the party, I couldn’t help but act a tad pipped towards him. Were lurid leotards and shiny accessories really so horrid?When he snuggled close to me on the sofa, I scooched away. When he dropped a kiss upon my map, my only response was tight-lipped disinterest. The blighter refused to compromise, so wherefore should this Wooster succumb to his entreaties? I took a lot of cold showers that week.

The big day came, and still nary a costume was yet received.‘5pm, she said,’ Boko told me, ‘and we’ll have to go and pick them up ourselves.’‘Hm, that is cutting it close. Well, bear up, old fruits! Leather Smalls will be along this arvo to do our make-up and hair.’‘Leather Smalls?’‘Didn’t I tell you? She’s part of an all-drag M People tribute act.’

If I can impart to you the experience of tubing it across suburban London in a long blonde, pigtailed wig, a full face of makeup, and masculine civvies, accompanied by four other similarly styled blokes, you probably wouldn’t doubt my claim that it was one of the more surreal experiences in my life. Halloween is not quite the big deal here that it is across the pond, so we got quite the share of wolf whistles, disapproving auntly glares, and ‘yaaaas, queen’s from our fellow travellers.

At last, at last, we arrived at Brinkley Court, freshly finished costumes in hand. The coloured lights, costumed crowd, and strains of ‘Monster Mash’ from within indicated a party already in full swing.As we entered the front door, I grabbed for the first bowl of sweets I could find, given my lowered blood sugar.‘That’s it!? Gawd, Bertie, you could have at least made an effort!’

Angela had grabbed one of the sweets from my hand and popped it in her mouth. I wasn’t quite sure who she was supposed to be, but her costume was really quite the thing.She was caked head-to-toe in light purple body paint, with a long wig in a paler shade of the same colour. A brilliant gem was affixed to her chest, and she wielded a long double-headed whip. I did not feel inclined to backtalk her.‘So who’ve you come as?’‘One of the Crystal Gems, obvs. Anyway, you need to go easy on those. Mum says that some neighbourhood bullies have been stealing sweets from the trick-or-treating kids, and she’s promised to recompense them.’‘What!?’My blood was now boiling - what lowly cad felt the need to scam helpless rugrats out of their jelly babies and smarties?

‘Oh, it’s awful,’ said Aunt Dahlia, swiping the remaining sweets from my hand and depositing them back in their bag. ‘I just saw Captain America crying his poor little eyes out, being comforted by Bucky Barnes. A whole evening’s worth of trick-or-treating swag, stolen from them by three nasty teenagers!’‘She means Thos and Edwin,’ Angela translated.‘What teenagers?’ asked Stinker.‘Some of the nastier upperclassmen from Eton, apparently. Captain America tells me that they have a reputation for bullying even the house masters and head teachers. Great brutes.’‘Rum,’ I said. ‘But, Aunt Dahlia-’‘Who?’I took in my auntie’s costume.‘But, Catwoman, hasn’t anyone tried to pull them up for it?’‘They’ve been too wily. I was told that they also egged the Emsworths’ place, running off onto Ham Common before anyone could catch them.’‘Travesty!’ cried Boko. ‘They can’t get away with this!’‘Too right!’ I said.‘Well? You lot are supposed to be the Sailor Senshi, aren’t you? You fight for love and justice, yes?’‘Er…?’‘You must transform, and thwart the damned villains!’

The Drones and I shared a look askance. ‘Um.’‘May I remind you, Sailor Moon, of the video games and French cuisine that are up for grabs for the group who best embodies their chosen superheroes?’‘Right ho. Moon Prism Power Make Up, then!’

***

We stampeded upstairs, bottlenecking on the landing, and Stinker stumbled noisily upon the top step. Into my old bedroom, and our everyday trappings were cast off in favour of our splendid, sparkly sailor ensembles.It was a bit of a muddle - the others needed help donning their padded brassieres, not to mention adjusting their skirts to preserve modesty. But after a few fumbling minutes, we were ready to go, as resplendent a team of magical girls as Brinkley Court had ever seen.

I allowed myself an indulgent linger before the full-length mirror. I really did look cute. The big pink bow was quite flattering to my proportions, and the blue skirt and collar set off my eyes nicely.‘Come on, Sailor Moon! We’ve got a contest to win!’With a flick of my pigtails, I was off.

Bursting out of Brinkley’s front door again, we charged into the gloaming. The place looks directly out over Ham Common, and on the great stretch of lawn, it did not take us long to spot the perps.

A juvenile, quivering Wallace and Gromit were surrounded by three of the largest, most grotesque teenage boys that I’d ever beheld. Though a good decade younger than myself, they looked to be twice my height and about four times my body weight. Most ghastly of all were their choices of costume: the ringleader was dressed as Pennywise the Clown, with his two lieutenants cast as Thanos and a zombie version of Napoleon Dynamite. I admit that the hint of rotten green brain showing through his blonde afro was an impressive use of make-up, but it did turn my stomach a tad.

Just before they could rip the trick-or-treat bags from the youngsters, I put a solid, heeled boot forward.‘Leave those beloved icons of childrens’ entertainment alone!’‘Hurrr,’ slurred Thanos, ‘check out the anime drag queens.’‘Wanna come party with us, girls?’ said Pennywise. ‘We got heaps of sweeties for the sweeties!’I puffed out my padded chest. ‘Never! I stand for love and justice! And… by the Code of the Woosters, I shall punish you!’

And so it began. We swooped upon them. Wallace and Gromit scarpered, and we were met with a barrage of large humbugs. When thrown with enough velocity, those things can leave a bruise.

Behind me, Gussie boldly came up bearing a large garden hose. He turned the nozzle on the head, but instead of dousing the monsters, the force of the spray was a bit too much for him, and he clung on for dear life as the hose thrashed about in his arms. He quickly went down in a self-inflicted mud puddle.

Stinker managed to plant a shiner of a right hook on Thanos. The brute staggered away, doubled over in pain. He threw off his plastic infinity gauntlet, upon which Stinker tripped magnificently, going pumps over skirt into the turf as well.

Boko fearlessly leapt upon Napoleon’s back, wrapping his noodly arms about an equally noodly neck. Napoleon bucked about like a bronco with a bad itch. Boko did his best to hang on, but the slippery satin gloves ultimately betrayed him, and the poor soul was flung off into a nearby rose bush.

The three monsters continued running from us. It was just me and Bingo now. We exchanged a silent glance of Sailor Senshi solidarity, as we pursued them towards a clump of oak trees.With a well aimed stomp, Bingo got Pennywise right in the oversized foot, with the heel of his pump. However, before I could back him up, the two lieutenants grabbed my chum and snatched his wig by its red ribbon, hurling it up into the branches of one of the trees.‘NOT MY VENUS WIG!’Abandoning the skirmish, Bingo pathetically began clambering up the branches to try and retrieve the thing. (I mean, it was a nice wig. And if it came back damaged, I would be owing Leather Smalls big time.)

And so, the beasts turned their attention to me. Three cruel grins bore down upon me like vultures on a dying wildebeeste. They looked like they could easily pummel me into a boneless mush, and not even feel it the next day. I’m not too proud to admit that I quivered in my heeled boots.‘What was that about punishing us, sweetie?’‘Let’s hang her from the branches by those stupid pigtails!’‘Yeah! And then we’ll-’

All of a sudden, something sleek and sharp came whistling through the night air. It popped Pennywise’s balloon, and struck Thanos right between the cheeks of his ample bum.‘Ow!’‘What the…’It was a fine, thin blade, attached to a deep red rose.

The four of us whipped our heads towards the source of the floral projectile. Imagine my total astonishment to perceive, perched upon a high stone wall before the radiant moon, none other than Tuxedo Mask. Gosh, he was splendid, with his billowing black cape and aura of general rakishness.‘How dare you blackguards steal from innocent children and assault these brave soldiers. Sailor Moon, I know you can defeat them.’‘But how, dash it!?’

He tossed me a bright pink plastic object. It took me a moment to discern that it was an external hard drive. It bore a little decal of one of those colourful cartoon pony characters.I looked back at the monsters, to find Pennywise agog.‘Wh… WHERE DID YOU GET THAT!?’‘Uhm…’‘Dude… is that what I think it is?’ said Napoleon.‘GIVE IT BACK!’ cried Pennywise.

Tuxedo Mask and I shared a single silent, meaningful glance, and I dropped the thing to the grass, raising my heeled boot above it, primed to smash.‘Well… I might, if you agree to apologise to every last child you terrorised, AND return their sweeties.’‘But we already ate some,’ said Thanos.‘Alright… maybe just give them a few quid, in that case. AND you’ll be cleaning the egg off Mrs Emsworth’s front stoop.’‘Anything, ANYTHING!’ begged Pennywise. ‘Please just give me back my-’‘NIGEL!!!’

A robust, sour-faced Jean Grey was stomping across the grass, her fiery gaze fixed on Pennywise.‘You have a lot of explaining to do, young man!’‘But Mum-’‘I should confiscate your little pony stories this instant!’‘No! Please…’‘Instead, you will do exactly as Sailor Moon says, and apologise to all the people whose Halloween you have ruined! You too, Cyril, Edgar! Don’t think I won’t be telling your mothers what you’ve done!’

The clown was dragged off by his ear to begin his penance, but not before he could snatch up his pink hard drive. Now that the leader had fallen, his two henchmen slunk along in his wake.

The Sailor Senshi had regrouped, and Angela, Thos, and Edwin (sorry, Amethyst, Captain America, and Bucky) had also dashed up to join us.‘You know who that was?’ said Angela, ‘Little Nigel Belfry. I went to St George’s with his big sister Diedre. Rotten little punk. One of the worst trolls in the online “My Little Pony” fandom too.’‘He bullies us all the time,’ said Thos.‘Well, dangle the name “Eulalie” in front of him. That’s his username on all the major MLP forums. Not sure he’d like that info getting out at Eton.’ Here she thumped me on the back. ‘Well done, Sailor Moon, you gave him the punishment that he sorely needed.’‘Oh, but I couldn’t have done it without…’I turned towards the stone wall. Of course, Tuxedo Mask had already biffed off. Probably to go hunt down the Silver Imperium Crystal or something.

***

Now that the drama had wound down, we finally had a chance to mingle. I got to take in the costumes of Angela’s group: Honoria was some sort of giant magenta woman with sunglasses and boxing gloves; Florence looked lovely and delicate in a gossamer tutu, and gleefully swung about a rather frightening spear; while Madeline was surprisingly dressed in drag - some charming little chap by the name of Steven, I think. The craftwork of their outfits was simply matchless, and they were clearly the ones to beat for the contest.

After Time-Warping and Thriller-ing and Caramelldansen-ing the night away, as well as quaffing some questionable looking cocktails with names like Chemical X and Radioactive Sludge, it was time to announce the winners of the costume competition.Uncle Tom (sorry, the 4th Doctor) killed the music, and tapped a fork against his glass of Chemical X to call for silence.Dahlia-or-Catwoman hopped up on the coffee table, to better survey the throng. ‘The door prize goes to Winnie the Pooh, who clearly misunderstood the assignment.’Spode-the-Pooh shuffled up to grab his bag of humbugs, and Madeline-or-Steven applauded wildly.

‘The runners-up are Wario and Waluigi, who regrettably stayed true to their despicable characters all evening!’Claude and Eustace collected their swag of Quality Street and Jack Daniels, fighting over who would get to carry them.

Angela and I exchanged a tense side eye. Could one of us really have been left out?

‘And the first prize… is a joint win, between the Crystal Gems and the Sailor Senshi! Come on down, ladies!’Well, everyone pooh-poohs nepotism until they benefit from it. Angela and I joined hands, and led our respective groups to their shared moment of glory. (And after a little bartering, we agreed to let the girls take the cooking lesson, while we scored the Gamecube. I know that Angela has long been an avid fan of Anatole’s show ‘Cuisine Inferno’.)

***

After a little more merrymaking, the music changed from novelty festive monster songs to the cheesy fodder of slow dancing. As couples began to pair off and pitch woo, a thought occurred to me: where the devil had Tuxedo Mask gone?

At the very least, I wished to thank the fellow. It was anyone’s guess as to how he had picked up on Nigel-or-Pennywise’s little secret, but he had truly been my saviour.

I squeezed through the waves of slow dancers, trying to keep my eyes peeled for a top hat or a black cape. Alas, the only capes I could spy were of bright and garish hues.

I escaped to the quiet of Brinkley’s large, rambling back yard, in the hopes of getting a little air. As I ankled along the gravelled drive in my heeled boots, I couldn’t help but let a little melancholy sink in. Despite my search for Tuxedo Mask, I well knew who I really wanted to spend this night with.I reached the fountain, ornamented by Aunt Dahlia’s favoured statue of Artemis, and plonked my sorry self down upon its edge.‘Sailor Moon… we meet again.’

He emerged from behind the shadow of the trees, and I leapt right up.‘Tuxedo Mask! Ah… I really did want to thank you for your help back there. Awful solid of you, old chap.’

He did not come closer. ‘You are most welcome. I had been charged with organising the family affairs of the Earl of Rowcester. I encountered his youngest son, who proved to possess a most malicious and scheming temperament. I felt the temporary acquisition of the lad’s most prized digital information would prove a useful bargaining chip at some juncture.’‘And right you were, Tuxedo Mask! What a bally stroke of genius you…’

He stepped forward, and removed his eyemask.

‘Bertram, I am sorry that I was so intractable about tonight.’‘Oh… Good Lord… Reg, I hoped so dearly that it was you!’

I flew to his arms. And Angela, the sneaky brat, managed to get a good number of happy snaps of Sailor Bertie and Tuxedo Reg locked in a passionate embrace.

‘Reg?’‘Yes, my moonbeam?’‘Keep the cape.’

#jeeves and wooster #bertie's blog #fanfic prompts #seriously tho this is total crack

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

Text

title: thievery and trickery

the unneeded sequel to yeah, no

summary: (again, a totally cursed crack fic) as deceit’s things start to go missing, he must venture into the light side to retrieve them. unfortunately, a former acquaintance is finding it the perfect opportunity to make him uncomfortable

pairing: one-sided roceit

warnings: spoilers for dwit, deceit, remus (once), ambiguously sympathetic deceit (it could go either way tbh), lots of sexual innuendos, suggestive language, swearing, frustration, yelling, anger, teasing, intentionally making someone uncomfortable, virgil is a major asshole, caps, implied sexual attraction, embarrassment, and possibly something else

@royallyanxious, since you asked to be tagged

special thanks to @fandomsandanythingelse for being my consultant on this

consider buying me a coffee (god knows i need it after this)

---

Deceit didn’t entirely remember why he had needed to venture into the lighter side of the Mindscape in the first place. It had been something to do with Virgil, that much was sure. Probably retrieving something that had been taken to the Light Side without permission that Deceit had tasked himself to retrieve. He couldn’t remember.

He did remember that he had entered the Light Side and immediately went to the nearest door to find good old Anxiety, only to find the room devoid of the side. Naturally, Deceit had gone further in, hoping to catch Virgil to complete his task. As he walked down the long hallway to the stairs, he checked the game room and the memory vault in case Virgil, for some unknown reason, had decided to skulk around like the emo disaster that he was.

Still nothing.

Deceit had sighed. He loathed having to go into the Light Sides’ common room. They were all, quite frankly, very rude to his person, and Roman was always there being his usual, pretty annoying self. However, he had a goal that needed to be fulfilled, so he trudged down the stairs with only a bit of a pout.

And the second that Deceit stepped into the commons, he knew that he was absolutely, royally fucked.

Because of course Roman chose this day of all days to drape himself on the couch like a god damned living painting. Sure, Creativity was in his normal outfit, but that didn’t make Deceit’s mind go any less haywire. For the briefest moment, Deceit’s mind flashed with all of the other, much better places that he’d like to see Roman in that position, but he put a harsh clamp over them faster than he could say his own name. He’d been assaulted by Remus enough for merely flirting with Roman in the courtroom doing his job; there was exactly zero way in hell that his ass wouldn’t get kicked if any of his stray thoughts ended up in Remus’ hands.

Not to mention that in the corner of the room, staring right at him was Virgil freaking Sanders with the same shit-eating grin that Deceit used to love seeing. The sickeningly sweet smile that foretold mischief.

Yeah.

Deceit was fucked, and he wouldn’t even have finished whatever the hell it was that he’d come to the Light Side to do!

“I don’t need something from you, Virgil,” he said regardless of his forgetting. There needed to be a reason for him to come here, or the others would get suspicious. Lying was what he did best, after all.

“No, of course not,” Virgil said. “You need it from someone else.” His eyes flicked subtly to Roman, who wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation, and back.

Deceit flushed. “That is what I meant.”

“No? I suppose it wouldn’t have been a need so much as a want, right?” He smirked; darkness glinted in his eyes with every word. “My mistake.”

“Oooh!” Roman said suddenly, looking up at the two. “Virgil messed up?”

“Wha—Do you only ever listen to make fun of me, Princey?” Virgil’s smirk turned into a scowl.

“I was merely surprised that you admitted to a wrongdoing. That’s a rare feat.”

“Dude, whatever.” Virgil stood up and walked to the stairs. “I’m gonna do some activities to work out my newfound frustration.” Then, just as he passed by Deceit, he winked and whispered innocently, “Maybe you should, too.”

“I will never understand him,” Roman sighed as he watched Virgil climb the stairs. “I do hope that he paints today, though. His pieces are always more interesting when he’s worked up.”

“Yeah,” Deceit laughed weakly. Without another word, he turned and left.

---

Life had a really fucking funny way of messing with Deceit. Hilarious, one might say.

To him, it was genuinely devastating.

Not three days after his little incident with Virgil, he was forced to go back to the Light Side because another one of his things went missing, and the first still hadn’t been returned. Undoubtedly, Virgil was making some attempt at payback for the courtroom by stealing his precious belongings (you didn’t just steal a guy’s heated blanket--that was cruel). Deceit just wished that he’d get his fill of revenge in a more tasteful way like salt in the sugar bag or bugs in his pasta.

Once again, Virgil wasn’t in his new room, and Deceit was forced to go to the commons. Where, once again and just to his luck, he was greeted by Virgil and Roman. Creativity was sitting on the floor, flipping through a book of jungle animals, and Virgil was next to him, pointing at the ones that looked cool.

Deceit was unsure if either had noticed his presence until Virgil placed his hand on a page with a yellow and black snake. “What do you think about snakes, Ro?”

“Oh! I think they’re rather magnificent creatures! A truly misunderstood and beautiful animal indeed.”

“Uh huh. Y’ever touched one?”

Roman squinted his eyes, obviously trying to scan his memory for a time that he might have. His eyes seemed to have finally noticed Deceit, and he sent a small wave over before replying, “No, I don’t believe that I have.”

Deceit moved to the kitchen. He didn’t want Roman to think that he was staring or being weird.

Virgil looked over his shoulder at Deceit with a smug expression. “Do you want to touch one?”

Deceit had never been so close to dropping dead on the spot.

“I mean, why not?” Roman said, starting to flip pages again. “Their scales look so smooth, and I’m sure that they’re lovely to hold. Oh, and they do that little blep thing, which is just terribly adorable.”

“I’m sure that snakes would think that you were adorable, too.” The smile on Virgil’s face held a saccharine sweetness as he mouthed ‘Don’t you?’ at Deceit.

Roman cooed, and the anxious side turned his head at the exact second that Roman glanced back over at him. “Aw, Virgil! That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“It’s no big deal,” he muttered, feigning embarrassment.

“No, it’s really nice of you to say. Even Deceit would agree, right?” Creativity turned an eager smile to Deceit, who nearly flinched at the sudden attention.

“No. It isn’t nice,” he managed to choke out.

“See! You’re a nice guy, Virge.” Roman turned back to his book once more.

“Yeah.” Virgil innocently grinned at Deceit. “I guess that I am.”

---

The other things, Deceit could cut his losses and live without. He had extra blankets, and he had extra socks, but this? This was just plain criminal.

What the fuck kind of a guy stole someone else’s snake?!

And it wasn’t just the snake herself! Virgil had taken the entire terrarium, all of Deceit’s supplies, and the entire freezer’s worth of food. If he weren’t so fucking pissed, Deceit would have been proud of the scheme.

“Virgil,” he growled as he pounded on the anxious side’s door. “Don’t give her back.”

The door opened, and Deceit almost lost it when he saw Virgil with Daisy on his shoulders, smiling softly. “What’s that?”

Angry venom dripped from Deceit’s words. “Don’t. Give. Her. Back.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “Yeah, of course.” He snapped his fingers, and all of the snake stuff that had been littered behind him disappeared.

Deceit was infinitely jealous that the laws of reality didn’t hit as hard in the Light Side as they did in the Dark Side. The only one who could summon things while in the Dark Side was Remus, and no one wanted to ask him for things. It had taken Deceit three weeks of fighting tooth and nail to get Roman to give him Daisy. It had been the worst three weeks of his entire life.

“And the snake?”

Virgil shook his head, softly. “Yeah, sorry. I thought you’d want to take her home with you, so I didn’t snap her with.” He gently lifted Daisy from his shoulders and placed her in a small heap in Deceit’s hands.

Deceit knew that he should be happy. His baby had been returned with little resistance, and he could go back to some normalcy, but at the same time, something was up. Virgil hadn’t been this cordial in... well, ever.

“Right...” He looked at his wrist as Daisy slowly curled her way into a sentient serpentine bracelet. “Well, I’m gonna--”

“Oh my goodness! Is that the snake I summoned for your room?”

Virgil gasped, but Deceit could see the mischief in his eyes. “You summoned this cutie? I was just about to ask Deceit where he got her.”

No, you weren’t, you lying bastard.

“I almost forgot about her. How is she? Does she have a name?” Roman’s voice was gleeful, and it just made Deceit want to run away.

“Her name isn’t Daisy,” he said as he turned to speak to Creativity. “And she’s doing terribly.”

“Wow.” Roman looked completely starstruck. “Wow. I’ve never held a snake before; can I hold yours?”

It was subtle—it could barely be construed as something even minutely sexual—yet Deceit saw Virgil’s surprised smile at the unknowing bait. With full intentions to rush away, he stuttered, “Oh, um, I don’t know...”

“Hush,” Virgil drawled, pushing just a bit too hard on Deceit’s shoulder to be considered friendly. “Let him hold your snake.”

“She’s just too cute, Deceit! Please?”

Slowly, the side in question nodded and slipped Daisy off of his wrist. With the utmost care, he placed the coil in Roman’s hands. It honestly couldn’t get any worse.

Daisy lazily slithered her way up and around Roman’s arm, raising her tiny head right in front of Roman’s. Her little tongue darted out and touched his nose. Roman let out a tiny giggle.

The moment was swiftly ruined for Deceit by Virgil saying, “You know, I’ve never seen her like that except in Deceit’s hand. She just isn’t that perky on her own.”

“Ha ha,” Deceit said with fake enthusiasm. “Virgil, you are so funny! May I please have Daisy back so that I can go back to my room?”

“Of course,” Roman murmured as the snake was taken back. “She’s beautiful. May I visit her some time?”

Virgil latched his arm around Roman’s shoulders. “I’m sure she would be very happy if you did! Right, Deceit?”

“No.”

“Perfect!” Virgil began to lead the prince away. “Goodbye!”

“Bye...”

—-

“Roman, I need to be honest with you,” Virgil said a few minutes later. They were on the couch watching reruns of Parks and Rec, and Roman was still being very happy about his new snake friend.

“What about?”

“Well...” Virgil didn’t exactly know how to break the news. “The last few times that we’ve hung out, I was using you—“

“What—“

“Just to get back at Deceit! It was just so I could make him uncomfortable, okay?”

Roman’s eyebrows furrowed. “Make him uncomfortable how?”

“He has this massive crush on you, and I found out about it right after the courtroom thing, so I’ve been using you and your pretty, unaware face to form, uh... innuendos? I was stealing some of his stuff so he’d come to our side of the Mindscape, and I made sure to be with you.” Virgil laughed awkwardly, hoping Roman wouldn’t hate him forever for his evil scheme.

“You... you’re kidding, right? Deceit is thirsty for me? I mean, I know that I’m a snack and a half, but him?”

“Yeah.”

Roman looked at Virgil with a disbelieving expression. “And you used me to get into his head?”

“Mhmm. A couple of well timed questions here, your idiocy sprinkled in every so often... Poor guy was outie in less than five minutes.” Virgil smirked, resting his head on the back of the couch. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Man,” Roman laughed. “I can’t believe we vanquished Deceit so quickly, and all it took was him having a simple crush on me!”

“SO HE DOES WANT TO FUCK YOU?!” Remus screeched from his new perch on top of the kitchen table.

The two sides on the couch screamed. Well, nothing was truly a perfect solution...

#ts spoilers #ts deceit #ts remus #roceit #one-sided roceit #m writes things

108 notes · View notes

thetriggeredhappy · 5 years

Note

idk if you've done 31. speedingbullet before but oh man, that would be such a wholesome blessing ♡

missed the festival in town this year unfortunately bc travel reasons, time to live vicariously through these fictional 60s/70s gays again. (warnings for sappy, mentions of vomit in goof contexts, mentions of weed because im a creature, food)

31.) “Can I kiss you?”

One of these days, he’d figure out how to get Sniper out of his shell. He was sure of it.

He’d tried just about everything he could think of. He’d invited Sniper to the movies, to tag along to help with a shopping run, out to eat at three kinds of restaurants for lunch and two for dinner. Hell, he’d ended up roping Sniper into a double date, himself set up with a fiery-tempered girl who’d dumped a drink on his head and then written her number on his arm, Sniper with the tag-along friend who apparently needed to get out more. The date hadn’t gotten much of anywhere, the girl and him half-arguing the whole time and Sniper and the other girl staring at their plates and hardly even chiming in when invited. It had taken a bit of pestering to get Sniper to go out again after that.

He dragged Sniper to team meals, to bars, to clubs, to casinos. To a museum, to the farmer’s market, to a flea market. And each and every time he brought Sniper somewhere, the man ended up pacing along beside Scout, hands in his pockets, quietly chiding him when he got argumentative with civilians and quietly laughing at him when his bad luck had him making a fool of himself.

He just wouldn’t open up. Scout told him story after story, showed him all his own interests, presented every kind of joke he could think of, and the guy wouldn’t budge. Wouldn’t start telling his own jokes, wouldn’t start telling his own stories. Wouldn’t commentate on the things around them unless directly asked, and never once suggested where they should go next.

If Scout didn’t like a challenge so much, he would’ve ripped his own damn hair out.

The fair was his last resort. If he couldn’t get Sniper to open up somehow with the excitement and variety and overall greatness of an entire fair, then he was denouncing the man as a robot who did not feel things or have real emotions and turning him over to Engie for further study.

This was the middle day of the fair, meaning it was straight up bustling. Every stand had at least two people at it, and all the food booths had lines, and all the rides had even longer lines, and the number of teenagers stood around with each other was downright astronomical. This was a big fair, too, one of those harvest-type once-a-year nothing-else-ever-happens-in-this-state festivals that people would come from all over the place to go to. Engie had a lot to say on those kinds of things, and in fact had been the one to suggest Scout go check it out after hearing about it from some other old person when he was out doing some work-related supply run stuff.

Scout was most excited, as he often was, by the food.

The first thing they did once they got in the place was beeline to the first booth, some caramel corn thing, to get a small bag of it. Sniper commented lightly on his restraint. The second was to go to the next booth, which sold cotton candy. They got one cone to split between them. The third was to go to the next booth, which was one of those fair-specific food trucks. Sniper was starting to catch on.

“Aren’t these… well, the same sorts of food you can just find in a city somewhere?” Sniper asked, voice lowered so that only Scout could hear him.

Scout put on his best expression of complete shock and offense. “What! No, it’s totally different! The hell you talkin’ about? Fair food is awesome!”

“I mean… I’m not so sure, mate,” Sniper said carefully, glancing over the colorfully-painted sign.

“I—okay, hold on,” Scout instructed, and turned to pay as he was handed his latest portion of food, the Bucket ‘O Fries. “I mean, c’mon, check this out! It’s a bucket of french fries, what’s to dislike?”

Sniper looked at him blankly as they walked away from the food truck. Scout breathed in and began to elaborate.

“I mean, okay, the quality of the fries? Not great. I’ll admit, they’re fuckin’ shit, garbage oil sticks, and they’re also just straight up delicious. They’re the best trash. They’re the truck stop diner bacon of french fries. They’re tasty nightmares. I’m literally gonna like, sweat oil and salt after eating these, and it’s absolutely worth it. You can’t get this specific brand of perfect awfulness anywhere but at a fair. And, and? It’s in a bucket. That’s hilarious. Food in a bucket is awesome. Like, it’s maybe the closest a food place can get to calling its customers animals without making them eat from a trough, and I’m all about it. And you get to keep the bucket. Like, I just have a little plastic trash-lookin’ bucket now. What part of this isn’t objectively the greatest?”

Sniper considered the question. “Well, don’t imagine you’ll be able to eat all those,” he said after thinking about it for a moment. “So, not ideal.”

“Dude, don’t even worry about that. Best part of a carnival like this? They’ve got all this horrible garbage food, and like thirty feet away—“ He stopped in his tracks, and Sniper stopped as well, following his line of sight. “—They have spinny rides that’ll make you puke.”

Sniper was still. Scout watched him, waiting for a reaction. “Rides make you throw up?” he asked after a second.

“If I eat a whole fuckin’ bucket of french fries before I get on, then hell yeah they do,” Scout said cheerfully.

Sniper considered that, or maybe just stared at the ride and all of the screaming and hollering people aboard it.

“How many foods come in a bucket, y’think?” Sniper asked.

“Uh, you got fries,” Scout said, lifting his Bucket ‘O Fries to demonstrate his point. “You got fried chicken. I went to this place once with chicken tenders in a bucket with fries.”

“So just a combination of the first two,” Sniper said.

“Oh my god, what? Dude, no way, fried chicken and chicken tenders are wildly different, you kiddin’ me?” Scout gasped. “Barely the same food group!”

Sniper shifted his feet, still watching the ride. “How’re they different?”

“Don’t even get me started, man,” Scout warned.

“Do you even know the food groups?” Sniper asked next, voice flat in a way that Scout had learned meant Sniper was joking.

“Sniper, as a connoisseur of absolute garbage, you insult me,” Scout deadpanned back. “Let’s take some laps of the games and stuff before we go on the rides, I gotta have time to appreciate these fries before they’re being sent into a trash can.”

Sniper shrugged in agreement, following Scout as he started off towards some of the games.

Scout blew a good twenty dollars on the bottle ring toss game, pleased to hear Sniper chiming in every time he made a particularly bad throw. The next booth over had Scout making a repeat performance with the cane ring toss game, except he did manage to win himself exactly one prize, a sticky hand which only ended up directly in his pocket due to the look of immediate dismay on Sniper’s face when he saw Scout wielding it.

“Hey, if there’s one of those shooting games here, think you’d wanna play it? Show up some people?” Scout asked.

Sniper shook his head. “Mate, even out here in civvies,” he started, plucking at the shoulder of Scout’s civilian t-shirt and the chest of his own choice of clothing, a green-grey button-up, “I imagine an Australian washing out the place and a Boston bloke cheering him on would earn enough looks to get us recognized. Especially since you’ve still got the hat and I’ve the glasses.” He tapped first the bill of Scout’s hat, then the side of his own shades.

“Then we fake some accents,” Scout said cheerfully.

Sniper raised an eyebrow, which Scout had long learned was the closest thing to emoting that Sniper managed most of the time. “As if you know how to fake accents,” Sniper said, a note of disbelief showing through.

“What, you think I don’t?” Scout challenged, bumping elbows with him partially by accident as they needed to squeeze between two gaggles of people.

“Do one, then,” Sniper said simply.

Scout cleared his throat, raising his chin. “Oi, look ‘ere, mind tellin’ me where you might find a hotel ‘round ‘ere?” Scout said in an approximation of a lighthearted British accent.

Sniper stared at him. “The hell’d you learn to do that? That was damn well spot on,” Sniper said, both eyebrows raised now.

Scout kept grinning, ducking ahead for a second to squeeze between two intersecting lines of people. When Sniper caught back up he started explaining. “Me an’ one’a my brothers spent these two summers pullin’ this scam,” he started to explain. “We’d pretend to be tourists in town for tour group stuff, sneak into tour groups around the middle’a the day with these old busted cameras he got off people and fake accents so people thought we were from somewhere else, get into buffets for tour-specific stuff and eat for free and leave again,” he explained. “First summer we did it for like two months straight with different tours, second summer we only made it a month in before we had to cut it out.”

“Why?”

“His ex-girlfriend apparently got a job as a tour guide. That was, uh, the second time I ended up in custody that summer.”

“Hooligan,” Sniper murmured in a way that made Scout unsure if he was being made fun of, scolded, or congratulated.

They ended up at the ball toss at some point, which Scout did end up knocking out of the park a few times until the attendant told him to please move along already, reasoning that they already had a frankly ludicrous number of stuffed animals. Indeed, Sniper was carrying three large ones, and Scout had another one in the arm not carrying assorted food.

“I’m namin’ this guy Cotton Candy,” Scout said matter-of-factly, hefting the blue-pink-and-white rabbit up higher as it started to slip from his grip. “And I’m naming that guy Fry Bucket.”

“Which one?” Sniper asked, glancing between the three stuffed animals in his hand.

“That one,” Scout said, bumping a the yellow-and-purple-and-white-and-black slightly-suspicious-looking cat with his elbow. “Because the colors are bright like the bucket.”

“What about the other two?” Sniper asked.

“Eh, they’re yours, up to you.”

Sniper didn’t speak for a moment, just shifting the stuffed animals a bit. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t got a use for four of these guys,” Scout shrugged. “Already I’m thinkin’ about whether Pyro’s gonna want Fry Bucket or Cotton Candy more.”

“What’s that second name about?” Sniper asked. “Is that a brand?”

“…What?”

“Cotton candy.” Sniper’s accent wrapped around the words strangely. “That a specific kind? The, er, blue-pink stuff?”

“…Of cotton candy?” Scout asked slowly.

“Yeah. It’s fairy floss, so is cotton candy then just a certain—“

“It’s fuckin’ what?” Scout asked, eyes lighting up.

Sniper paused for a few seconds. “…You people made up your own name for somethin’ again, haven’t you?” Sniper asked, sighing.

“Fairy floss? Okay, let’s talk about this. Let’s talk about that name.”

“No, we already did this with the bonnet and hood thing, and the… prawn and shrimp thing. So you people call it cotton candy. Noted. Moving on.”

“So like, the tiny winged girls, fuckin’—so goddamn Tinkerbell, she brushes her teeth, right? And she’s gotta be thorough. Ain’t gonna get no gum disease here in fuckin’ Neverland, no way, no adults here so no dentists so that’d go pretty bad. So she’s gotta floss, right? And she uses a goddamn cloud-lookin’ pillowy thing? It’s fairy floss?”

“I didn’t invent all of Australian slang,” Sniper interjected. “You can’t judge me for my country’s choice in naming things. I can’t help it.”

“It’s cotton candy, man! It’s cotton, like outta some kinda pillow, made with sugar. I don’t get why you would call it somethin’ else.”

“Apparently Ireland and those blokes up there split the difference, called it candy floss,” Sniper added in before Scout could get too carried away.

“It’s still not floss! Couldn’t pick a different one? Called it, what, fairy cotton?”

Sniper’s lip twitched up for a moment. “I’m nearly sure that’s some sort of code word for hooch, mate.”

“What the fuck is hooch? Are you speaking English? Am I in fuckin’ wonderland right now?” Scout asked, downright baffled.

“Hooch. Marijuana, cannabis. Mate, you said you grew up in the city, the hell you mean you don’t know what hooch is?”

“Who the fuck calls it hooch?! Man, I knew that Australia was weird, but seriously, it’s gotta be crazy down there,” Scout laughed.

They continued to wander the fairgrounds for awhile longer, and while Sniper was a bit more talkative than usual, Scout couldn’t be sure it wasn’t his imagination and his quietly trying to prompt Sniper into saying more. Eventually Scout could tell that the fairground was nearing closing time, crowd thinning alongside the various booths starting to close up shop and haul things away and lock stuff up for the night.

“I don’t think we’re gonna get around to that eating a ton of food and throwing up thing,” Scout said, a little bit put out.

“Sounds…” Sniper started to say, and stopped again quickly.

Scout waited. “What? What were you gonna say?”

Sniper hesitated. “I was going to say that it… sounds a bit juvenile, don’t you think?” he said slowly. “Not quite as fun as an adult.”

Scout considered that for a few seconds. “…Yeah. Maybe,” he conceded. “Haven’t done that since I was a teen. Might not be as great anymore.”

Sniper hummed. Scout kept talking, as he was used to.

“I mean, back then stuff was also pretty weird all the time,” he said, fidgeting with the handle on the fry bucket. “There was school, then practice, then I’d go home and have stuff with my brothers goin’ on all the time, some kinda shenanigans to pull. Now it’s just work, then I go do chores, then I’m all tired and don’t wanna do nothin’ except go to sleep, then I go to sleep and it’s the next day and I got work again. If I don’t got chores or whatever it’s fine, but man. When did I get all boring, y’know?”

“I don’t think you’re boring,” Sniper said quietly.

Scout looked at him, but couldn’t quite catch his expression the way he was holding the stuffed animals. “Huh? What’d you say?” he asked, fully aware but giving Sniper a chance to take that back or spin it into a joke the way just about everyone did.

“I don’t… I don’t think you’re boring,” Sniper said again, a bit louder now. “You’re interesting. You’ve got big opinions on just about everything, a million stories, a bunch of secret talents that only ever happen to come up at odd times. And you’ve got a lot of jokes. You’re…”

He trailed for a moment as they passed a small group of teens, chattering and laughing among themselves.

“You’re funny. You’re interesting,” Sniper said simply. “Not boring.”

Scout didn’t fight the smile that pulled at his face. “Well, look who’s gotten sweet all of a sudden,” he marveled aloud. Sniper readjusted the stuffed animals he was holding, bringing them closer to his face. “Well, speakin’ of sweet, want some more fairy floss before that place over there closes?”

Sniper nodded somewhere behind the layers of fluff and foam.

Their last stop was out towards the edge of the fairgrounds, the big ferris wheel they had set up. It was the tallest thing at the fair, no contest, and while it definitely wasn’t the biggest ferris wheel Scout had ever seen, or even been on, it was still surprisingly nice.

“Imagine that’s the sort that they need to break down to transport, rather than just keeping it on a trailer,” Sniper said almost offhandedly, following Scout’s line of sight.

“You know stuff about ferris wheels?” Scout asked, blinking.

Sniper shrugged. “Needed to for a job. Just the basics.”

“Huh. Cool.” Scout continued to look at the wheel. “Hey, I know sometimes they don’t shut those off at night, to like, promote the fair. Think they’ve still got an attendant working?”

“Probably not,” Sniper said, glancing around at the line of closed tents and booths around them.

“Wanna just hop on board?”

Sniper looked at him with a slight head tilt. “Why would we do that?”

Scout grinned. “Hey, we aren’t plannin’ on coming back here tomorrow, might as well make a grand exit and get kicked out,” he reasoned.

Sniper’s head tilted slightly further, almost disapproving. “We’d get arrested. The boss would be furious.”

“Assuming they call the cops and the cops get here before we’re gone. What’re they gonna do, be mad? Call our parents? Give us a stern lecture?” He elbowed Sniper. “Come on, let’s live a little!”

And then Scout was off, headed towards the wheel.

“I didn’t agree to this, technically,” Sniper said, hurrying to follow, voice slightly raised.

“But you’re gonna do it anyways!” Scout chimed.

Sniper did not argue that point.

The security was foolproof. A padlock and chain on a gate that was three feet high and had horizontal bars, as well as another lock on the control panel lever. Scout, known for his ability to jump vertically to well over his standing height, was quiet simply unequipped for such a challenge.

Sniper did have to hand over the stuffed animals before he could hop the gate, but soon Scout was placing Fry Bucket on lever duty and the other three nearby to stand guard, then he and Sniper were clambering into one of the cars and headed up.

It was going fairly slowly, to be fair. It took a solid minute for them to get only a bit above halfway up, and it spun them up backwards, meaning most of the view was obscured.

“Other wheels I went on usually spun the other way,” Scout commented lightly, kicking his feet up despite the slightly awkward angle. “Kept stopping to let people on and off, too. Way smaller, though.”

Sniper hummed. Silence fell.

Not long after they’d reached the apex and started heading back down again, Sniper sighed quietly. “I’m sorry if I got sharp with you,” he apologized, very serious. “I just… crowds aren’t much good to me. Too much noise, too much action. People too close. Gets me on edge.”

Scout was suddenly treated with the memory of just about every outing he’d gone so far as to take Sniper on, almost all of which involved crowds. “What?” he asked, taken aback. He pulled his feet down, sitting up. “Really? Dude, why didn’t you say nothin’? I’ve been takin’ you out to real bustlin’ places for like, two months!”

Sniper made a listless gesture. “Didn’t want to ruin your fun just because I’m a worrywart,” he replied, even quieter now. “And I doubt you’ve got many places you know that don’t involve whole masses of people. It’s your whole element.”

Scout couldn’t really argue with that. “Well, then I would’ve been letting you pick where we hang out,” he said stubbornly.

Sniper’s eyebrows drew together. “What? I thought you just wanted someone to bring with you when you went out,” Sniper said, clearly confused.

Scout blinked. “Dude, no. I’ve just been tryin’ to find a place you’d like to hang out in, see if I could get you to talk about anything. You’re always all quiet, I figured it was because you’re bored.”

“Of course not. Opposite, really. Gets overwhelming, I try my best to shut my mouth and pay attention.”

Scout needed a minute to loop his head around that. “Oh. Huh.” They reached the bottom of the wheel, but neither moved to get up, and they just continued on their steady path up again. “I… shit. Dude, I had no idea. I thought you were just hard to please.”

Sniper shook his head. “No. The places are always nice—this is nice—but I just…”

He trailed off. Scout waited for him to sort through his words.

“I just prefer… things like this,” he decided on. “Instead of noises and movement and close quarters and a hundred food smells.”

Scout’s mind went ahead and dealt with that one for a good minute. “Close quarters,” he repeated. “So this isn’t good either?”

“With other people, other folks,” Sniper clarified. “I’m fine with closed spaces.”

“Well, I’m other folks,” Scout said.

Sniper looked away, off to one side. “Not really,” he said, words almost lost to a breeze that decided to blow by just then. “You’re just Scout. I’m fine with you.”

Quiet again.

They made it to the top of the ride again, and Scout found himself relaxing a little bit. He tilted his head back.

“Can’t see the stars out here so good,” Scout said, looking up at the sky.

“Light pollution,” Sniper murmured in agreement, looking up as well. “I can hardly see any at all.”

“You’ve still got your shades on,” Scout half-laughed.

Sniper reached a hand up as if to push his glasses up his nose, and just kept his hand there on them for a few seconds.

“C’mon, not so many stars, by they’re still good ones,” Scout urged.

Sniper hesitated for a moment before he pulled the shades off, folding them, hanging them on his shirt. His gaze fell down below for a moment, then up to the sky. He had pretty eyes. There were some wrinkles around them, the kind of thing that meant Sniper either laughed a lot, or spent a lot of time in the sun, or a mixture of both. Scout realized he’d probably have his own pretty soon with his lifestyle. He found a lot of things funny.

Sniper briefly glanced at Scout out of the corner of his eye, then back away again.

“You’re staring,” Sniper said quietly, gaze falling to the tents and stands as they started on the inward down curve.

Scout looked away, also out at the area they’d just been in. Only a few places still had lights around them. The area was mostly dark, the tent blockings around them lit mainly by the gently changing lights on their ferris wheel. “You should take your shades off more,” Scout said.

Sniper shifted. “I use ‘em at work,” he replied. “They help me shoot.”

“You weren’t at work today, or any of the other times we went and did stuff,” Scout replied, tipping his head against the back of the seat, rolling his head to look at Sniper. Tiredness was creeping up on him, not in a cranky way, just in a lazy way.

“Why would I take ‘em off?” Sniper asked, not looking at him.

“So I can know where you’re lookin’,” Scout shrugged. “And because you look good, and they hide your face.”

Sniper’s eyes fell to his own knees, which he gripped in both hands. “Maybe that’s the point,” he said, voice rumbling against the lowest volume he could manage.

Scout kept looking at him, then back up at the sky as they made it to the upper half.

“Scout, I have a question,” Sniper said, eyes locked downward.

“Mm,” Scout hummed.

Sniper took a breath, exhaled. Looked over at Scout, made eye contact, maybe for the first time without the barrier of tinted, reflective lenses in the way. “Can I kiss you?”

Scout wasn’t sure what his expression was in the following several moments of silence, but it made Sniper tense, paling under the colorful lights, visibly sinking at roughly the same speed as the car they were in as they passed the apex.

“I’m sorry, I just—“ he started to stammer, backtracking as Scout did his best to mentally try and sort out the can of worms that was just opened. “I thought, we—ferris wheel, you sayin’ that I’m, I’m good looking, and—“

Scout saw the way he was fidgeting, fiddling, hands no longer able to be stuffed in his pockets to prevent it.

“—and you won those stuffed animals for me s’well, and you’ve been taking me to dinner, tryin’ to make me laugh, and—“

He couldn’t quite look at Scout, and maybe he could never quite look at Scout, and maybe that’s why he never took his sunglasses off. Maybe that’d why he kept his hat’s brim low. Maybe that’s why he held things up near his face.

“—and I just assumed, I, I’m sorry, I’m godawful at picking up the clues on that sort of thing, and maybe I just imagined things, I—“

“Do you wanna?”

Sniper’s rambling stammered to a halt. He didn’t look at Scout. “What?”

“Hey. Look at me.” It took a minute, but he did, tipping his head up first, eyes following a second later. Crow’s feet. “Do you wanna kiss me?”

Sniper managed the tiniest of nods.

“Out loud,” Scout added, voice level.

Sniper took a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like to,” he said.

Scout tilted his head up for a second. They were headed back up and over again. Stars.

“Yeah,” Scout decided. “You can, if you want.”

Sniper had to take a second to process that. But then, slowly, he placed his hand on Scout’s shoulder. He second-guessed himself, hand moving instead to rest on Scout’s cheek, tilting his face only on accident, and then Sniper was kissing him.

It felt nice. Scout reached up slowly so as to keep from scaring Sniper away, an arm wrapping up around his shoulders.

By the time they pulled away, they were at the bottom of the wheel again. Sniper managed to smile at him, so visibly relieved and contented that it almost left Scout reeling, the sudden input of reaction making his head spin.

“You taste like fries,” Sniper informed him quietly.

Scout laughed.

#sniperscout #speeding bullet #my fanfiction #shut up me #my writing #tf2 #team fortress 2 #im sleeby this probably has errors but shrug

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yearslateforyugiohshippings · 6 years

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Dark Magician Collection!

I wanted to give a detailed view and update of my DM card collection since I have ‘finished’ it - at least as far as I can. 2 cards are still missing, but I can’t find them online atm. Goal was to have all English and German prints - there are some other nice ones in my collection, too! You will see :D

Long post ahead!

high res: https://sta.sh/0zsj9r0b0bq

Starting of with the very old starter deck cards and the secret rares of this artwork (which is my favourite - who would have guessed!) I really love the secret rares of this artwork and secret rare as a rarity in general <3 But as you can see, the DDS card has a crease - but I’m okay with that since it dropped it worth to an amount I could buy :’D Maybe I will get a flawless one in the future. The card itself funnily is without scratches. I would really like to know how the bend happend.

high res: https://sta.sh/0hnagpqi7al

Next up: DUSA ultra rares - which I don’t like very much since for some reason the duelist saga UR is not very appealing to me. The foil is weird. The CT13 tin promos are great tho ;D The others are commons, so nothing special to say about them.

high res: https://sta.sh/07tofx0eqh4

Trivia time! I will use the CT13 cards as an example since they’re here :U American und European cards often slightly differ in colour and brightness in general. American versions are often lighter and that’s why there are many players who prefer them over the European prints (at least here in Europe, can’t say anything about other places). The right one is an American print and the purple is a lot warmer and the ornaments on the armor are more pink (but I couldn’t capture that on a single pic alone, so just imagine it ;D)

high res: https://sta.sh/011f8bwlgnic

Here we have the lasts cards of artwork 1 - The oldest DM I have in the left corner with signatures of my old school buddies which I let them give me before moving away all the years ago. This card is heavily damaged :’D on the spot right to it is a card I was very unsure about putting it into the collection since it actually is an OCG card even if it’s English. It’s a promo card from the 2015 Japanese championship. BUT I got it relatively cheap on ebay a few weeks ago, so well, I won’t complain. Also here: The ghost rare DM and another 2015 promo - but in Korean - both 201 promo cards have the same rarity (Millennium Rare) so I assume tehy’re the same card...? Moving to the right we have the original booster pack 1 - LOB - Dark Magician and below the cards from the second Yugi themed starter deck. One of the LOB magicians (German) belonged to a friend (one of them who signed the card on the left) and it was a very hard fight for getting him to trade it as a kid. But I never gave it away afterwards. I met this friend again, 12 years later, and he actually remembered and was very happy about (and still slightly mad since he collects all old cards and this one was hard to get for him again) me keeping it <3

high res: https://sta.sh/01wupx9i1ej2

Just a try to get the millennium rare effect on camera, but it’s actually hard to do - there are hieroglyphs all over the card!

high res: https://sta.sh/01zin64ns445

Detail shot of the ghost rare card - this rarity is so cool. It has a little 3D effect and the colours only come through in the perfect light (artificial light works much better than sunlight for some reason) - but it can’r be captured in only one photo. So enjoy the nice eye he has here - they really pop out in the ghost rare!

high res: https://sta.sh/01rzdwdjum22

Moving on to the page of shame since this is the page with the last missing 2 cards - which are the red rare and blue rare English DL11 Dark Magician. I actually bought the blue rare - but it went missing in the shipping process. It’s a shame. This makes me sad and angry. But besides that, I like the coloured rares. I don’t know, but it just adds a nice twist to the normally a little boring rares.

high res: https://sta.sh/03enz6dy6aw

I don’t have much to say about this page... the Retro Pack DM are nice URs and we have 2 SCRs again... Oh! I know what to tell you about them: this artworks BPT print is quite cheap - the other one, 1st artwork, is most times actually expensive. And the FL1 SCR has the most disappointing foil I’ve ever seen. I tried to capture it on the next pic:

high res: https://sta.sh/01qliw7ut9k3

You can guess the SCR effect, but it’s so bad/weak I had this card for weeks until I read online that it’s a SCR card - I didn’t even realise it! I thought it’s a normal rare on the first glance :’D You can guess how weak it is in comparison to the BPT card on the right which is also not the brightest SCR, but this one is glittering like crazy next to FL1

high res: https://sta.sh/03ksjuu3g8v

The last card (DLG1) of artwork two on the left with two random Japanese cards I happend to have - look how worn out they are! I had them for a very long time, getting them as a teenanger, and I don’t know where they came from. There were a lot of Japanese cards flowing around in my childhood. On the right we got Arkanas best buddy - he only got this one print in German and English and they’re not even that old. It’s a shame they took so long to get printed in the TCG. The Japanese one again is one of the cards I had for a long time - it came from a pack in which DMG, Dark Magic Curtain, Thousand Knives and Magical Box also were included (correct me if I’m wrong, I may not remember it correctly) The card on the bottom right... I don’t know what it is, but the artwork is cool :D

high res: https://sta.sh/01e6aviafcqy

I mean, look at it!

high res: https://sta.sh/019j9fc9lz0q

Artwork number 4! Structure deck cards in the top left, below them promos from the old PC game (they have a nice SCR effect which glitters like this # instead of a straight line or /) On the right some commons and the sexy ultimate rares.

high res: https://sta.sh/0136gaeq9ukq

They’re just cool.

high res: https://sta.sh/09qrjr2mgd3

The most valuable page in this binder- because of the baby sitting in the bottom right corner <3 But first, take a look to the left. Top row: commons which also came in the structure/starter deck in which the UMR were included. Bottom row: SCRs but with a shimmer which goes like this: / Top right: URs Bottom right: The two almost identical prints with the most difference in value in the whole collection - the left one is a few € and the right one is a few 100 :’D This P in the serial number must be really valuable. Sad thing: They’re only rares with some starfoil thing going on (I don’t know how the rarity is called, it’s not actually starfoil since there are no stars on it but dots). It’s a shame. They’re not even very pretty :’D

high res: https://sta.sh/06t96pbi963

This page is interesting again since we’re switching artworks :D But I would like to add that the DB1 prints here do have the colour difference between American and European version again (but I didn’t capture it in an additional photo this time) - I mostly own European English versions, so I thought I could mention it again ;> JUMPing to the right (badumm-tss) we have artwork #5 with the promos out of the Jump magazine and the first apprearance of the true Black Magician ;P Below them is one the old promotional cards they had ind the Banzai magazine (I guess). The Magical Circle next to it was just a thing I got as an addition and it was fitting to also put it here instead of losing it in my other cards.

high res: https://sta.sh/0354sytgik2

Another shot of the Jump cards to show some things. First of: They don’t have the bold grey border the artworks usually have on all cards - I did realise this lately. It finally made sense to me why I always thought they look strange! It was a mind-blown-moment. And second: You can see that at some point they changed the size of the picture on the card in direct comparison! And for some reason the newer print (right) is more crisp and a little brighter.

high res: https://sta.sh/01ktxzsdnqcx

Artwork #6 - which is pretty nice btw - and the very sexy field center card released this year plus an old bandai card. The tag for the bottom left row is missing since they are the newest prints (came in the Yugi-Kaiba-Deck duo box this year) and I simply was to lazy to stick one of my beautiful tags on them :’D It would have been very nice to have the golden parts on the field center card shiny gold/metallic printed tho.

high res: https://sta.sh/01vkzvfl9qzu

Movie artwork and also the last artwork for now - until the new one hits the stores on 22.12.18 in Japan. I should have sorted them in an other way starting with the URs, going to the gold rares and endling with the gold secret rares which are the ultimate shiny glitter-fuck-fest you can have :’D I love them. In the right corner is the Token card from the tins last year and a very nice business card of a German online card shop infront of my Konami ID card. This way I will never lose or forget to bring it since I’m always travelling with my magicians if I’m going for some plays or the small weekly tournament in my city.

high res: https://sta.sh/0gkts6ykil8

Last additional page - the coloured rares again but in French! :D Exept the purple rare, it’s missing. But instead I put an anime orica in there. And since the oversized DM card also got a serial number and it’s English it’s in my collection, too ;D

Wow, this was a ride. It took me about 1,5 hours to write this wall of text and put pictures in and so on. I actually have a second binder slowly filling up with DMs, but they’re not unique prints and just all the cards in here over again since I just trade for every DM I can get :U It’s fun!

I don’t know for which cards I’m going next. Maybe some more European ones like Spanish, French, Portoguese or Italian or just gong for the Japanese and Korean cards. Maybe a little of both. Just get what I can grab.

#yugioh #dark magician #trading cards #dark magician collection #trading card collection #aka where all my money goes #but look at them sexy bois and you'll agree it's worth it #I'm a huge nerd #if it comes to DM cards it is

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zoadgo · 6 years

Text

Kinktober Day Twenty-Seven | Gun Play/Against A Wall | my selfish side has got a special way of coping | Murphy x Bellamy | The 100

Words: 4290

Tags: Gun Play, Modern/Dystopia AU, Guard!Bellamy, Prisoner!Murphy, Prisoner/Guard dynamic, Questionable use of power, Anal sex, Rough sex, Fingering, Mentions of systematic abuse, Mentions of homophobia, Questionable consent

tagging @mvrphyblooms

Note that this is a kinktober prompt fill. It will be explicit smut, and quite likely, kinky. Mind the tags.

ao3

Murphy's a survivor. Always has been, always will be. No matter what life throws his way, he struggles through, and he keeps on going. Honestly, some days his perfect track record with overcoming calamity is the only thing that keeps him from giving up. And he has overcome so very many potentially life ending disasters, some that weren't even his fault, too.

Like this latest one, being locked up in a facility he doesn't even know the name of. No one will tell him where he is, or why he's here, which isn't a good sign. Couple that with Murphy being no stranger to jails and knowing at least in general what day to day life should be like, and he can tell pretty easily this is no normal jail.

Government black site, detainment camp, ultra max - it doesn't matter what term they're using, the end result is the same. Even if there was anyone out there looking for him - which there probably isn't, beyond a few gangs he's screwed over - they would never be able to find him. He's off the grid, at the mercy of a government that he's never been on particularly good terms with.

Just another thing to survive, at the end of the day, and Murphy knows exactly how to do it.

If the government running this facility isn't friendly with him, Murphy's got to get a lot more friendly with the people directly responsible for his miserable quality of life. It takes a few false starts, a couple of beatings that he only half deserved, and no shortage of embarrassment, but he finds his mark after a while. Nameless, simply the least cruel of his guards, until one of the others calls him “Blake” a little too loudly when passing Murphy's cell.

It’s not hard to tell where Officer Blake’s interests lie, with a little careful testing of the waters. He never calls Murphy a fag or queer like the other ones do, which is a good first indicator. He doesn’t shy away or beat Murphy when he stumbles and leans up against him as Blake ushers him to various facilities, simply grunts and waits for him to catch his feet again. He’s primarily aloof, which doesn’t necessarily make him a mark. Maybe he’s just a good guy, caught up doing bad things in the name of serving his government.

But of course, there’s the final test, the one that’s gotten Murphy’s ass kicked countless times. He times it perfectly, for when Blake should be coming to collect him for his daily shower. At least, he thinks it’s daily; there aren’t any windows, or any real way of telling the passage of times short of counting seconds. Murphy hears the familiar boot steps approaching, and grins to himself. Time to see if he’s right, or if he’s going to have dinner seasoned with his own blood again tonight.

When Blake opens the door, heavy locks falling with the sound of gunshots, Murphy is perfectly displayed. Ass to the door, three fingers buried inside himself, spine bowed in the way he knows makes him look the most delicate and inviting. He moans, a small needy noise as he thrusts his fingers a little. It feels good, even though his primary purpose in this show isn’t to actually get off. No, this is a declaration of intent, a display of the goods he can offer if only Blake is in the position to give him something in return.

Murphy knows, by the gust of air brushing over his skin, that Blake is in the room. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t rush over to beat him, so Murphy figures it’s working. He drops his face into the shitty, moldy mattress as if it’s the finest bed in the world, completely ignoring Blake’s presence. This only works if the guard thinks it’s an accident, not purposeful. They both know that’s a lie, of course, Murphy’s tried this trick a time or two before, but the illusion is necessary for the relationship to work. The guard has to initiate it, he always has to have the power. Nevermind that Murphy feels perfectly in control, making short thrusts of his hand at this awkward angle.

“P-” The first syllable dies on Blake’s lips, sending a thrill of victory through Murphy. Oh, he knows what that dry mouth and stumbling brain means. Life is about to get a little bit better for Murphy. “Prisoner 211804, stand and face the wall.”

Murphy hops to it, quite as if he hadn’t just been ‘caught’ masturbating. He chuckles as he raises his hands to the side of his head, staring at the cement wall, entirely nude. “What seems to be the problem, Officer?”

His breath leaves his lungs in a rush as Murphy’s shoved forwards into the wall, hard and without warning. Worry flashes through him, it’s entirely possible he misjudged Blake even in the last few seconds. Maybe he was just so enraged he couldn’t speak, maybe it wasn’t that he liked what he saw.

But no, Murphy crushes down on that doubt in a second. He’s come too far now, he has to see this through to the end. It’s not like he’s going to get any more of a beating for talking.

Well, he might. But a beating is a beating, at the end of the day.

“So rough,” Murphy laces his words with a moan, “That’s okay, I like it rough.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Blake’s voice is an even deeper rumble than the few times Murphy’s heard him speak before. His hand, still covered with its rough, tactical glove, grabs the back of Murphy’s neck, pinning him to the wall.

It doesn’t hurt, though, and he doesn’t hit him. Even when he shoved Murphy into the wall, it was more surprise than pain. Murphy smiles, cheek scrunching against the cold concrete.

“What, you-”

Murphy starts, but he’s silenced by the cold touch of steel on his exposed cheek. His eyes strain in their sockets, mouth going dry as vision confirms his fears. Okay, yes, that’s a gun. It’s not pointing at him, simply resting against his flesh, and the safety’s still on, but still. Murphy’s concern over a beating is a fancy of the past now. He shudders, closing his eyes.

Time to play the survival game, which means doing exactly what Blake wants. No more flirting, no more teasing, just being a good little prisoner. He can do that, much as it pains him.

“Who put you up to this?” Blake demands, voice dark in Murphy’s ear. It occurs to Murphy that he’s way closer than he needs to be for intimidation, the starched fabric of his uniform actually brushing against Murphy when he shifts slightly.

“No one, I swear man, okay? Nobody puts me up to this, I just-” Murphy cuts off, unsure of exactly how to phrase it. What way does he plays this situation, that doesn’t get him killed and dumped in a hole without a name?

“You just what?” Blake asks, words clipped and tight.

Murphy tries desperately to think quickly, as the gun slides against his skin. His body reacts to the situation unfortunately, his fight or flight response as always giving him the not so helpful third option of ‘fuck’. It’s all he can do to keep from rutting against the wall, and it does not help his higher brain function in the slightest. Murphy takes a second to mentally kick himself for being such a horny bastard, which is a second too long for Blake, apparently. He steps forward, crushing Murphy to the wall with his body, and as frightening as that should be, it does not help the situation with Murphy’s cock in the slightest.

“You. Just. What?” Blake’s breath tickles Murphy’s ear as he speaks, and Murphy shudders again, but for a different reason than when the gun had touched him. It’s been a stupidly long time since he’s gotten any other than his own hand, and- “Answer me.”

Blake taps the gun against Murphy’s temple, and it snaps Murphy out of his ridiculous headspace with mild panic. He blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, which is also, unfortunately, the truth.

“I was trying to seduce you!”

The gun goes frighteningly still against the side of Murphy’s face, and he barely bites back a whimper. Blake is silent, still crushing him into the wall. He can feel his life hanging in the tense air between them; Murphy may have felt in control earlier, but Blake has all the real power here. As in, the gun. He’s got the freaking gun, and Murphy really should have come up with a better lie than-

“You what?” Blake’s voice sounds different in a way Murphy can’t quite put his finger on, but hey, at least he’s talking. Talking is better than hitting, and definitely better than shooting. So Murphy’s got to play this situation with the truth, then, or near enough to it.

“I was-” Murphy stumbles on his words as the hand on the back of his neck shifts. Ever so slightly, but instead of crushing his face into the wall, it simply seems to be holding him now, thumb laying gently along the column of Murphy’s spine. He doesn’t find too much comfort in that, though, steel still glinting in his peripheral vision. “You’re really hot, okay? And it’s been a while, and I thought-”

Blake silences him with another movement of the gun. Murphy hopes that response works, at least it gives Blake a way to dismiss him as just some dumbass, horned up guy, instead of anything malicious. And it is the truth, just not the whole truth. Let’s be real, if Murphy had run into someone who looks like Blake at a bar, instead of in a prison, he would be climbing that shit like a tree.

“No one put you up to this?” Blake asks again, and Murphy shakes his head as much as he can, which isn’t much at all.

“No. I’m in solitary confinement, remember? Who would I talk to, who would have put me up to this, all the other guards hate me anyway. I guess that’s part of your job, and you do too, but-”

“I don’t hate you,” Blake cuts him off, and there’s that hope again, flaring dangerously in Murphy’s chest.

“Okay.” Murphy accepts that without questioning it. Things seem to be a little less volatile now, and there’s no need for him to go changing that with stupid questions. But then, of course, something starts nagging at his mind, and he asks a question anyway. “Wait, why do you think someone would have put me up to this?”

“They’re always talking about the pretty little-” Blake cuts off in a way that informs Murphy very clearly what the next word is, or at least the sentiment of it. He clears his throat, continuing, “I figured it was because I’m- that they were trying to get to me, to mess with me.”

“Hey, I’m not messing with you, man, I promise,” Murphy assures him, hope taking more sound root among his ribs. So, in those little absent words, does that mean what Murphy thinks it means? Then this position, Blake crushing him into the wall with his body...

Murphy’s dick twitches painfully against the rough cement of his cell wall, and his breath stutters in his throat, unbidden. He curses mentally at his reaction, because no matter what Blake meant, now is not the time for this shit.

Except, there’s Blake’s thumb, moving ever so slightly to stroke just the pad of it over Murphy’s skin. Almost imperceptible, but Murphy’s perception of his body is a little bit heightened right now, what with the weapon still against his face, and the rock hard erection between his legs.

“Are you… getting off on this?” Blake asks, and Murphy immediately attempts shaking his head again, despite the fact that yeah, yeah he is. Blake’s voice sounds like pure sex at the best of times, so him asking that question doesn’t exactly help any.

“No, it’s-” Murphy begins to lie, but then Blake’s hand shifts up his neck, to thread into his hair, and he has to bite his lip to stop from whimpering.

“You are,” Blake states soundly. The gun disappears from Murphy’s cheek as Blake takes a half step back, and there’s the sound of it being holstered, which allows him to breathe a little easier. Then the hand in his hair turns into a fist, pulling his head back enough that Murphy can actually look at Blake a bit more. His gaze is dark, something almost violent in it, but not like the violence Murphy’s used to. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I-” Murphy goes to lie, but a twist of Blake’s hand makes him wince and rethink that strategy. “Okay, okay! I am.”

Blake pushes him back flush with the wall again, and then his hand leaves Murphy altogether. Murphy hates that he finds himself missing the touch almost immediately. Well, he hadn't been lying when he’d said it had been a long time. Even before he got locked up, the last person he’d slept with was… God, had it really been since the bouncer at Skybox? What was his name again? Mbege?

The sound of velcro draws Murphy back to the present and away from delightful memories of the strong, mostly silent man. Something falls to the ground, but Murphy isn’t going to risk moving in order to look and see what it was.

A bare second later and Blake’s hands return, except this time it’s not the rough touch of fabric gloves. Blake’s skin is hot against his slightly chilled form, and Murphy can’t help the way his breath catches in his throat. He practically melts into the touch as Blake runs his hands up Murphy’s back, dragging his palms over his ribs. Murphy tries to look at him as much as he can, but Blake leans over him in order to rest his head on the back of Murphy’s shoulder.

“They weren’t lying about you being pretty, huh?” Blake mumbles, one of his hands reaching down to squeeze Murphy’s ass. Murphy jumps under the contact, and Blake’s other hand falls on his shoulder, holding him firmly in place. Murphy is saved from having to come up with a response to that by Blake speaking again, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

His voice rumbles straight into Murphy’s chest, from there to his groin in a heartbeat. Murphy swallows thickly and nods, cheek dragging against the wall.

“Say it,” Blake orders, hand squeezing Murphy’s shoulder. His other hand continues its lazy exploration of Murphy’s buttocks, mapping and squeezing the flesh there. A moan sneaks past Murphy’s guard as Blake’s thumb trails down for a scant second to ghost over Murphy’s hole.

“Yes, this is what I wanted,” Murphy admits, blushing despite the fact that this had started with him fingering himself in full view of Blake. This isn’t how this had gone down the previous times Murphy had seduced guards in his various prison stints. Those were always quick, guards taking what they wanted from him and giving him the little luxuries they could after they used him for their quick little orgasms.

“And what if it’s not what I wanted, huh?” Blake asks, actions somewhat undermining the possibility of that being true.

Without warning or any real preparation, he sinks a finger into Murphy’s ass, and Murphy gasps. He’s glad he’d prepped himself just moments ago, allowing his body to take the intrusion with a minimal amount of protests. It still burns slightly, though, and Murphy grunts in the back of his throat.

“What would you have done then?” Blake asks, curling his finger inside of Murphy. Murphy chokes on a breath, chuckling breathlessly.

“Gotten beaten. Gotten dead. Nothing that couldn’t have happened on any other day,” he admits, perhaps a little too truthful, but Blake had told him not to lie. Blake’s slight movements still for a moment, and he wonders if he’s fucked up.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Blake’s words are a bare mutter against his skin. Murphy refuses to feel anything for that other than victory. Protection is one of the biggest things he can get out of this whole arrangement.

He moves his finger inside Murphy once again, thrusting slightly, and a second digit begins probing at his entrance. Murphy barely restrains himself from moving his hips, grinding them towards Blake’s hand. He remembers his earlier words, said in jibe, and Murphy smirks.

“I mean, you can hurt me a little. I wasn’t kidding when I said I liked it rough,” Murphy suggests, once again very definitely not lying. Because this is nice - hell, more than nice, Blake’s touch is strong and hot and belays a certain level of skill that excites Murphy to no end. But a part of Murphy is desperate and has been barely holding back from humping cement this whole time, and he’d love nothing more than to have Blake just take him however he damn well pleases.

“You do, huh?” Blake rumbles the words, thrusting his second finger in much as he had the first. Murphy’s hips jerk at the shock of it, and okay, grinding his dick into the wall isn’t quite as good as his mind had thought it would be. Blake continues holding him firmly in place, thrusting his fingers and shifting them to stretch Murphy. “Then maybe I shouldn’t bother with any of this, huh? I mean, you were handling it yourself pretty well when I came in.”

He leaves Murphy with a choice with those words, one which Murphy doesn’t hesitate in making. He bites his lip and takes a shaky breath before responding, “Yeah, just do it. Please.”

He sounds more than a little desperate, but whatever, he’s allowed to make the best of a bad situation. He could do a hell of a lot worse than getting fucked by a phenomenally hot guard with a voice that is getting sexier by the second. Blake pulls his fingers out of Murphy, chuckling slightly, which sends a crazy heat through him. Really, him laughing at Murphy’s needy state should not sound so damn good, but it does, and Murphy luxuriates in it.

There’s the sound of a zipper behind him, and then Blake grabs Murphy by the hip, pulling him slightly away from the wall. Only just enough that he’s not crushed into it, and Blake’s other hand keeps his shoulders firmly against it. It takes some of the uncomfortable pressure off of his dick, and Murphy breathes a contented breath.

“You’re sure you want it rough?” Blake asks.

Murphy shudders, harder than he can remember being in recent history, nodding eagerly. He feels the head of Blake’s cock drag over the skin of his ass for a monet before dipping between the mounds of flesh to tease at his hole. Murphy hopes Blake doesn’t want a verbal answer, because the anticipation takes deep hold of his lungs, making his breath come shallow and forming words absolutely impossible.

He hears Blake spit, which is the grossest form of slicking oneself up in Murphy’s mind, but better than going in dry. As is, it’s barely better, and as Blake starts to sink into him, it hurts like hell. Murphy sucks a breath in through his teeth, hissing at the burn. Okay, so maybe Blake is one of the biggest guys Murphy’s ever been with, and maybe Murphy’s a bit out of the game to be taking someone so well endowed.

Nevertheless, Blake continues to press forward, unrelenting, filling Murphy to an almost impossible extent. Murphy’s pretty sure he forgets how to breathe about four inches in, and he doesn’t remember until Blake bottoms out against him. His hand on Murphy shoulder moves to rub the back of his neck soothingly, and Murphy gasps a breath.

“You’re fucking huge,” Murphy manages to say, and Blake chuckles again, which makes Murphy’s cock twitch despite the discomfort.

“Still want it rough?” Blake asks, sounding a little bit patronizing, which Murphy scoffs at. Okay, Blake is big, whatever. Murphy’s taken more with less prep, and he’s actually not so bad now that Murphy’s had a second to adjust. The burn fades to a gentle ache, and Murphy rolls his hips a little, as much as he can given the angle. He smiles as the actions causes Blake to choke out a curse.

Not so cocky now, huh?

“Try me.”

And oh, does Blake ever rise to those two words. He makes a noise somewhat akin to a growl, drawing his hips away from Murphy for a moment, only coming out about half way before pounding back in with impressive force. Murphy can’t help the gasp that draws from him, or the breathless noises he makes as Blake sets to fucking him thoroughly and soundly. It’s not too fast, but every thrust of his hips drives enough force into Murphy that he’s somewhat glad for the wall holding him up.

It should be too much to be pleasant, or the sort of weirdly dull experience he normally has when simply getting railed in order to get something he wants. But Blake’s hands on him, fingers digging in whenever Murphy manages to move against him, send sparks of pleasure to his core. And there’s the little noises Blake makes; not as many as Murphy, who moans when Blake hits that sweet spot inside of him, but definitely there. He’s good at this, not merely using Murphy to get his rocks off, but actually paying some small attention to what pleasure Murphy is getting out of it.

“Rough enough for you?” Blake goads, snapping his hips forward particularly firmly, his fingers digging bruises into Murphy’s shoulder. The actions drives an aborted half moan from Murphy’s lips, and he catches his breath with a laugh.

“Is it rough enough for you?” Murphy parrots back, because there’s no denying the possessive force of Blake’s grip, or the way his breath catches whenever he drives in particularly hard. He likes this, just as much or more than Murphy, and that all works to Murphy’s favour.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Blake rumbles, and Murphy rocks his hips against him.

“Does it?” He asks, the very picture of false-innocence.

Blake mumbles a curse that Murphy’s sure he didn’t even intend to say and begins thrusting again, with a new and singular purpose. His cock brushes over Murphy’s prostate time and time again, building pleasure in Murphy’s gut and making him react to the movements all the more. He doesn’t bother with being quiet; there’s no one else around that he’s ever heard, other than guards. And if Blake’s here, there’s little chance of anyone coming this way until they swap shifts later on.

So Murphy gives into it all; the moaning, the quiet curses and heavy panting behind him, the thorough and oh so delightful abuse of his ass. Blake hits his sweet spot on more thrusts than not, and Murphy whines, fingers digging into the wall so hard he’s afraid he might tear his nails out. He didn’t expect to actually get off on this, but now he’s almost there and he wants it so, so bad.

“Do it,” Blake orders, releasing Murphy’s shoulder and dropping down to grab roughly at his cock.

It only takes a few quick pulls and Murphy is finishing with a strangled moan, cum painting the wall in front of his hips by virtue of proximity. He breathes hard, chest still flush to the concrete, barely managing to hold himself up as Blake continues thrusting inside of him. As his orgasm ebbs, it’s definitely too much for his level of sensitivity, but never let it be said John Murphy is a quitter when it comes to dick.

Blake must know something of how uncomfortable it is for Murphy, because he releases Murphy’s softening cock and grips his hips with both hands. He thrusts violently for a few more moments, which Murphy takes with only a few whimpers and grunts of protests. Then he pulls out rapidly, so sudden that Murphy finds himself clenching around nothing and feeling awfully empty. Blake chokes out a deep curse behind him, and Murphy feels warm wetness hit his ass.

They stand there a moment longer, catching their individual breaths, and then the sound of a zipper breaks the relative silence. Murphy listens to Blake picking up his gloves, never moving away from the wall. No matter what, he’d been told to do this by a guard, he’s staying right here until Blake tells him otherwise. No sense ruining a good thing by making a guard think he was using sex as a distraction to go for his weapon.

Staying still has an added bonus when Blake shows enough consideration to grab something to wipe Murphy’s ass off with. Well, life is looking up already, isn’t it? With a cursory cleanup, Blake drops Murphy’s long discarded clothes on the ground next to him.

“Get dressed, it’s time for your shower,” Blake says, and it sounds less like an order and more like a request. Well, Murphy is more than happy to oblige. And if he puts on a little show when he bends over, well, Blake isn’t complaining.

When Murphy gets a chocolate on his dinner tray that night, he certainly isn’t complaining either. It’s not too bad, he decides, going to sleep on his shitty mattress, freshly showered, well fucked, and with cocoa on his tongue. As far as situations he’s been in, could be worse.

#kinktober #murphamy #john murphy #bellamy blake #the 100 #fan fic #i fell behind both on writing and cross posting here #sorry #i was so sick #i will do my best to finish kinktober in the next few days #i'll run over and work double in nano if i have to

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thalia-amongst-the-thorns · 5 years

Text

Angsty Q & A

Oh boy kids, strap in because this is a loooong one since @all-made-of-stardust asked for all of my main characters with all of the odd numbers from this post.

Answers under the cut because this got a teeny bit away from me.

Mae Niwot

1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid? Pretty much the majority of her life from age twelve to sixteen while her mom was stationed overseas. Mae put up a good front for her dad but every call at home scared the bejeezus out of her because she feared it’d be the one telling them her mom died in combat. That and a few instances with farm life (riding a horse that went out of her control, shooting a shotgun for the first time, etc.) that she got over relatively quickly.

3. Have they ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are they the same as they were before they lost them? Her grandfather on her father’s side from old age/heart issues; it helped bridge some of the issues her dad has with his family and by extension, Mae. She’s now closer with her father’s family and regrets that she didn’t know her grandfather that well before his passing but has learned a lot about him from the rest of her dad’s family.

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves? Nope, never. It goes against Mae’s core principle of defending those who can’t defend themselves and trying to solve conflict with non-violent solutions first.

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why? See answer to previous question.

9. Is the character a victim of abuse? No; Mae has a lot going on, especially with some emotional strain from her family and self-expectations, but not abuse.

11. What are your character’s coping mechanisms? After her mom came back home and showed signs of PTSD, Mae spent a lot of time reading up on the subject and talking with her school’s counselor, who thankfully had good insights that Mae was able to use to help her family, along with talking to people from the National Center for PTSD to help her mom. Now a days Mae applies some of these methods for her own mental well-being; mindfulness meditation, communicating her feelings clearly, along with physical stuff like kick boxing and gardening.

13. What does it take to make your character cry? Mae’s not afraid to show her emotions but doesn’t like making people uncomfortable with overemotional displays. If she feels comfortable, she’ll cry about anything that pulls at her heart strings; people suffering, injustice, sunrises, the goodness of people.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? Her family getting hurt, being unable to protect someone, hurting someone needlessly, her leadership leading to one of her friends getting hurt. In general Mae’s one of those people less scared of physical things which are easily punch-able or can be talked down as opposed to nebulous feelings like Failure and Disappointment which you just have to grit your teeth and suffer through. However, there’s a good reason Mae’s the leader; even scared she can compartmentalize and plan a path of action, only giving in to fear and tears when she has reassured herself that the danger has passed and it is now safe to do so.

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not? Not afraid, but she certainly doesn’t want to. Given that she’s taken up superhero-ing she’s had to make peace with the fact that this is a very real possibility for her. She thinks the good she’s doing outweighs the risks though and would willingly lay her life down to save another’s. She’s one of those Self-Sacrifice Heroes.

19. What is your character insecure about? Mae’s pretty good emotionally, honestly; like all kids she went through phases of being insecure with her body but has come to terms with that and kicks ass with her thick arms. Again, worries about leading her rag-tag group of super friends, but their trust in her boosters her own confidence. She is a bit insecure about her self-identity sometimes; she’s biracial, mom’s white, dad’s Arapaho, and their marriage led to some…complications with his family. While trying to reconnect with her extended family Mae sometimes felt like an outsider on both sides, not fully included in either group, not white or Arapaho, just lost.

21. Does your character have anyone that they really care about, to the point that they would give their life for them? If so, who are they and what is your character’s relation to them? If not, do they wish they did? Is there anyone they wish they could build such a relationship with? Have I mentioned Mae would basically lay her life down to save anyone in her care? Literally anyone? If you made Mae do the Trolley Problem she’d pull an Option C and throw herself on the tracks so that everyone else lives. There is no hierarchy to Mae’s devotion for everyone’s wellbeing; she’d save a friend as likely as a stranger.

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this? Mae is easily the most emotionally stable of the group and actively seeks passing on coping mechanisms/emotional balance to others. She’s also the Oklahoma State Girls’ Kickboxing and Boxing Championship winner five years running and bench presses 200lbs. She believes in nurturing both a strong body and mind, plus farm life favors the strong.

25. Do they find that they care what others think of them? Or do they not really mind how others view them? Eh, Mae cares a bit, especially when she hurts someone or if a friend is upset with her, but for the most part she’s fine leaving people to their opinions.

27. What would be the worst way to die, in your character’s opinion? Seeing no way out besides killing yourself.

29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most? Mae’s very accomplished with her powers of plant and earth manipulation (lot of practice out on the farm) and with her fists from years of boxing and kickboxing, combining both in very effective use against villains. She’s also made a point of studying up and practicing basic weapons skills with various guns and knives to better combat foes using them, though she’s not very fond of any alien tech since it usually throws her off because she most definitely did not study up on laser beams.

Daniel Tarson

1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid? There have been a few villains who have had the powers or technology to cut Daniel off from his own powers completely. Since Daniel’s been in constant communication with animals from birth and views his shapeshifting as an intrinsic part of himself as valuable as a sense of morality or sight, this is…very bad. Daniel’s sense of self and his powers are one and the same. Without them he is adrift. His head is unnerving quiet without the constant thoughts of his animal brethren. Senses dulled to a human’s pitiful capabilities. Without them Daniel is disoriented, lost, panicked, almost to the point of a mental breakdown, unsure of his own being and dissociative.

3. Have they ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are they the same as they were before they lost them? A bit odd by human standards, but Daniel truly views all animals as his brothers and sisters and mourns any of there passing as deeply as a human friend. There have been multiple instances of this over his life considering he grew up on his aunt’s wildlife preservation which often took in injured animals with the hope of rehabilitation that didn’t always end happily; each was painful but helped Daniel gain a unique appreciation for the naturalness of death.

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves? Nah, Danny boy’s not big on leaving behind potential new members of his pack.

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why? There’re some poachers he would take particular pleasure in taking down The Most Dangerous Game style…

9. Is the character a victim of abuse? Abuse, no. Neglect? Maybe. His parents took on a bit of a hands-off approach, leaving a gap his aunt tried to fill.

11. What are your character’s coping mechanisms? Animal thoughts are less complex than humans. Less rules. Animals are more straight forward in their wants and needs, lacking the stupidly complex hang-ups that come with human like guilt, shame, avarice. When things get bad, when Daniel doesn’t want to feel human anymore with all the baggage that comes with it, he’ll slip into a different skin and let his humanity slide sideways in favor of the comforting simplicity of animal nature…

13. What does it take to make your character cry? Daniel is a pretty chill dude; it takes a lot to upset him and usually that just results in anger rather than sadness. That said, hurting him emotionally with no means for him to take it out physically brings on tears.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? Losing his connection to his (animal) family is up there, but losing any member of his (super friends) pack is unimaginable. When scared Daniel falls back on animalistic tendencies, puffing up, baring teeth, probably some minor shape shifting to get actual fangs and claws, trying to show the scary thing that he’s the most terrifying thing in the room.

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not? Nah, death is a natural part of the animal kingdom and life in general, how you live is what’s important. Daniel is very much a “live in the moment” chill dude.

19. What is your character insecure about? Listen; Daniel has no shame. Shame is a human construct that confuses him since no one has been able to adequately explain it beyond “It’s just something you feel, you naked weirdo!”. Frankly, this whole thing sounds like an elaborate hoax and you should stop buying into it.

21. Does your character have anyone that they really care about, to the point that they would give their life for them? If so, who are they and what is your character’s relation to them? If not, do they wish they did? Is there anyone they wish they could build such a relationship with? His aunt who basically raised him and any member of his team, but especially Mae once they start dating though he recognizes that she can take care of herself.

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this? Even if he’s a bit “off” by human standards, Daniel’s very confident, self-assure, and happy with his emotional state. That said, he’s one of the heavy hitters on the team for good reason, so we’ll go with physically strong.

25. Do they find that they care what others think of them? Or do they not really mind how others view them? Daniel is just super happy with himself and wants everyone to feel the same way about themselves. Jury’s still out if he’s intentionally ignoring complaints or just really dense or just really confidant.

27. What would be the worst way to die, in your character’s opinion? After watching his friends die.

29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most? Good old fisticuffs combined with whatever creature he changes into, though Daniel’s particularly fond of grizzly bears and gray wolf as they give him power and finesse. He doesn’t have a lot of experience in armed combat, but the only weapon he “dislikes” is guns due to some unfortunate mix ups on the preservation that led to him getting hunted down and shot.

Sasha Hile

1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid? She didn’t understand what was going on at the time, but when she was like four Sasha ate something that didn’t react well to her half-alien physiology and went into anaphylactic shock which was already horrifying enough, but what really got to her was seeing her dads panic over what to do. It was a rather abrupt moment to realize that her parents might not actually be all powerful.

3. Have they ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are they the same as they were before they lost them? …You know what, she hasn’t. Her Daddy’s a secret alien refugee whose extended family are light years away and her Pop’s got a loving and supportive extended family that she cherishes; Sasha’s only been to one funeral for one of her Daddy’s work colleagues she never met.

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves? No, all strangers are friends you haven’t met yet! And you don’t abandon friends!

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why? The villain that killed Ed.

9. Is the character a victim of abuse? Their dads have made sure to provide Sasha and Jacklyn with a loving and supportive household, and the two have had an excellent home and social life.

11. What are your character’s coping mechanisms? Compilation videos of cute animals in boxes, putting Ariana Grande on blast and dancing out negative emotions, ice cream even if it’ll kill her, baking shows, talking things out and expressing her emotions.

13. What does it take to make your character cry? Girl will cry about not being able to handle a kitten being too small and cute. All emotions are felt and expressed 110%.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? Rejection and that people secretly hate her, that her dads will be disappointed in her. Also, not very fond of enclosed spaces, but not to the point of phobia. Due to her alien physiology Sasha’s skin glows a different color based on her emotions, with a deep shale grey for fear making it quite obvious when she’s scared. She tends to curl in on herself, mind screaming, mouth mumbling, and latches on to the closest person for moral support/comfort, probably some tears.

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not? No, but in that way were teenagers aren’t scared because death happens to other people, not them. She’s a bit careless and reckless when she starts off as a superhero, especially with her own safety, but quickly gets shaken out of that mindset for the most part.

19. What is your character insecure about? As a gymnast Sasha gets a lot of pressure about her body and appearance from all sides; she tries to ignore the noise, but it gets to her in terms of clothes and self-importance. She also can’t help comparing herself to her twin, Jacklyn, who applies herself to academics rigorously while Sasha’s not the greatest student. Sasha also struggles with her identity; being half alien’s hard enough without your dad refusing to tell you anything about it.

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this? A good fighter, Sasha’s a lot more in touch with her emotions given her powers literally color code them for her and is naturally very empathetic and likes to talk with and listen to people’s problems and provide solutions.

25. Do they find that they care what others think of them? Or do they not really mind how others view them? She tries to be confident and self-assured and all smiles on the outside, but deep-down Sasha cares and wants people to like and need her.

27. What would be the worst way to die, in your character’s opinion? Buried alive; slow, painful, sends shivers down her spine.

29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most? Sasha’s got a good handle on her powers, energy blasts that give her range and a lot of punch, with her acrobatic skills providing her support if someone fights her in close quarters. That said, she’s not fond of knives, bit messy and too personal for her tastes.

Ed Washio

1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid? Two years of being kidnapped and experimented on for unknown purposes, unsure if his parents were still searching for him, shuttled between being strapped down on a table with tubes shoved in his throat and a stark cage, mind so addled by drugs he was only dimly aware of the other failed children subjects being wheeled past him in body bags. The fear that his parents didn’t want him. That this pain was his life now.

3. Have they ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are they the same as they were before they lost them? Ed’s lost both his grandparents on his father’s side, both to heart complications. He wasn’t especially close to them, and his parents weren’t very effected by it either, so it didn’t seem like a big deal.

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves? Oh, hell yeah, if you can’t handle it then sucks to be you buddy.

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why? One would be hard to pick, but Dr. Rajinder is high on the list…

9. Is the character a victim of abuse? Both physical and emotional. Even once he escaped captivity and returned home things weren’t great. One of the reasons why he’s so shut off from others, bit of a self-preservation thing.

11. What are your character’s coping mechanisms? Emotionally closed off from others, distances himself by belittling and acting indifferent to other’s needs, putting on a mask of over confidence to hide his deep running insecurities of inadequacy.

13. What does it take to make your character cry? Ed doesn’t do expressing emotions besides derision and self-loathing.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? Hospitals and doctors; unless he prepares himself for it, he’ll go into a full-on panic attack, yelling and unable to process anything but the burning desire to leave right now. More generally he’s got a bit of stage fright.

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not? Not a bit; his power of invulnerability is so complete he’s a bit arrogant about his inability to get hurt, let alone die.

19. What is your character insecure about? …heheHAHAHAHAHA— His relationship with his parents, disappointing his family, that his brother’s right about him, that something’s broken inside him, he’s a failure and will never succeed at anything, he’d be better off dead from the experimentation--

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this? Boy is an emotional train wreck and actually not that great a fighter until his secondary mutation kicks in and he can bench press a bus, so physically. Eventually.

25. Do they find that they care what others think of them? Or do they not really mind how others view them? He likes to act like he doesn’t give a shit, but the boy gives many, many shits, especially about what his parents think.

27. What would be the worst way to die, in your character’s opinion? He can’t so it doesn’t matter. On an operating table after waking up mid surgery

29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most? Being a stubborn prick sometimes, Ed didn’t put a lot of stock in actually learning how to fight since his powers meant he could never be hurt. Over time he’s learned that even if he’ll be okay, he needs to be able to defend other people and is pretty decent at hand to hand combat. Not great with guns, his aim’s pretty shitty and Marcus teases him mercilessly about it.

Marcos Powell

1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid? The first time he was left in charge of looking after his sister and promptly lost her while at the mall; there were a lot of tears, yelling, and panicking about his looming death via chancla. Three hours and an amber alert later, he wasn’t even sure if he was happy to see her again after she was fished out of the kid center ball pit.

3. Have they ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are they the same as they were before they lost them? His dad when he was around fifteen from skin cancer. It was a slow process and rocked the family emotionally and financially. Since his passing Marcos has tried to step up as the “man of the house” as it were, treating his five siblings more like his kids than his brothers and sisters, picking up as many part time gigs as he can to help take pressure off his mom, and kind of letting his personal life go on the wayside.

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves? No way man, and he’s got a pretty good out for you with teleportation.

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why? He’d make some joke about going back in time to kill M. Night Shyamalan before he made The Happening, but this boy isn’t killing anyone.

9. Is the character a victim of abuse? Nope!

11. What are your character’s coping mechanisms? Jokes: if you’re laughing, you can’t cry!

13. What does it take to make your character cry? A good rom-com or the beauty of a Mike Mignola original sketch.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? Letting down the memory of his dad or failing his family, his mom dying. More generally he’s a bit squicked out by things with unnecessary multiple eyes or mouths. Marcos is the kind to nervous talk when scared, so a lot of rambling in an increasingly high voice.

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not? Yeah; it was painful watching his dad waste away and he wouldn’t want to put his family through that emotional trauma again. It runs at odds with the whole superhero gig; originally it was about doing something fun that connected him with his dad, but the gravity of the whole things starts to weigh on him when Marcos realizes death is a very real possibility when fighting crime.

19. What is your character insecure about? Good healthy body image and financial insecurities.

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this? Emotionally; jokes aside, Marcos is genuinely caring and nurturing and wants to make people feel better. Boy’s also about as strong as overcooked spaghetti.

25. Do they find that they care what others think of them? Or do they not really mind how others view them? Generally, Marcos doesn’t care and enjoys doing his own thing, but if you’re someone close to him (family and friends) he cares deeply what you think about him.

27. What would be the worst way to die, in your character’s opinion? …Cancer.

29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most? His cutting wit and charm! Aka, annoying villains with taunts and teleporting away so other people can land blows. Hates swords because all films ever lied and they’re a bitch to use properly.

Raiqah Damji

1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid? The first (and only) time she tried to take down a supervillain solo, led to a lot of tears, panicking, and ultimately failure. Fighting scares the bejeezus out of her and she feels tremendous pressure to make sure everyone gets out okay and that big guy with flaming fists is trying to hit her oh god oh god she could die--!

3. Have they ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are they the same as they were before they lost them? An aunt and cousin in a car accident; it was a sober moment that brought Raiqah closer to her uncle and strengthened her faith.

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves? No and I am insulted you would ask.

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why? How dare you.

9. Is the character a victim of abuse? Nope no no.

11. What are your character’s coping mechanisms? Getting quiet and internalizing everything, trying to make herself as small as possible, writing her thoughts out, playing the piano, panicking and doing whatever is asked of her.

13. What does it take to make your character cry? Raising your voice around her.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? Disappointing her parents, snakes, spiders, public speaking, fighting, almost everything to some degree. When scared Raiqah gets tongue tied and has trouble breathing, usually curls in on herself and covers her ears/eyes to block out the object of fear.

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not? Yes; death is scary and full of unknown variables, but she takes comfort in the guidance of Allah when she eventually passes.

19. What is your character insecure about? Everything; expressing her opinions, talking, what people think about her, being overeager, not doing enough to help people, being selfish, not performing well in school, disappointing her parents—

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this? Oh, emotionally; she may be timid and worried, but Raiqah’s emotionally mature and wise beyond her years and provides excellent advice and insights when you ask for them.

25. Do they find that they care what others think of them? Or do they not really mind how others view them? She cares. So much.

27. What would be the worst way to die, in your character’s opinion? Any way, why are you talking about this????

29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most? Raiqah doesn’t really do “fighting”; she’s more about defense, providing energy shields and using psychokinesis to disarm or restrain opponents and very much hates violence and using any weapon.

Angie Hua

1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid? The first time Palivāńkum overcame her mind and nearly made her destroyed her father’s psyche.

3. Have they ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are they the same as they were before they lost them? No, but there have been a few close calls with older relatives, not to mention the whole “god taking over my mind and trying to destroy my father and brother” thing.

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves? Not intentionally, but sometimes it’s not up to her.

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why? Do gods count?

9. Is the character a victim of abuse? Emotional abuse and manipulation from Palivāńkum as they try to assert dominance over her mind and body, and later from her father. Only one of these relationships improves…

11. What are your character’s coping mechanisms? Internalize all issues for later. Loud music, coffee, and throwing herself into menial tasks. Since Palivāńkum knows everything that goes on inside her head, Angie has to be careful about getting to wrapped up in negative emotions that Pali can take advantage of to get a foothold in Angie’s mind, but when she has a quiet moment to herself Angie will give her emotions due consideration.

13. What does it take to make your character cry? Not exactly a “crier”, but Angie’ll cry from emotional stress and fear if pushed to her breaking point.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? Being over taken mind and soul by a forgotten god of revenge who will use her to twist and warp the psyche of those it deems deserving of punishment, which turns out to be basically everyone. Possessing someone and killing in their body. Not returning to her own body in time while possessing someone. Hurting her family. When scared Angie freezes up, deer in the headlights style, trying to grapple with whatever is scaring her.

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not? Yes. Death is an unknown that could be worse than her current situation, something Palivāńkum takes advantage of.

19. What is your character insecure about? Over time Angie took it upon herself to cultivate a sense of self confidence to combat society bullshit and just, yah know, to feel better about herself. Thus, her metamorphosis into a rocking goth punk goddess with multicolored hair and blasts the Sex Pistols who wears what she likes. She’s up there with Daniel in terms of having no shame for insecurities to exploit. That said; there’s a god in her head that wants to fully take over her mind and fucking take vengeance upon all sinful humans who she has to constantly restrain and placate and if she slips up once then everyone’s doomed. Just that tiny little thing…

21. Does your character have anyone that they really care about, to the point that they would give their life for them? If so, who are they and what is your character’s relation to them? If not, do they wish they did? Is there anyone they wish they could build such a relationship with? In a way Angie views her relationship as Palivāńkum’s keeper a bit like giving up her life for the sake of her family and later on everyone else. Any chance of a normal life was forfeit when Palivāńkum marked her and for a time all Angie saw in her future was forever wrestling with a petulant god for humanity’s sake.

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this? Angie relies on the vast mental powers Palivāńkum grants her instead of physical confrontation; at the same time, much as she tries not to intrude on people’s inner thoughts without permission, Angie also gets baseline telepathic link with anyone near her that she uses to provide emotional insights and help people work through whatever is troubling their minds. She’s also very sure of her own emotions and who she is, which provides stability amongst all the other craziness in her life.

25. Do they find that they care what others think of them? Or do they not really mind how others view them? Angie doesn’t give a shit about any aesthetic issues people take with her. Palivāńkum’s presence though makes her sensitive to people thinking she’s a monster, that she agrees with Palivāńkum and wants to carry out their wishes, that she enjoys the tremendous power granted to her and mentally torturing people…

27. What would be the worst way to die, in your character’s opinion? Having your memories wiped away, so that your final moments are a wave of confusion and fear with no thoughts you can draw upon to comfort you as you’re killed.

29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most? When possessing someone Angie has full access to their memories and abilities, including their experience with weapons. Supervillain fighting means that she has experienced battle as a variety of skilled opponents wielding from machine guns to laser blasters, but she’s especially fond of possessing anyone with swordsmanship skills, rather taken with the grace and ferocity of the technique. She least likes having to use novelty weapons (think like batarangs or star bolts) which just seem so needlessly extra.

Nobody

1. What’s one experience your character had that made them very afraid? Her parents being killed in front of her, powerless to stop it and being snatched away by those same killers. Locked away for five years, her body cut open, studied, cut again, knowing that there was no one left alive to come for her and stop it.

3. Have they ever lost a loved one? What happened to them, and are they the same as they were before they lost them? Ever member of her family is dead; three of her grandparents died before she was born and the last around when she was a year old, so not a lot of emotional attachment. Her parents were beaten and shot in front of her. A bit of her was lost that day, a her that wasn’t consumed by revenge.

5. Would they ever turn on someone they just met in order to save themselves? Yes, routinely.

7. If your character was allowed to murder one person without any consequences, who would it be and why? Dr. Rajinder. Slowly, since it’s personal…

9. Is the character a victim of abuse? Both physical and mental due to Dr. H. Forsberg.

11. What are your character’s coping mechanisms? Shoving people away, not making personal attachments, hurting them before they can hurt her, putting her well-being and wants before others’, picking fights just to feel better about herself when she wins, never showing emotions beyond rage and annoyance.

13. What does it take to make your character cry? For the first few months of her imprisonment and experimentation Nobody cried constantly until she realized that her tears did nothing to stop her suffering and only made the doctors hurt her more. A quiet patient was treated with leniency, so she was silent. She hasn’t cried since. No one will hurt her again.

15. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? Hospitals, doctors, and enclosed spaces. Mind readers and anyone who can influence thoughts. Emotions and failing in her mission. Nobody doesn’t just get scared, she gets angry that she’s scared and tends to lash out, punching whatever the thing is to get it to stop.

17. Is your character afraid of death? Why/why not? Not really; death didn’t come to her when she wanted it and she made peace with it. Plus, she’s a lot harder to kill now.

19. What is your character insecure about? Nobody doesn’t give fuck what anybody thinks about her and will be sure to tell you about it with her fists. She is 100% confident in all her decisions, as they all verve her ultimate goal to kill the Doc.

23. Is your character more physically or emotionally strong? Why is this? Girl is an emotional garbage bag but will fight anyone and usually wins; physically strong given her time living homeless on the streets and having to defend herself.

25. Do they find that they care what others think of them? Or do they not really mind how others view them? She really, really doesn’t care. One cannot fathom the depths her uncaring sinks.

27. What would be the worst way to die, in your character’s opinion? With Dr. Rajinder smiling, alive and well, as he cut her open for the last time.

29. What is their weapon of choice, and what weapon do they dislike using the most? Fists primarily, but over time Nobody’s collected a goody bag of weapons for her disposal; a Jericho 941, an array of switchblades and knives, and a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. She’s a good shot and her ability to regenerate make her an unpredictable and reckless fighter, willing to take a hit if it means she gets the chance to stab you in the back. She dislikes the impersonal nature of poisons; she’s very much about getting her hands dirty, otherwise where’s the fun.in the fight?

#oc squad #ask game #everyone has super powers and angst #i apologise in advance #and congratulate anyone who actually finished reading this whole monster

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